Reckoning in an Undead Age

by A. M. Geever

  Mario rubbed, but it only made the itch behind his eyelids worse. It felt like sand had adhered to their underside to scratch and scrape. He shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid the unsatisfying temptation to keep rubbing.

  Highway 20 East was not the type of road that anyone wanted to take. It was in terrible condition, remote, and wound its way through sometimes rugged terrain. But it was still there, which was more than they could say for Highway 101. They’d driven south on 101 until Lake Mendocino, where they discovered that miles of the highway and the access roads that ran alongside it were simply not there. Their best guess was that at some point, someone had the bright idea to destroy the road. Maybe they’d only destroyed sections, but the intervening decade took care of anything that might have been left behind.

  They wasted several hours while Doug and Mario hiked south, hoping that the destruction wasn’t for a long distance, to no avail. After a mile and half, with the ruined highway stretching to the horizon, it was clear they had to go another way. Even if the road picked up again, and at some point it would, the Tesla wasn’t an all-terrain vehicle. They couldn't risk losing it, especially since Highway 20, despite being in poor condition and taking them on a more circuitous route, seemed to be a better option.

  Four hours after detouring onto Highway 20, what had once been an hour drive was nearing its end. The kids were still asleep. Miraculously, only a few lone zombies had appeared in the road—one standing in it but easy to get around and one arriving at the berm just as they passed.

  Tessa said, “What’s the name of the town we talked about? I just saw a sign for North Lakeport in ten miles.”

  “That’s it,” Skye murmured.

  Skye reached around the back of the seat and shook Doug’s shoulder gently. “Sweetie, wake up.”

  Doug shifted in his seat, then jerked awake and lunged forward. A dull thwack coincided with his head hitting the windshield.

  “Easy, babe,” Skye said, belatedly cautioning him.

  “Jesus,” said Tessa, who’d taken over driving. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Doug sat back, rubbing his head. “It’s a little late for easy,” he grumbled. “Sorry, Tessa.”

  They were all on edge. Mario just wanted to find somewhere to hole up for a while and sleep, though he doubted he’d be able. He felt simultaneously strung out and exhausted, as if he’d drunk too much coffee that kept his weary mind and body unable to rest.

  Tessa slowed the vehicle. Without the ambient light from cities and towns, it was hard to pick out buildings. Instead, they looked for driveways.

  “There’s… Oh, forget it,” Skye said. “Trailer park.”

  Mario suppressed a shudder, remembering the time he’d been stranded in a trailer so long that he’d started to consider drinking his own urine. Trailer parks were too densely packed and out of the question after dark.

  “There’s one ahead,” Doug said, pointing.

  Tessa slowed and nosed the Tesla into the end of the drive. It wound away, no house in sight.

  “I think it’s worth checking out,” she said, pressing on the accelerator.

  The few buildings they’d seen so far were right up against the road; perhaps this was an old farm. As they rounded another gentle bend, they saw a collapsing farmhouse. And beyond it, a barn.

  “Maybe the barn isn’t falling down,” Doug said softly.

  That would be too much to ask for, but they had to check it out. Tessa pulled up close to the barn. Closed doors faced them, the barn’s siding bleached and weathered by the sun, a washed-out gray in the headlights.

  “You game, Mario?” Doug asked.

  “Do we have any sort of light?”

  “Matches,” Doug said. “Because matches and barns…what could go wrong?”

  “Just let me put Mister Bun Bun in his carrier before you open the doors,” Skye said.

  A minute later, the two men climbed out. Even though the day had been hot, goosebumps prickled Mario’s arms when the cool night air brushed against them. On his shadow in the headlights, any motion looked exaggerated. He headed to the person-sized door to the right of the big barn doors, then he and Doug banged on it and waited.

  When nothing happened after a minute, Doug opened the door and poked his head inside. He lit a match and held it in front of him. “Here, zombie, zombie, zombie.”

  Mario chuckled. Even after as crappy a turn as today had taken, Doug could still crack a joke. The snick of a match being struck was followed by a hissing flare of ignition and a tiny flicker of flame that was swallowed by the dark almost immediately.

  “Come on,” Doug said softly.

  Mario stepped into the barn.

  Doug held the match before him, his voice raised in an inviting singsong. “Come on, you undead fuckers.”

  Nothing.

  Mario felt his shoulders drop away from his ears a little. A large tractor was parked on the left-hand side of the barn, and more equipment he couldn’t identify in the dark was on the right. He wouldn’t have fancied poking around it if there had been moans. They made their way through the barn, stopping every few steps so that Doug could light another match. The spent ones he held in his hand. The dark was so complete that Mario could not see the roof.

  “I think we’re in the clear,” Doug said eventually. “I’ll just check the loft.”

  Doug scampered up the ladder before Mario could object to being left in the pitch-black, or Doug investigating on his own. He continued to call for zombies, and the dim glow of lighting matches flared and guttered, one after the other.

  “Looks good,” Doug said, his voice raised but not loud. “I’m coming down. Let’s get everyone inside.”

  “The Tesla, too, if we can get the big doors open,” Mario added.

  As they exited the barn, Mario saw Tessa and Skye looking their way. The interior of the car was the only light in the dark nightscape.

  From the open window, Tessa asked, “Are we good?”

  “Yeah,” Mario answered.

  He opened the back door. Violet and Silas were awake, blinking like owls beneath the dome lights.

  “Mawree?” Violet asked, turning to the open door. Her voice was tight and anxious.

  “It’s okay,” he said, ducking inside to pick her up. “Come on, Violittle. Let’s get some sleep.”

  “My name is Violet,” she said, still sleepy.

  “I know,” Mario said. He kissed her forehead. She smelled of little kid sweat and mown grass. “But you’re little, too.”

  “Is it safe?” Silas asked.

  Silas’ voice, so full of worry and seeking reassurance, made Mario’s throat tighten. His mouth flooded with a bitter taste. He hated this world sometimes. Miranda had said the same thing to him, after they knew what had happened to Tadpole. After they knew that it had been too good to be true.

  He shook the memory off. He didn’t have time for that right now. It wouldn’t make a difference for Tadpole, nor for he and Miranda. The stupid, thoughtless, hurtful things they’d said to one another made sure of that. Her refusal to be present had cut him to the quick, but he was starting to see that he’d been part of the problem. He’d needed her so much that he’d assumed what she needed was the same. When he realized his mistake, he all but said what happened to Tadpole had been her fault. He’d hurled the vicious accusation to absolve himself, because she was right about one thing: he had left her that night. He’d pitched in and helped out, did the thing that needed doing; what happened after hadn’t been his fault. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she might have stayed safely indoors if he’d been there. He wished she’d been more cautious but when it came down to it, Miranda had done exactly what he’d done: pitched in to get things done. What happened next hadn’t been her fault, either.

  Nothing would make enough of a difference for he and Miranda, for Tadpole, but he could make a difference for Silas and Violet. He had to make the world better—make it safer—for them.

  “I
s it safe?” Silas repeated.

  Mario would have run his hand over the tightly curled fuzz growing in on Silas’ head were Violet not in his arms.

  “It’s safe enough for now.”

  They woke early, ate simply, and were heading to the lake for which North Lakeport was named within an hour of sunrise. Doug had scrounged up two water containers tucked in a corner of the barn.

  They filled them at the lake without incident and got back on the road in minutes. They would filter it later; right now, they just wanted to make up some time. Silas and Violet’s soft chatter in the back seat when they asked Skye a question was soothing. She was reading Little House again; they were almost finished with the book. How she read in a moving vehicle was beyond Mario. If he did that, he’d get queasy. Tessa rounded out the back seat contingent. She had Mister Bun Bun’s carrier on her lap, and last time Mario had looked back, she had been petting him through the grill of the door.

  “You’ve had time to look, navigator,” Doug said. He glanced over to Mario. “Does Highway 29 still look like the best route?”

  Mario felt a dissatisfied rumble building in his throat. None of the routes were particularly good. Taking Highway 20 East had taken them far from the 101 Interstate. Their best bet at this point was to go through the Napa Valley by the circuitous Highway 29.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Highway 175 would get us to 101 at Hopland, eventually, but it’s through the mountains.” He lowered his voice so the kids wouldn’t hear. “This thing’s charge might not get us the whole way anymore, no matter which way we go.”

  “One thing at a time,” Doug said. “At least the view of the lake is nice.”

  Ahead, Mario could see the sharp westward bend in the road that would change their direction by ninety degrees. He consulted the atlas again and told Doug the best route.

  As they moved through the turn, they slowed, then stopped. A small group of people congregated in the road just before where they needed to turn left. They were armed, and outside what Mario assumed was a settlement that began at the corner. The wall—some sections made of metal sheeting, others of wood or concrete slabs, stretched from the corner to at least the end of that block. It also continued along the road they needed to turn onto, but for how far Mario couldn’t see.

  “Oh,” Skye said softly from the back seat.

  “I guess we need to at least say hello,” Doug said, not sounding happy about it. He guided the Tesla forward, stopping about forty feet away from the people, who had of course noticed them. They looked relaxed, but Mario noticed that two of them had set their hands on their holstered firearms.

  Doug pulled the parking brake and put the vehicle in park but didn’t turn off the engine. “You mind getting behind the wheel, Tessa?”

  “Sure,” she said, repositioning Mister Bun Bun’s carrier after she climbed out.

  “Are they bad people?” Silas asked, his voice anxious.

  By the time Mario turned in his seat to reassure him, both Silas and Violet had hunkered down on the floor between the front and back seats. Silas was between Skye’s feet with Violet huddled next to him. Their heads almost touched as they looked at Mario through the gap between the front seats with huge, frightened eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Mario said. “It’s going to be fine.”

  He turned back, then opened the glove compartment and retrieved another magazine for his Sig, which he stuck in his jeans’ back pocket. Behind him, he heard Skye’s door open. Doug opened his door and got out, too.

  “But you’re getting more bullets,” Silas said.

  “I was gonna get them anyway,” Mario said, smiling at them over his shoulder. Neither Silas nor Violet looked like they believed his bullshit explanation. “You can stay there on the floor if it makes you feel better. I’m just gonna go with Doug and Skye to say hello.”

  He traded a quick glance with Tessa as she slid behind the wheel, one that said, What the fuck ever happened to nodding hello before ignoring each other at the gas station? Then he joined Doug and Skye.

  A woman and two men walked over to meet them. The woman wore a leather jacket and pants, which had to be sweltering in the heat, but signified someone who took the realities of their world seriously. Her brown hair was cut short and pushed off to the side behind an ear. She looked in her thirties or forties, but she had one of those faces that made it hard to tell. The man on her left was middle-aged, powerfully muscled, but with a bit of a pot belly. He wore black leather pants and a faded 82nd Airborne Division tee shirt. Another man, quite younger than the first, looked like he spent all of his free time at a gym. Unlike his companions, he wore camo cargo pants and a long-sleeved plaid shirt over a dark tee shirt. He squinted at them, as if his eyesight was poor.

  “Hello,” the woman said, stopping well short of them.

  “Hello,” Doug said.

  “I’m Elise,” she said. “That’s Carl.” The big man inclined his head. “And that’s Albert. What brings you this way?”

  Mario rested his hand lightly on his Sig. He wasn’t trying to threaten, just let these strangers know that he wasn’t afraid to use it. Skye mirrored his posture, though Doug left his hands at his side.

  “Just passing through,” Doug said, not offering introductions.

  Elise looked past Mario, Doug, and Skye to peer at the Tesla.

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Just us, our friend in the car, two kids.”

  “We don’t get a lot of people coming through,” Elise said. “You’re welcome to stop for a while, grab a meal, before you go on your way.”

  “I’m not sure that we have the time to stop,” Doug said. “We’ve still got a ways to go.”

  “I don’t see the kids,” Elise said.

  “They’re afraid,” Mario answered. “They’re hiding in the back seat.”

  The older man, Carl, shook his head, his mouth twisting down in rueful frown. He scratched at his collarbone.

  “This world,” he said. “When I was a kid, we rode our bikes in the neighborhood all summer long. My biggest worry was pissing off my old man by being late for dinner. He said it was disrespectful to my mother.”

  “Things have changed,” Doug agreed. From his tone, Mario could tell that Doug seemed to have made a decision. He held his hand out to Elise and closed the distance between them. “I’m Doug, by the way. This is Skye and Mario.”

  Hands were shaken and introductions made for real. The feeling of nervous tension in the air lessened markedly.

  Albert, the younger man, said, “Where are you coming from, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “The Northwest,” Doug said.

  Carl whistled. Elise’s mouth made a perfect O of surprise. Albert just looked at Doug for a moment, like his words did not compute.

  “Really?” he said. “What’s it like out there? I haven’t been more than a hundred miles from home in years.”

  “It depends,” Doug said, shrugging. “Really deserted in some places, lots of zombies in others. Sometimes the deserted places, too, if you’re unlucky.”

  “April, that’s my wife, we always wanted to go to eastern Washington State. Even talked about moving to Idaho, but we never got the chance.”

  “Too bad,” Skye said. “Idaho’s beautiful.”

  “Even if you aren’t going to stop, which way are you headed?” Carl asked. “We can at least let you know which roads are in good shape.”

  Doug, Skye, and Mario all traded a glance. While that would be helpful to know, sharing their route wasn’t really something any of them wanted to do with strangers.

  “We’re planning to take 175 West, but not as far as Hopland,” Doug said. “Knew a guy who had a place up there. Things…didn’t work out where we were. Thought we’d give it a try.”

  “That road’s in bad shape,” Elise said, shaking her head. “Not a lot of zees up there, but it’s pretty remote.”

  “That’s the idea,” Mario said.

  Elise said, “I kn
ow everyone’s paranoid these days, but people would love to hear whatever news you have of the outside world. Let us feed your kids at least, and then we’ll send you on your way. We can stay outside the gate, if it makes you feel more comfortable. We patrol heavily, so it’s pretty safe near the settlement, especially if we’re just outside.”

  Doug looked over to Mario and Skye, his eyebrows raised in question. Mario looked Elise, Carl, and Albert over again. He wasn’t picking up any creepy vibes. They weren’t being insistent about them stopping, just nice. And after the offer to stay outside their settlement, he felt pretty sure that if they declined, they’d go on their way and that would be the end of it.

  “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you two,” Skye said, her voice low, so only Doug and Mario could hear her.

  Mario nodded, and Doug said, “Sure. We can stop for an hour.”

  “I’ll get Tessa and the kids,” Mario said.

  “I’ll help, if that’s okay,” Albert said. “April and I lost our…well.” His smile became tight, and pain flashed in his eyes. “It’d be nice to see some small fry.”

  “Sure,” Mario said, sympathy for Albert making his heart twinge.

  As they neared the Tesla, Tessa slid out from behind the wheel. “We’re all good?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Mario said, nodding. “Silas! Violet! Come on. We’re going to stop for just a little bit.”

  While Tessa and Albert said hello, Mario went to collect Silas and Violet. Both children regarded him warily.

  “They’re nice people,” he said. “It’s okay. Come on.”

  Silas gave him a tentative smile, then crawled up from the floor. He stuck close to the Tesla, like he was suction-cupped to it.

  “What about Mister Bun Bun?”

  “We’ll leave him for now, but we can bring him some water. Maybe they have lettuce or carrots.”

  “I want you to carry me,” Violet said, her big brown eyes still uneasy.

  “Come on then, Violittle.”

  Mario held out his arms and hoisted Violet onto his hip, then pushed the door shut. Silas took his hand, still looking nervous. As they came around the front of the vehicle, Tessa and Albert turned to them. Albert squinted in the morning sunshine, but the look of anticipation that had made him seem young and naive withered. Hostility pulsed off him in waves. He took an involuntary step back, which seemed to make him angrier. His upper lip peeled back, twisting into a nasty sneer, and his eyes, which had been mild and curious just moments ago, filled with the purest distillation of contemptuous hatred that Mario had ever seen.