by M. D. Massey
“Why don’t you keep it as a token of good faith? And, if you choose to go on your merry way, so to speak, then we’ll get ya geared-up with a vehicle and supplies. So, don’t you worry your pretty head ’bout a thing.” Dean gave her a genuine smile and silently stepped out of the big rig.
15
A penetrating hollowness seemed to sweep over Scarlett after Dean left the semi. She felt guilty for putting him off like that. She had avoided making the decision, mainly because she was terrified of making the wrong decision. She was still recovering from yesterday’s narrow escape and needed sleep before collapsing from sheer exhaustion. She had somehow managed to outrun the packs of creepers. Luck had finally found her when she had spotted the semi sitting on top of the overpass during a brief respite in the storm. The semi was the perfect place to hide and rest, for the cab sat high enough to avoid one of the creepers’ favorite pastimes: window-bashing.
Her plan was to find a car and continue to Pinole. But she was completely drained. Useless. So, she decided to start the search tomorrow, knowing it would take a while to find a vehicle with the key, gas, and a good battery. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to get much sleep. When she closed her eyes, flashes of running in the blinding rain still haunted her. Her heart raced, and her entire body shivered from the inside out. Well, that’s what it felt like. She worried she might be on the verge of a mild heart attack or a mini-stroke. She vaguely remembered stripping off her wet clothing and bundling up in the cab’s sleeper. The next thing she knew, Dean showed up, scaring the crap out of her.
She crawled back under the sleeper’s warm blankets and found it surprisingly more comfortable than its uninviting appearance. Restless thoughts nagged at her superconscious, working out the pros and cons of Dean’s invitation. In and out of sleep, she caught fleeting glimpses of a younger, happier Dean, like vintage snapshots. She had the impression that once upon a time, Dean had been a happy man. Her restlessness finally subsided, and she rested, thinking she rather liked the way the wrinkles creased around Dean’s eyes when he smiled.
Scarlett woke up wide-eyed and alert, pleased to find a backpack of food and clothing outside the cab’s door. Just as he’d promised. Definitely a good sign. At that very moment, Scarlett made up her mind. I’ll stay with Dean’s people! She smiled. The thought gave her pleasant butterflies. The kind she remembered as a child when anticipating the opening of birthday presents. It was a wonderful feeling, a feeling she hadn’t had in months.
She sat in the cab and enjoyed her breakfast, a thermos of beef and potato stew, savoring each sip, while she methodically scouted the area. With narrowed eyes, she focused on the different shades of darkness, flinching when a shadow flitted by. It was too quick for a creeper. Maybe an owl? She relaxed.
The Levi’s 501 button-down jeans and light-blue sweatshirt felt refreshing after wearing the huge, dirty overalls. Dean had also included a pair of size eight jogging shoes. She wore a seven, but the fit was close enough and would just have to do until her comfy Sketchers dried. He had even included a blue jean jacket, which she greatly appreciated. This is going to be a great day!
Scarlett grew impatient waiting for Dean’s arrival. Hmm, what time is he coming back? She couldn’t remember. Impulsively, in the predawn's light, she stepped out of the cab’s sanctuary, armed only with a mini flashlight, Dean’s gun, and the backpack. Funny, it was all she owned.
Yesterday, Dean had pointed out the tall Sweet Suites’ sign to her, and she decided it wasn’t too far of a walk. I should be able to handle it—don’t want to look like a complete wimp. She hoped she hadn’t lost her nerve. All she needed to do was cross the overpass and then turn left. It should only be a few blocks down. Although she couldn’t actually see the hotel’s sign; it was still too dark. She could not wait in the cab another moment. Deep down, she wondered if she was afraid she might change her mind and go to Pinole instead.
“I’m doing this.” Scarlett gulped a courage-booster of the fresh, crisp air. The area around the semi appeared uninhabited after briefly shining the mini flashlight toward the intersection. In a cat-like hunting mode, she sneaked through the car-littered lanes, ducking and hiding at the slightest sound.
Scarlett halted in her tracks. “Kghlrrr kp kp kp—phw-phwww, kghlrrr kp kp kp—phw-phwww, kghlrrr kp kp kp—phw-phwww.”
What is that? A cacophonous sound squelched like a stalling jackhammer chipping away at solid iron. She ducked behind a dark-colored car and kneeled there. Is there a pack heading this way? Her body stiffened in fear.
She waited there, methodically checking every direction for any movements in the flickering shadows of the streets. She crept up behind the next car and peeked around. Nothing. But whatever it was, the horrible sound was definitely closer. She crept further, ducking behind a Camry. The raucous, thunderous “kghlrrr kp kp kp—phw-phwww” pattern continued.
She leaned against the Camry’s trunk, planning her next move when she noticed the car vibrated in unison with the obnoxious noise. “What the—?” Nudging her head around the rear bumper to get a better view of the street, she noticed the driver’s side window was partially down. She crept forward. The sound came from inside. She dared herself to peer inside the car. A putrid scent instantly stuffed up her nose. But, she had to know. Is that snoring? Human or not? A second later she knew. A huge creeper, maybe four hundred pounds of rotting, liquefying flesh slept in the reclined seat with its legs and arms sprawled out in contorted positions, mouth gaped open, snoring vigorously. Was it trapped in the car for eternity?
It was too early in the morning for such a disturbing vision. She wanted to puke, laugh, and scream at the same time. Reminds me of Kevin; he had snoring issues. She crouched down and slipped away as quickly as possible.
Finally, making it to Orange Drive, she felt instant relief. The silhouette of the hotel’s sign guided her while the sleepy, sunless sky attempted to start the new day. But the clouds refused, shrouding the sun as if the sky decided to hit the snooze button for a few extra minutes of sleep. A chilly mist lingered in the air. She quickened the pace, hoping to reach the hotel before the rain started again.
Scarlett was anxious to meet Dean’s people. What if Dean had changed his mind? What if his group refuses me? Or, even worse, what if nobody’s here, and the place is infested with creepers. All kinds of paranoid thoughts whirled around her mind. Stop it, she scolded and opened the crude barbed wire gate, obviously designed to keep out only the un-living.
A prickling sensation pinched her spine when she walked through the hotel’s parking lot. She made her way through a barbed wire maze, which led her to the hotel’s entrance. The maze concept was a clever idea, she thought. It started to sprinkle, and the safety of dawn had vanished. Morning arrived without the sun.
Scarlett waited a few minutes before knocking on the hotel’s main entrance. The crucial moment awaited—that moment of no return. She could still change her mind. She eyed the shadowy figures milling along Orange Drive. Finally, she knocked on the door of the haphazardly boarded-up hotel entrance.
No one answered after several minutes of knocking. Scarlett dared not knock any louder, for the creepers patrolling the street would surely stampede the parking lot, barbed wire or not. She turned around to check the activity on the street. An alarming number of creepers gathered outside the hotel's gated entrance as if they knew people were inside. She shuddered. This is a mistake. A horrible mistake. She decided to leave. That’s when the door to the Sweet Suites hotel opened.
A young Hispanic girl about sixteen opened the door and silently greeted her. This must be Ella. She looked like a pixie with her barely-there haircut and lovely brown eyes. Ella didn’t say a word and led her to the dining room. She motioned for Scarlett to sit down at the table and then left. She returned with a kettle and poured boiling water over a chamomile tea bag. And then the girl left again.
Feelings of abandonment toyed with Scarlett while she sat alone in the dining room, drinking
her tea. A few minutes later, Dean and a young man entered the dining room. The young man had a silly smirk on his face as he looked from Dean to Ella to Scarlett. Scarlett wondered what he was up to. His expression reminded her of when one of her students attempted to prank someone. So this is Justin. Didn’t Dean say he’s “a laugh a minute?”
Scarlett sat at the table, all eyes upon her like she was their savior. The scene surreal. She had no words for them, at least not the words they wanted to hear. She offered no solutions or supplies or news. She wondered why she was even there.
“Mighty glad to see you made it here in one piece. Guess I forgot to mention what time I’d be by today,” Dean said rather gruffly.
The young, Asian man interrupted, “Wait—you know her?” his voice trailed off in a high pitch.
“Not exactly,” Dean said.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell us about her,” the young man chided as if Scarlett wasn’t there.
“Justin and Ella, this is Scarlett. We stumbled upon each other yesterday. And, she needed some time to muddle things over and decide what she wanted to do. Besides, you were so caught up in your phone project, thought it best to wait,” Dean replied matter-of-factly.
“Scarlett, this is Justin, our official Zombie Expert,” Dean announced as if trying to placate the young man. “And this is Ella, our Master Chef.”
Scarlett greeted them both. “What kind of project are you working on?”
“Check-it.” Justin dashed to the doorway. “C’mon.” He motioned to Scarlett.
Scarlett looked at Dean, and Dean nodded in approval.
“One more thing,” Dean said, “before Justin talks your ear off. Where’s your luggage? I’ll ring the bellhop.” They all laughed.
By lunch, Scarlett had become fast friends with the animated, extremely bright, and often silly Asian man. She had a hunch his cell phone idea might work. It was worth a try.
“Do you want some help?” she offered, happy for a distraction, anything to pass the time while she waited for the rest of the world to find her.
“Awesome! After lunch, around two-ish. Be there or be square,” Justin chimed.
Lunch in the dining room took on an entirely different feeling. A thin woman in her thirties stumbled in. She took one look at Scarlett, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples. Then she looked directly at Scarlett again, apparently somewhat bewildered to see Scarlett sitting at the table.
“LuLu, this is our new friend, Scarlett,” Justin announced, unable to conceal his enthusiasm. “She’s way cool.”
“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure. Don’t mean to be rude. I’ve got one hell of a hangover,” LuLu said and slumped into the dining room chair. “So, you just passing through?” she asked, in a raspy, cigarette-tarnished voice while Ella served LuLu a cup of tea.
“Green tea, the best thing for hangovers,” LuLu said, saluting her with the cup of tea. “Wish I’d known about this stuff before the world went nuts.” LuLu gingerly held the massive mug like it was the only thing of importance in the room.
Before Scarlett had a chance to continue her conversation with LuLu, two men groggily sat at the table. “Where’s my plate, girl?” the bulky, white man grumbled, oblivious to Scarlett’s presence. She couldn’t help but notice the disturbing tattoos snaking around his rather large, muscular arms and up his neck to the sides of his freshly-shaven head.
The first thought that came to mind was that the brawny man had an inferiority complex in which he overcompensated for by appearing extremely tough. Or, Scarlett worried, he was extremely tough. A fleeting image blinded her: a flash of fiery hell. Then the vision vanished. This time, Scarlett managed to conceal the feeling of panic, which usually preceded one of her visions. Was she becoming used to these brief random flashes, these mini-visions that spontaneously materialized in her mind?
Ella scurried into the dining room pushing a serving cart full of plates, bowls, a ceramic soup terrain, and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Yum, sourdough bread. Scarlett’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.
“You’re late,” Paxton grunted. Ella almost dropped the ladle of steaming soup, spilling some on the tablecloth when she nervously filled his bowl first. The man muttered something under his breath.
“Paxton, what did I tell you about that? You need to work on your social skills.” Dean scowled.
“Dude, you know I’ve got this excellent CD you can listen to. Ye-ah, like you don’t even have to do anything. It’s all subliminal,” Justin offered eagerly.
“He don’t need no other language. This is still A-mer-i-ca, dammit,” the thin, black man said, rather emphatically.
It was LuLu’s turn to rant. “He said subliminal, not bilingual, you moron.” LuLu rubbed her head for a few seconds and then continued eating the soup Ella had served.
Scarlett fretted, Wow, things don’t seem so hunky-dory here. Maybe I should take my chances and go to Pinole?
The skinny, black man finally noticed Scarlett. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when their eyes met. He continued gawking at her, evidently forgetting the spoonful of noodles a couple of inches from his mouth, which ended up splashing into his bowl. He pointed to Scarlett. “Hey, where’d she come from?” Nate gave her a knowing nod, and his eyes darted around the room as if waiting for an explanation of her presence.
Justin blurted, “Nate, Paxton, this is our newest member . . . Scarlett from Roseville.”
Paxton had been so occupied with his lunch he hadn’t noticed her sitting at the other end of the table. He snapped to. His eyes ripped off her flesh with an icy glare of a stare that refused to let go of her eyes. “Finally, someone with real class,” Paxton grunted with approval.
LuLu set down her mug a bit too hard, and with a quick flutter of her middle finger, flipped him off. Scarlett felt the heat in her cheeks rising, not with embarrassment but with anger, for his rude comment had been a blatant slap in the face to LuLu. Scarlett had the sudden urge to reach across the table and slap him. Despite her feminist views, Paxton didn’t look like the type of person she should alienate. No, definitely not.
Scarlett wondered if Dean was aware of the tension mounting in the room. She certainly felt it. I guess this is what he meant about the Stockton Boys. She casually looked around the dining room, scrutinizing each face, pretending not to notice the tension when she realized Ella wasn’t at the table. She could see how Paxton and Nate might be a bit intimidating to the young girl. Jeez, Paxton already scares me, and I just met the man. Still, she vowed not to let some narrow-minded male chauvinist rattle her cage.
“So, Scar—lett,” Paxton enunciated slowly. “What’s it like where you come from—did you come across the military?” His silver-steel, piercing eyes felt like a spray of bb pellets ricocheting off her soul.
“No,” her voice almost cracked.
“I heard they set up a refugee camp at the Kings’ old arena. Is that where you came from?” Paxton asked.
“Nothing there,” Scarlett’s voice croaked, “I mean, the arena’s no longer there. I heard it was bombed—by our military.” Her voice fell flat.
Paxton nodded; he didn’t look surprised.
“How many people you guys got?” Nate asked.
Scarlett ignored him while she slipped a spoonful of noodles into her mouth. I’m flippin’ sick and tired of that question.
“Run across anybody out there—living that is?” Paxton continued, eyes still piercing into her.
“Actually, I did meet a young couple, but we went separate ways. They were in search of medical supplies.” She left out the part where they had stolen her food and supplies. “They did mention something about a survivalist group in Redding. The young couple said there are quite a few groups of people, basically hiding out until help comes. But that’s about all the news I have. I’ve been searching for the rest of society—just like you guys.”
A somber mood replaced the tension. The questions finally stopped, leaving only the clanking of spoons dipping
into the soup bowls as their conversation.
LuLu broke the awkward silence. “I don’t understand. There must be help on the way. The military or the National Guard?” LuLu raged and then stopped herself.
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Paxton said with vehemence. “No doubt the top military and government officials were privy to the new flu strain. When they couldn’t contain the situation, they left us to fend for ourselves while they’re sitting pretty in their overstocked NORAD bunkers—waiting for this bad acid trip to blow over.”
“Shit yeah,” Nate whined. “They probably got video cameras everywhere. They just be sittin’ on their asses watchin’ these stinkin’ mutha-fuckers eat everyone.” Nate laughed a disturbing hyena-like laugh.
Dean gave Nate the evil eye and cleared his throat rather gruffly as if trying to regain control of the conversation. “There must not be too many of us left, at least not in this part of California. I mean, from Roseville to Stockton to Winters to Vacaville. And we’re it,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Where in tarnation did everyone go?”
“Everyone’s been zombified,” Justin said gloomily.
Dean frowned. “Now, son, you don’t know that.”
“Nothing matters anymore. One way or another, we end up as one of them. I mean, what’s the point, knowing when we die we’ll turn—even if we aren’t bitten?” LuLu ranted.
Scarlett wasn’t quite sure what LuLu was referring to. From what she had seen, the virus was only infectious when one was attacked, thinking the virus was spread by their saliva or blood. Perhaps LuLu was just the overly dramatic type.
Scarlett wanted to cheer up LuLu. “I think you guys are doing a great job here and look on the bright side. Help will arrive any day. Besides, it’s easy to outsmart them. So don’t worry, LuLu, we’ll be fine.” The moment after Scarlett said it, she realized how lame it sounded.
Scarlett wasn’t prepared for LuLu’s unwavering scowl. It looked like LuLu wanted to kick her ass. “Yeah, yeah, listen to Miss Pollyanna. From the looks of you, you haven’t suffered so much. But let me tell you, it’s a livin’ hell out there. And knowing that no matter what—you’ll turn into one of those things when you die is f’n horrifying,” LuLu raged.