Will To Live

by C. M. Wright

  “Dustin, why did Greg say he was taking the shot?” I ask him impatiently, getting him back on track.

  “Oh, sorry. He told us about something that happened one day while he was living with Jake that just about blew our minds, not to mention, made us worry even more for you. Greg told us that Jake had come home from a long trip he had taken for the military, and he looked pretty bad. Greg said his skin was pale, his eyes were ringed with black circles, and his flesh was hot with fever. He wasn't the same Jake that had left a month and a half before – the same patient, gentle Jake that Greg had known his whole life. He was highly agitated and unable to relax to even have a normal conversation with Greg. When Greg asked his brother what was wrong with him, Jake became unreasonably angry, and for a brief moment, he lost control and attacked Greg, biting him on his lower leg.

  “Greg punched his brother in the face, which stunned Jake. Greg then said his brother's eyes seemed to focus a little better, and Jake had seemed horrified at what he'd done. Jake then let out a scream of terror when he saw the bite mark on his little brother's leg, then he ran into his bedroom, grabbed a syringe from the dufflebag he brought back from his trip, and jabbed the needle into his own arm. Greg was certain Jake was on some kind of street drug at that point. But then Jake stuck the needle into Greg, too fast for Greg to stop him. Then Jake took the time to explain it to Greg...well, not really. He left out a lot of important details.

  “Jake certainly didn't tell his brother that he was infected with a zombie virus, or that Greg was most likely infected, as well. He had made up some other story about an infection that could kill them both if they didn't continue to take the shot on a regular basis. Jake explained that he had picked up some virus overseas when he was on his last trip for the military. Greg had no reason not to believe him, why would he? This was his brother, he trusted him with his life.”

  I nod, then make my way to the chair, where I collapse under the sudden exhaustion I feel.

  Poor Greg. Jake meant everything to him. Then to find out that your own brother kept such important shit from you. Shit that affected your very life. Shit that could have had very serious consequences had something happened to Jake. Where would Greg have gotten the injection when he ran out? Would someone have helped him if Greg had contacted the military? Or would they have experimented on him in hundreds of horrible, inhumane ways?

  “So, anyway, back to your dad,” Dustin interrupts my thoughts. “After he took the shot, and finally admitted it, I kept him in observation for a few weeks. I have no way of knowing for sure, unless I can get to a hospital that still has some juice left in its generator, but I'm starting to believe his heart has done the impossible, and was repaired. He doesn't need the Nitro pills anymore, he doesn't run short of breath as much anymore, and he looks great! Claims to feel great too. I let him leave the hospital, but I promise you, I am keeping an eye on him. I have no idea if he will need to keep taking the shots, or not. That's something we're just going to have to figure out as we go. I'm sorry, Canada. Really.”

  I shrug, and give Dustin a weak smile. “I understand, Dustin, and I don't blame you. He is my dad, after all. I know exactly how stubborn that man is. I'm just worried about him.”

  “I know, Canada. I understand that. And I want you to know that I will continue to do whatever I can to help.”

  A crash brings us both to our feet, and out into the hallway. We see two men that I don't know at the doorway to Dustin's new office, struggling to lift the doctor's heavy wooden desk. Dustin excuses himself before heading their way, and I wander down the rest of the hall on my own. No other doors are closed, except a janitor's closet, and the rest of the rooms are empty. I go back and tell Dustin that I'll see him later, then head down the stairs.

  At the bottom, I slowly open the door and search for John. Not seeing or hearing him, I sneak into the hall and make it to the reception area. Terry tells me the coast is clear when she sees me peeking out of the small crack I'd made in the door. I smile at her in thanks, although I'm a little embarrassed to be caught sneaking around, and give her a quick wave as I leave the building.

  Outside, the heat of the sun is strong and takes away the chill of winter, temporarily. The snow is quickly turning to water, which turns the ground to mud. The property is full of people – some working, some standing around in groups. Laughter and voices in every pitch and volume, and the sound of battery-powered tools fill my ears. Kids of all ages shout and scream as they have snowball fights in what little is left of the snow. I smile, move my sunglasses from the top of my head down to cover my eyes, then make my way to the house.

  As I enter, the rush of noise from inside almost forces me back out.

  Seriously, it actually scares me for a second.

  But then I see Nick's eyes glued on me, fighting his way through the crowd as he heads in my direction. I sigh, knowing this won't be very pleasant.

  “Canada, we need to find Vicki. I told her whether I found you or not, I would head this way. She should have been here by now. What if she needs help?”

  “So...what? We just go out and drive around, hoping we find her? Did you happen to tell her which direction to go, a highway to stick to, anything to give us a clue where to start?” I ask him.

  “Well, no, but I told her to head to northwestern Missouri. We can't just do nothing! She's just a kid,” his voice lowers along with his head.

  “Now she's just a kid?” I leave it at that, but he gets the point when I see his face flush and his head lowers even more.

  “Alright, fine. Let me go talk to my husband, and the rest of the family. Get everything ready for us. Prepare for at least eight people, maybe more.”

  Nick nods, and rushes out the door while I take a deep breath, because I know that trying to convince my family to let me leave so soon after just getting back will not be a fun experience.

  I find Will in the living room sitting on the couch and talking to some of the same people I had planned to ask to come with us. I squeeze my ass in between my husband and my brother, Ricky – and succeed – even though I have to endure the bitching and whining coming from both men, not to mention a couple others who were already quite comfortable on the long couch.

  I call for attention, and wait – my stomach churning – as Ryder and his wife Coco, Ricky and his wife Kally, Will, Gage, and Joel finally quiet down and turn to me. My stomach churns in anticipation of the fight that will soon be in progress.

  “Listen, there's a truck-full of people who need our help. They should have been here be now. Hell, they should have beat us here. We have to go find them.”

  I tense up as I wait for the yelling to start and for them to inform me that I'm not going anywhere – and I prepare myself for the need to yell even louder than all of them combined, informing them that I sure as hell am going.

  Instead, they shock me when they all agree quickly and easily, and begin to exit the room to prepare for the trip. I sit, frozen to the couch in shock, until Will stops, and looks back at me.

  “You going, or staying here?” he asks, holding his hand out to me.

  I stand, grab his hand, and hold on tight as he leads me to a bedroom upstairs that has obviously been made into our very own room. Small personal things that we had managed to take with us from our home back in Illinois have found their way inside. Mostly it's just our clothes, but I feel tears well up when I see the framed photos of our boys lining a small part of the wall. And our wedding photo!

  I have no idea how Will managed to sneak them all out in those last frantic moments back home – or how he'd managed to keep them safe, but he did. And I never once knew they were with us.

  Have I mentioned how much I love that man?

  I watch as Will opens drawers, then the closet. He throws a bundle of clothes toward me – which are, thankfully, a set of my fatigues and underwear, then he grabs a set of fatigues for himself. Still shocked speechless from both my family's reactions and now the photos, I say nothing as I pul
l the clothes on...until I hear muffled laughter coming from Will's direction.

  “What?” I look up from the buttons on my shirt to see his humor-filled eyes on me. “What the hell's so funny?”

  I look down to make sure I hadn't screwed up the order of the buttons, then look down at my pants.

  Everything seems normal. Just how it should be.

  “You.” He let's out a snort. “You are so damned predictable. We'd already talked to Nick, so we knew you would be throwing a fit to rush out. The conversations you may have overheard when you sat down, were not the same ones you would have heard before you came in the room. Were your ears burning?” The ass laughs again, and my face – not my ears – burns with embarrassment.

  Yeah, whatever. So they know me a little too well. Saved me from having to waste energy on a fight then, didn't it?

  I ignore Will as I finish dressing, then I stomp out of the room, slamming the door maybe a little too hard when I leave, but his laughter just rises in volume to follow me down the hall and to the stairs. I find everyone else outside loading their bags and weapons into four of the Hummers.

  The people going with us are: Ricky and Kally, Ryder and Coco, Nick, Bo, Ash, Gage, Joel, Andy and his wife, Lindey, and Dad Rex. I send a glare Dad's way to let him know that I know what he's done. He looks away pretty quick and makes a big deal out of putting his gun in the truck.

  I walk down the stairs and talk to the others as we wait for Will. Finally, he comes out with a large bag of clothes and a duffel bag full of weapons. As he passes by me, he throws out under his breath that he hopes I liked that granny gown I had to wear when I arrived because, since I made him do all the packing, that's all he's packed for me.

  I smirk at his retreating back, knowing damn well he's full of shit.

  Or at least, I hope so.

  The smirk dies slowly as I resist the urge to check and make sure, and instead, force myself into the back seat of the nearest Hummer. Everyone else loads up, and we slowly make our way to the front gate.

  Will and I sit in the middle seat of the truck, and our boys sit in the back. We spend most of the first hour catching up with each other, tears flowing easily...at least for me. Eventually, we run out of things to say and just lean back in our seats, watching the land go by, each alone with our own thoughts. Ryder and Coco are in the front seat of our truck and, every so often, their voices float back to us.

  Outside, I notice now what I didn't notice when I came through yesterday, that the majority of the vehicles that had been blocking the road have been moved to the sides. The highway is littered with both walking dead and really dead corpses. The living dead get excited when they hear or see us, but they're no match for our speed or the Hummer's protection.

  We pass a few vehicles traveling north. The faces of the passengers, for the most part, are filled with resignation and acceptance, weariness and caution. A few still clearly carry the fear on their faces that we all feel, but the rest of us know it does us no good to waste energy on that one emotion alone. Some wave back at us, some avoid eye contact and speed up, which makes me wonder what their stories are.

  Are they afraid we'll rob them of whatever they might have stuffed in their vehicles? Have they learned the hard way because of people that have already done that to them?

  Sometimes, people suck. I think I've mentioned that before.

  I wish we could put up signs telling people about our place, no one should have to be trying to make it in this world alone. But because of the evil living predators, how can we? We would have every killer, rapist, thief, and God only knows who else, showing up.

  We head back toward Missouri, searching each town we come to. It takes hours just to gain a dozen miles.

  On one hand, I wish I had had more time to stay home and just relax, or as much as a person can in this new life we've been thrown into. On the other hand, I really do want to find Vicki...and that damn Amy.

  Oh, yeah. I haven't forgotten what she did. In shock or not, that was bullshit. She could have killed not just me, but all of us.

  It's almost dark, so we decide to stop at a motel on the edge of a fairly small town. The motel has a second floor, so maybe we can get some sleep without having to worry too much about being eaten alive.

  Except for Will and Dad Rex, who head to the office to find keys, the rest of us carry bags of clothes and weapons to the upper floor. Once the doors are unlocked and the rooms checked for surprises, I get my boys settled into the last room, make them promise to lock the door, then I carry mine and Will's bags into the room next door to them. Will is downstairs with a couple of the other guys, and are moving the trucks to the back where they aren't as easily seen from the highway.

  I find clean washrags and towels in the bathroom and take a few minutes to wash the dirt and grime off of myself. Will is reclined on the bed when I walk back into the main room, his legs straight out in front of him and his arms resting behind his head against the wall.

  He grins at me and holds one hand out. I grab hold, give him my own grin – which may or may not have been full of a little mischief – then jump as hard as I can on the bed, making him shout when he almost goes flying off the side. I roll with laughter at the look of terror on his face as his body is moved against its will. He growls at me, then begins to tickle me, which I frikken hate!

  I fight back, knowing all his sensitive tickle spots. Eventually, we both collapse in exhaustion, and he takes me in his arms. I bring my hand up and run it over his newly formed muscles, amazed at how big he's gotten since I'd been gone. Me being me, because I love to embarrass my hubby, and also because I really am a little curious about what else may have gotten bigger, I check.

  “What are you doing?” Will asks as I pull his underwear away from his body and look down.

  “Oh, just seeing if anything else has gotten bigger.”

  He gives a shocked laugh. “Well?”

  I cough to hide the giggle at the worry in his voice, and turn my head into his chest.

  His body tenses and I grin, since I'm safely hidden from view.

  “Damn it, Canada! Answer me,” he growls at me.

  I swallow back the laughter bubbling up my throat, and convert my face into a serious expression, before I look up at him. I almost lose it again when I see the panic on his face, but manage to control myself. “Yes, babe?”

  “What the hell!”

  “What?” I ask innocently.

  “Ugh. Never mind. You're a pain in my ass,” he mumbles.

  I know he's too shy and embarrasses much too easily to actually ask, which makes it all the more amusing to me. After listening to him huff and puff a few times, I finally ease his mind...and ego.

  “Looks as perfect as ever, honey!”

  He grumbles about how I should have answered right away because now he doesn't believe me, but I can still clearly hear the manly pride in his voice, all the same.

  Then he shows me exactly how perfect he really is, and exactly how much I've missed everything about him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I'm sleeping better and more deeply than I have in months, when I'm suddenly yanked back to the real nightmare. Moans of way too many rotting monsters drift through the thin walls and windows of our room. Frantic pounding on the wall that separates us from our boys starts in. Will knocks back and tells the boys as loud as he dares to stay inside, and to stay quiet. We here a muffled “Okay,” then we both scramble from the bed, sheets flying everywhere.

  Will and I dress in a hurry then peek out the curtain covering the large front window. The amount of undead on the ground outside is mind-blowing! The entire town seems to be here, a couple hundred, at least.

  “Holy shit, Will! What the hell are we going to do now?” I whisper.

  “Not sure yet. I wonder what attracted them here?”

  “Hell if I know. We weren't very noisy, and we only saw a few wandering around when we went through town.”

  “I'm going outside.” Will t
ells me suddenly.

  I grab tight to his arm. “Will, no!”

  Will looks back at me, his eyes shooting daggers into my head. “Right. We both know you plan to go out yourself. So just shut up and come on.”

  I release his arm and sit back on my knees. At first, I feel a bit hurt at the way he snaps at me, but then I shrug and crawl toward him because, let's face it, he's right.

  Will stays low to the ground as he slowly opens the door just enough for him to look out. I hear him swear before he finally opens the door wide enough for us to go through. Out on the walkway, we get as close to the cement half-wall with all the stupid designs cut out of it as we dare. I look down at the parking lot through a cut-out of a palm tree, then close my eyes tight, resisting the urge to scream in fear and frustration.

  Now what are we going to do?

  I hear shuffling behind us and I immediately turn, ready to fight. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it's the rest of the family, coming toward us at a crawl.

  It's actually kinda freaking creepy. No noise but the sliding of their clothes against the pebbled concrete, their eyes focused intently on Will and me. I fight against the urge to kick Gage in the face when he gets too close to me. Funny how your sensitivity for creepy heightens in the middle of an already terrifying event.

  Gage, and his still-pretty face unmarred by my boot, makes it to my side where he stays silent as he looks upon the massive undead below. The others crowd around us and I hear muffled gasps and curses once they get the full view.

  “Well, this kinda sucks,” Dad Rex says low enough for only the closest few to hear.

  “Yeah. Kinda does,” I respond.

  “We can always blow them up,” Gage offers, a little too excitedly.

  I can see now why he's the leader of a bomb squad. If he weren't, I'm sure he'd have been sitting in prison most of his life.

  To my surprise, Will looks at Gage and says, “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's blow these bitches up.”