“Are you okay, Chris?” Zack leaned over on the couch to inquire privately. He didn’t want to draw much attention to her while she was still in a delicate state, until they had figured out a way to get rid of the Liam in her head for good. “You look upset or something.”
Christine took a stabilizing breath and blinked away the terrible thoughts. “Yeah, I was just remembering the apartment and the people who used to live there.”
Zack nodded his head, letting his face draw down in somber melancholy. “I miss it too. It wasn’t the safest place out there, obviously,” he looked around the bunker. “But it was home, familiar, and the people there were our friends.”
Christine stared at the dirt floor, her black combat boots kicking at it to make indistinguishable designs. She sniffed back the last of her memories before standing up. “I think I’m going to go up again,” she said, avoiding looking into Zack’s probing gaze. Before he could open his mouth in protest, she continued. “I’ll take Rowan with me. Just to check out what’s going on above us, make sure the area is safe, and…I just need some air. It’s a little stuffy down here.”
These were all excuses, Zack knew, but he couldn’t argue them. “Okay. Be safe and don’t stay up there too long.”
She gave a smile that immediately waned from her lips. “You got it.”
She went over to where Carolyn, Rowan, and Dan were all sitting together on the floor, their backs up against the cool metal wall, two of the three talking animatedly, though Christine was too far out of earshot to hear what they were saying. By the time she approached, they’d seen her coming and stopped.
“Rowan, I was wondering if you’d come up top with me, just to check things out? You know, before we settle in for the evening, just to make sure everything is in order and we’re not in any danger.”
She felt like she had to drag her sentence on and on thanks to the blank stares she received from all three of them.
“You want me to go with you? Not Zack or Lee?”
“Well, Zack still needs to talk to Mac, which I think he’s going to do here soon, and Lee has been acting sentry at Imani’s door ever since Olivia went inside, so I don’t think he’ll want to leave.”
Rowan took one glance over at where Zack seated on the cluster of couches in the center of the room where Christine had left him. Several people were chatting away around him, but he remained still like a statue, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on Rowan.
“Yeah,” the young man agreed as he pushed himself up. “I can do that.” He checked to make sure his 9mm was loaded and ready to go.
“Maybe you should bring a knife instead, just so we don’t accidentally draw any attention to the area if we have to take care of anything.”
Rowan nodded and tucked his pistol into the back of his pants. “Just so happens I have Bowie right here.” He reached down into his boots and pulled out the rugged knife sheathed in leather.
“Great,” Christine said, though her lack of enthusiasm might have given away her disappointment in having to take anyone along with her. All she really wanted was to be alone and have some quiet time to contemplate things—her life, her thoughts, her feelings, the state of the world, the journal.
“Ooo, can we come with you?” Carolyn jumped up to her feet with a wild grin on her face. “I’ve got my knife too and I could really use some practice!”
Christine fought the urge to roll her eyes. The girl was acting like she’d just been invited to go shopping at the mall and everything was half off. But Christine couldn’t argue with the fact that Carolyn did need the practice. If she was going to accompany everyone to Chicago, she needed to be able to contribute in fighting off the dead, and Christine knew she herself should contribute in teaching their inefficient members to fight. It was only right.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Christine finally said as she turned her back on them to head out through the tunnel.
Dan eased himself up from the ground, in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything it seemed. “I guess I could use a smoke,” he said to no one in particular.
Christine didn’t hesitate to start climbing the ladder up to the world above. The heavy smell of soil and people filled her nostrils and threatened to suffocate her. She couldn’t stand being enclosed down there, unable to escape from the wandering eyes of those she knew, those she barely knew, and those she didn’t know at all. It seemed even the people she just met that day could tell there was something off about her, that there was something going on inside her that no one was talking about. Of course they smiled at her and were as nice as could be, but underneath they were judging her, calling her names, thinking about how broken and weak she was and how she’d never get any better, never be restored to the Christine she once was. It was too overwhelming. She pushed upward on the wooden trap door and burst forth into the crisp Spring air of the world above.
As she stood up and brushed the dirt from her clothes, she realized she had made the right decision in coming up to check on things. The sun was setting, the sky a brilliant painting of reds, pinks, and golds. A gentle breeze blew through her tangled hair, refreshing her senses and clearing out the heaviness from her lungs. Beneath the whir of the wind, though, was the perpetual groan of the dead.
V
From behind the nearby tractor that stood as a marker for the trap door, five slow moving, corpses shuffled out into the open field. Their steps rustled the dead grass, giving their position away instantly to the four who stood frozen, freshly reemerged from below the surface. They all stood utterly still, as if the zombies could only see that which was in motion…but this wasn’t true.
The largest of the dead, and the closest, locked eyes with Christine, turned its heavy-laden body slowly, and headed for her with outstretched arms. Its moaning grew in anticipation with each step. Blood and bile oozed from between its teeth each time it opened its mouth and chomped down on the air with a clack.
Christine steadied herself and took a deep breath as the other four zombies changed their direction as well. They were only outnumbered by one, so the odds were in their favor. There was no reason for anyone to be nervous. This was what they’d been training all those months in the apartment for, for moments just like this one. Even so, she could see out of her peripherals that Rowan was stumbling to unsheathe his knife, Carolyn had taken a few steps away from the action approaching them, and Dan seemed utterly uninterested as he stood defenseless next to the others with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and his hands in his pockets.
It was more than Christine could bear. Her mind told her to whip around and give them a good verbal lashing before she turned back and took care of all five of the zombies herself. She could do it all on her own and there was no doubt in her mind about that. But then she stopped. It wasn’t Liam’s voice in her head saying these things anymore, but the message was still the same—that she was an island, a woman who could take care of herself, and that she didn’t need anyone else. But living is not the same as surviving a smaller, softer voice said. Yes, you could survive on your own, but could you really call that living if you’re not surrounded by others, helping others, thriving with others?
With no more hesitation, she chose whom to listen to. She whipped around to face the other three standing meekly behind her. Instead of hardening her face with irritation and anger, she softened it and approached them calmly. They still had a good thirty seconds before the zombies reached them, and that was just enough time to encourage these misfits to work together.
“Okay, Rowan, don’t worry about your sheath right now. Rip it off and throw it on the ground. You can pick it up later. Priorities,” Christine jumped in with confidence. The fact that they were on a deadline and time was ticking rapidly sent her blood pumping through her veins and sharpened her focus. “Carolyn, stand here,” she pointed about ten feet to Rowan’s left. “Hold your knife like this.” She reached out and adjusted the young woman’s grip, smiling at her
all the while.
Carolyn’s hands shook slightly as she held tight to her lowly, small weapon, but the look from Christine, the look that said she knew she could do it, gave her enough courage to stand firm and hold the knife outward, even if it was just in hopes that a zombie would walk into it and pierce its head on its own. That was better than nothing.
“Dan!” Christine spoke louder and firmer than she had with the others. “Get over here. Help them!” She did not give him any further direction. How could she? As far as she knew he had no weapon on him and no will to live. He’d completely given up and she wasn’t sure how to motivate someone like that to fight and survive. She was hoping the fire burning in her eyes would be motivation enough for him.
They stood their ground with Christine. The zombies were now only a few feet from reaching their flesh with their cold, dead hands. It was exciting, like a game, to be so close to something so deadly, yet know that you were going to come out a survivor. With a swift movement, Christine reached for an arrow from her pack, readied herself, and loosed it on the closest threat. With a thunk, the zombie in the forefront and center of the oncoming group fell to the ground, an arrow piercing right between its glossed over eyes.
With the numbers even, the confidence of the group grew. Rowan was the first to charge, pulling his knife behind his head and stabbing down into the skull of the next closest pulseless being. Christine was impressed when he pulled the knife out right away instead of being dragged down with the force of the lifeless body as she’d seen most everyone in the group do countless times. Carolyn did not advance forward, but dutifully waited where she was when what used to be a young woman approached her hissing. Before the disease took over, Christine could tell that it had once been a woman in her mid-twenties with long, flowing, curly, blonde hair, just like Carolyn’s. Now it was tangled into a matted, dirty mess with chunks missing from being ripped out. Her face had holes in the flesh that revealed the white of her skull, jaw, and teeth underneath.
Carolyn’s breathing intensified and deepened as the zombie doppelganger drew closer and closer with each stumbling step. Its putrid, mud covered nails were just about to touch her soft face when she let out a roaring cry. It happened so fast, Christine almost missed it entirely. All she saw was the zombie on the ground, knife sticking out of its throat, black blood spurting from the wound, and Carolyn struggling to stand up. She squirmed and yelled out as the zombie’s gnashing teeth came within inches of her nose. The thing’s stiff, hard fingers entangled in her long hair, dragging her closer to its face.
“No, no, no, no!” she cried as she struggled to pull away. Tears filled her eyes as strands of hair broke from her scalp. “Help, please, help!”
Dan came rushing over with a knife in hand. With one swift swoop, the blade cut through Carolyn’s long strands, separating her from the terrible grip of the being. She scrambled away on her hands and feet. Christine didn’t hesitate to loose another arrow in the thing’s head before anyone else could take their time deciding what to do. She finished off the other dead surrounding them till they were all lifeless and still on the cold ground, as they should be. It wasn’t till she took a breath to clear her nerves and looked around to make sure everyone was okay that she realized what had happened.
Rowan stood, ready to pounce, though his hands were empty and his face was drawn wide in surprise. Dan clutched the Bowie knife Rowan had previously been holding in hand and was calmly wiping the blood from it on his jeans without a care while his other hand clutched long locks of golden hair. The unlit cigarette still hung loosely from his mouth, no worse for the wear. He didn’t have to say anything for Christine to understand, his deep brown eyes spoke it all. He couldn’t survive losing another person…he just couldn’t. There would be no more blood on his hands.
Carolyn heaved great big breaths as she collected herself, doubled over with her hands on her knees. When she finally stood straight, Christine smiled. Carolyn’s long mermaid curls fell down to her waist on one side and only to her shoulder on the other. Her face was smudged with bile and dirt, and her blue eyes were sparkling with life. She looked like a warrior, a survivor if Christine had ever seen one. A whisper of a smile crossed both the girls’ lips as they looked at each other and then out to the bodies that littered the ground at their feet.
VI
Christine stood with her hands on her hips and her face tilted up to the darkening sky. Five rotting corpses, now unmoving, lay scattered on the ground around her. A cool breeze blew past and chilled the sweat that dripped from her pours. Her body gave a quick shudder as goosebumps rose on her fair skin.
They’d done it. Even if it was a close one and it took more effort than it would have if she’d done it on her own, they still did it, and they did it together. She hoped the others had learned something from the experience as well, grown in their capabilities and confidence.
Unable to resist the temptation to talk to Dan about what happened any longer, Christine released the breath she was holding and walked over to where he stood panting over the corpse he’d brought down. “That was good, what you did,” she said, giving him a quick pat on the back.
He looked up from the monster that lay still at his feet and glanced her way. Instead of relief or confidence, though, Christine saw the return of hopelessness and defeat. “Just because I took one down doesn’t mean another won’t come, and another, and another, till we’re overrun.”
The words hit Christine in the chest like an arrow. She’d been so sure she had brought Dan back from his abysmal downward spiral. She was sure he’d seen a new way, that the people he traveled with were worth the fight, otherwise why had he fought at all?
“What’s the point anymore? I’m tired, man. I just want to rest.” Dan turned and walked toward the trap door to the bunker.
Christine stood there, dumbfounded by how wrongly she had read the situation and Dan. He had given up. Sure, he fought when the threat was breathing down someone else’s neck because he couldn’t live with the guilt of letting someone else die, but would he do the same for himself? Or would he gladly welcome the final rest of death? The very idea sent a chill down her body again.
“Hold up, Dan!” she yelled out as she jogged after him. She grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to face her. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”
He yanked his arm out of her grasp, his face contorting with malice. “I didn’t just lose someone I cared about! I killed them!” He made to turn away, but Christine maneuvered herself back in front of him.
“I know and I know that pain too,” she said desperately. “Liam was the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, but instead I had to put a knife in his head just so he wouldn’t turn into one of those things. I did it and I have to live with that.”
Dan took a step forward till his chin was almost touching her forehead. He glared down at her, his jaw tightening with each breath he took. “You had to kill him. That was mercy. What I did was not mercy…it was murder. And I can never take it back.”
She stood dumbfounded, blinking as she processed the magnitude of his words. They had both performed the same actions, but he was right. It was different. She scrambled for a way to bring him back and get through to him that it wasn’t his fault.
“You didn’t do it because you wanted Anita dead!” Christine called after him again. She marched up behind him till they were shoulder to shoulder and spun him around again for what she hoped was the last time. “You thought you were protecting an innocent man. Zack. You did it out of the goodness of your heart, not out of hatred. You have to learn to forgive yourself for it.”
“Yeah?” he rounded on her. “Why’s that? The memory will always be there. Forgiveness won’t change the fact that she’s dead and I’m the one who killed her!”
“You’re right,” Christine breathed out. “It won’t. But it will change how you feel on the inside. It will change how you see yourself. It will
give you hope and a future again.”
He snorted through his nose and shook his head, taking his gaze from her and placing it on the cold, hard ground. “You just don’t get it. There is no future anymore, not for any of us.” And he walked off, back to the warmth and comfort of the bunker.
Christine turned around to see Rowan and Carolyn standing awkwardly behind her, their eyes doing all they could to avoid hers to spare her. She knew what they must be thinking then. She’d failed Dan.
“Some people can’t be saved,” Liam’s voice echoed in her head, though she couldn’t see him anywhere. “Some people are better off leaving this world to find comfort in the next. Why should he be spared that mercy?”
“Stop it,” she growled under her breath so the others couldn’t hear. “Just stop.”
The voice dissipated and the echoes came to a halt in her mind. She was alone again with only her guilt to keep her company.
“Let’s head back,” she said, heading for the doorway Dan had just disappeared down into.
Carolyn and Rowan didn’t argue with her, but followed her without a word. Christine lowered herself down into the dank bunker, dropping from the last rung to the ground with a thud. Dan was nowhere to be found in the tunnel. He wasn’t anywhere in the gathering room either.
“Your friend looked a little tired, so I directed him to one of the unoccupied rooms to take a load off his feet,” Mac smiled as they emerged from the dark tunnel.
“That’s very kind of you,” Christine said. The words felt foreign in her mouth, as if they were part of a lost language long forgotten.
They were no longer living in a world of politeness and civility. That was apparent to her the moment the outbreak was upon them. She remembered how cold Liam was when he refused to open the door to save their young neighbor and his mother, all to save themselves. Threat changes a person, time and time again…so why was Mac so pleasant? So friendly? So welcoming to a bunch of people he didn’t know? It seemed off and out of place.
Dead Soil (Book 2): Dead Road Page 10