The Seventh Day Box Set

by Tara Brown

  My eyes want to follow him to the stars but instead I check my phone. There’s no service but there is a message from my mom. It must have delivered when we were running and screaming. It’s three hearts, black ones because I told her those were cooler. Seeing it brings a grin to my lips and a little warmth to my heart. The feeling is fleeting because I can’t help but wonder if I’ll see her again. And what the world will look like if I do.

  We sit in silence until I finally ask the question I have wanted to for about an hour, “Do you think this is it?”

  “It?”

  “You know, like in a video game where the world has ended and now you have to fight your way through the zombie lands?” The question is absurd but the evening has proven it’s possible. More than.

  “Yeah I guess. I do, actually.” Mitch tilts his head a little and stares at me with the one dark eye that can see me from this angle. “I think maybe this is it. Maybe.”

  “That sucks. Because I don't know how to fight. Not even a little,” I confess, noting the measure of shame this brings with it. “I don't know how to stay alive. I don’t know if I would have run on the bus if Jeff hadn’t grabbed my hand.”

  “That’s okay. I do.” He lowers his voice, “I can fight and shoot and hunt and I know how to survive the winter. How to ration and what’s important. I’ll keep you alive, Tan.” Mitch turns, facing me. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “If we can get to Laurel, my friend Lou is like you. Her dad’s a military scientist. He’s crazy smart. She knows how to stay alive.”

  “Then that’s where we go.” He nods.

  “We’ll get her and her family and then we get our families in Billings.”

  “Okay.” He holds up a pinky finger.

  “What are you doing?” I cock an eyebrow at the meaning of the finger.

  “Don't we have to pinky promise? Isn’t that what girls do?” He cracks a grin, a real one.

  “You suck.” I laugh and let him move a little closer. Something about Mitch makes me think we might be okay. Just maybe.

  Chapter 5

  Day Two

  I wake to a boom.

  Mitch and Louis are holding me tightly in a group hug like they’re bracing for something, but I think the something has hit already. Everyone is moving and falling over as though from impact. I jerk to life, preparing for some unknown crisis but everyone’s calm.

  “Where are we?” I ask softly, scared of my own voice.

  “Somewhere near something about a white rock. Near the border at Whatcom County, I think,” Louis offers, helping me up from the soggy spot where I was sitting long enough for my legs and butt to go completely numb.

  “It’s light out!” I sound more excited than I should be and realize I’m treating this as some sort of horror movie. We made it to the light of day so we should be safe.

  “Yeah.” Neither of them shares my enthusiasm.

  “Okay, everyone, there’s a staircase that leads to a fancy area. We should be able to find some bigger vehicles here, rich people and all,” Jeff calls out to us as he helps Cynthia and Vanessa up. “Follow me, stay quiet and alert.” He swings a leg over the edge and starts to climb down.

  His cousin isn’t with us when we all climb down onto the rockiest beach I’ve ever seen. Huge logs of driftwood and massive boulders line the water’s edge leading up to a dense forest. It’s the kind that screams Pacific Northwest with old-man’s beard and cedar trees older than Canadian heritage. Another joke the tour guide made. Yesterday. Back when there were tour guides and jokes.

  “Let’s move!” Jeff shouts as he runs toward the forest, making me worry about his destination. I have to assume he knows where he’s going.

  “Where’s his cousin?” I ask Louis.

  “We dropped him off near a marina. He swam to some other boats. Looked like yachts. Said he was gonna stay out on the water. Jeff thinks that's a bad idea. He thinks we should hit a Costco and hide in there.”

  “That’s probably smart,” I say and gaze back at the boat that looks like Jeff drove it right up onto the beach, crashing it. That had to be what woke me.

  When we get to the forest’s edge, we cross train tracks and climb some wooden steps onto a walkway, a boardwalk. It’s not like the ones you think of in California. This one isn’t as wide and it’s glossy from the dewy air that never seems to go away.

  Our feet are noisy as we follow him into the trees. The air is cold in here and the wet clothes aren’t helping. My shoes squeak and my feet hurt, and I’m tired in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s weakness, actual dead-assed exhaustion.

  My legs move like I’m wearing cement shoes, and yet somehow, I push past it and hurry. The want to complain or take a break remains, but there’s something else now, a new drive I have never felt before.

  It’s survival.

  It has to be.

  I want to live and not just live, I don't want to die being eaten. I always imagined I might die in my sleep, similar to my elementary school teacher who drifted off into an afternoon nap and had a massive stroke. He was in his favorite chair, wearing his favorite sweater, facing a sunny garden. It’s exactly the opposite of dying by zombie and then becoming a zombie yourself. Wandering the earth as bits of you rot off until there’s nothing left.

  When we reach the end of the boardwalk, we walk out onto a street but it’s more of an alley. A dead end with an annoying number of No Parking signs.

  The houses must be huge because they’re all fenced in behind tall, fancy brick walls and gates that would have been manned once upon a time.

  My heart races again seeing civilization, but the alley is empty, except for garbage and recycling cans waiting to be picked up. I’m scared they might be waiting forever.

  Jeff runs to the heavy black gate of the house on the left, a Spanish-inspired mansion with tiled rooftops and a view of the ocean. “It’s open!” he calls and rushes in.

  We follow as if this is normal, twenty American kids and some random Canadian dude invading an estate. He closes the gate after us and pauses. “Let me go clear the house. You guys wait here.”

  Clear the house? I have questions about that. Is he going to kill the people who live here, and we’re going to take it to live some twisted version of Lord of the Flies? Or does he mean in case the people in there aren’t people anymore? If that’s the case, I don’t want the gate closed. I need to be able to run.

  “Be right back!”

  Louis nods and we freeze, not one of us moves as we wait at the gate, just in case maybe. Clearly, the others are thinking the same way I am.

  “Why do you think he’s helping us?” Mitch asks softly, maybe not wanting to alert the other kids to his skepticism.

  “He’s Canadian. They’re nice,” Louis offers with a shrug.

  “Is that actually a thing?” I ask, watching the house.

  “Yeah. I read a fairly convincing study that said there is a marked difference between Canadians and Americans.” Louis glances at me. “Canadians are nicer. They took tweets and social media posts and articles in newspapers from both countries going back a number of years and found trends that showed they’re kinder and more supportive. The article said there was a chance that living in a cold-ass country, where survival sometimes depends on other people, makes Canadians politer.”

  “Like people in North Dakota,” Mitch points out as if he knows that people from North Dakota being friendlier is a thing.

  “North Dakota?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of this.”

  “You never noticed how nice people are in North Dakota?” Louis lifts an eyebrow at me.

  “No. You’re both insane.” I want to laugh at them, but Jeff is still in the house and I don't know where we’re at safety-wise, so I can’t. Not yet. I might need to run.

  The minutes pass slowly. Every noise is our impending doom or a moment where we’ll have to run again.

  My mind races, coming up with scenarios on how I will get
out first if this doesn’t go well. I can’t be last. Which then makes me feel bad for not wanting to die for my classmates. And with all that churning in my brain, I wonder how my mom and brother are doing. My imagination answers all those questions, leaving me terrified.

  A bang makes us jump. One kid starts to run for the gate latch, but it’s just Jeff. He smiles and motions at the house. “Come on in. We can close this place up for the night and sleep here. They have a ton of food and there’s no one.”

  We scurry after him. Everyone is at different levels of exhaustion and starvation.

  Louis secures the gate using the lock. Jeff hops into an SUV and drives it to the large black gate, parking right in front of it. I don't know what he’s doing it for, a quick getaway maybe? In case. But the gate moves in?

  “Smart,” Mitch says turning to Jeff.

  “What?”

  “If he parks the SUV there, no one will be able to ram their way through the gate. Extra caution.” With his hand at my back, he steers me toward the house, but I don't understand. Are the zombies going to be driving now?

  The thoughts and worries fade when I see the house. It’s stunning. I’ve never been in anything this fancy. The house is a Mediterranean mansion with walls of windows and a view of the gray ocean that we just sailed on.

  The entire backyard is laid out with bushes and trees placed perfectly to accent the handful of decks and patios and sitting areas. Everything is manicured and pristine. I don't understand why these people left. They even have a pool, though why anyone would swim in this dank-ass place is beyond me. It’s freezing.

  The great room is also full of seating spots, conversation pits, and stunning furniture. There are two double-sided fireplaces and more leather furniture than a showroom. One of the sectionals is a full U shape. I’ve never seen such a large sofa in my life.

  The kitchen is white and marble and sparkling, and for some reason, in this house it feels as if the world isn’t ending. There aren’t any photos of the family we’ve invaded but instead, priceless looking art. Everything glistens with money and opulence being played out in a really down-to-earth rich people sort of way.

  Who’s hungry?” Jeff asks with a big grin.

  We all spin, facing him like hungry baby birds. Only we’re vultures. Stinky vultures.

  He pulls open a door behind the kitchen, showing off the largest pantry I’ve ever seen.

  We rush it, every one of us is starved and we didn't know it until this moment. I shove a granola bar down my throat, nearly choking. Chasing it with a San Pellegrino. I steal the Froot Loops box—it’s the Costco one—and carry it to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see the power is on. I pour the biggest bowl of cereal ever seen, using a salad bowl from the fancy cabinets. Mitch and Louis hover nearby, grabbing spoons and sharing my cereal.

  “It’s weird they have Froot Loops,” Mitch mutters between bites.

  “Yeah, they seem kind of boujie.” Louis laughs.

  “This house is off the charts,” Vanessa announces as she makes her way back to the kitchen. “The toilet washes your butt.” She points behind her with a thumb. Louis and a few others rush to where she just came from, but I refuse to abandon my cereal. One of these assholes will steal it for sure.

  “As soon as everyone has cleaned up, we need to figure out sleeping arrangements,” Jeff says, giving the few of us left in the kitchen a look. “We will have to rest as much as we can.”

  We nod but no one answers. We’re eating and ready for bed though it’s morning.

  “There are six bedrooms, they all have huge beds. Double occupancy for sure,” Mitch says as he comes back from the bathroom excursion. “Between those and the huge sofas, we should all be able to get some sleep. There are six bathrooms with showers and it’s on-demand hot water. So six showers can happen all at once. I think everyone should hunt down a change of clothes, get clean, and hit the hay. We can refocus on what the plan is tomorrow.”

  “That sounds good,” Jeff agrees. “With twenty of us, we need to go in a couple of shifts. Who’s ready for a shower now?”

  “I can go. I’m desperate to get clean.” Cynthia takes one more bite before she leaves, sauntering down the hall.

  “I’ll find clothes and start building stacks for everyone. And towels.” Jeff follows them, leaving me to enjoy my cereal.

  My stomach hurts by the time Mitch comes back. I’ve eaten enough to explode. He’s dressed in preppy clothes, completely opposite of how he normally looks, and his dark hair is pulled back, showcasing his fresh face. “You’re up.” He points at the hallway.

  Rubbing my food baby, I grumble and make my way to the bathroom. I hadn’t thought about going near to last, but the mess in the bathroom is offensive until I’m in the hot water and scrubbing myself with some pear-scented amazing body wash and dragging a luxurious hair mask into my long locks.

  It’s heavenly, even feeling overly full.

  By the time I get out and towel off, I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Blinking too much, I wrap in the towel and make my way to the laundry room which is the size of my kitchen back home.

  The fresh clothes are a pile of rifled items. I get a tank top, a sweater, a pair of jogging pants, and some socks. The underwear look either too small or too big, and the bra is the size of my face, so there’s no way that’s going to work. But the tank top is too small, and the rest of the clothes would fit a boy who is about my size.

  Weirdly, once I’m dressed, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of safety. Clean clothes and food and water all wrapped up in a pretty package.

  “We’re bed buddies, Tan,” Bev says as she pokes her head into the laundry room. Master bedroom.” She points down the hall I haven’t gone down yet. “Everyone is bunking with their previous partners.”

  “Okay.” I nod and follow her, passing Louis who is carrying our dirty clothes from the bathroom to the laundry room. His motivation to clean up our own clothing is likely driven by the fancy clothes he has on which are a touch too tight. The owner must have been more like Mitch who has a European build to his body. Louis, on the other hand, is stocky and shorter.

  Bev climbs into a bed that’s similar to everything else in this house, I've never seen something so huge. It’s a sea. When I climb into the other side, I don't know she’s there. The sheets are damp, as everything is here on the West Coast. I won’t miss that when we get back home. If we get back.

  I stare at the ceiling for a second before whispering, “Night.”

  “Night.” She sounds like she might already be falling asleep.

  It takes me a moment before my heart calms and my eyes close and the rest is history.

  Chapter 6

  Day Three

  Staring out at the sea, the gray and choppy sea, I become a little lost. Even with the hot cup of coffee in my hands.

  “Wipe the counter, Jack,” Louis nags behind me. He’s become the house mom. “We all have to live here. I don't want to have to clean up after everyone.”

  “Sorry, man,” Jack grumbles.

  “Speaking of which, here are your clothes.” Louis dumps a pile of clean laundry on the table next to me. “I’ve never smelled anything so foul as that laundry pile.” He wrinkles his nose.

  “Thanks.” I smile at him in his own clothing again. “What’s the plan?”

  “Jeff went out with Mitch and a couple of the faster people to see if they could find something to transport us all. He said something about a handi dart. I’m assuming it’s the disabled bus. Then I think whoever wants to leave, will.”

  “Do some people want to stay here?”

  “I don't know.” He shrugs. “But I know I don’t. I need to see if my family is okay.”

  “Me too.” I bite my lip and stare out at the gray day. “This has to be some kind of bad dream, I swear.”

  “Then I wish we would wake up,” he says before he turns and goes back to bossing everyone around.

  I just finish my coffee when Mitch and Je
ff walk in the front door. Mitch’s eyes find mine. Something’s wrong.

  Getting up, I listen to Jeff talking to Louis, “It’s bad. We didn't see many survivors. And the ones we saw were running or hiding, eyes peeking out from behind curtains. It’s disastrous. Crashed vehicles. Bloodstained streets. Zombies everywhere. I don't think it’s safe. We lost someone too—”

  “We ran so hard but we couldn’t save him,” Mitch’s voice cracks.

  “That kid with the red hat.” Jeff points at Louis.

  “Trevor? Shit.” Louis runs his hands over his short hair. “So what does that mean for the rest of us? Trev was fast.”

  “Yeah, crazy fast. I can’t believe he’s gone.” Mitch keeps his voice low.

  The news grates on my already tense nerves.

  “I don’t think we should leave here. We have food and water and space and gates and protection. This house is practically a compound. They’re not getting in,” Jeff offers, keeping his voice low still.

  “But my mom, and my brother.” I step forward.

  “I know, Tan, my family too,” Louis says it like I’m being selfish talking about mine. “But we aren’t going to do anyone any good dying out there. Trevor dying just on a recon mission changes things.”

  “And that’s all that’s waiting for us,” Jeff adds. “Running and screaming and death.”

  I don't wait to hear any more. I turn on my heel and hurry down the hall to the master bedroom, grateful to find it empty and dark. I climb back into the sheets and curl into a ball.

  There’s no chance of me leaving here alone. I won’t make it. Which means I’m stuck here. I don’t know how to cope with that.

  The bed moves and in the large mirror on the wall I see who it is and relax. Mitch lies on his back next to me in the vast expanse of bed. “I’m sorry.”