Only Love Survives (Love and Zombies)

by Renee Charles

  Megan pulled wood stacking duty that morning and a tree had been felled. She’d gone to find Sam while some of the men used a chainsaw to slice it into manageable sections. She returned just as they finished. Sam walked by with the crew headed for the garden. When he searched for her in the crowd, she turned away and began to pick up the wood. If she met those blue eyes now, she might break down and cry, something Megan had no intention of allowing him to see.

  Whhhack. Kyle, the young man who’d held a gun on her when they first arrived, was her assigned partner for this chore. He swung his axe over his head and brought it down again. Whhhack. Megan watched the wood splinter under his blade and it gave her an idea.

  “Kyle, can you help me with something?” Megan slid her arm out of her backpack and unzipped it. Kyle stopped swinging.

  “Sure. What?” He came closer and peered over her shoulder as she dug in her bag.

  “I need you to cut this bar of soap in half.” Megan unwrapped it and held it up for him to see.

  He took it from her and examined it, brows furrowed. “I don’t know how exact I can get it.”

  “No worries, just do what you can. I really appreciate it.” She backed away as he set it on the stump.

  “Here goes.” He swung the axe and came down on the bar of soap as hard as he could. One of the ends shot out from under the axe, but Megan watched where it landed and went after it. The end was about a third of the bar. He picked up the other two-thirds still on the stump and looked at Megan. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” Megan wrapped up the smaller piece, stuffed it in the bottom of her pack and zipped it closed. She put the bigger of the two in her pocket, then slipped her pack back on and continued stacking the wood.

  Although the day went by slowly without Sam by her side, Megan decided to skip the campfire that evening. The thought of watching Sam, knowing he would leave her in the morning despite her protests was more than she could face. And he expected her to be happy about it? Typical male ego.

  Megan used the time alone in the RV to her advantage. She stripped, washed her aching body, then washed her clothes and hung them in the bathroom area like Allan’s wife showed her to do. Wrapping a crisp, clean sheet around herself like a toga, Megan lay down on the bunk reserved for her. As her body sank into the RV mattress, Megan felt absolutely decadent. Four inches or not, it was the only mattress she’d lain on in five months, and she melted into it.

  Despite the comfy bed, apparently sleep was not on her to-do list. Megan stared at the ceiling panels until the close-knit little family returned home. Allan opened the door and the children fussed in their mother’s arms. She soothed them in an attempt to stay quiet.

  Megan rolled over and poked her head out. “It’s okay, I’m awake.”

  “I thought you’d be asleep.” Susan ventured.

  “Not yet. Thank you for letting me use this sheet. It was nice to wash my clothes while not in them for once.” They both laughed softly. Megan watched, smiling while the woman prepared her children for bed.

  “I would like you to keep it.” Susan reached for a child with a brush in her hand.

  “Oh I couldn’t. You have four people to provide for.”

  “You have no idea what it meant for me to give my babies that apple. I have so little to offer in return. I want you to have that sheet.” She glanced at Megan a little sheepishly then back to the small head of hair as she gently worked the tangles out. “It’s all I have that I can part with. Please take it.”

  Megan swallowed to clear the lump in her throat. “I’d be honored.”

  These people had built something here, a home. They’d carved out a life together, a way of life to be shared with the person at their side. They held on to each other as tight as they held on to their supplies. It was everything Megan wanted, but would not have. The bite on her arm might not have taken her life, but it took everything else. She’d never be a part of a community like this. People would always judge her by the scar, and she would always live in fear of discovery. She would always be an outcast. The very thing that might save these people’s lives had stripped her of any opportunity to have a life of her own among them.

  That was the part she longed to explain to Sam, but couldn’t. His anger kept getting in the way. For her life to have any purpose at all, she had to go to Vegas.

  The solitude of her life, necessary as it was, cut so deep her bones hurt. She wanted to save the world, swing the pendulum of fate back in their direction. But, if she were to die in that endeavor, who would notice she was gone?

  “He looked for you at the campfire.”

  “Who, Sam?”

  Susan nodded.

  “Only to make sure I was doing what he told me to do.”

  “And will you?” She watched Megan over the top of her little girl’s head, now hidden in her shirt as she struggled to get free from it.

  “Mama.” The voice squeaked from a tunnel of fabric.

  “We already talked about this.” Megan reminded her.

  “I know, but I hoped you would change your mind.” She shrugged and tugged the shirt from the child. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” The child giggled.

  So did Megan. This moment shared by mother and child was why she had to leave, before all was lost. “I have no choice.”

  “I’m sorry to see you go, but I understand.”

  Megan doubted that she did. Nobody did.

  Allan tucked the girls into bed and told them a story while his wife rinsed out their clothes and hung them. Megan shrank back in her bunk to give the family some privacy. Their evening routine reminded Megan of what she hoped to accomplish, strengthening her resolve. If she could save these children, this family, her lonely existence would serve a worthy purpose.

  Sam woke up still irritated that Megan chose to stay with Allan and his family rather than with him the night before. The muscles in his neck screamed at him from sleeping in the front seat again. Without Megan, the back of the Suburban seemed too spacious. He’d gone back to his old habit of tipping the seat back and slept behind the wheel. Sam rubbed his neck and blinked several times before the little package wedged under the windshield wiper caught his attention.

  “What the hell?” He opened the door and reached around to see what it was. The crisp smell of soap wafted up at him, and he knew before he even unwrapped it. “Damn it.”

  He tugged on his boots and grabbed the keys. He had to find her before she did something dangerous. Fifteen minutes later, he still didn’t know where she was. He searched the entire camp before he spotted Susan walking with her girls toward breakfast.

  The ground made a hollow sound under his boots as he ran up to her. “Where is Megan?”

  Susan looked up and tilted her head at him. “She left as soon as the sun came up.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Sam swore then glanced down at the kids. “Sorry.”

  “I thought she’d at least say goodbye to you before she left.”

  “Not a word.” His mind raced in a thousand directions, all of them leading back to his need for Megan to be safe. He shoved a hand through his uncombed hair.

  “I used to read Forbes, Sam. I know who you are. Who you used to be. But did you really expect Megan to just stay here simply because you told her to?” The woman looked up into his face waiting for an answer.

  “Well…yeah.”

  Sam learned early on that he had a head for business. So much so, he built an empire out of telling people what to do. There had been a time when strangers not only did what he said simply because he said it, but paid him well for the privilege. Why couldn’t he get this schoolteacher to follow direction? Although Megan argued with him on a regular basis, it had not occurred to him that she would not do as he told her in the end. Sam didn’t understand women, never would. He shook his head.

  “Why couldn’t she have just waited here for me?”

  “Wait for you?” Susan erupted in laughter then
caught herself and cleared her throat. “Did you ever tell Megan you planned on coming back for her?”

  Sam felt the blood drain from his face.

  “I’m sorry.” She patted his forearm in a motherly manner that didn’t match the youth in her face. Then her child’s giggle caught her attention, and she ran after the toddler who found a cricket to follow, leaving him to stand alone in the middle of camp.

  “Damn it.” Sam muttered as he stomped across the dirt back toward the truck to meet Allan as planned. He found the man leaning against the Suburban with more containers than they agreed on.

  “What’s this?” Sam pointed at the extra container.

  “I want you to be able to get back. That is my can. I can’t fill it with gas because that would be stealing from the camp, but I can give you my container. Maybe you will be able to fill it along the way. You, Megan and your sister are all welcome to come back here.” Allan put out his hand and Sam took it.

  “If I find her.”

  “You will find both of them Sam. Of that, I have no doubt.” Allan motioned for the guards to open the gate.

  Sam felt the world spinning out of control and ran his hands through his hair again just to get a grip on something. Why was it none of the women in his life did what he told them?

  Chapter Nine

  Megan marched down the highway, anger and disappointment driving her to get as much distance from Sam as possible. The sun was finally up, and she imagined Sam knew she was gone by now. The two-hour head start she had would not last long.

  The sound of a big block engine barreling down the road echoed in the distance behind her. Megan’s first thought was to find cover and hide, but she dismissed it as quickly as it came. They were adults after all, and if Sam tried to pick her up and manhandle her into the car again, she would simply knee him in the junk. Then possibly run.

  Megan continued to walk without glancing over her shoulder. Even when he slowed down and idled behind her, Megan refused to look. He could pound sand for all she cared.

  Or, she could tell him just what she thought of his imperialistic attitude and bullying tactics. But when Megan turned, it wasn’t Sam behind her.

  “Hey, where you headed?” A young woman, maybe twenty, hung out the passenger window of a shiny Ford F350 waving Megan over while her two companions laughed at her.

  “Does it matter, Lana?” Another, younger woman asked from the back seat and pushed open the door.

  Megan couldn’t help but stare. Spandex and perfume filled the cab, which made absolutely no sense out in the middle of nowhere. Dressed, or undressed, like strippers on amateur night, all three ladies sported a “for sale” look that couldn’t be missed.

  Megan came to her senses, and shaded her eyes to gaze up at them. “I was hoping to find some supplies in the next town.”

  “There’s a StoreMart right off the freeway ‘bout twenty-five miles down the road. We’re headed there to grab some supplies ourselves. Want a lift?” The driver called over the seat at her. The woman in the back seat didn’t wait for an answer before she scooted over to make room for Megan.

  Even though the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, hitching a ride brought Megan that much closer to her goal and slimmed her chances of another wrestling match with Sam if he happened to find her. Besides, who was she to judge? Maybe it was all they had.

  “Thank you.” Megan stepped on the running board, grabbed the handle and pulled herself into a truck that gleamed as if it just pulled off the sales lot an hour ago.

  They introduced themselves but Megan didn’t hear. It took all her concentration not to stare while Lana’s little sister, the only part of the introductions Megan caught, slathered lotion on her bare legs in the seat next to her. Lotion. Megan hadn’t thought about lotion in months. She’d been happy enough to find that single bar of soap. The micro-mini the girl wore made the task simple, but lacked for protection, warmth…sensibility.

  And the heels. How would she run if a swarm of zombies showed up to eat them?

  “So Megan, where you from?” The driver pushed her bright red hair back and peered at Megan over her shoulder for a second, sizing her up, then turned back to the road.

  “Up north. You guys?”

  “We’re from around here.” Red continued to watch Megan in the rearview mirror for a while before she turned and nodded at Lana. “Go ahead.”

  Lana reached back between the seats and handed Lotion Girl a big, fat, man’s ring tangled up with a gold chain, both smeared with blood. “Put these in the can.”

  Megan looked from Lana to her sister who pulled out a plastic coffee canister from under the seat and opened it up. The smell of dried blood wafted through the cab of the truck.

  “I need a shower after that one. He was filthy.” Lana turned back in her seat while she pulled her hair up and tied it in a bun at the nape of her neck with fingernails edged in dry blood. Megan caught Red’s eyes in the rearview mirror again.

  “Gold,” the woman explained. “People will still trade for it. And men will still give it up for sex.”

  “Willingly?” It slipped out before Megan thought better of it.

  The driver’s eyes narrowed in the mirror. “Sometimes they think to renegotiate after all is said and done.”

  “Sometimes they just plain stink.” Lana chuckled and Red shot her a warning look that made the girl shut up and sit back in her seat while they sped down the freeway.

  Megan adjusted her watch.

  “Oh look.” The sister wiped her lotion-covered hands on her skirt and leaned toward Megan. “What time is it?”

  “Who cares?” Lana snapped and the girl pouted.

  Megan felt bad for the girl and lifted her watch so she could see.

  “It’s seven thirty. No wonder I’m so tired.”

  “Yeah, well supplies first. Then sleep.” Red slowed down to pull off the freeway.

  Even from there, Megan had a clear view of a couple dozen cars lined up in the StoreMart parking lot. Megan thought of Sam and his jiggler. There had to be gas in those cars. If only things had worked out differently. No point in dwelling on it. He’d forget about her, and she would get on without him. Megan shook off the wistful feeling as they pulled up to the very front of the store and stopped.

  She knew better. Going into an unknown building, she needed all her wits about her and there was no room for foolishness.

  “Let’s make this fast.” Red pulled a rifle from under her seat and climbed out of the truck. She was quite a sight donned in daisy duke cut offs, platform heels, tank top and a giant gun. The other women piled out of the truck as well.

  Megan slid off the seat and took a good look around. A bird chirped nearby and dust blew in a small swirl past the neatly parked cars, but nothing else stirred. Without the help of electricity, it took two of them to slide the doors open. Adjusting her pack, Megan followed them in. Her breath caught at the sight of the well-stocked shelves.

  “We should go.” Megan took an involuntary step back. The pristine state of the store meant trouble.

  Little sister took Megan’s arm and stopped her from turning on her heel and running back out the door. “It’s okay. This is our store. Lana, it’s your turn to stand watch.”

  “But I wanted to wash up—”

  Red cut her off. “They have those stupid hands-free electric sinks. You know there’s no running water here to wash up. I’ll bring back a couple of boxes of baby wipes for you, but it’s your turn. Watch the door.”

  “Fine.” Lana conceded and her sister dropped Megan’s arm to grab a cart.

  “I’ll meet you guys back here in ten.” Megan turned and jogged off ignoring the protests behind her. The hair on the back of Megan’s neck couldn’t get any stiffer if she stuck her finger in a socket. Something wasn’t right. Despite their claims, she didn’t like the situation one bit. And she really didn’t like the can of bloody jewelry back in the truck. It was time to ditch the evil stripper chicks. In and out,
then get as far away from them as possible. That was the new plan.

  Running on her toes, Megan made as little noise as possible. The only light that penetrated the aisles fell from skylights. Even though the sun was high, it left parts of the store shadowy. Megan’s heart pounded while she peaked down each aisle she passed.

  She turned when she found the snack lane and stuffed her backpack full. Crackers, jerky and… Megan smiled as she picked up a bag of licorice bits. The thought of all those kids she just left at camp made her stuff the treat in her bag, knowing darn well it was a complete waste of space, but unable to stop herself. She moved down the aisle grabbing things she thought would be easy to eat. Spam, even a can of chili with a pop top. She kept going until her pack was stuffed and then began to second-guess the candy. How long had it been since she had a choice of anything? It occurred to her, what she needed was more space.

  Megan ran back to the area she’d passed where purses and totes hung in a jumbled mess. It felt foreign thumbing through the leather clutches and rhinestone covered satchels until she found what she was looking for. As Megan slipped her arm through the strap of a messenger bag, women’s clothes still hanging neatly on the racks across the aisle caught her eye. She stopped for a second.

  Why the heck not? Flipping the messenger bag open she marched over to them.

  The store smelled bad, and Megan sniffed the clothes to see if it had permeated the fabric. They seemed fine so she rolled up a pair of jeans and stuffed them in her new bag. A sweatshirt followed and even a new T-shirt. One that wasn’t white, and wouldn’t be see through every time she got wet. Then she spotted the Holy Grail of clothes, clean socks and underwear. Megan shoved a new package of each in the bag.

  What she really needed was some sort of Swiss Army Knife. Where would she find tools? Hardware? Sporting goods, maybe? She read the signs hanging from the ceiling and found one boasting “camping gear.” Could she be that lucky?