by E. M. Fitch
Chapter 7
Emma awoke before Jack. The scraping and stumbling of the infected below dragging her out of pleasant drowsiness and into painful alertness. For a quick moment, she thought about the vodka in the backpack they had. It was only a pint, tucked under the essentials she had managed to scrounge from the bed of the truck before they had to abandon that, too.
She dismissed the thought, taking minute to stretch her legs, pointing her toes and pulling at the muscle that ran underneath the damaged skin of her calf. She didn't need the liquor. It would probably be easier with it, but she didn't need it. She pulled the gallon of water to her instead, checking to make sure it was hers. Jack's gallon had a blue top, hers had red. Red, for danger, which is exactly what she was, a danger to everyone around her.
She took a quick swig, swishing it around in her mouth before swallowing. The water was cool. She squinted up into the sun. It was directly overhead, clear but weak, not even able to warm the jug of water that had been sitting out in plain sight. The air had that frosty bite to it and Emma knew it would snow soon.
They'd have to find somewhere to wait out the winter before that happened.
She slid from her nest of blankets and got to her feet, rolling her neck and stretching her arms to the the sky. She took the fifteen steps necessary to get her to the edge of the gas station canopy that she and Jack had slept on. The infected were milling everywhere, kicking through trash, stumbling through broken windows and into the store below. Emma still wasn't sure how they hunted, sight or smell or sound, but she kept far enough back from the edge to avoid being seen.
The horizon shimmered with distance. There was a lot of empty nothingness surrounding them. Except in one spot. She could see the outline of a small city. Nothing large, not New York or Los Angeles, but the buildings were tall enough for her to see, shimmering in the noon day sun.
Jack was moving behind her, she could hear the soft rustle of his blankets as he awoke. She kept her back to him, giving him privacy for those few precious moments of alertness that came over everyone as they woke.
She sometimes hated those moments, they felt like lies. Her mind, still partly in dreams, convinced her she would wake to her mother's grumpy demands for coffee, to her father's tousled head and faded pajama pants, to Kaylee and her hair dryer, always buzzing away in the background. Her city, the one they bombed to the ground, alive and whispering around her. Car horns and taxi cabs, cursing and loud music, the laughter of kids in the park across the street and the call of street vendors. And then her eyes would flit open, a smile tugging at her lips, and she would remember in the noon day sun. Lost. It was all lost.
And yes, she had found new comfort in the call of the cicadas, in the soft rustle of tree leaves and the birdsong that replaced the shuffling of a crowd. She grew to love it. But she still dreamed of her city, woke expecting to find it calling to her, and experienced that hollow pang of disappointment when it didn't.
"Hungry?" Jack asked, shaking out of his blankets. Emma nodded. He threw her a chocolate bar and a package of Ramen noodles.
They couldn't cook it so they ate the noodles straight out of the package. They were crunchy and tasted of salt and broth. Emma was surprised to find it wasn't as gross as she had been expecting.
"Where do you think we are?" she asked after Jack had tossed his wrapper over the edge. The infected below didn't even flinch as the wrapper fluttered around them.
"I'm not sure," he answered. "South Dakota, maybe?"
She nodded, her eyes scanning the ground. She had never been to South Dakota before. He could be right. She had no way of knowing. The larger questions remained unasked. Where were the others? And where would they go to survive the winter?
The day was passed in silence. Emma stretching her limbs and dozing in between, snuggled into the warmth of her fleece blankets. Jack paced. She didn't think this was the best thing for him. But he wasn't bleeding and she didn't feel it was her place to tell him what to do. It was just before sundown when he finally spoke.
"You know what I think?" he asked, pausing only long enough for her eyes to rest on him and not waiting for her reply. "I think we should blow up that city."
Emma felt her brow scrunch in confusion. "That city?" she asked pointing to the skyline. "What the hell for?"
"Because they'll see it and know it was us."
Emma's mouth bobbed open but no words came out. Jack turned his back on her, his eyes once more on the city. He was speaking again, words tripping over themselves. Fertilizer, replacement fuses, gasoline, bomb placement and the buildings he thought, from this distance, they should take down. There was a highway that cut through, they could see the shining band of cracked concrete from here. Emma didn't answer, hadn't even moved from her makeshift bed.
"And there's another thing. We should try to get these roads cleared. If I can get their attention, maybe get them to chase me a bit, so that when the sun falls they're off the road-"
Emma laughed, just a short burst of noise through her lips and then louder, loud enough that the shuffling and moaning below them shifted in cadence and drew closer. Jack stared at her in confusion and then his eyes drifted to the edge of the canopy in concern. She pressed her lips together and stifled the noise, shaking her head.
"You are not running anywhere," Emma said, nodding pointedly to his side. "You'll start bleeding again and drive them into a frenzy. Besides, if you got bit, what then?"
"Yeah, but your leg," he argued. She shook her head.
"Look, I think this is insane," she whispered. "But I'm all for getting them off the road and getting us a car. I can draw them away."
She didn't let him argue and she didn't elaborate. It was insane. Not drawing them away, not finding a car, but the thought that Kaylee and Andrew and the rest were alive and looking for them, that they should focus on sending some kind of smoke signal to them in the form of a blown up city. It was cold enough to snow at night. They had no food, no shelter, nothing but a backpack, some cans of food, and a few blades. Emma had spent the day wrapped in blankets thinking up the best way to survive the winter, where to barricade and how to survive with no food. Apparently Jack had spent the afternoon trying to figure out a way to get back to Kaylee, her sister, who was probably already dead.
"We'll wait to just before the sun goes down," Jack said, moving to the edge and looking down. "It doesn't have to be much, just enough of a distraction to get them moving off the road."
"You don't think we should wait. What if someone comes looking for us?"
She didn't say their names, couldn't. Andrew's face, her sister, Anna and Bill, they float through her mind in a taunting loop, interspersed with her father's and mother's, Quinton, a dozen other friends and relations that had died or been eaten.
"If they go looking, they're going to find our mark and then that truck with our stuff in it," Jack said. His words were slow, thoughtful. He shook his head. "The place was overrun, even if they were able to come back for us, whatever they find won't look good. We didn't have a contingency plan. No, this is best."
She grit her teeth, biting back her words. Because none of it mattered if Kaylee and Andrew were already dead. This plan, Jack's plan, it hinged on the fact that Kaylee had somehow gotten to the rest and freed them, that they were alive and well and able to look for the lost members of their group.
"It's getting cold," she said, watching him as he started to pace the edge of the canopy again.
"Yeah, that's why a car would be best. We can blast the heat all night." It brought a small smile to his face.
"No, I mean, it's getting cold. We don't have any food, shelter. Are we supposed to wait outside the rubble of whatever city that is? Camp out through the winter?"
Her voice was rising in pitch and volume, she heard it but couldn't bring it back down. Hysteria was bubbling up through her throat and it pinched the words, made her breath come short and raspy. Jack stopped his pacing.
"What else should we do?" he
asked. His voice was deceptively calm. "Push north? Forget about your sister?"
"Kaylee! Her name is Kaylee!" Emma yelled. "You haven't said it once. When? How long until you do? Do we have to find her body first?"
For a short, insane second, Emma thought he might punch her. The muscle in his jaw bounced and his eyes bore holes through her.
"I know her name," he bit out. "Don't you dare act like I don't care."
"She's gone, they're all gone!" Emma said, spitting the words out. "Lost. There's no way-"
"There is a way!" Jack hissed, pointing at the city. "It's in that direction. It's with bombs and explosions and smoke blacking the sky. She'll see it. She'll know."
Emma shook her head and for the first time since Anna held her leg to the open flame, tears slid from her eyes. "If we were overrun, so were they."
"You don't know that."
"Jack," she said softly.
"We're going to set fire to that city. We're leaving tonight. Do you want to draw them, or should I?"
Emma lowered her eyes and looked away. She didn't answer. Jack didn't need one. Emma knew, just as he did, that she would never allow him to be the one to draw the infected away.
The sun was a sliver on the horizon as Emma hung over the side of the canopy. She swayed from the ends of the leather jacket Jack was using to help lower her closer to the ground. Andrew's jacket, the only thing she had left of him. The biters were uncoordinated, especially at this late hour. But they were still moving.
There was a housing complex behind the gas station, one of those developments with two families condos laid out in neat patterns, the exteriors all matching. From atop the canopy, Jack and Emma had mapped out her route. It had looked relatively abandoned, most of the infected milling around on the road and weaving among the gas pumps below them. The main drive was wide and the plan was for Emma to get the attention of the horde and then sprint up it. The drive curved in a long sweeping arc but she wouldn't follow. Instead she'd dart through two of the buildings, hopefully forcing the infected to try to press through, creating a bottleneck for the reeking bodies. After that, the plan got murky. She wouldn't have to be out there long, not if they timed it right. She'd either keep running or find an open condo in which to hide.
There was a car, rusty and dented, the windshield broken in, just below the canopy. Emma was being lowered directly behind it, one hand wrapped in the ends of Andrew's jacket, the other firmly gripping a long screwdriver. The car would shield her, at least for the moment when her feet hit the ground.
She landed with a jerk on the pavement, almost losing her footing. She reached out her free hand instinctively to the rusted car, scraping her finger. She hissed, immediately pulling her cut finger to her mouth, sucking the salty blood pooling at the tip.
The moans shifted. A hundred yellow eyes turned and stared.
She didn't need Jack's shout telling her to run.
She could feel them behind her, hear the breath as it rattled through their lungs. They groaned with insatiable hunger and for one insane moment she had the urge to turn and shout at them.
Why chase me? I'm one of you!
She ran for the wide opening at the entrance of the housing complex. Her finger had fallen from her mouth the moment she took off. Her arms pumped by her side. Drops of blood were flecked along her path and the infected seemed to like that, the cadence of their pounding heels shifted as they followed her through the grass to the main drive. She hoped they were all following her, hoped Jack knew enough to shut up after that one initial shout, not give the infected bodies any reason to stay behind.
The complex appeared to be empty. Trash was piled at the end of each driveway, black bags ripped into shreds years ago and whatever garbage was in them pounded into gray insignificance after years of scavenging animals and rain. Emma passed a children's bike, the once colorful tassels hanging from the handlebars all a ratty grey now, the frame completely rusted. She could hear the horde behind her getting closer, the rustles and crashes as they ran straight into the garbage bins and debris that was scattered over the lawns and road.
She ran straight, off the drive and over the small, unkempt bushes between two of the beige condos. They were close together, she could have reached out and touched both buildings as she sprinted through. She had a small moment to wonder that her leg wasn't hurting as badly as she thought it would before she got to the end of the space. She looked over her shoulder, watched as the horde came up to the building and slammed to a stop, bodies crushing upon bodies as they tried to physically push their way through. A small smile of satisfaction tugged at her lips and then her breath stalled in her chest.
Fingers, cold and bony skimmed her jaw and reached for her hair. In a move from an old movie she was bent back, a hand wrapped in her hair, a mouth lowering to hers. Its breath was foul and bits of dead flesh hung from between its teeth. She flung her head back and felt something snap. His wrist, the fingers still tangled in her hair, broke and she was able to scramble away. The man followed, his jaw working, his black tongue lolling forward as his teeth clicked together. She brought her hand up hard, sinking the screwdriver through the soft skin under his chin and up into his brain. The body collapsed, pinning her to the curb. She leant forward as she fell, her head spared from the concrete as her chin pressed into his rotted shoulder. The flesh gave under the hard point of her chin and the smell invaded her nostrils.
The urge to vomit was almost overpowering. The skin gave under her hands as she tried to push the limp body away. The bones beneath felt brittle and sharp without the flesh to protect them. Moans rose around her and she could see, from beneath the dead body, that the infected horde had started to push through the buildings. Emma twisted on the ground, wriggling free. The screwdriver slipped from her hands as the body fell to the ground. She didn't have time to grab it. Already, jaws were working near enough that she could feel the rush of air as the teeth snapped shut. She picked the clearest path and sprinted.
Ahead there were condos, probably open or easy enough to get into. She ran right by them, wanting as much distance between her and the horde as possible. She tore into the forest behind the complex, breaking through the dead underbrush. She ignored the snags on her clothing, the prickers that tore at her exposed skin.
There was an oak tree. She took a running leap at the lowest branch and just caught it, swinging her feet up like she used to do on the monkey bars as a kid. Gripping the branch and still hanging upside down, she took a searing breath. She wasn't accustomed to running like that and suddenly she thought of when she had teased her sister for wanting to exercise more, back when they were in the firehouse.
It had been right after Kaylee had been stuck outside, just after Emma was bit. Once the world settled on its axis again, Kaylee back and Emma untied, it was the first thing Kaylee had insisted on doing. She and Anna getting up and doing pushups and yoga while Emma slept in. It didn't seem so silly anymore.
The infected had found their way to her tree. She pulled herself upright and climbed another ten feet, stepping carefully and testing her weight on each branch before stepping on them. The infected were loud below her, climbing over each other and reaching for the branches. Emma tensed initially, watching one man's handless arm sling over the lowest branch, but another tugged him down, trying to climb over him. The mass of them swelled and some were trampled underneath, creating a mound of groaning bodies at the base of the tree.
If they had all night, if there was no rest, no stopping them, they might have been able to get at her. Even if it were morning, if they had a few hours to work on it, trampling more and more bodies beneath and climbing over the twitching corpses, maybe then. But now, with the sun less than an impression of light in the sky, Emma knew they'd never have time to crawl high enough to reach her.
She let her gaze float outward, passed the half-naked, rotting pile of body parts beneath her and towards the city that Jack wanted to destroy. She could see the outline from her perch in the
tree. She tried to imagine it all lit up, the way it would have been before the infection. Here and now, the buildings were tall, dark beacons of a time that would never be again. Gravestones rising from a lost city, testaments of death that could be seen for miles.
Jack came to find her half an hour later. The bodies fell. Not all at once, but close together, drifting into restless sleep like toddlers. She shimmied her way across a branch, letting Jack catch her as she fell the five feet to the ground. The infected didn't stir. He handed her Andrew's leather jacket and she slipped into it quietly.
They found a car and a clear road back at the gas station. Jack already had their bag waiting on the passenger side seat. Emma slid in and let her head fall against the head rest.
"There's one thing," Jack said, sitting behind the wheel. Emma let her head roll towards him as he reached to the center console and turned the heat on full. "It's you and me now, together. And there's one thing I need you to agree on. They're alive. Until we see otherwise, they'll always be alive. Kaylee is alive."
His face broke when he said her name. She saw his throat bob. Emma nodded once before turning away, resting her forehead on the cool glass of the passenger side window.
Chapter 8
Crashes and gunshots brought Kaylee out of hazy dreams filled with dark hallways and taunting whispers. She jerked upright, the ghost of the voices still hissing in her brain. Pops, like firecrackers, burst around her and the acrid smell of gunpowder was sharp in the early morning air.
"In the buses!"
"Everyone, move!"
She stood, her eyes raking over the borders of the Circle. Disembodied arms were pressing between the vehicles, flesh caked under dirty fingernails.
"Is this you?" Patricia screamed, rounding on Michael. Her eyes were bloodshot, wielding around the circle and the press of the infected bodies. "Did you do this?"