“Germany, but I’ve lived over here for a long time now.”
“That explains the accent then.”
“Yes, I wonder if I still have it sometimes, you know?” She laughs.
I nod. “You do,” I smile.
Emily smiles happily at me and then at Britta, her big saucer eyes staring widely at us. “Britta was telling me that she used to study graphic design before—well, before all of this. That’s what I wanted to do when I grew up.” She turns excitedly in her seat so that she can see us both easier.
I feel like I’m in a freak show, and me and Britta are the main attraction. But then, I guess Emily doesn’t really have anyone to look up to anymore. No parents, no family, no damn celebrities gracing the cover of whatever trashy magazine they decided to go topless on. Still, it’s unnerving to feel so idolized when I haven’t done anything to deserve it.
“That’s cool. Were you here on a student visa or something, or did you have family living here?” Nosy me, I internally scold myself.
“No, no family. They are all back in Germany. They were, I guess,” her voice trails off. “I don’t know what happened to them. Communications went down, and the last I heard was that they were locking down the house.”
Way to go, Nina!
“No news is good news, right?” I offer a smile, but it fails miserably, since in this world, no news is neither a good thing nor a bad thing. It’s just no news. I let the van lapse back into silence. We drive for a couple of miles, either staring at the crazy overgrown landscape or watching JD’s car in front of us. He keeps to a steady fifty miles per hour, no more, no less, and keeps his truck in the middle of the road.
There’s a shape a mile or so down the road, and I begin to make out that it’s a car. There are four or five deaders surrounding it, all groaning loudly and banging on the glass. There are definitely people inside, but how many I just don’t know. I slow the van down to get a better look, readying myself to stop, but then I see Emily’s terrified face and know that I can’t. Shit, I wish Mikey were up here.
JD speeds right on past without a second glance, and I presume without a second thought too. Damn him for not giving a shit. Yet as we get closer, I slow down again. Even from inside the van, I can hear the screaming coming from inside the car. I can’t just leave these people to die. I make a split second decision.
“Emily, my machete.” I bark out the order and slam on the brakes. When she doesn’t pass it to me, I reach between her legs and grab it myself. “Britta, you can drive, right?”
She nods at me sullenly, chewing on her bottom lip. A deader turns from the car and groans wickedly. I swear it fucking smiles at me too, happy to see a new meal on the horizon.
“You get her out of here if anything happens to me.” I jump out of the van before I lose my nerve, looking back once at Emily. “I love you, Em.” And I do, too.
I run at the deader stumbling toward me, raising my machete high, and slash it across its neck. Well, I aim for the neck, but I’m a terrible fucking shot and instead slice across its face, but it still does the trick in stopping brain activity, and the deader drops where it stands with unhappy disgusting and sloppy thud.
Another deader turns from the vehicle, its milky eyes focusing in on me, the new food source, and it moans and groans toward me. One of its feet is dragging along the ground, leaving a black smear behind it. I can hear screaming and banging and an engine trying to turn over, but I don’t dare look away from the deaders in front of me for anything.
Another deader has caught my scent, its head in the air as it sniffs me out like a bloodhound, and it turns to come for me too. Only when it does do I see that it has no eyes; black holes fill the space in its filthy sunken in face. Deader number one is close enough now, and I swing for it in a panic. My first one misses and I swing back wildly, cutting it through the stomach. Its insides spill onto the blacktop with a sound somewhat akin to vomit hitting the ground, but it comes for me regardless of its loss of intestines and capacity to hold any of my fine meaty face within it.
I scream and swing back and hit its arm, slicing it off. Its other arm reaches for me and I dodge back and stumble to the ground with another loud scream. I hit out without thinking and slice at its legs. I hit one of them and the deader falls to its knees, and I jump back up and away. The car and people that I had tried to save finally revs its engine and screams away in a ball of smoke.
God-fucking-dammit!
I kick at the deader scrambling at my feet and run back to the van. Britta throws the door open before I get there and I dive in, slam it shut, and rev my own engine before driving away myself.
Half a mile down the road, I finally let out the breath that I’ve been holding. Emily is sobbing next to me, with Britta’s comforting arms around her.
“You better pull over,” Britta says, and I look at her.
“Why?” My voice is hoarse from screaming.
“Mikey,” she simply says.
It’s then that I hear the thudding and shouting coming from the back of the van, and for a minute I wonder if a deader got inside somehow and Mikey was fighting it. I look around us quickly, stop the vehicle, and dive out. Going around to the back of the van, I pull open the doors as Mikey shoulder-barges them at the same time, and he falls to the ground with a loud thud before scrambling on his knees for his machete.
He jumps up and looks around us frantically, his eyes wide, almost bulging from their sockets.
“What the fuck’s going on?” He grabs me by the arms.
“There was another car in trouble…” I begin before he cuts me up.
“What? Tell me you didn’t stop. You never stop for anything, Nina!” he shouts, and then looks around us again before dragging me to the front of the van. “Is everyone okay?”
Both Emily and Britta nod at him. Emily quickly resumes her crying.
“Why’s she crying?” he shouts again.
“Stop fucking shouting at me. She’s crying because—I don’t know.” I turn to her. “Why are you crying?”
“Because they nearly got you,” she sobs.
“What? No they didn’t, I was fine…” My voice drifts off as I remember falling to the ground. “I had it all under control.”
“Where’s JD?” Mikey asks.
“He took off.” I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, like I’m not bothered, even though I am.
“Motherf—okay, girls, get out. You’re in the back again. I’m driving.”
Emily stops her crying and climbs out, giving me a filthy look as she goes around to the back of the van. I’m not sure if she’s pissed that I just put us all in danger, or that she has to go in the back again. Either way, I’m going to need to do some sucking up later.
“Get in.” Mikey gestures to the van and I climb in without questioning it.
He slams the door behind me and climbs in the driver’s side, his face stony as he starts the vehicle and we set off again, going faster than before. I say nothing through it all, feeling guilty and a little shocked by how pissed everyone is at me. I can’t believe that any of them would have just taken off and left the car and all the people inside to die. Then again, the bastards never even tried to help me or thank me, so maybe I should have left them to it. I haven’t lived in this world long enough to judge people, I guess.
“You NEVER stop your vehicle. Do you understand?” Mikey cuts into my thoughts.
I nod my agreement but don’t say anything, not wanting to provoke him further. In the distance I can see a vehicle, and I wonder if it’s JD. As we get closer I can see that it’s the car that I tried to save. They’ve crashed into a tree. Smoke pours from the front of the car, the alarm blaring. I look at Mikey, ready to ask if we should help them.
“Don’t even think about it,” he snaps as we pass them by.
I look into the car as we do, glad to see two males and one woman, all unconscious. In the distance I can see the deaders approaching, attracted by the noise from the alarm. I shive
r and look away. They left me for dead, and that doesn’t make it right leaving them for dead, but either way the choice is out of my hands, since I’m not the one in charge of the wheel. I close my eyes to block it all out, but I can’t. These are people—people who need help.
“Mikey?” I plead.
“No,” he shouts again.
I huff and fold my arms.
Thirty-Four.
At some point I must drift off, because when I wake it’s much darker. Not quite nighttime, but not quite daytime either. I sit up and stretch, glancing sideways at Mikey.
“Hey,” I offer, with a bite of my lip. I’m unsure of how he’s going to be after our previous argument.
“Hey, you sleep okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I breathe out a sigh of relief that he’s being okay with me. “Have you seen JD’s truck anywhere?” I ask, still feeling annoyed at him for bailing on me.
“Yeah, they’re behind us. I caught up to them and took the lead. I think JD knew how pissed off I was at him, plus I know these roads better than he does.”
I’m dying to know what was said between them, but since he isn’t offering the information, I refuse to ask for it. My mouth feels dry and scratchy, and I’m going to need to pee at some point soon. That’s one of the positives of being dehydrated: that I don’t need to go as often. My stomach grumbles in protest that I left it out of my equation, but I’m not sure I can get any food into it without peeing first.
“I’m hungry,” I say, more to myself than Mikey.
“We’re stopping pretty soon for the night. I’m beat.” Mikey yawns after his statement as if to prove a point, but he didn’t need to. The thick black rings under his eyes give him away.
“Have you heard anything from Britta or Emily?” I ask.
He shakes his head no. “Guess they went back to sleep.”
I realize that we’re driving uphill and wonder whereabouts we are now. The road is rocky and bumpy, and I’m glad that there is at least a little daylight left so that we can avoid hitting any of the trees that are now towering all around us.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I grip the handle of my door when we hit a particularly bumpy part of the path and we rock side to side. I feel guilty about Emily and Britta being in the back of the van, and simultaneously worry about how much shit Emily is going to give me when she gets out.
“Up into the hills,” he replies, turning on his high beams as the trees get even more condensed around us.
“Is that safe?”
He looks at me briefly. “Not scared, are you?”
“Uh, yeah. What are you, stupid?” I laugh in exasperation.
“We’d be hard-pressed to get any zombies up here. It’s uphill for starters, which makes us up-current or some shit like that—our smell shouldn’t pass down the mountain to them—and this road is really steep, making it incredibly hard for them to get up here. That’s not to say they can’t or won’t, but it’s the safest place for now, at least.” He shrugs.
I hate to admit it, but in all honesty it sounds like pretty sound logic. It’s not long until the road flattens out and we finally pull to a stop. Mikey gets out first, and I wait until he tells me it’s clear before getting out myself and letting the girls out of the back of the van.
They groan loudly as they stretch themselves out. Emily still seems pretty pissed off at me, but not as much as before, and I wonder if I have Britta to thank for that or just her nature.
JD pulls up a couple of minutes after us, and he and Crunch jump out, both looking tired. I decide right then that I’m not going to say anything to either of them. I can tell that Crunch is waiting for me to, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her know that she got the better of me or got under my skin in any way. The air smells clean and fresh, not a hint of deader smell around, and it takes all my concentration to not let my guard down.
“There’s a light over there.” Emily grips my hand and points further through the trees.
Sure enough, she’s right: there is a light. My hand grips my machete as I quickly scan the area. Everyone has had the same thought and is brandishing some sort of deadly weapon. Even Britta is trying desperately to get a firm grip on her machete.
We creep toward the light, and as we get closer, we see that it’s actually a small, green RV nestled between the trees. It’s seen better days, too, if I’m honest. No sound is coming from inside, but a dim light is glowing in each of its little windows. The people inside must either be stupid to have the lights on, or know the area as well as—if not better than—Mikey. We tiptoe toward the door, with Crunch trying to peer in through the windows. Standing outside the door, my heart races and I hold my breath. JD clasps the doorknob, and on a whispered count of three, flings the door wide open. What we see is not, let me repeat that, not what we expect to see.
Zombies? Yep, that I would expect. Blood, the stench of death? Yep, that works too. However, what we see is a large man who looks to be completely smashed and is slowly sliding off a little sofa and down to the floor. His eyes are fogged over and rimmed with red, and he flinches when he sees us all standing there gawking in at him. He gives a jump and a little scream and then passes out, all in one swift action. His body finishes its descent to the floor, and sits propped up against the camper’s little sofa.
None of us say anything as we stand there, open-mouthed and waiting for him to move, wake, or dive up and attack us where we stand. Instead, his chest rises as he takes in a deep breath and lets out an almighty snore. Emily bursts out laughing, and I snort back a laugh myself. Hell, even JD gives a smirk. Jesus, the Iceman is finally thawing out.
Deciding that the dude is just drunk and not about to turn into one of the undead, we all climb inside the little camper and shut the door firmly behind us. Stepping around the inebriated man, we help ourselves to some of his rations. Totally not proud of that, I’ll admit it; stealing someone else’s food is a shitty thing to do. But to be fair, it didn’t look like the poor guy had eaten anything in weeks, and was just slowly drinking himself to death.
We all rest up, alternating between napping, eating, and talking about the best route to Ben’s cabin. After a couple of hours, Drunk Guy is still snoring on the floor and even drooling a little down himself, and JD and Crunch discuss killing him before he wakes back up. Britta takes his side—or what she presumes is his side, since he’s passed out. I don’t want his blood on my hands either, but before I can argue my point, he starts to stir. His eyes flicker open for the briefest of moments before closing again, and we all stop talking and stare at each other.
A few moments later he shifts positions and opens his eyes once more.
“Oh, God, it wasn’t a dream,” he slurs..
He doesn’t seem as drunk as before, but he certainly isn’t sober. He closes his eyes again, and resumes snoring.
“We should just kill him,” Crunch whispers in between eating some dry cereal.
“I can fucking hear you,” the drunk shouts, but keeps his eyes closed. “Pass me my bottle, will ya?”
“I think you’ve had enough, buddy,” Mikey coaxes.
The man opens his eyes back up. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough. When I’m dead, that’s when.”
“Told you we should have killed him,” Crunch snaps out, louder this time—I’m pretty sure to make sure that he can hear her.
“Maybe you should have, I don’t give a shit anymore anyway.” The man opens his eyes and pulls himself back up onto the little sofa, and Emily scrambles to the other side of the small space to get away from him. He turns and frowns at her before running a hand across his face. “So, zombies still walking the earth then?” he asks with a hint of mirth to his voice.
“Yep.” I nod. My hand is wrapped tightly around my machete in case he makes any attempt to turn on us. He seems to have sobered up far too quickly, but looks set to start drinking again soon.
He stands up and sways, pushing past Crunch in his tiny kitchen, and opens one o
f the lower cupboards, pulling out a bottle of dark liquid. He unscrews the lid and takes a long swallow of it before turning to stare at us all and letting out a loud belch. He holds the bottle out to us.
“You want some?”
We all shake our heads, and he shrugs and takes another swallow.
“I think you should probably go sleep off the first round before you drink any more, my friend,” Mikey offers.
The big guy laughs, quite loudly in fact, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. “The name’s Steve, and I haven’t been sober for—I don’t know. I can’t remember the last time I was sober, to be honest.” He runs a hand down his face.
“Okay, Steve. Mind telling us why?” I ask.
“Not really. It’s none of your fucking business,” he snaps at me.
I flinch at his tone, but try not to show it. I’ve been spoken to worse than that before.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I’m a little more rattled today than usual.” Steve heads back over to his sofa and takes a seat, slipping the bottle between his knees. “You’re right, I probably shouldn’t drink anymore, but I’ve been alone for a long time now. Makes you go a little cuckoo after a while, you know?” He makes a whirly gesture at his head and sniggers, but there’s no amusement in his voice or his face. He looks sad. Sad and lonely. And he smells of stale alcohol, sweat, and something else that I’d rather not think about too much.
I nod, but I don’t know how he feels, actually. I’ve been constantly surrounded by people for as long as I can remember. Some days, I’d do anything for a little alone time, but that isn’t safe.
“So, what’s the deal then?” Crunch asks, making it blatantly obvious that she’s eating his food, almost egging him on to snap at her. She leans on the counter and crunches the cereal with an open mouth and a smile.
“It’s a long story…”
“We’ve got time,” she snarks back.
“It’s not a happy story.” He clears his throat, the words getting stuck.
Odium (The Dead Saga.) Page 25