Zoe emitted a soft sigh in her sleep.
Abby looked to her right. The younger girl appeared every bit the little angelic blonde in her sleep; no one looking at her would ever imagine the tiny spitfire with a rifle who shot at people, a little girl who’d hidden inside a suitcase while Infected tossed her around. Abby’s heart grew heavier.
I guess we’re all broken.
Zoe’s close call had frightened her so much she forgot how to ‘child’ properly. Abby had been so scared in Amarillo (and still was) she couldn’t do anything but lay there worrying. The town she had at first thought so welcoming and safe had―in the matter of days―become a deathtrap. Remaining here terrified her as much as being handcuffed to a metal bedframe with Infected crawling in the windows. She couldn’t let that happen again. If Tris and Kevin survived and came home, she had to be here for them. Imagining Tris’ reaction to finding her sick for real got her near to throwing up. Not even knowing her for five minutes, the woman had seemed so heartbroken at the chance she’d been Infected. Would Abby even be able to recognize Tris if she turned? Would enough of her remain inside the mindless creature the Virus created?
Would Tris be able to shoot her?
Get out of here. She closed her eyes. I gotta get out of here.
Abby sat up, leaving the bear on the mattress. She slipped out of bed and pulled off the sweatshirt before grabbing her new dress from the floor, putting it on, and stepping into her moccasins. Zoe murmured in her sleep and shifted. Abby glanced back at her.
Should I wake her up and bring her with me? It seemed cruel to leave the girl here knowing what would happen to Nederland, but…
No. Zoe doesn’t know what it’s like. She doesn’t know. Abby cringed at the memory of people shooting each other for sneezing or coughing. Brothers killing brothers. A mother shooting her son because he ‘looked too sluggish and might be one of them.’ Maybe he had turned, but Aaron had always been a little slow.
She’ll try to stop me and yell for Bill or Ann. Abby grasped at her throat, struggling to breathe as fear built to a point the room spun around. She grabbed the bed to keep from falling. Deep breaths. Air in. Air out. Abby opened her mouth and shut her eyes. The drones aren’t here yet. I can get out. I gotta go.
After two steps toward the ladder, she looped back to grab Fuzz. Another idea hit her and she swiped a small knapsack from the closet before creeping down the ladder. Bill and Pete’s snoring almost shook both bedroom doors. It had to be a miracle that Cody could sleep in there with his father so loud.
Baby steps got her to the kitchen without waking anyone up. She swallowed a trickle of vomit sliding up the back of her throat and knelt by the cabinet. After a few breaths to ward off throwing up, she grabbed random canned goods until the knapsack wouldn’t hold any more. Abby stood, slinging the burden over her shoulder. Cringing at the clattering bundle, she crept to the door and made her way outside.
The moon glowered at her from a cloudless indigo sky. Full and round, it painted Nederland with blue-tinged light, more than enough to see by. Abby eased herself down the three steps of the porch and tiptoed over the driveway to avoid making too much of a crunch in the gravel. On the road, she paused. Going to the right would bring her to the open area where they’d had the meeting, and eventually, the dump truck gates. She’d surely be spotted that way. Plus, she didn’t want to go to another city, even an abandoned one like Boulder. Nothing good happened in cities.
Going left would take her by the lake. No one would be swimming at this hour, probably past midnight. With luck, she’d be well off into the forest before the drones arrived with Virus. She adjusted her grip on the bear, shifted the weight of canned goods closer to the middle of her back, and set off following the road to the west.
Abby refused to look to her right as she passed her house. Barely two months there, and she already felt possessive of her bedroom. She hesitated a moment, debating hiding out in there, but as much of a sanctuary as it had become, it couldn’t stop Virus. Head down, she trudged away from the home she wanted so badly to return to.
The road looped around a hairpin turn up ahead and doubled back, running behind her house as well. Before realizing what she did, her gaze followed the curve and she wound up staring at the place again. All the windows were dark; no car parked next to it. It made no sense how much she wanted to hide in her room, but death would fall from the sky.
The want for Tris and Kevin to come back brought tears again, though she dared not make noise.
Wiping at the annoying wetness gliding down her face, she stomped onward. If they came back―no, when they came back, she’d be alive for them… even if no one else survived. Nederland, population: one.
I should’ve taken Zoe’s gun. The Infected will come after me. She bit her lip. A momentary shiver of dread rattled her bones at the thought of shooting someone, even Infected. No… I’ll just go up a tree. They can’t climb.
At the hairpin, she continued straight onto grass, heading toward a modest hill covered in pine trees rustling in a gentle nighttime breeze. How far should I walk? Wait… I’m going west… that’s the way the drones are coming from. I should turn south. Cans at her back rattled as she leaned forward, grabbing dirt and roots to climb the stiff incline. Dammit. She stopped, head hung in the universal pose of ‘I’m an idiot.’ I didn’t bring a can opener. She stood straight and dusted dirt from her hands, debating between dropping the cans and fleeing or going back for a means to open them.
“Hold it,” said a man.
“Eep!” squeaked Abby. She whirled around.
A man and a woman in camo approached from behind, both with rifles trained in her general direction. Air stalled dead in her lungs; her body refused to breathe in or out. Her heartbeat pounded in her head.
“What are you doing out here at this hour?” asked the woman, sounding annoyed.
Abby, mute, stared at the end of the assault rifle. Moonlight gleamed from its wood parts. The echo of Warren’s voice roared in the back of her mind. If they thought her Infected, they’d kill her.
The woman edged closer, her rifle pointed at Abby’s chest. Dark hair hung long and straight along a Kevlar vest decorated with two knives, a few magazine pouches, and old bloodstains.
Suffocating fear shifted to hyperventilating in an instant. She whimpered, clinging to Fuzz. The baleful moon overhead started to look more like a harsh electric light bulb. Abby stared into the muzzle of the rifle, woozy.
“It’s a kid,” said the man. Short, pale-brown hair caught the light, almost glowing.
The woman lowered her weapon. “You’re not supposed to be out here after dark. What are you up to?”
A panicky whine leaked from her nostrils. “Don’t kill me!” She dropped the knapsack and pulled her dress up to her armpits, exposing herself.
“Uhh that’s a new one,” said the woman. “Hey calm down.”
Abby squealed and gave in to trembling when the woman grabbed her hands. “I’m not bit or scratched! Please don’t shoot me!”
“Whoa.” The man slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked closer. “It’s okay, kid. Abby, right?”
She turned so they could see her back. “I haven’t been scratched. I’m not infected.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.” The woman pulled her dress down. “You don’t have to do that.”
Abby struggled to rein in her breathing and coughed on a tendril of snot sliding down her throat.
The man picked up the knapsack. “Looks like someone’s planning for a trip.”
“The Virus is coming.” She bowed her head, holding Fuzz in both hands to her chest. “I don’t wanna die.”
“We haven’t seen anything in the air, sweetie. Come on. You need to go home.” The woman took her hand.
Abby dragged her moccasins as they walked. “I’m not staying at home. Bill is watching me.”
“Nothing’s wrong there?” asked the man. “Why you’re running away?”
“No. They’re
nice,” she said in a small voice. “I like them, but I’m scared of the Virus.”
The militia escorted her to Bill’s house and knocked until he came to the door. Half-awake, black hair disheveled, with one eye wider than the other, he appeared older.
“Sorry to wake you up, Mr. Vasquez, but we figured you wouldn’t want this one runnin’ off in the middle of the night.” The man handed over the knapsack. “Looks like she’d packed for a long trip.”
Abby bowed her head, silent tears of shame, guilt, and fear sliding down her cheeks.
“Thanks, Jim.” Bill shook the man’s hand as he took the knapsack. “Erin.”
The woman patted Abby on the head. “Sorry for scarin’ ya. Stay inside at night.”
Bill regarded her with an expression she couldn’t discern. Worry? Annoyance? Sympathy?
She sniffled into the teddy bear’s head as the militia who’d ‘caught’ her walked off.
A moment later, Bill took a step back and gestured toward the kitchen.
Without a word, Abby walked in. Bill shut the door with an effort to be quiet, and guided her by a hand on the shoulder to one of the chairs. She sat. He set the knapsack on the table and pulled up another chair.
“I promised Kevin and Tris I’d take care of you while they were away.” He spoke in a soothing, quiet tone.
Abby nodded.
“What are you doing running off?”
She twirled strands of teddy bear fur between her thumb and forefinger, still gazing down. “I’m sorry.”
“Abby… I know you have a… thing about being trapped. If I can’t trust you to stay safe, you might wind up locked in a room.”
She sucked in a breath.
“I don’t want that, and I know you don’t want that.”
“No.” Abby shook her head. “Please don’t.”
“Why were you halfway out of town at two in the morning?”
She couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m scared. If I stay in the town, I’ll die when the Virus comes. I’m scared to be alone too… but more scared of the Virus.” No matter how tight she squeezed it, Fuzz didn’t hug her back. As soon as she thought of her new family, tears burst forth. “I want Tris and Kevin to come home. Why did they have to go? I want them back.”
Bill patted his leg. Abby lunged out of her chair and sat in his lap, crying into his chest for a while as he held and rocked her. When she quieted enough for him to talk over without raising his voice, he shushed her a little more. “They seemed to think they had something important to do. Tris has some information… she said they can stop the Virus. I don’t know whether they plan to destroy the Enclave or what. Doesn’t seem likely that, but maybe they can do somethin’ about the Virus.”
Abby sniffled.
“I got the sense they really didn’t want to go. They wanted to stay with you.”
“Then why didn’t they?” whined Abby.
He squeezed her shoulder, then brushed his hand up and down her back. “Because of this exact thing. They don’t want Virus dropping on our heads and they really don’t want you getting hurt. They went out there to protect you.”
“I’m afraid they won’t come back. What if they get hurt?” Abby wiped her tears on her forearm.
Bill smiled. “Tris is a lot tougher than she looks, and that Kevin’s pretty crafty. I think between the two of them, they’ll find a way or decide it ain’t worth it and come back.”
She curled against his chest, too worried about them to talk.
“Abby. I need you to promise me you won’t try a stunt like this again. If anything happened to you, Tris would kill me. I promise we’ll do everything we can to protect you.”
“Uhh.” She tossed ideas around her head, trying to think of how scary the mountains would be all alone. Any number of things could come after her: Infected, raiders, wolves, falling in a hole she can’t climb out of… snakes. She gulped. “Okay. I promise.”
“Good. I’m going to trust you. Don’t make me feel dumb.”
Abby nodded. “Promise.”
Bill slipped an arm under her legs at the knee and carried her back up to the loft. He went up the ladder only far enough to set her on her feet at the top. “Back to bed for you.”
“’Kay.”
Abby started toward the bed, but froze at the sight of Zoe’s butt protruding from the closet. The girl rummaged around in the pile of junk like a dust hopper digging a burrow, her nightgown glowing blue in the moonlight.
“Zoe?” whispered Abby.
The girl sat back on her heels and twisted around, a bug-eyed gas mask on her face.
Abby screamed.
A heavy thud came from below. Bill said a few nasty words before dragging himself up the ladder.
Zoe pushed the mask up off her face and grinned.
Abby wilted to her knees, both hands over her chest, gasping for air.
“What happened?” wheezed Bill.
A door opened downstairs.
“Bill? What’s up?” asked Pete.
“Dad?” Cody sounded exhausted. “What’s going on?”
Abby pointed at Zoe, still breathless.
“Oh.” Bill chuckled. “Girls, go to bed, now.” He eased himself down the ladder grumbling about his knee. “False alarm. Zoe startled Abby with a mask.”
Two doors closed downstairs.
Zoe’s grin faded to an apologetic frown. “Sorry. I found one for you too.” She crawled over and dropped another gas mask on the floor by Abby’s knees. “Zara said the bad stuff is breathed. These will help.”
Feeling ridiculous for finding Zoe-in-a-gas-mask scary, Abby giggled.
Zoe smiled. “Don’t laugh too loud. We’ll get yelled at.” She pulled her mask off, shaking her head to free her hair from the rubber straps, which snapped up into the mask.
“Yeah,” whispered Abby. “Why are you awake?”
Zoe stood. “I was gonna go find you.”
Abby knee-walked to the bed. “Sorry.”
She started to pull herself up into bed when a ripple of gunfire outside sent her to the floor in a ball. Zoe darted to the closet and grabbed her M-16, then ran back across the room to the window they’d climbed out of before. Hunkered down over the windowsill, she aimed into the night. Shots continued for a few seconds more before fading to silence, though Zoe didn’t fire.
A faint electric whine emanated in the distance, and a loud splintering crunch preceded a series of sharp smacks suggesting a heavy object hurtling through trees.
Abby’s eyes widened to their limit. They shot down a drone… I heard it crash. “We… we gotta get out of here!” She jumped upright, looking around with random, quick jerks of her head. “They’re coming. It’s found us!”
Zoe tossed the rifle onto the bed and leapt on Abby. “No. Don’t go out there.”
“We gotta…” Abby struggled to run for the ladder, but the smaller girl tangled her legs and she fell on all fours. Her heart raced; every second she remained in the house, remained in Nederland, brought her that much closer to death. “Come on!”
Zoe turned into a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around her. “Abs! Calm down. Gran’pa! Help!”
Abby thrashed to get free, dragging Zoe along the floor. She made it within a few feet of the ladder when a figure rose up past the floor. The motion made her scream and reverse course.
Infected in the house!
Shrieking, Abby twisted side to side to get away from Zoe, but the little one held on like a wolverine. The formless person-shaped blob rising over the ladder got taller… and taller… and taller. She refused to look at the bloody mouth she knew was opening to infect her.
Abby clawed and kicked at the air, screaming, “Daddy!” over and over.
“She’s having a panic attack,” said a man.
Another huge figure bounded up into the loft. The stink of rotting bodies made her gag; she strained to get away, but the younger girl held her fast.
Zoe pulled Abby upright, sitting behind her, and clamped
on. “Abby! It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just Gran’pa and Dad.”
Every muscle in her body locked, she stared at the amorphous figures, breathing hard, covered in sweat.
“Abby.” Zoe’s arms felt like a steel band around her middle. “You’re okay. It’s Gran’pa.”
The nearer Infected changed… no longer rotten. Older… Bill.
Abby went limp. She stopped fighting to get away from Zoe. Bill took a knee beside them and brushed her hair off her face before staring into her eyes. Her heart raced; she breathed so fast she got dizzy.
“Abby?” asked Bill.
Shivering, she managed to nod and gasped for breath. “Yeah…”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe in Zoe’s room.” Bill leaned back. “I’ll go and get you some water. Try to think of happy things.”
Abby’s face scrunched up, a pleading frown mixed with a touch of glare. How could he ask her to ‘think happy’ after the Virus landed in Nederland?
She squirmed around and clamped onto Zoe, who gave her an ‘are you okay?’ stare.
Abby shook her head and whispered, “The Enclave killed us. We’re gonna die…”
21
The Combat Package
Flat on his back, staring at a bleak, pale-grey ceiling with rows of dim fluorescent lights led Kevin’s mind through a quasi-dream of having survived nuclear war in an underground shelter. Neither asleep nor awake, the mental wandering left him briefly out of touch with reality. A sudden spike of urgency―needing to rush home to check on Abby―shocked him wide awake. Hundreds of miles away, he had to know if she’d survived the bombs falling.
Tris shifted in her sleep; her hair brushed against his chin.
Oh… dreaming. He closed his eyes and breathed in slow. The life he’d started in Nederland barely a month ago felt like a dream as well. So close to how he imagined the world before it all went to hell. Probably why the sense of being in a nuclear bunker gave him that dream.
I gotta at least try to sleep. Should I take that shot? Damn catch-22. Might find more inside, might not. If I don’t take it and I get scratched going in there, finding more won’t matter. If we do find more, I’m going to feel reckless for not using it. He shifted, trying to get comfortable on the thin mattress. Why would they have the vaccine in their quarantine area? They’d keep it in the main city. He sighed out his nose. Maybe Abby will be able to sleep if she gets it. A grin curled his lips. I’m getting as bad as Tris. Darn kid.
The Roadhouse Chronicles (Book 3): Dead Man's Number Page 26
