Ophelia

by Briana Rain

  I chose the latter.

  So, my stupid self took Viola’s— or what was now my— bat and smashed the window in.

  It made sense at the time. See, my train of thought was that if no one had owned the car, then it shouldn't have an alarm yet, right? When were we going to have this kind of opportunity? When were we going to be stopped again around this many cars? And learning to hotwire a car might be life saving.

  I'm an idiot.

  The second I smashed the window in, the alarm of the car blared louder than any tornado siren that I’d ever heard, and with it, came the ever so lovely chorus of screaming Crazies.

  Chapter 9: Gasp

  “Mom, I'm so sorry.” I said, for the hundredth time, “I didn't even think that would happen…”

  The gas was on “E” now, and had been for a while. We hadn’t come across anything on the highway, and every time we tried to take an exit to find more fuel, we were forcefully redirected by Crazies.

  It sucked.

  “Ophelia… listen to me.”

  There were a bunch of cars coming up ahead.

  “There's nothing you can do about it now, so stop apologizing. Sorrys have no worth now. All you can do is try harder and do better. Be better.”

  The car finally gave up on us, and sputtered to a stop a few car lengths behind the first, or last, of the abandoned cars.

  Do better. Be better.

  After the alarm had sounded, I froze. Looking back, I couldn’t believe it. I can't believe my stupidity and cowardness one bit. I mean, I kinda can, just a little bit, or two. Looking back at it, I was fairly new to the whole apocalypse survivor gig. Even so, I couldn’t risk being stupid and scared. It wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

  Mom had hauled me by the collar of my flannel into the Jeep, which barely had half a tank left in it. She was angry, but I think that was because she was scared. I think. I hope.

  I explained to her what was going through my mind at the time and said sorry about two dozen different ways from the moment the keys were hastily shoved into the ignition, until now, when that half tank of gas was all used up.

  I learned that Vi had been the hero of the day, and had found the right key after sifting through hundreds of them on the floor mixed in with broken glass. What a champ.

  And I was the idiot of the group now. I messed up. Maybe if we had the chance to stay, we could have found some gas somewhere around there. Maybe. Probably not, though.

  But that was then, and this was now. I couldn’t change what'd happened, I could just make up for it. And I would. I would. I had to.

  “We will have to learn to hotwire a car sooner rather than later, though.” Mom said, “So, you were right there. Just keep an eye out for open doors.” And don't break them open.

  I nodded, and got out of the car. The twins went with Mom, searching one lane while I searched the other. Anything locked was off limits, due to the fiasco I’d caused.

  Oopsie.

  It was your standard end-of-the-world, abandoned-cars-going-on-for-miles-as-everybody-tried-to-leave-the-city-at-once, length of highway. There was nobody, and I mean nobody, around. No Crazies and no other humans. Just the four of us. There were open doors on the next couple of cars ahead of me, but my growing hopefulness was knocked back in its place when the interiors were too covered in blood and that jelly gunk to salvage anything. I wasn't going to risk it. I couldn't even attempt to get fuel because I didn’t have any kind of tube to siphon it with, or a container to put it in if I did so happen to successfully extract the stuff. So, I picked up a piece of debris— a newspaper from the day “it” all began— and started wiping the gunk off of my bat as I checked car after car. All of them were either locked, or too contaminated.

  I was beginning to feel hopeless, when:

  “Well hey there, sweetheart.”

  My hope was renewed. Another human!

  And then I looked up and saw him, standing there past the cars, on the edge of the tree line, half-in, and half-out of its shadows.

  …Another human…

  I traded joy for a tighter grip on my bat, not that it mattered, given the gun in the holster on his hip, but it made me feel tougher, stronger, and so much more brave. Actually, when I thought about it, I don't think he would risk firing something so loud out here in the open. A gunshot was currently the equivalent to a dinner bell.

  “You know…” He took a lazy step towards me. “…when someone greets you, it's considered polite to return the favor.”

  He had a gruff voice that I didn't like at all. Once he stepped out of the shadows completely, I could see that he was filthy, and not with dirt. The blood on his dark coat was still shiny.

  “So, how old are you, sweetheart?”

  I was too scared to respond. Too put off by how unsettling he was. With every nonchalant step he took toward me, as if he didn't have fresh blood on his coat in the middle of the end of the world, I took a step back. This continued, until my back hit the side door of an SUV.

  “Sixteen.” I had to respond now. I was thinking that a younger age, would give me a pass for… whatever what going through his mind. I could've passed for younger, like, way younger. Like, last year, I’d ordered off of the kids menu and ate for free.

  But as you can see, I wasn't really on a roll with this whole “thinking” thing today. At the mention of sixteen, an almost cat-like grin spread across his face, like he’d just won the jackpot but didn't want to tell anybody else.

  “You know… for a sixteen-year-old… it’s pretty dangerous to be out here… all alone…”

  It was the way that he said “all alone” that made me realize what was really happening. That he didn't just want to steal the supplies off of my back, and now that he was closer, I could see those zip-tie things sticking up out of his front pocket.

  I knew what was going to happen if I let him get any closer. I had to do something.

  They need you.

  I gripped my bat and raised it to the window of the SUV I was pinned against.

  “Come any closer and I'll smash it. I swear I will.” I threatened, getting his attention, and the nonchalant act ceased, replaced by hyper-alertness and hesitation.

  “Break a car window?” He mocked me in a higher voice, “I'm so scared, girl.”

  He added that last word like it was the best insult he could think of, and brought up a foot to take a step, but when I brought my arm back, he froze.

  I guess he didn't see my hand shaking then.

  “I will break this window and set off the alarm. It’ll bring them running. So, just go back where you came from, and leave me alone.” And at this moment, during my counter-threat, I think he spotted my hand shaking, because all he did was smile under that long, dirty beard of his.

  Gross.

  We both knew that it was a bluff, or at least he knew. I wasn't so sure if I’d actually do it yet. I knew I couldn't risk my family’s lives like that again. But at the same time, with the directions we'd been going, they were sure to be far away enough to get a head start if I did go through with my threat. Because whatever happened to me, because of this “man”, or something else, was not going to happen to my mom, my little sister, or my little brother.

  I had a bat. It was a decent weapon. I could try and take him out at the kneecaps instead of—

  “O! We found one that's unlocked! O, come see all this stuff!” Little Viola’s voice couldn't have called out at a worse time. Now, this creeper definitely knew that I wouldn't risk it. He knew that I wasn't alone now. He smiled like he’d just won a prize, but I was not a prize to be won.

  I realized now that my free hand was resting on the door handle. I gave it a tug, because that was what I did when I had the handle of a car door in my hand. I pulled it over and over, and it didn’t matter if it was locked or not.

  This door fell in the “or not” category, as it clicked open toward me.

  I reacted before I thought it through. I registered the man taking multiple s
teps towards me, one hand pulling out zip ties, the other pulling out his gun. I screamed for my mother and siblings to get into their car. Then, I swung my bat forward at the car providing a barrier between me and him instead of the unlocked one.

  For the second time that day, I smashed a car window and set off its alarm. This one was, if possible, even louder than the first one.

  But this time, I didn’t freeze. I threw open the door, lunged inside, and locked it.

  I’d planned to get as low as I could on the floor of the backseat, but before I could do that, I glanced out of the tinted window as roars emerged from the woods and the Crazies came flooding out. One of them lunged at the man, wrapped its naked legs around his middle from behind, and dug its nails in his chest and back. Without a final word, or cry, or scream, the Crazy ripped the man's throat out. And he was dead. Gone from this world without a bang or a whisper.

  Good.

  With all the newfound attention to this area, I decided it was best for me to become as invisible as I could, and lay as still as I possibly could on the floor.

  Only, it's a little hard to do that, when someone's beaten you to it.

  I didn't even realize there was anyone under the blanket. I barely even registered it in the back of my mind as it being there.

  Thinking was totally not my strong suit today.

  So, there I was, lying on top of someone who’s staring at me with rage and confusion.

  I felt something cold and sharp on my throat and realized that I was probably going to die. Let's see: I brought a whole bunch of Crazies to their hiding spot, and then dove on top of them. Yeah. I would kill me too.

  The person blinked several times, and I realized that the person was a he.

  Great. And I woke him up. Yep. I'm definitely dead.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, I threw my hand over his mouth, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't take this as a sign of aggression or anything. We couldn’t risk talking and sorting this out until the Crazies were gone. To add to my point, I shook my head frantically. I bet my eyes resembled a deer, or anything, in headlights.

  That's when the screaming really began. The distant Crazies must’ve sorted out these shrieks of finding food, from ones of false alarm. It was so. Freaking. Loud. And there was only a thin layer of metal and darkened windows separating us and them. The living from the dead. The healthy from the infected.

  And it sucked.

  I panicked, wondering if this guy was infected. If he was, then the damage was already done. We were so close, and breathing the same air…

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at him anymore. I mean, seriously, if he was going to kill me, just get it over with.

  But he didn't. In fact, he removed the cold metal from my skin and placed it gently on the seat, next to my bat, which was beside a rifle that I didn't know the name of.

  Actually, he didn’t place the knife, but was repeatedly tapping the seat with it. I got the message: get the hell off of me.

  But I didn’t dare move. No way was I going to attract any more attention to myself. I felt bad. The weight of me plus my pack was probably crushing him.

  Then, one of them nicked the car on their way to the feast, sending out a loud bang and rocking it. I jumped up onto the seat. He coughed, his eyes wide. To get up there, I may or may not have put all my weight on his stomach.

  I mouthed, I’m sorry.

  He gave a curt nod.

  Two more Crazies propelled themselves into the SUV. I flinched.

  His eyes were dark, like mine, but not the same shade. His light brown hair was covering his tanned forehead in waves, like he’d recently missed a routine haircut, which he probably had. I couldn't see the rest of him, hidden in a hat, jacket, and the blanket.

  Eventually, he considered me not to be a threat, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. Somehow, by some miracle, this guy was able to tune out the constant shrieking and roars of the infected, the blaring alarm, and the complete stranger who was sharing this cramped hiding place with him.

  Miraculous. Just astonishing, really.

  I did notice, however, that before he closed his eyes, he slipped the knife back under his blanket. It was probably still there, in his hand, just in case.

  After another two hours and forty-six minutes— I checked my watch— of listening to the aftermath of my nonsense plan, the battery of the car that I’d smashed in either died, or the Crazies messed with it too much. It didn't matter how it happened, just that it happened, and I was thankful for it.

  The guy below me (I regretted thinking of that. Ew.) jumped awake at the absence of the noise, but quickly fell back asleep when he was greeted with the familiar lullaby of the shrieking infected.

  I feared. Oh boy, did I fear. I feared that I’d be spotted through the windows, even though they were dark. This guy, he was as low as he could be, and hidden with a blanket. He was fine. I, on the other hand, was laying on my stomach on the seat, with nothing to hide me if a Crazy focused its dwindling brain cells to look into the vehicle. So, yeah, I feared.

  Another hour later, and I received a sign from God himself. Literally. The automated bells of a local church started to ring, signaling evening mass. In a massive wave of discolored skin and limbs, the Crazies that were still inspecting the area charged towards those bells, their chorus loud enough to be heard from the heavens.

  This woke the guy, and by no means was he going to be able to drift off any time soon. The screams were ear shattering, even from in here.

  The bells sung their holy song, and the boy decided it was time to make his move. He sat up and moved his legs so that there would be room for both of us, and motioned me down. We awkwardly moved around until I was sitting on the right side, the same side I came in through, and he was on the left. I grabbed for my bat at the same time he grabbed for his gun. Our hands were both rather quick when we saw the other reach for their weapon, but we both paused when we made eye contact. I guess spending over four hours trapped with another person in an SUV during the Apocalypse wasn’t a trust exercise guaranteed to work.

  Good to know.

  The guy bounced his legs and rubbed his calves to get the blood circulating again. I took note and began doing the same. Who knew, maybe I’d have to run soon. Run away.

  We eyed each other warily while we thought that the other wasn't looking. Now that all the stuff was away from his face, I noticed that I couldn't get away with calling him a boy anymore. He was a man, probably a few years older than I was, with hints of facial hair and everything.

  He sighed, a bit dramatically if you asked me, and held out his hand.

  “Clyde.” His voice was deep, with a perfect southern accent.

  Holding out one’s hand is a gesture of friendship, Ophelia. Take it.

  And I did.

  Chapter 10: Much Obliged

  “How funny would it be if I told you my name’s Bonnie?”

  His hand was cold, and mine was probably sweaty. His eyebrows went up and we let go. I touched my palms together, and found out they weren't sweaty. Score!

  “Is it?”

  Ha. Bonnie and Clyde… Kickin’ ass and taking names…

  “No. No it's— well… Just call me O.”

  I had a thing about my name. Not that I hated it, it's just that it was so weird. I mean, how many Ophelia’s do you know? How many have you heard of, outside of literature? How many Ophelia keychains and license plate souvenirs are out there? So, yeah, it’s just an odd name. It was the same way with Luck. Mom and Dad— well, mostly Dad, according to Mom— were once so obsessed with literature that they named one of their kids Puck.

  Not to mention, I would have to go into why my name was Ophelia, and I didn’t feel like doing that.

  He looked a bit disappointed that my name wasn't in fact Bonnie, but didn't say anything. In the absence of chatter, I realized that the shrieking was no longer nearby. It was all in the distance, in the direction that the bells had o
riginated from.

  My family needed me.

  “It's been nice talking to you, Clyde, but I have an apocalypse to survive.” I said pretty, for once, smoothly, and opened the door. But my “smooth points” went into the negatives when I misjudged the distance to the ground from my feet, the weight of my feet, and my overall balance in general, and nearly fell on my tucas getting out of the SUV.

  Great.

  “Wait!” He, too, almost fell on his rear when he scrambled around the side of the car.

  I think both of our legs were still slightly asleep.

  I patiently waited for him to reappear.

  “Wait, that's it?” He finished stuffing the thin blanket into his pack, the rifle slung loosely over his shoulder. Then he shoved his knife back in its sheath at his waist.

  When he got next to me, I started walking, not towards where I’d heard Vi shouting with joy, but where I’d last seen the man.

  They had dragged his body into the cold shadows of the tree line to tear him apart properly. Only, at this time of day, those shadows were touching the edges of the pavement, casting an eerie look. I could almost hear the creepy church organ playing and the people in the audience screaming. Don’t go over there! It’s a trap! I saw the creep’s gun and his bag by the tree line, every piece of his clothing had been ripped to shreds. What was left of his long coat, shiny with new blood, was hanging on a low branch, the thick liquid dripping into a shallow puddle underneath.

  There was blood in most of the grass and I made an effort to avoid the spots where it pooled heavily. I saw none of that jelly stuff. Nothing that looked orange-ish instead of dark red.

  I nudged the gun into the open bag with my boot, picked it up by one of the straps with my bat, and held it away from me, so I didn't get any of the blood on me.

  Clyde was standing tall by the end of the pavement and the beginning of the grass, or the end of the grass and the beginning of the pavement, silently watching me. Actually, everything was pretty much silent. No wind rustling the leaves, and no roars except for those way out in the distance.