Among Monsters

by Jamie McGuire

  Tavia kept her eyes on her front lawn as Dad pulled away.

  "Okay, baby. You can look around."

  Tobin leaned his head against his mom, and she hugged him to her, holding her breath to keep from crying. She looked up at the ceiling and then straight forward. I could tell that she had decided to push it out of her mind for the moment.

  We had a long road ahead, and we all had to stay focused. Besides not knowing the condition of the interstate overpass, we had four tiny towns to get through before Red Hill ranch.

  "Daddy?" Halle said.

  "Yes, honey?"

  "I want Mom."

  "I know," he said. "I'm trying."

  "MERCIFUL JESUS," Tavia said.

  Her mouth hung open as her eyes scanned the carnage on the interstate. Cars were facing in every direction, gridlocked so tightly that it looked like the hopeless last few seconds of a Tetris game.

  Infected were ambling about--men, women, and children.

  "Don't look, Halle!" I said, reaching up too late to cover her eyes.

  "There are kids!" she said in a panic. "Why are they like that, Daddy? Why do they look like that? Are they dead?"

  Dad drove slowly across the overpass, weaving between the various military vehicles and pickup trucks. Half-eaten men in camo were lying on the concrete, their weapons still in their hands.

  Dad pressed the breaks gently until we came to a stop.

  "What are you doing?" I said, afraid. "What are you doing, Dad?"

  Before I could ask again, Dad was back inside the Tahoe with a huge rifle and a lot of ammo in his arms.

  He set the gun, stock down, on the floorboard next to Halle. "Don't touch that," he said. "The safety's on, but until you learn how to shoot a gun, you don't need to handle one."

  Halle quickly bobbed her head.

  Dad switched the gear to Drive, and we continued forward.

  Finally, we were at the edge of the overpass. A man, his suit tattered with bullet holes, reached out for the SUV, but we easily passed by him. He was wearing a wedding ring, and I wondered if his wife was wandering somewhere below, if he remembered her, or if they had any children. Maybe he had taken the interstate home, and his wife was waiting, looking out the window and thinking he'd pull into the driveway at any minute.

  "Do you think they know they're alone?" I asked.

  Tavia reached up to put her warm hand on my shoulder. "Who they were has left that body and gone on."

  "To where?" Halle asked.

  Tavia hesitated. "To a place where they can rest, where they aren't afraid, where they can't see this mess down here."

  "I wanna go there," Halle said, absently twirling her hair, as she watched the pastures and farmhouses blur by.

  Dad gave her a side glance. "Don't say that, honey." His voice was strained, and his Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed down the sadness we all felt.

  "Damn it," Dad grumbled.

  "What is it?" Tavia asked.

  "I meant to get gas when we got back into Anderson, but it slipped my mind."

  "I can't imagine why," Tavia said. "Let's all keep an eye out for a gas station. Maybe we could stop at the next house and see if they have a gas can?"

  "I can try to siphon off gas from a car, if I can find some tubing and a container," Dad said. "I've never done it before, so no promises."

  "How low are we?" I asked.

  "Don't ask," Dad said just as his dashboard chimed.

  Tavia fidgeted, and then asked anyway, "Did the gas light just come on?"

  "Don't ask," Dad said again.

  I clenched my teeth. He knew what was happening, and he forgot to get gas?

  Tavia noticed the expression on my face and mouthed to me, We're still okay.

  "Mama?" Tobin said.

  "Yes, baby?"

  "I wanna go home."

  Tavia pulled her son's head against her side and kissed his temple. "Me, too, baby. Me, too."

  Dad pulled into the long driveway of an old farmhouse sitting next to a much newer barn. The gravel crunched under the tires until the Tahoe came to a stop.

  Dad turned off the engine. "Jenna, come with me. Tavia, I'm leaving the keys in the ignition. Stay with the kids."

  I found that funny. Last week, Dad had told me that he didn't have to explain his decision not to take us to the theater--he wanted to hang out with Five and her son, who was much too young to sit through a cartoon, much less a movie--because I was a kid, and he was the adult. Now, when he talked about kids, he wasn't referring to me.

  I shut the door most of the way and then pressed it closed. My black Converse made less noise against the gravel than Dad's boots, but it still sounded louder than it should have. I hopped onto the grass, and Dad took a wide sidestep to do the same. We smiled at each other and walked toward the house.

  There were four steps to the side door, bordered in black iron rails. We climbed the steps together, and even that seemed too loud. There was no sound--no vehicles going by, no combines in the fields, no dogs barking, not even wind. I'd never realized how quiet the world could be without people in it.

  Dad and I stood on the small concrete porch. The door was like Dad's--Plexiglas on top, wood on the bottom--except these people had a doggy door.

  "Their dad got them a dog," I grumbled.

  "Don't start," he said.

  He tapped lightly on the Plexiglas.

  "What good will that do?" I asked. "If any of those things are in there, that's not loud enough to draw them out. If people are inside, they won't hear us, and they will probably shoot us in the face if we--"

  A man's face pressed against the door, and his mouth was open and wide, too wide. One of his cheeks had been chewed off. Dad and I startled. A smear of blood streaked across the window, and the man's molars were in full view.

  "Don't look at it," Dad said.

  "I don't want to, but I can't stop."

  Another one, a woman, shouldered by the man and started clawing at the door.

  "They can't open the door," Dad said.

  I rolled my eyes. "Apocalypse level--genius."

  "Okay, smart-ass. I'll be in the barn, being useful. Try to keep an eye on...them without looking too close."

  I will myself to look back at him, but I couldn't pull my line of sight away from the couple. The woman had a patch of hair missing from above her left ear, but that was the only wound I could see. Her skin was a bluish color, and her veins were a shade darker, visible underneath.

  As they clumsily pawed at the door, I tried not to look into the vacant milky eyes of the woman. She wasn't overweight, but I couldn't help but notice her ill-fitting dress. Both of them had blood-covered chins and hands, and I found myself wondering who bit whom first.

  Have they been feeding on one another?

  Then, I saw it.

  My chest heaved, and my eyes bulged. "Dad?" I took a step back. "Dad?" I called again, reaching for the railing. I nearly fell off the top step. I stepped down backward and down again until I could no longer see it--the portable crib sitting against the wall in the living room behind the couple. The wall was spattered and smeared with blood, and the crib was saturated in it.

  "Daddy!" I screamed.

  He ran up behind me. "What? What is it?" he asked, breathing hard.

  I buried my face into his torso, pointing with a trembling hand at the door. "They...they have a baby! It's--"

  "In there?" Dad ran up the steps. After a few quiet moments, his footsteps could be heard on the steps, and then he pulled me against him again. "Christ almighty, Jenna. Think about something else. Think about your mom. Think about school. Anything else."

  I shook my head, wiping my wet face on his T-shirt, while he comforted me. "They--"

  He held my chin in his hand and lifted it. "No, they didn't. Remember what Tavia said--about how they're not the same as they were before?"

  "The baby didn't know that."

  Dad clenched his jaw and then turned toward the SUV. "C'mon, let's get
out of here. There's a station down the road."

  "Can we make it?"

  "Yeah. I just didn't want to chance it. Jenna?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't tell Halle. Don't tell any of them. Let's pretend that we didn't see it."

  I nodded, wiping my eyes.

  "Any luck?" Tavia asked when we got back into the vehicle.

  Halle and Tobin were coloring.

  Dad shook his head.

  Tavia's eyebrows pulled together. "Jenna? You all right, honey?"

  "I'll be okay."

  "Andrew, what's wrong with her?"

  "Nothing."

  Halle turned around in her seat, her elbows perched on the console. "What did you see?"

  Dad turned, too. "Don't answer, Jenna." He looked to Tavia. "You don't want to know. Some things you can't unsee."

  Tavia covered her mouth as Dad backed out of the driveway, and then she reached up to grab my hand, squeezing tightly. We both knew that was just one of the first of many awful things I would see, that we would all see. Even when we wanted to look away, we would have to stare ugly things in the face just to stay alive.

  Halle turned around, and I closed my eyes. It was only a matter of time before she would have that last bit of innocence taken from her, too. I couldn't cover her eyes forever.

  Dad pulled out onto the road, turning west.

  West on Highway 11.

  On our way to heaven...

  Right after we get through hell.

  The gas station was in the next town, but no one was manning the store inside. Dad used his credit card, whispering prayers I couldn't quite make out. Then, he punched the air, the vein in his forehead bulging. He crossed his arms on the back corner of the Tahoe and rested his head.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "I think something has to be tripped in there. I hope," he said, narrowing his eyes at the store.

  It was smaller than small. Dad reached inside, his feet coming off the ground, as he leaned over his seat toward the passenger side and grabbed his rifle.

  "What are you doing?"

  He cocked the gun. "I'm going to see if I can get the juice flowing. Can you try to run the card out here? Just do this." He showed me how to insert the card into the slit and then pull it out. "Choose the grade by pressing the eighty-seven button," he instructed, pressing it. "Then, take the pump off the holder and pull up the lever. The nozzle fits into the gas tank, like this, and squeeze the trigger," he said as I watched him act it all out. "You got it?"

  "I can do it."

  Tavia leaned out of her open window. "You didn't have to go through all that. I can do it."

  "She needs to learn. She needs to learn everything," Dad said, keeping his eyes on the store. He held the rifle in front of him with both hands and took his first step.

  "Be careful," I said. "They can sneak up on you."

  Dad didn't turn around. When he reached the double doors, he banged on the glass with the stock of his gun. After nothing happened, he went inside.

  I dipped the card into the slot, chose the grade, and then lifted the nozzle before placing it into the mouth of the SUV's tank. The gas pump beeped again, but again, nothing happened, and the digital display returned to scrolling words.

  Dad popped his head out of the door. "Try it one more time. I think I figured it out."

  I ran the card, but this time it was denied. "What? No," I said, trying it again. The word Denied came up again.

  Dad pushed through the doors and held up his hands, frustrated and confused.

  "It says the card is denied!" I yelled.

  He jogged over to me.

  "She's right," Tavia said. "I was watching."

  "Damn it. Damn it!" Dad yelled to the sky. He palms against the driver's side door, his fingertips turning white, his jaw muscles working beneath the skin. "We have to go back to Anderson."

  "What? No. We'll go as far as we can, and then we'll walk the rest of the way," I said.

  Dad glared at me. "With a toddler and a seven-year-old? Jenna, that's not realistic."

  "We have a tent. We have everything we need. We'll keep watch. We can find an empty house. We can make it."

  "It's too dangerous. Those things are everywhere! We're going back."

  "Mom isn't in Anderson."

  "Jenna, something bad could happen. Are you willing to risk your sister's life? Your mom wouldn't want that."

  "She didn't stay in Anderson because she knew we couldn't survive there. We've talked about it. We--"

  "I said no," Dad said, his tone final.

  "You weren't there! You don't get to make this decision! This is something Halle and I promised to Mom!"

  "If she were that worried about riding this out with you, she wouldn't have left. She was right there, Jenna, and she left!"

  "Andrew!" Tavia scolded.

  Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

  Dad's shoulders fell. "Damn it. Jenna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just frustrated."

  "She didn't leave us. She is meeting us at Red Hill. That's the plan. It's always been the plan," I said, sniffing.

  "You're right," Dad said, his cheeks flushed.

  "She didn't leave us," I said again, mostly to myself. "I know her. I know exactly what she is thinking. I would have done the same thing! She wasn't sure if we would come back to your house. She knew where we would go, though, because we promised each other, and we keep our promises."

  Dad bobbed his head. "Load up. Let's go."

  I climbed into the back, next to Tobin, crossing my arms, and Dad sat in the driver's seat. He turned the ignition. The engine started, then sputtered, and died.

  "No...c'mon..." He turned it again.

  The engine made a whirring sound, but it didn't catch this time. Dad slapped the steering wheel with both hands.

  "Andrew," Tavia said, her voice low and soothing, "we can walk. We can make it. It'll just take us longer than originally planned."

  Dad nodded and ruffled Halle's matted hair. "Okay, Pop Can, get your backpack. Take as much as you can carry."

  Halle obeyed, pulling her backpack over her shoulders.

  WE KEPT TO THE ROAD.

  Dad half-hoped a car would pass us and pull over, but he also worried that someone would try to take our stuff. I didn't tell him that it was unlikely since it was only day two, and most people were either worried about getting home to their loved ones or concentrating on fortifying where they were.

  "You don't know that, Jenna. Everything you know is based on television shows," Dad scolded.

  "Which are based on common sense and historical facts," I said.

  "There has never been a zombie outbreak before."

  "But there've been disasters before. The behavior is the same."

  Dad sighed and shook his head. Then, he stopped and turned around. "Want me to carry him?"

  Tobin had fallen asleep half an hour before, and Tavia had fallen further behind the longer we walked. She shook her head, too tired to talk.

  Dad double-backed toward her, his arms out in front of him. "Give him to me. You're no use if you're exhausted. We still have fourteen miles to make before dark."

  Tavia's chest heaved, handing her son over. "I'm really regretting my excuses not to walk with my friend Teresa."

  Dad chuckled, but his smile vanished when Halle pointed.

  "Daddy!" she said, alarmed.

  One of those things, a man, was stumbling toward us.

  "It's alone," Dad said. "Probably from the next town. We'll make a wide run around him and then run for a while to stay ahead of him."

  "I can't run," Tavia said, breathless.

  The thing was coming closer.

  Dad looked around. "We could find a place to hide, but he'll probably just follow. Either way, we'll have to pick up the pace."

  "If we kill it, we don't have to," I said.

  Everyone looked at me.

  "I'll run around with Halle. You distract it. When he turns arou
nd, kick his knees out from under him, and then hit him in the head with the butt of your rifle."

  Dad's eyebrows shot up.

  I shrugged. "Or we can run."

  "What kind of stuff was your mom letting you watch?" he asked.

  "That was from a video game. Are we going to run or not?" I asked.

  Dad and Tavia looked at each other.

  "I'm sorry, Andrew. I just can't."

  Dad breathed out as he handed Tobin to Tavia. Dad rubbed the back of his neck and then pulled the strap of his rifle over his head. "Yesterday, I never would have believed that I'd be bashing someone's head in."

  "I didn't think I'd be bait either. We all have jobs to do."

  He glared at me. "Don't watch--either of you. I don't want you to see me doing this."

  "Just make sure you kick out his knees," I said. "It'll be a lot easier."

  I knelt down, and Halle climbed onto my back. I jerked up, adjusting her position.

  "In theory," Dad said. "Go on. Give yourself plenty of room."

  We walked another twenty seconds. Then, Tavia stopped, Dad readied himself, and I ran to the right in a wide half circle. The man moaned, reaching for us.

  "Hey!" I said. "This way!"

  He turned to follow, his bloody Oklahoma Sooners shirt ripped at the collar. Raw meat and bone were visible, but the blood wasn't fresh. Something had chewed on him but not for long.

  I heard Dad grunt, and I turned, but I didn't come to a full stop. The infected fell just like I'd said it would, but when Dad hit its head with the stock of his rifle, it kept reaching for him.

  "Hit it again!" I yelled.

  Dad swung again, and a loud crack echoed in every direction. It was finally still. Dad nudged it with his boot and then stomped over to Halle and me.

  "I thought I told you not to watch!" he growled.

  I looked back and up at Halle whose hand was over her glasses. "She didn't."

  "You! I told you, too!"

  "I can't keep my eyes closed, Dad! I have to see what's coming!"

  He thought about that for a moment, still breathing hard. Different emotions scrolled across his face, and then he bobbed his head once before wiping the remnants of the infected's brain matter off his gun and onto the grass.

  "Good job," Tavia said when she caught up to us.

  Dad took Tobin again, and we continued on, almost as if nothing had happened.

  I kept Halle on my back, knowing we still had a long way to go. She silently thanked me by touching her cheek to the crown of my head and giving me the slightest squeeze. I grinned. For us, getting along was a rarity. When I wasn't antagonizing her, she would be bossing me around. We had become so accustomed to fighting that we'd often yell at each other for no reason at all.