Zomb-Pocalypse 2

by Megan Berry

  I watch them look around the corner of the house to see if there are any more nasty surprises lurking around, but they must not see anything because I see Silas pointing towards the trailer, looking like he’s cajoling. Ryan obviously gives in because they walk over side by side. Silas gives the door an experimental tug, and it surprises us all by opening right up. They step back as they wait to see if something stumbles out to attack them, but everything is still, and after a moment they jog up the steps with their guns at the ready.

  I hold my breath until I see Ryan poke his head out and motion for me to join them. I reach over, wincing when my rib sends a jolt of pain racing through my body, and I gently shake Sunny awake.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I tell her, realizing with a pang that it’s the same thing my Mom used to say to get me out of bed every morning.

  Sunny is instantly alert, most likely a product of all the horrors we’ve been through lately. “Where’s Ryan?” she asks automatically, and I point out the window for her.

  Her eyes follow the direction of my finger, and she visibly relaxes when she spots him. “What are we doing?” She directs her question at me, even though her eyes never leave Ryan.

  “Stopping for the night,” I tell her, gingerly jumping down from the truck and opening the back door so I can give her a hand out. She takes my hand with a serious look on her face, and together we make our way to the travel trailer.

  “What is this?” Sunny asks when we climb up the steps and find ourselves inside a pretty luxurious set up.

  “This is how rich people go camping,” Ryan says with a laugh, and I have to smile at his joke. He’s right on the money.

  “We used to live in a trailer like this, only it was bigger and not as nice,” Sunny says as she walks towards the back where there is a set of bunk beds and claims the bottom bed for herself. “Ours didn’t have wheels,” she clarifies as she sits down and pulls out one of her dolls.

  I look around the camper, and it really is nice. It even has stone counter tops, a much bigger fridge than I was expecting, and a stove! “There’s even a bathroom,” Silas says with a grin as he opens up a doorway and points inside. I walk over and take a peek into the smallest bathroom I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “Everything is mini,” I say as I stare at the tub that doesn’t quite look big enough for me to actually bath in comfortably. It will probably be perfect for Sunny though.

  “I’m going to go take a look around for some propane bottles…we might be able to get some heat going and even have a hot shower,” Silas announces as he makes his way to the door, leaving us to stare after him open mouthed.

  “Is there anything that guy doesn’t know everything about?” I ask Ryan, making him shrug as he takes a seat at an actual table with bench seats on either side—it kind of reminds me of those restaurant booths, but smaller.

  Silas is only gone a couple of minutes when the door opens again, making me jump. “It’s only me,” Silas says, catching the look on my face.

  “I know that,” I tell him, not liking the fact that he’s actually being nice to me—it means he pities me, and I’d rather have asshole Silas telling me to get over it than that.

  Silas ignores me, and walks over to the thermostat that’s located just outside the bathroom door, and starts pressing buttons like he knows what he’s doing. A humming noise begins from somewhere deep in the bowels of the trailer, followed by a slight woofing sound as the furnace ignites and warm air begins pumping through the vents.

  It doesn’t take very long for the trailer to heat up and make me uncomfortable in all my layers. I peel off my vest and sweater, right down to my thin t-shirt, marveling at how fast technology, even something like indoor heat, starts to feel weird if you go without it for long enough.

  I bet if my cellphone suddenly started working again too, I would find it so strange to pick it up and be able to have that convenience again! I spent my whole life surrounded by technology, and it only took a couple of weeks on the road, amid a zombie infestation, to wipe it from my mind.

  Silas seems satisfied with his work and walks over to lock the outside door before peeling off his shirt as he walks towards the bathroom. “I call first shower… because I’m the one covered in blood,” he says, and none of us argue—he’s earned first dibs on this one.

  I prowl around the trailer, appreciating the plush carpeting beneath my feet in the back bedroom with the bunk beds. There is another bedroom, at the very front when you first walk in, that looks like the master. I open cupboards and find a few canned goods, a bag of marshmallows, and even some pots and pans.

  “Why wouldn’t these people take the trailer with them when they left?” I ask, completely stunned that someone would ignore this gem. It’s practically a mini house. I look over at Ryan, and he looks uncomfortable.

  “They didn’t exactly leave,” he tells me, fiddling around with his fingers, and my stomach does a sick flip flop.

  “They were infected?” I ask, even though I honestly don’t want to know, and Ryan nods.

  “Inside the house. We put them down,” he trails off, not wanting to go into the gory details.

  Silas steps out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam and interrupts our disturbing conversation. “Why are you guys sitting here in the dark?” he asks, grinning when we look back at him blankly.

  He wanders around, sliding the blinds down over all the windows. “The glass is tinted, and these blinds are specially made to keep the light in,” he tells us, making me wonder how he knows all this stuff.

  Then he reaches up and hits one of the buttons on an overhead light, and it actually turns on.

  “How did you do that?” I demand, feeling like Silas just created electricity like some sort of ancient deity.

  “This trailer runs off of a twelve volt battery. It might not have enough juice to last till morning, but we can use it for now. We can even charge it off the truck, if we want,” he spouts off knowledge that blows me away.

  “How do you know so much about this?” I ask. We never had any sort of recreational vehicles.

  Silas shrugs. “My parents had just gotten a new travel trailer, very similar to this one, for their anniversary. We camped in it all summer.” Silas stares at the wall for a minute before looking up at me. “You gonna go hop in the shower, Blondie?” he asks, changing the subject, and I nod.

  “You bet,” I tell him, picking up my backpack and dragging it into the tiny bathroom with me.

  I poke around a bit to see what kind of treasure came with the rig, and I discover some fluffy towels beneath the sink, as well as a couple rolls of toilet paper, some chemicals for the trailer’s plumbing, and a bottle of Ibuprofen. I peel my clothes off and stare down at my upper body. There is a huge bruise over my rib cage that is already an angry purple with a hint of a yellow tinge around the edges.

  I wince and pop a couple of the aspirin from the cabinet as I turn the water on as hot as I can stand. The tub is small and irritating, but it isn’t half bad as a shower, and having hot water makes everything else seem tolerable.

  I wish I could stay in the shower all day, but I don’t want to hog all the hot water, so I cut it short, breathing in steam as I wipe the condensation from the mirror and examine myself. Even with the heat on, the air still has a bit of a chill.

  I get dressed in a comfortable pair of navy sweats and a pink waffle knit, thermal top before grudgingly forcing myself to leave the comforting confines of the mini bathroom.

  Silas and Ryan are deep in conversation but break apart when they see me. “What’s going on?” I ask, though I’m not sure if I could gracefully handle bad news right now—obviously Ryan is thinking the same thing.

  “Nothing,” Ryan says, getting to his feet and giving me a quick squeeze as he walks by to take his own turn in the shower.

  I make my way over to where Silas is still sitting on the couch and sit down beside him. “What’s going on?” I ask, knowing he will be straight with me. He lo
oks at me like he’s gauging if I can take it or not, before nodding.

  “That church,” he says, digging in his pocket and pulling out a smoke. He puts it between his lips but doesn’t actually light it, and I can’t help but think that maybe I’ve gotten through to him about smoking around Sunny. “Danvers was a nut. He thought the zombies were part of the Rapture.” Silas pulls the smoke out of his mouth and tucks it behind his ear. He seems a lot more unsettled tonight than I’ve ever seen him, and I have to wonder if killing is really that easy for him after all. “They were killing people,” he tells me, and his words make my blood run cold.

  “All those vehicles in the parking lot?” I ask, and Silas nods his head.

  “They were all dead. Men, women, and kids. They were dumping the bodies in one of the rooms, that’s why it smelled like that…” he trails off, and I know what he saw is haunting him pretty bad tonight.

  I gently put my hand on his arm, and for once he doesn’t immediately yank it away. “There must have been a hundred bodies,” he says, and I don’t ask any more questions, letting him pick what he wants to share with me. Silas snorts with laughter, even though he and I both know there is nothing funny about what we saw at that church. “He was completely nuts,” he says again, shaking his head. “He actually thought he was doing God’s work. All those people came to him for comfort and he killed them all. He thought the survivors were God’s chosen, and by killing them he was separating their souls from their bodies and letting them pass through to Heaven.”

  Silas is actually shaking as he finishes his story, and I instinctively move in closer and hug him. He surprises me by not immediately rejecting me like he always does and instead he wraps his arms around me tightly. He squeezes me so hard that I let out an involuntary yip of pain when my ribs protest, and he releases me immediately.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles, getting to his feet to open a cupboard door and stare inside. “I’m starving,” he says, his drawl thicker than usual, and just like that, Silas is back to his regular self, or pretending to be anyway.

  I blink up at him in surprise and then get to my feet, wincing a little. Silas turns around and catches the grimace on my face.

  “I should check out those ribs, make sure they aren’t broke,” he says, coming to stand in front of me, and I blush when he gently grasps the bottom of my shirt. “…unless you’d rather Ryan took a look at it,” he says, his hand pausing.

  “I…” I begin, not really sure what to say. I wouldn’t be any more comfortable lifting my shirt for Ryan.

  “It’s just your ribs,” Silas says calmly. “You’d show more skin in a bathing suit.” His words do calm me a little, since I did use to rock a pretty awesome bikini, so I give a quick nod. He gently peels my shirt up just high enough to see my rib cage, stopping before he exposes my bra.

  He glances up at me sharply when he sees the bruising. “You should have said something—does it hurt?” he lectures, and I give him a rueful smile.

  “Only when I breathe,” I retort, not wanting to admit how badly it actually does hurt. Silas stares at me grimly without cracking so much as a smile, and I feel the urge to squirm beneath his gaze. Thankfully he looks away, back at my ribs, and gently runs his fingers along each rib. I know he isn’t pressing hard, and it doesn’t hurt until he gets to the two bottom ribs where I took the full force of the kick.

  I grit my teeth while he prods away. When he finally removes his hand, my legs go weak with relief, and I have to grip the table for support. “You were lucky, nothing is broken,” he says, and I nod, grateful that it wasn’t worse. “It’s very likely that your ribs are bruised or cracked though,” he says, dumping cold water all over my gratitude. I frown at him, panic starting to bubble up in my chest.

  Bruising doesn’t sound like more than a mild annoyance, but the cracked word has me scared. “What does that mean?” I demand, terrified that I am in need of a hospital, with none around.

  “It’s impossible to tell without an x-ray, but fortunately both are treated the same way,” Silas says, stepping back and letting my shirt fall back down as he reaches for his pack. When he steps away, I can clearly see Ryan silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, and for the life of me I have no idea how we didn’t hear him come out.

  “Ryan,” I squeak, feeling like I’ve been caught doing something inappropriate, even though I know that isn’t true.

  Ryan frowns at me. “Why didn’t you tell us your ribs hurt?” he demands, sounding very much like Silas, and it takes a minute for me to realize that he isn’t yelling at me for letting Silas feel around beneath my shirt.

  I take a deep breath of relief and wince when it hurts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a bother,” I tell them honestly, and they both frown at me.

  “You’re never a bother,” Ryan tells me gently.

  “You are a bother, especially when you get hurt and don’t tell anyone. You’re a huge pain in the ass,” Silas says at almost the same time, and if it didn’t hurt so much, I probably would’ve laughed my head off. These two really are polar opposites.

  Silas is unrolling a long tensor bandage from his bag when Sunny comes wandering out of her bunk. She drops her Barbie on the floor and looks up at us with her lower lip trembling.

  “What’s wrong with Jane?” she asks, and I force a smile on my lips, solely for her benefit. “Is she going to die?” she asks, her voice getting louder with each tremble, and thankfully Ryan jumps to my rescue.

  “Nothing, sweetheart. She just has a small owie.”

  I grin at Ryan using the word “owie.”

  “Why don’t I run you a nice warm bath?” Ryan suggests instead, and Sunny gives him the biggest smile ever. It’s probably been a while since she had hot water, if she’s had any since the zombies came.

  Ryan runs Sunny some water and then leaves the door open so we can all hear her splashing around, leaving Silas the unpleasant task of bandaging my ribs. Unpleasant for me—not Silas. I let out a yelp, and Silas hands me a pillow to put over my face so I won’t freak Sunny out—how kind.

  When Silas finishes, my ribs ache worse than they did before. “Hopefully it isn’t serious, and you’ll feel better in a couple days,” he tells me, digging in his bag and shaking out a couple pills. I look at his hand suspiciously, debating if I should take them or not.

  “This isn’t going to knock me out is it?” I can’t help asking, and Silas shakes his head impatiently.

  “No,” he tells me, and feeling reassured, I finally take them. I trust him enough not to lie to me. “It would be better if we had some ice,” he tells me as he puts all his stuff back in his bag. “You should lie down and relax for a bit,” he suggests, and Ryan nods too.

  They insist that I take the big bed at the front, and then Ryan and Silas deal with Sunny and prepare dinner. Ryan even brings me dinner in bed, even though I protest that I’m fine.

  “Just rest your ribs, Jane!” Silas calls from the table, and I lie back with a sigh and try to accept their help graciously.

  The excitement of the day, the warm meal, warm shower, and warm air filling the trailer, all combines to knock me out practically as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  I wake up suddenly when something grabs my face and begins to pry my eyelids open…

  “Is she dead?” Sunny asks, letting out a shriek and jumping back when I wake up with a yelp, my arms flailing.

  “Sunny. We told you to let Jane sleep!” Ryan says, stepping into the room and scooping Sunny up in his arms. “Sorry about that,” he says to me, and I shake my head as I struggle to sit up.

  “It’s okay. What time is it?” I ask, letting loose a big yawn.

  “Eight,” Ryan says, checking the watch on his wrist, and I’m surprised I was able to sleep that long—even more surprised that I managed to have such a good sleep after killing a man the day before.

  “I’m glad Sunny woke me up.” I reassure the little girl, and she beams at me. “You two probably would’ve let me sleep all da
y!” I tell them, only half joking. Sunny nods her head emphatically, confirming my suspicions. “I want to reach the cabin today,” I tell them, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and getting gingerly to my feet.

  My ribs protest, but already the pain isn’t as bad as it was yesterday. I think it probably is just some minor bruising, and I have no doubt that, if I still had access to an internet search, I could confirm it.

  “I don’t want to leave this house,” Sunny pouts, folding her arms over her chest and looking totally adorable, even though she’s mad.

  “We might be able to take it with us,” Ryan tells the little girl, and that’s news to me.

  “We will?” I ask, and Ryan nods.

  “We were talking about it last night, and Silas checked the weight against what the truck can haul and we’re good to go on that front.”

  “Where is Silas…?” I ask, falling silent when we all hear a masculine shout from outside the trailer.

  Ryan and I look at one another, twin expressions of worry etching deep lines in our faces, before running for the door, our guns in hand.

  I just barely have the presence of mind to tell Sunny, “Go hide in the bathroom, and don’t come out!”

  Then Ryan and I are racing outside, barely pausing before we throw the door open, our eyes looking everywhere for danger, ready to fight off an unknown number of zombies to save our friend.

  My eyes land on Silas, and we both dig in our heels and stop in surprise. I was expecting to find Silas locked in a death struggle with zombies, possibly even bitten already… Instead, Silas is standing a few yards away with his gun trained on the back of a guy wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, who it appears he just caught digging around in the back of our truck.