Survival Kit

by Haga, A. H.

  The day grew steadily grayer, the air pressing down on us, promising a storm, but the darkest clouds were still a bit off. We walked as far as we could that day, afraid the weather would hinder our progress later.

  The storm hit that night, and we spent two days in a house, waiting the worst of it out. It was still raining on the third day, but the wind had died down, and we hadn’t seen any lightning or heard any thunder in almost a full day, so we dared leave the safety of the building behind and set out, hidden beneath the raingear we’d found at the mall.

  We’d reached the outskirt of Drammen before the storm hit, and now we wanted to get through and out the other side. To get across the river, we could either follow the clogged freeway or take the other bridges, but these led straight into the city. We opted for the city, hoping most of the zombies had joined the horde Shadia had seen–she swore it had been big enough to hold the whole city and more.

  No such luck.

  Despite the rain, the zombies came. They were dripping wet, both from the rain and from decomposition, but there were so many of them, and they were everywhere.

  We did well getting through the Northside of town, killing those that came too close and leaving those we could behind. We should have killed them all.

  29

  The bridge was two lanes wide and blessedly empty of cars. There’d been a roadblock a few streets back, forcing cars to head up onto the freeway, where they stood still and empty, like in Oslo. The river rushed beneath us, swollen and still swelling from the heavy rain.

  The bridge led onto a small island, and it wasn’t until we were halfway across it we realized something was wrong.

  Because of the rain, the visibility was poor, and we both kept our heads down to keep the water out of our eyes. We hadn’t given much thought to the improvised fence at the mouth of the bridge, open as it was, but as we passed two more, we started to realize something was up.

  When the third netting fence came into view, Shadia stopped.

  “Sha?” I asked, turning to look up at her and getting an eyeful of water.

  “I think we should go back,” she answered, not taking her eyes off the murky world ahead.

  “Take the freeway?”

  She looked at me. “Yes, or find a boat or something, but we shouldn’t be here.”

  “Agreed,” I answered, dropping my head and letting the water drip off my hat. I was scanning the bridge ahead, sure I saw movement, but it was hard to tell.

  “Then we go back,” Shadia said and turned us around.

  We were by the second roadblock when we saw them. The zombies we’d left behind were shambling across the bridge toward us. They were slow–we could easily outrun them–but they were many. We could see them pushed up against the wire of the fence, just a few slipping through the opening at a time, but there was no chance we could fight our way through them all. They filled the bridge, making a roadblock of their own.

  Without a word, Shadia turned us around and jogged across the bridge.

  We saw clear movement in the haze ahead. More zombies heading our way, rattling the fences, as one or two at a time slipped through the openings.

  “Shit,” I mumbled as Shadia cursed in Arabic. “What do we do now?”

  My heartbeat echoed in my ears as I watched another zombie slip through the fence ahead.

  “We survive,” Shadia said, overpowering the sound of my heart, but she couldn’t disguise the small shake in her own voice.

  I turned to see she’d left me, sprinting to the last fence we’d passed. Two zombies were already at it, pushing against the metal. Shadia paid them no mind and grabbed at the links, pulling and pushing. The metal screamed against the asphalt before it gave and clanged shut.

  “That should give us some time,” she said as she jogged back.

  “So, what? We fight our way through?” I asked, indicating the throng in front of us.

  “Do you have a better idea, habibi?”

  “No.”

  “Then we fight.”

  Before I could answer, she bent down, pulled down my bandana, and kissed me. I kissed her back, gripping the back of her head to pull her closer. Inhaling her scent, I let it fill me: jasmine and books and her. Pulling back, she leaned her forehead against mine and stared into my eyes.

  “Stay alive, OK?” I said.

  She swallowed and blinked. “You too.”

  I grinned, trying to turn my fear into bravery. “Always.”

  She made a sound like a half-chuckle, half-sob before she kissed my nose lightly. “I love you.”

  My grin dying, I kissed her nose just as lightly. “I love you too.”

  With that, she stood and pulled her ax from its resting place on her back, pulled up her bandana to cover mouth and nose, and started walking toward the zombies.

  I stared after her for a moment, not sure what to do or say or even think. Then I made sure all the bags I carried were out of the way but secured to my body, that my knife was within easy reach, and that there was nothing in the way of the wheels. No way was I letting her face this alone. I pushed forward, happy that the slick surface gave me extra speed as I reached Shadia, and buried my ax in the head of the first zombie to reach us.

  Shadia yelled that I cheated as she passed by and took out another. Then they were upon us, and I couldn’t keep an eye on her anymore. All I could do was fight the grasping hands, the clicking jaws, the heavy bodies as they fell over me.

  Always hit the head, for if they went down and were still alive, they could topple me over. I couldn’t move much, the bodies blocking my wheels, so I let them come to me, steadily moving me backwards and away from Shadia without either of us noticing.

  There was blood everywhere. My hands were slick on the shaft of the ax despite my padded gloves. The rain kept dripping in my eyes, having soaked through my hat and hair. It was in the way, but I didn’t dare remove it. The bandana kept the blood from my mouth and nose, and my glasses and hat kept the blood from my eyes. I’d long since lost count of how many I’d taken down. All I saw was gray flesh and maggots moving in open mouths and eye sockets.

  The scream of metal made me look up for a second to see the fence in front of us bending, letting more zombies flood through. We’d almost cleared the area, and the thought of fighting more made my heart sink. I was panting, already exhausted. I wasn’t sure I could lift the ax to swing even once more.

  A zombie came from the side and slammed into me. It looked a lot fresher than most of those I’d taken out. Its skin was grey, yes, but the flesh hadn’t started falling off the bone, and there were no maggots that I could see. He wore hiking gear, and part of my mind thought he might have been a survivor. Like us. Maybe the same one who had opened the gates we’d passed through on the bridge. Both his arms were missing, chewed away to the bone before the zombies lost interest in him. Despite being fresher, he was still dead and rotting, and not strong enough to topple me over, but he was strong enough to push me.

  I slammed into the side of the bridge and screamed in fear. He was too close for me to use the ax, so I tried to push it away with one hand while I reached for my knife with the other.

  Another zombie rushed forward, finding his way under my arm and slamming into my chest. I toppled to the side, feeling cold metal against the lower part of my back. Another zombie came from the side, and I lifted one leg, kicking at it. Too late, I realized the movement pushed me backwards further, and there was nothing there to stop me from falling.

  30

  For a heartbeat, time stopped. I hung in the air, seeing a zombie try to follow me over the edge of the bridge but getting stuck on something. I saw it reach out its arms for me. I saw my own hand gripping my ax and realized it might hurt me if I didn’t get rid of it. The pink of my glove was visible through the dark blood of the dead. I felt the rain hit my face and lips like tiny needles, and my glasses and hat loosening. I heard the roar of the river, Shadia screaming my name, and the flapping of my raincoat around me. I m
et the zombie’s black eyes.

  The heartbeat was over, and time rushed back in.

  Turning in the air, I flung my arm to the side, letting go of the ax. It had barely left my fingers when I slapped into the water. The skin along my hip and shoulder prickle in pain. Then I was pulled under, and it was so cold I gasped, swallowing water. I forced myself not to cough as I was tumbled and spun by the stream.

  Opening my eyes, I saw only darkness and rushing muck. Something tugged at my shoulder, and I grabbed at it, finding my messenger bag. Hugging it to my chest, I curled into a ball, making myself as small as possible, praying I wouldn’t hit anything.

  My head broke the surface, and I let the coughs go. Something big and dark rushed past, but by the time I’d turned to see what it was, it was swallowed by the rain.

  The current tugged at me again, and I was barely able to pull in a breath and close my mouth before I was under again.

  I knew enough not to fight the stream. Knew that it would win if I tried, and I would only exhaust myself faster. It was hard though, just letting it pull me away from Shadia. The water was cold, and I was tired. My fingers started twitching where they grabbed at the messenger bag, and my lungs started screaming.

  It felt like The Fog was just at the edge of my mind, but I knew that wasn’t the case. This time, it was because of a lack of oxygen, which was much worse.

  My tumbling grew drowsy, and I opened my eyes again. This time, salt stung them.

  I was still held by the stream, but I must have reached the ocean, where it was much less dangerous. Hope bloomed in my chest, and I wanted to swim, but I wasn’t sure which way was up or down. Forcing myself to stay calm, I let one bubble out of my mouth. It was instantly grabbed by the current, but not before I felt it slip to the side of my mouth. That way was up, then.

  Following the the current, I tumbled around until I was turned the right way. My ears popped and my nose was stuffed with water, but I knew where to go now.

  Using one hand to keep the messenger bag at my side, I started swimming. My clothes and boots and bag were heavy, and it felt like they were pulling me down, like I couldn’t reach the surface with them all still on, but I knew I couldn’t let any of it go. The bag held my medication and food, and I needed my shoes and clothing to keep warm when I got out of the water.

  My hand broke the surface. Cold wind and rain bit into it, making it twitch and curl into itself. I hoped it was just from the cold, not a seizure coming.

  My head finally broke through, and I spat out murky water and gasped down fresh air. When my breathing calmed, I shook water from my eyes and slowly turned around. The world was misty from the rain, and the grey ocean kept buffeting me from every direction, trying to exhaust me and pull me under again, but I didn’t let it. I turned and turned until I finally saw something dark on the horizon. That must be land.

  Still hugging the bag to my chest, I started swimming. It was hard swimming with only one arm and my legs, but I didn’t dare let the bag go.

  My teeth were chattering, I was so cold, and my legs kept jumping this way and that as I pulled them in and out, in and out. Even my arm wanted to dance, but I forced it on course as much as I could.

  I kept my eyes on the black, not listening to the voice inside me saying it was too far away, that I’d never make it. I’d made it this far. I would get to the shore and onto land. I would not drown.

  The Fog was creeping at the edges of my mind, and more than once, I found that I had stopped swimming, or let the bag slip from my grip, or just plain started sinking. Every time I forced The Fog back, but it got harder and harder.

  By the time I reached land, I’d forgotten what I was swimming toward. I just knew I had to keep swimming. When my hand touched the rock, I almost continued swimming right into it. Instead, some instinct took over, and I grabbed it.

  I tried climbing out, but a wave almost pulled me out with it. Sheer stubbornness and survival instinct made me keep my grip on the rock. When another wave rushed in, I used it to lift me onto land. When it pulled back, I was finally out of the water.

  Crawling on all fours, dragging the messenger bag behind me, every limb jerking and threatening to let go beneath me, I made my way away from the water and onto the shore.

  When I was sure the waves wouldn’t get to me anymore, I fell down and let my arms and legs go.

  * * *

  When I woke from The Fog, my limbs were still twitching, and my back kept jerking. It hurt, but I wasn’t sure I could move. I slipped into The Fog again. When I came to next, only my back was jerking. I was starting to feel warm, despite the chill rain falling on me, and the ocean water soaked into my clothes.

  A little part of my mind knew that the heat wasn’t good; knew that I had to find somewhere dry and get out of these clothes. Most of me didn’t want to. I just wanted to stay where I was and sleep. I was so tired and sore. I didn’t want to do this anymore. But the part that knew the heat was bad was too stubborn, and somehow I found myself pushing up enough to look around.

  I could see a shadow that looked like a mountain or a tall slope right ahead. Closer around me were rocks and more rocks, as well as small shrubs. There was nowhere dry nearby.

  Again, I considered just lying down and letting The Fog take me, but before I’d had a chance to decide, I was pushing up on all fours again. My muscles vibrated, wanting to shake again. Instead of listening to them, I started crawling.

  I kept my head down and focused on breathing steadily, supplying my body with oxygen. I only glanced up every now and again to make sure I was still moving forward. My crawling was slow going, and the first ten times or so I looked up, I only saw rocks and shrubs. The next time however, there was another shadow in the rain.

  Primal fear roared through me. For a moment, I froze in place. Fear pumped fresh adrenalin through my veins, which pushed The Fog further into my mind–not far, but enough for me to think clearly. That shadow wasn’t a zombie but looked to be something bigger.

  Moving faster, I neared the shadow and soon saw that it was an upturned boat. It probably wasn’t dry, but at least it was out of the rain.

  With frost-numb limbs, I crawled to the boat and started moving around it, using my hands to explore as much as my eyes. Finally, I found an opening I could fit through.

  I shimmied and kicked until I was under the boat, then I willingly sunk into The Fog.

  Excerpt from Medical Notebook

  The worm’s complete control isn’t final until some time after rigor mortis. The theory is that this happens to give the other worms in the stomach and blood time to die. The worm nestled in the brain is able to feed off it, and in that way, integrate itself into the central nervous system.

  When reanimating the body, the second brain now moves it to hunt for meat, be it human or animal; it doesn’t care, as long as it is fresh.

  31

  I woke in sporadic bursts after that.

  The first time, I undressed down to my underwear, flinging the wet clothes away. I was clear enough to notice that the dry grass was sharp and kept poking at me before I disappeared into The Fog again.

  The second time, I was able to find a somewhat better sleeping position, one that didn’t involve my limbs slamming into the sides of the boat as they jerked and danced.

  The third time, I managed to take a painkiller and dry swallow it, not trusting my shaking hand not to throw the water bottle away if I tried to drink.

  When I woke the fourth time, my shakes had mostly disappeared, and I was dry. The rain was still drumming against the boat hull, but it was lighter now. I lay awake a little while, listening to the rain and the ocean outside before I fell into a somewhat more natural sleep.

  I don’t know how long that sleep lasted. When I woke again, there was only a faint vibration in my muscles. A warning that the seizure was calming down, but could still come back. The Fog was still in the back of my mind, but not threatening to take over again. I didn’t want to risk doing too much,
but I also knew that something had to be done.

  Moving slowly, I was able to drink a little water from one of my bottles, and eat a few nuts. That was enough for my hands to begin shaking and hurting again, so I took another painkiller and went back to sleep.

  This was the routine for the next few times I woke up. Force down some water, nuts, and a painkiller, then go back to sleep. I think I noticed the light seeping beneath the boat changing, and the rain changed to a whisper, the wind almost dying completely. Even with my watch waking me every morning and every evening, I wasn’t sure how much time passed. I went to the bathroom once, crawling into the rain and to the other end of the boat, where I relieved myself. After that one time, I didn’t eat or drink enough to have anything to waste. I think I’d been under that boat for almost five days when I woke and was clearheaded enough to consider what had happened and what to do next.

  The first thing I did was take inventory. My watch was still functioning, which was good. I’d barely been awake enough to know if I took the right pill, but it had been enough to keep me alive, it seemed. My clothes were long since dry, even if they were crusted in salt. I was running low on both food and water, as the bag only held so much. It did hold a set of clothes, kept dry in large zip lock bags, which I now pulled on. The salt made my skin itch. The knife Shadia had made me take was still on my belt in its sheath. I thanked whoever invented hunting-knives with straps to make sure they wouldn’t fall out. This meant I had a weapon. And I had more than enough medication, but it wouldn’t last forever, so I needed to find Shadia. She would have the rest. But how?

  As I pondered the question, I fell asleep again. Taking inventory had clearly been too taxing. When I woke again, the light hadn’t changed much, and I knew where I had to go. Before we left André’s place, we’d agreed to meet at the closest train station if we were separated.