by Megan Berry
“Okay.” I mutter to myself as I creep back into the hallway and shut the door soundly behind me. I repeat the same thing at the second door and again nothing. It’s another bedroom, this one looks like it belonged to a teenage boy. Blue bedding on the small twin bed, and lots of sports trophy’s jammed on every shelf. A new looking mac book sits on the desk and again, not the source of the dead smell. That only leaves the third bedroom.
My stomach knots up with anxiety as I move back out into the hall and again shut the door to the boy’s bedroom. It’s something Silas taught me, until the entire house is cleared, don’t leave doors open for the zombies to wander around and mislead you. Not that zombies have ever run away from people, but it’s still good advice and following it, gives me a small piece of mind. I knock on the third bedroom door, bracing myself for the thud of a zombie, hopefully just one, throwing themselves up against the wood in a frenzy. It doesn’t come.
“What in the hell?” I ask myself out loud as I stare at the door. Maybe I will get lucky and this zombie has some kind of injury that keeps it from moving too quickly. I take a deep breath, before realizing that wasn’t the smartest idea with the rot smell pungent in the air, and then I throw open the door and step back. The smell is worse in this room, and I wish I could cover my nose, but I’ve got to keep my gun up, so I just hold my breath instead. It’s not a bedroom like I had thought, but a small bathroom, and at first glance I see nothing out of order.
I’m confused. I definitely smell it in here, but why hasn’t the zombie run out and tried to eat me yet? There is a small closet and I slowly creak it open, but its only full of towels. The only possibility left… I reach out and pull the shower curtain out of the way and the vision in the tub has me having to turn away as I cough and fight down the bile that rises in the back of my throat. I race out of the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me, but its almost impossible to erase the image of the rotting body from my mind.
Dead body it was, zombie it was not. It looked like probably the father had been bitten, and rather than turn into a monster, he took matters into his own hands and saved himself from a hellish afterlife. I blink several times but the image of the blood splatter on the backsplash of the tub, dotted with pieces of skull fragments, and the overall decomposition of the body, it makes me shudder.
I walk down the stairs slowly, feeling a blanket of sadness settle over my shoulders. I’m not dumb, I know millions, probably billions of people have probably lost their lives to the dead in one way or another but coming across stuff like that and getting a peak into the suffering and anguish they must have felt- makes it hard. This is probably selfish, but I don’t like it when the millions have faces and stories to haunt me.
I clear the garage next- which is easy because its empty, not even a vehicle inside, and I really hope that means that the rest of the family got away and is somewhere safe right now. I’m starting to get hit with exhaustion after the anticlimactic end to all this adrenaline surging through my body, but I need to get the truck inside and out of sight first. I use a step ladder to get up to the roof and pull the red garage door cord that’s dangling from overhead. It releases the door from the lifting mechanism so I’m able to manually pull the door up without electricity. It’s a little difficult to get going, but once it starts to slide, it goes up easy enough- thankfully the door is relatively new. Silas and I have really had to work at some of the older doors in the past.
I get the truck inside the garage without incident and pull the door back down, again, its difficult to get started, and I’m sweating by the time it’s done. I know I have food inside the truck, but if I don’t have to do anymore lifting and screwing around today in order to eat, I will be lazy and take the easy road.
I head to the kitchen instead and start checking out all the cupboards. There isn’t a ton of food, but its not been cleaned out. I actually let myself groan out loud in excitement when I come across the cans of ravioli. I dig around until I find the can opener and a spoon and then I scarf the whole thing down cold. I could have built a fire, like Silas would have done, but I’m too tired and hungry.
I think about downing another can, but my shrunken stomach is already feeling too close to full, so I file the idea under, maybe later, and keep digging around. I find some crackers, and a couple cans of pop, which I crack open right away and chug about half the can before letting out an enormous belch. I pile all the food I find in the middle of the counter as I find it and tell myself that I’ll find a box or something for it later. I raid the bedrooms for a pile of blankets and pillows and then settle in on the couch downstairs- I can’t bring myself to sleep upstairs with the corpse in the tub. It isn’t even four pm, and sunlight is still shining through the window, but I can barely keep my eyes open.
I try and ignore the fatigue though and sit with a pen and notebook I found in a desk drawer and try to outline a decent plan. I need to find the others still, but I have no idea where they are, and Silas has become more of a priority. He is the one that I know is in danger and if I can get him back, he will be here to help me find Dad and the others. It’s the most logical solution to save Silas first- I just have no idea how. I’m only one girl and I have no real training- just the things I’ve picked up from Silas along the way.
I write Silas’s name at the top of my paper and then for lack of anything else to write, I draw a big circle around his name. I sit and stare at it while the paper starts to blur in front of my eyes, but I fight it. Inspiration hits me and I write the word Louisville underneath. I look around until I see Silas’s backpack sitting in the chair across the room and get up and bring it over to the couch with me. I dig through it until I come up with the map of the area and spread it out on the table to examine it. I let out a huff of frustration as I stare at it so long my eyes start to blur. I am seriously the worst person to be launching a rescue mission- it would have been much better if I had been the one taken. Silas would have known exactly what to do to get me back.
I look closely at the area around Louisville, not sure what I’m looking for. I notice the way the river runs along one side of the city and I write that down on the paper, not sure yet if it’s a pro or a con to my situation. They don’t really guard it that closely because its impenetrable to zombies, but if I had a boat, I could cross the river and sneak up the banks…
I chew the pen, deep in thought for a minute, before tossing it down in frustration. It isn’t a halfway bad idea, except that I have no idea how to find a boat, or even operate it if I did... and the idea of going back in that water terrifies me. I think about what I do know. The rest of the city is barricaded off between tall chain link fences and makeshift metal and cement barricades. I could find some bolt cutters and cut a hole in the chain link- but that would leave the town defenseless if zombies got inside once I walked away and left a hole in their defenses.
Some of the people in that place don’t deserve the safety those walls provide, but a lot of the people I saw were just women and children trying to survive in a world gone to hell. I can’t have their blood on my hands.
Third option, I could try and appeal to their humanity. We didn’t mean to let the zombies eat Doctor Ruppert, it was an accident. She was an evil woman that did terrible things to Jack. The mayors mother seemed to like us, and we did save her from the zombies when we came across her car broke down on the side of the road that time, but her son looked like he might be a wild card, and there was something I didn’t like about him- so no guarantee there either.
No one solution is really sticking out as perfect, but so far, the best one appears to be me going back to the river that almost killed me, unless I can think of something else, and right now I can’t. This time when my eyes start to blur, I don’t fight it. I toss the pen down on the table and lean back against the pillows- maybe a better solution will stick out at me in the morning.
Chapter Eight
I’m up before the sun because of the shivering. It’s not warm, and even with all
the blankets I’m still cold. It’s nowhere near as bad as the night I spent in the back of the truck, but I miss the warmth Silas provided sleeping beside me. I’m too nervous to start a small fire like he would have done, because the smoke is probably how those men found us. I know I’m in the middle of nowhere, but I’m all alone and I don’t want to attract zombies either- so I tough it out.
I get up and prowl around the house in the dark, bumping my shin against a chair in the kitchen, it throbs and makes my eyes water, but I take a few deep breaths and bite back the cuss words that want to roll off my tongue. I can make out a little bit from the moonlight peeking in the windows and after a bit of searching I find the can of ravioli that I left on the counter. Finding the can opener nearly makes me crazy, but eventually my hand comes across it’s bulk. I had forgotten that I’d left it sitting in the sink.
I don’t attempt to open it yet, and after adding a spoon to my pocket, I carry it back through the house with me, making sure I’m careful when I get near where the coffee table should be. I don’t need another ache if I can avoid it. I find the door to the garage by feel and bend down and pick up the flashlight that I left on the floor beside it.
I go into the garage, shutting the door tight behind me and turn on the flashlight. Everything is exactly how I left it. The garage doesn’t have any windows so it’s safe to turn on the light. I sit down on the step and flip my flashlight on its end so it’s shining up towards the ceiling and it lights the area, then I pull the can opener and spoon from my pocket and set to work on the ravioli.
It’s been less than a week that Silas and I went so hungry, but that’s all it took to give me a new appreciate for being able to have food to fill my belly. I hope wherever Silas is now, they are feeding him. The thought makes the ravioli sit like a rock in my belly. I need to make a plan and hurry it up.
I still have a couple hours until daylight, so I decide to inventory. I can’t risk losing all this stuff by driving around with it in the back of the truck, so I’ll have to unload it all. It’s hard to know if it will be safe left here or not, but it has a better chance than coming with me.
I go to the truck and open-up the tail gate, trying not to let it thud down. The first thing I come across is the duffel bag, I pull it off the end of the tailgate and it lands with a quiet thump on the cement floor. I crouch down and unzip it, but it’s just a bunch of clothes. I toss it to the side because the clothes might be something Silas can use after I get him back.
I climb up into the back of the truck and unhook the tarp, rolling it up and tossing it down to the ground. Then I start lugging the boxes of canned goods towards the tailgate and stacking them near the edge. It takes a bit of back and forth, before I have to jump down and lift them to the floor. I’m sweating like crazy by the time the truck is unloaded, but at least I’m no longer cold. I’ve had to shed my jacket and am just working in my sweatshirt. I take a long
drink of water, from one of the bottles out of the flats of water I found near the back, and then I start cutting open boxes and taking inventory.
Boxes of dry goods, canned goods, candles, blankets, and knives- seem to make up the majority of what they’ve got stacked in here. I take a handful of candles and matches and set them aside to add to my bag, along with more granola bars. I make a face at them, but they are the ultimate survival food. Loaded with calories and protein, but lightweight and easy to lug around. I do sort through the boxes though and find a few new flavors- even I have my limits. I even add a few small cans of tuna, turkey, and ham, even though they will make my bag heavier, I weigh the pros and cons and decide that I’m willing to carry it.
Once the truck is empty, I head back into the house with an empty box to go gather up the rest of the supplies from the kitchen, I might as well have it all together for easy loading when we get back. At least I will have help putting all this stuff back into the truck- I refuse to accept that there will be any other option.
The sun has just risen when I head back into the house, so at least I’m able to avoid running into things. I head to the kitchen and mechanically toss everything into the box, keeping a few things out like the last two cans of ravioli, and a couple cans of pop, then I lug the box into the garage and set it in the pile with the rest. I know it won’t hide it at all to anyone that cares to look, but I throw the blue tarp over the pile when I’m done- I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better about leaving it.
Then I stuff everything I’m taking with me into my backpack, making sure I grab the map off the coffee table and tuck it into my jacket pocket for safe keeping. I go around the house and look out every window for any sign of movement. There doesn’t seem to be any, but I know I need to be sure before I start tugging up the garage door, leaving my legs and stuff exposed to whatever’s on the other side. I take my gun off my hip and head out the back door and do a careful lap around the house. The sun is bright and starting to warm the day up, and it’s quiet here, except for the birds chirping. It seems so out of place, like the past few months haven’t even touched this place. I make a complete circle around the house without coming across anything out of place, so I head back inside and straight to the garage.
I fire the truck up, so the oil will have a chance to circulate and then I climb up and pull the cord again, get down and lift the door up. I pause when movement in the driveway catches my eye, and my heart pounds at fear of the unknown. I foolishly had felt too safe and I don’t even have my gun at the ready. I reach for my hip, but it’s not there.
My eyes focus on the source of the movement, and at first, I think it’s a dog- but its wilder looking, and I’ve seen pictures of them before. A lone coyote stands in the driveway, stock still, staring back at me. I stand still as well, not sure what it’s going to do. You don’t really hear about coyotes attacking people, but it could be rabid, and these days, lots of previously harmless animals have gone completely wild in order to survive. I’m not sure if I should make a run for the truck or not, I don’t want to give it a reason to give chase.
I don’t have my gun, I stupidly left it in the truck, sitting on the center console, but I do have my knife. It makes me feel a little better as I tear it out of its snap- however I would never choose to try and fend off a coyote with a blade- it is better than nothing though.
The knife gives me a false sense of bravado. “Get out of here.” I yell at the beast and its ears perk up at the sound. Likely it hasn’t seen a real human being in a while. I take a step forward and it takes a step back- a good sign. I clap my hands at it, and it turns around and runs away. I watch it until it disappears into the tree line across the other side of the yard, and only then do I turn around and run to the truck, my heart beating wildly.
How could I be so utterly stupid to forget my gun? I sit in the truck for a full minute, letting my heart beat slow back down to normal before I put the truck into gear and pull it out into the driveway. I don’t really want to get out of the truck with the coyote nearby, but I know if I leave everything in the garage sitting with the door wide open, that same coyote will probably get into the dry goods and take off with them. This time I keep my gun in my hand and the truck door wide open, for easy access to run back to the cab, in case the coyote comes back. It only takes two minutes, but it feels like forever.
I only let myself breath again once I’m back inside with the door securely locked- well as securely as it can be. I’m kind of kicking myself for breaking the window now that I’m the one that has to drive it. Even the passenger side window would have been better and given me the space of a seat to deal with anything that might try and come through it. I tell myself that I’ll be smarter the next time I’m forced to break a window and if I can help it, it will always be the passenger side from now on.
Getting all the supplies unloaded from the truck was sweaty, back breaking work, but it was also the easy part. Actually, leaving the driveway and heading into the unknown danger of trying to sneak back into a place that tried to kill me, is
much worse. “Come on dummy.” I mutter to myself when my foot starts to feel like a lead weight upon the brake. I slowly force my foot off the pedal and switch it to the gas and creep down the driveway and out of the yard. I do a thorough examination of the road in both directions before proceeding with caution. I’m sure Silas would tell me I’m driving like a granny right now- the idea makes my mouth twist into a small smile, though its hard to actually find a lot humorous right now. My hands have a mind of their own and have a slight tremor running through them as I hold the wheel. “You’re doing this for Silas.” I tell myself sternly and it helps- a little.
I slowly retrace the road I took yesterday, looking for small signs that show I’m heading in the right direction. A light blue mailbox, the white-washed skeletons of cattle out in a field, a small garden tractor parked beside the road, and finally the large, oddly shaped boulder sitting randomly in the middle of nowhere shortly before I get back to the main road. I’m not sure if it’s smart to be on this main road I should be on, but it’s still a couple miles before I can turn off and head down another road that will also lead me to Louisville- according to the map anyway. My generation was always much better with using maps on our phones- so I hope I’m reading it correctly.
I know I won’t be able to drive right up to the gates. Sooner or later I’m going to have to ditch the truck and go the rest of the way on foot. The idea is terrifying, but I haven’t been able to think of an idea around it. A truck is just too noticeable, and I really don’t want to get caught. The only thing worse than getting caught and thrown in jail with Silas would be his reaction to discovering I did exactly the opposite of what he told me. He won’t be thrilled to see me regardless, I know this because he is so stubborn, but as long as I can actually pull this rescue off and save both our asses, I think he can be persuaded to see things my way.