On Our Own

by Silver, L. D.

  She takes my arm and examines it thoroughly, then lightly coasts her fingers over my skin.

  “There’s no wetness, no indication of saliva or blood,” she says, her voice sounding so grown-up I wonder if she’s channeling her father. She puts a hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Do you feel the urge to sneeze or cough?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Then you’re fine.”

  “But –”

  “Yes, I know it could hit later, especially because you’ve had The Shot. That will change how you respond to the virus. But there’s nothing on your arm. You’re fine. If you want to worry for a couple of hours, that’s up to you.”

  For a moment, she reminds me a bit of my mom. Cassie turns sharply on her heel and heads to the roof I can now see quite well.

  I sigh and try to slow my pounding heart with deep breaths. I’m a worrier and I know it, but it seems like this would be quite the thing to be concerned about.

  Surely I would know if I was changing, right?

  “Just think of something else!” Cassie shouts at me.

  Something else, something else... so I follow her, doing my best to remember the entire plot of the last book I read.

  Chapter 40

  It doesn’t take very long until we reach the house even though we’re just walking and pushing bikes. It makes sense that the zombie family found us. By the time we get there, though, I'm feeling much calmer. Thankfully, Cassie's trick has worked. Well, that and I’m still not feeling any symptoms.

  Okay, yes, maybe I overreacted. But wouldn't you be scared, too?

  Deep breath, Delilah, I think you made it. This time.

  I reach the top of the hill, and down below is a gorgeous little farm. There’s a white two-story house with green trim and a front porch, a brown building that appears to be a detached garage, another white building about the size of the garage, a swing set, and a small garden near the main house. Past the white building and to the far right is a field of corn grown tall, with some of the stalks already browning. I don’t know at this point if we’re still in Texas, or if we’ve ventured into a part of Oklahoma or Colorado yet, but I’m betting they gave up their regular crop this year to start growing corn for ethanol.

  Cassie is, of course, already down the hill, but I’m surprised to see that instead of running for the house she’s headed for the swing set instead. As I watch she launches herself onto one of the seats and is happily swinging back and forth as I walk down.

  I drop my bike at the base of the hill and toss my backpack down after it. It’s nice and cool. There are large trees all over that create a wonderful shaded area near the house and also create an illusion of a normal lawn. I slip off my shoes and socks and stand on the wonderful, soft grass. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The scents of the grass, the trees, and nature all blend together and just smell, well, green. I just listen to the crickets chirp for a few minutes. There’s a mild breeze as well, as soft against my skin as an expelled breath.

  I’m a city girl at heart, but this is nice. Peaceful.

  I open my eyes and wander around the property, skirting quickly past the peeling paint of the house, the garden and Cassie on the swings. I walk to the edge of lawn. There’s an irrigation ditch full of water, followed by a foot of dirt, and then the field of corn. It looks peaceful, too, but anything could be back in that green maze. I wonder if it’s ready yet, or if it’s overripe. If I take some of the stalks, can I eventually cook it and eat it, or will it go bad on the way? I don’t know.

  I turn away from the crop and my gaze falls on the white building. Maybe it’s a storage area? I cross the ten feet or so, find a wooden door, also painted white, turn the knob and open it. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness before I step a foot inside, noting that the floor is just dirt. There’s a silence, a stillness, but it still feels like there’s something wrong. Then I hear a low moan that kick-starts my heart, and I hear the soft sounds of feet shuffling. I whirl, getting outside in a second and slamming the door shut.

  I lean against it and I can still hear them moving inside. One of them walks into the wood and I scream without meaning to, covering my mouth quickly with my hand to keep from doing it again. I can hear their excited moans.

  I grab a stick and I’m jamming the door just as Cassie races around the corner.

  “It’s okay.” I hold my hands up and gesture behind me. “Just don’t go in there. Packed full of zombies.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just shaken.”

  She grins and takes off, back to being a kid. Slowly I sink to the ground, turning to watch the building. The grass is soft and cool beneath me and a gentle breeze blows my hair, bringing with it that scent that I can’t place, the one that just smells green to me. If I didn’t know what was behind that door, this would be a truly peaceful place.

  Then I notice the bloody handprint on the side of the building and everything snaps into place. The little boy with the red mouth must have somehow wandered into the zombie room and been attacked, and his mother, after finding this out, had let him turn her.

  I can imagine her holding him to her throat with tears streaming down her face because her little boy is gone.

  And I understand that love makes us do these things, but to actually do it...

  My mom died for me without any hesitation. I mean no hesitation at all. That took guts. And where on Earth was her common sense, her sense of survival?

  I mean, I know parents are supposed to protect you. But I think I would have paused. And I did. It was my mistake, I was frozen and my mom stepped in and saved me. It was my mistake, for God’s sake!

  And she just did it.

  What does it take to be like that? What strength of character means that you don’t even slow down on the way to your death?

  Is that what it means to be somebody?

  Chapter 41

  After a while, I get up and explore the rest of the property. Carefully I go into the garage, expecting another zombie horde, but even with my bat raised at the ready I don’t find any undead inside. Instead I find a black Jeep, complete with a hardtop and doors. Nearby, I find a few red plastic gas cans which feel full, and when I peek inside the back I can see cans of food and bottles of water.

  It looks like they had the get-away vehicle all ready to go but never had the chance to use it. Now I wonder if I can find the keys. I go up to the front, open the door and find the keys dangling from the ignition. I guess when all of the neighbors are dead you can leave the keys in the car without worrying about it being stolen. Then I notice the Jeep’s a stick. Crap. I don’t know how to drive that. But then again, how hard could it be? I slam the door shut and then go back outside to find Cassie waiting for me.

  “I thought we’d both go inside the house together,” she says.

  “Good idea.”

  I lead the way to the front door and Cassie holds the screen door open while I twist the knob. It turns easily, so I gently push the door and raise my bat. Nothing jumps out, so I step into the house and let my eyes adjust. To my left is a door which I’m pretty sure is a closet, and straight ahead is a set of stairs and then a hallway leading to the back of the house. To my right is a family room, although it probably started life a hundred years ago as a parlor. The furniture isn’t like Cassie’s house; instead, it’s more like what I’m used to – a green couch flanked by two mismatched white, cushy chairs, all of which face a TV that’s a nice size but definitely isn’t a big-screen or even a flat-screen. There are two game controllers on the carpet, like they were just put down for a second, and I can see a big, yellow dump truck pushed under one of the coffee tables.

  I let Cassie inside and then I lead the way down the hallway, which is mostly uneventful except for an empty bathroom on the left. I reach the end of the hall and walk into a nice-sized kitchen, complete with a round wood table, four chairs, and another door leading outside.

  Cassie follow
s me in, flips a switch and floods the room with light.

  “Ha! I thought they might have a generator.” She grins.

  We go through the rest of the house but don’t find any zombies. After the search, we come back to the kitchen and raid the fridge.

  I do feel a bit icky about it, because I know exactly where the owners are, but really they can’t use it and there’s no real way I can pay them back. The best I can do for them is a silent prayer that their souls will be okay. Yes, I have issues with religion, but I definitely believe we have souls.

  The refrigerator contains genuine fresh tomatoes that burst with flavor as soon as I bite into one. Normally I’m not all into the whole fruit and vegetables thing, but it’s been months since I’ve had any, much less fresh ones.

  “I know we haven’t gone very far today, but how about we stay here for the night?” I ask Cassie.

  “Sounds good to me,” Cassie replies, following it up with a bite of tomato.

  It’s been, well, a really long time since I’ve had a bath or a shower. It’s odd. I used to take one without a thought every day, and now it feels like a huge luxury.

  I go upstairs to the big bathroom, and thankfully I’m right; the plumbing works, including hot water from the tap. I fill the tub, including this nice lavender soap thingy I find in a dish on the counter, and then I slip into the water. Oh my gosh, I almost fall asleep. You have no idea how good this feels, to actually bathe after weeks without it. And boy, was I dirty.

  After my bath, I go downstairs and find Cassie playing with her PSP, so I bring out my book and start to read. Finally, time to read ... Again, it’s weird how the normal things are now luxuries.

  #

  The next morning the sun is shining, and there’s a small breeze that makes all of the green leaves of the trees flap against each other. It is so peaceful here. I really want to stay. I raise my head to call out to Cassie, to suggest we live here and maybe build a lab in the basement, but then I stop. We began this whole thing with a search for grown-ups; it’s possible that Cassie won’t want to settle down until we find some who still have their act together.

  I wonder about that for a moment, and then I realize a part of me doesn’t think we’re going to find any.

  What if we will be the first adults of this new world? I grin to myself. Then it will be a lot easier to make a better world.

  With a bit of energy in my step at the thought, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and go to the garage. I throw open the back hatch of the Jeep, and over a few trips I fill the back with the gas and my pack. Then I lash our bikes to the spare tire on the hatch.

  And then I realize I have done all of this without Cassie’s help. Where is she? At first, I’m annoyed at the realization. Then I remember what the world is like and I race out of the garage.

  Chapter 42

  “Cassie!” I scream. Oh, God, please don’t say that while I was stupidly filling up the getaway car she got attacked by a zombie. “Cassie!”

  “What?!”

  I round the corner of the garage and on the other side is this huge, grassy area. Cassie’s there, throwing a stick for a dog.

  A dog, for God’s sake. I take a deep breath, calm down, and get it back in my head that she’s safe.

  She’s playing with a golden retriever. It’s a bit dirty, but doesn’t look too bad considering the state of the world. Right now the dog’s picked up the stick in its mouth, its tongue lagging out around the wood, and for all the world it looks happy. It runs back to Cassie, drops the stick on her feet and sits on its haunches, wagging its tail.

  She picks up the stick, throws it, and the golden retriever dashes after it.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Cassie asks with a big smile, and her whole face is lit up, almost as good as when she got her PSP.

  “Yes,” I agree, watching the dog. Humans are the only animals that can catch the zombie virus, so the animal’s safe. The virus is almost oddly, resoundingly, stuck within the confines of humanity. Of course, that knowledge is quite a few months old; things may have changed since then. But either way, watching that retriever, I knew it was out of harm’s way.

  “Can we keep it?” Cassie asks.

  I know we shouldn’t. I can think of a thousand reasons why we shouldn’t. We could get attacked and the dog could die, we could lose it, we could lose our lives trying to protect it. I can feel fear just building up in me at all of the ways we can lose the retriever. But just to see it run, to see the joy that is a dog… I’m sorry, I can’t give that up.

  “Definitely.” I nod.

  “What should we name her?” Cassie asks.

  “Her?” I ask, just as the dog comes rushing up to me. She drops the stick on the grass near my feet and shakes herself with delicious anticipation. I kneel and extend my hand right below her nose; she dips her head and sniffs me, the warmth of her outgoing breath hitting my hand, and all I can smell is pure doggy goodness.

  “How about Sunshine?” I say, giving her a quick pat on the head, then grabbing the stick and throwing it with all my might.

  “Sunshine?”

  “Yeah, you know, like that song. ‘Sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray.’” I stop when I realize Cassie’s laughing at me.

  “What? You don’t like the musical stylings of Delilah?” I cock one hip out, put a hand on it, and give her a snobby look. She collapses into giggles and the dog runs over and starts licking her.

  “Sunshine it is.” She laughs.

  We go to the Jeep, and Sunshine jumps into the backseat like she’s used to it. Is she their dog? Okay, enough. I’m not going to feel bad about them anymore.

  I slide in the front, Cassie sits in the passenger seat and we both slam our doors at the same time. I turn the key, get the engine going, and then stare at the dash like it can tell me something.

  “What’s wrong?” Cassie asks.

  “I don’t know how to drive a stick.”

  “Don’t look at me.” She shrugs.

  There are three pedals on the floor and I know two of them, so I put one foot on the brake and another foot on the new pedal. Now, I know the stick in the middle of the car has something to do with the whole thing, so I put my hand on the black knob and I push forward. Nothing happens, so I push it backwards, and it squiggles beneath my hand. Really odd. Anyway, I futz with it, and after about ten minutes, plenty of sighs and toe-tapping on Cassie’s part, we finally back out.

  We leave the garage, and then through starting and stopping, jerking us all back and forth until Cassie screams, I finally figure out how to go forward.

  “Got it,” I say, and drive out of the yard. Sunshine leans around the seat to lick Cassie’s face, making her smile and hug the dog with one arm, and I look in the rearview mirror once more back at the house. What I see almost stops me and the car.

  In front of the porch is a small girl, no more than five, dressed in pajamas and holding a teddy bear while watching us. I don’t see evidence of a bite, but I can see the signs of the virus in her face and in her cracked eyes.

  Dear God, where did she come from? Had she been in the house with us?

  She just stands there as I drive off, holding her bear.

  Chapter 43

  I think the freeway is behind us. I’m driving down a long, country road, and I’m hoping I’m heading toward some kind of town.

  “Any idea where we are?”

  “No.” Cassie rolls her eyes.

  “How about the freeway?”

  “I think it’s behind us.”

  “Any idea how to get there?”

  “No,” Cassie says and puts some of her hair in her mouth, dragging it through until it’s wet while looking out the window.

  “Thanks,” I mumble to myself.

  “I want some gum,” she states, chewing on her hair. “Let’s stop at the next town.”

  “Sure,” I agree and grip the wheel. She’s getting on my nerves. First she didn’t help me load the car, a
nd now she’s just being annoying. She starts making this clicking sound and I try to let it go, but then I snap.

  “Cassie!”

  “What?”

  “Stop that.”

  She shrugs and starts playing with her hair again. I know what’s wrong. Even though we just had a nice rest period, we’ve been traveling for days and we’ve only been around each other. Whether there are adults out there or not, it would be good to just find more people, so we’ll have someone else to bounce off.

  In about twenty minutes, I come up a hill and see the edges of a town about a mile away.

  “Okay, Cassie, get ready. We’re about to get you some gum and find out where we are,” I say. Cassie straightens up, spitting the hair out of her mouth.

  We crest the hill and head into town, and all I can think of is ‘welcome to small-town America’. We’re on the main road, and I can see a few more roads running parallel on each side, but this is seriously the major street. There’s a gas station to my right, in an old white-brick building that was probably built back in the 1950’s, then a liquor store and a women’s clothing store. We drive over some railroad tracks and then we’re in the main part of town, passing a small local pharmacy, followed by a Dairy Queen on the left.

  I’m getting a vague sense of creepiness, of something being a bit off, when Cassie identifies the issue for me.

  “Where are the bodies? Where are the zombies?”

  God, she’s right, that’s it. The street is clean and empty. I don’t see any blood on any of the buildings, and there just aren’t any corpses, moving or still.

  It’s just creepy.

  There are still cars parked here and there, but there is no sign that anything went wrong in their world. The only oddity is that it looks like the zombies passed them by and left the whole town empty. For months now, I’ve been jumping inside at the movement of other beings. I’ve been looking for dead things out of the side of my eye, and I’ve been listening for moans. I have been hunted for months, and now I’m not.