by Tara Brown
“The car, Tan!” the illusion of Mitch screams at me.
“What?” I follow his fingers that are pointing violently behind me and see the white car rolling away. “Shit!” I run after it, grabbing the handle clumsily and it turns into something from a scene in a movie. I fling the door open and climb in, putting my feet on the pedals, but in my movie of course I press the gas pedal and zoom forward and then brake, screeching the tires again.
My chest is pounding as I put it into park and watch him, the illusion, running up to the car. He’s dirty, really dirty, and maybe he’s thinner. Is that possible?
I think he’s crying, but I can’t tell because I’m crying, but I’m not sure when I started, and he hauls me out of the now parked car, crushing me and quaking us both. There’s a weird noise but I think it’s coming from me. It’s relief and maybe the end of bravery. I’m not alone.
He’s real.
He smells gross and looks worse but he’s here.
“You’re alive, I can’t believe you’re alive,” he says into my hair.
Other arms wrap around me.
Someone else is here, I didn't see their face, but I feel their fingers digging in.
“Holy shit, Tanya. You made it,” a voice I recognize as Jeff speaks and I smile. Of course he’s alive. I shouldn't have ever doubted him.
“I can’t believe you found us.” Mitch continues to grip my arms, checking me over as he struggles to get his breathing under control. “I thought I was fucking hallucinating when I saw you. You just stared and blinked.”
“I thought I was hallucinating too. It wasn’t the first time I saw you.” I accidentally say too much and try to recover, “I was so tired I swore I saw you all, the whole drive. It was crazy. Where’s Louis?” I pull back from the group hug to find Bev, Mitch, and Jeff.
Mitch’s eyes lower and I know the answer.
“Oh.” My eyebrows knit together and my chest tightens, withholding breath. I want to cry more, but I’m too tired and I think I might actually be stressed. Now that it’s calm and I’m not alone and the zombie apocalypse is possibly ending, I feel something I’ve never felt before. I’m coming undone mentally. I can’t seem to get a grip.
“Where’s everyone else?” Bev asks, her eyes are wide and a little bloodshot.
“I don't know.” It’s the truth but not all of it. “We got separated. We were at a house and I was the distraction, so they could get into a couple of vans. I got bit and they drove away, thinking I was done. I thought I was done.” The words have barely left my lips and Bev and Jeff step back. I expected the reaction, but as I drag my Lululemon jacket off and show the wound, their faces are something I don't expect. Bev and Jeff take another step back, clearly horrified.
“What?” I inspect it and grimace, noting the lines that weren’t there before, red and angry. “Gross. It didn't look like that yesterday.”
“That’s infected. As hell.” Jeff points. “But more importantly, why aren’t you a zombie?”
“I don't know. She bit me but all that happened was I got tired. But that could have been the adrenaline. We fought, I fought hard.”
“Tan, how old is that bite?”
“Well over twenty-four hours,” I answer Mitch carefully, not sure what he means.
“You’re immune” he says as though it can’t be true, but the evidence is in his face. He’s doing the math. “Statistically, at least two percent of the population would be. Which makes sense. Twenty of us, so at least one person would be immune, if not a couple more.”
“Immune?” Jeff scowls. “How is that possible if it’s nanobots?”
“I don't have a clue. I guess she’d have to be wired differently in some way that hinders the nanobots from being able to take over. Or something about her that repels them.” Mitch takes a step closer, placing a hand on my forehead. “No fever. That’s so strange because it’s really infected.” He touches near the bite, putting pressure, which makes the skin crack loud enough for us all to hear as it oozes. We all gag and groan, even me staring at my own flesh.
“Oh my God. Am I going to die?”
“No, we’ll find some antibiotics,” Bev says.
“My mom’s at the hospital at home. She’ll know what to do.”
“Okay, let’s get into the car and get going,” Jeff mutters and walks to the driver’s seat. “You mind if I drive?” He sounds tired but I hope he’s not as tired as I am.
“No.” I scoff and climb into the back seat. “I was passing out before I saw you guys. We can only make it to Butte. We’ll have to find a new car there. I was planning on sleeping there but if you’re good to go, let’s go all the way to Lou’s and then home.”
“Lou?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow in the rearview.
“My friend in Laurel. Her dad is a military scientist. He’ll know what to do and what’s going on.” I shiver as Mitch climbs in too. He’s warm.
“Military scientist, that’s handy.” Jeff puts it into drive and speeds off. “How’d ya get a Prius?” he asks in the rearview.
“Some guy at a gas station in Washington. Middle of nowhere. He wanted the GT I drove up in.”
“You had a Mustang?” Jeff’s tone lifts.
“Yeah. When you guys didn’t come back, we knew we had to leave. We were starving. We waited twelve hours for you, and eventually we voted, and everyone wanted to go home. So we left, went up the road to a big house. They had matching Mercedes minivans. White. It was weird,” I add with a yawn.
“Mercedes minivans? Is that a thing?” Mitch scoffs.
“I don’t know.” I shrug and fight a second yawn. “We didn’t have keys to drive them. So everyone waited for me, Naira, Cynthia, and Jack to go into the house and get the keys. Zombies were there. We got the keys but we were stuck. We knew we had to make a break for it. I stayed behind and made noise so they could get away.”
“Why you?” Bev wrinkles her nose.
“My plan.” It’s a matter-of-fact answer. “Anyway, I tried to get to the van, but I got tackled and bit.”
“And they just left you?” Mitch is clearly upset by this.
“I was bit,” I repeat. “What could they do?”
“I don’t know,” his tone lowers and it’s his turn to yawn.
“I went into the house we stole the keys from and slept, and when I woke, I still hadn’t turned. So I stole their Mustang and headed for Sixteenth Ave.”
“And you made it to the border with no problems?” Bev is bewildered by something in this story.
“Yeah I didn’t see many people. And in the mountains, I didn’t see any zombies. There was a gas station in this place called Hope. A lady gave me gas for free.”
“Canadians,” Mitch adds, joking a little. “Nicest people.”
“And then I found you guys.”
“You are so lucky!” Bev bursts, not sounding happy for me. At all. “We had to struggle for every second of this. You’re all rolling up in your new Lulu outfit and a super cute electric car. You got free gas? In a power outage, thank you very much.” She throws her hands into the air. “Meanwhile, Louis and the rest of our entire class is dead.”
“Hey!” Mitch snaps. “We don’t know that and it isn’t her fault. She got lucky.”
“But she just happens to be immune? Seriously?” Bev snarls and folds her arms, sinking into the passenger seat in the front even more. “Whatever.”
“I have no idea what is going on here, but I don’t think being attacked by zombies is lucky. Getting bitten and waiting to die, was super not fucking lucky, Bev!” I spit her name. “And then being completely alone, no driver’s license or driving skills, I had to make my way across some huge mountains. I had to beg for candy to stay alive. And water. And I put the Lulu outfit on because the bitch who bit me was a Lulu enthusiast and I thought if I was going to wander the earth alone, I might as well look cute! Sorry if that offends you as I die of an infection from my zombie bite, Bev!”
“I think everyone is tired. Why
don’t we all calm down?” Mitch makes a mistake with the wording.
“I am calm!” Bev and I shout in unison.
Jeff stares at us both and we burst into tears.
She reaches for me and I squeeze her hands, crying so hard I can’t see.
Mitch is talking over us and Jeff is apologizing, and I don’t know why we’re fighting or crying, but I’m way too tired to try to figure it out.
She climbs into the back seat while the car is moving, squishing Mitch to the side, and we hold each other and sob.
It’s probably not the best road trip Mitch or Jeff have ever taken.
Not even close.
13
Day Eight
The image of Lou’s house as a pile of rubble—ash and rubble—haunts me as we drive into Billings.
Laurel was a mess.
And everyone was dead.
My heart ached in a new way as I stood out front, staring and praying Lou wasn’t in there.
The ashes glowed, the fire was just going out, which to me meant if we hadn’t stopped in Butte to sleep and eat and get another car, I might have made it to her. But I was too late and she’s dead. Or she’s gone. And there’s no cell phones or internet or even friggin' snail mail. I will never find my friend. I will never know.
Lou, Sasha, Jamie, and Joey join the ranks of Sharon and the old man. I won’t know if they’re okay.
The drive from Laurel to Billings is silent. All of us are stunned at the damage done so close to home, scared of what home might look like.
As we arrive in Billings, all our fears are confirmed. My stomach sinks lower and my chest tightens more.
The first sign of a problem is immediate: there’s a car crashed through the food exit sign and Red Lobster is the only restaurant advertisement I recognize now. Bodies cover the ground in a way it’s easy to guess how this happened. They crashed avoiding the trucker in front of us who has stopped in the middle of the highway. Maybe it was at night and they didn't see until too late. They got out of the car and were attacked. Some fled but didn't make it far. Maybe they were already bleeding so the zombies smelled them easier. Either way, it looks staged, it’s so perfectly laid out.
From there it gets worse and Jeff slows down the truck we stole in Butte so we can see it.
Smoke rises in various places, as it did in Laurel. Spots in the city where maybe people fought back. Or maybe things left unattended got out of hand. Ovens left on and such.
A plane has crashed in a field to the right, scattered to the winds. It’s not smoking, but it obviously burned at some point.
Car accident scenes increase as they did on the outskirts of other cities the whole way home. Bodies on the ground, some still twitching, cars bent and crushed, and windows smashed. Zombies dead in random places around the car. Humans dead.
And of course blood.
There’s so much blood but the splatter is weird. I never noticed it until Bev pointed it out. The blood moves by itself after the person dies, it creeps along the ground like a horror movie, searching for its next target or host. Just like Mom said it would.
But these scenes are old so the splatter is different, hinting that it crawled until it dried up like an animal trying to drag itself from the road after being hit. The sight makes me scratch my itchy bite wound that’s looking rough.
By the time we get to the Econo Lodge, I’m pretty sure we’ve all given up hope that there are survivors here. It’s chaos, but more akin to the aftereffect of chaos. It’s what you see after, the leftover hell.
The fires are almost out and the birds are picking at the bodies. The cold air is threatening snow, which will cover it all up and hide it until the spring.
I gasp when Jeff takes the exit for the city center and slams on the brakes. There’s a train in the middle of the road. It’s a derailed mess and there’s no way around it.
We sit and stare for a minute. It might as well be a cruise ship crashed on the moon. This is impossible to us all.
Mitch speaks softly, “Lemme drive, I know a detour.” He climbs out and Jeff moves over as Bev and I have hesitation and worry plastered on our faces in the back seat.
And as much as this is hell and chaos and I am terrified, one thought remains in my mind. “Can you drop me at the hospital, Mitch, before you guys go into the Heights?” It’s such a normal request, but he turns around and gives me a bizarre look.
“What? No. We’re not dropping anyone off. We stay together.”
“She’s there—Mom. I know she’s safe. I talked to her. She was fine.” I’m fairly convinced of this, but he isn’t. “She and Mason are waiting for me.”
“Absolutely not. We go house to house together. We can start at the hospital, but we’re not splitting up.” He drives backwards for a minute, leaving the train behind, and turns onto a side road. The train is massive so going around it is a huge detour. Along the way we see something I’m not expecting. I don't think any of us are.
“Holy shit!” Bev points past Jeff’s face to the right. There are four zombies eating something, remains maybe. They’re crouched on their knees and eating together like a zombie family might. A zombie picnic.
They ignore us as we drive by. They don't chase the car.
And even worse, they aren’t the last ones we see.
“So much for it being over,” I whisper.
“Never thought I’d ever say this sentence, particularly while in the US, but we might need to get some guns,” Jeff says as he stares out the window at the zombies still walking around.
“That won’t be hard.” Mitch laughs bitterly.
“Why?” Jeff asks.
“In Montana, all the bodies here will have guns on them. Zombies too!” He points at a body of a man lying on the sidewalk with his legs bent at a funny angle. And of course, he has a gun on his hip.
“Why wouldn't they have shot or fought back?” Jeff sounds confused.
“Only thirty percent of the population actually has the ability to pull the trigger on another human being, and those studies are done on law enforcement and military. People with training. The estimation for the general public is that it’s less than twenty percent. Much less.” Bev did a paper on this last semester. I remember Louis saying he didn't agree with her numbers and went and looked it up for himself and she was correct.
“That’s crazy. Why have all these guns if you’re not gonna use them?” Jeff is so Canadian. “Although, I doubt I could have shot a human before this. A normal one.”
“Well, we all know you can shoot a zombie,” Mitch adds. “Thankfully.”
Clearly, I’ve missed something, but I already knew that. They haven’t spoken about Louis or how things went so wrong for them. And why they never came back for us. But obviously something terrible happened and they’re all still upset.
By the time we’re close enough for me to see the pinkish color of the hospital building, the zombie numbers are much higher. In the densely populated part of the city, it’s out of control how many are alive. The transmission had to have been wrong.
Mitch parks out front of the emergency entrance and gives me a look in the rearview mirror. “We should hit a Walmart first, get some guns. I don't like this.”
“Just stay here,” I say, staring at the building. “I don't need guns.” I grab the handle of the truck door and Bev reaches for me.
“What are you doing?” she hisses the question.
“Just watch.” I don't look at her. I don't want to see what they’re thinking. I just want to find my mother and brother and see if they know where Dad is. I’m not sure where the story goes from there, maybe Boulder.
“Tan!” Mitch shouts, drawing the eyes of the nearby zombies to us. They rush forward, the hair on my body stands on end. I’m tense as I step out and close the door, leaning against it. The monsters that were once human drag and run and hobble to where I am. But they don't see me. They part, going around me; like the other zombie, they ignore me.
They smash
on the truck, rocking it and leaving behind bloody bits of themselves. I walk away from the truck so they can drive away. I turn just before they do, seeing the shocked expressions on their faces, how they’re seeing me differently now.
Mitch’s eyes are wide in terror, but he puts the truck in gear, and with his fingers and mouthing words he tells me they’re going to drive around the block and park back here.
I nod but assume they won’t come back for me. Not now.
He’s going to be halfway around the block when Jeff and Bev convince him to leave me behind. And I don't blame them. While I’d be handy at getting supplies, I’m not one of them anymore. I might not have died but something happened and now the zombies have accepted me as one of them.
I stare at Mitch for one more second, realizing I like him. I like him a lot. And the world has ended and romance is probably a fading thought in every mind, but I like him.
Deciding to accept this fate, I offer the smallest of smiles, just a lip twitch really. I want it to be the last thing he sees of me, the last memory. A pleasant look that says maybe if the world had ended differently, this thing between us would have happened.
Because I’m a weirdo I can stretch the invented memory of us a long way.
Dating in high school.
Then college.
We break up for a tiny bit there, and I realize I made a huge mistake. I end up outside his dorm with my eighties boom box playing something indie because that’s the sort of music he enjoys, and he comes out and we get back together.
Then we buy our first house after grad. It’s small and hot in the summer, but we fix it up and make it Joanna Gaines cute. Shiplap, I like shiplap.
Maybe we get married somewhere cool, a hilltop overlooking a view I will forever remember, maybe the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. Small wedding of course, because we’re still paying off student loans. And maybe we never have kids, maybe we’re selfish in our love.
At seventeen that’s as far as I can stretch it, and as the truck disappears, I smell the sea air of Ireland and feel his lips kiss me every anniversary as the sun goes down.