by A. R. Shaw
“I’m okay,” she said, “but my head really hurts.”
A little concerned, Graham looked her over again. He didn’t see anything unexpected, considering her injuries.
“Let’s put some ice on your head to keep the swelling down. You just took the painkillers, too, right?” he asked her.
“Yeah, I took two just like it said on the bottle,” Marcy said.
“How old are you girls?” he asked.
“We’re fifteen, but I’m older than Macy by five minutes,” she said.
He smiled at the girls, amused that she had said something normal in this abnormal world. “Well, you keep taking those pills every six hours then,” he said.
“All right, let’s get you in the backseat and warmed up. Then we’ll load up the rest of this stuff,” he said.
Graham lifted the girl, making sure he didn’t disturb her wound, and carried her out into the misty cold. He opened the door to the backseat and slid her in onto the warmth of its vinyl.
“You couldn’t find anything newer?” she asked.
“No; we were actually lucky to find this one,” he said.
“At least it’s warm,” she conceded.
He shut the door gently and then looked over at the dog, who watched his every move. Graham moved over to the back, opened the top window and then lowered the tailgate.
“Come,” Graham said to Sheriff, who just looked up at him, not knowing what he wanted. Then Graham said, “Hmmm, what’s your language, big guy?”
Macy pushed one of the carts through the door, coming around to the back of the vehicle. “Do you know what kind of commands to use for him?” he asked her.
“I have no idea. He just jumped into the backseat of the last car we were in. I haven’t tried to tell him anything.”
“Well, let’s try this, then,” he said as he patted the back of the tailgate of the truck. Sheriff did a running turn and jumped right up and in. “Good boy!” Graham said and scratched Sheriff behind the ears. “Bet you’re getting hungry too.”
“Bang found some dog food,” Macy said. “They’re fast friends, those two,” she added, while handing Graham the food supplies from the cart.
Graham loaded quickly, tossed everything lightly into the back. Sheriff walked up to Marcy and sniffed at her head rising over the headrest. She reached up and patted the dog, who sat on his haunches and let her continue the affection.
“Wish I had listened to you, boy,” she said lightly.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Marcy. Don’t regret; it does you no good, believe me,” Graham said, speaking loud enough for all of them to hear.
“Look, we all have to be more careful now. There are wild animals everywhere, and a few people who are willing to hurt you, for whatever reason. These are the new rules now. No one goes anywhere without telling me, and you must always have someone with you at all times. I’ll carry my weapon with me wherever we go and you three need to learn to do the same. A ruler and an ice scraper aren’t bad, but they’re not good enough to defend yourself with.”
The girls looked at one another.
“I know we haven’t really talked about this, but it’s your choice. You two should decide together. After we load up, we’ll go get the bikes that Bang and I hid last night, then go over to your dad’s place. Girls, I’m pretty sure you know he’s not with the living, but we’ll go there and make sure at least. Then it’s up to you two if you want to come with Bang and me up to my cabin in Cascade. It’s safer there. I know the hunting and fishing grounds, and not that many people know the area. Those fires over there”—he pointed toward Seattle—“are inching their way over here and I don’t want to be anywhere close to them when they get here. Besides that, this place welcomes people and you don’t know what kind you’re dealing with. I’m not saying it’s bad to stay here, just that I’m not. It’s up to you to come with me or stay by yourselves. There are a lot of houses that are livable if you want to stay.”
The girls looked at one another again and Macy spoke first. “We’re going with you—at least I am. I don’t want to stay here. Do you, Marcy?”
“No way, not after this,” Marcy said and gestured openly with her hand. “I can still feel him here,” she said, with goose bumps rising and shuddering from a chill.
“All right, then, I just wanted to make sure you realized it was your decision,” Graham said, and continued loading what little food they’d managed to find. It wasn’t a lot, but it might get them through a couple of weeks.
Graham walked back to the market and scanned the inside, retrieving the red ice chest he’d packed earlier, and looked around for anything he thought they should also grab. He noticed a few fire starter logs and took them, as well as several lighters and a snow shovel leaning near the entrance door. He carried the goods out with Bang’s help and locked up the back end of the truck while Macy and Bang climbed in the backseat next to Marcy. Before Graham got in, he noticed the sickly sweet burning smell again, coming from the damp, smoking blue trash bin, and his stomach clenched. “Sorry, Campos,” he said under his breath. He meant it, but he wouldn’t regret what he’d done.
Graham got into the running vehicle and headed over to where he’d stashed their bikes the night before. For him it was returning to where Campos had struck Marcy the first time and, more important, where Graham had failed. Hopefully the lesson he’d learned would stick with him.
Shutting off the truck, Graham said, “All right, Bang, let’s go get the bikes and stuff. Girls, this shouldn’t take long,” he added, shutting the doors to keep in the warmth. Graham looked around to make sure there were no predators; he could not be too careful these days.
Graham and Bang walked between the cars and over to the brush where they’d hidden their bikes and trailer, only to find that something had tried to get into the plastic storage bin containing their food. The shower curtain was ripped to shreds and scattered about. The rifles had been tipped onto the ground but, thankfully, they were still there.
The first aid kit was smashed and scattered all over the ground, but to Graham’s amazement, the storage bin itself was intact and unmolested.
They unhitched the trailer and left it where it was. “I wish we could take it,” Graham said, “but there’s not enough room.” He picked up the gun cases and the storage bin and balanced them on the seat of his bike. Meanwhile, Bang retrieved his bike and then they both made their way back to the truck, winding through the scattered maze of cars. Graham took a second to look down the highway and noticed several dogs milling about below the overpass. One looked up at him. “Hurry up, Bang,” Graham warned. “If they come up here, just drop the bike and run for the truck,” he said.
They both picked up their pace as one of the dogs lifted its head at their scent and barked, alerting the rest of the pack. Graham heard growling and turned around just in time to see the boy let a little arrow fly into a coyote’s side as it snuck up behind them. The coyote let out a yelp and took off in the opposite direction.
“Okay, that’s enough for me, leave the bike,” Graham said, and awkwardly grabbed the tote with the guns balanced on top in his right arm and reached down and pulled Bang up in the other. He ran the rest of the distance to the truck, with more of the pack in pursuit behind them.
Graham opened the front passenger door, pushed Bang in roughly, and then stuffed the bin in right behind him. He then jumped in himself and quickly closed the door.
As they looked out the windows they saw a large coyote come to the rise, followed by a Rottweiler barking insanely. Sheriff growled in their direction, the fur on his back standing on end. Somehow, domestic dogs had gone so far as to join with the wild packs. The girls were shouting and crying and Graham turned around to them, waving his hand up and down, trying to calm them.
“It’s all right, we made it back,” he said. “Whew, that was too close!” He climbed over the bin, and lifted Bang back to the passenger side. “You’re pretty good with that bow and arrow, buddy!”
he said.
“Those are bad dogs,” Bang said, pointing. “They’re coming over here,” he cautioned.
The girls’ cries started to increase as they remembered their drive the day before. Graham started the engine and circled around, even though the dogs were many now and they were jumping and snarling at the truck.
He sped down the main street and turned left toward the apartment complex beyond. The dogs gave up the chase before long. “Okay, girls, can you give me some directions here? Which building is it?” Graham asked.
Marcy pointed to a gray building with white trim and looked up through the back window at the second floor pointing north. “That’s it, number B204,” she said.
The building itself was fairly new, built within the last two years or so; Behind it there were several more, still under stalled construction. Graham stopped the truck and let it idle right in front of the breezeway that led to the stairs of the building; he looked out the back windows and didn’t see any vicious canine brigades. He turned off the engine and then turned back to the girls. “I think I should go up there first. Do you have a key?”
Macy pulled at a lanyard around her neck that held a key hidden within her shirt. She took it off and handed it over. “It’s the first door on the left there,” she said, pointing to the second floor.
“Don’t forget the rifle. It’s in his closet,” Marcy added. She paused, then said, “His name is Brian.”
Graham nodded to them, not sure what else to say; he looked deep into Marcy’s eyes, and then Macy’s. He took the lanyard and said, “Keep the doors closed, and if there are any issues, honk the horn. I’ll just be a minute.”
All three nodded in unison. Graham looked at the dog and said, “You’re in charge, Sheriff,” and the shepherd returned the look with smiling eyes. Graham saw Bang grin back at the dog, then switch his gaze to the girls’ faces. The kid sobered quickly. After one quick survey of the world outside, Graham stepped out and silently closed the door, taking his rifle with him.
When he approached the building, Graham noticed debris scattered around the concrete breezeway. What looked to be cheese crackers and cereal were strewn all over.
The door to the apartment wasn’t locked or even fully closed, and Graham had a bad feeling about what lay inside. He pushed the door open a little and looked around, holding his rifle up as he entered. The smell hit him right away, pushing him back out the door. He looked down at the truck below and then pulled his jacket back up over his nose and mouth. He entered again and pushed the door against something lightly blocking it. He looked around the door itself and found a large unopened bag of sugar, just lying there wedged against the wall as if someone dropped it on his way out. The place was a mess, and the smell was terrible. Someone was dead in there somewhere. Though Graham couldn’t see the body, he had no doubt that the girls’ father had perished.
The lights to the kitchen on his right were blinding. He kept his rifle out and peered around the counter, scattered with cans of corn, a box of gelatin, and another of pancake mix, opened and spilled of its contents.
Nobody’s in here, he thought. Then he looked over at the couch in the little living area, covered in tossed clothing. On the wall above the sofa he recognized two photos of the smiling girls, Macy and Marcy. One was a gold-framed picture of the girls and their father on what looked like a family fishing trip; each proudly held up a fish.
Graham made his way over to the bedroom and pushed the door, which was slightly ajar. He opened it farther with the end of his rifle.
What he saw wasn’t a victim of the pandemic but a bloody massacre. Two decomposing bodies were sprawled on the bed. The odor even seem to latch onto his eyeballs. He dry-heaved, then pulled the coat closer to barricade his senses further if it could. There was a man, or what looked like one, with a gunshot wound to the face and blood spray covering the wall behind him. A naked woman lay across his middle, face down; she appeared to have taken a shot to the back of the head.
Graham looked around quickly for any rifle within the closet and around the room, but it was clear the place had been ransacked, and a rifle would have been among the first things taken. He quickly made an about-face and ran toward the living room. He picked up the two pictures he’d seen on the wall and left, closing the door behind him as best he could. He looked down at the truck below and dreaded what he had to do now.
Checking below the stairs for any predators, Graham walked around to the driver’s side and entered the truck. He was glad to have fresh air to breathe into his lungs, even if it was cold and damp. “Here, I thought you might want these,” he said, and handed the pictures over to the girls who had wide, questioning eyes. “He’s not alive; I’m sorry,” he said.
Marcy said, “I want to see.” She looked beyond Graham, staring out the windshield.
“Let me tell you something, Marcy. You don’t want to see that. I’m telling you,” he said, shaking his head.
Macy cried now, and tears ran down Marcy’s face too. “I don’t know if I can believe you if I don’t see him,” Marcy said.
Taking a deep breath and fully understanding her statement, Graham said, “I know, but, Marcy, I don’t think he died of the virus. I think he was killed for supplies.” Then he added, “There’s food all over, like someone tried to cart it all off at once. I think he was shot in his sleep. He didn’t suffer. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t want you to see this.” Marcy let the tears roll, sobbing and holding her sister. Now they knew for sure, but the truth held no hope, and they were alone in the world together.
Graham let them be and turned his attention to the road; he needed to make distance between this place and the place he would be take them. He headed back out to the main road and scoffed at his own habit of putting on the loud turn signal, flipped it off, and turned left. They all looked at the parking lot in front of the market, the blue trash bin still smoking in front of it, as they headed out and they saw a black crow nibbling at bits on the pavement. No one said a word as they headed to the other end of town, where the final makeshift gate remained, blocking their freedom.
Graham put the truck in park and looked around before heading out to move the barrier. He didn’t feel the need to reclose it now, and when he got back into the cab, they drove on without looking back.
What should have taken them five hours to drive had culminated into a full day, a rescue, a murder, surgery, and a discovery that would remain with Graham forever. He looked back in his rearview mirror at the girls, and farther to the dog looking out the back window, then over to the boy looking up at him, and realized how much his life had changed in forty-eight hours with the death of his original family and the accumulation of this new one in such short order.
His Nelly would have loved each of them, and he was sorry she wasn’t here now, especially knowing she would instinctively know how to comfort the girls grieving in the backseat.
“Bang, why don’t you open the bin and get the map out for us,” Graham said to the boy. He did, and Graham saw how the boy smiled up at him whenever he asked for his help.
24
On the Road
The trip north was a winding one, through forests, over hills, and into valleys. In most ways it seemed like any drive through the countryside in the fall—until Graham noticed that the brown cows who usually grazed in open fields were eating the tender green blades along the roadside and sometimes lounging on the warm blacktop road.
It had only been a day since Graham and Bang had left his home, but it felt like a week or more; Graham could feel the soreness in his shoulders from so much exertion earlier in the day. Pushing the memories of the awful day from his mind, he looked in the rearview mirror at Macy and Marcy, each gazing out her own window, but each also holding the other’s hand at the center of the backseat. He knew he’d have to stop in an hour or so to change Marcy’s bandage and find something in the back to eat.
When they got to the cabin they would have to take an inventory of their food
and then look in town for more. He remembered there was a little store, though he was sure it was mostly open only during the summer months. He hoped they still had some supplies in there.
It had only been an hour since they’d left, and everyone was caught up in quiet thought. Too quiet, Graham thought. He reached over and turned on the radio, which emitted static at first. There were no search buttons on this thing. He turned the tuning knob slowly and tried to find some sign of life.
Macy said out of boredom, or curiosity, “What are you doing?”
“I’m checking to see if there are any news broadcasts or anything out there. Did you girls listen to the news after all this happened?” he asked.
“Yeah, but we were waiting for Dad . . .” Macy said; then she looked over at Marcy.
“We thought we should stay where we were so he could find us,” said Marcy. “Then, when he did not call back, we thought we should go find him.”
“The first broadcast said to go to the high school near where we lived, but then the next day it said not to. So we didn’t really know what to do,” Macy added.
“Yeah, I think everything happened so fast that there was a lot of confusion. And then it ended,” Graham said, raising his eyebrows as if to say he had no other answers and then pausing with a catch in his throat. “Anyway, here we are now.”
They were silent once again except for the sound of the static Graham made with the radio knob and the noise of the engine propelling them farther north on the wet highway.
Marcy began to nod off, and Graham saw Macy made her sister more comfortable so that she could fall asleep. He felt again he’d done the right thing; these twins needed each other, and he had saved them. Finally he found a beeping sound that was not static and tried to fine tune the station further. A woman’s dour voice began repeating an announcement he’d heard parts of before.
“This is a public service message. This pandemic was a weaponized attack starting in China. Due to faulty security measures, it quickly grew out of China’s control and spread globally. There is no one left to blame now. Fewer than 2 percent worldwide show immunity to this virus; some will try to hide from its effects, but those who are survivors most certainly are carriers.”