by M. D. Massey
Thorn leans against the tree with his arms crossed, watching me from under his eyebrows. I pause and wait for him, wary, crossing my arms and matching his gaze. He stares me down with a bizarre intensity that unnerves me.
“I wanted to talk to you before we leave tomorrow,” he says.
“About what?”
“Look.” He takes a step towards me. “This isn't easy for me to say, but I know anything could happen. Ash, listen to me for a second, okay?”
“I'm listening.”
“I've never met anyone like you before.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Thorn,” I mutter.
“No, I don't mean it that way.” He rubs his palm over the back of his hair, staring out towards the horizon. “I'm talking about...”
“What are you talking about?” I say, an eruption of annoyance rising up inside me.
“I like you, Ash,” he says, matter of fact. “I can't go out there without telling you that. That's all. You don't have to say anything back, but I wanted you to hear it.”
I don't answer, but stand there unmoving, arms still crossed.
He tucks one hand into his back pocket, the other hanging limp at his side. His gaze is steady, not wavering from mine. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I can't tell if it is anger, annoyance or something else. He makes a move to head back towards the cabin.
“Hang on!” I snap before he gets too far. “Come back.”
“What?” His voice carries a tinge of hope.
“How dare you say that to me, Thorn.”
His mouth opens as if to speak, but he hesitates, eyes dilating.
I continue, making no effort to hide my ire. “You have no idea what's out there. I've lived out there, and you have no clue what it takes to survive. Do you honestly think that telling me about your little crush is some kind of heroic gesture? This world has no place for that, Thorn. None.”
He shuffles his feet but keeps his gaze steady on me.
“You want to know what I've been doing all this time?” I say. “Watching people die, Thorn.”
He steps back, his jaw opening slightly. A muscle in his cheek twitches under his skin.
“I've seen more people die than you have met in your life probably. Think about that. I mean, this last mission was planned to the minute and look what happened to Travis.”
“Travis was stupid. He should have been more careful.”
“Yes, exactly. In this world, that is how people die. I don't know why he left the window down, but he did. And now he's gone. Every second out there counts. If you look the wrong way, you could die. If you take the wrong turn, you could die. If you don't hear them coming, you could die. My constant focus is on staying alive for the next five minutes and keeping everyone around me alive too. There is no room for anything else. Do you comprehend that at all?”
He nods.
“Good. Now if you don't mind, I need to go and fill my water canteen.” I keep my eyes on him until he turns to walk back to the cabin. At least he is not there to see my hands tremble as I unhook the canteen from my belt.
* * *
“The drivers are ready.” Abraham steps out the front door, heading off to the row of vans parked just inside the fence. Everyone is up, having eaten a large breakfast, perhaps our last for a while, and now filter back and forth from their bedrooms to the living room.
Pausing in the entryway, I double check my crossbow, arrows, and knives, lightly touching the holster at my ankle. Two more drivers had arrived from another location to the West, more contacts within the web to get people over the mountain to safety. I see them preparing supplies in the back hatches of the caravan.
Eden taps my elbow as the last of them step out the door. “I wanted to catch you before you leave,” she says.
“You aren't... you're not coming with us?”
“No,” she says. “My place is here.” She places a plump hand over her heart.
“Oh,” I glance out to the gathered, scattered casually around the caravan. “I didn't realize, but I guess you are right.”
“In the meantime, Ash, I want to go over the defensive strategies.”
“Of course, yes.”
“The front and back vehicles will have defense. You'll be in the middle van. I want you to keep your weapons at the ready. The path over the mountain is clear according to our last communication, but there are some spots which may be thick with zombies.”
“I understand,” I say, nodding at her words.
“I know we have the look-outs, and everyone has been briefed on what to expect, but do you think you could.... you know.”
“I'll look out for them,” I reply understanding her implication.
She smiles, a thin press of lips, and grabs me by the shoulders in a steely embrace. “I'll miss you, Ash,” she says.
“Thank you, Eden, for everything.” I allow another moment of her embrace, not knowing when, if ever, I may see her again. When she lets go, I avoid her eyes and duck out the door.
It feels strange and crowded, but I am given a seat in the front of the van. Looking around, I can see the fright of the unknown is replaced with the oncoming excitement of the journey. I spot Eva at the edge of the group, crouched down to get eye level with Iris, flanked on each side by Sam and Eliot. Eva catches my gaze and offers a quick wave.
I smile and wave back.
The driver sitting next to me is Simeon, a dark-skinned man with a thick Jamaican accent. We had chatted briefly over breakfast when he told me he does these runs in exchange for supplies which he takes back to his family just east of the Mississippi. He offers me a grin, reaching up to open a crack in the sunroof.
The wheels emit a low hum as the vehicle slips off the gravel road and onto the pavement. The caravan pulls out, a train of three. Through the back window, I catch a glimpse of Abraham standing at the door with his arms crossed. Eden stands next to him, a serene smile drifting across her expression. We turn the bend and they are out of sight.
16
We drive for hours, filling the time with lost songs and made-up games. Now with evening approaching, everyone sits quietly, either snoozing or staring at the passing countryside. Up ahead, the black jags of the mountain range juts into the pin pricked starlight, bright Venus hanging low on the horizon. The square of light in the rear view mirror glows a deep orange, reflecting the setting sun. Simeon hums an unfamiliar tune under his breath, murmuring lyrics about country roads and West Virginia.
“What is this place up ahead?” I ask.
“That, my dear, was once called the Blue Ridge Mountains. They are beautiful.”
“They are,” I say. Even in the darkness, I can tell he is right.
We make a pit stop at a place in the valley where we can see in all directions but one, a deep forest running alongside the edge of the road. The caravan rolls to a stop, engines idling in a low hum. I stand alert at the door, one foot propped on the door handle and the other perched on the hood, giving me only a slight advantage to the landscape.
Up at the front van, a young man with an arm length arrow tucked over his shoulder climbs up to stand on the roof. Everyone pairs up, taking turns around the edge of the hill to do their business. I grab my backpack and hand out snacks, oat clusters and beef jerky to those gathered. Talk is minimal. We don't want to attract any unwanted guests.
Iris returns first, the twin's mother following behind her, keeping watch over the children. The young girl's eyes are wide, staring past the caravan. She points a trembling finger towards the tree line. The lookout up ahead lets out a low whistle, signaling danger. The sound prompts everyone to scurry for the shelter of the vans.
They appear out of the forest's edge, stumbling and lurching just out of the treeline. There is no way to know if there are more behind them. The lookout in the front van tucks his way inside, standing with his head and shoulders sticking out of the sunroof. Three of them and only four arrows left in his quill.
Unlike me, he uses an old-fashioned bow
and arrow. He knows what he is doing too, based on his stance. He narrows his eyes, placing an arrow. The zombies are still some distance away. That is going to be one hell of a shot. I hold my breath, watching. Three. Two. One.
Down goes the one closest to him, the still trembling arrow sticking out of his forehead, gaping mouth turned towards the stars. He pulls another arrow. Down goes the second. I focus on the edge of the forest, watching for more. He can handle these three. Of this, I have no doubt. Even so...
“I have a bad feeling, Simeon,” I murmur.
The third one falls into a motionless heap.
We are clear.
He climbs back into the safety of the van, idling the engine and nudging forward. Simeon reaches up and closes the sunroof above us.
“Just in case,” he says with an assuring grin.
That's when the rest of them emerge from the trees, many more than I can count. The zombies appear out of the shadows as if made of the gloom darkening the trees. So many, it quickly becomes impossible to distinguish them from the tree trunks. They pile into the grassy moonlit area between the tree line and the road's shoulder.
“Shit,” I whisper, struggling to pull my crossbow from beneath my feet.
“Leave it. There's no room for that.” Simeon reaches for the walkie-talkie.
“Driver One, come in,” he barks.
“I see them,” comes the crackling reply.
“We need to clear this. Everyone hit the gas and stay in formation. Driver Three, stay on my tail. You copy?”
I hold on to the edge of the dashboard, calculating the distance it will take for us to clear the edge of the horde before they reach the road. “It's going to be close,” I say soft enough that only Simeon can hear me.
He nods and lifts the speaker to his lips. “This is Driver Two. All drivers copy?”
“Ten-four!” Driver One squawks.
“Ten-four!” Driver Three calls, a tinge of panic in her voice.
“Ten-four.” Simeon echoes before handing the device over to me.
I hold it loose, keeping it available for him if he needs it in a moments notice. I glance back to check on the others. They all have their faces pressed towards the window, watching helplessly as we move with agonizing speed. The only way out is to race against the pace of the shuffling monsters creeping towards us.
“Come on,” Simeon murmurs, eyes darting between the road ahead and the rear view mirror.
In the middle row, Eliot begins to cry, a small and helpless sound. Simeon and I both know we can't afford to frighten the passengers any more than they already are. I turn back to Eliot in an attempt to offer some comfort, to get him quiet. We can't afford any sound with those things this close to us. All we need is to get past this line and then we will be in the clear.
Placing my fingers to my lips, I shake my head, hoping he understands. Eliot's mother wraps her arms around him to calm his tears, trying to mask the small snuffling sound emitting from him. He buries his face in her arms and quiets while she strokes his back.
They are now about ten yards from the edge of the road. I place my palms flat against the dashboard willing myself calm with the realization that everything is out of my hands. There are too many of them out there. I have no way to shoot them. Weapon defense is pointless right now anyway. There are too many of them to take down and munitions would only draw their attention towards us. We surge forward, staying as close to the other vehicles as possible.
Simeon grabs the speaker from my hand and snaps a command into it. “It's getting close back there! We need some room!”
“Copy that,” The driver behind us replies.
The distance grows between the vans. Simeon presses on the gas, knocking me back in my seat. I turn just in time to catch a glimpse of the herd clipping into the side of the van behind us. The driver's face curls into a snarl as she attempts to swerve, mowing down the three which had stumbled in front of her. The rest of them pile up, slowing the vehicle, gunking up the tires. I hear the whine of the engine struggling against the added friction.
“Come on,” I whisper. “You can make it.”
Simeon glances through the rear view. “There is nothing we can do. We have to move on.”
I turn back to the front before I hear the huge explosion. At first, I think a spark had caught the gas line taking out the back vehicle, but a quick glance to the mirror shows the van bursting through the creatures, sending them flying in all directions. I resist the urge to cry out in joy. The caravan surges forward, escaping the clutches of danger.
We made it. All of us.
* * *
It takes some time for everyone to calm down after the near miss, but at last the adrenaline wears off and everyone falls asleep. Simeon continues driving, even though I offer to take over.
“It's my job,” he says. “You just keep watch.”
I settle back in my seat, watching the passing lines in the road.
“Once we reach the tree line, we'll be safer,” he says. “Apparently they can't climb.”
“I wonder why not,” I say. “I mean I know they can't take the stairs, but what stops them from following the switchbacks? The roads are clear enough, right?”
“Some of them try to,” he says, “but they don't think to follow the road. They aren't very bright you know. It's not much different from how they pile up at the bottom of a staircase.”
“I see.” I turn to watch him, the lights of the dashboard gleaming blue against his wizened face. “What did you do? I mean, before. You know.”
“I was an accountant, believe it or not.”
“An accountant?” I give a small chuckle trying to imagine this hardened man sitting behind a desk. “I've read about that. You don't seem the type.”
He echoes my amusement. “I'm good at adjusting to changing circumstances.”
“Aren't we all,” I say.
We continue onward, our fare sleeping soundly in the back. The roads are even as we make our way up the first mountain, slowing at each hairpin curve. I imagine what lies ahead, daring to glimpse the fleeting feeling of safety dancing just at the edge of possibility.
“What is that, up ahead,” Simeon says. He lifts the speaker of the walkie to his lips. “Driver One, this is Driver Two. What's the situation up there?”
“Bridge out.” The crackled voice comes back. “We're going to have to hike across. Leave the vehicles.”
“Shit,” he mumbles as he hands me back the walkie.
The caravan slows to a stop and I jump out, leaving the others to sleep. The drivers gather to consider the options while the guard takes his place on top of the van to keep watch.
“The rains must have washed it out,” Driver One says. She is a stout woman with salt and pepper hair. No nonsense. “The water came down from the swollen crick. We'll have to camp out here. Let the kids sleep till dawn. Hike them out over the mountains.”
“Can they handle it?” I ask.
“They'll have to. We can carry the little ones if we need to.”
“I guess you're right. Let's circle the wagons before we lose any more light.”
Before too much longer, we all crouch around the beginnings of a small fire in the middle of the road. We position the vans in a huge triangle around us, lookouts positioned at each gap. The children huddle together by the flames, sharing whispered secrets and laughter. I take my place in the assigned rotation for first watch. Climbing up the hood of the van, I pull a slab of jerky from my backpack, gnawing at the meat while gazing off into the darkness of the surrounding forest. I know we are safe from the creatures, but who knows what else might be hiding in the darkness.
“Hey there,” Thorn walks up with something in his hand. He climbs up the hood and sits down next to me, handing me a sandwich.
“Thanks,” I say.
He peers into the forest next to me. Despite myself, it feels nice, having him here, sitting silently. I don't want to talk, but I don't like the feeling hanging over us, th
e sense of the unsaid.
“Hey, um...”
“Yeah?” he replies a bit too quick.
“I just wanted to say... I didn't mean to... I mean...” My mind spins as I try to pinpoint the right words.
“It's okay, Ash,” he says with a crooked grin. “You don't have to say anything about, you know. About before.”
“Okay, good,” I breathe. “Because I really didn't want to.”
He chuckles just a bit, and I smile.
“Do you think it will be okay to hike them out, like she said?” I ask glancing down at the sleeping children tucked in their bags.
“They'll be fine.” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, ruffing up the edge of hair along his collar. We sit for a while, side by side, with no words or expectations. A sudden yawn overtakes me, deep and shuddering. I turn away from him covering my mouth with the back of my hand until I catch my breath.
“Hey, there's an empty seat over in the van,” he says. “If you want to take a nap. I'll keep an eye on the kids.”
Fatigue washes over me. Sleep doesn't sound too bad. “Okay, just for a little while,” I say.
Thorn slides off the van and holds my hand, supporting me as I climb down the hood again. For half a second we stand face to face in the moonlight, close enough that I feel his breath on my cheek. I step back, my fingers slipping away from his grasp.
I make my way to the van and stretch out in the passenger seat, leaving the door open to the night air. I stretch and arch my back against the reclined seat, working out the kinks before leaning back, taking a breath and closing my eyes.
* * *
Morning arrives with a slow dawning of light behind my closed eyes. I wake to the sensation of cold damp clinging to my exposed skin. Already, the parcel of children have escaped into the forest to take care of their morning needs at the designated tree just outside of camp. Everyone wakes, some gathering around the fire to warm their hands before we make the effort to cross the river.
We line up, Thorn on one end, Alma, Rose, and then myself at the far side. The water swirls around our bare feet, icy but bearable. I plant my feet into the muddy riverbed, waiting as the children make their way across first. They send Iris over. She carefully clings to one person at a time as we pass her hand over hand, her feet inches from the fast moving water. She lands safe on the other side of the river, slipping out of my grasp.