by Chris Lowry
It was not extinct among the teens.
I blame the hormones. I watched Bem and Tyler exchange glances, and little giggles. Soft brushes of one arm against the other.
The father in me railed against it. Her youth blazing like a fire, and me wanting to build a wall around her.
But I saw it in the Boy too. The way he grinned at Hannah, the winks he shared with the other women, Peg, and Anna and the rest.
I envied him. I envied his light hearted nature, and ability to make friends so fast, a gift from his mother to be sure, because I was a shallow extrovert in the past life.
All surface and no depth.
I did not make friends well, though I had a share of acquaintances.
Friendship for me was hard won, and once done, hard fought to keep.
Easier to be alone I think, than to worry what others feel, care, say or do.
I kept many friends in books, and in movies, who shared their ideas through writing and images.
But even that took a toll on me. It made me a lesser man.
I joked when called out on it. "If a Scotsman wants to talk to an equal, he prays," when people I knew would comment on my solitude.
Defense mechanisms, actions designed to keep everyone at a distance.
Traceable to a childhood trauma, no doubt, and easy enough to blame others for it. If I were the type to blame.
My son, the flirt, the friend. My hero.
I watched him move next to the small kid hidden in a hoodie and layers.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Small hands lifted the hood back from long dirty blonde hair, crisp blue eyes staring at him from under a layer of grime.
The kid I thought was a boy was a girl.
And my son knew it, in an intuitive sort of way.
“He scared me,” she said and glanced past him to look at me.
I probably imagined the crimson stain creeping up her cheeks, based on the way she looked in the distance so fast.
“I don’t blame you,” said the Boy.
They laughed again, all three of them while I stood there flapping in the wind.
I mean, I’m all for streaking, but there is a time and place.
At the forefront of a Z herd is not it.
“Think we can find me some pants and get moving?” I suggested.
I didn’t wait to see if they followed, but I could tell they did.
Brian supplied the cat calls the whole way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three miles later, we found a house.
It had clothes, and food, and some supplies we could use.
I dressed in pants from the closet, cinching a belt tight because they were a little too loose in the waist for my new post apocalypse Z diet.
“Sheets,” Brian called to the Boy and his new friend who introduced herself as Karen.
She was a couple of years older than him, from what I gathered, a couple inches shorter from what I observed.
Too hungry, too scared and too alone on her own for quite some time.
Surviving.
It’s what we do now.
“Towels,” the Boy called back.
Karen stuck by his side, holding a black plastic trash bag open as he stuffed items into it.
“What’s your story?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“Dad,” the Boy admonished. “Leave it, okay.”
I watched him walk down the hall, searching, and the young girl followed in his wake.
“She’s quiet,” said Brian.
“It’s a good practice.”
“Yeah, but we’re helping her.”
I kept my mouth shut.
Maybe she was the last person alive in that town and used our distraction as a chance to get away.
Until she ran into me.
Or maybe there was something more.
There was usually something more now.
But she would share when she was ready.
Or we would learn about it some other way.
Our shopping spree didn’t last too long. The owners, wherever they were, had not left much, but we scored soup and spaghetti noodles, lots of both.
I made sure we emptied the cabinets, double checking for spices and even ketchup packets from fast food joints that some people collected in drawers.
Hundreds of them.
Then we checked the garage and a five gallon gas can full next to a lawnmower.
Brian plopped it in a wheelbarrow and we took turns rolling it back to the bus.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bem and Tyler were missing.
I checked the outside of the bus to be sure and hopped up on the hood to gain access to the roof and checked the tents.
They were empty.
I saw Brian and Peg come out of the woods lugging blue five gallon containers of water.
That was the rule in camp. Blue for water. Red for fuel. Never mix the two.
I slid down the side of the bus and landed with a grunt on the ground.
"Where are they?" I growled.
"Hunting," Brian took a step back.
That he didn't have to ask who I was talking about told me something.
He had seen them go.
"It's okay Dad," the Boy walked around the back of the bus, his new friend Karen trailing after. "She can take care of herself."
I knew she could.
When we found her back in Arkansas, she had been three days up a tree as a zombie pack circled the bottom.
She was smart and ingenious, and she was with the scout I trusted the most.
"That's not the point," I said. "I told you no one goes off alone."
"I didn't," the Boy answered.
He was getting to be tall, almost as tall as me.
The edge of manhood was upon him, a time when he would normally be getting nervous about the girl he wanted to ask to a homecoming dance.
Not in this new world.
"She didn't either," he pointed out.
Anna came up behind me and put a hand on my arm. It wasn't a tight grip, more of a gentle nudge, a reminder to let me know she was there. Maybe even her way of telling me to calm down before I lost it.
I took a deep breath.
"I said no one goes alone, but you two are to stay in camp. Here where I can protect you."
The others had gathered around to watch, but no one was talking.
The Boy cleared his throat.
"Dad," he shook his head looking way older than he was meant to be. "That's not fair. It's not fair to anyone else here, and it's not fair to us."
"I don't care," I shot back. "I want you safe."
Brian scooted the water cans closer to the back wheels of the bus and turned to face me.
"She's with Tyler," he reminded me. "He's the most capable guy around here."
Peg was more succinct.
"You're being ridiculous," she set her water containers beside the others.
"We all have to pitch in," the Boy said.
I've never been one for getting ganged up on.
Something about it turned all of the reason inside my skull into pure stubborn obstinance.
As much as I practiced Stoicism and strength of will, it was easy to slip over to the dark side of being an ass.
I could feel the desire to dig in my heels kicking up a notch.
Anna reached up and grabbed my face.
She pulled my lips down to hers, and though there wasn't much sensuality to the kiss, it was still enough of a shock to drag me back from the darkness and allow a little bit of common sense to rear its simple head.
"Okay," I sighed. "I'll give them five minutes before we go look."
She smiled and nodded.
Just like that. No words, just a touch and a smile.
I smiled back, feeling the ache of worry loosen its grip on my gut.
Then Bem stumbled out of the woods covered in blood.
I raced to her and scooped her up, carried her back to the side of the bu
s. Anna and Peg moved in with towels, water, bandages.
They tried to move me aside, but my hands were going over her arms, her neck, as I searched for the source of the gore that covered her.
She was sobbing and croaked through the tears.
"It's not me. It's not mine."
I stood back for a moment and let the two women clean her off.
"Tyler?" Brian asked.
"I'm okay," he said as he cleared the woods and came across the road.
Unlike Bem, he was clean, just small spatters of blood across his face and clothes in splotches.
"We ran into a small herd of Z," he said. "You should have seen her in action."
He stopped in front of Bem and too close to me.
I didn't see him stare at her in admiration. I didn't see her give him a smile that stood out against the ichor stained skin of her cheeks or wink up at him.
All I saw was red.
I grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and back of his pants, lifted and threw him across the clearing.
He landed in a rolling tumble that bounced three times before he came to a stop in a heap.
Then I was on him, rolling him over and dragging him up by his coat.
"You took her out there," I screamed. "You almost got her killed."
I lifted him off the ground and prepared to throw him again.
Brian grabbed one arm, the Boy the other and yanked me away.
They fought to drag me off him and settled for just a holding pattern long enough for Tyler to crawl away and set his back against the rear tires.
I shook off Brian a little harder than I meant to, lifted the Boy up and half carried, half dragged him with me toward Tyler.
The scout didn't even lift his hands to defend himself. Tears tracked down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry."
Bem threw herself in front of him and glared up at me.
"Stop!"
Then Anna was against my chest, pushing back, and Brian dusted himself off to get back on the free arm.
I stopped fighting them and settled on a look.
Tyler shrank even further.
"I'd never hurt her," he said. "I'd never let her get hurt. You have to know that."
"Dad!" Bem shouted.
She got in my face right next to Anna.
"He saved me!" she screamed. "It wasn't his fault."
I could feel my pulse in my ears, the swish swoosh of my heart racing as adrenaline coursed through my veins.
Brian whispered on one side, Anna cooed on the other.
I let the rage go, off like waves, a slowly receding tide.
They could feel me relax, but still didn't let go.
"I'm sorry," Tyler said again.
"They don't go off without me," I told him and glared at everyone else. "Does everyone understand?"
"Dad," the Boy said, sadness in his voice.
Bem just backed up and settled beside Tyler. Peg tipped one of the containers and wet a fresh piece of cloth.
"You know the whole hulking out thing is cool when you do it for us," she started cleaning up Bem again. "Not so much when you do it too us."
I took a step back.
"They get it," Anna said. "We all get it. No one wants your kids to get hurt. No one wants any of us to get hurt."
I wanted to tell them they didn't understand.
They didn't know what I had gone through, what I had been through to reach them, to get them this far.
What I'd had to sacrifice, who I'd had to kill.
I knew I was losing my soul, bit by bit in this new world. The pieces of me that made me who I am were slipping away, being replaced by the type of person who could live in this new world.
I looked up from her and saw the others watching me.
Scared.
Worried.
I put a hand over Anna's on my chest and held it there, so she could feel my heartbeat in her palm, slowing down as I regained control.
"Are you hurt?" I locked eyes with Tyler.
"Ego's pretty bashed up," he shrugged. "And my ass is sore."
I nodded.
He might get an apology later, but he sure as Hell wasn't getting one now.
"Bem," I said.
"I'm not bit Dad," she said. "I'm not hurt either. This is all Z. And he saved me."
The glare was gone but I could tell by her voice that my attack on the scout still hurt her.
I looked at Brian.
"I'm going to look around."
He nodded.
"I'll get my gun," he said.
"Stay here. Watch everyone."
I stepped toward the front of the bus. Anna followed.
"You said no one goes out alone," she said in a quiet voice.
"I'm just checking for more herds. If there was one, there could be others."
"I'll go with you," she said.
I shook my head.
The rage was emptying out and it was being replaced by regret.
I wasn't embarrassed about what I did because of the reason behind it.
When it came to keeping the kids safe, my word was absolute law and I wasn't going to let anyone try to get around it.
But I had let my temper get the best of me, and it hurt some of the group in the process.
We couldn't afford that kind of reaction anymore.
And damn it, Peg was right. Save it for the bad guys, the Z or anyone else who tried to stop us.
These people had my back, and Tyler had been by my side in more than one fight.
He was just a kid and he didn't deserve to get tossed around like a doll.
Even if he put my daughter in danger.
"Get everyone fed. Get everyone ready to move. We have gas and water, so we can make another hundred miles East today."
She bit her tiny pouty lips between brilliant white teeth and looked up at me from under raised eyebrows.
I leaned in for a kiss, a little more than a distraction this time.
"That's a promise I'll make you keep later," she winked and squeezed my bottom.
That stirred up a different kind of beast in my tummy. Maybe a little bit lower.
I grabbed a rifle and slung it over my shoulder and stuck an extra mag in each back pocket.
Then I picked up a pike and headed into the woods. I hoped there were no more Z around and we could get moving.
It would have been smarter just to break camp and take off.
But they needed time away from me, and I needed time too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Its common knowledge that a walk in the woods can calm the soul.
Or maybe that’s music and savage beasts.
But the guy who said it never had to walk with the threat of Z hanging over his head.
Truth was, I wanted to run into one. Or six.
I could take out some aggression on the walking dead.
But I was glad I didn’t.
The birds flittering through the trees played with each other, singing songs about their world, unaffected by zombies or firefights.
It was like they were in a different world, and I suppose they were.
What did the animals care about the end of our world?
The walk did the trick, the sun flicking through the tree branches, warming my skin when I walked through the broad patches.
I felt the tension ease out, more with each step.
Muscles that I didn’t know ached started protesting.
I tried to remember the last time I relaxed, the last time I felt like I could take a full breath.