Roads Less Traveled: The Plan

by C. Dulaney

  * * *

  A rustling noise yanked Mia awake, but an alarming dread is what kept her eyes closed and her body still. She held her breath and listened, suddenly aware she had slid the rest of the way down and had been lying on the floor. The noise was coming from her left, close to her feet. As she slowly began to calm, the whoosh-whoosh in her ears fading, she noticed another sound: the chewing and crunching of chips. Slowly she turned and lifted her head, peeking over her hip, thinking she would see a rat or maybe even a dog eating her forgotten loot. She gasped when she set eyes on a boy, sitting cross-legged at her feet, munching away on her Sun Chips.

  He was apparently oblivious to her gawking, too intent on shoving handfuls of now-crushed chips into his mouth. Mia guessed he was around six or seven, but it was hard to tell through all the dirt that covered him. His hair was caked with mud, his clothes were grimy and filthy, and there was about a pound of sludge stuck to the bottom of his sneakers. What the hell has this kid been doing? she thought.

  She pulled her legs closer and slid her hands around, easing herself into an upright position. After watching him finish off the chips and tear into the candy without so much as a glance in her direction, she decided he was either extremely rude, still in shock, or mentally challenged. Only one way to find out.

  “You enjoyin’ those?” Mia asked. The boy jumped at the sound of her voice, and froze with a handful of M&M’s poised in front of his open mouth. His eyes were wide as he stared at her, giving no indication of understanding what she had asked. But she knew he had heard her, so she decided to keep talking.

  “Go on, there’s plenty where that came from. May I? Don’t mind if I do,” she carried on a one-sided conversation as she turned and walked on her knees to the vending machine. She reached in and pulled out another bag of chips, Lays Barbecue this time, before scooting back over and leaning against the Pepsi machine. Pretending to pay him no attention, she proceeded to open the bag and eat politely, the pain and emptiness in her stomach imploring her to eat faster. After a few moments the boy continued eating as well, only not as gluttonously as before, his eyes never leaving Mia.

  “So, where you from?” she asked as casually as she could muster. The boy didn’t answer, but kept eating. She decided to take another approach.

  “What’s your name?” Nothing.

  “My name’s Mia.” Nothing.

  “I walked here all the way from Washington, D.C.” She hoped this would perk the boy’s curiosity. She had been a teacher after all, and she knew how a seven year old mind worked. The more farfetched or gross the story, the better.

  “Really?” he finally asked, timid and shy with a mouthful of candy. Mia nodded and continued munching on chips.

  “Mmhm. And boy are my feet tired. Pretty hungry too, want some?” She offered her bag to him, but he shook his head. He lowered the M&M’s and studied her quietly before finally deciding to talk.

  “I’m Ashton. We stopped here ‘cause Mom said she was sick, and Dad said no we had to keep moving, but then Mom got mad and started crying so we stopped,” he rambled suddenly. Mia nodded along as he spoke, hoping he would grow more at ease with her. When he made no sign of continuing, she picked up the lead.

  “It’s nice to meet you Ashton. Where are your folks now?” she asked. He pointed at the lobby door and remained silent. Her gaze followed his finger, and she realized what he meant.

  “They’re still in your car, aren’t they.” She finished the chips and gathered both their empty bags while she talked, standing and walking over to the garbage can. She glanced out the small vertical window as she shoved open the lid, dropping the bags in as she watched two zombies, a man and a woman, thump uselessly at the windows of the station wagon they were trapped in. She turned and looked at Ashton, who had stood as well but was standing by the far wall, next to the bathroom.

  “Station wagon?” she asked and pointed. He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned back to the window and watched the two inside, still beating away, and her heart ached for the boy. She had to take him with her, there was no doubt about that. He would slow her down, but she figured he must be pretty clever to have survived here for as long as he had.

  “I’m headed someplace safe. Do you want to come with me?” she asked as she stared at his parents. His silence worried her, so she turned and asked him again. He raised his head, tears streaking his dirt covered face.

  “I don’t want to stay here anymore,” he whispered. Mia approached him slowly, not wanting to scare him more, and kneeled in front of him.

  “You don’t have to stay here. You can come with me. I’ll watch out for you. Everything’s going to be okay.” She raised her hand to his shoulder as she spoke and was shocked when he fell against her, his little grimy arms wrapping around her neck as he cried on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay, you’re okay now,” she said softly, patting his back. His breakdown didn’t last long. He stood back and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. She let him have a minute, then stood and put her hands on her hips.

  “Do you want to get cleaned up a bit before we leave? Can’t help but notice, you’ve got a little mud on you,” she said with a smile. Ashton laughed and nodded.

  “I figured out, they can’t find you if they can’t smell you. So I’ve been hiding a lot around back. There’s like this ditch, and there’s water in it, so I’ve been laying down in that and throwing mud all over me. I was in the bathroom when you got here, and was afraid to come out,” he explained while gesturing with his hands. Mia smiled at the boy’s ingenuity, taking mental note of the smell thing.

  “I’m assuming you had a suitcase with you, maybe in the back of the car?” she asked, afraid it was a touchy subject and preparing herself for another crying spell. But Ashton puffed up his chest and nodded firmly.

  “Yeah, it’s in the back. I can get it for you,” he started for the lobby door, scaring the shit out of Mia and amusing her at the same time.

  “No, no, no, I don’t think so. You tell me where it is, and I’ll get it.”

  “Ok, well, I think it’s on, um, this side,” he waved his hands to the left, “and it’s blue with my name on it. I don’t know if Mom put anything on top of it, but she probably did,” he explained. Mia smiled and nodded, then picked up her shotgun.

  “I want you to go back into the bathroom, the one you were hiding in when I got here. Don’t come out until I tell you. Go into one of the stalls, shut the door, and cover your ears. Got it?” she said, very concise and to the point. A look crossed Ashton’s face.

  Mia knew this was the tipping point; he understood what she had been implying, and he would either do as she said with no protest, or fight her kicking and screaming. Did he have what it would take to cross hundreds of miles of zombie infested land? Or would he get himself killed right here trying to save his parents from her?

  Mia was deeply relieved when he nodded once, then turned briskly and went into the men’s room. She set her jaw, pulled the prop out from under the lobby door handle, jerked it open, and stepped outside, her gun raised and her senses alert. She turned to the left and right, scanning the area quickly for any newcomers, as she approached the station wagon. Nothing new to see; all the deadheads here were trapped in vehicles.

  She went around to the back of the car, hesitating once her hand gripped the door release. Stop screwing around, better do this quick, she scolded herself and jerked the back door up. Ashton’s parents had watched her walk by and were already turned in their seats, but they were struggling. Mia tilted her head and stared at them a long time before finally realizing they had their seat belts on.

  Following a considerable fit of laughter, she pulled herself together just enough to root around and find the boy’s suitcase. Just like he said: blue, with his name on the front, and yes, it was under a mountain of his Mom’s shit. Mia was still chuckling and shaking her head when she went back inside, trying to ignore the deep conflict she felt between being relieved o
ver not shooting his parents, and feeling guilty over not shooting his parents. She hoped Ashton would feel the former.

  * * *

  After looting the snack machine of its contents and tucking them into her backpack, Mia stood watch at the lobby window. Ashton was still in the men’s room, washing up as best he could and changing into clean clothes. As had been the case since she arrived, the only dead activity had been from within the parked vehicles outside. Ashton didn’t seem to react much when she came back in with his suitcase; although after telling him her plan, he did inform her of the location of three well-maintained bicycles.

  Mia was assessing the situation outside and plotting the next leg of their journey when Ashton finally came out of the bathroom. His hair was wet but at least he was cleaner than before; new jeans and a sweatshirt, (Little Buddy was written across his chest in big white letters), a blue jean jacket, a ball cap that matched his shirt, and boots. He walked over next to her, his eyes fixed on the small screen in front of him.

  “What are you doing?” Mia asked.

  “Found my DS in my bag,” he answered without looking up. Mia smiled and watched him play whatever game he was playing for a few moments before finally patting him on the shoulder.

  “Come on, put that away. We need to get going,” she said and shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders. She picked up the shotgun and went to the door. Ashton stuffed the Nintendo DS inside his jacket and buttoned it up, then stood before her with his hands shoved in its pockets.

  “Stay here. You can watch out the window if you want, but be ready to jump back in case I have to run inside. I’ll get the bikes,” Mia said. He nodded as she turned and ducked out the door. She walked cautiously to the car once again, biting her lip to keep from laughing; Ashton’s parents still struggled against their seat belts. She glanced around the parking lot, saw everything was as it had been earlier, then trotted around behind the station wagon. She leaned the gun against the bumper and climbed up, grabbing the luggage rack with one hand to steady herself as she worked with her other to loosen the straps holding the bikes on the roof.

  “I’m going to need a couple more hands to get these down,” she said to herself after pulling the smallest bike loose. She took another look around then motioned Ashton outside. Hesitating, he eased the door open and looked around nervously.

  “It’s okay, just look straight at me,” Mia said firmly. The confidence in her voice must have alleviated his fears, because he swung the door wide and strode out to her, never once looking at his dad, or the way the gnarled fingers clawed at the window. He stopped below her, next to the bumper with his hands still in his pockets, looking like a kid who had been told to take out the garbage.

  “I’m going to hand this bike down to you. Just grab the back wheel and help me lower it, okay?” Mia instructed, already pulling the bike over the edge. Ashton jumped into action and rose up on his toes, taking the wheel in both hands and pulling down as she lowered the front end. When the bike was off the roof, Mia jumped off the bumper and helped him set it on the ground.

  “I assume this is yours,” she chuckled just as he jumped on the seat. He smiled and nodded, gripping the handle bars in both hands.

  “Well put the kickstand down or something, I need you to help me with the next one,” Mia said as she climbed back onto the bumper. They repeated the process, the second not going as smooth as the first since it was a larger bike than his, but after several minutes of tugging and pulling they were able to get it to the ground as well.

  Mia sat on the bumper a few moments, resting and taking another look around the parking lot. She noticed Ashton’s eyes stray towards the front of the car, then look quickly away. She figured it would be best if she got him started. Just get him on the road and give him something to occupy his mind, a goal to work towards.

  “C’mon buddy, let’s hit the road,” she said as she mounted her bike and clapped him on the back. He swung his head around and stared at her, startled from his thoughts, then feigned a smile and nodded. Mia leaned over and grabbed the gun sling, pulling it up and sliding it over her shoulder. Be nice if I had a gun rack on this bike, she thought. She smiled and nodded back to the boy, then pedaled off.

  She had already instructed him earlier, after he had told her of the bikes, that when they left, they would travel the interstate as far and as long as they could. He was to stay behind her at all times and under no circumstances stray off. If he had to stop, for whatever reason, he was to tell her. He had listened to her instructions without interruption, and had absorbed everything readily. She wasn’t sure what kind of time they would make, but she knew it would be faster that walking or driving. On bikes, they could maneuver around stalled or jammed cars, or they could stick to the berm. Two things she told him to watch for: zombies hanging out of or crawling from under cars, and zombies actually walking on or close to the road. “Wouldn’t be cool to have my new little buddy snagged by an arm sticking out a window,” she had told him.

  It would be about forty-two miles to I-81, then another four or so to the exit for route 55. From there they would cross the state line into West Virginia, then hit the back roads and escape into the woods if need be. She would have to cross over a hundred miles of deadland, then rocky, mountainous terrain, as well as protect the kid she had found, before reaching her destination. She only hoped there would be someone there when they arrived. She hoped her last words to her friend hadn’t been lies, and that she really would be seeing her down the road.

  Chapter Twelve

  October 8th

  “Okay, try it now,” Jake shouted from under the hood. Ben turned the key in the ignition and listened as the engine turned over once, twice, three times, then chuckled as the motor coughed, sputtered, then died, and a string of obscenities flew from Jake’s mouth. They had packed a few essentials into the old pickup the day before, planning an excursion into Matias to stock up on supplies and, if they had time, search for survivors. But when they started to leave, the old girl had decided she didn’t want to go. And Jake, being the self-proclaimed mechanic of the bunch, had volunteered to fix her. A day later, the truck still refused to start.

  “Shit,” Jake swore and threw a dirty rag on the ground. He walked away, rubbing his forehead with the back of his arm, and kicked at the ground. Ben hopped out smiling and shaking his head at Nancy, who stood on the porch observing their progress.

  “No luck?” she asked. Ben simply shook his head and joined her on the steps.

  “Nah. Jake’s determined, but I say we just take the Jeep or Escape into town. Between you and me,” he said to the older woman with a wink, “I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.”

  Nancy chuckled and patted Ben’s shoulder, then turned and went back in the house. Ben skipped off the steps and jogged over to his friend, who was in the midst of a swearing attack.

  “Hey man, why don’t we just talk to Kase about taking her car? Or we could take yours, whatever,” Ben offered. Jake studied him for a moment, his hands on his hips and cheeks flushed.

  “Stupid ass piece of shit. Probably the goddamn alternator, which, if we ever do get to a part’s store, it won’t be in stock, you can bet your ass on that,” Jake hissed. Ben nodded along even though he knew Jake didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

  “It’s no problem; we’ve got two other vehicles here. We’ll see what we can find, and if you get her running, great. If not, that’s fine too. Seriously, it’s no big deal. C’mon.” Ben reassured his irate buddy as best he could, then turned towards the house. Kasey was in the barn doing the morning feeding, Kyra was in one of the upstairs windows keeping watch, and Zack was most likely in the study with Nancy, monitoring the radio. Jake yelled over to Ben just before he went inside.

  “Alright. I’ll talk to Kase, see what she thinks,” he said and watched as Ben simply threw his hand in the air and closed the door behind him. Jake cussed a few more times under his breath and stared at the truck a minute longer befo
re stomping off to the barn.

  I’d heard most of the exchange between the two, laughing to myself as I mucked stalls and filled the mangers with hay. I’d been keeping the horses in the barn and adjoining lot, in case things went to shit and we had to make a break for it. I was mucking the last stall when Jake appeared in the doorway. Needless to say he was still pissed. I looked up from the shovel load of manure and smiled.

  “Morning. What’s up sunshine?” I said cheerfully. All I got in response was a grunt. He leaned against the old wood, making a face and wrinkling his nose. I chuckled and went about my business. He followed me around as I worked but didn’t say much. I had a feeling the aroma of horseshit wasn’t settling well with him. After I finished filling the mangers, we went out the back door and stood in silence, watching the four mares, who were lazily picking grass in the far corner.

  “So, what’s on your mind Jake?” I asked quietly, my arms crossed and eyes fixed on the horses. I heard him sigh and shuffle his feet.

  “Can’t get the truck runnin’. If you want to go into town, we’ll have to take one of the other vehicles,” he finally grumbled. I chuckled again. I liked Jake; his personality was much like my own. However, I’ve always found it amusing to watch the emotions of youth get in the way of good sense.

  “Well, I still want to go to town. And yeah, we have two other vehicles. So what’s the problem?” I chided. Out of my periphery I saw him eyeball me and cross his arms, which caused me to smile and chuckle again. I patiently waited for his reply, curiosity getting the best of me. He would either blow up and cuss, or come up with a blame-someone-or-something-else excuse. I would settle for either one; they would both be entertaining as hell, and this little “game” we had started playing with each other lately was a good way to relieve stress.