Reckoning in an Undead Age

by A. M. Geever

  A man and woman Miranda didn’t know, the newcomers Rocco had mentioned, looked rattled. They were sharing a rollie cigarette. Alicia sat on the tailgate. Her dark, curly hair was braided close to her head, the ends pinned in place at the base of her skull. Her blood-streaked face was upturned to Victor, who was applying a butterfly bandage to a cut above her eye.

  “That’ll be good enough until River can check you out,” he said.

  Alicia nodded. When she saw Miranda and the others, she offered a weak smile. Victor stepped away after a glance at Miranda, which she returned with a frosty stare, and joined the other newcomers sharing the cigarette.

  “Alicia, I’m so sorry,” Miranda said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Alicia said. “No more scouting for me, I guess. I don’t need another reminder I’m more valuable at the Institute, even if things aren’t moving along like we’d hoped.”

  “You went north today, right?” Miranda heard Rich say to Rocco.

  “Yeah. You’re going south; you should be okay, but I wouldn’t stick around.”

  Miranda squeezed Alicia’s shoulder. “Let me know if you want to hang out, okay? We should be back in a couple weeks. I’ll check in with you then.”

  Alicia nodded, and Miranda rejoined the others. They said their farewells and walked back to their truck.

  Rich said, “Sounds like it was a good thing Victor was with them.”

  “Yeah,” Phineas agreed.

  Miranda said. “I still don’t trust the guy as far as I can throw him.”

  “Why’s that?” Alec asked.

  “Long story,” Rich said. “Tell you later.”

  Alec nodded, and let the matter drop. Miranda was grateful to Rich for saving her from explaining it. The attack on LO was enmeshed with other things she’d rather not think about, and deep down she felt guilty for bringing the problems of San Jose here. The last thing she needed right now was getting distracted by Victor’s ‘good deeds.’ They needed to stay vigilant to get to the bunker alive, even with two people who repelled zombies in their group. The fate of Rocco’s scouting party had reminded them of that fact.

  Rich and Alec walked ten paces ahead of Miranda and Phineas. Delilah brought up the rear for most of the past hour since they’d left the truck behind, but in the last ten minutes ventured ahead. She stayed in sight, but something had caught her interest. The mood of the group had lightened somewhat since leaving the food scouting party behind. What they were doing required vigilance, but letting it amp up into rattled paranoia rarely led to performance improvement. You learned to shake even the most horrible things off when you needed to. Your brain could spring it on you later for processing, assuming you were still alive for that to happen.

  Rich looked back to Miranda over his shoulder. “You all right back there?”

  “Yep,” she said. “Just bored.”

  “Now you’ve done it, lassie. Jinxed us for sure,” Alec said over his shoulder.

  “Don’t be talking smack on my girl,” Phineas said.

  Miranda shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The journey might feel endless, but Phineas could be counted on to defend her honor.

  Alec looked back at them, grinning. “It’s not smack if it’s true.”

  “Hold up, Alec,” Rich said. They stopped, waiting for Miranda and Phineas to catch up. Rich pushed his sunglasses up on his head. “I think we should look for a place to stop. I know it’s a little early… I don’t know about y’all, but I’m tired.”

  “Another mile?” Miranda said. “That’ll get us to Gresham. There are a few good places there.”

  “Sounds good,” Rich said with a nod of his head.

  Over his shoulder, Miranda saw Delilah stop at the end of the block. Her body tensed, then she turned and ran back to them. “I think you’re right about me jinxing us, Alec.”

  They all looked to see Delilah’s approach. A moment later, staggering figures rounded the corner into the intersection.

  “Oh, Lordy,” Rich said, sounding resigned. “Let’s see how many there are. We might be able to go through.”

  “Time to get cozy,” Miranda said to Phineas.

  He raised his eyebrows as if she had just propositioned him, then did as told and sidled up close. They passed the first group of zombies that had already turned the corner. About fifty zombies were shambling up the block. Too many for most people, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Alec walked behind Rich, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Phineas did the same with Miranda.

  “You can get closer,” Miranda said.

  “I don’t want to step on your feet.”

  “I’d rather that than the alternative.”

  “I will if I need to,” Phineas promised.

  Even though she knew the zombies would shy away and not harm her, the feeling of walking through groups of them was so unnatural that Miranda wanted to jump out of her skin. Her breathing grew shallow, rasping in and out of her lungs too quickly.

  The zombies turned toward them, shuffling closer on unsteady feet. Even though the breeze was blowing away from the horde, the overpowering stench of rotting meat was so strong Miranda’s eyes began to water.

  “These ones really stink,” Phineas said in a tone of voice that gave her a mental image of his crinkled nose.

  “Yeah,” she said, breathing through her mouth.

  The hisses and groans grew so loud they became grating white noise. Rich and Alec walked five steps ahead of them, which mitigated the pinball effect when the zombies withdrew from pursuing them and turned toward her and Phineas. We must look like ducks paddling up a stream with zombies instead of water rippling in our wake, she thought.

  Phineas yelped. His hand jerked off her shoulder. Miranda whirled around. A zombie had latched on to Phineas’ pack and held him in place. The other zombies had noticed his lack of protection and turned to him. In two steps, Miranda threw her arms around his neck, body pressed tight against his.

  “Jesus, Phineas!” she said, the rush of adrenaline flooding her body enough to give her the shakes. “You can’t drift back!”

  “I didn’t,” he protested.

  “You must have.”

  She wanted to shake him—hard. Shake some sense into his not fully developed twenty-year-old brain. The temptation to become complacent when Miranda or Rich were around was real; she’d seen it happen before. She’d also seen it in some of the small cohort who had received the vaccine, despite lacking the repelling effect. A vaccine couldn’t save anyone from being ripped limb from limb.

  “Are you two all right?” Alec asked, concern making the burr of his accent stronger.

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” Miranda called over her shoulder.

  Around them, the zombies retreated, though they were more agitated than before.

  “Really, Miranda,” Phineas said, his voice low as he spoke into her ear. “I was right behind you.”

  His breath felt like a puff of warm breeze against her skin, and now that the jolt of adrenaline was beginning to recede, she noticed how nice being pressed up against Phineas felt. He was a little shorter than her. The warmth of his chest against hers felt solid and strong. The stubs of his newly styled dreadlocks were soft on her skin.

  Fucking hell, she thought. Phineas was a sweet kid. She enjoyed their harmless flirting and banter because that’s what it was: harmless. It was flattering to be admired, but it was never going anywhere. Even if her body wasn’t quite on the same page, she wanted Phineas to get his emotional baggage from someone else. She practically drank herself to sleep most nights trying to avoid nightmares… Nobody needed that.

  “You weren’t close enough,” she said, putting a few inches between them, but still keeping her hands clasped around his neck. “I don’t care if you’re halfway up my ass. Stay as close as you can.”

  A rakish grin split his face. “If that’s where you want me, babe.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

  They joined Rich and Alec. Phineas
was a lot closer to her this time. Close enough to be annoying in any other circumstance, but it was welcome now.

  Alec said to her, “At least we’re through this pack. We’ll get a nice distance on them in no time.”

  They turned at the next corner and Rich said, “We need to find somewhere to spend the night now.”

  The smell hit her like a brick. A few blocks away, the street was crammed, block upon block, almost as far as she could see. It hadn’t been the zombies they’d just encountered that stunk so bad, but this horde. It was so thick it would take ages to get through. Miranda was glad that Rocco and the others were on the other side of the Willamette.

  “Do you know any buildings here?” she said.

  “No,” said Rich. “We’ll have to pick one.”

  They walked over several blocks to get some distance from the horde.

  A minute later, Alec said, “What about that one? The liquor store?”

  The building he pointed to was of newer construction with a stucco exterior. There were bars on the windows and door, and all of the glass was intact.

  “Let’s go around back and see,” said Rich.

  They set up in the back of the liquor store, and the intervening hours passed uneventfully. Miranda could sometimes hear the nearby horde. The swells of sound probably due to the direction of the wind. At least, she hoped so. She couldn’t sleep, so had volunteered for first watch. Rich and Phineas were out cold. Alec had wandered off half an hour ago to check out the surprisingly plentiful stores of booze. It seemed like no one had hit this store—ever. It had more alcohol in one place than Miranda could recall seeing in quite some time, apart from Kendall’s bunker. She heard the soft scuff of shoes, then Alec’s shadowy outline appeared in the light of her covered headlamp that sat on the floor beside her.

  “So you’re all moved in at LO now,” she said as Alec sat on the floor. He set a bottle-sized box down beside him.

  He nodded. “Building six in the apartments.”

  “You didn’t waste time getting out of P-Land.”

  Alec chuffed a soft laugh that conveyed a healthy dose of trepidation. “Rocco made it pretty clear he expected me to move immediately. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him.”

  “Rocco’s okay,” she said. “He’s kinda scary when he’s pissed, but he’s fair. He’ll like that you didn’t drag your feet.” She paused, then said, “I hope they got home okay.”

  “I’m sure they did,” Alec said. “They don’t have far to go until they reach the sound defenses.”

  Miranda nodded, but didn’t comment. Wanting to distract herself, she said, “How’d Daphne take your move?”

  Alec averted his gaze. “Not especially well.”

  Miranda snorted. She’d had a feeling the P-Land Council member might not be thrilled by this development. “That’s what you get for leading her on.”

  Alec arched an eyebrow at her. “I did not lead her on. She just didn’t want to believe me when I said I wasn’t getting serious with anyone.” Then he muttered under his breath, “Women are like that.”

  “Oh my God,” Miranda said, laughing. “You didn’t just say that, did you? I thought you might not be one of those men who are asses, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “One thing I will say for Rocco,” Alec said, ignoring her comment, but with that sly smile she’d seen before. “He makes a decision and that’s that. They’re a wee bit over the top in the other direction at P-Land.”

  “They’re good people,” Miranda said. “But I wouldn’t last a week. I am not a process person. Assess a situation, make a decision, get it done. Talking things to death makes me want to scream. And my way of doing things makes them want to scream.”

  Alec’s laugh was a low rumble. “I’m not as bad as you—”

  “No one’s as bad as me.”

  Alec picked up the box and set it on the floor between them. “Guess what I found?”

  “Booze?”

  “Pah,” he said dismissively. He lay the box down longwise and began to tease the lid away. He pulled the bottle out, but gently, as if he were cradling a baby. It flared like a slightly opened fan from a narrow, tapered bottom. “Scotch. The Macallan Reflexion.”

  Miranda’s mouth began to water. She was partial to bourbon, but Scotch was good, too. “I like Scotch,” she said. “Fancy bottle.”

  Alec pursed his lips and, even in the very low light, fixed her with what she could tell was a pained expression.

  “This isn’t just Scotch, lassie,” he said, holding it out so she could get a better look. “This is the good stuff. A bottle of this used to go for over a thousand Euro.”

  “Pass it over, then,” she said, hand outstretched.

  Alec snatched it to his chest. “You’re a right savage, Miranda. You don’t drink this from the bottle. You sip it, ideally from crystal, or at least a real glass, but we’ll have to make do. Get your cup out of your pack.”

  “C’mon,” she said, beckoning him to hand over the bottle with her wiggling fingers. When she realized he was serious, she suppressed a laugh. “For Pete’s sake,” she said softly, rolling her eyes.

  Alec was already digging in his own pack. Miranda did as he asked and got her cup; she wouldn’t get a drink if she didn’t.

  The spicy, rich scent that wafted from the bottle almost as soon as the stopper was removed filled Miranda’s nose. “That’s the antidote to zombie stink,” she said.

  “It’s the antidote to a lot of things,” he said, pouring some in her cup.

  She waited while he poured his own, re-stoppered the bottle, and scooted over to sit beside her. She held up her metal camping cup, then took a sip. The taste of almost burnt caramel flooded her mouth as she leaned against the wall, accompanied by the faintest undertaste of smoke. She rolled the liquid over her tongue, hints of cinnamon and something she couldn’t quite identify lingering as she swallowed. The heat was pleasant, smooth as butter with no burn.

  Alec had been right. It would be a crime to drink this out of a bottle. She was pretty sure it was a crime to drink it out of her metal cup, but needs must. She took another small sip, let it settle on her tongue, savoring the taste for close to a minute before she swallowed.

  “Oh. My. God,” she said slowly.

  “I am a right savage for wanting to take a slug like it was cheap rotgut.”

  “You are,” Alec agreed. “But you’re learning.”

  “Where did you find this? I didn’t see it on the shelves when I looked earlier.”

  “There’s a locked storeroom. That’s where the good stuff is.”

  She took another sip, savoring the smooth warmth with not a hint of peat. “How much is in there?”

  “Six full cases, and a couple cases of Cristal and Veuve Clicquot champagne, but I quit searching when I found this. We’re stopping on the way back.”

  “Damn right.”

  They sipped their Scotch, the quiet companionable. After a time, Alec refreshed their drinks before putting the bottle back in the box and carefully replacing the lid. Sitting around and not talking, especially with someone she didn’t know well, usually made Miranda want to talk to fill the silence. When she did that, she ended up babbling. Maybe it was because she had something to do, even if it was just sipping her drink, or maybe Alec was one of those people.

  “You’re easy to be with, Alec,” she said. “And this is really good Scotch.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked up. “It is.” He paused, then said, “I figured you for someone who’s at ease with pretty much anyone.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. No time for whiners, and quiet people can set me babbling to fill the silence. Kendall’s tough.”

  “I didn’t find him that hard to talk to. He’s awkward, sure, but he’s not hopeless.”

  “I didn’t say he was hopeless.”

  “He’s rusty,” Alec conceded. “It doesn’t help that you’re a woman.”

  “I’m the first he’s seen in years. If
he’s into me, that’s why. I’m not so vain that I think it’s because I’m all that.”

  Alec took another sip, then said, “He does seem to have taken a wee shine to you.”

  “Men are annoying,” she said. Alec looked at her askance. “Present company excepted.” She gathered her thoughts for a few seconds. “Women spend a lot of energy trying not to hurt the feelings of guys we don’t like. It wasn’t so bad when—”

  She snapped her mouth shut. She’d been about to say she hadn’t dealt with it as much when she’d been with Mario, since most people knew they were together. Alec knew her as Miranda—just Miranda. Not Miranda who’d broken up with Mario, or Miranda who’d been bitten by and then killed Jeremiah, or Miranda who’d lost her baby. She wanted to keep it that way for a while.

  “Do me a favor when we get there,” she said. “Pick up some of the slack.”

  Alec smiled. “I will. It’ll be easier for me, seeing as he doesn’t want to get into my knickers.”

  “Your what?” Miranda asked, confused.

  “You know, your knickers,” he said, gesturing at her hips.

  “Oh,” she said, getting his meaning. “My panties.”

  Alec snickered. “Panties sound like something my granny would wear.”

  “Do you miss home much?” she asked, the question slipping out before she had time to consider whether or not she should ask.

  A lot of people didn’t like to talk about their lives before, herself included a lot of the time. But like she’d said before, he was easy to talk to, and the warm glow of the Scotch had taken hold.

  “Scotland? Yes, I do,” he said. “Glasgow and Edinburgh were brilliant cities. Different, mind, but brilliant. The countryside was always a bit wild, kind of like us Scots.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’ve missed good Scotch, but not the wee village where I grew up. People were too set in their ways.” He took another sip, then continued. “But I don’t know… I could have ended up in a worse place than I did. Could have still been on the plane when people started turning.”

  “You were flying?” she said. She didn’t know many people who’d been flying when it started.