“I said no. I’m just as angry and disgusted as you are, but we all handle fear in different ways. We need everyone’s help to survive now; we can’t afford to lose any hands. These guys panicked and did something stupid and selfish, but they know we’ll be watching them closely from now on. I’m sure the next time you catch them dipping into our resources, you won’t give them another chance.” I don’t know if this is the right thing to say, but I don’t want any more death on my watch. Life is still precious around here, even if it is cowardly and thieving. I look in the eyes of the difficult. A few are appeased, for the moment, but the others clearly resent my decision.
The big guy fixes me with a pointed look and speaks slowly and deliberately. “Who. Made. You. The. Boss.”
I’d drop-kick this kid out the nearest window if I could, but I need to look like I’ve got the upper hand. I sigh condescendingly with implied impatience. “Logic did. You want to give me reasons why I shouldn’t be?” I can give several reasons myself, but now is not the time to back down.
“Nobody elected you, you weren’t even nominated.”
“And nobody else spoke up and took charge when we became aware of our situation. Tell me, what do you think I’m getting out of this? Do you think I’m getting paid? Am I getting any special privileges for taking control? In all the time you’ve been with me, did I ever strike you as a power-hungry micro-manager? Why do you think I stepped into this role?”
Braden’s the first to answer. “To protect your family.”
Mr. Difficult jabs an angry finger my way. “She’s trying to position herself so her family gets all the privileges!”
“I’m trying to ensure my family survives. Isn’t that what the rest of you want as well? Go ahead and hate me, but you should think of this as a symbiotic relationship. Those of you who know me know that I will do what it takes to keep my kids alive, and right now our best chances are for all of us to pull together. In my family I’m not the best friend or the confidant or the maid. I’m the mom, and the mom gives orders that will benefit the family both now and later.” I look over at the anxious crowd and see more support than resentment. “So tell me, who wants to be part of my family?”
I see a few reassuring nods, a number of hands up, and several glares from the difficult crowd. “I will see how this plays out,” the largest one growls, “and then I will make up my mind whether we should stick with you or if we’re better off forming a separate group of our own.”
“You do that,” I say dismissively. “But for now let’s see how far up the creek we are.”
Houston and Braden push forward, Houston being the first to speak. “There’s no breach in security, at least not at the moment. The gates are sealed shut, the doors and windows are locked. We can’t figure out why there’s no more electricity, but if the soldiers announced their plans to abandon Mclean High, the government’s not going to waste any electricity on what they figure is an empty refugee center.”
“We worked out why they chose last night to leave,” Braden adds. “The temperature has dropped below zero the past couple of days and all the corpses are frozen solid. They can get pretty far without being infected themselves, as long as this cold snap holds out.”
“That will make it pretty uncomfortable for us, but it will keep us safe from the Infected, at least for now,” I muse. “We’ll have to layer up and huddle together at night.” I look over the clueless and lock eyes on them while I state the obvious: “And no fires!”
KC has made her way to the front to give me some bad news. “I’m afraid we’ll have to severely ration the food and water. All the MREs are gone. They left behind the heavier food, mostly canned goods.” She drops her tone and looks at the floor. “The water situation is more serious.” The room falls silent and leans in to hear what she has to say. Before KC can go on, the air is punctuated with Jesse’s sobs. She runs up to me and buries her head in my side.
“They took Naked!” she wails.
KC
Of course they took Naked. They took anything that would be of use to them and Naked was the most useful tool here; she can warn the soldiers of danger long before they can perceive it.
I knew something was missing, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. There were doors to lock and food to find. Food I found, but water…
Water was kind of here and there. Nemesis and I started to throw the half-drunk bottles of water we found-under cots, on desks, behind chairs, into one of those laundry carts on wheels. My brain squirmed at the Ewww-factor of all the germs and backwash that must be swimming around in those bottles, but three days without it and we won’t care what state the water’s in so long as it doesn’t have parasites. We did find a dusty pallet of unused bottles at the back of the walk-in fridge, but it’s almost a year out of date. “How many people do you think we have left here?” I asked Nemesis.
“Not sure until we start counting, but I’d say about a hundred.”
“And how long do you think we’ll last on this?” I pointed at the laundry cart about two-thirds full of half-empty water bottles.
“If we restrict ourselves to four gulps a day, I’d say about two weeks.”
“What about the punch and drinks from the banquet?” I asked hopefully.
“You mean the drugged stuff? Hard to defend yourself when you’re fast asleep.”
“Being asleep doesn’t sound half bad to me right now,” I mumbled. “I’d rather not be aware of how screwed we are.”
Nemesis sighed and looked thoughtfully into the distance. There’s no real answer to this.
We trundled the laundry cart back to Mom and gave her the bad news right before Jesse’s hysterical sobbing took her attention away. I looked around and saw a smorgasbord of expressions. Some looked ready to give up right then and there, the lack of water confirming their fate. Some looked at the nearly full laundry cart with hope, probably because they can’t match how many there are of us to how much water we need to survive. Some of the drifters looked a bit bored, like, “What’s the worry? Someone will come along and take care of us.” The ones that scare me the most are Andrew and his new band of misfits. Andrew’s the one who keeps challenging Mom, which shouldn’t surprise me considering how he behaved towards teachers back when we went to school together. If I had a bit of time I could have warned Mom about him. He now watches her every move with narrowed eyes. I plan to tell Mom all about Andrew when I get the chance because this kid will not back down no matter how much logic you throw at him. When he’s not monitoring my mother he’s staring with hooded eyes at the water, poised to make a grab for the laundry cart and fight anyone who gets in his way. His look displays distrust, like he doesn’t believe a word my Mom is saying. He’s more paranoid than Puddles and Doom, in an, “everyone is out to get me” way.
Come to think of it, where is Puddles?
Little snakes of suspicion start to weave their way through my thoughts as I make the connections between Puddles and those chosen by the General to go with him. I understand why the soldiers left most of these people behind: they’d hold them back, they’d be a drain on their supplies, and they’d be a threat to others with their careless nature and constant whining. They’re the kind of people who need to come with a warning label that reads “Bottomless pit of wants and needs.” The only thing they’d be good for was zombie-fodder. I bet they could even screw up being bait. They’re so dumb they’re dangerous, like that stupid wiener dog in the trailer park on America’s Funniest Videos, the one who retrieved the Roman candle firework and ran it back to the owners, setting things on fire all over the place.
So yeah, I understand why they left the drifters behind. And I understand why they left the ones like Andrew. His type are stubborn, thickheaded, and have minds like a steel traps—they’re constantly closed. They can’t see outside of their own skull and only focus on themselves. They don’t care who gets hurt as long as they get their way. They’re not even entertaining as an evil genius; they can do the evil,
just not the genius. The soldiers would have had to constantly watch their backs with these guys, and they’ll already have their hands full fighting off the Infected.
But why us? And by us, I mean the Dumb Luck Club and my Mom and Sarah and Mr. Cromwell. We were at the top of the survival class! We’ve got the skills that can help keep the group alive! They wouldn’t have to worry about us staging a mutiny, and we’re good at doing without life’s little luxuries. At the very least we’d make decent lookouts. So why leave us and take Puddles? He contributed almost nothing to our group, and after Houston told me about his rant in that Survivor Class I missed, he seemed mentally disturbed. Yet the one thing I got from Puddles’s story, even a secondhand telling of it, is that he refrains from forming emotional attachments in favor of doing whatever it takes to survive. Maybe that included ratting out potential traitors in exchange for safe passage to the next port of calm.
Listen to me; I’ve been reading Ghost’s book so much, I’m starting to talk like him in my head.
I don’t know who to feel more sorry for—the soldiers or Puddles. Neither will tolerate the other for long. Either Puddles is ruthless and clever enough to outsmart the soldiers and make off with enough supplies to get by, or the soldiers will use his useless lardbutt as zombie bait.
Considering how much he’s betrayed us, I’m for the latter.
JESSE
Things stopped being fun after the soldiers left.
At first I thought I would get to run around more now ‘cause there are no more soldiers around. They’re not here to tell me where I can’t go while looking at me with their angry, fed-up eyes. But now my Mom makes me stay close to her or Houston or KC—they never let me out of their sight! KC’s nicer to me these days but says I have to stay nearby because there are bad people here who would hurt me to get to Mom and the supplies.
And that’s another reason why this place sucks. There’s not much food and there’s even less water. I’m hungry and thirsty all the time. I’ve tried talking to Sarah about this, but all she will say is, “It’s only a matter of time.” A matter of time till what?
Houston explained that until we can find more food and water, we have to carefully share what we have because we don’t know when we’ll be rescued. But I hear people whispering around me all the time, and they’re mad. Some of them say that we’ll be rescued soon. The soldiers are supposed to take care of us and they only didn’t bring us with them because it’s too dangerous for us and they’ll get us more food and bring it back, so why suffer until then? Others are saying that Mom has turned into a dictator and she’s trying to make everyone too weak to “argue or confront her.” To me the scariest are the ones who hardly whisper at all, and when they do it’s about giving up.
Actually, what’s really worse than being hungry and bored all the time is Naked being gone. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone before, but I hate those soldiers for taking her. I miss her warm slobber-kisses and how excited she gets when she sees me and how she smiles with her waggy tail. I miss how she lay her head in my lap whenever I sat down to eat, even though it was probably to catch all the food I’d drop. I miss how soft she is and how she’d get me up in the morning by pushing her wet nose in my face. I miss how fast she would run and how she could always keep up with me no matter how much I ran around. Most of all I miss how safe I felt around her. If Naked wasn’t barking, you knew things were okay.
I miss her almost as much as I miss Dad. She may be a dog but she’s like a sister to me…the better sister. Naked loves me no matter how badly I screw things up. It doesn’t bother her at all if I can’t sit still, or if I can’t keep quiet or if I spill things. She doesn’t care what I do or say as long as I give her lots of love and attention.
Killer’s been around more since Naked’s been gone. He was never afraid of Naked. In fact they seemed to be friends and would sometimes walk side by side or even sleep together. I think Killer’s trying to take Naked’s place for us, like when he tried to take Ghost’s place for KC. I like petting him when he comes up to me, but it’s just not the same. I know he tries, but Killer doesn’t fetch balls or let me use his tummy for a pillow like Naked did.
I’ve never been so grumpy before. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to be happy about. We have no electricity so this place gets freaky dark at night. It never stops being cold no matter how many layers of clothes I put on. My tummy won’t stop hurting. My mouth feels like it’s got sour cotton candy in it. I’m always thirsty. I’m always hungry. There’s no one I can talk to, and I can’t be on my own anymore so I can’t hide it when I’m sad. Worst of all, I’m afraid someone’s going to hurt my mom because of how people look at her and talk about her.
I heard someone this morning say, “We’re not going to last much longer.” And instead of feeling creeped out by that, I thought, “Thank goodness.”
RENEE
Things have been getting steadily worse, not that I expected them not to. I’ve got the remaining food and water locked away in a couple of trunks with the keys around my neck for safekeeping. I’ve got the members of the Dumb Luck Club taking turns keeping watch just in case someone tries to carry one of the trunks off. I know things will soon come to a head. That kid Andrew has been assembling his own little band of support and is ready to take over, which is fine by me. We can’t afford to fight each other, especially since I know he would have no problem taking us out so there will be more food for him. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to kill everyone in their sleep just to extend his own life.
I’m tired of the threatening looks and harsh whispers behind my back. I’m tired of keeping my kids in sight at all times in case they try to use them to get to me. When the time comes, I’m going to propose an even split of supplies and shutter whoever wants to come with me in the theater. We’ll have enough space to live, and we’ll have plenty of ways to barricade the doors for when Andrew’s group burns through whatever they have and comes for our food and water. Best of all, we’ll have an exit. We now have roof access through the Dumb Luck Clubhouse thanks to Houston and John and Braden and an axe we found in a previously hidden seventy-two-hour kit. It’s not ideal, but we’ve discovered a couple of waterproof tents that are up on pallets in case it rains, plus a heavy thick MDF board that once covered the swimming pool on the roof.
That was the biggest surprise of all. We half-expected the tents: after Ghost’s rooftop misadventure the General stationed a couple of men up there for observation, and he never sent any of his men out into the open without a backup plan. But a swimming pool on the roof? There had been rumors, but they were of the fun variety. Every year incoming freshmen would jokingly ask about the Mclean High School rooftop swimming pool and every year they were told it didn’t exist. It was just a running gag, like first-years going on a snipe hunt during summer camp. We almost didn’t find it. I don’t think even Ghost knew about it. It’s not very big—only three lanes wide, and it’s been empty for some time. It was fitted with a wood-composite cover that is perfectly flush with the rooftop, and it was coated in the same pitch used for the rest of the roof. If we weren’t there in the daylight, and if I hadn’t tripped on the spot where one side was caving in, we would have never known it was there.
Houston got the toolbox out of the janitor’s closet and found a chisel. We were lucky to find that; it was obvious the soldiers had picked over the tools before they left. It would have been easier had the soldiers left the box-cutters so we could slice the pitch away from the cover, but it was old and worn enough to work without one. It took the better part of a day to chisel that cover out and it took five guys to lift and move it over just a bit. We discovered a few pool chemicals still left in their bottles at the bottom of the swimming pool, but sadly no water. Doom was disappointed to not find pool shock, not that it is any good for disinfecting infected water. I’m just happy to have the pool cover—now we have something we can place over the crude trapdoor the boys have rigged up on top of the clu
bhouse. It would be a much better deterrent for any invaders than the custodian’s office entrance. All we can do for that door is put a couple of locks from the empty footlockers on it and hope the others won’t be strong enough, or smart enough, to take the door down.
The kids showed me the split kits they had squirreled away in the clubhouse. Apparently they were from former residents who had mysteriously disappeared before we arrived. If I were a kind and benevolent leader I would have shared their contents with all the survivors; but at this point, I can only afford to care about my own. They’re part of our backup plan, something we can use if everything goes wrong. Of course, if anyone else finds out about this hoard, we’re toast.
We’ve been living on the edge, watching our lives trickle away with the dwindling pile of water bottles. We’re cranky and touchy with hunger and thirst, and we’re withering in an atmosphere that becomes more and more toxic by the day. Up until this morning it felt like things couldn’t get any worse. I realized how wrong I was when I was woken up by a panicked KC shouting, “Houston is gone! He’s gone! He’s gone!”
HOUSTON
I finally found a chance to prove myself. I finally found something useful to do.
And it’s probably going to get me killed.
There was a pinch of panic that went with every bite of food and every gulp of water; never feeling it was enough and knowing it would all be gone later. I’ve been trying to come up with a way to diffuse this powder keg of a situation and as soon as I started to think like the soldiers I saw the light. I knew how to get more water!
It was hard to keep the idea to myself, but I had to. I didn’t want anyone else dying if it all went wrong. It was even harder to wait for the right time to try my idea out. First I had to convince Mom that it would be safe for me to patrol the inside perimeter of the school as long as I had Doom and Kaboom with me. This allowed me to pass by the garden courtyard, where the thermometer was located. I watched that thermometer drop lower and lower, and still I did nothing.
Notes from a Necrophobe Page 23