by David Lovato
“I’ll ride with Alan,” Martha said.
“I’m with Alan, then,” Emily said. Billy nodded and stood near his wife.
“I’ll drive the other car,” Francine said.
“Jesse and I will go with Francine,” Phil said.
“Beverly,” Emily said, “who are you going with?”
Beverly moved toward Francine and Phil. Emily sighed.
“Looks like we’re all ready to go,” Alan said.
“Mother, you might find it easier sitting up in the front,” Emily said, putting a hand on the back of Martha’s shoulder.
“Thank you, dear,” Martha said. She reached for the passenger-side door handle.
“That ought to be more comfortable anyway,” Billy said. He and Emily climbed into the back. Martha closed the door and clicked the safety belt in place. She sat with the picture frame in her lap.
“Looks like this car’s gonna need gas soon, guys,” Francine said through her window.
“We can stop somewhere on the way,” Alan said.
“Sounds good.”
Martha and the others left, in search of another sanctuary.
****
They took Pacific Highway, and it wasn’t easy. The zombies were fairly common as the vehicles drove down the death-stricken road. Cars and bodies were spread all over, flashing glimpses of blood and parts of people.
Martha sighed and spoke to the window. “Maybe it’s not the ones dying who are being punished.”
“Why do you say that?” Billy asked.
“Those who died are getting off easy,” Alan said. “It’s us who are being punished. Death is more of a gift, wouldn’t you agree?” He looked at Billy’s reflection in the rearview mirror, then he turned and looked at Martha. “Sure, we’re the survivors, but what is that really worth, when everyone around us is dying? Our family, our friends…” He focused back on the road. He turned to avoid a vehicle they were coming upon, and then their path was relatively clear.
“Thoughts like those aren’t healthy,” Emily said. She looked about ready to cry again.
“I really don’t know what else to think, honey,” Martha said.
It was silent in Francine’s car. Beverly rode in the front seat, and Jesse and Phil sat in the back. Francine looked at Beverly, and then in the rearview mirror at Jesse and Phil. She sighed.
“Won’t anyone say anything?”
“What should we say?” Jesse asked. He turned to look at her.
“Anything, I guess. I can’t take the silence.”
“I miss Tylor,” Beverly said. Her eyes never left the window.
“No offense, but that’s only bringing me down. Come on, something that’ll get our spirits higher.”
“It looks like it’ll rain.”
“I’m feeling better already,” Jesse said. He rolled his eyes.
“Jesse,” Phil said.
“Were we not in the same stadium?” Phil looked at him. “Did we not both see mom die?” Phil shook his head and sighed, but didn’t respond. Jesse looked back out the window. Phil looked out his, and Francine watched the road.
Nearly twenty minutes later, Alan broke the silence that had fallen over his own car.
“We should probably find a place to pick up some food and supplies.”
“Well, there’s a Wal-Mart in Everett,” Billy said.
“Good idea, Billy.” Alan’s eyes moved between the road and Francine’s car. She was still following a half car’s length behind him.
Nearly forty minutes after they’d left the stadium, Wal-Mart loomed into view. Alan slowed and flipped on his blinker, then checked to make sure Francine was still following.
Alan drove past the remains of a car that had slammed into a light pole, cruised around the bend, and pulled up to the front of the store. Francine stopped behind him. Alan got out and hurried over to her window. She rolled it down.
“Do you have enough gas to make it down the road?” Alan asked. “That’s where we’ll stop next.”
“Yeah, but I’ll need some soon.”
“I’ll need some, too. For now, our focus is getting supplies. A few lightweight but decent weapons, food, you know. Everything we might need.” Alan looked out at the parking lot. It was scarce; it appeared most shoppers had gotten away from the store when people started to change.
Martha clutched her picture frame so tightly that the corners made deep indentations on her palms. She looked at the set of doors they’d pulled in front of with concern in her eyes.
“Is everyone ready?” Alan asked. Everyone got out of the cars.
“It could be dangerous in there, we really should hurry,” Martha said.
“Maybe we can find a gun or two,” Francine said. The wind pushed a dark lock of hair into her eyes.
“I wouldn’t be too confident that we will,” Alan said. “It’s been five days since this all started.”
There was still electricity, so the “IN” door slid open as everyone filed into the abandoned store. There were several carts cluttering the floor up front. Some contained wares, some were empty. In the seat of one was a mass of torn flesh, from which four mostly torn-away limbs barely extended. The mess was still strapped into the cart via the safety belt. Francine was the only one to notice this, and she did her best to hold down the contents of her stomach.
Phil grabbed a cart and pushed it through the inner doors and into the grocery department.
“Where’s the Lawn and Garden section?” Billy asked. “If we want weapons, we might try there.” They stopped walking for a moment. Martha looked as far as her eyes would take her, but didn’t see any sign of the garden department.
“It’s not on this side, I don’t think,” she said. “Let’s try the other side.”
“While we’re over here, we might as well get the food,” Phil said.
“All right.”
“Then we can swing by the sporting section and see if their hunting gear hasn’t been raided. We’ll check out Lawn and Garden last.” He pushed the cart and everyone moved quickly, grabbing food almost indiscriminately.
“What about the pharmacy?” Martha asked.
“We can stop there too,” Emily said.
When they finished gathering food, they went to the pharmacy for medicine and other supplies, then toward the hunting gear. They treaded lightly, trying not to alert any hidden zombies.
Emily had been walking close to Billy, but she moved to catch up with Beverly. Beverly sped up to leave her behind.
“Beverly, why are you doing this?” Emily said.
“It’s okay that you have your priorities, Emily. I’m over that. I’m not high on your list. I forgave you for that. I still have to forgive myself for letting my husband die. Sorry I can’t be like I was before, for you.”
Emily frowned. “Why are you still on this? It’s no one’s fault about Tylor. And you’re not unimportant to me. You’re acting like you’re already one of them, like you’ve already lost! You’re alive, Bev, start acting like it!”
“It’s just not that simple, Emily.”
Emily looked at the others, who were trying to stay out of it. Billy met her gaze, Martha did as well. Emily sighed, and they kept moving. Soon, they made it to the hunting gear.
There was a large square check-out counter with two registers on top. The glass cases that made up most of the counter were smashed. Any guns that might have been there were gone. The survivors looked around the entire area. Nothing but empty cases, knocked over shelves. There were no guns.
“I’m going to get a drink of water,” Beverly said. She headed for the bathrooms that were on the other side of some shelves. Everyone waited for her. Emily followed her with her eyes.
“Honey,” Billy said, “don’t worry about Beverly. If she doesn’t want to listen to you, that’s her problem. I know it’s gotta be hard for you, the two of you have been friends forever. It’s just sad that she’s willing to throw it all away.”
“I just don’t know what
I’ve done wrong,” Emily said.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, dear,” Martha said. She grabbed Emily’s arm and tugged. “Look at me.” Emily faced her. “She’s scared, hurt, and lashing out at you, probably because you’re close to her. She’s just as lost as anyone. Just be patient. I think she’ll come around.”
“I hope—”
A scream broke through the air. It was Beverly. Emily ran, grabbing a bat as she headed down an aisle. Martha and the others followed.
“Wait, Emily!” Martha said.
Emily found Beverly struggling with a big, muscular zombie wearing a tank top soaked through with blood. Emily rushed forward with the bat in the air.
“Emily, please!” Beverly said. The zombie grunted in frustration, pulling her arm into its mouth. She pulled back as hard as she could, but the zombie was strong. It closed its bloody teeth over Beverly’s skin and bit down, and Beverly screamed. Blood dripped down her arm and onto the floor.
Emily slammed the bat into the zombie’s face, and its grip loosened on Beverly. She moved away and collapsed to the ground, holding her wound. The zombie fell, but wasn’t done. It scrambled for Beverly, and Emily hit it again. When she hit it a third time, blood splattered the brand new bat. It took two more swings to kill the zombie. Finally, she dropped the bat, breathing heavily, tears in her eyes. She looked at Beverly.
“Where… did that… come from?”
“I was just getting a drink, and he must have come from the men’s room.” Beverly’s hand clamped tighter on her arm, and she winced from the pain. Emily looked at the others.
“You all go to the garden department, I’ll stay with Beverly. We’ll meet you over there in a few!”
“We’re not going anywhere without you, Em,” Billy said.
“Just go! Me and Beverly will meet you over there.”
“She’s not—” Martha said. She stopped herself and looked down.
“She’s not what?” Emily said with tears in her eyes.
“Never mind. We’ll be waiting.” Martha and the others left.
“I’m not going to make it,” Beverly said. “That’s what she was going to say.”
“Of course you’re going to make it.” Emily hugged Beverly hard, a sob escaped her mouth.
“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” Beverly said. “I want you to know that before I’m gone.” Emily cried louder. “Emmy, did you hear me? I need you to know that!”
They broke the embrace.
“It’s okay,” Emily said. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s okay!”
“Good.” Beverly smiled. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What? Anything!”
“Go. Get the rest of what you need and get out of here.”
“No. I don’t want to leave you!”
“Just go. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with me after I’m gone.”
“I can’t do that,” Emily said.
“I’m sorry for earlier, Emily. I’m sorry for how I acted.”
“That doesn’t matter now. Please don’t do this to me. You’ll be okay. We just need to stop the bleeding.”
“You and I both know that’s not true. Typical Emily. I can’t blame you.” Beverly chuckled. Emily hugged her. “This is what I want, to be left here. Soon, I’ll move on, I can be with Tylor again. It was meant to be this way.” Beverly closed her eyes. “Go! Please!”
Emily was silent, her head was spinning. More tears flowed down her face. Finally, she nodded. “If that’s what you want, Bev.”
Emily hugged her friend one more time, grabbed the bat from the floor, and left Beverly by the water fountain. A few feet away she stopped, turned back, and saw Beverly leaning against the wall. Emily headed for the others.
****
When they got to the garden department, the door welcomed them, opening promptly as they approached.
“Each of us should have something to defend ourselves with,” Alan said.
“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard, here,” Billy replied.
Emily soon joined them, her bat in one hand. Martha looked around and saw a hand shovel. It was one of the narrower models with a nice sharp point, good for jabbing. She snatched it up. Alan grabbed a shovel and leaned it against a shelf.
“You know, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to take a gas can or two. We can fill them with spare gas, just in case.”
“Very good idea,” Martha said. She scratched her elbow with her free hand and smiled at Alan as he walked around to the next aisle.
A large man with a dirtied blue apron tied around his thick body stood before the gas cans. He was missing much of the skin around his right eye; the muscle tissue was exposed all the way down to his mouth, where his upper lip had been ripped off. Coagulated blood covered his face.
Alan jumped and grunted upon seeing the zombie. He backed up. The fat zombie had already seen him. Its face tightened, and the exposed muscle tensed. The zombie’s eyes narrowed, and it growled angrily, hungrily.
“Shit,” Alan said. The zombie took a lumbering step forward, then moved quickly toward him. Alan swung the shovel back and heaved it forward. The edge of it struck the zombie’s forehead. It fell to the ground, blood poured from the fresh slice in its head. The zombie screeched. Alan hit it again and again. Finally, it died. Alan stood up straight, using the shovel as a cane. He looked at the others.
“Wow,” Billy said. “That was one big mother!”
“Well, if we’re ready, we should be going,” Martha said.
“Let me just grab a couple gas cans,” Alan said. Not more than a few seconds later, footsteps rang out.
A tall and lanky zombie surprised the group from behind, and two smaller zombies came from the same side as the fat zombie. The shorter of the two slipped on the fat zombie’s blood, regained his footing, and advanced on Phil. Phil tensed up with the metal rake he’d grabbed, waited for the zombie to get close, and brought the rake in sideways, aiming for the throat. The zombie stumbled, screaming and bleeding. It fell, and Phil went in again.
When the lanky zombie was within range, Emily lifted the bat and swung. The bat shattered against the zombie’s temple, and the creature fell to the ground. Emily squeezed the handle in two clenched fists and stabbed the splintered end into its neck. She repeated the action a few more times, leaving the zombie’s neck tattered and its head barely attached.
The third zombie avoided the rake and got hold of Phil. Its mouth hung just above Phil’s naked forearm, quivering and open as blood-infused saliva dripped onto Phil’s skin.
Francine rushed to Phil’s side and swung a garden hoe downward into the zombie’s head. After the zombie fell to the ground, Francine ripped the bloody hoe out, backed up, and took a deep breath.
“Let’s… get out of here!” she said.
The others recovered themselves. Emily grabbed a shovel to replace the bat, Alan grabbed two gas cans, the group gathered their things, and everyone rushed to the front of the store. With a cart full of food and medical supplies and several gardening tools, they dashed through the OUT door. Everyone helped pile the supplies into the trunk of Alan’s car, and then they climbed into their seats and were off.
Martha sat, breathing shallowly, with her picture frame on her lap, tilted upward so she could catch a memory without drawing too much attention.
She smiled, then sighed and looked out the windshield. They drove toward the east entrance of the parking lot, exited, and continued their journey down Pacific Highway.
50
Backtracking, No Longer Alone
Zoe was beaming with joy as she and Derrick walked back down the road. They stayed in the street rather than along the side; Zoe had been there before, after all, and figured it would still be safe.
“So where did you come from?” Derrick asked.
“Chicago,” Zoe said. “I was on a bus. It crashed just outside of town.”
“We’re headed back that way, you know.”
“That�
��s okay. I don’t have anywhere specific in mind.”
It was overcast again, and the smell of rain sprinkled the breeze.
“Maybe we should find a nearby house, in case it rains,” Derrick said. “There’s one right there.” He pointed to a house familiar to Zoe; she had stayed in it the night before last.
“Not that one,” she said.
“Why not? Is it not safe?”
“There’s a mess in there. No big deal or anything, just… There are a few just a bit down the road, we should try one of those ones. We have time.”
“Okay,” Derrick said. He smiled. The bad memories faded along with the house as the two continued along the road.
“Do you listen to music?” Zoe said.
“Yeah. Who doesn’t?”
“What do you listen to?”
Derrick stopped walking and pulled something from his bag. “Here.” He tossed Zoe an MP3 player. “I could give you a list, but it’s easier for you to find out yourself.”
Zoe turned the MP3 player on, set it to shuffle, and pressed “play”. She kept the volume low so she could still hear, and skipped through the songs to see what he had. She saw Say Anything, La Dispute, Modest Mouse, Brand New.
“It’s pretty similar to the stuff I listen to,” Zoe said.
“We can share it, then,” Derrick said. “If you want.”
“Thanks.” Zoe skipped to the next song and found a band she’d never heard of. The song was called “Pitch and Resin” and the band was The Republic of Wolves. She listened for a few seconds; the song was beautiful. “What’s this?” She turned the screen toward Derrick, and he glanced at it.
“The Republic of Wolves. They’re one of my favorites.”
“I like it,” Zoe said. The sky was getting darker with every step, but to Zoe it seemed to fit the song. When it was over, she turned the MP3 player off and put it in her bag.
“There’s another house,” Derrick said. Through the trees ahead was a random and sporadic presence of white, chipped paint.
“Think it’s safe?”
“If it isn’t, we can make it safe.”
