by Alex Barnett
Lydia heard Ava bite off a choking gasp.
It was Jenny Morrison.
The Burnout that had been Ava’s piano teacher, and one of her mother’s best friends. The Burnout that Lydia had herded away from them the day Caleb and Zack had appeared.
Grandpa muttered a savage curse under his breath, looking at Ava over his shoulder.
The bags she was carrying hit the ground, and Ava turned away from the Burnout entirely, her hands pressed against her mouth. His face a mask of confusion, Zack reversed their positions as she turned, awkwardly wrapping one arm around her shoulder as her knees started to sag. He patted her back with the exaggerated care of someone who had no idea what they were doing and was afraid they were going to make things worse.
“Uh, guys?” he asked.
Lydia braced herself, and focused on the Burnout. God, why did it have to be someone they knew? This wasn’t going to be as bad as watching Grandpa put Emily down, but it would be close.
To her surprise, though, Ava shook away from Zack’s grip. She clenched her fists and turned back to look at the Burnout, then took a deep breath and stepped forward just as Caleb raised his gun to fire. “Wait,” she implored, reaching out towards Grandpa only to draw her hand back again. “Wait…I’ll do it.”
Lydia’s eyes snapped to her friend, even as Grandpa whipped around to stare at her. Ava wound the fingers of one hand into the ends of her braided hair, twisting and untwisting before she seemed to steel herself, and held out her hand for Lydia’s blaster.
“Av,” Lydia whispered.
“Okay, guys? What’re we doing here?” Caleb asked, agitation thick in his voice as the Burnout turned towards them, pulling up short as it registered their presence.
“I have to, right? I have to get used to it.” Ava’s eyes were glassy and wet, but her hand was steady, outstretched in front of her.
“Honey, no one’s asking,” Grandpa began.
“No, sorry, I’m asking. Really…sorry…but someone needs to shoot that thing,” Zack interrupted. At least he looked a little apologetic.
“Dude,” Caleb hissed. The Burnout was only a couple hundred feet away.
“Lyds,” Ava said. “I’m sure.” Soft. Resigned. Determined. Lydia handed the blaster over without another word. The Burnout moved faster, racing towards them. The silvered veins were beginning to glow.
“Just like I showed you. Feet apart,” Grandpa instructed. Ava nodded tightly, widening her stance and taking careful aim at the thing barreling towards them. She took a deep breath. Another. Another.
The Burnout closed on them, so close now Lydia could see the way its clothes were crusted to its body with dirt and sweat, could see the tears in the fabric of its pants, the inhuman gleam of its eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Ava breathed, and squeezed the trigger.
The Burnout jerked again, fell backwards, and was still.
“Hey,” Grandpa said, turning Ava’s face until she was looking at him. “You’re right. You have to be able to do it…no matter who they look like. It’s not them anymore. You remember that, okay? That woman died a long time ago, sweetheart.”
Ava took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m okay, Mike,” she said, and sounded like she actually believed it.
“We have to get moving,” Grandpa said, and if his voice was rougher than usual, Lydia didn’t comment. “If there’s anything close, they’ll have heard that.”
Lydia turned and looked across the court, towards the Royces’ house. Zack and Caleb had climbed into the truck, and were just sitting in the cab, their heads bent together in conversation. Grandpa sighed, and bent down to pick Lydia’s comforter up off the ground, winding it up into a bundle and tossing it on top of the pile of supplies in the Jeep’s cargo space. He slammed the trunk, and turned back to look at them with a grim, serious face.
“We’re going to try and get out on 270 before sunset. Reed says the highways are tricky going, so it’s going to be slow. Probably a few days to Cleveland, at least.”
Lydia just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Cleveland was a day trip, under normal circumstances. A little over three hours. Grandpa turned and walked back up the driveway to pull the garage door down—though Lydia supposed it hardly mattered. Together, she and Ava shuffled around to the Jeep’s doors, climbing into the backseat together. Lydia put the blaster up in the front passenger seat, in easy reach. As soon as they were settled in the seat, Ava leaned over and rested her head on Lydia’s shoulder.
Grandpa climbed into the driver’s seat a moment later, and gunned the engine. He backed out of the driveway and guided the Jeep out through one of the gaps in the barricade that he and Caleb had cleared of bodies. When Lydia looked, she could see the truck behind them in the rearview mirror, following.
Grandpa wove the Jeep through the tangle of collapsed bodies on the street just outside the barricade, and at last, they left Meadowbrook behind. They drove up the familiar street, heading along a route they had taken dozens, hundreds, thousands of times before. Never had the view outside the Jeep’s windows looked so alien. So wrong. Lydia resisted the urge to turn around and watch as the house—her home—receded from view. It would hurt too much.
The road stretched out in front of them, warm autumn sunshine beating down on deserted sidewalks and abandoned cars, pieces of civilization that didn’t exist anymore. In another few weeks, maybe a month or so, it would start getting colder—and she honestly had no idea if either Grandpa or Caleb and Zack had thought what to do when winter hit. The Cleveland safe zone was a start, but she knew better than to think it was a guarantee. Guarantees didn’t exist anymore.
She still had Grandpa, she reminded herself. She had Ava with her. Now they had supplies to last at least a little while, and they had Caleb and Zack to help them learn how to function outside the barricade walls.
She had a vision of people she loved, triumphant against the Burnouts. She had hope. That was more than a lot of people could say, anymore.
“We’re gonna make it, aren’t we?” Ava asked.
And that wasn’t a promise Lydia could make. No one could, not anymore. If they took anything from what had happened last night, it had to be that they were all living on borrowed time. Their luck could change any moment.
She looked up at Grandpa’s face, bone-tired, but just as strong as he’d always been. She glanced in the rearview mirror, where the truck was dutifully following them. Her power sparked in her chest, shaky still, but already regaining strength.
She would make her own luck.
She grabbed her best friend’s hand and held on tightly. It wasn’t a promise she could make, but she did it anyway. She held the image of the field in her mind, and swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to make sure Grandpa and Ava got to see that day.
“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Yeah, Av. We’re gonna make it.”
The End