“I’m going to grab some water,” Christine said as she headed over to the storage area designated for liquids.
“No problem!” he called after her with a smile and a wave. “Have as much as you like!”
Have as much as you like? Really? What’s wrong with this man? The thoughts overtook her mind as she poured the cool water back and let it slide down her throat. There has to be something wrong with him, with all of this. Something’s not right.
“Shut up,” she whispered forcefully, but then she realized…it wasn’t Liam’s voice inside her head saying these things either. It was her own. Was she finally getting rid of him or was he becoming a deeper part of her?
VII
Christine caught Zack just as he was making his way over to Mac. “Hey!” she urged him with a tight grip on his bicep. She pulled him over to the side of the room where no one would hear them. “We have to talk.”
“Can it wait?” he asked. “I was just about to go talk to—”
“Yeah, I know, Mac. That’s why I have to talk to you.”
This piqued his interest. He stood tall, folding his arms over his chest, centering his eyes on her with intent. Christine mirrored him unconsciously, drawing herself up to her full height despite the weight of her backpack, arms folded tightly over her chest, and piercing blue eyes boring into his dark ones.
“I think there’s something weird going on here.”
Zack rolled his eyes and let his arms fall to his side in exasperation. “Come on, Chris. I thought we were past all the paranoia.”
“Hear me out!” she said urgently. “So, this Mac guy. Seems nice, right?”
She stared at him, waiting for him to agree with her. If she could get him in the routine early of nodding in agreement, then when she got to the meat of the conversation he might agree with her purely out of habit. At least, that was what she hoped. She fought back a smile as she realized the lawyer in her hadn’t died completely.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Zack said. His voice was filled with annoyance, but his head nodded right along.
“Good, okay. Right. He seems nice. But how many nice people do we know in this new world? How many people have been welcoming, inviting, and willing to open their safety to complete strangers?”
Again she waited. She needed him to participate. If he did, he might even think that he was the one who came up with what she was about to say. Or it would be so obvious to him that he would wish he had seen it sooner. How could he not?
Zack sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we did when we found your sister and the others.”
“That’s different. She’s my sister.”
“But I didn’t know that.”
“Okay, besides you how many?” Christine said with bite.
“Not many, I guess.”
“Right! Practically zero. I mean, when we were running the apartment complex, how many new people did we let in aside from my sister’s group?”
She waited.
“None.”
“Exactly! None. And when unwanted people found their way in, what happened?”
Zack’s eyes implored her to give up, to stop whatever it was that she was doing, just so he wouldn’t have to relive all the things that happened while he was away.
“You were almost raped. Baby Lilly was…” He couldn’t seem to go on.
Christine saw the pain and guilt that lay on the surface of his distant eyes. He had been out looking for Anita and gathering supplies for each of those unfortunate events. People died and he blamed himself. He carried the burden of their shortened lives on his shoulders as if he had let the trouble in himself.
“Terrible things happened each time,” she quickly said to get their agreements back on track. “So, why is this Mac just welcoming us into his bunker, showing us around, all the ins and outs of the place, without knowing us at all?”
This time, Zack did not shrug his shoulders or sigh or nod his head in agreement. Instead, his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his arms tensed at his side. “As much as I hate the guy for being a whiny bastard, it was Luke who vouched for us. Apparently, he is trusted here.”
It was Christine’s turn to roll her eyes and sigh.
“I know, I can’t believe it either,” Zack continued, “But he said we were okay and that was good enough for Mac because he knows Luke and has spent enough time with him to trust his word about us. That’s good enough for me.”
“But what if there is something wrong here? What if Mac isn’t all he seems and we’re leading our own people right into his trap. What if—”
Zack gripped Christine’s arms so suddenly and forcefully that she almost choked on the breath she drew in.
“Stop it, Christine, just stop! You need to stop listening to the voices in your head, okay? They’re messing with you and if you don’t pull yourself together they are going to mess everything up for everyone else in our group who want a safe place to wait out this damned plague!”
Christine’s eyes bulged and glazed with tears she wouldn’t allow to break the brim. She thought for sure Zack would see what she saw, feel the uneasiness that she felt in the pit of her stomach. At the very least, she thought he would take a moment to consider it, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t given her the time of day, her only friend in this world.
She wrenched her body free from his grasp and fixated him with a hardened glare. “Forget it,” she spat. “Don’t listen to me. But just know I won’t hesitate to tell you that I told you so the minute this blows up in your face.”
Zack took a step back as if he’d been punched in the gut. The force of her words had physically moved him. She turned on her heels and marched back to the tunnel that led to the outside world above. He wanted to cry out to her, urge her not to go up there alone, remind her that they were safe down there and it was a world of danger up there, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he could do was straighten himself up, look around to see if anyone had witnessed their altercation, and when it seemed like no one had, return to finding Mac.
Christine’s outburst hadn’t changed anything. Zack was still going to ask Mac if everyone in the group, including Christine, could stay there while he continued on to Chicago to put Liam’s journal in the right hands. If he had to tie the little blonde down to a chair with rope, he would do it just to keep her safe. He would do anything to save her and everyone else he’d survived with for so long.
VIII
Christine wandered the farmlands above, all alone with nothing but the quiet of her mind and the gentle cold breeze to keep her company. She went back to the place where she’d taken care of the stray zombies and glared down at their unmoving bodies. Their rotting, mottled skin stank to high heaven, but from looking at Christine no one would be able to tell. Her nose didn’t wrinkle and her eyes remained wide and unblinking as she let her mind float from thought to thought without any direction.
She wasn’t sure why, but she pictured herself as one of the walking corpses—arms outstretched, moaning, unable to speak another word, unable to formulate another thought inside her empty head, stumbling in an eternal search for food, to quench a thirst that would never be satisfied. Then, she pictured herself on the ground, piled in a stack of bodies with the others brought down by her arrow. Even with their mouths wrenched open in their last struggle to devour flesh, they still looked peaceful in their silence. Their eyes were no longer filled with an evil consumption, their teeth no longer posed a threat to anything around them, and their fingers lay loose, unclenched, in the dried brown grass around them.
If those monsters had souls, if the people who were condemned to live as one of those things had been trapped inside with no way out, she was glad she could give them the peace of death. She hoped it brought them peace, at least. She couldn’t be sure. They looked at peace. That was all she knew.
With a quick huff of breath, she continued forward, stepping over the grey-green arms of the dead. She was heade
d in the direction of a great big red barn. Now that she was alone, with no one to stand in her way, she was going to do what she set out to do and explore Mac’s property. Maybe she would find something to explain why he was so welcoming and friendly despite the evil in the world, and she wasn’t just thinking of the zombies. The new world order had done something to the people who survived in it. There was no more common decency, no more looking out for each other, helping the poor and weak. They were all poor and weak now and it was every man, woman, and child for themselves…except for Mac, who wanted to share everything he had with every stray who came along.
She tread lightly over the brittle blades of grass. The low howl of the wind disguised the crunch of her feet with very step she took. She realized that also meant she would not be able to hear so clearly the footsteps of the dead, if they were nearby. Occasionally, she glanced over her shoulder, did a slow spin to make sure she was aware of what was going on behind her, in front of her, and on both sides. As far as she could tell, she was really and truly alone. Even Liam didn’t bother to show up and whisper nonsense in her ear, sweet or otherwise. She was grateful for that.
The double doors into the barn stood two stories in height and were made of solid wood. The weathered paint had begun to peel. The wood groaned and creaked as she pulled at it to give her enough space to slip in easily and quietly. If anyone came up from the bunker to look for her they might not even notice that the barn door was cracked open just a hair and a half.
Inside, she could barely see in front of her nose. There was no light from the moon or stars thanks to the overcast of low hanging, fast moving clouds. Her eyes adjusted after a minute, enough for her to see that the pathway in front of her was clear to walk. Shadows played tricks on her as she moved slowly through the old barn. Though she couldn’t see for herself, she was aware there was a second floor loft above her head, probably to store hay and whatever else farmers kept on hand.
Suddenly, a loud bang made her jump so high she thought she’d leave her skin behind. When it was followed by the huff of a curious horse, she let out a huff of her own. The horse whinnied, which was answered by the whinny of a friend. Their mere presence, though she couldn’t physically see them, was enough to put her mind at ease and slow the beating of her heart.
Horses are prey animals, she reminded herself as she resumed her slow walk of the building. If something dangerous were in this barn, they would alert me to it. It’s in their nature. They would make a fuss, way worse than the one they just did by me entering their home. She felt hot breath press against her cheek and neck. With a smile, she turned in its direction and reached out a hand for the creature to sniff her. The horse did just that and rubbed its nose in the palm of her hand for good measure. She wondered how long it’d been since Mac had been up there to care for them. If he kept them in the barn, he had to be feeding them, right? The very thought that he might not be sent her stomach into knots.
The animal extended its huge lips to graze against her finger, pulling her in to give her a nip with its huge teeth. She pulled back just in time. “I don’t think so, fella,” she said firmly, but lovingly. “I plan on keeping all my fingers, thank you.” The horse exhaled through its lips and turned in its stall in search of other tastier treats. That’s when Christine realized that her eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness of the stuffy old barn. She could see the outlines of everything at least, and that was enough to get around and feel for anything unusual.
As she moved from one stall to the next, she quickly realized that each one contained an animal. Most were horses, but there were at least five cows, one full of chickens, one that contained at least four fully grown pigs, and another with rabbits. There was no way for her to know how many were in that one because the furry creatures were all burrowed into the bedding and bundled together to form one big mass with ears.
She ventured further into the back where another set of large wooden doors stood. These ones were just as heavy as the ones she’d come through, but they were chained shut with a padlock, no way for anything to come in and no way for anything to get out. Smart, she thought as she ran her hands over the beaten up wood. Nothing can sneak up on him while he takes care of his animals then.
Curious to what she might find upstairs, she searched the dark for a ladder that would lead her up to the loft. It took a good five minutes, but she finally found the way she was looking for next to a door that she assumed was the barn office or maybe a tack room. She climbed the ladder, assuring her footing on each rung. There was no way for her to tell if the ladder was in good shape or not. It was located in the darkest part of the barn in the back, where even her eyesight had no chance of adjusting to see. She climbed and climbed, and then stumbled. Her body fell forward onto the hard wooden floor of the upper loft.
She wasn’t sure why, but the sudden urge to call out into the darkness to anyone who might be there overcame her. She knew it was silly, like the fears of a child entering a dark room, but then again they did live in a world where monsters lurked in the shadows. “Hello?” she whispered at first. The echo of her voice died immediately, absorbed into the bales of hay stacked in towers of four, taller than her. “Hello?” she called a little louder, still aware that less desirable creatures could be outside and the last thing she wanted to do was attract them inside to the animals and herself.
Mew.
The soft, high-pitched sound sent Christine out of her skin again. She hadn’t expected anything to answer her in the first place, and when it did the noise happened to be closer than she was prepared for. Something light and soft grazed across the top of her boot.
Mew.
“Aw,” Christine cooed after she’d reigned in her nerves again. “Hey there.” She bent down to where the tiny cat was rubbing its head against her leg, changing direction, and rubbing again. “What are you doing up here all by yourself?” she asked in her own high-pitched, soft voice. “Trying to stay away from the big scary monsters, huh?”
The cat answered her back with a purr-filled mewl.
Christine bent down and scooped the feline up into her arms and snuggled its face next to hers. She could feel the sharp prick of needle-like claws kneading her shoulder as the kitten forcefully smashed its face into her jaw and raked its head against her.
“Why don’t we get you somewhere warm and safe?” she asked with a smile. Warmth spread from her hands outward all the way to her toes as the kitten continued its calming purr. It cried out again. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
Christine knelt on one knee and swung her backpack around to the ground in front of her, still holding the content cat in one hand. “I’m going to put you in here so you’re safe and I can use both my hands to get us out of here.” She wasn’t sure why she was speaking to the cat as if it understood her, she just knew it felt right to do so. Gently, she placed the kitten inside her backpack and zipped it up almost all the way. She left just enough open so the cat could poke its nose out and receive fresh, cool air as they climbed down the ladder together.
“Maybe you can tell me what you think of this place,” she continued to talk as she landed on the hard wooden floor of the barn’s main level again.
Another horse huffed out and nudged itself against the stall door to check and see if it would budge.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Christine went on as she headed to the door again. “But I just got here. I don’t know this place or these people. You’ve been living here longer. Maybe you can tell me if something is not as it should be.”
She pushed her weight against the door to open it and slipped out. As she was using her body to close it again she realized something…she’d left the door open when she went in.
IX
Zack spotted Mac over by a group of middle-aged men and women holding baskets filled with food supplies. The robust, friendly-faced man tapped another man on the arm and smiled, sending him and the others on their way to stock what they’d br
ought in. Now was his chance. Christine was nowhere to be found to interfere with his plan and Mac seemed to be available for the most part.
He walked over and tapped Mac on the shoulder lightly, who turned, his smile never waning as his eyes met Zack’s.
“Hey there, buddy! What can I do for ya?”
Immediately, Zack was put at ease, even with the magnitude of what he was about to ask this man for. “Can we have that talk now?”
“You betcha!” Mac beamed, laying a hand on Zack’s shoulder to lead him to a secluded area. “Right over this way.”
Zack let the large man guide him out of the gathering area and through one of the many doors that lined the metal walls.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mac said cheerfully and then let out a wholesome chuckle.
He lit an oil lamp and the small room came under a warm orange glow that filled Zack’s heart with ease. The space couldn’t have been any bigger than a ten foot by ten foot square, which meant his living quarters were the exact same size as everyone else’s. He didn’t place himself above anyone. Zack liked that about him. He respected that. Of course, Mac had mentioned that very thing when they first set foot in the bunker, but Zack had to see it for himself to believe it. He was sure Mac was a good guy who could be trusted, whether Christine could see it or not.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” Mac said as he pulled up a plain wooden chair and gestured for Zack to take it as his own. He sat down on the edge of his bed and waited patiently with lively, expectant eyes.
Zack lowered himself down slowly, letting his entire body fall forward to rest on his knees. He hadn’t stopped walking, fighting, or moving since they left the apartment over twenty-four hours ago. He hadn’t realized it, but he was beyond exhausted. His eyes threatened to close on him for good before he could get a word out. Using his broad, calloused hands, he wiped the sleepiness from his face and eyes before he began. It did just the trick to give him a jolt of energy to push forward for a few more minutes. He gave his head a quick shake and got on with it.
Dead Soil (Book 2): Dead Road Page 11