Decomposition had done its best to liquefy the bodies. A brown stain had spread across the comforter, and these people were now mummified skin stretched over bone. There was a gun lying there, and the solution to what had happened to them became obvious. Amanda felt like she was intruding upon them and their self-inflicted solitude that had been their last desire.
It was difficult to forget scenes like this, and she backed up, pushing Sam back with her.
“I’m going in there, and I want you to stay here. It’s very unpleasant in there, and I don’t want you seeing it. I’m trying to protect you, and I have your best interest in mind, just trust that,” Amanda said, looking the girl in the eyes to see if she would comply.
“What is it?” Sam asked, trying to peek around Amanda to look into the room.
“I’ll tell you so that you’re not curious, but it’s best if you don’t see it,” she answered.
Sam nodded and then swallowed, looking nervous and excited at the same time.
“The couple that lived here killed themselves, and they are lying in the bed. They’ve decomposed mostly, but that’s where the smell is coming from. This happened a lot, especially in the early days of the event. People were frightened, had lost loved ones, and didn’t want to suffer a worse fate than death, killed themselves, their families,” Amanda said.
Sam nodded, looking somber.
Amanda decided that she didn’t need the pistol that was lying with them badly enough to disturb what they had hoped would be a more peaceful resting place than joining the ranks of the walking dead. She walked in with the hopes of finding some ammunition, which she quickly discovered on the nightstand next to the bed. There was an entire box of .38 hollow points—minus two, the rounds that they had used on themselves.
She gathered up the box quickly and stuffed it in her pack, convincing herself that there would be nothing more of use in this room. She backed out to the hallway, shutting the door behind her. She had seen scenes like this one during her runs, but it never seemed to get any easier for her. She felt rattled, especially having seen how they had lived from the privacy of their house, the homey yet organized kitchen, cozy living room, and the ideal-looking family photos on the walls all made it hard to process what had eventually happened here.
“Thanks for that,” Sam said, whispering. “The run’s been kind of fun, but I can see how it gets real hard sometimes to deal.”
“Yep,” Amanda said, feeling the sweltering heat pressing in on her and knowing that they wouldn’t have a lot more time to spend up here without making an effort to get hydrated and cooled down. One or both of them would be passing out soon if they didn’t do anything to take care of themselves.
Another open door on the opposite side of her was the upstairs bath, and it was the only other bathroom that the house had other than the one in the master bedroom. She briefly wondered how awkward that must have been when they had guests over to have to send them upstairs for the facilities, but of course, none of that mattered now.
She had chosen to leave the master bathroom undisturbed, which was an unusual practice for her. Generally, she would thoroughly search everything when she had the time; but somehow it just hadn’t seemed right, and she had left it. She hoped that this common bathroom would yield some useful items so that she wouldn’t feel compelled to have to reenter that room.
After checking the small confines of the bathroom for creepers, she let Sam do the scrounging through the cabinets and drawers, looking for anything useful. Items like toothpaste, toothbrushes, mouthwash, and liquid medicines they would only take if they were unopened. With no way to know how else the infection might travel, they were cautious to not use anything that an infected person might have used so as not to pass it on to themselves. This had been Maryanne’s idea, and one that they had staunchly followed.
Amanda could hear Sam rustling around in the bathroom, and she took this time to walk to the window at the end of the hallway. The pummeling winds were blowing debris around, and some of it was catching up against the fences. The neighbors had once had a swimming pool, but now there was no longer water in it, save for a soupy black-looking muck that was the bottom two or three feet of it. A creeper was trapped in the pool, clawing at the sides mindlessly, unable to escape. It was a sad sight to watch the hapless creature, but what interested her about the yard is that they had used solar to heat the pool and perhaps the house. A dozen large panels rested angled upwards to catch the sun. She wanted those panels.
“I found a tube of toothpaste, still in the box,” came Sam’s voice, echoing off the walls of the small room, “some gauze bandages, a tube of toothache medicine, still in the box, and some antiseptic spray and two rolls of toilet paper.”
“Good job,” Amanda said, snapping her head away from the window and walking toward the girl.
Hearing about the toilet paper had reminded Amanda to check the upstairs cabinets as well. Toilet paper had been scarce these days, and she knew that it was a camp favorite apart from food. She opened one cabinet to find stacks of towels and wash clothes. She closed that one and opened the adjoining one. Bingo, she thought as she grabbed a plastic-encased pack of twelve rolls. There was also some new coconut shampoo with a matching conditioner and three boxes of bar soap. She stacked the toilet paper at the top of the stairs beside the pillows and blanket that she had found earlier. Then she went back to stuff the other items into her pack.
“Um, I have a question,” Sam said, coming up behind her to whisper it.
“Yes,” Amanda answered, turning from the stack of goodies she had collected.
“Well, um,” Sam began, her eyes darting side to side, obviously finding it difficult to voice her question, “there’s a kid in the pictures and kid’s toys in the yard, but where’s the kid?” she said, still whispering.
Amanda took her whispering to be some form of homage for the dead and didn’t correct her about it. When it came down to it, they were struggling through a potentially extinction-level event, but it didn’t mean that they had to be heartless.
Sam could be moody, flippant, disrespectful to her parents, and way too excited to throw herself into the midst of some dangerous course of action, but when it came down to it, the girl was also compassionate, and Amanda didn’t want to do anything to change that about her. It was refreshing to know that it was possible to raise up the next generation amidst these types of conditions and that they might still carry with them their humanity toward their fellow man.
“I have a feeling that we are about to find out,” Amanda said, nodding toward the last closed door on the upstairs floor.
“Oh,” Sam said, looking over her shoulder toward the door and then shivering despite the heat.
“You might want to wait here,” Amanda said kindly. “I wouldn’t even bother checking that room except that I think Tammy could use some of the things in there because it has to be the former kid’s room. But you can never tell Tammy about who they belonged to and what happened here, okay?”
Sam nodded but didn’t say a word.
Amanda dreaded it but walked forward anyway with a stride that bespoke more purpose than she felt. Sam padded along behind her, and Amanda didn’t stop her until they reached the door.
“I’ve heard nothing from this room, so I’m not sure what to expect when I open this door. I need you to stand back a little so that I have some room to fight if need be. It won’t help if we’re piled on top of each other,” Amanda said and watched as Sam took a few steps backward.
It was clear that the girl was feeling the same sense of pull toward the room, accompanied by an equal sense of dread. These types of warring emotions were common to Amanda, who had not stayed constantly inside the relatively safe confines of their camp but had chosen to brave the outside world in order to make life for the rest of them possible.
For her, quickly dealing with her emotions had become a finely tuned skill; but for Sam, this would all be new to her. Amanda knew that under these conditio
ns, she could not count on the girl jumping into action quickly to help out with a possible threat. This type of training could not be taught around the camp but would have to be learned the hard way through time and experience. She would have to count on being on her own with whatever she found in this room, no matter how emotionally horrifying it might be.
Chapter 36
Amanda’s petite-gloved hand clasped the warm brass door handle, and she twisted it. She had the knife at the ready and could already tell that the flashlight would be unnecessary judging by how much light was coming from under the door. They had not drawn heavy curtains closed in their child’s room. The door opened with a soft squeak, and Amanda pushed it all the way until the brass handle thumped against the wall.
It was a relief to see that the bed was unoccupied by a corpse. The room looked to be cheerful, as opposed to the darkness of her parent’s room. Though the room was baking hot, it had a sunny carefree feel to it that drew Amanda partly in, a few feet past the doorway.
Cartoon art adorned the wallpaper with colorful unicorns, mushrooms, and elves. The bedspread was also colorful, depicting butterflies in flight. The twin bed was a canopy with ribbons and soft sheer pieces of pink and white fabric draping down. The desk across the room was tidy, organized, and sported a journal with the name Heather neatly printed in block letters on the front. A music box rested on top of the dresser, which was painted a pale pink and had white ceramic knobs.
There was a single blouse tossed on the carpeted floor; but otherwise, the room was dusty but immaculate, not something she would have expected from a child’s room. Either the child was as meticulous about her living space as her parents, or one or both parents had worked really hard to keep it that way.
For a moment, she was taken aback by the serenity of the scene; her eyes gobbling up the colors and neatly placed children’s toys. She had grown far too accustomed to scenes of mayhem and chaos to safely process this room as a possible threat. She inched forward, leaving Sam to stand on just the other side of the doorway. From the looks of it, this was about the most peaceful thing she had stepped into since the outbreak had started.
“This is seriously eerie,” Sam said in a whisper, also taking in the room.
Amanda moved farther into the room slowly, watchful. She stepped on a stuffed animal that she hadn’t noticed before, and it made a squeaking sound. She looked down and winced as she lifted her left foot off of it.
“Amanda, look out!” Sam screamed, so suddenly that it made Amanda flinch before she could respond.
Her head popped up quickly, body beginning to be poised for action, but she was too late. What had once been the young girl from the photos had leaped out from a crouched position behind the dresser. Time seemed to slow as she saw the child grab her left arm with her small finger’s latching onto the fabric of her shirt. Amanda reacted too late to get her arm back before the girl of about eight or nine bit down on her forearm, frantic for some form of sustenance that would never satisfy again.
She heard Sam screech, which caused Red to begin to bark. The baseball bat that she had been clutching released and softly thumped to the carpet as Sam stared at the horrifying sight. As Amanda had suspected, some things just couldn’t be taught from camp, and Sam had become paralyzed in place, too overwhelmed by the source of the threat and the suddenness of it to do anything about it.
Amanda quickly snatched her arm away, feeling the child’s teeth graze across the skin of her arm, having broken through the thin cotton fabric. The child lounged again, but this time, Amanda was ready and plunged the knife in, reaching her target on the first try. She pulled the knife out and then spun around to check on Sam, wanting to make sure that all the noise the girl had been making was coming from this threat and not some other one. She heard Heather’s body slump to the floor and felt some of the weight of her on one boot. She moved her foot.
Sam had begun to shake, her body going into shock. From the looks of it, there was no other threat, and for that, Amanda was relieved. But the girl was standing over the baseball bat that she had dropped, hugging herself, hysterical.
“It’s a kid, it’s just a kid,” Sam kept repeating as tears began to flow.
“It was a kid,” Amanda said, taking this time to look at her arm.
Sam nodded while she tried to catch her breath, eyes wide and wild-looking.
Wanting to make sure, Amanda quickly checked over the remainder of the room. Fortunately for them, there were no more threats. But unfortunately for her, the child’s teeth had made it through the material of her shirt and grazed her skin. There were three marks about three and a half inches long that looked like scratches, catching just the first layer of skin but not sinking into the muscle of her arm. She frowned, knowing what the implications of this might mean to her and concerned about Sam’s current state. No matter what happened, she had to get more supplies today and get the girl safely back to camp.
She tore the shirt off and dashed to grab Sam’s pack where the girl had stashed the antiseptic spray. Not knowing for sure whether this would help or not, she doused the cuts with spray until the aerosolized liquid was dripping from her arm. Next, she grabbed a clean towel from the linen closet and, moving purely on adrenaline-fueled instinct, began rubbing at the scratches until her arm had turned a bright pink from the friction. The last thing that she did for it was to grab the lighter from her pocket and run the flame over the wounds, wanting to kill any infection that might still be residing on and just under the surface.
She wanted to scream at the pain of the burn, especially since what remained of the antiseptic spray was causing the flame to burn hotter upon her skin. But she didn’t scream for Sam’s benefit, merely gritting her teeth and feeling her eyes water from the intensity of it.
“You’ve been bit, haven’t you?” Sam said in such a hushed tone that even the staunchest of librarians would have been proud.
“It’s not bad,” Amanda said, trying hard not to wince from the pain of the burn. “It barely broke the skin, just a few scratches, really.”
She repocketed the lighter and could hear Sam begin to wail. The burn continued to feel like it was a live flame still on her skin. She would just have to deal with it.
Amanda understood now why the parents had closed the child in the room and went to their own room to kill themselves. That’s a tough one, she thought, as she considered the situation that these poor people had been placed in. She felt stupid for not having put all the pieces of the puzzle together sooner. Perhaps had she managed to figure out what had happened here, then she would not have just been bit by the child, but there was no going back now. What they were going through was nothing like those video games that the kids used to like so much to play with their characters getting a new chance at life if they were to die. This was real life, and real life was tough, she told herself, but the truth of it didn’t help her to feel any better.
Sam had crumpled to the floor, crying, looking defeated, helpless. Red had begun to howl, and that might draw some unwanted attention if they weren’t careful. She needed to contain the situation and quickly.
She went to Sam, crouching and putting an arm around the girl. She tried to reassure her.
“We don’t really know what this means,” she said, not knowing if that were actually a boldfaced lie.
Up until now, everyone she knew and everyone Maryanne had known that had been bit had turned, end of story. But she still could not be certain 100 percent if this even fully qualified as a bite. But then again, she wondered if she might not be deluding herself from the reality of it.
“You’ll see, it will be fine,” she said, knowing now that she was really stretching the truth to the breaking point. “We’ll go back and let your mom have a look at it, okay?”
Sam sniffled and looked up and straight into her eyes.
“Are you sure about that?” she said, with her eyes demanding an honest answer from her.
“No, I’m not certain, but I thin
k there’s a chance, given the lack of severity of the bite, that I might be okay. But I know that there are a bunch of people waiting on us to do our job so that they can live, so we need to pull ourselves together,” Amanda said, squeezing her by the shoulders.
“But what if you turn before we get back?” answered Sam, looking scared of the thought of it.
“It takes at least twenty-four hours before the fever sets in,” Amanda said. “We’ll make it back to camp before anything like that happens, if it even happens. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Sam, rubbing the snot that was dripping from her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.
Look, Amanda thought morbidly, there’s another use for wearing the long sleeves. She didn’t know why, but sometimes during or shortly after intense situations, she would often feel the need to joke with herself about something meaningless and silly.
“We need to head down the stairs with one of the loads and assure Red that we’re okay before his stress barking draws a horde down upon us. Are you able to do that? He really needs to see that the both of us are okay,” Amanda said, standing and then extending her arm to Sam to help the girl to her feet. She was hoping that the thought of going to reassure Red would be the impetus that she needed to pull herself together.
“I can do that,” Sam said and then sniffled. She grabbed Amanda’s outstretched hand, allowing herself to be pulled up and onto her feet.
“We need to forget about what happened here for now and get on with our day. We can address it later, back at camp, but you need to know that you did good, warning me that there was a threat. It could have been so much worse,” Amanda said, not wanting Sam to feel any responsibility for what had so obviously been her own stupid mistake.
Amanda Carter in the L.A.Z., life after zombies Page 24