by Jolie Du Prè
I run up a hill, then cross a street. Ahead is the parking garage for The Center. Two guys stand in the entrance.
“Look out!” one says.
I don’t look behind me. I just keep running until I reach them.
“Get in here!” One grabs my arm and pulls me inside. Then he shoots the zombie that is coming toward him. I swallow hard. It looks no older than a young male preteen, not as decayed as Dan or my mother was, but he’s missing a hand. After the blast, the zombie falls to the ground.
The guy who shot it turns to me. “What the fuck are you doing? You could have been killed.”
He’s probably not much older than I am, but his stringy hair and pale skin make him look older. A huge gun belt holds his pants on his skinny body. He wears a t-shirt with an eagle and an American flag on the front. I stare at the gap between his two tobacco-stained front teeth. “I’m sorry. My car was stolen.”
I look at the other guy. I guess he’s around my age also. His facial features are strong and defined. “You were almost toast out there,” he says. “I’m Mark.”
“I’m Jennifer.”
Mark smiles softly and runs his hand through his thick dark hair. For the first time in a long time, I smile too. “This is Gary.”
I turn to Gary. “Thanks for shooting the zombie.” I offer my hand. He grabs it hard, pulling me into him a little. His eyes scan my body, up then down.
“Think we should let her stay here, Mark?”
I pull away from him.
“Yeah, we’ve got lots of space, Jen,” says Mark.
I glance into the garage, and I see more people, and at least one female.
I hold my rifle close. “If I could just stay the night? Then I’ll be on my way.”
Gary laughs. “Where the hell are you gonna go? That big gun of yours ain’t gonna protect you for long, honey. You’ll never make it.”
I look Gary in the face. “I’ll take my chances.” I say that even though I know Gary is right.
“Well, for now, why don’t you just come inside?” says Mark. “We took over this garage. There are folks in The Center, but you don’t want to go there.”
“The Center is fucked,” says Gary. “Way too many people.”
“Nobody has given us any hassle about our being in the garage,” Mark says. “This is the only entrance. Whenever we open it, we make sure it’s always guarded. It’s dangerous out there, Jen, but you’re safe in here.”
My name is Jennifer, not Jen. But Mark is a nice guy. Good-looking, too. I don’t care if he calls me Jen.
5.
AS I ENTER THE GARAGE, a huge concrete space with more than one level, I see only a few cars. A small group relaxes together in the center of the first floor level. Some sit in chairs at a table. None smile, not that there’s anything to smile about these days. None smile except for the girl with the wild red hair, who rushes out of her chair and is heading toward me.
She grabs my hand. “Hey, it’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re here.” It’s as if I’m her long-lost friend.
“Thanks! I’m glad I’m here too.”
“I’m Katie.”
“Jennifer.”
She stares at my backpack. “You got any weed?”
I forgot I was wearing my backpack. I let go of her hand. “No, I don’t smoke.”
“Okay . . . shit. I wish you did.”
Her eyes are blue and wild, as if she’s already been smoking. Like everyone else I see here, she looks to be around my age. She wears a floor-length flowered dress and cowboy boots.
“Leave her alone, Katie,” says a guy stretched out on a rumpled mess of sleeping bags and blankets. He’s got a beard, and he wears glasses. He looks a little older, but not by much. I wonder where all these people came from.
“Come on in,” he says. “Have a seat.”
Katie returns to her chair and pulls one out for me. “Sit here, Jennifer!” Nobody has the energy this girl has. It’s unsettling.
I sit down next to Katie, making sure my backpack and my rifle are close to me on the floor, next to my chair.
“Shoot that thing much?” A girl with short black hair, black clothes, and piercings on her nose and lip sits across from me and glares. In her hand is Poppy Z. Brite’s Lost Souls.
“Not much, but I had to shoot a zombie who was attacking my mother.”
"Did she make it?”
I shake my head.
“Maybe she’ll buddy up with my family. They’re all zombies now too.” She smirks at me and then returns to her book.
Just then, Mark walks over. “You guys meet Jen?”
“Is that your name?” the girl in black asks, looking up from her book.
“Yes, I’m Jennifer.”
“You met Gary,” Mark says. He points his finger at each person as he introduces them. “This is Katie, Andy, Sara, and that’s Eli over there.”
They say “hi” back, except I notice that Sara, the girl in black, doesn’t. She keeps reading her book, but then she looks up again. “You’re seven.”
“What?”
“We said we’d only bring ten people in here, and you’re seven. Three more people, and that’s it. The rest are zombie food.”
“But there’s so much room here,” I say.
Andy, the guy sitting next to her, with the blond hair, laughs. “You been to The Center yet, Einstein?”
“No.”
“Well, if you had, you’d see why we don’t want a shit-load of people in here.”
Sara smirks again and pats Andy on the knee. I assume the two are best buddies.
I take a deep breath and try not to focus on my dry mouth. I want to pull one of my water bottles out of my backpack, but I’m protective about my supplies, and I don’t want to share them, not knowing how long I’ll be here.
Mark puts his hand on my shoulder. His presence instantly calms my nerves. I look up at him.
“We’ve closed the door to the garage,” Mark says. “Guess you got here just in time. There are sleeping bags over there. The bathroom is in the office over there. We’ll all eat in an hour or so.”
“Sounds like you guys have it all set up,” I say.
“We’re pretty organized.” Mark is not all muscle, but he’s nicely toned in a blue t-shirt and khakis. He walks away, smiling at me again.
6.
ELI, THE GUY WITH THE BEARD AND THE GLASSES, is in the storage garage’s office, heating beans on a portable stove. Sara and Katie sit at the table, taking peaches out of cans and placing them in plastic bowls.
Sara stops what she’s doing and glares at me. “Go get the plates and stuff.”
“Where are they?”
She doesn’t answer. I realize it was a stupid question. They’re somewhere in the office. Where else could they be in this big, almost empty, garage?
When I get to the office, I see a closet with the door open. The closet is stocked with canned goods and paper products. I’m impressed by how organized everything is. I remove napkins, plates, cups, and plastic utensils. Then I set the plates and everything on the table. Everyone is sitting at the table except for Eli, who is still in the office.
“We’re having beans again,” says Katie. “I guess we’ll all be farting again.” Katie giggles. “We’ve got enough beans to feed an army.”
“It was open season on the mart up the street,” says Gary. “We grabbed as much as we could before a shit-load of zombies moved in. But if you’re nice, maybe we’ll let you have meat tomorrow.”
“You’ve got meat?” I ask.
“Yeah, we snagged a fridge and a barbecue from one store, meat from another. We still have power. So the fridge still works. We found a fenced-in spot behind the garage where we can barbecue. Zombies can’t get to it.”
“That meat is disgusting. I’d rather eat beans,” says Sara.
Gary rolls his eyes and chuckles to himself.
“It looks like you guys are pretty settled here,” I say.
“We�
�re not staying here,” says Andy. “We’re moving on as soon as we can.”
“Where to?” I ask.
“Yeah, why do we have to leave?” says Katie. She moves her knee up and down fast as she talks. “Everything is fine here.”
Andy rolls his eyes. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” Unlike Sara, who seems to love black, Andy wears bright red gym shoes, skinny jeans, and a tight, turquoise t-shirt.
Katie balls a napkin in her hand and throws it at Andy, but it misses him. “No, I’m not stupid.”
“We’ve been through this, Katie,” says Mark. “The power will not last forever. We’ve got to get to a warmer climate.”
Eli sticks his head out of the office door. “Beans are ready, guys. Come and get it.” Everyone takes a plate and heads over to the office. I follow their lead and grab a plate as well.
A large pot of beans sits on the portable stove. Everyone lines up. Eli is good about separating the portions. It’s as if he’s had practice dishing out food in the army, or something. Nobody seems to get more beans than anyone else.
We all walk back to the table and take a seat with our beans. The fruit has been separated into seven plastic bowls. There are three water bottles on the table for us to pour water into our plastic cups.
I eat the beans and the peaches. I’m grateful for the food and grateful I don’t have to go into my stash of water, food bars, and dehydrated and freeze-dried stuff. The entire time I’m eating, Mark is sitting next to me. Occasionally, his thigh brushes against mine.
“I say we leave by the end of the week, Mark,” says Sara. “I’m ready to escape.”
“I don’t see why we can’t do that,” says Mark. “The van is ready. Our last step is to stock up on more supplies.”
“That van over there?” I ask, pointing at the white one.
“Yeah,” says Gary. “It belonged to a family of zombies - mom, dad, and a daughter. They were waiting for humans, I guess.” He laughs. “The little girl came at us first. We shot them all. Then we took the van and took off.”
“That was a wild day,” says Eli.
“How long have you guys been here?” I ask.
“About a month,” says Eli. “We’ll take our chances and head to Texas.”
“Texas?”
“Mark’s family owns a ranch.”
“I just want out of this garage and out of this damn town,” says Sara. “I don’t give a fuck where we go.”
“Jennifer, you’re coming, right?” says Katie. Mark looks at me.
“Of course! I’m coming.” It’s not like my other options are good. With no car, how far could I get on foot, and what about when night hits? My car could have served as a sleeping place. Now, with no car, where would I sleep?
“If you want to come with us, you have to go with us on a supply run,” Sara says. “Everyone has to join the supply run.”
Gary, who sits on the other side of me, reaches down and tries to grab my rifle. “No! Please don’t touch it,” I say.
Andy laughs. “Is that your toy or something?”
“No, but my father gave it to me. It’s pretty special to me.”
“He taught you how to shoot?” says Gary.
I look Gary in the face. “Yeah. I’m a good shot.”
He throws his arms up in the air, mocking me. “Whoa. I don’t want to mess with a woman who’s a good shot.”
“Your rifle will come in handy when we make our run,” says Mark. “The more weapons, the better.”
* * *
After dinner, we all throw our dirty bowls and utensils and stuff into a large trash bag. I head to the office to use the bathroom, but I take my rifle and my backpack with me. Even though I’m safe inside the garage, I don’t feel comfortable without them.
As I enter the office, I notice a worn photo of a man and a woman lying on the floor by a cabinet. I pick it up. I don’t know how long it’s been on the floor. I wonder if the man in the photo is the person who used to run this place. I wonder if the woman in the photo is his wife, and I wonder if they’re still alive.
After I’m done in the bathroom, I open the door and Gary is standing in the office with his hands on his hips. He smiles, but not in a way with which I feel comfortable.
“I’m sorry I touched your gun. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I appreciate Gary telling me this, but I don’t understand why he had to follow me into the office to do it.
“It’s okay. We’re all on edge with everything that’s happened. Guess I’m just jumpy about everything.”
Carrying my backpack with one hand and my rifle with the other, I head for the door. Before I reach it, Gary grabs my arm. “You’re awful pretty. You know that?”
My nerves take a nosedive, but I force myself to look at him. “Thanks.” I pull away from Gary and rush out to the others.
7.
WHEN THOSE JERKS STOLE MY CAR, they also took my pillow and blankets that I kept in my trunk. Now I’m lying in a sleeping bag given to me by the folks in this garage. I stare at the concrete ceiling, high above me. My backpack and my rifle are close.
The lights are out, except for the lights in the office, left on so we can see our way to the bathroom. I don’t know how long the electricity will last. We lost power in Waterbank weeks ago. It can’t be much longer until that happens here.
Everyone is in their sleeping bags or lying on blankets, except for Gary. He’s sitting at the table, in the darkness, smoking a cigarette. I watch the smoke escape his mouth and swirl around him. I can’t stand cigarettes. My father, who died from lung cancer, used to smoke two packs a day.
After what Gary did to me in the office, I’m keeping my eyes on him. Ever since he shot that zombie, I guess he thinks he can do whatever he wants with me.
Katie insisted on laying her sleeping bag alongside mine. She’s inside it, but she keeps shifting positions. First, she’ll lie face up, then to her side, and then face up again. She’s been shifting for about five minutes.
I look over at Mark, sleeping on a blanket across from Katie and me. He looks so peaceful, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Now Gary is walking toward me. I don’t close my eyes. I keep them on him.
Katie sits up and brushes her long, wavy red hair away from her face. “Why don’t you stop smoking and go to bed?”
“I am, honey.”
He addresses her, but even though it’s dark, I can sense he’s looking at me. “Good night, Katie,” Gary says.
“Good night,” says Katie. “Get to bed already.”
He stops in his tracks and looks down at me. “Good night, Jennifer.”
“Good night.” I’m grateful he’s sleeping by Mark and not by me and Katie.
* * *
In the middle of the night, I dart up. Every nerve in my body comes alive as I hear the growls coming from outside the garage, followed by an all-too-familiar scream.
“What’s happening?” Katie says.
“What the hell is going on?” Mark says. He grabs his gun and flies off his blanket. “Gary! Eli!”
“I’m comin’!” Gary says, gun in hand. Eli, who sleeps the farthest from the garage door, has his rifle. The three run outside.
It’s then I see it, shambling into the garage. As the zombie growls, my heartbeat goes into overdrive. It has grey hair and wrinkly skin of the oddest brown. It is only wearing torn, bloody, plaid boxer shorts.
Sara, who sleeps nearest to the garage door, lies frozen in her sleeping bag. The zombie heads right for her. She doesn’t scream or move. She just pulls the sleeping bag over her head and disappears into it.
By now, Katie and I are both on our feet. “Oh my God!” Katie says. She grabs me.
“Katie, let go,” I say, pulling from her. Then I aim my rifle at the zombie’s head and shoot. It falls inches from Sara.
Mark, Eli, and Gary run inside the garage and slide the door closed. Then Gary switches on the lights.
There’s zombie mat
ter on Sara’s sleeping bag, but Sara still doesn’t move.
Gary looks at me. “Goddamn, you shot that son-of-a-bitch?”
“Yes.” I run over to Sara, careful not to step on the zombie. “Are you okay?”
She pulls her head out of the sleeping bag. Her eyes well with tears, but she smiles. “I’m okay.”
I smile back, and I feel like crying too.
Then Sara rushes out of her sleeping bag, pulls it away from the zombie, and stands up. “Where’s the asshole? I told him not to go outside. He told me he wouldn’t, but obviously, he waited until I was asleep.”
Mark walks over to Sara. “Andy is dead.” He looks around at us. “We tried to save him, but they took him.”
Katie is standing behind Eli, holding onto his waist. “What are we going to do about the zombie? I don’t want it in here. It smells horrible.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll toss the fucker out back,” says Gary. “Come give me a hand, Eli.”
“No problem,” says Eli. “Let’s go grab some garbage bags first.”
While Eli and Gary dump the zombie, Sara walks to the table and takes a seat in one of the chairs. “I can’t believe Andy,” she says. “He told me he was getting sick of being cooped up in this place and he just wanted to get some air. He said he’d be careful and take his gun. But I told that idiot to stay indoors.”
Mark walks to the table, and Katie and I follow. Katie gives Sara a hug before sitting.
“We found his gun on the ground,” says Mark. “When we got outside, two of ‘em had him. There was nothing we could do but get back in here as soon as we could."
“He must have made sure he was super quiet,” I say. “We didn’t hear him leave the garage.”
“I wish he had waited to leave with the rest of us,” says Mark. “I’m sorry, Sara.”
“I'm fine,” says Sara. “Andy was a dick.”
I put my hand on Sara’s shoulder. Despite what she says about Andy, I can tell they were close. She doesn’t pull away from me when I touch her. She just continues to stare down at the table.
“Jen, thanks for steppin’ up,” says Mark. “This whole thing could have gotten a lot worse if it weren’t for what you did.”
