by Hunter Shea
“I think we need to start with Dakota,” Daniel said. “She’s out right now. It’s probably for the best. Hopefully she sleeps through getting those wounds disinfected.”
He put his hand on Max’s shoulder. For the second time in two days, he’d been in the thick of things, defending his family. They could all take a cue from him. The poor kid was covered in blood and other unidentifiable stuff. “You okay, Max?”
His burly middle son nodded. “I’m fine. Some of those scratches burn, though. Did you see the one that Rey shot? That was pretty badass,” he said to Rey, who was sitting on the floor looking like death warmed over.
“I didn’t play all that Call of Duty for nothing,” Rey said before sputtering into another coughing fit.
Daniel said to Max, “First, you need to take some of that water and go clean up in the bathroom. I saw one down the hall. I’ll look around for any clothes that might fit you.”
Elizabeth said, “Oh, Buck, the man next door said we need to stay inside because the hawks will circle back if they can’t find anything else to, well, you know.”
“I wouldn’t exactly mind the hawk that took my hat coming back with it,” he said, giving her a tired wink.
Daniel watched Elizabeth tend to Dakota, who was passed out in a plush chair. He could see the pink flesh beneath her scalp. The girl was already in bad enough shape. She didn’t need this heaped on top.
We’re going to have to do whatever it takes to survive, he thought. Nothing is going to be easy or make much sense. No one’s going to get a break, no matter how shitty things get. We’ll just keep pushing.
Daniel went upstairs and rifled through the drawers. The man who had died on the couch must have been single. There were no traces of a woman’s touch anywhere. He found a pair of sweatpants and a pullover that should fit Max. He spotted a small stack of picture books by the side of the man’s dresser.
Maybe he had kids. Divorced? Or maybe nieces and nephews.
He grabbed the books, as well. They were for younger kids, but Miguel needed a comforting distraction. Gabby, too, though she might thumb her nose at a picture book.
Buck had eight cans of soup on the outdoor grill, watching them from the safety of the closed patio door. Someone had jammed the coffee table against the front door to keep it closed. Dakota groaned in her sleep as Elizabeth dabbed her scalp with a moist cotton ball.
They were a sorry mess.
Daniel dreaded going back out there, but he knew it had to be done.
“I’m going to look around the house,” he said to Elizabeth.
“Let me look at your face first,” she said.
“You can do me last,” he said, and set off to explore every inch of the bachelor’s house.
76
After eating soup with Saltines and two bags of chips, washing everything down with warm bottles of Pepsi and Mountain Dew, everyone stayed in the kitchen. The smell in the living room, and now the room down the hall, seemed to get worse the longer they stayed inside. Max even opened the windows to get some cross-ventilation, but nothing short of a bonfire could expel the stench.
It was starting to get dark outside. Alexiana had spotted a trio of hawks making lazy loops overhead. It looked like they were stuck for now.
“We can’t stay here tonight,” Max’s mother said.
There was no sense anyone asking why. Death had woven itself into the fibers of the house.
“You think the old man would let us crash at his place?” Buck asked.
“His wife is dead in their bedroom,” Alexiana said. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Besides, I think he wants to be left alone with her. If he wanted us there, he would have asked.”
Max said, “You heard what that cop at the bar said. There’s probably a dead person in every house.”
“Max,” his mother snapped, eyeing Miguel and Gabby, who were staring into their empty soup bowls, on the brink of falling asleep. Everyone was exhausted.
He raised his hands in resignation. His brother and sister had had to sit next to a dead body just a few hours ago. What was the sense of trying to protect them from reality at this point?
“We’ll be fine here tonight,” Max’s father said, striding into the room. He’d gobbled his food and left the table to continue looking around the house. “We can stay in the garage. I’ll need a little help pushing the car outside to make room. The owner was a camper and a sports nut. We have what we need for tonight and tomorrow. Best part is, the smell hasn’t gotten there yet. Anyone want to lend a hand?”
Max pushed away from the table. “I got it.”
Rey said, “I’m in.”
“Maybe you should sit this one out, Rey. Buck can help.”
Max interjected, “Rey’s good. Mom gave him some pills. He can spread out a sleeping bag, right?”
Rey smirked. “Right. Someone has to pick up your slack.”
His father sighed, seemed to consider putting his foot down, then said, “All right, follow me.”
Thankfully, the garage door was one of those manual kinds and easy to open. Rey put the car in neutral and they backed it into the driveway. Max kept his eyes peeled on the sky. A pair of hawks zigged overhead but didn’t seem to notice them.
The man who lived here must have gone camping a lot with friends and family. Old, well-worn camping gear was stacked with brand-new sleeping bags and tents and a camp stove still in the box.
They found rubber mats and laid them out, placing a sleeping bag on top of each. Max went back inside and found just enough pillows for everyone. There were even foil packets of camp food, like freeze-dried ice cream and granola. Rey pitched in as best he could, helping them make the garage as comfortable and inviting as possible.
After the last couple of days, they all needed a nice place to rest. Max spotted two heavy-duty lanterns and placed them in the middle of the circular arrangement of sleeping bags.
“Like a campfire,” he said.
His father laid his arm over his shoulders. “Nice work, guys. Call everyone in. Oh, and bring those kids’ books I found. I can read everyone a bedtime story.”
Max gave a short laugh and headed to the kitchen.
At least for one night, they could pretend that the world outside hadn’t gone to hell and a dead man wasn’t rotting down the hall.
77
Buck woke up before everyone. He’d always been an early riser. A few years of retirement hadn’t changed things a bit. Stretching and yawning, he had to admit it was the best night’s sleep he’d had in a while, at least since everything had gone to the shitter.
I guess spending days being attacked by dogs and hawks is good medicine to cure insomnia.
Daniel and his boys had done a bang-up job making the garage comfortable and just shy of homey. They’d done so well, it was tempting to stay there a few days to rest up and fully recover, maybe even stick around until the troops came by to set things right again.
Dakota and Rey slept next to one another. Even in sleep, they looked pained.
Jesus, God, you gotta give us a hand here. They need serious help. Those pills Liz is giving them are only slowing things down. If we don’t find help soon—
Padding to the kitchen, he found half a box of Wheaties and several packets of oatmeal. Turning the grill on again, he filled two pots with water and put them on. One was for making oatmeal, the other for coffee. He used paper towels as a filter for the grounds.
No sooner had he poured the first cup when Alexiana came into the kitchen, followed by Daniel.
“That smells so . . . normal,” she said, taking the offered cup.
“No cream, but we do have sugar,” Buck said.
“I’ll drink mine in the garage,” Daniel said. “I don’t want the smell out here spoiling it.”
There was a serving tray on top of the refrigerator. Buck filled some bowls with cereal and oatmeal and carried it all to the garage, along with a pocket full of spoons. Everyone was up, including Dakota, her hea
d bandaged with violet-stained gauze.
“Breakfast of champions,” he announced, setting the tray on the floor.
Daniel called him over to the corner of the garage that was filled by two big trunks. While everyone ate, they sipped their coffees.
“What’s in there?” Buck asked.
“Protection,” Daniel said, flipping the lid of one of the trunks open. The inside was crammed with baseballs, footballs, pucks, tennis rackets, and best of all, helmets. There were at least half a dozen football and hockey helmets.
“Hot damn,” Buck said, whistling.
“Check this one out.”
The other trunk had rows of protective gear, from shin guards to shoulder pads.
Buck said, “We’ll outfit the kids first, and then take what’s left. Unless the elephants from the fucking Bronx Zoo are on the loose, we should be in pretty good shape.”
Daniel plucked a hockey helmet from the trunk and squared it on his head. It had a clear visor and looked like it’d seen its fair share of ice time. “I don’t like the way it dampens my hearing, but it’s better than nothing.”
Buck tapped the top of the helmet. “I’ll step outside, check the unfriendly skies. If our luck holds out, those hawks are long gone and we can test out our new duds. We can make St. Joe’s by early afternoon, barring any delays.”
He didn’t even want to think what else might be waiting for them outside.
At least they’d had a good night’s sleep, food, and a form of protection. For one day, they could allow their hopes to ride high.
78
Gabby had a hard time moving her head from side to side. The hockey helmet her father had made her wear was two sizes too big for her head, but it was the smallest in the trunk. He also had her put on shin guards and elbow pads.
She didn’t complain. It was, after all, added protection. After what they’d seen over the past few days, they needed all they could get. While everyone else got ready, she stared down the empty driveway, into the woods of Tibbetts Park. There were no hawks to be seen, so far. Alexiana kept watching the sky for their return. But what else was waiting for them in the park?
She’d been there plenty of times and knew it was filled with all sorts of animals. Something had changed them. Whatever had made all the people sick and killed them had done something to the animals. Even coming upon a kitten was a scary thought.
For as long as she could remember, Gabby had begged her parents for a dog or a cat.
Once this was over, she’d never ask again.
“Hey, Gabby, look at me!”
Miguel pulled up next to her. He wore a New York Jets helmet and shoulder pads that made him a little wobbly on his bike. He also had on shin guards and leather batting gloves. Their father had wedged a tennis racket under his seat.
“I can barely see your face,” she said.
Within the vast confines of the helmet was a smile. “I even have a tennis racket in case I have to swat a bird or something away.”
With the sun shining for the first time and the air so clear, it was hard to believe anything bad could be waiting out there. Miguel seemed unafraid and more impressed with his new suit of armor. She had to restrain herself from reminding him exactly what they were setting out into. It was best to let him remain happy for the moment.
“Mom?” she called out.
Her mother came rushing over. She also wore a hockey helmet with hard plastic leg pads, like a baseball catcher would wear.
“What is it, sweetie? Did you see anything?”
“No. I, well, I want to know—”
The question had been nagging her ever since her father announced that they would be leaving. She was happy to put the house behind her, knowing a dead body was just a few doors away. She’d never forget the man’s face or the sallow color of his skin. Or worse, the awful smell.
Her mother went to one knee so they were eye to eye. “What do you want to know, Gabby?”
She looked back at her father, who was talking to Buck while they put a chest pad on Dakota and a batting helmet on Rey.
“Can I have a gun?” she asked, the last word coming out so softly, she could barely hear it.
Her mother stroked her shoulders. “Look, I know you’re scared, but you’re too young to have a gun. We won’t let Max have one, either. If something happens, we’ll protect you. I promise, we won’t let anything hurt you.”
Gabby had suspected as much and promised herself she wouldn’t make a scene when her mother said no. Only babies made scenes.
“Okay,” she replied, looking at the concrete between her feet. “I just want to be able to help if . . . if something bad happens again.”
“You can help by doing exactly what we tell you. Why don’t you walk with me? We can hook your bike on the end of Dakota’s cart. You can help me push.”
It was impossible to resist her mother’s warm smile. It was the smile that got her to do her homework when she was tired and fed up, or help rake the yard when all she wanted to do was watch TV.
Gabby smiled back, and received a big kiss on her forehead in return.
“Everyone ready?” her father said.
They looked like a mash-up of every sport imaginable, like modern knights that got their armor from the Sports Authority. Any other time or place, they would have looked ridiculous.
Here and now, it looked and felt right.
Dakota patted Gabby’s head as she took one end of the cart and pushed it down the driveway.
79
Rey insisted that he walk despite looking horrid. The circles under his eyes were getting darker and the flesh of his face pulled tighter over his skull. Daniel relented, but on the condition that Rey hold on to the cart.
Dakota didn’t even make the attempt this morning. It was probably best. Elizabeth had given them each an antibiotic before they left. Dakota said the pills gave her terrible stomach cramps. In anticipation of what could come, Elizabeth asked Rey to find as much toilet paper as he could. Luckily, there’d been a full twelve pack of double rolls in the linen closet.
“What a picture we make,” Daniel said to his wife. He tapped the shotgun’s barrel against his batting helmet.
“I’ve seen you wear worse when you mow the lawn,” she replied, nudging his side with her elbow.
“What do you mean by that? I lawn ranger in style.”
“Honey, jean cutoffs belong on teenage girls . . . in the eighties. You add your dress socks and sandals to the mix and you have an epic fashion faux pas. It’s why I always left the house to go shopping when you broke out the lawn mower.”
Daniel snorted.
He said, “Gabby, you think you can handle pushing the cart all by yourself for a bit?”
Her lips set in a grim line. “Of course I can.”
His heart broke. She’d aged at least five years in just two days. He feared that the innocent daughter he took to Chuck E. Cheese’s just a couple of weeks ago was lost forever.
Sighing, he pulled Elizabeth aside.
“With everyone so close, we haven’t had a moment to talk,” he said.
“Much less think,” she added.
“The old man, you said you didn’t think he was sick. Did he mention having a shelter, too?”
“He didn’t. I thought about it, and I realized why he was well and his wife wasn’t. It was the oxygen. When everyone else was breathing in whatever toxins were released in the air, he was connected to pure oxygen. The poison never made it into his lungs where it could spread.”
“So what we have left are the lucky few who made it to their shelters and the sick?”
She shook her head. “People like him won’t last long. Only until their oxygen supply runs out. No one’s left to restock their canisters.”
Something skittered in the bushes, crunching leaves. Everyone stopped, those with guns pointing them at the source of the sound. They waited a minute, and when nothing popped out, started walking again.
“What about the
animals? You’re the only one here with any kind of medical background. What the hell happened to them?” Daniel said, easing the shotgun back to face the ground.
“That has to be something different. We had to have been hit with multiple chemical weapons. They took out our electronics and communication, infected everyone, and turned nature against us. For all we know, even the soil is contaminated. Rey and Dakota are sick now because they were directly exposed to the smoke. God knows what we’re being exposed to now.”
Buck called out, “Almost there!”
Sure enough, a hundred yards ahead the trees gave way to Yonkers Avenue, the Cross County Parkway running over it.
Daniel felt his shoulders sag as he exhaled. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been walking alongside the park and whatever creatures it held.
“We should follow Yonkers to St. Joe’s,” Elizabeth said. “It’ll be faster, and once we get past Ashburton, mostly downhill. Let’s hope the powers that be set up some kind of station on Yonkers Avenue.”
“If we keep this pace up, we can be there just after noon. If no one’s home, it should at least be a safe place to hole up for the night.”
Elizabeth reached out for his hand.
“For Rey’s sake, let’s pray someone answers when we knock.”
80
Max used the bat as a cane, tapping the end of the barrel down hard on the street with every other step. His mother had asked him to stop, and he had, but he was back at it. It was weird the way each strike echoed. This time of day, this whole area should be crammed with revving cars on the road and the parkway. The cars were there, just dead, like everything and everyone else.
If this were a normal day, he’d have his glove looped onto the bat, his cleats clacking on the pavement. When he got home, his mother would ask him, as always, how he managed to get his uniform so dirty. He’d wolf down two bananas and a Hot Pocket along with a bottle of Gatorade before heading to his room to do his homework before dinner.
Nothing came after them from Tibbetts Park. He couldn’t decide whether he appreciated the eventless walk or not. He’d decided to look at things like he was living in a video game, one of those badass ones where you have to survive a zombie apocalypse or something.
