It sounded insane to Nancy, but not quite as insane as simply sitting and waiting to be found or to starve.
“Where will we go?” she asked.
“We know where Greg is heading,” Ken reminded her, “and there’s some gear in the trunk in the living room, including maps and a compass.” He ran his fingers through Nancy’s hair. She could tell that he was trying his best to look strong and confident for her. “I think we can make our way through the backwoods and meet up with Greg in a couple of days.”
She wanted to believe him, and God knew she wanted to see Greg and Sarah again, to know that they were okay. “But I’m scared,” she whispered. She nuzzled her face into Ken’s chest so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “What if we fail? What if we get lost or the zombies overtake us? What if we can’t find Greg? What if...what if...” She couldn’t voice her fears about Ken getting hurt because putting it into words made it feel somehow inevitable.
Ken wrapped his arms around Nancy and squeezed hard. “We could play the ‘what if’ game until the end of time,” he pointed out in a gentle tone. “We don’t have the convenience of knowing what will happen. We can only keep doing our best to survive, and in this case staying here isn’t going to help us survive for very long. I’m sure you know that. And I’m sure I know you well enough at this point to know that you’re going to drive yourself insane wondering what’s happening with Greg and Sarah. I know that at least a part of you needs to try to get back to them as soon as possible.”
Nancy refused to reply for a while, preferring instead to dig her nails into Ken’s back. It was a rebellious attempt to get him to give in and change his mind, but eventually she sighed and released her grip. “Of course you’re right,” she admitted, mumbling into his chest. “But that doesn’t make me want to do it any more.”
Ken’s lips twitched slightly, though he didn’t quite smile. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll protect each other.”
Nancy eventually agreed to take a shower. She worried that the running water would be loud enough to attract the attention of the zombies, but Ken was certain that it would be fine. He won the argument by pointing out that the hot water would relax her muscles and make it easier for her to run. She had to admit that the water did feel amazing. She rummaged through the bathroom cupboards and was childishly overjoyed to find unopened soap and shampoo. The water wasn’t what she would have called hot, but it was plenty warm and cozy. It was with a great deal of willpower that she managed to drag herself from the comfort several minutes later.
Wrapped in the fluffiest of the three towels that had been under the sink, she stepped out into main room where Ken was sitting at the small table. She gave him a sheepish grin. “I don’t suppose there are any clean clothes here as well?” she asked.
Ken chuckled and leaned back to admire her towel-wrapped form. “I’ll take a look,” he said after a long few seconds, and then wandered back to the bedroom. He came out soon after carrying an armful of various articles of clothing. “This is everything that was in the closet,” he told her. “No underwear, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to go commando.” He winked and Nancy stuck out her tongue.
“You should get a shower too,” she suggested while rummaging through the pile. “You don’t know when you might get another chance.”
Ken looked wary. Nancy realized that he didn’t like the idea of leaving her to defend the cabin while he enjoyed himself for a few warm minutes.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Did they hear anything while I was in there?”
Ken shook his head, but he was frowning and still looked uncertain. Nancy walked up to him with a stubborn set to her jaw and shoved him toward the bathroom. “Go on,” she growled. “You reek!”
He was laughing as he submitted. “Fine, fine,” he told her, and shut the door behind him. “But no peeking!”
“I don’t need to peek,” was Nancy’s reply. “I just need to close my eyes.” She grinned and returned to the clothing options. Everything was much to big for her, but she improvised as much as she could. She chose a pair of cargo pants that seemed to be the smallest size available and took a kitchen knife to the bottoms to remove the extra length. A thin leather belt tightened them enough to be manageable from there. To compliment her fashionable pant-wear she chose a dark green t-shirt and slid a sweater with the logo of a football team she didn’t recognize over top of it. All in all she felt minuscule in the too-big clothes, but they would serve their purpose and at least she would be warm if they got caught outside during the night.
Ken came out of the bathroom fairly quickly; a pair of jeans and a sweater later and he was dressed and ready to go. Nancy found herself falling down into a bout of panic again. She tried to contain herself for Ken’s sake, and for Greg and Sarah.
Ken found a duffel bag and a large backpack in the bedroom closet.. He divided the remainder of the food (mostly some single-serve boxes of cereal and a couple of cans of soup) between the bags, then moved onto the ammo and did the same. Nancy was surprised to see just how many boxes he had found. Whomever owned this cabin must have enjoyed hunting a little too much. By the time Ken had both bags loaded Nancy was seriously starting to be worried about the weight of hers.
With the ammo that was left unpacked, Ken loaded all six guns.
“We’re not taking all of them?” Nancy asked, incredulous. She’d never be able to carry three rifles through the woods, along with the giant backpack of ammo.
“We’re taking two each,” Ken explained, loading round after round. Nancy wondered if he’d picked that up just since the zombies first arrived, or if he’d actually been a hunter himself beforehand. “These two,” he said while holding up the two oldest-looking guns, “have the least ammo, so we’ll use them to take out as many as we can from the roof, and then we’ll just leave them when we take off.”
Nancy examined the remaining rifles with a raised eyebrow. “I...I don’t know if I can carry two of them,” she mumbled.
Ken smiled a smile that Nancy couldn’t help but return. “You’ll manage,” he insisted. “I’m going to set up one of each for us to sling over our shoulders; there are some straps in the closet.”
Nancy nodded and began taking deep breaths, one after the other. This was going to happen, and it was going to happen soon, so she began to prepare herself.
In no time at all she found herself crouched beside Ken in the tiny attic compartment of the cabin. They were peering out the exhaust vent that they planned to use to climb out onto the roof. They could see at least a dozen zombies just from this spot, wandering around in circles, groaning their eternal question, wondering where their two tasty morsels had gotten to.
“Are you ready?” Ken asked.
Nancy choked up on the gun in her hands, shrugged against the backpack full of ammo and the second rifle slung across her shoulders, and shook her head. “Not even the teeniest, tiniest little bit,” she told him. “But I never will be, so we may as well just get it over with.”
Ken leaned over to kiss her. She returned the affection fervently, desiring nothing more than for the two of them to forget this plan, return to the bedroom, and never leave each other’s arms again. But the kiss ended all too soon.
“Let’s go,” Ken said. He leaned back and kicked open the vent. The second the hunk of plastic and screws came crashing down to the ground, a crowd of undead faces turned to the source of the noise. Their moans of discovery sent chills down Nancy’s back as Ken climbed out onto the roof and took his first shot. He missed the head, but sent a zombie stumbling back into a tree. Nancy began to climb out after him, but found that the roof was at a much steeper incline than she’d been expecting. With a yelp of fear she tumbled backward against the weight on her back. Ken’s arm shot out and snatched her, yanking her down into a sitting position.
“T-thanks,” she squeaked. Her heart was in her throat. She pulled herself up and got herself into a steady position.
“Be careful,” Ke
n begged. He took another shot and bulls-eyed a zombie’s face. Blood splattered everywhere. “The rifle is going to have quite a kick, so make sure you’ve got your balance.”
He’d showed her earlier how to properly position the gun against her body to avoid breaking or dislocating her shoulder, but now that she actually had to do it she felt sure that she was going to either maim herself or go flying like a clumsy fool down the side of the cabin. With a deep breath held tight in her lungs she aimed at a zombie that was reaching his arms in her direction. She squeezed the trigger. The backlash of the rifle driving into her shoulder almost sent her off-balance, but she managed to retain her footing at the last second. She peered down to see that she’d blown apart the top of the zombie’s head. Though a thoroughly disgusting sight, she couldn’t help but feel a morbid sense of pride. “I got one!”
“Excellent,” Ken praised as he reloaded. “But don’t celebrate yet. They’re coming out in droves.”
Her little bubble popped. He was right. It wasn’t an enormous hoard such as they’d seen before, but there had to be at least a hundred appearing from every direction. Some were clawing at the house in a desperate attempt to climb it, others shambling toward them from the trees. Nancy tried to keep calm and aim well. They were, for all intents and purposes, safe from this vantage point. Her next few shots were a little shaky, but the more she picked off the more confidence she found. Soon she was blowing up as many rotting skulls as Ken was. The situation was disturbing to say the least, but also strangely satisfying.
When everything within sight was bleeding on the forest floor, Ken took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s move quickly before any more show up.”
They ditched the superfluous rifles as planned, flung themselves back into the attic, and sprinted toward the door. A zombie with most of its throat torn out was waiting when Ken pulled it open, but he was quick to splatter its head all over the small porch before it could make a single motion toward him. Nancy couldn’t help but stare; the zombie was wearing camo gear. She wondered if they’d just killed this particular zombie with his own gun.
Ken checked the compass and took off in what seemed like a random direction. Nancy tried to trust that he knew what he was doing. She had never so much as traveled outside the city on her own before, so she put all her faith in him to lead her. They moved for a long time, jogging rather than running to conserve energy, until they reached a river. Nancy sat on a large rock and stretched her legs while Ken poured over the map he’d taken with him. “I think we just have to follow the river West,” he was muttering to himself.
A low groan had Nancy back on her feet immediately, rifle tight in her hands. Ken’s head whipped in the direction of the sound, but neither of them saw anything. They crept along the riverbank foot by foot, keeping close together, until Ken stopped dead and Nancy almost tripped over him. He pointed downstream and she saw what had caught his eye. A small boat, a canoe she guessed, was pulled most of the way up onto the shore. At first glance it seemed like a godsend - they could float down the river! - but upon further inspection she saw that the wooden structure was positively drenched in red liquid.
They approached with caution, rifles raised, ready for whatever might pop up. They weren’t ready for what was instead laying there, staring up at them. Nancy turned her head and let out a single, violent gag. Ken squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
The thing that used to be a young man was torn into at least a dozen pieces, his insides staining the boat in a dark, horrifying hue. The eyes in his disembodied head were glassy and wet, and turned to stare at them as they approached. Some body parts were scattered around the immediate area, while others seemed to be missing. Nancy wondered to herself whether those parts had been eaten by zombies or by other hungry scavengers.
“Can we still use the boat?” she asked, doing her best to keep her eyes averted.
Ken examined the vessel with his mouth and nose in his elbow to avoid the smell. “I think so,” he mumbled through his sleeve. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with it. In fact, I don’t think he ever made it to the water. I think they got him while he was trying to drag his boat into the river.”
Nancy tried very hard not to imagine the scene.
As quickly as he could, and trying to hold back the contents of his stomach, Ken began picking the body parts and slimy entrails out of the boat. He kicked the head and upper torso out of the boat and shot the dismembered zombie in the head as it hissed and spit at him. Nancy stood resolutely with her back him, keeping her gun trained toward the trees in case they were found. She tried to ignore the squishy sounds that the body parts made as they plopped onto the ground. There wasn’t much to do about the blood that was left behind. Most of it had soaked into the wood already. After a bit of deliberation Ken used some wet rocks and river grass to wash off as much as he could, and then lined the inside of the boat with some dirt and leaves.
“That’s the best I can do, I think,” he announced when he was done.
Nancy examined his work. “It’s great,” she lied. “Anything that lets us rest our feet while we travel.”
Pushing the boat into the river and jumping in was an enormous relief to both of them, more than they’d realized it would be. Ken’s back was killing him from carrying the larger bag, and Nancy’s legs were burning from multiple days travel in a row. Normally they may have been able to survive a lot longer, but the aches and pains were exacerbated by a lack of decent food. Their muscles were begging for about a month of peace to recuperate.
The river pushed them along, not as fast as they might have wanted, but at least as fast as they would have been on foot.
“Nancy?”
Ken’s voice made her jump. She realized that she’d been drifting off. Ken was looking at her earnestly, like he had something that he was dying to say.
“Yes?”
He seemed to struggle with the words. “You... You know that I’ve loved you for a long time, right?”
Despite everything, his confession actually felt like a huge surprise, and for a moment Nancy had no idea what to say. “I mean,” he coughed, “it’s silly, I guess, but when we used to talk at the bar all the time, I just- I always felt like you were the perfect woman, but I never had the guts to actually make a move.” He shot her a sheepish smile and looked around as though to indicate how things had changed. “Seems pretty pathetic now, huh?”
“I liked you too,” Nancy blurted once she’d found her tongue. Just talking about it seemed dumb somehow, given all that they’d been through and had yet to go through. “I always thought you were so handsome and funny and sweet, but I was too much of a wuss to ask you out or anything.”
“Wow,” Ken chuckled. “It just took the apocalypse to get us together.”
The joke was in bad taste, and it wasn’t even funny in any case, but somehow they found themselves laughing. They laughed until their stomaches hurt, until tears came to their eyes. As they sat there, wiping the mirth from their faces, they looked at each other and eventually became sober once again. Nancy placed down her rifle and adjusted herself so that she could lean her body against Ken’s. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, and they had to keep their eyes on the shorelines just in case, but for a while they floated down the river and tried to just enjoy the warmth of being together.
She was still in the canoe, so it took Nancy a few minutes to realize that she was dreaming again. It may have taken her even longer if she hadn’t turned her head to speak to Ken and found Gramma Sarah sitting beside her instead.
“Sorry to disappoint you, my dear,” said the old woman.
“It’s okay,” Nancy replied. “I just hadn’t realized that I drifted off.”
They watched the river together as they floated along. Nancy wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the eye, or perhaps her sleepy mind embellishing things, but she would have sworn that the water had a strong red cast to it.
“Why do you keep coming to me in my dreams, Gram
ma?” Nancy asked. She’d been wondering for a while. It seemed like a good time to ask.
Gramma Sarah dipped a thin, weathered hand into the river and stroked the surface of the water before speaking. “I’m not coming to you, Nancy dear. You’re bringing me.”
Nancy considered that.
Gramma Sarah continued. “You’ve been through a lot child, and your subconscious calls out for the familiar: something to keep you grounded.” Her wrinkled face turned, her eyes boring into Nancy’s. “But you’re going to have to let go of me soon. You’re going to have to leave the past behind, forget everything you thought you knew, the things you thought were important. You have to move toward the future.”
“What future?” Nancy retorted, not angrily, but with fatigue. “How long can we run? How much fight do I have left in me?”
“As much as you need in order to fight for what is important.”
The surface of the river rippled as a large fish appeared to jump at a fly. Nancy frowned. “If you’re not really here, then why do I feel like you know what’s going to happen to me?”
Gramma Sarah smiled, a sad, tired smile. “Who said I’m not really here?”
“Nancy!”
A hand was shaking her shoulder. The dream faded away as she opened her eyes and yawned. “I’m sorry, Ken,” she moaned. “I didn’t mean to drift off.”
“No, Nancy, look!” Ken took her chin in his hand and forced her head to turn to where he was pointing.
The river had brought them out to a wider body of water that looked to be a strait, and along the shoreline of that strait was a town. About a mile down the edge of that town Nancy could see a long wharf and several large boats. Her heart skipped a beat. “Is that the marina?” she asked.
Ken squeezed her shoulder. “I think so,” he replied. He pointed again, in a different direction this time. “Look there.”
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