by Ponce, Jen
Perhaps we were ridiculous for eating so much, but the peril of food shortage wasn’t really on our minds. We were tired, terrified, and traumatized and the food helped us all go to bed without screaming or crying.
I thought about what was in the basement.
I tried not thinking about it at all.
We took showers and washed our clothes, wearing what we found in drawers in the bedrooms. Owen wore dinosaur footie pajamas and played with the toys his father found in a room with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Dan wore sweatpants and a very baggy sweatshirt. Ivy had pants with the word Juicy written across the ass and she strutted around like a runway model until Lana and I were breathless with laughter.
Dan went to bed without comment.
We three ladies dragged the king size mattress out of the bedroom and plopped it on the living room floor. We added another mattress from one of the smaller bedrooms and piled them with every pillow and blanket we found. None of us wanted to sleep in the bedrooms separated from the others except Dan, apparently. He had already pushed a heavy dresser in front of the window in the bedroom he and Owen took. The ladies and I locked the rest of the bedroom doors to make sure we wouldn’t have any unpleasant surprises from that front.
“Do you think one of us should stand guard?” Ivy asked.
We’d blocked off the doors, covered the windows and made sure they were all locked. I didn’t think any of them could pick a lock and if they tried to get in, they’d have to break a window, which we’d hear. “I think we’ll be okay for one night.”
We settled in, our backs propped against the couch as Ivy thumbed through TV stations, trying to find news. Most of the channels had been given over to an emergency broadcast that repeated itself in endless, frustrating loops until Ivy found a rerun of the Office for us to watch.
“How are the boys?” I asked as Lana texted.
“Safe. Scared but safe. Your mom and dad are keeping them busy with card and board games. They lost Wi-Fi which means the end of the world is, indeed, upon us.” Her voice was light enough, but I heard the underlying terror in her words. Our boys were still halfway across the country from us and we were holed up in a farmhouse with strangers. “I told them we’d be there in a couple days. A week at the most. Right?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. Nothing will keep us from getting there.” I prayed there hadn’t been any snow in the mountains. This time of year, it was a possibility, though I couldn’t remember seeing any upcoming storms when I’d checked before our flight. If it snowed, we’d just find ourselves a snowplow or we’d head south until we found a road that was clear enough for us drive. “Tell them to hang on.”
“I did. They said they loved you and Mom Mom and Pop Pop love you too.”
“Send them a million heart emojis.”
Lana snorted.
From her mattress, Ivy said, “Don’t suppose I could borrow your phone? I lost mine in the accident and I haven’t talked to my daughter since Thursday.”
“Sure.” I passed it over and she poked out the phone number with shaking fingers. Her eyes went soft when someone answered and she said, “Honey? It’s your ma. Yep. Yeah, how are the kids?”
As her conversation went on, Lana leaned into me, her eyes droopy. “I can’t believe it’s only been three days since we got into Omaha, Dee. Three nights away from the boys if you count tonight, and I am. How could so much happen in so little time?”
It wasn’t a question she needed an answer to because really, there wasn’t one. We’d flown in on Friday, living in a world that was sane, normal, that made sense and now everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. If only we’d waited another week. If only we’d told Rod to go screw himself. If only … “We’ll have an adventure to tell the grandkids,” I said. “Once we arrange post-apocalyptic marriages for the boys. A bad ass zombie killer for Jackson and a sweet one we save from a zombie cult for Tucker. We can take over Bill Gate’s mansion, dig up his lawns to put in vegetables, and raise goats by the Sound.”
“No brainwashed zombie cult girl for my boy.” She pressed the blanket down around her legs primly. “He’ll marry the young and spunky scientist who is working on a vaccine to save the world from the zombie menace.”
“Ah, good point. We still get to save the brainwashed zombie cult girl though, right? We could adopt her as our daughter. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
Lana chuckled and laid her head on my shoulder. “We can adopt them all, my sweet, as long as they help muck the stables where we keep our goats.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Ivy leaned over and passed the phone back, tears in her eyes. “They’re alive. All of them. In Alliance, which is on the way to Seattle, if you ladies will do me a big favor to pass by?”
I shrugged. “Can you show us on a map?”
“Absolutely. In the morning. We’re in a good way to connect up with Highway 2, I think, which will take us directly into Alliance. I can stay with my girl and her daughters, help keep them safe until this all blows over.”
I wasn’t sure it was going to blow over, not if there wasn’t an actual spunky scientist working furiously on a cure, but I didn’t voice my doubts because I didn’t want to destroy the hope in Ivy’s eyes. “I’m guessing we can do that,” I said. “And if it’s not,” I added, feeling Lana’s gaze on me, “Then we’ll help you find a vehicle to get you there.”
“Sounds good. I’m glad I took a chance on asking if I could come with ya’ll. Could’ve been trapped back in Omaha, stuck in that firehouse until one of them crazies found their way in.” She snuggled down into her blankets. “One of you want this remote? I think I’m going to sleep.”
I took it and clicked off the TV. “I’m ready for some shut eye too. It’s been a rough few days and I didn’t sleep last night.”
We all snuggled down and damned if I didn’t manage to pass right out.
In the morning, we ate pancakes, eggs, and bacon, the smell of the sizzling pork fat a good way to start the day. Owen had cereal, a chocolate and peanut butter concoction that he snarfed down. Before he was even finished, he was begging his dad for more. That he’d rather have cereal than bacon just went to show that little kids were utter weirdos.
“I found an atlas,” Ivy said after we’d put away the dishes and stored the food in the fridge. Before dinner, I had idly wondered how long the electricity would last, and Dan said there was no way of knowing. It could go down today or stay up for a few weeks. The idea of not having electricity or running water terrified me. I knew humanity had survived a lot longer without those things than with them, but I’d lived all my life with lights I could flick on and off with a touch of my finger. How the hell would we manage without refrigeration? Without the ability to get fresh, clean water from the tap?
“Dee?”
“Sorry.” I shook off the dark ponderings and stood over the table, staring at the map of Nebraska. “Where are we?”
Ivy pointed to a spot about in the middle of the state. Then she drew a line to the town her daughter lived in on the extreme left side. I kept going, my gaze traveling over Wyoming, Montana, Idaho …
Washington looked so far away.
“We’re about three hours away from Alliance. Then you ladies need to head north this way.” She drew a line up toward South Dakota and tapped a place called Rapid City. “Get on the interstate here and then stay on that until you get home.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I said, though the sheer distance intimidated me. How the hell would we make it without getting killed somewhere along the way? Killed getting gas, killed resting, killed getting food.
“What about you, Dan? You and Owen? What do you want to do?”
He looked lost as he stared at the map, as lost as I felt. “I don’t know. I don’t have anyone anymore.” His eyes shifted to his son and away.
I looked at Lana, then said, “You have us now. And you’re welcome to come with us if you’d like. You and Owen.”
&nbs
p; “Same goes for me, if you’d rather stay in Nebraska,” Ivy said. “My daughter would be all right with it and your boy is the same age as my youngest granddaughter. They’d probably have a great time playing together.”
Dan nodded, his chin trembling with pent up emotion. “Thank you,” he said gruffly, and then took Owen off to watch cartoons, presumably so we wouldn’t see him cry.
We exchanged glances, then Ivy said, “We pick up gas wherever we can do it safely. We can even tie extra gas containers to the roof, enough to get you all the way home. You can stop in empty areas to pee and gas up. Get you a bunch of food and water, maybe one of those small trailers that’ll hitch to the back. And if that thing don’t have a hitch, we’ll find you one. So you won’t have to stop until you get there. Because you’ll get there, I believe that.”
“Thanks, Ivy.” I put my arm around Lana’s waist. “I like the idea of carrying enough gas with us we don’t have to stop at a station. That last stop was too close.” I’d almost lost her, and my arm tightened in response to that memory.
“The trailer is a great idea and the car does have a hitch. So we just have to find one. Heck, maybe there’s one in the barn.”
None of us really wanted to explore the grounds, not after our reception yesterday, but we needed gas and we needed containers. And weapons. “Did any of you find a gun?”
“There’s a gun safe, but I’m not sure where the key is,” Dan said from the other room. “Maybe on one of the people we … uh, met yesterday.”
Right.
Lana said, “We can arm ourselves with knives from the kitchen and hope we find something better in the barn.”
“Or that we find the gun safe keys.”
“That too.”
“Let’s get dressed then and get to it. I’m getting antsy here.” Ivy disappeared to the washroom to get our clothes out of the dryer.
I leaned against the cabinet and pulled Lana to me. “You want to wait here with Owen while we go hunting?”
“Yes,” she said promptly. “Are you kidding? I’d rather never go outside again, though I want you with me in here.” Before I could protest, she said, “I know you’re going to insist on going and I’m not stopping you, just saying I want you with me.”
I kissed her, a gentle, lingering kiss that left her cheeks rosy. “I love you so much.”
“You too, babe.”
I rolled my eyes and gave her a tiny shove. “Way to ruin the moment, dweeb.”
She laughed and leaned in again, making up for her comment with her talented tongue. It was my turn to have hot cheeks as we parted to dress.
Owen wasn’t happy to be left behind until Lana found the cookies and poured two glasses of milk. “Wanna eat Oreos with me, kiddo?”
He’d frowned for the longest time between the front door and the cookies, but cookies won out in the end.
“Thank you,” Dan said, and Lana waved him off.
Ivy and I armed with knives, Dan with his crowbar, we eased down the steps and to the barn, our nerve endings on high alert. It might have been a good thing I didn’t have a gun at that point; we stepped inside and a barn cat startled off a workbench, knocking over cans of spray paint and WD-40. I screamed and spun, knife thrust outward, only to see the grey and white striped tabby dash under the wooden slats of a stall and disappear. Heart hammering, I apologized and we waited nervously to see if one of them heard my cry and was coming to investigate. “Sorry,” I said again after the minutes passed by without incident.
Ivy waved me off. “The only reason I didn’t scream was because I was too damn scared to do even that. At least you had your knife ready to stab.”
We found a big pair of bolt cutters that Ivy thought must have been used to cut barbed wire and removed the lock on the white tank. Ivy confirmed it was gas after I asked how we’d know, saying farmers were often supplied with dyed diesel that had to be used specifically for off-road farm equipment. “Besides, even clear diesel is easy to spot; it’s oily and doesn’t evaporate like gas.” She clicked off the hose and screwed the cap onto the dusty gas can we’d found in a shed. It joined three others on the roof rack, giving us a total of seventeen gallons. The find—and the remaining room on the roof—made me want to stop at other farms along the way to see if we could get more. Seventeen gallons of gas would get us another four hundred miles, but we had to go at least three times that. Three stops for gas at least, three times when we would risk our lives to fill up.
We found a machete to add to our arsenal, as well as a couple of hammers, a pitchfork, and a strange tool that looked made for zombie killing. It had a long wooden handle and a metal, pointed cone at the end. I assumed it was for poking holes in the ground for planting, but it would work great for jabbing them in the face.
We loaded these things in the car and then Dan searched the bodies on the ground outside to find a set of keys he used to get the gun safe open. “A shotgun, two hunting rifles, and a handgun,” he said, looking almost happy. “I found the ammo on the top shelf of the closet and more on a shelf in the mudroom, along with a cleaning kit.”
We all stood staring at the small arsenal laid out on the table and Dan must have noticed our expressions, because he said, “I can teach you all how to handle them, all but the handgun. I never really used one. But the rifles, yeah.”
“Hunter,” I said, and he nodded. I itched to hold the handgun though I had no idea why. It had never been an itch before and the incident with the cat didn’t bode well for someone like me to have a gun, but maybe I could get used to it. I certainly liked the idea of having weapons that could kill one of them dead long before they got close enough for me to put a knife in their eye.
“You remember what I said about weapons, right Owen?”
Dan’s little boy nodded solemnly, his big brown eyes on his dad. “Don’t touch.”
“Right. Always treat them like they’re loaded. Never point them at anyone even if you just took all the ammo out and you’re sure it’s empty.”
Owen nodded again, though I suspected Dan was aiming that last bit at the rest of us, too.
He checked the weapons while we loaded food, Ivy standing lookout while Lana and I hauled canned goods and a cooler full of cheese, milk, deli meat, bottled water, and ice to the SUV. We hadn’t found a trailer, which was too bad, but we tied some of our water jugs to the roof rack too, just to give us more room for the guns, ammo, and cleaning kit, plus a couple sleeping bags, camping lantern, and stove, and other bits and bobs related to roughing it out-of-doors.
We’d be staying inside, of course, but eventually the electrical grid would fall and it was already late October. We were only going to be on the road for a couple more days, I hoped, but better safe than sorry.
Dan took the first driving shift, Ivy in the front seat, Owen belted in on Lana’s right so she could sit next to me. Owen had a tablet on his lap his father had found in the house, so he was happily watching a kid’s show with headphones on.
I watched the farmhouse fade into the distance and wondered again what had happened in the basement that Dan and Ivy didn’t want to talk about. I wondered if they’d had to kill the kid whose tablet Owen now held and if Dan had had to kill their parents, too. I imagined getting to Seattle to find the boys and my parents changed, being forced to drive a crowbar through Tucker’s eye or Jackson’s and had to force myself to think of something, anything else to get the unwanted visuals out of my head.
“I almost stabbed a cat today,” I whispered to Lana. “And by almost, I mean I waved a knife in its general direction as it ran from all of us.”
Her shoulders shook with her quiet chuckle. “I wondered what that scream was about. Stopped my heart.”
“Sorry.”
“Damn cat.”
“Exactly.” I threaded my fingers through hers and stared out at the fields rushing by, not knowing that I was searching for evidence of them until I saw one staggering through a waist-high field of dried, yellow stalks of corn. He was
too far away for us to be able to hear what he called out, though I knew he was saying something. Or singing. God, how I hated it when they sang.
How had he gotten so far away from everyone else? Was he lonely? Did they feel fear? Despair? Pain?
In all the emergency broadcasts we’d heard, the officials had never talked about that. Never said anything about how all this happened, either, or what was causing it. They hadn’t said why neighbors and friends were attacking each other, why some of the crazies died and yet reanimated, why they sang to us, called to us, cried out for us.
Only, “Get inside. Lock your doors.”
I wanted more. We deserved more. “Turn on the radio?” I asked.
Dan pushed the knob, then Ivy leaned in to tune it, finding an AM band that was broadcasting. A woman was saying, “Every damn one of them had filmy eyes, Kaison. You can’t tell me that’s a symptom of some sort of super flu.”
“Can’t say damn on the air, Brit. And what else could it be? The dead can’t just walk around. It’s scientifically implausible.”
“Yeah well, tell that to my dead boyfriend who tried to bite me in the face.”
There was quite a bit of muttering, curse words flying. Dan glanced in the mirror to confirm, I figured, that his son was still wearing his new headphones.
“If you’re just tuning in,” the one called Brit said, “then listen up. We have some wisdom to pass onto you all. First things first, don’t let anyone who has been bitten anywhere near you. The bites get infected quick, like really quick, and the person bitten ends up dead. At least for a minute or so.”
“My nana died in fifteen seconds,” a new guy said, clearly not the man called Kaison. “I know because I timed it after my grandpa got bit. He took a while. We all thought he was dead. Probably why nana …”
The voice trailed off and Brit jumped in to cover the silence. “Bites are bad. As far as we can confirm, scratches don’t transmit whatever this is to the victim. It’s spread through sharing fluids. Saliva. Blood. Even, I’m assuming, sperm and vaginal secretions.”