Those Who Remain

by Priscila Santa Rosa

  I roll my eyes but move in between the seats to reach it. The car accelerates too quickly and I almost fall down. Peter steps on the brakes hard, sending me backwards. I hit the back of my head on the rear view mirror.

  “Gosh, Pete. Watch what you are doing.”

  “Oops, sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. He’s snickering. “Did you get it?”

  I nod and open the backpack after sitting down. “What am I looking for?”

  “CDs, of course.”

  I find three. One has no label, only “Rock Mix” scribbled in blue. Another has a proper label with “Best of the 60s” on it. Probably his father’s. The last one makes me laugh.

  “Really? Kawaii Neko?”

  I spot red on his cheeks. “What? They are good.”

  “Good at dressing like sexy cats.”

  He shakes his head. “No, their sound is really cool, all right? I listened before it became popular. They are really unique in Japan.”

  “Sure they are. You just like Kei-chan, admit it.”

  He pouts. “Just pick a CD.”

  Of course I pick Kawaii Neko so I can tease him by singing the songs and acting like a cat. He starts off annoyed, but eventually laughs at me being silly. I pretend my heart isn’t beating faster.

  Peter drives the car like an old man without his glasses. He twitches way too much and the car dances on the road. His feet don’t reach the pedals all the way, so he keeps alternating between looking at the road and watching his footwork. In the end, we don’t move faster than twenty miles per hour. Like I said, an old man.

  It gets frustrating after a while, but it’s better than having him speeding away and killing us by hitting a tree. Boring, but safer.

  For the first time in long time, I fall asleep without jerking awake in fear of something lurking close by. The catchy pop song soothes me. It feels like a lazy Saturday afternoon, listening to music while reading a book in bed. Sun shines through the window and I can hear Dad mowing the front lawn and Mom’s distant voice on the phone.

  “Laurie, look. That’s a Super Savings. We should loot it, right? We have loads of room in the back of the car.”

  I wish I didn’t have to open my eyes. I wish the dream was real. “Yeah, okay,” I whisper back to him, eyes still closed.

  The car bumps and shakes, then Peter steps on the brakes with a loud screech. “Aren’t you coming?”

  I nod, still snuggling on the seat. “Just a few seconds.”

  “One…Two…Three…”

  “Fine, I’m up.” I sigh and open my eyes. He’s a bit impatient, isn’t he?

  We get out of the car. Peter takes out the keys and places them inside his pocket while I adjust my coat. It’s almost sunset and a cold breeze rush past me. Like every Super Savings Mart I’ve ever seen, this one has a huge parking lot and the store itself is long and deep. The bright yellow sun logo decorates blue painted bricks. Every Sunday, Mom, Dad and I would come here to buy all kinds of stuff. Sometimes, Dad needed a new tool, Mom wanted to repaint her room, or I needed new clothes.

  They liked the mart better than the mall, because everything was so much cheaper and the store always had sales. I don’t think I ever saw anything at full price. Maybe that meant nothing was really on sale? I don’t know. I almost flunked math last year anyway.

  Peter dashes to a row of shopping carts. I drag my feet, still a bit sleepy from my nap. Beside our own car there’s only another parked near the entry—its four doors are wide open and smoke comes out of the front engine. The rest of the lot is empty.

  I find my gun inside the backpack and take it out. No way I’m going in without it.

  “Peter, don’t make too much noise, okay? We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  “I know, don’t worry.”

  “I’m serious…”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “I’m not going to freeze out again on you, okay? I promise. I’m better now.”

  “I know, sorry. I didn’t mean that way…”

  “Whatever, let’s just go in.”

  The inside of the store gets darker the deeper we move away from the front windows. I know my way around, so I guide Peter and his shopping cart to the aisles with useful things, like food and drinks. I stop at each corner, to look around before moving, and wince at the squeaks and whines the cart produces as Peter rolls it around, grabbing anything he sees from the shelves.

  We don’t find much, most of the food smells weird and needs to be either microwaved or cooked. So we stick with chips, cookies and other trashy foods my Mom would never let me eat unless it was on a special occasion. I feel so guilty that I lead Peter to the fruit aisle and fill the cart with apples and bananas. They don’t smell bad, so I figure they aren’t rotten yet.

  The cart overflows with stuff, so I suggest we go outside, fill the car, and if there is any space left, come back to pick more things. On our way out, I hear laughter. It’s not the creepy howl the crazy people make; it sounds like a genuine human laugh. Two people talk and their shoes squish against the floor right on the next aisle. They are close. Too close.

  I wave my hands to Peter, telling him to hide behind a tall pyramid of cereal boxes and leave the cart behind. He doesn’t. He wheels the thing with him and the squeaks echoes loudly. I wince, holding the gun with both hands: it’s too late now, they probably heard us.

  “Someone out there? We are armed and won’t hesitate to hurt ya,” a male voice echoes. I look at Peter with a frown and he points at the gun I’m holding. A female voice mumbles something too low for me to understand. The man continues, “But we don’t want no trouble.”

  The hairs on my arms are up and I keep my eyes glued at the end of the aisle. Their shadows appear first, then two people turn the corner. It’s a man with a dark jacket and baseball cap with a woman trailing behind him, bags over her shoulder. They both hold shiny baseball bats.

  Peter points at my gun again, doing shooting signs in their direction. I’m still hoping they will move on. I don’t think I can hit them; they are too far. I’m not even sure the gun still has bullets inside.

  And then the kids show up. Two little girls hide behind their parents’ legs. They are probably in kindergarten and both have pigtails and little backpacks. My first reaction is to feel relief. Parents don’t hurt children, even if they aren’t their own. They just don’t. Peter must be thinking the same because he almost gets up from his hiding spot, but I stop him with a hand.

  Some parents suck. Some parents are not nice. Can we risk it?

  “Guess it was nothin’,” the father tells his wife. “We should leave.”

  “Come on, girls. Stay close now,” the mother says with a hand on each of their heads.

  Three of them leave with their backs to us. The father doesn’t move, gazing at the distance. My head is pounding. He squints, hand adjusting his grip on the bat.

  He’s about to turn when a cereal box falls from the top of the pyramid where Peter hides. I wince as the man walks closer and kneels to grab it from the floor.

  “You can come out now,” the man says to us as he gets up with the box in hands. “I can see you two.”

  Peter looks at me, waiting for a decision. I get up and walk away from my hiding spot. He does the same, positioning himself in front of our cart. I make sure to aim my gun at the man. He stares at us with a frown, not bothered by my weapon.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m fourteen,” Peter says first, his voice a little too proud. I don’t understand why he’s lying. We are both thirteen.

  The older guy looks at me, expecting an answer.

  I raise the gun higher, pointing it at this face. “If you really don’t want any trouble, then please go away. Slowly.”

  “Hey, don’t worry, we aren’t here to hurt ya, okay?” He takes a step forward. “Where are your parents? Maybe we can help you find them.”

  “Dead,” I say, watching his movements. “You can go away now.”

  “You
don’t need to be scared of me, honey.” He lets go of the bat and raises his hands in the air. “See? I just wanna help.”

  Peter looks at me for a second, then turns to the man. “How?”

  “Well, we can protect you. We are headed to the west coast. People are saying things are still fine over there. We can take you there with us. How about that?”

  “Your car is broken,” I say. “And you want ours.”

  He smiles, but it seems forced. “You are a suspicious girl, aren’t ya?”

  “We are fine on our own. Thanks for the offer,” I insist.

  Peter frowns at me, shaking his head a little. I can’t believe he really wants to go with these people. Isn’t the plan to get to the town he heard about through the woods? Does he trust this guy more than me?

  He kneels down slowly and grabs his bat again, all the while looking straight at me. “Okay, okay. I got it. I’m leaving.”

  A hand snatches the gun out of my hands and an arm locks my neck. I try to free myself, but the grip is too strong. Looking up, I see my captor: an older teen, twice my size. Another member of the family was waiting until we were distracted.

  I’m so dumb.

  “Now, give us the key, boy,” the father says without a single hint of fake sympathy from earlier. “Or we shoot your little girlfriend.”

  “Why are you doing this to us? We’re sorry. We want to go with you,” Peter says with wide eyes and shaking his head. “Please.”

  I wince at his plea. I feel humiliated. No, I feel angry.

  “I don’t need more mouths to feed. Got enough, you see. Sorry, boy, but we do what we gotta do.”

  Peter glares back at the man, but flings the car keys to him. While he does that, I bite the teen’s arm and stomp on his foot. He tastes like dirt and grass. The kid yells and releases me long enough for my escape. I take Peter by the hand and we run.

  They don’t follow us. They don’t need to. They have the car, our food and my gun.

  We watch from the supermarket window as our ride disappears in the distance. Peter kicks a nearby vending machine, pounds on the glass and curses at them. I let him vent, already done with my own frustration. Instead, I open my backpack to see what’s still left.

  “This isn’t fair,” Peter yells, sitting on the floor and crossing his arms. “That was our stuff! My car!”

  Two bottles of water, a few Caramel Galaxys, some crackers and a change of clothes.

  “Pete, what’s inside your bag?”

  He shakes his head, punching the ground. “I want to hit them in the face! They can’t do this to us. That’s just evil.”

  I walk to him and extend my palm. “Give your bag, I need to see what we still have left.”

  “Aren’t you mad? They took our stuff!”

  “Because we let them,” I answer. “Because we were dumb.”

  “What? This isn’t our fault.” He frowns at me. “They were thieves.”

  “We are the thieves, Pete. Everyone is a thief now.”

  “But—”

  “We need to be smarter. He distracted us so his son would take my gun. We can’t let that happen again. We need to be the ones distracting people, taking their stuff.”

  “There’s still plenty of things to loot. I don’t want to rob people’s stuff. That’s just rude. And wrong.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Do you want to die?”

  “No.”

  “Then get over it.”

  “Whatever.” He takes off his backpack and throws it at me. “When we get to the woods we won’t have to deal with other people anyway.”

  While I open his bag, he mumbles under his breath, then walks away with his hands in his coat pockets.

  “We shouldn’t split up,” I yell at him.

  He gives me a dismissal wave of his hand, disappearing behind a row of fridges on sale.

  “Don’t go too far, okay?” I try again, heart beating fast at his lack of response. I don’t want to be alone again. “Pete?”

  “Yeah… I heard you. I’m just going to check if they left anything in our cart behind. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t worry.”

  I smile at his answer and go back to checking what’s left of our supplies.

  The Last One Out IV

  November 30th, Tuesday, 9 am

  A jog around campus. This is quite the same, quite the same thing. Nothing is at stake, not my life, not the briefcase’s safety. This is just a jog around the campus.

  Do not panic. Do not. You will escape.

  The first thing on my mind after I leave Cobra behind is the briefcase. My mission and the only way to ensure my safety if I am ever captured is the briefcase. Red Star will not kill me until I tell him where it is, and as I will never tell him such a thing, I gain time to think of another plan.

  My pounding feet and the wind are the only sounds around as I run, and the pavement burns my soles. My eyes pass over both sides of the street, searching for a safe hiding place. I hear the purr of a car engine behind me.

  He knows. He is looking for me.

  I turn around a corner, moving between houses, back to the lake—the most unlikely place Red Star will look for me. Before I reach it, I pass by a house’s backyard, turned over fences revealing a dog house. The dog is still alive, barking madly at me but restrained by a chain. How fitting. How appropriate. I walk over to the pet, slowly. It is a fairly small Yorkshire, the type who barks out of fear, not anger. When I reach the dog, it scurries back as far the chain allows it. The briefcase goes inside the dog house, protected by shadows. I pet the little dog on the head.

  “If I survive this, my little friend, we shall see each other again. Until then, kindly stay alive.”

  By the time I am back at the lake the car is gone, just as I expected and wished. I clean my face with water quickly, glad to be rid of the sweat. What I do not expect is the coldness of a barrel against my neck.

  “Well, hello there, Professor. How nice to see you again.”

  I close my eyes and lift my arms to show my desire to cooperate.

  “Get up, slowly. If you please.”

  With no other option available, I obey him.

  “Turn around so I can see your pasty face.”

  I do. Red Star and Cobra are side by side. Her left eye is dark and swollen, and her hands, tied.

  “For such a famous scientist you aren't all that smart.”

  “I am a professor, not—”

  “Did I tell you to speak? No, I didn't. So. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  I look to Cobra, hoping she would fight back some way. She lowers her head.

  “I don't like when people run away, Professor. Mama left me behind, and I never healed properly, you see. It breaks my heart.” He swings his rifle around and points at the sky. “Did you really think you would survive on your own? I mean, look at you. Do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

  “Give me one, my friend, if you are so curious to find out.”

  I am not quite sure where this cheekiness came from. I suppose I detest sociopaths with mother issues who manipulate, lie, and hurt people.

  Red Star’s reaction is not to shoot me in the face; instead he lets out a hoarse laugh. “I like you, Professor. You have guts for a pansy little shit.”

  “Thank you. It is possible then, for us to go our separate ways without any more incidents?”

  He places a hand on his chin; a fake smile plastered on his sharp face. “Let me think… No.” The smile fades. “Where’s the briefcase?”

  I remain silent. Red Star points the rifle against Cobra's chest.

  “Let me rephrase that in a way you can understand.” He takes the safety off. “Tell me where the briefcase is, or I shoot Cobra and end her miserable existence.”

  “Please, there is no need—”

  The rifle is aimed at her leg and fired. Cobra falls on the pavement, knee bleeding. He raises the thing to her heard.

  “Wait. Stop. The briefcase is inside the mall.”

  Red Star
puts his finger on the trigger. “Are you lying to me, Professor? Because I don't enjoy liars. But I do enjoy killing them.”

  “I'm telling you the truth. Please, spare her. I will take you to the briefcase.”

  “Oh, I see what you did there, Professor.” Red Star smiles at me and I gulp. Has he realised my plan? He lowers his gun, while Cobra moans and clutches her wounded knee. “Hide it in a place infested with zombs.”

  “What can I say? What better place is there to hide anything than a dangerous area?”

  Only after he laughs, I can breathe again. I am quite happy that he is arrogant enough to venture into the mall on his own. I may have a chance at escaping this situation after all.

  Red Star turns his attention back at Cobra. She's already pale and barely conscious. “Get up.”

  “Fuck you,” she whispers with a grimace.

  “Professor, help her get up.”

  I kneel next to her while his shadow hides the sun from us. I have no time to help her. Warm drops of blood splatter over my face before I can even register the sound of the bullet. I blink, and she's gone. Cobra’s body falls into the lake, darkening the water around her.

  “Too slow,” he says, reloading his rifle. “Looks like it’s only you and me, Professor. Let’s go for a stroll, shall we?”

  When I stay frozen in the same spot, he points his gun against my back. With a last look at the lake, we move.

  The mall is engulfed in shadows. The two of us walk with care while I pretend to know where I am going. Twice we find infected, dispatched by another wasteful wave of bullets by Red Star. If I am to have any kind of chance, I need more creatures. My eyes linger on a totem illustrating the mall's map, taking note of where we are and where I can lead him to a trap. The food court seems the better option.

  “It’s a pity you aren’t going to see that town of mine,” Red Star comments, gun still firmly against my back.

  “You mean Redwood?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. With its quaint little houses and cute little citizens thinking they are ready to face the zombies. I have big plans for that place. After I get your briefcase, of course. And I’ll get your briefcase, one way or the other, Professor. I’m a persistent man. Stubborn like a bull, some would say. So don’t go on thinking you can escape me. I’ll hunt you down to the ends of fucking Hell, and back again. Just so we are clear.”