Apocalypse Asunder

by David Rogers

  She got more cans of beans and vegetables – black beans, red beans, peas, and spinach this time – stripped and opened before she lit the little camp stove to heat the food. The RV’s silverware drawer supplied more spoons, which Jessica was willing to use after a quick polish with a wet-wipe from her bag of supplies. She couldn’t imagine anyone putting utensils away in a drawer in a kitchen if they weren’t clean; and they did look clean except for the barest traces of dust.

  When Catherine emerged from the bathroom, she went back into the bedroom, but soon returned with her son who went into the bathroom for his turn.

  “Um, can I help . . . ”

  “Not necessary.” Jessica said. “Just have a seat. This will be hot in another minute or so.” She didn’t like the woman standing around like that. Catherine took the hint readily enough and squeezed past Jessica to get to the dinette. Candice slid around to the section closest to the kitchenette, leaving the other half for Catherine.

  “Where are you headed?” the woman asked as she sat down.

  “Away from Ocala.” Jessica said.

  “Where?”

  Jessica was silent for several seconds, turning unhappy thoughts laced with a fair share of various – negative – emotions about in her mind. Anger, over the push in the question. Annoyance, over the as-yet unspoken suggestion that she should take Catherine and Todd on as two more people to look after. And guilt over not wanting to do whatever she could to help them.

  It might not be nice, and it might not be ‘right’ by some definitions; but she had Candice to think about. Jessica figured her story so far in the post-apocalypse period wasn’t the worst one out there, but she’d gone through her share of hardship. Had seen some bad things, been through more, and done some stuff she still wasn’t happy with. All of it was still fueling nightmares, and only some of them involving zombies.

  People in other vehicles had zipped right past her on I-85 back in Atlanta on Saturday, on outbreak weekend as Catherine had termed it. More than one; they couldn’t have all failed to notice Jessica’s car was occupied. Not a single one had stopped. The majority of Tyler Morris’ trained mercenaries had – oddly enough – acted in very mercenary fashion and abandoned Morris and the other less able people in his forming group that same night.

  And those same mercenaries, all of them ex-employees of Morris’ company, had then turned up in Knoxville a few days later. Showed up and shot their way into the Eagle compound. She didn’t know they’d killed the occupants – the Morris group – but she knew they’d killed a group of Knoxville guards at one of the town’s checkpoints while entering the area. And their leader had been threatening her and Austin and Candice with quite a bit, some of it moving beyond mere killing, before he met an untimely end and they’d escaped.

  She didn’t think everyone in the world was bad. She really didn’t. But the problem, the danger, was how to figure out who was bad, who might turn bad, and who was still someone who she could trust to – at a minimum – not be bad. They didn’t have to be good, they just had to not act against her.

  Jessica couldn’t risk being wrong. Zombies, scavenging and scrounging for the basics of life, staying safe and sheltered . . . all that was hard enough. Was already quite dangerous. But she was under no illusions. Zombies were bad; but bad people were worse.

  “I said last night the RV’s not mine.” Jessica finally said as she stirred the cans’ contents with a spoon. “It’s just a stopping point. Candice and I are going to eat, then you can have it.”

  “But where are you headed?”

  Jessica turned the little propane stove’s burner off with a loud click. The damn cans were warm enough. “That’s our business.” she said as calmly as she could manage. To be honest, she wasn’t all that sure how calm the words came out. She didn’t yell them, or throw them at Catherine; but neither were they delivered with a gentle tenderness that might have softened their impact.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes. After breakfast.” she added pointedly as she used a dish towel to pick up two of the cans so she could transfer them over to the table.

  “What if I wanted to go with you?”

  “I’d have to say no.”

  Catherine stared at Jessica as she set the cans down. Jessica backed up, keeping her head in Catherine’s direction, so she could collect the rest of the ersatz breakfast. As she returned to the table with them, she heard the bathroom door open behind her.

  “I’m hungry.” the boy said, sounding plaintive.

  “I know honey, but there’s food. Have something to eat.” Catherine said, her gaze sliding from Jessica to look past her at Todd, who went right past Jessica without stopping. He limped to the table and reached for one of the cans. They weren’t steaming hot this time, but Jessica got the impression it wouldn’t have stopped the boy even if; because he grabbed it up and went right to work with the spoon.

  “Sit down.” Catherine said, sliding over some as she pulled her son down on the bench next to her. He didn’t resist, but he didn’t stop eating either.

  “Candice, eat.” Jessica said, putting the rest of the cans down. She pushed some black beans over – Candice hated red beans – while taking red for herself, and pulling a can of peas over as well for her and her daughter to split as a vegetable. The beans were filling, more or less edible; but primarily they were quick and served to supply the protein that was completely lacking in most of the snack food that had so often tided them over since starting this journey.

  “Why can’t we come with you?” Catherine asked.

  “Because I’d rather go alone.” Jessica said as she sat on the very edge of the bench and poked in the red beans with her spoon. “Nothing personal.”

  “But we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “Lots of places to go.” Jessica said, shrugging with her mouth full. The beans weren’t quite hot, but the canning process softened them enough to eat anyway. Two chews and a swallow finished off each mouthful. She just wanted to eat and leave. “Pick one.”

  “But I told you what we’ve been through.”

  “We’ve been through a lot too.”

  “So we should work together.”

  “That’s where we disagree.”

  “Damnit!” Catherine snapped, slapping the table in frustration. Jessica’s spoon clattered against the side of her can as she released it and dropped her hand to the Taurus. The other woman froze her outburst of frustration when she saw Jessica’s hand dip for the weapon. But her tone was still far from entirely calm when she spoke again. “Why are you so . . . what’s wrong with you?”

  Jessica rose cautiously and backed a few steps from the table; one hand on her beans and the other on the forty-five. “I’m in the same boat as you.” she said levelly. “I’ve got to do what’s best for my daughter, and as I’ve said several times people just haven’t shown me a lot of reason to be trusting.”

  “That’s a hell of a way to go through life.”

  “Better than . . . you’re being a real . . . stop making this hard.” Jessica said, struggling to remain calm and patient, and avoid her impulse toward swearing. “It’s not like food is just so easy to give out these days, and that’s two meals I’ve shared with you now.”

  “Look.” Catherine said, clearly struggling to reach for a more normal tone and demeanor. “Four is safer than two. And two adults is safer than one. We can work together, divide the labor.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Jesus!” Jessica blurted. “You’ve been hiding in the woods or whatever. You can’t find food. You can’t defend yourselves. How exactly do you think you’ll be able to help us?”

  Catherine burst into tears. Jessica sighed and took her hand off her gun. What heat there was that’d made it into her beans was cooling while she coddled this useless woman. She managed to down two more spoonfuls before Catherine was able to speak around her sobbing.

  “It’s been hard.�
� she cried. “It’s not like I was ready for something like this to happen.”

  “No one was.” Jessica agreed as gently as she could manage. “You just have to do the best you can. To adapt and do what needs doing.”

  “How?”

  “Oh man.” Jessica said. She tried – she really tried – but she rolled her eyes at that. “Look, you need to arm yourself. At least find a bat or something, so you have a chance. So you don’t have to always run. Houses, small stores, places like that are where you should be able to find some food. Find somewhere that doesn’t have a lot of zombies roaming around and secure it. Like I told you last night.”

  “How do I do all that alone?”

  “If the alternative is starving to death, or worse, then you just do it.”

  “I’m still hungry.” Todd said abruptly.

  “That spinach is for you two.” Jessica said, nodding at the last can in the middle of the table. Candice was sitting back with her beans, and the peas were in front of her on her side of the table. The boy’s face wrinkled at the mention of spinach, but he reached across the table for the can even so. “Lots of good nutrition in spinach.”

  “What if you gave us a lift to the next town or something?” Catherine pressed.

  “I usually try to avoid towns.”

  “What, why?”

  “Because they’re dangerous.” Jessica replied. “We’re only this close to Ocala because . . . things got real messy. It was an accident, a mistake.”

  “You’re going to leave us in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I didn’t put you here. So I’m not leaving you anywhere you weren’t already at.”

  “A little help. Please, just a little help.” Catherine begged.

  “I’ve already helped. I’ve already broken some of my rules and helped.” Jessica shot back, beginning to seriously lose her patience. “I’m sorry, but nothing that’s happening is my fault.”

  “I didn’t say it was.” Catherine said quickly, but Jessica kept talking with scarcely a pause.

  “I didn’t make zombies who up and started eating people and destroying everything they touch. I didn’t get millions of people killed. Everything deserted, everyone hiding, everyone fighting and scrapping for whatever they can find . . . none of that is my fault!”

  “I know.”

  “Then stop giving me shit about it.” Jessica all but snapped. “I’ve fed you two twice now; that’s four meals I’ll have to find somewhere and replace. There’s nothing that says I might not be down to really wanting those four meals back for us. What happens if I can’t find any more food; or if I can’t get to any that I’ve found because of zombies or something?”

  “I—” Catherine began to say, but she was cut off when Todd abruptly sort of went stiff, then limp. The can of spinach fell from his fingers and hit the table, followed by the spoon skittering across the surface, and then Todd’s head coming down with a loud thunk as he slumped forward. His head went right down into the table’s surface without any sign the boy tried to stop the impact.

  Jessica’s eyes widened for an instant. She’d seen this before; but on television. The last time she’d seen this it had been on television, and it had been followed by . . .

  “Candice, move!” Jessica snapped, surging back from the table. “Here, now!” Her own can, what was left of her breakfast, hit the floor as she just released it so she had the full use of her hands. She reached for the Taurus for what felt like the hundredth time this morning; but this time, as it cleared the holster, she knew it was going to go off.

  “Todd!” Catherine said in alarm, reaching for him.

  “Get—” Jessica started to say. Candice had slid out from behind the table, rising from the bench and turning toward her mother, as Todd sat back up. Catherine’s hands closed around his shoulders, even as his came up toward hers. Jessica’s joined together on the Taurus, the left wrapping around the right just as Austin had trained her to do. Everything was happening too fast, and she was too slow. Just too slow.

  “Hon—” Catherine said at the same time, hunching over to put her face closer to her child’s.

  The boy wasn’t hers anymore.

  Jessica finally got the gun up just as Todd bit his mother on the cheek. She wasn’t sure about the shot, but it didn’t matter much anymore. She squeezed the trigger even though her aim was still settling. The gun was loud in the RV; even the opened windows didn’t give the report of the gun’s firing much of anything to do except to bounce off the walls and pound painfully against her eardrums.

  The bullet skimmed past Todd’s shoulder. It raised an arc of blood as it went by, but even for that it still did effectively nothing. Catherine was screaming, pushing against Todd. He had his hands locked around hers, but was leaning back with part of her face in his teeth. Flesh tore, a gout of red erupted, as he bit off a mouthful; part of Catherine’s cheekbone was visible. Her actual cheekbone, a glimpse of white beneath the muddled red mess her face was becoming. Blood was soaking right across Todd, through his hair and down the sides and front and back of his head; but he gave no sign it bothered him in the slightest.

  His eyes were fixed and dead, vacant and almost content. There was hunger in them now, but not the desperate appetite of a child. Now it was darker, baser, more eager and far less inhibited. A voracious zeal that she was all too familiar with since the world turned upside down.

  Jessica fired a second time; doing better, but not much better. This bullet hit the child’s jaw as he started to chew. She had to fight against her gorge as the entire lower half of his face – basically everything below his upper lip – shattered and spread itself across the cabinet wall behind them. And his mother; which was now covered from hair to chest in blood and bits.

  Distantly, Jessica heard a retching sound. Something wet and warm was on her shoes. Candice bumped into her, but Jessica steadied herself by spreading her right foot further apart as she took a deep breath.

  Inhale. Pause. Aim. Fire.

  The child . . . the zombie . . . went down as the heavy forty-five caliber slug went through its head from one side to the other. Jessica swallowed hard as she saw the glistening wet mess of what had been the brains and blood and skull of a first or second grader splattered around the dinette area. And across its mother.

  Catherine’s hands were pressed against the hole in her cheek, but she was covered in the bloody remains of her son, of her zombie son. Chunks were dripping and falling from her face, and blood was dripping out around her fingers.

  Jessica breathed out, glancing down briefly as she did, and saw Candice had vomited. Some of it was on the floor, but her daughter had heaved the just-eaten beans and peas all over Jessica’s jeans and shoes. The girl was leaning against Jessica, wiping at her face distastefully and avoiding looking at the dinette table.

  With a start, Jessica realized she could barely hear. Her ears were ringing loudly, enough that she couldn’t hear whatever Catherine was saying despite the woman’s mouth being open in an obvious scream or cry or bellow or something. The three gunshots had left her head pounding and ears feeling like they were the conduit for a one-note bell choir.

  But Jessica didn’t need to hear right now. Grabbing Candice’s shoulder, she pulled the girl upright and flashed a mom questioning face. Candice nodded unsteadily, though she was still trying to clean her face off. Green flecks of chewed up peas and black beans were still visible on her chin and lips, smeared across her cheeks and hands.

  Reaching over to the counter, Jessica grabbed the bag she’d been intending to leave for Catherine as a ‘starter kit’ of food and thrust it into her daughter’s arms. As Candice took hold of it, Jessica pushed the lid of the little camp stove down and picked it up one handed. With it under her arm, she edged over to the door and managed to get the inside handle pushed down so it would open without taking her eyes, or the gun, off Catherine.

  Looking outside with the smoking Taurus still in her right hand, Jessica confirmed the area was cle
ar. At least, as far as she could tell, there weren’t any zombies. She stepped down out of the RV and took another, longer look around. Dew covered overgrown grass, the remains of the wreck that had totaled the RV and BMW, and her appropriated pickup; that was it.

  The camp stove got tossed into the back of the truck, freeing a hand for her to dig the truck’s keys out of her pocket. She had the door unlocked by the time Candice managed to heft the bag up over the side. Jessica was glancing at the RV frequently, but Catherine was still inside.

  “Come on.” Jessica said automatically, pushing the door open and reaching for her daughter. She could barely hear herself talk, and was certain she was probably shouting. “Candice, in. Candice! Candice!”

  The girl had been looking at the RV too, but she finally turned and climbed up into the truck. Jessica gave her a push to help her across the seat, then slid in after her and put the key in the ignition. The engine turned over for several seconds before catching and rumbling to life. At least, the lights on the dashboard came on in the correct sequence, and she could feel the engine’s vibrations through the pedal.

  As she put the transmission in gear and released the brake, she finally saw Catherine appear in the RV’s door. She was covered in blood from the waist up, though some was on the legs of her jeans . Even from a distance her face looked horrible. Through the blood coating her she was saying something, calling something, but Jessica didn’t care what it was.

  She put her foot down and hung on as the truck bumped across the shoulder and onto the pavement of I-75. Behind her, the not-yet-dead woman waved her arms for attention; but Jessica kept going. As she glanced in the rear view mirror, a billboard on the opposite side of the interstate caught Jessica’s eye.