Amanda Carter in the L.A.Z., life after zombies

by Jo Lee Auburne

  “It really is incredible,” she told herself, “Two dogs out here in this heat, how can this be?” she asked herself.

  The smaller dog yelped once and began to pant heavily. The larger dog held its ground with a low, constant growl that came from deep down in his throat.

  “I want to help,” she said, putting the knife back in its sheath.

  The little dog was cute, friendly looking, with blond medium-length hair that curled at the edges. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and they seemed to beckon to her. The large dog could easily be mistaken for a wolf out here except that he was red, with some white that ran under his chin and down to his belly. His eyes were black and sharp-looking. They were eyes that were observant, missing very little. And she had the strange feeling that he possessed a wisdom that was ancient.

  If Amanda had been standing in the Oregon woods, she would have sworn that she was looking at an Oregon red timber wolf. But she had no clue how that could be out here in the harsh, hot, barren Southern California desert. And if he was a wolf, why was he paired up with this little dog that had probably been someone’s pet?

  She watched as both dogs seemed to signal each other before turning to trot away, paws pressing lightly into the soft sand. Amanda stood there dumbfounded until the big red dog turned to look back at her, as if he was beckoning her to follow him, which she did.

  The dogs trotted into a riverbed, following its path, with the red dog checking back periodically to make sure that she was still following.

  The situation had created an odd, surreal feeling to Amanda as she watched the desert landscape slide slowly by as they traveled. Eventually, the riverbed dumped them out into a narrow canyon that had tall sides. There were a few stubborn bunches of California sagebrush that clung to the sandy ground.

  It would not be uncommon in terrain like this to accidentally stumble across a sidewinder rattlesnake that had buried itself down into the soft sand, waiting for nightfall to hunt. She hoped that the wolf dog would be able to sense one before they happened across it.

  She noticed that her feet felt hot and swollen inside her boots, like they had been superheated and then poured into her boots. This made her more clumsy than usual, and she tripped twice.

  Up ahead, she saw that the dogs had stopped. Both of them sat down and turned to face her in a synchronized series of movements. These two have been together for a while, she thought, they know each other well and are familiar with communicating with one another.

  They both seemed to have a look of sadness in their countenance, and she knew before she reached them that she would not like what she discovered up ahead. In fact, the dread was palpable and seemed to grow the closer she got.

  And then she saw why they had led her to this location. There was the lifeless body of a man lying sprawled, his limbs at impossible angles. It was no longer a secret how these two had come to be here and how they had survived the brutality of the land. This man had been their master.

  Amanda looked around, fitting the pieces together. It was clear now that he had fallen from the top of the cliff above. Maybe he had climbed up there to get a better look at the horde, but in any case, he had fallen. The man was the real kind of dead, with eyes that stared but saw nothing. She felt pity for his two companions.

  The wolf dog moved toward the man and nudged him with his muzzle. The man, of course, did not move. When the dog looked up to her, it was almost as if he were pleading with her to fix it, like she had a magic wand that could make it all better. Except that she did not have a wand, nor did she have the kind of magic that he was requesting. A great sadness came upon her as she wished that there was something that she could do to help, but it just was what it was: death.

  With a pathetic sigh, she dropped her shoulders, staring down at the earth. Amanda could no longer look into his beckoning eyes; it hurt too much. She found herself hoping that he would understand.

  When she looked up again, both dogs seemed to get what she thought they had already known. He was dead, and there would be no fixing it.

  Both of the dogs chose to lie down beside the man, looking sad.

  Amanda walked closer and then knelt beside him. She reached out and closed both of the man’s eyes, using the tips of her fingers. The dogs did not interfere. And the wolf dog no longer growled at her, apparently having accepted her as a friend and not a foe.

  The man still had a tight grip on an old .22 revolver that was clasped in his palm. Amanda worked to loosen the man’s grip on the gun.

  As she released the pistol from him, she thought of the popular saying, “You can take my gun after you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.” She cringed, knowing that this time, it was actually the truth.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, “but you won’t be needing this anymore, and we do.”

  Still, the wolf dog made no threatening sounds or moves against her. She supposed that in his wisdom, he understood. He seemed to be quickly coming to terms with the present situation, though his grief was still evident.

  Gently, respectfully, she removed his boots and tied the laces together, and these she slung over her shoulder. She unclipped the small pack from his back and set that beside her after briefly going through the contents. There wasn’t much in the pack: a bandana that represented the American flag, a small can of pork and beans, a large hunting knife that was inside of a beautiful leather sheath with inlaid turquoise, and a couple of wet napkins still inside of their packaging.

  Amanda felt strange doing it, but out of necessity for their situation, she checked his pockets. There she found a can opener and some coins. She put the coins back, but the little collapsible can opener would come in handy; this she slipped into her pocket. She pulled a wallet out of his back pocket, curious. She wanted to know his name. There was a picture of a pretty middle-aged woman with long blond hair, a twenty-dollar bill with a couple of ones, and nothing more. She ignored the money. There was no form of identification, and she felt bad that he would die alone and unnamed, as if it mattered. The wallet went back into his pocket. He would want to keep the picture of the woman. Amanda found herself wondering whom she was to him and if she was still alive, knowing that she might never have the answer to that question.

  There was a time that she would have felt guilty about taking a dead man’s possessions, but that was the LBZ, and with each day, that time was slipping farther into the past. In the world as it was today, survival often meant ditching old ideas and beliefs for more productive ones. But the real key was to make sure that your humanity stayed intact regardless of the situation, and sometimes that was nothing but a thin line.

  Amanda stood, took another swig of water, and looked down at the two dogs. Both of them were panting harshly. She had only a very little clue as to how long they had been out here masterless, with no water.

  “What am I going to do with you?” she asked, almost believing that they would answer her back.

  She knelt and poured water into her palm. Though they both were looking greedily at it. The wolf dog let the little one lap some up first.

  “So you’re a gentleman too,” Amanda said and then laughed.

  After the little dog had finished, then the wolf dog finished off all but a couple sips of her water. There would be more at the truck, if it was still undisturbed. She stood.

  “Come with me if you want,” she said, gently slapping her thigh a couple of times before turning to walk away. The little dog fell right into step beside her, but she had to stop and look back to see that the wolf dog had not moved and didn’t look like he had any intentions of doing so.

  Amanda walked back to him, and he looked balefully up at her. His grief was so great that he still did not want to leave his master.

  “Seriously?” she asked, knowing that she would never feel right about leaving him out here to die like this.

  She sighed, trying to think of a solution. The dog was far too big for her to be carrying out of here, even if he would let her, which she doubte
d.

  “Come on, soldier, get up, come with, we’ll live to fight another day,” she said, as if the dog could understand her and only needed a pep talk.

  The little dog seemed to rally at this and gave a short yap in response with a vigorous tail wag.

  “See,” Amanda said, “your friend here understands. It’s time to come with me now.”

  Nothing happened except, if it was possible, the wolf dog appeared to sink even farther into the earth, lying there beside his previous master.

  “I’ve had this happen to me before, Red,” she said. “I get it, but if you want to live, we’ve got to go. There are others depending upon me.”

  Not knowing his name, she decided that she liked the name Red for him. In this very short time that she had known him, she had developed a feeling of kinship with him. She knew that she would figure this out because she was not leaving him, even with the new code that she now lived by.

  Amanda sat down into the hot sand, feeling her lips drying. She would need more water soon. The little dog came and hopped into her lap, licking her face. Even though the dog’s breath stank, there was something very comforting about it.

  As she sat pondering, she knew that there was a man back at camp that was depending upon her to return with the medicine that she had found. That man had a wife and children, and above all, she could not let them down. Events had thrown her way off of schedule, but as the minutes rolled past, her sense of urgency grew.

  Finally, she came to the conclusion that this dog, who had been so loyal to his master, just needed some time to pay homage to the man. She identified with the wolf dog’s grief. She too had been there, not wanting to let go but needing to.

  It surprised her that she had formed such an attachment to Red. She wasn’t a hard woman even in the midst of all this, but she had lost many special people in these dark times. She was no longer as prone to make decisions out of sentiment. But this seemed different, like somehow it wasn’t sentiment that kept her from moving on but something else, something important that was just out of grasp. Red seemed to have already identified that which she was searching for, and she stared into his eyes, looking for it.

  After a while, she realized that she understood. When dealing with loss, she realized that sometimes it takes a gesture of completion to help someone move along with his life. Could it be as simple as that? She wondered.

  The thought seemed far-fetched, but what if she was able to help Red to finalize the loss of his master? She moved the little dog from her lap and pushed herself up to her feet. She believed that she had just discovered the solution to their problem.

  Chapter 6

  “Doesn’t this feel good?’ Maryanne asked her daughter, speaking of the cold air that was blasting from the air-conditioner.

  “Why can’t we do this all the time, Momma?” Tammy asked, holding both of her little hands up to the vents, relishing the feel of it.

  The red had left her little face, and instead of looking sour and pinched in her countenance, she looked happy and refreshed. Maryanne hated to see what these days were doing to her once happy, healthy children.

  “Because, sweetie, it’s complicated,” she answered her daughter while thinking of her husband lying there with a fever that would surely kill him before too long. She too was wondering where Amanda was.

  “Where’s Amanda?” Tammy asked, and Maryanne winced, wishing that her daughters would stop asking because she had no good answer for her.

  At one point, they had discussed having Roy set up a CB radio for them, or some handheld radios. But after much discussion, it was decided that it was best to stay radio silent because there were others out there that listened in and could more easily discover their location or set them up to be ambushed.

  “Sometimes going to town takes a long time, honey. She’ll be back, you’ll see,” she said, hoping to God that it was true for everyone’s sake.

  O

  “Roy?” Sam asked, “Do you think when Amanda gets back that my parents will let her teach me to shoot a gun and fight? She’s got some moves.”

  “I know,” Roy answered. “She’s saved my butt more times than I can say. Hell, kid, she’s the reason that your father and I even made it back last time. She’s got a sense about things, you know.”

  Roy was playing with the sand, picking it up and letting it sift through his hand.

  “I don’t even know how she knew where to look for us, but she knew, and that’s why we’re here now because she went out after us and brought us back, and we were all broke up and everything. Don’t you worry about, Amanda, kid, she’ll be just fine, you’ll see,” Roy said.

  Secretly, as the hours ticked by, he was becoming increasingly concerned. But he realized that in trying to cheer Sam up, he had given himself some hope too.

  “Mary, Maryanne?” It was Jason’s weakened voice that spoke, carrying to them on the wind.

  “Daddy,” Sam said, flying up and dashing to her father’s side.

  “Daddy, you’re awake,” Sam said with obvious relief.

  He reached out and clasped his hand in hers, squeezing so hard that it hurt. Sam tried to hold her hand there despite the crushing pain that rendered her grip useless.

  “Maryanne, Maryanne?” he repeated, not seeming to see his daughter.

  Sam leaned in closer and whispered her name.

  “They’re coming, Maryanne, protect the children, they’re coming,” he said, with his wild-looking eyes locked on hers but still not recognizing her. Sam felt fear.

  Jason’s face was bright red, even though he had been lying in the shade of the tarp. His gray beard looked almost bleached white in comparison to how bright his face was.

  “What’s he saying?” Sam pleaded loudly to Roy, and now she had become terrified. She tried to yank her hand away, but her father’s grip was too tight.

  Roy hustled over to place his hand upon Jason’s forehead.

  “It’s not safe, it’s not safe anywhere,” Jason croaked, “they’re coming. There’s so many of them.”

  His lips appeared to look white and cracked.

  “Roy, what’s he saying?” Sam shrieked, and now she was yanking and pulling to free her arm.

  “Shhh, Sam,” Roy said while unclenching Jason’s fingers and freeing her arm. “Can you feel how warm he is?”

  “Yes,” Sam said with a nearly equal look of terror at her father. Sam was near tears and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she forced herself to breathe and then nodded her head.

  “He’s delirious with fever, Sam. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I need you to go and get your mom, okay?” Roy said, careful to speak slow and clear for Sam’s sake.

  Sam gulped and then took a long drag of air before nodding several times and stealing a glance back to her father. She quickly looked away, but still she had not moved.

  “Run, Sam,” Roy said urgently.

  Jason latched onto Roy’s large hand now. He kept mumbling, making no sense as his speech began to slur. Roy didn’t want to admit it, but he had a sinking feeling that they were losing him. And then, Jason began to seize, his body jerking uncontrollably, eyes rolled back in his head. Roy felt helpless, not knowing what to do.

  At this time, he was experiencing a flashback of being face-to-face with a creeper that was trying to devour him, and he wondered if Jason might have become infected with that virus. Will my friend turn into one of them? he wondered.

  “Now,” he told himself, “do something now.” But he had no clue what, if anything, he was to do. He got up and backed away, staring.

  Maryanne arrived, breathless, quickly taking charge.

  “Roy, listen to me,” she said, putting her face close to his. “Take the children to the Jeep. Play a CD or something, but get them out of here. Can you do that for me?”

  She must have understood how paralyzed he felt, but her calm commands snapped him back and into action.

  “Got it,” Roy said.

  Both the children
were more terrified than he had been. He scooped up Tammy into his good arm and instructed Sam to follow; only Sam didn’t follow.

  Instead, the girl sniffled and wiped her wet nose on her arm and then slid her clammy hands down her dirty jeans. She watched her father, trying to get up the courage to do what she felt that she could.

  “Sam, come on,” Roy yelled.

  “No,” she stated flatly, “I’m staying. Take Tammy, and keep her busy. I’ll stay and help Mom.”

  Maryanne had run to grab the rubbing alcohol bottles and had returned quickly. Jason had stopped seizing and was lying so still that Sam feared him to be dead.

  What if he’s infected? Sam thought. What if he suddenly pops up as one of them?

  “Doctor?” Roy questioned, “Sam’s dead set on staying, that okay with you?”

  “That’s fine, Roy, thanks,” Maryanne said, sounding tired.

  Sam sat down beside her father, wishing him to keep breathing, knowing then that he would not awaken as one of them.

  “Mom, he’s not going to—” Sam began but was interrupted.

  “Honey, his fever’s very high, and that’s what’s causing the delirium and the seizures. You can help me get the fever down. Will you do that?” her mother asked even as she was opening up the front of Jason’s shirt and then stripping him down to his boxer shorts.

  “Yes, yes, I can,” Sam said bravely while holding back a sniffle.

  “Good, Sam, real good,” the doctor said using the familiar form of her name that she preferred.

  “I’ve been saving this rubbing alcohol for an emergency. I guess that this qualifies.” Maryanne said, wetting a cloth with the alcohol. “This will help to lower the fever. Now you go get a washcloth or any cloth and the pan of water, and bring it here,” she told her daughter.

  “Um, Mom,” Sam said, “I kinda used all the wash water earlier on cooling him down.”

  Maryanne sighed, knowing what this meant. “How much drinking water do we have left?” she asked, looking pained.

  “I don’t know, Mom, maybe two gallons,” the girl answered.