Zombie Country (Zombie Apocalypse #2)

by Hoffman, Samantha

  And he doesn’t have to wait long.

  As I get shakily to my feet—leaning on the metal shelf behind me for support—Aaron begins to just rain blows down on Wilkinson. Over and over again, Aaron’s hand smashes into his soldier’s face, crushing his nose and bloodying his mouth. “Aaron, stop!”

  Aaron pauses his attack to look back over his shoulder at me, and I can see the rage etched onto his face. He looks possessed, but he seems to recognize me. When he looks back at Wilkinson—who spits out a bloody tooth before swaying unsteadily on his feet—Aaron takes a step back and a horrified looks crosses his handsome features. “I—”

  “Aaron, it’s alright,” I say, trying to sound soothing and calm, though inside I’m anything but. The raw ferocity and sheer power behind Aaron’s attack on Wilkinson is not only a little breathtaking, but a little scary, too. “Aaron, I’m fine.”

  He reaches up with a trembling hand and his fingertips brush my cheek. I can feel the blood on his hands smear across my skin, and I repress a shudder of disgust. “Are you sure?”

  I force myself to nod. “I think I’ll have some nasty bruises later, but for now, I’m fine. I don’t think anything is seriously injured or broken. Your hand might be though,” I say, gently grabbing his hand in mine. His hand is shaking too badly for me to get a real good look at it, but the skin of his knuckles looks torn and bloody.

  “My hand will be fine,” he says, prying his hand from mine. “I’m more worried about you. Maddy, what happened?”

  “I came down here to catalogue the new supplies we got while on our run since Todd didn’t feel like doing it. I had just started when Wilkinson slammed the door and said that he heard me squealing to you about Rose and the deal they had. There’s definitely more soldiers than just him in on it, but I don’t know how many.”

  Aaron takes a step back from me, and he looks me up and down slowly, taking in every single drop of blood and torn piece of clothing. While he does, I take my own inventory of injuries. My ribs and back are in the most pain, and every breath I take causes a sharp stab of pain that has me wincing. My shoulders sting a little from each boot kick, and I’ll probably have an assortment of ugly bruises in the next few hours or so.

  “We’ll have the doc take a look at you.”

  “Harlan isn’t a doctor,” I mutter. “He didn’t even get halfway through his training.”

  “Well, having Harlan is better than nothing. Let him take a quick look at you, though I’m not sure what he can do without a hospital or an x-ray machine or something. Just have him check you out and make sure you aren’t dying.”

  I sigh. “Alright. I’ll go see Harlan. But what about him?” I ask, jerking my head at Wilkinson. Right now, he’s slumped against the wall drooling bloody spit down his chin and onto his chest. His breathing is harsher than a smoker of forty years, and his eyes are closed. I can’t even tell if he’s conscious or not, and I honestly don’t care to check.

  “I don’t know what we’re gonna do about him. I came down here to tell you I was gonna haul him up before the rest of the survivors so they could help me pass judgment, but now his crimes are far more severe. I think he’ll have to be punished once Harlan patches him up.”

  “What kind of punishment are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s not like I can throw him in prison. And I can’t toss him out of the school to fend for himself. The other soldiers would never allow that. I can’t cut his rations to make up for Rose’s extras or he’ll be too weak to fight if we need him.”

  “There’s not a lot you can do to punish him without risking your position as leader, and I think the soldiers were counting on that.”

  “I know. I just wish I knew what to do with him.”

  Let him sit there slowly bleeding and fading in and out of consciousness; it would serve him right if he died.

  That dark thought might have surprised me a few months ago, but now I just brush it off like it’s nothing. Everyone has dark thoughts, nightmares, hallucinations, or a combination of all three. Dark thoughts let us know that we’re still alive and that we’re learning to adjust to this new, harsh world. They let us know we’re still human, and even though these dark thoughts scare me when they come, I know I’d rather have them than be a thoughtless flesh-eating monster…

  *****

  Dr. Harlan isn’t really a doctor, but it makes everyone in the school feel much better if we pretend that he is. But truthfully, Harlan is the equivalent of an experienced mother in the medical department, and the best he can do is examine a person and apply a few bandages here and there. If someone were to injure themselves and require more than a butterfly bandage or some stitches, they’d be out of luck.

  Once I get into the nurse’s office—which has become Harlan’s cramped living quarters for the duration of the zombie apocalypse—Harlan orders me to take my shirt off. I try not to feel self-conscious in front of him, but the way his dull blue eyes roam over my body makes me want to cross my arms over my chest. He prods each sore spot with inexperienced hands, and I wonder if he enjoys watching me squirm in pain or if he’s really just too clueless to realize he’s poking bruised muscles.

  “Well, I don’t think anything is broken,” he says slowly, as if he isn’t sure of his own prognosis. “But I can’t be sure. You’ll have some bruising by tomorrow, and you’ll be incredibly sore, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do except maybe give you a few aspirin to help with the pain.”

  “Is that it?” I ask through clenched teeth. “You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already figure out for myself.”

  “This is the best I can do without proper equipment!” he snaps, stepping away from me as if he can’t stand to be near me. “If you think anyone here can do better, by all means, go and get their opinion. But I’m telling you, you’d be wasting your time since nobody here can do a better job than me. If they could, they’d be living in this office instead of me.”

  I sigh. “So am I gonna have to take it easy for a few days? Or can I get back to training tomorrow?”

  He frowns as he hands me a couple of aspirin. “You’ll be too sore tomorrow to even consider training. You may not even want to get out of bed in the morning. Just get some rest for now. Here, take these aspirin and go lie down,” he says, handing me two small round pills. “If you feel like getting up and moving around tomorrow, just remember to take it easy. If you overdo it, you might hurt yourself even worse.”

  I pop the aspirin in my mouth and take them with a mouthful of water from a small paper cup. Hopping down off the examination table in his office, I grab my shirt and quickly button it up. Harlan waves me out the door, and I pass one of the school’s pregnant women. She looks surprised to see me coming out of Harlan’s office, but she doesn’t say anything. Many of the survivors have learned to mind their own business, and I’m sure her thoughts are more on the baby she’s about to deliver than on me.

  Without another glance at Harlan and his cramped office, I head back up to my room to get some rest.

  Chapter Six

  In the morning, I wake up to find my shoulders and my back mottled with dark, ugly bruises. Some are the size of the palm of my hand, and others are much larger, but they all spread across my skin like splotches of marker. My entire body aches, and I don’t feel like moving, but I know I have to get out of bed if I want to find out what Aaron is going to do with the soldiers.

  I take a quick second to relax, before pushing myself up and off the cot. My muscles scream in protest, and I grit my teeth against the burning pain the slightest movement causes. I can’t remember ever feeling this sore before, and it’s only going to get worse throughout the day. And today I won’t have any aspirin to dull the pain, not that the aspirin did a whole lot last night, but it was still better than nothing.

  Once I get to the door, I lean on the frame to catch my breath and rest my already sore muscles. Felicia sees my struggle, and she gives me a shoulder to lean against. “Are you gonna
be okay, Madison?” she asks, looking up at me with concern. “I think you should lie back down and take it easy today.”

  “I can’t,” I say, clenching my teeth as my muscles begin to burn. “I have to find Aaron. I have to know what he’s going to do about the soldiers, especially Wilkinson. I want to be there for whatever punishment he receives.”

  “But—”

  “Felicia, either help me down to Aaron’s office, or just let me go and I’ll do it by myself.”

  “Madison, Aaron’s already decided on a fitting punishment. I don’t know what it is yet—nobody does—but Aaron is going to gather everyone in the school’s entrance right after breakfast. Attendance is mandatory.”

  “Oh,” I say, feeling a sense of dread in my gut. “Do you have any ideas what this punishment might be?”

  She shakes her head while helping me down the flight of stairs leading from the English department to the cafeteria. “Nope. By now everyone knows about the bartering and about your beating, and some of the survivors are calling for Aaron to banish Wilkinson with nothing but the clothes on his back. They want him gone, Madison. And I don’t blame them.”

  “Do you think that’s what Aaron will do?”

  “No. I think that’ll just create more hate.”

  “You’re probably right. If he sends Wilkinson out to his death, he risks losing the support of the other soldiers. Even though their comrade is guilty of hurting me and should be punished, he’s worried they won’t stand for it. He’ll have to try and keep as many people as satisfied as possible, but the soldiers will always be more important. Without them, this place would fall in a week tops.”

  Felicia helps me into the cafeteria, and I notice a lot of eyes on me as I slide into my seat at our normal table. Felicia dashes off to get me a tray of food, waving off my offer to do it myself. Daisy takes a seat across from me, and I can tell she’s torn between yelling at me for going to Aaron and asking me if I’m okay. She settles for the latter.

  “Madison, how are you feeling?”

  I shrug and try not to wince at the pain. “I’ll be alright in a few days. I just have to take it easy for awhile.”

  “Why did you go to Aaron?” she asks softly, as if she’s trying to keep from screaming or throwing a tantrum. “Why didn’t you let me talk to her first?”

  I sigh. “Daisy, I’m really sorry, but Aaron had to know what was going on. He’s our leader, and you have no right to be so angry at me for talking to him. It had to be done. What Rose and the other girls like her are doing is wrong, and it isn’t fair to the rest of the survivors.” Looking around, I notice that Rose isn’t in line to get food, and I frown. “Where is Rose?”

  “Upstairs hiding in our room. She’s refusing to come out until this whole thing is settled. She thinks some of the other survivors are going to make her pay for taking more than her share of the food. She’s gonna miss breakfast because she’s too scared of what everyone thinks.”

  “She’s probably upstairs snacking on her extra supplies, like that granola bar she had in her pocket last night.” Daisy grimaces, and I smile. “I bet you wish you had a granola bar right now. Hey, I have a question. Did Rose share any of this extra food with you? I mean, I would think twins would look out for one another, especially at the end of the world.”

  Daisy silently picks at the food on her tray, and that’s all the confirmation I need.

  “She didn’t share that food with you did she? Well, I guess you’ll just have to use your body like Rose did. All you’d have to do for a granola bar is get down on your knees and–”

  “Sausage!” Felicia says, sliding a tray over to me as she sits down. “I haven’t had sausage in forever. It’s that frozen pre-cooked stuff, but it looks great. And it’s mixed in with the scrambled eggs. We even get toast today, too. The soldier behind the bar said a few of the older women here used a bag of that flour from the storeroom to make homemade bread from scratch.”

  The food looks great, and I’m glad for Felicia’s timely interruption. It saves me from making an ass out of myself to one of my only friends. So while Felicia rambles on about how amazing bread is after going so long without it, I dig into the food, hoping a full stomach might help take my mind off of the pain in my shoulders and my back. Even though the eggs have little flavor and the sausage is a bit on the burnt side, the toast definitely makes up for it, even without butter.

  I’m the first to finish eating, and I take my tray up to the counter and hand it off to be washed. The woman who takes my tray away to be washed gives me a look of pity, and I try not to feel uncomfortable about it. “I hope that monster gets what’s coming to him,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. One of the ladies nearby nods her head in agreement, and I duck away from the counter before they can all start agreeing with one another.

  When I turn around, a dark-haired boy looks up at me. “Specialist Monroe is gathering everybody in the main entrance, and he asked me to come find you,” Levi says. I notice that Lucy is standing just behind him, close enough that he can reach out and protect her if necessary. “He said you might need help gettin’ there.”

  “Nah, I’ll be alright. Thanks for telling me, Levi.”

  He and Lucy wander off, and I notice a steady stream of people exiting the cafeteria. I come up behind Felicia and Daisy, and together the three of us make our way to the main entrance. The floor is covered in brown tiles, empty vending machines sit against the far wall, and a row of benches line the walls, giving people a place to sit while Aaron makes whatever announcement he has planned.

  The main entrance to the school is made entirely of bullet-proof glass doors. There are three high doors side by side, with long metal bars anchored to the fronts. A shirtless Wilkinson is bent over in front of the door, and as the three of us move closer, I notice that he’s hunched over because he’s handcuffed to the metal bar. Aaron is standing beside him with an unmistakable object in his hands: a whip.

  I don’t know where he got it, but I can guess what he’s planning to do with it. The thought of Aaron savagely whipping Wilkinson has my stomach clenching painfully and I feel like I’m going to be sick, mostly because I’m worried about the effect this will have on Aaron. I can tell by looking at some of the other people gathered around the entrance room that this idea of Aaron’s is not a popular one. Some of the other survivors look very unhappy, but I notice there are quite a few who look pleased with the form of punishment Aaron has chosen.

  And I’m one of the pleased. Even though I’m worried this drastic action will possibly cost Aaron his title as leader of the school, the thought of Wilkinson getting what he deserves has me filled with a hint of glee that should scare me.

  But it doesn’t.

  Wilkinson deserves to be punished, and there aren’t any cops or working prisons to do it, so we have to be creative and improvise. We can’t just lock him in a room for a little timeout. We have to come up with a fitting punishment that will not only make him pay, but will hopefully teach everyone here that there are rules in place for a reason, and that nobody is above those rules. Aaron needs to show the soldiers that he’s the one calling the shots, and though this isn’t the perfect way to accomplish those things, this is probably the best course of action for Aaron to take.

  Felicia, Daisy, and I shove our way through the gathering of people until we’re right beside Aaron. He briefly looks over at me, and I swear I’ve never seen him look worse. There are dark purple circles under his baggy eyes, he clearly hasn’t shaved in some time, and it looks like he hasn’t changed his clothes or even washed. But it’s his eyes that worry me the most—they look so dull and sad. Clearly this decision is not sitting well with him, and I wonder if he’s contemplating giving up his position as leader of this poor excuse of a safe haven.

  “Aaron—”

  He holds up a hand to silence whatever apology I can think of. “This isn’t your fault, Maddy,” he says softly. “I should have kept a tighter rein on my soldiers. If I ha
d, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’m so sorry.” His apology is meant only for my ears, and that somehow makes it all the more heartfelt than if he’d declared it in front of all the other survivors.

  “It’s not your fault,” I whisper. My hand gently touches his back, and I hope he knows that I’ll be behind him no matter what happens after this.

  His head nods slightly, and he turns and addresses the people in the main entrance. “I’m sure some of you happen to be wondering why you’re here. Well, for those of you who don’t know, last night, I was informed about a bartering system going on between some of the soldiers and some of the female survivors. Extra food was being exchanged for sexual favors. One of the soldiers guilty of abusing his power and authority is standing behind me now.

  “Wilkinson tracked down the person who informed me of this disgusting practice, and he cornered her in the storeroom while she was cataloging our remaining supplies. Madison Grant, the woman who has helped train you and keep you fed by going on a supply run is the woman he assaulted. As a result of her savage beating, her back, shoulders, and legs are covered in bruises, and it hurts her to even move. I interrupted the attack before it could escalate, so there is no doubt in my mind as to what happened.”

  “What’s to be done about Wilkinson?” a voice asks from near the back of the room. I can’t see who the asker is, but it looks like it came from one of the soldiers. They’re all grouped together near back of the room, and they’re watching Aaron with steely expressions on their hardened faces. “You’re just going to beat him in return?”

  A few of the survivors begin to mutter to one another, and I wonder just how many people are against Aaron’s plan.

  “A few people called for me to simply throw Wilkinson to the zombies, but I can’t do that. I won’t have anymore death on my conscience than I already do. But I can’t simply let him return to duty without taking some form of punishment.”