by Fitch, E. M.
She shifted on the hard, wooden beam that supported them, her knee knocking against his. There was a thin stream of light coming from the very peak of the silo. An old fan, used to spread the grain as it was deposited into the container, had come loose, caving part of the metal roof in with it. Emma could make out the pain in Jack's eyes even in the weak light. Her calf burned, the pain flared and spread in thin tongues, licking up the side of her leg. It made the fabric of her pants feel hot and confining. She flit her hand over her forehead, but the skin there felt cool and almost clammy. It was just her leg, the flesh memory of the fire eating away at her skin.
Jack's breathing came sharp and erratic, ending on a small, contained groan.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. Her voice was low and carrying in the confined space. He nodded, his head drooping to his chest. Instinctively, she shifted closer. His hands rested shakily on her thighs. She started at the contact, her spine stiffening. But his fingers tightened and she realized, he wasn't able to balance without her.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. “Dizzy."
She nodded and slid closer, pulling his head down to her shoulder and holding him there. He sighed gratefully, his hands gripping about her waist before falling, heavy and still on her legs. She felt the tension in his legs slacken as they pressed limply to her own. Her fingers drifted in soothing circles along the ridge of his spine. She had memories of her mother doing that for her, dancing her fingertips up and down the bony protuberances of her neck, counting the ridges and tracing the valleys in between. It would soothe her as a child.
She hoped here, perched in the rafters of a rotting grain silo, it would do the same for Jack.
He fell asleep for a while, braced against the back wall and Emma. She didn't mind. The need to keep him upright and on the rafter, to keep him from falling into the soft grain that could suck him down like quicksand into a smothering pit of infected bodies, kept her mind from her own pains. She was stronger than she had thought. The alcohol was cleared from her system and yes, the burn hurt. But it was a consistent wave of hurt that ebbed and flowed like the ocean, pulling her focus and then giving it back. It steadied her.
She took the opportunity while he was asleep to examine him. He wasn't feverish. Before Anna left, she had gotten enough antibiotics into him. And he had mentioned before that he had had his tetanus shot. Anna had told her they were good for ten years. Her own tetanus immunization would need a booster soon. A booster she would never get. The old diseases of the Middle Ages would rise up again, she and Anna had talked about that.
Her throat closed and she grit her jaw, pushing out thoughts of the old firehouse, the pleasant nights teasing Andrew and Kay, the camaraderie she had found with Anna, a woman who was not quite old enough to be her mother and yet took up the task of replacing her in many ways. She missed them fiercely. And it had only been one day. One day and everyone she loved was gone. She was left, injured and infected, with her sister's lover. Useless.
Emma let her fingers drift over Jack's side. The shirt was stiff and sticky with drying blood. It was cold.
Not still bleeding then.
The warmth of new blood wasn't present and she took comfort in that, at least.
He woke sometime after the shifting light from the busted ceiling had moved a few feet along the ridged, metal walls. Emma could tell with the tightening of his muscles, his awareness of his pain coming back into focus.
"You okay?" she asked softly, her lips close to his ear. He pulled his head up slowly, resting it back against the wall.
"I fell asleep," he said, not a question, but there was a hint of an apology in his tone. She nodded and shrugged. His hands left her legs and flit over his chest, pressing gently against his side.
"You're not bleeding," she said. "And there's been no fever, I checked.”
He nodded. “Thanks."
"You're really not healed, you know," she shot out, suddenly annoyed. "You really shouldn't have let her paw at you like that!”
Even in the low light, she saw his eyebrows rise. "I think it has more to do with running from the biters.”
She grit her teeth, shame flooding through her. It was irrational. She shouldn't care what Kaylee and Jack got up to. It didn't matter anyway. Not now, not with Kaylee gone. Sudden fear lashed her inside and she choked it back. Quick prayers flashed through her mind.
Please, please let me see my sister again.
Jack seemed to sense the turbulence in her mind. He pulled her to him and she went hesitantly.
"I held your sister like this," he said after a while, not letting her go even as she tensed. "In the basement, just after you were bit. We didn't know if we'd make it out. It was freezing then, too. That's when I realized, you know.”
"Realized what?" Emma asked, the words muffled in the collar of his jacket.
"That I wasn't leaving her.”
"You love her," Emma said softly. He nodded.
"I do. I love you, too," he continued.
Emma laughed lightly, becoming accustomed to his hold on her. She rest her cheek on his shoulder and his arms came easily around her. It was easier like this, talking, defining their roles. He loved Kaylee, declared himself to her in actions and maybe in words. In a way, in the most traditional way, that did make them family. And it was better, perched on the beams, exhausted and in pain as they were, to cling and balance together.
Emma felt her cheeks redden. Her stomach plunged at the thought of what Andrew was enduring at the moment. And the feeling of uselessness swamped her again. There was nothing they could do though, stuck in the metal tube and surrounded by the infected.
"How are we going to find them?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Jack answered.
They waited until dark to make their way out of the silo. The ground was littered with the fallen bodies of the infected. Some lingered on the stairs, collapsed on the railings and splayed up the steps. They walked carefully around them.
Emma would have loved to be able to see where they were from the top of the silo, they were so high up, she could have seen for miles. But in the darkness, it was impossible. There was no way for them to find their way, no direction either felt strongly about and, in the end, they had to guess.
It was at least a mile before they found a working car. But though it started, in the glare of the headlights, all Jack and Emma could see were twitching bodies littered over the road. Jack sighed as he cut the lights, extinguishing the rising moans as darkness swept back over them.
They got out of the car without speaking, both realizing they would not be driving out of there. The hours passed slowly in the dark silence. They took breaks frequently, rooting through homes and scavenging for food so they could save what they had. They took turns carrying the backpack. It wasn't heavy, loaded only with some canned food and basic tools, but neither was at their best and the little break from carrying the bag was helpful.
It was dark still, the edge of dawn not yet breaking over the horizon, when Jack suggested they stop for the day. The wooded suburban area they had stumbled into didn't offer much in the way of shelter. Neither Jack nor Emma wanted to risk barricading in a house, not with the size of the horde wandering. Ahead of them, Emma could just make it out, stood a gas station. Jack was walking in that direction.
The glass windows of the store were busted in. They stepped over the shards and around the body of one infected woman that had collapsed on the floor. Jack rummaged through the shelves, pulling a few packs of Ramen noodles and a handful of chocolate bars.
"We'll feast like college students today," he said, chuckling to himself in the dark.
"Sure," Emma said, turning away and grabbing a stack of blankets from a nearby stand. They were fleece, embroidered with the local town's team logo. Apparently, they were the Springfield Yard Goats. She squinted at the small, silver horned goat stitched into the corner of the blue blankets. "But where?”
In answer, Jack looked up.
They were
lucky. There was a ladder in the back of the gas station store. It was extendable and, once propped in the bed of a nearby truck, long enough to reach to the top of the canopy that stretched over the four gas pumps below. Jack went first. Emma could hear him walking systematically across the canopy, hopping in places to test for strength. Once he was satisfied that the thing wouldn't collapse with them on it, he called for her to follow him.
They spread the blankets out in the center of the roof, laying side by side under the fading stars.
"You hungry?" Jack asked.
Emma shook her head, yawning before pulling the fleshy bit of her lip between her teeth. She took a deep breath and held her arms out in front of herself, stretching her fingers in a wide fan.
"No tremors?" Jack asked, turning to look at her.
"I don't think I'll be biting at you yet.”
"How's your chest?”
Emma brought her hands down and skimmed her fingertips over the abrasion from the infected man's teeth. It was crusty and dry, already scabbing. "It's fine," she answered.
There was a large catalogue of injuries she felt they should go over. His side, her leg, residual fevers, and the minor cuts and scrapes both sustained from running through the woods and into that grain silo. But for the moment, sleep was pulling at her. The sun would be up soon and as exhausted as they both were, Emma doubted they'd be able to sleep much through the waking and feeding frenzy of the infected below. She let her eyes slide shut, knowing instinctively that Jack was doing the same. Her body eased and she let the lure of sleep pull her under, feeling secure for the first time all day atop the high perch of the canopy.
Chapter Six
"What's wrong with him?”
Anna didn't answer, her ear was pressed to Andrew's chest. His breath was coming in short, painful gasps.
"I need a needle, a syringe; and a bottle of water. And tubing, any kind of tubing.”
Kaylee stood and took off in a run. There was a pharmacy in the store, they had run past it. She knocked through a grouping of men that tried to hold her back.
The stream of light didn't illuminate the pharmacy well. She saw a lifeless body on the floor, smears of black blood haloing his head. It wasn't Bill. That was all she had time to notice. She dug through the shelves, knocking bottle of aspirin and children's cough syrup on the floor. The pharmacist's counter was directly in front of her. She hopped on top and then over, landing with a thud as Anna's voice rung out.
"Hurry, Kaylee!”
There were metal shelves, lined with white bottles and labels Kaylee couldn't read and wouldn't understand. The back of the pharmacy was a wall of drawers. She ripped them open. Bottles of sterile water sat in the bottom of the first drawer, she grabbed one. In the next were white boxes, bottles of clear medicines, medical equipment, nebulizers and blood pressure cuffs. In the last drawer, she found the needles.
Packed in clear packaging with white labels, Kaylee grabbed a handful of the biggest she saw. There was no tubing. Panic ripped up Kaylee's throat and in a moment of clarity she remembered the nebulizer treatments her mother used to give to Emma when she had a bad cold. The coil of clear tubing flashed in her vision and she yanked open the drawer with the packaged nebulizers, bringing the entire box with her.
Andrew's breathing had worsened noticeably. Even in the low light, Kaylee could see his lips were tinged in blue. He was awake, grunting as he breathed, his eyes wielding from Anna to the bored men who stood over him.
Anna grabbed at the items Kaylee held out for her, grimacing. She pulled the tubing from the nebulizer, instructed one of the nearby men to cut a piece the length of her arm. She ripped open a syringe and pulled off the plastic cap, exposing a long, thin needle.
"What's wrong with him?" Kaylee asked again, kneeling next to Andrew. Her own breath was coming hard. She grabbed for his hand and squeezed tight, reveling in the firm pressure with which he squeezed back.
"Collapsed lung," Anna murmured. "He needs a chest tube. I don't have one. This is all I can think of. Someone hand me a knife."
Kaylee looked up to see the raised eyebrows of the men surrounding them. One pulled out his pocketknife, flipping the blade open. He went to hand it over but another stopped him, dousing the blade with clear liquid from his flask. Kaylee wrinkled her nose at the smell, sharp and bitter. Anna nodded in approval and took the alcohol soaked knife gingerly. Her fingers prodded along Andrew's chest, rising and falling with his gasping breaths. She settled them firmly between two ribs, pausing for the first time.
"I need him as still as possible," she said, looking up to the men. They nodded, some glancing over their shoulders and to the front door where Kaylee knew a horde of infected were waiting to be released. To their credit, no one argued. Everyone took a limb, some of the men laying right across Andrew. Kaylee held fast to his hand, pressing the rest of her weight on his forearm. She couldn't see his face.
But she could hear his scream. There may have been other sounds, sounds of the needle piercing his skin, a pop or hiss when the tip of the needle found the pressurized area that trauma had forced into his chest, but if there were, no one would have been able to hear. Kaylee saw the syringe get tossed, its clear cavity filled with blood. She knew, realistically, that it was only a few moments. It felt like hours of Andrew writhing and yelling before Anna instructed the men to let him up. They all moved, leaving Andrew panting on the ground, the bloody end of a small curl of tubing hanging from where Anna pierced it through Andrew's chest. Already a stream of blood was flowing from the cut end of the tube, dripping down his side.
But his breaths did come easier, that was plain to see.
"I think I got it right," Anna said. The knife was still in her hand and she let it fall with a clatter to the floor. She opened the bottle of sterile water, pouring half of it on the ground behind her. She stuck the end of the tube in the water, the drips of blood forming pink swirls in the liquid. One of the men offered a length of duct tape. Anna took it, securing the tubing to Andrew's chest. "You have to tell me, Andrew, if anything feels off, if it gets hard to breath.”
He nodded, his eyes closed tight in pain.
"That's about all the time we have, ladies. Let's get you to the jeeps." Michael stood over Andrew's head. At his word, four men bent down and picked Andrew up. Anna held tight to the bottle of water, keeping it close to Andrew's body. One of the men bent to retrieve his knife. They started to the front of the store, no one answering when Andrew asked where his father was.
"Will he make it?" Kaylee asked, keeping her voice low as she followed Anna. Anna shook her head, not meeting Kaylee's eyes.
"I really don't know.”
It took only a moment to explain the situation outside to Anna. Her eyes roved over the makeshift fences, the infected creatures straining against them, the parking lot and road they had traveled down completely covered in roaming bodies. She nodded without speaking and got into the jeep with Andrew. Kaylee's stomach plunged, the pull of the road that led to her sister and Jack nearly irresistible. But there was no way to follow it now. There was no way she could stay where she was. She climbed into the passenger seat just as Michael started the engine.
The ride was bumpy, but fast. Which was good. Kaylee doubted Andrew would be able to take much more. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his grimace was constant. Twice she caught him trying to look behind. Anna had told him quietly that Bill was missing. The muscles in his jaw jumped and his teeth mashed together, a different kind of pain ripping through him.
There was nothing they could do for Bill one way or another now.
After only a few miles, Kaylee saw signs of people. A hazy smoke rose into the sky, the smell of roasting meat drifting on the breeze. Saliva flooded her mouth and her stomach churned. In the sudden rush, she felt lightheaded and dizzy, aware for the first time in a long time that she hadn't eaten since she left her sister and Jack.
She wondered if they had food, wherever they were. Did they escape the wave of inf
ected bodies? Were they running, even now? Was Bill? The guilt at leaving them behind ate at her, twisting her stomach in ways that even the smell of food couldn't overcome. She glanced at Andrew but he wouldn't meet her eye.
They passed sentinels, men standing guard on the top of broken down buses. They nodded over their shotguns as the jeeps drove past.
The Squatters, because that's who these men undeniably were, camped in a circle of vehicles. It reminded Kaylee of the stories of wagon trains that her teachers used to tell them, trying to explain the origin of the old saying "Circle the wagons!" Only these wagons were motorhomes and school buses, dozens of them, outfitted with sheet metal and machine guns. They parked close together, a complete circle with no room between vehicles. The jeeps stopped nearby, men filing out. They waited in a line until a ladder was lowered. One by one they climbed to the hood of a bus, hopping down into the circle and disappearing from view.
Kaylee's first thought was that there was no way Andrew would be able to get through. Someone would have to haul him up the ladder and over. It would hurt. But within moments, an engine roared to life and the circle was moving, an opening appearing between the vehicles big enough for four men to carry Andrew through.
Inside the circle was a ragged bunch of people, some older than Bill, most closer to Anna's age. There was two that looked young enough to have been in high school when the world had collapsed. They regarded Andrew and the girls with frank curiosity, the rest held cautious, guarded expressions.
All these people, Kaylee couldn't help but think, and only a few days journey from The Mill. They could have all been housed, pushed out the fences, cleared out a little bit of humanity into the stark wildness the world had become. But it was all gone now, washed down the river by a lunatic with a bomb. Stupidity, it seemed, would never die out.
Michael introduced them to the group. Several men pulled him to the side and Kaylee could hear them asking if there were any bite marks, any reason to search them. Michael waved them off, explained that they had already checked. From the gaze that traveled down the length of her, Kaylee thought at least one of the men wanted to check again. It made her skin crawl, feeling his hostile eyes on her. She ignored it. Andrew was still the priority.
