by Haga, A. H.
“This isn’t a basement,” I said after she’d helped me down the ladder. “It’s a root cellar.”
The room was barely two-by-two meters, with shelves set against the walls, making it even smaller. Shadia and I would have to spoon to fit. There were no windows, and the walls and floor were made of dirt. The only light was the fading sunlight seeping through the cracks in the floor above. And this room was as dusty as everything else. I swear I could feel the grime settle on my skin.
“Is there a difference?” Shadia asked as she climbed up the ladder again.
“Well, a basement usually has windows!” I called up after her. “And their walls and floor aren’t just hard dirt. What’s to say the walls won’t cave in on us?”
“They haven’t yet, right?” She dropped our sleeping bags down the opening in the ceiling.
“No.”
“Then stop fussing. It’s cute, but this is what we get for now. Make do, habibi.”
“Make do, habibi,” I mumbled under my breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“M-hm.”
With my chair hidden away, Shadia climbed down and closed the trap door. There was no use in trying to hide my chair, as the marks in the dust would give us away if anyone thought to enter the house, but Shadia didn’t seem to care. She was still afraid of Nicholas, and who could blame her?
We made the best of the small space, using a headlamp for light and unrolling one sleeping bag along the floor and another above. The rucksacks would have to do as pillows.
We helped each other clean up with wipes and antibacterial gel. Luckily, Shadia’s period was over, which made cleaning a lot easier for her.
Dinner was cold canned peas, not something I’d recommend to my worst enemy. Afterwards, we chewed a stick of gum each before spitting the rubbery candy into the cans, undressing, and lying together between the sleeping bags. I wanted to explore the content of the shelves, which were filled with glass jars and small boxes, but was too tired. Not that Shadia would let me explore anyway, even if she herself stayed awake to read a little.
I was almost asleep when a sound reached me. It wasn’t loud, more of a steady hum. I wasn’t even sure Shadia heard it before she put her Kindle away and crawled deeper into the sleeping bags.
“What’s that?” I whispered.
She buried her nose in my neck. “Don’t know.”
We lay in silence, listening to the sound. Then came a moan. Weak, but there. The sound must have floated to us from the street and slipped through the broken window, the thin walls, and the cracks in our ceiling. With the shuffling and the scent of rot that I’d almost gotten used to by now, it pointed to zombies. But how could we hear a zombie walking?
Something thudded against the side of the house, making us both jump.
After another thump, Shadia moved.
“What’re you doing?” I whispered, grabbing for her in the dark but missing.
“Going to check.”
“No!” It was a hiss, but the sound was so loud. I held my breath as I watched the shadow of Shadia move away from me and stand.
“I’ll be right back, habibi.”
“Shadia!”
“I’ll be right back.”
With that, she climbed the ladder and snuck out through the trapdoor, letting it close behind her and leaving me alone in the dark.
27
Holding my breath, I listened to Shadia’s footsteps as they walked across the floor above and headed into the hallway, where there was a window looking out onto the street. The window she’d broken was also in the hallway, but it looked into the wall of the garage building beside it, hiding it from view if someone threw a casual glance at the house.
As her footsteps grew distant, the thudding increased, followed by more moans. Another thud, then another, until they overlapped and seemed to grow into one sound.
Shadia’s steps came running across the floor, and she threw open the trapdoor. Almost falling down the ladder, she pulled the trapdoor closed with a thud that was so loud I drew a shuddering breath.
“What is it?” I asked, voice barely audible over the thudding from above, the moaning, and a scraping sound that made my teeth itch.
Shadia didn’t answer; she just sat on the dirt floor by my feet. I couldn’t see her face, but I could hear her ragged breathing.
“Hey,” I whispered.
When she still didn’t answer, I moved. Crawling, I made my way to her and found that she was shaking. Wrapping my arms around her, I drew her close. One of her hands flew up and clutched at my shirt, the other covering her mouth as she rested her forehead against my chin.
She continued gasping for breath, her body shaking and shivering in my arms, and I had no idea what to do. Cold sweat dampened her shirt so fast I was afraid there was a leak in the floor above us, but there was no other water. She wasn’t crying. She was scared. So, so scared.
Above, the thudding continued, but the moaning started to die down.
We stayed like that for a long time. My back was aching from the position I was in, but I wouldn’t let her go. The sweat on Shadia’s back was almost dry before she spoke. Not moving, she whispered just loud enough for me to hear.
“Zombies everywhere. Filling the street. They’re stuck on the fence beside the house. One of them keep walking into the and bouncing back. When I went to look, they noticed me. More and more of them turned away from the road and came for us. They were clawing on the walls. Trying to get in.”
“It’s OK,” I said.
She pulled away from me, gripped my shoulders and shook me a little. “It’s not. I drew them here, Kit. There’s nowhere for us to go. They’ll get in, and they’ll get us, and it’s my fault!”
Her voice was getting louder. Outside, the moans had stopped, although a thud came every now and again. I was afraid her voice would draw more zombies, so I slapped my hand over her mouth. Shadia gripped my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. My hand found the back of her neck and forced her head toward mine until our foreheads rested against each other. I could see the whites of her eyes as they jumped around in fear.
“We’re OK,” I said, and her eyes focused on mine. “They’re not in yet. Listen, the moans have stopped. I don’t think they know we’re here.”
Her grip on my wrist loosened, and I lowered my hand. She moved until her fingers were entwined with mine.
“But how?” she whispered. “I didn’t make a sound up there, and they still noticed me. Then I make a sound down here, but they don’t?”
“I don’t know, but it seems they’re not attracted by noise.” I stopped whispering, talking in my usual voice. There were no moans from above, no more thudding or scraping. No sign the zombies knew we were here.
“So how?” Shadia asked, her hysterical voice calm now that she had something to think about.
“I don’t know, but I think you should write this down. It’s a discovery, even if we don’t know what it means.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. Do you think I can turn on a light?” Her voice was growing eager.
I nodded and leaned back, stifling a yawn. Shadia noticed despite my best efforts. Crawling to my side, she used her arms and body to lay us both down on the floor. She pulled the other sleeping bag up to cover us.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” she said. “Now, we sleep.”
I didn’t think I could sleep with the sound of what I was sure was an army of undead walking past in my ears, but I was so tired after a day in the sun and this latest spike of adrenalin and fear, that I slipped into sleep soon enough.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to Skogli Rehabiliterings Senter. We are happy that you chose to stay here with us and let us help you with your situation.”
I sank down in my chair, eyes heavy after the trip and body tired. It didn’t help that I hardly slept last night, worried about coming here.
“During the next four weeks, we will help you learn to know
the limits of your body, understand what Myalgic Encephalomyelitis is, and how to best shape your everyday life according to this handicap.”
My eye twitched at the word ‘handicap’, and I looked at the people standing at the end of the room. Two men and two women. They’d introduced themselves, but I’d forgotten their names. I did remember their roles, though. The man sitting to the far right, with dark grey hair, half-moon glasses, and a white frock, was the primary physician for our group. The woman sitting beside him was the ‘teacher’. She was as grey-haired as the man but looked a lot friendlier. She would tell us how to handle our health issues, teach us its known history, and what little they knew about it. The woman talking was the shrink, blonde and young, but with a stern look in her eyes, and the leader of this department. The last man was our physical therapy contact. Where the other three were different shades of Norwegian pale skin, he had a beautiful brown tone to his, and his hair was almost black. He would be there to take care of us through mindfulness classes, swimming, and physical therapy. I’d heard two of the other women in the group talk about how hot he was, and that they wished they knew there would be men like him here so they could bring their good swimwear. I noticed that, compared to the three others, his eyes were the kindest.
“Now, we could give you a lot more information here, but we understand that you will be tired after a day of travel and taking in the new environment. Because of that, we will cut this meeting short. You have all gotten the keys to your rooms. If you haven’t been in there yet, there is a folder on the desk with your schedule and information on the facilities. The evening meal will start in five minutes and last for ninty minutes, so you have time to take a look at the folder before eating, if you wish. With that, we hope you have a pleasant stay here at Skogli, and that you have a good night. If you have any questions, feel free to come up and ask before the meal.”
A silence fell over the room before people started moving. I couldn’t help comparing us to a class at school waiting for the bell to ring.
There were eight of us in the group, only two men, and I was the youngest at twenty-four. The two women I’d heard talk about swimwear hurried up to the dark-skinned man. One of the two men in the group also went up, but probably to ask a question instead of to flirt. The rest of us filed out of the meeting room. While all the others moved toward the eating hall, I headed toward the elevator. I’d brought some food and would eat in my room tonight.
A primal scream ripped through the dream/memory, and my eyes flew open. The scream was cut short as moans from what sounded like a hundred zombie throats rose triumphantly in the air–if zombies could be triumphant.
Shadia’s hand on my stomach started shaking, and her breathing was ragged again, growing more and more shallow every second.
“Hey,” I whispered, turning around, so we were face to face. “It’s OK.”
She nodded but didn’t answer, too focused on breathing to form words.
“Just breathe with me,” I said, pressing my forehead to hers and breathing into her face. I was sorry for the possible bad breath I exposed her to, but not sorry when she matched her inhales and exhales with mine, calming.
We stayed like that until she fell back asleep. I didn’t dare move into a more comfortable position. Instead, I stayed awake a little while, listening to the world.
The heavy shuffling was back, every now and again broken by a moan, and in-between all that, I was sure I heard them feeding on whatever they had killed outside. I was sure my hearing wasn’t that good, but even if it was just my imagination making these sounds, it made me sweat from fear.
Finally, I matched my own breathing to Shadia’s and fell into sleep again.
“So, what’s this about?” I asked the doctor as Shadia and I took our seats, and he closed the door behind us.
Three weeks ago, the nurses at this clinic had poked and prodded me with needles after the doctor asked them to check everything. Apparently, he didn’t want to take any chances with me, for which Shadia was grateful. I was just bored. Two weeks ago, I’d found another lump in the crook of my elbow. Much smaller than the one on the throat, but still there. One week ago, another doctor had cut out the lump on my throat to send for some kind of test, then taken the lump in my elbow as well when I told him about it. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was starting to worry.
The doctor sat behind his desk and folded his hands on the tabletop. “Katerina,” he said. “I am sorry to say this, but we think you have cancer.”
Shadia gripped my hand.
“What?” I asked, not able to contain a smile. This had to be a joke, right?
“Well, the tests we’ve taken confirm that you have Hodgkins Lymphoma. There are still more tests needed to show how advanced it is, but I want you to know that the prognosis is very good with this type of cancer. I’ve already gotten in contact with the hospital regarding your …”
His voice grew muffled as I stared at him. He was still speaking, but I couldn’t hear him. All I heard was my own breathing, shallow, and afraid. Cancer. He said I had cancer. How could I have cancer? I was just twenty-two years old! I wasn’t supposed to get sick. I …
… forced myself awake, unable to handle the memory any longer. Blinking against the dark, I looked into Shadia’s sleeping face.
The sounds, imaginary or not, from outside had quieted down. I couldn’t hear any shuffling or moaning. Hopefully, the zombies had moved past, and we were safe for now–from the zombies, if not from our own memories.
Hardly a week after that conversation with the doctor, another doctor told me I had stage three lymphoma. I didn’t need surgery, but the treatment was aggressive. I got really sick and almost died twice from the treatment alone. It was hell on Shadia and my family. It was hell on me. Then, just over a year after we started treatment, I was in remission. My health had gone downhill ever since.
Not wanting to think about it, I cuddled closer to Shadia, hoping she would wake, but she stayed asleep, exhausted. Instead of waking her, I drew in her smell, sweaty and stale as it was, and tried to think about something else, anything else.
When I fell asleep again, I was thinking about our life at the cabin. How we would live off the land and be happy. Just the two of us. I didn’t remember any dreams when I woke up again.
28
We only saw one zombie the next day: a straggler with both legs missing. One was chewed off at the knee, the other at the hip.
As far as I could tell, zombies didn’t eat dead meat, so the woman crawling on the road in front of us must have been alive when her legs were eaten. Was she like me? Someone bound to a wheelchair or crutches to help move around? Was that how the zombies got to that part of her? Her legs dragged behind for some reason? I couldn’t imagine how it must have been to lie there, having zombies chew on you.
The thought made me shiver, and I forced it away. This would not be my fate.
We put her out of her misery and moved on, a heavy silence hanging over us.
At lunchtime, we were in the parking lot of Lier Mall and agreed on spending the night there. It, and all the other malls, had been closed up as the sickness hit, when there weren’t enough people to keep them open, much less go shopping. Despite that, I had seen people saying online they would meet at the malls to survive the zombies. It didn’t look like anyone had done that here, thankfully.
Breaking in through one of the many front doors, we made our way through the empty mall, listening to the echo of Shadia’s footsteps. All the shops were hidden behind plastic shutters, but they didn’t stand much chance against my ax when we found a furniture store. There, we found ourselves a good king-sized bed with silken sheets and a bunch of fluffy pillows to spend the night. After, Shadia found a bookstore, of course.
She read me to sleep that night, after a calm afternoon spent searching the mall for things we might need. We topped up on our medications and got some new camping gear, and Shadia got some new clothes. I grabbed a few cotton t-shirts, as the
ones I’d brought were smelly and nasty by now. Shadia teased me for staying with grey and black, and I countered with having to be a raincloud so her rainbow could survive. That earned me a kiss. We also splurged on chocolate from one of the posher shops.
The next day, we emerged from the mall before the sun was up, both having woken on our own, ready to set out. The sky was overcast with fluffy white clouds, but the sky on the horizon was dark. When we saw this, we stopped by a grocery store and found plastic zip lock bags to wrap around the things in our not-so-waterproof messenger bags, hoping to keep it all dry. Outside, a brisk wind had picked up and blew in our faces, threatening to take my hat with it. After Shadia caught it three times, we tied it down with a scarf from our new winter gear.
The road entered a forest and kept to it for most of the day. The only time we saw something other than trees was when they gave way to a great lake, and when we reached what must have been the origin of the horde. It used to be a motocross-track, but the military had put up fences, and the track was hidden away by tents. There was blood soaked into the sand, and the smell of death still lingered in the air, so we passed by as fast as possible.
We ate our lunch and an early dinner in the shade of tall trees, with the wind getting brisker and brisker for every meter we walked. As the sun began to set, we saw a clearing in the road ahead, which turned out to be a hamlet of houses and a kindergarten.
By now, the wind was so cold we both wore jackets and were huddled into ourselves, not wanting to bring out the rest of the winter gear in case we would boil in their confines.
Compared to the other kindergartens we’d seen, this one was empty; all its occupants probably hid somewhere at the motocross-track. I wondered if a zombie baby even stood a chance at surviving, or if the other zombies would kill it before it had a turned.