He breathes a small sigh of relief when he takes his first step onto the on-ramp. He peers over his shoulder, looks back onto the town, scans for movement, listens for unusual sounds, and finds none.
"Here's what I'm thinking, Route 19 will take us all the way to Casselberry. We're about twenty miles away from entering Florida, so we won't make it there before sundown. Camping on the interstate is too risky. I know I said it's the most direct path, but we're this close, and we got this close by being as safe as we can be. We shouldn't abandon that now. I think it's better to stay off the interstate, but near it, keep it in sight at all times."
Norman's head bobs.
"I agree, no reason to change what we've been doing, its brought us this far."
Daisy nods in agreement, "Sounds good to me."
The lean, rugged wanderer grunts as he unhooks his canteen. He splashes a small amount of water into his mouth, then returns the container to its holding spot. He looks over his companions, knowing his days with them are numbered, feeling a small bit of joy in having helped better their lives, a bit of sadness that Jack couldn't be here with them, and a bit of thanks for the possibility that Jack's death could provide the basis for the future to come.
"Let's get moving then."
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The short warrior grimaces and hunches down. She peers around the corner of the broken glass door, holds for a moment, then retakes her hidden position. She looks to her left and shows two fingers. KP bobs her head, then glances to Rad, who returns the gesture.
KP puts her hand near the ground, hovering just above it, pats down, then picks up a rock and mimics a throwing motion. The Guide points at Rosaline, then to the inside of the gas station. The short fighter returns a gesture of understanding, holds her hammer near her head, and turns to forward face the opening in the glass doors.
The Guide heaves the rock inside the store, aimed to the back right corner, away from Rosaline. A thud is followed by the moving of feet, and gurgled groans. Rosaline inhales, then enters the building.
She keeps low as she races to the back of the store. She intercepts the infected, her hammer cracks against the bend of a knee, and the beast slouches down, meeting the claw end of her hammer against its head. A forceful tug of the hammer, followed by a blade embedding under jaw.
The second monster screeches as it spins around toward the fresh audible commotion. The butt of a rifle smashes the side of its head, revealing a rising brute of a man. The diseased smacks against the wall, its arms flailing about. As it shoves off the wall, a long matted blade pierces through its skull.
KP digs her foot into the infected chest, tugging with all her might. After two pulls do not dislodge the weapon, she gathers her strength again, leans back, and pries the machete from thick cranium.
"Stockroom." she whispers to Rosaline, then turns to Rad, "Bathrooms."
KP darts to the checkout counter, sliding over it in one fell swoop. She scans the area, it's not large enough to contain any non-visible hiding spots. She exits the small enclosure, rounds the corner, then places her hand on the handle of the door to the manager's office.
An exhale, the door flings open, nothing and no one inside. Rad reappears from the short corridor across the store. He shakes his head. A long moment passes, the two wait in silence, then Rosaline emerges from the stockroom.
"All clear."
"Let's get everyone in here, then barricade the doors." the Guide says.
Hawaii and Zee claim the check out area, jumping the counter, and set off to attempt making it comfortable for the night. Crashes and screeches cloud the air as KP and Rad clear off a large stand alone shelf. A difficult ten minutes of pushing, pulling, and wiggling later and the shelf is pressed against the broken front doors.
"It can be climbed over by something small, but it'll take a bit of effort, so it should be fine for the night."
"Sounds good to me." Rad replies through huffed breathes.
Rosaline slides her fingers in-between Sweetie's, interlocking them. The grieving companion flashes a forced smile to her lover.
"You don't have to do that."
"What?"
"Fake being happy. This is a fucked up time, it's okay to be sad. I just want you to know I'm here for you."
"Thank you nena."
The five year old wraps his arm around the grief stricken woman's leg, "Me too." he says, a soft warmth exuding from him.
Sweetie pats his head, brushing her fingers through his shaggy hair.
"What kind of stuff used to be in here?" the child asks, his brow furrowed.
"I don't really know niño, maybe they sold food and stuff? Look around. Check it out."
He grabs Sweetie's hand, looking up to her.
"Come with me?"
Her lungs deflate, the corners of her eyes gloss.
"Okay chacho, lead the way."
The young boy paces in front of them, still attached to the sorrowful woman's hand. His inexperienced gaze wanders over the shelves and old coolers. Dirty mildewed products are strewn about all over the floor, he kicks them aside as he pass over them, his vibrant imagination making a game of it. The heart broken sister untangles her hand from her girlfriend, links their arms, then retakes it.
"I don't know what to say about, about anything really." Sweetie says in a hushed voice.
"That's okay, you don't have to say anything at all."
"I just feel so empty nena."
Rosaline's lips smoosh to the side, she leans her head against her companion's arm.
"I know. It-it's difficult to explain, to talk about. It took me a long time to cope with losing my mom and sister."
"I just can't believe he's not here. I keep expecting him to run in from outside. To have to yell at him to keep the noise down, but, but he's not coming."
A trickle of tears bead down her cheeks, her nose reddens.
"He was always so fuckin' annoying! I would give anything to be mad at him again. To-to-"
She turns to Rosaline, throwing her arms around her, burying her face into her partner's shoulder. Her sobs are short and quick, bursts of begrudging acceptance and gloomy heartache. Rosaline cradles the woman she loves, the two of them sinking to the floor.
"I miss him so much."
The short fighter strokes her hair, pressing her head against the sobbing woman.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
On the other side of the store Hawaii and Zee have hunkered down behind the cashier's counter, finally having cleared a space large enough for them both to spread out in. Hawaii lay on his back, his hands clasped together atop his sternum. Zee rolls to position herself on her side, propping her head up with one arm, and gently running her fingers over the chest of her lover.
"I miss him, I can't imagine how Sweetie feels." she says, her voice low.
"It's surreal, isn't it? He was just here less than a week ago, and now" -air shoots from his nostrils- "and now he's just not."
"I'm surprised by how well Rad is handling it."
"I don't think he is. I think he's just trying to look strong, for Sweetie's sake."
"That's tough. He and Outlaw were so close. You should talk to Rad, it'll mean more coming from you."
"I will. I want to give him some more time. He shot his best friend, I don't know what that's like. I don't really know what to say, but we're all here for him, and Sweetie, you know, however they need us to be."
"Say that."
The corners of his lips curl. He brushes the stray strands of hair out of her face.
"How do you always know the right thing to say?"
"Woman's intuition baby."
"Not that again."
She giggles, softly, then scoots closer to him, and lays her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, and rests his chin on her head.
"I hope Oasis is a what KP says it is. It would be a good change for all of us, especially Sweetie and Rad." he says, after kissing her wandering hand.
"It w
ill be."
"You're confidant of that?"
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because it's what we need, and it's what I need to believe."
KP reclines her back against the shelf closest to the doors, sliding down to rest on the ground
"I'm going to stay by the door, take first watch."
The tall man leans his rifle against the shelf, then takes a seat near her.
"I'll say close too."
She peers at him from the corner of her eye, her head tilted.
"You doing alright?"
"Yeah."
"You sure? That was a mess. It was sudden and quick, it's alright to feel down, to feel helpless. Loss is a part of life, but it's never easy."
"I'll be alright. He was my best friend, all I can do now is make sure his sister stays safe, and live the best life I can, for him."
"That's admirable."
"He always wanted to help people, even when he didn't really act like it. He cared, he cared a lot. I'm gonna do that now, since he can't. Whatever needs to be done in Oasis, I'm game to help out."
"They'll definitely appreciate that. There's a lot to do around there. It'll be good to keep your mind working. We all need to deal with things in our own ways, and if that's what will help you, then by all means do it, but don't bottle it up. That's never good."
"Yeah, I know. I won't."
She pauses, waiting to see if he's going to say anything else, and he doesn't. She doesn't know this young man very well, and she doesn't want to push him.
"We're just across the state line, we'll be in Oasis in two days, if we keep pace, and things go as planned."
"Two days?"
She dips her head, raising her brow for a moment.
"That's crazy. It's really what you say it is?"
"It's better, honestly. Real people, who care for each other, working together to restore society. It's beautiful. You guys will fit right in."
His head hangs down, his finger wipes a glistening line from under his eye.
"He would've loved that."
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
His eyes squint, his defined jaw protrudes outward, as he stares at the landscape in front of him. There are vehicles recklessly scattered all over the streets, nearly every window to every shop or building has been broken, traffic lights are hanging so low they nearly touch the ground, dirt and filth cover most of the side walks and streets, green has started to grow on top of structures, and there is a defined smell.
That smell, repugnant. The smell of weathered, decaying corpses, and fecal matter. It’s not apparent, he can’t see any fecal matter, but it’s there. This singular aroma. It smells like bodies that have been dead for years have been dumped into sewage, merged down into one consistency, then sprayed everywhere in sight.
A similar odor permeates in almost every city he’s been in, or around, these past few years, but the presence of it here is far worse. He knows this street, he knows these side roads, he knows these defunct businesses, he knows them because he’s been here before. They are in Casselberry, and Oasis is a few hours of walking from where they stand right now.
“How close are we?”
The doctor’s question has a ring of optimism to it, something Karo has rarely heard from the man since Jack died.
“Few hours at most.”
“Does this look promising?” Daisy interjects, her brow furrowed, her head tilted at the hardened wanderer.
“Not particularly. This city was hit hard.”
“But you've seen this before? When you left, right?”
“It hasn't aged well.”
“So, we just go through the city then?” her questions continue as she kneels down next to him.
“No, we’ll arc around west, take some less dense roads.”
“Do you think we’ll know if Oasis survived before we actually get to it?”
“I’m not sure. I’m hoping they’ve expanded out and we’ll come to it sooner.”
“Is that a good thing though? If they see us from a distance?”
“They’ll be able to tell we’re not infected.”
“Will they? We’re dirty and we don’t exactly look inviting.”
“They have to know that Adapted don’t travel with backpacks and supplies.”
“That’s a bold assumption.”
“It is, but it’s all we can do.”
The doctor rises to his feet, groaning as his knees creak.
“Well, let’s not continue to waste time. Only one way to find out for sure.”
The four hopeful nomads slip behind a row of derelict store fronts, cross a two lane street, stride down an alley between more abandoned buildings, and finally come back to the interstate. Their pace is noticeably elevated, but none of them comment on it. Hope resides in each of their hearts, even Patrick has a newfound pep in his step.
An hour passes, and the nomads have to divert their path away from the interstate. They travel near the outskirts of the city, where trees and patches of green begin to pop up, just beyond the reach of the industrial expanse of the days left behind.
“No infected, no strange noises, you’d think this would be comforting, but it’s not. It’s somehow even more foreboding.”
The out of practice attorney keeps her comments to a whisper, more so needing to hear something than to have a conversation.
“Is it possible they cleared the surrounding cities out? That seems like a top priority for a surviving community.” the doctor posits aloud.
“There was talk of it before I was exiled, but the prevailing thought was that there weren’t enough people to complete that task, not safely at least.”
“You’ve been gone for about seven years, maybe they’ve grown?”
“It makes sense, but let’s try to keep our expectations tempered. It’s still very possible we get there and there’s nothing left. I don’t like the thought of that anymore than any of you, but we need to recognize that possibility.”
“Right, low expectations. Nothing new.”
To the brunette woman’s surprise the faint hint of a smirk cracks across the usually stoic man’s face. She smiles softly, to herself, taking the smallest bit of pride in the gesture of humanity from him.
Somewhere around another hour later they have to cross back into the barren city. The road they were traveling near veers off and ventures deeper into the state, away from their destination. After roughly ten minutes of travel time, being back near the main streets of the city, Karo notices an interesting trend has presented itself; there are blockades preventing side roads and intersections from connecting to the main street. These structures are not crude or haphazard, there is care and attention in their design and execution.
“These have to be a good sign, right?” a minor wave of enthusiasm carries Daisy’s question.
“I would think so.”
“Patrick, please come closer, we don’t know this area like Karo does.”
The silent teen heeds Norman’s request, quickening his stride to walk along side the group.
“How far away are we from Oasis now?”
"Gail Parkway is two lights up, we turn right.”
“How far down after we turn?′
“It’s almost two miles down, on the left.”
Norman’s heart skips, his chest flutters, his lips nervously twitch.
“It’s hard to believe we’re finally this close. We could be about to reverse the course of history.”
“If Oasis is still standing, and the blood is still good, and a cure or immunity is possible. There’s a lot of ‘ifs’ Norman.” Karo replies, from behind a slanted gaze.
“You’re sunshine in the flesh, you know that?” Daisy quips, not missing a beat.
The rough traveler grunts, choosing not to side-eye her on this occasion.
“Stop! Stop right where you are! Put the container down and raise your hands in the air!”
The commands boom across the street, coming from some
where they’ve already passed. Norman gently bends at the waist, and rests the cooler on the ground. He joins Karo and Daisy in raising their hands up high. He shoots a gesture to Patrick, then the teen follows suit.
“Slowly turn around, don't make any sudden movements! There are enough rifles pointed at you to drop all of you before you can do anything, so don’t try anything stupid.”
The four weathered and weary travelers pivot on their heels, steadily rotating one hundred and eighty degrees. Once fully turned, Karo scans over their surroundings, but to his distress he can’t see anyone.
“On your knees, keep your arms up!”
Daisy’s gaze cuts to Norman, then to Karo, her brow raised, her eyes wide and bulging.
“Do it now!”
The brooding wanderer nods to them, and they do as instructed. A long moment passes in silence, followed by rustling coming from all around them. One by one people exit the surrounding building, seven of them in total, all armed with rifles and thick clothing, complete with goggles and odd looking ventilation masks. The armed commandos all have closely shaved hair, and the only skin showing are thin strips around their jaws, their foreheads, and the tops of their heads.
With guns aimed and their attention focused on the four submissive intruders, the seven rifle wielders converge and quickly surround the nomads. The one leading the charge stands front and center, with his head titled, and directed at Karo. The commando approaches the wanderer, kneeling down a few feet away from him.
“I’ll be damned!” the man says, with a thick Louisianan accent.
“What?” one of the armed men behind the nomads asks.
“It’s Karo!”
“No shit?”
The knelt man removes his goggles and mask. Karo’s eyes widen and shine upon seeing the face of someone from his past. This man is Tyler Farley, before the outbreak he was a Corporal in the US Army, and he was once a friend of the exiled traveler.
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