“You can bring the chickens too, my dear. We’ve got space at our farm,” Mrs. Robinson said, wringing her hands together.
Amy hesitated. She desperately wanted to accept, but something stopped her. What if Alex never got the message? She’d never see him again, and he was all she had left — the last of her family.
“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to wait a few more days. If Alex still hasn’t shown up by then, I’ll go with you,” Amy said.
Mr. Robinson regarded her for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I’ll swing by in a week with the truck. If he hasn’t come back, we’ll load your stuff. Deal?”
“Deal,” Amy answered, relieved that he wasn’t trying to force her into anything yet. She knew he thought her brother was dead, but she couldn’t accept that fact. Not yet. He’s still alive. I know it.
“Ted! We can’t leave her here like this,” Mrs. Robinson protested.
“She’s old enough to make her own decisions, May,” Ted replied. “Besides, she’s done well enough on her own so far. A few more days won’t make a difference.”
Mrs. Robinson chewed on her bottom lip. “Won’t you change your mind, Amy? I hate the thought of you being here all alone. What if those things come here?”
“I’ll be okay, Mrs. Robinson. It’s only a week, and I’ve got this,” Amy said, indicating the shotgun. She didn’t mention that she’d already killed her first zombie. Mr. Robinson might change his mind if he heard that little bit of information.
“We’ll leave you to it then,” Mr. Robinson said, ushering his wife back to the truck. “Lie low, and stay hidden, okay? And keep away from town. Louisville is a madhouse. If anything happens, anything at all, you come to us.”
“Will do, Mr. Robinson,” Amy replied, watching with sad eyes as the couple departed, the truck rumbling back the way it came.
Once the dust settled, she resumed fixing the hole in the fence. The entire time, she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life. But her mind was made up. It’s only been four days. I have to give him longer than that.
She’d stay one more week, waiting for Alex. It had to be enough. Besides, it would grant her the chance to say goodbye to everything she’d ever known. Her home. Her parents. Her childhood.
***
Amy stared at the plate of food in front of her, picking at it without enthusiasm. She wasn’t hungry. All day long, she kept wondering if she’d made a mistake turning away the Robinson couple. After they left, she’d completed her chores and kept busy until nightfall. Now she had nothing left to occupy her thoughts, and they were torturing her.
Should she have gone?
Shouldn’t she have gone?
What would her mom or dad have said? She wished she knew, wished they were still there with her, beside her. Wished they weren’t dead.
Amy ground her teeth in frustration. “If wishes were fishes.”
Finally, she wrapped her food and put it in the fridge, determined to get some sleep. She was tired, after all. The past few nights had not been kind to her. She was about to walk up the stairs when a noise caused her to pause. It was the sound of an engine, and she quickly grabbed the shotgun.
With shaking hands, she unlocked the front door and peered outside. A faint light shone up the driveway, and she guessed whoever it was had parked in front of the locked gate. Who could it be? The Robinson’s? Alex? Strangers?
Hope rose in Amy’s chest, tempered by caution. Maybe it was Alex, and maybe it wasn’t. She tucked the gate keys into her pocket just in case.
Stepping lightly, she ran down the porch to get a closer look, taking care not to reveal her presence. When she had a good view of the gate, she paused. It was a bike, and nobody she knew of rode a motorcycle. Unless…
Again hope rose at the thought that it might be Alex, and she carefully moved closer. Pausing a few feet away, she raised the shotgun and aimed it at the rider sitting on the back of the bike.
In a loud voice, she shouted out a challenge, trying to sound calm and confident. Not at all like the blubbery mess she was on the inside. “Who’s there? This is private property, and strangers aren’t welcome.”
“Amy? It’s me, Alex,” shouted a familiar voice. His voice.
Amy lowered the gun, almost too scared to believe it was true. “Alex? Is that really you?”
“It’s me, and I need help. I’m hurt,” he said in response to her frantic queries.
“Hurt? Oh, no!” Amy cried. “Hold on. I’m coming.”
She rushed forward and undid the padlock before swinging the gate open. Alex rode through, his figure hunched low over the tank. Amy checked the road behind him, looking for zombies, but it was clean. One less thing to worry about, at least.
After locking the gates once more, she ran back to the house. Panic blossomed in her chest along the way. She’d never seen Alex hurt before. He never even got a cold. Not so much as a sniffle. What if it was serious? What if he died?
For a moment, she almost allowed fear to overwhelm her. Then she spotted him lying on the ground. Amy shook her head, determination washing away her uncertainty. Her brother was hurt, and he needed her help. She had to be strong. “I won’t let anything happen to him. He’s home now, and that’s all that matters.”
Chapter 15 - Alex
Alex rode through the gate with the last bit of strength he possessed. He came to a stop in front of the house, his house, and promptly keeled over. His legs couldn’t hold him upright any longer, and the bike weighed a ton.
After spending a freezing night in a dilapidated old shack, cold, hungry, and in pain, he’d tackled the final leg home. After several hours of sheer torture, he’d made it, and now he had nothing left to give.
His hearing was dim, and he only vaguely became aware of Amy’s voice, urging him to get up. Somehow, despite her petite frame, she dragged the bike off his pinned leg and hoisted him up.
He clung to her, willing his legs to work. Together, they staggered up the porch steps and into the house where he collapsed onto the nearest couch. That was when it all went black.
Alex woke the next morning to find himself tucked into a cocoon of blankets. His boots were gone, and his wound had been dressed with fresh bandages. A glass of water stood waiting on the side table along with a couple of painkillers, and he swallowed them greedily.
On the couch opposite him, Amy lay curled into a little ball. Her blonde hair spilled around her face in a golden waterfall. The sight made him smile. She always slept like that, rolled up with her knees tucked beneath her chin. It made him realize how much he’d missed her. How much he’d missed all of them, and now his parents were gone. She was all he had left in the world.
He must have made a sound because Amy’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on his face with alarm. She jolted upright. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?”
Alex shook his head. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t though. Not by a long shot. Despite his best efforts, the wound in his side had festered. A raging fever had hold of his limbs, and he alternated between sweating like a pig and shivering until his teeth chattered.
She jumped off the couch and pressed a cool hand to his forehead. “You’re sick.”
It was a statement, not a question, and he couldn’t deny it even though he wanted to spare her the worry. “Yes.”
“I cleaned your wound, but it’s gone bad. You need antibiotics,” Amy added.
“Which we don’t have.”
“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I checked mom’s cupboards and the first-aid kit, but there’s nothing. We have to get you to a doctor.”
“There aren’t any doctors available. Not now. No hospital either,” Alex said, tugging at his collar as his skin overheated. He threw off the covers he’d slept under as sweat burst from his pores. Within seconds, he was soaked to the bone as the fever raged through his body.
Once the
bout passed, Amy pressed another glass of water into his hands along with a bowl of soup. “Eat. You need to keep your strength up.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled through spoonfuls of the beefy broth, relishing the noodles and bits of carrot that floated around in the thick concoction. It eased away the hollow feeling in his stomach, and he felt much better once he got it all down.
While he ate, Amy paced up and down in the living room, her heart-shaped face scrunched up into a frown. “There has to be something. Someone who can help.”
“There’s no one, Amy. It’s every man for himself now, trust me,” he replied, shifting on the couch with a grimace of pain. “It’s chaos out there. How do you think I got this stab wound?”
She rounded on him in a fury. “Don’t you dare give up on me, Alex. You didn’t come all this way to die on me. I’m not burying any more family. Not today, and not tomorrow.”
Alex winced. “I’m sorry you had to do that, Amy. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.”
“That’s okay. The fact is, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. What happened to you, anyway? What’s it like out there?”
Alex filled her in on everything that he’d experienced and seen since the outbreak began. He took care not to gloss over any of the facts. She needed to know what was out there. Half-truths wouldn’t save her from the worst while preparedness might.
Amy listened the entire time, not interrupting once. When he was finished, she resumed her furious pacing before coming to an abrupt halt. “I’ve got it. I’ll take you to the Robinson’s.”
“Huh?” Alex asked. “Who’s that?”
“Our neighbors. Don’t you remember them?” she asked.
“Vaguely. When last did you see them?”
In brief terms, Amy told him about her encounter with the couple and their offer. “I’m sure they’ll be able to help you.”
Alex thought it over. “Well, it’s worth a shot.”
Amy nodded. “Let me grab a few things. You stay right there.”
Alex snorted. “As if I’ve got anywhere to go, but can’t I take a shower, at least? I stink.”
“You do,” Amy agreed. “But you’d better hurry up. The sooner we get your medicine, the happier I’ll be.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alex replied, amused by this bossy side of her. She’d certainly grown into a feisty young woman while he was gone.
He dragged his aching body up the stairs for a quick shower and fresh clothes. It was worth the pain to be clean again and dressed in something that didn’t reek of sweat. In the meantime, Amy packed a basket of food and water, pulled their mom’s old car out of the garage, and carried his saddlebags inside.
“You’ve got a lot of guns here,” she remarked.
“Yup, and we’ll need every single one in the days to come,” he remarked. “Is there any ammo in the safe?”
“I think so,” Amy replied, bustling off to check. She returned with a couple of boxes, and they reloaded all the weapons.
Amy wore her mom’s pistol on her belt, and carried the shotgun, while Alex stuck to his carbine, sidearm, and knife. The hammer and other pistol they tucked into the glove compartment in the car, while Amy got the extra knife.
She stared at it with distaste. “This is the same knife that guy stuck into you.”
“Maybe, but it’s a good quality blade,” Alex replied, watching as she added the sheath to her belt. “It’ll come in handy, trust me.”
“If you say so,” she replied. “Now let’s get going. It’s after six in the morning already.”
“What about the chickens?” he asked.
“I let them out and scattered some feed,” Amy said. “Even if we don’t come back they’ll be fine. They can live off worms and insects.”
“Good to know,” he replied, walking to the driver’s side with a decided limp. He felt better after eating and washing, but he was still a far way from anything resembling his old self.
Amy shook her head. “You can’t drive. Not like that.”
“I can, and I will, Missy. I’ll be damned if I let my kid sister chauffeur me around like an invalid,” Alex said. “Besides, it’s not that far.”
Amy sighed. “Fine, but if you crash mom’s car, she’s coming back to haunt you.”
Alex laughed for the first time in days, the permanent knot of ice in his belly fading away. Even under the circumstances, it felt good to be home.
Chapter 16 - Dylan
Dylan drove for about ten minutes before she pulled over to check the suitcase she’d loaded into the back. A glance at the mirror convinced her of the necessity. Vandalia was only a few minutes away, and from what Maddie had told her, there could be roadblocks and militia roaming about.
There was no chance in hell that any sane person would allow her into their town looking the way she did. Blood had dried in runnels across her face, and her hair and clothes were matted with the stuff. The flannel sleeve bandage had done its job but looked ridiculous. She had to make an effort to clean up before she went ahead. Much as she hated the idea of braving the town and its possibly hostile inhabitants, she had no choice. There was no way around it that she knew off, and she couldn’t risk getting lost.
She unzipped the bag on the back seat and rummaged through the contents. It contained a change of clothes, a bag of toiletries, a book of poetry, a dead cellphone, and a towel. “Is that it? No food, no weapons, nothing?”
Dylan slammed the bag down as a fit of rage overtook her. Everything that had happened to her since she’d first left her apartment the day before came rushing back. The mad rush at the store, the zombies, getting bitten, Ben abandoning her, Frankie, the map, everything.
“Why me, huh? Why is it always me?” she screamed in frustration at no one and everyone. “Haven’t I been through enough?”
Maddie’s face flashed before her eyes. Cold and self-righteous. The words she’d uttered rang through Dylan’s ears. Full of hatred and spite. “The fact remains, you’re a monster, and you deserve to die.”
“Oh, yeah? Wait until I catch you, you smug little bitch. Even Kyle won’t save you then. I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands and feast on your beating heart.” A red tint washed the world in blood, and Dylan lost herself in a sea of anger. Her body moved of its own volition as she raged at her surroundings, not caring who or what might hear her.
At the back of her mind, she was aware of the loss of control but couldn’t stop herself. When she finally came to, her throat was raw from all the screaming, and she’d beaten her fists black and blue against the roof of the car.
Exhausted, she sagged backward and closed her eyes until the dizziness passed. Her hands ached, and so did her head. Even worse, she couldn’t understand why she’d lost it like that. Sure, she hated Maddie, and if she ran into the woman, it wouldn’t be pretty, but… “This isn’t me. Why am I acting like this?”
Dylan had no answers to any of her questions and dragged her attention back to the present. “Let’s get cleaned up and get through Vandalia. After that…well…we’ll see.”
She pulled the suitcase over again and rummaged through the clothes, removing a fresh button-down shirt and sleeveless vest. The owner had been a man, but a slender one luckily. With her bloodied top and jacket changed, she felt better already. It still didn’t solve her other problems, though.
With a copious amount of spit, she cleaned the worst of the blood from her face with the towel. The matted hairdo was a complete loss, however. Even touching the injured area was a no-go. In the end, she settled for a bandana fashioned from a t-shirt she found in the bag, folding and tying it back in the nape of her neck. “Ah, crap. I look like shit, but it’ll have to do, I guess.”
The bandage on her arm had to stay put. She had nothing to replace it with, nor was there anything to eat or drink in the car. To top it off, she had a fever. Her forehead radiated heat. After swallowing another couple of painkillers, she climbed back behind the wheel and mentally prepare
d herself for what lay ahead. “Keep it together, Dylan. Fort Knox isn’t that far. You can still make it.”
First, she had to get through Vandalia and drove toward it with a sense of trepidation. A board announced that the town lay straight ahead, and her eyes soon picked it up against the horizon. As she neared the entrance, a roadblock loomed, and Dylan slowed to a stop in front of it. She opened her window and stuck her head out, evaluating the scene.
The barrier was made up of a few parked cars, and she could discern movement behind them. The barrel of a gun pointed at her over the roof of one. Several seconds passed in ominous silence before a voice on loudspeaker announced, “Get out of the vehicle with your hands above your head.”
Dylan hesitated, but in reality, she had no choice. Opening the door, she stepped out with her hands held at shoulder-height. The sun shone in her eyes, and she had to squint to look ahead. The warmth felt good on her aching body, though, and for a brief moment, she closed her eyes and imagined she was elsewhere. Standing on a sun-drenched beach in the Bahamas, maybe, with a cocktail in one hand and a cheeseburger in the other. Her stomach cramped in protest, and her dry mouth produced a tiny amount of drool. A feat she’d have thought impossible in her current dehydrated state.
The crunch of boots on the asphalt ruined her fantasy, and she watched a figure approach with wary caution. He stopped a few feet away and eyed her with a curious stare, his hands on his hips. He was young, too young to be in charge of the town but old enough to think he was.
“Are you in charge here?” Dylan asked, not lowering her hands.
“Yes, I am,” he said, flashing her a grin that was all teeth and no substance. “Can I help you?”
“I need to pass through,” Dylan said.
“Sorry, but I can’t allow that. We’re on lockdown.”
“But, it’s the only way,” Dylan protested.
The stranger shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Not my problem.”
“You can’t be serious. All I need to do is pass through. I won’t stop anywhere or take anything, I promise,” Dylan said.
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