by A. R. Wise
Most of the survivors were on the verge of death. Even the ones that only suffered a single bite were now succumbing to the virus. Their skin was pale, their heads drooping, and they coughed over and over.
My wounds seared me, but I didn't feel ill. I looked around for anyone else that might have survived the night in fair shape.
There was a boy beside me, younger than me by a few years, who had his head leaned back and his knees pulled up against his chest. His skin was tan, a welcome contrast to the pale faces of the dead and dying that surrounded us.
"How're you doing?" I asked him.
Various zombies around us responded to my daring speech. They rattled their chains and growled as the boy looked at me.
"Absolutely great," he said with a smirk. "Can't you tell?"
His face was speckled with the liquid from the bottom of the truck that must've decorated my face as well. I smiled and even laughed for a second. "I guess that's a stupid question."
"No, I know what you meant." He said and then rubbed his eyes against his knees to clear them from the droplets of blood that threatened to leak in past his eyebrows. "I don't feel sick."
"Are you one of the people that are immune?"
He shrugged and then winced from a wound I couldn't see. "Not that I know of. I've never been bit. What about you?"
"Me neither. I never actually saw a zombie until yesterday."
He was incredulous. "Seriously?"
I nodded and set my head against the metal behind me as I thought of the safety of the Facility I'd left behind. "Yep. I was trained to fight them, but I'd never actually seen one before."
"How is that even possible?"
"It's a long story."
He seemed appeased by my vague answer and set his head down on his knees. We were quiet for a few minutes before he spoke again. "I don't even remember the first time I saw one."
"What?" I asked. Enough time had passed that I didn't understand what he meant.
"A zombie. I don't remember the first time I saw one. They've been around for as long as I can remember." He set his chin on his knees and stared out across the truck at the line of undead that were chained to the opposite wall. They gazed back, the chains around their necks pulled tight enough to choke out their voices as they stretched out. Their jaws snapped, and the sound of their teeth clacking together was impossible to get used to.
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen," he said. "How about you?"
"Eighteen," I said.
"You were with the High Rollers, right? Were they the ones training you?"
I shook my head. Annie had warned me not to mention that I was from the Facility, but what did it matter now? "I was raised in a place called the Facility. It's deep underground, out by an airport near here."
He stared at me, unsure how to respond. "Seriously?"
I nodded, and we sat again in silence until he muttered, "Wow. I'd heard rumors of those types of places, but I thought it was just conspiracy talk. I never thought they were real. The Rollers always said the military still had a strong hold on this area, but those of us that lived in the towns never saw any sign of them. It's hard to believe they were keeping you down there your whole life."
"And you? Were you born in Vineyard?"
"No," he said. "But my story's not half as crazy as yours. I was born in the mountains somewhere, but my parents moved around a lot. We used to be part of a caravan of traders until I was about ten, and then we were able to stay in Vineyard."
"Seemed like a nice place to live."
"It is." He paused, and then corrected himself. "Was."
"Sorry. Do you know if your family made it out?"
"They didn't live there anymore. My dad died a few years back and my mom hooked up with the traders. I stayed with my sister, who's a year older than me."
"And what about her?" I asked.
"She died."
"Yesterday?"
"No. She got sick from some bad food last year and died from it."
"Sorry to hear that," I said.
He nodded and spoke nonchalantly, "We've all lost people."
I thought of Hailey again, and the vision that came to me when I remembered her was of blood smeared on her cheeks. I forced myself to try and think of better times, but her dead face kept creeping back into focus.
His chains rattled as he shifted to look at me. "Did your girlfriend die?"
I didn't want to answer and just nodded.
"I'm sorry. If it helps at all, I've never seen a prettier girl than her. I was at the party and saw you two there. I had to leave early because I was in charge of getting the meat out of the smoker in the morning, but I was there long enough to see the two of you arrive. You guys were kind of hard to miss. You both look like the girls in the magazines from the Red Days."
"What are the Red Days?"
"Before the plague. You've never heard it called the Red Days before?"
"No. Like I said, I grew up underground. I just broke out yesterday, with my friend that I was with. The past day has been a little insane. This is all new to me."
"Pretty shitty first day outside." At first he sounded sympathetic, but then he chuckled and I joined in. It wasn't funny, but we laughed anyhow.
"To say the least."
"It's not all bad," he said. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself at the party."
"Yeah, that part was nice. I liked the wine."
"What was it like in the place you came from?"
I thought for a moment to try and come up with the best way to describe my life in the Facility. "Sterile."
He waited for more details, but I didn't offer them. "That's it? Just sterile?"
"And safe, for the most part."
"Well, the outside world is pretty much the exact opposite of that. I'm Griffin, by the way."
"I'm Cobra," I stopped and corrected myself. "I used to be called Cobra, but now I go by Celeste."
"That's a prettier name than Cobra. It fits you better. You deserve a pretty name."
I should've thanked him, he was just trying to be nice, but I ignored him instead. I wasn't in the mood for compliments.
"It's not all bad."
"Are you kidding?" I sneered when I responded.
"I'm not talking about our situation." He nodded in the direction of the choking, frothing zombies across from us. "I'm talking about the world; about the outside. It's not all bad."
"You can keep it," I said. "I've had about all I can stand of it."
"Maybe if we make it out of here…"
One of the creatures across from us started to vomit and convulse. It shook and ripped at the shackles until blood began to spurt from around its bindings. The rattling drowned out Griffin's words. The zombie began to gurgle before a fount of bile, saliva, and blood poured from its gullet. It breathed slowly as the syrupy strands hung from its lips. Its face was pointed down, but it looked up at us and growled. Then it lunged, seeming to have forgotten that it was impossible to reach us. The chains choked it back into silence.
"What were you saying?" I asked once the creature calmed down.
Griffin was startled, but was able to focus on me and continue. "If we make it out of here, I'll show you some of the better parts."
"Better parts of what?"
"Of the outside world."
I snickered, thinking he was fooling with me. I saw that he was serious and said, "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Griffin, but we're not making it out of this alive."
"We might."
"How do you figure?"
"We might be immune," he said. "That's why they didn't just kill us before. We might be immune to the virus. They have to keep us separated from everyone else until they know for sure."
I considered it while I watched the sun rising over the plains. Beams of light poured in through the small holes that lined the side of the truck, and one of them illuminated Griffin's boyish good looks. He looked exactly like the pictures of men that I'd been shown at t
he Facility. He was handsome, chiseled, with bright blue eyes and short brown hair. There was a dimple in his chin, and whiskers dotted his jaw. He had full lips, a small nose, and compassionate eyes.
"Don't get your hopes up," I said.
"I feel fine. How about you? Are you feeling sick at all?"
"No, but I'm still bleeding from where I was bit. I don't think there's much of a chance that I'm making it out of here alive."
"Stop it," he said. "You can't let yourself think like that. You have to stay positive."
"Okay," I smiled at him. "I'm positive I'm going to die."
He frowned, but then relented and let out a chuckle before he sighed. "Tell me about your best day. Whatever day that was, tell me all about it."
"I'd rather not."
"Come on," he said and tried to get more comfortable, an impossible task on the metal floor. "Humor me. We might as well talk about something nice."
I thought about it and finally said, "Yesterday. That was my best day."
"Really?" He was surprised. "Why's that?"
"It was the first time Hailey and I were together. We weren't allowed to be together, not in that way, if you know what I mean."
He nodded.
"We decided to escape afterwards, and that's how we ended up in Vineyard. Everything was so exciting, and new, and we were together. It was the best day of my life, and then it all ended." I set my chin down on my knees as I looked out at the blazing sun on the horizon. "I guess it's also my worst day."
"Sorry."
I wanted to let the conversation die. It wasn't that I disliked Griffin, and I knew he was just trying to stay positive as this hell raged around us, but I was content in my slow slide into death. I longed for its release.
"Want to hear mine?"
"Sure." I figured he needed to tell me more than I needed to hear it, and didn't have the heart to tell him no.
"It was this past summer. I was on barrel duty, which is where we take barrels of wine out to other towns. I got to Juniper, and we gave them the barrels in exchange for some pelts. We tried not to do a lot of trading, but every now and again we had to, and most of the towns in the area were happy to get a barrel or two of wine. Anyhow, I was there and I met this girl named Dexy. I caught her digging through the things in the back of my truck." He laughed and snorted as he set his head back against the wall. "I didn't know she was a girl until I grabbed her shirt and pulled her back. I was ready to pop her until I saw she was a girl, and then, you know what happened?"
"No, what?" I humored him.
"She belted me right on the chin. Smack. Knocked me flat on my ass. She was the toughest girl I'd ever met."
"And that's your best day?"
"It gets better, trust me," he said. "We got into a fight, but we got pulled apart before either of us got hurt. It was late, so I decided to stay the night at Juniper and they cracked open the wine we delivered. We had a hell of a night, singing and carrying on, and then Dexy came over to apologize. We got to talking, and before you knew it we were getting to know each other real well, if you know what I mean." He repeated the phrase I'd used earlier.
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
"Anyhow, we ended up sneaking off and climbing up onto a tower they have out there. There's a spot where you can sit up real high, far away from anyone. It's meant to be a lookout spot, but we just stayed there all night, holding each other and talking until the sun came up."
I looked out at the rising sun as Griffin continued his story.
"There weren't any clouds that day. There was just a haze of fog as the sun rose, and it made the whole horizon turn pink and purple. We sat there in silence and just watched it. When it was finally all the way up, Dexy took my hand and asked me to marry her."
"Marry you?" I was familiar with the custom, having learned about it at the Facility, but my understanding of it seemed to be different from Griffin's. I was under the impression that marriage was a bond between two people that was only reached after a lengthy relationship.
"Crazy, right? I looked into her eyes and said yes as quickly as possible." He smiled and shook his head as he closed his eyes and recalled that moment.
"Did she move to Vineyard with you? Is she okay?"
"No, she's still in Juniper, thank God."
My heart sank. He'd mentioned that he left the party early, which I assumed meant he hadn't heard Beach's announcement about what happened in Juniper. He didn't know that his fiancé was dead.
"She's in Juniper?" I asked, hoping that I'd heard him wrong.
"Yes. Safe and sound, and waiting for me to come get her. That's why I'm not willing to go out without a fight. I'm going to get back to her no matter what."
I didn't tell him the truth. I didn't have the heart.
"Will you help me?" he asked after a while.
"Help you what?"
"Help me stay alive. Help me get back to Dexy."
"How can I help?" I asked.
"Just stay alive. I know you've had a rough day, and I know you're ready to give up, but do me a favor and just try to stay alive. I need someone to talk to. Okay?"
"I don't think it's up to me," I said.
"Sure it is. Before, you were talking like you were about to give up and let yourself die on the spot. The last thing I need is another dead body chained up beside me. Do me a favor and keep your spirits up. Help me make it through this, and I promise to show you how great the outside world can be. Okay? Dexy and I will take you up to our spot in Juniper and watch the sunrise with you. It'll be worth it, I promise. It's my favorite place in the world."
It was painful to listen to his hopefulness as I kept the secret of Juniper's destruction. "Okay, I'll do my best." I didn't know what else to say.
"Great. It's a deal then, we'll both do our best to stay alive and then go to Juniper together."
One of the other temporary survivors on the other side of the truck, close to the rear exit, started to cough. I glanced down at him, past a row of wavering corpses, and saw that it was an old man with white hair and a long, braided beard. His clothes were mopped with the fluid from the bottom of the truck, and he was shivering as if freezing to death. He looked up at me, as if he could sense my eyes on him, and tried to smile. Then he coughed again, violently, until it seemed he might choke to death. He started to gasp intermittently, between his coughs, and he began to shake as blood coursed out of his nose. He convulsed and clenched his jaw as he moaned in pain.
"Don't look at him," said Griffin, but I didn't listen.
The old man started to bounce on the floor and I could hear his chains scraping against the metal holes in the side of the truck as he tried to get free. He was only afforded a few inches of room to rise up before dropping down again, but he made the most of what he had. His back end crashed into the metal floor time and time again as he coughed, moaned, and sputtered. Blood continued to gush from his nose, coursing along his braided beard. He shook his head back and forth and his wet beard flung blood around him like a paintbrush in the hands of a temperamental child.
"Celeste," said Griffin, "you shouldn't watch."
"Kill me!" The old man screamed before he started to bash the back of his head into the truck's perforated side. His fury startled me and I gasped as I watched him continue his self-mutilating assault. He thrust his head into the metal again and again until the clatter turned to a sopping wet thud with each new strike. Soon, his bright red blood colored the back of his hair as he continued to try and kill himself.
"Just kill us!" He stopped his assault, and his head drooped to the side. It seemed that he'd dazed himself, and I was thankful for the respite. The scene had unsettled me, which I would've thought was impossible given the circumstance. Despite my acceptance of impending death, I was disturbed by the prospect of watching someone commit suicide like that.
"Don't look," said Griffin, but his voice was timid. He sounded defeated.
"I think he knocked himself out," I said, still staring at the o
ld man.
A bump in the road caused the trailer to bounce, and the old man's head rolled forward. Blood still dripped from his nose, but it didn't flow as strong as it had moments before. I couldn't be sure if he was still alive, but at least he was quiet.
I finally looked away, back out at the rising sun that now warmed my skin. The old man got my attention again soon enough. He gasped, but in a more desperate manner than he'd done before. His head reared back and he sucked in a long breath as his back straightened. He looked directly at me, and then did his best to move my way.
He was a zombie now, and the chain around his neck tightened as he tried to crawl forward. The pressure choked him, like it did the others around us that were doing the same. They all tried to move towards Griffin and me, because we were the only ones left alive. This trailer was filled with creatures that wanted nothing more than to eat us.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the side of the truck. With the old man dead, and the zombies choking themselves into submission, we were afforded a grim solace.
It wasn't long after the old man died that the truck started to slow down. We made a few turns, which caused the fluid in the bottom of the trailer to slosh around, and then the brakes squealed as we finally came to a stop. The sun was high above us now, and baked the trailer. The metal sides had become hot to the touch, and the stench of cooking, putrid blood and flesh caused my eyes to water.
I heard someone walking through the gravel behind me, but didn't bother to turn far enough to see. I wanted to hate the people of Vineyard for this, but I understood that this wasn't their fault. The conditions we'd been placed in weren't done to us out of spite, but rather out of pity. We were doomed, but the slight chance that some of us might be immune to the disease was enough to warrant this hellish journey. There was no other way for them to have compassionately brought us, and despite my rage over the conditions of the trip, I knew it would be misguided to blame the people that put me here.