How to Start Living (in the Zombie Apocalypse)

by T. L. Walker

  If you can avoid it, don’t load yourself down – but always, always carry a weapon.

  *******

  When I woke up, I was alone in the bed and I could hear Holden whimpering by the door. I forced myself to get up and move toward him, murmuring, "Shhh, Holdy, you've gotta be quiet." I knew that he had to go out, but I also knew that the less noise we made, the better. After peering out the window to the street below and determining that the city was still quiet and at least nearly empty, I allowed myself a quick shower and then gathered up my things, ignoring the fact that Holden had peed on the floor while he waited. "Come on," I said, putting on his harness and clipping his leash to it. "We're going to grandma's."

  Loaded down with a duffel bag on my right hip, a messenger bag on my left, and Dave's little-used hiking pack strapped to my back, I quietly unlocked, unbolted, and opened my door. Holden crept out into the hallway first, immediately turning toward the condo across the hall, his hackles raised. A low growl rose in his throat. "Shhh," I cautioned him, turning back to shut and lock my door behind me.

  No, I'm not sure why I felt the need to lock it at this point in time, but bear with me here, okay?

  Apparently we weren't quiet enough. Holden froze, watching my neighbor's door, growling louder and louder as the noises from within the condo rose as well. "Let's get out of here, boy," I insisted, and thankfully he obeyed.

  I made sure to peer through the windows at the front of my building's lobby before moving out into the street, but again things seemed peaceful. Is this some sort of dream? Shouldn't it be...crazier than this? More difficult? I thought back to the handful of movies I'd seen about zombies and infected people and anything else that could even partially fit this scenario. It didn’t take long for me to realize how sad it was that I’d never been a fan of horror movies and therefore didn't have much to go on.

  The sun was bright but there was a chill in the air – an unseasonable one, even for this early in the morning. I led Holden out into the middle of the road; after the episode from yesterday I assumed it was better to stay away from open doors, alleyways, and cross streets – and it's not as if you have to worry about getting run over, I reminded myself.

  Holden was clearly on edge, and as he kept an eye on our surroundings, I kept an eye on him. I knew that I could trust his senses far more than I could ever trust my own.

  And at least now I had better weapons – Dave had left his giant Maglite under the bed, so between that and the knives I'd collected from my kitchen, I had a miniature arsenal at my disposal. A gun would have been preferable, but at least if I made it to the farm I would have several of my father's firearms to choose from.

  I refused to think about the fact that those guns might not still be there, that my mother might not be there, that the farm itself could have been ransacked or worse, burned down.

  We'd made it about halfway back to my car when Holden suddenly stopped in his tracks. He was alert, but his hair wasn't standing on end and he wasn't growling. (Or making any sound at all, for that matter.) I followed his line of sight and realized that there was someone peeking around the front bumper of a car not twenty feet away. "Good boy, Holdy," I whispered, and then I called out, "I'm armed, but I just want to be left alone. And so does my dog – who, by the way, has been trained to protect me."

  That last bit was a lie, but hey, no need to admit that I didn't have any idea how well Holden could, or would, defend me.

  The person hadn't moved, and despite the fact that Holden didn't appear to be frightened or overly wary, I began to wonder if it was a living person at all. "I just want to be left alone!" I shouted again. "Do you hear me?" I raised my right hand, brandishing the butcher knife that was clutched in it.

  Slowly the person stood, hands in the air. It was a teenage boy with skin dark as coal, his brown eyes wide with fear. "Please," he said, so softly I could barely hear him. "I don't have anywhere to go. You're the first real person I've seen in nearly two days. My family..." He paused and choked back a sob. "I don't have anyone. No car, not that I've ever driven a car..."

  At this point Holden was straining at the end of the leash, his tail wagging furiously. He seemed almost distraught that the boy was upset, seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to run over and console the damn kid. I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I mumbled, bending down to unclip my dog's leash. "I'm going to let my dog come say hi to you. He'll be friendly if you are, so you'd best be nice to him. Hurt him and I swear I will chase you down and kill you."

  I barely had the chance to stand up before Holden took off toward the boy, who stumbled backward for a moment as my sizeable dog wound himself around this stranger's legs. Tentatively the kid reached down and patted Holden's head; Holden responded by sitting obediently at the boy's feet. "What's your name?" I asked, taking a step closer.

  "Mike."

  "Well, Mike, there are plenty of cars just sitting empty, cars that are practically waiting to be...borrowed. And there don't seem to be any cops around to come chasing after you. Now tell me something – what the hell happened here?"

  He looked startled. "What...what do you mean?"

  I heaved a sigh. "I mean that I was out of town for a week, up in the mountains with no television or phone or Internet, and that I have no idea why I came back to a city that's deserted save for a few stray zombies wandering around."

  Mike let out a low whistle. "Geez, lady, I don't know whether I'm jealous of you or feel bad for you. Thing is, no one really understands what happened – or if they do, they aren't telling. I know that most people left the city because there was news of an emergency camp being thrown together near one of the lakes up in the mountains...but some of us couldn't get out of here fast enough..." He trailed off, clenching and unclenching his hands. I could tell that he was trying to keep himself from crying.

  "Your family...they're..." I didn't even know what to ask. Dead? Or undead? All I knew was that if I left this kid here by himself, I'd feel like one hell of a horrible person. And Holden clearly liked him, which was usually a good sign.

  On top of that, I'd always been one for taking in strays. It was another thing my mom had never understood about me, another thing that added to the rift that had started growing between us back when I was in high school.

  Mike seemed unsure of how to answer me, and soon enough I gave in to that part of me that knew it would be shitty to leave him behind. "Come on, kid. I don't know if there's anything worth finding where I'm going, but if you want to come along for the ride, I'll allow it. For now. Don't think that I can't protect myself, though, and don't think that I won't ditch you first thing if you turn out to be too much of a burden." Yeah right, Charlie, because you've been so good at that in the past.

  The look of relief that passed over Mike's face was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. I grimaced. "Here, Holdy," I called out. My dog bounded toward me and allowed me to clip the leash back onto his halter. I gestured to the kid. "Let's go. You're going to walk ahead of me, because I don't know if you have weapons and, well, I'm not stupid. Keep an eye out for...things." I waited for Mike to move in front of me before I began following him. "We'll be staying right on this road," I explained. "I'll tell you when to stop."

  I watched the back of his head as he nodded. "I can't thank you enough, ma'am."

  "Don't call me ma'am. And don't thank me yet. I could stab you in the back right now and you'd never know what hit you."

  He spun around, startled and frightened. "I'm kidding," I insisted, rolling my eyes and forcing a smile. "Now keep walking...or else." His back visibly stiffened at this addition, but he didn't turn around again and instead continued down the street, hands shoved deep into his pockets in something like defiance.

  Great, Charlie. Really great. You've picked up a petulant teenager.

  If my mom was actually home – and alive – she was going to just love this.

  Never discount having a companion. And by that, I mean [wo]man’s best friend. (And by that, I
mean a dog.)

  Chapter 2

  Arrival

  It wasn't quite noon when we reached my car. Part of me was surprised to find it right where I'd left it – and intact, at that – but you know what they say: Don't look a gift horse (or in this case, a gift car, maybe?) in the mouth.

  I shoved Holden's leash into Mike's hand. "Stay right here," I ordered, then walked in a circle around my Volkswagen, peering inside to make sure it was as empty as I'd left it. Finally I opened the hatchback and divested myself of my bags, sighing in relief as I stretched out my arms and back. "Everything seems okay," I announced. "But before you get into my car, I'm going to pat you down." Mike's expression was mortified, but I merely shrugged. "Sorry kid, but I don't know you at all, and I'm not climbing into a confined space with you unless I'm certain you don't have any weapons hidden on your person. Now lift up your shirt."

  His face scrunched in embarrassment, but Mike did as I asked. I waved at him to drop his shirt and then reached out with the back of my forearm, patting it against the outside of his pockets to make sure there was nothing in them. His wallet caught me off guard for a moment, but I asked him to show it to me and he quickly obeyed. Curious, I flipped it open, finding a student ID that named him a new sophomore. Christ, he can't be but fifteen. By the high school name, he was also clearly from the west side of the city, much of which was mired in poverty. Feeling suddenly guilty, I handed his wallet back to him. "Just one last thing. Lift up your pant legs." Again he did as told, and now that I at least knew he wasn't carrying any seriously dangerous weapons I jerked my head toward the car. "Put Holdy in the back seat, and make sure you buckle up."

  "Can I ask where we're going?"

  "Sure, you can ask. Doesn't mean I'll answer," I teased. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when this didn't bring a smile to Mike's face. "All right, all right," I relented. "My mom has a farm about an hour from here. It'll probably take us quite a bit longer than that to get there today, of course."

  "A farm?" Mike repeated softly.

  "Yeah. Couple of horses, some goats, pigs, cattle, chickens. It's not all that big, maybe sixty acres, but it's a veritable compound. Even has natural springs."

  "So...there'll be food there?"

  "Shit, kid, are you hungry?" I felt bad for not having thought of that before, but then who knew how long he'd been on his own, wandering around, hiding from other people – living or dead – and just hoping he wouldn't be seen.

  "Little bit, yeah."

  "Well...most of my food is in the back, but check that purse by your feet. I brought some granola bars back from my retreat...they're not all that good, but they'll do for now, I think."

  It was silent for a while as Mike practically inhaled the two granola bars that he found in my purse. The drive took even longer than I'd expected – half of it was on the main roads that ran through my city toward the highway several miles away, and that meant a lot of slowly steering my way around wrecked or abandoned cars.

  Driving a stick shift didn't make it much easier, and at first I was cursing myself for wanting what I'd thought of as a 'fun' car...until we reached the highway. I'd picked up my speed, knowing we were nearly halfway to the farm and feeling anxiety building in the pit of my stomach over what we would find – or not find – there, when suddenly an overturned tractor-trailer loomed in front of us.

  "Shit!" I worked the clutch and brake at the same time, downshifting furiously, my heart in my throat as I wondered if, even driving manual, I would be able to stop in time. Somehow, though, I practically eased my car to a stop. Mike and I were left desperately sucking in air. My hands were trembling and my knuckles white where I was gripping the shifter and the steering wheel; in the backseat, Holden was whimpering softly.

  "Can we get around it?" Mike finally asked.

  "I think so." The median here was wide, flat, and grassy; on the other side, there was a large breakdown lane. There had to be room for me to maneuver around the truck...but if the median was our only choice, as seemed to be the case, there was a good chance that my sporty little Volkswagen would end up stuck.

  "I didn't think you'd be able to stop for a moment there."

  "I wondered that too. Wouldn't have been able to, if we'd been in an automatic. I would have hit that semi...or flipped the car. Maybe both." I was trying to sound nonchalant, but my heart was still pounding in my chest.

  "What do you think happened here?"

  "I think I'd rather not know."

  "But how long do you think that truck’s been like that?"

  "Seriously, kid, I'd rather not know." But he'd already forced me to think about it. Was there a body – or bodies – somewhere? What was on the other side of this semi? What could have caused it to crash like this? "I'm just going to try to drive around it. The median should be okay." Much as the idea of taking my fairly low-riding car off the paved road concerned me, I knew better than to think I could squeeze through on the other side.

  "You think we can fit?"

  "Oh, we can fit. There's no barrier blocking the northbound lanes of the highway, so we can cross over to there if need be...but you better be prepared to get out and push if we get stuck. And this time, I'm not kidding." As an afterthought, I added, "Do you know when it last rained?"

  Mike shrugged. "Not since all of this started happening."

  That was a relief. "All right, good. Hopefully this won't be too difficult, then." I backed my car up a bit and turned to the left, feeling the slight difference in traction as I maneuvered from pavement to grass. We rolled past the nose of the truck, and when I saw what was on the other side it was impossible to not gasp.

  It had been an accident, and the stench of it filtered through the air vents of my car so quickly that within moments it had both Mike and I gagging. There must have been a dozen cars involved in the pile-up, and then of course the truck hadn't been able to avoid them. It couldn't have happened very long ago, or else it would have caused more wrecks – at least judging by how close of a call we'd had in avoiding running into the semi. But the smell... "I don't think this has been here long - "

  "But it sure stinks like it has," Mike pointed out. I nodded in agreement.

  "Maybe I'll just cross over to the other side of the highway for now..." I glanced to my left, where it seemed as if a good stretch of the road was clear.

  Slam!

  "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Mike was suddenly shouting. A zombie had somehow made it into my blind spot and slumped right up to my car.

  Slam!

  Now a second zombie was assaulting the rear passenger door, and though they blocked much of my view as they clawed at the windows, I knew that there would probably be more coming. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Mike groaned.

  "Slow and steady wins the race," I replied through gritted teeth. If I tried to speed up now, the chances of us getting stuck were much greater. As I'd moved closer to the dip in the center of the median, I'd felt my car straining. Not surprisingly, the ground was softer there, and now there was a third zombie and a fourth zombie clawing at my car, one of them even laying half across the hood and scratching at the windshield. Holden had backed up against the driver's side door in the back seat, pressing himself against it as he bared his teeth and growled at the undead just outside the opposite window.

  And still we inched forward. Suddenly we stopped moving entirely and my back tires began to spit up dirt. At this point there must have been half a dozen zombies crowding around us, and perhaps it was the weight of the one who continually threw itself against the back window that kept us from getting completely stuck. All I know is that after a moment or two of sheer panic we were moving again, and by then I couldn't take it any more – I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal and my car fishtailed slightly, knocking a couple of the undead out of the way as the tires gained traction again and we barreled forward. I jerked the wheel to the right and swerved back onto the pavement, fishtailing yet again before my car found its purchase and we
finally sped down the highway, the zombies growing ever smaller in my rearview mirror until we went over a small rise and lost sight of them entirely.

  Only then did I slow down and pull off to the side of the road, sucking in air as if I'd been holding my breath for the past several minutes. Hell, perhaps I was. "You okay, kid?"

  Mike nodded stiffly but said nothing in response – not that I could blame him. "Well. We're about halfway there, so let's just hope it's smooth sailing from here on in." I reached back and gave Holden a pat on the head before putting my car back in gear, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no other vehicles were coming (more out of

  habit than necessity, I suppose), and pulling back out onto the highway.

  Drive a stick shift. (Or at least know how to do so.)

  *******

  I was once again driving carefully, still shaken by our experience with the wreckage. Mike tried to start up a conversation at one point, asking me about Holden’s name. “Holden Caulfield. From Catcher in the Rye. You’d have read it in school at some point.”

  “Not me. They do that one...senior year, maybe? I didn’t get that far before all of this.”

  “Shame. It’s not the best book but it’s a story I’d say everyone should read at least once in their lifetime.” I paused, heaving a sigh. “Shit, sorry. Guess the word ‘lifetime’ is kind of a bad joke right now.”

  “Yeah,” Mike mumbled, and we fell back into silence.

  Once we left the highway we were relegated to winding country roads that forced even more caution, which meant that it was another hour before I finally pulled into the drive of my mother's farm. The gate was closed and padlocked, and I couldn't see any cars in front of the sprawling house... But that doesn't mean anything, I told myself. If she was smart, she would have put her car in the garage, or hidden it in the back...

  "We'll have to climb over the fence. Can you take Holden's leash and harness off of him? He knows where to go. We'll leave the bags in the car for now...until we figure out if someone is home, I guess." Please, please let someone be home.