by Craig, Liz
“Trent!” I barked. “Come on!”
Trent sat still, gazing wearily at me as the zombies stumbled closer to him. “You know you can’t take that woman with you. She was bitten on the arm. I saw it.”
I shook my head at him in frustration. “Trent! Let’s go!”
“Get out of here,” he said with a sigh, picking up his glass and draining it with one gulp as a zombie reached for him.
I heard Ty’s voice, frightened but strong at the same time. “Charlie?”
“On my way,” I said, running now, as a zombie in a suit and tie shambled toward me.
I ran through the kitchen and grabbed one of the boxes that Ty was struggling with. “Okay,” I said, “let’s get out of here.”
We didn’t have much time since there was already a zombie, who apparently used to be someone’s grandmother, heading in our direction. Fortunately, I felt pretty good about my chances avoiding this particular zombie. But there were sure to be others right behind her.
Ty whispered urgently to me as we jogged to the back door with the supplies, “So what are we doing about the woman? Trent said she was infected.”
I felt a pang just thinking about Trent and how I’d left him to his fate. “Trent wasn’t exactly thinking straight, was he?” I muttered to Ty.
“Yeah, but what if he’s right? Should we take her along? They turn pretty fast sometimes,” said Ty in a low voice.
Sure enough, as we headed out the back, the woman was bent over, clutching her stomach and moaning. It wasn’t a good sign.
Suddenly, I realized the danger I’d been willing to put Ty in, all because of my desire to save the world. Whatever superhero complex I had, it needed to stop. Because I’d have pulled out with Mojo on the bike and left Ty to his fate with the infected woman in the truck. I hadn’t thought it through.
Ashamed of myself, I shifted the box and put a hand on Ty’s back. “I’m sorry, man. You’re absolutely right. We’ve got to leave her behind. She must have been infected, just like Trent said.”
We threw the boxes in the back of the truck.
“How do we get rid of her?” asked Ty uneasily. “She’s probably not going to want to stay.”
Most likely not. Especially since she’d just been shrieking and running in terror away from the zombies. I couldn’t see her volunteering to hang out at Zombie Diner.
Almost as if she could read my thoughts, the woman, sweating profusely, straightened up and grabbed the passenger door to the truck, climbing inside.
I groaned. It had been a rough week. I’d gone from sitting in an ambulance intent on saving lives, to allowing someone I could have saved to die. And now it looked as if I was going to throw someone to the wolves. Practically literally.
I squared my shoulders and quickly grabbed the door handle of the truck to open it and pull out the woman. Despite her obvious illness, she saw what I was doing and locked the doors to the truck.
I swore under my breath. “Ty? The keys?”
Ty handed them over to me. “Charlie? The zombies are on their way out.” His voice was urgent.
I swore again. “Ty, hop on the bike with Mojo and get away.”
Ty shook his head, looking frantic. “Charlie, I don’t know how to even start the bike.”
Sometimes I forgot he was only fifteen. “It’s okay,” I said in as calm and steady a voice as I could muster. “We’re gonna get out of here. You and Mojo get ready to hop in the front seat, okay? But not until I pull her out of the truck, just in case she’s already turned.”
Ty moved around to the driver’s side and Mojo followed him as he whistled softly to the dog.
I jammed the key into the lock and then held on the door. Despite pulling on the door with all her strength, the woman was no match for me, especially as sick as she was.
Then I saw it, right as I had the door fully open. Her eyes went blank, her mouth went slack. And she started moaning. She reached for me.
I unceremoniously grabbed her by the legs and jerked her out of the truck. I pushed the lock in, slammed the door, handed off the keys to Ty, and then scrambled to the bike before she could get back up. Or before more zombies could find their way outside.
We drove for miles before Ty motioned to me to pull over. “Hey,” he said, and his eyes were exhausted, “let’s not stop again. I don’t think I can handle any more excitement right now. I just want to get to a safe place and rest a little.”
“No more stops,” I promised him. “Straight to your Nana.”
Admittedly, I hadn’t spent much time hanging out at retirement homes in the past. But there had been a few visits when I was a teen and my mom took me to see my great-aunt. I remember that they were bustling places. There were residents boarding vans for various excursions, taking strolls, and participating in lots of scheduled activities.
It was eerie to pull up to the Crofton Retirement Community and see the wrought-iron gates shut. It was even eerier to see no sign of life on the grounds of the community.
Ty pulled up beside me and rolled the window of the truck down. Mojo scooted over to stick his head out the window and grin at me.
“Okay,” I said to Ty, “so what’s the best way to get in this place?”
Ty’s face was drawn with exhaustion and worry and I could tell he didn’t have his A-game on. The sun was low in the sky. He was clearly getting overwhelmed. “When everything was normal, there’d either be some guy working the gate, or else we’d intercom in and someone would open it up.”
It was a gated community. But it was the kind of gate that wasn’t going to keep zombies out. It was just going to keep our vehicles out unless we got them to open up. And right now, I didn’t fancy the proposition of abandoning the truck and walking through the grounds exposed.
I especially didn’t fancy it when I looked through the gate and saw a white-haired gentleman in navy pajamas who was staggering up to the gate, gazing hungrily at us.
Mojo growled and shifted on the seat.
Ty gave a shaky sigh.
“Hey man, just because we see one infected resident here doesn’t mean they’re all that way,” I said with a confidence I didn’t really feel.
Ty said in a low voice, “If I see Nana wandering up to me, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“We’re thinking positive, right? Actually, let’s see if we can think better right now than we have been. We have a problem. We need to get through these gates and drive right up to the door so we don’t have to encounter Zombie Zeke over there. So how are we going to do it?” I asked. I was asking myself as much as asking Ty.
“Can you try the buzzer again?”
I did. And again. We waited for a minute and listened to see if a voice would come through the speaker or if the gate would suddenly lift up. Neither happened.
“Ty, I’m thinking we need to honk the horn. Alert someone in there that we’re out here.”
Ty scanned the grounds. “Won’t that bring more zombies out? What if the reason we’re not getting any answer is because they’re all zombies in there?”
I spoke calmly since I was worried that Ty was getting worked up over his grandmother. “Then why are we only seeing Zombie Zeke? How many people live here at Crofton?”
Ty shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty big place. Maybe a hundred people? Something like that?”
“So why aren’t we seeing all the MeMaws and PawPaws out wandering around the grounds? No, I think there are some uninfected people in there. Let’s take the risk. Honk the truck’s horn and maybe we’ll catch their attention. Then I can hit the buzzer some more and I bet you that somebody will answer us,” I said.
Ty took in a deep breath. Staring at Zombie Zeke, he gave a few taps of the horn. It wasn’t as loud or as long as I wanted, but I pressed the buzzer again. And again.
Nothing.
Ty lay on the horn this time. It was a long, insistent blast. And the truck was a deep, serious-sounding base. Then he paled a little, motion
ing at the grounds.
A good fifty or more elderly residents flooded onto the grounds toward us. They were on the grass, which was still carefully manicured. They were stomping through the carefully tended flower beds. And they were streaming down the road leading to the gate.
I cursed, softly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mallory
By the time we got back to the car, it was pitch black. It was lucky I’d thought to carry flashlights with us, or we’d never have been able to find our way back.
“Let’s just sleep in the car tonight and then head out early to see your Nana,” I said. “It will be easier to see what the situation is like at the retirement home when the sun is up and we can see.”
Then I was kicking myself because a worried line appeared on Ginny’s brow. “You think maybe those things are in the retirement home?”
“No, I don’t think that. I like to stay positive. But I do want to be able to make absolutely sure the coast is clear when we get there. It’s good to think positively, but it’s good to be safe, too.”
Ginny relaxed a little. “That sounds good.” She yawned. “I’m pretty tired, anyway. Do you think we’ll be safe when we sleep?”
I wasn’t sure which was more dangerous—the zombies that were rapidly spreading the virus, or the dangerous, uninfected people like the ones Ginny had run into. I had a feeling that parking on the side of the road wasn’t a great idea.
“I’m going to drive on a little ways and see if I can find a good spot to park the car where we might be hidden. Do you know much about the route to the retirement home? Are there any towns you go through, anything like that?” I asked.
Ginny frowned in concentration. “There’s one small town that sometimes we stop in for gas on the way. I’ve gotten an ice cream there before, too.”
“But we haven’t passed it?”
Ginny shook her head.
“Okay. Let’s drive on for a while and see if we can get to the town. If not, I’ll find a spot in the woods to park. Maybe a driveway, or something that’s off the main road,” I said.
Ginny nodded, but looked worried. The fact she’d been hijacked last time was clearly on her mind.
I kept driving in the fading light. For a while, all we passed was a heavily forested area full of pine trees. But after a while, I noticed signs pointing us to the small town of Emerson.
Emerson was one of those small towns that had probably allowed itself to fall into disrepair at some pint, but was now trying harder. Old brick buildings in its downtown now housed what appeared to be galleries, shops, and a diner. The awnings and signs over the businesses were new and cheerful.
Ginny stared out the window, as if longing for a glimpse of something stable and normal. But there was no sign of life. Or of death.
“Can we just park the car and see if we can stay in one of these shops or something?” asked Ginny. Maybe they have fresher food there. And the floor might be more comfortable than sleeping in the car.
Part of me wanted to agree with her. The only problem was that we had no idea what the situation was like in the town of Emerson. For all we knew, there could be zombies roaming the streets at night. And it was night now.
So I reluctantly said, “Better not, sweetie. I think we’re safer in the car. We’ll just keep the doors locked, keep the car hidden, and we’ll be fine.”
I drove a little while to see if there was a good place to park the car for the night. Finally I found the gas station that Ginny had mentioned. I shivered, thinking of what had happened to Joshua at a gas station. I pushed those memories firmly aside. “There’s a car wash there. That might be a good place to hide.”
“Inside the car wash?” A faint hint of a smile from Ginny now. “I always love the car wash. Especially the kinds that have the things that come down and wipe the car off.”
“I like those, too. But I’m thinking we should maybe park just on the other side of the car wash. Out of sight.” But not inside where we could be trapped by zombies. A fact I didn’t want to mention to Ginny.
After we’d parked and turned off the engine, Ginny put her seat all the way back and quickly fell asleep. It took me a while longer. I kept thinking I was seeing movement in the nearby woods. Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep.
Hours later I woke up, feeling I was being stared at. I turned my stiff neck slowly to the left and froze as I saw a teenage girl with a long ponytail staring at me with blank eyes and her mouth agape. Her mangled body told her story. She lifted a hand and pressed it against the car window, growling at me.
I didn’t make a sound, not wanting to scare Ginny who was still soundly sleeping beside me. But I quickly started the car and firmly stepped on the accelerator, leaving the teen zombie staggering slowly after us.
Ginny had given me enough of an idea of the direction of her grandmother’s retirement home that I felt confident enough to head off without consulting her. I’d slept longer than I’d planned on, anyway. It was dawn now and getting lighter every minute. With darkness no longer lending us its cover, I was ready to keep moving.
As we sped down the road, I experienced a mix of feelings. For one, I knew that connecting Ginny with the family she had left was the best thing for her. But I also realized that I felt sorry for myself. I’d wanted children for so long—it had been the reason that I’d run into problems with my boyfriend. And now, with Ginny beside me, I almost felt like a mother. It would be hard on me to let her go.
I drove for what felt like a long while and then saw a small sign off to the right as I went past. I stopped and backed up the car to read it. The sign pointed to a small entrance for Crofton Retirement Home. I turned down the road and stopped, realizing that it was a gated community … and the wrought-iron gate was closed. The gatehouse wasn’t occupied, but I saw a speaker and a call button.
I rolled the window down but decided that before I pressed the button, I should make sure it was the right place. “Ginny,” I said, “We’re here. I think. Is this the right place?”
She lifted her head sleepily to look around. When she spotted the gatehouse she smiled. “This is it!”
I hit the buzzer. And waited. No answer from the speaker on the gate.
“Is this usually the way you get inside?” I asked.
“No, there’s always a guy who lets us in,” said Ginny, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and squinting to see better. “Is there a sign or something that tells us what to do if no one’s here?”
I pushed the button again and said, “No, I think we’re just supposed to hit this buzzer.”
I pushed the button repeatedly for the next ten minutes. I was about ready to just abandon the car and walk with Ginny through the wooded grounds when a woman’s voice finally spoke. “Who’s there?” she asked. Her voice was strained and breathless as if she’d just finished running.
A relieved smile played around Ginny’s lips, but I didn’t share her relief. Not yet. Something seemed off here.
“My name is Mallory and I’m traveling with a young girl named Ginny whose grandmother is a resident here. Could you let us in there?”
There was a long, empty pause. I swear I could still hear the nurse breathing heavily.
Ginny said in a loud voice that could carry to the speaker, “Please? Please let us in. I’m also looking for my brother, Ty. He was taking care of me. He’s fifteen. Is he here?” She leaned forward eagerly, eyes trained on the intercom on the gate.
Another very long pause. Then the woman’s voice said slowly, “I’m not sure you really want to come in here. It’s not safe. There are undead here.”
Ginny made a strangled noise. I was getting tired of the stalling and said briskly, “Open the gate. We’ll decide for ourselves how long we want to stay, but we need to come in and assess the situation here.”
Another pause. Then, finally, the gate was opened.
“Okay, so we’ll keep the doors locked. Let’s be super-careful when we get out of the car and go in
the main door. That woman wasn’t very helpful, wasn’t she?” I muttered.
Ginny’s hand clutched the door handle so hard her knuckles were white.
The driveway to the retirement home was long and winding. I caught my breath when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye and turned in time to see an elderly woman in a long nightgown wandering like a ghost through the trees in the early morning light. She turned as we approached and snarled at me. I shivered and glanced at Ginny. I was relieved to see she was staring out her own window and hadn’t seen the figure.
I wouldn’t have chosen to come here with Ginny, but I knew she couldn’t rest until she’d searched for her family. For me, I just wanted to keep traveling, hopefully with Ginny, to the safe house.
I found a parking spot in a very empty lot next to the building. Ginny said, “A lot of the people at Crofton don’t drive anymore.”
I was just glad I wasn’t trying to hijack a car. There was really nothing here to choose from. And nothing looked abandoned.
“Ready?” I asked Ginny, my hand on the car door.
She nodded, taking in a deep breath. We opened our doors and stepped out, hurrying to the glass doors of the retirement home.
As we stepped in the expansive entranceway, I gasped. There was a group of what had been residents in the sitting area inside. They were leaning on walkers and sitting in wheelchairs and staring blankly at us, moaning. They moved toward us.
Ginny looked frozen beside me. “Ginny, lead the way,” I said sharply. “To your Nana’s room. Come on. They’ll move slowly.”
And they certainly did. They hadn’t even moved a few feet by the time Ginny and I had run out of the room and to an elevator.
She pushed the elevator button and looked worriedly behind us as we waited for the elevator to come down. “Are they coming?” she whispered.
“Not yet.” I paused. “Do you know how to get to your grandmother’s room?”
“Sort of,” said Ginny. “I know what floor and what hall she’s on. The only problem is that all the rooms look alike. But she has a table outside her room with a vase and a bouquet of fake flowers on it. So we can find it as long as she hasn’t changed it.”