by Haga, A. H.
Tucking my legs under me and out of the way, I leaned down and started dragging myself forward with my plank-covered hands. Soon, I’d built up enough momentum to leave the scent of the dead behind me.
Getting up and down the hills using my hands was a lot harder. I was constantly panting for breath, my shoulders and back ached, and my fingers were stiff and screaming from their grip on the planks. I didn’t give myself time to stop, not even to take a painkiller. All that seemed to be left of my mind was pain and exhaustion. It kept The Fog at bay, but there wasn’t much more going on.
I’m not sure I would have been able to take a painkiller. My hands had been gripping the hoe and the planks, and I’d been outside for so long and was so sweaty. Who knew how many germs were on my hands right now? Much less the rest of my body? Could I bring myself to put something I held with those hands into my mouth?
I’m not sure how long it was between the zombies and the first sign to Galleberg, but I think it was far enough to be safe. Only a small part of my brain recognized the name when I passed the sign, but it was enough for me to turn onto the small road. I passed a few houses, not even seeing them before I arrived at the last house on the street.
It was a small, one-story, white thing, with a bench out front and a sign on the wall claiming it was the same house as had once been Galleberg Togstasjon. There were no train-tracks in sight and no parking lot. As far as my tired mind could tell, the station had been shut down, and only the building was left. It had been turned into a public resting place, it seemed.
Tears leaked from my eyes and stung my sweaty cheeks, but I was too tired to cry properly.
Using the same instinct that had gotten me here alive, I made my way to the building and crawled onto the porch. The door was unlocked, and I crawled inside, not even looking around before I closed and locked the door behind me. I noticed it smelled of old paper and dust, then I curled up on the floor and passed out.
The next time I woke, I was able to take in the interior of the building. It was only one room, with a fireplace in one corner and a heap of wood beside it. There were a couch and a few blankets, a table and a small kitchenette. When looking through the cabinets, I saw that they held a few bags of instant-soup and cocoa, as well as some tea. There was a door leading to a bathroom, where I cleaned up as best I could and changed into clean clothes.
Afterwards, I made myself a nest on the floor beside the sofa, as far from the door as I could get. I used the pillows from the sofa and the blanket, as well as what softness I had brought myself. It wasn’t much, but it felt safer. I fell asleep there, partly hidden.
When I woke up again, I was able to push the sofa, so it shielded me completely from the door, and any visitors would have to crawl over it to get at me.
Over the next few days, I moved the sofa enough, so the only way in was through a small opening on my side. It was cold, and I was sick. A fever ran through my body and gave me nightmares. I used the wood to light a fire at night, not caring if anyone saw the smoke.
I forced myself to eat and drink, always boiling the water twice before risking it. André had said boiling water killed the worms, right? I couldn’t remember, could only hope.
The days ran together until they were a mess of feeling awful and surviving. When the fever finally let go, I continued keeping the fire going at night, for it was chilly, and I felt weaker than I had in a long time.
My mind kept wandering, wondering what I should do next. Should I stay here and hope Shadia found me? Even if it wasn’t a proper train station? Or should I try to get to the next station when I felt stronger? How many days had it been since Drammen? How long would Shadia wait? Forever. I knew that because I would wait forever for her. But what if we waited for each other in the wrong place? And I would soon be out of both food and medical supplies. There were a few houses close by I could raid, but nothing else. I was in the middle of no-where and on my own. That thought broke what little willpower I had left.
34
It was still early on my seventh day at Galleberg, but I was awake, lying in my nest and trying to keep warm, to find a reason to care. The last embers of my fire were dying, leaving the scent of burned wood and ash in the air.
The door rattled. I couldn’t see it from where I was hiding, but I could clearly hear the lock against the frame as someone tried to force it open.
Carefully, I reached for my knife. I’d created my nest with this in mind. If they got inside, they wouldn’t see me unless they knew where to look. If I was lucky, they wouldn’t notice me at all and just leave when they got what they came for. If I was unlucky, I would have to fight. I really didn’t want that. My joints were swollen and clumsy from the cold. I wasn’t sure I could put up a fight even if I wanted to.
The door rattled again before something slammed into it: the thwack of an ax.
A gust of cold, wet air snuck through the opening of my nest and started kissing whatever skin it could reach. I shivered before moving as quietly as I could into the darkest corner of my little cave, making sure to pull the blankets with me to stay warm.
The door opened, and I heard boots on the concrete floor, followed by the door closing again.
“Kit?” I blinked against sudden tears. “Habibi? Are you here?”
“Shadia,” I whispered, my voice low and rough from the cold and lack of use. I’d stopped talking to myself on day two. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Sha!”
She drew a deep, shaking breath before I heard her move again.
After another silence, I crawled around the corner.
Shadia stood with one hand on the counter by her side. She looked tired. Her hair was almost flat from natural oils, and she had big bags under her eyes. Her cheekbones looked a lot sharper than they had the last time I saw her, and her yoga pants looked a little loose. There was blood on her arms and legs, but it was all dark and half-dried.
“Sha,” I breathed, then she was on the ground with me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me close.
I grabbed the back of her jacket and tried to bury myself in her chest. She smelled pretty bad, but I didn’t care, for it was her own scent; the scent of jasmine and heat and Shadia. She drew a deep breath before pulling away from me a little. Her hands stroked my hair, my face, my shoulders, as her eyes roamed over me, looking for I didn’t know what. Then she kissed me. It wasn’t a hungry kiss, but it was urgent. I kissed her back, trying to bury myself in her and be as close to her as I possibly could be. Water touched my lips, and I drew back. Shadia shuddered in my arms before she started sobbing. I sniffed, wiping my own tears before I pulled her to me, hugging her.
“It’s OK,” I whispered into her hair. “It’s OK.” She shuddered again, gasping for breath as she tried to talk through her tears. “Not yet. You can tell me later.” She nodded and grabbed me, hiding her face between my breasts before she howled.
She cried for a long time, but her howls died down fast enough, replaced by the quiet, helpless sobs that no human can control.
I kissed her behind the ear, my own silent tears falling.
“How long have you been here?” she asked, pushing away to look at me.
I counted in my head. “Seven nights.”
“That long?”
“Yeah.”
I could see she wanted to say something more, but I kissed her. It was a fast peck, for I was afraid I’d drown in her if I kissed her any more, and pulled her toward my nest.
Inside, I motioned for Shadia to sit on the blankets while I found a packet of wet napkins. When I turned, Shadia was sitting where I’d told her, looking around the small room I’d made myself.
“Here,” I said and handed her the napkins. “Clean yourself up.” The motion of doing something familiar calmed my shaking hands.
Shadia accepted the napkins but just stared at them for a while. She drew another shuddering breath and looked at me. “I’m so sorry it took so long.” I looked at her. “For taking so long.”
&nb
sp; “Sha …” I began, but she shook her head.
“I thought you were dead.”
I crawled to her and took her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me when she opened her eyes again. “But I’m not. I’m right here, and I’m fine. And now you’re here, and we can finally get going.”
Her lips were trembling, but she nodded and pulled me into another hug. I stayed there, sitting on my knees, her face between my breasts, murmuring nonsense until she calmed down again. When I pulled away, she was trying to hide a big yawn.
“But for now,” I said, using my business voice, “you should clean yourself up.”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled around the yawn.
“M-hm,” I answered, crossing my arms and looking down at her.
“You don’t believe me?” she asked, a glint in her eyes.
“Not at all.”
“Then you know how I feel all the time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a poor patient. Now, get cleaned up!”
She smiled, even if it didn’t reach her eyes.
After washing my own hands in antibacterial gel, I helped her get out of her bloody clothes and clean her body. She smelled stale and of anxiety, but still of herself. Always of herself.
While cleaning, she told me that she got off the bridge in a kind of trance, just thinking that she had to find me, had to find me, had to find me. She searched the shore for two days but didn’t even see a footprint. We agreed that I must have washed up further down. How she made her way to Sanden Stasjon, the next train station, and waited. Then she found a car and drove to the next station, hoping I may have missed Sanden, even if she knew it was too far for me to go. When I hadn’t arrived by her fourth day there, she started wandering up and down the back roads. That was how she smelled my smoke, and now here she was.
When we were done cleaning her, she helped do the same to my hands and my face.
She cried four times while telling the story, but none as bad as that first round. I don’t think her body was able to cry any harder at the moment, exhausted as it was. I cried with her. She was here! She was finally here!
“I missed you so much,” I managed.
“I missed you too, habibi. I’m sorry I took so long,” she murmured and kissed the top of my head.
I wanted to say that she should stop saying sorry, but couldn’t find the words, so I just gave myself over to tears. When I calmed down, the adrenaline of finally seeing Shadia again was slipping away. She noticed and forced me to drink cola from her own bag before she found both our sleeping bags. She only had one rucksack, but she promised the rest of our stuff was in her new car. Apart from my wheelchair. She hadn’t been able to bring it when escaping the zombies.
I didn’t care. We could find a new one.
I wanted to help her set up the sleeping bags, but my hands were shaking again, so she pushed me away, trying to make jokes about it. I tried to laugh, but we were both too aware of having almost lost each other.
Finally, she zipped the two sleeping bags together, and we undressed and crawled into them, holding on to each other as if we would never let go again.
35
Shadia’s hands roamed my body. One found my breast, taking hold and massaging. The other moved up and down my skin, leaving trails of fire. I was still wearing my jeans, but one of her thighs was pressed between my legs, and I rubbed against it, moaning, begging her with my eyes to come closer, to undress.
“Not yet,” she said, smiling down at me.
Her trailing hand moved up, stroked over my throat, and tilted my head backwards. Her fingers were at my lips, and I parted them, ready to take her into me there if nowhere else, but her hands stopped moving, and her body grew stiff.
“Sha?” I said, opening my eyes to look at her. Her eyes were on something just below my face.
“What is that?” she asked, moving her hand from my lips to touch something on my throat, just below my jaw. At her touch, a sting of pain lanced down my throat, and I winced. “Habibi?”
“I don’t know,” I said, moving away from her and standing.
With her hot on my heels, I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Leaning over the sink and tilting my head back, I looked at the bump that had formed on my throat. Poking it, another sting of pain radiated outward.
“What is it?” Shadia asked, standing in the doorway, hugging herself.
“Dunno,” I answered and pulled back. “But it’s probably fine. It’ll be gone in a day or two, I’m sure.”
“You aren’t going to the doctor?”
“Why bother? It’s just a swollen something or other.”
I took her in my arms and kissed her neck, trying to find my way back to where we had just been, but Shadia pushed me away.
“Don’t. You had that fever last week, and you’ve been feeling weird. You’re going to the doctor.”
“It’s just the season,” I argued, trying to grab her again, but she stepped back.
“If you don’t call the doctor, I will, and I will drag you there by your hair if I have to.”
“Fine! I’ll do it. But I swear, I’ve just had the flu, and this is just a swollen tonsil. You’ll feel stupid when they tell me it’s nothing.”
Shadia walked into the bedroom and found my phone. “Then I’ll feel stupid, but better safe than sorry.” She held the phone out to me.
“You worry too much,” I mumbled as I looked up the number online.
“You don’t worry enough,” she answered, kissing me on the cheek and leaning against my shoulder as I put the phone to my ear.
I woke to Shadia trailing her fingers along my naked shoulder, across my back, and over my hips. Letting out a satisfied sound, I turned and looked at her. She was propped up on one elbow, her head resting on her hand, as her other hand rested on my stomach.
I almost couldn’t believe she was here with me; that we found each other again. That we were alive.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked before she had the chance. She was looking a little better. The bags under her eyes were smaller, and her cheeks looked a little less hollow.
“Still tired, but OK. Everything is OK now.” She tickled my stomach, and I grimaced.
Her smile widened, and she started tickling me again, aiming for those spots she knew would make me laugh. I grabbed for her hand, trying to keep it away from those spots even as she poked at them. I gurgled a laugh before I pushed the arm away. She fought my grip, pulling me closer until she almost fell over me. We tussled until she lay on her back with my head on her shoulder, one arm under me and one partly over me, hand resting on my hip again. It felt good to be close to her. To just be us for a while.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked after our breathing was back under control, and I started feeling sleepy again.
“We should get moving, but it depends on what you can handle,” Shadia answered.
When I looked up at her, I saw she had her eyes closed, so I did the same.
“If you’re sure, we should consider getting a move on. Spend the night here, then go tomorrow?”
I played with a strand of her hair, brushing it along her breastbone and collarbones. Even without eyes, I knew her body better than I knew my own. “You have a car?” I asked, remembering her story.
“Yes, but it’s not here. I left it at the station, not wanting to waste gas.”
“Then how will we get me anywhere? I don’t think I can crawl any length of time without adrenalin and a pack of angry men chasing me.”
Shadia scoffed. “I can look around tomorrow. Some of the houses around here must have something.”
We lay for a long while, her hand moving slower and slower across my back as drowsiness claimed us. Her hand stopped moving, and she hugged me a little tighter, turning her body to lie more comfortably, and her hand moved down my stomach and stopped just at the edge of my underwear.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered into my ear.
I turn
ed in her arms, resting one hand on her hip and pushing the other under her, letting my fingers rest in her hair. “I’m feeling fine.”
“You sure?”
I kissed her in answer, and she kissed me back. I could feel her worry melt away as she pulled me as close as she could–so close I wasn’t sure where I stopped, and she began. Then we made love.
* * *
“You think anyone heard us?” Shadia said afterwards, lying on her side, her forehead touching mine, our hands folded together between our breasts.
“You’re loud, so if anyone’s around, they’d have heard,” I said around a yawn.
“I’m not that loud!”
“Yes, you are.” I grinned. “I know just what to do to make you scream.”
She furrowed her brow. “What? Torture? I guess that’s a fitting word.”
“Hey!”
“I’m just kidding, habibi.” She kissed my nose before turning around and cuddling her back against my front. “But we should sleep now.”
“That’s my line,” I mumbled around another yawn.
“Not anymore. Sleep.”
“I thought I was the bossy one.”
She chuckled but didn’t say anything, and neither did I.
In the end, I did fall asleep and only woke when my clock told me it was time to take my medication.
Sitting up, I looked around. Shadia was nowhere to be seen, and her clothes and ax were both gone.
“Sha?” I asked, keeping my voice low just in case I wasn’t alone. She had to be here somewhere, right? Her finding me hadn’t been a dream. It couldn’t be a dream.
“Shadia?” I tried again, raising my voice a little.
The door opened, and boots walked across the concrete floor, drawing ever closer. It was Shadia. It had to be Shadia. Didn’t it?