by M. J. Haag
“Eden, you’ll take the bunk next to mine tonight,” Oscar said. “Go.”
Van groaned behind me as I walked away.
“Your days are numbered, Eden,” he managed to rasp.
I didn’t stop to look back at him.
“It’s the end of the fucking world. Of course they’re numbered.”
Two
After Van regained his ability to walk, he slunk off to his bed where he sat and glared at me for the remainder of the evening. An activity he continued as soon as he woken up this morning. I wasn’t stupid. I’d only survived the night untouched thanks to Oscar’s close proximity.
Ignoring Van, I stood in line for breakfast. More beans with eggs. However, when I stepped up to Oscar, he shook his head.
“You attacked one of the men. No rations for you today.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
“He locked me outside and told me the only way to get back in was to sleep with him. Then, he grabbed me by the hair. So, intent to rape is okay and self-defense isn’t? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“We have a peaceful system that works. I’m telling you not to rock the boat. If there’s a problem, you come to me. You don’t handle it yourself.”
“Wait until you’re raped to report it. Got it.” I set my plate aside and turned away.
May gave me a pitying look but didn’t offer to share her ration. I wouldn’t have accepted anyway. She put up with a lot for a few extra bites of food.
“Are we going to have problems with you, Eden?” Oscar asked after me.
“No, sir.”
Because I didn’t plan to stick around long. He and his son had finally given me the motivation I needed to commit to a plan to break out of their hell.
While the rest quickly ate, I stood by the inner hatch and plotted. I needed rations, water, and some kind of weapon. Rations would be hard to get. Granted, there was enough in the supply cage to last five months if they continued rationing and more than enough for me to choose from. But, Oscar guarded the key and took inventory every time he went in there.
Van, his rifle already slung over his shoulder, walked over and interrupted my thoughts.
“Maybe next time you’ll be smarter,” he said.
“Oh, I will be. I’m betting you won’t though.”
“Van! Keep away from Eden. Grady, go keep an eye on things.”
Grady unlocked the hatch while Van continued to stare at me. I didn’t look away. I refused to show fear or weakness.
“Come on, Van. You can help me clear the truck. Stay here, Eden.”
Less than ten minutes later, the gunmen were in the cab, and the workers were in the back of the truck as it rumbled away from the bunker. I clutched my trowel and tried to ignore my growling stomach during the ride to the co-op field.
This far away from the cities, we didn’t often see large groups of infected, so the ride to the field went quickly. Once the driver cut the engine, we stood and started getting out.
Grady handed me a basket when I had my feet on the ground.
“We want twice as much from you as yesterday, Eden. We need proof that you’re worth the trouble you’re causing.”
“Worth the trouble I cause?” I snorted, took the basket, and started toward the field.
This field had a little of everything in it and wasn’t as picked over because it had been community run. If I went closer to the trees, it wouldn’t be too hard to find twice as many vegetables as the day before.
“This is our last chance to get as much fresh produce as we can, people. We’re holing up for the winter after today. Make it count.”
My feet faltered at his words. This was it? This was my last chance to escape, and I had nothing but my trowel with me?
“Problem, Eden?” Van said from nearby.
“Yeah, I just realized I need to go closer to the trees in order to find enough to make up for the shit you pulled yesterday. Thanks for nothing.”
He chuckled behind me, and I kept moving forward. When I figured I’d walked halfway between the trucks and the trees, I stopped and looked back. Van wasn’t far from me. However, he watched the trees instead of me now.
If only I had his gun and his bag of shells. I’d have a fighting chance, then.
I squatted down and started my search for vegetables while my mind raced. I dug, put my finding in the basket, then moved forward on autopilot. There had to be a way for me to overpower him like I did yesterday. I doubted he’d let me near his junk again, though.
“That’s far enough.” Van’s softly spoken warning made me grin with inspiration.
“There’s a ton of stuff over here. Look at my basket.” I moved forward and dug a beet out of the ground.
“It’s not worth getting killed.”
“You have a gun; and unless there’s a hound in there, we can outrun anything that might try for us. Besides, I forgot to pee before we left, and I’m not going to pee on our food source. You can keep an eye on me when I go into the trees.”
“Not happening.”
I stood and faced him.
“I thought you wanted to see me bare-assed.”
I smothered my grin as he reached for the radio in his pocket.
“Eden’s gotta pee. We’re stepping into the trees. It might take a few minutes once she has her pants down.”
Grady answered.
“Your old man’s going to be pissed if you try anything again. Just hurry up.”
Van nodded for me to get going into the trees. Heart hammering, I walked toward their shadowy depths. I was taking a huge risk, but I needed that gun.
Leaves crunched under each carefully placed step. When I found a big tree, I looked at Van with wide eyes that I didn’t need to fake then scanned the area. Neither of us spoke.
I motioned to myself then the tree. He glanced back at the field and the truck, which were still visible. I needed to get him out of sight.
My hands shook as I stepped behind the tree and slowly pulled down my zipper. Like a fly drawn to honey, Van shuffled forward so he could see me. Instead of dropping my pants, I spread my feet apart, stuck my left hand into my underwear, and pretended to play with myself.
Van swore softly.
“I knew it,” he whispered.
He moved closer. I parted my lips and closed my eyes, giving my best impression of a girl about to quietly come. His palm covered my breast, and his lips touched mine.
Gripping the handle of my trowel, I lifted my right hand and hit him with the blunt end. I missed the top of his head, like I’d aimed, and clipped him hard on the side of the face. His temple bled as his knees buckled. I dropped the shovel and caught him so he wouldn’t fall into view of the truck. Grady had binoculars, and I knew he would use them in a few minutes, if he wasn’t already.
The gun slipped easily from Van’s shoulder. The ammo pouch around his waist took a bit more effort to remove. Once I had both, I crept away, keeping the granddaddy tree between me and the workers until I could look back and not see a thing.
I didn’t run, even though I wanted to. I crept along through the trees, not making any more noise than I could help. And, I listened. To everything. My heart hammered non-stop. By now, Grady would have found Van. There would be no peace after what I’d done, and I didn’t want to find out what Oscar would do to me because of it.
It took forever for me to spot a house through the distant fields and even more time for me to make my way there under the cover of the barren branches. The field would have been easier, but I couldn’t risk any of the guards driving by with the truck and spotting me.
The sun was high behind the clouds by the time I stood on the front porch. I took a calming breath and eased the door open. Going into an abandoned house to search for supplies wasn’t new to me, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. My gaze never settled on any one thing as I scanned the front room.
Disregarding the light that shown through the windows, I reached for the switch. Not
hing. That meant I needed to look for supplies and get out. I needed to find a place with lights to hole up for the night.
Silently closing the front door again, I moved forward. In the kitchen, I picked up a long knife—a smarter weapon—and shouldered the rifle.
Quietly, I searched each cupboard. Everything was empty. A door to the side of the kitchen drew my eye. Tall and narrow, I knew it probably led to a pantry. Just like I knew the smeared, dirty handprint beside the knob belonged to an infected.
Open the door and deal with the problem or walk away and potentially have a follower that might draw more? One I could handle. Two? Probably not.
I approached the door slowly, trying to quell the shaking in my hands. A small shuffle of noise behind me was the only warning I had. I whirled around, my arm already swinging forward. The infected opened his mouth just in time to swallow my blade.
Breathing hard, I twisted the knife and pushed up. The infected dropped like a rock. I pulled the knife from its mouth and looked over my fingers. No scrapes. No marks.
Something moved inside the food pantry. I took a kitchen chair and wedged it under the handle so the infected couldn’t get out. The doorknob rattled as it tried, but the chair held. Alert not to make any noise that the infected would hear above its own, I moved on to check the rest of the house. Unfortunately, it had already been cleaned out by raiders.
In the basement, cluttered with old furniture and other junk, I found a canvas messenger bag hidden in one of the many plastic storage totes. I’d just slipped the strap over my head and let it settle on my shoulder when I heard an engine.
Through the basement’s high, narrow windows, I saw the truck approach.
I wanted to swear. Instead, I wedged my way between a musty sofa, a stack of totes, and a sewing mannequin. The engine died, and I waited.
Floorboards groaned overhead. I could hear the murmur of muted masculine voices but couldn’t make out what was being said. I listened as whoever was up there moved around the house, checking room after room. Finally, steps scuffed on the stairs.
Someone swore and an explosion of noise made my ears ring. The mannequin stand beside me rocked.
“What the fuck? Are you trying to bring every infected around?” Grady said.
“I thought it was an infected. Let’s go,” a voice I didn’t recognize said.
“She’s here. You saw the chair.”
“I agree she was here, but she’s long gone by now. You saw what she did to Van. She’s not stupid. She’s going to keep running. So would I. Now, if you’re done dicking around, we need to get back to the field to get Van to his dad.”
I listened to the men go back upstairs. The truck started and the sound of the engine slowly faded.
It took me a moment to wiggle out of my spot before I cautiously hurried out of the basement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time. The gunshot and the engine would draw more infected, and I did not want to stab another one in the mouth without gloves.
After checking the yard, I slipped out of the house and made for the trees. The beat of my heart never slowed. I hated being outside. Exposed. In danger. Would this be it for the rest of my life? Always moving and watching over my shoulder? I hoped not. Yet, I didn’t see how my life could be anything more than what it was now.
The bunker had proven that places existed where a person could hole up. But, I’d never considered the bunker safe. Not only was it filled with assholes almost as dangerous as the infected, there was only one entrance to the place. I’d watched herds of infected back when they were still stupid. They were easy to escape if you were smart. But some of them weren’t stupid anymore. And, if some of the more intelligent ones found the bunker, the gunmen wouldn’t be able to shoot their way out. Any humans would be stuck down there until they died.
I planned to be more clever than Oscar, though. I’d find a place with an escape plan, a surplus of food, and no people. Maybe then I’d feel safe.
Distant pops caught my attention, and I glanced south toward the direction of the field. Why were the guards firing? Because some infected found them or because they were purposely drawing more infected in to drive me toward them? Not taking any chances, I started looking for the next house. I walked for over an hour before I spotted one. The gunshots had faded, but it didn’t make me feel much better. I didn’t like that I could hear them at all. That the gunmen were still firing confirmed my suspicion they were drawing infected in. Idiots.
After watching the house for a long while, I crept across the yard and looked through the windows. The inside appeared as tossed over as the first house. I could stand going hungry for another day as long as there was light, though.
I eased the door open and listened for any noises before I reached in and tried the switch. Light flared in the room. I quickly turned it off and slipped inside, closing the door behind me. Room by room, I checked the place over. I didn’t find any infected but discovered the water ran clear. With another scan of the room, I quickly washed my hands and my face then waited. No noise. I didn’t allow that to lull me into letting my guard down as I started looking for any forgotten supplies.
The cupboards were bare like the last place, but I found two clear bottles in the recycling. I washed both with the soap I found under the sink then filled them with water. With the bottles safely tucked into my bag, I started my search of the second story. The beds were still neatly made in every room. I picked one with a clear view of the yard and a private bathroom.
Just as the sky started to dim, I turned on every light in the house and used a chair from the kitchen to block myself in the bedroom. I used the bathroom with the door open and the rifle right on the sink, within easy reach. It felt weird to wash my hands twice in one day. Even with the abundance of washing, my skin didn’t quite come clean, though. Grit had stained my cuticles and nails.
A distant howl interrupted my contemplation of my dirty nailbeds and made me shiver.
Moving back into the bedroom, I sat against the wall across from the door. My stomach gurgled, a pathetic plea for food. I gave it a few gulps of water then checked the rifle and the box of ammo.
With a slow exhale, I set the rifle across my knees and stared at the door.
It would be a long night.
Three
The rattle of the doorknob jolted me awake. With my pulse thundering in my ears, I stared at the door. Early morning sunlight lit the room. I’d managed to stay awake through the night but must have fallen asleep just before dawn.
I’d just started to convince myself the rattle had been part of a dream when the knob rattled again. A low moan in the hall echoed the movement.
I swore silently then carefully stood, my rifle trained on the door. The shuffle of the infected’s footsteps moved further down the hall where it tried another door. Exhaling softly, I moved to the window.
From the window, the front of the house looked clear. However, the porch roof directly below my room blocked a good portion of the view. For all I knew, there could be a herd of infected standing right by the front door. I hoped not.
With my rifle shouldered, I gently eased the pane up and removed the screen. Scuffs of noise came from below, and I wanted to hit something in frustration. Those assholes with their gunfire had succeeded in drawing more infected to the area. What had they been thinking? Hadn’t they realized they would eventually need to come out of their bunker and deal with the mess they made?
The infected didn’t really have an attention span per say. They remained in the area until another noise drew them away. Oscar’s crew had been lucky to claim the territory they had because there hadn’t been many infected in it to begin with. Yesterday’s shit trick had changed that.
Meanwhile, I had to figure out how to get around the infected below without being seen or heard.
Sweat beaded my upper lip as I eased myself out the window one leg at a time. On the roof, I carefully inched forward, wary not to scrape my foot against the shingles. I stopped as soon a
s I could see what I faced.
Four infected shuffled around right in front of the house. Easing away from the edge, I made my way to the back side of the wraparound porch. There, I waited for fifteen minutes before I eased myself over the side while holding my knife in my mouth. With a loose-kneed drop, I landed noiselessly on my feet.
My heart thundered in my ears as I took the knife from my mouth and sprinted soft-footed to the tree line. I’d almost made it when something slightly to my right caught my attention. Another infected lingered within the tree line in the direction I ran. Motionless, it watched me.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I changed direction, it would call out and bring the ones from the house. I ran right toward it, knife gripped tightly in my hand. Like the other infected, it opened its mouth just before I reached it, giving me a perfect target. Unfortunately, I didn’t angle my knife enough. While I struggled to twist the blade upward and end its attempt to bring me to the ground, it called out.
The sound echoed from behind me.
I heaved, killing the infected I fought, then pulled my knife and ran like hell.
The calls grew in volume and number, almost drowning out the crunch of my passage through the trees. Ahead, I spotted another house and prayed. If it was clear of infected, I might just make it through this without a bite.
I pumped my arms and legs as hard as they would go and made it to the front porch before the infected cleared the trees. There was no caution when I entered. I threw the door open and startled a pair of infected. Dropping the knife, I brought my rifle up, fired twice, then sprinted for the stairs.
Before I reached the top, the house filled with calls. I opened the first door I came to and closed myself in. Finally, luck was on my side. The door actually had a lock. I used it and backed away, breathing heavily.
It took a lot of effort to tear my gaze from the door and quickly scan the room. A kid’s bedroom. Twin bed. Dresser. Stuffed animals. I forced myself to check under the bed and in the closet. Infected free. Next, I checked the window. The porch on this house didn’t reach the room I’d chosen. It was a good twelve foot drop to the ground, which I might have been able to handle without breaking anything, if the yard wasn’t already crawling with infected. More emerged from the trees as I watched, drawn by the sounds of my gunfire and the calls from the ones already surrounding the house.
