by Tara Brown
“What if they shoot at us?”
“They’re going to shoot at us if you keep talking,” I remind her.
“Fine. I won’t say anything.” She says the right thing but in a way that suggests she’s not at peace with the decision, it’s not her choice. Or she’s doing it to punish me. It’s followed by a series of long sighs as if I’ve done something wrong.
I’m lost.
When the farmhouse comes into view, she loses the sighing. She’s silent. Almost.
A beast of a man, almost as big as Lester, comes out of the house. He’s bald and scowling and ripped. But then a woman comes out. She’s got brown hair and a big smile.
“Are those people?” Grace asks.
I turn back to ask if she’s serious but don't when I realize she’s squinting and truly can’t see. “Do you need glasses?”
“No, smart-ass. You can see way farther than me.” She sticks her tongue out.
“There’s a man and a woman,” I say, not sure if I can see farther or not.
She brushes past me, hurrying forward.
“Grace, wait,” I utter, not loud. I hurry after her, catching her and holding her still. “Slower.”
We creep along the orchard, watching the man and woman. She’s small compared to him, but I don't get the feeling she’s a small woman. He’s just massive. She has on knee-high dark-blue rubber boots and red leggings. Her face lights up as the man speaks. She’s beautiful. The way her eyes sparkle and she finds joy in the story he’s telling her, reminds me of before.
I don't think I’ve seen a single person light up the way she is, not since before.
A small child, a little girl comes out of the house, wearing an outfit matching the woman’s. She’s running and laughing too.
“Who are these people?” Grace asks softly.
The woman’s eyes dart right to where we are. Her smile fades and the light leaves her. She tells the child and the man to go in the house.
He listens.
I pause, halting Grace who clearly hasn't noticed the change in the scenery and mood.
The woman marches our way, no visible weapons and no army, but she stomps over in her big boots like she at least has an army.
She’s wearing red stretchy pants and a long black sweater and it might as well be armor.
“Who are you?” she questions us.
“How the hell can she see this far?” Grace asks.
“I can hear you too, morons. Who are you? This is private property.” She keeps coming, clearly not scared of us at all. I speechless for half a second before I realize what’s going on.
“You were bit,” I mutter, since she can hear me.
“I guess that means you were too,” she mutters back.
Grace is puzzled, obviously from hearing me mumbling to myself.
“Were you electrocuted?” I ask a little louder.
“I was.”
“Me too.” I walk to her, feeling the strangest sensation coming from her. It’s like I know her and I trust her and I want to be near her. She drags me from the orchard without touching me.
“How?” she asks, planting her hands, painted nails and all, on her hips.
“Taser. I Tasered the person as they bit me.”
“How’d you know I was shocked?” She narrows her amber eyes.
“You had to be.” It takes me several attempts and explanations before she steps back, lifting her hands to her lips. “Holy shit. Nanorobots. For reals? That doesn't seem possible. And yet, here we are, living the end of days while everyone is becoming a zombie. But nanobots. That’s crazy.” She’s stunned.
“Yeah, the doctor we met seemed to know all about it. US government is my guess.”
“That’s crazy. I don't even know what to say.” She’s baffled and yet still strangely polite. She glances past me. “Hi. I’m Leah.” She introduces herself to Grace who’s been lurking behind me.
“Grace.”
“Nice to meet you.” She turns back to the house for a moment before asking, “What are you guys doing here?”
“We smelled the smoke. We haven’t seen anyone in days.”
“Oh, they’re hiding. For sure. The people here will survive.” She laughs. “Cashmere was ready for the apocalypse long before this started.” She jokes like we might be friends.
“We’re staying at the ranch over the fields.”
“Oh, you know the Jims?”
“No.” Grace lowers her gaze. “It was empty when we got there.”
“Oh.” Leah winces. “That's too bad. Maybe they went to their kids’ place in Oregon. It’s pretty secluded. A lot of people here have camps for hunting and sledding. They’ll hide there until it’s over.” Her eyes flood with emotion as they dart back to the house again. “Which might never happen now, huh?”
“How long have you been like this?” I’m curious about her. “How were you bitten and electrocuted?”
“I was in the middle of an ultrasound on a patient, the first day I guess, and someone came bursting through the door and bit her arm. I ran to get help and he chased me. I passed the janitor and tripped over the bucket of water. Her vacuum cord was frayed, I never noticed. I was in the water as the freak jumped me, nudging the cord into the water and getting us both shocked as he bit me.” She lifts her foot out of the tall boot and pulls up her stretchy pants. The spot seems to be the same as mine. “I should have died in that water. Instead, I woke up and felt great. When I walked home everyone was being attacked, but they didn't even see me. I tried to help people but it was chaos.”
Without commenting, I pull down the shoulder of my shirt, wondering if she senses that we match the way I do.
“Hey.” Her eyes dart to it and back to mine. “Twinsies.” She laughs. “You guys wanna come inside?”
“No, we should be getting back,” Grace replies as the huge man comes lumbering out of the house.
“You should know that you can still walk amongst them,” I add quickly before Grace makes us leave. “The zombies that are still alive. You’re fine to be around them. I mean, I am, so you probably are as well. I think. So you can get food and stuff for your family.”
“Thanks.” She smiles, that light returning to her eyes as the huge man gets closer. “This is Davis, my husband. This is Grace and—” She stops and stares at me.
“Liam,” I say to him.
“Nice to meet you,” he answers politely, soft-spoken, but there’s something in his eyes. Something suggesting he feels the same way about Leah that I feel about Grace, only more so. And I suspect he has some skills as a fighter. His thick arms and broad shoulders are visibly worked.
“We should be going. It’s nice meeting you.” Grace steps back, taking my hand. “We can’t leave Lester for very long. We might come back and ask some questions about the farm though. We're a bit lost.”
“Absolutely, venture this way again. Come on over for a drink or to grill us, whatever. We’ll be here for a while.” Leah slides an arm around the back of the beast, Davis.
“Yeah, until they get this whole mess cleaned up, I don't think we’ll be going far,” he adds as he and Leah wave at us while we take more steps back. Behind them a young boy and the small girl, with the matching boots to her mom’s, stand in the doorway.
We wave before turning and leaving.
When we reach the house, I catch myself staring back to the wood smoke, contemplating the fact that Leah and I are the same. I’ve never been the same as someone before. It’s a strange sensation.
I was similar to the other crazy people but not the same.
Her and I are the same.
I feel a similar hum in her that I’ve never felt in another person.
The zombies have it to some degree, but not the way Leah does.
But I can’t focus on that. I need to start planning. If Leah and her family are alive, that means some of the other farmers are probably alive. I need to get back to town before anyone else realizes this is over and most of the z
ombies are dead.
We need supplies.
“I’m going back into town. We need to get the stuff from the stores before anyone else notices the zombies are done. I thought this was a ghost town, but if she says more lived than we think, we need to be ready.” I grab the keys to the car.
“I’ll come.” Grace follows me out to the car.
“No, you should stay. Keep Lester safe and guard the farm.”
“I’m coming.” She gets in the car. It's apparently my turn to deep sigh.
Chapter 14
She smiles at the quaint town, though it’s nearly dark. “It’s so cute here.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, staring out at the streets and buildings as I drive, searching for a different grocery store from the tiny one I found downtown. The road winds and leads us to the freeway and a proper food store. It’s called IGA and looks like it might actually have some things. I park and stare at the empty warehouses next to it. They all have For Lease signs and appear abandoned. “Let’s hurry.” Bringing her was such a mistake.
She climbs out, closing the car door noisily. I glare and she cringes. “Sorry.”
“We’ll both be sorry if they hear you.”
“Why can’t they hear you?” she whispers as we round the front of the car and head inside.
“I don't know.” I don't want to talk about it. While no one’s here, I don't trust the silence. Not with her in it.
Slinking inside, we pause and listen.
Nothing moves.
A few dead bodies line the floors, people with bites and old bloodstains.
We step over them to get a cart.
“What’s that smell?” She wrinkles her nose.
“The dead and the freezer section thawing.”
“Gross.”
“Yup.” I start swiping my arm on shelves, filling the carts, ignoring the stench of death and rotting food.
“Why haven’t they come and taken the food yet?” she whispers, though we’re completely alone.
“I’m not sure. They probably don't know it’s safe to come out. I don't want to chance them figuring it out. We need to stock our shelves before that happens.” I fill the shopping cart and push it to the door, getting a new one.
We fill five carts with canned goods, jarred foods, and dried everything. We push them out to the car which I’ve parked near the doors.
I listen for heartbeats and sounds but I don't hear anything.
When the car’s full and we’re safe inside it, I start to relax.
I drive through town with no headlights, doing a few laps of certain parts, in case anyone is following us. When I get back to the road for the farm, I drive past it and park on the road, facing town.
“What are you doing?”
“Just in case. I want to make sure no one’s here.”
“You think someone could follow us?” she asks.
“No. But I don't like not being sure.” When I’m certain, I pull forward and drive into the driveway, the long and winding driveway.
We find the farm exactly as we left it, undisturbed and quiet.
Lester and the dog greet us and he helps unload, grunting away as the dog supervises.
When it’s all unpacked and the basement looks like maybe three people could survive a winter there, I begin to relax.
We can do this.
I’m starting to see that now.
We can beat this and live here and make a life.
I kiss Grace on the cheek and make my way outside to check the fences and bring the animals in. It’s becoming a new normal.
As I’m all the way across the field, checking the fences and for stray animals, I hear it.
It’s heartbeats.
I scan toward Leah’s house, unsure if it’s coming from there or from our house.
Someone shouts, just once, like they’re mid shout when a hand slides across their face.
I know that sound well.
My stomach tightens as the heartbeats get louder.
The grunt tells me which direction it’s in.
I turn, sprinting back to the house. I run so fast my vision can’t keep up with the speed and the dark and the wind.
As I round the trees and the barn, a shot fires into the night. A light shines for a second and another shot fires.
Stabbing pain and burning hit my chest, stopping me mid step. I push on, but I can’t make my body move. Another shot rips into the air as someone makes muffled sounds. I back up with the impact, dropping to a knee.
She screams inside the house, someone is hurting her.
I stand and another shot hits as a light blinds me. It makes me stagger back but I push forward.
“Holy shit, die you son of a bitch!” a man shouts and starts firing at me faster.
The shots come too fast as they hit and rip and burn me until I fall.
The lights go out, the ones blinding me.
Dirt is on my face and in my mouth and blood is everywhere, but I don't care about me.
The burning is worse before it’s better but I don't care about that.
She is crying. It’s muffled and sporadic but she’s upset.
And I will kill for her.
I will kill them.
Not just for her, but for me too.
I push into the gravel with my wet fingers, pushing into the puddle I’m lying in. The blood slithers up my arm, tickling me as it enters and glowing bright blue, leaving bits of gravel on me, stuck in the blood. I sit back on my heels, listening.
I can’t react.
I have to be smarter.
I have to listen.
So I do.
Sitting there in the dirt, I listen.
There are seven distinct heartbeats, four are rapid, one incredibly slow, and two normal ones. I stand and slip around the other side of the barn. Shadows pass inside as lights dart about the house. Flashlights.
I make my way to the other side of the house, slipping down the basement steps as something burns worse in my guts. I lift my shirt as something black and bloody starts to push from my skin where the blue lights glow from me. They drop to the ground, all seven shotgun slugs fall, pinging lightly. The wounds seal over and my skin is healed. I run a hand over the spot, confused as hell, but having no time to analyze this.
I sneak into the house, tiptoeing to the stairs as someone makes their way down them. Their steps creak on the old wood as they come down. Slipping into the shadows, my natural place in this world, I wait.
When he comes near I spring forward, grabbing him and breaking his neck before he can finish the inhale to scream. I lay him down in the shadows and grab his gun.
Then I make my way up the stairs. Someone else is standing near the doorway. He’s the other casual heartbeat. I grab him, dragging him into the basement doorway and snap his neck as well. I rest him in the stairwell and close the door as I enter the main floor of the house.
Listening, I creep to the slow heartbeat.
It’s Lester.
He’s bleeding from the head, unconscious on the floor. His dog glances up at me, her heartbeat is one of the rapid ones. She whines a little from her blood-soaked muzzle, limping again. I lift a finger to my lips and close the door, letting her stay in the room where Lester is, keeping him safe at least.
I make my way to the three heartbeats all in one place.
Grace is there, I hear her. She’s making gurgling noises as though she’s choking on her own blood.
My chest aches and my entire body is tense with rage and anxiety over what I will find in the room with the door closed.
Three heartbeats.
One room.
My girl.
Two strangers on borrowed time.
My imagination has already told me everything I need to know about this moment, what I will find in there.
I make peace with the horrors she is seeing. I will kill them and we will be okay. She will be okay. I will heal her. I will become her black hole the way she did for me. I will take
away her pain.
My heart is already broken as I lift a hand to the knob, not sure how to do this.
Opening the door a crack, I want to be smarter than I am, but when I see what I see, I lose it.
I snap.
The places the nanobots healed crack open again.
I dive into the room, noticing the smell of vodka. She’s lying back on a man who’s holding her arms. Her lip is bleeding and her eye is swelling and she reeks of vodka, the gurgling noise.
Her shirt is torn and her eyes are blank. I doubt she even sees me.
I grab a man with his back to me and snap his neck but hold him up, against the front of me like a shield, and lift my gun on the other man. He pulls his gun, keeping his hold on Grace in front of him, resting her back against his chest. He puts the gun to her head. “Stalemate.” He grins.
Grace’s eyes are still blank. She doesn't see me.
She doesn't know that he’s wrong.
My aim is improved.
I squeeze the trigger just a hair too slow, pulling back.
The bullet flies as the gun fires but I’m a hair too slow.
He was always going to shoot her and so he does.
He shoots a millisecond after me.
The shots are so close together I wouldn't have noticed them as separate before.
But now they might as well have been a minute apart.
She blinks.
He dies.
She jerks.
Her eyes don't open.
Everything moves in slow motion.
I drop the man, jumping forward and dragging her down the bed to me. Through the red mist, the fucking mist, her closed eyes flicker. For a second there’s still something in her.
I pull the small knife from my pocket and open it and drag it along my palm.
Blood spills out, filling my palm and running in a strange way as the lights start repairing.
I cover her parted lips with my palm, bleeding into her mouth, blinded by tears.
But she doesn't move or swallow or breathe. So I scoop her up. Her body is slack and her eyes are closed.
They won’t open.
Wrapped around her, I drop to the floor, sitting on the dead man and cradling her.
She smells like them. Like vodka and hate and blood.
