by David Lovato
Layne noticed he was alone. His friends were gone, he even had vague memories of their deaths. They were dead, and it was his fault.
There was someone on the other side of the wall. Someone he needed to see, needed to talk to, someone who had the answers. But he couldn’t get past the wall. The music grew louder.
Layne looked up. The wall was high, but unlike the sides, it wasn’t infinite. Perhaps, if he only had a boost from someone, he could get over it, get to the answers.
Only there would be no way back over. Even if any of his friends were still alive to help him over the wall, it would mean leaving them behind. Forever. The music was deafening.
Layne decided whatever was on the other side of the wall couldn’t be worth the trouble. He turned and began to walk away, but with every step, the music got smaller, and a disturbing feeling swelled up inside him. He felt worse and worse, and suddenly he realized why: This was more than just a need for answers. Whoever was on the other side of the wall was dangerous. They had to be stopped.
Layne turned and headed back toward the wall. The music was getting bigger and louder, and he was excited to see that now there was a door, a rectangular outline visible because a brilliant light shone through the cracks. Layne reached for the doorknob, the song was about to reach a crescendo, and then he woke up.
He was glad to see that his friends weren’t actually dead. He was even more glad to see that Dex and Lacie hadn’t left them, and were gathered in the lobby with the others. Layne had overslept again.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Keely said when Layne entered the lobby. Most of the others looked to him. Dex had been playing a card game with Ralph, Kyle, and Lacie, but now he stared at the ground.
“I’m going back to Los Angeles,” Layne said. The words surprised him almost as much as they surprised everyone else. Even Dex was staring at him then, eyes wide.
“Well, it happened,” Kyle said. “He lost it.” He threw a hand of cards into the pile before him.
“Are you out of your mind, son?” Warren said. “After all we went through to get here?”
“I know it sounds crazy. And I couldn’t ever ask any of you to do this with me. But I have this feeling… That’s where I need to go.” The others stared at him, waiting to see if he had more. He realized he did. “You remember that man we saw on the road? The author, the one who talked about a guy in prison in L.A.?”
“Yep, Layne’s definitely nuts,” Keely said.
“I can’t imagine how absurd this must sound to you guys. But it’s… It’s all I have. I can’t explain it any better than that. I need to find this guy, Norman Peters. I need to talk to him. I don’t blame you, if you want to stay here.”
“Layne,” Garrett said, “you really are nuts if you think we’d let you go alone.” Now everyone’s wide eyes were turned to Garrett. Especially Layne’s. “You all are going to sit there and talk about Layne like he’s crazy? I don’t know about you guys, but Layne’s the only reason I’m alive. Layne dragged your asses out of burning wreckage, hiked you through the wilderness to Astoria, got some of you to safety and then went back out for the rest. He got us across that bridge, dragged you out of the water. Took us all the way to the stadium, busted us out of a hotel full of monsters, dragged my ass out of a fire. He gave you all food and clothes, found us a roof over our heads every night. Know what? You’re crazy if you don’t want to stick with him, if you don’t want to trust him.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I’m still here,” Dex said. He looked at Layne apologetically. “Because I know I can’t do this alone. None of us can make it on our own.”
“Thanks, Dex,” Layne said. A great burden appeared to have been lifted from Dex’s shoulders, and Layne felt the same way.
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful,” Jessi said, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Layne. But this, it’s too much.” She stroked Kara’s hair. “I’d go with you, I would. But I don’t want to put Kara through this.”
Layne felt a pain in his chest; the last thing he wanted was to put his friends in danger, but trailing close behind that was for them to split up.
“You think you guys will be better off alone?” Garrett asked.
“I… No. But what are we supposed to do? The roads will take forever to get through. Do we just walk all the way back to Los Angeles, find the nearest prison, and ask everybody we find if they’re Norman Peters?”
“He said Norman’s in a maximum security prison,” Katie said. “There can’t be that many of them in one city. And I’m sure they all have manifests.”
“And we don’t have to walk,” Layne said. “Remember that road we took, right outside of Astoria? It was… something Ferry Road. There was a dock there. We can sail to L.A., I doubt there are any zombies at sea.”
“So let’s say you find this guy,” Kyle said. “Then what?”
“I just want to talk to him.”
“You don’t honestly think he had anything to do with all of this, do you?” Warren said.
“I don’t know,” Layne replied. “But I’m going to find out.”
The silence that followed was almost painful. Layne wondered what was going to happen next.
“Okay,” Kyle said. “I’m in.”
“Well, we’re sure not getting anywhere by sitting in an empty school,” Keely said.
“We’ll follow you to L.A.,” Jessi said. “But Kara and I aren’t going near the prison.”
“That’s fine,” Layne said. “That’s good, actually.”
“All right,” Katie said, standing up. “Let’s go.”
****
They lucked out and found a yacht in the ferry yard, which they reached around midday. The wooded road was familiar to Layne, and he could hardly believe he was actually heading back, and that everyone had agreed to stick with him.
The yacht was small, and the inside was cramped. They brought all of their belongings with them, which made the inside seem even smaller.
Sleep proved difficult, since the boat was always swaying. Every now and then, a wave would strike with just enough force to jog the yacht and wake up most of the passengers. A particularly bad wave jarred Kara from sleep and resulted in her crying for nearly an hour, keeping most of the others awake.
They took turns steering, and they stayed close to the shore. The on-board GPS received no signal, and the speed maxed out at about fifteen miles per hour.
“I think I could swim there faster than this,” Dex said on their second day of sailing.
During the day, most of them would choose to leave the stagnant interior and sit around on the deck, especially if the water was calm.
When they passed beaches near cities, most of them chose to sit downstairs. The sight of bodies strewn across the beach, the sand reddened, was unpleasant.
At night the air was warm and salty. It was nice, even chilly at times. Whenever Layne was steering, he enjoyed it. It was at least better than being crammed in a hot room made even hotter by the shared body heat of nearly a dozen people.
One foggy morning, as Layne was beginning to think they had somehow gotten lost, he saw something. It loomed into view like a ghost, surreal at first. He almost thought he imagined it.
Layne walked over to the stairway, opened the door, and peered inside.
“Hey, is anyone awake?”
“Yeah,” Garrett said. “A few of us.”
“You should come see this.”
Garrett, Dex, Warren, and Keely emerged from the interior and stood on the deck.
“It’s bigger in person,” Warren said.
Through the fog, they saw the brilliant orange of the Golden Gate Bridge.
“I guess we’re close, then,” Keely said.
“I think we should dock,” Layne said.
“What for?” Garrett asked.
“It might be hard to know where to get off, if we wait. I don’t want to end up in Mexico. We can get off here and take I-5. It heads stra
ight to Los Angeles. It’s a long drive, but we’ll get there for sure.”
“All right. I’ll wake the others.”
As they loomed closer, the scene that emerged from the fog was horrific. The bridge was covered in bodies, and the ones that moved were no longer human. Some were draped over the edge of the bridge, some floated in the water below, bloated and decaying.
There were a good number of vehicles on the bridge. Some were overturned, some had been charred and destroyed. A bus lay on its side, a body halfway out of the emergency exit. But what was in some way more disturbing was the fact that most of the vehicles were untouched, left in perfect condition, like furniture in an abandoned house.
“Where do we land?” Dex asked.
“I think I’ll go south a bit more. This place is busy, it’s probably not safe.”
They sailed for about an hour, and then Layne saw a beach clear of all but a few bodies. The ground was flat, and he pulled the yacht close enough to the shore to let the group safely off. With their bags and things in tow, they headed up the beach.
They trudged through the sand and onto the asphalt of a parking lot, where quite a few cars sat in waiting. There were bodies lying around.
“We need enough passenger space for all of us,” Layne said. “Be careful. Check the cars for keys, and for zombies.”
They searched. “Here’s one!” Dex said. It was a small car, the keys dangled from the ignition. Dex reached in, checked the back seat, and then turned the key. The car started. “Plenty of gas, too.”
“Okay, we’ll need another one,” Layne said.
“There’s a minivan.” Garrett tried the door, but it was locked.
“Are the keys in there?”
Garrett cupped his hands to the sides of his head and peered inside. “I don’t think so.”
They checked the rest of the cars, but none had keys, and all were smaller than the minivan. “Okay, well, the driver can’t have gotten far,” Layne said.
“You really think we can check all of these bodies?” Dex replied. “What if the driver drowned?”
“What, he went for a dip with his keys in his pocket?” Keely said.
“He could’ve been running from zombies.”
“Yeah, the first thing I do when zombies are chasing me is hop in the ocean. It’s much safer than driving away.” Layne laughed when Dex’s eyes narrowed; it seemed he finally had some competition in the sarcasm department.
They checked the closest bodies first. Every time someone found a key, it was brought to the minivan. All eyes turned attention to it, and all eyes lost hope when the key wouldn’t fit.
Dex turned a body over and screamed when it reached up for him. He scrambled for his gun, the zombie scrambled for his feet, slowly working its way through the sand. Dex killed it, but after that he decided not to take part in the search for the key. Layne reminded everyone to make sure the bodies were actually dead before searching, and they pressed on.
“Found one!” Katie said. She still sounded hopeful, but most of the survivors didn’t even look, they just continued searching bodies. Katie brought the key to the minivan, and all eyes turned when the engine did. The group celebrated this small victory, and Layne was glad that they could finally get moving again.
They piled into the cars, and soon they were making their way down I-5.
****
The roads were difficult to navigate. Layne was glad they had decided to take the yacht; what should’ve only taken a few hours instead lasted into the next day. They stopped to sleep in the cars, and in the morning, they resumed their careful drive. It was nearing eight p.m. when they saw the city lights loom into view.
The buildings, cars, and zombies increased by the minute. Layne pulled down an alley and behind a building. There was a large tower in a fenced area behind the small lot, and a few dishes on the roof. Only a dumpster and a generator sat in the lot, which was surrounded on three sides, so it seemed like a good place to regroup. The sun was nearly gone.
“They’re everywhere,” Garrett said. Layne nodded.
“You made this sound so easy,” Dex said.
“For starters, we should find out where the prison is. Think it’ll be on a map?”
“Maybe we should find a safe place, first,” Ralph said. “We can drop off Kara and Jessi, and anyone else who doesn’t want to go.”
“Are you including yourself?” Kyle asked.
Ralph shook his head. “If you need me, I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t know if anywhere is safe,” Layne said. He turned to Jessi. “Maybe you should take one of the cars and get out of here, wait on the outside of town.”
“This alley seems safe. Could we wait here?”
“You’d be boxed in, if something came down here,” Warren said.
There was a groan from the end of the alley. A fat zombie stood there. He stared at them, but didn’t move, besides swaying slightly to his sides. He seemed uninterested, like the food wasn’t worth the bother of walking over there.
“A few of the buildings have lights on,” Layne said. “They must have generators, or something. Maybe we can find one with power to hole up in.”
“I don’t want a repeat of the hotel incident,” Katie said. Ralph suddenly turned and looked down the alley. There was nothing there; the fat zombie had vacated.
“You okay?” Lacie asked.
“I thought I saw something,” Ralph replied. “It was nothing. Continue.”
Layne ran his hands through his hair. He was anxious to get to the prison, but finding a safe place was more important.
“Maybe we could—” Keely’s sentence would never be finished. Something flew down the alley and into the lot. It was metallic, and bounced along the ground, then it spat out smoke in all directions. All visibility was gone, and Layne started coughing. He reached for something, not even sure what it was, and then fell to his knees, gasping for air. Kara cried somewhere in the smoke.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeha!” someone said in a muffled voice. Shapes moved among the smoke. Layne saw people with gas masks. Someone grabbed him and yanked him to his feet.
“Look at this fucking haul!” someone said. “Let’s get these assholes back to base!”
“What about the cars? They got weapons?”
Layne reached for his gun, but the man holding him beat him across the head with his own, and took Layne’s. A shot fired into the air as another masked man wrestled Dex for his gun. Two more jumped him, one of them hit him in the stomach with a baseball bat. Dex dropped his gun and crumpled to the ground. Lacie shrieked.
The smoke was starting to disappear, but it wasn’t easier to breathe. Layne saw his friends being overpowered, pinned down, or beaten by people in gas masks.
“They got more in the cars!” a woman said.
“Well, you know what to do,” the first man said. “Fuck ‘em up!”
The people cleared the supplies from the cars, then opened fire on them. One man raised his arms for them to stop. He jumped up on top of the car and began beating in the windshield with his bat. The others started to push it around, and the man shouted and hopped off as they tipped the car over.
One of them opened the door of the minivan and tossed a grenade inside. The area cleared quickly; Layne and his friends were dragged away, and the minivan exploded, along with whatever was left of their things. Layne felt lost.
“Okay, let’s head back,” the first man said. He seemed serious now, like the destruction they had just wrought was suddenly not funny anymore. “Jones will be happy with us, but not if we kill the bastards before we get them there.”
The world went dark as a bag was placed over Layne’s head and drawn tight. He could hardly breathe. His hands were cuffed, and he was walked somewhere. He heard shots ring out, but had no idea if these people were shooting at zombies, or just for fun.
He was shoved forward, and he hit something cold and hard, landing on his knees. Then, he heard a door shut, and the cries of jo
y and laughter were muffled. He felt a rumble as an engine started, and then lurched again as the vehicle moved forward.
Layne sat up. He tried to get his hands free, but couldn’t. He tried to get the bag off of his head, but that was also impossible. Finally, he decided to try to talk.
“Who’s in here? Is anyone here with me?”
He heard Jessi’s voice. “Layne? Layne, where’s Kara? I don’t hear her crying!”
“I don’t know. Who else is here?”
“I am,” Warren said. “I can barely breathe.”
“Don’t talk, then,” Layne said. He tried to size up the situation, but he was just as hopeless and confused as his friends.
****
Layne couldn’t tell how long they had been moving. With every sharp turn, he would fall over, and eventually he stopped trying to maintain balance and just let himself shift around.
Finally, they screeched to a halt, and it was only then that Layne realized he’d much rather stay in the dark, rolling around and nauseous, than face whatever fate was waiting for them outside.
The doors opened, and Layne was dragged out. He fell a few feet onto concrete, hurting his leg. He was jerked to his feet, and then told to move. He marched along what felt like sidewalk, nearly tripping over a curb when he reached a street. Shouts and cheers like the ones before, only far more numerous, came from all sides.
“Are you guys okay?” he said. Someone hit him in the back of the head.
“No fuckin’ talking.”
Finally, he was given the order to halt. Things grew quiet.
“Take off their bags,” someone said. “You fucks have no manners.”
The bag was ripped from his head, and Layne gasped for air. He looked around, waited for his eyes to adjust.
They were in the middle of a huge intersection dimly lit by a series of torches. All around were bleachers full of people, some dressed in tattered, often unfitting Army clothes (and Layne figured out how they had gotten at least some of their weaponry). He could barely see beyond the people; the buildings in the intersection had been connected by the bleachers as well as wood and cars, piled up, creating a small sub-city that he guessed served as the home of these people.
