Walking With The Dead (Book 2): Home with the Dead

by Dziekan, PJ

  “You didn’t eat,” Michelle said. Sarah didn’t realize she had stepped up beside her.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Sarah, you need to eat whether you’re hungry or not. What good are you going to be collapsed on the ground?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I just can’t. I don’t deserve –”

  “Bullshit!” Michelle interrupted. “People died, but it’s not your fault.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know them well, but I could tell that Becca, Julianne and Dylan were good people. They weren’t the kind of people that would want you to wallow in your grief, to starve yourself to death in tribute to them.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. I –”

  “You are,” the older woman interrupted again, her voice tinged with anger. “And that’s not fair to the rest of us, the ones still here. Get your head out of your ass, Sarah.” Sarah watched her walk away out of the comfort of the fire.

  ♦

  The fire was banked, sleeping bags pulled up as close as possible. Sarah and Mick took first watch, sitting barely inside the building, peering out the garage door into the near pitch black of the night. Sarah sat in front of Mick with his arms wrapped around her. One of the few extra blankets they had managed to rescue was wrapped around him, enveloping them both.

  Sarah had been quiet since dinner, more so than usual. He had caught part of her conversation with Michelle and he knew it affected her. He didn’t know how to help. He wanted to help. He cleared his throat. “I miss them too,” he said softly. “But we have to go on. You have to go on.”

  “I am.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “You’re not.” He kissed her hair to soften the sting of his words. “You’re wasting away, babe. You’re not eating.”

  Sarah turned her head and pressed her cheek against his chest. “I’m tired.”

  “We’re all tired, babe. But as much as you hate it, as much as I hate it, we all look to you. You can’t give up. If you do, we’re all done.”

  She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that threatened. One slipped free, tracking down her grimy face. “I’m just so tired, Mick. Tired of it all.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m here to help, hon. Please let me.”

  She didn’t answer. After a few minutes, he felt her breathing change as she slipped into sleep. He stared out into the desolate landscape, his arms wrapped around the woman he loved, wishing things would get better.

  ♦

  The morning dawned bright and sunny with just a hint of chill in the air. Everyone knew their assigned tasks, working on them while Michelle and Donna put together breakfast. Sarah, searching the building for anything previous looters left behind, emerged from the darkened office with a scavenged plastic gas container in her hand. Ryan walked up to her. “Is there gas in that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, we’re not going to get much further unless we get some. The Ford’s nearly on fumes and both Jeeps are at a quarter tank.”

  “Mick and Bobby can siphon some along the way.” She looked around the parking lot and saw a few dust covered vehicles. “They can start with these.”

  “And if they’re dry?”

  “Then we hit the next car, Ryan. And the next. And the next.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m doing the best I can, Ryan, but if you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

  She waited, staring up at him. He sighed and looked away. “I’ll get Mick and Bobby,” he said softly. He reached for the empty gas container.

  “Thank you.” She handed him the red container and watched him go back in the garage.

  ♦

  Mick and Bobby managed to use the containers to drain just over five gallons of gas from the two cars in the lot. They split the gas between the three vehicles and put the empties in the back of the blue Jeep. After they ate breakfast, consisting of fruit cocktail and peas, they set off down the road. Mick noticed that Sarah ate, not a lot, but she did eat. He reached over with his right hand and squeezed her left hand as it rested on her thigh.

  She turned her eyes to him. “What?”

  He smiled. “Nothing.” With a final squeeze, he put his hand back on the wheel and turned his gaze back to the road.

  A bemused smile on her face, Sarah watched Mick for a few minutes before looking back out the window, searching for that elusive new home.

  They drove on, the road flat, featureless, almost barren. Trees lined the sides, only occasionally broken up by long abandoned buildings, none even worth stopping to check for salvage. They saw few cars, the ones they stopped for barely having enough gas to fill one five gallon can. Then there were none. They drove for miles without seeing another car, another structure, nothing but trees. Mick kept a nervous eye on the gas gauge, watching as it inched closer and closer to E.

  About five miles past a rusted route marker sign pocked with bullet holes, the Ford sputtered and died. “Shit,” Sarah muttered as Mick pulled the Jeep to the side of the road and killed the engine. She was out of the Jeep before he pulled the emergency brake.

  “It’s empty,” April said as soon as Sarah reached the door.

  Sarah sighed. “All right.” She looked at the kids in the back, past them to the supplies jumbled behind them. She turned her head back to April. “Get the kids out to stretch, we’ll figure it out.” April nodded and Sarah walked back to where Mick, Ryan and Bobby stood.

  “Empty?” Ryan asked.

  “Yup.” Sarah watched as everyone exited their vehicles. “We need to consolidate.”

  “How are we going to fit 14 people in 10 seats?’ Ryan asked. “And all the supplies?”

  “Kids will have to sit on laps. Not like there’s any cops left to ticket us. We’ll just take the necessary supplies.” She opened the hatch of the Jeep. “Maybe we’ll find some gas in the next town.”

  “We better or we’ll be walking,” Ryan said as he walked off to his Jeep.

  Everything was removed from all three vehicles. Sarah and Ryan made brutal decisions on what to take while Jack, Bobby, Mick and Steven loaded the vehicles, utilizing every inch of space that wouldn’t be taken up by people. Ryan pushed aside clothing and books. Sarah discarded pans and a stove. When she saw Ryan’s hand on the bucket, she raced over. “That stays,” she said, taking the bucket from his hand.

  “What?” He laughed. “A bunch of half dead plants? We don’t have the space.”

  Sarah peered into the bucket. Becca had given her life for these plants. She sprinkled water in every day and tried to put the bucket in the sun, but most of the plants were dead. A few clung to life, but just barely. “I’ll keep them on my lap,” she said, hating the pleading note in her voice. “Please, Ryan. They’re all I have left.”

  His face softened. “You have the memories, Sarah.” He paused, then: “Keep them. Maybe they’ll make it.”

  The cargo areas of both Jeeps were packed tight with food, water and sleeping bags. Weapons were shoved under seats and in the pockets of the front doors. The kids’ meager treasures were tucked in the pockets behind the front seats. The limited remains of their once vast first aid kit, all that they could grab during the evacuation, was stuffed into the center consoles. Ryan found some elastic cords and strapped the gas cans to the roof of his Jeep. They piled what they had to leave behind into the Ford, on the off chance that they would be back for it. They weren’t hopeful.

  Fourteen people stuffed into two vehicles with only ten seats. Mick drove the blue Jeep, Sarah in the passenger seat. The bucket of plants was jammed between her legs. In the back were Donna, Dominic and Jack, with Elizabeth on Donna’s lap and Mikey on Jack’s. The green Jeep held Ryan and Michelle in front, April, Steven, Bobby and Christa smashed together four across in the back, with Lily sitting on Bobby’s lap.

  “Damn, I hope we find some gas,” Ryan said as he followed Mick, the Ford sitting forlornly on the side of the road, getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror
.

  ♦

  The few cars they passed were either empty or held barely enough gas to make the siphoning worthwhile. “Someone’s been here before us,” Sarah said as Mick came back empty handed again.

  “Probably,” he said, cleaning the dirt from his fingers on the moistened wipe she handed him. “The cars have been scavenged, too.”

  “What do we do, then? Find another road?”

  “I was looking at Ryan’s map earlier,” he said, leaning against the Jeep. “There’s a big intersection ahead. We can turn off there.”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll let Ryan know.” She pushed off the Jeep.

  Bobby knew the intersection. “There’s a bunch of stores down there. Probably a lot of cars, too,” he said.

  “Maybe we can get another car?” Sarah asked.

  Ryan shrugged. “We have to find one that was in excellent condition six months ago. With the keys in it. And a good tank of gas.”

  “So, in other words, it’s a long shot.”

  Ryan smiled ruefully at Sarah. “Pretty much.”

  “Never know until we try,” she answered. “Let’s go.”

  ♦

  They came upon the crossroads twenty minutes later, both vehicles very nearly on fumes. A gas station sat at one corner, a dusty car parked in front of the pumps, doors open, a dark stain on the tarmac beneath both of them. Another corner held a restaurant, the sign hanging by a cord, swaying in the breeze. Opposite the restaurant was a strip mall, anchored by a home improvement store. It was there that Sarah directed Mick. Lots of cars, lots of potential.

  They pulled up in the fire lane in front of the building. The vehicles emptied quickly, the tight quarters making everyone eager to stretch their legs. “Michelle, can you and Christa keep the kids occupied?” She pointed to a swing set that had been constructed as a sample. It sat against the brick walls of the building, away from the entrance, the bright green and yellow banners faded. “Maybe there?”

  “OK.” Christa took Lilly’s hand while Michelle took Elizabeth and Mikey.

  “Keep your eyes open,” Sarah reminded them.

  Michelle nodded. “Don’t worry,” she said as they led the kids away.

  “Ryan, why don’t you and Steven try and find us another vehicle.” She looked at the lot full of cars and trucks. “You should be able to find something.” She turned to Mick. “You and Bobby siphon gas from the ones they reject. Everyone else can start salvaging.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mick asked.

  “I’m going inside.” She nodded her head towards the store. “I’ll try to find some more gas cans.” She walked to the back of the Jeep.

  “Not alone, you’re not.”

  She smiled as she pulled her pipe from the back. It was too long to fit under the seat. “Of course not. I’m taking Jack.” She called out to the teen, who jogged up to her and Mick.

  “What’s up?”

  “I need back up. You game?”

  He grinned. “Sure! Let me get my bat.”

  “Be careful,” Mick said to Sarah once Jack left them.

  “Always.” She went up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t swallow any gas,” she said when she pulled away, a slight smile on her face.

  ♦

  Flashlights in hand, they stepped through the front door, permanently stuck open when the power failed. The vestibule had protected the area from the vagaries of the weather; the bags of fertilizer at the entrance still as pristine as they were when they were stacked six months ago. They bypassed those, looking for food, water and gas cans. “This way,” Sarah whispered, her light shining on the overhead sign that read “power tools.”

  They walked slowly through the aisles, bypassing lawn tractors that would never see grass and grills that would never taste meat, listening intently for any sounds. It was possible that the store was empty at the end or any zombies that were inside wandered outside, but not likely. They were probably lying in wait, too weak to move until a loud sound woke them. Sarah hoped they wouldn’t make much noise.

  In the power tool aisle, nestled between the chain saws and hedge trimmers, were the plastic gas cans. “How many can you carry?” Sarah whispered.

  “Two, but that’s not enough.” Jack shone his light around, seeing a display of yard tools. With a smile, he walked down the aisle, coming back with a hoe. “We can string a bunch on here and I can carry them over my shoulder.”

  Sarah grinned. “Excellent!” Leaning her pipe against a shelf of chains and bars, she let her flashlight drop, the cord around her wrist holding it as it flashed patterns on the floor. Jack’s flashlight illuminated the area as she began to thread the cans on the handle of the hoe. Six seemed to be the limit.

  “It’s not heavy,” Jack said as he hoisted it on his shoulder. “We can probably put another one on here.”

  “Let’s not push our luck.” Sarah swung her light back into her hand and grabbed her pipe. “Let’s get these out to Mick and Bobby.”

  They took one step down the aisle and stopped. Three zombies stood just five feet before them, what used to be a man wearing an orange vest, the name “Cal” still visible among the blood splatters, a former woman in jeans and a torn sweatshirt, and what was once a teenager, glasses somehow still on his acne spotted face. A low growl came from the teen as he moved ahead of the others, clawed hands reaching.

  “Shit,” she whispered. Tightening her grip on the pipe, she told Jack, “Stay back, I’ll get this.”

  She swung at the teen, the pipe denting the side of his head, his glasses flying across the aisle. He sprawled into a shelf. Bottles and cans clattered to the floor and she winced at the noise. No time to worry about it, she thought as she brought the pipe back around, catching the female zombie on the backswing, bones crunching, black ooze flowing as she dropped to the ground.

  Sarah took a step forward and swung again, but she slipped in some of the gunk on the floor and hit the last zombie on his shoulder. He staggered sideways then regained his balance, a low moan escaping him as he reached for Sarah. Too close for a swing, she backpedaled, pulling the pipe back and thrusting it forward, piercing his eye, all the way through to his brain. The pipe was pulled from her hands as he fell.

  “Jack, let’s go.” Sarah reached for her pipe. Before she could pull it free, she heard a noise behind her. “Down, Jack,” she whispered. Her hand went to her hip, unsnapping her holster. She pulled the gun and turned on her heel, her finger on the trigger.

  “Whoa!” A thin older woman, maybe late forties, her hair in a pair of black braids threaded with white, stood before her, hands held out in supplication. Just behind her stood a skinny girl, her eyes wide with fear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sarah took her finger from the trigger, but she didn’t lower the gun. “Who are you?”

  “I could ask the same,” the woman said, a slight smile on her face.

  “I have the gun.”

  The woman nodded. “I’m Annie Morris. Behind me is Claire Wilson.”

  “Sarah Louis. This is Jack.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” A noise from somewhere in the store made Annie flinch. “Why don’t we continue the introductions outside?”

  “Why don’t we just go our separate ways?” Sarah countered.

  Annie started to lower her hands, expecting Sarah to lower the gun. When she didn’t, Annie arched an eyebrow. “Do you mind?”

  Sarah lowered the gun, but she didn’t holster it. “We’ll be going now.”

  “Wait! It’s just – we haven’t seen other people in months. It would be nice to talk to someone new.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Same story, different people. Zombies came, people died, we’re still here.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Annie said softly. “Why don’t we share a meal? Talk a little?”

  Sarah turned her head and looked at Jack. He shrugged as much as he could with the pole on his shoulder. “We’re not alone,” she said, t
urning back to Annie.

  “Neither are we.”

  “Go on.” Sarah motioned with her head. “We’ll follow you out.” She moved aside, her body in front of Jack’s. Annie went past, followed by the skinny girl – Claire? Sarah started walking, Jack in step beside her.

  “Should we have gone out first?” He whispered. “It might startle everyone seeing a couple strangers.”

  “I don’t want these people behind me. Everyone else will just have to get over it.”

  They stepped out of the building. “You weren’t kidding, were you?” Annie said as she saw the group of people moving in the parking lot.

  “Nope.” Sarah scanned the rows of cars and saw Mick about midway down the third row. “Jack, take the cans to Mick and Bobby and send Mick back here. Ryan, too, if you can find him.”

  “OK, Sarah.” Jack trotted off through the parking lot.

  “How many are you?” Annie asked.

  “Fourteen altogether,” Sarah answered. She looked over to where the kids were playing, Elizabeth’s grin bringing a brief smile to her face.

  “You kept a big group together, congratulations.” Annie shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare. There was a zombie at the end of the lot, moving slow but steady towards them.

  “Not everyone,” Sarah whispered.

  “We’ve all lost people. People we’ve cared about.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

  Annie sighed. “You’re right, it doesn’t. But you’re not alone, Sarah.”

  Sarah saw Mick heading towards them at a brisk walk. A smile crept over her face. “I know.”

  “Six cans, good haul,” he said as he walked up to them, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. “Smart way to carry them.” He eyed Annie before turning his gaze to Sarah, raising his eyebrows slightly.

  “Jack’s idea.”

  “Run into any trouble in there?” His eyes flicked to Annie.

  “Just a couple. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She flashed back to her kills. “Damn! I left my pipe in there.”