by Lissa Bryan
Now, perched in the tree, he watched that phone, a black spot on the car’s hood, a flag sent up for fellow survivors. But he hadn’t seen anyone in the last few days. Not even the Infected people, who had wandered the streets in random patterns, their faces bright red and sweat-slicked. From them, Justin kept his distance, and he avoided watching them as much as possible because their behavior was deeply disturbing. He had seen one man attack a street sign, beating it until his hands were bloody. Another had walked down a side street, breaking every window he passed. A teenaged girl had walked back and forth in a crosswalk, stopping at the curb to turn around and walk back, as though the curb was an insurmountable obstacle. She had walked until she collapsed, then crawled back through an open doorway. That door was still open, Justin noted, swinging slowly in the breeze.
It was time to move on, he reflected as he stared at the dead city. From the garbled last messages his contacts had left on his voicemail, the outbreak had occurred all over the world. He didn’t know why he was lingering here.
His mind drifted back to a conversation he’d once had with Lewis about this subject. Lewis had said advanced, democratic nations would fall harder and faster to a pandemic because the government would be reluctant to impose and then enforce the kind of quarantine necessary to stop the spread of the illness. By the time they got serious about enforcement, it would be far too late. It seemed Lewis had been right. If a relatively isolated town like Juneau was dead, and there was no one even left to answer the Unit’s emergency line, the world as he knew it was gone. It was time to get on with the business of surviving. But still he watched, though he wasn’t really sure what he was watching for.
Justin was about to put away the binoculars when another movement caught his eye. He focused in on it. A door to an apartment building swung open, its glass panels flashing in the late spring sunlight. After another second, a head poked around it, covered in long, sandy-blond waves. The head turned in his direction, and he saw it was young woman, perhaps in her early twenties. Her skin was pale rather than flushed with fever, and her eyes, though fearful, were sharp with reason. Healthy, then. The only healthy person he had seen since emerging from the woods to find the world had ended in his absence.
The woman took a cautious step outside. One hand gripped a golf club, while the other held on to the door, keeping it ajar. She gnawed her lip as she scanned the street. After a moment, she shook her head and went back inside.
Justin considered going down there to knock on the door, but he discarded the idea almost as soon as it came. She’d run. He didn’t blame her, considering what she must have seen.
The door opened again and she stepped out, but as soon as the door clicked behind her, she lost her courage. She yanked on it and then fumbled in her pocket for keys, dropping them in her panic. It was like watching the heroine in a horror film, desperate to get inside before the monster caught up to her. She bolted inside as soon as she had it unlocked, and though Justin waited, she didn’t emerge again that day.
He climbed down from the tree as the sun set and looked at the pack he had leaned against the trunk. He scratched his chin as he considered. The discovery of another survivor didn’t have to change his plans. He could just move on and leave her to her fate in this city of the dead. A single man could travel fast and light. She would only slow him down. And why should he care what happened to her? It was everyone for themselves now.
But he did care.
She’d starve. Or she’d freeze once the winter came. Come next spring, she would be among the dead and Juneau would be nothing but a cemetery.
He would try to meet her, Justin decided. Even with his help, she might not have what it took to survive. Some people just weren’t cut out for it, but he would see if she had that spark, that thin thread of steel she would need to meet the challenges of this new world.
Despite her fear, he suspected she did. She just needed a nudge in the right direction to find it.
The wail of the baby broke Justin out of his sleep. Beside him, Carly let out a little snort and pushed herself up. She mumbled something, and Justin put a hand on her to still her movement.
“I’ll get her,” he said.
He slid from the bed and shuffled out of the bedroom into Dagny’s room. She was sitting up in her bed, wailing, tears shining on her cheeks. She had her finger stuck in her mouth. Justin picked her up, murmuring to her. He checked her diaper and found her dry. Maybe she just needed a cuddle. Justin supposed babies could have bad dreams, too. He sat down with her in the rocking chair Carly used while nursing, but Dagny still sobbed.
“She’s teething,” Carly said from the doorway. “I’m sorry she woke you.”
He patted the baby’s back. “Don’t apologize for that. It’s all part of it, isn’t it, Daggers?”
“This is the third night in a row—” Carly stopped because there was a knock at the front door. She gave Justin a puzzled look and headed down the stairs to the first floor. He heard her soft voice and then the indubitable tones of Miz Marson.
“I really don’t think—” Carly was saying. He heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs.
“Good evening,” Miz Marson said. She was dressed in a bathrobe and had pink plastic curlers in her hair.
“Howdy,” Justin replied. “What brings you by at this hour?”
“I can hear the little one over at my house,” Miz Marson said. “Open windows … no background noise. A baby’s cry carries.”
“Did she wake you?” Carly asked.
“Nah. I’ve got a bit of … what-do-ya-call-it. Insomnia.” Miz Marson reached into her robe pocket and withdrew a bottle of liquor. “This’ll help.”
“What in the world?” Carly laughed. “Are you suggesting we drink?”
“Ain’t for you,” Miz Marson said, shaking her head. She opened the bottle and stuck her finger into it and then approached Dagny.
“What are you doing?”
“Just rubbing it on her gums.” She stuck the liquor-coated finger into the baby’s mouth.
Carly’s jaw dropped and she gaped at Miz Marson. “You can’t put whiskey in a baby’s mouth! That’s awful!”
Miz Marson glanced over at Justin and gave him a wink before she turned back to Carly. “I’m not suggesting putting a shot in her bottle. This will numb her gums a little. Help her to sleep. It’s not enough to hurt her, I promise. I raised three young ’uns of my own, and every one of ’em survived having a bit of whiskey rubbed on their gums when they were teething.”
Justin saw Carly blink rapidly. She stared at Miz Marson and slowly lifted a hand to cover her lips. Justin was surprised, too. Miz Marson had never mentioned having children before. It was pointless to ask her what had become of her sons or daughters, because the answer was obvious. Wouldn’t they be here with their mother if they had survived the Infection?
Miz Marson plunked the bottle on the changing table. “Here,” she said crisply. “Once or twice a day should help settle her. Good night.” And with that, she turned and headed down the stairs.
“I didn’t know she had kids,” Carly said, after the door had clicked behind Miz Marson.
“It’s not surprising she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
Justin, more than anyone, understood not wanting to talk about unsettling memories. Miz Marson, however, was more close-mouthed than most. They knew she had been married at one point, but that was about it. Anyone who asked was the recipient of her steely-eyed glare, and no one had been brave enough to inquire further.
Carly picked up the bottle with a dubious frown. “I’m not so sure about this,” she said. “With all the warnings they give pregnant and nursing moms about drinking …”
“I think she’s right,” Justin said. “I saw mothers in other countries use spirits on their teething babies with no harm done.”
“It seems dangerous.”
“What, and you think that chemical numbing stuff is wholesome?”
“There isn’t any
of that in the stores or in any of the medicine cabinets I checked,” Carly muttered.
Justin spoke in a soothing tone. “Carly, there’s no way she’s getting more than a tenth of a teaspoon. Even at her weight, that’s not enough to metabolize in her system and do her any harm. The only effects from it are topical.” He looked down at the baby in his arms, who had snuggled up against his chest, gnawing on her fist and slobbering all over both of them. “It seems to be working. In any case, I’d imagine she’s drooled it all out by now.”
“Yeah.”
Justin stood and carefully transferred the baby to her crib. He rubbed her back until she closed her eyes and relaxed in sleep.
Following Carly back to their room, he slid into their bed and curled around his wife, snuggling his face down into the crook of her neck. But from her breathing, he could tell it was a long while before Carly was able to fall asleep. Knowing Carly, she was probably still thinking of those sons or daughters of Miz Marson, and the fact she couldn’t console the friend who’d come to mean so much to her.
Chapter Seven
The journey to Brewster took longer than it should have. They discovered the bridge was out on the main highway. A section near the center had collapsed. Justin frowned and would have inspected this odd circumstance if he were alone, but he turned the wagon and they headed down a side road only to find that bridge had been destroyed as well. He and Pearl exchanged a look. The bridges in this area were old, but even without two years of maintenance, they shouldn’t have failed. Something else had caused this.
Kaden spotted them before Justin or Pearl did. Justin was still engrossed in his thoughts when Kaden cried, “Hold up!”
Justin jerked on the reins and Shadowfax reared. “What? What is it?”
“I saw something,” Kaden said. “Up ahead. Pull the wagon off the road.”
Justin did, driving it down the grassy bank to park under a tree. “What did you see?”
“A flash and some movement. I couldn’t make it out.”
Justin reached back under the seat for his binoculars and the rifle with a scope. Pearl grabbed her own gear and one of Justin’s rifles as they crept up a small hill. It gave them a clear view of the small town below.
“This isn’t Brewster,” Pearl said. “Where are we?”
“Clayton,” Justin answered as Kaden fumbled for the map. “It’s about two klicks northeast from Brewster.”
“Klicks?” Pearl shook her head.
“Kilometers,” Kaden supplied. He had a small telescope, the type given to young children for gazing at the moon. Piss-poor for astronomy, but acceptable enough for minor reconnaissance.
“Yeah, I know. I just feel like I’m in a movie with Dale Dye.”
“Who?” Kaden asked.
“Shh.” Justin scanned the streets but saw nothing.
Pearl sighed and shifted her weight. She sounded like she was seconds from yanking away his binoculars, or Kaden’s telescope, but she waited while they both stared at the little town below.
“There!” Kaden said. “Courthouse, two o’clock.”
“I see them.”
“See what?” Pearl’s voice was a growl of impatience.
Justin handed her the binoculars, his mind racing. “We’ve got company.”
Lifting his rifle, he peered through the scope. There were half a dozen young men, all of them between the ages of twenty and thirty, seated near the end of an intact bridge. He studied them for a moment, noting the men seemed healthy, well-fed, and clean. Their clothing and shoes were in good condition. Like a group of friends shooting the shit at a backyard barbecue, none seemed particularly watchful of their surroundings. But then again, they wouldn’t have to be. Anyone approaching the town would have to travel down the bridge right in front of them.
Justin hadn’t seen any guns, but one of them had a big Bowie knife he was tossing and catching, the likely source of the flash Kaden had seen.
“Okay, what’s our next move?” Pearl asked.
Justin scratched his chin. “Let’s go meet these guys and see what they’re up to. They weren’t here a few weeks ago when I checked out this town. I want to know if they’re just passing through or—”
“Or if they’re going to be a problem,” Pearl said. “Far too close for comfort.”
Justin nodded. “I think we should leave the wagon and Shadowfax here.”
“I agree. Kaden—”
“No,” Kaden said, his voice sharp. “I’m coming with you.”
Pearl put the binoculars back in the case. “We need someone to have a fallback position, Kaden. Someone who can lay down covering fire if we had to retreat quickly. I’ll go with Justin because the men in that town will see a man and a woman as less of a threat. Two men together might get their hackles up. We don’t want to look like … victims, but we don’t want to seem threatening, either.”
Kaden’s expression made it clear he didn’t like it, but he gave Pearl a short nod. Justin had to rein in the impulse to pat her on the back for her diplomacy and good tactical sense.
They drove the wagon back down the road about a quarter of a mile. There was a half-burned house that made for a perfect sniper’s perch and could conceal the wagon from the road. They unharnessed Shadowfax so she could graze—she knew by now to hide from strange humans if any approached.
He and Pearl both shouldered an assault rifle. Justin wore two pistols at his hips and one tucked into a holster at the small of his back. He tucked a knife down into his boot and another into a wrist harness concealed under the sleeve of his shirt. They might think he was odd for wearing long sleeves in such hot weather, but he could always hope they were afflicted with that nonobservant nature of most human beings.
Pearl picked up a bag and stuffed some of their food into it along with a box of shotgun shells. She had extra magazines for the rifle she carried tucked into her waistband under the hem of her shirt. As Justin watched, she pulled the hair tie out of her tiny braids, which had been swept back in a knot, and put them back up in a high ponytail, the ends fanning out to frame her face. He blinked in surprise at the difference it made. She looked younger, softer.
She saw Justin’s stare and smiled, pointing at herself. “Hollywood, remember? I know how little alterations in appearance can change perceptions.”
With a grin, he fluffed out his own hair.
“Sorry, that doesn’t work for you,” Kaden said. “You just look like you’ve been electrocuted.”
Pearl gave Justin a critical once-over. “It might help if you shaved.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t bring a razor since we were only going to be gone two days, and I’m not using a knife to shave unless Carly is around to be impressed by it.”
“That reminds me. Here.” Kaden reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Carly told me to give this to you if we ran into any … issues.”
He glanced down at it. His wife had written him a short note in her large, loopy handwriting. His dyslexia had never been triggered by her writing, but she took care to make her lettering clear and distinct.
Please be careful. I love you.
He smiled and put it in his own pocket. Pearl gave him a small smile. “A reminder I’ve got to bring you back in one piece. Carly looks soft, but I’d bet she’s like a koala bear—all cute and cuddly until she’s ripping your face off.”
“She has her moments,” Justin said, and his mind drifted back to the time they were ambushed on the road. It had been Carly who saved the day after he was taken out by an arrow.
They started down the roadway, walking in a casual, easy stride, though Pearl kept a hand at her hip, inches from the butt of her pistol. He noticed she kept a friendly smile intact even as she spoke, in case they were being watched.
“How we gonna play this?”
Justin considered. “We’re staying in one of the nearby towns, scouting for supplies. Let’s hope they’re doing the same.”
“You’ve been through this
area, haven’t you?”
“Only briefly. I didn’t search it. I didn’t think there’d be much here. But I doubt they were around at that time. I saw no evidence of recent occupation. No fresh candy wrappers, scent of fire, that sort of thing.”
“How long ago was your last pass-through?”
Justin scratched his chin. “Maybe two, three months ago? I’m not sure.”
The strangers had spotted them. Some stood, heads turned toward one another in conversation. Their hands stayed down, loose at their hips.
“They’re armed,” Justin murmured. His cheeks hurt from holding his grin in place, and he had to remind himself not to tense up as they approached. He glanced around quickly, noting positions where they could take cover, fast, if they had to.
Pearl nodded, showing no surprise. Justin lifted a hand in greeting and waved at the men. “Hey there!”
A few of them waved in return. The rest watched in wary silence. Pearl’s smile never wavered as they continued forward, but the skin around her eyes was tight. This was always the most nerve-wracking walk, toward an uncertain target, trying not to convey hostility by posture but remaining alert and ready to take cover and return fire if the Outsiders proved too jumpy.
Justin and Pearl stopped a few yards away from their group of chairs. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” The man who spoke was short and stocky, his hair trimmed close to his skull. Muscles bulged beneath his T-shirt. His face was expressionless as he stepped to the front of the group. “What are you doing here?”
Justin’s friendly posture didn’t waver. “We’re just scouting for supplies, and when we saw you guys, we thought it might be a chance to do some trading.”
Another man spoke up. “Trading, huh?”
The guy looked like a stereotypical all-American, Midwest, cornfed, high school football player. Blond hair and blue eyes, white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin, and a thin thread of nasty arrogance beneath his smile. It made Justin’s skin crawl.
Blondie’s eyes slid over to Pearl and his grin widened. “You got anything good to trade?”
