I notice he glances up into the rearview window every couple of minutes to make sure the jeep is still behind us and isn’t struggling to keep up. Ryder manages to drive the speed limit without sliding all over the road, so we’re making decent enough time, even though I wish we could go much faster. As the time rolls by, the silence in the truck starts to become irritating and uncomfortable.
Finally, Naomi breaks it. “I have a couple of CD’s in my bag if anyone wants to listen to some music.”
“Thank God,” Reese mutters, turning to her. “What do you have? Hell, I’ll even take Taylor Swift over this quiet.”
We all get a chuckle out of that, and I turn around to help pick out the music. Naomi doesn’t have much—just a couple of CD’s she was able to swipe from a mostly empty store while we were scavenging for batteries, flashlights, and other random things we couldn’t find in most grocery stores. I instantly pass over a collection of country music by some male artist I’ve never heard of, and I grab the one that’s a mix of some of the most popular songs of the last year, which may be some of the last music that will ever be made.
Trying not to think about how all of these artists are now dead, I slide the CD into the player and turn the volume up so that Naomi and Reese can hear it in the back. I don’t know the first song that plays, but listening to unknown music is better than listening to nothing but the sound of the wipers on the windshield as they go back and forth in an attempt to keep snow from settling on the window. I can tell the others are glad for some familiar sounds; Naomi nods her head back and forth in the back seat, and Ryder taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music.
I just lean my head against the cool glass and try to relax. Worrying about the future won’t do any of us much good, but I still can’t help myself. I know we’re probably getting in over our heads, and there’s a very good chance that we won’t live long enough to regret the decision to leave our cabin, but even though this is a stupid thing to do, I know deep down it’s the right thing. We have a chance to change things, and honestly, that’s worth any and all of our lives.
I’ve never really considered myself the martyr type, but I guess the worst situations sometimes bring out the best in people.
Ryder reaches over and slips my hand into his. As his fingers thread through mine, I feel myself begin to smile, and I look away so he won’t see me blush. It’s crazy that Ryder and I can have a relationship at all, but it always surprises me how light and sweet he can be, even after everything he’s seen and been forced to do. It should feel weird that we’re holding hands at the end of the world, but it makes me feel better about what’s in store for us, and I know he feels the same way.
With Ryder at the helm and Reese in charge of navigation, we make pretty good time. The infection hit so quickly that not a lot of people managed to prepare in time or even make it onto the roads to escape. They died in their hometowns at the hands of their families, friends, and neighbors. The occasional car that we pass looks damaged and shows obvious signs of wear.
Many of them have been pushed off the road and into the ditches, probably by emergency response vehicles or army tanks. A few times, Ryder has to slow the truck down and maneuver around another truck that juts out into the road, but those situations are few and far in-betweens. The roads out here aren’t like they were in the big cities—all cluttered and impossible to pass. A smaller statewide population seems to really be working in our favor, in more ways than one.
We can do this…there’s nothing that will stop us or stand in our way.
Chapter Three
Ryder pulls over to the side of the road a few hours later, cutting the engine. He flexes his fingers and winces at the stiffness in them. Hopping out of the truck’s cab, I stretch my legs for the first time since we left, feeling the strength slowly return to them. We’ve been following Interstate 29 since we left at dawn, and we’re just outside the South Dakota border, which is quite the journey.
The others get out of the vehicles, stretching their tired and aching limbs while we have the chance. Madison catches my eye and nods as she arches her back until it cracks. With a contented sigh, she walks over. “I’m getting hungry. We should use this quick stop as a lunch break, too. We might not get a spot like this to stop in again.”
I nod in agreement, eyeing the area around us. Ryder’s expertly chosen our location, choosing a spot that’s easy for us to defend. We leave the highway and walk for twenty yards, coming to the top of a small, grassy hill that overlooks the highway and the surrounding area. The grass is crunchy with frost beneath our feet, but thankfully the snow isn’t quite sticking yet.
Naomi spreads out a blanket and immediately plops to her stomach, trying to relax before we have to head out again. Daisy joins her and the two begin chatting about something. Whatever it is, it must be funny because Daisy laughs, throwing back her head and closing her eyes. For a brief moment, she looks happy.
Todd and Aaron bring over some cans of food while Naomi digs through her backpack for the can opener. She tosses it to Aaron, who opens a can of baked beans. He passes it to Madison for the two of us to share, and we dig in while they get food for the others. I see a can of corn, a can of spaghetti-o’s with franks, and a can of tuna. Reese makes sure to save some of the tuna for Ryder, who is busy keeping watch over the group from a low perch in a nearby tree.
The baked beans are cold, but they go down easily enough. When we’re finished, we dig some apples out, making sure to eat them before they go bad. The fruit is still fresh, and it’s a nice little desert to go with our otherwise lackluster meal. I take a bite and wipe the juices from my chin, licking my fingers to make sure I get every last drop of the sweetness.
I’m the first to finish. Taking my bottle of water, I get to my feet and join Ryder. He’s crouching down low over a branch above my head, and he glances down at me for only a second before his eyes flick back to our surroundings. “You eat fast,” he says, scanning the hilltop around us.
“What if we get attacked? If I have to make a run for it, I want a full meal to keep me going. Never know when we’ll have time to take another meal break. Eat as much as you can, as fast as you can. That’s my motto.”
He looks down at me and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is it?” he asks, his lips turning up in a smile. He shakes his head and the smile disappears from his face. He goes back to watching the area, and I grip a low-hanging branch near me, hauling myself up the tree to join him. He scoots aside, giving me room. “You shouldn’t be up here with me.”
“Why not?” I ask, pressing closer to him.
“Because you’ll distract me,” he says, almost playfully. But he quickly reverts back to his more serious side, and I’m left sitting beside him in silence. His eyes scan the area like a hawk searching for prey in the grass below, never missing anything.
“See anything out there?”
“Not yet,” he answers. “I think we’re alone for now. But that doesn’t mean we should dawdle here any longer than we have to. The sooner we get on the road, the better chance we have of finding a decent place to hunker down for the night.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Maybe a fenced in house, or a motel or something. Anything that keeps a solid wall between us and the outside world. We’ll take turns keeping watch like always, eat a quick breakfast, and then get back on the road. Hopefully we’ll reach Montana during the day tomorrow, but if the weather worsens, we might have to add an extra day of travel. I’m not sure if our supplies will support that or not.”
“We’ll be fine, Ryder. We always are.”
He glances at me. “I hope you’re right.” The tone of his voice tells me he isn’t entirely sure that everything will work out the way I want it to, but I appreciate that he doesn’t say it out loud. He keeps a lot of his doubts to himself in order to give the rest of us peace of mind. That’s just one of the things that make Ryder an amazing leader, at least in my opinion. The others might not full
y agree with me though.
“Ryder—”
He holds up a hand, silencing whatever I’m about to say. “Did you hear that?”
I know better than to wonder if he might be hearing things. Instead of asking if he’s sure there’s something out there, I shut my mouth and listen to the hills around us for whatever it is he’s hearing. For a minute, there’s nothing but the two of us, and I almost start to wonder if he might actually be hearing things, which is unlike him. But then I hear it.
Screams.
They’re faint, but there’s no mistaking them. It’s a high-pitched scream, probably from someone very young, possibly even a child. My heart slams into my throat, beating rapidly at the thought of some poor child being cornered and torn to pieces.
“It’s not possible,” he says. “There’s no way a child could survive in this world.”
There’s another scream, this one different from the first, but sounding no older. “We have to help,” I say immediately. By now, Ryder knows me well enough to act unsurprised by my declaration, and he wastes no time arguing with me.
“We have hurry before it’s too late,” he says, jumping down from the tree like it’s nothing. He sets his weapon aside and spreads his arms, motioning for me to jump down and join him. “Jump!”
I push off from the branch, sailing into open air and dropping like a rock. Ryder backs up a step to catch me in his arms with an oomph. He staggers back to avoid falling to his butt, and he sets me down carefully. Picking up his weapon, we race back the short distance to camp, where Reese is already busy getting everybody ready. Their weapons are out and they look to Ryder immediately.
“There’s no telling what we’re walking into, so we have to be on our guard. We assess the situation with impartial eyes. If the situation is too dangerous, we need to be prepared to retreat. Our mission is too important for us to jeopardize by stopping to risk our lives needlessly.” He looks at me as he finishes. “No heroics. If the situation is a lost cause, we abandon it, do you understand?”
I meet his gaze defiantly. “I’ll be the judge of if the situation is a lost cause or not.”
The screams continue as we run over the hills, closing in on where Ryder thinks they’re coming from. Our path takes us up and over the next hill, bringing us to a small restroom set back away from the highway—a rest stop.
The building has an unnaturally low, flat roof, and a red brick exterior. There’s a picnic table pushed against the side wall, and two young children have used it to climb up to the roof and out of harm’s way. A group of zombies crowds around them, stretching their arms up, scrabbling for anything live to sink their teeth into.
There are probably twenty zombies all waiting to take a bite out of these kids, and their moans sound like a symphony of death, long and drawn out, tirelessly repeating over and over again. The only thing louder is the screams of the children on the roof. They can’t be older than ten, and for some reason these children appear to be out on their own.
The only weapons they have are long, pointy spears that appear to be crudely fashioned from thick, lawn rake poles and hunting knives tied together with wire. They stab downwards at the zombies waiting hungrily below, but their hands are shaking so badly their aim is way off. They hit the shoulders and arms, but not the head. The zombies don’t seem to notice the attack, and they don’t back down.
Ryder points to a nearby wooden trash can and Reese takes off, climbing up with ease. He steadies himself and takes his first shot before the rest of us even reach the horde. A zombie reaching for one boy’s foot drops, missing part of his skull. Blood and bone fragments spray the wall of the restroom, looking thick like strawberry jam.
Ryder targets a half-decomposed zombie near the outside of the group. His boots crunch over the decorative gravel, and a couple zombies turn their focus to him and away from the boys. The first zombie reaches for Ryder with chipped, dirty fingernails, and Ryder slams his gun across the zombie’s head with a sickening crack. It drops to the ground, still and reeking of death.
One breaks away from his buddies and shuffles towards me, one gray eye unfocused and the other ripped from the socket, leaving nothing but blood and torn skin fragments behind. I bring my gun up, squeezing the trigger. The bullet tears through his remaining eye, bursting out the back of his skull. He drops to his knees, slumping forward with a crunch as he disturbs the gravel. I jump over his body, making my way over to the picnic table the boys used to get on the roof. Tucking my gun into its holster on my thigh, my boots thud against the wooden table and I press off, launching myself up into the air.
Hauling myself up onto the roof, the boys make room for me. They’re wide-eyed and shaking from head to toe. I put my arms around them, pulling them close. “Are you boys okay?”
They don’t answer, but I didn’t expect them to. They just huddle closer together, not much use to us or even themselves. For now, they’re relatively out of harm’s way, but my group is not. Inching to the edge of the low-hanging roof. I take aim at the nearest zombie—a woman reaching for my boots. I squeeze the trigger and her head naps back. She drops, dragging another zombie down with her.
One manages to wrap his hand around my ankle, yanking me off my feet. I hit the tin roof hard on my side, gasping as pain flares through my hip and ribs. The zombie continues to pull me closer and closer to the end of the roof. My gun is trapped down under my hip and I can’t get it free. My fingertips brush the butt of the gun, but before I can get a grip on it, I get yanked a little farther off the roof.
The zombies are scrambling for my legs, which are dangling in the open air above them. One’s nails tear into the fabric of my jeans, scraping against the skin. Frantically, I kick out with my free foot, trying to dislodge her grip on my pants. Her head is too low though, and my foot sails over her. She gives a yank, trying to drag me to the ground so she can tear me into pieces.
Something moves out of the corner of my eyes, and one of the makeshift spears flies past. It buries itself in her eye socket, and her grip on my leg slackens, freeing me. I scramble back onto the roof, breathing harshly. My chest rises and falls, sweat drips down my forehead and chest, and my stomach is in knots. I turn to find one of the boys holding his bloody spear, arms shaking.
He looks at me. “Are you okay?” he asks in a high, pre-pubescent voice.
I nod. It’s all I can manage. My mouth is paper dry and it feels like my tongue is numb and thick. I pat him on the head, incredibly grateful he chose that minute to break through his fear. He scoots back to his friend, who is staring at us both in awe.
I slide my gun out of the holster, checking to make sure there’s no damage to it. A quick scan shows the group is taking care of the small horde of zombies without my help. There’s only a couple left, and between Reese’s sniper skills and Ryder’s direction, the zombies go down one by one until there’s only one left. Before Ryder can bring his gun up, an arrow embeds itself through the zombie’s skull, dropping it like a rock at Ryder’s feet.
Ryder’s head snaps up, eyes zeroing in on a young woman standing beneath a tree nearby. She’s young, probably seventeen years old, maybe a little younger. She’s short—barely five feet tall—and petite and slim. Her hair is long and black, falling to her waist. The ends are dip-dyed fire-engine red, probably long before the end of the world since it seems to be fading out by now. Her eyes are a soft brown color, reminding me of warm almond butter. She’s definitely Asian, but I’m not sure which specific nationality she is and I’m ashamed to admit I don’t know how to tell the difference.
In her hands is a huge black compound bow, complete with a scope. It looks like it would be far too heavy for her to even lift, let alone pull back. She eyes us warily, like she can’t be certain who the bigger threat is—us or the zombies! She gives us a wide berth as she runs to the picnic table, hops up, and motions for the boys to join her. They crawl forward happily, throwing themselves at her. She holds them close, acting almost motherly.
&nb
sp; She coaxes the boys down from the roof, slowly dragging their weapons behind them. She helps them down to the picnic table, ignoring me in the process. She doesn’t so much as look my way, choosing to focus more on these children she obviously knows and cares for.
I slide down from the rooftop and hop down into Ryder’s outstretched arms. He catches me effortlessly, like I weigh next to nothing, like he hadn’t been previously wounded and left almost helpless. He looks down at me, eyes full of worry. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I say breathlessly. “I’m okay for now, and so are those kids.” He sets me down and I feel strength start to return to my legs, my earlier fear almost forgotten. “I can’t believe there are still children left alive. I thought for sure they would all be long dead by now.”
We watch the two boys, who may actually be brothers now that I get a better look at them. They’re comforting each other, checking to make sure they’re both unharmed. We turn our attention to the strange girl who came out of nowhere. She’s busy staring at us, clearly sizing us up and determining whether or not we’re a threat to her and the boys in her care.
Finally, after a very tense minute that has Reese and Aaron shifting nervously, she walks over to us. She stops an arms length away. “Thank you for what you did for them.” Her voice is light and melodic, like a spoken song. “Not many people would go out of their ways to help strangers, especially these days.”
“It was no problem,” I say. “We were in the area, and we knew we had to do whatever we could to help out. I would hope someone would do the same for us if we ever needed help.”
“That’s…optimistic,” she says, clearly choosing a less offensive word for what she wanted to say.
“You don’t think there are still people who would stop to help out strangers?”
She eyes me strangely. “I didn’t until today.”
Silence stretches out between us, long and very uncomfortable. She extends her hand, and I take it, shaking it gingerly. “Tuyen. Like twin, but with an ‘e’ instead of an ‘I’. It’s Vietnamese, before you ask. Try and pronounce it right.”
Zombie World (Zombie Apocalypse #3) Page 4
