by James, Jill
“Thanks,” I mumbled, grabbing the box.
“No, problem,” he said. “I figured you might like to lose the zombie guts.”
I ran my fingers through my hair and came away with bits and pieces of flesh. “Oh, yuck.”
Glancing over at Seth, I groaned inside. Mr. Clean and Sparkly even had bright-white teeth when he smiled at me. I took a deep breath. Looks weren’t everything, but they sure could take your breath away from time to time. Dark hair just brushed his shoulders. And my, what broad shoulders they were. Hazel eyes shone out of a tanned face.
“There’s a shower in the corner. Probably cold water, but it’s still warm outside. Unless you want to wait until dark,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
I wiggled, while my back itched from what I was sure was blood running down it. “Nope, now is fine. You’ll watch Nick?” No way was I taking a shower in the dark with just me, Seth, and the, maybe infected Nick around.
Seth nodded and I decided to take time to get cleaned up. Across the rooftop, Nick rummaged through the food stores. Even if they had been low, there were only three of us. We should have plenty to last until... well, until.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I grabbed a towel and some clean clothes from a basket. The shower was a wooden box with a door. Stepping inside I spotted the jerry-rigged showerhead hooked to a hose running down the side of the building.
Tossing the clean clothes over the top of the wood wall, I threw my dirty clothes over to the rooftop. A twist of a knob and cool water rained down on my head. With the heat of the day and the gunk in my hair, the water was great. Running fingers through my hair, the blood, guts, and horror of the day washed away.
I’d certainly come a long way from a Victorian mansion in San Francisco to a wooden box of a shower in the middle of a zombie nowhere land. If I closed my eyes, I could still see the marble shower walls imported from Italy, the custom rain showerheads, and music piped in from an over-the-top luxury sound system. Laughing, I grabbed a bar of soap off a makeshift shelf. I wouldn’t trade right now for all the marble in the world that came with the baggage I was well rid of.
Turning the knob, the water petered out to drips. The sun beat down on my head. Birds twittered from a nearby tree. I lathered up, turned the water back on, and rinsed.
I turned off the water one last time and looked up at the sunlight behind my closed lids. The sunshine dried me off better than the plushest Egyptian cotton towel at a couple hundred dollars apiece from a high-end department store. Constantly telling Michelle to seize the moment, maybe I should take my own advice more often. The sunshine, the birdsong, and fresh breezes were free for everyone.
My short hair was dry with a few swipes of the ragged towel over my head. My body was as well with a few more swipes. There hadn’t been any undergarments so I’d have to make do and wash mine. Pulling on a tank top my nipples showed clearly through the thin material. I pulled on a T-shirt as well. Better. Then I yanked on some jeans that almost fit. I’d need a belt or a piece of rope. That felt good too. I’d dropped four pants sizes in the past six months. I hadn’t been a size six since high school.
Getting out of the shower, I sat down on a chair and pulled on socks and my own boots. At a man’s laugh, I looked up. Seth was over by the food with Nick. It looked like they were putting together lunch. Good, I was starved. I had to laugh at that too. Who knew you could kill zombies, and then turn around and eat? And enjoy it. Flavors were richer. Good smells were deeper. The thought of every meal being your last could do that to you.
Chapter Four
Man’s soul is bared in bright sunlight.
His deeds visible to all, enemy or friend.
Choices are made to be lived by,
deep in his heart and until death.
— Seth Ripley
The setting of the sun brought relief from its bright rays, but not the warmth of the day. It continued into the night. After all this time, Seth was still amazed at the constant nighttime warmth in the summer months in the far East Bay.
Sure, Oakland got hot sometimes, but that bay breeze whipped up and evenings could be downright chilly in the middle of August. He’d been to an Oakland A’s game and needed a hooded sweatshirt and a jacket in mid-summer. He sighed. Just one more thing to miss in the after Z time. He’d really liked baseball.
The day had passed pretty well, considering he was a stranger to Emily and just an acquaintance to Nick. He and Emily had taken turns walking the edge of the roof, checking for trouble. He could tell the undead were still congregating below. Every time the woman looked over the edge, the moans would rise in tempo and volume. The scrape of nails and flesh-bare bones on the facade of the building sent shivers up his spine. The stench of dead flesh came and went with the random breezes.
He turned his head at the sound of quiet arguing from Emily. What was her pre-Z story? She was strength and fragility wrapped up in one hot woman. At the moment, she was arguing with Nick about sleeping. The boy wanted his turn at standing guard. He swallowed the burr in his throat. The kid had to know they were standing guard against what he might become just as much as the monsters below.
“I want to help.”
“I need you to sleep. You hardly ate any dinner and what you did eat came back up. Don’t make this harder on me than it has to be, please.”
“But, Emily,” the boy’s pleas carried over the rooftop.
“Nick, I’m hoping it is just the heat and not the virus. But we don’t know yet, do we? I know we’re partners, but I’m your elder too. Go to sleep now.”
The boy conceded and flopped down on a cot beneath a canvas canopy. Emily squatted by a small grill and started a fire. He was confused for a moment until he realized she was making it so they could see Nick from a distance, not face him in the dark up close. Praying, his lips moved silently as he sent up a fervid wish to the heavens to spare Nick. To spare them the choice that would have to be made. His hand moved automatically to cross himself.
“What a good Catholic boy you must be.”
Emily’s low, friendly tones sent a shiver down his spine and heat everywhere else. He turned away slightly to hide what must be a blush considering the warmth in his cheeks, which had nothing to do with the sweltering air. “Yep, was an altar boy and went to confession every Wednesday. At least I did, until the Z hit. What about you?”
“Episcopalian. Baptist before that.”
He turned and stared at her. “You just changed religions like that?”
“I was Baptist when I was a girl. I changed for Carl. For my husband.” Her glance slid from his and stared at the ground.
He looked and saw no ring on her finger. “I’m sorry. The virus?”
“Yes.” She stuttered to a stop as if she had more to say but no more words came.
“Did you see him?”
“No, just a photo and the report about him and the hooker in the motel room.”
“I’m really sorry,” he mumbled and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Her head whipped up and tears glistened in her eyes. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time. But it was definitely the last.” A shaky laugh escaped her, one that proclaimed it was a hurt deeper than she wanted to let on. And now, she had to deal with Nick. The lady had some deep wounds.
He moved away and pulled two campstools over. She plopped down onto hers. He wanted to keep her talking, but nothing seemed like a safe topic.
She spoke up first, “Where are you from? You know—before.”
“I lived in Oakland with my mother. She’s in a hospital in Concord. All barricaded and safe. Well, as safe as anyone is these days.” He swiped a hand across the back of his neck. “And you?”
“I lived in San Francisco with my husband. His parents were nearby. They died of the flu. They were lucky. My parents were attacked trying to reach me across the city. And I already told you about Carl.”
Oh, shaky ground again. “What did you do in the city? What were you bef
ore?”
Emily laughed. A real laugh. The sound carried and surrounded his body. Her dark eyes shined in the last of the sunset. “I shopped. I went to fundraisers. I was arm-candy for Carl’s ego. I was a trophy wife. Part of the idle rich who think if they raise money for needy people they are actually doing something worthwhile, even if they spend more money on the party then they are raising.”
His jaw dropped. This Amazon fighting goddess had been a rich man’s wife. He didn’t see it. She’d been happy to wash in a wood box, throw on whatever she found in the clothes box, and eaten franks and beans like it was a gourmet meal. And she’d handled the gun earlier as if she’d been doing it all her life. She was every young boy’s idea of a video-game warrior woman—hot body and all.
She playfully smacked his hand. “You should see your face. What about you? What were you before you became the apocalyptic post office and delivery service?”
“I was the pre-apocalyptic delivery service. That’s my truck down there. That’s all I’ve ever been.”
He stared out toward the parking lot until her face butted into his view. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” he asked, truly puzzled.
“That was the before zombies time. None of that matters anymore. We all got a clean slate. We can be whoever we want to be.”
“You really believe that? That we can be someone totally different?”
She touched his hand. “Yes I do.”
He looked into her eyes. “What if that’s what they are? Something new.”
Emily pulled away from him as if he were the undead. “They aren’t anything. They are dead. This isn’t some part of God’s grand plan. This is scientists, the president, and people who should have known better, thinking they were God.”
She stood up. “I’m going to check on Nick.”
He stood up as well. “I think I’ll do a round of the roof and hop in the shower.”
His gaze followed Emily as she reached Nick and sat down beside his cot. Her hand swiped hair out of the boy’s face. Even at this distance, he saw her hand shake. The fever must have started.
Seth grabbed his gun and walked to the edge of the roof. Bodies of the undead and truly dead littered the parking lot. He’d noticed before that the zombies went dormant without fresh meat around, unfortunately, either their olfactory or auditory senses were in super drive, because they had no problems detecting humans nearby, and woke up too damned fast.
One circuit around the roof’s perimeter showed all was satisfactory. Everyone was asleep and no one was climbing the wall to the temporary sanctuary.
He snatched up a towel and a clean T-shirt to trade for his sweaty one and hit the shower. Cleaning off quickly, he dressed and walked over to Nick’s cot to check out the boy himself. Nick tossed and turned on the cot, mumbling wordlessly except for the name of Beth.
Emily looked up at him. “His girlfriend back at the base.”
“Oh,” he whispered, remembering the young girl.
Hours passed with him and Emily switching places between sitting at Nick’s bedside and walking the perimeter. He caught a few catnaps in between. As far as he could tell, Emily stayed vigilant through the night.
Finally, about six a.m. by his watch, Emily sat back in a folding chair and nodded off. He stayed by Nick. The fever raged in his body. The cot was drenched with the boy’s sweat. The sickly smell wafted on the breeze. His skin lost its ruddy tone and faded to gray. Breaths came farther and farther apart until they stopped altogether.
Seth said a quick prayer begging God to take care of Nick’s soul. He stood up and placed his rifle against his shoulder, aiming it at the boy’s head. His vision blurred with sweat running into his eyes. I can’t do this. This isn’t a zombie. He’s a boy. I know his name.
His finger tightened on the trigger. He applied pressure. He fired.
♦♦♦
The absence of sound woke me up. I’d been hearing Nick’s labored breaths in my subconscious for hours. I knew he was going to die, but sleep let me take the coward’s way out. If I slept, he would be fine in my dreams; he would still be there when I woke up.
Moving like an old lady, I pushed out of the chair. In tiny steps, I walked toward the cot. Halfway there and the blast of the gunshot pierced the quiet dawn, shattering it like glass. Nick’s body was hidden by the broad shoulders of the man wielding the gun. A sob broke out. I tried to stop it but the tears poured down my face as I rushed to Seth.
I pounded my fists against his back. Incoherent words flew from my lips. The gun fell with a metallic clang and I found myself wrapped in warm, solid male. The last place I wanted to be. In the arms of Nick’s executioner. This man who’d taken my responsibility as his own.
My knees gave way and Seth’s arms held me as we collapsed to the rooftop. “You didn’t let me say good-bye,” I screamed to the sky.
His breath tickled as he whispered into my ear. “I didn’t want you to have to see him turn. It’s better this way. His soul is at peace.”
I pushed him away and fell on my butt. “He didn’t turn? You killed him?”
“He was dead. I didn’t kill him. Those creatures did.”
“Maybe he was in a coma or something.” I scooted away, my mind frantically searching for an answer, any answer, but the truth. “You’re not a doctor. You don’t know.”
He moved to a squat, but didn’t come toward me. “He didn’t have a pulse. He wasn’t breathing. He was dead, Emily.”
My arms wrapped around my legs and I put my head on my knees. “I know,” I whispered. My heart ached with the rest of my body. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What?” his voice carried to me in the hush of the early-morning world.
“Live.”
“Don’t say that. Where there is life, there is hope. Someday this will be a chapter in a history book and the survivors will be remembered along with the dead.”
A half-sob, half-laugh bubbled up my throat. “Do you really believe that? That we will win? Because, I don’t. Not anymore. There are too many of them and too few of us.”
My voice broke. “And now, one fewer.”
He’d scooted closer and grabbed my hand. “Of course I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t bother getting up in the morning. I wouldn’t bother delivering supplies to camps and bases. If I didn’t believe, I would think I was just delaying the inevitable. Humans are given the will to survive, no matter what. I have to believe there is a reason for that.”
An undead moan echoed from the pavement below, filling my ears. Their stench fouled the crisp morning air like road kill on the highway.
“Yep,” I muttered. “The will to survive; no matter what.”
Chapter Five
I forced myself to get up off the ground. Things had to be done. I needed to call the base and report in. And I needed to dispose of Nick’s body. A sob tried to escape but I pushed it down, refusing to cry right now. It burned in my throat. The time for crying would be later, with everyone else back at the shopping center.
Beth! Just last week Nick had told me about wanting to marry Beth. The young couple had been just waiting for her father to relent because of their age, as if that mattered anymore.
“Why don’t you call Jack and I’ll take care of Nick?”
A weight left my shoulders. I tried to push it back on where it belonged. “Are you sure? You already had to—to, you know?”
His hands grasped my arms. Their warmth comforted. Just what I needed in this moment. He stared down into my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. He was your friend.”
I pulled away and moved to the far corner of the roof. What to say tumbled over in my head, somersaults of platitudes and useless, meaningless words. Beth was the contact at the base. All transmissions were heard by her, unless she was on a break or asleep. She’d probably slept less than I did last night, waiting for the call this morning. I sighed and crossed my fingers.
Clicking the button on the walkie, I called the base. “This
is Emily Gray, reporting in.”
A mature male voice replied. “This is Streets of Brentwood. Report?”
“Is Beth there?”
“She finally fell asleep an hour ago. Do you want me to get her?”
“No, please don’t.”
“Okay,” his low, slow gravelly tone said it all. Message received.
“Nick Cruz passed away this morning at...” I glanced at my watch. “0725. Seth Ripley and I need assistance at the Safeway Center.”
“Canida has a team ready to go once we heard from you. ETA is thirty minutes. We have a swarm this morning to deal with first.”
“Thanks. Over and out.” I clicked off the walkie. Leaning over the edge of the roofline, I glared down at the horde below, up and shambling along, a moan ratcheting up as they spotted me. Their rancid odor rising as the morning heat rose. Where were they all coming from? We’d cleaned out this area of town months ago.
The splash of liquid and the scent of gasoline reached me. I turned slightly and spotted Seth on the far corner. He’d cleared the area of all except for a blanket wrapped bundle. He put down the gas can and took a lighter out of his pocket.
“Wait,” I yelled across the roof. He looked up and stopped.
Running over, I pulled back the edge of the soaked blanket and dug into Nick’s pocket. I pulled out a small jewelry box. I covered him back up and moved away.
“It’s for his girlfriend.” As if a small black velvet box needed an explanation.
“Do you want to stay?”
I nodded and moved to Seth’s side. He flicked the lighter and touched it to the blanket. With a whoosh, it caught fire and flames danced across the fabric. The soft blue color faded as my eyes filled with tears.