by Jack Lothian
Haley staggered a bit and then straightened up. She was feeling a little better. The pain in her belly had dulled, there didn’t seem to be any sick ones around, and her girl was okay. There was bound to be water somewhere in this town. And food. The baked beans were a strategic reserve, which Haley had picked up from the last place they’d stayed—the Geigers. Both were dead now. Like Jim.
A bird chirped from the maple tree by the town sign. Juli jumped. Haley didn’t have the energy but her heart did a somersault. Her daughter huffed, embarrassed. They walked into town, along what was most probably the main street. There was a Citgo station on the left and a dilapidated house on the right. Its door was hanging open but Haley didn’t even consider going in. Houses with their doors hanging open were always looted and sometimes contained their original occupants, sprawled on the floor, or the bed, or the couch, where the disease had overcome them, starting to moan the moment they saw someone come in, groping the air, exuding disease from their every pore.
Or, worse, they lurked behind doors and sometimes fell on the person who opened that door. That’s what had happened to Jim—a second of distraction had cost him his life. Haley wasn’t sure he was dead. Maybe he was. Maybe he had taken care of himself like he’d said he would. Or maybe he’d gotten scared and had died painfully or was still dying. She refused to think about these alternatives. She assumed he had ended it himself. It was easier this way.
“Do you think there may be something left at the store?” Juli asked, working hard to conceal the hope under a thin veneer of curiosity.
“Let’s check,” Haley said and the two turned left, where five pumps stood dusty and blind in the heat. Most of the hoses lay on the ground, spread in a chaotic pattern, thrown down no doubt angrily or desperately by the unlucky ones who’d reached the station too late, too long after the tanks had run dry.
The convenience store’s door was ajar, they saw when they approached, moving slowly, cautiously, between pump 2 and pump 3. The glass front revealed a mess inside but a mess was better than emptiness and they had seen empty stores on the road. Completely empty, cleared out, with just the shelves left standing. That was the curious thing—those who had cleared out the store had done it in an orderly fashion. Haley was terrified when she saw such a store for the first time and she couldn’t explain why.
This one, however, looked normal, like stores should look after the apocalypse—broken shelves, overturned racks, the floor littered with empty packets of chips, broken bottles and soda cans, and, hopefully, some food lost in all this trash. Juli peered through the door without touching it. Haley mouthed Be careful but her daughter didn’t see it. Besides, she knew to be careful. She was especially careful after Mrs. Geiger fell on her father from behind the door of the Geigers’ bedroom. She turned around.
“It looks empty,” the girl said and turned her head back to the store. Haley nodded. Stores often looked empty and were empty. The big looting wave was long over, along with the initial panic that caused it when people started dying in the thousands, in hospitals, in their beds, on the streets. Now, it was only scavengers like her and Juli that dropped in. Sometimes sick ones wandered into a store, too, but they were easy to spot there—they were very noisy as they tried to move through the usual mess. Often, they fell and stayed on the floor. Often, they died there and stopped being a danger. But you never knew.
“Okay, let’s see what’s in there,” Haley said and took the backpack off. She kneeled in the dust, took out the glove box and pulled out two pairs of latex gloves. She passed one to Juli and donned the other. The disease lingered on things like handles, water faucets and pretty much everything that people touched. It was like Ebola this way. Only it was much worse than Ebola. It was an Ebola-like virus that was supposed to eradicate malaria by killing off the plasmodium that caused it from the inside. Only it didn’t. Something went wrong with the infection. The mosquitoes died, which was one of the purposes, but before they did, they spread the all-new disease so efficiently that instead of getting good old malaria, humankind was now close to extinction. Gloves were precious.
Haley watched Juli put on the gloves. Then she put the box back in the backpack and got up. She dreaded the thought of putting the backpack on again but she couldn’t risk leaving it here, not with the gloves in it. And the water, she reminded herself. As she straightened up, she felt that her crotch was sticky but not exactly wet. Haley took it as a good sign and even cheered up a little. She was getting better. She wouldn’t have to leave Juli alone. The thought made her sick.
“Ready?” she asked and the girl nodded her head. Haley walked up to the door, took the handle between her thumb and index finger, and pulled very slowly. The door opened wider, silently. Juli waited by her side. Haley paused for a second and then pulled the door wide open. The two exchanged a look and stepped in, Haley first, Juli right behind her. A new smell suddenly overruled the all-pervading stink of old decay outside. The counter, to the left of the door, was covered with cash and blood. It stank, not as bad as the piles outside the town line, but still bad. The body was behind the counter—a girl, it looked like, judging by the form. The face was a total loss—bits of bones protruded from the bloody mask that covered what remained of the skull, no features discernible. A swarm of flies made the bloody mask look alive—they were feeding, laying eggs, taking a break hovering over the corpse and then returning for their next meal.
Someone had shot at least two bullets into that head, which may have been pretty before. Two large-caliber bullets. And it hadn’t happened long ago—no maggots had hatched yet. Haley suddenly lost all hope of finding anything worth taking in this place. She turned to tell her daughter they’d better go just in time to see Juli bend over and throw up a handful of water and stomach juices. Haley had forgotten to tell the girl to stay away and not look. She had forgotten to protect her from the sight behind the counter.
“Deep breaths, honey,” she said, rushing to her daughter, squatting next to her. “Deep breaths.”
Juli tried to nod but a dry retch shook her. After it passed, she inhaled deeply and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her T-shirt.
“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered.
“It’s okay, baby, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Haley whispered back, hugging her tightly and rubbing her back. The girl hid her head in her mother’s neck. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I let you see this. I’m really sorry.”
Juli sobbed a couple of times, then raised her head and stepped away from Haley.
“It’s okay,” she said. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. “I’m okay.” She opened her eyes. “It didn’t happen long ago, did it?”
Haley shook her head and got up.
“Do you think they’ll come back?” the girl asked, sniffing.
Haley took off the backpack and took out the bottle of water. Juli took a sip and gave the bottle back to her mother.
“I don’t think they’ll come back,” Haley said.
“How do you know?’ Juli asked and kicked at an empty pack of chips. “Why would they make such a mess? Can’t they clean up after themselves?”
Haley smiled at her daughter’s outrage, so out of place and yet so reasonable, so sane. Julianne was still sane.
“Let’s see if we can find some food, all right?” she said and reached out to Juli. The girl took her hand and for a second they stood there, hand in hand, in the debris, the stench of fresh death hanging over them, almost palpable. Juli thrust her right leg forward, stirring the pile of packages, bottles, and cans. Haley hesitated for a moment, then did the same. They started moving forward, stirring the debris with their feet, scanning the store for any candy bar, packet of chips, box of cookies, anything that the last visitors of the place might have missed.
The last time they’d eaten was the previous afternoon—they’d split the ten remaining saltines from a box they’d found in an abandoned house a week earlier and had finished the pack of peanut butter choc
olates that Haley had taken from the bag of a dead woman they’d stumbled upon when they were leaving the last town. She didn’t remember its name. She remembered they left it three days ago, after it turned out there was a whole swarm of sick ones in the town's Methodist church. Apparently, there were a few infected people among them still at the early stages of the disease, who broke down the doors and let them all free. Haley and Juli were squatting in a house nearby and they heard the shouts of “Get them!” and the moans. Then they saw the still-sane ones run up the street, to the house they were hiding in, and made a quick exit through the back door and into the woods. They had to run. Haley almost gave up halfway through but she made it to the road, bleeding, breathless, but alive. And so did Juli, which was the important thing.
“See anything good?” Haley asked in her new cheery voice. She was feeling better by the minute, in spite of the dull pain in the pit of her belly, in spite of the girl’s corpse behind the counter, in spite of the stench. She’d felt worse pain, when Juli was born, prematurely. She’d seen worse things, when Mrs. Geiger fell on Jim, hands groping, mouth opening and closing, eyes unfocused, sealing his death sentence the moment her palm came into contact with his neck. And she’d smelled worse smells, when the blood started flowing out of her when she miscarried two weeks ago.
Juli tapped her foot on something in the pile of garbage and her face lit up. She grinned at her mother, let go of her hand and reached down. Her hand came up with a box of lemon cookies. The box was trampled but unopened. Haley’s mouth filled with saliva again, just as it did every time she thought about the baked beans in the backpack. She swallowed.
“Great find, kid,” she said. “It’s all yours.”
Juli hesitated with the misshapen cookie box in her hand. Then she offered it to her mother. Haley blinked back the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes and shook her head.
“All yours,” she managed. “You need your strength.’
Juli’s chin started trembling.
“No, Juli, I’m not going anywhere!” Haley said. She waded through the debris to her daughter and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I’m fine, seriously. And I have baked beans.”
Juli didn’t smile. She continued staring at her mother, studying her face, which Haley knew was drawn, dry, and paler than usual, blinking away tears, swallowing back her worry.
“Juli?” Haley said, relaxing her grip on the girl’s shoulders. She forced her fingers to loosen their grip on the thin bones and turn the squeezing into light massaging. “Juli, please have the cookies. You know you love them and you’re hungry. Then we’ll have some beans, okay?”
“Are you really fine?” her daughter asked, with her bottomless eyes that cut short any attempt at a lie fixed on hers. “Are you?”
“Of course I am,” Haley said. She knelt in the pile of garbage in front of her daughter and looked her straight in the eyes. Jim’s eyes. “I’m well and good, and I’ll be much better after you eat these cookies.”
“Mom, that’s emotional blackmail,” Juli said. She looked somber. So somber that Haley burst out laughing. Juli jumped. Haley grabbed her and pulled her to her chest, squeezing the girl, not caring if she hurt the tiny body. Juli hugged her back, fiercely. The box of cookies fell on the floor behind Haley’s back. She groped for it with one hand and pulled it out from the mess. Then she wedged it between her and Juli.
“Take it,” Haley said, letting go of Juli and pressing the shapeless cookie box to the girl’s now scrawny chest. “Please. Emotional blackmail and all.”
Juli took the box with one hand, keeping the other one around her mother’s neck.
“Okay,” she said, stifling a sob. “If you insist.”
Haley hugged her again, kissed her cheek and let go.
“Let’s see if we can find anything else,” she said, getting up. The empty packs, wrappers, and cans rustled under her feet, so she didn’t hear the soft moan that came from the door. Neither did Juli. She’d opened the box of cookies and had stuffed a palmful of crumbs into her mouth. She was watching her mother, who was blocking the door from view. Then Haley made a step forward, to the single aisle of the small store, and Juli choked on her cookies. She shot up from the floor, coughing up crumbs, and grabbed her mother’s arm. Haley started and her head snapped back to the door.
The sick man at the door had not been sick for a long time. He still looked normal but for the mouth that opened and closed erratically and the unfocused eyes. His clothes were filthy and he swayed a little like a drunk, but otherwise he could pass for a healthy man. A year ago, of course. Not now. He let out a low moan and stepped forward unsteadily. The reek of urine, feces and unwashed body hit Haley and Juli in the nose, for a second overtaking the other prevailing smell, of violent and messy death. The man lifted his right hand and groped the air. He was moving toward them.
Haley and Jim had discussed whether the sick ones could smell the healthy humans and neither of them was sure, but it did look that way. The eyes of the sick ones didn’t seem to see very well, the feet were unsteady and still they always tried to approach the healthy ones they encountered and touch them. Perhaps that was their way of asking for help. Perhaps they wanted to spread the disease now that they’d lost their own lives to it. Haley didn’t know. Juli had insisted they were asking for help but since her father’s death—or accident, as she called it—she refused to talk about it.
“Slowly,” Haley whispered, trying to push Juli behind her back. Juli resisted, planting her legs right where she was, next to her mother, facing the door and the stinking man who was standing there, groping the air, his head swiveling from side to side like a hinge that’d gotten unhinged. Which was pretty much what had happened, what happened to all of them. And then they died of starvation and lack of water.
“I know, Mom,” the girl said, her eyes fixed on the sad creature at the door who’d just taken another tentative step toward them. They both stepped back into the aisle—the very short aisle, it now seemed to Haley. They had no weapons. They were both in T-shirts, which was bad. But they wore long pants, which was good. And they couldn’t just outwait the sick one or run. Haley was sure they would find more food in here, food they needed because they might have to run from that house with the smoke coming out of its chimney. There could be bad people there. Or dead people. Besides, Haley had seen—or imagined she’d seen—a few cans left standing in the soft drinks fridge and she wanted them. They needed them.
The sick one advanced, now moaning more loudly, his feet trampling what could be food, and Haley felt a sudden hot wave rise to her face. Anything he touched they couldn’t use. And he couldn’t eat it, not even with help. She knew that because she’d seen people try to feed their sick ones. They couldn’t chew or swallow, even if they were fed forcefully. The food and the water just didn’t go beyond their mouths. This she’d heard from a doctor previously employed by one of the biggest hospitals in the Midwest, now on the run like the rest of them. “They can’t live,” she’d said. “But they don’t die quickly enough.”
That doctor, Miriam, as she’d introduced herself to Haley and Jim, had, as far as Haley was concerned, saved their girl’s life six months ago by sewing up a wound Juli had gotten on her knee trying to run away from a sick one. That was back at home, in Iowa, when they were hanging on to their last hope that the disease could be contained. Three stitches were what Miriam administered, plus a helping of antibiotic powder. That was all she could spare and Haley was endlessly grateful for it. Miriam was now dead, touched by a seemingly recovering patient who said she had the flu before she collapsed on the floor of the shelter—a former high school—and made it clear to everyone that their hopes were doomed. They were all certain the shelter was safe until Constance collapsed on the floor of what had been the chemistry lab in happier times.
“We’ll go round the aisle,” Haley said. “See if there’s anything that looks edible or drinkable. We’re not coming back.”
“But we can try and
trip it or something,” Juli said.
“No,” Haley said. She had no intention of letting Juli near the creature or approaching it herself. That was too much risk. One swipe with a hand, that’s all it took for one of them—or both—to become like him or, if they were lucky, die within a week.
“I can trip him, Mom,” Juli insisted. “I can tackle him to the ground.”
“No!” Haley said, no longer caring who heard them. There was nobody here, after all, besides the sick one and the corpse. One done corpse, one on the way. And two potential corpses. “You’re not going anywhere near it. And don’t you dare say ‘But.’”
She didn’t turn to look at her daughter as she said this but she felt the girl’s hand tense in hers for a second before relaxing. Juli knew the risks. She was just being defiant. Or hopeful, maybe. Haley, however, was taking no chances. They’d scope the place, take what they found, and they would then beat it as quickly as possible. It stank here, anyway. She continued walking backward, her eyes fixed on the thing that was now much closer to them, while Juli turned around and started rummaging through the shelves.
“Give me a bag,” she said. “There’s some candy bars here.”
Haley risked a glance away from the staggering creature and saw her daughter pick up a Starburst stick. The colors on the wrapper were so bright they blinded her for a second. How the candy had survived she couldn’t imagine, but it had.
“Yes!” Juli said and waved her hand, full of candy. Two Mars bars. One Twix. Too much chocolate, Haley would have said just a year ago. Now they were food, as good as any other. She took out a plastic sandwich bag from the back pocket of her pants without taking her eyes off the creature advancing on them and passed it to Juli. The sick one was standing five feet away now, in the pile of garbage, his head swiveling left and right, his right foot raised for the next step, arms groping the air in front of him. Then his head swung to the left and he froze.
