Within These Walls: Series Box Set

by Tracey Ward

  “Holy hell, Simmons, you cracked the case!” Billings exclaims, tearing up paper and throwing it over the guy’s head. “He’s a living human being. Someday we’ll tell tale of your brilliance on this day. Mark the calendar, Fritz. This is huge.”

  “Who’s Fritz?” I ask.

  “You’re standing next to him.”

  I frown at Kyle, feeling sorry for him. “Your last name is Fritz?”

  “Fitzsimmons,” he says heavily.

  “Fritz Fitzsimmons?”

  “No,” he groans, leading me toward the exit. “they shortened my last name to Fitz so I wouldn’t get confused with Simmons, but then the Bible scholar over there got it wrong, called me Fritz and it’s been with me ever since.”

  “If I get called Laz just because he’s an idiot, I’m kicking his ass.”

  “Get in line!” Billings calls.

  We exit the tent into the blinding light of day. I go to shield my eyes with my right hand to get a better view of the town below but, of course, my hand isn’t there. I end up popping myself in the eye with a whole lot of bandage.

  “Takes some getting used to huh?” Kyle asks as I curse and drop my hand.

  “Yeah,” I grumble. “A lot.”

  “I’ll get you some sunglasses.”

  “Thanks.”

  “This is where we sleep.”

  He leads me into another tent identical to the last one only there are flaps drawn down inside to create small compartments. Each compartment fits a bed, a small case at the foot and a narrow fold out table to be used as a nightstand. It’s nothing fancy at all. In fact, it’s cramped and uncomfortable but the full length bed Kyle shows me to looks like heaven to my 6ft frame. That bench in the RV, along with the old guy playing guard dog, were killing me.

  “There’s no bathroom up here,” Kyle whispers. There are three other people in the tent, each asleep on a bed. “There’s a spot to pee but any number two business has to be done down in the town or at the hotel.”

  “Where’s the spot to pee?”

  “Off the edge of the plateau.”

  “Classy.”

  “You’re welcome to head back down to earth and play house in that RV. Hang out with the neighbors as they sharpen their pitchforks.”

  I throw my bag onto my new bed. “Pass.”

  “How’d your girl take you leaving?”

  I look around, shrugging. “Pretty well. She takes everything pretty well.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “Some days more than others,” I mutter.

  I feel uncomfortable talking about Ali. There’s a pinching in my chest and the churning feel of anxiety in my stomach when I think about her. I’ve become so used to being with her, to counting on each other to stay alive, that being separated from her is unnerving. Like the sinking feeling you get when you’re convinced you left the stove on and your house will be nothing but an unrecognizable pile of ash and rubble when you return.

  Kyle takes me around to meet the other people living up here. There’s someone in the radio room at all times. At the moment, it’s a woman named Gabrielle in her 30’s with long blond hair piled up on her head and pinned with a pencil. She has her feet up on another chair and a tattered paperback romance in her hands. She looks like at one point she may have been high maintenance. Manicures, pedicures, hairstylist once a week. Now she’s sweating in a vent-less room listening for a silent radio to come to life, smiling at Kyle with a little something extra. Something I recognize immediately.

  “Are you into her?” I ask when we leave.

  “What? No.” His answer is too quick.

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  He pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Shut up.”

  “Nice.”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you want to,” I press.

  He looks around to make sure no one else is in ear shot. “Did you see her? Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Me, for one.”

  He waves me off. “You’ve got Ali.”

  “Even without Ali, older woman have never really done it for me.”

  “Me either, but there’s something about her. I don’t know. Maybe it’s her smell or her skin or—“

  “Stop there,” I tell him firmly. “I’m getting jealous. You’re ruining this bromance for me.”

  “Sorry, man. I promise, you’re the only one for me.”

  “Thank you.”

  I meet a couple of guys on patrol next. They each have rifles with scopes, a pair of binoculars around their necks and walkies on their hips like the guys in the tent. Kyle introduces them as Franklin and McGillvery, making me certain I need to give up on learning anyone’s first name. I’m surrounded by military and civilians that have been absorbed by military. At one point Franklin asks me if I’ve met Matheson yet. Turns out Matheson is Gabrielle but Kyle is the only one who calls her by her first name. I give him a knowing look when I discover this, to which he responds with a stern middle finger in my face.

  “Incoming,” McGillvery calls out.

  “How many?” Franklin shouts back.

  McGillvery has already lifted his rifle to peer through the sight. “Just one. I got it.”

  There’s a pause while he sights his target. I find myself holding my breath waiting for the shot, a reflex learned from hours of archery and firearm lessons from Alissa and Syd. I still jump slightly when the crack of gunfire sounds. One piercing clean shot, another brief pause then I see the figure in the distance drop to the ground, motionless.

  “Crow’s Nest to Day Spa,” Franklin says into his walkie.

  There’s silence then the crackle of a walkie coming alive. A bored voice laced with annoyance answers.

  “Day Spa here.”

  “Keep a sharp eye on the north side. We just took out a Z coming your way.”

  Pause. “We know. We saw it.” The guy on the other end of the walkie is pissed. “We had it sighted before you took it out.”

  “You let it get too close,” Franklin replies calmly, unaffected by this guy’s obviously angry tone. “This isn’t a game. The people over there are counting on you.”

  Silence.

  “Day Spa!” Franklin shouts into the walkie.

  “We copy,” a different voice responds calmly.

  Franklin mutters a few choice words as he stows his walkie.

  “Cummings?” McGillvery calls.

  “Who else?”

  McGillvery shakes his head as he continues his patrol around the rim of the plateau.

  “There are guys on another guard like ours at the hotel side,” Kyle explains. “We don’t all get along. They’re a little lax sometimes.”

  “A little?” Franklin asks in disbelief. “That section would have fallen weeks ago if we weren’t helping watch it. Mark my words, if there’s ever a breach, it’s happening there.”

  The anxiety in my stomach bubbles up into the back of my throat, hammering my heart in my chest. I remind myself to calm down. They’ve lasted this long without a breach and even though Ali lives in the resort area, she works at the hospital over here in town. In fact, she’s there right now working her shift. She’s safe. She’s close.

  “Have I met everyone?” I ask Kyle.

  “Yeah, tour’s over. You got somewhere you gotta be?”

  “The gym. Rehab,” I remind him.

  “Arm him,” Franklin says curtly. No one is dressed in uniform so I can’t see ranks but I’m picking up more and more that this guy is in charge.

  “I’ll just go with him,” Kyle tells him.

  “No, you need to stay. We need you to relieve Matheson.”

  I snicker quietly. Not quietly enough.

  “Dude, I’ll punch you,” Kyle warns me.

  “Just go do your job, Fritz,” Franklin tells him, walking away.

  He offers me a knife but I turn it down. I don’t really know why. I probably need it. When the time comes I’ll be sorry I don’t have it but it feels
like taking it is inviting something to happen. Like I’m asking for trouble.

  That night, after another all day workout session, I swing by the RV. It was going to happen. I’ve been with her 24/7 for months now and knowing I’m going to sleep tonight without seeing her doesn’t sit well with me.

  Unlucky for me, she’s not in.

  “Where is she?” I ask Syd.

  He’s sitting outside beside the BBQ and the river. There’s a fire roaring in the pit in front of him and I notice that there’s only one empty chair across from him now instead of two. That didn’t take long.

  “She’s at work. She asked to go on nights.” He takes a sip of the water he’s nursing, his eyes not even bothering to fix on me. Instead, they’re staring intently into the fire, watching the flames snap and pop. “I think she wanted to be around that nurse.”

  “Leah,” I confirm with a nod.

  “Yeah, her.”

  His tone is off. It’s not its usual full self. Full of himself, full of anger, of annoyance, of stone and solid surety. Something’s thrown him and I find that flat out fascinating.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  He looks up at me briefly. I get a quick jut of the chin toward the empty chair as my answer. I take it and the seat. We sit in silence for a long time and I’m surprised by how not uncomfortable it is. It’s not exactly comfortable, don’t misunderstand me, but he’s not hostile toward me anymore. I’m here but I’m gone. I won’t be laying down to sleep anywhere near Alissa. She’s nowhere around so I can’t sneak off to some corner and defile her in any way. As far as Syd is concerned, he’s off duty. I’m seeing him relaxed for the first time and I think I kind of like it.

  “How’s the hand?” he asks suddenly.

  I look up to find him watching me. I shrug. “It’s still gone.”

  “Huh,” he grunts, sounding unimpressed with my flippant answer.

  More silence as he stares at me, drawing me out. Finally I cave.

  “It hurts.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I imagine it does. You’re taking it well, though.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “You’re not blaming anybody. You’re not angry. You’re not sitting in a corner crying or staring into the distance messing yourself and not caring.”

  “I didn’t know that was an option,” I mutter.

  “It’s not. Not a good one. You’re coping. It’s good.”

  It sounds like a compliment. At the very least, it’s not an insult. I’ll take it.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re a lot like Al,” he says quietly, surprising me. I glance at him to find him staring into the fire again. “She’s resilient. Tough.”

  “She been through a lot,” I agree. I’m not sure what to say here. I know what Alissa has been through but I didn’t see it, not first hand. Not like Syd did.

  “So have you. I was sorry to hear about your sister.”

  A rushing fills my ears. I think it’s the river beside us until I realize my left hand is white knuckled on the arm of my chair. That my eyes are stinging and it’s not from the campfire smoke.

  “You don’t like to talk about her,” Syd observes calmly.

  I can feel his eyes on me.

  “No,” I croak out, my throat tightening around the words.

  “Not even to your parents.”

  “That’s not your business. Ali’s either.”

  “Do you wanna know why she told me about Beth?”

  Hearing her name hurts. It’s too personal, too real. It conjures Christmases and birthdays. Family vacations and riding our bikes to school. Beth with her big eyes and bright smile. Beth in my nightmares with her rotted flesh and hateful stare.

  “No,” I reply roughly.

  He ignores me. “Because of your nightmares. You moan in your sleep like you’re crying but you’re not. You’re just hurting. You’re scared. That’s something Al can understand, only her nightmares come for her when she’s awake. Can you imagine? She’s my daughter and I can’t protect her from this stuff. I can’t protect her from herself. That’s my nightmare. Can you imagine the nightmares your parents are having? They think you’re both dead. What kind of thing is that to do to people you love?”

  I don’t answer. I only glare at him with all the hate and anger I can muster to cover the fear and hurt lying just below the surface.

  “You need to tell your parents she’s gone.”

  I shake my head, unable to speak.

  “The only thing in this world worse than knowing,” Syd continues, his voice becoming gentle, “is not knowing. They need to know your sister is gone and they need to know they still have you.”

  I laugh shakily. “I’m no use to them.” I pause, trying to keep my voice steady, but when I speak next, it’s trembling. “I was no use to her.”

  “You can be of use to both of them right now. Your sister, she still needs you and you’re ignoring her. It’s not right, kiddo.”

  For some reason his ‘kiddo’ doesn’t bother me this time. It sounds like my dad. Like the way he would tell me some simple everyday thing and end it with that word, like no matter how grown I was I was always his kid. To a guy on his way out of the house and headed to college, that seemed annoying. To a guy trying to stay alive in the zombie apocalypse while coping with the death of his sister, the loss of his hand and a growing love for a girl with serious mental health issues that he can’t begin to understand, being called ‘kiddo’ feels pretty damn good. Like maybe I’m doing alright, all things considered. Maybe the weight of this world on my young shoulders is too much to bear and I’m allowed to make mistakes sometimes.

  “How?” I ask him. “How can I help her now?”

  “By being the messenger. Letting your parents know she’s gone. All of you need to lay her to rest, let her find her peace on the other side. No more wondering, no more worrying, no more guilt. You’ve carried her with you too far now. Put her down. Let her be.”

  I wipe quickly at my leaking eyes. Syd pretends not to notice.

  “So you believe in the after-life?” I ask him roughly.

  “The after-life, heaven, hell, angels, demons, hemorrhoids, Santa, batteries. You name it.”

  I chuckle, glancing across the fire at him. “It was the Easter Bunny.”

  He nods solemnly. “Him too.”

  “Why doesn’t Ali believe?”

  “Because she has guilt and ghosts, just like you,” he replies quietly, his eyes in the fire. “She thinks they have nowhere to go but to haunt her.”

  “When she told me she could believe if I did…”

  “It was a lot of pressure.”

  I nod, also staring into the fire, becoming hypnotized by the flames as they dance and wave through the air.

  “It also shows a lot of faith,” he adds.

  “Isn’t that the problem though? She doesn’t have faith.”

  “I meant faith in you.”

  My eyes flick to his but he’s not looking at me. He’s not expecting anything.

  “Lot of pressure,” I repeat.

  “Anything worth having comes with pressure. Expectations. Responsibilities. You gotta work for the things you want. You’ve gotta work to get ‘em and you’ve gotta work to keep ‘em. Anything that falls into your lap no trouble, it’s never gonna mean anything to you. Not anything real.” He stands abruptly. “I’m going to make myself something to eat and then I’m going to bed. I’m done playing Yoda for the night. You want to eat with me or do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

  I stand as well, my legs feeling shaky like they’ve been tensed doing wall sits for too long.

  “I’m going to head out. Thanks, though,” I say casually even though my heart is hammering in my chest.

  Syd disappears into the trailer without a word.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  I think about going to the hospital to visit Ali. I’m still aching to see her if not just to verify with my own eyes that she’s sti
ll alive and intact, but my visit with Syd has me feeling drained, tense and all around messed up in the head. I decide I’m better off being alone for a bit.

  When I get back to the plateau, I discover solitude is not in the cards. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe now is a great time to not be all up in my own head digging around and poking at things to see if they still hurt. Maybe now is a great time to lay low, hang out and feel normal for a minute. So that’s what I do. I spend hours sitting around in the main tent observing the changing of the shifts and saying goodnight and good morning to all of the people I’m living with now. It’s a solid group, one I feel instantly comfortable in. It might be the simple fact that none of them express a desire to see me dead, but I like to think it’s because they’re all just a good hang.

  All but Simmons. I hate that guy. And I’m not alone.

  “You are such a douche!” Billings groans loudly as he leans back in his chair, his hands thrown over his eyes like he’s trying to dig them from the sockets.

  “What?!”

  “Of all the things you could have asked your family to send you, you chose this?” Billings asks, pointing at the laptop in front of Simmons. “A porn?”

  “My brother sent it! It’s not like I asked my mom for it. And he hid it in the care package. It was in the case for Avatar.”

  “Why did you even own Avatar to steal the case from?” I ask.

  Simmons looks at me like I’m the idiot here. “Are you serious? That movie is the tits!”

  “I hate my life,” Alvarez chimes in quietly from the end of the table.

  He’s holding an ereader, something he got from his family in a care package. It’s loaded with over a hundred books and came with a note from his sister saying she expects him out of here before he can finish them all. Alvarez is stoic, playing all of his hands close to the chest, but when he got that note from his sister tonight his face fell. I was never worried he would cry, but he was obviously hurting.

  “The only place you have to watch this thing is here on the laptop,” Billings says hotly. “The same laptop we all use. The one we work on.”

  “So?” Simmons asks dumbly.

  “So! I’d rather not come over there to find the keys sticky and a skin flick on pause on the screen!”