by Tracey Ward
But that’ll never change if I don’t even try.
“Hey, Ali,” I call out to her. She turns slowly to look at me over her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about it. I do believe. In the Easter Bunny, in Mentos, in snozzberries. All of it.”
She doesn’t react. She only stares at me with a blank expression that gives nothing away because maybe there’s nothing to give. Maybe I’m too little too late or she doesn’t even care anymore. Maybe she’s so far under, my helping hand can’t even be seen.
“Did you know?” she asks slowly, her face still blank. “That Roald Dahl wrote an adult novel later in life? And that in that novel he referenced snozzberries?”
“I did not know that, no. Did he explain what they are?”
She nods slowly.
“What are they?”
“Penises,” she deadpans.
I burst out laughing. I’m happy when I see a grin creep onto her face.
“So the scene where they lick the wallpaper and say, ‘The snozzberries taste like snozzberries’…”
“Is utterly disgusting.”
“And disturbing.”
Now she smiles. “Not if you’re the wallpaper.”
Chapter Ten
“It doesn’t work like that,” Syd tells me.
“What doesn’t work like what?” I ask, feeling confused. “What are we talking about?”
He glances over his shoulder quickly before resuming his watch. We’re standing on the shoulder of the road letting Alissa have some privacy behind a bush to relieve herself. Apparently the bathroom in this RV is useless. Something about a cracked waste tank. You know what I think about that? Pull the entire thing off and leave it behind. Who cares? I’d be completely fine with using a toilet that emptied into thin air, trailing my business down the road behind us as we go. Honestly, who are we going to offend with that? A few miles back I saw someone’s half eaten torso in the middle of the road, intestines trailing behind it toward a black puddle on the cement that was probably once its legs. It was messed up, way more messed up than anything my living, breathing body could leave behind.
“I mean the cheery bit,” Syd says under his breath.
“I wanted to make her feel better. It worked.”
“Tell me again how much it worked in an hour when something else has brought her down.”
I scowl at him. “What do you want me to do? Ignore her when she’s down?”
“No, I want you to know you can’t always make it better. She needs her medication.”
“I know that. I’ve seen that.”
“Good. Remember it. And remember this; you aren’t the solution. All the charm and good looks in the world can’t fix the chemical imbalance in her body. Her problems are beyond you. They’re beyond me too. Don’t ever think you can cure her. If you spend your time trying to save her, you’ll just beat your head against the wall until you’re just as depressed as she is and then where will you both be?”
I look over at him, not surprised by the conversation but surprised by his tone. It’s not angry or bitter as I expected. It’s almost… fatherly.
“Is that what happened with you and her mom?”
He chuckles darkly but shakes his head. “No. Not even close. That was a whole other mess. But remember that. Remember that I was with her mom for a long time, that I’ve been with Alissa almost all her life.” He looks over at me with serious, sad eyes. “Remember that I know what I’m talking about.”
I find myself nodding in agreement and mumbling, “I’ll remember.”
“Good,” he says with a sharp nod.
I should leave it at that. This is where this conversation ends, with Syd and I having formed something of an uneasy alliance for Alissa’s sake and the sake of survival. But I just can’t take it. It’s just not me.
“I’ll keep it in mind if you remember that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to the infected,” I tell him firmly. “I get that you were in a war zone before and you know combat but you don’t know this enemy. I do.”
Syd sizes me up, looking down his nose at me. When he steps into my space I’m made very aware of the fact that he’s a couple inches taller than I am. But I remember him panting in the woods and that he’s at least twice my age. Two inches of added height, while great for intimidation tactics, can’t change the fact that I can outlast him in just about every way. He’s welcome to come at me if he wants to prove that fact.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that girl alive,” he snarls, “and your input is limited in its value to me. If I think for one second you’re making it up as you go along or quoting some comic book, I’ll question you.”
“Zombie fiction is predominantly found in the form of graphic novels.” I take a step to the side to lean against the hood of the RV. It gets him out of my space but it wasn’t a step backward. It wasn’t a retreat. Navigation is very important in a pissing contest. “Comic books are archaic. It’s the stuff your granddad read.”
He shakes his head at me in disgust, turning away from me.
“By the way,” I call out to him, “my input has kept her alive this long.”
“Has it?” Syd chuckles. “Or has Alissa kept you alive? Far as I can tell you can’t fire a gun, can’t handle a bow, can’t handle your hooch. So think long and hard about your trip down here and tell me again who saved who.”
“What are you guys fighting about now?” Alissa asks, jogging up the embankment back onto the road.
“Nothing,” Syd mutters, heading for the driver’s door. “Load up, let’s go.”
Alissa looks at me with raised eyebrows, asking if I want to tell her what that was about, but I absolutely don’t.
Once we’re on the road we’re silent again. I wish we weren’t. I wish we were playing I Spy or something because the longer we sit here in silence the more time I have to think. And what am I thinking about? Yeah, of course. I’m doing the math on how many times Alissa and I saved each other’s bacon on the trip down here. All in all, it’s been pretty even. I wouldn’t have made it without her, she wouldn’t have made it without me. But now here we are with Syd and while having another person around helps with the work and the watch, it also brings a new set of opinions in. Opinions that are starting to piss me off.
“We need to loot,” I remind Syd, speaking for the first time in an hour.
“I know.”
“We’re coming up on a town here. Mill City I think the sign said,” Alissa says.
“We’ll find a grocery store,” Syd tells her. “We’ll stop there and grab supplies.”
“A convenience store would be better,” I warn him.
He sighs. “And why is that exactly?”
Apparently that advice sounded like a comic book quote. I think about ending all my sentences with KAPOW! from here on out but I imagine even I’d get annoyed with me for that.
“It’s smaller.”
“Tighter. Easier to get jumped in,” Syd says, cutting me off.
“Yes, but it’s also less area to worry about. The shelves are shorter, you can see what’s in there. You’re less likely to be cornered, the exit is always in sight. All around it’s easier to get in and out quicker.”
He chews on that for a long time. So long that I think he’s just flat out ignoring me, but imagine my surprise when we roll into Mill City and he pulls over at the first convenience store we see. He parks right up next to the front door, making it so we only have to take maybe ten steps to get from the vehicle to the store. The place is dark. There’s nothing and no one else in sight.
“Alright, Al, listen up,” Syd says emphatically, throwing the RV into park. “Jordan and I are going in here to grab supplies. You slip over here and get behind the wheel. Keep a watch out for any…” He hesitates, still struggling with using what he thinks is a ridiculous word. “Zombies that might come by. Honk the horn once if you see one. Quick and short. We’ll drop everything and come running out. Got it?”
“Got it,�
� she says, unbuckling her seatbelt. She doesn’t fight this time or run off wildly. I think Syd and I are both grateful for that.
“Jordan, let’s narrow down what we’re looking for.”
“Non-perishables. Water. First aid of any kind. Any clothing they may have. Matches. Lighters. Batteries. Flashlights.”
“Cigarettes,” Syd adds.
Alissa frowns at him. “You quit.”
“I did and I’m sticking to it. But be it prison or a war zone, cigarettes and coffee area a currency in dire times.”
I nod in agreement. “We’ll grab anything with caffeine or tobacco. Essentials first, though. Water, first aid, food.”
“Agreed.”
“Whoa, wait,” Alissa says, her voice hushed. “We’ve got company.”
Coming around the back of the building is an infected. He’s short and stocky with a beer gut and some of the most rotted out skin I’ve seen on a zombie so far. I wonder if he’s one of the originals. One of the first ones from Portland that wandered this way instead of heading south with the swarm. If he’s not, he’s decamping rapidly, far faster than any of the others. Does that mean there could be some kind of mutation to The Fever? One that’s working faster? The thought is troubling even though it really changes nothing for us. Dead still need to die. End of story.
“I’ll get him,” I say as I pull my bat free of its harness on my back. “We don’t want to risk a gunshot.”
“No, wait,” Alissa insist urgently. “Let me. I want to try something.”
“Al, it’s no time for experimenting,” Syd says, scowling at her.
“Oh please, it’s the perfect time. There’s no one else around.”
With that she jumps out of the RV. Syd and I follow her out slowly, both of us scanning the surrounding area more closely. It’s all clear.
“I’ve been dying to try this ever since I pulled it off the cop,” she mumbles as she pulls out a thick piece of black plastic. The Taser.
“Make it quick,” I whisper.
The infected hones in on her. He closes the distance incredibly slowly, his joints seeming almost frozen as he jerks and stutters toward her. I’m more convinced than ever that this is one of the first ones from Portland. The thought annoys me. I’m pissed that we spent so much time and so much energy running from this guy and his kind since day one only to meet up with him here and now. It shouldn’t bother me. A zombie is a zombie, doesn’t matter when it died or where it came from. Only it does. It does matter because seeing this thing here makes it all feel futile. Like we’re running and running and he’s walking and stumbling but we end up face to face in the end anyway.
“Come on, Ali,” I tell her, feeling my temper boil. I want to see this thing put down hard. “Let’s do this.”
“Maybe I should have read the manual,” she mutters, flipping the thing over in her hand.
“Al.”
“Stop! Guys, I have it. Here.”
The leads leap out from the black gun in her hand. They implant easily into the soft, rotted flesh of the undead standing dangerously close to her. We all watch with morbid fascination as the electrical current passes through the infected. He jerks and shudders with surprisingly fluid movement compared to his walk. It’s fascinating to watch as his muscles, probably not that much good to him in the first place, go out from under him. He collapses to the ground, falling silent. He’s not dead. There’s no way the Taser destroyed his brain, but he’s going to be down for a while.
“I wouldn’t count on it for a kill,” Syd says, breaking the strange silence, “but it’s a good—“
“Oh, God,” Alissa moans. Her hand goes to her mouth and nose, covering them both as she turns to us. Her face is contorted with disgust.
I frown, wondering what she’s reacting to. Then I smell it. I’m instantly gagging on it. I lean over instinctively, worried I’ll vomit as the smell washes over me. It’s in my nose, in my mouth, on my tongue and it is disgusting. It’s like burnt hair and frying pork. Like bacon and burning plastic mixed with feces and dog food. It’s familiar but disturbingly foreign. It’s awful and everywhere. I see Syd take several steps back, trying to get away from it but there’s nowhere to go.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Alissa cries.
“No more,” Syd tells her from behind the inside of his shirt. He’s pulled the neck up until it covers his mouth and nose in an attempt to hide from the smell that will haunt us for the rest of our lives. “Never again.”
“No, never,” she agrees, dropping the Taser to the ground.
“All that and he’s not even dead,” I say morosely.
“Jordan, finish him off.”
I shoot her a shocked look. “Are you kidding? I’m not going over there.”
“We have to kill him.”
“Haven’t we done enough already?”
“I want to shoot him,” Syd exclaims.
“It won’t kill the smell,” I remind him, “and we can’t risk someone hearing the shot while we’re still here. We’ll shoot him when we leave.”
“Deal,” Syd agrees.
We all hastily make our way back to the front of the store where the air isn’t so thick. Alissa climbs quickly into the RV while Syd and I cautiously approach the door. I’ve got my bat in hand but I secured my gun in the holster on my hip. If I get desperate I’ll use it. Syd already has his out and ready, his arms extended, pointing it at the ground.
“You go in first,” he whispers, jutting his chin toward the door. “I’ll cover you, come in behind you. Then we’ll do a sweep.”
I nod curtly as I take a deep breath. I swing the door open, pushing it in to help give me cover on my left and weakest side. I do a quick scan of the open area, find it empty, and move slowly inside. I feel Syd take the weight of the door from me as he follows me in. I do a quick search down the main aisle in front of the register, glancing down each of the other aisles as I go.
“Clear,” I whisper.
“Counter,” he whispers back, eyeing the door to the back room.
I move to the counter slowly, keeping my distance as I round it to the open area where the cashier would enter. When I come around to look inside I blink hard, casting my eyes to the ceiling quickly. There’s a body. It’s been pecked at but not eaten entirely. It looks like the cashier was overtaken by infected, a few getting a bite or two out of him but he put a stop to it by putting a bullet in his own head. After that the zombies apparently lost interest. Or maybe they gave up when he got cold. Maybe something better came along, who knows.
“I got a body,” I tell Syd, carefully moving away from the sight. It’s different when it’s not an undead. When it simply is what it is – a dead body. He was never a threat to me. He was never something I wanted to see die and now the sight of him dead and gone is hard to take.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Let’s check the door to the storage room,” Syd says, corralling me away from the counter. “Make sure it’s locked so we don’t get any surprise visitors. Then we’ll shop.”
“Good idea.”
When the door is locked Syd and I feel comfortable stowing our weapons and moving quickly about the store. We attack the bottled water, grabbing the plastic wrapped cases of it and hauling them out to the RV. I toss a packet of Wet Ones at Alissa on a trip between RV and store. She laughs and calls me jerk, but I get a smile for my trouble so it’s worth it.
Back inside I grab a shopping basket and begin filling it with the single serve, overly priced medicines and ointments, shampoos and soaps, anti-bacterial gels and condoms. I stare at the condoms for a second as I contemplate their usefulness in ways other than their intended purpose. I can’t think of any. I can’t think of a valid reason to give Syd for why I grabbed them other than one very big reason that has me thinking about the river and Ali’s wet shirt a couple days ago. Then I remind myself there’s more than one way to die. That guns ”accidentally” go off all the time.
; I put the condoms back.
It’s when Syd and I are sifting through a rack of T-shirts in a variety of colors, each of them stating proudly, Sasquatch is my Spirit Guide, that we hear the horn of the RV blare long and loud three times. I freeze, a blue trucker hat pulled low on my brow, and frown at Syd.
“That wasn’t the signal.”
“Oh it’s a signal,” he replies, hurrying to look out the tinted windows of the front of the store. I hear the engine of the RV rev, tires squeal. Syd curses. “It just wasn’t a zombie warning.”
“What was it for? Did she leave us here?”
“Yeah, she did. Good thing too.” He turns back to me, tossing down the clothes he was holding and whipping out his gun. “We got company.”
I pull out my gun as well, feeling weird with it in my hands. I haven’t had it out since the grocery store incident. “The living kind?”
“Caravan of ‘em. Al made a smart choice. She took off before they could surround her and trap us.”
Syd goes quickly to the storage room door and unlocks it, poking his head inside the backroom briefly.
“Come on,” he calls in a sharp whisper.
I can see the three large trucks and one long van parking outside the building. They park much the way we did, close to the door but with an easy out ahead of them. Doors begin to creak open and slam shut as people dismount, seemingly unconcerned about the amount of noise they make. That right there is very telling. It says they aren’t scared. They think they’re bigger and badder than anything else out there, other people and zombies alike. At the moment, I don’t care to dispute that fact.
Syd and I hurry through the back of the store, bursting out the emergency exit into the sunlight. He scans the area quickly, making sure our new friends didn’t send anyone to circle around the back, effectively surrounding the place. So far so good. The back is clear.
“Let’s move,” he urges me, keeping low and moving quickly behind dumpsters and abandoned cars.