by M. Van
Ash avoided the private stuff, which was fine by me. I wasn’t ready to talk about home. Although the relationship with my family was odd at best, I couldn’t deal with never seeing them again, not just yet. It seemed I couldn’t deal with a lot of things.
I also didn’t mention the bite or what Mars had hinted about concerning my condition. The thought it might save me seemed ludicrous. Nor did I say anything about avoiding the military. Ash had her own doubts about them. The evacuation at the hospital hadn’t been a smooth operation. She did seem intrigued by my JFK and I-678 adventure.
“Keep an eye out,” I said as I grabbed the two bags hanging off the back of the wheelchair and placed them behind the car. My eyes swept the lot before I returned for the box sitting on Ash’s lap. Knots formed in my gut when I heard distant moans. Nerves started to get the better of me. My gaze kept falling on this fragile kid. I had promised myself I wouldn’t call her that, but she still very much was. Could I take responsibility for her? I didn’t know whether I could take care of myself, let alone a kid, and what about her illness? I pretty much knew my expiration date. The doctors weren’t hopeful I’d make it past New Year’s, and my projections for Ash weren’t much different, especially without treatment. What if I’d get too sick to do, well, anything? What would happen to her? We could try and find others, but how long would regular people be able to survive with the growing number of zombies out there?
With a mental shake, I calmed the raging in my head. I couldn’t let my mind rampage on what-if. It would drive me nuts; we would have to take it day by day.
“How’s this going to work? You need help, or are you the I-can-do-it type?”
With a scowl, she rolled her eyes. “I think I can manage to climb inside a car.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. She pulled the handle to the locked door.
“I ask because unlocking will probably draw out the crazies. We need to move fast.”
“I can do it,” she said again but without the sarcasm.
“Okay, so, I’ll be at the back, push the button, load the supplies, you get in, and I’ll get your chair,” I said. My voice rose an octave along with the tension in my chest.
“Right,” Ash said, sounding determined. She bit her lower lip; that on its own drained my confidence. She wheeled her chair to the passenger side door while I stood ready at the back of the SUV. Another glance around the lot showed nothing, and I let out a nervous breath.
“Here goes,” I said and pressed the button.
Lights flashed with the familiar beep. In a rush, I opened the back to load our stuff. With the SUV nearly bursting at the seams, I had trouble closing the door. Startled by a nearby growl, I threw my weight at the door and heard it click shut. A man with bare feet wearing a flimsy hospital gown stumbled out the open door Ash and I had used. The zombie had followed us into the parking lot.
“Shit,” I muttered, “that was stupid.”
We had to be more careful about these things. He lifted the one arm he still had, his fingers clawing the air. Others followed behind him. Lips pulled into snarls, baring teeth. They looked agitated. With what sounded like an old-fashioned battle cry, the zombies charged.
I grabbed the chair in a lousy effort to fold it. When I realized it wouldn’t work, panic set in. Meanwhile, the horde closed in on me. Screw this, I thought, and rolled the chair at the zombies. The one missing an arm came crashing over it. Face first, it slammed onto the pavement. Without hesitation, I scrambled around the car, jumped behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and set the car in reverse. The car bumped, followed by a bone crunch, followed by a metallic crunch. Warily, I turned to Ash, who looked at me in disbelief. “Really,” she said in an exaggerated voice, rolling her eyes.
“I’ll get you a new one.”
She threw her hands in the air, palms up. “Great, that’s just fuckin’ perfect,” she said. “What kind of weasel deal is this? Now I’m not only stuck with you, but I’m stuck to the car.” Her tone caught me off guard; I was unaccustomed to teenagers with attitudes like that, but it suited her.
“You can always stay here,” I said with a shrug and puckered lips. Fists thumped on the outside of the SUV. I viewed the zombies in the rearview mirror.
Ash crossed her arms followed by a deep sigh. “Drive,” she said.
I threw the car into gear and stepped on the gas. It didn’t stop Ash’s banter as she kept bitching about not being able to get around. Of everything that exited her mouth, I understood about half. Either she swallowed letters, or she used phrases I had to translate from context. I didn’t think it escaped her notice that even with a wheelchair, we’d be in a heap of trouble if we ever needed to flee in a hurry, but I figured the complaining distracted her, and for some reason, it soothed my mind.
She fell silent, though, the moment we hit the main roads. The sun had started to peek over the horizon, and the light shed a new perspective on the devastation that had hit. Ash’s mouth agape, her eyes witnessed for the first time what had happened to her town. Along the road, bodies occupied the streets; glass and debris spilled out of the houses and shops. One of the blocks of redbrick building was on fire without a firefighter in sight. Disfigured shapes roamed the streets, but I caught a glimpse of an uninfected one or two. There weren’t many cars, and I kept us at a decent pace when I didn’t need to dodge debris.
“Brace yourself,” I said when a zombie stepped out from behind a parked car. It crashed into the side of the Edge with a thud. Ash yelped.
“Jeez, you could have warned me,” she said, gasping for air.
“I did.”
“I think that just cost me another year of my life,” she said. “Thanks for that.”
“Does that mean you’ll die any minute now?” I said. The words rolled off my tongue before I knew it. Sometimes I would forget to enable my filter. When I gauged her reaction, Ash glared at me. With the slightest twitch of her upper lip, she betrayed herself. Relief accompanied my grin at her failure to take offense. Sometimes my endeavors at humor ended up unappreciated, although Ash didn’t seem to have a problem with them.
“I mean, if that’s the case, I can let you get out right here,” I said. Ash snorted a laugh.
“Compared to you, I might be vertically challenged,” she said, unable to keep a grin off her face, “but I’ll still kick your scrawny ass.” I raised my hand in mock defeat.
When the giggles died down, I studied Ash from the corner of my eye as she stared out the window. The color of her skin was close to her name, and she looked so damn skinny. Her age remained a guess to me, her eyes and attitude told me sixteen, but her fragile build agreed with my previous assessment, which was twelve. Her slender fingers clamped the thin fabric of her hospital gown. This kid was something else. She had this calm demeanor that seemed to rub off on me.
“Are you from around here?” I asked. Ash nodded as if in an absent trance caused by the shift in our existence.
“Well, I’m a girl, from a country far, far away, and I have no clue where to go,” I said. “Can you think of any place we could go and lie low? I don’t just mean from the zombies.”
She turned her head at my last words. The hint of saddened realization in her expression told me she knew what I meant. It wasn’t just the warning given by Mars. I’d read enough of those zombie books to know that after the zombies turn on humans, the humans turn on the zombies, and then the humans turn on the humans. That’s the way it goes, and not just in books or movies and not just with zombies. I had a feeling Ash understood this.
“Maybe we can go to an island or one of the bigger parks,” she said and gave me a weary look.
“An island?” I said and raised an eyebrow.
Ash shrugged as a look of indifference fell over her. “Fewer people.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I said, examining our options. It wouldn’t have to be an island exactly because we were already on one of those, but a less populated place would suffice. “Where to?”
“There might be some good places east by the ocean.”
“Does that mean I have to get back on I-678?” I said with a gasp. She shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“God, I hope not, I hate that road,” I said with a sigh and headed east.
| 10
To my relief, we managed to avoid I-678 and ended up on either Belt Pkwy. or Shore Pkwy. The map on my phone seemed a little confused. Like on I-678, deserted cars stood by the side of the road as if in a silent hope that their owners might return to claim them. Most of the vehicles stood in the opposite lanes heading north to one of the safe zones.
Ash had that thousand-mile gaze peering out the window. We had been driving around town for a while before we decided to head in the direction of the ocean, and I could use a break to stretch my legs with a pit stop at a bathroom. Ash’s paralyzed legs caught my attention. I wondered if she even knew when she needed to go.
“How about we stop at a gas station?” I asked hesitantly, “The military cleaned these roads well before they went wherever it is they went, and I figure there won’t be many zombies.”
“Yeah, sure, why not?” Ash replied. She sounded distant, and I felt sorry for the kid. Hell, I felt sorry for both of us.
I pulled into the first gas station we came across, and cut the engine before we came to a full stop. At least fifteen pumps lined up in front of a low rectangular building with big yellow signs. Neon lighted up the inside of the shop. There weren’t many cars in the lot, and I hoped it was a good sign.
“Hang on tight for a minute. I’m going to check the place out,” I said and grabbed my gun from the middle console.
“You packin’ another one of those?” Ash asked.
“How old are you?” I asked, eying her warily.
“Seventeen.”
“Right,” I snorted with a laugh. She looked up at me, but I couldn’t read her expression.
“Fifteen,” she said with a sneer.
I still thought she didn’t look a day over twelve, but that could have had other reasons. Besides, she didn’t talk like a twelve-year-old.
“Closer,” I said with a contemplative smile and reached for the glove compartment. The day before yesterday I would have never contemplated handing a kid a gun, but times had changed. I removed one of the guns I had picked up at the pawnshop and loaded the chamber.
“Plenty old,” I said as I showed her how it worked. “Always use two hands, point away, and pull the trigger at something you want dead.”
Ash nodded and clamped the gun in her hand. She didn’t seem fazed by it.
“Be careful with that. I won’t clean up the mess if you shoot yourself,” I said and carefully opened the driver side door.
“How old are you?” Ash asked. I grimaced and shook my head.
“And I just started to like you,” I said, and I sighed. “Twenty-nine.”
Ash grinned, shook her head, and blew a low whistle.
“Don’t you even dare,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “Wait here.” For some reason I felt uneasy saying, I’ll be right back—thought it might bite me in the ass—but I should have known this would have repercussions as well.
“Jeez, and I was ready to hop out and take a stroll,” Ash called out behind me. Ignoring her, I made my way to the store. A quick glance at the pump told me the power was on. Automatic doors slid open as I walked up to the entrance, startling two zombies. In an instant, I registered a uniformed gas attendant along with an old woman wearing a fanny pack. My eyes widened, looking at the old lady stripped of most her clothes, except for the fanny pack. The image it imprinted on my brain showed me so much more than I ever wanted to see. The door closed when I stepped back out of range of the motion detector.
Within seconds, the door whooshed open again. The old lady wasn’t that quick, but the gas attendant gave a ready-to-haul-ass impression. Without hesitation, I sprinted to the end of the building where I hurled myself around the corner. I almost slammed into a Dumpster, sought refuge behind it, and sank to my knees. My heart was beating in my throat when the attendant came to a halt a couple of feet past my hiding spot. It looked around agitatedly and snarled. It kept moving with the old lady on its tail. At least the movies were right about zombies not being that bright. I took a deep breath, smelled the foul air, remembered I was sitting behind a Dumpster, and got to my feet. Ash watched me with big eyes when I came around the corner.
A quick survey of the shop and bathrooms revealed they empty. Despite the lack of imminent danger, my heart hammered inside my chest when I jogged to the car.
“Pop the gas thingy will ya,” I said when I passed Ash. The lid popped open, and Ash stuck her head out of the window.
“You probably have to turn it on from inside,” she said with a finger pointed at the store.
“Screw that,” I declared pulling an orange card from my wallet. I swiped the credit card. Delighted it worked, I wiggled my eyebrows at Ash. To my amusement, she reacted with a sneer. I clamped the hose in, let it fill the car, and moved to the trunk.
I rummaged through the backseat full of backpacks and plastic bags I had gathered at the pawnshop. I grabbed an empty bag, shoved some clothes in, and closed the back door. I pulled the hose out when the pump dinged, slipped behind the wheel, and drove up to the shop.
“Here, hold this,” I told Ash and handed her the bag. I parked next to the shop and then went around to the passenger side to open the door.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said and bent down so Ash could climb on my back. “Bring the bag.”
“Scoot down,” she said, sounding agitated. “You’re like a freaking Amazon wrapped as a skinny molink.” With a couple of extra smart-ass remarks, she climbed on. I shook my head and didn’t even bother to ask what half the words she’d used meant. I knew I was the foreigner here, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t English.
This kid was unbelievable. She was easy enough to carry, though. Grabbing her legs, I felt dumb as a mule. They felt like ice cream on sticks. She’d been wearing her hospital gown, but I hadn’t thought of her being cold, and she hadn’t complained. Stupid. I silently cursed myself until we hit the bathroom. The bleak room had a couple of dark green stalls, two sinks, and wall-filling mirror above them. I opened one of the stalls.
“You need to go?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said in low voice. I grabbed a couple of sanitizer napkins from a box hanging on the wall and wiped the seat.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously when I hunched over.
“Nothing wrong with a little sanitizing,” I said. I lowered her onto the toilet. With palms flat against both sides of the booth, she nodded. I stepped out to seek my own stall.
I had washed my hands, rinsed my face, laid out the clothes, and checked outside before Ash finished. Outside the station, everything appeared eerily quiet. Decks had said that they had worked on containing the virus, but it made me wonder if that was even possible for a town this size. The interstate seemed empty enough to assume the military did have it under control.
I was ready to call out to Ash when I heard the toilet flush. “You ready in there,” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a one-word answer that made me suspicious. I grabbed a new pair of boxers and an army-green tank top and threw them into the stall. She gave me a disapproving sneer. “These are men’s boxers.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t have time to stop at Victoria’s Secret.”
Ash muttered something incomprehensible in reply. I figured it to be a good sign.
“You ready?”
I heard some throat noise before I opened the stall.
“Good God, you trying to kill me?” I said, sniffing the air. Her eyes fell to the ground. She looked so vulnerable in that instant that I felt like kicking myself. I knew certain medications could do nasty things to your bowels. I guessed she didn’t appreciate the comment. Not sure if she’d be the type who wanted to be comforted, I guessed n
ot, so I shut up.
I kneeled down with a pair of camouflage pants and a pair of socks. With her short legs, I had to roll up the pant legs, but it worked. I topped it off with a black army sweater in which Ash had plenty of room to spare. Luckily, the pair of Dr. Martens fit. A bit astounded over the stuff I had gathered without paying, I inspected my work. A smile flashed across Ash’s face.
“That’s about all I can do,” I said with a sigh. My eyes dropped to the floor with an exaggerated shake of my head. Ash lashed out her fist and punched my upper leg.
“Ah, that hurt,” I exclaimed and scooted out of the way. I lifted my hands in defeat. “Hey, I can’t work miracles.”
She climbed on my back. In the mirror’s reflection, I was glad to see her thousand-mile gaze had diminished. In the store, I set her down on the table next to the coffee machine and handed her the change I had nicked from the cash register. “Score us some coffee, and I’ll start loading up.”
The store looked ransacked, but it seemed like the handiwork of the two zombies and not looters. By the time I’d finished, the backseat of the Edge was piled over with plastic bags that contained every bit of food with expiration dates well into the future that I could get my hands on. Add all the canned and bottled drinks to that, and we were ready for the road. I was hoping to find a place where we could lie low and maybe ride out the storm, if that were even possible. I locked the Edge after I had covered everything up with sleeping bags, scanned the area, and went inside the gas station.
I took the cup of coffee Ash had ready for me. She held up the hot chocolate she had made for herself. We tapped the cups together as if they were glass, and sipped. I let out a satisfied moan. Ash eyed me as if I had lost my sanity.
