by Dave Bowman
"Yeah, Chris inherited an old adobe from his parents," Jessa said distractedly. “His parents were well-off.”
"And there's an aqueduct system that still works? Doesn't even need electricity?"
Jessa didn't answer. She was lost in thought.
"This could be bad," Nick said. "Dangerous for us. Fancy houses, lots of trees, and a gravity-fed water system."
"It's just up here on the right," Jessa said, ignoring his worry.
"Seems like the kind of place survivors would want to hang out," Nick said. "It's just too easy."
"What?" Jessa asked, caught up in her own thoughts. "It'll just take a minute."
Nick sighed and pulled into the driveway of a well-maintained adobe. It looked comfortable and inviting with its landscaped grounds, tall trees, and polished turquoise trim, typical of the area. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he parked and exited the truck.
"Have your gun out and ready," he said, looking all around the area for any sign of movement.
Jessa knocked on the door and windows. When there was no response, she jogged behind the house to a tool shed. She found the right stone to kick over and retrieved a key. Nick watched as she ran back to unlock the door. She pushed the door open slowly, holding on to her pistol, and called for her friend.
Nick motioned for her to wait as he went in first, crossing each room cautiously and slowly. But Jessa couldn't wait. She had to go see if Chris was lying dead in his bedroom like most of the rest of the world. She pushed past Nick, ignoring his admonitions to stop and wait.
She ran upstairs, calling for him. Finally she made it to the master bedroom. The door was closed, and when she put her hand on the handle, she stopped for a moment. She had to prepare herself for the worst. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and entered.
It was empty. No dead body, no rotting flesh or stench of a decaying corpse. She sighed, relieved and smiling.
One glance and she knew he had left. Drawers were open, closets half rifled through, boxes turned over on the bed. He had hurriedly gone through the room, packing up the essentials.
She looked at the bureau. Amid the odds and ends Chris had apparently sorted through as he prepared to leave, there was a note. Jessa snatched it up to read it.
Jessa,
People are starting to die. Things are getting pretty bad around here, and I'm heading north to Colorado. I'll be at my family's cabin up there. See map for details. I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you. I don't want to stick around here and see how this all turns out. I hope we survive this thing, and I hope you'll join me.
I love you. I always have.
Chris
She clenched the note in her hand and pressed it against her chest, her eyes closed.
He may still be alive, she thought.
She turned the note over to see a rough map he'd drawn, with directions how to find the cabin. She smiled and folded the note carefully, stuffing in down in the front pocket of her jeans.
She heard footsteps on the stairs, and she ducked outside the room to see Nick.
"I'm guessing he's alive, judging by the look on your face?" he asked.
She smiled. "He might be. He's not here, though."
"And we shouldn't be either. The house is empty, but I have a feeling this neighborhood isn't. Let's go. Stay close behind me."
They locked the door and walked quickly back outside to the truck.
"You drive," he said, tossing her the keys.
"Why me?" she said.
"Because I've got a bad feeling we're going to have trouble getting out of here, and I don't trust you riding shotgun."
She rolled her eyes as she opened the driver's door, but froze when she heard the voice at the end of the driveway.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing here?"
It came from a short but brawny guy wearing some kind of mechanic-style jumpsuit and carrying a rifle over his shoulder. He stopped and stared at them from his vantage point at the entrance to the driveway about eighty feet away.
They all froze for just a second. Then everything happened at once.
"Get in!" Nick said to Jessa, who started to get in the truck and duck below the window. Nick ducked for cover behind the open passenger door while bringing his AR-15 out through the open window.
"This is our turf!" the guy yelled as he swung his rifle around and aimed.
28
The afternoon had passed quickly at the lodge. After lunch, they took an hour off to rest during the hottest part of the day. Liz had wanted to go out and leave the food by the truck for James during that time, but Mia suddenly became very talkative and wanted to show her some books she had brought with her. It was rare that Mia initiated conversation, so Liz didn’t want to ruin the chance to talk to her. She decided she could walk out to the vehicles before sunset.
Mia had not brought children’s books that day Liz found her and she packed hurriedly. Instead, they were enormous tomes on various subjects: math, literature, history, physiology and biology.
“Are these books from your school?” Liz asked, a little puzzled why a nine-year-old would be reading such advanced books.
“Oh, no,” Mia said, chuckling a little. “School’s so boring. I get these from the city library. My mom’s always taking me.”
Her face fell, remembering.
“I mean, she always used to take me. She wanted me to read everything I could. But I had to hide them from my dad. He didn’t like me to read this kind of stuff.”
“Why?” Liz asked, frowning.
“He said I was a freak. That I should be a normal kid, do stuff like other kids my age.”
Mia didn’t look up at Liz, but kept turning the pages of her physiology book.
Liz tucked Mia’s hair behind her ear and felt a lump in her own throat. “You’re not a freak, sweetie. I’m so sorry your dad used to call you that.”
Mia shrugged. “It’s OK. I just had to keep these books a secret. It’s nice I can read them whenever I want to now, at least.”
Liz nodded, and looked at the picture of a white blood cell that Mia was showing her. Liz noticed that the child was sitting closer than she ever had, and it made her happy that they were slowly forming a bond.
She forgot all about James at that point, fascinated by what Mia could tell her about the body’s immune system.
After the down time, the three of them returned to work. They wanted to stay close to the lodge, so they began a project closer to home. They built a rough wooden compost bin, then cut down some weeds around the house. The green material went directly in the new compost heap, the first offering for what they hoped would become a rich source of nutrients for the soil.
Finally it was time to go in and prepare dinner. The sun was getting lower, and Liz knew she’d have to go soon. She muttered a vague complaint about a stomachache, then went outside as if to use the latrine.
Instead, she crossed the meadow at a brisk pace, then entered the woods. It didn’t take her long to make it to the small clearing with the three remaining vehicles. She opened the Dodge truck and pulled out the stash of food she had. Liz placed it all behind the front tire, just as she had told James he could find it, and tucked a note for him under the items. She hoped the food would be enough to last James until he could provide for himself.
As the light started to fade, she nervously glanced around, then re-entered the darkening woods.
29
The stranger’s shots sprayed all over the driveway and truck, and Nick returned the fire.
The shooter got hit in the shoulder and stumbled backward. Nick squeezed another shot off, and the guy fell to the ground.
"Drive!" Nick shouted, climbing into the truck.
Jessa sat up and started the truck, her hand shaking.
"He's in the way!" she said as she peeled off, hurtling them toward the body lying at the intersection of the driveway and the main road.
"Just go!" Nick shouted, positioning himself to shoot out the window.
Nick grimaced as he turned to look out the window.
"Are you hurt?" Jessa cried.
But he didn't answer, because a van with two men in it was approaching behind them.
Jessa stepped on the gas and swerved the truck through the narrow street with the van gaining on them. The passenger in the van aimed his semi-automatic rifle out the window and started shooting at the truck. Nick returned fire, and the van quickly swerved out of the way, missing his fire.
She turned sharply down an alley and came to a quick stop, grabbing her pistol and firing while she ducked down as low as she could. The van stopped at a short distance behind them, and the two men took cover as they shot at Nick and Jessa. Glass flew everywhere as they shot the windows and windshields out on both vehicles. Finally, Jessa hit the driver in the head, causing him to slump backward in his seat.
The passenger hesitated a split second to look at his partner, and Nick shot him dead. The bullet went through his chest and he, too, slumped over. Nick shot them both a couple more times to make sure they were down. He quickly reloaded his weapon and indicated that Jessa do the same.
Jessa swept her head back and forth, scanning the area for any more dangers. She noticed her tunnel vision had returned as she slid out of the truck, the broken glass falling out of her lap. The air was heavy with the sharp, acrid smells of gunpowder and blood. Her ears were ringing and she felt disoriented. She took a couple of steps, gasping for air, then bent over to vomit in the street.
Nick moved quickly to the van with his rifle still ready, then he returned to the truck carrying the men's firearms – a rifle and a shotgun. His ears were ringing, too, and he had to yell and pantomime for Jessa to understand him.
"We've gotta get out of here! There could be more coming!"
He grabbed the snow removal brush he kept in the back seat and brushed all the glass out of the seats as Jessa watched, still confused and reeling. He indicated for her to get in the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel, started the engine, and took off with another flat tire and the windshield and windows broken.
He drove quickly, keeping his eye on the rear-view mirror. He squinted through his watering eyes, expecting to see another vehicle appear at any second, but he saw nothing. No one was following them. Once he got a couple of miles away and crossed into the south side of the city, he could catch his breath a little, but he was still operating on auto-pilot. The events of the past few minutes had not yet sunk in for either of them.
He stopped at a Walmart. The sprawling parking lot was dotted with vehicles, so he could have his pick. He weaved in between the scattered vehicles – some parked neatly in rows, and some that had collided into each other -- stopping next to a late-model Chevy Silverado.
He got out and saw the corpse at the steering wheel. Putting on the work gloves Jessa had gotten, and tying a bandana over his nose and mouth, he lifted the dead body out of the truck. He limped back to his truck and gestured to Jessa.
"We've got to move everything over to this one," he yelled.
"Aren't you hurt?" Jessa asked, suddenly noticing his limp and remembering his grimace from earlier. "You got shot!"
She looked him over, but did not see any blood, except for some surface wounds on his face and arms from the shattered glass.
He waved away her worry. "No, no. Just twisted my ankle a little," he said with a hint of a smirk.
They moved all their cargo over to the new truck and started it. The tank was half full. Not bad.
Nick took one last look at his old truck, now all shot up with broken windows. He hesitated for just a moment, recalling the memories of moments he had spent with his family in that reliable old vehicle. He reached in the glove compartment box, having almost forgotten to empty it. He scooped out its contents, including a first-aid kit and a head lamp that he put around his neck for now. Then he shut the doors and climbed inside the Silverado, and Jessa did the same.
Nick motioned for Jessa to sit still as he cleaned and bandaged the minor wounds she had on her face and arms from the shattered glass, and she did the same for him. When they were all patched up, they looked at each other, their eyes locking briefly in a moment of mutual recognition over the horrific experience they had just gone through together. They knew they were lucky to be alive.
There was a supermarket next door, and he pulled up to its front entrance. There was no movement anywhere in the parking lot, but the smell was awful. A combination of the sweet rot of dead people and the putrid odor of decaying food filled his lungs.
"You wait here," he told her as they both got out, holding their guns. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
He grabbed a shopping cart and disappeared inside the store, which had clearly already been broken into. She watched him limp inside, then scanned the parking lot and the highway beyond it, sweeping her eyes over the immense, but silent, destruction.
Jessa’s heart was still pounding from the shooting, and she felt sick. She had to focus on her breathing to calm herself down. Still feeling dizzy and light-headed, she reached inside the Silverado for their small food stash they had transferred from Nick's truck. She drank some warm soda and ate a candy bar as she continued to scan the parking lots and remain vigilant. She was feeling cold and shaky, and she holstered her gun for a moment to pull her hoodie on, then drew the gun again right away.
The sugar calmed her heart down a little, and she took another few deep breaths. She was starting to feel a little better. Jessa smiled a little as she remembered her grandmother, who had always suggested sweet foods to anyone feeling upset.
You were always right, Nana, she thought. Of course, Nana had always kept homemade peanut brittle and sugar cookies in the house, instead of this packaged junk.
She felt the cool metal of her gun in her hands. Now that they had been shot at twice in one day, she appreciated more than ever the protection it offered her. She didn't ever want to be without a gun again. A strange mixture of invincibility, guilt and regret ran through her.
She had put Nick’s life and her own in danger by going to Chris’s house. Miraculously, neither of them had been seriously injured, but their luck could have easily been different. Her guilt over throwing them in that situation was strong. She knew it had been a risk to go to her friend’s house, but she had been possessed. She hoped Nick would forgive her for putting them in harm’s way.
Now that she had seen Chris’s note, she knew that there was at least a possibility that he had survived. Her heart swelled, though she tried to tell herself to not get her hopes up. There was only a small possibility that he was still alive.
In the note, Chris had written that he was leaving when the first people started dying in Santa Fe. She reckoned that was the first or second day of her Forest Service trip. So he could have left before he had started to show symptoms of the illness, and then died in Colorado. She knew the chances were slim, but she couldn’t help but keep her hope alive that Chris had survived.
Her smile faded as her thoughts returned to the horror she and Nick had just been through. She had killed another man, bringing her casualty toll up to two. Making the decision to shoot this one had been easier than the first man, considering this one was shooting at her and Nick, and had come close to killing both of them. Even so, taking his life still troubled her deeply.
She didn't think she would ever get used to shooting at people, but she knew it was a possibility. The thought was alarming to her. She didn't want to become habituated to the act, but she supposed she had little choice in the matter. She found herself in a strange, new world, and all the rules had changed.
She continued to patrol the area as the minutes ticked by with Nick in the supermarket. She was anxious, and she hoped that the store was big enough that it hadn't been totally cleaned out of edible food. Most of all, she hoped that she and Nick made it home alive.
Though her hearing still wasn
’t back to normal, a faint sound startled her. It was a familiar sound from the before time -- a grocery shopping cart being pushed over the parking lot. She turned around to see Nick pushing a cart heaped over with food. He was smiling, and she felt her own face open up into a grin.
“There’s still food!” she exclaimed, running over to see what he had found.
“Yes, and more still inside,” he said happily. “You unload this and I’ll go get more.”
She took the cart from him and started to unload the precious cargo, packing it efficiently in the back of the truck. She had never been so grateful to see food before. It meant they had a chance of surviving the winter.
There were cans of meat, vegetables, soup, and fruit, and a few boxes of raisins and trail mix. Twenty-five pound bags of white rice, brown rice, pinto and black beans -- enough to feed them for weeks! When she saw the bags of fresh potatoes and onions that had not yet gone bad, she almost cried. She had gone far too long without fresh food, and she could taste the hot spuds and sauteed onions already. At the bottom was a bag of dried New Mexico chile peppers, and she smiled.
Soon, Nick was returning with another loaded shopping cart. He pushed it over to her and turned to make another trip, but Jessa stopped him.
“Wait!” She had to yell for him to hear her. “I can take a turn.”
“It’s horrible in there,” he said. “You don’t want to see it. Or smell it.”
“You’re limping,” she said. “And I should take a turn. I insist.”
He shrugged, then pushed the empty cart to her and handed her the head lamp. She stretched the strap over her head, tied a cloth over her nose and mouth, and pushed the cart over the broken glass in the entrance.
The stench hit her in the face as soon as she entered. Jessa tried not to breathe through her nose as she maneuvered around rotten food, broken bottles and glass, and knocked over display cases. Occasionally she came upon a dead body, twisted up in a gruesome, unnatural position and wearing an eerie grin. She doubted she’d ever get used to seeing that sight.