by Alex Apostol
“You always said holly berries were poisonous, but do holly berries grow in the summertime? Mom used to make you go buy them for Christmas and I never really see people hanging holly except in the winter, but that doesn’t mean it can’t grow in the heat too, right?” Anita said aloud.
She sat on her knees with her bare, blackened feet sticking out from behind her. The nights had started to cool off and Anita didn’t have long to find new clothes. Her tank top and high-waited shorts wouldn’t provide her with much warmth in the coming weeks of fall.
Going into town to scavenge for outerwear wasn’t an option. It was too big of a risk. She might run into more people and the thought made her entire body rack with fear. Zombies, she could deal with them. They were slow and stupid. More often than not they ignored her completely. She moved among them like a ghost. She assumed because the blood of their own covered her top and shorts, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t bring herself to care why, either. All that mattered was that she was still alive somehow.
She turned her focus back to the berry she held. It rolled it between her fingers before she brought it up to her nose to sniff. “Like I even know what a holly berry smells like, right, dad?” she laughed.
Anita reached up and scratched at her head, ruffling her already frizzy, dirt-mangled hair. She shrugged her shoulders, popped the berry into her mouth, and chewed a few times before swallowing.
Anita’s hands jerked upward to clutch at her throat as she gasped for air. She fell to the ground and rolled violently as her nails clawed at the skin on her throat, the other reached towards the sky.
Her gasps quickly turned to chuckles as she rolled over onto all fours and pushed up off the ground to stand again. “Just kidding, dad,” she said. “The berries are fine. You worry too much.” She leaned over the plentiful bush and picked one berry after another to toss them into her unfolded blue and white bandana.
A twig snapped. Her head jerked up. There were voices in the distance. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they grew clearer as they neared. Without a second thought, Anita dropped the bandana containing the berries and jumped up to grab the closest branch. She pulled herself up, swung her leg over, and turned herself upright to wait for whoever was approaching.
VII.
“Ooo, look!” Gretchen’s voice rang out in a sing-songy manner. “Berries!” She quickly scooped the pile off the ground and blew on it, rubbing a few against the somewhat clean part of her shirt. Her stomach gave a deep, rumbling growl. Food had been scarce the last few weeks. Lonnie and Rowan claimed they’d been hunting on many occasions before everything went down, but had nothing more than a few squirrels to show for their skills. And squirrel just wasn’t cutting it.
“They’re probably poisonous,” Lonnie said as he continued past Gretchen without as much as a glance.
“No,” she said sharply. “These are red elder berries. They’re edible. They actually settle your stomach if you’re feeling sick.”
Mitchell Barnes took a berry from Gretchen’s hand and looked at it closely, then popped it in his mouth. He scrunched his face and swallowed. “Tart,” he said as facial muscles clenched involuntarily and then relaxed. “How do you know about this stuff?”
Gretchen turned a berry between her fingers as a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “I grew up around here. I used to walk the Dunes all the time with my family. We’d go hiking and camping and fishing…” Her voice trailed off.
An image of the last time she saw her parents flashed through her mind. She dropped the berries to the ground as she took in a sharp breath, caught off guard by the appearance of their decrepit, mutilated faces.
“Are you all right?” Mitchell asked. He bent down to pick up the berries she’d dropped.
“Yeah,” she said, distant. “Yeah. I just…gather what you can. We should keep going.”
Lonnie, Rowan, and Carolyn were already ahead of the group, as Gale and Lee remained behind with Gretchen and Mitchell.
“My dogs are barking,” Gale groaned as she stood up after sitting down for only a few seconds on an overturned tree trunk. “And I think I have the worst case of farmer’s tan in the history of farmers.”
“Actually it’s more of a farmer’s burn,” Mitchell said in his quick, stammering voice. “See.” He stuck a finger to Gale’s red arm. It left a white print that slowly faded back to red. “That’s a sunburn.”
Gale looked at him through a thin slit in her gray eyes. Her mouth was turned down into an aggressive frown, the aged lines in her skin deepening. “Yeah. Thanks for that,” she grumbled and started to walk off after the others.
“No problem.”
It didn’t take long for them to catch up. Lonnie, Rowan, and Carolyn had been moving at a slow pace as their feet dragged along the scorching blacktop of the winding highway. “God, I would kill for some water right now,” Lonnie said.
“We have to conserve what we have till we find more,” Gale said with the annoyance of someone who had to repeat themselves daily.
“I know, Big Bertha,” Lonnie groaned, his voice rising in volume at the end. “I was just saying.”
“We should be looking for shelter,” Gretchen beat that dead horse with a stick. “If we could find an apartment, or something that’s off the ground, we’d be safe for a while. Then, we could gather supplies.” There was a smile on her face as she spoke in hopes of building a life again, even if that life involved Lonnie Lands.
“That does sound better than wandering around the same ten miles of road for another month,” Mitchell agreed softly.
“My feet could sure use the break,” Gale said.
Lonnie stopped walking and looked up at the sky to exhale a long sigh, his signature move before an outburst that was normally directed at Gale. But when he finished, he turned and marched straight for Gretchen, who was stopped in the middle of the road with wide eyes.
“You really wanna find someplace to live and settle down in?” he asked her sweetly as she flinched. He rubbed a piece of her blonde hair between his fingers before letting it drop back against her face. His eyes lingered on her smooth skin as he leered.
Gretchen did her best to hide the look of disgust lurking just beneath the surface of her composed face. If it was going to get them shelter, she could pretend to like Lonnie for a little while, a very short little while. “I really do,” she said in a breathy, girlish voice. She leaned her face in closer to his as she spoke.
Lonnie’s grin spread to expose his small, dingy teeth through a thin part in his mouth. He licked his dry, cracked lips and bit off a piece of flaky skin. With a hacking spat, it came shooting out to land somewhere on the pavement at Gretchen’s feet. “Well, let’s go find us an apartment then.” He winked.
The second he turned to head the group Gretchen exhaled the breath she’d been holding in. She wrinkled her nose as her eyes followed the disgusting little man with asperity.
Gale gave her a pat on the back as they walked together behind the rest. Lee brought up the rear as always, though neither of the women worried any longer about him listening in on their conversations. “Thanks,” Gale said. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
“I really do hate him,” Gretchen hissed through her teeth.
“Me too,” Gale agreed.
“Then why do we keep following him?”
Gale smiled. “Are we following him or is he following us?”
Gretchen looked up as she contemplated Gale’s words. She got Lonnie to do what she wanted with a simple bat of her eyelashes. What else could she get him to do? Give up leadership of the group? Was he even in charge anymore? Could there be such a thing as leadership when the world had descended into disarray and chaos? Questions ran through her head as she stared at Lonnie’s wide, burnt shoulders, a tattoo of an eagle flying next to the American flag waving with the rippling of his muscles.
She wished Lonnie would turn his attention to Carolyn, who so obviously craved it from
anyone willing to give it. Even when Gretchen was into men, he never would have made her cut. By the looks of Carolyn, anyone and everyone was invited to come on in.
“We should check the Walmart up the road again,” Lonnie called out.
There was a rustle in the trees alongside them.
“We already went there,” Mitchell said.
“That’s why I said again, dipshit.”
Three lethargic, bent bodies moved sluggishly about twenty yards away.
“Then why go back?” Gretchen spoke up. She felt the need to show Lonnie she still didn’t like him. It wasn’t worth what he might try to do if he thought she was starting to have feelings for him. “It’s not like anyone’s been in there to restock the shelves.”
Heads turned on their slackened necks and jaws fell open.
“We’re going,” Lonnie barked back.
So much for him following her. They continued on as the three listless zombies trailed after at a snail’s pace. No one in the group looked back at them as they faded into the shadows of the trees.
VIII.
The automatic doors were wide open as the group crept forward into the superstore, their weapons poised to strike down whoever, or whatever, they saw. Gretchen, Mitchell, and Lee turned right and swept the aisles closest to the doors while Lonnie, Rowan, Carolyn, and Gale went left, a strategy they’d debated and rehearsed previously. After they made a quick lap they met back in the middle at the end of the entryway.
Lonnie lowered his AR-15 to point it at the ground. His walk was loose and casual, almost strut-like, as he rejoined the group with a smirk on his face. “Let’s split off into pairs. Me and Gretchen will go this way,” he flexed his muscles to raise his gun toward the area he’d just looked over with the others. He gave Gretchen a crooked smile. “Rowan, Carolyn, and Gale will take center. Mitchell and Lee can go thatta way.” He swung his gun again.
Lee was already headed in the direction Lonnie had chosen for him. Wherever they went to raid for supplies, Lee always made a dash for the pharmacy to stock up. He’d found a khaki backpack lying in the woods with a couple Band-Aids and Neosporin in it a few weeks ago. When the bag became light, Lee became anxious. It was almost empty and his heart pounded so intensely that it sounded like someone was beating against the drums in his ears.
Lonnie walked close to Gretchen and put his hand on the small of her back to lead her away from the group. His head leaned back to sneak a peek at her firm, round ass. Gale watched him intently.
Gretchen peered over her shoulder to lock eyes with her only friend. The older woman gave her a nod and Gretchen nodded back. They’d been training together in hand-to-hand combat most nights while the others slept.
Lonnie had grown more confident in his chances with Gretchen with each passing day. Her little flirtatious display earlier hadn’t helped the situation. “Preferences go out the window when it’s the end of the world,” he’d said to her one night after she refused to lay with him by the fire. The more persistent he was, the more uncomfortable Gretchen became around him. After telling Gale so, she insisted Gretchen learn to defend herself. The undead were not the only danger anymore.
Mitchell took quick steps once he caught up to Lee to stay in stride with the long-legged man. Lee was on a mission. He’d found a practically untouched supply of invaluable medications the last time they were there and his backpack had almost burst at the seams from it. That was two weeks ago and they’d used almost everything between Mitchell getting shot, Carolyn’s scratched ankle on the border line of infection, and Gale’s feet swelling every other minute. His heart leapt as he neared the counter. A smile almost crawled across his lips.
“So, did you like being a nurse? When you were one, I mean?” Mitchell stammered out to break the awkward silence.
Lee continued on without looking back or answering.
“Oh right, I forgot. You’re the strong silent type. I get that. That’s me, too. I don’t like people knowing a whole lot about my business either, although there isn’t much business to keep secret lately, is there?” He rambled on as Lee hopped over the counter and dropped to his feet inside the pharmacy.
There were rows of trays with letters stuck to the front of them on over a dozen shelves. Little white bags stuck up in perfect rows, like tombstones in the ground. Lee didn’t hesitate in rifling through them. Occasionally, he ripped one open and stuffed the orange labeled bottle into his bag.
“Is there anything in particular you want me to look for?” Mitchell asked with his shotgun raised as he turned in circles to maintain a three-hundred-and-sixty viewpoint.
“Antibiotics,” was all Lee grumbled through his Irish accent. He disappeared around one of the shelves.
Mitchell walked to the left to start at the beginning of the alphabet and work his way back. As he rounded the corner he saw two feet turned upright sticking out from behind the furthest shelf. He quickly raised the butt of his gun to his shoulder as he held his breath. It slipped. “Shit,” he whispered as he fumbled to put it back into position. He took slow, precise steps until he saw the entire body sprawled out on the white tile floor.
The young man wasn’t moving. Mitchell tapped him on the arm with his foot and immediately jumped back. His gun rattled from the jerky movement, but the young man still didn’t stir. Mitchell couldn’t see any bites on his exposed dark skin from where he stood. “Hey, Lee!” he hissed. His hands began to shake. His eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to keep the sweat from dripping into them. “Lee!”
Lee’s head appeared from around one of the shelves, but he didn’t step out. He stared at Mitchell with several bottles clutched in his hands.
“There’s a body here…not a zombie one.”
It was one of the only times Mitchell could remember ever seeing anything close to an emotion pass over Lee’s face, his eyes widened and his brows raised up an inch.
Lee shoved the bottles he held into his bag and slung it over one of his shoulders as he walked briskly. He didn’t think twice before he dropped to his knees next to the unconscious body and felt for a pulse. The man’s dark, caramel skin was cool to the touch. Lee lowered his ear to the unmoving lips.
The longer Lee stayed hunched over, his pink flesh dangerously close to a mouth that contained strong, white teeth, the harder it became for Mitchell to take a breath. He waited for Lee to say anything to reassure him they weren’t about to be eaten alive by a fresh corpse.
“Go get tha others,” Lee ordered. He kept his eyes focused on the unconscious man.
Mitchell ran off immediately. His tennis shoes pattered on the hard floor.
The sound grew fainter in Lee’s ears the further Mitchell ran. He scanned over the still body while he waited. The man looked to be about twenty-five years old, fit, healthy as far as he could see. Lee grabbed onto a sturdy shoulders and rolled the man towards him and then away. Three packets of pills were flattened underneath his back, all empty. Lee didn’t waste any more time waiting for the others to get there. He swept his finger inside the man’s mouth. There were no pills stuck in his throat. He began CPR.
IX.
Lonnie and Gretchen made a b-line to the pharmacy after Mitchell told them about the unconscious man on the floor. The two stopped short of running into Rowan as he rounded one of the aisles, Gale and Carolyn on his heels. Lonnie pushed his shoulder against Gale’s chest to move her out of the way and continued to sprint so he’d be the first to arrive. When he finally hopped the counter seamlessly he was brought to a skidding halt.
The unconscious man was no longer unconscious. He stood up with the help of Lee and walked clumsily to where the others had gathered by the counter. His dark jeans and red hoodie hung loosely from his thin frame. Sunken and vacant, his brown eyes looked almost black as he struggled to keep them open. They rolled back into his head. Lee gave the young man a quick jerk and brought him back around. His lids flickered open and then closed halfway. His short, wavy dark hair had dirt and broken pieces of leaves
and twigs woven into it.
The others looked at him as if he were one of the undead. Lonnie took a few steps back as Lee dragged him forward. Rowan did a double-take and noticed Lonnie wasn’t beside him any longer. He scrambled backward to stand next to him again. His chest puffed out to model Lonnie’s once his feet were planted at the kid’s side.
Gale, Carolyn, and Gretchen were rooted outside the pharmacy counter. They each inwardly squirmed at the sight of someone new. It had been over two weeks since they’d seen the smallest sign of anyone else alive, the last one a smoldering abandoned fire. A couple times Gretchen thought she saw a woman hiding in the bushes or perched up in the trees, but decided it was nothing when the woman in question never revealed herself.
The thin black man doubled over, his knees buckling, but Lee caught him by his shirt before he hit the ground in a fit of coughing.
“What’s wrong with him?” Gretchen asked. She bit her lip and looked on with soft blue eyes and raised, contorted eyebrows.
“He overdosed on sleepin’ pills,” Lee said as he pushed the halfway comatose man down into a discarded plastic chair.
Gale clucked her tongue and shook her head at her tennis shoes. “Damn shame.”
“So, the sorry bastard tried to off himself, is that it?” Lonnie chuckled as he shifted his gun from his left shoulder to his right. The barbed wire tattoo around his bicep waved as his muscles flexed and released.
“Have some compassion,” Gretchen snapped at him. “He almost died.”
“And we should have let him,” Lonnie barked back. “He obviously doesn’t wanna live or he wouldn’t of downed all those pills. Let’s just get back to gathering supplies and get the fuck out of here like we planned.”