by Ariel Bonin
"He deserved it," Zoey flat-out stated, still refusing to meet the woman's gaze. She kept her eyes on Lindsey's hand as it moved over the chalkboard.
"He did. I'll admit that now, but the more I thought about it, the more I looked at myself as a monster." Lindsey finished her drawing and laid down the chalk. "I want you to know that your dad—we—don't see you that way."
"I know that." The toe of Zoey's muddy boot lightly kicked the coffee table leg as Lindsey stared at the side of her steely face.
"Do you?"
Zoey shrugged.
"What is it?"
The girl appeared to be contemplating an answer. Lindsey wasn't sure she was going to say anything until she responded, "I've seen what it takes to survive. My dad warned me about it at Bear Creek. I didn't want to believe him, but…he was right. I'm just scared that I'll do something really bad. Like, something that will make him think I've changed into a dangerous person."
Lindsey clenched her jaw to hold back the tears that sprung into her eyes at Zoey's forlorn expression. "None of us are the same people we used to be. This world isn't what it used to be. You said it yourself—you've seen what it takes to survive. The bottom line is: you do whatever it is that you need to do to keep your family safe. Do that and you're exactly the person your father wants you to be."
Zoey exhaled an audible breath through her nose and peeked at Lindsey out of the corner of her eye.
"Look at me," she urged gently. When Zoey did, she said, "I'm the same Lindsey… I just have a few more bruises." Her lips quirked into a sad smile and the action caused a minor stinging sensation at the site of her cut. She searched Zoey's gaze and found it was like looking into the same eyes as the man downstairs. "I am so sorry about what that sick man did to you—and for what you were forced to do in the end."
"I'm okay," Zoey insisted. "He didn't rape me."
"It doesn't matter," she said. "You- we were treated like objects, like some play thing for them to get their kicks. It was embarrassing…and humiliating." She hesitated at the following awkward question. "Did you…see anything?" Lindsey asked in reference to herself.
Once again Zoey dropped her eyes, but Lindsey couldn't blame her as she nodded. Pink inflamed her freckled cheeks and Lindsey had to resist the urge to blush as well.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. I don't want this to change anything between us."
"It won't." Zoey glanced at Lindsey now, her blush receding. "I just wish I could have done something before those men hurt you."
Lindsey's heart expanded in her chest as she gave the girl a genuine smile. Sniffling, she drew Zoey into her arms to give her a quick squeeze. "You did everything within your power—and more. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't stepped up when you did. While I wish it hadn't come to that, I am forever thankful for what you did—for saving me and your father."
"I'd do it again, if I had to…"
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
They exchanged a look of mutual understanding and then Zoey retrieved her teen magazine to continue reading.
_____
While Lindsey spent time with Zoey, Andrew laid out her sleeping bag on the love seat in the Children's Room. He dusted off and puffed up a decorative pillow for her to use and topped it with one of his cleaner shirts for extra padding. When that was done, he searched through Jacob's diaper bag, finding a jar of carrot puree and a miniature spoon. The little boy was playing with a bin of Duplo blocks, but raised his sapphire-colored eyes when his father approached.
"Hey, Jake, ready to try something new? I know you weren't crazy about the peas, so maybe you'll like this."
Jacob watched him with rapt fascination as he opened the jar and scooped out a small spoonful of orange mush. Andrew made an 'O' shape with his mouth and the infant did the same, but not quite as wide, allowing him to only get in half of the spoon. Jacob seemed to mull over the taste, gradually pushing the carrots from between his lips. Using the spoon, Andrew swept it from his chin and shoveled it back in. He continued to do this until the spoonful was fully consumed. He smiled to himself as he remembered that that was exactly what Kelly had called it when Zoey was Jacob's age—the Sweep and Shovel. Thinking of his deceased wife and looking at the son she'd brought into this world made his heart heavy with sadness.
I miss you, Kelly. I know things happen for a reason, but you should be here for this.
At that exact moment, Lindsey walked into the room. She searched for its current inhabitants and her curious gaze relaxed as it came to rest on the little boy, who was actually enjoying his squishy meal.
"What'cha eatin'?" Lindsey cooed, kneeling next to Jacob. Andrew held out the jar. "Ooo, carrots. Nom noms…"
Andrew chuckled. Sobering his expression, he asked, "How's Zoey?"
Lindsey clasped her hands together as she rested her elbows on her knees. "She's going to be okay."
"And what about you?" he prompted gently.
Lindsey worried the cut on her lip with the tip of her tongue, then offered Andrew an uplifting smile as she nodded.
_____
Andrew breathed in the sticky, humid air and watched a flicker of lightning brighten the stagnant Children's Room. Slowly he exhaled, feeling like he could truly do that now. Lindsey and Zoey would be okay. It wouldn't happen overnight, it would take time, but they hadn't lost hope—and that was all he could ask for.
The first low rumble rolled through, causing a few of the metal shelves to vibrate. Jacob moved around in his tote—a plastic delivery bin they'd found in a closet and made into a bed for the infant. Andrew lifted a hand off the stiff couch he was occupying and reached over to rub Jacob's back in smooth, calming circles. Another flash lit up the room and was quickly followed by a sharp clap as thunder split through the air.
Dammit. That's gonna wake the neighborhood.
Lindsey shifted restlessly on the love seat across from him and the next explosion of light illuminated her face. Andrew knew her well enough to recognize the pained expression as a result of her usual terrifying dreams. He almost didn't consider them nightmares anymore, they were more like flashbacks, as they'd seen things that surpassed even their worst nightmares. She whimpered in her sleep, the loud storm intensifying her dream.
Before he could get over to her, a bolt hit a tree somewhere behind the library. The instant crack was deafening and Lindsey's eyes flew open. Immediately Jacob began to wail, dumping them into instant disarray. It was fortunate, though, that the noises outside were louder than Jacob's screaming. The sudden whoosh of rain on the roof also helped—they certainly didn't want a horde on their hands during a storm in the middle of the night. Andrew took Jacob into his arms and rested the infant's head on his shoulder. He swayed back and forth until Jacob's cries quieted to a safe level, and then looked to Lindsey.
The woman sat up and ran a trembling hand through her already unruly hair. She glanced at Andrew, not making an effort to cover her face. Two wet trails tracked down her cheeks from her dark, glassy eyes. He started toward her, but she put up a hand. At first he was put off, like they had taken two steps forward and then one step back, but quickly reminded himself that this was what she needed to heal.
Give her time.
Jacob's dead weight signaled to Andrew that he was finally asleep again, so he returned the infant to his makeshift bed. Lindsey hadn't moved yet, except to wipe the tears from her smooth skin. He came to stand over her and held out his hand. She stared at it like she was faring some kind of internal battle, but, to his relief, she took it. He led her to the opposite couch and lay down, pulling her so that she rested with her back against his chest. He sought to be gentle as he curled his arm around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Very softly, he dragged his nose along the curve and kissed the sweet spot behind her ear, allowing her to fall asleep in a place where she felt completely safe.
Chapter 17
THREE DAYS LATER
Lindsey followed Nicholas's t
ruck down the winding back roads of Florida, the scenery not at all resembling what she'd expected. The state was known for its sandy beaches and jungle-like forests. After passing the third dairy farm, she was sure that this was the middle of nowhere. They'd been forced on a new route the day before, following two days of backtracking. The library road turned out to be a dead end—a crashed Boeing 767 had a way of doing that—and after fighting through lines of abandoned traffic in what had been one of the busier sections of Northern Florida, they'd found themselves heading in the right direction once again.
Lindsey lifted the travel mug she'd found in the drying rack at the library and took a sip of cold tea. One thing she knew about librarians was that they loved their tea—and that had worked out in her favor. She'd managed to find two boxes, one brand new and another just opened. The familiar taste and fresh light of a new day reminded her of another time when she'd commuted to work, her brain overflowing with ideas for lesson plans and grading she needed to get done.
Mrs. Scott sat at her desk, palm cradling her cheek as she slaved over a mountain of year-end essays. Grades needed to be in by Monday, but it was Friday afternoon and she had an anniversary trip planned for the weekend, so this was the only time to get it done. She ran a slender finger over the spreadsheet on her laptop, taking into account all the absent students that had been too sick to turn in their essays. She would have to talk to Ms. Garwood, the head of her department, about the possibility of make-ups.
Dreading the idea, she swallowed the last of her lukewarm tea in the 'Teachers Are Superheroes' mug that a student gave to her at the end of her first year teaching. At the same time, BBC radio talked softly in the background. She didn't know why she chose that station—maybe it was just easier to swallow world news when it came from the melodic lips of a British newscaster. He started in on a spiel about the most recent developments in the TurnerCorp explosion.
At that moment, Jared strolled into the classroom and came to sit on the corner of her desk. He lightly tapped the top of her Hermione bobble-head to set it into motion—something he did religiously upon entering her room.
"How was your day?" he asked with a grin.
"Stressful, but I'm excited for our trip. It made the day go by faster." She eyed his outfit and smiled internally at how he reinforced the stereotype of a gym teacher with Adidas track pants and navy blue polo—but he made it look really good. The spontaneous part of herself that she usually kept hidden screamed to just jump him on top of her desk, but she knew she would never work up the nerve.
"If it's all right with you, I'm gonna meet up with the guys in a few minutes. Turns out Ryan's going to be a father. I told him I'd buy him a drink."
"That's great news." Despite the supporting words, she felt her expression falter. "I'll see you later tonight then?"
"You know it. Besides, we need to be up early to leave for St. Louis," he said, beginning to round her desk.
"I love you, baby," Lindsey whispered as he leaned over to give her a brief kiss.
"Love you, too."
Jared exited the room and she was alone again with the relentless newscaster. She wondered what to do with her evening when she finally finished up here. Maybe she'd just go home, eat leftovers and watch the latest DVR-recorded episode of her favorite crime procedural. She thought about texting her friend Amanda, but remembered that the woman was away at her mom's house on maternity leave. Sighing at the surge of baby fever, she delved back into her work.
It was then that Lindsey realized how alone she'd felt before the outbreak. She was surrounded by more family now than ever.
Suddenly, Caren broke the silence within the serene automobile.
"Do you mind if I turn on the A.C.? I'm feeling a little light-headed."
"Go right ahead." She didn't want the pregnant woman to have to suffer in the stifling car.
Cold air began to blow through the vents on the dash, but along with it came the typical stale smell of unused air conditioning. The unpleasant odor, something like old socks, filled the car, causing Caren to gag. Without a second thought, Lindsey pulled over and the brunette tumbled out, losing what little breakfast she'd choked down.
As Lindsey held the woman's hair and rubbed her back, she was blown away by the love she felt for Caren—for all of them. While she'd loved Jared and a part of her always would, she knew now that this was where she belonged.
_____
In the early afternoon, a new scent wafted through the sedan. It came from under the hood and smelled as if something was burning. Lindsey honked once and pulled into the parking lot of a mini-mart and Subway. Vacant cars cluttered the lot, giving off the impression that the store had sustained a flood of frantic civilians during the beginning of the end. She navigated the smoking vehicle to a clear spot on the pavement, shut it off and popped the hood.
Andrew and Robert dropped down from the truck bed as Charlie walked past them. "The hell did ya do, Lindsey?"
"Me?" she cried, pointing a finger to her chest. "I didn't do anything!"
The faintest twinkle in Charlie's eye tipped her off, signaling that he was only kidding. "Let's have a look…" He stood in front of the car and lifted the hood. Black smoke ballooned upward and he waved it away. "Smells like there's an oil leak. Maybe y'all want to head into the store and see what you can find? This may take me a lil' bit."
"Another store filled with rotten food? No, thank you," Caren said. "I'll stay out here with the kids."
"All right, so I'll take Kat, Ana and Andrew with me," Nicholas said, wielding his melee weapon of choice.
"Got room for one more?" Lindsey asked as she glanced at Andrew.
"Are you sure you're up for it?" He studied her with his concerned gaze.
She nodded.
"You should take this, then," Robert said from behind her and held out his machete. "I seem to remember a shot being fired the last time you entered a grocery store."
Lindsey smirked, rolling her eyes at the jab. Seriously, what had gotten into these guys? She felt flattered that they were comfortable enough to joke around with her. It proved that they were a real family, which was something she hadn't really had since she was a little girl.
Nicholas gestured to the store with his weapon. "Okay, let's do this."
They lined up at the store entrance—a set of glass doors, somehow still intact—and waited while Nicholas thumped his fist against one of the dirty windows, just as Charlie had done the first day. A slew of turners surged into the panes, their disintegrating faces just discernible through the filth on the glass.
"I see about six in there. I'll open this door when you all are ready," Nicholas said to the foursome.
Andrew glanced at each of the women, stopping for a moment longer on Lindsey. When she nodded, he told Nicholas to go ahead. Nicholas released the turners, catching the first one in the back of the head with his weapon. Ana immediately took out one with an arrow, and then drove her hatchet into a second. Kat stabbed another square in the forehead with her knife, leaving the last two for Andrew and Lindsey. The latter brought her machete downward, embedding it in the cranium of a middle-aged, female turner. At the same time, Andrew used his knife to dispatch the final threat. All at once they entered the store and were instantly aware of the foul smell.
Thank goodness Caren didn't come in here, Lindsey thought with a twist of her stomach.
"Kat and I will take the right side. Andrew and Lindsey, you take the left, and Ana, the middle," Nicholas stated, not leaving any room for argument. It was a good plan, though, so no one disputed it.
Lindsey pawed through the remaining bags of potato chips. Most of them were burst open, reflecting the bullet holes that peppered at least half of the food in the store. She was really glad to have not been here when the shit hit. It was clear to them that only one of the turners had originally died from a bite wound—the rest were gunshot victims. Attempting to ignore that upsetting fact, she salvaged what food she could and stuffed it into her backpac
k.
The front section of the store was already dark from the grimy windows, which made the back of the store almost black. Lindsey turned on her flashlight and moved it down the aisle. The door of a storeroom appeared straight ahead and she thought it best to check it out. Andrew was still one aisle over, but close enough for her to see. She turned the knob and stepped into the room. It stunk like the rest of the store, but that wasn't anything new. A couple of rows of shelving made up the room, so she started at the first one, scanning for whatever she could take.
As Lindsey rounded the corner, she bumped into something dense. Raising her light, she came face to face with a male turner clad in an employee uniform. He'd been in some kind of dormant state, but was now fully aware of her presence. Lindsey's heart catapulted into her throat and before she could raise her weapon, he attacked. The machete lodged in his stomach, pulling him on top of her as they tumbled onto the storeroom floor. Her forearm barely kept his teeth away from her face as she fought to free the blade. Yanking it upward, his gut tore open like filo paper, dumping the foul-smelling contents onto her torso. Lindsey let out a disgusted cry.
Suddenly, there was a thwack and the turner stilled. Andrew wrenched his knife out of the cadaver's head and lifted it off Lindsey. He pulled her to standing and held her at arm's length.
"Are you okay?"
Lindsey nodded profusely, opting not to open her mouth as she held her breath against the atrocious scent of turner guts. Fortunately, the only gore in contact with her skin was on her hands; the rest had settled itself onto her shirt and pants.
Dammit! These were my last clean clothes—everything else is bordering on offensive.
"Come on," Andrew said tightly, also disturbed by the smell. "Let's get outta here."
When they got outside, everyone asked Lindsey if she was all right and offered up some water to wash her hands, but she noticed they were keeping their distance.
Ana gave the blonde a pitied but slightly humorous look. "I had that happen once—keeps the turners away."