“Wait, what?” Gretchen interrupted by grabbing ahold of his arm. “You mean you’re not bringing her back here? You’re going to let her go into the city?”
“It’s not too late for you to stay, Gretch,” Zack said under his breath, but it was no use. Everyone was listening.
“What do you mean stay behind?” Carolyn chimed in. “You didn’t even give us a choice.”
“Yeah,” Olivia backed her up immediately. “I want to go too.”
“Me too,” Rowan said with as much gusto as he could muster considering he didn’t really want to go at all.
Zack couldn’t help rolling his eyes then. He looked up at the ceiling as their objections washed over him and flooded his mind. “Okay, enough!” he shouted, quieting every single one of them. “No one is going with me, okay? I am going alone. Not you,” he said looking directly at Olivia, “not you,” he looked to Carolyn, “and not you,” he turned to Gretchen, his voice softening as his eyes gazed directly into hers. They clouded over with frustration and fear.
“What? Why?” she protested, her own eyes welling up in confusion.
“Because Christine will never forgive me if you die out there.” He cleared his throat and put on a voice that was more final.
Gretchen took a deep breath in and considered his words, mulled them over in her mind, tossed and turned them. Finally, she let her eyes fall and took a step back from Zack in submission. As much as she wanted to be out there helping in the search for her sister, she knew Zack was right. It wasn’t what Christine wanted and the last thing she wanted to do was destroy the relationship she had just restored with her sister. Zack had proven himself capable of handling himself out there. Gretchen’s eyes turned to the ground.
“Good. I’ll be leaving immediately.”
IV
Christine flew through the abandoned fields, one property to the next. The bay Thoroughbred gelding she took from Mac’s barn was tall, fast, and willing to work if Christine asked in the right way. At first it took her a moment to remember everything she had learned from her riding lessons growing up, but it all came rushing back the minute the gelding pinned his ears, bit down on the bit, and threatened to take off on her. She moved her hands back and forth, moving the bit in the horse’s mouth, a gentle reminder that she was there and she was the one in charge. Before long they took off, on Christine’s orders, and made for the once great city of Chicago.
With each stride, the horse’s nostrils flared with steaming heat. The cold air whipped at Christine’s face, burning into her skin, but she didn’t slow down. Not until she put some good distance between herself and the bunker and when the horse had given it all he had. Then, and only then, did she pull back on the reigns lightly to have him walk. She wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed she was gone. Zack was usually either brooding by himself or settling things between people with Mac. It’s like he had become the simple farmer’s right-hand-man. It was more than she could bear. He was capable of so much more. She’d seen the things he could do with his sword. It was unreal! Olivia had her head wrapped up in Rowan, Rowan in her, and Lee was always watching from a distance. Christine was sure none of those three would ever realize she was gone until she rode back with a cure in her hand. Carolyn was settling into safety and pulling her weight where she was able to by helping the people cook, clean, store food, and whatever other menial jobs they had. She wouldn’t notice a thing. It wasn’t like the two of them ever really got along much anyway. It was Gretchen who was the potential whistleblower. She would be the one to notice within the hour that Christine was nowhere to be found.
Christine’s hips swung lightly with the horse’s movement as he walked along, his head high and alert.
“You must have been a race horse in your younger years, huh, boy?” She reached down low and patted the gelding on the neck. His coat was shiny with sweat.
Christine brushed her hand against her down jacket and then reached around to grab her backpack from her back. For a moment, the horse stopped and turned, unsure of what the person on his back could be doing.
“It’s okay, boy. Just getting a snack.”
She reached inside and pulled out two shiny green apples.
“Want one?”
The horse stretched his neck further around till his nose was touching Christine’s boot.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She reached down and let the horse devour the juicy treat in three swift bites.
“Good boy,” she said as she patted him again. Then, she gave him a little kick with her heels and asked him to walk on, onto Chicago.
She shoved her own apple into her mouth, savoring the fantastic flavor that coated her tongue. The horse stopped and turned its head again, wanting to see if he could coax a second apple out of his rider.
“I don’t think so, buddy,” Christine said with a soft nudge of her heel. “We need to keep going.”
The fields were growing smaller and the trees more sparse as the suburbs of the city made their appearance in small brick houses with torn gutters and broken shingles. Christine watched each house they passed as her horse clomped down a neighborhood road. There was no movement so far. Every few minutes, in the fields, she saw a zombie off in the distance, too far away to pose any kind of threat. In the south suburbs of Chicago, where the houses were right on top of each other, only separated by narrow alleys and one car driveways, she knew things would be different. The zombies could hide themselves, unintentionally of course. And they could also pop out unexpectedly.
Christine’s horse jumped to the right when a metal trashcan fell over and hit the pavement. One of the dead shuffled out from behind it, half a rodent dangling from its blood-soaked teeth. The horse neighed, snorted, and side-stepped away from the human who didn’t look right.
“Whoa, boy,” Christine said in a low, calm voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”
Suddenly, the horse bucked with a crazy grunt, kicking away another corpse that tried to grab onto its hind quarters. Another fell out from behind a pile of garbage bags and crawled forward on its bloodied hands and knees. It made a hissing sound which was more than the horse could take. As the dead woman crept closer, the horse reared up, throwing Christine from his back.
Her tailbone hit the ground first, then her shoulders, then the back of her head.
Then, there was nothing.
V
Zack followed Mac up the ladder to the outside world with everyone from his group following close behind him. The cool air felt good on his warm face. He took a deep breath to clear his lungs of the stale air from the bunker. He could hear everyone behind him do the same the minute their noses touched the fresh air. He walked with Mac across the field, past the broken down tractor, to the big red barn. The last time he was in there still haunted him. A part of him feared he would see a body hanging from the rafters again.
When Mac pushed the large door it scraped against the track with a terrible screech. The animals came to life inside with their own unique sounds. Mac led Zack over to a stall in the far back corner.
“This is my pride and joy right here,” Mac said with a beaming smile, his hand waving over the stall in a showy fashion.
He pushed opened the door. Zack moved a step closer and took in the pitiful yet somewhat cute creature before him. He wasn’t sure if it was a horse or a pony. Its coat was a mixture of mismatched colors, shaggy in length, and matted with patches of mud. Its blue-ish hair was streaked with grey and white. The whiskers on his muzzle were long and twitchy.
“Whaddaya think?” Mac asked in clear anticipation of a great response.
“Well…” Zack said, though he had no idea how to finish.
“I know he doesn’t look like much, but old Blue here is one fine animal. He’s loyal, compassionate, hard-working when he wants to be, and it might not look like it now, but this fella’s got some get-up-and-go in him, I’ll tell you what.” Mac c
huckled with a snort as he pat Blue on his hind quarters. Dust swirled in the air in a puff.
Zack found all of what Mac said hard to believe. The thing named Blue twisted its neck to look over at Zack, gave a deep long snort, and pushed his nose into the corner of the wall in avoidance.
“He’ll do,” Zack said. “Let’s get him going, then.”
Mac grabbed the halter off the stall door and with a few buckles gained control of the horse to walk him out into the aisle with everyone else. Even on sturdy, even ground, it was hard to tell if Blue was a horse or a pony. Mac saw Zack eying his beloved beast and answered the question before it could be asked.
“This here is a Kentucky Mountain Saddle Horse. Quite a title for such a little nugget, but he carries it well. If you can get him into his gaited trot, you could go for days and never get sore, such a smooth ride!” Mac was beaming ear-to-ear with pride for what was now deemed indeed a horse.
“If you love him so much, maybe I shouldn’t take him,” Zack said with hesitation.
He needed to get to Christine before she got too far, and he knew there was no way that was going to happen on foot while she was on horse, but there was a good chance Zack would be surrounded by zombies at some point and if it came to him or Blue, he would give Blue up in a minute and run for it.
Zack looked at Blue, the animal’s big dark eyes growing heavier as he stood in the crossties, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him. Zack took a step closer and put his hand out for Blue to sniff. The horse gave little interest, standing perfectly still with his head slightly lowered.
“Nonsense. You’ll be safe on Blue here and he’ll get you to Christine in no time.”
“But I can’t guarantee Blue will make it back, or that I will either.”
Mac had reached down into a bucket and picked up a large brush. He put it on Blue’s back, ready to start grooming, but stopped dead in his tracks with the thought of his Blue not coming back again.
His eyes turned down and he let out a sigh. “I know, son. It’s okay. Christine and that journal of hers are more important, though, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would, but I’m a little biased.”
The two each gave small chuckles as Mac started to brush down the horse. Zack watched, eager to get going. He paced the floor as the others explored the barn and checked in on the other animals in their stalls. Mac picked the dirt and manure from Blue’s hooves and then tacked him up with a dusty western saddle and bridle. Zack was happy to see the saddle had the huge horn in the front for him to grab onto if he needed to. He wished desperately this was a situation in which he could just ride his skateboard down an evenly paved road, or that he still had his skateboard at all. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he was riding it to his comic book store.
Mac walked Blue out into the open field next to the fence and stopped. Gretchen, Olivia, Rowan, Lee, Carolyn, Luke, and Imani all filed out of the barn behind Zack to watch. A couple of the people from the bunker had joined them; a middle-aged woman with wavy short black hair named Heather, a young boy named Aaron who Zack assumed was Heather’s son, and an older, taller, thin gentleman with white hair and a drawn face named Alan.
“Do you want a quick lesson before you head out? Just to make sure you know the basics of what you’re doing?” Gretchen asked, hoping she could remember what she learned when she was twelve-years-old. That was the last time she took lessons or could remember being around horses at all. She never took to it like Christine had. While Christine’s interests and hobbies always revolved around the great outdoors and adventures, Gretchen spent a lot of her time alone in her room or out with friends in town.
“There’s no time, “Zack said as he stepped up to Blue’s left side. “Every second we wait, Christine puts more distance between us.”
Gretchen raised her hands in silent surrender. She wasn’t going to argue and Zack was thankful for it. She went to take a step back but Zack reached out for her, wrapping his around the small of her back and pulling her into him. He placed his lips gently on hers.
Gretchen pulled back on surprise at first, but quickly gave in to the warmth of his touch. His mouth was soft, yet pressed harshly against her own, as if desperate for a last goodbye. Before she could fully give herself over to the moment Zack pulled away.
Without a word, he placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up and over the little horse’s back with little grace and sat down. His longsword hung down by his left leg. When it tapped Blue’s side, the horse’s ears perked up and he stepped forward unexpectedly.
“Whoa,” Zack said in surprise as he scrambled to reach for the reins. “How about you let me get situated here first, okay?”
Old Blue gave a snort and lowered his head to the ground, pulling the reins right from Zack’s hands. He munched on the grass lazily. The others in the group couldn’t help but laughing a bit. Even Gretchen covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide the smile from her eyes. Zack leaned forward and grabbed the reins again, but the horse’s head was too strong to lift up.
“You gotta give him a good yank, son,” Mac said. “Pull up on one side and that should do it.”
Zack did what he was told and it worked. One good yank from the left side and the horse raised his head from the ground.
“Thanks again, Mac. I really appreciate all your help.”
“Don’t mention it, son,” Mac returned. “There needs to be a little more charity at the end of the world!”
Zack turned to Gretchen, who walked up and rested her hand on the horn of the saddle.
“Take care of yourself out there,” she said with a pained smile and misty eyes.
“I will,” Zack said. He placed his hand on top of hers and let his thumb rub back and forth against her soft skin. “Look after everyone here.”
Gretchen’s eyes met his and held his gaze. “You got it.”
Zack gave Blue a good kick in the side and the horse trotted off. Each bounce thumped Zack back into the saddle hard. He kicked the horse again and this time he took off in a spirited canter across the field. Each time the longsword rose in the air and bounced off of Blue’s side, it encouraged him to move forward faster.
We can do this, buddy, Zack thought as he held on for dear life. Just please don’t throw me off!
VI
Christine groaned, writhing on the ground from the pounding in her head. She heard the dead around her—hissing, munching, growling, moaning, tearing—but she felt nothing. Though her eyes were open, the world around her spun too fast for her to see what was going on. She tried to push herself up to stand but her legs buckled under her weight, the pain in her lower back too much for her to endure. She sat on her knees, hands planted on the blacktop, waiting for the world to right itself around her.
In what seemed like the far off distance she heard a grunting and squealing that she knew could not have been any sound from the dead. It was familiar, as if she’d heard it in a nightmare before. And then she knew. It was the sound of her horse being ripped apart alive. Her stomach tightened so deeply she thought she would retch. The horse was somewhere near her, suffering a most horrific death, all because of her. It took everything Christine had inside her not to scream out in anguish.
The horse gave its last squeal of pain, an excruciating sound that tore at Christine’s heart, and then nothing more. It was the constant moan, tearing, and chewing of the monsters somewhere nearby that now filled her ears. The poor animal had been granted mercy finally and lay still and silent. Though she knew this, Christine thought she heard the beat of hooves on the alley road behind her. It was the wrong direction from which her horse had fallen and she was sure the horse had to be dead. There was no chance it stood up and ran away to save itself, was there? Not after the noises she heard it make.
Christine turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder, the world of abandoned houses, overturned garbage cans, and road swirling around her like a funhouse. She pursed her lip
s and focused, straining her gaze to the direction of the sound, willing herself to see what was coming for her. It seemed to work, even if just a little bit. She saw a large, dark figure moving toward her fast. It had shadowed legs and two arms and two heads. She closed her eyes and let them rest, opening them again a few seconds later.
A short but wide horse came to a sudden halt at her side and gave an irritated snort, throwing its head up and down.
“Hey, come on. Don’t do that,” Christine heard a man’s voice grumble as he dropped the reins and dismounted.
The minute his boots hit the pavement with a resounding thump they made their way over to Christine. Her vision continued to clear, the sun moving temporarily behind a cloud to give relief to the searing pain in her head.
“Chris!” Zack whispered, though she could tell he wanted to cry out. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? Were you bitten?”
Christine placed her hands on Zack’s arms to steady herself as she tried to stand again. The world had finally stopped spinning around her and she saw her friend’s face clearly. It was the best and worst thing she could imagine seeing in that moment.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sternly, forgetting that the dead were feasting on her horse just yards away. “You were supposed to stay at the bunker.” In her fall, thanks to the great smacking of her head, she forgot for a moment that she knew Zack would come after her when she left, no matter how much she hoped he wouldn’t. That was just who he was. In the comic book version of their lives, he was the superhero who always saved the day and the damsel in distress.
Dead Soil (Book 2): Dead Road Page 18