I had learned that arguing with him was much like kicking a dead horse. Eventually I realized that it accomplished nothing and I gained nothing but frustration in the action. The plan was for me to sit in the tank so that nobody could take it while we were attempting to gather, or steal, the equipment we needed before we headed home. With the proper equipment, we would be able to make a defined and clear plan for our next step.
Though we could likely get some of what we needed elsewhere, military satellite phones would be needed for the connection. Shara didn’t look any happier, as she was being assigned to guard the truck. The three of them were headed opposite of me, but still Chris wanted to go with me to the tank. I told him how ridiculous that was. If I could not even get myself to the tank, then I was truly pathetic.
This caused an argument. I was not surprised. I managed to convince Chris, mostly because time really was not on our side. Again, we each took a handheld radio. We agreed that we would maintain radio silence unless we truly needed to communicate with the other person. Getting back to the tank was fairly easy. I found more holes in their security than I was really expecting. I avoided the main gate and instead chose a side path.
Going over the map helped. I figured they would have blocked all the side streets. Climbing wouldn't be all that hard. I was amazed to find that though they had a gate there were no guards standing watch.
It made me feel almost bad for those who thought this was a safe place. It was not my problem, but I wanted to scream the frustration I felt. Problem was, screaming would get me found. That was the last thing I wanted. I was not surprised that they had placed a guard on our tank. He was sitting by the main gun but was slumped over asleep. Zombie bait, and I felt no sympathy. I was easily able to sneak into the tank without waking the idiot on the gun.
I tried not to disparage upon those whose intellect was less than mine. Still, there was a serious lack of common sense and reckless disregard for human life. I was pissed. I would not hesitate to say so. Chris had locked the hold. We each had a key, so it being locked was no issue.
However, it did keep the general from trying to steal the tank. I locked it after sliding inside. Setting up everything, I felt my nerves jumping like monkeys on the vines.
The first beep of the radio about had me jumping out of my skin. It reverberated about the confines of the tank, echoing into the silence and startling me. “Okay, Lizzie. We got the truck. Update.” He only spoke once and then went silent.
Once I was calm, I replied, “In the safe and ready to lead. Got a snoring bear at my door, but the door is locked.” We had agreed to use code whenever we could. Simplified, and direct, it meant that the base group wouldn't immediately understand everything that was said. I knew that the radio would be quiet until Chris got into the storage area. I settled in for a long wait.
Tara
We got to the truck quickly. There were two guards on the clear side of the gate. I motioned to Chris. I could easily take down one and he the other. We didn’t want to leave them open to attack though.
Yeah, we were taking supplies. We were even taking information. Still, we were not murderers. We were not going to leave them unable to fight off the dead. That went against all of what we believed in. In truth, it felt like we were doing less to them than they planned to do to us.
We went through to the main base area. We split up at the garage. I was going for ammo and other basic supplies.
Chris was going to get us some satellite phones and computer stuff. This would make us able to use the satellite’s capability to see the area we were looking at as ground zero.
I was not even going to clear the supplies from here. I was only going to pull enough to help us to survive. We were on a tight squeeze for time as we didn’t know if they would be following. We hoped that we could be on our way home before they came after us.
Shara
Dad and Aunt Tara kept returning with supplies. When the truck was fully loaded, both climbed in and we headed to our tank. Aunt Lizzie was waiting and ready to take off. She would be jumping in the truck, and Dad and I would be taking the tank.
We would follow the truck home. Tara drove like a demon. I was glad that Dad had me in the tank with him. I tried to get him to talk, trying to gauge his mood, but he was not chatty.
He barely grunted to answer my questions, giving me the definite impression that he was not interested in talking. I was hopeful that it was a passing thing; otherwise, the ride home would be miserable.
Chris
Why was it that girls wanted to ramble all the time? Stuck with Shara in the tank had its upsides, but she was unwilling to ride quietly. I needed to think, and I was finding her company to be a deterrent for that. Life had become much more complicated than I had ever expected it to be. Right about here was when I started to berate myself mentally. Shara had always been my mini me. By thinking that she was being a typical girl, I really was doing her a disservice. It was more likely that she was worrying about me. Shaking my head, I picked up the radio. “Hey, Tara, stop at the truck stop. I want to supply gather and take a moment to get my head together.” Her acknowledgement came so quickly I wondered if I had worried her with the request.
Then I turned to Shara, realizing that she was also sitting there worried. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I am just planning our next few steps.”
Shara nodded gently. Her tone was far more relaxed than it had been, which told me that I had truly worried her.
Internally, I cringed at the relief on her face. “Not worried, Dad, just enjoy talking to you. Hey, if there is any Red Bull left, can I snag one?”
Her humor always caught me off guard. She always seemed to know how to make me feel less like an ass. The truck stop had a lot less of the dead fuckers this time. Since the survivors were no longer in the building, there was nothing to attract the dead to stay. Zombies were pure instinct; if it didn’t involve eating, they were often not interested.
Tara
I found Chris’s request odd. I already planned to stop for a break at the truck stop, but he asked for a break to get his head together. It implied that he was not thinking clearly. I worried that he had been bitten and I had missed it somehow. Fear was eating at me at the thought of losing him, warring with anger at him for taking the chance.
Climbing out of the truck felt strange. My senses on the alert, I led Lizzie to the building and made sure she was safe. Then I looked for Chris and Shara. The more time I was searching for them, the more aggravation I was prepared to unleash on them. Though I knew Shara was not to blame, I was on edge, and she was an easy target.
Poor Lizzie was also caught in the crossfire. She peeked out to check on me a couple of times during the ten mind-numbing minutes that we waited for the tank to enter the lot, earning a growl from me. Though I knew she was worried about me, I felt like I couldn't keep her safe if she came out of the store.
Yeah, I was on edge and so very close to losing my shit.
The tank pulled in and parked. Chris barely climbed out before I lit into him. “What’s going on? Why did you need to stop?” I didn’t even take a breath between the questions.
Chris laughed. “Take a breath, Squid. Nothing is wrong. I just figured we could use a stretch break.” He shook his head and helped Shara out of the tank. She looked worn to the bone, her hair flattened to her scalp as she hung limply in her father's arms. I had never felt more like an ass.
The wind was just knocked out of my anger, leaving me running over to help Shara into the building. Chris followed and locked the door behind us. Lizzie took over and took Shara into the shower area for a cleanup and refresh. Slumping against a chair in the lounge, I looked to Chris for some understanding. He grabbed an energy drink and sat beside me with a sigh.
He grabbed an energy drink and sat beside me with a sigh. “This has been a long day. I think it might be a good idea to catch some sleep before we continue on. We can use the radio here to try and reach the junkyard. After they finish the
ir showers, maybe you should take one. You look wound like a damn top, and I need you on your game.”
Though I knew he was right, I was feeling like anything but sleeping at that moment. I grabbed my weapons and shot him a dirty look. “If we are staying for a nap, then I am going to do a walk around the perimeter. I’ll take first watch. How long are you planning to stay here? So I know when to wake you?”
His sigh said more than words could. I knew I irritated him, but I was mad enough at that moment to not care. He rubbed a hand over his face. “It depends if I can reach the junkyard. If I can and everything is kosher, then likely a ten-hour stint. Gives us each a four-hour nap and a couple hours to deal in between.”
Nodding, I stormed off to do the perimeter. It would give me a chance to vent my steam and give us an idea of the lay of the land. There were perhaps a dozen trucks parked on the lot. I was thinking that Lizzie could drive the troop transport if we wanted to take one of the rigs full of whatever supplies we wanted from here. I doubted that Lizzie or Shara could drive one of these rigs, but I knew I could.
As I did the patrol, I considered each of the rigs and looked for what would be our best option. I checked the trailers to see what was already full of supplies that we might make use of. The distraction was helping.
By the time I finished exploring the parking lot, I was ready for a peaceful watch as my people slept. I only hoped that Chris had been successful in his attempts to contact home.
Chris
Some days I really didn’t get women, especially those I was related to. I surrounded myself with strong intelligent women. My mother, then my sisters...my wife and my two daughters. I never questioned why. I only knew that was what life should be.
Tara’s temper was legendary, and usually I didn’t mind, but being caught in the middle of the world going straight to hell made my tolerance drop some.
When we stopped, I took a moment to contact the junkyard. Amara and I agreed before we left that there would be a person monitoring the radio in the garage at all times, so I was relieved to find the group I had sent made it. They must have sent for her, as Amara quickly came to the radio once contact was made.
Man, I was really screwing shit up. Keeping things to myself hurt Shara and pissed off Tara, and now my lack of thought had made my poor Amara suffer more than was needed. No wonder Tara was pissed at me. I needed to straighten my shit. My family needed my head on right and my act together.
Damn, how much I missed Jimbo. He understood our women, so much more than I ever did. He would know how to face the world going to shit and do it with a generous smile on his face.
I gathered my wits as I waited for Tara to return from her patrol. Keeping my conversation short, to keep others from figuring out locations, I let Amara know we were safely on the return trip. A lifetime together allowed for a verbal shorthand. I missed her, more than I could say. I supposed that I should tell her that when I saw her again.
I settled Lizzie and Shara in to sleep. Both were beyond exhausted. Then I prepared myself to face Tara’s temper.
Tara
Chris was waiting for me when I returned. He sighed as though he could understand my anger. I knew I was giving in too easily, but I found myself just unwilling to be the bitch. At least this time. “Goddamn it, Chris!”
His chuckled response grated but was no less expected. I gave him a hug to help ground me. “You took extra time on a patrol. What is going on, Squid?”
I shook my head. I was not letting his questions sidetrack me. “Look, I am depending on you. Everyone is depending on you. And you are acting like a one-man fucking team, like you are invulnerable. It scares me how you are trying to solo it. I can help. Lizzie can too. You need to learn how to lean on your family once in a damn while. I took longer because I was planning an extra supply gather for us to take home. Damn it, Chris, we love you too! You just make it so much harder.”
He stared at me, probably a good ten minutes, before he said anything. “You are right. I do need to get my shit together. Tell me what you got in mind, and we will work it out.”
Figuring he would agree, I quickly filled him in on my plan. I really wanted to hear his approval—far more than I realized. He listened, nodding the whole time. He smiled. “Are you sure you can drive it? I am good with the idea. We will do a nap, and we will load up and get the hell home.” Yeah, I was a marshmallow where he was concerned, after all.
I forgave him right there. He can definitely be an ass, but he was my brother. “You first on the nap. I’ll take first watch. You got four hours. Then I want a shower and at least two hours before we move our asses.”
Chris nodded, gave me a quick hug, and went to the lounge to nap. The truck stop lounge had three massage chairs, which were a bonus. The chairs were large squishy recliner-style chairs that had a heat and massage function built in. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to nap, but it was far better than the floor.
My poor sister was curled sleeping in one, looking for all the world fragile and nearly broken. Drinking an energy drink, Shara sat in another watching over Lizzie. She smiled a weary smile.
I was amazed to realize that Shara was trying to protect the aunt I thought she hated. Apparently, I was wrong. That had been happening a lot more recently.
Shara
Poor Aunt Lizzie looked awful. Dad asked me to take her to the shower while he dealt with a pissed-off Tara. I took her, and we took a shower. I was really not used to the intimacy of a shared shower.
Still, Lizzie was pale and looked like she was about to fall over. Dad wouldn't forgive me if I let her fall down because I was shy. First thing she did was hurl. I doubted that she had eaten enough for hurling. I figured we would clean up and then go see if we could find her ginger ale and crackers. That was mom’s go-to for sick bellies. I figured that pregnant women would use it too. I was so scared that I would end up making things worse. I was scrambling to find the solutions to keep her well. I was terrible at such things. That was what Mom did—not me.
My abilities extended to vehicles, to figuring out how to fix things that couldn't die. Yeah, I was panicking. Badly. I guessed it was understandable. The shower helped to calm me and seemed to help Lizzie feel better. She was also modest.
She was obviously more at ease with her clothing on but too ill to protest much. After the shower, I led her to the lounge and then ran to get her something for her stomach. I heard Dad talking to someone, and I thought it was on the radio.
I grabbed some ginger ale, an energy drink for me, and some Cheez-its to try to settle her poor belly. I also snagged a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos for me.
I would have grabbed saltines, but there weren’t any. I also didn’t dig very deep. I found myself grateful that the electricity was still on. It meant hot showers and cold drinks.
The question of if I was really that shallow went through my head. Maybe each person was shallow in the fall of society. That need to be selfish and to wallow in the small luxuries that we took for granted was most likely experienced by everyone. I doubted I really considered the little things like cold drinks, hot showers, and the fiery crunch of the Cheetos before the dead walked.
After settling Lizzie, I sat there just mesmerized by the cold sweetness and the hot crunch. I found myself asking if this awful reality was but a nightmare that I was stuck in. If I lay in the nasty massage chair I was sitting in, would I wake up and find myself asleep on the couch in the breakroom?
My head was buzzing with so many questions when Dad and Tara came in. Questions that I really didn’t want answered. I gave Tara a weak smile as she glanced at our poor sleeping Lizzie. I thought about just unloading all the last few hours on her and about the fact that she would always be there for me. Then I realized how exhausted she looked. At that moment, I learned that I had to deal with my own shit. Though I had many times claimed that I was no longer a child, right at that moment was the first time that I truly acted like an adult.
Tara nodded. “Get som
e sleep, squirt, we are continuing in eight hours. I am taking first watch.”
Nodding, I settled in to the nasty chair. I tried to ignore the film that was over the fake leather. How did anyone ever use these? They were germ factories. I figured it was less nasty than the floor though. I never actually slept but only dozed off and on. I saw Tara wake Dad and crawl gingerly onto the chair herself. It looked as if she was just as uncomfortable as I was but didn’t let it affect her as much. She was so badass, really. She seemed so small, and yet she was a SEAL. She was never afraid and took no shit. I only could hope to someday be like her.
Then I glanced over to my other aunt. Smart, tall, and quiet. I used to think that they were like night and day. After spending more time with Lizzie, I could see the wrought iron spine. I had more to aspire to in my life than I ever imagined.
How many teen girls had three strong women in their lives? I sat there pretending to sleep while I thought over the major life questions. Would the world ever be right again?
Would I ever have the chance to do something with my life or was survival all that was ever going to be left? It left me with a mild headache and a whole lot of anxiety. I would have got up and joined Dad, but I was certain that my getting up would wake Tara. I figured it was better to be uncomfortable and let her get what little rest she could. Life now was hard enough without adding sleep deprivation to it.
Amara
Talking to Chris helped. The junkyard had been chaotic since he left, as I didn’t seem to easily command the respect he did. The new group of survivors especially had been problematic. They did not want to use the system of rations that I set up. I was growing weary of the constant arguments. I missed my husband, and I worried about him and our daughter. Worry weighed on you when there was no relief from it.
We had been attacked once already by a survivor group on motorcycles. I wanted my husband to check out our defenses and put my fears to rest. Now it seemed so silly, but I really didn’t trust the word of the guys on the gate. I was scared and trying not to show it.
Rust, Gore, and The Junkyard Zombie Page 9
