by Tara Brown
Sasha takes over, grabbing the booze my uncle stashes under the sink—something she found instantly upon arriving like she smelled out its location. She pours it on the wound, making the brunette wince and moan.
Sasha ignores the noise and barks at the girls, “Grab me some clothes from the clean pile.” Joey runs and fetches them quickly. Sasha soaks the cloth in booze and presses it on the wound. She holds it there, nodding at the blonde. “I’m Sasha.”
“Lee, and my sister is Erin.” The girl is friendly, oddly friendly. I can’t shake that. Should we really be befriending strangers? It’ll be hard to send them on their way if we make this personal.
Joey beams at her. “I’m Joey, and that's my sister, Lou. And those are my friends, Julia and Lissie. Where are you from?” Joey doesn't see what the girl and her sister could be, she just sees people in trouble. She sees girls my age and assumes they’re good. I don't. I assume they’re bad—that way, if they turn out to be good I’ll be pleasantly surprised. But if they’re bad, I’m ready.
The blonde, Lee, sits back on her heels and shrugs. “We’re from out East. My sister was in Maine for school. I went there for the weekend when this started but I’m from Chicago. We’re from Chicago.”
Lissie comes and sits, watching wide-eyed as Sasha pulls back the cloth, making blood seep down the girl’s side. “Is she gonna be okay?”
Sasha nods. “She’s got blood poisoning but we have a very strong dose of antibiotics. Lou got it from the cooler at the pharmacy. They had emergency coolers on backup generators so they should be fine.”
Lissie nods along but I can tell she’s clueless about it all, like I am. “How do you know all this stuff?”
Sasha grins. “My mom’s an ER nurse and my dad’s a kinesiologist and a trainer. My whole life has been waiting for this moment.” She’s joking but I actually think she might be right. Being the girl in charge suits her and makes me smile on the inside because it means she feeling better.
Lee cocks a dark-blonde eyebrow. “Man, we showed up at the right cabin. I was gonna go to that one next door, but that old man looks really crabby. I saw you guys from the window and just hoped there were no dudes in here.”
Julia shakes her head. “No, he’s super nice. Him and Mrs. Milson are really sweet.” I don't think I can ever see him as sweet again.
The idea that she found herself up here, all the way from the East Coast is weird. My eyes dart to the door and I can’t help but wonder if she’s alone up here. Avoiding dudes is a good sign. I suspect we’re avoiding them too. “Wanna come help me with some firewood, Lee?”
Her eyes dart to her sister as a worried look crosses her face. I think it’s a good sign she’s scared to leave her sister with us. She nods, standing and walking to the door. I just hope she doesn't notice the large pile of wood beside the fireplace. When we get outside, I stop, listening. She does the same thing.
“Why are you here?” I ask when I hear nothing but us both breathing uncomfortably.
She swallows hard. “We heard there’s a place on the West Coast, a closed off town, where everyone is normal. I guess it’s a military base on an island. Wigbey or something?”
“Whidbey Island. It’s just off the coast.” I lift my gaze from the yard. “You think it’s true?” If my dad is anywhere, a naval base on the coast makes the most sense. The military wouldn’t just let him off to come and get us. They would make him stay and fight. That's been my biggest fear since this started.
“Yeah. We had a friend whose dad was military, he said to go there. They blew the bridge and isolated the island to a small part. No biters.” She nods her head at the rundown car she has parked in my driveway. “You wanna go with us when Erin’s better? I mean, unless you still think we’re here to rob you. Might be hard with no weapons and my sister dying on your couch.” She laughs, but I can feel the tension in her voice. It’s so thick with worry.
“I don't think that.” I shake my head, realizing it’s true. I don't think it—not really. I can see the nervousness inside of her. It’s so obvious. She flinches at noises like birds and wind. Her eyes constantly are drawn to the windows where her sister is. Her fingers fidget and there is a look of sheer exhaustion on her face. The black circles under her eyes scream of a lack of sleep.
We stand in a moment of silence before I speak. “My dad is military and he was supposed to come here but he could be there, on the island. They would make him stay behind to figure out what this is. He’s a scientist.”
“Yeah, they won’t let him leave.” She looks around nervously. “We should stay together anyway, safety in numbers and shit, huh?” Her eyes dart about constantly.
“How bad was it coming from the East?” I sit on the cold wooden step and watch the wind swaying the trees.
She slumps down next to me, picking at her chipped nails. “Bad.” Her voice lowers like we are confidants. “I had this weird dream that my mom was telling me to run. I tried to shake it off but Erin said she had one too. It was super weird. That was the first day.”
“Where’s your mom?” My insides tighten.
Her blue eyes narrow but she doesn't lift her head to meet my gaze. “Dead. She died in a car accident two years ago. I haven’t dreamt of her in two years, and then not even a week ago I had this crazy dream she was telling me to run.”
Chills creep up my spine, bringing with them the memory of my own dream of my own mother screaming at me to run. But I don't say anything because she continues talking with her soft haunted voice that contradicts the rough Chicago accent.
“We were at my sister’s place in Maine and I shot up off the couch, panting and sweating and all I heard was my mom screaming for me to run far away. It was bizarre. I held my hand out and I could see it shaking. I hadn’t had a nightmare since I was little.” She looks up at the sky and smiles. “My sister came in the room, looking weird. She said she had a weird dream about Mom. We knew then something was wrong. She tried to call our dad but it said the circuits were all busy and the cell phones were down. The Wi-Fi was down. It was crazy. We watched the news and it was about some attacks on people in Europe and that weird fog."
Fear fills my stomach. “The same thing happened to me. My mom was in the house and I heard her screaming in my sleep and when I woke I couldn't shake it. She was just screaming for me to run, over and over.”
“That's weird.” She bites her lip, leaning against the beam for the stair railing and I can tell dread has filled us both. She taps her finger against the beam she’s leaning on for a minute before speaking again. “Erin told me to get my shit so I grabbed my clothes from every corner and stuffed them into my backpack. We ran. I don't even know if we knew why, we just did. I guess maybe it was the dream.” She gives me a look and I feel like we’ve been friends our whole lives. “I haven’t been that scared since the hospital called and told us our mom had died.”
Sasha opens the door behind us. “She’s fine. I’ve dosed her with a ton of antibiotics and washed the hell out of the wound. She needs a stitch, and Mr. Milson has some of that glue that works for stitches. I saw it yesterday when we were unloading. Can you go get it?”
I stand, feeling the stretch instantly in my legs. “Yup.”
“Is she awake?”
Sasha shakes her head at Lee who jumps up. “Maybe some sleep will be good for her.” She shrugs and nods at me. “I’ll come with you.”
Our feet crunch on the gravel as we stalk over to the cabin. Mr. Milson’s wood chopping is the only sound on the lonely mountain.
“So what’s his deal?” she asks, but I don't know how to answer. Do I trust her or him?
I shrug, deciding not to trust either, not fully. “He’s been our neighbor up here for a while. We’ve known him for years. Just an old retired dude. His wife is crazy sweet. She’s going to make you come inside and feed you.” I’m warning her but her eyes widen in excitement.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. She can’t fight it. She’s a grand
ma at heart.”
She sighs. “Oh man, I could go for some grub. I’m hungry.” She says things so crazy. I haven’t heard a Chicago accent in a long time. I wonder if we sound crazy to her. “Me and Erin have been running for five straight days. Stealing cars and driving like crazy people. We eat whatever we can jack from gas stations and shit.”
She swears a lot. My dad always told me it was a way to judge a person’s upbringing. People who swore a lot were more likely part of the poverty belt. But her shoes are Toms and her clothes are all designer, so I can’t tell if that's true or not. I don't normally swear ‘cause of Joey. Since our mom tried to eat us and our dad hasn't come for us, I guess we’re part of the poverty belt too. Shit. I guess I can swear too.
I notice the chopping has stopped when we get close to the cabin. I pause, waiting to hear where he is. He made me nervous yesterday.
“Lou?” His voice comes from the trees but I can’t see him.
I nod. “Hey, Mr. Milson, this is a friend of mine from lacrosse—Lee. She’s from out East.”
He walks from behind a tree and crunches up the driveway, giving Lee and me a confused look. “You know this girl?”
I nod, lying. Mostly because my tummy magic tells me to. “We have competed against each other before in lacrosse, and I messaged her before the cell phones went down and told her I would be here if she could make it.”
He sighs. “I wish you had mentioned that. Extra mouths to feed are not part of the current equation, Lou.” He sounds funny. I think he’s starting to lose it. Cabin fever or just the fear of everything maybe. Either way, I don't want to be around him. His sparkly eyes are gone. The twinkle left with the sanity.
“We just need some of that liquid stitch stuff. Sasha has a cut.”
His eyes narrow. “I’ll get it.” He doesn't invite us in, and Mrs. Milson doesn't come to the door. My insides are crawling. My tummy magic is begging me to just shoot him and be done with it, but the sane side of my brain argues he’s just quirky from the traumatic week we’ve faced. It also mentions I couldn't even shoot Danny Hillman, so Mr. Milson isn’t likely to die by my hand. I don't argue with myself any further. I’m right, I’m a chicken with a gun. I’m all talk.
“He doesn't seem very sweet,” Lee mutters as he closes the door.
“He’s been weird lately. His kids were in New York when this happened.”
She gasped. “New York was hit hard. A wave of biters moved through the city. It started at night, so people didn't see them coming. Boston, New York, Chicago, and Detroit were the first cities we lost.”
It makes me wince, thinking about his kids. “He’s been stressed I think. He used to be really jolly and sweet.”
“Well, I used to be jolly and now I’m just tired. I mean for a bowl of soup I could muster some jolly as payment.”
I glance at her sideways, fighting the smirk on my lips. “Used to be jolly? You’re pretty chatty for exhausted.”
“Okay, even tired I’m still pretty chatty.” She giggles softly. “I talk when I’m nervous too. Really bad trait to have in the zombie apocalypse where silence is key to survival.”
I chuckle as Mr. Milson comes out of the house, holding his hand with the liquid stitch out but not moving beyond the stairs. Against my better judgment, I walk down the driveway to his stairs. He holds it down, muttering, “Is she really a friend?”
“I swear she is. Lee and her sister, Erin. I’ve known them for years.”
He passes the small bottle, pressing it into my hands roughly. “We gotta be careful, kid.” He steps back, staring at Lee boldly. “You never know who’s gonna try to take this place over now that the world has ended. We have a good gig up here.”
I want to say he’s crazy and that the impact of it all has made him unstable but I know he’s right. We do have to be careful. Maybe he isn’t so crazy. I back up, gripping the bottle in my sweaty palms. “See you later.”
“See ya, Lou.” He nods, folding his arms. He doesn't invite me in for food or tell me to bring the girls over later. He just watches me walk away. It’s weird.
I turn and hurry back up to the top. “He knows you aren’t who I said you are.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “I gathered that. Let’s go. I’ll be outta your hair by tomorrow, when Erin is fit to travel. Unless you wanna come.”
We walk along the bushes, still glancing in the direction of Mr. Milson on his porch. I half expect him to come bursting through the bushes any second.
“Did you have to kill people?” I ask bluntly.
“Yeah. I hit some with a car and drove over them.” She goes silent after that, even her breathing slows down. When I look over, her face is down.
“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I didn't mean to pry.”
“It’s not prying. It’s reality. The cold, shitty reality we are facing now.” She shakes her head. “Maybe it’ll make me feel better to talk about it all. Erin never wants to.” She sighs, making a face that reveals a bit of the internal struggle going on inside of her. “When we left in the middle of the night, Erin drove like a madwoman away from the UMA campus in Bangor to the airport. The tiny-assed little city was dead calm. We didn't see a thing—it was weird. No cars, no nothing, until we got to the airport. Frig man, that place was a zoo with cars. They were parked in the middle of the road and everything. We thought maybe people had come in a panic for a bunch of early flights, but—“ There was a big 'but' at the end of her sentence. We both know the direction the story is going. “The way everyone parked, I assumed people were scrambling to get out. That made me scared. Seeing all that confusion at the airport. I thought maybe they knew something we didn't.”
“Finish in a minute,” I say as we climb the stairs to my place and I open the door, wishing we weren’t back yet because I want to hear more. I pass Sasha the bottle, looking at the cleaned-up wound on the tanned girl’s side.
The brunette, Erin, is awake. She turns her dark head of hair, smiling at Lee behind me. “Found some people, huh Leelee?”
Lee nods. “Other girls. I figured this was the safest.”
“Seems pretty awesome to me.” Erin sighs, wincing as Sasha runs the liquid Band-Aid stuff down her wound. “Was I passing out a lot?”
“Yeah. You were sleeping for like five hours at a time. So I drove till I saw the sign for this mountain resort. I figured what better place to avoid the biters than a snowy mountain? But there’s not much snow up here and all the cabins were locked up tight. I tried to find the ski-patrol shack. They always have supplies but I smelled the wood smoke and followed it to here.” Lee sits on the floor and gawks at the wound as Sasha puts on the liquid bandage. “That stuff works awesome.”
“Doesn't feel so awesome.” Erin snorts.
Sasha cocks an eyebrow. “Sit still.” She licks the corner of her lips when she concentrates hard. Her flicking tongue makes me smile and think on Harry Potter and that movie where the one guy licks his lips nervously. “There.” She sits back, beaming at the wound. “Looks pretty good.”
“Thank you.” Erin nods, smiling. I notice something I can’t believe I missed right away. Erin’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Her dark hair lies in soft curls down the middle of her back. Even in the apocalypse it looks good. I should hate her. My hair is getting stringy from not being washed. Her long curled lashes frame her dark-blue eyes that match her sister’s and look fake—they’re so long. Her olive complexion is flawless. I actually think I recognize her as a model on TV. No wonder they’ve been looking for a place without dudes. She’s a liability. Even my dad would do that thing he does when he talks to really pretty ladies, tilting his chin up and holding his stomach in so it’s completely flat. Mom doesn't notice it but I do.
Lee rubs her sister’s forearm. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just tired.” She gives me a look. “You think I could sleep a little?”
“You should eat first. We were talking about lunch before you got here. I h
ave some cans of soup I can heat up,” I offer.
She shakes her head. “Water and sleep is all I need right now.”
Joey passes her a bottle of water, staring at her in a mesmerized way. “Are you an actress?”
Erin laughs. “I get that a lot. No. I used to be a model but I quit that to go to college.” She narrows her perfectly arched brows. “Not that it matters much now.”
Sasha scoffs. “It will when the government cleans this mess up.”
“Right.” Erin’s eyes dart at the little girls. She nods slowly, taking the cap off her water bottle and drinking. She knows something we don't.
Joey and the girls take her upstairs to a bedroom up there. They hang off everything she says. I glance over at Lee, noticing how different they are. Erin is stunning where Lee is pretty but not the same kind of pretty. She smiles at me. “I know, she’s something else. The worst part is, she’s crazy sweet so it’s hard to hate her for being so hot. She’s smart and practical. She took judo for years so she’s a bit handy now.”
I laugh. It’s the first real laugh I’ve done in a long time. It feels good to let it out. Lee sits down on the couch, running her hands through her hair. She looks distracted but I want to hear the rest of the story. “You left off at the airport.”
She looks lost for a half a second. “Right, so we get to the airport and it’s packed with cars. There’s a big yellow bus parked in the middle of the street directly in front of the no-parking sign with the sliding door wide open. I looked around but there were no people. Nothing moved beyond the flags in front of the airport.”
Sasha sits next to me, leaning forward like we are around a campfire. “Eerie. Was this in Chicago?”
Lee nods. “No, Maine. So I for sure thought it was end of days, dude. Revelations. Ya know?”
I lift my finger to correct her and mention it’s Revelation, not Revelations, but then I recall this is the one reason I disliked my mother. It’s a trait of hers—always being right and correcting people, even when you know what they mean.
Lee continues, “But Erin laughed at me and got out of the car to go inside to see if the flights were booked. I looked at her and begged her to stay with me. I had a bad feeling. But she just made fun of me and left anyway. I counted the seconds, feeling my palms start to sweat. She didn’t come around the corner after three minutes of counting, and I was just about to run in after her. But when I started to get out of the car, this woman and a young girl walked across the parking lot. The lady was mid-thirties maybe, and the girl looked about ten. I felt more normal seeing them walking. Everything felt better seeing them. Like it was okay, even though a thousand vehicles jammed the parking lot of the airport.”
