Sadie Walker Is Stranded

by Madeleine Roux

  Whelan and I took Shane and made it back to the camp in the canoe by midafternoon. Shane and I were both weak with hunger when we arrived and Whelan parked us in his cabin with two heaping bowls of oatmeal and a bottle of cranberry juice. Through the walls, I could hear the argument rage. From what I could glean, Nate and Banana were just fine with the merger but Danielle and someone called Stefano were not. Occasionally, Danielle and Stefano would break into rapid-fire Spanish and Whelan interjected sporadically until they switched back to English.

  I finished eating and told Shane to stay in the cabin while I limped out to listen in on the argument. I saw no reason to hide. Hell, I was the cause of all this upheaval and I might as well be present to defend my actions. Danielle gave me a poisonous look as I joined them around the central fire pit. She stuck close to Stefano, her monster tits trying to wrestle out of her low-cut top.

  There they stood—Danielle standing next to Stefano, rangy and dark, with big, long-lashed brown eyes and a square face. He and Danielle were about the same height, standing so close together their hips just barely touched. Two young girls were with Stefano, sitting in the sand and playing what looked like marbles with seashells, their dark heads cocked to the side as they listened in on the adults. They looked tan enough and pretty enough to be related to Stefano, blessed with the same big, expressive eyes. Whelan stood flanked by Nate and Banana, the whole group forming an uneven circle.

  The talking ceased abruptly as I showed up. They stared, glaring as if a leper had wandered into their midst, dripping flesh and puss.

  “You don’t have to listen to this,” Whelan said. He was going to shove me back into the cabin if I didn’t stick up for myself right then and there.

  “Listen up,” I said. My voice was hoarse, quavering. I kept my eyes on Banana, knowing she wouldn’t give me the stink eye. “I know you’re not thrilled about us showing up like this and I can understand why. I just want you all to know that we’re grateful for the help and we’ll pull our weight. We didn’t mean to end up here.” I swallowed, dreading the next bit. “We don’t know what we’re doing. But we’ll learn. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  I swear I heard a cricket croak out its condolences a few feet away. For a moment I expected the fighting to start up again. Danielle opened and closed her mouth a few times and I wondered if maybe she was overloading, like a fembot struck by lightning. It was that or a brain hemorrhage from having to process a concept more complex than paper or plastic. Then she threw up her hands and stomped away, leaving a faint trail of freesia perfume in her wake. Stefano dawdled. He seemed to be weighing Danielle’s opinion and my little speech in his mind. Then he stuck out his hand and I took it. It was sufficiently awkward, but damn it if I didn’t feel relieved. I imagine the pilgrims and the natives had brokered a similar kind of tentative peace.

  We all know how that worked out.

  “Isabella, Teresa,” Stefano said, gesturing to the young girls with him. He had a low, accented voice. “Come and say hello, please.”

  They were shy, blinky, reminiscent of Shane whenever he was introduced to a stranger.

  “Tell me when my friends turn up,” I said, turning and going back toward Whelan’s cabin and Shane. I was exhausted and ready to get off my feet. Somewhere along the way I had co-opted Whelan’s house. If he wanted to dispute that, I was confident he’d bring it up.

  Shane was inside, asleep. I curled up with him for a brief rest. There would be tons to do in preparation for the camp merger. Half an hour was enough to dull the stinging in my feet, and then I was up and out. Whelan put me to work on things that didn’t involve a lot of standing or walking. I sorted through blankets they hadn’t needed to use yet, picking out the ones with the least holes and folding them. He helped me set up a little assembly line where I could make packets of rationed food, care packages for when they first arrived. And he uncomplainingly hauled me to my feet and carried me to the cabin every fifteen minutes or so to check on Shane. No offense against Whelan, but I wanted to make sure he was sleeping soundly with my own eyes.

  Finished and beat, I was finally able to rest for good. The cabin resonated with cold, dark and relentless with silence. Shane napped on the cot. Banana followed me inside a moment later. I sat on the cot and swung my legs onto the thin mattress, putting one light hand on Shane’s shoe. The pain had gotten to the point where I could no longer distinguish my feet from my ankles or knees. Banana came over to the bed and pulled up the little handmade stool. She had a glass bottle tucked beneath her arm. She still wore her cute polka-dotted handkerchief.

  “Here,” she said, handing me the bottle. “To your health.”

  There was no label but one sniff told me it was rum. I took a swig, coughing into the crook of my elbow. It burned. We traded the bottle back and forth. First she held my hand through surgery and now she was bringing me rum. This woman could do no wrong.

  “Who’s this little trooper?”

  “Shane,” I replied in a whisper. The boy didn’t stir, though I had a feeling he might be faking it to eavesdrop. He was crafty that way. “He’s my nephew. I look after him now.”

  “Stefano’s girls play nice, I promise. Trust me, they’ll like having a new bud. Can you imagine just having your sister around all the time?” Banana asked, giving me a firm smile.

  I thought of Kat and just how much I wished I could have her back. With her alive, Shane wouldn’t have to put up with me. “I can imagine it, actually.”

  “Sorry.” Banana winced. “Didn’t mean it like that…”

  “It’s fine, I get it.” I nodded toward Shane. “He’s pretty shy around other people. He doesn’t talk much at first.”

  “Those two girls talk plenty for the whole camp.” She paused, sipping from the rum. “Are you worried about them?” she asked.

  Banana’s eyes are lovely. Most peoples’ eyes are at least slightly tapered but hers are perfectly round. Her presence is warm and lively and wraps around you like a fuzzy winter scarf. I considered her question; Andrea was one of the most competent people I’d ever met. Noah was young and strong.

  “They’ll make it,” I said, nodding to show my certainty. “I just hope they show before nightfall.”

  “Whelan will go out looking for them if they don’t.”

  “That’s nice of him,” I said lightly.

  “Yes, it is.”

  I was tired but not that tired. I could see where this was heading.

  “Whelan told me you used to, uh, dance,” I said, cutting her off. Banana smiled and I wondered if it was possible for her to not look flirtatious. She lowered her thick lashes; unlike us mortals, this woman didn’t need the help of mascara.

  “Burlesque, sweetie, not stripping. Well, not the kind you’re thinking of anyway.”

  “Oh.” My face felt hot. “I guess I don’t know the difference.”

  Banana shifted her light brown eyes from side to side and then shrugged. I left it at that. It was hard to say whether the subject of dancing made her homesick or uncomfortable. Changing the subject felt like the best course of action.

  “Do you plan on staying here?” I asked.

  “How do you mean?”

  “You know, permanently. Do you think you’ll ever go back to Seattle?”

  Her eyes bugged. I was speaking sacrilege.

  “Go back?” From her voice, the idea was about as appealing as swallowing razors. “Why would we go back?”

  “For one? It’s my home. That’s why I want to go back. For another, we can’t stay here forever, right? I mean, it’s just temporary. I want Shane to grow up with other kids. Not just Isabella and Teresa, I’m sure they’re sweet girls … I just want to give him what he deserves.”

  It sounded like I was insulting their camp. Banana snorted softly.

  “That came out wrong,” I muttered, sighing. “I just … this is okay for now, but what about when he grows up? How is he going to learn about, I don’t know, life? What teenager grows up without gi
rls and cars and turns out okay?”

  “Good question,” Banana replied, smirking. “I certainly can’t imagine mine without either of those.”

  “And won’t we run out of food eventually?” This sounded reasonable to me, but Banana didn’t appear ruffled in the least.

  “There’s plenty to eat,” she said. “Fish and clams if you know how to get ’em. We can plant gardens and hunt for meat. I don’t see any reason to leave. We’ve got everything we need here.”

  “Right, except that whole civilization thing,” I replied. “Which I’m fond of.” We were putting a dent in the rum.

  “Give me a stage and I’ll put on a show,” Banana said. Tempting offer—then I realized Danielle might get in on the action too and thought better of it. “How’s that for civilization?”

  “So,” I started, “how’d you get your name?”

  She giggled softly. The rum was hitting us both. Her laughter bounced around in my head for a minute, making me giddy.

  “When I was first starting out at Annie’s,” she said, licking booze from her lower lip and lowering her voice even further, “I did my act in a yellow gown. My boss joked that the way I peeled off my clothes made me look like a banana. It stuck.”

  “No actual fruit in the act?”

  “No, not unless you count the piano player.” She laughed. “No, no fruit. I’m not that kind of girl,” she said, teasing. Her apple-round cheeks flushed a pretty crimson. Then her face became deadly serious. “You should stay, and not just you, but your friends too. You’ll see. Things aren’t so bad here. It’ll grow on you.”

  “Eventually,” I said in a whisper, “we’ll run out of booze.”

  “If we get real desperate we can always try our hand at moonshine.”

  She did have a point there. With Banana’s help, I was tipsy by the time Andrea, Moritz, Noah and Cassandra arrived. They showed up tired and scratched and hungry but undeniably human. I felt like an empress on a silk bed of pillows when they trooped into the cabin to say hello. And furthermore, I felt like an asshole for being a bit drunk. Shane roused long enough to say hello and welcome them back. I might’ve at least tried to look as miserable as they felt, but the blankets and food prepared for them did take the sting off. They seemed appropriately awed by the accommodations of the camp and gratefully ate the food provided. Whelan brought a lantern and left us alone, taking Banana and her rum with him. They bid us good night.

  All of us slept in the same cabin that night. Andrea crawled into the cot beside me and Shane without complaint. Noah tried to turn out the lantern but I kept it burning long into the night. Exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. While the others collapsed into snores and dreams, I slipped The Big Sleep out of Noah’s bag and read until my eyelids simply refused to stay open another second. My friends were safe and sound. Things were looking up. It didn’t even bother me that Noah had scribbled all over the margins of The Big Sleep. Notes and sentences underlined … but I didn’t let it distract me. I finished the book, but instead of feeling satisfied I felt afraid. When I closed my eyes I saw the faces of the creatures that had chased me through the forest, I saw the fate they had forced me to choose.

  The island loomed dark and full, and when I thought too hard about what might be out there, watching us, I knew I’d never sleep soundly again.

  * * *

  I woke to the sound of gunfire and the sinking feeling that I was the last to hear it.

  The cabin was empty. Blankets and pillows had been abandoned in a hurry. I hobbled out the door, grateful to find that my feet were hurting less and less. The fringes of a hangover clung to my brain, turning the sunshine into a knife aimed right for my eyes.

  Nobody stood near the fire pits or down by the dock and so I followed the gunshots to the back of the cabins, closer to the edge of the forest. A line of people spread out in front of me, their faces turned toward the thicket of trees and the white shadows creeping out of it. Whelan stood in the center of the line with Nate and Banana at his sides. They each held a rifle and peppered the advancing zombies with several rounds. Andrea watched, fascinated, and Moritz and Noah hung together to the side. I noticed Cassandra hanging back from the others, both hands covering her ears. Her body jerked after each round of fire. Shane stood beside her, his fists frozen at his sides as he stared resolutely at the tree line.

  I hurried up to Andrea, leaning on her shoulder to take some of the pressure off my feet.

  “Morning,” she said. I could barely hear her voice over the sound of the rifles. She didn’t seem to think anything of the ear-blistering racket. Andrea sipped from a tin cup. I smelled the warm, bitter scent of coffee.

  “What a way to wake up,” I replied.

  “They just keep coming,” Andrea said. She shivered. “Whelan thinks they followed us up from the southern part of the island.”

  “Does he now?”

  “It’s not a comforting thought,” she added with a frown. I had to agree. The sight of so many undead shambling toward us made my empty stomach twist. The island didn’t feel very big and that was a lot of zombies for such a small parcel of land. Then I remembered the boat and nearly being dragged under the water by one of those things …

  “Where do they all come from?” I asked her.

  Whelan answered instead in a yell. “No way to tell. We’ve dealt with them ever since we got here. Seems like there’s an endless supply.”

  “Sorry,” I said to Andrea. “I know this isn’t the most cheerful housewarming.”

  “They’ve got coffee,” she said simply. “And that’s pretty damn cheerful.”

  While she and Moritz and Noah were taking the appearance of the undead in stride, Cassandra looked ready to crumble. I went to talk to her but she jerked away. She smelled terrible. The bloodstains on her scrubs had turned rust brown and her red hair was matted down to her head.

  The sight of her shrinking away from me made me wonder if joining Whelan’s tribe was such a hot idea. I glanced over my shoulder as the gunfire stopped and the last undead straggler fell forward into the dirt. We couldn’t have held off an onslaught like that. No, I’d made the right call.

  Isabella and Teresa stood at the very end of the line next to Stefano. They were tucked into his sides and they turned to look at me with matching brown eyes. Not twins, as I had initially thought, but siblings, close together in age. Stefano saw them watching me and leaned over to whisper something in their ears. The two girls sidled up to me, Teresa tugging shyly at her braid.

  “Good morning,” the girl on the left murmured. They wore matching T-shirts for something called “Stardusters.” Judging from the logo and explosion of pink and glittery stars it was some kind of dance studio or tap class.

  “Morning,” I said. I tried to dredge up the meager amount of Spanish I’d learned in college. “¿Como estas?”

  “Not bad. How is your little boy?” the one on the right, Teresa, asked.

  “He’s doing okay. You’re not … afraid of them?” I gestured to toward the tree line.

  Isabella shrugged. She was taller, with less little kid chub on her face. “Sometimes they come,” she said. A flicker of fear darkened her eyes. “But we always kill them.”

  “Whelan kills them,” Teresa corrected, poking out her tongue.

  “Whatever. Estupida.” Isabella rolled her eyes, adding, “There’s breakfast ready, okay? Help yourself.”

  Their duty done, they fled back to Stefano. He seemed more like an uncle or guardian, too young to have girls their age. Giggling and chatting, the girls glanced at Shane, alternately hiding behind Stefano’s legs and peeking out to glance at my nephew. Shane seemed oblivious to their gawking, choosing instead to amble up to Whelan and stare at his rifle. That wasn’t what I had in mind for this early. I ran to Shane, herding him back to the campfire so we could eat, safely out of stray bullet range.

  Now that the immediate threat of the zombies had been put down, nobody seemed to have any idea what to do or where to go.
Whelan turned away from the thicket and stalked back to the fire pits. I watched, swallowing a mouthful of oatmeal. His jaw worked as he slopped a can of baked beans into a cast-iron pot. He slid the pot onto a spit and jabbed at the dwindling fire before pushing both hands through his floppy hair. I was finally getting used to the idea that from now on I’d either smell like a campfire or fish.

  “Shouldn’t we arrange some kind of … ice-cream social or something?” I asked.

  “Be my guest.”

  Banana and Nate drifted past, tossing a casual greeting to me as they continued on their way to the docks. Nate had acquired a fishing rod and some buckets. I had a feeling someone would soon be put to work clearing the dead bodies from the thicket, and us being the newcomers, I could see the task falling to us. For the moment I’d wait and hope that someone else volunteered.

  “Maybe not ice cream,” I said, shifting around on a fat log rolled up snug to the fire pit. Shane had already finished his food, eyeing the pot of oatmeal. I didn’t feel comfortable yet telling him he could go for seconds. “How about a clam bake?”

  He shrugged, his back to me as he hunched over the fire. “Sure,” and then even more curtly, “if you want.”

  Caveman poke fire. Man grunt. Caveman no like pushy woman with prickly feet and too many questions.

  “Right, sorry for that.”

  I took Shane’s empty bowl, stacked it on top of mine and stood.

  “There’s a lot on my mind,” he said. I guess that was maybe the start of an apology, or an apology wearing the dastardly guise of an excuse. “That’s the most I’ve ever seen. Here, I mean, on the island.”

  “Isabella and Teresa didn’t seem concerned.”

  “They’re kids.”

  Shane frowned.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “How many what?”

  “I was half-asleep. How many did you take out?”

  “Fifteen,” he said, rubbing his darkened jaw. He needed a shave. “Maybe more.”

  “But the rifles…” I slowly pointed out. “It didn’t seem like they posed much of a threat. Are you low on ammunition?”