by Tara Brown
The little girl nods. “My mom does say z-apoc, a lot. She makes me use hand sanitizer all the time when she says it.”
“I'm Gale, and this cheeky little thing is Melissa.” The lady points, earning a frown from the little brunette.
Lee grins wide, completely friendly and bold with strangers. “I'm Lee. This is Lou, and Kyle is your gas server today. Miles is the coffee boy and my sister, Erin, is the girl inside of the gas station dancing around like an idiot.”
Miles hands her a coffee and smiles. “Where were you headed?”
“Nowhere. I’m from here.” Gale frowns. “My husband was in Boston last time I spoke to him but he was headed back to California for work. I don't know if he made it out or if they canceled all flights. I heard rumors of quarantines. Like we may not be able to get out of certain states. I wasn't sure if I was leaving the island today or not.”
Miles shrugs. “We drove across. We never saw a single quarantine. I think it happened too fast. I don't think they stood a chance at moving as quickly as this sickness does. I don't think California is a good idea though. Oregon and Washington seem safer to me than Cali. Less populated.”
“Well, I need to find my husband.” Her voice sounds like she’s made up her mind. “I thought he’d try to come to us but then I realized maybe he can’t. Maybe the airports are shut down and he’s stuck somewhere. Maybe with the military somewhere.”
I want to tell her that no one is stuck anywhere. Anyone still walking around not desperate to bite their friends is able to go anywhere they want. The uninfected have inherited the entire world in the same way the infected have.
Kyle closes the trunk of her car and leans against it, folding his arms. “What time did everything start here on the West Coast? On the East is was mid-morning.”
Gale shakes her head. “No clue. Kevin called me at one in the morning to say he was boarding his flight to San Francisco. He said that flights were going to be canceled or delayed because of the sickness that was going around, so he was getting put on an earlier flight. He seemed scared that he might not be able to get home. He works as a brewery engineer. Right now he's working in California, but the owner of the brewery wanted him to see something in Boston.” She sips the coffee and sighs. “That's when I started watching the news anyway. It didn't sound so crazy here until much later in the day. Then the president gave that speech and I knew we were in some trouble. But the island never went crazy that first day. Not like it did everywhere else.”
“We need to shut that generator down. Biters are coming up the back alley.” Erin smiles as she saunters out of the gas station with heaps of food in her arms. She sounds like she doesn't have a care in the world.
Gale grabs her daughter’s hand and jumps in the car, closing the door.
Miles runs into the back and the hum and noise of the power is gone a moment later. Gale drives over, lowering her window slightly. “I know the way to the base, follow me.”
Kyle nods, getting in the driver’s seat as Lee and I jump in the back. Erin passes me a coffee with a smile. “You girls doing okay?”
Lee and I nod at exactly the same time. Seeing Gale has made us both seem a little less stressed. It’s weird but I swear seeing a mom makes me feel better.
When Miles comes running, my skin crawls but the biters behind him are still way back in the parking lot behind the gas station. He jumps in the front as Kyle starts it up and drives off after Gale.
She drives fast, maybe faster than I expected.
Chapter Twelve
The minivan smells like coffee. It’s relaxing in a regular way. I could easily be on my way to lacrosse right now. I could be in the back of Jamie’s mom’s van, sipping coffee and listening to her mom go on and on about how much trouble she suspects Miles is getting into. I close my eyes and let a hundred memories float by, all triggered by the smell of the coffee.
My dad in the early morning, making the coffee for him and my mom. The way he smelled like it when I hugged him. He always had a fresh shower smell mixed with a little coffee.
My mom going from bat-crap crazy to totally normal after the first sip of her morning coffee—every friggin’ day.
Jamie’s mom always stopping to get a coffee to drink while we played lacrosse, even though she had just finished a coffee.
Sasha’s dad sipping loudly, almost angry-like, as he lectured us on the philosophy of no pain, no gain and how we had better win this game. I could always hear him screaming from the sidelines. “PUSH, LOU! YOU CAN DO ANYTHING FOR TEN SECONDS! YOU CAN DO ANYTHING!” He believed that, and because of it, I did too. I still believe in myself and I think I have him to thank for that. I believed I could do anything. I still do, deep down.
Except win the heart of an older boy who still has never seen me, not the right way. And with the world ending a little more each day, my odds of him seeing me aren’t getting better.
Accepting the world the way it is now means I finally realize he and I aren’t going to go to the same college. I’m not going to be the freshman on campus in Boston. I’m not going to see him and surprise him by how much worldlier I’ve become after spending the summer backpacking Europe with Sasha. I am stuck here, friend zoned for life because, technically, I’m little-sister zoned which is unshakable.
As far as fates go, it isn’t the worst. It isn’t impossible to be his friend. I have already done it for a very long time. I force my brain to picture Erin and agree she is good enough for him. She’s a good person. She’s crazy—the way she shot Danny Hillman was insane but she did it for all the right reasons.
The van slows, making me open my eyes as the images of people I miss recedes like a fog moving away from me. Minus Danny Hillman. I don't miss him at all. A small part of me wishes I’d shot him in the head—very small.
“This must be it.” Miles doesn't sound convinced. When I look around I’m not either. It doesn't look so top secret or protected. It looks like a regular base: open at the front with two long driveways leading up to a large gatehouse. The fence is high and intact, as far as I can see. The gatehouse is as well, meaning you cannot get into the base from here unless they open the gates.
But between us and the gate is a messy lineup of cars and trucks clogging the front entrance. A lot of the vehicles look burned out like someone shot at them or blew them up. That's a good sign.
Gale pauses and then drives off, leading us past the entrance. She must know of another way in.
She drives into a park, stopping in a parking lot that's surrounded by huge trees and lowers her window. When we stop next to her, she speaks softly so I can only hear Kyle’s responses.
“How far?” he asks. She answers in a muffled stream of soft words.
Miles looks back at us. “Yeah, we’re good. We can handle that. She’s a beast runner.”
I don't know what’s happening but I can see the look on Miles’ face and I know it’s not a comforting expression. He’s worried.
They turn the vehicles off and Kyle looks at me in the rearview. “Just how fast are you in cross country?”
I gulp but Miles answers. “She’s fast. I can’t catch her.”
Kyle nods. “Then you and me are going for a run.” He winks like it’s a fun run and not the life threatening one I assume it is.
He climbs out, leaning into the lady’s window. When I get out she closes the window and nods at me. I don't know what the hell is happening but Lee climbs out, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I’m coming. You don't know what my dad looks like. If he’s in there, then you won’t know it’s him.”
Kyle looks like he might argue but Lee shakes her head. “I run track and cross country.”
“It’s your funeral.”
I scowl at him. “It might be all our funerals. What’s going on?”
He bites his lip for a second before answering, “She says this trail leads to the side of the base. If there is a way into the base, this is it. If anyone is alive in there, we’ll see from the trai
l. There should be mad amounts of guards too. She thinks maybe they abandoned the gatehouse and entrance because of the biters but are safe inside maybe.”
“How long of a run?”
“Five minutes but the distance isn’t the problem, it’s the biters. We don't know if we’ll come across any or not. So sprinting is important.” He gives me a grim look. “But I think we can be there and back in record time.”
I glance down at my boots and wish I’d worn my runners. I stuff my gun in the back of my pants, the same way Lee does. I hope we both don't shoot our asses off. Greeting my father with a bleeding butt cheek would not make either of us very excited.
Kyle takes off right away, jogging into the woods. Lee and I both give each other the same uncertain expression but we follow him. The first minute or so is a bit painful. My body is aching from the car ride and I’m exhausted in a way I haven’t been in ages.
Everything is cramping and until my lungs expand I can’t get air. But when they do, my stride lengthens and my legs relax into the run. It starts as a jog but the three of us feed off of each other, speeding up. For me it’s the insane desire to not be last. Dad always joked that whoever was last was the one the bear ate.
Kyle is a natural runner. His form is perfect and his stride is long. He doesn’t seem to tire, which I think is weird. He isn’t at all what I expected the Kyle Severson to be like. When Jamie talked about him before, she mentioned what a bad influence he was on Miles and how his rich bad-boy antics got them both in trouble. I have yet to see that side of him. I sort of hope I don't ever see that side of him. I like the side I’ve seen thus far, and I can see why Miles likes him so much. His cocky side can be annoying, but I don't know a single boy who isn’t a little cocky. It's Miles’ worst trait.
The path clears when I think we’ve been running for about ten minutes. It opens to the sea, the Pacific Ocean. The fencing along the base is intact but I don't see a single guard, and the hum of the electric fencing isn’t there. We run along the fence looking in. Nothing moves amongst the buildings or parked vehicles.
It’s silent and still on the other side of the fence.
“Damn,” Lee mutters, huffing her breath. “There’s no one here. Oh my God, we came all this way and they’re not here.” Her voice cracks but Kyle shakes his head, scanning fiercely. “We don't know that yet. Let’s keep looking.”
I can’t give up as easily as that. My dad could be here—they might just be hiding in a building or underground. Or maybe even on a ship.
We run to the edge of the water, looking up at the fence with the razor wire at the top. Kyle pulls off his jacket and climbs the fence, draping it over the razor wire. He drops down on the other side. Lee follows, making my stomach ache at being the last one on this side. She’s not half way when I start climbing. As she drops down and steps aside so do I. My feet burn from the lack of shock absorption my boots have, and my insides tingle from the fear of sneaking onto a naval base. It’s an offense like no other. We could be taken into custody as terrorists or worse.
Sneaking into anything ARMY is a poor life choice. But the serious lack of guards tells me that we might be okay as far as being shot on the spot goes. Regardless of seeing nothing but buildings and military vehicles, we stay low and sprint, using the buildings as cover.
We round a large building with huge bay doors—something I assume is a vehicle storage place or mechanical building. As we creep alongside the metal wall of it, I hear something from inside. As my head jerks toward the noise, Lee and Kyle look the opposite way.
“Shit.”
I turn to see people between buildings. Their military fatigues should be a comfort, but the sudden notice they aren’t actually walking, sinks every bit of hope I have inside of me. They are frozen, mid-stride even. Shivers tickle my arms and back as I realize I have left my sister and her little friends and come here for nothing. The base has biters. The base has been taken and we won’t find my father here. Not alive. If he is here he’s one of them.
I shake my head, not in emotion but in defiance. No. My father is not one of them. He’s alive, I know it.
He has to be.
This has to end at some point. It has to go back to normal. Seeing the base in the realistic state it’s currently in, I realize it’ll be a new normal, but it has to go back. We have to take back the world.
I’m tired and hungry.
I don't want to run anymore. I don't want to fight. I don't want to hide.
I think there is a question burning on all our lips. Our poor chapped lips coated with saliva from the nervous licking and the dehydration that comes with constant running and not remembering to eat or drink. The question is, how long does someone with CJD live? How long will they be this way? How long do we have to suffer with what everyone else has become? How long will the world sit, frozen, with a few of us scrambling around, trying to survive silently?
The constant need to be quiet is maddening, and I can feel the end of my sanity lingering in the stillness around me—in the wind that whistles, mocking us with her noise.
Not that it matters, because the cold hard facts are that silence is survival now.
Standing on this base, I know it. Silence is survival and that is all that's left in the world.
I know so few things. I know some things and have to hope for others. I know in my heart, my father is still not infected. He has to be okay because I need that. Part of it is hope. Hope that I convince myself is knowledge. But tricking yourself is harder than it seems. Especially when living so close to the edge, so close to alone.
Standing there in the cool wind coming off the ocean, my hope diminishes considerably as the things I know start to become more pronounced than the hope I’ve created.
I know my mother is dead.
I know technology is useless so the distance between my sister and me is now set by days and not moments. Cell phones haven’t worked in what feels like a lifetime.
I know that everything is harder now. Even just the simple act of pumping gas has nightmare possibilities. When we ran out of gas in the car we stole yesterday, we pumped from the hole in the ground with guns pointed in every direction, just in case. I held my gun in my hand and knew if someone had come, I would have had to shoot them. It’s like Mr. Milson says, kill or be killed.
My brain screams that I need to focus on the good things I know. Like how the most important thing is Joey and me are still alive, and somewhere in my heart I believe our dad is still not infected. I smile, thinking about my dad—knowing he has to be safe. I have to know this. It’s how I choose to see him—alive and well and looking for me. Even if I don’t find him, I will die knowing it.
Seeing the biters in military fatigues makes me think I’ll die sooner than later. Even they, trained soldiers, weren’t safe from it. What am I compared to that? Or compared to my father who is the smartest person I know? The cold reality of it all hits in that moment that had been so optimistic a second ago. The confidence feels like delusion, arrogant delusion.
Kyle’s hand slips into mine, surrounding me with warmth. “It’s going to be okay, Lou.” It’s then I realize I’m crying. Desperate sobs slip from my eyes as a war is lost inside of me somewhere. All those things I had hoped and prayed for are gone. They’re gone forever as all the fears inside of me come out of the cracks I had stuffed them into.
He won’t ever find us.
He won’t ever come for us.
If I even make it back to Laurel, I will always be the adult in Joey’s life. I won’t ever be free of the responsibility of those three girls.
I need to stop telling myself he’s alive. I need to start seeing that he might only be alive inside of me.
I drop to my knees, feeling the sudden onset of loss. I know I won’t ever let my brain convince me my father is dead. But I have to move on and survive for Joey. I have to let my dad go. I have to stop looking for him. I’m half way across the western part of the country from her and she could be in danger.
I have left her in possible danger. What if Danny Hillman’s friends retaliate? There are a hundred what ifs living inside of me, and each one is a fear involving the one person who is still alive. The one person I might actually be running away from. Joey and the responsibility she has become.
I want to go home.
All of this hurts more than seeing my mother’s dying body twitching in the kitchen. It hurts more than running over the dead people. It hurts more than hugging Mr. Milson after Mrs. Milson killed herself and left him here alone with us.
Lee’s soft cries join mine. I know she is on the same emotional journey as I am. Her father was meant to be here too. Kyle wraps himself around us, huddling us and possibly muffling the sound of our desperation. I swear, somewhere in the wind I feel his lips press against my head as he pauses there, breathing warmth onto my forehead. It’s the same kiss my dad always gave me so I can’t be sure if it’s real or not.
I close my eyes and listen to the whistle of the wind that suddenly feels colder than the breath upon me. The wind is the loneliest sound I have ever heard. I think I’m wrong about the wind. I don't think she’s mocking us.
Maybe the solitary whistle of the breeze brushing across the barren world, is because it’s searching for people to liven its song up. But the people don't move, no matter how hard the wind blows. They don't budge. They die of exposure, and yet, still they don't fall over. They don't close their eyes. They don't leave the world and find freedom in the clouds.
They stand frozen, soulless, and lost.
And the few of us who do feel the wind, don't move either. We stand silent, afraid of the frozen ones.
My anguish is interrupted by the sound inside of the metal building behind me. I lift my tear-stained face, seeing the confusion on Kyle’s face too. He narrows his gaze, focusing on the metal wall. When he stands back up he pulls us with him, holding us by our hands and dragging us along the side of the building.
The doors in the front are huge bay doors but there is one small door on the side. We creep to it, pressing our heads to the cold and listening with bated breath.
