Maybe they could get a generator. If they did, she’d waste the gas on baking. She’d make cookies or brownies or a damn lasagna. She’d make hot food that didn’t come from a can, hot food that required you to pour love and effort into it.
She’d make Kyle and his friends meals they wouldn’t believe, meals they couldn’t imagine.
The cupboards in the kitchen were mostly bare, but that wasn’t a surprise. When the lodge shut down, the owners cleaned out their personal items. That included food. They’d left the furniture, and Torrance wasn’t really sure why. Maybe they hoped to sell the property and thought the new owners would prefer to have basic necessities on hand.
Either way, she was happy there was a table, chairs. She was happy there was a couch. She found pots and pans and tools in the kitchen. They’d be able to cook over the fireplace if they needed to, if the situation called for it. If they got hungry enough, they could cook indoors.
She thought there might be a fire pit outside, too. Maybe it would be better to cook outside. They wouldn’t have to worry about carbon monoxide. Then again, they would have to worry about attracting attention.
Torrance figured that most residents of Raven probably didn’t remember this old campsite at all. Most people probably put it out of their minds once it shut down. New people, residents who had moved to the area in the last few years, might not even know it existed.
That was good.
There weren’t many people left in town, but Torrance didn’t like the idea of strangers wandering over to their new home. Kyle and his friends had been through a lot. Torrance had, too. It was time to settle down.
This was their fresh start.
She left the kitchen and wandered back through the main room. Kyle was still in front of the fireplace, but now he was holding a book. She smiled. He looked cute, sitting there in just his boxers and sneakers, holding that novel like it was the most valuable thing in the world. To him, it probably was.
She walked by him and went down the hallway on the left side of the lodge, the side closest to the lake. She went through each bedroom. There were four on the main floor. Each one had two sets of bunk beds, a dresser, a closet. In one of the dressers, in a bottom drawer, she found an oversized sweatshirt. It smelled moldy, but she pulled it out. Maybe Kyle would want it.
Torrance carried it with her.
The bathroom seemed clean. There was a shower and a toilet. It was pretty simple, but at least it wasn’t smelly. Chances were they’d never have running water here, so Torrance and her new gang of friends would be shitting in the woods with the bears.
When Torrance finished looking around, she brought the sweatshirt to Kyle. He smiled when he saw it and pulled it on.
“Thanks,” he said. “I was a little cold.”
“It was nothing,” she said. “I’m going to look around upstairs.”
“Want company?”
“I’m okay.”
To be honest, she was glad to have a few minutes to herself. Kyle was nice, but Torrance hadn’t been alone in two days now and she was a little ready for some solitude. She walked up the staircase, noting which stairs creaked. Maybe she and Kyle could fix them up a little bit, make the staircase more durable.
They’d have to do the windows first. They needed to get those boarded up for safety. For some reason, Torrance didn’t think they’d have to worry too much about a horde of zombies attacking the lodge. It was far enough from the main part of town that it would be rare for the Infected to wander over. Unless she and the guys started making a whole lot of noise, it might be possible for them to live in peace.
Wasn’t that a beautiful thought?
The second floor had another four bedrooms and a bathroom. Torrance thought it would be best for them to stay upstairs. They could figure out a way to block off the staircase at night so nothing could sneak up on them.
Maybe she’d actually be able to sleep straight through the night. That was something she hadn’t done since the infection began. The two bedrooms against the outer edge of the lodge overlooked several of the cabins. If she peered hard enough, Torrance could see a little bit of the lake. Barely. Maybe it was her imagination.
The lake would offer them a little bit of protection, a little bit of hope.
Zombies can’t swim. She kept telling herself that even though she didn’t know if it was true.
If she said it enough, if she whispered it enough to herself, maybe Torrance would start to believe it.
Maybe she’d start to feel hope.
Chapter 13
Alice and Mark sat upstairs in the library. He was on one couch and she was on the other. Kyle was gone. The woman with him, Torrance, was gone, too. Alice and Mark were alone and she was suddenly so very tired.
They ate and played a game of cards, but her heart wasn’t really in it. After, they drank some vodka mixed with soda and peeked out the window. The day had gone by and Kyle wasn’t back.
“What do you think happened to them?” She asked.
“I think they’re hiding,” Mark said.
“Do you actually think that?”
Mark’s eyes shot up.
“What kind of question is that? Are you asking me if I’m lying to you, Alice?”
“Yes,” she spoke quietly. She didn’t want to irritate him further. They were both on edge, stressed. “I’m asking if you’re trying to make me feel better or if you really think they’re okay.” Tears filled her eyes, but she fought them. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Mark. Not over something like this. Not over something like Kyle being okay.
Where was he?
She thought maybe he ran from the Infected. Maybe he and Torrance had escaped. Even though the street didn’t have too many zombies wandering around, Alice could see into the building across the road. There were still several walking back and forth in front of the windows. These ones didn’t seem conscious, didn’t seem aware. They didn’t look out the windows or notice Alice watching them, but they were there, and she could see them.
That’s where Kyle had been.
Had he gotten out alive?
Had Torrance?
And where would they have gone?
Mark sighed and stood, pacing in the center of the room. He ran his hands over his chin. His five o’clock shadow had turned into a small beard now. Alice liked it. He looked distinguished. Rugged. Handsome. He had dark circles under his eyes, though, and she knew, knew, he hadn’t slept the night before.
“I will never lie to you about our safety,” he said. “Kyle is fine. He’s a smart kid. He’s smarter than any of us give him credit for.”
“I know,” she said hastily. “It’s just-”
“You’re worried. I get it.”
“Yeah. I know it’s stupid. Last time I worried about him, he’d just gone to pee. Surely this is the same thing, right?”
“I’m sure he didn’t go far,” Mark sounded certain, not placating.
“They’ll come back to us,” Alice said. She sounded far less certain. What if Kyle and Torrance had run too far? What if they were lost now? What if they couldn’t find their way back?
Alice had been nervous when she and Mark were running back to the library. She didn’t think she would have been able to find her way back without Mark. That was dangerous. It was bad to be out in the apocalypse without a good sense of direction and hers was especially bad these days. Maybe it was just a lack of sleep. Maybe if she napped, she’d feel better.
“Let’s sleep, Alice,” Mark nodded toward the setting sun. Darkness was almost upon them. “We can’t do anything about it tonight. Let’s get some rest.”
They curled up together on the couch. They both faced the door and Mark was behind Alice. They kept two loaded guns beside the couch, just in case. Just in case anything happened, just in case anything came through that door in the middle of the night, they would be ready.
They would be safe.
Everything was going to be okay.
***
>
When they woke the next day, there was still no sign of Kyle. He hadn’t come back by noon and by dinnertime, Alice wondered if he would ever come back. It was strange. Kyle was predictable. Kyle liked his space, but he was good about communicating. He wouldn’t want to leave Alice and Mark hanging, and the library was their base. At least for now, anyway.
Alice wondered what had happened to him, but she didn’t want to go outside. Not just yet. Her legs hurt from running. She had ripped her clothes climbing the fences and her calves were covered in bruises and scratches. She’d already cleaned them with hydrogen peroxide. She’d bandaged them, too.
They were only scratches, but you couldn’t be too careful.
Alice and Mark spent the day roaming around the library reading books. She read two different novels and started on a third. Mark collected a stack of books that looked interesting and hauled them upstairs so he could sprawl out on the couch while he read, but Alice liked reading downstairs. She liked being among the books.
Everything smelled good, normal, comforting. The books reminded her of a simpler time, reminded her of a time when things weren’t so awful and scary and bad. Every few minutes she thought of Kyle, worried about him.
She tried to stop.
By the third day, he still wasn’t back, and Alice started to give up hope. She didn’t say anything to Mark. In fact, the two of them were barely talking. They were just waiting. They hadn’t done much to secure the library and they hadn’t done much in the way of exploring the building.
They were just hanging out.
They were just sitting around waiting for Kyle.
Soon they would have to make a choice, but Alice wanted to give him another day, at least. Maybe two more days.
Finally, Mark sat down with her upstairs and they had the discussion they’d both been avoiding. It was the “What we’re going to do if Kyle doesn’t come back” discussion and Alice really, really didn’t want to have it.
“We can’t stay here,” he said. “There’s no water source. It’s too close to town. The building is great, but the location is bad.”
“I know,” she said. “But Kyle…”
Mark reached over and put his hand on hers.
“I know we wanted to wait for Kyle. I know he’s out there. I don’t get the feeling that he’s dead, Al. I really don’t, but we can’t stay here forever.”
“But if he’s alive, why hasn’t he come back, Mark? What’s happened to him?”
Find out what happens next in Just Another Day in the Zombie Apocalypse: Episode 6.
Author
L.C. Mortimer loves zombies almost as much as she loves coffee. When she's not on a caffeine-induced writing spree, she can be found stocking up on canned goods for the apocalypse. Mortimer loves reading, playing zombie video games (7 Days to Die is currently her favorite), and spending time with her partner-in-crime: her husband of 11 years.
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If you enjoyed Just Another Day in the Zombie Apocalypse: Episode 5, you can turn the page to read a short story by L.C. Mortimer: Something About Balloons.
Something About Balloons
L.C. Mortimer
They came in the night.
A million black balloons just floating through the sky, melting into the ground as the helium began to slowly leak from the tied pieces of plastic. They came in the night, silently sneaking their way into our world.
And no one seemed to notice.
No one knew where they had come from. No one seemed to care. People speculated that perhaps it was some sort of college prank or something from a charity. Maybe it was to raise death awareness since the balloons were black. Maybe it was a memorial from someone.
But they were everywhere.
First they hovered in the sky. There were so many it was hard to see clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had to take pictures. There were simply too many to let it go. Who wanted to miss getting a candid shot of the amazing spread of black balloons? Newsfeeds and social media sites and email chain letters began to swarm, creating a sensational buzz. The balloons were all anyone was talking about.
Across the globe, the same thing was happening. It wasn't just Kansas. It wasn't just America.
It was everywhere.
By the end of the day, they were falling lower, lower, lower.
I saw one reach the ground.
When the first one popped outside, the change took place quickly. It hit the ground and exploded near a little girl. I didn’t move as I watched from the porch, not really caring. I might have been a little older than her, sure, but that didn’t mean I had any sympathy for the fact that a balloon had popped near her. It was a balloon. That’s what they do.
Pop.
Only this wasn’t an ordinary balloon.
When the girl breathed in the air, she stopped moving. She just stayed perfectly still for a long, painful moment. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right.
I stood up and stared at her. Maybe I should go over, I thought. Maybe I should check on her.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Are you okay, kid?”
For a moment, I didn’t think she had heard me. For one long, achingly horrible moment, I didn’t think she knew what I had said.
But then she turned toward me.
And everything changed.
*
I hide now with a man I met. He’s older than me and more broken, but we keep each other sane. Well, as sane as we can be. Dane and I met thirty miles outside of Topeka, wandering around the side roads of I-70, looking for anything that mattered, anything that could give this new world a purpose again.
He was walking in a pair of blue flip-flops and he was carrying a carpetbag.
“What’s up, Mary Poppins?” I yelled to him when I was within shouting distance.
He held up a pistol in response.
Being unarmed, I stopped moving and held up my hands.
“I’m not infected,” I shouted. “I haven’t changed.” Still, he came over and stood in front of me, staring for a long time. I kept my hands high and didn’t move. I had to pee and my shoulders hurt, but I could wet myself if I had to. Embarrassment was for people who lived in real societies.
I was just a girl who didn’t want to die. Not at the moment, anyway.
After awhile, he finally put the gun down and held his hand out, like a proper gentleman. It had been over a month since I’d touched another person, much less shaken hands. I looked at him for what felt an eternity.
“Well?” He grunted.
I reached for his hand and shook it.
“Dane,” he said.
“Madeline,” I responded.
“I’m going this way,” he nodded toward where I had just walked from.
“There’s nothing there.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I turned and followed him, retracing my steps, walking with him in silence. It didn’t matter that there was no one else around. We had each other now.
*
“Never made much sense to me,” Dane muttered. We sat side-by-side next to a small fire we’d made. His body odor was almost as overwhelming as mine, but neither one of us mentioned it in the cool evening air. We were just glad to be warm.
“What didn’t make sense, Dane?” I asked. I rubbed my hands together. We didn’t make fires much. It wasn’t really safe. Those who changed weren’t entirely conscious anymore, but they loved fire. It was one of the easiest ways to kill them, but unless you had an endless supply of torches, they would probably catch you before they died.
“Why balloons?” He asked. “Why couldn’t the virus have come in a vaccine like in every good horror story?”
I shrugged. I used to love balloons. My mother would spend hours filling water balloons for me and my brothers each year. We’d burn through them so quickly
that I always felt a little bad, but she would just smile. She never seemed to mind that her efforts were over so fast. She just wanted to make us happy.
Balloons no longer hold special memories.
If we see a deflated balloon on the ground, we torch it or run in the opposite direction. There is no safe distance from those things, even now. Who knows how long the virus stays on the plastic? Who knows if the people who have changed stay close by?
Dane poked the fire with a stick, but didn’t speak anymore. When the flames faded and the only thing left were burning embers, he covered the fire with dirt and we went into our tent. We each climbed into our own sleeping bag and he zipped up the tiny door.
“Night, spitfire,” he said.
“Night, Dane.”
I lay awake for a long time. Even after Dane began snoring, I stared at the ceiling of the tent. Nothing made sense anymore. Months ago I was on my way to becoming a graphic designer. I poured hours and hours into classes, studying, homework, and projects. Then, in just a day, everything changed.
The world died and it woke back up.
No one knew who it was who ended the world. Had it been a terrorist organization? Had it been a specific country? Had it been aliens? Had it been a cultish group who happened to have a fondness for things that were unusual? Things that were horrible?
No one knew.
Anytime I met another survivor who wasn’t trying to kill me, we talked about our ideas. Everyone had a theory about the changing. Everyone had an idea of what happened or why it happened.
Everyone but me.
I didn’t think it was worth it to have an opinion. The world had ended, but I was still living. I went through the motions, moving around and trying to survive, but sometimes it felt like more work than it was worth.
Just Another Day in the Zombie Apocalypse (Episode 5) Page 5