by E. M. Fitch
The man with the short, sandy hair looked from Andrew to Kaylee. He frowned. "Strip him, make sure."
The men began pulling at Andrew's clothes. They ripped his pants as they struggled to pull them off but didn't bother with the shirt, just lifting it to show segments of his body. Kaylee moved towards him, but a hand on her forearm stopped her.
"You too, girl."
She frowned, puzzled at first, but then hands tugged at her shirt and she understood. She backed into Anna instinctively.
"They made me, too," Anna whispered.
She handed Anna her gun, keeping the weapon out of sight. Anna understood and held it low, her eyes on the men as Kaylee undressed. Her jacket fell to the ground and she yanked her shirt over her head and then lowered the zip of her jeans. She did not remove her underwear, but she revolved in a slow circle as flashlights lit her body in glaring, bright circles.
When they were done, a man in the circle declaring her clean, she turned towards Anna and marched to the nearest clothing rack. The filth that coated her clothing could remain on the floor. She grabbed a set of dusty jeans, a cleaner shirt, and a new winter jacket. She grabbed the same for Andrew, his torn clothes in a heap beside him, his shirt ragged with bloodstains.
Anna was bent over Andrew, her head resting gently on his chest. The men gave them a wide berth, the smoky beams of flashlight flitting over them intermittently. Kaylee watched as Anna took in his chest, the rise and fall of it, as her eyes scanned upwards towards his throat. It looked wrong, something off about it, but Kaylee couldn't pinpoint exactly why that was.
A random burst of gunfire sounded and Kaylee jumped, her fingers reaching for her gun before remembering that she had handed it off to Anna. Anna didn't look up.
"We don't have all day, sweetheart," the man with the sandy hair growled. "Are you coming with us?"
Anna started and looked up, her mouth bobbing open. She looked from Andrew, lying quietly, his eyes shut, to Kaylee. They both thought the same thing. It was Kaylee who said the word.
"Bill."
"There's no one else here," one of the men said, seeming to understand. "Some of them got out the back, but we swept the rest of the store, cleaning up the biters. No one is left."
Pain, sharp and fast, lanced through Kaylee. Her lips twisted and her brow contracted as her gaze fell to Andrew. Andrew, her friend, who lay there hurt, not knowing his father was missing. Anna's head hung.
"We can take the boy. We have a camp-"
"No," Kaylee interrupted. They started and looked at her. "I mean, thank you. Honestly, it would not have been easy to get away without the," she faltered, it wasn't really help. The distraction they provided had ultimately lost Bill. She frowned and continued, avoiding their eyes. "We left others a day's journey away. We need to get back to them. If you had a car, some kind of transportation we could borrow?"
Several of them chuckled, but the one with the sandy hair stared at Kaylee quite seriously.
"Where did you leave them?" he asked. Kaylee felt her mouth fall open, at a loss for words. She couldn't name the place, she didn't know its name. She struggled to explain, describing the roads they took, the direction she could make out from the way the sun had set last night. He nodded, understanding. He gestured her to follow him.
Anna was back to staring at Andrew, her eyes flitting professionally over his prone, still body. Kaylee pat her shoulder as she walked by, following the man to the front doors. As he came more fully into the light, she could examine him closer. He was tall and sturdy. He loped with an easy grace, someone who had either known battle before, or who had come to it naturally in this new world. He was dressed in what could have been fatigues, rough material and blended colors, he could have disappeared into the forest or blended with a mess of rusted cars on the side of the road with equal measures of ease. His boots were worn but in good repair, the back of his neck was tanned and she could see the tight rope of muscle that worked under his skin and up towards his hairline. If he was aware of her scrutiny, it didn't show. That, or it didn't bother him. He seemed used to being looked at.
He didn't turn until they had stepped through the shredded plywood, Kaylee needing to lunge forward to avoid the large splintering wood. The noise got her immediate attention and she recoiled.
There was a makeshift fence built. It had been intact before Kaylee stole into the store, now she could see where bits of it had been torn down and hastily put back up. Men guarded it, prodding the infected horde that lined the fence back when it looked in danger of collapse. And it did look in danger of collapse; it could fall at any second.
"The whole area is flooded with them," the man explained. "I know because we did it."
"You?" Kaylee asked. "Why?"
"For them," he answered simply, gesturing behind to the dark store. "They lived like animals. I don't normally care how other people conduct their business, but when they start attacking my people, well..." He cut off with a shrug, his eyes on the distant fence and the men defending it. Kaylee felt sick to her stomach. A small line of Jeeps idled close to the front doors, two had large guns attached to their racks. The man walked forward, waving Kaylee towards him with a brief flick of his wrist.
Someone jumped to attention and brought out a large, rolled sheet of paper. He pointed at it as he addressed her.
"My guess is you came from this direction," he indicated. She leaned forward and peered at the dirty map. She let her fingers trace over the edges, the forest lines that looked so clean and precise, the river that cut through it. With a small intake of breath, she noticed The Mill, clearly marked next to the river and the small patch of swamp that she knew to be laced with infected humans. He mistook her gasp, reading it as confirmation. And it didn't matter anyway, because he was right. She didn't know exactly which small town, he indicated a large section of the map, but Emma and Jack were there somewhere and the way he was currently shaking his head made Kaylee think the precise location didn't matter.
"We flooded it with biters."
Kaylee frowned, shaking her head. He was pointing at miles and miles of map. They couldn't have possibly...
"There were fences, lots of them, keeping them out of this area," he spoke low and again his finger traced around where Emma and Jack were waiting for her. "If you came from there then you know, it was pretty isolated, there weren't many of them walking around, were there?"
Kaylee felt her brow furrow in confusion. But she couldn't deny that he was right. She had thought it herself, that last night when she had left Jack to fetch water. She hadn't see many at all since their group had barricaded in the attic. Was this why? Were they in a fenced in area, protected, and they had just not realized?
"It's our land. We fenced it. We drove them out. Not for these perverts to stroll in and take it over, pillage and steal," his voice rose now in fervent anger and she caught his gaze. His eyes were blue and fierce in their anger. She didn't look away and he took a short, deep breath, controlling himself once more. "We took down the fences here, here, and here," he continued, in control once more. His finger pointed bluntly to the map, enclosing the area Kaylee had come from before sweeping to exactly where they were standing now.
"Now they have no where to run to." The cold reality of his intent rang in the air but Kaylee grit her teeth and looked from the map to him.
"My sister is in there, the rest of our group. I'm going to go get them."
"You won't make it," he said, not moving his gaze from her face. "I'm sorry for it, but I don't think they could have made it either."
The words stung, but she held strong, sucking a deep breath before answering. "I'll wait until dark, they could have hid." He was shaking his head and she paused.
"We knocked the fences down yesterday, drove as many as we could this way, thousands of them, before securing the fences at the other end and looping around to meet them here. It'll be a mess in there. Even if your friends made it through the day, hiding somewhere dark, if they're in the middle
somewhere, it would be more than a twelve hour hike to any of the bordering fences. There's not enough darkness for them to make it. And there's not enough darkness for you to make it back. The biters would wake before you found them. And then what?"
Slow horror was washing over Kaylee. Her feet felt rooted to the spot. In an area the size of a small city, Emma and Jack were fenced in with thousands of infected people. Emma may not turn when bit, but she could be eaten alive just as anyone could. And Jack, sick and still unable to run due to the injury to his side, how would he escape? They had no gun, Kaylee had taken that from them. And there wouldn't be enough food in the attic, if they even were in the attic when the biters flooded down the street. Kaylee could picture it easily, Jack and Emma stumbling up an empty street in the daylight, a mob of groaning, shrieking infected chasing after them. She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. She had to go back. She had to find them.
"We can take you with us," the man was saying. "My name is Michael Paylor. I am second in command. I can offer you safety."
She couldn't process the words, her head was spinning, arguing logic against the resounding denial that was roaring in her head. She locked eyes with him once more, found a pitying, if not sympathetic, gaze regarding her. She shook her head, her lips parting.
"Kay! I need you!"
It was Anna's voice, scared and startled. Andrew's face flashed in her mind, his chest taking sharp, ragged breaths, coughing blood, the way his throat at looked just off. She turned from Michael and ran back to Anna, leaping over the shards of plywood to find her friend ripping Andrew's ragged shirt to shreds.
Chapter 5
Emma and Jack sat hunched together, Jack's back pressed against the cold, corrugated metal siding of the grain silo. Emma would have faced away from him, kept her eyes to the door just in case cold fingers were able to pry it open, but she was afraid to turn her back. He looked as though he might topple over at any minute.
She shifted on the hard, wooden beam that supported them, her knee knocking against his. There was a thin stream of light coming from the very peak of the silo. An old fan, used to spread the grain as it was deposited into the container, had come loose, caving part of the metal roof in with it. Emma could make out the pain in Jack's eyes even in the weak light. Her calf burned, the pain flared and spread in thin tongues, licking up the side of her leg. It made the fabric of her pants feel hot and confining. She flit her hand over her forehead, but the skin there felt cool and almost clammy. It was just her leg, the flesh memory of the fire eating away at her skin.
Jack's breathing came sharp and erratic, ending on a small, contained groan.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. Her voice was low and carrying in the confined space. He nodded, his head drooping to his chest. Instinctively, she shifted closer. His hands rested shakily on her thighs. She started at the contact, her spine stiffening. But his fingers tightened and she realized, he wasn't able to balance without her.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Dizzy."
She nodded and slid closer, pulling his head down to her shoulder and holding him there. He sighed gratefully, his hands gripping about her waist before falling, heavy and still on her legs. She felt the tension in his legs slacken as they pressed limply to her own. Her fingers drifted in soothing circles along the ridge of his spine. She had memories of her mother doing that for her, dancing her fingertips up and down the bony protuberances of her neck, counting the ridges and tracing the valleys in between. It would soothe her as a child.
She hoped here, perched in the rafters of a rotting grain silo, it would do the same for Jack.
He fell asleep for a while, braced against the back wall and Emma. She didn't mind. The need to keep him upright and on the rafter, to keep him from falling into the soft grain that could suck him down like quicksand into a smothering pit of infected bodies, kept her mind from her own pains. She was stronger than she had thought. The alcohol was cleared from her system and yes, the burn hurt. But it was a consistent wave of hurt that ebbed and flowed like the ocean, pulling her focus and then giving it back. It steadied her.
She took the opportunity while he was asleep to examine him. He wasn't feverish. Before Anna left, she had gotten enough antibiotics into him. And he had mentioned before that he had had his tetanus shot. Anna had told her they were good for ten years. Her own tetanus immunization would need a booster soon. A booster she would never get. The old diseases of the Middle Ages would rise up again, she and Anna had talked about that.
Her throat closed and she grit her jaw, pushing out thoughts of the old firehouse, the pleasant nights teasing Andrew and Kay, the camaraderie she had found with Anna, a woman who was not quite old enough to be her mother and yet took up the task of replacing her in many ways. She missed them fiercely. And it had only been one day. One day and everyone she loved was gone. She was left, injured and infected, with her sister's lover. Useless.
Emma let her fingers drift over Jack's side. The shirt was stiff and sticky with drying blood. It was cold.
Not still bleeding then.
The warmth of new blood wasn't present and she took comfort in that, at least.
He woke sometime after the shifting light from the busted ceiling had moved a few feet along the ridged, metal walls. Emma could tell with the tightening of his muscles, his awareness of his pain coming back into focus.
"You okay?" she asked softly, her lips close to his ear. He pulled his head up slowly, resting it back against the wall.
"I fell asleep," he said, not a question, but there was a hint of an apology in his tone. She nodded and shrugged. His hands left her legs and flit over his chest, pressing gently against his side.
"You're not bleeding," she said. "And there's been no fever, I checked."
He nodded. "Thanks."
"You're really not healed, you know," she shot out, suddenly annoyed. "You really shouldn't have let her paw at you like that!"
Even in the low light, she saw his eyebrows rise. "I think it has more to do with running from the biters."
She grit her teeth, shame flooding through her. It was irrational. She shouldn't care what Kaylee and Jack got up to. It didn't matter anyway. Not now, not with Kaylee gone. Sudden fear lashed her inside and she choked it back. Quick prayers flashed through her mind.
Please, please let me see my sister again.
Jack seemed to sense the turbulence in her mind. He pulled her to him and she went hesitantly.
"I held your sister like this," he said after a while, not letting her go even as she tensed. "In the basement, just after you were bit. We didn't know if we'd make it out. It was freezing then, too. That's when I realized, you know."
"Realized what?" Emma asked, the words muffled in the collar of his jacket.
"That I wasn't leaving her."
"You love her," Emma said softly. He nodded.
"I do. I love you, too," he continued.
Emma laughed lightly, becoming accustomed to his hold on her. She rest her cheek on his shoulder and his arms came easily around her. It was easier like this, talking, defining their roles. He loved Kaylee, declared himself to her in actions and maybe in words. In a way, in the most traditional way, that did make them family. And it was better, perched on the beams, exhausted and in pain as they were, to cling and balance together.
Emma felt her cheeks redden. Her stomach plunged at the thought of what Andrew was enduring at the moment. And the feeling of uselessness swamped her again. There was nothing they could do though, stuck in the metal tube and surrounded by the infected.
"How are we going to find them?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Jack answered.
They waited until dark to make their way out of the silo. The ground was littered with the fallen bodies of the infected. Some lingered on the stairs, collapsed on the railings and splayed up the steps. They walked carefully around them.
Emma would have loved to be able to see where they were from the top of the silo, they were so high
up, she could have seen for miles. But in the darkness, it was impossible. There was no way for them to find their way, no direction either felt strongly about and, in the end, they had to guess.
It was at least a mile before they found a working car. But though it started, in the glare of the headlights, all Jack and Emma could see were twitching bodies littered over the road. Jack sighed as he cut the lights, extinguishing the rising moans as darkness swept back over them.
They got out of the car without speaking, both realizing they would not be driving out of there. The hours passed slowly in the dark silence. They took breaks frequently, rooting through homes and scavenging for food so they could save what they had. They took turns carrying the backpack. It wasn't heavy, loaded only with some canned food and basic tools, but neither was at their best and the little break from carrying the bag was helpful.
It was dark still, the edge of dawn not yet breaking over the horizon, when Jack suggested they stop for the day. The wooded suburban area they had stumbled into didn't offer much in the way of shelter. Neither Jack nor Emma wanted to risk barricading in a house, not with the size of the horde wandering. Ahead of them, Emma could just make it out, stood a gas station. Jack was walking in that direction.
The glass windows of the store were busted in. They stepped over the shards and around the body of one infected woman that had collapsed on the floor. Jack rummaged through the shelves, pulling a few packs of Ramen noodles and a handful of chocolate bars.
"We'll feast like college students today," he said, chuckling to himself in the dark.
"Sure," Emma said, turning away and grabbing a stack of blankets from a nearby stand. They were fleece, embroidered with the local town's team logo. Apparently, they were the Springfield Yard Goats. She squinted at the small, silver horned goat stitched into the corner of the blue blankets. "But where?"
In answer, Jack looked up.
They were lucky. There was a ladder in the back of the gas station store. It was extendable and, once propped in the bed of a nearby truck, long enough to reach to the top of the canopy that stretched over the four gas pumps below. Jack went first. Emma could hear him walking systematically across the canopy, hopping in places to test for strength. Once he was satisfied that the thing wouldn't collapse with them on it, he called for her to follow him.