by Chelsea Luna
Cage was starving—literally starving. He hadn’t had anything to eat except a graham cracker sheet since the group had sandwiches at Manny’s house two days ago.
Two days.
It was brutal. Maybe the others were getting accustomed to starving, but Cage was used to eating at least four meals a day. Sometimes more. It was going to be a long, hungry road to Vegas.
No one said much at first—everyone was too focused on eating. Cage chewed slowly to savor the taste of the salami. The two greasy slices of meat were officially the best meal of his life.
They’d found enough food in the QuickShop for one meal for each of them for each of the next three days. Cage had no choice but to enjoy it—unless they found more food elsewhere, he wouldn’t be eating again for another twenty-four hours. His stomach clenched at the thought.
Cage tried to think about something other than food. The next thing to pop into his mind was Rachel, of course, but the anger he’d felt this morning had subsided. He couldn’t keep being angry with her. What was the point? You couldn’t make someone have feelings for you. Cage should know—didn’t he do the same thing to Lindsay?
Adam penetrated the ravioli can with Rachel’s hunting knife. The top popped open and he handed Rachel the can so she could eat first. Her nose scrunched up when she smiled at him. Adam was a good guy. Cage needed to apologize for what he’d said about Selena. Nicky was right—they had to work together if they were going to make it to Las Vegas alive.
“Where are you from?” Monica asked.
“Flint,” Nicky said.
“Wow.” Dean leaned against the wall. “You guys made it all the way from Flint, Michigan?”
“It’s been a long week.” Lindsay sipped a plastic cup of water. Her other hand was intertwined with Nicky’s. Cage knew her well enough to know the demonstration of affection was for Monica’s benefit. Lindsay was staking her claim on Nicky—the equivalent of a dog peeing on a tree.
“That’s a cool gun,” Finn said to Dean.
“It’s an AK-47. The trigger is super-sensitive, but it’s great when you have a group of zombies coming at you.” Dean turned to Adam. “So what’s your story?”
“The safe zone in Detroit fell,” Adam said. “Now we’re heading to Vegas.”
“Camp Freedom Two? That’s far,” Dean said. “Why not head to Nashville? That’s where we’re going.”
“Nashville is gone.”
Monica’s red eyebrows rose. “How do you know that?”
“We talked to a sergeant in the Army,” Rachel said. “Nashville fell and his orders were to go to Vegas. Apparently, it’s the last major safe zone in the country.”
Monica tugged at a red curl.
Dean scooted his gun out of the way and stretched his legs. “That changes things.”
“Where are you coming from?” Adam asked.
“Chicago.” Monica handed the can of lima beans to Rachel. “We almost didn’t make it out of the city.”
“That’s where the outbreak started,” Rachel said.
Cage felt a flicker of rage when he remembered Jorge, the gangbanger at Manny’s house, who’d recounted the stories he’d seen on TV. The jerk had assaulted Rachel in the middle of the night and Cage had killed him.
Cage massaged his temples. Was killing Jorge any different than Rachel killing the gang member? He thought about it for a long moment. He’d killed Jorge in self-defense of Rachel’s life. She’d killed the gang member out of revenge. It wasn’t a necessary kill. There was a difference and it was important to realize that. It was the end of civilization—at least for the time being—and everyone couldn’t go rogue. Cage had to keep a straight head and try to do the right thing.
Adam sat close to Rachel, their arms and legs touching—they were like magnets—some unknown force pulling them closer together as each minute ticked by.
To be fair, Cage had noticed their chemistry even before Selena’s death. They’d been fighting partners since the beginning. How many times had Adam rushed to save Rachel or vice versa? What about the way Adam tended her dog bite or volunteered to take her to Ann Arbor? How many stolen glances had Cage seen between them? He sighed—Cage and Rachel were never meant to be.
“How’d you get out of Chicago?” Adam asked.
Dean nodded at Monica. “Go ahead. You tell it better.”
Monica pulled her legs under her. “I go—I went, I guess now—to DePaul University in the city.” Her voice was soft like a child’s. “I had a few hours to kill before class and there was a summer concert in Millennium Park. I decided to do some studying on the lawn and listen to music.”
“Who was playing?” Nicky asked. “Anyone good?”
Monica’s eyebrows went together. “What?”
“What band was playing?”
“Oh. I don’t remember. Sorry.”
Adam threw Nicky a look. “It’s fine.”
“What? It could’ve been like the Red Hot Chili Peppers or something. You never know, dude, unless you ask.”
Adam ignored Nicky. “What happened at the park?”
“It was a normal summer day—super hot,” Monica said. “Tons of people crowded the park, mostly tourists. It was almost time for class when I noticed steam clouds rising in different pockets around the park.”
“Gas?” Rachel asked.
“I think so,” Monica said. “I didn’t know what was going on at the time. Was there a riot? Were cops throwing tear gas to disperse a crowd? I wasn’t sure because so many people were jammed into the park, but then I noticed pockets of fighting breaking out. It was really strange.”
“Was the gas everywhere?” Cage asked.
“No, there were, like, five or six separate clouds. It dissipated quickly, but the area was so congested that it affected a lot of people.”
Adam turned to Rachel. “That must have been the terrorist attack—biochemical warfare—maybe a condensed aerial form of the virus. It probably infected those within the cloud’s radius before it died down.”
“English, please,” Nicky said.
Adam rested his forearms on his knees. His knuckles were busted from where he’d hit Cage.
Cage discreetly touched his nose—he’d deserved the punch—he’d acted like a jerk.
“The terrorists must’ve had the virus in an aerosol can or something,” Adam said. “Millennium Park is so crowded that they could’ve infected a few hundred people with only a few cans. Six cans would’ve created a few hundred zombies in the crowd. Once they started biting and attacking people, it spread.”
“Jorge said they attacked Wrigley Field and O’Hare Airport, too,” Finn said.
“All congested places,” Dean added.
“Do you think all the Major League Baseball players are now zombies?” Finn asked.
“Great question, dude.” Nicky tapped knuckles with Finn.
“How did you get out of Millennium Park?” Rachel asked Monica.
“As soon as I saw the gas, I put on my mask.”
“Mask?” Nicky asked.
“Monica has severe asthma.” Dean retrieved a cheap paper surgeon’s mask from Monica’s backpack—the kind of paper mask you’d see on the news when they reported a bird flu outbreak in Asia. “She carries this wherever she goes.”
“Wow,” Lindsay said. “That’s lucky.”
“There’s a lot of construction in Chicago and the mask prevents coughing fits.” Monica shrugged. “Anyway, I put on the mask and headed for the Cloud Gate.”
“The what?” Nicky asked.
“The giant silver lima bean thing in Millennium Park,” Rachel said.
“Oh.”
Monica nodded. “Everyone was running, but then I noticed the fights breaking out weren’t just fights. People were attacking—eating—each other on the streets. I couldn’t believe it. I made a beeline for the Cloud Gate, the lima bean, and as soon as I reached it, I called Dean. Cell phones still worked back then.”
“I miss my cell phone,” Lin
dsay muttered.
Cage filled Finn’s cup with water. The boy hung on to Monica’s every word. It was easy to forget that everyone had their own horror story of that first night.
Monica continued. “I called my brother. Dean’s an accountant—”
“Dude,” Nicky said to Dean. “You were an accountant?”
“Yeah, why?”
Nicky shook his head. “You look like a bodybuilder! I bet you lived at the gym. I’ve never seen a buff accountant.”
Dean opened his mouth and then shut it.
Cage hid a grin. Dean and Monica weren’t used to Nicky yet—he was an acquired taste.
“Dean’s firm was three blocks away,” Monica said. “I explained to him what was happening, but he didn’t—he couldn’t—believe it. I screamed at him to meet me halfway at this coffee shop.”
Dean rubbed his head. “There wasn’t anything on the news yet, but I had to meet my sister. She sounded frantic—crazy even. It had me worried.”
“I took off toward Dean’s office,” Monica said. “One of those things came at me. It was salivating at the mouth. The creature released this snarl and lunged. I ducked and pushed it away to buy some time, but the thing fell into a teenage boy and bit his throat.” Monica covered her face. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t know,” Rachel whispered. “It’s not your fault.”
Dean frowned. “My co-worker and I went down the elevator and out onto the street.” He focused on the wall behind Adam. “We stepped outside the building and it was like a horror movie.”
Nicky opened his mouth, but Adam put his hand on his shoulder to stop him from interrupting Dean.
Dean continued. “Blood was literally running down the streets. I couldn’t believe it, but Monica was right. People were eating each other.”
“The city was up in smoke,” Monica said. “I checked my watch and in a span of twenty minutes, Chicago was completely overrun. It was destroyed. Buildings were on fire. People were looting—I mean, who steals a flat screen when zombies are attacking? I could barely breathe because the air was so full of this thick black smoke. We knew we had to get out of the city. Dean and I headed out on foot—we didn’t own a car because everyone who lives downtown takes the train. Our parents had a vacation home about thirty miles south of Chicago on Lake Michigan. That was the goal.”
Cage couldn’t imagine what it was like to fight your way out of a city the size of Chicago. The sheer number of people and zombies was enough to make your head spin. Cage was thankful he was in little Cecilia’s Pizzeria in Flint when the outbreak happened. He probably wouldn’t have made it out of a bigger city alive. Hell, if it weren’t for Rachel, he wouldn’t have made it out of the pizzeria.
“We found a small group of people who had the same idea,” Dean said. “Together, without any real weapons, we escaped the city. I think the only reason we made it out was because we didn’t hesitate. A lot of people went home to grab their belongings and, by that time, there were too many zombies in the city.”
“How many were in your group?” Adam asked.
“Seven.” Monica sighed. “We’ve lost three since that first day. The other two who were with us decided to hole up in our parents’ cabin until everything blew over.”
“I don’t think it’s going to blow over,” Rachel said.
“I know.” Dean glanced at his sister. “That’s why we decided to go to Nashville. The cabin was okay, but there weren’t enough supplies, and it’s hard to defend a place with glass walls.”
“Did your parents survive?” Finn asked.
“They passed away a few years ago and left the cabin to us,” Monica said. “What happened to you guys? How did you get out?”
Cage silently listened as Nicky and Adam recalled what happened to them over the past week. How they met each other at the Wooden Barrel in Flint. The firehouse. The loss of Vivienne. The hillbillies attacking them at the gas station. The Strip outside of Ann Arbor. The horde that filled Peabody Dorm. Morgan’s rescue. Finding Finn. Manny’s house. Selena’s death. Ford Field. The parking garage. The shootout in the streets of Detroit. Morgan’s murder. The gang. And finally how they ended up here at the QuickShop.
Cage rubbed his temples. Ten days? It seemed like he knew the others for years. It was hard to remember what life had been like before—school, football practice, restaurants and watching pointless television. Would life ever be like that again?
“Wow,” Monica whispered. “That makes our journey seem like a cakewalk.”
“Have you heard any news?” Adam asked.
“Cable went out a few days ago,” Dean said. “Chicago and the surrounding suburbs are all blacked out. Actually, this area was the first we’ve seen in a while that has electricity. That’s why we stopped.”
“The last we heard were the camps in Nashville and Vegas were secure, but that was four days ago,” Monica said. “Oh, and the President and the Vice President are dead.”
“What?” Nicky said. “He wasn’t in a bunker?”
“He wasn’t killed by a zombie,” Dean said. “Someone started shooting when they couldn’t come to an agreement. The Speaker of the House was in charge the last time I heard, but that was four days ago.”
Everyone sat in silence.
Nicky turned to Adam. “Should I try to contact Sergeant Deerhorn?”
Adam sat up. “Try him.”
“Dude’s Delta Force,” Nicky said to Dean.
Nicky dug through his backpack and pulled out the walkie-talkie. He twisted the dial and waited for the static to come over the radio. A collective sense of anticipation filled the air.
Everyone crowded around Nicky as he held the small device to his mouth. “Hello? Sergeant Deerhorn, are you there? It’s Nicky Ayers, um, we talked when I was at Ford Field. Hello? Over.”
The static buzzed.
“Hello?” Nicky repeated.
Lindsay leaned in. “Over.”
Nicky winked at her.
No answer. Dread seeped into Cage’s gut. Was Sergeant Deerhorn dead? A full minute passed before the crackle of the radio filled the room.
“Hello?” Nicky repeated.
Crackle.
“Mr. Ayers, is that you? Over.”
“Max!” Nicky cried. “Thank God you’re alive! Over.”
“It’s nice to hear from you, too. Are you on your way to Camp Freedom Two? Over.”
“Yes, sir. We’re in Illinois now. We’ve met up with two more survivors. Over.”
“That’s great,” Sergeant Deerhorn said. “I spoke with base this morning. Las Vegas is still officially up and running. We’ve entered Colorado and we are three hundred miles out. Over.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Nicky said. “Over.”
“Base camp notified me that a party of over two hundred and fifty survivors from Camp Freedom in Nashville escaped the onslaught. They traveled west and arrived at the Las Vegas camp yesterday. They had a few run-ins with rogue gangs, but the majority of them made it. Over.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Nicky said. “Over.”
“Contact me when you get close to base. I’ll personally greet you at the fence. You’re a good man for keeping your friends alive, Mr. Ayers. Good luck to you all. Over and out.”
The radio crackled again and Nicky twisted the dial. “Vegas is up and running.”
Adam extended his hand to help Rachel to her feet. “We should go while the sun is still up.”
Dean glanced at Monica and she nodded. “Can we come with you?” she asked. “We’ll be useful.”
“Absolutely,” Adam said.
“Is there room in your truck for all of us?” Dean asked.
“We’re going to take the blue van out in the lot,” Rachel said.
“Do you have the keys?”
“No,” Rachel smiled. “We don’t need them. We have Nicky.”
Chapter Seven
Rachel wasn’t comfortable with Lindsay driving. It was a
terrible idea—the way Lindsay handled crises was enough proof that their lives should never be placed in her hands.
Cage had volunteered Lindsay to drive. Was he trying to drive Adam and Rachel insane or motivating Lindsay to become a contributing member of the group? Probably the latter, knowing how moral Cage was. Regardless, as Nicky had pointed out, they had to drive sixteen hundred miles to get to Vegas. Everyone, except for Finn, would be driving.
Luckily, they found a set of keys in the glove box so they wouldn’t have to keep hotwiring the van. They pulled onto Highway 80 West. Nicky, in the passenger seat, stuck his head out the window. “It’s not fair that Dean and Monica get to drive the Mustang and I’m riding in this hoopty.”
Lindsay veered around an open refrigerator in the middle of the highway. A refrigerator? Rachel shook her head. The things people brought with them when their lives were at stake were mindboggling.
Cage squeezed Lindsay’s headrest. He sat in one of the two captain seats in the middle of the van. Finn was in the other. “That’s it, Lindsay, go slow when you see debris. Keep Dean in your rearview mirror. He’ll flash his lights if they need to stop.”
“Stay on this highway?” Lindsay asked.
“Yes,” Cage said.
Adam shifted beside Rachel. “It’s three hundred miles to Des Moines, which is about four hours of driving. Let’s get to the other side of the city and then stop for the night.”
Lindsay nodded at Adam in the rearview mirror. “I can do it.”
“Good, Lindsay.” Adam cracked his knuckles.
Rachel rolled her eyes and settled into the cloth seat. It was bench style, not like the other four captain seats, and she and Adam sat very close. Their arms and legs touched and, not for the first time, something fluttered in her stomach when she was near him.
She’d been attracted to Adam since the first day, but it wasn’t until he’d saved her in the parking garage from the zombies that she was sure she wanted to be with him. Morgan had died minutes later, but now that Rachel had time to reflect, she knew what she felt.