Sunrise

by Kody Boye

  Dakota reached forward and grabbed his gun.

  They went into the other two houses one-by-one. Guns drawn and clips full, they scoured each room on every floor, searching for anything or anyone that might have managed to stumble into the building and lock the door behind them. Several times, Dakota thought he heard something groan, then turned with his pistol at eye level only to find nothing behind him. It scared him, thinking that a house could possibly speak and reveal all of its secrets, but he didn’t think about it for long after Jamie mentioned every house he’d stayed at in Idaho did such a thing.

  It’s like they’re talking, he’d said, echoing Dakota’s previous sentiments. Like they’re waiting for someone to stop and listen.

  By the time noon turned to dusk, they returned to Jamie’s childhood home, sweat staining their shirts and hair plastered to their foreheads.

  “You think we could take a bath?” Desmond asked, stripping his soaked shirt off his skinny frame. “I haven’t showered in days.”

  “I could probably get the generator out back working,” Jamie said, casting a glance toward the door sitting at the very end of the hall. “But I don’t think now would be a good idea to try.”

  “Best not to do it now,” Dakota said, frowning when Desmond sighed. “I’m sure we can figure something else out.”

  “We can,” Jamie said. “Even if we have to use some of the bottled water, we can always get more.”

  “And we can purify it now that we’re here,” Dakota added, reaching out to set a hand on Desmond’s sweaty shoulder.

  “I just don’t want to use anything we don’t have to,” the boy said.

  “You want a shower, you got a shower,” Jamie smiled, heading toward the door. “Dakota, care to help me bring some stuff in?”

  “It’d be my pleasure.”

  “It’s nice to have a little alone time,” Jamie said, “isn’t it?”

  Dakota nodded. Tilting his head back, Dakota smiled at Jamie and took a moment to readjust himself on the bed Jamie had slept in for most of his life before allowing his eyes to continue their endless pursuit of the room. Most of the walls were bare, evidence of a room long uninhabited, but a few things sprinkled their surfaces, giving birth to personality found solely in a patriotic young man. An American flag blanketed a corner, while a miniature display of what appeared to be the Civil War covered a shelf just above a writing desk, upon which a photo of Jamie’s father sat—post Gulf War, a chest-up shot with the man flashing pearly whites.

  “Jamie,” Dakota said, “do you remember anything about your father?”

  “Sure.”

  “Like what?”

  “The way he used to throw me into the air and catch me in his arms. Scared my mom half to death whenever he did it.”

  “What else?”

  “Him taking me for ice cream, going to church on Sundays, playing baseball in the park.”

  “It sounds like a dream come true.”

  “Did your dad not do anything like that with you?”

  “Honestly, I can’t remember. It seems like everything was going just fine up until everything went to hell near the very end.”

  “We both had pretty fucked up childhoods.”

  “Guess that’s why we go together so well,” Dakota laughed, bowing his head into Jamie’s chest.

  “I used to resent the fact that my friends all had dads when I didn’t. It’s taken me a long time to get over that, but now that I have, I realize that I’d never wish anything I went through on anyone else. It’s hard growing up without your dad.”

  “I wish I could say the same thing.”

  “You have any idea what happened? I mean, with their relationship?”

  “I don’t know,” Dakota sighed. “Even if I could know, I don’t think I’d want to. Whatever happened, or was happening, it was bad. That’s all I know.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” Jamie said.

  “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

  “Don’t ever be sorry for anything, Dakota. There’s no point in regretting asking something that gets you closer to someone.”

  He could live with that logic.

  The night once more bestowed them with a healthy dose of rain. Come morning, after it had fallen all night and slicked the dying ground with fresh dew, Dakota slipped from the realms of sleep and into the reality of consciousness, head light and eyes heavy in the chill that lingered in the air.

  Where am I? he thought, then reconsidered this when he felt Jamie moving next to him.

  Idaho. He remembered now. They’d arrived yesterday morning after a near-three-day flight from South Dakota. It seemed nearly impossible to think that they’d just traveled halfway across the country only to end up in an old farmhouse his boyfriend had spent the first eighteen years of his life in, but he tried not to think about it. His mind cloudy and his body numb from sleep, he squirmed back against Jamie and drew the blanket tighter around him.

  It’s so cold.

  He opened his eyes and looked toward the window, noticing the frost that covered it.

  Snow?

  No, it couldn’t be. Frost didn’t necessarily mean snow, nor did it foreshadow it in any shape or form.

  Dakota pushed himself into a sitting position and dangled his feet over the side of the bed, bowing his head to shield his eyes from the light stabbing into the room. Once he realized that it might be bothering Jamie as well, he stood, crossed the room and pulled the curtains over the window, sighing when the cold bit his skin and nipped at his ankles.

  No use in going back to bed now.

  After gathering up his clothes and dressing, he stepped out of the room and into the hallway, taking extra care to close the door as quietly as possible before making his way into the living room. There, in the nearly-white light of the early morning, he found Desmond sitting in the recliner, reading a massive hardcover book that he had balanced on his knees.

  “Morning,” Dakota said.

  “Morning,” Desmond said, frowning when he looked up at Dakota.

  “What?”

  “Your cheeks are red as hell.”

  Dakota reached up to touch his face and realized it hurt to the touch.

  “Maybe it was just the weather,” Desmond shrugged, sliding a piece of paper into the book and slamming it shut. Its echo traveled across the house, instantly forcing Dakota to grimace.

  “It’s nothing to worry yourself over. Jamie’s not waking up anytime soon anyway.”

  “How come?”

  “I don’t think he got to sleep until late this morning,” Dakota said. He pushed his fingers into his armpits and looked out the window. Just as he expected, frost tipped the yellowing blades of grass like false hats atop a jester’s head. “You want to go get some stuff out of the truck?”

  “In this weather?”

  “We’re going to have to do it later anyway.”

  “Where’re the coats?”

  By the time they finished bringing everything into the house, Jamie had awakened. Dressed in sweatpants and little else, he shivered as Dakota packed the last box into the house and pushed the door shut behind him.

  “It’s freezing,” Jamie said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I noticed,” Dakota chuckled. He carried the box in the kitchen and set it down next to the others, smiling as Jamie came up behind him and took in the sight. “You sleep all right?”

  “Yup. Why?”

  “You look a bit…disgruntled.” Desmond chuckled in the background. Jamie smirked and reached up to scratch the stubble sprinkling his cheeks and upper lip.

  “I always look like this in the morning. I’m fine though. I might put Desmond in a headlock for being a little shit, but everything’s good.”

  “Hey!” Desmond cried, laughing as he jumped over a box to disappear into the side hall. “I’m an innocent bystander here!”

  “Like hell you are,” Jamie chuckled, sprinting after the boy.

  Laughin
g, Dakota slipped his coat off his shoulders and set it onto the rack, leaning into the kitchen to see if he could catch a glimpse of Jamie in his mad pursuit. A secondary hall he hadn’t seen before opened just outside of the south threshold and led into what appeared to be dead end. Dakota burst out laughing when he heard a squeal emit from the other room.

  “Got ‘im,” Jamie said, carrying the boy out upside-down with his arm pressed against Desmond’s abdomen.

  “Just don’t drop me,” Desmond laughed.

  “You should’ve known you can’t outrun me in my own house.”

  “I figured as much.”

  After giving Desmond a slight shake, Jamie tossed the boy onto the couch and settled down next to him, taking a moment to compose himself before looking up at Dakota. His smile widened the moment their eyes met. “Want me to catch you next?”

  “You’ll do that eventually, believe me.”

  “I sure will,” Jamie purred.

  “Eww,” Desmond groaned, laughing shortly thereafter.

  “Don’t subject him to your lewd ways,” Dakota chuckled, smacking Jamie back into the couch before crawling on top of him.

  “He’s probably heard worse,” Jamie smirked.

  “Don’t you know it,” the boy laughed. He peeked his head up over the couch and tilted his head to the side. “Is that…?”

  “What?”

  “That SUV.”

  Dakota looked out the window.

  He saw Steve in the front seat and bolted.

  “Fucking hell!” Steve laughed, stumbling back as Dakota threw himself into his arms. “You guys are here!”

  “Thank God,” Dakota cried, grabbing his friend’s face and planting a kiss on his lips. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  “Your mouth tastes like shit, Koda.”

  “Fuck you!” Dakota laughed, pushing Steve back a few steps. He walked around the car only to be immediately enveloped in Ian’s arms.

  “Great to see you, kid.”

  “You too,” Dakota said, looking into the car and at the makeshift curtains that separated the front and the back seats. “Where’s Erik?”

  “In the back. He’s had a migraine for the past day,” Steve replied, looking up as Jamie and Desmond stepped out of the house. He waved a hand in greeting. “Hey, guys!”

  “Where’s Erik?” Jamie cried out, quickening his pace across the lawn.

  “In the back. He’s got a headache.”

  The relief in Jamie’s face was more than obvious.

  “I’m good,” Erik said, climbing out from the backseat. “My head’s just killing me.”

  “It’s great to see you again,” Dakota said, setting an arm across the man’s back.

  “You too,” Erik lifted his head to look at Jamie as he approached. “Hey.”

  “Hey buddy,” Jamie said, wrapping his friend into a hug. “Everything go ok?”

  “Some weird shit happened back in Wyoming,” Ian said.

  “Like what?”

  “He’ll tell you inside,” Erik said. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “It wasn’t a zombie?” Jamie frowned.

  “No,” Steve said. “It wasn’t.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What makes sense anymore?” Dakota asked, looking up at Steve. “You said it talked to you?”

  “It said ‘go’ and ‘run.’ Then it pointed toward a group of zombies that had just walked out of a store.”

  “So it’s not a zombie,” Jamie said, “but it isn’t human either.”

  “It smelled like fruit,” Ian said. “That wasn’t just me, was it?”

  “No,” Steve said. “I smelled it.”

  “I did too,” Erik said, bowing his face into his hand. “I thought I was smelling things because my head was hurting so bad.”

  “You should go lay down,” Jamie said.

  “I don’t need to lay down.”

  “No, seriously—go. Even if you don’t want to go to sleep, just get on the couch. I don’t want you stressing yourself out just because you think you need to be awake.”

  “I’ll go close the curtains,” Desmond said, making his way into the living room.

  “I’ll go,” Erik sighed.

  “Feel better,” Steve said.

  Erik gave them a nod before disappearing into the living room.

  “Have you told them the plan?” Dakota asked.

  “We plan on putting a wall around the three houses,” Jamie said, offering a small smile when he received two uneasy looks. “It’s the safest course of action if we want to stay here.”

  “Why the three?” Steve asked.

  “The house next door is Erik’s. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it.”

  “I’m not sure he cares about much of anything right now,” Ian said. “Poor guy. We couldn’t do much to help him, but we fixed up the back of the SUV the best we could.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Jamie sighed. He looked up at Dakota. “What do you say, babe?”

  “Huh?”

  “Tomorrow morning, me, you and Steve.”

  “To get the U-Haul, you mean.”

  “Wait, what?” Steve asked.

  “It’s gonna take a lot of shit to get this done,” Jamie said. “I want it done right.”

  Jamie strapped his machine gun across his back and eased a clip of ammo into his holster. “You guys know the plan, right?”

  “Yeah,” Dakota said, sliding into the truck’s back seat. “Get to the U-Haul, get the truck, then get over to the home department store.”

  “Then get the fuck out of there after we have everything we need,” Steve said, closing the passenger door.

  “Exactly.” Jamie crawled into the truck. “Ready, guys?”

  Both of them nodded.

  Jamie pushed the key into the ignition and started the vehicle.

  It took them less than thirty minutes to get from the house to the U-Haul place. Once there, they broke the glass to the front entrance, then spent the next fifteen minutes combing through keys to try and find the biggest truck possible. By the time they found it, they’d been gone for an hour and the sky showed no signs of brightening.

  “Hopefully it doesn’t snow,” Jamie said, adjusting his place in the truck. He grimaced as they rounded a corner, the muscles in his arms bulging as he tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Shit.”

  “What?” Steve asked.

  “Just not used to driving something so big.”

  “Just watch out for the bridges,” Dakota said.

  “That’d be our luck—we’d go under a bridge and get our heads chopped off by falling debris.”

  “Just make sure it doesn’t happen,” Steve laughed.

  Nodding, Jamie narrowed his eyes and pushed his foot onto the brake as they crested a rise in the road. Once at the top, the vehicle lurched forward, stopped, then began to roll forward, but Jamie applied more pressure and pointed toward something to their right. “See that?” he asked.

  “I do,” Steve said.

  “That’s the first one we’re gonna hit. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but from what I remember, it’s always been pretty small. We can raid the whole thing pretty quickly.”

  “How are we gonna do this?” Dakota said. “We’re not gonna have to pack all of it, are we?”

  “The plywood, maybe. The concrete mix? I highly doubt it.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Steve said. “Lead the way, captain.”

  Steve pointed his gun and waited for Jamie to open the front door.

  “Like I said,” Jamie spoke up, easing his hand toward the handlebar. “If you see something moving around in there, shoot it.”

  “Got it,” Steve replied.

  Dakota raised his gun. A glimmer of light bounced off the end of the barrel and reflected back at him from the display window.

  Three, he thought, the silent code of conduct slowly beginning to tick down. Two… one…

  Jamie thrust the d
oor open.

  Nothing but darkness greeted them.

  “Told you you were jumpy,” Steve shrugged, letting his gun fall to his side.

  “Good reason to be jumpy though.” Jamie kicked his foot around the door and held it in place, gesturing both Steve and Dakota forward. “There’s a little bit of light in here, but I don’t want any of us to go too far in unless we have to. Concrete mix should be up front, plywood a ways back.”

  Dakota stepped forward. “You ready, Steve?”

  “Whenever you are, kid.”

  Dakota stepped into the store, gun raised and eyes scanning the darkness.

  It’s gonna be ok. He made his way across the light-covered area until shadow began to flood his vision. It’s just a little dark. You can still see.

  “Even if I can’t see everything,” he mumbled, grimacing as Steve bumped into him. “Careful.”

  “I am,” Steve grunted. “I thought you’d keep going.”

  “It’s right there,” Dakota said, pointing to the sheets of plywood in front of them. “You said you only needed sheets, right, Jamie?”

  “To start,” Jamie said, “but if there’s extra panels of anything, grab that too. It won’t hurt to have extra.”

  Sliding his gun into his holster, Dakota stepped forward and wrapped his hand around a piece of plywood. First testing its weight, then sliding a finger over the side to check for splinters, he bent forward and took the piece in his hands, grunting when he found it was heavier than he’d initially thought. “Heavy,” he managed when Steve gave him a funny look.

  “You’re skin and bones. You’ve got no muscle on you.”

  “I’m not some Greek gym god like you are,” Dakota chuckled, easing the piece toward the front door. “Jamie, open it for me.”

  “Workin’ on it,” Jamie said, making his way out the door to hold it open for him. “If you can’t lift it, don’t sweat it. Try lifting the packs of concrete instead.”

  “They look heavy.”

  “I’m guessing they’re not as heavy as the plywood is.”

  Dakota set the piece against the truck. He sighed, then looked up at Jamie, who had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “What?”