by Tim Morgan
In other developments, high ranking Pakistani military officials reported an attack on the Pakistani border by a swarm of civilians undeterred by gunfire, artillery, or land mines. “I have never seen anything like this,” said an officer who asked for his name to be withheld. “Thousands of people—men, women, children—they came in wave after wave, ignoring our calls to halt. I saw Indian soldiers drop their weapons and run into the minefields! There were no survivors from the Indian post. We had to hit them (the civilian mob) with everything we had—they just wouldn’t stop coming!”
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Sebrina James sucking the life out of Chris. It was like a bad dream—what was that skank doing with my friend? And what’s Chris doing—he’s HIV positive!!! WTF??? Can’t he see she’s doing the same thing to him that she did to Mike? She’s like a cat with a mouse, she’ll play with him a while and when she gets bored she’ll toss him aside. For some reason I don’t think that’ll bother Chris.
I’m so proud of Dave for trying to stop him. Dave knows what Chris and Traci meant to each other. He desperately wanted it to work out; he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. I saw the whole thing—I was scared they were going to get into a fight.
Today’s get-together is going to be interesting, to say the least.
The three of them met in the center of town for coffee after Meghan got out of church. It was the first time the three of them had been together since the prom. When Chris sat down Meghan had a tough time looking at him. He had a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, and he looked around nervously.
“You guys haven’t seen Sebrina, have you?” Chris said.
“No,” Dave said. Meghan shook her head.
“I had ten voicemails from her, fifty text messages, and two dozen calls where she didn’t leave a message,” Chris said. “She’s nuts! I can’t wait to get on the road. I think I’m going to leave my cell phone home.”
Serves you right, Meghan thought, what the heck were you thinking? Oh, sorry, you weren’t thinking . . . that’s the problem. She looked at her chai tea, swirled the froth around until it formed a little whirlpool. I need to change the subject if I’m going to keep my breakfast down. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, “when we head out on this trip . . . how are we going to make decisions?”
“It’s easy,” Chris said, “we’ll elect a leader before we go. What that person says goes.”
Dave nodded. “That works.”
Meghan shook her head. “I don’t like that. This is supposed to be our trip. We’re in this together. One person making all the decisions will get old.”
“We could rotate—today’s my decision, tomorrow’s your decision,” Dave said.
“What if we disagree?” Meghan asked.
Dave shrugged.
“Come on, Meghan,” Chris said, “why are you worried about this?”
“Because,” Meghan said, “it’s something we need to decide before we have a problem, otherwise we could be turning around before we hit New York.” I need a fair way to keep you from screwing this up, she thought. “I really don’t want that to happen. Here’s what I think . . . ”
She reached into her bag and brought out three sets of reflector pins. Each set had four button-size reflectors: one of red triangles; one of green circles; and one of blue squares. Meghan handed the red triangles to Dave and the blue squares to Chris.
“Reflectors?” Chris asked, tilting his head.
“Why do you get green?” Dave asked.
“They match my eyes,” Meghan said, batting her eyelashes. They laughed. “Seriously, I liked the color.”
“How are these going to settle arguments?” Chris asked.
“I was thinking when we need to make a decision, we each take one of these and toss them into a helmet. Someone reaches in and pulls out a reflector. Whoever’s reflector is chosen gets to make the decision, and we all go along with it.”
“No questions asked?” Chris said.
“No questions asked,” Meghan replied. She stared Chris down. He nodded his acceptance.
“I don’t know about this,” Dave said, “what if we don’t like the decision?”
“It’s not perfect,” Meghan said, “but life’s not perfect. We’ll have to deal with it. Everyone should have a chance to make a third of the decisions.”
“It’s totally random,” Chris said, “it’s like drawing straws. I like this—it’s gambling.”
“I hate gambling,” Dave said, “I never win anything.”
“Stop being such a baby,” Meghan said. “You win plenty of things.”
“Like?” Dave asked.
“The pink walrus you gave me on freshman trip to Canobie Lake,” Meghan said.
“Oh,” Dave said quietly. How could he have forgotten about that? “I guess I do win. Sometimes.”
“Are you in on this or not?” Meghan asked.
Dave thought about it. At first he didn’t like it, but the more he thought about the fact that it was coming from Meghan the more appealing it felt. And while Chris sometimes had the sex drive of a rabbit, when it came to hard and fast rules in things like games or sports, he followed them. Sometimes he’d skate on the edge of the rules and bend them a bit, but he wouldn’t break them.
“Okay,” Dave said.
“Cool,” Meghan said. “Stick these to the fabric on your helmets.”
They finished their coffee and walked to their cars. Meghan didn’t see Chris’ truck—only Dave’s Neon.
“Where’s your truck?” Meghan asked. “Is it in the shop?”
Chris stuck his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes on the ground. “Yeah, it’s in the shop. I’m having it worked on.”
Dave sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not in the shop,” he muttered, “it’s in his father’s garage.” Chris nudged Dave with his elbow.
Meghan’s eyes lit up. She smiled and pointed to Chris. “You’re hiding from Sebrina!”
Dave grinned and nodded. Meghan laughed so hard she snorted. That set Dave off.
“Shut up, guys,” Chris said. “It’s not funny.”
“Sure it is,” Meghan said. Chris shot her a dirty look. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see this coming?”
“Lots of shit’s happened that I didn’t see coming,” Chris said. “Now can we please get out of here? I think she lives on Concord Road.”
Dave unlocked his car. Chris climbed into the passenger seat and reclined it to the point where he was almost lying down. Dave closed the door.
“How’s he going to make it through the rest of the school year?” Meghan asked.
Dave shrugged. “How should I know?” he asked. Some part of me really doesn’t care, either, he thought. This isn’t my problem. “His biology class is going to be fun since she’s in the next lab.”
“Dave, can we go?” Chris’ disembodied voice called from the passenger seat.
Dave said goodbye to Meghan and got in his car.
Chris lay low, staring up at the telephone poles and the tops of trees going by. Never, ever in his life did he think this would be happening to him. He was a popular, good-looking guy. Crazy people don’t hook up with guys like me. They live in crappy neighborhoods and they look rough and they don’t live in my town.
“How long do you plan on being in the witness protection program?” Dave asked.
“Long as it takes for Sebrina to go away,” Chris replied. “Or we start riding. Whichever comes first.”
“I wish she’d hurry up—she’s been calling me, too.”
“You? Why’s she calling you?”
“Because she’s looking for you. You know what it’s like for me to look at my cell phone, see her on my caller ID, and not answer it because Meghan is standing next to me?”
“Dude! I didn’t mean to get you involved in this. How’d she get your number?”
“It’s a little late for that,” Dave said. “And I have no idea where she got my number. She sure as shit didn’t get it from M
eghan. Did you know Mike was a date, not a boyfriend?”
“I didn’t ask.” Chris gingerly put the seat up as they drove down Concord Road. Dave was taking the back roads down along the Middlesex Turnpike to get to Chris’ house. That should minimize the chances of them driving by Sebrina. “I appreciate you helping me out.”
Dave shrugged, eyes on the road. “What are friends for?”
Chris felt horrible. In the span of one weekend, he had destroyed his relationship with Traci; he’d almost wrecked his relationships with Dave and Meghan; and now he had Sebrina James out to get him because he was stupid enough to get drunk and put it in her. And it was only a matter of time before word got around the school.
If it were only the fact he’d done the deed it would have been one thing. The guys on the track team would laugh; maybe a few would tease him about it. In private there would be a couple—there were always a couple who thought like this—who would ask questions and act like it were some kind of badge of honor. Then it would be over. Oh no, he’d been through that a couple times before and that was nothing.
What really bothered him was the fact that he had to tell her about the HIV. Someone outside his carefully crafted inner circle—his parents, doctor, counselor, Dave, and Meghan—would know the secret he wanted to keep quiet until graduation.
But would it really matter? In a couple weeks this little world was going to end, and everyone would get on with their lives. Then what? They may laugh about it at the reunion, if he lived that long?
NINETEEN
The last few days have been miserable. There’s been a lot of rain, which keeps us from riding very long. Even with the rain fly we’ve been sleeping in mud puddles and slop. We’re planning on sleeping in the next house we find. I never thought there’d be this much—nowhere—in America. It’s cold and miserable and I’d give anything for us to build a fire to warm up and dry out. But we can’t do that because either it’s too wet or we’ll attract every zombie for a hundred miles. So instead we get to zip our sleeping bags together and spoon.
At first I thought it was gross since we haven’t been bathing out here. We smell like armpits and cheesy feet and farts and I’ve never felt so ugly, but at least we keep each other warm. You wouldn’t believe how cold it gets at night when it’s been raining all day and you’ve got no way to get dry. It’s nice to have Chris or Dave in the tent with me, and every once in a while I peek in the tent when I’m on watch and look at them sleeping together, keeping one another warm even though they drive each other nuts.
It’s been a couple days since that guy shot at us. That first day we did something stupid—we rode through the night. By the time we stopped to rest it was dark, I mean can’t see your toes dark. We were all exhausted; we didn’t even eat or pitch the tent. We found a spot under a bridge and just laid our sleeping bags out. It was up along the overpass, you know how there’s this little gap at the top of a bridge? We got in there, nice and tight, with our backs to the wall. We figured if the zombies did show up, at least we’d know where they were coming from.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that family. I wonder what went through that little girl’s mind when the zombies closed in on her house. I think about what her father did when he ran out of ammunition. I think about you guys, I wonder if that happened to you or whether the soldiers came and took you to safety. I’m low on battery power again, this solar panel Dad bought me is nice but it’s not very strong. It does a great job keeping the GPS charged, but the laptop’s another story.
I’m praying you guys are safe. I love you all. God bless.
Love, Meghan
Meghan tapped the buttons on her GPS and waited for the map to update. They were just west of the Ohio border. The days were all blending into one another. It had to be what, August? Maybe it was July. It could have been September for all she knew. They were behind schedule. By this time they were supposed to have hit Seattle, hopped on an airplane, and jetted back to a big party before heading off to college. She pictured coming home to food and Cokes and hearing how proud everyone was of the three of them. They should be home and comfortable and getting ready for life to begin not sitting out here in the woods being eaten alive by mosquitoes and rationing the little bits of food they had.
She rubbed her temples and tried her best to dispel the headache, figuring it was hunger that was confusing her. A few more key taps brought up the GPS date-time display. 8:30AM August 1. Instead of hitting Seattle, home of Starbucks and Microsoft, and cool underground music, and the Space Needle, and everything she looked forward to like it was the Promised Land, they were halfway through backtracking through a nightmare they couldn’t wake up from.
“Where are we?” Chris asked.
“Ohio,” Meghan replied, “Just outside Defiance.”
The route they were following snaked alongside the Muamee River. They camped on the side of the road at a bend in the river. The spot had a grove of trees and a good view of the road. Chris and Dave went out there with their Swiss army knives (Chris called his a Leatherman) and some sharpened sticks to try to spear some fish. Meghan said she’d believe it when she saw it. They weren’t having that kind of luck. They were all starving, almost through the food they’d scavenged, and Chris’ prophecy about their not being able to pedal was coming true. They weren’t making anywhere near the progress they needed to. They coasted now more than they pedaled, and it took everything they had to do that.
The hills out here weren’t that bad; it was the constant ups and downs and ups and downs. Back at the beginning they could pedal well over a hundred miles a day. Now they were lucky to cover half that. The one good thing about the three days of rain was they figured out how to fill their Camelbaks with rainwater that ran along the side of their tent.
Chris jammed his spear into the muck. He let out a whoop and pulled it up. The tip had a big frog stuck on it, its legs twitching.
“All right!” Dave said. “Supper!”
“Yeah, look at him!” Chris said. “He’s huge! I saw three or four more.”
“Meghan, get a fire going,” Dave shouted. “We’ll see if we can catch a couple more.”
Meghan blinked, not sure she heard what Dave said. “You want me to start a fire?”
“Unless you want to eat this raw!” Chris shouted.
Meghan scraped the grass away with the side of her foot in a small circle. Then she scurried around the campsite. She found all kinds of small twigs and bits of dry grass. The thought of a fire—a fire, a real crackling fire with heat and flames and warmth, was exciting to her. The last time she remembered seeing a fire was back in the refugee camp, the night they decided to cross the wire and start across the infected zone.
She built a little pile with the grass and piled some sticks on top. She kept the matches from the MREs in the bottom of the waterproof bag she used to carry her laptop. She took a book out, struck the match, and gingerly touched it to the grass. The flame took and held. She slowly piled some more sticks and grass on top, nursing the fire, nursing the warmth. She cupped her hands over the fire even though she wasn’t cold.
The fire was going pretty good when Chris and Dave came back. They managed to get two good frogs that they gutted down by the river. Chris had some blood on his hands and pants. They roasted the frogs over the fire on long sticks.
“We better break camp while the frogs cook,” Chris said. “We’ll need to hit the road soon as we eat. If there are any zombies around here, they’ll home in on this fire.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the fire,” Meghan said. “I mean the frogs.”
There were some farm houses along the road that Dave looked at longingly. It would be great to sleep there, he thought, but Chris was right about the zombies. The last thing they needed was to wake up to another mob out front. They may not be so lucky next time they tried to run. He sighed and joined Chris in breaking camp. As they were strapping their gear down on their panniers, Dave finally spoke. “Sun’s finally p
oking through.”
“Yeah,” Chris said.
Dave went down to the road and had a look around. Nothing. If there was anyone around—dead or alive—they were doing a great job of hiding themselves. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Dave said as he walked back to the fire. “There’s nobody around.”
“I think these are done,” Meghan said. The meat was sizzling and browned, and the skin had turned crispy. A month ago the thought of eating a frog speared in a pond on the side of the road would have grossed her out. Now Meghan couldn’t wait to get her teeth around a piece of real, fresh meat. Meghan went on auto-pilot and hurriedly prayed. “Lord, thank you for the bounty we are about to receive through Christ our lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” Dave and Chris said. Then everyone grabbed at the meat.
Meghan pulled a piece of meat off the leg of one of the frogs. Without a thought she popped it in her mouth. It was hotter than she expected, and she had to toss it around with her tongue while inhaling to keep from getting burned. The meat tasted wild and more like fish than chicken, but she could understand the comparison. “This is so good!” she said.
“It is. Especially for something Tarzan over there caught on the side of the road,” Dave said.
Chris pounded his chest and did his best to imitate a Tarzan call. Meghan and Dave laughed at his antics. He did it some more, shouting so his call echoed off the trees. “Me Tarzan! Me hunter! Me man!”
Dave said. “Keep it down, blitzkrieg!”
A faint moan returned Chris’ call. Everything stopped in that moment. Another moan followed. Then another.
“Shit,” Meghan said.
“Hurry up and eat,” Chris said. “We gotta ride.” They woofed down the frog meat fast as they could. Before they knew it the fire was out and they were on their bikes again, pedaling and looking at a long stretch of open road.
Dave thought Chris was a nice guy. He’d known Chris since middle school and ever since then they’d spent most of the school year together. Dave knew Chris was a good athlete, that was never in question. Sometimes Chris got hyped up on something: testosterone? Adrenaline? His own ego? When Chris would get hyped up, he’d do stupid shit, like the Tarzan calls. What kind of idiot goes making that kind of noise when there are all those monsters around?