by Mark Lukens
She checked the bathrooms again, propping the door open with a chair. She pulled her little flashlight out and turned it on, shining the beam at the sinks. She tried the faucets again, turning both of them on, hoping that some water might come out. She wanted to wash her face and hands. But no water came out. The faucet didn’t even make a gurgling sound now—nothing. There was a sickly smell coming from the two stalls, one of them for the handicapped. Even as bad as the smell was, she realized that she urgently needed to use the bathroom.
There was still some toilet paper on the spindles in both of the stalls, and she planned on taking both of the rolls with her. She chose to use the handicap stall, layering some toilet paper on the seat before she sat down. She was nervous sitting on the toilet, afraid that as soon as she sat down something would happen. But her stomach was cramping badly. Maybe she was going to be sick. Maybe some of the water she’d drunk hadn’t been totally clean.
Another fear was that she’d be too nervous to go, but that fear was alleviated pretty quickly when she went right away. And no diarrhea—she was happy about that.
After Kate was done, she took the two rolls of toilet paper. She hoped to find more in a utility closet down the hall from the bathrooms, and she did: one more roll. She also found a container of antibacterial liquid soap and three wash rags. Maybe they would eventually find somewhere to wash up.
She found an office and looked through the desk and filing cabinets, but she didn’t find anything worth taking. She went back to the largest room with the rolls of toilet paper, hand soap, and washrags in her hands. Brooke was in the same place on the floor, her back to the wall, sketching in her drawing tablet.
“I found some soap and toilet paper,” Kate announced. “Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?”
Brooke nodded.
Kate led Brooke to the bathroom. Brooke had her own flashlight on as she went to the same stall Kate had used. Kate had her flashlight on, standing guard right outside the stall.
“Are they coming back?” Brooke asked. She seemed nervous, like she wanted to talk and make sure Kate was still there in the bathroom with her.
“I’m sure they are,” Kate said, even though she wasn’t sure if it was true. She felt like she needed to say more, to keep talking so Brooke could stay relaxed. “When they get back, we should be able to get to my mom’s house by this afternoon.” As long as they didn’t run into any trouble along the way.
“We’ll be safe then,” Brooke said. It wasn’t a question, more of a statement.
Kate felt a little guilty about telling the lie. They probably wouldn’t be any safer there than they were here.
But Max was right; she would know the area of her small hometown. But Kate wasn’t really sure how much that would help if most of the town was rippers now.
“Yes, we’ll be safe there,” Kate told Brooke. “You almost done?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “Should I flush it?”
“Don’t bother,” Kate said. “It might not work, or it might clog the toilet up and overflow.”
Brooke hurried out of the stall, rushing up to Kate.
Kate led Brooke to the sinks. She squirted some of the hand soap onto a washrag and gave it to Brooke. “Here. Use this to wash your hands.”
Brooke did as Kate told her, scrubbing her hands. Kate took the half-empty bottle of water out of her hoodie pocket and dribbled just a little onto Brooke’s hands, and then onto her own. Kate scrubbed her face just a bit.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” Kate said.
Brooke smiled and nodded.
And then Brooke froze.
Kate had heard it, too. The screech of a ripper outside. It sounded close. Maybe right outside the clubhouse.
CHAPTER 38
Max stood very still as he listened to the rustling noise coming from the far corner of the kitchen. He raised his gun and aimed it at the corner. He tried to think logically. There were no bodies in the kitchen, only a small pantry with shelves, the door open. There was nowhere someone could be hiding. Whatever was making the noise had to be pretty small.
Max heard a small meow and saw a cat poke his head up from the mound of garbage he had been hiding behind. The cat stared at Max, his body tense. He was gray with faint black stripes.
Max’s heart melted. He lowered his gun. He loved animals, especially cats. He’d always wanted to get a cat, but Glen had been allergic to cats (and countless other things), so they could never have one. He watched the cat for a second, both of them locked in stares. The cat’s fur was a little matted, but not bad, and he was a little underfed, but not starving. Max guessed that the cat used to live in this trailer, or maybe nearby. The cat was traumatized, but maybe not completely feral yet.
“It’s okay,” Max whispered. “Pss, pss,” he called at the cat. “Come here, Tiger. Yeah, that’s what I’m going to call you. Not that cats actually come when they’re called.”
Tiger let out another weak meow.
“You hungry?” Max asked. He looked around at the trash on the floor and spotted a plastic set of pet bowls, most likely for a cat. He also saw a cat toy. He was pretty sure Tiger used to live here. If Tiger used to eat only dry cat food, then he was going to be out of luck because the rippers (and even the survivors) would have gobbled that down. He scanned the floor, not wanting to make any sudden moves and scare Tiger. He spotted a tiny can of food with a pop top, the can miraculously untouched. He reached down slowly and picked the can up. He stood back up, keeping his eyes on Tiger as he popped the top.
The cat watched him, wrinkling his nose, sniffing at the air like he knew what that popping sound meant.
“Yeah, you know what this is,” Max said, discarding the top of the can down onto the floor among the trash.
Tiger meowed louder, but still hadn’t moved, still unsure about Max.
Max set the can of food down on the countertop near him. “Come on, Tiger. You have to trust me if you want to eat.”
Tiger moved like a flash, jumping up onto the countertop. Max could hear him purring before he even got to the can of food, attacking it, gobbling it down. Max touched Tiger gently. The cat flinched, but didn’t pull away, and he was still purring.
“You like that, don’t you?”
The cat ate all of the food, and Max held the can when it was nearly empty so Tiger wouldn’t slide it all over the counter. Max pulled out his small canteen of water and dribbled a little into the empty cat food can. Tiger jumped back when Max had pulled the canteen out, but he didn’t run away.
“It’s okay,” Max whispered at him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The cat came back when the can was full of water. He sniffed at it and then hunkered down and began lapping it up.
“What the hell are you doing?” Petra hissed from behind him.
Max turned around and smiled at her. “Look what I found.”
“We can’t take that thing with us,” Petra said.
“Have a heart for once.”
“Max . . .”
“You find anything back there?” Max said, trying to change the subject.
“Two dead people. Mostly bones now. And these.” She held up a set of car keys.
“Good,” Max said. He turned back to Tiger, petting him. Tiger had tensed when Petra came into the room, but he still hadn’t run away yet.
“We need to talk, Max.”
“I didn’t say we were taking the cat,” he mumbled, but he was thinking of giving the cat to Brooke. He could imagine her face lighting up when she saw Tiger. She’d had it so rough, and something like this could really help her.
Besides, he told himself, cats weren’t like dogs. They weren’t going to bark and give their position away. And they didn’t eat as much as a dog did. It wasn’t that impossible to think about taking Tiger with them. Cats were smart, and they were resilient. He imagined that a lot of cats had survived the onslaught of the rippers. Most dogs, especially small ones, probably hadn’t made it. A few
of them might have turned feral and traveled in packs. But cats were loners and sneaky. They could hide and get away from any rippers.
Still, he didn’t want to leave the cat here.
“Not about the cat,” Petra said. “About Kate and Brooke. I don’t think we should take them with us.”
Max turned and looked at Petra, but he still kept petting Tiger, trying to keep him calm. “We’ve already talked about this.”
“Yeah. In front of them. But we need to talk about it for real now. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to bring them.”
“They need help. You’d turn your back on a little girl?”
“I don’t want to do that anymore than I want to turn my back on your new little friend there. But we need to be practical about this.”
“Well, if practical means abandoning two people who need help, then I don’t want to be practical.”
Petra sighed and looked away.
Max could see the wheels of her mind turning as she calculated options, weighed pros and cons.
“Petra, you can’t deny how strange it is that Brooke drew those pictures. And Kate said she drew both of us.”
“How do you know that’s true?”
“Because Kate recognized me this morning as soon as it was light. I saw it in her eyes. I believe her.”
“You believe everything.”
“And you don’t believe in anything.”
Petra sighed again. She held her shotgun in one hand, her right hand clenching the car keys.
“There are other vehicles here,” Max said. “You take that one. I’ll find another one. Or I’ll find some gas for the Toyota.”
Petra stared at him, her eyes small and dark. “You’d split us up over this?”
“I don’t want to. I want us to stay together. I think we need to stay together. I think this was meant to be, and I think our survival depends on it. But I can’t make you stay, and I understand if you want to go it alone from here. But I can’t leave them.”
Petra hefted the keys in her hand, looking at them.
Max was waiting for her answer when he heard the unmistakable call of the rippers.
And Petra heard it, too.
CHAPTER 39
As soon as Brooke heard the ripper screeching outside the clubhouse, she clutched onto Kate.
“Turn your flashlight off,” Kate whispered.
Brooke picked up the flashlight from the counter beside the sink where she had laid it down, the light still shining so she could see to wash her hands.
“Come on,” Kate said. She led Brooke out of the bathroom and down the hall. She was right in front of Brooke when she stopped at the end of the hall, peeking around the corner at the room to the right, the one with the long table and chairs pushed against the French doors and windows. Two rippers were outside the doors, both covered in dirt and dried blood, their hair wild and sticky, clothes torn and ragged. One of the rippers was a man, and he was at the windows, trying to pull up on it, getting frustrated when it wouldn’t open.
The female ripper yelled something unintelligible, but the other one seemed to understand her. Then they took off, darting away from the windows and out of Kate’s view.
This was their chance. Kate took Brooke’s wrist and pulled her gently, both of them darting across the small lobby to the doorway of the larger room where they had slept last night. The windows in this room were still covered with blinds, and the door that Max and Petra had exited thirty minutes ago was locked. Kate got to their corner of the room and hunkered down with Brooke near their cardboard box and the two folded blankets.
They hid in the corner for a moment while Kate tried to decide what to do. She wanted to peek out through the blinds and see if any rippers were near the Toyota. But she remained still, listening, trying to tell where the rippers were. She had the gun in her hand now, the safety off. She held her finger on the outside of the trigger guard, just like Petra had shown her. She rubbed her other hand on her jeans and felt the bulge of the keys to the Toyota.
A loud banging sounded from the front doors of the clubhouse, near where the bathrooms and lobby were. The front doors were still solid, but made of wood and glass panels. They would only hold so long.
“They’re getting inside,” Brooke whispered, huddling closer to Kate.
Kate nodded, still listening for other noises from outside. She was hoping to hear the sound of a vehicle pulling up, or maybe even gunshots from Max and Petra. But she still didn’t hear anything.
They ditched you. They saw and heard the rippers, and now they’re really not coming back.
There wasn’t much gas left in the Toyota—the low-fuel light had come on as soon as they had parked behind the trailer park clubhouse yesterday afternoon, but there was probably enough gas to get a few miles down the road, maybe even five or six miles. After running out of gas before and having to run from the rippers on foot in the town where she’d met Brooke, Kate swore to herself that she wouldn’t put herself in that kind of situation again. But the rippers weren’t leaving her much of choice right now.
“We need to get to the car,” Kate whispered to Brooke.
Brooke just stared at her like she was crazy.
“I’m not sure if Max and Petra are coming back for us.” Kate needed to tell Brooke the truth right now. “And even if they are, maybe they can catch up to us. But we need to go. Those rippers are going to get through those front doors any second now.”
Brooke nodded. She understood.
Kate dug the keys to the Toyota out of her pocket and crept over to the window, parting the blinds just a bit. She didn’t see any rippers near her car. She pushed the button on the key fob twice, unlocking all four of the doors, then she went back to Brooke. She shoved the car keys into her jacket pocket and picked up the cardboard box, cradling it under one arm, her gun in her other hand.
It was time to go.
“Okay,” Kate whispered at Brooke. “Just follow me to the car. Get in as fast as you can and close the door. Okay?”
Brooke nodded.
Kate hurried to the back door and unlocked it. She heard the front doors at the other end of the building crash in. Maybe all of the rippers were at the front now, but she had no idea how many of them there were in this group.
The morning daylight invaded the doorway as Kate pulled the door open. She didn’t even hesitate, she ran toward her Toyota with Brooke right behind her. She glanced to the right, but she didn’t see any rippers coming.
“Kate!” Brooke yelled.
Kate glanced to the left and saw one male ripper running right toward her—the same ripper she’d seen by the French doors only moments ago. He seemed to be growling instead of yelling, and he kept on coming.
No way were they going to make it to the Toyota in time.
Kate dropped the box of food and supplies onto the ground; it plopped down, landing upright. She used both of her hands to hold the gun, aiming it straight at the ripper. For some insane reason, maybe leftover reasoning from the old world, she thought the ripper might stop in his tracks when he saw the gun. But the ripper never even slowed down. Kate’s hands and arms were trembling so badly, she wasn’t sure if she could even hit him at all.
Don’t aim for the head. You’ll miss. Petra’s words echoed in her mind. Aim for the chest.
“Shoot him,” Brooke cried out in a breathless whisper, like fear had dried up her voice.
Brooke had done this before; she had killed a man with this very same gun. She had saved both of them. It was Kate’s turn now. If Brooke could do it, then she could do it too.
The recoil won’t be as bad as you think.
Kate pulled the trigger, and Petra had been right, the recoil wasn’t that bad. Or maybe the sudden adrenaline coursing through her body had made her stronger than she thought she was. The sound of the gun was loud, and the bullet pelted the ripper instantly. There was a look of shock on the ripper’s face as he was rocked back, a look that almost made him look human again for a mo
ment.
Kate’s body seemed to be moving on its own as she watched the ripper collapse to the ground.
More rippers would be coming. They would have heard the gunshot, and they’ll be coming now.
Kate had the cardboard box in her hands—she couldn’t remember picking it up from the ground. She opened the back door and threw the box inside. It tipped over, the rolls of toilet paper rolling out. Brooke got in the passenger side as Kate sat down in the driver’s seat. They both shut the doors at the same time and Kate pushed the button to lock the doors. She jabbed the key into the ignition, twisting it, starting the car. She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw two rippers racing around the corner toward the back of the car.
Kate shifted into drive. Two more rippers were coming from the front, running right at them. She needed to get past the rippers before they crawled onto the hood of her car and bashed the windows in.
CHAPTER 40
Max grabbed the cat. Tiger never tried to fight as he held him; he seemed content to be held. He was actually purring.
“You’re not bringing that cat,” Petra yelled at him.
Max didn’t say anything as he bolted to the door of the trailer with the cat cradled in one arm.
“Damn it,” Petra muttered as she followed him out the door.
They were down the driveway in a flash. Petra pushed the button on the key fob to unlock the doors of the SUV. They slipped their small backpacks off and threw them in the back seats. Max threw Tiger in after the packs. The cat landed gracefully, sniffing at the pack he was on top of, not even panicking, seeming to sense that he was being rescued, or maybe catching the scent of his former owners inside the vehicle.
Petra got behind the wheel of the Honda SUV, sliding the key into the ignition. The truck started right up, purring just like Tiger was.
Max shut the back door and then got in the passenger seat, shutting that door.
“Half a tank of gas,” Petra called out as she shifted into reverse and backed out into the street.