by Lee, Raymond
“You mean you’re not used to people who don’t kiss your ass.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, get used to it. I doubt your Oscars are going to impress anyone now.”
“I don’t have any Oscars.”
“Good. I doubt you deserve any as hard as it is for you just to act like a decent human being.”
Cruz laughed again. “Am I really that much of an asshole? I haven’t thrown you two out.”
“Only because you know I’d use my katana on you.”
He smiled. “Where are you from, really?”
“Kentucky.”
His eyebrow raised.
“What? Got something smart to say?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re a long way from there. Were you vacationing or trying to make it in the biz?”
“Vacationing. I’d rather yank out my own eyeball than work with arrogant prima donnas all day.”
This earned another chuckle. “Yeah, I feel like that myself some days. So what do you do?”
“Well, I did work in a restaurant but now we all pretty much do the same thing, don’t we?”
He nodded. “You think this will all blow over? Eventually?”
Raven shrugged. “I don’t know. When the outbreak first happened I never thought it would get this bad. This is fiction come to life, you know? And in the books and movies, I don’t think it ever gets better. You just fight until you’re the last man standing.”
“But this isn’t fiction and these people aren’t zombies, really.”
“What the hell else do you call the walking dead?”
“Well, we can call them zombies but they weren’t created by some mysterious cause like in the movies, or some toxic spill or whatever else. We know how they were created and now that we know it’s a blood thing I’m sure scientists are already working on a vaccine.”
“And just how are they going to apply that vaccine? These people are already dead. They can’t un-zombie them.”
“No, but they can inject the uninfected with a vaccine that keeps us from getting the virus.”
“That’s not going to save us from getting eaten.”
“No, it’s not, but it will give us a higher chance of surviving. We’ll beat this. I’m sure of it.”
“Still, I don’t think the world will go back to what it was. I don’t think we will.”
“Why?”
“How long has it been now since the outbreak? Three weeks? I already feel like the girl I used to be is dead.” That girl had a sister, a sweet, innocent sister. She had a life, dreams. Now all she had was an ache in her heart and the knowledge that she could kill if necessary.
“We can’t just give up. We’ll rebuild and we’ll survive.”
Raven watched an infected woman raise herself up from where she’d been kneeling on the side of the road. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her hand covered a mottled bite on her arm. She reached her arms out to them and cried out for help. Cruz barely glanced in the woman’s direction as he drove past her.
“But we’ll be very, very different people,” she said, watching the woman in the side view mirror without any urge to go back. “We already are.”
“Maybe what we are is what we need to be in the here and now. I’m really not trying to be a jerk.”
“It just comes naturally?”
“Something like that.” He grinned. “When the outbreak first hit, I had a few run-ins with fans. They wanted me to save them like I was the guy I play in the movies.”
“They get killed?”
“Yes. They were too busy fawning over me and trying to look cute. No survival skills whatsoever. I don’t mind helping people but not when they’re going to turn into airheads around me. I can’t be a knight in shining armor. People have to put a little effort into their own safety.”
“I can understand that.” Raven thought back to the hotel. She’d tried to save Sky but her sister kept screaming, drawing them closer. It wasn’t her fault. She was just a scared little girl, but she knew how hard it was to protect another person. “You don’t have to worry about that with me and Jeremy.”
“You, no. Her, I don’t know about. She seemed a little star struck, and not as prepared for this as you are.”
“She’s just a kid, but she’ll make it, and no worries about the star struck thing. Once you opened your mouth and let your attitude out, I think you cured her of that.”
He laughed. “You sure?”
“She’s already killed one of the infected in order to survive. She’s struggling to deal with that but she’ll shake it off.”
“I hope so. All it takes is one person in the group to get frozen in fear for everything to go sideways.”
“She’ll be fine. This isn’t something anyone can actually be prepared for, you know?”
“You seem to be doing fine.”
“Things happened pretty quick after the outbreak. I had to learn how to shove away my fear and other useless emotions and just focus on moving forward. Others might need a bit more time. I lost everything important to me at the start.”
Cruz looked at her with compassion in his hazel eyes. Raven looked away, unnerved. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that. I don’t want your pity, or your condolences. I just want to keep moving.”
He nodded. “If you ever want to talk about—”
“I don’t.”
“Got it. If you change your mind, the offer stands,” he said before letting out a yawn.
“Seriously, Cruz. I’m a good driver. I promise I won’t wreck if you catch some sleep.”
His jaw clenched but after a moment he pulled over to the side of the road. “Just keep heading straight. According to the map, we have a long way to go until we need to make any turns.”
Raven nodded and waited for him to climb back to the middle seat and recline as much as he possibly could with Damian taking up half that seat.
“If we’d been smart, we’d have brought pillows.” Raven laughed at that as she positioned herself in the driver's seat and situated the open map on the passenger seat, finding the angle that would allow her to view it as she drove.
“You won’t need that. When we get to a point where you have to make a decision just wake me up and I’ll take over.”
“You need more sleep than that. I can handle this.”
“Just wake me up,” he said, retrieving the two prescription bottles he kept in the side pocket of his cargo pants.
Raven watched him swallow the pills dry and frown as he looked down at the second bottle, jostling it a little to count what was inside.
“Are we in trouble when you run out of those?”
His response was a glare darker than any she’d seen him give. His hand clenched tight around the bottle.
“I’m not trying to pry,” Raven quickly assured him. “I just meant that if you have a medical condition, we need to make sure you have what you need. Zombies aren’t the only danger we’re facing now that the whole country’s shut down.”
Cruz stared back at her for a moment before stuffing the bottles into his pocket and getting as comfortable as he could. He closed his eyes before saying, “If we see any pharmacies we should stop.”
Well, that didn’t sound bad at all, Raven thought as she pulled the SUV back onto the road and headed North, curiosity eating at her. Maybe he was one of those actors taking prescription medicine for non-medical reasons and she had nothing to worry about. Whatever he was taking it for, it couldn’t be more dangerous than the virus.
She hoped.
“What happened to the girl’s family?”
Hal glanced over at the woman who’d perched herself in the passenger seat after Angela had crawled into the back to sleep. She seemed alright but something tripped his inner alarm. Not loud enough to warrant an immediate execution, but it was pinging just enough to let him know she couldn’t be fully trusted. Granted, in times like these, he doubted
he’d run across many people who he could trust. This was a war between good and evil and anyone who lasted had to be a warrior, and being a warrior did things to a person. It played with their minds, hardened them in ways they never imagined they could be hardened. Some people used that hardening for good. Some lost themselves to it.
Maura Seton looked like a woman who’d already lost part of herself. It was there in her eyes, the cold way she looked at everything, and in her voice. No infliction. She either had no feelings left or she was doing her best to pretend they didn’t exist.
“They died after the outbreak.”
“How?”
“How’d your fiancé die?” he questioned her instead.
“One of those Russian skanks bit him.”
“Skanks?”
Her lip curled in disgust. “What else do you call a woman who makes a mockery of marriage in order to gain citizenship?”
“I see.” Hal sighed. This woman was going to be a pain, so full of hatred. “While I’m sure those cases exist, I can’t believe every single woman from a foreign country who marries an American man is doing it just to get citizenship here. I mean, marriage is a major deal.”
Maura laughed, a horribly patronizing sound. “You’re thinking of these women as if they have morals. They’re no more than prostitutes, only instead of trading their bodies for dollars, they’re doing it for a marriage certificate and a green card.”
“Every one of them?”
“It’s their culture.”
“So you’ve been to Russia?” Hal asked, straining to keep his voice neutral.
“What? Hell, no. Why would anyone want to go to that godforsaken country? Their own women are marrying men thirty years older than them just to get out,” she added with a laugh. “I know people who know people though and you can find everything on the internet. These marriages are all a sham. The only ones that last are the ones where the man is too stupid to know the woman is cheating, or he’s rich enough to keep her. Oh how these skanks love money. Nothing is ever good enough for them. Oh, and the ones where the woman is completely dependent on the man. Those men keep their women uneducated and afraid. Those last, but the rest? Not a chance.”
Hal considered this. “If this is all true, why does it anger you so? Why concern yourself with what women men find their happiness with?”
“Happiness?” Maura scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, the happiness these men imported from Russia brought a deadly virus with it. This whole thing could have been avoided if men didn’t go shipping in wives from other countries, believing all the bullshit they’ve been fed about them being better wives.”
“Russia would have found another way to send the virus here. They obviously wanted to destroy us. This was just the easiest way for them to do it.”
“Are you defending them? Wait, let me guess, you think Russian women are perfect too?”
“I don’t think anyone’s perfect,” Hal answered. “I just don’t judge an entire country’s women based on stories of what a few have done. Maybe it has to do with all the times I’ve been called a thug or a worthless nigger based on my skin.” He gave her a pointed look.
Maura dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “Don’t get racism twisted all up in this. I have no qualms against the color of these people, nor any people. I’m speaking of their culture. Culture is a way people are brought up to act, it defines their beliefs. Racism is completely different.”
“So you’re saying prejudice is fine, as long as you’re not hating on a person’s skin color?”
“I’m saying these specific people have a specific way of life, and it’s not good. They’re immoral people and they’ve brought a virus into our country. Excuse me if I don’t defend them. Why are you?” She eyed him suspiciously. “These women killed that girl’s family. How can you possibly care about her, about her family, and feel anything less than hatred for the she-devils who destroyed it?”
“Paul was my best friend and he was a good man, a great man, full of honor,” Hal said as he navigated the minivan through the dark roads, keeping watch for what roamed the streets during the quiet night. “His first wife died quite a few years back, leaving him with just Angela. I don’t know how he found his second wife, or what it was about her that made him propose, but I know any woman he married, any woman he trusted around Angela had to be a good woman. Elena was from Russia and I will not accept that she intended any harm against Paul or his family.”
“Oh brother.” Maura rolled her eyes and stared out the passenger side window. “Trust me, the woman wasn’t a good woman. Not even close to it.”
“You didn’t know her.”
“Once you know one of them, you know all of them, and I know enough of them to know this is true.”
Hal shook his head and checked the rearview mirror. Angela appeared to still be asleep. “Angela lost her baby sister. You say anything about her family to her and you’re on your own.”
Maura looked at him, eyes burning with outrage before cooling off into an empty stare. “She’ll learn on her own in time, if she survives. Nobody can hide from this truth for long.”
“You said your fiancé got bit by one. I understand being angry over that loss. Revenge is a normal human reaction to that kind of situation, but we have willpower inside us to keep us from turning into monsters ourselves because of the harm inflicted on us by the evil in others.”
“Don’t try to analyze me. I don’t need therapy. I’m not speaking out of revenge or prejudice. I’m simply stating the facts, which may not be politically correct but I don’t think political correctness matters anymore.”
“With all due respect, I don’t think the woman who bit your fiancé was evil, not until her own country made her that way, and in order to do that they had to kill her so she could rise again as a weapon. No person in their right mind would purposely sign on for that.”
“Karma gets us all, Mr. Brown. Those women conned American men into believing they were perfect wives, better than American women. Those men dishonored their own country’s women and shipped in brides. Karma gave them what they deserved.”
“You really think that?” This time Hal couldn’t keep his voice neutral. “That little girl back there had to listen as her father pulled a trigger to take his own life before he had the chance to turn into a monster and attack her. She had to sit in her room with her baby sister, watch that baby girl die then stand up in her crib, completely transformed into a snarling, hungry zombie. I had to shoot that baby in the head and blow its tiny brains out across the pink butterfly wallpaper in their bedroom. Was that our karma? The whole country is under attack because some men chose to marry non-American women? Really?”
Maura shrugged and tightened her grip around the pack she held to her chest like a teddy bear as she sighed and continued looking out the passenger window. “Karma’s a bitch. She feels mercy for no one. She’s probably Russian.”
Janjai sucked in a breath as Hank placed the heavy pack on her back, where it rested right over her scabbed over wounds. The T-shirt she’d had on that day was a waste, but she had found another to wear, once the bleeding had stopped. Fortunately, there had been a first aid kit in the room, although the alcohol and ointment had burned almost as badly as the lashes.
He picked up the other pack and walked over to the door.
“Stay. Behind. Me.” He said each word slowly, pointing to the space behind him. “You understand?”
Janjai nodded, afraid of what they would find but more afraid of angering Hank.
He slid the key into the lock and turned it, slowly opening the door. Janjai held her breath. They’d been in the room so long she’d lost count of days, but she knew those things had gotten in the house.
Hank pushed the door open and stepped out, rifle in his hands.
She followed behind, allowing her eyes to dart all over the dark basement, in search of any signs the room had been invaded.
Hank quickly moved over to the saf
e in the corner and entered in the code on the keypad. The heavy metal door opened, revealing a handgun and several boxes of ammo. He dumped the ammo in his backpack except for what he used to load the handgun. He handed the gun to Janjai, but then snatched it back. “I don’t think I can trust you with this.”
He put the gun in his pack and headed for the stairs, glaring back at Janjai until she stood behind him.
They slowly climbed the stairs. With every creak of the boards, Janjai’s heart seized a little bit more. She feared going into full cardiac arrest before they reached the top. And what would they find at the top? Would all those infected people be standing outside the door, waiting for them? Would their deaths be quick and painless, or would they feel it as Otis had? Would Otis be one of their tormentors?
Hank slowly worked the multiple locks on the basement door, careful to make as little noise as possible. After unlocking the final one, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Janjai assumed he listened for zombies, but how he could hear them over the pounding of her own heart, she had no clue.
He twisted the doorknob and Janjai had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming as fear welled inside her.
Nothing stood in the doorway as the door opened so they stepped through to find the kitchen had been destroyed. The windows had all been shattered and the faucet broken off, presumably under the weight of the zombies who had crawled through the window over the sink to gain entrance before they’d managed to finally smash the back door in. Cabinet doors hung from their hinges, some scattered on the floor among broken dishes.
Janjai, still barefoot after her attempt to flee that night, had to step carefully around the shards of glass and ceramics now littering the floor.
Hank peeked into the living room and quickly pulled his head back out. Janjai became completely still as he raised a finger to his thin lips and gestured for silence. She held her breath as he tiptoed over to the knocked over wooden knife block and grabbed one of the knives that had fallen from it.
Without another word, just a look that demanded she not make a move, he quietly crept into the living room and she heard a series of grunts and pounding noises. Then he whispered her name.