by Kody Boye
“You don’t have to worry about much out here. Most folks aren’t using the highway anymore.”
“You’re lucky then,” Steve said.
“You’re the first people we’ve seen for a month,” a woman in the passenger seat said.
“What happened to last people you saw?” Dakota frowned.
“They came, they stayed, then went their own separate ways.”
Dakota decided not to say anything further, though the idea that the person in that vehicle could’ve once been this couple’s acquaintance easily entered his mind, threatening to entertain his most sinister of fantasies were he not careful.
“My name is Ron,” the man said. “And this here’s my wife Shirley.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rose said as she approached.
“Oh, honey,” the woman said. “You’re shaking.”
“We were expecting to go on the whole night,” Steve said.
“Nonsense. We’ll help you out.” The man slapped his hand along the vehicle. “Hop in. We’ll give you a ride before we head out.”
The couple—who had introduced themselves as the Daymans—did not stay for long after dropping Rose, Dakota, Jamie and Steve off at the recreational center. Though told to help themselves to whatever they needed, they ate sparingly and removed only three quilts from the gift shop for the four of them to use. Dakota and Jamie lay beneath one, Rose and Steve under the other.
The door—which they’d been told to keep locked and bolted—stood sentinel against the night, its glass shrouded by curtain that had been duct-taped to its surface.
We’re safe, Dakota finally thought, pushing himself against Jamie’s side and sighing as the man tensed.
He hadn’t expected his partner to become so withdrawn, though given that his best friend had just turned and then died—and by his hand, no less—Dakota couldn’t necessarily blame him. He felt alone in this world, even though there were friends and people all around him, and though Dakota wanted nothing more than to shake Jamie from this grief-stricken aspect of himself, he knew he couldn’t.
Jamie needed time to mourn.
If he took that away… Dakota couldn’t imagine what would happen to him.
“They said they’d be gone until tomorrow morning,” Dakota said. “Right?”
“Right,” Steve replied.
“So none of us have to worry about waiting up for them.”
“They said to just sleep,” Rose replied. “That’s probably the best thing for us right now, considering.”
Dakota sighed and tightened his hold on Jamie’s body, the sweat along Jamie’s neck comforting but at the same time concerning. Though Jamie had not been close enough to get any blood on him, that didn’t mean the act—as horrific as it was—had not compromised his immune system. Wasn’t PTSD responsible for people getting sick more often—for soldiers contracting colds, the flu, and oftentimes pneumonia?
Erik was pretty sick near the end there, he thought. Coughing, trying hard to cover his mouth.
Maybe the CIFR virus hadn’t been what killed him. Maybe pneumonia, or whatever he’d been suffering from, had weakened his immune system just enough for the virus to take hold, thereby prematurely transforming him when he may have otherwise been fine.
Dakota closed his eyes.
He didn’t want to think about this—not now, not while everything was still so fresh.
He tried to sleep, found he couldn’t, remained there regardless even as the sound of Steve and Rose’s and Jamie’s breathing and snores entered and then permeated the room.
He decided, for Jamie’s sake, to just lay there.
His hand never left his partner’s grasp
He had just nodded off in the early hours of the morning when a knock came at the door. “Colonel Marks?” the familiar face of Ron Dayman asked. “It’s me, Ron, and my wife Shirley. Are you awake yet?”
“I’m awake!” Jamie called out, walking to the door to face the man.
Dakota burrowed under the blankets and shivered as a cool gust of air entered the recreation center.
“How long were you all walking last night?” Shirley asked as she stepped inside, carrying a paper grocery bag filled with cans, bagged foods and other miscellaneous objects.
“Hours,” Rose said as she stood and straightened her clothes out. She accepted the bag as the woman offered it and began to arrange it and then its contents on the front counter before her. “We’re lucky we spotted you.”
“It only got colder last night,” Ron said.
“The neighbor’s external thermometer dropped below freezing.”
We would’ve died, Dakota thought, thankful for the heavy quilt both above and beneath him.
Dakota closed his eyes and shuffled beneath the blanket, trying his hardest to get comfortable as next to him Steve rose from bed and began to help with the supplies the couple were carrying in. He wanted to sleep so bad—wanted, desperately, to just nod off and relinquish himself to the world of dream—yet he couldn’t do it. His mind was in overdrive, his thoughts threatening to send him over the edge.
I have to be awake, he thought. For Jamie.
But Jamie was fine. This he knew because he had Steve and Rose there for him.
Sighing, Dakota stood, wrapped the blanket he and Jamie had been sharing around himself, and retreated to the far side of the room, near where the sun had yet to shine from the gaps atop the windows where the curtains weren’t able to cover. “I need more sleep before we leave,” he said, turning his attention to Jamie.
“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need,” Ron Dayman said.
“We have people we need to get back to,” Jamie said. “One of them’s a single father with two teenaged sons.”
“Where are you coming from?” Shirley asked.
“Boise.”
“Why the hell would you go up there?” Ron asked.
“One of our own,” Jamie started, then stopped.
“We attempted to make contact with a group of survivors,” Rose clarified. “It didn’t end well. We lost one of our own to infection.”
“Say no more,” Shirley said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Dakota set the blanket down next to the wall and lay down.
After wrapping himself in it as best as he could, he closed his eyes.
This time, he succumbed to sleep.
The next time he woke, it was midafternoon, and Jamie, Rose and Steve were discussing with the Daymans their plans to return to Rigby.
“We can drop you off right outside Idaho Falls,” Ron said, “but we’re not going anywhere near the big city.”
“There’s no point,” Shirley said after a moment’s hesitation, then leaned forward to press her elbows to the countertop. “We’ve been doing just fine scavenging the lone houses and small towns around here. Shelley was practically a goldmine.”
“I’m surprised more of it wasn’t raided,” Jamie said.
“The army was directing them toward Pocatello to put them into safety camps. Shirley and I knew better than to go, though, so we packed our bags and came out here, waited two months before we even tried to head back to Idaho Falls.”
“‘Try’” being an understatement,” the man’s wife said. “There were so many zombies at the time we just turned and high-tailed it out of there.”
“We’d be willing to part with a few rounds of ammo for your pistols, but beyond that—”
“We understand,” Dakota said, drawing everyone’s attention toward him.
“You’re awake,” Jamie said, gesturing Dakota forward. Dakota refrained from slinking along the older man’s side for fear of discrimination and instead nodded as Jamie clapped his back a few times.
“Sorry if we kept you up,” Shirley said
“You didn’t,” Dakota replied. He turned his head to look at Jamie. “So… are we leaving?”
“We’ll be leaving soon,” Steve said as he finished loading the gun at his side. “Don’t worry.”
The man smiled, lifted his gun, and bobbed it up and down in a mock attempt at shooting something outside the nearby windows. He then holstered the weapon before standing and crossing his arms over his chest. “We should be fine,” he said after giving Dakota a long and considerate look.
“Once we get to Idaho Falls,” Jamie said, “it’s going to be about five, if not six hours of walking, all depending on the conditions of the road and whether or not we’ll be able to walk along the interstate.”
“You can take a couple of these thick quilts with you,” Ron said. “They’d be perfect for keeping you warm if you end up having to sleep in someone’s car.”
“Some tarp would be useful too,” Shelley said, darting toward the back of the souvenir shop to grab a lengthy strip of it. “Just in case you end up having to break a window down.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” Jamie said, accepting the man’s palm as he reached out to shake hands. “It means a lot to know that there are still good people in this world.”
“If you do run into anyone else,” the man said, “just don’t let anyone know we’re here.”
“But you’re welcome to come stay with us if you need,” the woman added. “Extra hands are always handy.”
“Thank you for your offer, but I think we’ll be fine where we’re at,” Jamie said. “Right Steve, Rose?”
The two nodded.
“All right then,” Ron said, reaching toward the counter and grabbing the keys. “Let’s go then.”
Shirley elected to stay behind as Ron drove them from Hell’s Half Acre and toward the once-sprawling city of Idaho Falls. Jamie—who now sat in the front seat in place of Shirley—stared out at their surroundings as he contemplated the condition of what had once been his home state. Though snow covered most of the ground, nature was quickly reclaiming its land. Wild deer could be seen bounding across the landscape as they made their way across the frozen tundra toward a destination outside the major city.
“They’d be good hunting if you could figure out how to keep the meat,” Ron said, nodding at the creatures as they passed by the road. “Jerky, or something. I’m not exactly sure how you make it, but I don’t think it’d be that complicated.”
“I have no idea,” Jamie replied.
Dakota sighed.
Fact of the matter was: they all knew very little about how to survive in this new and strange world. While of course they could hunt for their food—and, at some point, would have to in order to keep up their proper nutrition—it seemed pointless to go out and kill an animal that they wouldn’t be realistically able to eat all of. Maybe they’d have to resort to pigs. Or hares. Or birds. Or—and Dakota dreaded to think it—wild dogs.
But it isn’t going to get to that point, he thought. There’s eight of us back home. We’ll pull together and figure something out.
While he didn’t doubt that, he did doubt their ability to remain in their location for a long period of time. It would eventually be found. It was, to anyone looking upon it, a beacon of safety—a testament to quick maneuvering and resourceful craftsmanship. It’d only take one wrong person for it all to come crumbling down.
When a nearby rest stop began to come into view, and the city began to linger on the near horizon, Ron began to slow the vehicle, cautiously eying their surroundings. “This is as far as I’m willing to take you,” the man said.
“This is close enough,” Rose replied, opening the back door of the car and then hopping out of it. “Thank you for driving us.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, leaning in to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you.”
Dakota, and Jamie, exchanged handshakes with the man before Ronald closed the door. “If you ever have need of anything,” the man said, “or want to join up with us, you know where we’ll be.”
“Thank you,” Jamie said. “God bless.”
“God bless you too, son. God bless you and your boyfriend.”
Dakota was about to open his mouth to speak, but stopped when the man simply smiled, reversed, then turned and began to make his way back up the road.
“Guess there was really no point in being cautious then,” Dakota sighed.
“You two are the most blatant couple I’ve ever seen,” Rose replied. “It’s almost disgusting how cute it is.”
“We try to be as disgusting with each other as possible,” Jamie replied, nudging Dakota’s face with his bearded cheek.
“Jamie,” Dakota laughed.
“We should start heading out,” Steve said, turning to look at the interstate in front of them. “Think we can make it through the city without any trouble?”
“I don’t want to bet on that,” Jamie said.
Neither did Dakota.
As they started forward, toward the place that would likely still hold innumerable amounts of undead, he dreaded the idea of what the day would hold.
They were braving a strange new world—and on foot, no less.
Chapter 9
The city was eerily quiet. Absent of its usual traffic, free of its usual commuters, it resembled a ghost town unlike any Dakota could’ve imagined. Seeing smaller towns succumb to the apocalypse was one thing, but witnessing a city in all its silent glory was another thing entirely.
“It used to give me the creeps too,” Rose said, drawing up alongside Dakota. “You grow up knowing how loud these cities are and you can never even begin to imagine them being quiet.”
“It’s eerie,” Dakota said.
The wind whispered through the higher building’s towering heights and created what sounded like whistles in various spots, causing the hairs on Dakota’s arms and neck to rise with each passing moment. He half expected someone to step out from around the corner and ask where all the sound had went, such was the calm within the city.
The roads were littered with cars, the untended trash strayed about the streets. Streams of water ran the sides of the culverts and brought with them teardrops of sunlight that offered promise to those who persevered.
“We need to keep going north,” Jamie said, directing them to their left as they came to a sweeping intersection. “This road should take us all the way up to the interstate, then to Rigby if we’re lucky.”
“I take it you know how to get there by heart?” Steve asked.
“Always,” Jamie replied.
They were about to turn onto the nearby road when the sound of snow crunching under feet entered their ears.
Rose spun just in time to slam the hilt of her bat into a zombie’s face. “Their movements,” she grunted, rearing the bat back and slapping it across its cheekbone, “are being muffled by the snow.” She slammed her bat against its head a few more times until it stopped twitching.
“Imagine how silent a horde could move,” Dakota said.
“I’d rather not,” Steve replied, “but thanks for the visual, buddy.”
“You’re welcome,” Dakota replied.
Steve grinned and shot Dakota a wink, which he was quick to return.
Jamie stepped into the middle of the intersection and craned his head to the north. He stared at something in the distance for the longest time—likely, Dakota thought, the remnants of what had once been the grand building that had fallen and blocked off access to the alternate interstate leading up to Rigby—before he sighed and shook his head. “Come on,” he then said. “Let’s keep moving. We don’t want to stall for too long.”
They at least wanted to clear the city limits by the time night fell.
Whether or not that would happen Dakota couldn’t be sure.
They came across the pack halfway through the city.
Hidden under the awning of a large bank, they were nearly invisible to the naked eye, especially given the cloud cover that shielded them from direct sunlight. Black as night, with coal black eyes, they appeared to be sleeping—or, it seemed, resting—while standing, gently swaying back and forth to the tune of their own drum.
“Plant walkers
,” Rose said, drawing her gun.
“They’re not going to hurt us,” Steve replied.
“I’m not worried about them, Steve.”
She waited, likely to see if anything was about to step out at them, before moving forward. Her gun remained trained on the creatures even as she continued to advance up the street. “Watch my back,” she said.
Steve, drawing his own weapon, did as asked, keeping a fair distance from Rose as they began to follow. Dakota’s thumb idly fingered the safety on his gun. When he flipped it off, it sounded as though a match had been struck.
The flames spread.
The creatures stirred.
The inferno began as they opened their eyes and began to shift into movement.
“Shit,” Jamie whispered, removing the safety on his own weapon.
“What’d you do?” Rose asked.
“It wasn’t me!” Jamie hissed. “It was—”
“Me,” Dakota answered.
The plant walkers turned their eyes on him.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Dakota stepped forward and raised a hand.
The first plant walker to respond was also the one nearest to them. Shielded beneath the very outskirts of the awning, it cocked its head as the light filtered down through the passing clouds and struck its face head-on, revealing the coal-black eyes which gleamed like ebony within the afternoon day, then began to lift its arm in response.
Dakota raised his other hand.
The creature repeated the gesture.
“I think they’re trying to emulate me,” Dakota said as the creature turned to regard its companions, its silent communication enough to inspire the group to move out into the sunlight.
“They’re not decaying,” Rose said.
“Some of their skin looks like Erik did when he,” Steve started, but stopped before he could finish.
Jamie nodded and lowered his weapon, prompting looks from not only the plant walkers, but his group as well. “If this is what Erik would have turned into,” he said, “some dumb, lifeless automaton, then I’m glad he succumbed. He’d never want to be like this—not like some dumb vegetable who can only repeat what it—”