“So what do you guys think?” Sam asked. “Will that boil water notice slow the virus down?”
“Maybe,” Dallas said. “But even if it does, there are still zombies out there that nobody will even refer to as zombies. They’re just calling it a ‘virus,’ like it’s the flu or something.” She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “If people won’t even admit to what’s going on, we’re already screwed.”
Pierce eventually took back over the driver’s seat. For the past hour, the GPS had shown their little purple car on the highway with the occasional road branching off. Without warning, the road on the machine disappeared and the GPS barked at them furiously. “Recalculating. Recalculating.” The screen showed their car driving in the middle of an open field.
Pierce swore under his breath. “This must be an old road. It’s not even registering anymore.”
“Should we turn around?” Talia asked.
“No way,” he responded. “I’m not going back to the interstate.”
“I don’t remember this road at all,” Dallas confessed. “Maybe we should turn around.”
“This road has got to lead back to some main road or town eventually,” Pierce said. “It’s not just going to run off the edge of the world. Or is that what they taught you in church? That the earth is flat?”
“Pierce, you don’t have to be an asshole,” Talia said. “You are going to turn eventually, right?”
“Yes, Talia, I am going to turn,” he snapped. “Will you please just calm down and let me drive?”
Dallas shifted in her seat. “She is calm, Pierce. But we have been on this road for awhile, and I don’t know where it leads.”
Pierce slammed his hands against the steering wheel. “And what should I do, oh Great Almighty Princess Dallas? Just turn and crash into the fucking trees? Hey, maybe if any of us survived that, we could just sit back and wait for the zombies to eat our brains! Isn’t that how all of these stories end anyway? Everyone gets their brains eaten? I mean, those of you who have brains.”
“What is with you?” Talia said. “We were just asking questions.”
“Oh yeah?” He jerked the car to the road’s shoulder and slammed on the brakes. Had Talia not been restrained in a seatbelt, she might have hit the dashboard.
“What is your problem?” Dallas yelled.
He threw off his own seatbelt. “Fuck this,” he said. “I am so sick and tired of this shit, I’d rather be eaten than sit here and listen to you guys.” He flung the car door open and slammed it hard. Dallas watched him walk for thirty long seconds, the sound of his feet against the pavement diminishing with each step.
“So what do we do now?” Sam asked.
“We wait for him to cool off,” Talia said. “Then we go pick him up.”
“What if we can’t find him? He could go anywhere.”
“We have to find him.”
“We can’t do that, Tally.”
“What the hell are you talking about? We have to find him.”
“Sam’s right,” Dallas said. “Time isn’t exactly on our side right now, and we can’t spend too much of it looking for one person.”
“Oh bite me. You’d agree to anything Sam says because you’re in love with him.”
Dallas gasped. “Talia,” she hissed. “What is wrong with you?”
“What? It’s true. Just because he’s too stupid to realize it doesn’t mean I can’t say it.”
Dallas crossed her arms and leaned back against her seat. She knew she should say something, but didn’t know what. She reluctantly turned to Sam, who looked back at her for only a second before turning away.
In Dallas’s mind, this confirmed it. Ashleigh had only been kidding herself when she said that Sam liked Dallas. He hadn’t even looked at her.
She wasn’t sure why she cared so much. She wasn’t under the fantastical notion that any guy would have feelings for her anyway. Especially a seventeen-year-old who could probably get any girl he wanted. Why would he want some freaky girl who was obsessed with zombies?
After about ten minutes, she sat back up. “We should go.”
“I’m not leaving without Pierce,” Talia said.
Dallas jumped to the driver’s seat. “Well, I am. Sorry Tally, Prince Charming is on his own now.”
“Hey, look!” Sam was turned back in his seat, pointing to a figure in the distance. Sure enough, the figure had a mop of shiny blonde hair and, five minutes later, Pierce opened the passenger door.
He sighed. “I’m so sorry, guys.”
Talia wiped her eyes. “I am too.”
“Don’t be. It was all my fault. I know you guys didn’t have to wait for me, but I’m glad you did. Thank you.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Dallas said.
“I know, but I’m still glad you did.” He slid back into the passenger’s seat. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“You’re not going to drive?” Talia said.
“Could someone else do it for awhile? I’m kind of worn out.” Sam nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Dallas didn’t say anything as he shoved the two wires together, starting the car back up. She didn’t even look at or acknowledge him as they moved forward; she only reached to the dials and changed the radio station. This time, it landed on a country music station, a genre which, like zombies, apparently never died. The sound of banjos and country accents filled the car.
At least 100 people are dead in Meridian, Mississippi after a traffic jam led to several unexplained attacks. The jam was caused by hundreds of Baton Rouge residents traveling to Starkville, Mississippi to watch their beloved team play Mississippi State. The jam lasted for nearly two hours before several onlookers showed symptoms of the mysterious virus that has spread throughout the region over the past forty-eight hours.
Symptoms of the virus include green, chicken pox-like spots, discolored skin, and spontaneous aggression. For unknown reasons, the virus causes victims to attack others, who develop similar symptoms within two to 12 hours.
Conspirators and comedians alike are referring to the virus as a “zombie outbreak.” A spokesman for the Center for Disease Control and Prevention says they are working “around the clock” to find a cure.
So the CDC was involved now. For the first time since leaving their hotel in Meridian, Dallas wondered if her fears of a full blown zombie apocalypse would actually come true. The virus victims she had seen were definitely zombies; she hadn’t doubted that since she saw the look on her sister’s face as the hordes feasted on Ashleigh and the other victims at the gas station. But if a cure could be found, even if people refused to refer to victims of the virus as “zombies,” maybe things would eventually get better.
It was getting dark and they were all exhausted from their earlier trek. But Dallas wanted to keep going a little while longer until they could at least find a gas station — the tank had only been half full when they acquired their new car. She also wanted more food, since they’d eaten most of their mini ravioli on the road.
After about an hour, Dallas turned her phone back on and was attempting to find a signal when it rang unexpectedly. It was her father.
“Sweetheart?” he said. “What is this photo I just saw online?”
She didn’t even have to ask which photo. “Dad! Yeah...I know you probably didn’t want to see it. But that’s what happened this morning.”
“I don’t understand. Where are you getting all this makeup? Don’t you think this is a little insensitive, considering the news stories?”
“What? Dad, no. This isn’t fake. I really saw it this morning. This is what they did to Ashleigh and a bunch of other people. They attacked them and now they’re dead. Ashleigh’s dead, dad.” It was the first time she said it out loud, and her voice cracked.
There was a pause, and for a moment Dallas was afraid the call had been dropped. Then her father said, “So this is real? You didn’t make this up or try to
make it look like something it wasn’t?”
“Dad, why would I fake a picture of someone getting killed? I know it’s disgusting. I can barely even look at it. But I did it to show people that this is real, and it’s dangerous, and they should be prepared to find shelter or fight. I want you and mom to come to Chattanooga.”
“Dallas, honey...I don’t know.”
“Please dad!” she cried. “Can’t you understand how important this is to me? This virus is spreading, and it’s only going to get worse. Please, just come.”
“All right, all right. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ll come to Chattanooga. I’ll have to talk to your mother first, of course...but I don’t want to be without you guys right now. I don’t know when we’ll get there, of course...”
“I know mom will go for it! Uncle Jack’s farm is isolated and in the mountains, so we’ll be safe. And dad...please hurry.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“No, dad. Leave today. You can drive through the night. And don’t get on the interstate. Take back roads if you can.”
“All right Dallas,” he said. “I’ll tell your mother.”
Has Tatum Jones’s clean image already been shattered? A new photo of the 16-year-old pop princess has emerged, showing her allegedly exiting a night club late Wednesday night, appearing intoxicated.
Jones made her mark on the pop world earlier this year with her smash hit ‘Speak to Me.’ She is known for her squeaky clean lyrics and devotion to her Christian faith. Sources say that Jones was “drinking heavily” and even vomited into a garbage can in an alley just outside the club. We don’t think Jesus would be too pleased to hear about that!
Dallas was tempted to laugh as she scrolled through the few news pieces she could still find. Most of them were about the virus, of course, but today’s headlines reported what she already knew — that Princess Tatum was not who she said she was. It was odd to read something so trivial, and she wondered if the article, which would have caused a major stir a week earlier, would have any impact today. Then again, maybe people were tired of reading about fatal illnesses and devastation and needed something else to focus on for awhile. Unfortunately, Dallas and her companions didn’t have that luxury. When you know you’re in danger, you also know that one moment of distraction could be your last.
Dallas pulled out the last mini ravioli can and popped the top. Despite her gnawing hunger earlier, she was barely able to finish half the can. Running from zombies, she realized, was a great appetite suppressor. Talia and Pierce helped her eat the rest. Talia fed Pierce a piece of ravioli and they laughed like school children as the sauce slid down his chin. Dallas glanced at Sam periodically, but was too embarrassed to look at him for long. He hadn’t said much since Talia had blurted out that Dallas was in love with him.
His phone made a noise a few minutes later. “Hey Sam,” Talia said, “I think your phone just went off.”
“Can someone check that for me?” he said from the driver’s seat. Talia peered at the phone, then up at Dallas, who was closer. Dallas rolled her eyes and picked up the phone.
‘hey, david wants to know how to get to the farm. do u stay in i 95 the whole time’
It was from Sam’s sister, Ali — or so the display said. It was strange to see a text message with so little punctuation or capitalization from someone who Dallas knew to be a strict grammar snob. But maybe she was just panicking, and not really focused on using proper grammar.
“It’s Ali,” she said. “I’m going to call her and tell her how to get to the farm.”
But when she dialed the number, nobody picked up. The phone rang eleven times before Dallas finally ended the call and sent a text message with abbreviated directions.
Chapter Seven
It was late, and pitch black now. When Dallas grew tired of staring out the window at nothing but trees, she leaned her head against the back of the seat and dozed off.
She was the first one to wake up the next morning, just after dawn. At some point in the night, Sam had pulled the car over onto the grassy strip between the road and the woods. He had also crawled to the backseat and draped himself over Dallas. Her head was on his shoulder and her leg underneath his.
She adjusted the ponytail that had migrated to the side of her head. If she were at home right now, she would have easy access to coffee. She was getting a headache without it, but didn’t care to root through the car for pain medication.
Without bothering to untangle herself from Sam, she leaned back against the seat and grabbed her phone. She had a surprisingly strong signal, and easily pulled up a Baton Rouge newspaper website. An alert at the top of the page signaled school and office closings for the following day, and advised residents to stock up on bottled water. It reminded Dallas of the many hurricane warnings she had experienced over the years.
But it was the headline on the newspaper’s home page that caught her eye. She expected yet another article about the “mysterious” virus, or the “crazy conspirators” citing zombies as the problem. Instead, the title read ‘Pop Star Dead at 16.’ The link led to Tatum’s obituary, and she skimmed the first few paragraphs.
Tatum Jones, 16, left this world to be with her Savior on Friday, October 7 in New Orleans. She was a rising singer and had just performed for an enthusiastic crowd at the House of Blues.
Tatum was a unique individual, never afraid to take risks and always pursuing her dreams. She will be greatly missed, not only by her friends and family but by her loyal fans...
Dallas stopped reading. She didn’t care to know much else. She yawned and leaned her head against the back of the seat.
Sam stirred and woke up a few minutes later. He leaned in closer to her. Their legs were still touching and their upper bodies were about a centimeter apart, but she barely noticed.
“Morning sunshine,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“I was just thinking about Tatum.”
He stretched. “Really? What about her?”
“I don’t know. I just feel bad, I guess.”
“Why do you feel bad? Dallas, you do know what happened to her wasn’t your fault, right? You said it yourself — she was already dead by the time we found her.”
“Yeah Sam, she was dead. She died when she was sixteen and came back to life and I killed her again. You know, she was actually really slow moving — you saw her, didn’t you? I could have easily just closed the door on her, but I had to attack her.”
“Dallas, you were panicking. Most people wouldn’t be able to think straight in that kind of situation.”
Dallas grunted. “Most people would feel bad that she’s dead too. And I do, but...”
“You feel guilty for disliking her so much before she died.”
“Something like that. But you know, I’m actually sort of glad she’s not here too. She’d probably be trying to boss everyone around and we’d just clash.” She sighed. “God, that sounds horrible doesn’t it? I’m glad she’s dead.” Her voice cracked as she finished speaking.
“You’re not glad she’s dead, Dal. I know you aren’t because I know you, and you’d never want someone dead.”
But it was too late. Dallas covered her mouth as the sobs came out. Sam grabbed her shoulders and brought her in to his chest. She hoped her cries wouldn’t wake Talia and Pierce; she didn’t want them to see her like this.
She was the most horrible person in the world. She couldn’t even bring herself to like Tatum, who everyone else loved and who was nothing but kind and gracious. Superficially kind and gracious, of course, without much depth to her. But still kind and gracious. And not only did Dallas not appreciate Tatum’s graciousness, she went out of her way to jam a piece of glass in her throat and end her life. Well, her afterlife, technically. But since nobody outside her social circle seemed to believe in zombies anyway, they would see what she did as murder. Was she a murderer?
Her sobs subsided, an
d she sat up. God, she had to be a mess right now. She had sloppily removed her makeup in the hotel Friday night, but still had a bit of mascara that hadn’t come off. She wiped under her eyes, hoping to get rid of whatever was left.
Sam touched his hand to her cheek and wiped away a tear. “Please don’t feel bad, Dallas,” he said. “You don’t have to feel bad for being happy Tatum’s not here. Hell, I love Ali but we’d probably clash too if she was here. I don’t know how you do it with Tally. Besides, lots of people are dying right now. You can’t grieve for every single one of them. You’d go insane. And you and Tatum weren’t even close. It would make more sense for you to grieve over Ashleigh, which I know you are.”
Dallas nodded. “At least we have what Tatum and even Ash can never have now. We have a chance.”
She sat with Sam until she dozed off again. A little while later, he stirred and moved from under her and the car started forward again. He must have taken the wheel.
She woke up less than an hour later to a fizzing noise and Sam muttering something under his breath.
“What’s going on?” she said. Talia and Pierce were awake now too, and looked at each other nervously.
Sam steered the car to the road’s shoulder, where the hood continued to emit smoke. He climbed out, and Dallas opened the passenger door. Something popped, and the fizzing grew louder.
“Shit!” Sam said, running his hands through his hair. He slammed his right fist on the hood, but it continued to fizz and smoke. He stumbled to the grass, still swearing.
Dallas climbed out of the back seat and joined him on the side of the road. Talia and Pierce opened their doors, but stayed in the car. “Is it not salvageable?” Dallas said.
State of Emergency Page 7