“Get as much as you can. I think I saw some beef jerky near the register. That might be our best bet for protein.” He eyed Alayna again. Why did she seem to glare at him with such scornful eyes?
Ralph lifted a sack tentatively.
“And dump all the soda bottles,” Clay told them. “We’ll fill the soda bottles with fresh water from the tap.”
“Ah, shit,” Brandon said, easing one of the twist tops from a bottle. “I used to drink tons of this stuff every single day, with money I got from my after school job. And now it’s right here. For free.”
“That shit will kill you,” Alayna insisted.
“If this is the thing that kills me when there are monsters on the loose, then I choose this,” Brandon said, chugging Mountain Dew. He wiped his hand over his mouth, blinking wildly. “It really burns when you’re not used to it.”
“That’s because it’s not natural,” Alayna said, her eyebrows high. “Your body doesn’t really digest it.”
“Just a few more sips,” Brandon murmured, drinking as much as he could of the yellow liquid.
Ralph patted his shoulder, chuckling. “He’s a boy after my own heart. We love the things that will destroy us. Hell, I’d be smoking more of these free cigarettes if I knew they wouldn’t slow me down. I’d be so out of breath all the time, I probably wouldn’t be able to keep up with you all. So, Kid? You want to try a cigarette?”
“As if I haven’t smoked before,” Brandon scoffed. It was obvious to all of them that he hadn’t, that he was covering up his “embarrassing” teenage existence, which was probably far cleaner than he admitted.
“All right, then,” Ralph said, reaching for the Marlboro Reds. He fumbled with the plastic and then opened it, revealing the triple rows of tan-tipped cigarettes. He took two, handed one to Brandon and snagged a lighter from near the cash register.
“Don’t smoke in here,” Alayna insisted. “The rest of us have to live with it.”
“I think I’d like one of those.” Daniels reached a large, calloused hand toward the box. “Hell, it might be the last one I ever smoke.”
“Guys. Stop it,” Clay snapped. His mind was racing with thoughts of his daughter and wife, and of all the time they were wasting. He saw red for an instant. Was this panic? “We have to fill our bags and get moving.”
He stomped toward the back of the store, hearing Ralph and Daniels flick their lighters. The smell of smoke reached him a few moments later.
“You going to try it, Brandon?” Ralph asked.
“I told you. I already have,” Brandon said.
“You don’t want another one?” Ralph asked, clearly amused.
“I think I’ll stick to my Mountain Dew, if that’s okay.”
“Suit yourself.”
Brandon joined Clay in the hunt for food supplies, grabbing cans of beans and other vegetables and filling his sacks. Alayna busied herself near the corner, sliding her fingers over the once-familiar boxes of macaroni and cheese and rice—things that weren’t practical, given that they were always on the move, and it was far too dangerous to start a fire.
Clay worked his way closer to Alayna, wanting to understand why their relationship had soured. They’d made passionate love not so long ago, and now they looked at each other like total strangers.
“I remember you used to eat this macaroni and cheese crap almost every day for lunch,” Alayna said as he drew closer to her, her voice a whisper. “Your wife would pack you delicious lunches, with protein to make you healthier. But you’d always head to the store and buy this.” She gave him a teasing smile, her eyes twinkling.
Finally, Clay thought. They could bond over their memories.
“I was addicted to it. I think we can blame it, single-handedly, for all my weight gain,” he laughed. “Too bad we can’t serve some up now.”
Alayna tilted her bag toward him, showing her collection. “Peanuts. Almonds. Cashews. I think that’ll stick to our bones, at least for a while.”
Clay nodded, meeting her eyes for a moment. He wanted to say something, to apologize for any tension between them, to prove that he wanted to remain friends—the closest of friends, especially as everything grew more dire. But he couldn’t speak.
“Sorry it isn’t getting any easier,” he said instead. “I know you want to see Megan.”
Alayna slid her fingers through her coarse hair. “I just want to make sure she’s all right. I don’t know what that means for us, you know. She did sleep with Daniels.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t think I’m even that upset. There are no real rules out here, are there?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that truthfully,” Clay said wryly. They were at the bottom of the world, looking up. It seemed impossible that they could ever clamber back up to where they belonged.
They continued to pack, Brandon stuffing in a massive collection of candy and granola bars, much to the chagrin of Alayna. She rolled her eyes and ran her hand over his hair, acting almost motherly. Clay was reminded of Valerie—how she’d roll her eyes at their daughter Maia’s silly quirks, and her insistence that “just one more snack” wouldn’t hurt. God, he’d had such a beautiful family. But now, this rag-tag troop of stragglers, trying to stay alive—this was his family.
“We all set?” Clay asked, strapping several sacks to his back and grabbing his gun, looking at each of them in turn for confirmation.
They gathered in a line facing the once-automatic doors of the convenience store. The light outside shimmered on the glass. For a moment, Clay felt almost at peace, stocked with food supplies, strong in the companionship of these people.
Then, Ralph broke his reverie. “Shit! You see them, Clay? There, by the gas pumps? They see us too, I reckon.”
Clay moved up and peered out the window. Sure enough, a small horde of the crazed were wavering toward them, their rotting arms waving and dripping blood.
“All right, gang. Let’s do what we’ve been training to do.” Clay squared his shoulders. “We don’t have time to mess around.”
Chapter 5
Clay turned toward Brandon and Ralph. The pair nodded curtly, with Daniels behind them, racking a bullet into the chamber of his rifle. No one spoke for several seconds as the crazed monsters poured across the road, leaving bloody tracks on the pavement. One of them was wailing, a guttural, inhuman sound, reminiscent of a dying cow.
“Aim well, gang,” Clay said, turning his eyes back to the door. “And try use only one bullet per zombie. We can’t afford any more than that. And we definitely can’t afford any more disasters, a la Ralph and Brandon. Is that clear?”
Clay led the team out onto the pavement. The first onslaught of the crazed was just six or seven that Clay and Daniels took with quick, accurate shots. The monsters didn’t even make it to the sidewalk.
But the chaos attracted still more of the crazed. The survivors began to spread out, each holding their own, dropping the monsters. Clay glanced up when Alayna yelped at a bony hand on her back. She spun, putting a bullet between the crazed’s teeth, and then another between his eyes. His blood spattered her before he fell. Without hesitation, she returned to the fray, killing two more monsters in rapid succession. Clay felt a moment of sincere pride before he, too, was forced to focus on the onslaught.
It was all becoming normal, almost second nature. Murder. Constant, every day murder. It was their way of life.
Brandon and Ralph were next to each other and blasting through the crazed like cowboys. Brandon spewed curse words with a hoarse, teenage voice as he fired, clearly mimicking actions from a fantasy or video game. Ralph was concentrating fiercely, less accurate for having to use his left hand.
Jacobs and Daniels fought with similar styles, despite Daniels’ obvious years of training and Jacobs’ rather weak technique. They plugged each of the crazed monsters at least twice to be sure. They were ignoring Clay’s plea to conserve ammunition. But Jacobs was too terrified to handle it any other way. And Daniels was too aggressive, wanting
to retaliate with as much force as he could.
After a small eternity with the swarming crazed, Clay realized there were only a few more to put down. Off to the side, Ralph backed away from his position, suddenly looking fearful. He dropped to his knees, crying out. Clay couldn’t make out the words.
Brandon jumped next to him. He blasted two that were approaching rapidly, becoming Ralph’s guardian. Brandon killed the last three, dropping them to the blood-soaked pavement, their limbs still flailing helplessly.
Brandon breathed hard in the silence that followed, and squinted down at his friend. Ralph’s eyes were tightly closed, panic still on his face.
“What was that, man?” Brandon asked. He gripped Ralph’s elbow and pulled him to his feet. “Jesus. You’re better than that.”
“I’m not,” Ralph whimpered. “I’m just not.” He dropped to his knees and cowered, trying to cover his ears. “That fucking gunfire is destroying my eardrums, Brandon. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going fucking nuts. This—this is why they put the soldiers in the loony bins, Brandon. It’s because of the gunfire.”
Clay and the others joined Brandon and Ralph, but gave them several feet of space. Ralph was panting, as if he couldn’t take in enough air. Brandon finally kneeled down beside him and murmured into his ear, as if he were consoling a child.
“Ralph, you can’t give up on me like that. Not out here, not on the battlefield. We only have each other now. And I told you back in the store that I’d be really bummed if you died. Listen, man. I meant it. I wouldn’t get over it, Ralph. Think about me when you’re out here. Think about Alayna. Think about how Connie would want you to live, for Christ’s sake.”
Clay’s eyes narrowed, meeting Alayna’s. She pressed her lips together, a look of concern on her face. Ralph was on the brink of insanity. It seemed clear to both of them.
“Plus, I know you’re not going to shoot me again,” Brandon said, trying to joke. “Because you know I’ll shoot you back if you do.”
“Ha,” Ralph said. A single tear tracked through the dirt on his cheek. “It’s not that, kid. I just ran out of bullets in the gun, you know? And I didn’t have another hand to reload. I’m useless. I’m completely useless to you guys out here. I was ready to surrender. Give up. I’m just holding y’all back, anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Brandon said, rubbing at the old man’s back. “We’re going to get out of this. We’re going to survive. Giving up is never an option. And if you need someone to change out your clips, I got you next time. Friends watch out for each other.”
Ralph peered at the rapidly maturing young man suspiciously. “Why should an old man like me trust a kid like you?”
“I already saved your life once, asshole,” Brandon replied. “Don’t forget that for a minute. You owe me. And the only thing I want is for you to live, dammit. Live!”
Everyone moved closer to the man and boy, galvanized by Brandon’s speech. His strength and compassion made them stand straighter, and their eyes brighter. They’d had to throw out all the rules of their past lives. Age was just a number, now. Nothing more.
Brandon helped Ralph up. Both were spattered with blood from the crazed. Clay knew he should say something, find words that would bring them together. But exhaustion from the day numbed him.
“We have to keep moving,” he said finally. “We can’t waste the whole day.”
They nodded before silently collecting their sacks of food. Brandon popped open a can of Pringles and began to chomp, a smile stretching his cheeks. Clay had half a mind to tell him that he’d done a good thing, and that he’d be a good leader one day. Maybe even a sheriff, if he wanted it.
But he kept it to himself, the future was too uncertain. He kept his eyes on the horizon, his mind worried about the difficult road ahead.
Chapter 6
They walked through the afternoon, their shoes tighter on their feet with every mile. Their muscles were achy, their eyes were glazed. Clay forced himself on, despite the vertigo creeping in. Daniels, who was a bit taller, walked amicably beside him, his boots crunching on the occasional pebble.
“You think we’ll have to walk all the way there?” Daniels asked, trying to make his question private. But his voice was far louder than intended. The others perked up, listening.
“I’ve been trying to come up with something . . . anything that could protect us from this heat and get us under some kind of cover,” Clay said, still watching the road in front of them. “But so far, nothing. I’m thinking maybe we should find shelter for the night soon. There’s not much daylight left, and I don’t want to be out here after dark.”
The terrain around them had changed in the previous hour, the road now skirting the rim of a massive canyon on one side, snaking through the bordering mountains. As they followed the curvature of the road, Clay stopped short, hopeful at what just came into view.
In front of them were six cars, stopped haphazardly on the road. In the distance, an oversized semi truck had jackknifed, blocking the road. The fifth wheel coupling and forward half of the trailer jutted beyond the edge of the canyon, threatening to go over at any moment.
“Jesus,” Clay murmured, trying to make sense of the scene.
“What are we waiting for?” Daniels cried. “We should try to get one of the cars started. It might be cramped, but at least we’d have some shelter on the way to Helen.”
“And how do we drive it around that semi?” Alayna asked, her nose high. “There’s no median to drive on. We’d just drive straight into the canyon.”
“And explode into a million pieces,” Ralph added.
“Right,” Alayna agreed. “It’s a complete bottleneck.”
“Well, damn.” Daniels scratched at his growing beard.
“Then we check all the cars, and scavenge anything useful,” Clay said. “We’ll keep going on foot, but we might find more supplies at least.”
“I’m sure everyone took anything of value with them,” Jacobs pointed out.
“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look,” Clay said, his eyes alert. “Alayna. Adam. You stand guard. We’re losing light quickly. Make sure the crazed don’t come at us. And let out a yell if you see something, anything. You’re our eyes and ears.”
“Got it,” Alayna said.
The rest of them hurried forward, circling the first vehicle, a dark green sedan. It sat at an angle, the right rear tire hanging over the edge. Clay peered into it, pressing his forehead against the glass, and saw nothing but black leather seats and a few empty soda bottles in back. He tried the door and it opened. He leaned toward the glove box, finding nothing but insurance papers for a man named Matthew Connors, and a toy. He sighed, looking up at Ralph, Brandon, and Jacobs, standing nearby with blank looks on their faces.
“I’ll check the trunk and the back seat. Why don’t you three start on the other vehicles. We should look through everything. Leave no seat unturned. Understand?”
They headed toward the other cars; beginning their own methodical searches. They dove through abandoned personal items, discovering what was left behind by people who were either now dead or at least long gone. Alayna and Daniels paced the perimeter, their guns high, their eyes sharp. The sun was dipping lower, adding to Clay’s mounting anxiety.
Several minutes later, Clay joined the other three. Brandon was squeezed in the backseat of a car, rifling through a briefcase. “Nothing but papers, man. I found some snacks up front, though. Fruit roll-ups. I used to love that shit.”
Disheartened, Clay raised his eyebrows at Jacobs across the top of the car. Jacobs shrugged and moved on to the next vehicle. But as he neared the red SUV, he stopped, his shoulders tensing. He was frozen, panicked.
“Jacobs? Leland? What is it?” Clay asked.
“I—I think you’re going to want to see this,” Jacobs said quietly. “Brandon. Stay back.”
“Why? You can’t leave me out of the loop,” Brandon said indignantly.
Clay joined Jacobs at the SUV.
Even with the glare from the sun, he could see the interior clearly. The scene made his blood run cold. This was the reality they were all now facing; this was death and destruction. This was the future of their world.
A middle-aged man sat in the driver’s seat, a bullet wound at the side of his head. Dried blood on his cheek and down his shirt. His mouth was agape, and his eyes were half-open and oddly purple. Beside him, a younger woman, looking peaceful but with a similar bullet wound just north of her ear. In the back seat, two children, both pre-teens, huddled together, covered in blood.
“Jesus Christ,” Clay gasped.
“What do you want to do, boss?” Jacobs murmured, making no effort to reach for the door handle. “I don’t know if we should disturb them. Who knows how long they’ve been in there.”
Brandon and Ralph appeared beside them. Brandon gasped and smacked his hand over his mouth. Ralph was stoic, unshakable now. They both looked away, clearly wishing they were somewhere else.
“All—um, all the other cars are cleared,” Brandon said, drifting away from the gruesome scene. “Where would their passengers have gone?”
Clay eyed the gorge beside them with curiosity, wondering what they might find. He shivered, suspecting that all of the cars’ drivers were either plastered to the canyon floor and dead, or munched up at the hands of the crazed. Perhaps they were crazed themselves.
“You think the dad took matters into his own hands, then?” Ralph asked. “Something made him crack. And he knew he had to be the one to kill his family. He brought them into the world. He’ll take them out of it. That sort of thing?”
Clay nodded almost imperceptibly. He thought about Maia and Valerie. Faced with the same choice, would he have shot them? He imagined aiming the gun at each of their heads. Forcing himself to squeeze the trigger. He shivered.
“I would never be able to kill Connie,” Ralph whispered as if Connie wasn’t already dead. “It would destroy me.”
“He didn’t have to live with his decision long.” Brandon gestured at the sad, lifeless man in the front seat. “He’s gone.”
Detour: Book Two of the Humanity's Edge Trilogy Page 3