Will To Live

by C. M. Wright

  Vicki slowly reaches her hand out for it, watching me carefully for my reaction. I close my eyes and lean back against the outside of the nearest stall...until I hear Vicki gasp, and my eyes fly open.

  "What the hell does that mean!" I demand.

  "Canada," she begins, then stops.

  I wait, and when she doesn't continue, my voice is strangled when I ask, "What the hell does it say, Vicki? Damn it!"

  "Well, what are you wanting it to say?" she asks.

  “What do I–”

  What the hell is she doing!

  "Vicki, does it really frikken matter! I swear to you, if you don't tell me – and tell me now – I'm going to pretend you're a fucking slimy rotten-ass zombie and put a giant-sized bullet hole in your empty blond head!" I watch as her eyes widen, but then I decide I'd rather find out for myself, and snatch the stick out of her hand.

  But I can't look at it just yet. I need to think.

  "Vicki, please leave. I need a minute."

  She nods and exits the room, leaving me alone. I finally get the courage to look and sink to the floor when my one good leg gives out.

  Okay. So I am pregnant. Now what? If Will is still alive, and I choose to believe he is, what do I tell him? Do I tell him it could be Jake's? Do I tell him about Jake raping me? Or do I just let him assume it's his, because it could be! It could be Will's and all this worrying may be for nothing.

  Oh, whoa!

  But what if it is Jake's baby? What about Jake being infected and the antidote? Does that mean this baby could be a zombie when it's born? Will it try to gum me to death as it grows inside me?

  Don't laugh! You don't know how this shit works any more than I do.

  I bury my face in my hands and let loose all the tears I didn't even know were there.

  I'm scared. I'm scared of so many things.

  Like, how the hell am I going to keep a baby alive when I can barely keep myself alive?

  And, how will I sneak around with a screaming little person who won't understand the danger? It was hard enough with baby Grace and her brother, Kaleb, and I had people then to help me. What if it's just me this time?

  I have got to find my family! And from this moment on, I will not allow myself to even think that they may have been killed by Greg.

  Finally, the tears stop and I struggle back into a standing position. I wash my face, and stare into my own eyes in the mirror.

  Well Canada, better get used to it. Changing diapers and midnight feedings will soon be your life again.

  If you live that long.

  Shit.

  I finally decide to leave the restroom, and find Nick and Vicki leaning against the wall opposite of the door I just opened. Nick has his arms crossed and looks worried, Vicki is standing with her back flat against the wall close to Nick, watching me intently and anxiously.

  I give a weak smile at them both and assure them that I'm fine.

  Nick asks, "Are you going to keep it?"

  I stare at him in astonishment. "Nick, exactly what the hell am I going to do with it? Do you really think abortion clinics are still up and running, even though absolutely nothing else is? And as for the pill, I don't believe in abortion. And before either of you say shit, it's my own personal belief, I'm not demanding you believe it too."

  Nick rolls his eyes and walks away, mumbling something about wondering if I'm a bitch because I'm pregnant or if I'm just always a bitch.

  I call out to him, "Oh, I'm always a bitch, sweetheart! I promise that won't change!"

  Nick turns his head and glares back at me. Vicki decides to be brave and, once more, attempts to defend him. "Canada, Nick doesn't mean anything by it, he's just trying to protect us. Please don't be so hard on him."

  Oh, for god's sake, Vicki! You haven't even seen hard yet.

  But I say nothing and just hop away. I had noticed during our walk-through to clear the building of zombies, that the store has a pharmacy in one corner in the back, so I make my way there, stopping long enough to grab a hammer.

  No, this one isn't pink. Kinda miss that damn hammer. Fit my hand just perfect, ya know?

  At the pharmacy, I go behind the counter and eventually find a few walking casts. Then I sigh with relief...hell, I almost sob with relief too, if you want me to be honest.

  Whether they had one or not, this cast was coming off!

  Sitting on the floor, I take the hammer and smash it down onto the plaster. It takes several attempts, but finally a crack forms, and with a bit of pressure forced on it, it splits open. I take both sides and pull them back. The loud crack when it breaks on the back of my leg produces a big grin of satisfaction break out on my face.

  Once it's off, I rub my leg and scratch the itch that never seemed to go away the entire time the damn thing was on. Feeling thick fur, I stop scratching and look down at my leg in astonishment.

  Oh...my...god!

  I didn't know my legs could get this hairy.

  Damn!

  Matter of fact, I could use a good shave on both legs, and maybe a pit-job too.

  Freaking zombies!

  I hate them even more for making even something as simple as a shave almost impossible!

  Grabbing the walking cast, I read the package label. It's an adjustable inflation walker boot with a rocker bottom. I won't be able to run a marathon in this, but at least I'll be able to move with both feet. My joy disappears quickly when I read further on the label under the directions. The damn thing says I still need to use crutches until I'm used to walking on it and the pain decreases.

  No! Not crutches. Please no!

  Screw it! I highly doubt I'll need them, anyway.

  I put the cast on and experiment with the inflation using the pump that comes with it. Once I get it to where it feels comfortable, but still firmly supportive, I stand up and test it out. The pain that travels from my foot, up my leg, then settles into my stomach and spine makes me let out a muffled scream in agony.

  I drop back to the floor and slam my fists on the hard tile on each side of me. I start cursing, and when the pain eases a little, I cross my arms over my chest, glare at the crutches, and let out a "humph."

  Damn things.

  Just...damn things!

  After taking a few minutes to recover, I stand and hop over to the stupid sticks. I feel a little better when I see some crutches in a display nearby with some extra thick gel padding for the arms. They're wooden, but I can handle that.

  Next, I search through the medication that's been scattered all over the floor, not holding out much hope of finding what I am hoping to find. But, surprise! I find a large bottle of pain pills that, as long as I'm careful, and only take when I absolutely have to, will be safe for the baby. The rest I will take back to my sister's.

  Finally, I wander back to the main store and search the aisles for Nick and Vicki. I find them in the last aisle, making out.

  Are you shocked by that?

  Naw, me neither.

  I clear my throat and once again get a snarled "go to hell" from Nick, and an embarrassed giggle from Vicki.

  "Is there any place, any situation, where you two can't find the time to swallow each others' tongues? Come on, you two! This is ridiculous. And Nick, give me that shitty look again, and I'm going to stab both your eyes out. There is no way in hell you didn't hear me coming with all this shit I'm using just to walk. You like being caught, you perv!"

  Nick stands up, fast as lightning, and stalks toward me, anger on his face. My expression of disgust doesn't change, and neither do I back away from him. When he gets right up in my face, I still don't react.

  "Look here, bitch. The last thing you want to do is piss me off. I'm not going to p―"

  His next words are cut off when the side of my crutch catches him upside the head and he slams into the shelves on our right. Vicki screams as I move toward Nick and place my crutch so that it's firmly resting on his crotch.

  "Look here, dumbass. There is nothing you can do to me that Jake
hasn't already done. And you might like to think that I'm just a mere woman who can't defend myself, but I've seen things, done things, that I guarantee you haven't. Sounds to me like you were pretty pampered up there at Jake's. Looks to me, like you haven't had to come into much contact with the zombies until you left Jake's. Oh yeah, Nick. I saw the reaction you had to the first few rounds of zombies we came across. You froze, and I saved your ass. You're not the badass you like to think you are. I saw your fear, felt your fear, smelled your fear. I'm done being beat on, Nick. I'm done being weak. I'm done with punk-ass kids like you, acting like badasses when your ass hasn't even done much to earn that honor.

  "I always thought I was weak, that I wasn't strong enough to do anything. But you know what I just realized, Nick? That was me before this started, and that was me when I was kidnapped by Jake, but in between those times, I really was a badass. And guess what?"

  I look from one teen to the other. Vicki's body trembles in fear, her eyes wide and her face pale. Nick stares at me, no longer with anger, but with fear and nervousness as he keeps flashing his eyes to the crutch still resting on his little love package.

  "This badass bitch is back, and she's not going away. Not for Jake, and damn sure not for you."

  With that, I lift the crutch, turn my back on them, and leave the aisle.

  As I'm turning into the main aisle, I overhear Nick tell Vicki, "Damn! She's hot when she's pissed."

  I grin when I hear the sharp slap of what I can only assume is Vicki's hand connecting with Nick's poor face. She must have gone the other way because she never walks past me. When I glance down the next aisle I pass, I watch as she storms by at the opposite end. A few seconds later, I see Nick chase after her.

  I just shake my head and continue on.

  Finding a few cases of bottled water, I rip open the plastic holding them together and sigh after I take a long soothing drink. Grabbing a couple more, I stick them in whatever pockets they will fit into and move on.

  We still have water in the truck, but you can never have too much.

  When I meet up with Nick at the front of the store, I decide to send him back after the rest of the water to take with us. Vicki must have gone to the truck to pout because I don't see her anywhere.

  Just as Nick emerges from the aisle, the cases of water stacked in his arms, Vicki rushes in, fear on her face.

  I immediately start heading for the door, my own fear making my legs and arms turn to jelly. "Vicki, wha―"

  "Someone's coming! A car!"

  Chapter Six

  We don't waste any time getting back in the truck, the water thrown down and forgotten. I start the Hummer and take off, not even looking to see how close the other car is. In my side mirror, I see a bright yellow sports car coming up on us fast. But then, they suddenly slow and stay a decent distance behind us.

  "Nick, is it them?" I ask him.

  "I can't tell, but there are two of them in the front. I can't see the backseat."

  "How the hell do they keep finding us?" I ask.

  Nick is silent for quite a while, which tells me he's not going to be any help. And Vicki? Yeah, right. Then suddenly, my new – and brief – friend, Larry, pops into my head and I remember the tracking device he had ripped out of the Hummer then thrown out the window.

  I groan at my stupidity.

  "Nick, climb up here for a minute."

  Nick climbs over the seat and Vicki leans forward, resting her arms on the back of the seat, not wanting to be left out – or maybe it's to make sure I don't make a move on her precious Nick.

  "Nick, reach under the dash, close to the floor. There should be a black box stuck to it. Rip it off and hold onto it until I tell you, then I want you to throw it out the window. But right now, both of you get your seatbelts on."

  I see what looks like a large city up ahead, and sure enough, a sign hanging above the highway reads,

  Memphis

  Exit 3 Miles

  I don't know this area worth a shit. My husband and I came to Tennessee, but we didn't go to Memphis, which disappointed the Elvis lovin' hubby of mine. But one trip, even to the part of Tennessee we did go to, didn't make me an expert on that area, either.

  "Nick, do you know Memphis at all?" I ask the teen.

  For some reason, I had expected that he would – being from Tennessee and all – so when he shakes his head no, I'm a little shocked.

  "I do! I was born and raised here," Vicki tells me.

  "Really? Can you help me lose them?" I ask, nodding to the car behind us.

  "Oh, sure! I know all the roads here," she tells me with confidence that I badly need to hear, even if I don't fully believe it.

  As we enter the city limits, I wait for Vicki's directions, but when none come after several blocks, I do my best to control the urge to lash out at her.

  "Vicki," I begin in a serious, yet pleasant tone. "Any damn time now would be nice."

  "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know you meant now."

  I clench my teeth and cuss her inside my head, before I open my mouth and say, "Well, now is as good a time as any."

  "Right. Okay, when you get to the next stoplight, turn left. Then, after three stoplights, turn right. After that you'll go down about a mile and―"

  "Holy hell, Vicki! One step at a damn time!"

  "Oh, sorry. Stoplight, turn left," she tells me quickly.

  In between each of her directions, I try to put distance between us and the other car, but obviously, the sports car has no trouble keeping up. Eventually, it pulls up next to us and I watch as the passenger window begins to slide down. What I see almost makes me wreck both vehicles. It's not Jake or Paul! It's a woman, a fairly young woman who desperately begs me to stop.

  I look around at the zombie population in this area – which is nothing more than two shambling, mindless bodies – so I slow and pull up next to the curb. The other vehicle pulls to a stop in front of us.

  "Who are they?" Vicky asks in a quiet voice.

  "Don't know." I answer absently as I wait to see who else gets out of the car.

  When both doors on the sports car swing open, Nick and I grab our guns. We keep them in our laps, but we're ready to fire them if need be. The woman gets out first, but only the driver's legs are outside the car. At last, the rest of the body follows as the legs straighten to a stand. It's a man. A big man, but it's not Jake.

  I look over at Nick, who's sitting tensely next to me, when he asks, "Do you think it's a good idea to have stopped?"

  "Nope, but we weren't going to lose them. And, who knows? Maybe they're just survivors needing help, Nick. Not everyone is bad." I tell him, though I'm trying to convince myself of this, as well.

  He nods once. "Maybe."

  “But,” I say as I look back at the man who passed the six foot mark a long time ago, “stay alert.”

  I watch as the couple meet at the back of their car, tightly grasp each others hands, then wait for us to make a move. Letting out a long breath, I ask Nick if he's ready. He grunts and nods, then we both exit the truck. Vicki gets out of the backseat on the driver's side and stays just behind me. She whispers that she'll watch our backs, and we nod to let her know we heard her.

  Nick and I meet in front of the truck and come to a stop several feet in front of the other couple. None of us say anything at first, each waiting for the other to start.

  Finally, the other woman smiles hesitantly, then begins to speak. "Hi, I'm Amy, and this is Eric. We're sorry we followed you, but we need help. We―"

  A shrill scream of pain cuts her off, and Nick and I swing our guns up in the direction of their heads as our bodies tighten and shift, ready to fight. Amy and Eric's own bodies tighten, then Eric grabs Amy into his arms and thrusts her behind him. He holds up one hand in an attempt to calm us down.

  "It's okay. It's alright. That's just our friend, Fiona. She's hurt. That's why we need your help."

  Nick and I don't relax, not even for a second.

  I ask su
spiciously, "Exactly how is she hurt? What's wrong with her?"

  Eric lowers his hand, and it doesn't take long before I see the moment Eric realizes exactly what we're worried about. He rushes to reassure us, "Oh. No! No, no. She hasn't been bit, she's been shot. Please, if you can help her, we will be more than grateful and will pay you back in any way we can."

  I look back and forth between him and Amy several times, then finally at Nick, who shrugs. I motion with my gun for them to lead us to the car, then Nick and I follow, with Vicki bringing up the rear. Just before Amy reaches for the door handle, Vicki hisses for us to turn around. The four of us do as she demands, and instantly see a group of about twenty zombies heading our way, two of them Runners.

  Nick tells Vicki to get behind us and she quickly obeys. I hear Amy gasp, so I swing my head in her direction, but she's moved back behind Eric. Taking a quick look around to make sure we have no surprise zombies about to attack in any other direction, I focus my attention back to the zombies quickly converging on us. Nick and I easily take down the two runners, then we walk ahead to meet the slower moving zombies so as not to bring the fight so close to the unarmed living behind us.

  We're doing pretty good, just Nick and I.

  Really.

  Until I step on the side of a fist-sized rock lying on the sidewalk with my walking cast. Then I go down, slamming my knees into the cement.

  I watch in horror as my gun spins down the sidewalk. The noise of the metal as it skids across the pebbled surface seems to become louder the further it gets out from my reach, before coming to a stop halfway in the road.

  By this time, the zombies are only a few feet in front of us, and Nick is doing his best to shoot them all on his own, but there are just too many undead. Even if he did have enough ammo, he still can't shoot each one fast enough before they're on top of him.

  God knows, he's trying though.

  I'm just turning my body over to scramble on hands and knees to get my gun, when I hear Nick's screams. Screams filled with terror. Vicki's own screams soon join his.

  Chapter Seven

  I whip my head back to Nick and am horrified at the scene playing out before me. The zombies have reached him and are tearing at his clothes, ripping his skin with their nails as they grab and pull. Their dry, gray, wrinkled mouths stretch wide, and their blood-stained teeth gnash together as they anticipate the warm flesh and blood that represents all that Nick needs to live.