by Briana Rain
Chapter 32: French?
“Wake up, O.”
Mom?
“Mom?”
There was a gunshot. It echoed. A wave of golden dread and black fear crashed into my chest and instantaneously filled up the cavity until I was drowning in it.
“It's just Clyde. Relax, O.” She moved to the passenger seat, sat down, and opened the glove compartment.
“How do you know it's him?” I shook off the blanket placed around my shoulders, jumped out of the Jeep, and stood next to her. Before looking what she was doing, I saw that we were parked next to, and hidden by, a very large, very abandoned train. It was broken down, and everything that could have rust, did. There was even some foliage growing up the sides here and there.
It looked like we were in the mountains, with a heavy blanket of trees laid down all around us. I liked it. More places to hide. But at the same time, more things to get distracted by.
It was really, really pretty.
But, you know, with responsibilities and all, I had to look away, and pay attention to what Mom was doing. She was folding some paper— a map. It had highlighter scribbled across it, from when the four of us were holed up in our basement, although, I don't think I was in charge of this exact section.
“You take this. If something happens to me, then this will get you to Washington. Eddy will take care of you.” This was the first time she had told me the name of her friend in Washington.
And it scared me.
“No, no! Mom, I don't need that map— I have you. You are going to get us there.”
I sidestepped away from her so fast. She tried to hand me the map again, only for me to sidestep again, and put more distance between us.
“O… O, it's just in case.” She looked so sad… I knew I was disappointing her, but I couldn’t handle any of this “just in case” business.
“You're getting us to Washington, Mom. No one else.” I stormed away.
Unfortunately, I only got a couple yards before I realized I had to pee again. I doubled back to grab my bat and bag, which was awkward, to say the least. I avoided both looking and talking to her as she closed the glove compartment back up with a sigh almost as dramatic as I was.
Then I walked into the forest, which was slightly uphill. We were definitely in the mountains.
Bells rang in the distance. Deep, ominous bells that could’ve possibly belonged to a church, but then again, these were almost sinister sounding. There were six tolls altogether, each with perfect distance apart, letting one fade out just enough before the next one assaulted my ears.
It must have been six o'clock. That was the only reason for that, right? I tried scrubbing my watch with my shirt, but you can't clean away cracks.
I could only see the minutes, and the day of the year.
Good luck remembering what month it was.
I heard other things being carried in the wind. Things such as shrieking, but, those were way in the distance. Those weren’t my problem. Not now, at least.
I heard talking, too. Laughing.
I propelled myself towards those sounds. I didn't realize until now just how much I resented the exhausted silence and how much I craved socializing with others.
Peeing could wait.
Everyone except Clyde was sitting on fallen tree trunks around a fire, with Jude and his kids slightly separated from the rest. Addeline was doubled over laughing, holding her stomach while leaning on Harrison. James was also holding his stitches as he Cracked up. The twins were throwing the ball to each other, smartly, and probably guiltily, excluding the only other children they'd seen since The End.
Viola glanced at the girl, who was sitting on the ground, and resting her head against her dad's leg, while trying to sleep. Yep. Definitely guilty.
I sat down next to James, at the end of one of the logs, so a certain someone couldn't sit next to me. For clarification, that certain someone was my mother.
He scooted over some to give me some more room, but was too busy laughing to otherwise acknowledge my presence.
When all of the laughter died down, he didn't have a chance to say anything, because Clyde had entered the clearing where the twins were, carrying—
Vi screamed and ran away, while Lucky just ran away. They collided into Mom, just as she was walking into the clearing.
Clyde was holding a… a… it— it was… it was a something alright. Something skinned. Something bloody that had a stick poked through it.
It was groooooooooosssssssssssss.
I… I was going to have to eat some of that, wasn’t I?
I tried to look at anything but Clyde as he cut up and arranged the skinless thing onto some sticks, then held them over the fire to cook. I couldn't look at the twins, because they were standing on either side of Mom, and I wasn't talking to her at the moment. I couldn't look at Addeline, because I was about eighty-two percent sure that she hated me, and I couldn't talk to Harrison, because he was sitting right next to her, their shoulders touching on the small, dead log that they shared. I didn't want to look at the French people because I still felt stupid about that whole thing in the woods earlier, and… I still didn't fully trust them. It wasn't like James and Harrison, where they saved us from a real messed up situation. They weren't like Clyde, who brought so much to the table and has helped us every second of the way since he met me. No. They came to us. They brought nothing to the table, in terms of survival.
This was why I was having such trouble with them being here. If we were to look at this situation logically, subtracting emotion from the equation, we were taking in three more mouths to feed, and three more bodies to protect. Three more bottles of water. Three more spaces in our car— but since there was no possible way of them fitting, that was another vehicle to put gas in.
It— this— oh boy. Oooooooh boy. This wasn’t going to work out. Oh my god. Our group was already maxed out. Holy crap.
We were going to have to leave them. We were literally going to have to abandon them.
I… I don't…
Logic versus emotion. Making decisions on what to do to survive versus executing them, because that was basically what we would be doing if we left them behind.
It would be an execution.
This made my head hurt even more, so I rested my elbows on my knees and buried my head in my hands. I didn't want to be in this situation. I wanted to be back at home. Back worrying and complaining about my job. Back worrying and complaining about school. Back worrying and complaining about Arthur Haleson, who sat next to me in both English and Economics.
I didn’t want to be in this mess anymore.
Which was why we were fleeing to a safe haven. To not be constantly on the road, constantly scared, constantly rationing, constantly meeting new people and immediately being suspicious of them.
My head still hurt, but I sat up, pushing the dark and disturbing thoughts out of my mind as Clyde came over to sit next to me. I brushed some of the hairs that’d escaped from my braid out of my face.
“Do I want to know what that is?” I asked him while he stared ahead at whatever was cooking on the fire.
“No. No, probably not. Are you still gonna eat it?” Sometimes, with some words or phrases, his accent would get really thick. This was one of those times.
I shrugged and nodded.
“Really? That's good. Most girls that I knew wouldn't.” He said.
Yeah? Well most girls you knew weren't participating in the once-in-a-lifetime activity called: The Apocalypse. You do what you had to do in order to keep doing in general.
I was going to say something along the lines of that sarcastically, but then he tilted his head up towards me from his place on the ground, and smiled at me while he laughed.
And I despised him for it.
I looked away remembering, but not wanting to remember, when we were trapped in that closet together.
Jude’s daughter tugged on his sleeve, interrupting the Frenchman's story that I wasn't paying att
ention to. Jude leaned down, and the girl cupped her hand to his ear and whispered something to him that couldn't be heard from across a fire. Jude, in response, murmured something to his son, who nodded eagerly, agreeing with whatever was proposed.
“Excuse us, we have to use the restroom.” The Frenchman said.
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Clyde was still looking at me from his place on the ground. Another thing that I ever-so-brilliantly noticed was that French dude said restroom, even though we were in the middle of the woods.
That reminded me that I needed to empty my bladder. I stood up, hitched my backpack over one shoulder, fumbled with my bat before grabbing it, and excused myself by saying,
“Me too.”
Clyde looked like he was going to say something, but instead leaned forward and tended to the meat on the fire.
Crap, I don't have the hand sanitizer.
I precisely pivoted so that I was facing the complete opposite direction of the one I planned on going in, stepped over the log, past James, and towards the car. I was glad I didn't have to walk past Mom, at least. And, you know, if it wasn’t for her, then I probably would've remembered to grab the damn bottle that was probably sitting right next to my pack.
Annnnnnnnd I feel like an idiot. Again.
Trees, trees, and nothing but trees. Oh, wait. No, I was mistaken, because I just passed a bush. I found my way to the fire by people already being there but now…
I… I wasn't lost… was I? No. No I was not lost. I couldn’t be lost. I'm—
Suddenly, a wall of metal rushed to meet my face. Some could say that my feet, rushed to meet the train— but that was absurd.
I'd, like, never seen a train up close like this before. Sure, I've been first in line in a car waiting for one to pass, but never like this. It was cool. Like, the side of it was a door, and was opened just enough that I could've squeezed myself in if I didn't have to pee so badly.
I headed left, because I probably just idiotically went too far right. Like an idiot.
I heard a car door shut, and knew I was heading in the right direction. The trees became thinner and I found the clearing that I was so desperately fast walking towards. Only—
“Quickly kids. C’mon!”
I heard an accent, but it wasn't French, nor southern. It was from… New York? Boston? I couldn't tell, but what I could tell was that Jude was shoving his kids into the car. Our car.
As in: not his.
He slammed the door on the right side then spun around in a frenzied hurry and spotted me. We both froze. My bat slipped out of my grip.
“Mom!”
I called out for my mommy, against my better judgement. This triggered two things. One: the door that was just slammed shut opened, and Jude’s little girl stumbled out, coughing up a storm. Two: Jude raised his hand, a hand that had a handgun in it.
A handgun that was pointed at me.
“Don't say another word.”
That was definitely not a French accent.
“You can't…” My voice shook.
His hands shook.
The coughing continued.
“Yes, I can! Get back in the car, Jackie! I'm going to take this car and get my kids to safety. To the boats.”
I panicked.
He panicked.
The coughing continued as she climbed back into the Jeep.
There wasn’t enough room…
He started walking around the car, and I panicked. I panicked so hard.
“Stop!” I reached for the gun in my pocket, but my fingers fumbled idiotically, and it snagged on the fabric. It clattered on the ground, some feet away from me.
Jude, if that was even his real name, must have only saw me pulling out my gun as he whipped around. I say that, because he raised his gun frantically, without aiming, and fired.
Chapter 33: Choo Choo
I fell to the ground. Collapsed. I went down like a ton of bricks with a scream that echoed throughout the mountains.
I squeezed my eyes shut and listened as the Jeep drove away, tires squealing.
I now understood the saying “the world ended in not a bang, but a whisper”, or however that went. Because look at us. Humans, I mean. Not our group. The world didn't end with a fiery explosion of death. Everything was, slowly, being chipped away. Bit by bit— or even two bits— here and there. And the whole thing had left humans squabbling with each other for whatever hadn’t been chipped away yet.
“Ophelia! Ophelia!”
I heard the others sprinting towards me. I opened my eyes and saw my mom getting on the ground next to me, and Clyde sliding a foot past me on the ever so slightly sloping dirt.
“Are you okay?” Mom shouted the question right in front of my face, but it still wasn't loud enough.
I patted my legs, arms, and chest, while panicking like I've never panicked before. I guess the only thing that really hurt was my ass from falling on it.
“I… I think I am?”
There was no blood. I was ok. I hadn’t been shot.
I almost didn't believe it.
Relief. Everyone felt it. Mom helped me up and hugged me tight. I think I started crying slightly. Slightly.
After we let go, I looked at Clyde, who was looking behind me. I followed his eyes and saw the tree behind me. More importantly, the bullet embedded in the tree behind me.
I looked back at him, and he looked back at me. Mom walked over and picked up the gun I’d dropped, and started to say something.
“I—“
“RUN!”
Screams erupted from the depths of the forest, the only decipherable one being, “run”. With those screams, came the shrieks of the undead. The tormented, demented sounds that put us in a real predicament.
I panicked. Mom panicked. Clyde panicked. Only, I was the only one, or just the first one, who picked up my stuff and booked it. One can only book it so far, though, when there is a giant wall of metal, intent on smacking you in the face.
The train.
“Come on!” To be honest, I didn’t know if they followed me. Also, if I was being honest, I didn't care. They can wait for the others. They can bring them in this direction. But I was going to save us this time. We no longer had an escape vehicle.
That was obvious.
So, we obviously couldn’t escape. We couldn’t outrun them— not long distance anyways. They didn’t tire, and I was just a tad dizzy already.
But I'd ignore that.
So, we had to hide. We had to be smarter than that. Our survival came down to that concept. Who used their situation in the smartest of ways. We didn’t know what was ahead, but we did know what was right here. A huge, thick, violent chunk of metal that all of us could easily fit in.
“Guys come on!” I couldn't see them anymore and couldn't hear the rest of the group yelling and screaming anymore over the shrieks. It was a war zone. Chaos was all around me. Danger dangerously near but not directly on top of me.
I was even getting shot at, apparently…
No. No, I could think about that later. I was not freaking out now. I mean, I was, but not anymore than necessary. I was still a functioning member of the apocalypse with this level of panic.
“Ophelia!”
That was Clyde's voice, for sure. He yelled as loud as he could, despite the Crazy’s drawing in. For a nanosecond, I imagined him trampling through the underbrush, weaving through the thickly scattered tree trunks at a speed that Barry Allen could appreciate. I heard him as soon as I spotted the exact car I was looking for, with its door already opened. I wasn't sure if they locked or not, but I was not going to waste my time finding out.
I shed my pack and tossed it in, followed by my bat when I realized that I would need two hands to force myself through the gap.
I strained to heave myself up, as the entrance was easily over four feet off the ground, and I wasn't that much over five. My bat was rolling around on the floor of the compartment. I found it easy as pie to get my arms and
head through, but my hips got stuck on a dull section of metal jutting out from the doors frame. I was stuck.
Something touched my foot. No, that was wrong. Nothing touched it. Something grabbed it.
I heard that heart-attack inducing shriek, the proximity of it magnified and echoed off the cars inner walls, resulting in a direct assault on my ears. I produced one of my own that wasn't too far off from it.
“Clyde!” I screamed, and kicked at the pile of loose, rotten flesh and soft, hollow bones.
The shrieking echoed in my ear, and refused to cease. It didn't pause for a breath.
Did it even have to breath?
It got ahold of me, it's inhuman strength defeated my kicks and struggling. Its nails dug into my ankles once and I failed to get away. The Crazy pulled, but I braced my arms at an exact ninety degree angle against the train door and frame.
It yanked, and my grip was slipping. Ahead, in the shadows of the compartment, I saw the outline of my bat, which had stopped rolling when it met my pack.
Both were out of reach.
But maybe if I…
I decided to lunge, thinking that maybe the suddenness of my movement would surprise it, and give me that extra two bits of distance that I needed to reach my only line of defense.
It failed, like a lot of things lately, and it gave the Crazy the leverage it needed to wrench its meal free of its packaging.
I skipped across the ground, propelled by the force of a hungry Crazy. I rolled until I was stopped by a conveniently placed tree. Which hurt. A lot.
Suddenly it loomed in front of me, blocking out the sun, blocking out my hope.
It was like my dream, only there was a face here. It had been infected for a decent amount of time, with its skin rotting around the face and on the arms that I could see. A t-shirt and skinny jeans hung loose over its bony frame. Drool dropped from its mouth and onto the ground, its chest not sticking out enough to catch it. Most of its hair, and one eye was missing.
