The Other Life

by Susanne Winnacker

  The lamps in the bunker flashed, illuminating the room. It was bigger than our bunker, but smaller than I’d expected. Beds, blankets and pillows lay all over the place. Twenty people could have lived in this place comfortably. Thirty would have been a tight fit. As I counted the beds, I realized at least sixty must have found shelter here.

  No wonder fights had broken out in public bunkers. There was something oppressive about the air, as though the breath of sixty people still filled the room, their body heat turning it into a furnace, their hushed whispers like static. I could see them in my mind. Huddled together like pigs in a slaughter truck. No water. No food. Only chaos.

  I descended the narrow staircase, my eyes sweeping over the mess. Joshua stood next to the door. He hadn’t moved a centimetre.

  “Joshua?” I kept my voice soft.

  He started, and his blue eyes found me. He seemed to take a deep breath before he closed the heavy door behind him and locked it. Nobody would be able to open it from the outside. We were safe from Weepers and maybe we’d even manage to get a few hours of sleep. Slowly, Joshua came down the staircase into the bunker. He routinely hunted Weepers, and agreed to search their nests to find my father, but this bunker scared him. What had happened in the hundreds of public bunkers across the country? What had happened to Joshua? He stood beside me, the backpack with the guns and our food clutched in his hand.

  “Are you alright?” Despite his tanned skin, he looked pale and his eyes were haunted. Questions burned on my tongue. Questions I wasn’t sure I should ask.

  We gathered a few blankets and pillows, and put them on two beds that weren’t broken. Then we pushed the beds next to each other against the wall furthest from the staircase. Joshua sat down on the nearest mattress, his back against the wall and his legs dangling over the edge. He put his backpack beside him. Two guns lay in his lap while he fidgeted with the hunting knife.

  I slid off my sneakers and sat too. My wound had started bleeding and my right sock was soaked with the blood. I’d strained it too much. There was nothing I could do about it now.

  I stole a glance at Joshua. He was staring at the knife in his hand, a frown creasing his forehead. Strands of blond hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t bother pushing them away. He looked lost.

  The growling in my stomach disturbed the silence. Joshua rummaged in his backpack and produced the bag of biscuits and apples. He passed it over to me without a word, keeping an apple for himself. He took a bite and chewed carefully. His shoulders were stiff, his expression guarded.

  I picked a biscuit from the bag. Licking my lips, I cleared my throat, attracting Joshua’s attention. The blade of the hunting knife glittered under the glare of the halogen lamps as he twisted it absent-mindedly. I realized how close we were – together on a bed. Mom would have a seizure if she knew I was alone at night with a boy.

  I took an apple and turned it in my hands. It gave me something to distract myself with. “You seem to dislike being in bunkers.”

  “If you’d seen what I’ve seen in a public bunker, you’d understand.”

  I wanted to reach out and take his hand. I wanted to comfort him, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, then rested his head on them. Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it. I wouldn’t force him. Not that I thought I could. I ate the apple and put the stem down on the ground, then lay back on the bed. The pillow smelled dusty, making my nose tickle. I held the pistol to my chest and closed my eyes. The only sound was our breathing.

  “Night,” I said.

  There was no reply.

  A scream ripped me from sleep. I jerked into a sitting position and grabbed the back of my head as pain shot through it, feeling the stitches and the tender flesh. Blinking rapidly, I tried to get used to the brightness. My fingers hurt from grasping the pistol so tightly.

  Where had the scream come from?

  Joshua lay on his side, twisting and turning on the bed, his face pulled into a grimace. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin. He thrashed out with his right arm, as if fighting an invisible opponent.

  “No.”

  The word was nothing but a moan. I pushed my blanket back and crawled to the edge of my mattress, unsure if I should wake him. He began muttering under his breath. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. I reached a hand out hesitantly in his direction.

  “No! Zoe!”

  I froze. Zoe? His sister? Girlfriend?

  He was thrashing so much that he nearly fell off the bed. I leaned over and nudged his shoulder gently. His eyes flew open and with lightning speed he pinned me to the bed, his knife at my throat. The cold blade pushed against my skin. With every beat of my heart, it seemed to dig harder into my throat. I didn’t dare move, or breathe or swallow.

  He’s going to kill me.

  His eyes widened and he pulled back the knife. He let go of my shoulders and blinked, still kneeling over me. “I’m so sorry, Sherry. I thought...” He trailed off, his eyes searching me. “Have I hurt you?” He backed away until he was on the foot of the bed, giving me room to move.

  I pulled my legs against my body and took a shaky breath before I shook my head. “I’m fine.” My voice was a whisper.

  His hand trembled as he ran it through his sweaty hair. “Damn it. I could’ve killed you.”

  “But you didn’t.” I propped my chin on my knees as I looked up. With trembling fingers, I wiped a few tears from my face, hoping he wouldn’t see them.

  “Why were you on my bed?”

  “You were having a nightmare.”

  Something registered in his eyes and he looked away, embarrassed.

  “I was dreaming about my time in the bunker...and about my family.”

  I moistened my lips with my tongue. My mouth had become very dry. “Where’s your family?”

  I knew the answer.

  Joshua ran the blade of the knife over his palm. Then he looked up, and the expression in his eyes felt like a stab in the heart.

  “They died.” His tone was flat, but his eyes showed so much pain.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Joshua nodded.

  “You...you mentioned Zoe.”

  Joshua turned and slumped against the wall. He pulled one knee against his chest. “Zoe is...” He paused. “Zoe was my sister.” His chin trembled. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

  He looked lost again. I crawled over and sat beside him, clasped his hand in mine and squeezed. He let his head drop back until it rested against the wall.

  “Was your family killed by...them?”

  He let out a long breath and peered at me through half-closed eyes. “My sister was. My mother...” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if he was trying to force an image out of his head. “I don’t know what happened to my father. He was in the military. He was supposed to pick us up after the situation had improved. But he never came.”

  I blinked back tears. Silence settled over us. The air became stuffy. Suffocating. I couldn’t bear it. Say something. Anything.

  “Los Angeles seems deserted. Who do the Weepers hunt if there aren’t any people left in the city?”

  Maybe a happier topic would have been wiser.

  Joshua didn’t seem to mind the question. “Just like your family, there are still people coming out of private bunkers. But as far as I know, the Weepers hunt animals, like wild boars and deer. They smell hot blood and body heat. Mammals. Birds. I’ve seen them kill and eat one of their own. Maybe they could live on vegetables and fruit if they chose to. But they prefer to kill us.”

  “Maybe they see us as rivals.”

  Joshua frowned in thought. “Hmm. That might be a reason.”

  “It’s scary to think that only a few hundred people might be left in North America.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case. We had some contact with two other safe havens in California until our radio stopped working. The majority of the su
rvivors left the cities and try to scratch along on their own in the country.”

  His grip on the knife tightened, the veins in his hand standing out. I wanted to ask more about his time in the bunker, but the look on his face...

  “Don’t the Weepers ever leave the cities?”

  He twisted the knife with a thoughtful expression. “They seem to prefer the city. But maybe that’s just the impression we get. They could be everywhere.”

  “But they’ve never showed up near Safe-haven, or have they?”

  What if Safe-haven wasn’t as safe as we thought? My stomach clenched.

  “No. Once a Weeper followed me, but I noticed it miles away from the house and shot it.”

  It wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. The thought of a Weeper following Geoffrey’s car towards Safe-haven made me sick.

  Joshua looked at me and squeezed my hand. “Your family is safe. Even if a Weeper came to Safe-haven, there are weapons in the house. Larry, Tyler and Karen are decent shooters. They’d kill the Weeper before it even reached the gate.”

  “But what if the Weepers attack at night, when they’re all asleep?”

  Joshua smiled. “Do you think we leave Safe-haven unguarded at night? There’s always one of us awake.”

  Maybe this news should have calmed me. It didn’t.

  “Is he the right guy for you?”

  “Do we have to do that stupid quiz?” I let myself fall back on my bed. Izzy was immersed in the magazine and ignored me.

  “First question...”

  I let out a groan and threw an arm over my face.

  “You met your crush: a) at a party, b) through your friends, or c) at school.”

  “You know the answer to that question.”

  Silence.

  I peeked out from behind my arm. Izzy was watching me.

  “At school,” I replied.

  She smiled and made a cross at the right spot. She read the next question and made a cross.

  “Hey, the questions are for me.” I tried to get a glimpse of the quiz, but Izzy hid it.

  “Don’t worry. You’re too biased for that one.”

  “Izzy! Give me the magazine.” I leaned over and snatched it from her hands.

  She burst out laughing. “You should see your face!”

  My neck was stiff and even the tiniest movement hurt like hell. It felt like thousands of needles were pricking me, boring themselves through my skin and into my brain. My eyelids seemed to be glued shut. Ugh, I felt like shit. Thoughts from the day before flooded my mind. Dad was still out there alone. Was he hoping I’d come to save him or had he given up already?

  I groaned and forced my eyes open, then screwed them shut because of the blinding brightness of the halogen lamps. Sleeping in a sitting position had been a bad idea.

  I tilted my head to the side, ignoring the cracking of my neck. My eyes settled on Joshua’s bed. He was gone. Fear shot through me. My gaze swept across the room. Nothing.

  I stumbled to my feet. “Joshua?” I reached for my pistol.

  A creak made my finger tense on the trigger.

  Joshua came through a door I hadn’t noticed before at the end of the room. My grip on the gun loosened, my muscles relaxing, but then I froze. His hair was wet and dripping down his face and chest. Droplets glittered on his tanned skin. He was only wearing his jeans.

  I’d seen bare chests before – at the beach when the guys from school had walked around in their swimming trunks. That wasn’t what had me entranced.

  Scars covered his body. Their white stood out against his butter-toffee skin. The longest ran from his left shoulder over his collarbone. There were three scars of similar shape and length over his belly button. It looked as if claws had ripped his skin open.

  I looked down when Joshua noticed me staring at his chest. A moment of charged silence followed and my skin started to tingle.

  “There’s a shower room. If you want, you can use it. But we’ll set out in about thirty minutes, so you should hurry.”

  His words made me raise my head. My lips parted. He was drying his hair with a blanket and had his back turned to me. I shivered. Over his shoulder blades was a tattoo. The word Avenger was written in italics on his skin. Before I could stop myself, I walked up to him and traced the letters with my fingertips. They were entwined and beautiful.

  The muscles in his back rippled beneath my touch. He glanced at me over his shoulder. My stomach flipped and my cheeks grew hot, but I returned his gaze. “Where did you get it?”

  He wouldn’t have been much older than Bobby was now when the rabies had broken out. It was unlikely that he’d had the tattoo back then.

  “Tyler did it.”

  “Tyler?”

  He gave a small nod and grinned when he saw the look on my face.

  “But where did you get a...tattoo gun?”

  “I found the equipment in a tattoo shop,” he said with a shrug.

  “And Tyler knew how to use it?” I wouldn’t let someone with a tattoo gun near me, much less someone like Tyler.

  “He was a tattoo artist in his other life.” He turned around and pulled his T-shirt on over his head.

  “How did you find out about his other life?”

  “He wrote it on a piece of paper. It took weeks before I gained his trust.”

  “Avenger?” I said curiously.

  Something fierce flickered in his blue eyes. “Yes. You should shower now.”

  I took a clean shirt from the backpack and hurried towards the shower room. Thoughts of Joshua’s tattoo kept flashing in my mind while I washed the grime from my skin. I couldn’t stop thinking about its meaning.

  I returned to the main room of the bunker, where Joshua was sitting on his bed. My jeans felt heavy with sweat and dirt, but at least the shirt was clean. My foot hurt with every step. Hopefully it wouldn’t stop me running.

  Joshua looked up. He nodded towards the guns that lay beside him on the bed. Their steel shone in the artificial light.

  “I’ve loaded them with most of the bullets we’ve got left. We’ll need to be prepared.”

  I took two guns and stuffed one of them into my waistband. It still felt surreal, like I was caught up in a bad western or horror movie. Only the horror was real. I’d actually killed something. A few years ago, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to shoot anything more than clay pigeons, even when I went hunting with Dad. But now I would do anything to find him.

  “Do you have enough bullets?”

  I showed him the empty pockets of my jeans and smiled apologetically. “Needed them yesterday.”

  His grin made me all jittery inside. “Horrible aim,” he muttered under his breath, but I caught it. He handed me a box of bullets and tossed me an apple, then slung his pack over his shoulder and walked towards the staircase, glancing back to make sure I was following. Taking a bite from the apple, I limped after him. He hurried up the stairs, two steps at a time.

  I waited behind him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. The smell of excrement and urine wafted over us and made me retch. I breathed through my mouth while we walked up the stairs to the ground floor. The acrid sweet odour lingered in my nose, as if it was burned into it.

  The entrance hall of the library was much cooler than the day before. Not too warm and not too cold. I saw the reason for the change of temperature when I gazed out of the open door. Heavy, grey clouds covered the sky and the soft drumming of raindrops filled the silence.

  1,143 days since I’d seen rain. Since I’d felt it on my skin. Since I’d smelled it.

  The scent was fresh. It filled my lungs. I ran outside, raised my head and closed my eyes, letting the drops splash against my face. Better than a shower. Refreshing. Laughter bubbled up...but then died as fast as it had come. I shouldn’t laugh, not in a situation like this. Not when Dad was still in danger.

  “Sherry, come on!” Joshua’s voice was almost drowned out by the rain.

  I dipped my head. He waited next to the Lincol
n, his arms crossed and a blond eyebrow raised. His hair was plastered to his face and his shirt clung to his body. He didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the rain as I was.

  I hurried towards the Lincoln. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen rain.”

  He shook his head and got into the car. I slipped into the passenger seat. Joshua shook his head like a wet dog, sending droplets of water flying my way. I threw up my hands to shield myself.

  “I thought you liked rain.” His cheeky grin made me want to punch him. I tried to hide my smile.

  He fetched the map and pointed at the places we’d check next. Most were situated around the harbour area and one of the nests was in a park.

  I shivered. Joshua tipped his index finger against the cross in the park. “We’ll go there last. The park’s overgrown with brushwood and grass. It’s probably the most dangerous area to search. Let’s hope he isn’t there.”

  He started the car. The soft purr of the engine competed with the sound of fat raindrops pelting down on the roof and windshield.

  It took us about thirty minutes to reach the harbour. The destruction in this part of the city was minimal. Only a few houses had been damaged. Cracks formed in the concrete though – some so huge that small trees sprouted from them. Nature was reconquering what had once been hers.

  Joshua parked the Lincoln next to a warehouse close to the water, probably to keep the Weepers from spotting it. I could smell the salty green scent of the ocean.

  1,143 days since I’d smelled the sea, heard the soft splash of waves.

  I shielded my eyes with my left hand and stared at the cruise ships anchored in the harbour – their past splendour was covered with green slime. Algae. Some smaller ships were overturned. None of them looked like they were seaworthy.

  Before my family had gone into the shelter, there had been reports about evacuation ships. Thousands of people had found shelter on them. I wondered what had become of them.

  “Weren’t parts of the population put on boats instead of in bunkers?” I asked.

  Joshua stared out at the water. “I’ve heard stories about that. I don’t know what happened to the people on the ships. Nobody does.”