He didn't wait to see how much this was going to slow any of them down, instead he launched himself in an ugly one-legged dive through the window.
Julia was screaming for Cassie to stop, but the Bronco's brake lights didn't go on until Ram joined her on the street, waving his arms and screaming. Only then did Cassie put the car in reverse and back toward them as fast as her limited ability would allow. Few people practiced driving in reverse at top speed, and by the way Cassie fishtailed the Bronco all over the road, it was clear she wasn't one of those few. Ram had to pull Julia back to keep her from being hit.
“I thought you were dead,” Cassie said as soon as they climbed in—she didn't need to be told to floor it when the doors were slammed shut and locked—stiffs were all over the place scraping at the glass and the paint.
The sudden acceleration pinned them to the leather seats—Julia grabbing the Oh Shit bar above the door to hang on, however Ram was left to sway back and forth in a growing nausea as he pulled out the final two bottles of vodka.
“Let me see that leg,” he said to Julia. To Cassie he barked, “Slow down! Nothing's chasing you.” Julia scooted close, her face pulled by fear at what the possibilities were with the wound. The cut was on her inner thigh and in order to get a better look, Ram took her blood soaked jeans where they were torn, and with a quick violent motion, ripped them wide, exposing her soft pale skin from knee to pelvis and then some.
On impulse from such a move she tried to close her splayed legs, but Ram, in a motion that bespoke his masculinity and strength laid her thighs wide open with his large hands. For him it was an act that was non-sexual in nature and he was too absorbed, to mixed in his emotions to notice how dominant his mannerisms and position was, nor how pink in the cheeks Julia had become, nor how she put her shaking hands out to him as if to ward him off. Or even how big Cassie's eyes had grown in her dark face as she looked back.
He didn't notice any of this because he was sick, not only with fear for Julia, but also sick with Cassie's driving. She weaved left and right as she kept her chin half turned from the road. He was also nervous for himself. There was a cut on his left forearm that he hadn't noticed before, and it, coupled with his stomach's strong reaction had him wondering if he were infected as well.
“Face the road, damn it,” he seethed.
“I just trying to see what the hell you doin back there,” Cassie replied, pointing her chin at Julia's spread legs and prone position. Only then did Ram see what the women saw and he grabbed a shirt from one of the packs and covered her.
“She bit?” Cassie asked in the same tone of voice as if she were asking if Julia had only stubbed her toe. “Cuz if so she needs to get the fuck out.”
“It's her damned car,” Ram snarled. Uncapping the fourth bottle he began working the alcohol into the wound, which begun to bleed afresh.
Julia grimaced as he did so, grabbing the bar tighter. “I got scratched is all…on glass,” she said in a high voice. “This is just a precaution. Ram, you're bleeding as well. Do you know that? You need to save some for yourself.”
“I have one more,” he said, handing it to her. “Could you do it? I don't know if I can reach well enough.” She sat up, arranging herself better and then with soft hands explored his wound, cleaned it thoroughly as Cassie watched and drove all at once.
“Will that work?” she asked. “Cuz if it don't you know what I gots to do.”
“It might,” Julia said. “Especially for me. I wasn't bit, but what about you, Ram? Did you get bit?”
“I don't know...or I know I wasn't bit, but I don't know if I was scratched by one of them. I can't tell from this angle. Does that look like glass made it?”
“I don't know,” Julia answered with fearful eyes and shaking hands. “What we should do is flush that wound properly. With something better than vodka.”
“And maybe you should put up them guns in case you two turn,” Cassie mentioned.
Instead Ram dug for more ammo. “What the hell happened back there?” he asked, glaring, watching her eyes flick away quickly.
“I don't know, alright. There must've been another door open somewhere in the back cuz I was just sittin there and then they were right there in the hall behind me. I would have warned you but I was too scared because they were right close up on me.”
“They came in from the back?” he asked, trying to picture the layout of the building they had just escaped from. “I saw them out front.”
Julia pointed for Cassie to take a right, toward a main street. After the turn she explained, “They was out front too. After I saw the ones in back I went to the front and made a run for the car. It was my only chance.”
“But they were coming in. Why didn’t they go after...”
Julia interrupted him. “Stop. Look, there's a dentist's office. They should have everything we need to clean these wounds properly.”
At the idea of getting his wound cleaned, Ram was pulled away from his train of thought—why had the dead come into the building instead of following Cassie in the Bronco as they normally would have?
“What's a dentist have that we could possibly want?” he asked with a touch of hope. He had an unspoken dread of contracting the virus. This fear had been with him since day one and it had never been closer to going from fear to reality than just then.
It turned out plenty. Dental offices were generally better equipped with medical supplies than most people knew, which was likely why this one hadn't been looted. They rushed in with barely a thought to security—though this time Ram kept the keys to the truck with him. He didn't trust Cassie's story. She was either lying about something big, or had run at the first sign of a zombie. That she hadn't run far suggested cowardice, however her eyes suggested much more.
Now in the offices of William Hargrove DDS, deceased, they found rubbing alcohol as well as gobs of medical supplies: novocain, zylocain , #4 suture kit. “Should I try to stitch you up?” Julia asked.
“Would it help?”
She bobbed her head a little. “Only with infection and scarring, but not with the virus.”
“Infection? Shouldn't we be taking some antibiotics against the virus? Something strong?” he asked.
She was busy going through the cabinets, squinting at the tiny writing on the tiny bottles. “No,” she said somewhat absently. “Antibiotics won't work.”
“You don't know that,” Cassie put in, her breath smelling of mint. At the receptionists desk had been a bowl of candy—the girl was partial to Peppermint Patties. “Maybe it ain't been tried yet, not early like this. Shit, if you don't want to try you should at least let Ram.”
Julia gave her a smile and patted her hand. “You don't understand. Antibiotics can't treat a virus. They only work on bacteria. Only a vaccine or the human body can combat a virus. It's a common mistake.”
Cassie made a noise of dismissal as she picked through the candy bowl. “Ain't nothing on me. I ain't the one bit.”
This set the mood for the rest of the evening—a mood of anxious waiting. Ram had seen the fever take anywhere from as little as five hours to kick in, to as long as fourteen, but once the fever hit, that was all she wrote.
As the clock ticked over past midnight, he checked his temperature and then touched his throat. So far he was normal. Cassie was normal as well, she lay in the outer room snoring loudly as usual, sleeping easily and without care despite that her two companions could turn at any moment.
The thought stirred anger within Ram—not that Cassie was so relaxed about the events, but that this could be his last evening alive and he was spending it alone on a cold leather couch. He glanced over and saw that Julia was laying there with her eyes pinned to the ceiling and with her lips pulled back in fear.
He went to her and she saw what he wanted. “No,” she whispered. “Cassie's right there. We promised ourselves we wouldn't.”
Ram went to the door to the office and closed it gently. “No,” Julia repeated louder.
&n
bsp; “Listen, one or both of us might be dead in a few hours. Do you want your last moments on earth to be in lived in fear or in love?”
“We can't,” she insisted. Ram didn't listen. To keep pressure off of her wound she wore a light skirt and this he hiked upwards with an easy motion and just as he had earlier, he spread her legs and though she shook her head No, her legs opened so easily a breeze could have parted them.
And then he was on top of her and right before he entered her she said again, “No.” However her body and her wet lips and half-closed eyes said, Yes!
And then a second later she moaned the word as well, “Yes...”
Chapter 38
Sarah
Illinois River
Did Neil think he was subtle in his affections? Sarah wondered as she watched the man scurrying about collecting long grass to place under the sleeping bags as extra padding and for warmth.
Or was he blissfully unaware that he wore his emotions so openly? To Sarah's face he was nothing but polite and reserved. He looked to be striving for coolly cordial, however he couldn't seem to help himself and when he let his guard down, he gave her the largest portions of their limited food, the choicest places to sleep, the first option at everything, while he took the last.
He always put himself last because, along with his obvious affection for Sarah, it was clear that he had a father's adoration for Sadie. As well he had a father's temper when she went too far in her joking, which was frequent. The girl could never seem to let anything pass without a comment or a look or a simple seemingly innocent quip. In her way Sadie was just as obvious.
And just as optimistic.
The two were strangely happy and content. Though to be sure they had their moments, still on the whole they acted as though the zombie apocalypse had been a benefit in their lives. And perhaps it had been. From what Sarah could piece together, Neil had been somewhat of a hermit—a lonely man who knew little besides work and keeping his garden vegetables from being pilfered by the neighborhood squirrels. While Sadie had been virtually ignored by her single mom and had never known her father save for yearly birthday and Christmas cards he'd send.
For them this was a new beginning and a grand adventure. For Sarah it was one miserable day after the next with little to look forward to and only pain to look back on.
Still the pair tried their level best to make her happy and she allowed them to. And in her heart she knew it was wrong of her. They gave and gave and she did nothing in return. Yes, she helped with meals, and she stood watch, and she hiked loads of water from the chicken coop down the boat and all the other chores of this new life, but she could never return their emotions.
She had already failed at being a mother and wife; it wasn't something that she could force herself to do again. So she strived instead to be simply a companion and, unbeknownst to her, in this she failed.
Their third night on the river was as cold as the others had been and snow seemed to be threatening. “I wish we could build a fire,” Sadie said through chattering teeth. “I'm fricken freezing here.”
“When Neil finally puts the tent up we'll get the candles lit,” Sarah said. “You'll see what a difference they'll make; I guarantee you'll be taking clothes off before too long.” The night before the three of them had camped out in the boiler room of an elementary school and despite being out of the wind and the light snow, they had shivered and snuggled to stay warm. Neil had forgotten entirely that he had found candles and when he had pulled them out of the bottom of his pack that morning with a laugh, saying: Hey look at these. I forgot all about them, Sarah could've smacked him.
“Taking off clothes, sounds sexy,” Sadie said with her smirk. “Maybe I'll get my own tent. Or better yet, my own barn.” They were in another barn for the night—this one had stairs that Neil pried away. Height or solid brick walls seemed to be the only real guarantee of safety against zombies. However, against the soldiers, who prowled constantly in search of supplies or women, only being sly and lucky proved of any use.
The day before the rain had stopped for a few hours around noon and allowed the dirt roads in that part of Southern Illinois barely enough time to solidify so that Sadie in the prow of the boat was able to see a dust ribbon in the air just over the crest of a hill. Frantically Neil had killed the engine and they drifted into a run of tall riverweeds as four humvees had come into view down river.
Luck had kept them from blundering right into the patrol. Sarah didn't want to think what would have happened if they had been caught. For certain Neil would've been killed. The little she knew of him made it clear he probably would have chosen that moment to make a stand for her honor, not knowing she had very little honor left. Every time she thought about the colonel and what she had been willing to do to save her parents and herself a shiver racked her.
Being turned away from the Island without food and weapons had, in a way, been lucky for Neil and Sadie. They at least had been able to preserve their honor.
Their barn for the night was just south of the little burg, Naples Illinois, where earlier, they had been able to scrounge another ten gallons of gas and some more canned vegetables, which Sadie ignored; this wasn't out of place for her. The girl had turned up her nose at the broccoli and after two apples refused any more, and as she and Sarah watched Neil putting up the little tent, she nibbled on Jolly Ranchers and pop tarts contentedly. Finally Sarah had to say something.
“All that sugar is going to rot your teeth. And besides there's nothing nutritious about any of it. And it'll stunt your growth.” Sarah had just thrown that last in, certain it wasn't in any way true.
“I can't eat broccoli even when it's cooked,” Sadie had replied. “And apples aren't all that healthy. Do they have riboflavin? Or six other essential nutrients? Because pop tarts do. It says so right on the box. And these are blueberry. That's a fruit.” As emphasis she pointed to the blue filling that was likely ninety-nine percent sugar.
Sarah shot Neil a look that said: Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to say something? He cleared his throat and announced: “Sarah's right.”
“About what?” Sadie asked, taking another dainty bite at the edge of her pastry. “Am I really going to have my growth stunted? Is that what happened to you two?” Neil stiffened at this; he never liked his height mentioned.
“We're both taller than you,” Sarah replied, and seeing his discomfort added, “I'm five foot, four and Neil is probably five foot, six.”
This was such a clear lie—he stood a bare quarter inch taller than Sarah—that it had him mumbling, “I'm…I'm not that tall, really. But the point is, I guess, um, that you would do well to eat better. Even at your age, people still grow.”
“I'll take my chances with the pop tarts,” Sadie replied. “My parents were shorties, and you can't cure genetics, right?”
Sarah heaved out a big sigh, set her jaw as she would have when talking to her own daughter, but before she could say anything, Neil said, “Maybe you're right.”
“Neil!” Sarah said, putting her hands on her hips.
“I'm just saying that maybe a break from broccoli would be good for all of us and since we share and share alike, I would like a pop tart tonight to go along with my apple. And I think you should vary your diet as well, Sarah.” Her brows came down—she had made it clear to Neil that she thought pop tarts were gross—but then he tipped her a little wink.
“I guess I can have a couple,” she said, not understanding Neil's play. But trusting that he knew what he was doing.
“But there'll be none left,” Sadie said, leaping forward to grab the bag with the food in it and holding it back from Neil. “That's not fair. You two like broccoli and apples and corn. I don't. I would eat good stuff if you could find it—other stuff I mean. A cheeseburger. Something hot. I'm dying for hot food.”
“We may like some things you don't but it doesn't mean we like them every single day,” Neil replied, holding out his hand. “Come on, hand it over or m
aybe next time I'll just happen to 'over look' some pop tarts.”
This was a real threat since it fell to Neil to do most of the exploring. Cramped places gave the fleet-footed Sadie the heebie-jeebies and Sarah wasn't strong enough for hand-to-hand combat with most of the zombies that would come storming out of their bizarre hiding places.
“If that were to happen then you'd either starve or learn to like other foods,” Neil said.
“Then maybe I'll starve,” Sadie replied glaring.
“I could give you my pop tarts for breakfast,” Sarah suggested. “If you'll eat an apple now. Or some corn? What do you think? The pop tarts won't last anyways as fast as you eat them. This way you can have what you like and we can sleep knowing that your bones won't turn brittle with malnutrition.”
Neil was quick to agree, “And I'll save mine for the next day and before you complain, yes this is extortion. And it's what my parents did to me.”
Sadie sulked. “I doubt it, Neil. You were probably the dream child. Did your homework, ate your veggies. My parents didn't even know I existed.” She suddenly turned to Sarah and asked, “Can you cook? I mean like good food, like pizza? If we found the right ingredients could you make that from scratch?”
Sarah put on a brave smile and said, “I had never thought of myself as much of a cook, but I can try. We can do it together.”
“And I'm a wiz at homemade bread,” Neil put in. “I could make the crust for you. I'll do it as soon as we find some flour. Yeast will be easy. No one seems to have given it much thought. In fact we should be able to get some tomorrow.”
The thought of what tomorrow held dampened their mood. They hoped to get through St Louis by running down the Illinois River until it joined with the Mississippi. This ran smack dab through one of the largest cities in the country and they all figured that the stiffs would number in the tens of thousands, if not more.
And unfortunately tomorrow came very quickly. The candles and the extra blankets made the neat little tent a cozy nest and the night passed in a blur for each, save for Sadie. At the best of times she was a wild sleeper. She frequently talked or thrashed around, or seemed to think it nothing to throw a leg over either Sarah or Neil.
The Undead World (Book 1): The Apocalypse Page 28
