by Megan Berry
He takes a corner much faster than he should, and then we are on a smaller side street with shady trees overhead. “What about that one?” I ask, pointing to a blue Ford parked up the street.
Silas shakes his head. “It’s too old, the seats won’t match up,” he tells me, and I feel disappointment, though I guess it really couldn’t be that easy.
We drive up and down the smaller side streets, avoiding the main part of town until I see a truck that looks a lot like the truck we’re driving. I must see the truck at the same time Silas does because before I can even open my mouth, Silas slams on the brakes.
We both pull our guns from our hips and ease out of the truck. Silas walks over to the other truck, cups his hands against the window, and examines the upholstery. “It looks the same,” he says, and my heart does a little leap of joy.
Silas reaches over and tries the door handle, but it’s locked. “Damn it!” he cusses.
“What now?” I ask nervously as my eyes scan every nook and cranny in our surrounding area for movement.
Silas doesn’t answer me as he pulls his axe from his belt and swings it as hard as he can at the driver’s side window. “Get ready to move, Blondie,” is the only warning he gives me before the horrible honking alarm starts to go off.
My heart falls to my feet, and I stand rooted to the spot, stunned. Is Silas for real? I stare at Silas as he uses the handle of the axe to clear out the rest of the window and then reaches in and hits the door locks.
“Turn it off!” I demand, but he just shakes his head; he can’t hear me over the screaming alarm.
“Silas!” I squeak, spying a group of curious zombies that comes surging around the corner of the street, but of course, the alarm is so loud he can’t hear me.
Silas has the first door open and is manhandling the front seat out, but he doesn’t have time to place it, so he just chucks it in the truck box on top of our other supplies. A few zombies are staggering out of a nearby house, and I raise my gun and aim at them. The shot goes wide, so I do the craziest thing ever, and run towards them so I can get closer for a better head shot.
The zombies go down hard each with a neat bullet in their brain, they land with a soft thud in the overgrown grass, and I suck in a deep breath as I sprint back towards the truck. Silas has one of the backseats out, but he’s forced to drop it to bring his gun up and take out a zombie that’s gotten way too close.
He shoots me a dirty look as he picks the seat back up, stepping over the corpse to race around to the other side of the truck. I grind my teeth together in frustration. He’s seriously mad at me? He’s the one that set off the zombie beacon! He didn’t even stop long enough to loop me in on his big master plan.
I sense more than feel a shadow fall across my back, and the terror makes me lose my mind. Silas is in front of me, so I know whatever is behind me is nothing good. For a split second I’m almost tempted not to look, but that would be crazy. I spin just in time to avoid a zombie whose teeth have almost made their way into the flesh of my shoulder. “Holy shit!” I yell as I press the muzzle of my gun to the zombie’s face and pull the trigger. He’s so close that I can’t do anything else. I take off at a dead run back towards the truck. I need something solid at my back so I don’t have to worry about attacks on all sides.
More zombies are approaching, and I really don’t see how we’re going to get out of this alive. “Just leave it Silas!” I scream at him at the top of my lungs to be heard over the blaring truck, but he stubbornly shakes his head, reaching into the back of the truck to pull out another seat.
I aim and squeeze off a few more rounds, but my fingers are shaking too much, so my shots aren’t hitting. I stop for a second and shake my fingers out, hoping to get rid of some of my jitters, though it isn’t likely with this many zombies coming at us.
The entire street is filling up with zombies in all directions. Attracted by the noise, they’re swarming like locusts, and I lose my nerve.
“Silas!” I scream, aiming at a zombie that’s gotten so close that I actually hit him. Silas glances up from tossing the other seat in the back of the truck. “We have to go!” I yell to be heard, and thankfully, after taking a look at the crowd, he nods.
The zombies are closing in fast, and I watch Silas climb up into the back of the truck to avoid the few that are snapping at his ankles. It’s a tight squeeze with all the seats he’s jammed up there on top of the stuff we already had.
“Jane!” he yells, taking the keys from his pocket and tossing them over to me, and my heart stutters.
I watch them sail towards me, and I reach for them. They’re almost in my palm when a zombie bumps into me, knocking me back against the truck. I let out a scream, expecting the bite at any moment, but instead I feel the air whoosh by me as a bullet comes within an inch of my skull.
The zombie goes down right on top of the keys, and I let out a frustrated yell as I’m forced to roll the stinking corpse to the side. I grab the keys out of a puddle of black sludge and leap into the truck. I’m glad we didn’t already replace the old gross seats as I wipe the keys a couple times against the filthy upholstery before ramming the key in the ignition, with a quick prayer that the goop doesn’t cause some kind of engine failure.
The truck fires right up, and I let out a sigh of relief, even though we are nowhere close to being home free. Zombies beat against the windows, snarling and snapping at the glass, and through all of that noise I can hear Silas yelling at me to get the hell out of here. I press down on the gas and force the truck through the wall of zombies. They are thickest on the road, so I aim the nose of the truck towards somebody’s once perfectly manicured lawn and pin it when I see a break in the crowd. Zombies bounce off the truck, and I only begin to relax once we’ve outdistanced the horde.
I drive us out of town, and finally the hammering in my heart slows down enough that I can hear other things over the roar in my ears. The first thing I hear is that damn country music cd, and it makes me even madder at Silas.
I reach over, pull it from the disc changer, and chuck it out the window as hard as I can. I feel a small surge of vindictive pleasure doing so, I’m not gonna lie. I drive a few more miles until I’m sure the road is deserted, and then I pull over and get out.
Silas jumps down from the box of the truck and grins at me. I don’t return it. “That was some good drivin’ back there,” he exclaims, his southern drawl extra pronounced in his excitement.
I start walking towards Silas and his stupid grinning face, and Silas, of all the crazy things, holds his arms out to me like he thinks I’m going to hug him! I walk right up to him and give in to the urges I’ve been having for the last few days, and punch him square in the face.
Silas doesn’t move a muscle when my fist bounces off his cheekbone, but I do. My hand feels like it’s on fire. I let out a roar of pain and clutch my throbbing hand to my chest as I double over. I look up to see Silas watching me with a grin on his face, and I’m thunderstruck. He isn’t even mad.
“I might have deserved that,” he admits, surprising the hell out of me.
“Damn right you did,” I say, forcing myself to stand up straight despite the throb in my knuckles. “I threw away your stupid CD too!” I yell at him, and he actually throws his head back and laughs.
“I don’t think Garth Brooks and the Dixie Chicks deserved that, but I did,” he says, and I’m starting to wonder if he didn’t do some sort of voodoo personality swap with one of the zombies back there.
“First time hitting someone?” he asks.
Even though I’m pissed at him, I nod grudgingly.
“Next time don’t put your thumb inside your fist,” he tells me, making me blink in surprise. It’s weird that he would help me because chances are, if there is a next time I punch someone, it will most likely be him!
Silas takes a bottle of water out of his backpack and takes a long swallow before pouring some on a clean t-shirt, also from his bag. He folds it up into a small square an
d passes it over to me. “Put this on your hand for a while. It’s not ice, but it’s the next best thing,” he says, and I reluctantly take it.
“Thanks,” I mumble, feeling guilty when I notice that his eye is starting to get a bit of a bruise.
“Let’s get back, it’ll be dark soon,” Silas says when I continue to stare at his face.
I almost miss the stupid CD on the way back to the farmhouse where we left Ryan and Sunny, neither Silas nor I have much to say, and the silence is a bit heavy.
We pull in, and I’m relieved to see that there aren’t zombies scratching at the outside of the house. Everything looks quiet. The garage door opens as soon as we pull in, and I know that Ryan was watching for us. I can imagine how worried he must have been because, if our roles were reversed, I would have been a wreck.
Silas backs us into the garage, and Ryan pulls the garage door shut. There isn’t a lot of light left, but I can still see a bit in the dimness of the garage. My door is wrenched open, and Ryan pulls me into his arms. I hug him back tightly, glad we made it back to him.
“Sunny was worried about you,” Ryan tells me, and I nod, hiding a smile in his collar—I don’t think Sunny was the only one.
“I’ll go and let her know we’re back,” I tell him, and he presses a kiss to my cheek before letting me go.
“Play nice,” I warn them as I walk away through the darkening house, my cheek tingling where Ryan kissed it. I wonder, not for the first time, what is up with all the chaste pecks? I crave the hungry, open mouthed kiss he gave me back in New York, but he hasn’t made a move like that since. The teenage girl part of my brain agonizes over it. Did he hate it? Is he just not that interested in me? The survivor side of me knows that we don’t have time for fooling around. I make my way upstairs and see a light coming out from underneath the bedroom door.
I walk in to find her playing with the dollhouse. A black garbage bag is taped over the window, and a camping lantern is lighting the place up.
“I’m back,” I say to get her attention, and she jumps up and races over to hug me.
She almost knocks the breath out of me when she connects with my waist with all the grace of a cement block.
“Hey,” I laugh, and she joins in.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she squeals, and her enthusiasm warms me up.
“Me too,” I tell her, and I really mean it.
“Do you want to play dolls with me?” she asks, and it’s a tempting offer. I look back at the door. Silas and Ryan are busy in the garage, so there is no one here to judge me. I look into Sunny’s hopeful face and nod.
“Okay,” I tell her, walking over and grabbing a doll in a sparkly purple dress. Dolls sound like the perfect way to unwind after almost getting eaten alive by zombies.
Chapter Eleven
“You going up to bed?” Silas asks, and I nod.
“I’m gonna go check on Ryan and Sunny, see how he made out putting her to bed,” I tell him, a smile tugging at my lips as I remember the way Sunny insisted that it had to be Ryan who read her a story. “Besides, it’s creepy down here in the dark,” I admit my ulterior motive, and Silas chuckles.
“It is a little grim, being in someone else’s house in the middle of all of this,” Silas admits, and I’m surprised that he’d admit such a thing to me. The living room would have been an ideal place to crash, but with the dog attacks—it’s too gruesome. That’s another reason this place is creeping me out!
We’ve had to hang out in the kitchen all night, and in addition to the chairs being hard and uncomfortable, the entire wall facing out to the back deck is made of glass. It lets in enough moonlight to see, but it’s also creepy and far too big to cover up with garbage bags. So candles and lanterns are out. Glass walls don’t exactly leave me feeling safe from the thousands of zombies wandering the countryside. When I raised the alarm, both Silas and Ryan assured me that the six-foot-tall wooden fence surrounding the backyard would keep the zombies away. I try not to think about the town where I met Silas and how the zombies had managed to push up against the back gate and break it open…
“I might come up with you,” Silas says, pulling my attention away from my dark thoughts. “It’s getting a little cold down here, a smaller room will hold the heat better,” he says, getting up off his chair and stretching his long body until I hear his back pop and crack. I wince, and he smirks at me, having seen my face in the moonlight. I give one last look out at the yard. Tonight is one of those cold, clear nights where the stars look extra bright, and the grass is covered in a thin layer of white frost. Winter is coming, and I am not ready to spend it without electricity and heat.
“Come on,” Silas says gently, touching my arm, and I jerk my gaze away from the window. “It will be alright,” he says, thinking my worry is only for the glass wall. I nod, and he keeps a warm hand on my arm to guide me through the dark house as we make our way upstairs. A crack of light escapes out from underneath the girly bedroom that Sunny has claimed for her own.
Silas and I creep in, not wanting to wake Sunny. Well—I creep—Silas is just naturally stealthy. We both stop and stare at Ryan and Sunny, a smile tugging my lips upward. Ryan is lying on his back with Sunny snuggled up against his shoulder, both of them sound asleep, tucked underneath the pink blanket. Though Ryan has also unzipped his sleeping bag and stretched it overtop the two of them for added heat. I walk over and gently remove the princess book from Ryan’s chest.
Silas grabs his own sleeping bag from our pile of stuff by the Barbie dream house and climbs the ladder to the top bunk. I hesitate, not sure what to do. The beds are only twin sized, and Ryan and Sunny are both sprawled out, leaving me no room to join them.
“I don’t bite,” Silas says with a chuckle from the top bunk, and I pause. It’s no big deal, I tell myself as I walk stiffly over to grab my own pink and red sleeping bag, courtesy of the camping store.
“Will you bring my backpack too?” Silas asks, and I nod as I snag the strap around my wrist and pass both things up to him before kicking off my shoes and climbing the ladder.
I roll my sleeping bag out beside Silas while he’s busy digging in his bag. “I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you,” he says suddenly, and I freeze, my heart accelerating to beat wildly in my chest.
“What?” I squeak, sure I am overreacting.
“Yes,” Silas confirms, grabbing my hand, and I look up at him sharply.
“What are you doing?” I ask in confusion, finally noticing the first aid kit in his lap.
“I want to take a look at those stitches I gave you, it’s probably time for them to come out,” he says, rolling up my sleeve, and I let out a big sigh of relief. I was overreacting, thank God. Silas isn’t interested in me like that. I’m so glad I didn’t freak out at him and make myself look like a fool!
I watch Silas gently poke and prod at my arm. It’s healed up a lot in the last week and a half, and now I barely think about the six-inch cut that runs a ragged line from my wrist towards my elbow. I look like I tried to kill myself.
Silas take a small pair of scissors from the bag, and I snatch my arm away from him. “What are you doing?” I demand, not liking the idea of anything sharp coming too close.
“I have to take out your stitches,” he tells me, surprisingly patient, and I hesitate.
“For Christ sake, you let me put them in didn’t you?” he demands, losing a bit of his cool.
“Yeah, but that was an emergency, and I didn’t know you then,” I quip, making him look up angrily. Though when he sees the smile on my face and knows I’m only teasing, he relaxes again.
“Keep it up and these stitches will start growing into your skin,” he warns me, and that does it for me. I hand over my arm.
“Is this going to hurt?” I can’t help asking. I’m a baby, and I know it.
Silas shrugs, and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. “No vodka today?” I ask, and he laughs.
“It won’t be that bad,” he promises, using the
scissors to snip the knots at either end of the stitching. I wince, expecting pain, but it doesn’t hurt.
Silas carefully picks up one end of the thread and starts to tug it loose, and a burning sensation tears through my wound.
“Hey!” I almost yell before remembering to lower my voice, so it’s a whisper yell.
“It burns a bit, kind of like rope burn, but that’s all,” Silas tells me as he gives it another tug. It’s not horrible pain, but it’s also not pleasant. My eyes water a bit as Silas tugs the last piece of thread out. “All done,” he tells me, holding the string up like some sort of prize. “Do you want to keep it as a memento?” he asks.
I frown at him and shake my head. “No thanks,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I think the scar will be memento enough to remember the time I almost died,” I tell him, and he nods, tossing the string over the edge of the bed. I almost tell him to get up and put it in the garbage properly, but I guess it doesn’t matter.
I stare down at my arm, at the jagged scar. It isn’t pretty, but I’m alive, and considering the circumstances, Silas did a pretty good job. I look over at him as he tucks away his tools and have to suppress a snicker. I can’t believe I ever thought this guy was a doctor.
Silas looks up and sees me grinning at him and smiles back. I run my hand over the scar, surprised at how fast the human body can heal itself. It barely hurts anymore, just the odd twinge when I try and do something crazy.
I tug my vest and weapons off, but leave them close by. Then I crawl into my sleeping bag that Silas has kindly unrolled for me and settle in, letting out a sigh as my tired, aching body finally has a chance to relax. I’m much too young to be this sore and tired at sixteen!
“What was your life like before?” I blurt out and feel Silas stiffen beside me. “Sorry,” I apologize, but he shakes his head.
“It’s okay,” he says, surprising me. “I’d just graduated high school a few months before all this started,” he says after a minute of silence—I didn’t really think he was going to answer. “I still lived at home, didn’t go to college or anything like that, but I was working in a welding shop, making pretty good bank.” I look over at Silas, but he’s staring up at the ceiling like he can see his old life up there.