by Tracey Ward
“Al, where are you going?!” Syd exclaims.
“The river!” she shouts back.
“We don’t have a boat. What the hell good is the river going to do us?”
“We’re going in!” I shout, stumbling on a log hidden in the underbrush. I nearly crash forward onto my face, but luckily I slam into a small tree, spin off it and keep running. It’s not graceful but I’m still standing. Still running.
“We are?” Alissa cries, glancing back at me. “Oh no.”
I slow so I can look behind me to see what she’s seeing. They’re coming. Lots of them. They’re diving off the bridge the way they did in Portland, they’re stumbling down the embankment behind me and they’re slowly making their way through the trees. We can outrun them for sure, but for how long? If we hide in a building they’ll find us and surround us. If we go to higher ground they’ll surround us. We have to lose them somehow. We have to lose these things that will not be lost.
Up north a ways on the river I can see an island. A small sandy area with trees for cover and hopefully deep enough water to work as a barrier. That’s where we’re going. That’s home base. But how do we shake them so they don’t see or smell us go there?
“There, that island!” I shout to Alissa. “That’s where we’re going.”
“We’ll have to go into the water to get there,” she warns, but she doesn’t question it.
“I know. It’ll kill our scent. They’ll lose our trail.”
“But our trail will stop right there next to us,” Syd reminds me.
He’s puffing and panting as he runs. He’s an older guy and pretty out of shape, not still an athlete in training like I am or a young woman in her prime like Alissa, but he’s still holding his own.
“You’re right. We’ll have to overshoot it. Run upriver, enter the water and swim down to the island.”
“How far upriver do you want to go?” Alissa asks.
I glance over my shoulder again, do a quick headcount. It doesn’t take me long to give up.
“Quite a ways.”
Chapter Seven
We go two miles. For me the run feels great. Putting distance between us and the infected is always a high but running also clears my head. I feel alert and alive as we move through the trees. Alissa and Syd, however, soon start to fade. They don’t complain though.
“Here, we’ll stop here.” I tell them, pulling up sharply beside the river.
We’re out in open fields again. I can see pretty far in every direction and the fact that I don’t see any infected should be comforting, but it’s not. I’d rather be able to see them coming than be taken by surprise.
“We’ll have to stay low in the water,” Syd says, eyeing the current.
I nod in agreement. “Our packs will get wet. No way around it. We’ll have to lay things out to dry on the island.”
“It’s going to be cold,” Alissa muses.
“Especially without your shirt.”
Both Alissa and Syd look at me sharply. I’m already shrugging out of my pack and pulling my shirt up.
Syd shakes his head. His scowl has returned.
“You just can’t keep your clothes on lately, can you?” Alissa asks, grinning.
I chuckle. “I’d like nothing better than to stay clothed for the rest of the day, but we have to leave a strong scent behind to keep them from following us. We’ve all been sweating in these clothes. They’re perfect to leave behind, to send them off further on a dead trail.”
“You and I will do it,” Syd says, pulling his coat off and tearing his shirt off over his head. “Al stays fully clothed.”
“Fine by me,” I agree.
“Me too,” Alissa says.
I look at her in surprise, amazed this isn’t turning into an argument about fairness and equal treatment or at least a rant about my sexist nature.
She shrugs. “Call me crazy, but given the opportunity to keep my clothes on, I will.”
I want to make a joke about liking a challenge but one glance at Syd reminds me to hold my tongue.
Syd and I jog away from the water and head out into the fields. I tell him to toss his shirt and return to Alissa while I run a little farther out before tossing my own. If all goes to plan, this should send them wandering north east.
“Jordan,” Syd says, staring at the water, “about this brilliant plan of yours...”
“I know,” I reply grimly.
Alissa comes to stand beside me at the water’s edge. “What’s up? What are we looking at?”
“The current.”
She groans. “We’ll have to swim against it.”
“Yep.”
“I miss our boat.”
“You and me both.”
We tread into the water. The coldness creeps up my pant leg, licking my skin and sending shivers through my body. This is going to be a long, exhausting ordeal. One made even longer by the fact that we all just ran two miles and will now be swimming those miles into the current of a freezing cold river, some of it underwater.
No one complains as we sink into the current. Nothing beyond the involuntary gasp at the sudden coldness. Then we’re moving. They follow my lead as I swim us upstream, trying to remain as perfectly centered in the water as I can. I don’t know how many infected are on the other bank, but I imagine quite a few. I can hear them now and then moaning in the trees but I haven’t seen any yet. Doesn’t mean they aren’t a threat.
“Ali,” I whisper, over my shoulder, “keep an eye on the west bank. Quietly and calmly let us know if you see anything.”
Silence is my answer.
“Al,” Syd breathes behind me.
“No, I heard you guys,” she whispers back, sounding annoyed.
“Then what’s with the silent treatment?” I ask quietly.
More silence. Just when I’m about to snap at her, she finally answers me.
“I’m all turned around,” she grumbles. “I was trying to figure out which bank is west.”
“On the right,” Syd and I say together.
“Shhh!”
I look over my shoulder at her incredulously. “Are you shushing us?”
She rolls her eyes. “If you would use normal directions like left and right, this wouldn’t be an issue. But you have to go all tactical Rambo. What’s next? Is there an infected at my 20?”
“Are you serious? What about ‘stage left’?” I whisper back sharply.
Alissa narrows her eyes at me. “It made perfect sense.”
“To who? The cast of Cats? Who uses that as a direction?”
“It worked didn’t it?”
“I have no idea. Did I turn the right way?”
“Did I put an arrow in your heart?”
“No,” I reply, feeling instantly annoyed that that was a possibility.
“Then yeah, you got it right.”
“I have an idea,” Syd whispers, drifting in the current between us.
“What?”
“Shut up,” Syd replies at full volume, making me cringe. “Both of you.”
“How ‘bout all of us shut up.” I hiss, staring at him.
I’m shocked when the old guy grins a little then mimes zipping his lips.
We continue our trek upstream, fighting against the current, the cold and the weight of our packs filled with water on our backs. I worry about what will happen on the island. We’ll need to start a fire, but how? I told Alissa when we met that I was an Eagle Scout and I was, but I never finished. I certainly never learned wilderness survival and we’ll need some kind of skills to survive on that island for the day or so it’s going to take for these zombies to clear the area.
I hear them coming through the brush up ahead. I throw up my hand to halt the other two, signaling silently to swim for the opposite shore. It’s a risk considering the number of infected we saw on the bridge. Several could easily be coming down the west bank as well, but I can’t see or hear anything so we’re taking that chance. We all lay low in the shallow wa
ter, digging our fingers into the smooth pebbles and sand on the riverbed to hold ourselves in place as we wait. I see at least six infected walking by through the trees. They stumble clumsily, making impossibly slow progress as they trip over rocks, branches and probably ferns. They’re not a coordinated bunch, it doesn’t take much.
There’s a gurgling up stream on my left, then a thrashing that causes splashes in the water. An infected is floating down the river, being taken by the current and run right beside me. He spins in the water uncontrollably, but when he sees me he doesn’t hesitate. His grappling, gnarled hands reach out brokenly for me. Most of his fingers are bent at odd angles with the skin flayed off in horrible patterns. He was pounding or digging at something relentlessly at one point. Now he wants me.
I keep my cool. I don’t move other my uncontrollable shivers as the river pulls him in close to me, then spins him and rolls him back out toward the center. He’s only near me for an instant, but it was time enough to see him up close. To take in the death and rot pouring out of every orifice. The horrible gray sheen of his drooping skin. I hear a grunt of surprise from behind me and I know it’s Syd.
The river pulls my close encounter away from me. The sound of his mournful, wanting groans are morphed into a bubbling gurgle as his open mouth goes underwater. Then he disappears. Hopefully to never be seen again, at least not by me.
We wait patiently as the mass of zombies trudging through the trees passes. There will be more I’m sure, but for now we have a small break so we take full advantage. I signal for Syd and Alissa to follow me, then I resume my smooth, even strokes swimming upriver.
By the time we reach the island we’re all panting and shaking with exhaustion, nerves and cold. Alissa drags herself up on the bank beside me where she shrugs out of her pack and collapses on her back.
“Well that sucked,” she pants. “What should we do now?”
“I know some PX-90 moves,” I offer.
She looks up at me with a weak smile that’s more about her eyes than her mouth.
“You start. I’ll join in.”
“I’ll—“
“We need to make camp, that’s what we do now,” Syd interrupts. He’s standing a little inland, scouting the terrain. He points toward a small grouping of bushes and trees. “There. That’s where we bunker down to wait this out. Let’s move.”
He walks away without a glance in our direction. I feel myself bristle.
“This isn’t going to work,” I mutter.
Alissa frowns up at me. “What isn’t? The island?”
“No, him and I. This back and forth crap.”
“What are you talking about?”
I look at her impatiently. “Come on, you know what I’m talking about. He defers to me one minute, then he’s in charge again the next? Barking out orders and expecting us to jump to for him.”
“It’s just how he is. Don’t take it too seriously and don’t be afraid to tell him no.”
“Well it’s not working. It’s causing hesitations that are going to get us killed.”
“I caused hesitations and we’re still alive. Look, this is all new to him just like it was for me. It’s going to take time for him to get used to what’s happening.”
I shake my head. “Then he should be listening to us. We’ve been dealing with it. We know what we’re doing.”
“He’s asked for less of you than I did in the beginning,” Alissa counters, sounding irritated. “But you happily stuck with me. What’s the difference?”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “I think you know what the difference is.”
“What? Breasts?” she asks, gesturing to her soaked T-shirt literally clinging to her body. That’s not what I meant, not exactly, but it’s what I’m thinking now. “Go give his a squeeze, they might surprise you.”
And killed it.
“Gross.”
“Remember, he helped make me. I’m half him.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m attracted to the half that takes after your mom,” I grumble, hating where this conversation has gone.
“Just try and tolerate him, alright?”
“Yeah, alright.”
Anything to end this conversation about her father’s breasts.
Chapter Eight
We spend the rest of the day starting a small fire with blessedly dry matches but regrettably sodden grass and wood. Syd and Alissa are used to camping so I’m not surprised to see them pull out their gear sealed up tight in waterproof bags and containers. My gear? Ruined. Any protein bars I packed are soaked through the wrappers, all of my clothes are sopping wet. The only thing that stayed safe from the water was my water. I’d laugh, but I just don’t feel like it.
Throughout the afternoon we stay quiet, keeping most of our communications to hand signals or stern looks. I get a particularly communicative glare from Syd when Ali signs to me that my hair looks crazy and I smile, flipping her the bird. In hind sight, probably not appropriate in front of her dad and he let me know it.
Once the small fire is going, the tent is up and airing out while whatever gear we have that is drenched (mostly mine) is draped out to dry, we sit around in a circle staring at each other as we listen to the sound of infected shambling past. They’re on both banks, though the east bank where we came from is the worst. There’s a steady flow of them that blends in with the sounds of the river flowing by, something almost rhythmic and soothing if it weren’t so deadly or disconcerting. I can see the stress in Syd as the sun begins to fade and the fire casts shadowy lines over his face. I can also see Alissa in there, too. In the shape of his eyes, the round of his chin. I make sure not to look at his chest.
“We’ll need to sleep in shifts.”
I jerk to attention when Syd speaks, his voice gravelly and low. No one has spoken in hours. His voice sounds louder than it is.
“I’ll take first watch,” I whisper.
“No, I got it,” Syd replies, staring into the building darkness behind me. “I couldn’t sleep right now if I tried.”
I nod my head, catching sight of Alissa doing the same beside me. None of us sleep very well anyway, but being outside like this is brutal. Every little sound wakes you up. Every single noise means death is at your door. The night Ali and I had to do it was made worse by the fact that we had just lost Snickers. We were angry at each other, at the world, and sleep just would not come for either of us. I can see now that Syd is tired but I firmly believe he will not fall asleep on watch.
“I’ll take second shift.”
He meets my eyes over the fire before staring into nothing again. Finally he nods once. It’ll give Alissa the most sleep up front, something I think we all know she needs. I’m also looking to avoid having her on watch in the dark. Whatever happened in the dark at Syd’s house still has me freaked and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t worried it’ll happen again. Much as I like her, if she puts a gun to my face again I might start to rethink this relationship. Alissa sleeping at night is a non-negotiable as far as I’m concerned.
“Why don’t you kids get to sleep? Jordan, I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
I stand, looking down at Alissa. “Once you’re inside the tent I’ll make a bed right outside the door with some of the clothes.”
“Deal,” she agrees quietly.
I unzip the tent door, turn to Alissa and hold it open for her expectantly. In the dark I think I see the corner of her mouth twitch as she tries not to smile. I know what she’s thinking but it shouldn’t surprise her. Just because society has fallen like Rome it doesn’t mean I can’t still be a gentleman now and then.
“Goodnight, dad,” Alissa whispers as she passes into the tent.
“Night, Al.”
“Goodnight, Jordan.”
“Goodnight, Ali,” I whisper as I zip her tent closed.
“Goodnight, zombies,” she calls, her voice barely above a stirred breath.
The infected shamble by in silent response.
Two hours later I’m
staring up at the sky watching clouds roll over the stars, trapping and releasing them, and I wonder if it will rain.
“Are you asleep?” Alissa whispers to me through the tent, her voice directly beside my head.
“No. What’s keeping you up?”
“I can’t get comfortable. You know what I mean?”
I do. It’s not a branch in the back or rock in the sock kind of camping comfort issue. It’s more of a slow moving, gnawing, slobbering death march cruising by that’s keeping us awake.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
I hear her shift in the tent, probably turning to face me.
“Do you believe in the afterlife?” Alissa whispers suddenly. “Heaven and hell and all of that?”
I can’t help it, I chuckle softly. “We’re on the run from zombies. I believe in the Easter Bunny at this point. I even believe in the Energizer Bunny.”
“Why wouldn’t you believe in him?”
“What? Which one?”
“Energizer. They’ve never said he’s alive. He’s always been represented just as he is; a battery operated toy. Saying you don’t believe in him is like saying you don’t believe in Mentos or Preparation H.”
I frown. “That’s an odd pairing.”
“Just because you’ve never eaten them or rubbed them on your ass,” she says, ignoring me, “doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
“What made you pick those two things?”
“I don’t know. I guess I made the assumption you’ve never had hemorrhoids and no one eats Mentos.”
“Hmm. Well it worked.”
“What do you mean?”
“This conversation has distracted me from the wall of undead just over the river.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. I’m busy rethinking my entire Mentos-butt cream belief structure now.”
“Are you going to answer the original question?”
“No,” I say without hesitation.
“Why not?”
“’Cause you won’t like my answer.”
“Is it no?”
“Yes.”
“You’re right,” she says, turning away from me. Her voice sounds more distant than true distance can explain. “I don’t like it.”