The Haunted Country

by Jason White

  “You gonna let her sit on your lap some more?” I had said to Grant while we were on our way back in from killing the surrounding zombies. “You know you’re old enough to be her father.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

  “See, this is one reason I don’t let strangers in my home,” Bill said. “Your bullshit drama always gets others killed.”

  I ignored the bearded man. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me, but I was too focused on the unexplainable anger burning inside my chest. Killing zombies hadn’t helped.

  As the sun neared the day’s deathbed, Bill digs out a ring of keys from a kitchen drawer and leads Grant, Eve, Cindy and me across the street and into his neighbor’s house.

  “I hope this isn’t the place you mentioned earlier,” Eve says. “The place where your friends died.” She laughs nervously. The anger dissipates to wonder and another sort of dread. I immediately look for bloodstains, but don’t find any.

  Bill laughs. “Naw, that one was just down the street a little. The people who lived here took off soon after the dead rose and have never come back. They didn’t tell me where they were going and I didn’t ask. We used to look after each other’s house whenever one of us was away for more than a day, that’s why I have the keys. They were good people. I hope they’re okay.”

  Bill’s eyes mist over, and guilt washes over me. He is a good man, perhaps the best man I’ve come across since Dale failed to return with Merrick. However, I’m glad I don’t have to stay inside his house anymore. Something about his wife bothers me. Maybe it’s that she’s worse off than Cindy, and Cindy was born the way she is. Staying with Barbara or Martha or whatever her name is would be too depressing, contagious even, as though giving up is the only real option left.

  It leaves me feeling cold and empty. I take in the new place with an invigorated fervor, almost forgetting about Eve and Grant.

  I realize that they shouldn’t bother me at all. There’s no reason for it. Let them do what nature only demands, no matter how fucked up and wrong it is.

  It’s their lives, not mine.

  chapter thirteen

  I sit by the window and watch the night. For once there’s a clear sky, the full moon hangs heavy in the sky. Across the street, Bill’s house remains in darkness, as it probably always does these days. Hard to tell with his windows all boarded up. There’s still smoke coming from his chimney. I’m not sure on the wisdom of this, as we also have a woodstove in the house we’re staying in, but Grant wouldn’t let us light it.

  I swear that man doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. One night he’s all okay for lighting a fire, and the next he’s against it. I wish he could keep up with his mind because tonight it seems extra cold out. Cindy and I try to sleep on the couch in a sitting position, our sleeping bag and body heat our only source of warmth. She’s nestled into me as she usually is, but tonight I can’t sleep, not with the sounds that are coming from the bedroom Grant and Eve had decided to share together.

  So staring outside it is. Looking at the sky, the silver glow of the moon, I am the ever watchful guardian of the night. I watch Bill’s house and envy his smoke. I watch for the undead and keep everything together.

  Bullshit, I know.

  I can barely keep myself together.

  I can, at least, pretend.

  Cindy moves her arms and snuggles in deeper. I don’t know where I’d be without her.

  I’m startled awake by something familiar yet forgotten. It’s the roar of a motor, monsters of petroleum, oil, and piston. It’s not just one, though. Just one and I might have slept through it, considering I was just finally falling into a deep sleep. There are so many it actually sounds like there’s traffic out there. I didn’t know how much I had been yearning for that sound; the sounds of life, of civilization as I remember it.

  I raise my head, which is still on the back of the couch, and look out the window. A parade of vehicles drives slowly past. I notice the snow banks at this side of the road. It looks as though whoever these people are, they had used a snow plow to help the procession of SUVs and minivans and military trucks.

  Ignoring Cindy’s protests I sit up. The sun burns the eastern horizon, but has yet to rise fully. I understand her wanting to sleep, I want as much myself. This is too weird, too strange an occurrence to simply ignore.

  Grant comes stumbling out from the bed he and Eve had slept in, his hair ruffled. Since the Nazi wouldn’t let us build a fire I’m not surprised seeing him clothed. He and Eve had probably just dropped their drawers last night for their festival of moans, their “oohs” and “aahs” and “oh yeahs.”

  “What the fuck is that?” he says with his confused, almost drunk-like morning voice.

  “I don’t know. But it can’t be good,” I say.

  Grant looks at me, and says, “I don’t doubt it.”

  Eve’s behind him, her winter coat zipped right up to her lips, the fur of her hood nearly hiding her face.

  “It’s the army!” she squeals, as outside a military truck drives past. “They’ve finally come to save us!”

  “Don’t get too excited, dear,” Grant says, and I can’t help but notice the pet name, no matter how common. He never called Cindy “Dear,” or “Honey,” or any of that. “We don’t know who they are. Judging from the past, we’d better get some information before we come to any conclusions. In fact, I think it would probably be best if we just ignored these people and got moving.”

  “Dave always said that the army would come and save us,” Eve went on. Beside me, Cindy yawned and stretched her arms, giving up the hopes of further sleep. She rubbed her eyes and looked at everyone, looking almost as confused as Grant had.

  “He said that they had to save us,” Eve continued. “And that it was our duty to find them and help them restore the world to the way it was.”

  “Who’s Dave, sweetie?” My sarcasm is not lost on Eve or Grant. Eve answers anyway. “Dave was the man I was with.”

  “I thought you said that was your father,” Grant says, his voice showing none of the concern of his eyes.

  “Did I?” Eve says, shaking her head and smiling a little. She’s still looking out as the last of the trucks pass by. The last one is a transport truck. A large eighteen-wheeler, cabin included.

  Where are they getting the gas for these things? The way Grant’s eyebrows wrinkle at their middle, I can tell that he’s thinking the same thing. Something is wrong here. But what? Somebody was able to organize all this and move it forward. Why? What is their goal? Is it the army, as is Eve’s opinion? It certainly is a possibility, considering the military trucks within the parade. But I don’t think so. I don’t know why, but I don’t think it’s that by a long shot. Perhaps I’ve seen too many movies. Read too many apocalyptical books. Been in too many psychopaths ’ basements. If it is the military then how far has their state of morality crumbled in the last year? They were probably worth avoiding at all costs. The dread I feel at their presence alone only cements that thought.

  I think of the bandits who tried to invade the house Grant, Cindy and I had stayed in after Grant had helped us survive Dahmer. These people driving into the town of Angus like this remind me of them, except these people are more organized.

  “They even have a snowplow,” Grant says. He must’ve just noticed the mounds of snow at the end of the front yard that wasn’t there yesterday, giving the train of vehicles easy passage. It must have been the roar of the snowplow that had woken me. I can remember what they sounded like, shaking the entire house as they rumbled past like thunder.

  “Jesus,” Grant says. “I think we gotta get out of here now in case they plan on staying in town.”

  Within seconds, Cindy and I are up. Cindy’s smarter than Eve. She knows the trucks are bad news just as much as Grant and I do. But Eve pouts, her eyes are dark holes. “They’re here to help us, you stupid assholes,” she says.

  Then we hear the gunf
ire.

  .

  chapter fourteen

  Loud pops and crackles echo through the woods. It sounds like a holiday weekend. There’s no celebrating, though. Perhaps there is, because we hear cheers out the front door, which we’ve got cracked open so we can hear better. Within that, there are also screams. Screams of fear and pain. Sounds like the first weeks of the dead uprising, all that gunfire in the streets making our normal world sound like a warzone.

  “What the hell’s going on out there?” Grant says.

  The sun has fully risen now, hanging in the sky somewhere behind the tree line. We can see its golden rays through the trees. Grant closes the door and heads back to the bedroom he and Eve had used. “I’m getting our stuff,” he tells her, but she looks confused.

  “They’re only getting rid of the zombies, idiot,” she storms after him, and from inside the bedroom, Grant’s voice comes loud and clear, saying, “If that’s the case, what was all that crying about? Don’t tell me you didn’t hear it.”

  “It’s just the dead. My God, were you born with any brains at all?”

  Grant comes back out, jamming stuff into his backpack. I was doing the same while eavesdropping. Cindy is in the corner, making worried sounds from her throat; all this sudden hustle and bustle along with the parade of vehicles is freaking her out. She’s close to hysterics. All it would take now is for someone to panic for her to start up. I go over to her, softly grab her chin and look into her eyes. She looks back into mine only long enough for me to say, “Everything will be all right. Settle down, okay?”

  She looks to the ceiling, her eyes rolling around. Her mouth continues its pout, I can tell that my words have worked. She’s still apprehensive, but also calmer now.

  “Good job,” Grant says and something slaps me against the shoulder. It’s Grant’s hand, but it surprised me and Cindy must have caught it, because she lets out a short bark of laughter.

  “She likes it when I hit you,” Grant says, laughing. “Come on, let’s get going.”

  “There’s help here, and you’re running away from it?” Eve yells. Clearly, she’s confused at Grant’s decision. She looks at me, an expression of stunned surprised on her face. She’s looking at me as though she thinks she has an ally in me.

  “I agree,” I tell her, shrugging. “People aren’t who they used to be. It’s different out there now. You should know that.”

  Eve lets out a scream of frustration, her eyes filled with frustration and rage. “I can’t believe you assholes.” Again she looks at me. “You of all of us should be running to them. They could take care of your sister, feed her, keep her warm and safe.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’d take real good care of her,” I say. I mean it. Every time I’ve come across people since the dead started walking, it was always survival first, my sister’s and my comfort and security second. The only people who haven’t tried to take advantage of the two of us since Merrick and Dale, in fact, is Grant. I don’t tell her any of this, though. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s just something that I think she should already know. I shouldn’t have to explain it, especially after what she’s been through.

  “You guys are fucking idiots,” she says. Putting on her coat on at the same time we do, her movements quick, her breath coming out in puffs and sighs. She exaggerates straightening the coat at her front, then zipping it up. “You guys are fucking idiots,” she repeats, “and I’m out of here.”

  “Where you going?” Grant says. Now he’s confused. His eyebrows scrunch in the middle and his mouth hangs open.

  I shake my head and help Cindy with her leggings and coat.

  “I’m going to where there are people who can help me. You obviously can’t.”

  “Turned out Dave wasn’t much help, either,” I say. It’s a low blow, no matter if the man was truly her father or not, and guilt washes over me. I wish I could take the words back, but I can’t.

  She tilts her head. “Fucking asshole!” she says, and just like that, the front door slams behind her. There’s silence for a moment until we see her approach the road. She climbs over the bank of snow the plow had created, and then she’s storming down the street in the direction of the gunfire.

  “If there ever was a stupid girl,” Grant says to me, “she’s it. But why did you have to say that?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. My words have shifted the game. I know now that we are not leaving town in the opposite direction of the gunfire. Not yet. Grant doesn’t work that way. I can see him fighting over it, mulling ideas and churning out new ones. Do we leave, or do we stay and get Eve out? Or at least make sure she’s safe? He’s agonized over thoughts like these before, and if Cindy and I are any example, then he’ll stay.

  I sigh, shake my head, and collapse onto the couch.

  I suppose that Cindy and I could leave. Who would Grant chose to go after then? The kid and his even younger, retarded sister, or the hot young girl who sleeps with him at night? I know who I’d go after, but Grant is a different beast and I don’t want to put him in that position. It’s not fair to him. Then, it’s not fair to keep Cindy and me here if the people firing guns are indeed dangerous.

  Grant runs outside, down the driveway, over the snow bank, and onto the road. He yells Eve’s name, his face a bright red, the veins sticking out of his neck.

  Will Grant chase after her? If he does, would Bill take us in? Or maybe I can handle taking care of Cindy on my own now? It’s not like I haven’t done it before, but then, every time I have had to, I’ve failed.

  Cindy starts moaning at my side, and I look at her. Fear is contagious, especially with Cindy, so I harden myself and raise my eyebrows. “It’s going to be okay,” I say slowly. Speaking as though I believe it. Cindy looks dubious, but she’s buying it for the moment.

  When Grant finally stops yelling Eve’s name he stands there for a bit, just looking down the street. He then paces back and forth, the fog of his breath coming in quick gasps, his hand working through his hair. Does rubbing his head like that helps him come up with ideas? He looks to the house, then back toward Angus, then back to the house.

  I feel a little better when he turns and heads to the house.

  “We can’t just leave her,” he says once he comes back in.

  “Looks to me like she made her choice.” I try to sound sympathetic but fail. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s too worked up. No words I can offer will help.

  He looks at me, eyebrows raised. Did he pace and go this frantic when deciding to follow Cindy and me? He did put his life at risk to save us from those zombies, but I think I’d prefer the undead to a horde of living, breathing humans. They, at least, can think and plan. They have full use of their motor skills.

  Grant looks away and rubs at his shaggy beard. “Maybe we’re wrong,” he says. “You know, just being paranoid. What if she’s right and they are the military and all they want is to help. To bring civilization back, or something like that!”

  “Listen to yourself,” I say. “Listen to the gunshots. The screams. You know that they can’t be up to anything good, no matter what Eve and her … whatever the hell he was, said.”

  Grant pauses in his pacing. He looks into my eyes. Cindy sits scrunched up in the corner of the couch. I’m proud of her. If this were a month ago with Grant and me arguing, or with Grant in his worried state alone, she’d be in hysterics. I want to hug her, tell her it’ll be okay. But I don’t. She needs to figure these things out on her own. Perhaps she is.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Grant says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  I shrug. “It’s just a girl.”

  Grant laughs. “You’re how old? Fourteen?”

  “Fifteen.” I sigh at having to remind him.

  “You should be into girls, or is it …”

  Now I laugh. “No, I like girls, believe me. Are you that dense?”

  He nods, leans against the wall. “Yeah, I kinda figured you liked her, too.”

  “It�
��s only natural,” I say. “With the way things are, who knows if we’ll ever see a girl again. It makes sense that we’d both fall for her. She chose you, though, you bastard.” I say that last part with a small smile.

  “Naw,” he says. “She chose you first. You just fucked it up. I saw you follow her back to that campsite. I could hear her crying. I’m pretty sure that it was on your shoulder, too. I also think that when you guys came back to our camp she expected you to, you know… Join her in her sleeping bag.”

  Shock punches me in the gut. I hope I do a good job at hiding it. My sarcastic smile turns into a real one, a bigger one. “Yeah, well, like you said, I fucked it up. Besides, who’d want to do that after losing their father?”

  “I don’t know who that was, but I doubt that it was her father,” Grant says. “I don’t know why she’d lie about it, though. Maybe so we wouldn’t hurt her or something”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Whatever the case,” Grant says, “we can’t just leave her if she’s wrong and we’re right. We need to find out and get her out of there if the situation is bad.”

  I look up at him feeling terrible for not having the same heroic courage that he has. If it were up to him, he’d be alone to fend for himself. It’s easier that way, no doubt. Less responsibility. Whenever he comes across half-decent people, he can’t help himself. I’m curious as to what he was like before the apocalypse, so I ask him.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t want to know,” he says. “Let’s just say I was an asshole who would have left you all behind.”

  “I doubt that,” I say.

  We stare are each other for a few moments. Cindy’s gone back to making happy sounds behind me. The knock on the door, a loud THUMP THUMP THUMP nearly tears us out of our skins.

  chapter fifteen

  Bill’s large bearded face peers in through the front door window. I can tell that he’s got someone with him other than his daughter. His deep voice is muffled and reverberates through the wood of the door, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. I think it was something like, “They couldn’t have left yet,” but I’m not sure. My heart is still pounding from his abrupt presence and I clutch my hands to my chest. Cindy’s up from the couch, her arms wrapped around mine, pinning me as she whimpers into my shoulder.