by M. D. Massey
“We were,” Sonia corrected, “are with a group of people. A nurse helped me with the delivery.”
“You know where people are? Then what are you doing here?” Scarlett couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh, there are plenty of people out there all right, hiding in the hills—so to speak. Small gangs here and there, but they’re none too friendly if you know what I mean. They’re—let’s say, territorial. If you go wandering into another group’s territory, you might get shot—in the head.”
Scarlett gasped.
“These days, they might as well shoot you in the head like a Walker,” he spouted off.
“Walker?” Scarlett grimaced.
“Ya know, Walkers as in the zombies from The Walking Dead series.” Sam seemed a bit irritated with her.
Scarlett noted the tone of sarcasm in his voice. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of the show, but I never actually watched it. I heard it was gory and violent,” Scarlett responded in her defense.
“Well Scarlett, we wouldn’t have made it this long if we hadn’t watched that show. Shit-yeah, it’s practically a frickin’ documentary.” He let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.
“Don’t mind him. Things have been so crazy. I’m afraid we’ve totally forgotten our manners,” Sonia said, attempting to smooth things over.
I’m not so sure I like Sam, she decided. “You’re the first people—living people—I’ve seen since August.” Scarlett looked wistfully out the window and promised herself she wouldn’t cry, no matter what they had to say. No matter how bad things really are. “So, do you know what’s going on?” Scarlett asked, bracing herself for the news.
Sam and Sonia exchanged quick glances. Scarlett thought she caught a fleeting glimpse of insolence in Sam’s eyes, which she chose to ignore. His somewhat childish behavior reminded her of the sarcastic attitude students often had when they thought their teachers and grown-ups, in general, were stupid.
“You do know about the Super Summer flu?” Sam asked slowly like she was a first grader.
Sonia took over the conversation. “Sorry, we’ve had a very bad day, so please excuse my rude husband.” Sonia gave him the look a spouse gives after the other spouse has completely embarrassed the other.
“Actually, I read about the Super Summer flu, afterward—that is.” Scarlett took another sip of the sweet Moscato, savoring its delicate flavor. “All I know is, one day I had all four of my wisdom teeth extracted. A horribly painful experience, I might add. The painkillers I took really drugged me out. When I woke up or rather, became coherent five days later . . . society had disappeared or gone mad,” Scarlett explained, making it sound so simple. It had been much more devastating at the time: jilted and heartbroken, the desperate texts from Kevin, Miss Purlie’s death, and the incidents with the hermit neighbor and the creeper in the garage. But they didn’t need to know about that. She had a funny feeling Sam couldn’t care less about her personal feelings. I don’t like him very much.
“Shit-yeah, that’s about all there is to it. California collapsed in five frickin’ days,” Sam said, calmly pouring them another round of wine.
“Sam, you don’t have to sound so coldblooded,” Sonia scolded.
“Scarlett needs to know how things are. And things are fucked-up. Looks like you’ve been doing pretty good for yourself.” He eyed the stacked tubs of supplies. “Let me give you some friendly advice.” His eyes narrowed as if scrutinizing her. “You should hook-up with a gang. A woman like yourself—hmm, what you need is a man. A man can protect you. ’Cause, I’ll tell you what, you sure as hell won’t last long on your own.” He guzzled the last of his wine and then sat the glass down a little too hard.
Scarlett definitely didn’t like him. How the hell do you think I’ve made it this far, she wanted to scream. She never did have much tolerance for male chauvinists. Chivalry is one thing, but he’s a bit of an ass.
“What are you guys doing here—in Natomas?” Scarlett asked abruptly.
“We were in Redding, with a small gang of survivalists. They let us stay until the baby was born, then kicked us out.” Sonia almost cried again, tears clinging to her lashes.
“They said we can join them if we find medical supplies,” Sam said confidently. “We’ve been hitting every hospital and Major Shelter Center. No luck yet.”
“We thought for sure we’d find refuge or supplies with the Natomas shelter.” Sonia was crying again. “Sorry, it’s my hormones. They’re still out of balance from my pregnancy. The nurse said I’d feel like crying all the time for a while. She called it postpartum depression.”
“I take it that’s why you’re here too?” Sam asked Scarlett, ignoring his weeping wife. “You said you’re from Roseville. Did you come here for the arena shelter—only to find it blown up?”
Scarlett nodded. “So, now what?” she questioned, looking from Sam to Sonia.
“I’ve got a list of the hospitals in the Sacramento area. If no luck, we’ll try the medical lab at U.C. Davis, I guess.” He no longer sounded so confident.
Scarlett remembered that devastating feeling when she had found the arena obliterated. “Do you think our military bombed it?” Scarlett almost whispered.
“Hell yeah, bombed the bejesus out of it. We’ve heard the rumors,” his voice cracked. He seemed scared for the first time since they had met. He busied himself by opening the second bottle of wine.
The sound of shattering glass interrupted their intense conversation. Scarlett jumped. “Oh Shit, the creepers can’t possibly break in. Can they?” Scarlett grabbed the rifle. The banging reverberated off the walls and into her heart.
“Doubt it,” Sam whispered as they crept downstairs.
“Sounds like they're hitting the door with a hammer or something,” Sam speculated.
“I’ve never seen them pick up anything except food,” Scarlett puzzled.
“Well, they only broke the window. You’ve got it boarded securely from the inside. There’s no way they can break in. We’re good,” Sam reassured.
“Everything’s all right,” Sam announced to Sonia when they reached the top of the stairs, convincing her with a wide grin.
Now I see what Sonia sees in him. He’s quite attractive when he’s not being an ass. Then she realized he had a wife and a baby to protect. It must be extremely difficult for him.
Sam held up the bottle of Moscato, silently asking if she needed a refill.
“Why not?” Scarlett needed something to calm her growing anxiety.
“How long do you plan to stay here?” Sonia asked. “Hey, why don’t you come with us? Once we find the medical supplies, I’m pretty sure the Redding camp will let all of us stay with them,” Sonia said.
Scarlett was stunned, not sure of what to say. Redding was in the wrong direction. Besides, she wasn’t sure it would be such a good idea to live with a bunch of survivalist types. They had apparently thrown Sam, Sonia, and a newborn baby out to fend for themselves. It really didn’t sound too promising.
“It’s something to consider. The Redding gang is very selective. I can say without a doubt you’d be an asset,” he said, staring intently at her.
Is he staring at my breasts? What a jerk!
They sat in the living room, enjoying the last bottle of wine, and reminisced about the good old days. Funny, how their eyes seemed to focus on the blank, blackish-grey TV screen, an old habit. Scarlett thought about accepting their offer. It’s safer to be with people. Right? Or, was she better off in Natomas? But, what about Cyndi and her family? After a couple of hours of much-needed chit-chat, the baby’s cries interrupted them, and the couple excused themselves.
The pounding finally ceased. Had they given up? It would be dawn soon; she needed to get to bed. The tendrils of the wine relaxed her entire body as she curled under the blankets. No, tonight she wouldn’t toss in bed for hours listening to the creepers’ un-dying howls of hunger consuming her soul.
What was that? Scarlett thrashed about under the covers. The sound o
f squealing tires? Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed in a half-dazed state and ambled to the living room, noticing how untidy the place was. Odd, she thought, rubbing her eyes. She always kept the place in tip-top shape, one of her habits that had annoyed Kevin. She focused in on the wine bottles and wine glasses cluttering the dining room table.
A pleasant smile widened when she remembered last night. I have guests! Hmm, what should we have for breakfast? Still groggy, she began clearing the table from the previous night’s dinner and decided a cup of coffee was required before attempting the mess. She searched the lower kitchen cupboards, unable to find the handy-dandy, propane, Coleman coffee maker she had acquired. “Where is it?” She rubbed her temples and ignored the slight hangover threatening to invade her pleasant drowsiness.
A startling realization overwhelmed her. “The plastic tubs? Where’s my food?” Had they moved them last night to make more room in the dining room? No. There was plenty of room.
She stumbled over her own two feet like a creeper, dashing to the spare bedroom to confront Sam and Sonia. She hastily rapped on the door. “Good morning.”
After no response, she swung open the door. Sam, Sonia, and the baby were gone! Were they checking on their truck—unloading their supplies? No! A voice inside her head shouted, causing a sharp pain in her head. They wouldn’t have taken the baby to retrieve their supplies.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. A chemical much stronger than caffeine activated her senses: horror. Rushing down the stairs, she noticed the splintered wood around the doorframe’s hinges. It wouldn’t withstand another creeper bombardment. She needed to find more wood, and she should probably just board-over the entire wall. That meant the door would no longer provide access, but she could still exit by way of the garage.
She stole a quick glance out of the peephole. “Ahhhh,” Scarlett screamed. There, on the front porch and walkway, were hundreds of creepers festering about. At the sound of her scream, they crowded to the door like deranged concertgoers rushing the stage. Only, she was the stage. What? Several creepers pounded the door with the flowerbed’s landscaping bricks. They learned to use tools!
“Where the hell are Sam and Sonia? Oh, dear God, I hope the baby’s all right.”
She gathered her wits and headed to the garage. She opened the laundry room’s door leading to the garage. “What the—” she whispered in disbelief. The roll-up garage door was wide open. And several packs lumbered for the garage—once they saw her standing in plain view. Sam and Sonia must have just left, or surely, the garage would be full of creepers.
Scarlett reached for the manual garage door cord and somehow managed to slam the door down a second before a pack crashed into it, denting the door. But what was most disturbing of all, the Hyundai SUV she’d been prepping was gone. Sam and Sonia had stolen it along with her supplies. It’s all gone! After weeks of planning and weeks of dangerous scavenging trips, she was left with nothing but her own stupidity.
“The rifle!” She ran upstairs to retrieve the Remington. Besides the food, it was her most valuable asset. She had left it by the door to the balcony, always handy and always loaded. But, they had taken it too. She wanted to scream; instead, she stared out the window overlooking the field. Creepers swarmed the field, coming from all directions. Were they coming for her?
The sickening sound of splintering wood alerted her. She dashed back down the stairs to see the front door’s hinges giving way to the pressure from the growing pack of creepers congregating on the front porch. They knew she was inside. They aren’t giving up this time!
She had to get out of there before it was too late. Or, she’d be trapped in the tiny attic until she starved to death. A numb auto-pilot mode took over while she dressed. She tossed a few items in her go-bag and then darted to the kitchen. When she opened the pantry for food, she found one single box of granola bars used as a paperweight. A note awaited her: SORRY, I BEGGED HIM NOT TO DO IT.
“Sorry. That’s it? You take everything I have after I saved your lives, your baby’s life—and, and—you’re sorry?” She was practically hysterical.
The crackling of splintering wood once again warned her time was running out. In a matter of minutes, the door would surely rip away from its hinges. The problem was how to escape? Creepers blocked the front and back exits. If she could lure them away from the garage door, she could make a fast getaway in the Mini Cooper. How? Hmm, they’re incredibly stupid. I just need to fake them out. She thought for a moment.
She threw her go-bag and purse in the Mini Cooper and then rummaged through the car’s emergency kit; a two-pack of flares caught her eye. This might work. It had to. She ran back to the balcony, ignited a flare, and then yelled at the hungry congregation of creepers gathered around the closed garage door—below her—waiting for her.
“Hey, over here,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Over here.” Ghoulish heads tilted up and drooled at her presence. She tossed the flickering flare over to the far side of the townhouse building and then ducked below the stucco wall of the balcony. She peered over the edge of the balcony. To her relief, the hungry pack tottered and teetered toward the flare.
Completely out of breath and running on pure adrenaline, Scarlett ran back down the stairs. Dozens of bloodstained-skeletal hands reached in through the narrow gap where the door’s hinges had given way. She stood there. Staring. Horrified. The doorframe cracked open further. More bony hands reached in, clawing for her. The door came crashing down! She dodged it. And ran into the garage.
Scarlett tugged on the garage door’s manual release cord and tried to raise the door, but it was stuck, badly warped from where the creepers had tried mauling their way in. Using all her strength, she forced the door up, wincing at the shrieking sound of warped metal. But the damaged door only rolled-up halfway.
She peeked around the half-open garage. They were onto her trickery, jerking their way to her like human vultures. She really wasn’t sure, but she thought the car might fit under the garage door. If not, she’d bash her way through.
“What if the car doesn’t start?” She panicked. The next instant she was in the car. She turned the key a bit too quickly. The engine didn’t catch. Please start! The engine started and then faltered. It had taken it a while to start last Sunday, but she really hadn’t been concerned, since she had decided the SUV would be the better choice of the two vehicles.
“Errr-errr-errr.” The whine of the faltering engine bounced off the garage walls and announced her escape to the entire Natomas creeper community. Finally, the engine turned over. As she shifted the car into reverse, she caught a glance of several creepers in the rearview mirror. They’re here! The flare had bought her the life-saving seconds she needed. She slammed her way out of there, backing over several creepers, splattering the pristine blue and white car with a googol of bloody red spots. How patriotic she thought as she turned on the windshield wipers, smearing a thin sheen of burgundy across the glass.
Scarlett squealed onto Arena Boulevard, without a clue of what to do next. Where could she go? She drove by several apartment complexes. Bad idea, she thought. She also didn’t want to run into Sam and Sonia . . . they had her rifle. Would they use it on her? Remembering last night’s conversation, they were checking out the hospitals in the Sacramento area as far west as the UC Davis Medical Center.
Scarlett gave up analyzing the situation and resorted to her intuition. After all, it had kept her alive. She willed her heartbeat to slow, willing in calmness, afraid she was about to have a flipping panic attack. Creepers everywhere! She had no idea this many existed. Although, her escape hadn’t been so clandestine. Still, it made her speculate again if creepers communicated on a different level than humans.
Scarlett drove down Arena Boulevard in a half-dazed state. How could Sam and Sonia be so ruthless? She thought back to all the dangerous supply runs she’d gone on the past few weeks. There had been several creeper close calls, but somehow she had always escaped, only to be d
one in by a seemingly harmless family.
She shuddered. What would have happened if she hadn’t been awakened by Sam and Sonia’s tire-squawking escape? The creepers would have invaded the garage. And, the next Sunday she went to the garage to start the SUV— Wait a minute! Had they intentionally left the garage door open, or had it just been an oversight during their rash flee?
A road sign beckoned ahead: INTERSTATE 5 NORTH AND SOUTH. She wasn’t familiar with this area of California. At that point, she didn’t care. She counted her blessings that she had made it out of there alive. How could they be so heartless? Or perhaps, the appropriate question was: Why had she been so naïve? Stupid! Okay, okay, you've got to stop thinking about it and figure out what to do. Now! The only thing she knew: it was time to leave Natomas.
Scarlett veered onto I-5 South, knowing it connected to Interstate 80 at some point. The Mini Cooper followed the looping on-ramp as she drove in a dazed state. Surprisingly, the on-ramp was not blocked. There were only a few stranded vehicles on the road, and she began to breathe easier, although her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. Another deep breath, “Okay, I can do this.” It was more of an affirmation than a reality, and she drove.
She continued along the highway looking for the junction where I-80, I-5, and I-99 merged. There it is. She rounded the bend. Wow! Under the forlorn October sky, the chaotic scene could have been a billboard for Armageddon. Thousands of vehicles had invented countless lanes beyond the shoulder’s adjacent field in their desperate attempts to get to the shelters. Had the military rescued all these people, or had they been consumed. Or were they roaming the roads as one of—them?
It was impossible to go further. Almost. Scarlett remained determined and skillfully zig-zagged the tiny car between the lifeless vehicles, banging the car in the process. She finally stopped cringing at every little scrape, realizing it couldn’t be helped. She had a sick feeling the beautiful car looked like a piece of junk from the county pick-and-pull yard (just like her Kia).