“Hey,” she calls as she walks closer, the rain dampening her cropped brown hair. “Hear you found some good stuff inside.”
“Not just good,” Ethan says. “It’s everything we need for a while, except for meds.”
The rest of the search party consists of four men and a woman I’ve seen around, this one somewhere in her late twenties, with short blond hair. She strolls forward on heeled black boots to where Ethan stands on the loading dock, crosses her arms at his feet, and looks up with pursed lips. “No meds? We need them, don’t we?”
“Yeah, Eva,” Ethan says. “We might find somewhere after this.”
Eva does not look pleased with that news. I’m not thrilled to be out longer than expected, either. She pushes herself up and swings her legs to the side, then jumps upright on the loading dock and straightens her leather coat. “I’ll come if you need me to.”
Ethan nods noncommittally before he turns away, and Eva glares in his direction as if he’s slighted her. I’m the only one who sees; Jesse’s head is in the back of a truck, assessing the contents, and the rest of the new arrivals have walked fifty feet down to climb the steps.
Eva saunters up to me. “What’s your story?”
She stands swaybacked, hands on her hips, as if she can’t imagine I won’t fall all over her. I smile politely but dismissively. “No story to tell.”
“Oh-kay,” she says, and saunters inside after Ethan and the others.
Jesse stops beside me with an enormous sigh. “She’s so annoying.”
I clap him on the back. “Kid, I like you better every minute.”
59
Tom
The trucks are loaded, which was a pain in the ass even with forklifts, and I’m more than ready to go home. Part of the reason is to give Rose the things I found for her—a solar-powered battery pack to charge the phone, for one. Of course, this is somewhat selfish, as it means I get to listen to music with her, but I hope between that and a few other things, she’ll be pleased. I got Clara plenty of stuff—beauty products, gum, candy, and a humdinger of a knife I’m certain will kill anything that comes at her, alive or dead. I didn’t forget Mitch and Sam, either, and Jesse took care of Holly. The rule is you can fill a pack with as much as it’ll hold. Mine is stuffed to the brim.
The day has warmed, and steam rises from the wet concrete as the sun burns down. Deb pins a map of Eugene to the side of a truck with one hand. With the other, she moves her finger west and then south until it rests on a spot just out of town. “It’s right here. You can go around, come down this way, and only have to pass over West Eleventh.”
Not only can Deb drive a truck, but she also knows of a pharmacy that supplied long-term nursing and skilled care facilities. It’s less likely to have been looted the way public pharmacies were.
“You coming, Jess?” Ethan asks.
I open my mouth to object, thinking Rose would not be on board, then shut it. I’m not Jesse’s father. When Jesse nods, I say, “I’ll come, too.”
I won’t go back without him. I know Rose’s worried face well—her eyes grow round and she stares into space, likely calculating the odds of every horrible outcome—and it won’t be me who sets that in motion.
“I’m coming.” Eva says it like she’s in the middle of a fight, her brows lowered. Ethan nods, though his annoyance is plain.
“Let’s move some stuff from your truck so you have room,” Barry says. “I think we can squeeze it in somewhere else.”
After that’s done, we pile into the vehicles. Deb has given two others a quick lesson in truck driving, and they falter and buck on the way out, though by the time they hit the road, they’re moving smoothly enough to make it home.
Ethan turns the opposite way, and we head west then cut up to a through street whose grassy fields back northwest Eugene. A few zombies move in the grass, marching toward us as we go by. I shift in an attempt to ready myself for whatever might come, but it’s impossible when squashed against the door due to Eva. She sits between Ethan and Jesse—or half on Jesse, who keeps his arms crossed to avoid touching her. When we go over a bump, Eva squeals and grabs Jesse’s thighs. The exasperated look he gives me is priceless.
“Relax, Eva,” Ethan says.
She points ahead, where a Lexer waits in the right lane. “You should hit him.”
“No.”
“Remember when you were sayin—”
“Eva!” Ethan shouts. “If you want to live, I need to concentrate.”
That shuts her up, I note with satisfaction. Though I also can’t help but note that Eva seems to know Ethan well. Maybe too well. A quick glance at Jesse does nothing to tell me if he’s noticed the same.
The two lanes plus center lane provide ample room for Ethan to outmaneuver zombies. We cross the Beltline, a highway that loops through north Eugene, which looks somewhat passable to the north. To the south, cars are stopped in every lane. Dark shapes of Lexers move in the sunlight that glints off distant chrome and glass. Many dark shapes. Maybe the reason for the traffic jam and abandoned cars, or possibly the product of it. Either way, Ethan steps on the gas and turns south at the next road.
Where it isn’t open grassland, it’s industrial—construction and metal recycling and mini-storage. Old cedars tower over a cemetery on the left and a solitary farmhouse on the right. A dead man slouches in a porch chair, rifle still in his lap, as though making a last stand at both the encroaching development and zombies.
We cross Eleventh Avenue and continue past tree-dotted wetlands with green buttes rising in the background. It seems like smooth sailing until we crest a small rise to find a pack of fifty zombies in the road. Ethan slows the truck. “Fuck. Even if we get past, they’ll follow us. How about that other road, the dead end?”
It requires a short walk to the parking lot of the pharmacy building rather than pulling the truck to the front door. “Let’s check it out,” I say.
This is turning into more than I bargained for, though that isn’t saying much—I didn’t bargain for any of it. Ethan makes a left onto Eleventh, then another left onto the dead end. A hundred feet down a gravel road, a fence and two hundred feet of grass separate us from the pharmacy building that sits at the end of a dead-end street. There’s nothing in sight.
“Maybe someone should keep watch out here?” I ask. “We have the two radios.”
“I’m going in,” Eva says.
Jesse shrugs. “I’ll do it.”
“Maybe I should,” I say. I won’t be the one who leaves Jesse alone.
Ethan pulls to a stop. “Let’s all go. We’ll decide there.”
I step into the grass and peer over the fence, which is threaded with green privacy strips. The rear and side of the boxy gray building have windows only at second floor level. A small fenced loading dock extends perpendicular from the side, with four open-air bays and a single rolling door into the building.
I see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing. All three are a good sign. Once the others join me, we climb the fence and walk through the long, wet grass to the building. A side entry door and the loading door are locked tight. The front is tinted glass with double doors. Only a small metal sign gives a clue to the building’s purpose, likely to keep away would-be pharmaceutical thieves.
“Guess we’re smashing our way in,” Ethan says.
“Break it,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye on the street.”
The front parking lot is small, the grass between it and the street filled with trees. It was a nice touch when there weren’t zombies lurking behind half the shit out here, but now it’s a pain in the ass. I walk to the lot entrance and inspect the neighboring structure—a larger building that touts itself as a Forest Products Equipment Manufacturer. But for a few corporate buildings like this one, the rest of the street is empty until it curves out of sight.
Behind me, the glass goes with a loud crack and quiet tinkle. I scope out the street for another minute, then return to the door where the others wait. “Nothing
so far.”
“Nothing in here, either,” Ethan says.
“Want me to stay outside? Jesse can go in with you and Eva.”
“Sure.” They enter the building, crunching on broken glass. Ethan calls back, “No lights. Have a flashlight ready if you come in.”
“All right,” I say. Once their footsteps fade, I cross the lot to the street and stand under a tree. There’s no way to see everything at once, and I break up the time by wandering into the lot to check the adjacent building before returning to the street again. The volume on my radio is low, but I’ll hear if they call.
Five minutes later, Jesse appears at the broken glass and waves me over. “We need another set of muscles. Have you seen anything out here?”
“Nothing.” I step through the glass with some hesitation. “How’s it going inside?”
Jesse leads me past a reception area and down the hall with his flashlight. “There’s a ton of meds on the list. My dad says it’s all the old people. But finding things in the dark is taking a while.”
I turn on my flashlight and follow him into a large room. Desks with dark computer screens line the front. Off to the side is a long counter where, I assume, they fill prescriptions the same as any pharmacy. Aside from the lack of a customer counter, the main difference between this and a retail pharmacy is the size: this is quadruple the space.
Ethan appears between two shelving units, hand at his eyes to block our flashlights’ glare. “Hey, Tom. We either have to carry a cabinet out or bust it open. It has meds we need.”
“Is it bust-able?” I ask.
“I’m thinking not, but thought you might have an idea. Eva’s looking for the keys, but no luck so far.” Ethan shines his light near Jesse. “Why don’t you keep an eye on the street?”
Jesse takes my radio and leaves with his flashlight. I watch him go, anxiety flooding my chest, then shake my head. I’m getting as bad as Rose. “Where’s this cabinet?”
Ethan brings me to a four-foot-wide metal cabinet at the back wall. My knuckles produce a deep metallic thud, owing to the thickness of the steel. “They don’t want anyone getting in there for sure. What’s inside?” I’m not a moron—I know what’s inside, but I’m curious what Ethan will say.
“Narcotics.” Ethan shines his light on the lock. “We need the benzos in there—we have a few older people who take them. I’ve lowered their doses to stretch the pills, but if they stop abruptly, they could have a seizure. Pain meds wouldn’t hurt, either. Just in case.”
I leave that last part alone. “What do we have to pry with? Anything in the truck?”
“Nope.” Ethan holds up a hammer and a screwdriver. “Found these in a hall closet. Maybe with one of us pulling it back, the other can get the hammer claw in. We can bend the metal and break the lock.”
I take the screwdriver and fit it into the opening around the door, then leverage all my weight. The door pulls out less than a millimeter. I try again and succeed in bending it a little, though nowhere near enough to get the hammer in. “Jesus, you’d think the crown jewels were in here.”
I insert the screwdriver again. Ethan leans on the cabinet. “Rose says you have similar taste in music.”
“That’s what she tells me,” I say evenly, holding back a smile when I think of Rose’s unreserved love of disco. The similarities end right there. “By the way, thanks for letting me and Clara stay in your house. I appreciate it. It was good for her to be with Holly.”
“Clara’s always welcome. I’m sure Rose told you that. So are you.”
I nod. It’s possible the faintest bit of guilt is making itself known as I converse genially with the man whose wife I covet. I push on the screwdriver with a grunt, and the door eases open a bit more. “Try the hammer now.”
Ethan wedges in the claw and begins to pry along with me. The corner of the door comes out an inch. Then another. Whether or not we’ll be able to force the lock is another story. Ethan takes a break, shaking out his arms. “Harder than a zombie’s skull.”
I laugh. “Might be.”
We get to work again, this time moving down toward the lock. We’ve gotten the top corner of the door out three inches when Eva appears. “Found the keys.”
“Oh, thank Christ,” Ethan says.
Eva edges past me with a giggle, laying her hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan takes the keys and opens the cabinet. It’s lined with metal shelves that pull out, all of which are full of bottles. Eva lifts the bag in her hand. “I’ll get it. I know what we need.”
“Eva helps out in the infirmary,” Ethan explains.
My stomach churns a little. I thought the worst of Ethan, but it seems I was wrong. That I wanted the worst to be true makes it more fucked up. Makes me more fucked up. “What else do we need?” I ask. “Or maybe I should relieve Jesse?”
Ethan kneels beside Eva, then hands me a folded paper from his pocket. “The list and the shelves are both alphabetical. We’re up to L. Just toss what you find in one of the bags.”
He points to several bags on the cabinet. I grab two and wander in the direction of the shelves. When I reach L, I look between my light and the paper, then take a few bottles of the first drug and locate the next.
A giggle comes from the cabinet forty feet down, then the rattle of pill bottles falling into a bag. I move that way, turning off my light and peeking out the end of the shelves. Illuminated by two flashlights, it’s easy to see how Eva grins at Ethan while holding a bottle aloft.
Ethan grabs the bottle and tosses it into the bag, then turns back to the cabinet. “Grow up. We don’t have much time.”
I move away and find M, then N, working my way down the list. Though Ethan didn’t seem party to Eva’s hijinks, there’s still something I don’t like about the situation. Nothing I can put my finger on, but something nonetheless.
Ethan appears at the end of my row. “We’re going to bring out the first things. I’ll send Jess in.”
“All right.”
I continue my search for heart medications and the like. Jesse shows up a minute later. “What do you need help with?”
“If you want to take a peek at the list, I’m at R.”
I hand Jesse a bag, and we move down the line, one pointing to the needed pills, the other bagging them while the first moves on. Five minutes later, Ethan returns. “Still clear?” I ask.
“Fine,” Ethan says. “Eva’s out there. What else needs to be done?”
“We’re almost there. Still need vancomycin, if you want to head that way.”
“Cool.” Ethan disappears down the shelves, calling, “This was easy. The way home shouldn’t be too bad.” There’s a pause, then, “Mom would say I jinxed us. Right, Jess?”
Jesse dumps bottles into his bag. “Yup.”
A few minutes later, Eva calls on the radio Ethan holds. “Get out here. They’re coming.”
We run for the front, where Eva huddles against a wall. Groans are audible before we reach the view, and it’s no surprise to see a pack of zombies in the lot. We sidle closer to the windows, staying out of sight. The zombies are mainly to the left of the building—the opposite direction we need to travel.
“Is there a back way?” I ask.
Ethan points left, where the zombies are thickest. “Only an emergency exit to that side. And the loading dock on the other side.”
“If we move fast, we can probably make it over the fence.”
Jesse peers to the right, which offers a limited view. “There are a few in the grass and the street, but I think we can.”
I dither for a moment between pulling my knife or gun, then settle on gun. With my load looped over my shoulder, it might be easier to blow them out of the way if necessary. “Jesse and Eva first.”
Ethan nods. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Jesse arranges the handles of his bag over his shoulder and pulls his gun. He’s carrying it with the safety off, as he showed me. Once they step out the window, they begin to run. Ethan jumps through
, and I follow, my boots beating the narrow sidewalk that parallels the building.
It takes only seconds for us to be noticed. One loud hiss-groan later, the noises become a riot. The parking lot zombies are quickly closing the twenty feet between us, and there are plenty more straight ahead, in the field we couldn’t see from inside.
I circle around the loading dock. Only the grassy area is left to travel. The way seems clear until Jesse and Eva pull up short at the fence we climbed to get to the building. Heads are visible over the top, milling around our truck as though waiting for our arrival. The fence clangs against its metal posts, and the groans from behind grow in volume.
Our plight wasn’t bad—more like a close call—but now my breath stumbles to a stop as my feet do the same. This is how it happens. How you never get home that final time. This is how you die.
60
Rose
It’s hour two on the fence with Adele and Mitch, and I’ve concluded that one couldn’t find a more volatile combination of two humans if one tried. Adele tests my patience, and I have a lot more of it than Mitch. After the first hour at Gate A, I tired of Adele’s bitching, and Mitch lost any semblance of serenity. It’s less a tirade and more small, snotty comments that fall from Adele’s mouth as she picks apart the food, the bedding, and the people at the fairgrounds.
“It’s ridiculous that we can’t take more showers,” Adele continues. “If the water’s running, then why does it matter? I would think keeping germs at bay would be a major concern. Also, this processed food might kill us sooner than Lexers would. Factory-raised meats, canned in BPA cans, then heated in aluminum pots? It’s a recipe for Alzheimer’s and other issues.”
Mitch stares past Adele, lips working not to say all the things she wants to say. Adele scratches at her head. “At home, I only consume raw milk and grass-fed meats. Hawk has never had refined sugar.”
The Cascadia Series (Book 1): World Departed Page 59
