Emma now understood why the two armed men were with the medic. It sent a chill down her spine. “Seems like a harsh way to deal with someone in that situation.”
Monica shrugged. “When you see what happens when someone’s bitten, it changes you inside, Emma. It kicks in a survival instinct you didn’t even know you had and it gives you the ability to do shit you never thought you could. Trust me on that.”
Gazing at the two people walking with her, Emma wondered what it’d be like to face one of them if they were bitten and give them the three options. It was a heartbreaking scenario she didn’t even want to consider.
“We’re not assholes, you know. We’re just trying to stay alive. You’ve been on your own, Em, so our rules might sound brutal to you.” Juan was slightly defensive, as though ready for her to disapprove of their methods.
“I’m trying not to judge, Juan. Especially since I never had to deal with that situation. At first, I worried that whoever died, even naturally, would come back, but my grandparents passed away peacefully and remained dead.”
“It’s the bite that does it, Em. Something in the saliva. Blood doesn’t carry it. That is what we’ve observed so far.”
Having been splattered with zombie blood, Emma suspected Juan was right. “Everyone I put down always had at least one bite. Though a lot of times they were chewed up and mangled.” Emma shivered, remembering Billy’s horrific wounds.
“I can’t imagine what you went through,” Monica said with a sad shake of her head. “I hope it gives you some peace that you saved lives today.”
“It was a change from what I’ve been doing the last year. Definitely something I could get used to.” Emma didn’t want her thoughts to drift to the woman with the little boy in the mask, but they did. She didn’t feel like she’d saved them, especially since the mother was outside the wall. It was time for a change in the conversation. “Is it always like this? Crazy busy?”
“We’ve had some lulls in zombie activity where we got a shit-ton done around the Fort,” Juan replied. “That’s when we got a majority of the exterior walls up. But once we knew that massive herd was heading our way, things got pretty intense. We’re cleaning up from them coming through. The zombie bodies are disease carriers. We have to bury them in mass graves.”
Monica frowned. “It would be great not to deal with zombies or banditos or any of that kind of bullshit for a while.”
“Banditos. Y’all keep mentioning them, Monica. Who are they?”
“The Boyds. They got busted out of prison and went back to making meth, killing, kidnapping, and raping.”
With a sour look, Juan started up the collapsible wooden steps that led over the interior wall. “You’re lucky you didn’t run into those assholes. We took out the majority of the gang, including the leader. We haven’t heard or seen anything from them since last year, but some might be out there.”
Emma hesitated on the stairs. “Wow. I missed so much. I was so convinced that most of us were gone, that I was one of the last, that I didn’t even bother trying to leave town. I’m kinda glad. Apparently, the whole world went insane.”
Monica gently took her arm to guide her over the wall. “You’re lucky. You didn’t have to deal with a lot of bullshit. Not to say that what you went through wasn’t awful, don’t get me wrong. But there’s been some stuff that’s happened around here that I wish I could forget.”
“Don’t we all,” Juan muttered. “Hey, Monica, could you help Em get settled in? I need to go check in with Travis.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll catch you later, Em.” Juan lightly touched her arm then dashed off on his long legs.
“Is he okay?” Emma asked.
Monica shrugged. “No. None of us are. Anyway, I’ll take you to our Fort storage. We keep a stockpile of clothing, shoes, toiletries, and that sort of thing that we gather on salvage missions. You can get some clothes and supplies. One of the salvage teams made it as far as a Walmart superstore and returned with a bunch of Levi and Wrangler jeans. I’m sure there will be some in your size. Sound good?”
Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Does it ever.”
“Good. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“I could use a drink later,” Emma replied. “Please tell me the Fort’s not a dry community.”
“Oh, hell no!” Monica laughed. “We have a ridiculous amount of liquor. After dinner tonight, I’ll grab my girl and we’ll hook you up with a nice icy cold one.”
Emma grinned. “I’d like that.”
7
Starlight & Dog Farts
The air conditioning unit hummed beneath the window, obliterating the sounds coming from outside. The room was nice, tidy, and suited Emma’s needs. It was far fancier than anything she had owned in her previous life. It was easy to see herself living in the small space and making it her own as time went on. She would have to find some frames for Billy’s pictures. In the meantime, she had them propped up against the lamp on the bed stand.
Spread out on the soft gray and white comforter on the bed was a collection of brand-new clothing, most of it salvaged from a Walmart superstore in a nearby town. There were tank tops, sports bras, two packages of colorful panties, two pairs of jeans, three sweaters, and a secondhand leather coat that would help her survive the colder weather in the winter.
Emma’s new jeans were a little snug, but they were comfortable after the tattered clothing she’d been wearing since the beginning of the zombie apocalypse. To actually be wearing a brand-new pair of Levi jeans was a luxury that was difficult to wrap her head around. She hadn’t had a new pair of jeans since she was in high school. Emma had grown up on the lower end of middle class. After the birth of her son, she’d sunk into poverty, struggling to make ends meet as a single mom. Her paychecks had gone into making sure Billy had decent clothing, medical care, and healthy meals. She’d settled on a wardrobe from the secondhand store, went to the doctor if over the counter remedies didn’t work, and ate cheaply. Her needs were insignificant compared to her son’s. Now that he was gone she had to look after herself.
Tearing open a package of socks, Emma was surprised to find her eyes welling with tears. She struggled to understand the sudden wave of emotions filling her. Gripping the package with both hands, she sat down on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t even sure exactly what she was feeling. The need to cry was overwhelming. Perhaps it was simply the shock of finding herself in a safe, clean environment with people who genuinely were interested in befriending her. The Fort was everything she had given up hope of finding. To be surrounded by a community determined to rebuild in the dead world was too much to comprehend.
She dabbed at her eyes with one of the new socks and sniffled again.
It was also difficult to see intact families within the walls of the Fort, especially those with small children. It was easy to imagine a scenario where Billy was with her. Though she kept him firmly in her heart at all times, it was not the same as having him in her arms. She would have done anything to save him, even travel hundreds of miles with a catcher’s mask duct taped to his head in hopes of a cure. Now that she was in a safe place, the guilt of survival was more potent. Why had she survived when so many others had died? Even if she didn’t have an answer, she couldn’t ignore the feeling that as a survivor she had a role to play in rebuilding the world. It was time to learn to live again. She’d have to learn to exist with the guilt.
Shoving her freshly washed hair out of her face, Emma drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled. She repeated it a few times until she was more in control. It was a trick her grandfather had taught her and it helped quell anxiety.
Earlier, when Emma had sat down in the dining room for a dinner of macaroni and cheese and homemade biscuits, she’d discovered her legend had grown significantly. It was a little daunting to have so many people gathering at her table asking questions about her past and how she’d found the Fort.
Luckily, Monica
and Bette had arrived to save her. Emma had been grateful. She’d enjoyed the dinner and conversation with the two women even though she’d been keenly aware of being observed by others. The couple seemed to understand her discomfort. Both had made an effort to divert the attention of the people who attempted to approach Emma. She greatly appreciated their consideration.
Emma had briefly glimpsed Juan and his children at the far end of the hotel dining room, but hadn’t dared leave the comfort of Monica and Bette’s company. Seeing Juan with four kids of varying ages and a German Shepard had made her heart ache for Billy. At least some people were able to be parents despite the horrors of the apocalypse. If humanity was to survive, it would need a new generation raised with an understanding of the new world.
Sadly, she didn’t get that chance.
Neither had that mother outside the wall.
That thought was sobering and she patted away more tears.
She had an invitation to join Bette and Monica downstairs for some beers and conversation. It would be easier to hide in her new room. Did she really want to go down and be social? She didn’t want to talk about being a fearless zombie killer or discuss the scene outside the wall. Additionally, there were a lot of rumors about what had happened to Ed’s group after they had left the Fort. Eddie showing up at the wall as a member of the undead had upset plenty of people and speculation was running rampant. Emma’s cursory understanding of the situation made it difficult to discern what was based in fact or the concoction of someone’s wild imagination.
Picking up the hand-drawn map Monica had given her earlier, Emma tried to memorize the layout of the Fort. Juan was right. It definitely resembled a medieval fortress with its rings of walls centered around the towering hotel. Monica had been considerate enough to mark the area where they were meeting for beers and conversation.
Emma sighed heavily, surrendering. “Aw, shit.”
She had to keep living.
No more hiding.
Folding the paper and tucking it into her jeans, she took another calming breath while pulling out a new pair of colorful and wildly patterned socks from the package. She slipped them on then reached for her battered boots. They were still comfortable, so she hadn’t picked up a new pair. Besides, they’d been a graduation gift from her grandfather. They made her feel connected to the good parts of her past.
Once she was done making herself presentable, she headed out of the hotel room. The hallway and the elevator were empty, giving her a few more moments to herself. But when the elevator doors opened on the lobby, she was immediately overcome with the sound of conversation echoing through the vast room. Again, overwhelmed, she nearly ducked back into the elevator.
Glancing up at a sign taped far up on the wall that read “New plan. Fuck it,” Emma steeled herself and strode into the surprisingly busy lobby. Though a few people glanced her way, most appeared intent on observing a white knuckle match between two elderly gentlemen playing chess. A quick look around the vast room revealed that it was in use as a common area. People were playing board games, knitting, quilting, or just sitting and chatting. Most of the people were older and the atmosphere was comforting. It reminded Emma of her grandparents’ living room.
She skirted past the group and followed the signs pointing to the hotel exit. What appeared to be a janitor’s closet had been converted into an entrance. Faded safety posters remained on the wall, but were covered in graffiti. Emma found some of the notations a little amusing. Someone had even drawn zombies in some of the illustrations.
Outside the air was humid, though cooler. Standing near the entrance of the hotel, she stared out over the spacious area that she had been told was the first walled in section of the Fort. It was the size of a city block, yet claustrophobic with the cement block wall enclosing it. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like in those first days when the Fort had been being built while zombies destroyed the world.
The lights in City Hall were on, as were the lights in the portable building tucked up against the back side of the old newspaper establishment. The memorial area appeared to be empty. She walked along a well-worn pathway that cut between City Hall and the flourishing garden.
Near the far end of the enclosed block, beside the wall bordering a street lined with small stores, was an area set up with picnic tables, old lawn furniture, and several large barbecue pits and smokers. It was here that Bette and Monica were sipping beers and chatting. Arnold and Lenore, the couple she’d seen when she’d first arrived at the Fort, were seated on top of a nearby picnic table arguing passionately about Snape from the Harry Potter books. A few other people Emma didn’t recognize were gathered around a cooler filled with ice and bottles of beer.
“There you are!” Monica called out. “Grab a beer and take a seat.”
Emma squeezed past a few people discussing the successes of the day. She picked up a frosty bottle of beer and pulled a battered lawn chair over to the couple. Taking her seat, she twisted off the cap and took a swig. It was light beer and tasted awful. She was a whiskey lover, but the alcohol would help her relax.
“How’s it going?” Bette asked.
“Better. Got a nap earlier.”
“I would have killed for a nap today,” Bette admitted. “We were swamped until nearly dinner. I wish I could take one day and just sleep! It would be nice to have a break from zombies.”
Emma understood that desire oh-too-well and how often that sort of wish wasn’t fulfilled. She would never recover from the sleep she’d lost since Billy was born. The zombie apocalypse hadn’t helped her sleep deprivation either.
“Today got pretty borked,” Monica said with the shake of her head. “All those damn runners sprinting around made our job hard today.”
Bette focused on Emma. “Is it true about the woman with the zombie kid? She had him in a mask?”
Emma took another sip of her beer. It didn’t taste any better. “Sadly, yes.”
“For real? That’s fucked up.” Monica winced. “Where’d you hear about that, babe?”
“I overheard Katarina talking to Nerit about a lady with a zombie kid in a mask. I wanted to ask about what happened, but they took off before I could. Is it true the mom thought there was a lab with a cure here?”
Emma wasn’t sure how much she could or should tell them. Since no one had told her not to share what she’d seen, she went ahead and nodded. “Her whole group believed we had the cure. That’s why they came here from Georgia. A lot died along the way.”
“Wow. That’s horrible. I wish I had a cure to give her. That sucks.” Bette frowned, rubbing the label on her beer bottle with her thumb.
“I wonder if there is a cure. Somewhere out there in some secret lab. And if there is, how do we find it?” Monica sighed. “When I think of all the people we lost and how a cure could change everything, it’s so frustrating that no one found a way to stop it.”
“If there is a lab out there, babe, chances are it’s the one where the outbreak started. Which means the scientists who could’ve stopped the outbreak are dead.”
“I hate that we don’t have a cure. I miss Jenni a lot. She shouldn’t have had to die just because of a bite on her hand.”
“To Loca,” Bette said, tapping her girlfriend’s beer with her own. “May she rest in peace.”
“She’s some kind of a legend around here, isn’t she?” Emma asked.
“Why do you ask?” Bette cocked her head, curious.
“I’ve heard of her.”
“Not surprised,” Bette said somberly. “I only met her briefly and she left an impression on me, that’s for sure.”
“She was...somethin’ special. Loca, but special.”
Bette nodded in agreement with her girlfriend’s declaration. “Without a doubt.”
“Did Juan tell you about her?” Monica asked.
“Juan’s little boy was showing me around and pointed out her picture to me.”
A sad smile pressed onto Bette’s lips. “Troy is
a sweetheart. He reveres her since she saved his life.”
Emma was reluctant to share with Bette and Monica that Jenni’s ghost had directed her to the Fort and that Troy had somehow been aware of Jenni’s influence. Though she was convinced that Jenni had guided her, it was difficult to admit that a ghost had intervened in her life in such a profound way. Apparently, belief in ghosts was not a big deal anymore, but Emma didn’t want to be seen as using Jenni’s name to impress anyone.
“It was like he could sense my grief and he wanted to share his own loss.”
“Or maybe he thinks you’re a little like her,” Bette suggested.
“Loca?” Emma grimaced. “I hope not. I may have killed a town of zombies, but I ain’t crazy.”
“I meant a hero.”
“It’s not an insult to be called loca, you two,” Monica explained. “It’s a term of endearment in Hispanic culture. Jenni was a grieving mom who went through a whole lot before and after the zombies. She was also a badass zombie killer and saved a lot of survivors. People liked her and the nickname was a loving one.”
“It sounds like we could’ve been friends. We have a lot in common when it comes to loss and killing zombies. I just hope people aren’t expecting me to be like her.”
Monica settled back in her chair and set her hand on Bette’s. Their fingers intertwined and the two women exchanged furtive looks.
“A few might,” Bette started tentatively. “I didn’t know Jenni, but I do know people depended on her a lot. It’s normal to look for new heroes when we lose one.”
“I liked her a lot, Emma, but there was something about Jenni that scared me. Sometimes she was like an untamed force of nature. I wouldn’t call it a death wish, but she lived her life without guardrails. She was haunted by the death of her kids. It affected her a lot, but she’d never admit it. She wouldn’t even talk about them to my cousin and they were together. It was like there was all this pain and sadness just below the surface and she was ignoring it as hard as she could. I knew her, and yet I feel I didn’t know her. She was brave, but it was scary how far she would go to save others. I suspect she was willing to risk herself because she couldn’t save her kids on that first day. It was like she was trying to pay off that debt, whether it was by saving others or sacrificing her life.”
As The World Dies | Book 4 | After Siege Page 6