"And I'm Dunblane," he said.
"Those are pretty unusual names," she said.
"These are pretty unusual times," he countered. "Anyway, next thing I was gonna ask you when I finished chewing was if you wanted some food. It's not very nice for all of us to be chowing in your face."
"If you wouldn't mind," she said.
"If I wouldn't mind?" Dunblane said. "What's got you so shy? You need to assert yourself more if you're going to survive in this world." He grabbed a can of beef and gravy and hacked open the lid with the tip of a knife then set it on a metal stand over the fire.
"Sorry," she said, "I just..."
"Right, the men from before," he said. "So what did they do to you?" When he saw the look of shame come over her face, he added, "Never mind, forget I asked."
She stayed quiet, not really sure of which men they were both talking about. She told them the bandits, but now that they were opening up to her and seemed much friendlier than they appeared at first, they were starting to remind her much more of Noah and his posse. And if it was a choice between Noah and the bandits, she didn't know which was worse.
"Hey, I just thought of something," Roscoe said, perking up.
"What?" Paulson asked.
"You ever notice how they never call them 'zombies' in movies and shit?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like in old shows and movies," Roscoe explained, "they always called them 'walkers' or 'flesh-eaters' or something, but never 'zombies'. It's like they never heard of zombies before it happened or something."
"So?" Paulson asked.
"I don't know, I'm just saying it's kind of funny. Like, remember that Walking Dead show? They never once called them zombies and had no idea what they were when they first transformed. Us, man? We've been waiting for the zombie apocalypse all our lives."
"That show pissed me off, man," Tanner said.
"What, The Walking Dead?" Roscoe asked. "Why?"
"'Cause they had that dumbass cliffhanger where Negan killed a dude, but they didn't show who it was. I was waiting for that shit to come back all summer, then the power went out and real zombies showed up. Of all the fuckin' timing..."
They all laughed and went back to finishing up their meals. Sarah sat quietly eating hers after Dunblane had taken it from the fire and handed it to her wrapped in a towel with a fork.
"Well you can stay here for the night if you want," Dunblane said, picking corn out of his teeth. "We're moving on in the morning though, so don't expect to hang with us or nothing."
"Thanks," Sarah said before biting off a piece of beef. "So were you guys in the military?"
"Navy SEALs," Paulson said. "We were stationed in Coronado when the attack happened eight and a half years ago."
"Where's that?" Sarah asked.
"California," Dunblane said.
"Were you guys near the coast?"
Dunblane nodded.
"Why didn't you get out on the water?" she asked.
"We were too busy protecting our country," Tanner said indignantly. "But... we lost. We got overrun and our unit scattered. The base was compromised and wiped out. We tried finding our brothers in the area for years, but eventually we gave up. They were either lost or killed."
"What caused all this?" she asked. "You must know."
Dunblane shook his head. "Some kind of virus. That's all we know. This is just rumor, but after it happened—before all communications were cut off—word came along the line that it came out of a top secret base in Raleigh."
"Raleigh?" Sarah was shocked. "Is that why you came all the way here?"
"No," Dunblane said. "Even if it did, what difference does it make at this point? What's done is done."
"So why are you here?"
A sudden swell of wind swept by their makeshift camp and swatted at the fire. They all shivered and looked around at the rain-streaked night, the storm showing no sign of stopping.
"We're heading to Little Creek," he said. "That's in Virginia, close to here. An old commander of ours was transferred there just before the shit hit the fan. If there's one tough son of a bitch who would still be alive, it's him. We know he would still be in the area, and he would know what to do."
"Do you... think I could come with you?"
He eyed her up and down.
"No way," Paulson said.
"Sorry, lady," Tanner added.
Dunblane saw the pleading in her eyes; the desperation. He knew she was twisting in the wind with no idea what she was doing out here. "We don't take charity cases," he said.
"I'll be useful," she protested. "I promise!"
He looked at the others. "We're a unit. We do fine for ourselves and survive because we operate like a well-oiled machine. We have a system and it works. You don't mess with something like that. The last thing we want to do is protect you all the time."
Her face fell. "Well, never mind, then."
The rest of the men made sounds of indignation and stared off at the dark landscape around them, but Dunblane stared at her. He saw something in her that he hadn't seen in anyone else.
"Do you really think you can pull your weight?" he asked. "We are Navy SEALs, remember."
Her eyes lit up. "I can," she said quickly.
"Hey, what the hell, man?" Paulson said, looking at Dunblane.
"It's not far to Little Creek," Dunblane reasoned. "We're almost there. We can at least let her tag along until then. But after that, there are no promises." He looked at Sarah. "If we decide you don't hang with us after that, you don't hang with us. And if you don't pull your weight until then, we leave without you. And don't expect us to save your butt. Understand?"
She nodded. "I got it."
The three others made sounds of disapproval, but Dunblane waved them off. "Relax, guys. Cut her some slack."
"Whatever..." Roscoe said. "She is cute, though."
"In a MILF sort of way," Paulson added.
"You into the cougars?" Tanner asked, turning his head to Roscoe.
"Knock it off, guys," Dunblane said. "Remember your code."
They shut up and Sarah smiled at him for coming to her aid. He winked at her and they all relaxed and enjoyed the bonfire as she finished her late dinner.
"So how do you guys even lift those things?" she asked, looking at their assault rifles.
"Not so heavy without any ammo," Roscoe said, smiling.
"Shut up, man!" Tanner said, smacking him on the arm.
Roscoe rubbed his arm as he realized he said something he shouldn't have and sheepishly turned his head away.
Dunblane shook his head at them and a tiny smile came over his face. "They're not loaded," he confirmed.
"None of them?" she asked, surprised.
"Nope."
"What happens if you run into bandits?" she asked.
"We point our big guns at them and hope they don't call our bluff," he said. "We've been out of ammo since Charlotte. We looked around here and there on our way, but everything around here's been cleaned out."
"What about the zombies?" she asked.
"Aw, they're not so bad. Giving 'em a good smack with the butt of your rifle will knock them on their asses all day long. But if we need to kill, we're all pretty good with knives."
"Can you show me some things?" she asked.
He smiled. "You want to know how to protect yourself?"
"I know a little," she said, "but it sounds like you guys really know your stuff."
"We can show you a thing or two in the morning, ma'am."
"Please don't call me ma'am," she said.
"Sorry," he said, "force of habit."
The others snickered.
"Well, I think we should turn in for the night," he said. "Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." The men went through their supplies and pulled out their sleeping bags that they each had tightly rolled up. "We don't have anything for you to sleep in tonight," he told Sarah.
"That's okay," she said. "I'm just happy to be out of the ra
in." The fire had dried her front, minus her hair, which was still fairly wet all over. She looked down at her waist suddenly, realizing she never spared a minute to see what she still had on her after her ordeal in the woods. Her bow had snapped in half and her arrows had spilled all over the ground, but the hatchet was still wedged into one of the belt loops on her jeans and her small bag of clothes was still tied to the other side, though it was drenched. She untied the bag and pulled out a pair of track pants, a couple blouses, socks, and a couple pairs of undergarments. She laid them out on the concrete near the fire to dry along with the sack that she carried them in.
The men had all unrolled their sleeping bags and stuffed themselves inside, immediately closing their eyes. Sarah curled up on the hard concrete, closing her eyes and trying to get comfortable as Dunblane continued to sit on the ground and stare out into the night.
"Here," he said, leaning over and grabbing his sleeping bag. He handed it to her and she reached out apprehensively for it.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm on first watch anyway."
She smiled, taking it and unrolling it. "Thanks," she said before crawling inside and getting comfortable. She was still a little wet and her body ached, but she was warm and safe, and that was all that mattered.
Dunblane stared all around as they slept, keeping a keen eye out for any approaching dangers.
Sarah listened to the pounding rain landing all around them and let herself drift off into sleep.
She woke up sometime the next morning feeling groggy. She had gotten a very deep sleep through the night and before she started to roll around in her sleeping bag, she enjoyed how good she felt. When she did start moving, she could feel the familiar aches and pains from the night before, although they were less pronounced. And she felt cold.
Her eyes snapped open and looked down, wondering why such a cold breeze had glided over her body when the sleeping bag should have kept her warm.
But the sleeping bag wasn't covering her anymore; it was unzipped down to her ankles and the flap was pulled over to the side, where it lay lightly flapping in the wind.
And then she noticed that the button and zipper on her jeans were undone and splayed to the sides, exposing her pink cotton panties. Her coat was undone and her blouse hiked up a little, leaving the bare skin of her stomach in view. She shifted her body and noticed that her bra wasn't on right.
As she started to panic, she lifted up her blouse and pulled her bra back down into place, which had been left crookedly yanked up with half of her left nipple exposed. She reached a hand under her panties and wiped herself, then inspected her fingers, but it didn't look or feel like anyone had violated her; more like they had just looked. She did her pants up and climbed out of the opened sleeping bag, turning around to face the four men who had abused her. In the split second that occurred as she turned, half of her felt furious and wanted to attack them, but the other half was terrified of what else they would do to her. When she spun around and saw them, her reaction was entirely different.
They were all still lying in their sleeping bags, except for Dunblane, who was lying directly on the concrete. The bonfire had been put out, leaving only blackened wood and nestled embers holding onto their own warmth. And each of their severed heads were lined up in front of the fire, standing on their bloody stumps with lifeless eyes staring straight ahead.
Sarah screamed and staggered backward. She nearly toppled over the edge of the embankment and tumbled down, but she steadied herself and crouched down onto the ground, staring at the horrific scene.
Their mouths were open and their tongues lolled out lazily. A colossal pool of blood had dried around the area and she saw that it had surrounded her sleeping bag.
She frantically checked herself, but the blood had only touched the bottom of the bag and not her.
All of the men's supplies had been left untouched and it didn't seem like a robbery. This was something different entirely, and she immediately remembered the body that had been stabbed to death and bitten by the side of the highway.
She stood up and spun around on the spot, searching the woods down below, the top of the hill around her, and the overpass above. But she couldn't see anyone, nor any sign that someone had been there, the gruesome scene aside.
Her body shook and her limbs were weak. She stumbled around, walking out onto the nearby grass on the other side of the overpass from where she came the night before. Her body temperature skyrocketed and suddenly the cold air felt like the only thing preventing her from exploding. She found her way over to a bush before she couldn't hold it in anymore. She threw herself onto the ground and puked all over the grass and some of her fingers. She dragged a hand across her sour mouth and stood up again, too afraid to stay put. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew she had to get out of there. She wanted desperately to take off running, but she threw a glance over her shoulder at the supplies they had sitting near the edge of their camp.
She trotted back, keeping her eyes off their dismembered corpses, and knelt down in front of one of their supply bags. She searched inside and saw that it had a couple of canteens full of water, a handful of maps, a first aid kit, and only two cans of food. She picked it up and flung it over her shoulder, leaving her clothes that had been washed in blood by the fire. Running out from under the overpass, she followed the hill until she got onto the highway, continuing in the direction that she would have if she didn't take the deviation into the woods.
As she got away, her legs felt like rubber the whole time and her face had twisted into a display of pure terror, tears, and madness.
4
Whispers on the Wind
Sarah squatted behind a tree that had been cracked in half by a lightning storm just off the road, looking at a map. The SEALs had one for the northern part of North Carolina and another for the east of Virginia, and it reminded her of the maps David had taken from the gas station in Roanoke.
She had been traveling off and on for the last month, more concerned with surviving and staving off zombie attacks than making progress in any one direction, and she hadn't gotten too far from Durham and Raleigh. She was on the 50 highway and she was heading south toward Raleigh. But there was no intention in her direction; that was just the way the road took her.
Right now all she was concerned about was finding a safe place to hide. After leaving the grisly scene under the bridge, she ran as far as she could, and when she couldn't run, she slowly jogged. When she couldn't do that, she forced herself to at least walk, half-bent over and wheezing the whole way. A million questions were in her head and she couldn't answer any of them. She never saw or heard anything in the night, and she woke up as the only survivor to the murders. Was it because she was a woman? Why had the mysterious attacker only felt her up and not harmed her like the others?
She looked over her shoulder the entire way after she escaped, expecting a crazed maniac to sprint down the road with a machete, and only after going for a good half an hour did she feel safe enough to stop.
There had been no sign of the killer since and she didn't know if he was just skulking around the area, murdering unsuspecting victims, or if he was following her. The first body she found had already been murdered and dumped near the road before she got there, so she hoped it was the former; just a deranged lunatic prowling the area like a rabid wolf.
It made her think of the lunatics she and David had encountered on the way to Noah's Ark and she began to rethink her decision to decline Wayne's offer to stay. But she knew it was one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't scenarios. The only way from now on was forward, wherever that may be.
She traced her finger along the map and saw that there were some suburbs down the road eventually. She was deep into wooded country and it would probably take her the rest of the day to reach them, but even if someone was following her, she knew she would be able to disappear once she got there and be safe until she figured out where she was going to go ul
timately.
She neatly folded up the map and placed it back into the supply bag that she had taken from the SEALs' camp, picking up the water canteen she had next to her and taking another swig. She eyed the two cans of food inside the bag, feeling her stomach rumble, and decided to go with the chicken noodle soup. She pulled it out and hacked at the lid with her hatchet, carefully prying her fingers into the hole that it made and peeling it off without cutting her fingers. She yanked off the twisted piece of metal and discarded it. It left an uneven hole in the top of the can, but it would be enough to drink out of. She pressed the can to her lips and took the cold liquid down her throat. When she finished, she tossed the can on the grass next to her and put the water canteen back in the bag and stood up. She went to leave, when she stopped and looked at the can.
It was just sitting there, clearly visible from the road. She went back to it and took it farther into the woods, hiding it under a rock, and came back to the road, making sure there were no other signs of her presence. When she was satisfied, she carried on and followed the dull asphalt as it twisted and winded through the pale trees.
At about suppertime, her stomach started grumbling again and she wanted to stop and eat. She had a can of Bush's beans in the bag and nothing else, but she knew she still had a ways to go before she would get to the suburbs, and she wanted to keep it just in case. She still had the hatchet on her, and she had been practicing a little with it since she left Noah's Ark.
She glanced over her shoulder and peered down the last stretch of road she'd traveled.
Not a single creature was in sight, not even a bird.
She left the road and walked into the woods, dropping the bag behind a tree where it wouldn't easily be found. She opened up a canteen and took a swig of water before she left, then she set off deeper into the woods.
The hatchet swung on her hip and she slowly drew her fingers along the handle, gripping it and sliding it out of her belt loop. She held it by her side as she crept through the woods, pausing periodically to listen for rustling around her.
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