by C. Dulaney
He’d gotten his answer.
Jake sat in one of the old lawn chairs they kept up top, bent low so he was barely visible from the ground. If Kasey knew he was spying on her, she’d rip him a new asshole. He watched her come down from the wall, watched as she walked down the gravel drive, and as she looked once over her shoulder before disappearing onto the porch. In Jake’s opinion, she looked very much like someone hiding something. A secret, a plan? Or a sickness perhaps. Jake didn’t like the thought of that.
He leaned against the back of the old chair with a sigh, dropping his binocular hand to his lap, and stared out over the expanse to the wall. Jonah and Abby had stayed to finish their shift, and Michael was walking Mia back to the house. Both of them were motioning in the direction of the prison as they talked, which forced Jake’s eyes reflexively to the right. He twisted in his seat, eyes narrowing as he noticed something the two on the ground couldn’t from their low vantage point: flashes of light, white and orange, dancing along the horizon.
“Well,” he muttered, slowly rising and raising the binoculars back to his eyes. “This ain’t good either.”
There was only one thing in that direction: the prison. Any light bright or large enough to be seen from the former country club was a bad sign considering there were a few ridges between the Winchester clan and Blueville Correctional’s soldiers. After watching for several minutes, Jake began to notice that the white flashes were quick and random, resembling muzzle flares from heavy arms fire. The orange flashes were more of a glow than a random burst, making Jake think of fire. He lowered the binoculars, looked back at the wall, then looked back to the horizon.
A group of runners, here. Gunshots and fire, there.
“Ah, hell.”
* * *
“I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”
I paced back and forth in my room in the dark, my hands in my hair. Gus sat next to the desk, his head moving back and forth, watching me as I made laps. “Right, Gus? I’m not like Shannon, am I?”
I don’t want to end up like her.
“You already are,” Ben said. He was hovering in the corner next to the closet.
My hair was sticking out in odd directions, a result of being yanked here and there for the last twenty minutes. My forehead was damp with sweat; my eyes bloodshot. The shakes had left, so that was a plus. Unfortunately they’d been replaced by rapid breathing and overactive sweat glands. I’d stopped in the middle of the floor, looking down at Gus, trying to get my breathing under control, when I heard stomping in the hallway outside my door.
“What the hell’s going on now?” I whispered.
My hands fidgeted against my abdomen, my eyes darted around, and deep down I had the feeling I was having a paranoid episode of some kind. I suppose I could have stopped right then and there and ran to Nancy’s room, hoping she would dose me with enough drugs to knock out a horse. There was also the chance she would slam the door in my face. Or shove the barrel of her shotgun under my chin and save the household from an armed and crazy person.
“Do them all a favor and kill yourself now,” Ben whispered.
Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!
The stomping went past my room and down the hall, fading almost to nothing before sounding again and tromping back to the stairs. I held my breath and froze, my eyes wide and staring into Ben’s dark corner, ears perked and listening for the cause of the noise. The size of the house quickly swallowed anything that was happening downstairs. Something was obviously in motion, but I was having a damn hard time getting a hold of myself to figure out what it could be. I squeezed my eyes shut, still holding my breath, and curled my hands into tight fists. I clenched them until my nails bit into my palms, hoping the pain would bring me around. My jaw tightened and my teeth gritted painfully together. I’m sure I looked like I was trying to take the world’s biggest shit, but it worked, and that’s all that mattered.
Reality slowly swam back, weaving and winding around the madness plaguing my mind, until it eventually drowned out the darkness. I let out a huge sigh, stars floating before my eyes. I took several more deep breaths, tipping my head back and rolling my shoulders. I shook it off, wiped the sweat from my forehead with my shirt sleeve, and rubbed my eyes.
“I’m alright,” I told Gus. “I’m alright.”
He came closer, ears down and tail tucked, stuck his nose in the palm of my hanging hand, and replied with a whine and a snort. I don’t think he believed me.
* * *
“I didn’t say I heard gunshots. I said somethin’ is goin’ on over there,” Jake repeated himself to Michael and John in the Head Room.
He had run off the roof and to his room to grab his rifle a short time before, then searched the downstairs looking for the two men, finally finding them next to the radio. Michael had been trying to raise someone over at the prison, still with no luck.
“I’d say we need to assume the worst. Shit might be hittin’ the fan over there. If it is, we need to be ready. That little group of deadheads you guys just took care of might be the beginning of something we don’t want anything to do with,” John said.
The big man was standing in front of the large window, peering through the drapes. Jake looked back and forth between John’s back and Michael, who was repeating his call over the radio.
“Winchester to Blueville, Winchester to Blueville, over.” He shook his head and held the mic close to his mouth, staring at Jake across the table. “They’re not gonna answer.”
“No shit, dumbass,” Jake said. “You’ve been tryin’ them for how long?”
“Alright, alright,” Michael replied, hanging the mic on its hook. “What do you want to do, John?”
The big man didn’t answer right away; he stood there at the window with his arms crossed, rubbing his chin. Everyone knew about Jake’s impatient streak, and John was pushing the younger man’s threshold. Just as Jake was preparing for an outburst, John turned to face the two.
“You saw lights, right? Looked like fire maybe? Did you hear anything?” John asked slowly.
Jake nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Like an orange glow, on the horizon. Some bright white flashes, but I’m not sayin’ for sure if those were gunshots cause I didn’t hear anythin’.”
John grunted, then turned his focus on Michael. “Wake everyone up. Get ‘em on the wall, locked and loaded. I don’t know what the hell is going on over there, but I don’t like the sounds of it. That’s what I’d do, Mike.”
“Okay. Get it done.”
* * *
I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair when someone started beating on my bathroom door. Gus barked once (he liked to sleep on the bathroom rug while I showered), then quickly quieted down and started thumping his tail against the floor.
“Goddamnit.” I finished rinsing before cracking the shower door open and shouting, “What?”
“It’s me, are ya decent?” Jake’s voice was muffled through the door.
“Hell no I’m not decent. I’m in the shower! What do you want?”
“We got a problem. I’m comin’ in.”
I shut the shower door and was glad it was the opaque kind. Jake stepped into the bathroom and I could hear him talking to Gus, then he must have sat down on the toilet because when he started talking again, it sounded like he was right next to the door.
“There’s some trouble over at the prison, so Michael wants everyone on the wall.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” I washed the rest of my body as fast as possible after hearing the word ‘trouble.’
“No, but there’s a light or somethin’ over the ridge. Looks like a fire. I don’t know for sure. It does seem a little coincidental if you ask me. After that group of deadheads you three had to take down? Sounds like a mess of shit comin’.”
I sighed and turned the water off. Just what we need, more shit. I don’t know why I was surprised. We were living through a zombie apocalypse after all. Life couldn’t be rainbows and
butterflies all the time, or even part of the time. We had an evacuation plan in place in case we had to leave the club in a hurry, and we took all the necessary precautions to limit our exposure, staying hidden from the world. That group of runners tonight had shown us we weren’t truly hidden, and never would be. We’d had stray deadheads stumble across us during our time there, but those runners had been the largest group by far. Even so, something didn’t add up.
“Hey Jake?” I cracked the door open and grabbed the towel off the hook, then pulled the door shut again. “Say there is trouble over at the prison. A swarm found them, or whatever. Hell’s bells, they make enough noise. I’m surprised they aren’t under siege all the time.” I dried off as I talked, thinking more clearly than I had in a long time. “How the hell would those zombies find their way here? We’ve been quiet, as far as I know. Not attracting any attention. And it’s not like it’s a straight shot, to here from the prison.”
“I know, I know. Sounds like overreactin’. I know.”
Jake stood and walked across the bathroom, turning the water on in the sink. I had finished drying off and was waiting on him to leave so I could get out. Since that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon, I cracked the door again and stuck my face out. Jake was splashing water on his face.
“You wanna wrap this up tonight?” I asked.
“What is it you always say about overreactin’?” He rubbed the towel over his scruffy chin and tossed it onto the sink.
“I’d rather overreact than take a trip up shit creek?”
“Exactly.”
“Get the hell out of here so I can get dressed. I’ll see you on the wall.”
He grinned on his way out, taking Gus with him.
Chapter Four
November 19th: just before noon
We sat on the wall for six hours, and that “mess of shit” never came.
By we, I mean all of us able to use a rifle except for the three kids, and by mess of shit, I mean deadheads. It was a colossal waste of time; we’d used up half a day that should have been spent sending the next scheduled group out for recovery, and possibly sending a scout or two over the ridge to spy on the prison, gather some intel. I kept my mouth shut. Thankfully everyone else was keeping their mouths shut too; Michael was doing enough cussing and raising hell for the lot of us. Don’t get me wrong, it was great to be disappointed in this case. No deadheads equal a good day. Having ourselves all wound up and bent out of shape expecting an attack that didn’t come, well those are all perfect ingredients for an explosion.
I’d spent the time on the opposite end of the wall from where I had been during the “runner put-down” earlier that morning. I just couldn’t see myself retaining any sanity if I’d been forced to sit there, staring down at the little girl I’d killed. It was bad enough not being able to get Pepper’s and Ben’s words out of my head. They were set on a loop, repeating so many times they had become something of a mantra.
You shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be doing this.
I was as far away from that watch tower as I could get.
Michael figured if anything came at us, it would be by the gravel road, though it’s always good to cover all your bases. He spread everyone out along the wall, from end to end.
Except nothing ever came.
It was lunchtime, it was cold, and nothing had showed up. Awesome.
“Kasey, can you meet me at gate tower two?” John said over the radio.
I sat up in the chair (I had been kicked back, relaxing), and pulled the walkie from my belt. “What’s up, John?”
Gate tower two was where I had been positioned for the bow shoot. I did not want to go back there. Not yet. I spun the swiveling chair around so I could look over towards the gate. It was pretty far, but it looked to me as if everyone had gathered at that section of the wall.
Oh God, that was a zombie I killed last night, wasn’t it?
Ben was suddenly sitting next to me. “You killed a kid.”
Shut up.
“Just like you killed me.”
Shut up!
“Not sure. Get on over here would ya?” he answered back.
“Shit.” I clipped the radio onto my pants, took one last look around, and began the long walk to the gate.
The top of the wall was three feet wide. You couldn’t fall asleep while you were walking. If you did, it was a long drop. I decided to keep my eyes on the walk directly ahead of me. I didn’t want to look over at the others and wonder what the hell they were looking at and talking about. If I did, then my mind would start throwing all sorts of crap at me. A minute later I stood outside the platform, hanging back so as not to draw attention to myself.
It didn’t work.
“Kase, come over here.”
Michael was looking over Troy, Eric, and Todd’s heads at me. I mumbled to myself and eased past the guys, stepping up into the platform. Everyone else stood in a loose circle, all with very distressed looks on their faces.
“Did you notice anything about the runners here last night?” Michael asked. I stepped up to the circle, looked around at all their faces, and shrugged.
“No, other than there were kids with them this time.”
I had definitely not forgotten that little fact. I wanted to give in to the paranoia I was feeling. Then I remembered the night before and how I had reacted during the meeting. If these guys looked worried, they probably were. And it was probably not about me.
Michael curled his finger at me, in a “come here” gesture, and turned towards the ledge.
“I’d rather not, thanks.”
Okay, I was starting to panic and all the rational bullshit I could think of wasn’t helping. That kid was over there and I couldn’t look. Absolutely could not.
“You need to look. There’s something we missed last night. All of us,” Mia finally spoke up.
This time her voice didn’t have that accusatory edge to it and she seriously looked like she was shitting her pants. I raised a brow at her, thoroughly confused now, and glanced around at the others again. Nancy worried me the most. There were tears in her eyes.
This is going to be so bad.
I solidly stepped up next to Michael and looked straight down. Yep, there was the dead girl, right where I’d left her. My stomach flipped and my eyesight went fuzzy, but someone had grabbed my upper arms to steady me.
“Come on, Kasey, pull it together. I need you to focus, look at that girl, and tell me if you know her,” Michael whispered to me.
I whipped my head around and stared hard at him, then replied in my own hoarse whisper. “What the fuck do you mean, do I know her? Of course I don’t know her. I don’t know her! She was just another goddamn zombie, that’s it!” My voice had risen to a shout in three seconds flat.
That’s also how long it takes to go from boringly sane to batshit crazy, in case you were wondering.
“Kasey…Kasey!” Michael shouted in my face, shaking the crap out of me. A last snap of my head brought me around.
“What?”
“Breathe,” he said, and then he smiled. He raised both his eyebrows, and just smiled at me. The sort that breaks right through. It made me ask myself, what else can I do?
So I breathed.
“That’s better. Okay, I’m gonna ask you again. Don’t freak out on me,” he said very softly. “Do you know that girl? Look again if you need to, this is very important, Kasey.”
His last statement was what caught my attention: “This is very important.” I tilted my head and looked back over the ledge. This time there was someone on both sides of me holding onto my arms; Michael on one, Mia on the other. The dead runner looked the same at first, like my cousin Rayna. I did everything I could to force that image out of my mind. I knew it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I saw the runner for who she really was. Clear as a bell, so clear I couldn’t believe I had missed it before.
&
nbsp; “Oh my God.” I actually leaned over the ledge slightly, trying to get a better look. My mind was as clear as the identity of the girl below me. “That’s…holy shit, that’s Lucy.”
“That’s what we were afraid of.”
Michael let go of my arm and stepped back into the circle with his arms crossed, head down. Nancy began to cry now, and Jonah put one arm around her shoulders. Abby covered her face. Mia grabbed hold of my hand and squeezed it tightly, as still as the others, just holding onto me.
That little girl had been one of ours, one of the kids we’d saved from the prison. She had also been one of the kids who’d went back to live in the prison, after her parents had been found and rescued with a group of survivors. I was right; this was going to be so bad.
* * *
“I want those bodies burned, right now. Whoever isn’t doing that, I want on the wall. Keep your radios on and your mouths shut. Radio silence unless otherwise instructed, understood?”
Michael was practically shouting orders as he gathered his gear; two handguns, one strapped under his armpit, one on his hip, a rifle slung on his shoulder, and an ammo bag strapped across his chest. John was suiting up the same way, though I had a feeling there were a few blades tucked away somewhere in the big man’s clothes. Everyone scurried off to do as Michael had ordered, everyone except me. I stood back with my arms folded, watching him and John by the front door discussing last minute crap.
“You sure you want to do this? Just the two of you?” I asked after John opened the door. Michael straightened up from tying his boots and stared at me before answering.
“I know what I’m doing. Stay here with the others and make sure things go smoothly.” He turned his back on me and walked past John, stepping out onto the porch. John hesitated, holding the door open and studying me.
