Odium (The Dead Saga.)

by Riley, Claire C

  Thirty-Two.

  We pack up our stuff and split into two groups, about which there is a massive discussion. It seems that there is trouble in paradise and the harmony is gone from our group since Josie got killed.

  Britta doesn’t want to stay with Crunch, but I won’t let Emily out of my sight. Similarly, Mikey wants to stay with me. I’d be annoyed that he was treating me like a weak woman, but to be fair to him, he’s clearly getting the short straw since my little group is weak.

  Eventually JD decides he and Crunch will take the tow truck, and the rest of us will go in the van. I know that both JD and Crunch wouldn’t give a second thought to leaving us behind, but I’m okay with that—if I was going to be stuck with any of this group, I wouldn’t want it to be them, anyway. Mikey and I ride up front and let Britta and Emily rest up in the back. Both of them could do with building up their strength again. Hell, we all could, but they are the weakest of us right now. Britta has two weak arms, one from the deaders yesterday and the other from when we were living up in the tree tops. Both seem to be healing nicely, though, and I think a couple more days and she’ll be ready to fight again. We find quite a few useful things in the garage—flashlights, radios, walkie-talkies, that sort of thing—and pack everything we can get our hands on. We even manage to raid the vending machines of the last of their chocolate bars, bags of stale chips, and flat sodas. The amazing thing is that because the electricity still works here, the drinks are still cold. I’ve never tasted something so good in my whole damn life. It’s like the amber nectar of life as it pours down my throat, the elixir of the gods, the—well, you get the idea. It’s damn refreshing is what it is, and I can’t help but count down the minutes until I can have another one.

  I notice the lack of internal handles on the van as the girls climb in. “Um, I guess bang if you need anything.” I shrug apologetically.

  We check out the windows for any stray deaders before we lift the garage door and drive away into the sunset. There aren’t any there, but in the daylight we can see that the entire town is crawling with them. No, really. There’s a ton of them that don’t have any legs anymore and are just crawling around like fucking snakes in a desert.

  It seems that I was completely accurate when I told Emily that the lights and noise attract the dead. By my estimations, every night that the lights come on, more and more deaders head for this town. I simply cannot wait to leave this place.

  I hit the garage door button to get it to open up and JD heads out first, leading our convoy. I wait until Mikey pulls all the way out before I press the close button behind me and quickly climb into our little white repair van. As we follow JD out of the side alley, we come upon a bunch of deaders. JD heads straight for them, but Mikey goes around the bodies littering the street—well, as much as he can anyway. It’s not so easy to do when arms and legs are flying all over the damn place.

  A hand flicks from under JD’s tire and onto the hood of our van with a thud. I can see Crunch turn around to look and start laughing.

  Bitch.

  Thankfully, since we were already at the edge of town, we don’t have far to go before we are out onto the open road and waving bye-bye to the environmentally friendly Acer Town. Thank the fucking gods for that.

  I sit back in my chair and watch the landscape passing us by as we follow JD. I feel a strange sort of longing to get to Ben’s parents’ cabin, now that we’re so close. It’s still another couple of days’ drive, but we could possibly do this with very limited stopping now, and that thought spurs on my giddiness. JD and Mikey seem to think that the place could be relatively untouched, safe even. Jesus, if it is, that would be…

  A bubble of happiness builds in my chest. Maybe we could settle down for a while again. We could build defenses from the deaders. The Forgotten—stupid name—don’t know where we are, so we would be off their radar. We could maybe find some peace, some happiness. It feels ironic after my little speech with Mikey this morning.

  “I’m sorry, Mikey. I shouldn’t have been so cold with you today.” I look at him; his eyes never leave the road. “I mean, I still believe those things, but in a way, I guess you’re right. Maybe there can be some happiness in this world. Maybe it doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom.”

  I wait for him to say something, give me a smile—shit, anything at this point—but what I get is a sidelong look and a shrug of the shoulders.

  “Don’t be like that,” I plead. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I was wrong, you were right—well, maybe not right, but there may be some truth to what you say.” I look at him again, and see his mouth quirk up so I continue. “What can I say?”

  “Tell me that you like me,” he replies.

  “What?”

  “Tell me that you like me, Nina. No more bullshit. I tried to tell you how I felt this morning. I mean Jesus, woman, I’m not an emotional guy, so that shit is hard. But whatever, it’s done now, and now I want to hear you tell me you like me. I know that you do, but do you know that you do?”

  “And what if I don’t?”

  “Don’t feel the same, or don’t tell me?”

  “Both,” I snap.

  “I don’t know.” He pauses. “I didn’t think about that.”

  I smirk, playing him at his own game, and don’t say anything.

  “Woman!” He grabs my thigh and squeezes it. “Tell me, or so help you I’ll…”

  I crack up laughing. “Fine, fine: I like you, okay? Does that make you feel better?” I snigger. “Is that a nice ego boost for you?”

  “Yes, but now what are you gonna do about it?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, confused. “Do about what?”

  “To make it up to me? You made me feel like a total dick this morning. I think that since you’re going to be my girlfriend, that you should be, you know, trying to make me feel better somehow.” He looks at me and gives me his award-winning smile.

  “I’m not making anything up to you, and who said I was your girlfriend?” I splutter. “Jeez, you tell a guy you like him in these apocalypse times, and he goes all stalker on your ass. Maybe you should be trying to get me to be your girlfriend, instead of just presuming. Like with a foot rub or a trip to the movies or something.”

  He looks at me and we both crack up laughing at the stupidity of it all. The movies, ha, now wouldn’t that be a nice treat?

  “Let’s just get to the making up part.” He smiles when our laughing calms down. “That’s my favorite part of having a girlfriend.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Isn’t it for all men?”

  We drive in silence for a while before Mikey breaks it.

  “Tell me about your husband.”

  Jesus, mood breaker.

  I look at him, trying to keep my annoyance from showing. The last thing I want is another fight.

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Why not? You must have had some great times before, well—just before. You know. What was he like? I need to know what I’m up against.”

  He tries to lighten the mood with a smile, but my heart breaks every time I think about Ben. I don’t know, maybe it’s time that I put it all to bed. Maybe if I tell someone what happened, I can move on.

  “He…” I shake my head, the words forming a hard lump in my throat before they can even get out of my mouth. “He was called Ben.”

  I let the words settle between us, thinking about all the things that I could tell Mikey about him: how great he was at making me feel special all the time, but especially when I was feeling sick; how awful he was at fixing things; how ambitious he had been, but how he lacked motivation. Every memory makes me think about all of our arguments in the weeks before he died, and the guilt builds in me.

  “I killed him,” I blurt out.

  Silence spans between us for what seems like miles, but can only be a couple of seconds.

  “Did you mean to?” he finally asks.

  I nod my head yes and tears form in
my eyes. “Yes and no. I can’t talk about this, Mikey. I’m sorry.”

  I look at him; he gives me a sidelong glance and nods.

  “It hurts too much to talk about it. Do you understand?” I ask in a pathetically pleading voice, which I want to slap myself silly for having.

  “Yeah. We’ve all done things that we regret, Nina.” He glances at me, and his look tells me that he isn’t just saying this to make me feel better.

  I let the silence swallow up the moment between us.

  “What happened to you, Mikey?”

  People always seem to like talking about ‘their’ stories, and what happened to them when the world went to shit. Here I am joining the popular crowd, trying to revisit a past that doesn’t matter anymore; but in truth, it does matter. It’s been eating away at me since it happened. Maybe I can open up if he does—and maybe we can both unburden ourselves. I normally hate this kind of thing, but with Mikey I feel safe, and like I won’t be judged.

  “Now that, I don’t want to talk about.” He forces out a laugh.

  I look at him in confusion. “Why?” I regret asking instantly.

  I didn’t want to talk about Ben, and I should know better and respect his privacy, but it just feels strange. I’ve never come across anyone who didn’t want to talk about their story. That’s my thing.

  “I just don’t like talking about it. Tell me what happened to you.” He glances at me again.

  Shit. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I half-snort out.

  “Okay.” He furrows his brow at me but lets it slide, since I did the same for him. “What was it like behind the walls?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that either,” I half-whisper.

  “This really isn’t going very well is it?” he huffs.

  I shake my head, lost in my own memories. I stare out the window, watching a couple of deaders stumbling down the road. They seem to speed up a fraction as we pass them, in the hopes of catching us. But thankfully, deaders can’t run.

  I think back to Lee and wonder what he is doing now, what all the other people trapped inside are doing. My mind flits from image to image of the horrors I endured while behind their so-called protective walls, and a shudder runs through me.

  “They were supposed to protect us,” I begin. “They were supposed to protect us from the dead, from the evil on the outside, and they did. They just didn’t protect us from the evil within.” I swallow down the lump, which has appeared again. “The people in charge, they…changed, once the help stopped. Once the government collapsed, I guess. There were no more food drops, no more first aid drops. About six months in, when it all started to go to shit and we knew no more help was coming, everyone started to rebel, thinking it would be better on the outside, or thinking that they would be better being in charge.” I huff out my anxiety and chance a look at him. His face is stony, a mask of indifference, but his grinding jaw gives him away.

  “When they started to rebel, some of the weak ones got picked off and—well, you know what happens when you die.” I think back to that first person behind the walls coming back to life. The panic from everyone. “One of the men there, Lee—he was a nobody, really—he had a gun. He shot her, the woman that turned, and then he turned and shot the guy that was in charge, and declared himself the new leader.”

  “Then what?”

  The image of Lee standing there with his gun in hand, declaring himself in charge, is vivid in my mind. The bloodshed, the tears, the pain…

  “Nina.”

  I look back at Mikey. I hadn’t realized that I had stopped talking. “That wasn’t the end of it though.” I swallow. “Once we were all dependent on him, he took our weapons, he made us work for food, for water, for anything. We paid with…whatever we had, and if we didn’t have anything or didn’t want to, they either took what they wanted from you or they killed one of your family. One less mouth to feed, they said.”

  I hear Mikey suck in a breath through his teeth. This is the part I hate.

  “What did they do to you, Nina?” I can practically hear his teeth crunching away.

  “I didn’t have any family.” I look at him. “What do you think happened?” I can’t keep the bitter edge from my voice. “That wasn’t even the worst of it,” I huff. “The worst was watching everyone else. Watching them suffer every day, slowly becoming people that they hated. I hated that place, and for a while I hated everyone in there, but it wasn’t their fault that they didn’t help each other; they had their own families to protect. You just couldn’t risk trying to help anyone else, for fear of what would happen to you. Shit, look what happened to me when I tried to protect Emily.”

  “We never knew,” he whispers under his breath.

  “What? What didn’t you know?” I choke back my tears. I will not cry. I’ve cried enough for a lifetime because of those assholes.

  Mikey shakes his head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.”

  Thirty-Three.

  The day draws on and the sun rises higher in the sky. One of the girls bangs from the back of the van and I use the walkie talkie to get JD to pull over, since it seems clear.

  Mikey starts to pull to the side of the road, but I place my hand on top of his and give it a little squeeze.

  “Stay in the middle. We can see all around us then.”

  He looks confused, but nods and stops the van smack dab in the middle of the road regardless, yet somehow still managing to stay close enough to the tow truck.

  We all climb out and I open the back doors for Emily and Britta. They both jump out, looking hot and sweaty and pissed off.

  “It is not comfy in there.” Emily storms off to the side of the road to pee, and I chase after her.

  “Don’t go on your own, Em. Never go on your own.”

  I look down at the side of the road and double-check all the way along to make sure no deaders are playing peek-a-boo with us. Satisfied, I nod my okay to her and turn around to give her some privacy.

  “This sucks. It’s too hot in there.”

  I listen to her pee, kind of satisfied that she must be getting enough fluids since it goes on for what seems like forever, and then realize that’s kind of gross.

  “I know, but what can we do?” I shrug, only half listening. It’s true, it sucks, but there really isn’t anything I can do about it. I would kill to be able to just sleep for half the day.

  “Maybe I can come up front with you and Mikey?” Emily comes up beside me and offers me a smile.

  “You can’t leave Britta back there on her own,” I tut.

  “Maybe she could squeeze in to the front too?”

  “We won’t all fit, don’t be stupid.”

  We make our way over to the rest of the group. I can still hear Emily pleading to come in the front with me, but I’m not really listening to her. I’m getting hungry, and my thoughts stray to the chips and sodas we snagged earlier. I want to ration them and make them last, but I’m a weak, weak woman, and I grab my bag from the front seat and pull out one of the cans. My hand moves over the bottle of vodka and I can’t help but smile.

  “What’s got you so happy?” Crunch snaps, half glancing at Mikey.

  I pull out my bottle of Vodka with a grin.

  “I think a celebration is in order when we get to the cabin.” I pull out one of the cans and everyone smiles. What’s not to like about a vodka and Coke? I glance down at the can of pop in my hand, seeing that it’s orangeade, and shrug. What’s not to like about vodka and orangeade? It reminds me of a time before all this crap—shooting and killing, the dead always on the hunt for fresh brains. Yes, a nice cool drink to take the edge off in the evening is just what the doctor ordered. Aaah, normality. Sweet, blessed normality.

  “Getting drunk is not an option,” JD snaps.

  Crunch digs him in the ribs. “Shut the fuck up, grumpy. That’s the first good idea this chick has had since I met her.”

  See? The doctor has literally just ordered it.

  I can�
��t help but laugh, and now I’m really eager to get going and get to the cabin.

  “Let’s get going then. Mikey, you want me to drive for a little bit?” I ask, as we head back to the van.

  “That be okay?” He scratches the back of his neck like he does when he’s unsure.

  “Yeah, you can take over when night hits.” I look at Emily’s pouty teenage face. “In fact, why don’t you get in the back and have a sleep? The rest will do you good.”

  “Are you trying to get me in your bed, Nina?” He smirks.

  “No, I’m trying to get you in a bed. There’s a difference,” I snigger.

  “Fine, sounds good. You sure you’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah. I can take care of myself, you know.” I push him playfully.

  Jesus, where did this girliness come from? Good lord, I’ve found my femininity again.

  “Em, you’re up front with me.”

  Emily runs over and hugs me, and I shrug her off with a laugh. Now Britta looks pretty pissed off. Can I not get a break?

  “You jumping up front too, Britts?” I cut in before she can moan at me too.

  She smiles and grabs her stuff from the back.

  We climb in the front, and Mikey climbs in the back. JD beeps at us to hurry up, which I think is not only fucking rude, to be honest, but it’s also dangerous. I give him the finger to show him my appreciation, and we set off again.

  “So, Britta, where are you originally from?” I ask as we pass a group of three or four deaders chowing down on a horse. Or I think it’s a horse; there’s not much left of it anymore—just stringy, dried-out skin and a near-hollow carcass. One deader is gnawing on what looks like a leg bone, but drops it and stands when it catches sight of our car. I watch it in my rearview mirror; it takes a couple of shaky steps before lifting its head to the sky and taking a deep sniff. It smells the horse and turns back to it, seemingly losing interest in us. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn my attention back to Britta.