by Kirk Withrow
Once again, Lydia felt her anger rising at the nonchalance with which Annalee relayed the story, and she decided not to tell her that she was trying to say PTSD.
“Look, I’m glad you were able to help her. It sounds like it was a good thing you were there. But you need to stop taking unnecessary risks like that. Get me and I’ll help you,” Lydia pleaded.
With an uncompromising expression, Annalee said, “You aren’t my mother!” Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned and stormed off.
Despite her retreat, Ava noticed that Annalee did not move out the woman’s line of sight. Lydia sighed and hung her head. Ava thought she heard the woman sniff back tears of her own, as the woman stood there with her fingers pressed against the bridge of her nose.
After a few moments, Ava abruptly shattered the uncomfortable silence. “I was trying to reach my dad.”
Both Lydia and Annalee turned toward the sound of her voice, all thoughts of their little spat evaporating.
Still staring into the distance, as if speaking to the heavens around her rather than to anyone in particular, Ava continued, “He was out of town when this all started, and I hadn’t seen him until this morning. I was going back to my house to look for supplies when a large group of infected spotted me. I ended up trapped on top of a boulder after trying to lose them. From that height, I saw a man standing across the field in the distance. Even though he was far away, I could tell it was my dad. I don’t know if it was the excitement of seeing him after so long without even knowing if he was alive, or if I was just being sloppy,” Ava paused briefly to allow her emotions to pass, and to recollect her thoughts. “I was careless and nearly died because of it. I likely blew my only chance to find my dad.”
Unable to control the tide of emotion that accompanied her last statement, Ava dropped her head into her hands and sobbed freely. She felt four hands come down upon her almost immediately. They were not the cold, ravenous hands that had become so commonplace in the world, but rather the warm, kind hands of people still capable of empathy. They were hands that possessed firsthand knowledge of the shared experience that came with living through this nightmarish chapter of humanity. The warmth from those hands suffused her entire body, and Ava felt as though she had stepped out of a cold house and into the sun’s magnificent rays on a summer morning.
Raising her head, Ava said, “Thank you for saving me. I’m certain I would be dead right now if you hadn’t been there, Annalee—but Lydia is right. It isn’t safe in the world anymore, and you two are lucky to be able to look out for each other. My name is Ava…Ava Wild.”
Immediately, they both wrapped her in a tight embrace that carried enough power to make the horrors of the world around them vanish, if only for a fleeting second.
Pulling away, Lydia looked directly at Ava, and said, “You can stay with us, and we can all look out for one another. We need to get somewhere safe for the night, and tomorrow we’ll see if we can find your father.”
Sniffing, Ava wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and said, “Thanks. I’d like that.”
The three moved quietly to a nearby house that Lydia and Annalee had stayed in previously. Knowing there was a significant infected presence in the area, they were mindful not to attract any unwanted attention as they crept through the stygian darkness. Once inside, Lydia guided them to an upstairs bedroom in which both windows were covered with several layers of sheets and blankets to prevent any light from escaping. The windows opened onto the roof of a wrap-around porch, and a large dogwood tree growing nearby provided them with an alternate means of escape should the door become blocked. A tripwire strewn with several empty cans spanned the top and the bottom of the staircase, ready to sound the alarm should anyone or anything disturb them. Additionally, once they were upstairs, they barricaded the top of the staircase with various pieces of furniture as yet another obstacle to intruders. Even if it failed to stop them, it would hopefully buy them enough time to get out the bedroom window.
Settled into the relative safety of the room, the three survivors relaxed slightly. Ava watched as Lydia and Annalee performed what appeared to be a nightly ritual judging from the nearly choreographed movements flawlessly executed without the exchange of a single word. Lydia searched the room, ensuring that it was safe and secure before moving on to inspect the windows. Annalee brought out a small candle, and while its light output was meager, it seemed as bright as the high noon sun against the utter blackness that previously filled the room.
In the dim candlelight, Ava could see that all of the furniture had been pushed to the room’s edges, eliminating any possible hiding places, and blocking the closet door. A low dresser and a chair set in front of the two windows, partially obscuring the openings. Several small glass and porcelain trinkets were perched precariously atop each piece of furniture.
Noticing Ava staring at the knick-knacks carefully arranged around the room, Lydia spoke in a hushed tone, “They’re kind of like an alarm system while we are away. If any of them are knocked over when we return then we know someone or something has been here. It was Annalee’s idea,” she added with a proud smile.
Busy looking through their sparse provisions, Annalee nodded her head in agreement without looking up.
A few minutes later, they sat with their shoes off, stretching their weary toes. With a soft, satisfied chuckle, Lydia said, “You know, I’ve taken my shoes off every day of my life, but it took the end of the world to make me appreciate just how good it feels.”
Although neither girl said so, they could not have agreed more.
Annalee raised both hands, displaying their dinner options with the faux glamour of a game show assistant. “What will it be? In my left hand we have a special, exotic blend of peanut butter and crackers, with your choice of cold canned corn or stale pretzels. In my right hand, feast your eyes on this prime cut of beef jerky, complete with artificial smoke and barbeque flavoring, also with your choice of cold canned corn or stale pretzels. So what will you have? The clock is ticking. Please make your selections.”
Annalee’s ability to find humor even in situations as bad as this was one of the qualities Lydia found most endearing about her. The three shared a wonderful banquet of beef jerky, cold corn, and stale pretzels.
After eating, they each settled down onto their makeshift pallets. When the rustling of clothes and blankets died down, Ava spoke, “Thanks again—both of you. I feel like you guys saved me in more ways than one.” With no comment from either, Ava shared the abbreviated version of her experience since the beginning of the plague up to the point when she joined them earlier that evening. The catharsis that came with others bearing witness to all that she had seen and done was immense, and she felt a thousand pounds lighter after putting everything into words.
When Ava was finished, Lydia said, “Honey, I’m so sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love more than anything else in the world, but I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to be the one to put that person to rest. To hell with this damn plague and whoever is responsible for it.” She trembled with fury as she spoke those last words.
Ava thought if there was ever any doubt when it came to the fate of the responsible party, the venom filling the woman’s words would be more than enough to tip the scales.
When her anger faded somewhat, Lydia continued, “All of my immediate family lives in Ohio. Sometimes I wonder how they are, and if it’s just as bad that far north. Sometimes I pretend it isn’t. It was just my husband, Lonnie, and I living here. We moved here on account of his work. Like so many others that first night, we went to church to ask the good Lord to see us safely through the storm. Trouble was, the storm was already brewing right in the middle of the church—none of us saw it until it was too late. It was as subtle as a gentle breeze at first, and then it swirled into a dust devil. Before long it was a raging tornado tearing through the place, sucking up everyone in its path. About eight of us, including Annalee and me, escaped into the preparatory room near t
he front of the church. Annalee’s parents were stuck outside in the chaos. Lonnie made it inside with me but…” Lydia averted her eyes as if unable to face what she was about to say.
Sensing the woman’s struggle, Annalee took over, “He was bitten and somehow understood what that meant for him even then. He went out first, fighting the infected back so that we could escape. He gave his life to save ours.” The young girl put a reassuring hand on Lydia’s arm. “It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Annalee added.
As horrible as the story was, Ava saw the courage and love in Lonnie’s action as well. She was surprised when she found comfort in sharing in the knowledge of their losses, just as they had in hers.
During a brief lull in the conversation, sleep finally overcame the two girls. Upon noticing this, Lydia smiled through her waning tears as she thanked God for granting the girl’s the small gift of sleep. In Ava’s case, the sleep she found was accompanied by a sense of security she had not experienced since before the outbreak. For the first time in as many days, her nightmares seemed muted and distant—like something from a fantastical realm rather than true nocturnal depictions of her real-life, daily horrors.
* * *
The following morning, Lydia woke before the girls. She was a light sleeper, capable of functioning on just a few hours of sleep before the outbreak; now she managed on even less. Although the morning sun had risen, almost no light seeped through the thick blankets covering the windows, leaving the veil of blackness enshrouding the little room undisturbed. While Lydia knew that an element of healing came with sharing the story of how she and Annalee came to be together, the painful memory also left her feeling lost and helpless. She watched as the two young girls slept peacefully and wrestled with the idea of disrupting what she imagined was the first decent night of sleep Ava had in weeks. Still, Lydia thought the little girl would be livid if she knew the daylight hours were burning away and they were not doing everything possible to find her father. With a resigned sigh, Lydia roused the girls from their slumber, hoping they had found enough rest to see them through another day.
As Ava and Annalee prepared to leave, Lydia peered through the windows and saw no sign of the infected outside. After a light breakfast of peanut butter, crackers, and canned corn, they stepped out of the house. The crisp morning air felt good against their skin—a welcomed contrast to the stuffy air in the cramped bedroom.
Ava paused for a moment, fighting back panic as she tried to regain her bearings. Sensing her distress, Lydia tapped Ava on the shoulder and pointed in the direction of her house. Ava nodded, relaxing noticeably.
The three survivors walked quietly toward Ava’s house. Along the way, Annalee eased to the front to indicate the direction of the drainpipe she had crawled through to save Ava. Given the rather predictable behavior of the infected, Lydia assumed they were likely still crammed against the other side of the pipe’s opening, trying futilely to reach the girls who had long since fled to safety. I hope the infected didn’t find a way to get through to this side. If they had, she knew they would be in for an unpleasant surprise.
As they approached the drainage culvert, a glacial chill flooded through them, freezing them on the spot. Crouching behind a low rock, they listened as the moans and growls of the horde echoed from right around the corner. Lydia’s first instinct was to retreat, but her uncertainty about the exact location of the horde left her feeling unsure.
Once again, Ava felt the wretched plague coming between her and her father, as though it had some personal vendetta against them. It isn’t fair! The groaning of the infected seethed in her ear nearly causing her to break down into tears, but something about the noise was wrong. It sounded flat and jumbled, as though projected from a bad television speaker.
Ava felt as if her heart might leap out of her chest when she glanced to the left and saw the reason for the strange quality of the sound. Slipping from cover, she moved forward undaunted by Lydia’s restraining hand. The sound of the horde intensified as though she was being lowered directly into a pit teeming with the wretched monsters. Near the ground, about five feet ahead of the others, Ava knelt before the opening of the drainage pipe. The dreadful sounds of the infected reverberated loudly through the corrugated metal pipe making it seem as though they were right on top of her. The effect was chilling. She had to fight the urge to spin around, searching frantically for the certain death her brain told her was surrounding her.
Despite the drastically different circumstances, Ava was reminded of the playground she used to visit with her father. One of her favorite things there was a long, buried voicepipe that allowed her and her father to exchange messages from opposite ends of the park as easily as if they were standing right next to one another. Despite the terrifying snarls echoing around her, the thought brought a smile to her face. How strange that such an awful sound can trigger such a beautiful memory. Still grinning, Ava turned and pointed to the mouth of the pipe that had been her path to salvation the evening before. Relief washed over the other’s faces instantly when they realized what they were hearing.
Lydia and Annalee crept forward to join Ava, and the three continued their stealthy advance toward her house. After walking for what seemed like a mile, the short bluff that served as their bulwark against the infected began to flatten out. They crossed over the low rise and peered cautiously in the direction of the group clustered around the other end of the drainage culvert. Although they knew the infected were there, they saw and heard nothing.
“I guess we’re too far away to see them. Hopefully that means we’re too far away for them to see us as well,” Lydia said.
Ava could hardly contain her excitement when, much to her surprise, they emerged from the tree line and her house was straight ahead in plain view. Considering everything that had conspired against her thus far, Ava wondered what cruel twist of fate was going to block her path this time. Her luck had been such that she worried it might merely be a mirage. She wanted to run to it before it had a chance to slip through her fingers again, but her experience the previous day reminded her of the dangers of becoming complacent, of letting one’s irrational emotions override the rational brain. Still, she refused to allow her eyes to drift from the house as they approached. Nothing is going to get in my way this time!
Ava’s pulse quickened at the prospect of finally reuniting with her father after so long. The joy bubbling up within her heart was short-lived as her mind shifted to thoughts of her mother. As bad as she wanted to find her father, Ava wondered if she was strong enough to face the horror awaiting her in the kitchen—the horror of what she had done. I had no choice! I had to do it. With her mind wandering dangerously, Ava was thankful she had Lydia and Annalee with her. If I don’t pull my head together I won’t survive the rest of the day. When her thoughts drifted back to the present, Ava realized they were about to step onto Hood St. Her house was less than a hundred yards away. So close. Please…
Conflicting emotions tore through her body as the sight of her house, so close she could nearly touch it, warred with the fact that she saw no trace of her father or anyone else for that matter. Was I seeing things yesterday? Was there ever anyone here? As crazy as the world had become and as crazy as she felt at times, she knew that what she saw the previous day was real. She also knew without question that the person she had seen, standing tall like a shining beacon of hope, was her father, John Wild.
Her contemplation was suddenly interrupted as Lydia crouched and motioned for the girls to do the same. Ava thought Lydia, who was armed only with a metal bar of some kind, looked like a warrior princess—simultaneously fierce and formidable, yet beautiful and utterly feminine.
In a whisper so low it was barely audible, Lydia said, “I thought I saw movement up ahead. I’m going to check it out. I want you two to stay out of sight until I get back. Which house is yours, Ava?” She pointed to the house and Lydia nodded in acknowledgment. In a moment, the woman slid around the corner of the closest house and
disappeared from sight.
Ava and Annalee did as they were told, crouching quietly next to the house at the edge of the neighborhood. As the minutes stretched on, Ava’s anxiety climbed. Annalee seemed to read the other girl’s thoughts, and said in a hushed tone, “Don’t worry. She’ll be back. She always comes back.”
A moment later, as if choreographed, Lydia slipped back around the edge of the house and crouched next to the waiting girls.
“One of the infected is crushed in the street a few houses down from yours. It’s disabled but not dead. It looks like it was run over by a car fairly recently. There are also quite a few others scattered about, all dead as far as I can tell. Some appear to have been killed quite a while ago, but a few look to have died in the last couple of days,” Lydia said. She read the hopeful excitement in Ava’s eyes, and added, “Just because I didn’t see any infected doesn’t mean they aren’t around. We have to stay smart and focused. Ava, do you think you’re ready for this?”
She started to nod her head immediately but paused, truly considering the question. After a moment, Ava nodded, knowing without a doubt that she was ready for whatever they found.
“Then let’s move quickly and quietly. Stay close,” Lydia said as she turned and slipped back around the corner of the house. Ava’s heart raced as they moved closer to what she hoped would finally be a reunion with her father. She fought to repress thoughts about what she would do if he were not there or if it was someone else. They left her feeling agitated and unfocused, and she knew that was dangerous.
Four houses away.
They advanced silently, sliding from cover to cover, remaining almost invisible even in the daylight.