Gen Z Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  Emily, meanwhile, had rinsed out the gash in Dean’s arm with disinfectant causing him to scream loudly before stitching him up. The black thread looked like ants crawling up his arm, and each stitch tore a hoarse cry from his lips until he was pale and sweaty.

  Once she was cleaned up herself, Vanessa steadied him, holding his shoulders firm and murmuring comforting words in his ear. It helped a bit, and Emily was able to finish closing up the wound before disinfecting it once more and wrapping it with a bandage.

  With the arm slung across his chest in a sling, Emily set about examining the rest of both him and herself. After a few minutes, she nodded. “I think we’re clean. No bites. That cut on Dean’s arm was likely caused by his own machete during the fall. We should wash up anyway, just to be on the safe side.”

  While they got cleaned up, Chas wandered around on top of the hill. A short distance away stood an old farmhouse and next to it was a truck. It was old and rusted, but it had wheels and hope rose in her chest. She glanced at the fallen zombie, noting the faded jeans and boots. “Must be the owner. A farmer, maybe.”

  After a minute or two, Emily joined her. “What is it?”

  Chas shrugged. “A ride, I hope. We’ll need it now. Dean’s not walking anywhere.”

  “Not today, he isn’t,” Emily agreed.

  “I’ll go check it out,” Chas said.

  “I think from now on we stick together,” Emily said walking alongside Chas as they moved to explore the house and its contents. A weak-looking Dean followed while being supported by Vanessa.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right. We should stick together,” Chas said. “We’re stronger that way. Let’s just hope we find what we need up there.”

  Emily smiled. “We will. I’m sure of it.”

  “How come?” Chas asked.

  “Because, after all the bad luck we’ve had, we’re overdue for some of the good stuff,” Emily declared, raising her chin as if daring the world to tell her she was wrong.

  With a shake of her head, Chas walked along, buoyed by Emily’s confidence. “You’re not wrong, Em. We are due for some of the good stuff. Let’s go fetch it.”

  “Let’s,” Emily agreed, forging ahead with a determined stride.

  Chapter 13

  Chas circled the truck on her crutches. It was an old model, rusted in spots and faded blue in color. She was glad to notice it was clean on the inside, however. The leather seats gleamed from recent oiling, and the interior was immaculate. To her, it meant the owner had looked after it. “Should be in running condition. We need to find the keys.”

  Emily nodded. “It’s either in his pockets,” she said, pointing at the recently deceased owner’s corpse, “or it’s in the house.”

  Chas grimaced. “You check his pockets. I’ll check the house.”

  Emily flashed her a look. “I’ll check him, but you’re not going in there alone.”

  “Why not? He’s dead,” Chas protested.

  “Yeah, and who turned him?” Emily asked with cold logic.

  The hair on the back of Chas’ neck rose as she turned toward the house. Her eyes traveled up the wooden porch toward the screen door. It was slightly ajar and covered on the inside with a white lace curtain. Similar curtains adorned the windows on either side, and her mouth dried up at the thought of what they might be hiding. “Um, okay, Emily. Check him first. I’d rather not go in there if I don’t have to.”

  “Roger that,” Emily said, jogging back to the old farmer’s corpse. Vanessa and Dean shuffled closer to Chas and the truck, using it as support.

  Chas studied Dean. He looked pale and sweaty. Likely from the pain. He needed time to rest and for the painkillers to kick in. The last thing he needed now was a zombie fight. Speaking of which…her eyes swiveled back to the porch, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

  A corner of the curtains twitched. Chas stared at it, wondering if it was her imagination. The material twitched again before being swept aside by a little hand. A pair of dark brown eyes stared at her through the window.

  Chas gasped.

  It was a little boy, his hair cut short above the navy collar of his shirt, and he was no longer human. His lips peeled back, and he growled at her through the glass, his stubby fingers scrabbling at the barrier between them.

  “Emily! You’d better hurry up,” Chas cried, fumbling for the hatchet at her waist.

  The boy coughed up a spatter of black blood, his hands smearing the putrid liquid across the window. Chas backed away on trembling legs, her horrified gaze fixed to the boy’s face. This was a nightmare come true. Coming face to face with a zombie child.

  Vanessa took one look at the boy before hurrying Dean around the truck to the other side. She propped him up against the door before drawing her machete and joining Chas. Together, they stared at the child trying to claw its way to them.

  “Do you think he can break through the glass?” Chas asked.

  “It’s hard to say. He seems too small,” Vanessa answered. “Maybe three…four years old?”

  “Sounds about right,” Chas agreed with a sad shake of her head. “So young.”

  “I know. It’s awful,” Vanessa agreed. “Emily? Did you find the keys yet? I really don’t want to go into that house.”

  Emily straightened up from her search of the body and hurried over. “Sorry, guys. No such luck.”

  “That sucks,” Chas muttered, tightening her hold on her hatchet. “Guess we’re going in. Hey! Where’d he go?”

  The boy was gone, and she tensed up in readiness as her eyes swung to the door. Every nerve in her body screamed with fear. Just the thought of having to face such a small child infected with the virus was enough to send shivers down her spine. The seconds ticked past, and nothing happened. Chas slowly relaxed from her fighting stance.

  “Do you think he’s coming out?” Vanessa whispered, lowering her machete.

  “I don’t know. They’re not very smart,” Emily said. “He probably missed the open door altogether.”

  “Yeah, but where’d he disappear to like that? It’s creepy,” Vanessa said with a shudder.

  “I don’t know. Either way, we still need the keys,” Emily said.

  “There could be more people inside. His mother?” Chas mused.

  “Oh, please, no. We really don’t need anymore zombies,” Emily said.

  Just then screen door burst open, and a howling woman charged onto the porch. The boy followed close on her heels, and both sprinted down the steps toward Chas and her group. Vanessa yelled in fright, her machete raising into the air on autopilot. Emily screamed before readying her weapon, her face as colorless as bone.

  Chas nearly dropped her hatchet as she fumbled to get rid of her crutches. Liquid terror poured through her veins as the two zombies charged, their howls and screeches enough to burst an eardrum.

  Vanessa jumped at the woman, swinging her machete with swift precision. The blade hacked into the woman’s neck, and blood spurted from the wound in thick globs. It didn’t slow her down, however, and she raked at Vanessa’s arms with clawed fingernails. Emily joined the fray, cutting at the woman’s knee to cripple her.

  Chas had a split second to take it all in before the zombie boy tackled her with a hungry growl. He dove at her legs, his little hands burying themselves into the denim pants. His teeth clipped together as he sought to bite down on her thigh. Twisting and turning, she sought to break free, but he clung like a leach, never once letting go.

  Frantic to keep his mouth out of her flesh, Chas grabbed him by the hair, threading her fingers through his greasy hair. One crutch had fallen to the ground while the other still dangled from her right arm, hampering her movements. She couldn’t get in a clear shot with the hatchet as the little monster wriggled around like a worm on a hook.

  White hot pain shot up her spine when he landed a lucky blow on her wounded leg, and she had to grit her teeth together to keep from screaming in agony. “You little…let go!”

  With a m
ighty swing, she lifted him off her body and threw him aside, a clump of hair coming loose in her hand. Before he could recover, she brought the machete down on his head and the zombie boy finally stilled, his muscles relaxing into true death.

  Chas sniffed as sudden tears threatened to overwhelm her, and she quickly turned away from the sight of his body. Monster or not, he was only a kid. Probably turned because he ate a bad ham sandwich.

  Vanessa and Emily turned toward her, their faces splattered with blood and gunk, and their cheeks red with exertion. Taking the zombie woman down had not been easy, and the trio stared at each other with shell-shocked expressions.

  “Are you guys okay? Anyone hurt or bitten?” Dean asked, his worried face popping over the roof of the truck.

  “I’m okay,” Chas said with a weary sign even though she didn’t feel okay at all. Her leg throbbed with pain, echoing the feeling in her heart whenever she glanced at the little boy.

  “I’m not hurt either,” Vanessa said, faint surprise coloring her voice.

  Me neither,” Emily said. “We were lucky this time.”

  “This time,” Chas said, wondering when their luck would finally run out.

  “Let’s just clean up, grab the keys, and get out of here,” Emily said, rummaging through her bag for her cleaning supplies.

  “Good idea,” Chas said, not wanting to spend another minute on the desolate farm, now filled with dead people. Then a thought hit her. “Wait. We can’t go yet.”

  Emily looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. He was just a kid. Shouldn’t we bury him? Them? Pay our respects?” Chas said. “I feel bad about just leaving them like that.”

  Emily sighed. “I get that, Chas, but we don’t have time to dig a grave for all of them.”

  “How about we put them inside? In their home?” Vanessa asked. “We have to get the keys anyway.”

  Chas nodded. “All right. It’s better than nothing, I guess.”

  After cleaning both themselves and their weapons, Chas, Emily, and Vanessa worked together to wrap the bodies in sheets and drag them back inside the house. The family was laid out next to each other in the living room, and Emily said a prayer over their still forms.

  With time ticking by, they secured their supplies underneath a tarp in the back of the truck. The four of them squeezed into the front, pressed together like sardines in a can. Vanessa drove since Dean was unable to, and they left the farm behind in silence.

  As the house faded from view, Chas struggled to hold back her tears. She’d killed a few zombies before, but none of them had hit her as hard as the boy had. It felt wrong. All of it felt wrong. He was just a baby.

  Chapter 14

  Chas and her friends drove throughout the afternoon, searching for a bridge. Though they had a map, it was hard to make sense of the country roads. They finally found one just before dusk, and Vanessa halted in front of the steel and concrete contraption. “Are we ready to do this? Beyond that river lies Red Rock and all its zombies.”

  “It’s almost night. Maybe we should sleep over before we cross over,” Emily said. “It’s the smart thing to do. Especially with Dean and Chas being injured.”

  “Where? Inside the truck?” Vanessa asked. “There’s hardly enough space for all of us to sit, let alone sleep.”

  “Maybe we should backtrack and look for a house?” Emily suggested.

  “We haven’t seen one for miles,” Vanessa said.

  Dean sighed. “Look, guys. I’m feeling better. The pain meds have kicked in, and I can’t even feel my arm. There’s no point in delaying this any further just because of me. Go.”

  “Are you sure?” Vanessa asked, casting a worried look over her shoulder.

  “I’m fine, babes,” he said, flashing her a dimpled smile. “Just go.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” Vanessa said before gunning the truck and shooting across the bridge.

  As they crossed the concrete barrier, Chas looked down at the river and blanched. Bodies floated past in the swift running water. Face down. Their clothes billowed around them like clouds. Some moved. Infected, probably. Most didn’t. Corpses. The dead floating past in the night.

  It was a horrifying sight. One she would never forget no matter how many years passed. It was the end of everything she knew, and there was nothing she could do about it. Life will never be the same again.

  They drove away in absolute silence, each caught up in his or her own thoughts. Their worlds had gone, and nothing brought it home more than the sight of the dead bodies floating down the river.

  “Do you think we’ll ever live normal lives again?” Dean asked.

  Vanessa shook her head. “No.”

  “We’ll win,” Emily said. “We have to, or it’s the end of humanity.”

  “It still won’t be the same,” Dean said.

  “Maybe not, but we can create a new normal. A new world,” Emily said.

  “A better one, you mean?” Chas asked.

  “Why not?” Emily asked. “We’re the next generation, and a lot of the old structures are gone.”

  “That’s true,” Chas conceded. “I guess it’s up to us then.”

  “Let’s not screw this up,” Emily said, turning her head to the window.

  For the next few minutes, they didn’t see much of interest, only the countryside stretching out to either side. When they topped out on a rise, Vanessa slowed. “There she is. Red Rock.”

  “Home, sweet home,” Emily quipped.

  Chas leaned forward, looking at the town that had once been her home. She could just make out the outline of its buildings in the gathering dusk, sprawled across the dusty earth. The rooftops glowed in the setting sun while shadows crept into lanes and alleyways, its reach like the creeping tendrils of death. It was too far away to make out individual features, and she wondered how many dead wandered its streets.

  The truck sped up once more as they descended into the valley, the pocked tar roads smoothing out the closer they got to the city itself. Signs of the apocalypse began to appear: Abandoned cars at the side of the road. A wreck wrapped around a tree with blood smeared on the windows. Animal carcasses rotting in the sun. Human bodies too, though those were far fewer in number.

  They drove past several country homes, and each time, Chas thought of her own home, probably empty and abandoned now. Longing grew within her chest until the words burst free from her lips. “Can we check my house first, please?”

  “Your home?” Vanessa asked. “But why?”

  Chas shrugged, reluctant to voice her hopes out loud. “I don’t know. I guess…I’m hoping Grumps might be there.”

  “Oh, I see,” Vanessa said in a small voice while the others avoided her eyes. Clearly, none of them believed her grandfather was still alive.

  “Please,” Chas begged. “I know we’re supposed to look for Alvarez and the others, but I really need to know.”

  Vanessa sighed. “I suppose we could take a quick look.”

  “It can’t hurt,” Dean added, pointing left at a crossing ahead. “It’s not that far anyway. Not if you take this route.”

  “This one?” Vanessa asked as she steered toward it.

  “Yup, it’s only a few miles,” he said.

  “In that case, I don’t see the problem either,” Emily said.

  Chas sagged with relief. “Thank you, guys.”

  Dean pointed the way while Chas sat perched in her seat, staring out the window as the surroundings became more and more familiar. With each mile that passed, her excitement grew, fueled by hope. She knew she shouldn’t allow it, should instead prepare herself for the worst but couldn’t. She wanted to, no…needed to see her grandfather again. To smell his tobacco scent and feel his strong arms wrapped around her. Grumps will know what to do. He’ll know how to save Lala and the camp.

  “Hey, look, Emily. There’s the thorn bush you rode into when we went biking last summer.”

  Emily frowned. “I remember. Lala sp
ent an hour picking stickers out of my bum.”

  Chas giggled. “That was so funny.”

  “To you, maybe. I couldn’t sit for a week!”

  The four in the cab laughed at the silly memory until Chas’ house appeared on the horizon. Silence fell as they drew closer, thick and stifling. Chas’ heart banged a painful beat inside her chest until she could hardly breathe.

  First, she saw the rooftop peeking over the trees around it, painted brick red. Then the green lawn bordering the road. Carefully tended herb gardens lined the slatted wood fence and flower beds ran alongside the whitewashed walls of the old farmhouse.

  The porch looked just as Chas remembered it, sagging slightly on the left side with potted plants hanging from the ceiling. A set of worn but comfy garden chairs faced the garden, and lace curtains covered the inside from view.

  “Do you see anything? Anyone?” Vanessa asked, her eyes flitting from the house to Chas and back again.

  Chas swallowed as she searched for signs of life: Her grandfather’s truck parked in the driveway, the twitch of a curtain, a shining light to ward off the night, the screen door propped slightly open.

  But there was nothing.

  Nothing but eerie silence.

  Gradually, she noticed the small details of neglect that hadn’t been there before. Weeds were poking up between the stones of the garden path. Dead leaves were piled on the patio, and the potted plants drooped for lack of water. The lawn was overgrown too, the garden beds no longer so neat. It was obvious no one had worked in it for a long time, probably weeks. Her voice was hoarse when she admitted the truth out loud. “He’s not here. No one is.”

  “I’m sorry, Chas,” Vanessa answered in a subdued voice.

  “Me too,” Emily whispered.

  Dean said nothing, but his sympathetic gaze spoke volumes.

  Vanessa pulled the truck into the driveway and switched off the engine. In the sudden silence, the chatter of birds in the trees became clear. It was a peaceful moment, sitting there in the gathering dusk while listening to birdsong. It brought back many memories of afternoons spent lazing on the porch in the humid summer heat.