Marco must have picked up on that. Natalie forced down a growl as he flashed a cocky smile, leaning against the wall with an aura of pompous superiority before speaking.
“Class is in session! My name is Marco, but you may call me Mr. Professor.” BJ was in the corner, his attention fixed on nothing in particular, while Rico rolled his eyes at his cousin. Grabbing her journal, Natalie nestled herself into the couch. The man might be a bit overbearing, but she wasn't too proud to accept information that could save her life in the future. Pen in hand, she began to write down everything Marco said.
I'm not really sure where to start. "Dear Diary, today I killed some zombies and made a couple of friends" seems a little out of place, but I guess it isn't far from the truth.
Marco, Rico, and BJ. Or, as I first came to know them, Smarmy, Cautious, and Hardcore. Honestly I like my names for them better, but I'll keep that to myself for now.
I'm not sure what to make of them, but they seem like they know what they're doing, and Marco has been telling me a lot of things I didn't know. There's a whole other side to the apocalypse that I didn't think about, some pretty dark and disturbing things I hadn't pieced together.
I’ll admit, I’ve never really had a lot of cause to consider it much beyond "don't get yourself killed, kiddo," and I didn't spend a whole lot of time talking to other survivors about it. Most of the time, the outbreak was the last thing anybody wanted to bring up in casual conversation, so it’s not like it was a topic that was hard to skirt around. Add to that the fact that I've tried to avoid people as much as possible, and it seems pretty reasonable that I would be a little uninformed.
In fact, pretty much since the dead started walking, I've been alone. Occasionally I spent a night with a couple of strangers on their way from Point A to Point B, but I always left as quickly as I could.
Being around other humans, getting to know them, it's painful. They all have such sad stories, about people they've lost or the things they've seen, and I don't want any part of it. Hard enough to keep my chin up without all of the extra heartbreak.
I'm lucky, in a way. I don't have any family left to worry over me, or for me to worry about. My mom was a devout "Christian" who couldn't bring herself to abort her pregnancy, but never wanted to have me, either. Soon as I was born and she had the strength to leave, she shoved me off onto my dad and got the fuck out of Dodge.
Dad, bless his heart, he didn't have a clue what to do with a baby girl. He did his best, but trying to make enough money to support us ate up most of his time, so I was left to my own devices when it came to learning about the world.
We were close, don't get me wrong, and I could talk to him about anything as long as it didn't have to do with periods or boys. I just didn't get a lot of chances to have a heart-to-heart, and when I was nineteen, he died. Heart attack, brought on by stress, the doctors said.
I spent a long time trying not to blame myself for that.
Anyway, my grandparents had been dead for a while, I never had any siblings, and neither did Dad. I was on my own, and given my experience with people up to that point, I wasn't exactly keen on making friends. I'm friendly enough, always remember to be polite when I'm supposed to be and everything, I just don't really like company.
That was fine before the end of days came along, but now I'm starting to see there are some serious disadvantages. Like not knowing half of the things that are going on around the world, for one.
For a time, you could flip on the TV and get a decent update on the news, but then stations started getting abandoned as people moved to safer pastures. The internet was a total clusterfuck of rumors and nonsense that made piecing together anything even remotely resembling the truth an impossibility.
Pretty soon, for one reason or another, it got a lot harder to pick up on things unless you saw it first-hand. You could listen in on emergency broadcasts, but finding a way to hear them got harder and harder to do. Most places had lost power, and a car was basically an express ticket to getting yourself killed with all the noise they made, so using them just as a radio was inconvenient to say the least. Unless you had some kind of portable equipment specifically designed for emergencies, you were probably out of luck.
The next best thing was word of mouth, and like I said, I wasn't so fond of camaraderie. The end result is I wound up being further out of the loop than I'd thought. There were a lot of things that I just took for granted, but the more Marco talks about it all, it sounds like this whole thing, all the undead and people dying, it was definitely intentional. Somebody, or something, wanted to make this happen.
It's things like how the zombies operate. Marco told me about how they only eat their own dead. If they catch you while you're living, they'll rip you up a bit, but they're not after food. They do just enough to kill and convert, for the most part. It gets scarier when you start to realize they're only hunting us.
Earlier today I had an incident with a walker and a raccoon, and I thought for sure the raccoon would be good bait. It didn't work, but at the time I wrote it off as bad luck. Marco tells me that it probably wouldn't have worked either way. The things will watch animals, chase them sometimes, but they tend to leave them be unless they're attacked first.
What in the Hell does that mean? They're supposed to be mindless, shambling reminders of somebody we used to be, but they have the concept of "defense" ingrained somewhere in their heads, like a sense of what, preservation? That shouldn't be possible. I mean, none of this should be possible, but that's a whole other ballpark of unsettling. What if there are other parts of them that are still human, after all? Ugh.
Now, nobody in Marco's band is military, but they've managed to pick up a thing or two from listening in on conversations that suggest this goes deeper than it looks. I guess the government has been fighting more than the zombies, lately. Uprisings from civilians who blame them for everything, soldiers who are sick of being accused and think it’s time to do what they want for a change.
Human enemies. Their worrying about people sabotaging them from within is proving to be more dangerous than the undead. It's bad, and it goes a fair way toward explaining their "lack of hands" for everything.
Worse, the scientists have been having a hard time isolating the virus. Marco didn't have a lot of details, but he said it sounds like it keeps changing, and they're having a hard time predicting its patterns. He thinks they'll make it eventually, but things are messy in the meantime.
Still, even with all the problems, he insists that the outposts are safer than here. They're dug in deep, and they have a pretty tried-and-true system for maintaining security inside the walls. It's when you set out on your own that you start running into the really dangerous stuff, which is why they came out here looking for people to bring back home. Marco tries to pass it off like following their lead is the obvious choice that any smart person would make. It's annoying, but he's probably right.
Though it's funny, for as harsh as he seems, it's BJ who has been the most insistent that I need to come with them. At first I thought he was threatening to kidnap me if I refused, but I think he's just really concerned. I don't know.
You see people like that in the movies all the time, the badass with a heart of gold. Maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see, but I think he genuinely wants to make sure I'm somewhere safe. He's scary, whether he wants to be or not, and Rico has gone a long way to help me feel comfortable. Rico actually reminds me a lot of Dad, surprisingly patient and easygoing. I like him.
Then there's Marco.
Everybody knows a Marco, that guy who's just cocky enough to be annoying, but not so bad that you want to throw him into traffic. If this were like the stories, he'd secretly be the sensitive and heartfelt one, but I'm pretty sure he's just a smarmy guy who likes to feel important. To be fair, he might be saving my life in the long run, but it’s hard to feel grateful when he's making fun of you. Whatever. If it means surviving, I'll get over it.
To that end, we're supposed t
o set out at first light, tomorrow. They haven't bothered to lie to me about how dangerous it will be. They have a path that should be safe enough, but "safe enough" isn't exactly reassuring when you're talking about the things we'll be facing out there.
We'll be on foot for a while, but they said there's a possibility we'll be able to use a car when we get to a certain point, if they get the go-ahead that the road is clear. Given how unstable the environment is, the only thing they're really sure of is that the outpost will be manned and operational when we show up.
I'm going to be honest, I doubt that. I know I compare real life to movies a lot, but I mean, it’s hard not to when you've seen the same story a thousand times. It gets hammered into your skull. Nobody ever makes it to the outpost, or if they do, it's totally overrun and everyone is so shocked, and then there's the inevitable scramble to try and figure out plan B while the horde is trying to hunt you down. Maybe I'll be wrong this time, maybe something will finally go as planned…
I just don't have a whole lot of reason to think that's going to be the case.
I think I've covered enough for the time being. If I want to be in any decent shape for traveling tomorrow, I'm going to need to get all the rest I can get. I'm nervous about the journey, but these guys seem to know what they're doing, and I know I can handle myself alright. I should be fine. I'm sure as Hell not going to wish myself luck again, at any rate. It didn't exactly pan out the way I wanted it to, last time. So, I guess this is goodbye for now. I'll see you in the morning.
- Natalie
Broken glass is everywhere. Blood is shining brightly against the ragged shards still in the window pane. There is noise coming from outside, a vague gurgling sound. Wet and bubbly, more desperate than hungry, and that's when fear takes over. It must be a victim, another person caught by monsters in the dark. They killed somebody and now they must be outside, waiting. Or inside, hiding. Creaking floorboards and whining hinges push the fear into mortal terror. Inside. Already here. Have to run, but limbs are like lead, everything is sluggish and any second they're going to be there. Ripping, tearing, biting, killing. Can't run, can't escape, going to die... want to die.
Natalie bolted upright from her spot on the couch, her hand instinctively wrapped tightly around her crowbar. A sudden noise from the kitchen made her roll to the floor, weapon raised and ready for anything. Instead, she locked eyes with a surprised Rico.
“Figured you'd be hungry, and we've got a long day ahead.” His eyes briefly focused on the metal tool in her hand, his tone coming out calm and measured as he studied her. Natalie blinked heavily as her mind finally shook off the last remnants of her sleep-induced fog. She felt another rush of embarrassment as she realized her mistake. He's carrying a bowl of cold oatmeal and a glass of water. Way to go, Natalie. An understanding smile crossed his face as he set the food aside. Fixing her with a serious look, he continued.
“You know, I'm not one to judge, but it might be easier to eat with a spoon instead. Besides, I'm guessing that thing probably isn't sanitary.”
Taking a moment to put everything together, Natalie realized two things: the first is that Rico was making a joke, and she should probably laugh. The second is that she was absolutely drenched in a cold sweat from her nightmare. Disgusting, and she doubted the shower will be running. First world problems.
The thought made her giggle halfheartedly to herself. Rico smiled and gave her a hearty pat on the back, pleased that she could still find something to laugh about. He was much easier to get along with than his cousin.
“You know, with all of the commotion yesterday, we never actually asked you for your name.” He stopped to pick up the food and offer it to Natalie, a gentle but persistent gesture that reminded her of her dad. She knew she needed to eat, even if her stomach might rebel. Besides, if she was going to die today, it'd probably be better to go out on a full stomach.
“Natalie.” She paused to take a bite of her food. “My name is Natalie.”
Rico extended his hand in a show of exaggerated formality. “Well then, Miss Natalie. I am Rico. Consider us officially introduced.” He smiled again, doing his best to keep her spirits raised.
Natalie laughed, feeling the slightest release of tension in her chest, and took his hand. “Good to meet you, Mister Rico. And thank you for the food.”
It felt good to have a normal conversation. It didn't hurt that Rico seemed to have practice at making people feel at home. She appreciated the effort, and for the first time in a while, it didn't feel like the world was in such bad shape. As satisfying as the moment was, however, it was inevitable that something would shatter the illusion.
In this case, it was Marco. Stepping into the room casually, his eyes lit up with mischief as he took in the scene. “Hey heeey! Look at the lovebirds!” He smirked and elbowed his cousin. “Not bad, cuz. Not bad at all.”
Rico and Natalie both immediately dropped their handshake, stuttering responses in unison without managing to successfully say anything. Rico was the first to recover. “I just brought her food and introduced myself. As much as I like letting you be the group sponsor, I'd rather try to make a decent first impression. Like asking for her name, as an example.” He gave his cousin a pointed look, effectively turning the tables on his previous embarrassment.
For his part, Marco did look regretful. Or at least, as regretful as a man who is infinitely sure of himself can be. “That's my bad, yeah. Sorry.” Shifting his tone to one of feigned formality, Natalie could see the relation between the two men. Though Rico's exaggeration had been funny, she had to admit that Marco only came off as pompous. She tried not to laugh at him as he extended his hand. “I am Mister Marco. May I inquire as to your name?”
At that, Rico leaned in. “I don't think you said that right, cuz.” Marco snorted and waved him off, forgetting his attempt at a handshake. A few short words later and the cousins were bickering quietly with each other.
Natalie rolled her eyes. Apocalypse or no, some things never change. She leaned into their argument just long enough to introduce herself. “I'm Natalie, by the way.”
Marco blinked for a moment, clearly having forgotten what he had asked her. Then his face broke out into a grin. “Natalie! I like it. Little wordy, though.” Before Natalie could ask him what he meant by that, he slapped his cousin on the back. “BJ needs us; we're getting ready to head out. That means you too, Nat.”
Now it was Natalie's turn to pause. She would have protested his new nickname for her, but Marco had already walked back into the kitchen to meet with BJ. Rico just shook his head and shrugged at her. “I'd apologize for him, but years of experience have taught me that it doesn't really mean much.”
Natalie sighed, and Rico patted her on the shoulder. “Eat up. I'll go see what BJ has in store for us today.” Giving her one final reassuring squeeze, he turned and followed after Marco. Alone again, Natalie glanced down at her oatmeal.
Her stomach was in knots, and the food was looking less and less appealing. Forcing the thought out of her mind, she kept eating. All day caught between Marco and the zombies. She was going to need all the energy she could muster.
By the time she had finished with her meal, BJ and the others had already packed up their gear. Natalie walked in as they were debating on what route to take back, but BJ stopped the conversation as he saw her. “Natalie. Did you sleep well? Have you eaten?”
The questions came as a surprise. She kept expecting him to be more callous, but he consistently showed a more genuine concern for her well-being than most. It made her feel guilty for judging him, but she let the thought pass. “I slept alright, and yeah, I ate. Thank you for asking.”
BJ grunted his approval and nodded before waving her over. “It isn't all out of being polite. I know you've put down at least two undead, and that's either impressive or a fluke.” At this, he hefted a large duffel bag onto the table, all the while maintaining eye contact with Natalie.
“Where we're going, there will probably be
more. What I need to know is if you can handle yourself, should the need arise.” A moment later, he produced a handful of weapons from the bag, laying them out for display. A handgun, a shotgun, a few melee weapons, and several pieces of equipment that Natalie had never seen before.
Natalie looked up from the table and saw all three men watching her. Marco with a look of amused curiosity, Rico with concern, and BJ silent and intense as ever. She cleared her throat awkwardly, letting her gaze drop to her lap.
“The two you've seen are the only ones I've had to deal with. The one in the window was stuck, so I'm guessing it doesn't count.” She fiddled with her hands nervously and forced a chuckle, not wanting to admit how close she'd come to dying.
“The other one was a lot worse. I climbed out the window and it broke its leg chasing me. I fought it, but if it wasn't hurt, I wouldn't be here.” Her face was starting to redden talking about it. She knew this was just going to make Marco even worse. BJ and Rico would probably think she was a liability. The alternative was lying, but trying to pull one over on BJ seemed like a bad idea, so here she was.
The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire Page 4
