by Amy Miles
Finding an unoccupied table, I toss my bag into a chair and open my food. It doesn’t smell terrible but I learned at an early age that anything that has a five-year shelf life can’t taste that good.
“Yo,” Flynn says and startles me when he slams down into the seat across from me, followed quickly by Vaughn, Ember, and Tyrel, a black guy who I’ve never spoken with before. All that I know about him is from idle observation. He seems decent enough. He is always clean shaven, ambitious and notices everything that goes on around this place. It doesn’t surprise me that he join in with the crew that has just flocked around to harpoon me with a question. What does surprise me is that he has actually separated himself from Isa, his longtime sweetheart whose puppy love eyes make me want to vomit.
“Is there anyone else here that you’d like to blab to?” I grumble and snatch my bag out of the seat before Vaughn sits down on it.
“You can’t unsee something like that, man,” Vaughn says, opening his MRE and dipping his finger inside. He howls and flaps his hand as the gravy burns his finger. Plopping the tip of his finger in his mouth I know that at least for a few moments he will remain blissfully quiet.
“What do you think that was back there?” Tyrel leans forward to ask, leaving the meal before him untouched and forgotten.
He stares at me as if I alone hold all of the answers. Maybe I do know more than some of these sheep but then again I’m just a kid with an open mind and a willingness to use it. These people need to wake up if they stand any chance of surviving.
Those soldiers may have acted on orders when they downed the Dead Head but they were scared. I could see it in the way they held themselves leading up to pulling the trigger and how one of them failed to keep his lunch down. That’s not the reaction of a seasoned killer. Hell, I probably have more field time than they do.
That’s not a very reassuring thought when these are the men who are supposed to be protecting us.
“That was soldiers following orders. End of story.” I stab my fork into my food pouch and look away as I put the meat in my mouth. I’ve found that it’s easier to slide down when you don’t actually look at it.
“I mean with the Stiff. That was pretty messed up, right?”
I look at each of the faces surrounding me. Each of them is leaning in close, eager to hear my opinion. Yeah, I’m not walking away from this table without at last giving them something to chew on.
“It’s evolution.” I swallow my mouthful of food and follow it by a long swig of my water bottle. On any other day, I would pass on lunch and go straight for the turnover. They at least make cardboard taste decent, but today I have a feeling I might need the extra protein.
“Meaning?” Tyrel folds his hands in front of him on top of the table, making him look every bit the part of a well-groomed senator’s son.
The only other thing I know about him is that he is from Georgia too and was turned away from the same camp I had been, despite his upbringing. I guess when the world gets sucked down the crapper it no longer matters how special you once were.
“Meaning that these soldier boys aren’t telling us everything.” I pop a piece of the turnover in my mouth and grit my teeth against the heat that swells around my tongue. Grabbing my water bottle I down half of it before the burning eases.
Everyone waits in silence as I chew. I roll my eyes and lean in, not because I want to be a part of this conspiracy group but because I don't want any more stragglers adding to its ranks. “Look, all I know is there is a hell of a lot of questions and we’ve been given zero answers. Maybe the government really doesn’t know how it all began. I’m no conspiracy theorist but I’d put my money on us as being dirty. We don’t exactly have a great track record. And maybe we aren’t being told anything because there really is no one left to figure it out. I hear rumors the rest of the country has gone dark. Who’s to say the rumors aren’t true? Maybe there won’t be a cure. And maybe those things out there aren’t done changing.”
“But there has to be someone,” Embers says with a voice soft enough for me to feel confident no one else has overheard her. “What about your Dad? Isn’t he helping figure this out?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Because it’s top secret?” Tyrel asks.
I turn to look at him. “No, because he’s a jackass and I could care less.”
Tyrel blinks. I’m not sure that he’s ever known what it feels like to not worship your dad. Unlike his dad, my father did great, yet terrible things. Most of his work was classified of course. The military doesn’t take kindly to letting their little pet doctors run off at the mouth about creating chemical warfare, but I knew. My dad should have known that I was better at picking locks than he ever gave me credit for.
He may have been a real dick when I was growing up, but the one good thing I can say about him is that he placed enough skilled men in my life to teach me how to take care of myself.
“I know only what I see,” I say and look away from Tyrel. “Never believe what you’re told because you can bank on the fact that it’s only a partial truth. Especially when it’s coming from an adult. They don’t think we can handle the truth. Screw that. How as we supposed to survive without it?”
“So you’re saying you think there’s a genuine threat out there?”
I have to restrain myself from laughing in Tyrel’s face. “Of course, there is. You don’t think those AK-47’s out there are water guns, do you? Maybe it will be raiders that get us first. Maybe something else. Either way, we are on our own.”
“They brought us here for a reason, didn’t they? How can you be so sure that they are out to get us?” Vaughn eyes up my partially eaten MRE but I push it against from him, just in case he decides to unwisely make a dive for it.
Holding up one hand, I begin to count my fingers. “First off because they are military and that means they inherently lie for the good of the many. Haven’t you ever watched a post-apocalyptic movie before? It doesn’t end well for the little guys, aka us. Secondly, they refuse to tell us what the other two vials of blood are for that they take each day. I know enough to know that you can get a lot of stuff from a single vial so where is the extra going?
Thirdly you all must have noticed the spur of the moment improvements to fortify this building. I don’t know about all of you but I had a cute little ammunitions gift under my sit this morning. Surely you must have noticed the additional supply runs the soldiers have been doing all week, not to mention the new hardware on the windows and the Do Not Enter signs on the storage room. I had a little look during class and found an arsenal. Do you really think all of this is being done just as a “what if?” These guys run a war like playing chess. The pawns go first while the big boys hunker down and protect their king. We are sitting directly above that bunker.”
“So you’re saying that they have some sort of secret lab sitting directly beneath us?” Flynn asks, lifting his head to glance all around, but Ember and Tyrel never look away.
“It’s not a lab. It’s a fallout bunker or rather a last resort.”
Vaughn scrunches up his nose. “So you’re saying it’s like a bomb shelter.”
“No.” I lean forward and stare him down. “It’s a zombie shelter.”
Ember rolls her eyes. “Oh come on. Now you’re overreacting like Coleman. Did you too hook up in some online gaming room prior to the outbreak because you two are spinning the same wild tales.”
“Am I?” I turn to look over my shoulder at the twitchy kid who is currently bargaining chore duty for an extra two bites of Paislee’s turnover. The dude may be desperate for a sugar fix but at least he’s onto something. “Then maybe you should listen.
I stand up and shove my chair back. “Or don’t. It’s no skin off my back.”
“Wait!” Ember grabs onto my hand. I clench into a fist but don’t pull back. “You can’t just leave like that.”
“Why?” I grin down at her. “You going to miss me?”
“Hardly.�
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Vaughn snickers but instantly straightens when I glare at him.
“Any other reasons,” she presses.
With a heavy sigh, I sink back into my seat. To walk out now would only mean that I’d be followed by an entourage and there’s no way people wouldn’t take notice of that.
“There have been two extractions this week alone and it’s only Tuesday. Last week there were three homes vacated. The week before that was two. Doesn’t that seem like a fairly high failure rate considering how closely monitored we all are?”
I can see several of them nodding in agreement.
“There is another option…”
All eyes turn back toward me. I hadn’t actually meant to reveal my thoughts but if I’m escaping tonight with my mom I might as well do a good dead and warn these people.
“A couple of you may have suspected that I like to take walks.”
“No shit,” Vaughn coughs into his hand in a poor attempt to conceal his comment.
I ignore him as I continue. “You are all right. I do see things. Things that I’m sure we aren’t meant to know. Why else would there be a need for the curfew? It’s bullshit and they know it.”
“Now that I agree with. Flynn, haven’t I been saying that same thing—”
“Shut up, Vaughn,” Ember hisses and slams her foot down on his. Vaughn’s eyes bulge but to his credit, he manages to hold in his cry of pain.
“As I was saying,” I pause to glare at Vaughn just in case he gets any stupid ideas about interrupting me again, “is that I have seen some strange things going on. I don’t think these extractions are totally legit.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Tyrel asks.
“Meaning I think those Raider sightings that we’ve been told about are a bunch of bunk. I think the soldiers are carting own people out into the streets and slaughtering them in cold blood.”
“No. No way, man,” Flynn shakes his head and pushes back from the table. “They wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t they?” I finish the last bite of my turnover and crumple up the wrapper. “Then tell me why we haven’t seen a single raider since we arrived. Tell me where the bodies are going because they sure aren’t burning them in the town square. And how do we even know these people are technically infected at all? What if it’s all a ruse? What if these people are being used for something else?”
“Like what?” Ember whispers and I get another whiff of vanilla when she leans forward.
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s something you should think about, but let’s plays devil’s advocate for a moment. If this outbreak, or whatever it is, is in fact airborne like they claim, we should have all contracted it by now right? And if not, why aren’t we all wearing gas masks? Why only the soldiers?”
“Because we are expendable,” a voice adds from behind us and I look up to see Coleman standing over my shoulder. He has his hands deep in his pockets and his glasses falling down his nose as he walks around me to take the spare seat beside Tyrel. “It’s the basics of any good game. You protect those most valuable to you and let the rest be a distraction.”
“Wait a second,” Vaughn says, breaking his silence as he licks the last traces of gravy from his lips. “Are you saying that we are expendable?”
When I laugh I didn’t bother to hide the bitterness from my voice. “We have been that from day one. Why do you think we are even here, using resources that they should be using on their soldiers to fight the coming war, and trust me when I say a war is coming. What we saw out there by the fence today isn't going to be a single occurrence. What happens when more of them start to wake up? What happens if they start to get violent”
“What if they start to work together against us?” Ember says, her gaze too unfocused to notice my appraising look. I like the way she thinks.
“Exactly,” I chime back in. “You’ve all seen the movies and read the books. Those things out there, the Stiffs or Dead Heads...they aren’t done evolving. What happens if the zombies we all thought we’d someday have to face do finally show up?”
“Dude,” Vaughn blows out a breath and run his hands through his fine hair. In the fluorescent lighting overhead, powered by a military grade generator, he looks sickly. “I’m so not ok with something deciding to gnaw on me like a deep fried chicken leg.”
That is all it takes to break the tension and send a ripple of chuckles through the group. The laughter may be strained but it feels much better than the somber mood we created moments ago.
“All I’m saying,” I say as I grab my MRE trash and stand, needing to get away and decompress from the sudden onslaught of togetherness, “is to keep your eyes open. Things aren’t what they seem and I, for one, am not going down without a fight.”
4
I CAN’T UNSEE THAT!
As midnight approaches, I toss back my covers and ease my feet over the edge of the bed and straight into a pair of unlaced combat boots. I sacrifice precious seconds of light from my iPod in order to see to get dressed. All hopes of going to bed dressed to maximize my time went out the window when Sammy decided to plop down onto his bunk and tell me all about his day.
Good Lord that boy can ramble on.
I almost feel sorry for the kid. If he weren’t so thoroughly annoying he’d be like a little brother to me, but this only child is quite content to stay that way.
The bed creaks when I bend over to tie my shoes, but Sammy just snores on, rolling over to clutch his pillow between his arms like a teddy bear. That thought makes me pause as I wonder about Short Stack. I looked over at the lower grade school several times during the day and wished that I could at least say goodbye to the kid.
I knew he was scared and alone. I couldn’t take him with him, but a part of me kinda wished that I could.
Rising slowly to shrug into my camo jacket and matching hat, I pull it down low over my eyes before heading for the windows. If anyone were to spot me walking the streets tonight I will hopefully blend in with the other soldiers, apart from being weaponless. I have yet to procure one of those but it is high on my to-do list for the night.
Thanks to a bit of pre-planning, I left the window unlocked and slightly cracked before curfew kicked in, a fact that my group mother should have noticed but when she came to lock me down for the night I charmed her with praises on her cooking as a distraction. To be fair, she did manage to whip up something resembling food and it tasted far better than our MRE lunches at school. Besides, it would probably be my last home cooked meal in a very long time.
To say that I like my group home parents, Emily and Rod Philbeck, is a stretch of the truth. It is more like I manage to tolerate them. They treat me like an adult most days and I stayed out of their hair. It has been a decent arrangement.
Sliding the window up just high enough for me to slip through, I quickly lower it before the chill wakes Sammy. I’ve done this enough times to know which shingles are loose and which sections of the sloping roof are soft from years of rain damage as I hurry along. Once I reach the edge, I peer out from under the bill of my hat and see figures moving in the dark beyond the fences.
In the light of day I have a pretty decent view from up here since the perimeter fences are only a couple of blocks away, which also pretty much lands me in the “shit out of luck” quadrant if those bastards ever do decide to get snacky.
Gripping the metal guttering that runs down the side of the house, which I nearly killed myself on the first time I tried to plunge to my death and was forced to commandeer spare bolts and screws to fortify it before attempting the feat again, I monkey climb to the ground. My boots sink into the moist ground when I land and I know that I’m leaving tracks, but I don’t have time to linger. I have been worried all evening that the torrential rains that came through during late afternoon would ruin my plans to locate my mom but they passed through while I was stuck on dish duty after dinner. The sky still looks ominous in the distance and another downpour could unleash at any moment so I will have to
move fast.
Sticking to the shadows, I hurry along the side of the house, weaving around the shrubbery and pause to poke my head out. From down the street, I can see the sweeping floodlight of a patrol truck as it inches along but it isn’t aimed at the houses, but instead outward toward the fence. Several armed soldiers fan out from the truck, spanning the street as they move between the houses.
“I really don’t want to know what they are hunting for,” I mutter and turn to head toward the back fence before they reach me and slam right into Flynn’s chest. The guy is surprisingly firm for having such a lean frame.
“Damn, man,” he gasps and clutches his right arm when I punch him as soon as I regain my footing.
“That’s for scaring the shit out of me.” I punch him again, giving him a second dead arm. “And that’s for being nosy. What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Going with you, of course.”
“No. Not going to happen.” I shove him aside only to find Vaughn standing right behind him. “Oh, come on! I’m not a babysitter or a tour guide.”
“But we want to help.”
Zipping up my jacket, I shake my head. “You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Getting answers, just like we are.” Vaughn at least had the forethought to wear black, instead of his usual boisterous colors. The guy had style but it wasn’t one suitable for reconnaissance.
I take a second to think it over and size them up. Vaughn doesn’t look quite as dead set on the idea of helping me as Flynn is but I know, without taking a step away from them, that they will follow me, and most likely earn themselves two seats in the brig next to me when they get caught trailing me.
With a heavy sigh, I rub the back of my neck. “Fine, but keep your head down and run when I tell you. If you get your sorry butts caught that’s on you.”
Flynn nods. “Deal.”