Roads Less Traveled: The Plan

by C. Dulaney

  “Boy, these sure are some steep hills, huh?” Ash said after gulping down a mouthful. Mia joined him on the ground and drank from her own bottle.

  “Sure are. It only gets worse from here. Do you want to leave the bikes and walk? We can if you don’t think you can make it,” she offered. He shook his head, gulping down another mouthful of water.

  “No, I can do it, I just need to rest is all,” he said. Mia dug the last of the jerky and candy bars from her bag and divided it between them. Ash looked at her hesitantly when she handed him his share.

  “It’s okay, we’re almost to Riverton. We can get some more supplies there.” She opened a candy bar and started eating. Unconvinced, but doing as he was told, Ash took his share and dug in. They rested for another hour; Mia didn’t want to wear the boy out in case they had to make a break for it somewhere.

  They came upon the town from the east around three o’clock that afternoon, and stashed their bikes behind some trees at the foot of a small hill. Mia motioned for Ash to get down low, and they crawled the rest of the way on their bellies until they were looking down at the town from atop the ridge. She took a set of binoculars from her pack and studied the situation.

  “Shit,” she mumbled. It was loaded with deadheads. She scanned around, locating all the stores and such, and tried to determine their best course of action. They needed food. She thought about just shooting a squirrel or rabbit, but was afraid to use the shells. She only had a very small amount, and what would happen if she really needed them? Like now. From what she could tell, the closest place was the Rite Aid. There would be food there, and it was located in the outermost part of town. There were buildings around it, but they looked abandoned.

  “I want you to stay here, okay?” she said finally after memorizing the layout and the path she would take. Ash’s eyes immediately went wide and he shook his head violently.

  “No, no way. I’m coming with you,” he said, his voice hitching with panic. She squeezed his shoulder.

  “Calm down, okay? Just cool it.” She turned her face to the town below. The moaning of the undead echoed through the hills. She closed her eyes and sighed as she made her decision. He would probably be safer with her anyway.

  “Alright, you can come. But you have to stay low, keep quiet, and no matter what, do not wander off or get separated from me. Got it?” she said in her best teacher tone. Ash nodded enthusiastically and smiled. She frowned and shoved the binoculars back into the bag, then made sure the shotgun was loaded. She took one last look at her destination, and motioned for Ash to be quiet and follow her.

  They shimmied down the hill and snuck slowly through the tall weeds of the field, knees bent and heads lowered, for several hundred feet before coming up to the first building. Mia stopped and knelt on one knee, then leaned back and whispered very faintly into Ash’s ear.

  “Ready?” she asked. He nodded. She put her finger over her lips, then to her eyes, before raising her gun again and cautiously moving on. Ash was right on her heels, hunkered down and making hardly any noise as they weaved through the grass and up onto the concrete slab behind the warehouse. The Rite Aid was in front of this building, with another large warehouse-looking structure on the left.

  She motioned for Ash to stay put for a second, then hastily tiptoed to the right side of the building. She peeked around the corner, and jerked her head back fast. Two construction workers were feasting on a dog in the alley. She pressed her back to the brick wall, gripping her gun tightly to her chest, and struggled to control her breathing. She could shoot them, yes. But why waste the ammo and risk alerting the others to their location?

  She hurried back to Ash and pulled him gently along behind her, praying that the other side would be clear. She glanced quickly around the left side corner, and let out a breath. It was clear. Straight ahead was the Rite Aid, with only one street between it and the warehouse. She motioned again for Ash to stay close, then walked briskly down the alley. She kept her eyes straight ahead, her heart pounding as she waited for a deadhead to pop into the alley ahead of them at any moment. She held her hand out behind her and felt Ash’s chest, then pushed and swept him aside as they neared the street. They looked at each other with their backs pressed against the wall for a moment before Mia took a look around the corner.

  She pulled her head back, and then chanced another look down the opposite way. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she thought over and over again. Zombies, everywhere. Granted, not nearly as many as in the center of town, but more than what she had shells for. They would have to make a run for it, and hope like hell the Rite Aid’s door wasn’t locked. Get in, get out, and run. She turned to Ash and whispered the plan in his ear. His eyes grew wider by the second; apparently he didn’t like the plan.

  “Just stay close,” she whispered once more. Holding the gun in her right hand, she took Ash’s hand in her other and held it tightly. They nodded to one another, then took off across the street, Mia dragging Ash behind her. A few deadheads already staggering in that direction noticed them, but Mia kept running. She let go of Ash’s hand just as they ran up to the door. She threw all her weight against it and fell inside as it swung open. Ash followed her in, and ran straight to the grocery aisles. Mia got back on her feet and braced the door with her body, realizing too late that the dead bastards would be on top of them by the time Ash finished.

  “Almost done?” she hollered. He yelled that he was almost finished just as the first of the undead slammed itself against the glass door. Thick, mucousy liquid oozed from its face, and it began beating its fists against the door. Mia watched chunks of flesh fly off its fingers as it hammered the glass, slowly but with more strength than she would have liked. Then it started moaning.

  “Shit,” she mumbled to herself, then yelled over her shoulder. “We have to go right now!” A dozen were already congregating in the street out front, and she knew more were on the way. Couldn’t give us a few more minutes before you started with that goddamn moaning, could you? she thought. Ash ran back up the aisle, and then stopped so fast he almost fell on his face, the rubber of his soles squeaking and grabbing hold of the shiny linoleum floor.

  “Oh crap,” he whispered. More were beating on the door now, bouncing Mia back with each thump.

  “Ash, go to the back and see if there’s another way out of here. And hurry,” she shouted, snapping the boy out of his frozen condition. She listened to his feet as they pounded through the store, closing her eyes and focusing all her strength on keeping that door shut. Bastards are strong, she thought more than once, each shove on their side sliding her feet further in. Arms were starting to thrust their way in between the door and the frame, clawing fingers trying to reach Mia’s face and eyes. Blood, flesh, and other sticky substances dripped from their rotting fingers, and she fought back the urge to vomit more than once. She listened for Ash to start screaming, regretting the instant she had told him to check the back. I’m an idiot, she thought.

  On the verge of tears, she finally heard his little feet beating back up through the store. He stopped as he rounded the last corner, waved her back, and then took off running again. Mia grunted and shoved back on the door, then raced down the aisle, trying to catch up with Ash. The zombies that had been pressed against the door all fell into the store at once after Mia took off, creating a temporary dam and holding the others back.

  Mia quickly recalled the layout of the town in her mind. This back door should bring them out closer to the center of town: not good. But it was better than the alternative at the moment. They could try running down a few blocks before circling back, cut down the alley next to the warehouse, then through the field. No problem.

  They hit the stock room doors at a dead run, Mia having passed Ash and taken the lead. She brought the shotgun up and quickly scanned around the room, then headed towards the loading dock door at a sprint. She stared at the sign, “Keep Door Closed At All Times,” made sure Ash was right behind her, then kicked it open. There were several undead heade
d in their direction, but none close enough to stop them from hauling ass out of there.

  “Come on!” she yelled over her shoulder and began jogging briskly down the sidewalk. She controlled her run; she didn’t want to lose Ash. He kept bumping into her back as they ran, but she kept up a consistent speed. They ran two blocks, dodging the dead, and had just started to cut the corner down the alley when Ashton screamed. Mia turned on her heels and saw a woman grabbing him from behind. She hadn’t seen the zombie bent over behind the car tearing at what looked to be a small child.

  “No!” Mia screamed and ran to Ash. She rammed the butt of her gun into the dead woman’s face, but her grip remained strong around his throat. His eyes were wide with alarm and he was gasping for air. Blood trickled down his neck, the woman’s jagged and caked nails digging and tearing into his skin. The woman moaned loudly, her mouth gaped open, and a mixture of blood and tissue spewed forth from it. Mia slammed her in the face again, and could see more of the dead bastards closing in out of the corner of her eye.

  The zombie’s hold wasn’t weakening, so in desperation Mia flipped the gun around in her hands and shoved the barrel into the thing’s mouth. The recoil tore the deadhead’s fingers from Ash’s neck as it fell, ripping his skin and causing blood to pour down his jacket. She pumped the action and shot another standing behind Ash, who had dropped to his knees with his hands clutched to his throat. Her eyes darted back and forth, watching in horror as the undead closed in around them. She stepped back on her heel and saw the alley was clear, so she unloaded her gun into the crowd, hopefully buying them some time to run.

  After the first empty clicking sound, she tossed the gun aside and grabbed Ashton by the shoulders of his jacket. She pulled him to his feet and cried out as blood shot from his neck almost as fast as his little heart could pump it. She realized then that his carotid artery had been severed, and that he was going to bleed to death, surrounded by stinking, rotting deadheads, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

  “I’m not leaving you,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around him, half-carrying him down the empty alley. She didn’t slow or stop at the corner, but instead kept moving as fast as she was able. When they reentered the street across from the warehouse, she had to duck and pull Ash down with her, nearly being hit in the face by a zombie’s claws. She rolled, carrying Ash along, across the sidewalk and into the street before struggling to her feet again. She was covered in blood now from Ash’s wound, and was dodging this way and that to keep them out of the clutches of all the undead that had swarmed to their location.

  She could see the field through the alley next to the warehouse, and screamed out in frustration as she fought her way to the other sidewalk through the slowly closing mass. A heavy-set man tripped and fell into her, his guts slithering over her arms, and knocked her and Ashton into a PT Cruiser. The car’s alarm started screaming and squawking, momentarily giving the zombies pause. She kicked herself free of the obese man and yanked Ash to his feet. He was becoming very heavy and she noticed he wasn’t helping her run anymore. She dove into the alley, looking back once to see them piling in behind her, then scooped the boy into her arms and ran as hard as she could.

  She made it through the field and up the hill far ahead of the swarm. She laid Ash gently on the ground and scrambled for her binoculars. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the town: every single zombie was moving, gathering, and heading in her direction. The horde was at least three or four hundred strong, and would most likely grow thanks to that damned car alarm.

  She stuffed the binoculars back in her pack and started limping over to Ashton. Only then did she notice the pain in her upper thigh. She looked down and was suddenly frozen in terror to see her pants had been ripped and blood had seeped through. Frantically she yanked her jeans down to her ankles, and was deeply relieved to see the wound was not a bite; when that fat bastard knocked her into the Cruiser, she had cut her leg on the bumper. She pulled her pants up and decided to forget about it for now.

  She knelt next to Ashton. His skin had turned gray and cold, blood no longer gushing from his neck. Her body shook violently as she tried to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of her jacket. Raspy breaths soon gave way to great sobs, and she murmured over and over again, “No, no, no.” She could hear the moaning of the swarm as they entered the field, but was torn by her need to escape and her agony over the loss of this boy she was supposed to protect.

  She sat next to him, her forehead resting against his, and cried until the stink of the approaching mass was thick around her. She didn’t have time to bury him, and the thought of what they would do to him once they found him suddenly caused vomit to rise into her throat. She turned quickly and threw up on the ground next to her. Terror then gripped her tightly as another thought filled her mind: what if he reanimates?

  She fought down the confusion, slowly realizing what everyone familiar with zombies already knows; you only become one if you’re infected with the virus. And you can only become infected through contaminated blood or saliva.

  She had cried so hard she was hoarse, and still shook violently as she staggered to her feet. Ashton’s blood was all over her hands, but wiping them on her jacket was pointless; it was coated thick with his blood as well. Hyperventilating, she stumbled the few feet over to the crest, and looked down below. A hundred feet, maybe two, was all that stood between her and the writhing swarm of putrid flesh.

  She looked back at Ashton, his small body lying still on the wet, cold ground, then back again at the deadheads, then tilted her face to the sky and let loose a gut-wrenching scream.

  “I hate you!!” she screamed, her throat so raw from sobbing her mouth filled with blood. Her lips peeled back in a growl, her fists balled tightly at her sides, and she spit the mouthful at the zombies.

  “I’ll kill every last one of you sonsabitches, I swear I will,” she whispered hoarsely, then hurried as fast as her traumatized body would allow over to Ash. She lifted him gently and removed his backpack, then transferred a couple of handfuls of food into her own pack. She slipped his coat off and covered him with it, whispered a few words to him, then limped off into the woods. She only had an hour or so before dusk, and she wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and the swarm. And from the dead boy she had failed to protect.

  Chapter Fourteen

  October 11th

  I woke up sometime before daybreak. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound being the snoring of the dog lying next to me. My clothes were soaked with sweat, and my head was thumping. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn I had a hangover. I couldn’t remember much since being brought back to the house, just brief flashes, like Ben sitting at my bedside and holding my hand, Jake coming in to take Gus outside, Zack talking to me, or Nancy and Kyra coming in to take “vitals.”

  I slowly pulled my arms back and tried to push myself up on my elbows, but a crippling pain screaming out of my shoulder quickly put a stop to that foolishness. I bit my lip and fell back against the pillow, then sighed and stared at the dimly lit ceiling. Gus rolled over in his sleep and cuddled his back against my arm.

  “What do you think you’re trying to do?” a deep, soft voice asked. I turned my head to the right and was surprised to see Zack sitting there, at the head of the bed, in one of the dining room chairs. I smiled faintly, barely able to see his shadowed face, and shrugged with my good arm.

  “A girl can try, can’t she?” I said in a cracking whisper. I was shocked to hear my own voice: just how sick had I been? Zack leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bed.

  “Do you need anything? A drink of water?” he asked. I nodded, so he walked over to the dresser and poured a glass. I noticed he was moving around in the dark with relative ease, and wondered just how often he had sat with me. He parked himself on the edge of the bed, lifted my head, and carefully tipped the glass to my mouth. After taking a few painful sips, I grunted and waved with my good h
and, signaling him I was finished for the time being. He sat back and watched me carefully, then brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked. The water had whet my whistle, and it didn’t hurt as much to talk now. He simply shrugged and smiled. I asked about Shannon, and he told me she was doing fine. Still not talking to anyone, but other than that, she was good. Nancy had moved the girl into her and Kyra’s room, Jake had moved his bed and belongings into Zack’s room, and Kyra had taken to bunking in Ben’s room. My eyes grew wide and I raised my eyebrows at his last statement.

  “Say what??” I asked. My face must have said it all, because Zack suddenly laughed loudly, causing Gus to jump to his feet and his hair to stand on end even before his eyes had time to open. I placed my left hand on his head to quiet him, then rubbed behind his ear until he flopped back down beside me.

  “You gotta be shitting me. Ben and Kyra?” I asked again. Zack smirked and shrugged, giving me that it-happens face. I leaned back against the pillow again and was momentarily speechless. Ben and Kyra? Kyra?

  “Just how long have I been out?” I finally asked.

  “Only a couple of days. But I think this thing with them started some time ago.” He then changed the subject and began telling me how sick I had been; my gunshot wound had gotten infected and I had burned up with the fever for a day and a half. He hesitated while mentioning some of the things I had said while delirious, and I didn’t push him on it. The guys had been preparing to head into Gibson last night to find some antibiotics when my fever finally broke.

  “We thought for a while that we were going to lose you,” he said, his voice lowering as he dropped his gaze from mine. Feeling the emotion building in the room, I decided to make light of my near-death experience. I took his hand in my good one and squeezed it tightly.