Ed stood, looking at the three of them sleeping so peacefully. If the girl died Zach and Jeremy would be beside themselves. They were beginning to take to her like a surrogate mother. He liked the idea of them having a mother figure in their life again, but he worried about it ending badly.
Just as it had the last time.
He could barely remember Sarah's face anymore. Ed's opinion was that memory could be a real motherfucker, erasing the things one wanted to remember, but keeping the things one wanted to forget as fresh and alive as the day they it happened. This was his case, at least, and he hated it. He remembered only a concept of his dead wife. Specific details of events in their shared life seemed to blend together; birthdays, anniversaries, and just the day to day life in the pre-virus world. It was like one long dream, thin and fleeting as it was muddy and garbled.
Clear and ever-present in his mind, however, was the last image of the thing that had once been his wife. Her eyes were wild and she shook with rage. The screaming went on and on, screams of madness and frustration. Her only desire at the end was to kill and eat the father of her children, then onto the children themselves.
But that hadn’t really been Sarah. Not his Sarah, at least. What she’d become was a monster, a wild animal, a vicious creature that would never be satiated, no matter how many times it killed. In the end he had no choice, no power to heal. In the end he had only the power to clean up the mess, and that really wasn’t power at all. That was just responsibility.
Then he kept four bullets in a clip in his front pocket, just in case they ran out of all other options. To end his wife's suffering he used one of those four bullets that day. And since then he continued to carry the remaining three, inserted into a clip he kept in his pocket.
Just in case the worst should come to pass.
Ed felt there was a lot to be said for preparation. That much he could control. He also felt there was a lot to be said for luck. Luck, by its nature, he had virtually no control over. They had their share of good luck along the way and, if Ed were forced to admit it, he might have to give as much credit to luck as he gave to preparation. Luck and preparation were kissing cousins; complimentary conditions that, when delivered in tandem, often meant the difference between living and dying.
And sometimes it was better to be lucky than prepared.
After dawn arrived Ed took stock of his brood. Trish’s fever had subsided, lasting only a few hours the prior night. He took this as a good sign. She still needed rest though, and Ed needed a place to allow her that necessity. With no plan in mind, Ed and the boys walked back onto the highway, still heading west. Trish rode piggyback again; she was still too weak to walk long distances.
Within an hour they stumbled upon their gift from an indifferent universe. It was a large RV, abandoned along the highway. Most of the tires were flat and the windshield had a crack in it, but it was otherwise in great condition. When they reached the RV, Ed lowered Trish down on the ground. She was at least strong enough to stand. He tried the front door to the RV and found it unlocked. He opened it then peeked carefully and slowly inside. The keys were still in the ignition.
He drew his gun, ushering Trish and the boys behind an abandoned car for cover. He stepped carefully into the RV, checking for any hostile inhabitants. The investigation proved it was clear, so he directed both boys inside the RV. He then helped Trish navigate the steps leading into the vehicle. He pulled the keys from the ignition, placed them into his pocket, and locked the door behind them.
The inside of the RV was very large. The thing could easily be mistaken for a bus. It was warm inside, but not too hot. The cool weather outside kept the RV at a reasonable temperature. The air was stale, but breathable, and the interior suffered only from a buildup of dust.
Ed cracked a window to allow some fresh air to flow through. He already felt safer in the RV than he did on the open road. He even felt safer than he had at the farmhouse. He wasn't sure why exactly; the RV was a smaller structure and it just seemed easier to secure the entry points.
Ed motioned for Trish and the boys take a seat on the small couch in the RV’s living room. He then took another walk through the interior to take inventory, eventually entering a bedroom at the back of the vehicle. In it was a full-size bed, still covered in sheets and blankets. He walked back to the couch then helped Trish back to the bedroom.
He helped her get out of her clothes; underneath she still wore the nightgown he’d found for her back at the farmhouse. She slipped into the bed and he pulled the covers up to her narrow chin and then over her shoulders. She smiled at him and he felt his stomach flutter just a bit. He smiled back, trying to ignore the feeling. She closed her eyes, a slight smile still on her pale lips.
He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked past the RV’s back door he checked again to ensure it was locked before returning to the children. The boys seemed content to just sit on the couch and play together, so Ed decided to take the opportunity to continue surveying the RV to see what they had available to them.
The home on wheels sported a kitchen area near the center of the vehicle, then, past that, before the bedroom, was an enclosed bathroom area. Strangely enough the RV almost felt larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Ed was amazed by how roomy and spacious it was.
He began opening cabinets in the kitchen. When he opened the first cabinet he almost gasped; canned food lined the shelves inside. He opened a second cabinet and found the same thing. Inside the third and final cabinet he found the remnants of a rotten loaf of bread and a desiccated Bundt cake, along with various kitchen utensils.
Ed walked back into the RV's living room, then sat down on a plush chair to think. He figured they could live in the RV for a week or two if needed, a perfect place for Trish to rest and get better. It was also a perfect place for the boys to sleep in a real bed and feel at least some degree of safety.
They would need to leave to get water since he didn’t trust the water that had been sitting in the RVs tanks for three years, but that risk wasn’t any greater than what they faced every day anyway.
Ed sat back in the chair and watched his two boys. They smiled at him and he smiled back. His eyes were heavy with fatigue. He was sure the boys had to be tired too. They'd all been through a lot that day. Escaping death had that effect on people.
“How about you guys take a nap?” he suggested. “You can share the couch.”
“But we’re not tired,” Zach replied.
“Yeah, we’re not tired,” Jeremy added, as if to provide credibility to his brother’s argument.
Ed thought about it; the RV was locked, the curtains were drawn, and no one knew they were there. He could surely nap safely for a bit. “Fine then,” he conceded. “You guys stay on the couch and keep your voices down. Don’t talk above a whisper. We don’t want anyone outside who might be listening to know we’re in here.”
Both boys agreed. Ed lay back in the chair, placing his head on the plush headrest. The chair seemed to cradle his aching body, and he felt his muscles relax as sleep began to take over his mind and body. This is perfect, he thought to himself. Then sleep swiftly overtook him.
Ed’s eyes opened quickly; something was wrong. Where was he? Where were the boys? Where was Trish? He sat up in the chair, breathing heavily, as he tried to shake the fog from his mind.
Quickly it began to come back to him. They were in an RV on the highway. Trish was sleeping in a bed near the back of the vehicle. He looked over at the couch; both boys were out cold, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. The light was getting dimmer inside the RV. He wondered how much time had passed since he fell asleep. They found the RV around midday, so he must have been asleep for six hours or more. He hadn’t understood how exhausted had been. Apparently everyone else had been as well.
He stood up then stretched, listening to the sound of his knees and his back popping. He was getting old, and living on the road as they were seemed to exacerbate t
hese problems. He checked the kids once more then walked back to the back of the RV. He opened the door and checked in on Trish. She was still asleep. He smiled at the sight.
He walked back to the living room of the RV, found his backpack, then took a drink from his canteen. He then laid back in the chair again. He didn’t want to wake the boys; if they were hungry they’d wake up and find him. Sleep called to him again, the siren song of peaceful escape and rejuvenation. Within a minute he was asleep again.
That day all four of them slept the whole night through. It was the first time any of them had slept a full night in years.
The following morning Ed awoke feeling better than he had in months, maybe even years. Both boys stirred shortly thereafter, both complaining they had to pee. Ed did too. The RV provided a bathroom with a functional toilet, so all three made quick use of it. Ed then checked in on Trish. He found her lying in bed with her eyes open, looking at the wall.
“You okay?” he asked her.
“I’m great. Feeling much better. How long did I sleep?”
“Long enough, I suppose. You're feeling better, right?”
“I am feeling better. And I’m hungry again too.”
“Excellent,” he said. He walked over next to her, then placed the back of his hand on her forehead. She felt a little warm, but not hot. “Looks like your fever has gone down again. I’m about to make breakfast. Not sure exactly what’s on the menu, but I’m hoping it’ll be something better than Spam and beef jerky.”
Trish smiled. “We can always hope, can't we?”
Ed walked out of the room and into the kitchen. Both of the boys were in the living room playing with a deck of playing cards they’d found inside the RV. It looked as if that would occupy them for some time.
He opened up the first cabinet and scanned over the canned food labels. He eventually chose green beans and corn. He also found some spud flakes in a tin. It had been a long time since any of them had had a meal that substantial in one sitting. His mouth watered at the thought of it.
He found some bowls in another cabinet then opened the cans with a can opener he found in a drawer. He then divided up the food between the four of them, in more or less equal portions.
He called the boys over to the kitchen, then they carried their bowls into the bedroom to eat with Trish. They ate in silence, all of them eating ravenously, enjoying every last bite. They drank the water they had in their canteens, using up most of it. Ed thought it might easily qualify as the best meal he’d ever had.
After they were finished eating Ed had the boys clean up. Trish said she wanted to get out of bed and go sit in the living room for a while, so Ed allowed the boys to use the playing cards in the bedroom while he helped her to the living room. Once there, Ed offered her the plush chair. She accepted, then took a seat on the couch. They sat in silence for a while.
“I’m sorry I almost shot you,” Trish said, seemingly from nowhere.
“I’d almost forgotten about that,” he told her. It was a white lie, but it sounded good.
“I just didn’t know if I could trust you then,” she continued.
“The important thing is you didn’t actually shoot me.”
She paused, then took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust anybody again, not after what happened.”
Ed didn’t reply.
“Three guys caught me while I was sleeping one night,” she went on to say. “They drugged me and then raped me for days.”
“That’s terrible.” Ed’s tone was somber. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that must have been like.
“I killed at least one of them, maybe even two. I stabbed one to death.” She paused, thinking, looking almost through the walls of the RV. “I lost count of how many times I stabbed him. He was a monster; once I started stabbing I didn't want to stop.
“The second one, I sliced open his eyeball with a knife when I escaped. I left him pretty fucked up, so I hope he died. I never saw the third one again. I never even saw his face during the whole thing. The last thing I remember after all that is walking toward that Target, and thinking that if I could just find food and water there I’d be okay. I don’t remember anything else until I pulled the gun on you in the bedroom of the farmhouse.”
Ed shifted in his seat. He called to the boys to make sure they were okay, then refocused his attention on Trish. Even in the relative safety of the RV he was a little uncomfortable with them being out of sight. It was a habit that kept them alive.
“Have you ever killed anyone, I mean anyone not infected?” she asked him.
“No,” he replied. “I've been lucky in that respect.”
“I keep thinking I should feel badly about it. I feel like I should wish it hadn't happened. The truth is, I'm glad he's dead, and I'm glad I sliced up the other one. Does that make me a monster too?” she asked.
“They did horrible things to you. Of course not,” he told her.
She looked at Ed in the eyes, her face more serious than he'd ever seen it. “You know what my only regret is? That I didn't get the chance to kill the third one.”
Silence ensued. The awkwardness was palpable; Ed needed to diffuse it. “It was fortunate our paths crossed, I think.”
She smiled. Her face returned to normal, and most of the tension lifted. “Yeah, it was.” More silence followed, then Trish changed the subject. “So what's your story? How long have you guys been on the road? How’d you end up there in the first place?”
Ed took a deep breath, then began. “We’ve been on the road for maybe two years. We spent the first year after the outbreak in a border town, east of here. After the first year the town ran out of food. People also started to get sick; whooping cough, measles, stuff we hadn't seen in decades.
“It didn’t take long to figure out that we needed to get out of there. We took what few things we had left along with whatever food we could scrounge up, then we just walked out.”
“Just you and boys?” she asked.
Ed paused, then looked away. “My wife was with us then.”
“I see. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he told her. That was another lie; it seemed like it was only yesterday to him. That wasn’t Trish's fault though.
Trish looked directly at Ed. “I understand. I lost Tim last year. He was my boyfriend. I’ve been on my own since then.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he told her. “You mentioned him back at the farmhouse.”
She continued. “We weren't married, but we might as well have been. He gave me his class ring, sort of like a wedding ring, and then those assholes who raped me took it from me. I never found it. It makes me ill to think that it's gone forever.
“Tim and I met at the beginning of my senior year of high school. I was seventeen at the time. Then the virus hit, and before I knew it my mom and all my friends were dead. Tim’s too. All we had then was each other.
“We spent the first couple years on the road, just trying to find food and avoid being killed. We were close, as close as two people can be, I think. Shared tragedy does that to people. He was my rock and then he was gone, just like that. I had never felt so alone.”
They sat in silence again. Ed liked this girl; she was tough. She’d been through a lot, and she had fought her way through it. She had also lost someone close to her, so she could relate to his pain. He felt drawn to her, despite their age difference. Kindred spirits knew nothing of age, he supposed.
“So where are we headed?” she asked. The subject change seemed abrupt. Ed couldn't help but notice the phrasing of her question; if there was any doubt of her desire to travel with him and the boys it was now erased.
“Which version do you want?” he asked her. “The optimistic version, or the pessimistic version?”
“How about both? Then I can decide which one I like better.” She grinned at him.
“Well, the boys and are I headed west, toward St. Louis. While we were still in
the border town I caught a ham radio transmission one night about the city possibly being a safe haven. Problem is that the message was garbled. I couldn’t make out whether or not the operator said St. Louis is a safe have or St. Louis is not a safe haven.
“The boys have faith that the city will provide them the safe haven they need. They go to sleep every night believing it. They get up the next day and it drives them forward.
“But, if the story isn’t true, and St. Louis is just as fucked up as the rest of the world, I don’t know what we’ll do. I don’t have a contingency plan, other than to just keep walking until we hit the ocean, or until we die; whichever comes first.”
Trish looked at him earnestly. “What do you think, Ed? Do you have faith?”
“Whatever faith I had I lost a long time ago,” he replied. “But for those boys I’ll pretend the moon is made out of cheese, if that’s what it takes.”
Ed stopped talking then looked directly at Trish. His face became expressionless, his voice flat. “Nothing is going to keep us from reaching that city. Everything else is secondary. It's all they have, and it's all I have left to give them.”
She smiled at Ed, despite being take aback by his serious tone. “Well, I’m on board, if you’ll have me. I can pull my own weight, I swear, I just need some time to get better.”
Ed smiled back, genuinely pleased. His voice was back to normal, his face lit with expression. Trish knew what she had seen though. She couldn't underestimate how important reaching the city was to Ed. She had to be on board, or she had to get the fuck out of the way. If the city was safe, though, then she was all for it. It wasn't long ago she was wandering around with no purpose, staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel for release. It might as well become her quest too. At least it was a chance.
Ed was surprised by how happy he was to hear that Trish was coming with them. Not even a week ago he’d been completely against picking up another person. Now he would have been disappointed if she had decided to part ways.
Into the Badlands Page 15
