Zombie World (Zombie Apocalypse #3)

by Hoffman, Samantha

  “Sam,” I say. “Like ham, but with an ‘s’ instead of an ‘h’. It’s American, but you probably already knew that.”

  She cracks a smile, lighting up her entire face. She doesn’t wear makeup—most of us don’t bother with it anymore—but she’s naturally beautiful even without it. The smile just makes it more obvious. She looks even younger, but she still manages to pull off the fearsome warrior routine. The way she stands—braced and ready—tells me she’s well adapted to this harsh, new world. Hell, she probably thrives off of it.

  “Where are you guys heading?” she asks, turning to keep an eye on the boys nearby.

  “To Montana to find a way to help stop all of this,” Madison says, coming up by my side. “There’s a place out there that may have found a cure, and we’re all going to help get it out there. There’s a chance we can stop all of this.”

  Tuyen stares at us, and I get the feeling that she thinks we’re crazy. I guess I can’t blame her for thinking it. Looking around, things look pretty damn bleak, and hope hasn’t been high for quite some time. But there’s something else in her eyes other than disbelief: hesitation. She wants to believe, to hope for something better. But these long months have probably taught her not to get her hopes up.

  “I know it sounds crazy—”

  “It sounds batshit,” Tuyen says blandly.

  “Truthfully, we don’t know what we’re gonna find when we make it out there, but we have to try. A cure for this could mean a chance for the human race to bounce back—a real chance. It could mean a fresh start.”

  “Or it could mean your deaths,” she points out, as if we don’t already know. “You’re risking your lives over a pipe dream. Don’t be so foolish. Your group is crazy strong. It would be crazy to waste that. Put it to good use.”

  “What better use is there than the fate of the world?”

  She steps forward, closer to me, looking me right in the eyes. “Come with me. I have a secure place, not far from here. I have other children with me, not just these two. They’re too young to be the kind of useful I need. You guys could make a huge difference in our lives.”

  “What kind of secure place?” Daisy asks, always hopeful for a new, permanent home. “We’ve been to “secure” places before,” she says, using air quotes. “They’re never secure in the end. Something always goes wrong.”

  “It’s a restaurant, and it’s held up pretty well, all things considered. We’ve got two people on the roof at all times—usually me. The back parking lot is fenced in, which keeps them out for now. We have cars pushed together out front, creating a barrier for the part not fenced in.”

  “How many people are with you?” Ryder asks.

  “Counting me and these two, there are fourteen of us. I’m the oldest; the next after me is only thirteen. Then these two—eleven—and they get younger after that. The young ones aren’t much help.”

  I’m dumbfounded.

  “How did you manage to keep so many kids alive for so long?” Aaron asks, sounding overwhelmed. From what Madison has told me, I know Aaron was in charge of a lot of people, until tragedy struck. She told me he took their deaths hard, and I imagine there’s a bit of jealousy at the thought that a teenage civilian did a “better” job than a trained Specialist.

  But I don’t voice that thought.

  “It hasn’t been easy,” she says. A strange look comes over her, a shadow of grief that hasn’t healed yet. “We’ve lost a few people here and there. During supply runs, mostly. Somebody gets pinned down and we can’t get to them in time. But if your group was with us, we’d be so much better off. These kids might feel safe for the first time in a long time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryder says. “Our trip is important to us. If we succeed, there might not be anything for you to fear ever again. We could change things at the source, not just do damage control.”

  She looks like she still doesn’t understand how we can see things the way we do, and I can’t think of anything else to say to convince her otherwise. She sighs, choosing to give up on trying to recruit us. “How are you guys set for supplies? Do you need anything for your trip?”

  Ryder and Aaron exchange quick glances. “Are you offering?” Aaron asks slowly.

  “You saved two of mine. A few supplies is the least I can do.”

  “We could always use more supplies,” Ryder says. “But I don’t want to take anything you might need from your group.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Tuyen says, dismissing his concerns. “Our restaurant came with a fully stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry. Since, you know, restaurants usually have food in them,” she says with a laugh. “The family that owned it had its own backup generator, so if the power ever went out, the food wouldn’t spoil. We make do; it’s mostly other things we need, like batteries for flashlights, warm clothes now that winter is coming, and things to help a bunch of kids pass the time.”

  “Well, if you have supplies to spare, we certainly won’t turn them down,” I say. “If you’re sure you don’t need them too badly. Most of what we have is canned goods, which taste fine, but they’re so heavy and bulky and they take up too much room.”

  “We have unopened boxes of granola bars, bags of trail mix, and plenty of candy bars, but I’m not sure you’ll get the kids to let go of them willingly,” Tuyen jokes.

  “Do you have a ride there?” Madison asks.

  “No,” she says firmly. “We always travel on foot. It’s quieter, and we can go without being seen. Plus we don’t have to forage for extra gas, just what we need for the generator. And that takes enough as it is. I always worry we’ll run out eventually and be left in the dark, with no food.”

  “We can give you a ride back to your place,” Reese offers. “Those boys are in no shape to be traveling on foot. A nice, warm car ride will do wonders for them.”

  Tuyen turns to the boys. “What do you guys think? Wanna ride back with them?”

  The one boy looks at his feet and stays silent, but the other nods eagerly. The thought of having to walk home with zombies hot on your trail is not a pleasant one. This is one time that accepting car rides from strangers is a good thing. I’d take us up on the offer, too.

  “Let’s get out of here before all of those gunshots attract another group,” Todd says, speaking for the first time. He’s eyeing a lone zombie off in the distance. It shuffles towards us, still a hundred yards away and closing the gap slowly. He’s no real threat to us, and we decide to just leave him be.

  He’s not worth the bullet, I think.

  Tuyen and the two boys follow us back to the road. It’s a tight fit in the vehicles, but we make it work. Madison sits in Todd’s lap, looking strangely at home there, while Reese takes over driving so I can sit in Ryder’s lap. They squeeze in around us.

  Tuyen gives us directions, and in fifteen minutes, we end up in a run-down town full of roaming flesh-eating freaks. They have their faces pressed against the window, watching with morbid fascination at the monsters as we drive by. I wonder if they’ve ever really had a chance to observe and study them without fear of being eaten. It might actually seem pretty cool to an eleven year old boy.

  Tuyen’s directions take us away from the main street that runs through town, and the zombie population begins to thin out a little. The roads are mostly clear, except for two zombies that Reese clips with the SUV. I feel the bump and shift in Ryder’s lap so I don’t come down on any sensitive parts next time I get jostled. Ryder flashes me a quick smile, and I can feel my face begin to heat up.

  Strangely, this town seems to be in much better shape than a lot of the places we’ve been. There are dead bodies everywhere, but many of the buildings are still standing and in one piece. No fires, no explosions, no crumbling structures. It’s all still here. Maybe not as pretty as it was before, but this town still looks functional and ready to inhabit.

  Tuyen’s restaurant is in pristine shape, looking mostly unscathed since the end of the world. It’s a two story building
with a high roof. A small section of it is flat, and I notice a table with an umbrella, and a few chairs, serving as a lookout. There are two small shapes in the chairs, keeping guard while Tuyen was gone. The building’s windows are still intact, the doors remain on the hinges and aren’t splintered, and the roof hasn’t caved in yet.

  We come to the barricade of cars, and Reese cuts the ignition. Tuyen is the first to exit the car so her people can see her and won’t feel threatened. When she signals to us, we climb out of the SUV, grab our backpacks, and follow her to the cars. Instead of pushing them out of the way to make room, she opens one of the car doors, slides across the back seat, opens the other side door, and exits.

  Clever, I think, following her across the dusty, faded interior. Zombies won’t be able to open the doors, and it saves time from having to push all of these cars out of the way.

  I hear the car door slam shut as the last person comes through, and we all trudge along after Tuyen. She leads us up to the front door, and it opens as we get to it, revealing a young girl—no more than six years old. She has long, curly blonde hair, large brown eyes, and a handful of peculiar freckles that coat her arms and neck, but none of her face.

  She beams at Tuyen and hugs her tightly around the leg. Tuyen slings her bow across her back and picks up the little girl as if she weighs next to nothing—which she probably does in this environment. “This is Princess,” she says, turning toward us. “I found Princess hiding in a dumpster a couple of weeks after everything went to hell.”

  “You said a naughty word,” Princess says, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Tuyen. “You shouldn’t use words like that.”

  Tuyen sighs, but she’s still smiling and I get the impression this is a talk they’ve had many times. “I know it’s a naughty word. I’m sorry, Princess. Can you forgive me?”

  Princess scrunches her chubby little face up, thinking really hard about whether or not she can forgive Tuyen. After a minute, she nods, blonde curls bouncing wildly. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.” She sets Princess down and bows low from the waist, one arm crossed over her chest, hand on her heart.

  Princess giggles and runs off, joining another group of children a little older than her. Tuyen stands and watches them for a minute, looking oddly at peace. “Why do you call her Princess?” Todd asks, frowning. “Should you be letting her live in some pretend playtime bullshit? Shouldn’t you be taking this more seriously? You shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of behavior, even if she is young.”

  “It helps her cope. I don’t know what happened to her before I found her in that dumpster, but it was bad. She’s blocked it out and can’t remember anything—not even her name. Poor thing was half-starved and wild when I found her. She actually bit me once, and I was worried she had been infected or something.” Tuyen shows us a double crescent shaped scar near the thumb on her left hand. “But this ‘Princess’ stuff helps her feel safe and sane, so I’ll call her by that name as long as she wants me to.”

  Todd makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. I’m worried he’ll insult our host, but Tuyen doesn’t seem too ruffled by his behavior. “What if something happens to you? What if this place gets overrun? She’ll be stuck in some fantasy realm where she gets to play around and be a pretty little princess. She won’t last long out there the way she is now.”

  “She’s a child,” Tuyen says, her voice even and cool. “She deserves some peace and happiness. I won’t take that from her, even if it might be the logical thing to do. I don’t want these kids to grow up as monsters—cold and uncaring. I want them to be able to stop and see the good in the world, even if that good only exists in their own minds.”

  I’m not so sure that allowing them to live that way is good for them, but they’re not under my care, and Tuyen seems pretty sure her way is best for them. So I don’t argue.

  “Now, this way to the fridge and pantry,” she says, beckoning for us to follow her.

  Todd still looks like he wants to argue with her about Princess—which isn’t surprising since he’s such a naturally pessimistic asshole who likes to argue with anyone about anything—but Madison elbows him in the side. He shuts up and follows along after her without another word. Tuyen leads us through the room, patting the head of a young boy as she walks by. The kids go back to playing their games and Tuyen closes the door firmly behind us.

  I hear the click and stop.

  Chapter Four

  Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Ryder and Aaron suddenly go tense. Tuyen catches our behavior as well and smiles. “Don’t worry, I have to keep this area locked up because the kids like to try and get in here to snack. If I let them take what they want, we’d run out of food for sure. So I always lock it. Nothing to be worried about.”

  She sounds honest and sincere, but there’s no telling if she’s trustworthy or not. You can’t be too careful these days. There might be madness lurking beneath that sincere face, and it might be too late to take caution.

  “Stay close to me,” Ryder whispers, his breath hot on my ear from how close he is. He makes sure his words don’t carry—they’re for my ears and my ears alone. And I take them to heart.

  I sidle closer to Ryder, feeling my arm brush against his. I take comfort in the warmth and closeness he offers. My hand drifts down until it’s resting against the grip of my gun, and I notice the others move their weapons closer so they’re ready to use if we’ve misjudged Tuyen and this is some kind of trap. Aaron and Todd even move Daisy between them and out of potential harm’s way.

  If Tuyen spots our preparations, she shows no signs of it. She just takes us back through the kitchen—which I notice is full of potential weapons ranging from knives to heavy frying pans. If a zombie ever were to get in here, it probably wouldn’t last long against Tuyen. Anyone able to keep so many kids alive for so long has to be a capable fighter.

  But pit it against any of the other children here and they would be in trouble for sure. None of those kids would last an hour without their protector, and Tuyen shields them from the harsh truth. They’re moderately happy in this place, and they probably don’t have any real understanding of what’s waiting for them out there. If they did, they wouldn’t be running around playing jump rope and tag.

  Finally we come to the pantry. Tuyen shoulders the door open, allowing us to pass by. The pantry is a decent size, but the owners really utilized their available space by lining all three walls with several rows of shelves. A couple of the bottom shelves are bare, but the rest of them look decently stocked with all kinds of goods.

  I see various canned goods lining the shelves. There are cans of chicken and tuna, various kinds of soup, fruits, and vegetables, along with cans of condensed milk and even tomato paste. I grab one of those tiny cans and examine the label, surprised to find it included here now. “It turns out tomato paste is actually really high in antioxidants, and it doesn’t taste too bad if you add it to a pack of ramen noodles or something. It’s just like spaghetti, really,” Tuyen says, though I get the feeling she’s not much of a fan herself.

  The next shelves hold jars of unopened peanut butter and jelly, which I’m sure won’t last forever, but since they’re still sealed they’re definitely better than nothing. Sleeves of crackers are paired with them, along with boxes of jell-o mix, instant oatmeal, packages of ramen noodles and boxes of macaroni and cheese. The next shelves are full of packages of dried fruits, nuts, and bags of trail mix. A few scattered candy bars fill in the rest of the space. All in all, there’s tons of food here, but it’s mostly stuff we’ve already seen, and we can’t afford to bring anymore cans with us.

  “You have a lot of food,” Reese says, eyeing it all appreciatively. “There are certainly enough cans here to feed you all through the winter.”

  “We ate the food out of the fridge first, since it was the most likely to spoil. When I got here, the power was still on so the fridges were still running.
The milk and fruit had already gone rotten, but there was still juice, packaged meats, and cheese blocks. I picked the mold off the cheese, and ate the meats. If the power ever goes out, the freezer stuff should stay cold for a couple of days if the doors aren’t constantly being opened. The pantry stuff is mostly in the event of an emergency, like if the generators ever stop.”

  “So you’re planning for an emergency within an emergency,” Madison says approvingly.

  “That’s smart,” Aaron adds, looking around. “I can’t imagine how much power the fridge and freezer must take, add that to the lights…it must take a lot of gas to keep this place running.”

  “You have no idea. I’m constantly out looking for more, siphoning it from anywhere I can. All of the vehicles in this neighborhood have been drained, and I’ve already moved on to the surrounding ones. Each trip takes me farther and farther away from this place, and I worry that it might be the one time I don’t come back to my kids. I don’t know what we’ll do during the winter.”

  “I wish we could help with the gas problem, but there’s no conceivable way to carry as much as you would need to last you guys until spring comes. You would need probably hundreds of gallons of it, maybe more. How many gallons can you carry at a time while on foot?”

  “Not many,” she admits. “We use it just as fast as we get it.”

  “I thought most industrial generators ran on natural gas,” Aaron comments.

  “Well, this isn’t like a chain restaurant or something,” Tuyen says, sounding uncertain. “It’s like a mom and pop type place, and it isn’t all that big. Just the ground floor restaurant and the upstairs living quarters, where the family that owned it probably stayed. A smaller, gas powered backup generator probably worked just fine for them. But enough about my generator problems.” Tuyen waves her hand toward the stocked shelves. “You’re free to help yourself since you helped me. Take whatever you want.”