by Briana Rain
But no wind meant nowhere for this stench to go, and when it picked up, those roars were going to be brought here quicker than Lucky to school on Donut Day.
“What happened here?” It took him a minute or two to show it, but he seemed concerned that I knew exactly where to go for this stuff, and the fact that there was blood everywhere. Concerned isn't quite the right word for it. On edge. Yeah. That was better. Usually, people didn't go toward the place with enough blood to recreate the worst murder scene on any crime show.
Then, it hit me like a brick. I happened here. I did this. I killed someone. I broke the window, knowing that the Crazies would come running. I did what I did, knowing that this guy, this creep, would die, but I still did it anyways.
Breaking the window at the dealership led to the breaking of this window which led to me being at the right place at the right time, or, wrong place at the wrong time, or any combination of right and wrong I could put together. But I was here. And I’d made that choice. That choice of us over him. Me and my family over him.
And what really made me feel sick was that I could justify it. If I hadn’t gotten rid of him, then he would’ve done whatever he wanted to me. He would’ve definitely overpowered me if I hadn’t outsmarted him first. Then he would’ve moved on to my family…
I thought of that look on his face when he found out that I wasn't alone. That grin.
I still felt sick, but I wasn't going to puke. I knew I, in some sick, twisted way, had done the right thing by me, my little siblings and my mother, by putting that animal down.
I realized that I still hadn’t answered Clyde’s question. Instead of going into everything, I just shook my head grimly and started walking again.
“Hold on, now,” he said. “We need to come up with a plan.”
His accent was thick, and I wondered if I had an accent to him. A northern accent? A city accent?
“A plan? Clyde, what’re you talking about?”
Did he think that we were going to become a team now? Just hours ago, he had a knife to my throat.
“Well, I'm all by myself, and, well, I could do just fine. But, you on the other hand…”
Really?
“I— what? Do I look weak, or something”
That was irritating. What about me would make him say that?
Was it because I'm missing a certain Y chromosome? Oh, please tell me he wasn’t one of those guys.
“What? No! No, I just mean that you look a bit young to be out here by yourself…” It was touching that he would alter his plan to make sure I was safe, but it was more suspicious than anything. I had started to think that trusting anybody was a bad idea, especially after that encounter with that creep.
It was also annoying that he thought I looked like a kid when we were probably, like, almost the same age.
He was so embarrassed about how I reacted to what he had said, that he hadn’t realized where I had led us and that I had checked every car from the SUV to where I thought I heard Viola.
“Clyde…”
How would I put this?
I sighed.
I mean, should I tell him? I didn’t owe him anything, but something told me that he hadn't a civil conversation with anyone for quite a while. Even if I told him to go away, I don’t think he’d be quick to oblige.
“Clyde, I'm not alone. And we have a plan. I don't know how you're spending your apocalypse, but I’ve got places to be and people to see.”
Nailed it!
Now, let's just hope that this doesn't backfire. If it does, then I have a surprise; my mommy, and two semesters of P.E. on my side.
There was a scream in the distance. Human. We both flinched.
The sun was just showing signs of setting, but that didn't do anything to lessen the heat, which was apparent by the thin coat of sweat on Clyde’s forehead and the buckets of it on my back, under the pack. The debris was sticking to the hot pavement instead of blowing away, like it had been earlier.
His silence was starting to give me anxiety. I tightened my one-handed grip on my bat, and prepares my other hand to grab it, just in case.
Finally, he spoke, “Well, so do I. I have a plan, I mean-” Then I saw something familiar.
“Hang on...” I cut him off and let the bloody pack slip off of my bat. I jogged ahead of him, towards Lucky’s red rubber ball, which had long been stopped on its rolling path by the wheel of a dust covered limo.
I didn't hear Clyde follow me, which was probably for the best.
“Lucky...? Lucky? Mom? Guys?” I whispered as loud as I could, which wasn't very loud, considering that I was whispering.
The creak of metal answered me, much louder than I would’ve dared to be, and the trunk of a car opened to reveal my very confused, and very pissed-off family. You can guess which one was angry and which two were confused.
Thank. God.
“Ophelia!” Three voices quietly called out, two out of joy, and one that was definitely peeved.
“What were you thinking?” Mom stalked towards me, completely enraged while the twins stood still against the trunk.
“Mom–” I was afraid that she was going to slap me, even though she had never hit me before out of anger. A light whack on the back of my head when I was being an idiot, yes. But never out of anger.
“What were you thinking? No, let me answer that. You weren't.”
I flinched. If she was mad now, just wait until she spotted Clyde behind me.
“Mom, listen to me–”
She started saying something, cutting me off again.
“Mom, piccolo!” I raised my voice dangerously, but this was important. If we couldn't trust each other now and just assume the worst, then we are never going to make it out here.
She was listening now.
“I was checking the cars, and there was a guy. He had blood on his coat, and a gun, and zip ties, and... Mom, he was a bad guy. He... He...”
Great. Great, I was crying now. You'd think that after several hours, I would've gotten over it and accepted what I'd done, but no. My voice shook, and my breathing was erratic.
“And I couldn't let him get to you guys, and when he heard Vi... Mom his face. He was gonna... Just...”
I wiped the snot away with my sleeve and was thankful that my back was to the others, so that they couldn't see my face.
Even though we were a little over a car length away from the nearest person, I was sure they all could hear me.
“So I made a choice and drew the Crazies over there, and they killed him. He wasn't gonna leave us alone Mom. He was a bad guy.” I composed myself, still sniffling and breathing heavier than I should be.
We had to trust each other. I trusted that she would get into the car they found and hide, and she should've trusted me that I had a good reason for the nonsense I pulled.
She seemed to understand what I meant, which was good because I didn't actually want to talk about why he was bad.
“And that's when I met Clyde.” I said it quickly, almost like I was guilty of something, but mostly because I was afraid of how she would react.
“He was in the car I was hiding in.”
Three pairs of eyes suddenly noticed the guy that had intelligently kept his distance.
“Ma’am.”
I glanced back to see him nod respectfully towards my mother. My vision was quickly obscured when arms wrapped around, and hugged me tight.
“I'm sorry, O. You just scared me.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but there were more pressing matters that needed attention.
Okay. Good. That's all sorted. She's not mad at me. Good.
Mom let go of me, and eyed Clyde warily. She subtly switched the safety of her handgun off. Clyde had smartly laid his rifle and knife on the ground in front of him.
I asked the twins what they were so eager to show me, to which they eagerly responded by listing several junk foods and pulling some out of the same trunk that they’d been hiding in. It was actually a bit concern
ing that whoever had owned that car had decided to stock up on junk food, of all things, when the shit hit the fan. I smiled at their childish joy, finding some of my own when Mom slid me half a pack of gum on the down low. I would treasure it.
“O? I think you might wanna come see this.” Clyde’s southern voice pulled me out of my two second delusion that the world hadn't ended.
I looked over to him and with the quickly setting sun, I noticed that he looked really tan. Like, next-level tan.
I handed Lucky his ball back and started walking towards him. About halfway, I heard Mom tell the twins that they could have one candy bar apiece if they stayed put as she followed me. Clyde had carefully hooked the bloody bag, plopped it onto the flat trunk of the nearest car, and nudged it open.
The three of us gathered around the partially opened bag, and after no one volunteered to empty it, I grabbed Clyde’s knife off the trunk and used it to dump the contents out. There was another gun, a Swiss Army knife, more of those zip tie things, enough jerky to feed a small army unit for several days, and bullets. Like, a ton of bullets. Most were tightly packed in boxes, but the loose ones tinked noisily on the flat, metal trunk before scattering onto the pavement. I winced at the noise, but, how was I supposed to know that that would happen?
Clyde bent down to retrieve the bullets, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom’s hand twitch at the sudden movement. I thought, or at least I hoped, that Clyde didn't see it.
Huh, it's almost as if my mother doesn’t trust the man her daughter spent four hours hiding from the Apocalypse in a car with.
Gee, I wonder why.
“There's a lot of bullets here that don't go to that gun.” Clyde arranged the boxes so that they would catch the stray bullets if they tried to roll off, and poured them in the middle.
Mom nodded.
I noticed that the bag, which was still on the trunk, looked like it still had some weight to it. It was a simple backpack, with the main zipper we’d just opened and a smaller one that led to a smaller pouch in the front. I picked up the knife and hooked the end of it through the zipper, using my bat to weigh down the pack. I imagine Clyde had done a similar thing with his rifle before he put it on the ground.
I could've just sliced it open, I thought of that, having a knife and everything, but I didn't know what was inside, and if a knife would damage it.
After a moment of struggle between the fabric and I, the zipper was finally yanked open.
Jewelry came tumbling out, the metal spilling out onto the metal. Necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. They ranged from the stuff my grandma wore when she was alive to the colorful kids’ stuff that Vi had a ton of.
He was a bad guy.
I didn't want to think about how this creep had acquired this vast range of jewelry but I did think about how my turtle earrings could’ve joined the pile.
It made me sick.
“Let's take the food and the weapons.” I said. “I wanna get out of here.” I slipped off my pack and shoved the gun and bullets inside. Clyde picked up the small Swiss Army knife before I could.
“I was thinkin’ that one of the young’uns could maybe use this.” He handed it not to me, but to Mom.
She took the knife with a nod.
“And the rest of this belongs to O, I believe, since she... Well, it's hers, no question from me. But...” He hesitated, “I was wondering if I could have a piece of this mighty fine jerky or two? I highly doubt that I'll be coming across any homemade batches anytime in the near future...”
This question was not for my mom, but for me. I nodded, and he took a couple pieces. I caught the smell of it and decided that it would probably be best to give him the rest of it later. If he stuck around.
Which I kinda hoped that he would.
“Much obliged, O.”
He looked as happy as a... well, I don't know. Something or someone really, really happy, I guess. He glanced uneasily at the jewelry before taking a step back and munching on the jerky.
“So... do I take this? Or do you want it? Or the twins...?” I asked Mom quietly, gesturing to the weaponry that laid at the top of my bag.
I didn't want anything connecting me to that SOB, and just wanted to leave this place.
She reached down and picked up the gun, like she actually knew what she was doing. Well, who knows, maybe she did. Grimly, she told me it was mine and that I had to decide what to do with it.
Then she turned her attention to the southerner.
“So, where are you heading to, Clyde?”
He paused on his third piece of jerky and grinned. I wondered when he’d last eaten. For me, it was this morning, but I threw it up, so did that count?
“Chicago. I got family up there that I'm fixin’ to look for or die trying.” He chuckled, but didn't put anything behind it. That charming smile of his was no longer charming, but empty, and fading, like the daylight.
Chicago. I could see it on the map in my pack. We were on I-90, going up and past Chicago… I mean, we could just drop him off on our way there... We were only a couple hours away, provided there are no more fiascos, and the roads were somewhat clear, and we found gas...
Yeah, gas for the Jeep would be cool to have on our road trip.
I could just tell that Mom and I were on the same page, because her next words were, “I'll tell you what, Clyde. If you help us find the gas to get there, we’ll help you get to Chicago. Deal?”
“Yes, ma’am!” He enthusiastically agreed, dragging out the “s” in ‘yes’, and stuck out his hand to solidify the once in a lifetime deal before it slipped through his fingers.
“Clyde Sammans.” His last name was “Salmons”, which was kind of funny, if you asked me. Last names that are also nouns were always funny to me.
My mother took the slightly dirty hand and shook it firmly.
“Juliet Astor.”
With that, a bond was formed.
Cool beans.
Chapter 11: Splat
We gathered up our goods from the trunk and headed back to the Jeep, Clyde included. The twins and I piled into the back-seat, while Clyde took my place in the passenger seat. I think it was because Mom wanted to keep an eye— and a gun— on him at all times. She'd watched too many movies where the new guy comes into the too-trusting group and screws them all over.
After we were all settled, the twins immediately fell asleep, with most of their body parts draped over me. Vi held her stuffed rabbit close to her chest as if her life depended on it. Clyde brought out his blanket, but instead of covering up himself, he gently draped it over the twins, looking at me as he did so, smiling kindly. It made me wonder just when that nice smile was going to turn into a sinister one.
There was something about kindness now that I couldn’t trust.
Soon my mother, who’d volunteered to keep watch, fell asleep. I could tell because she’d always snored quietly in her sleep. I wondered if I’d inherited that from her because no one had ever told me if I do or do not snore. Snoring. Such a weird thing. We had a puppy— well, he was technically five years old, but all dogs are puppies in my mind— who got out one day and we never found him. He snored softly too.
Great. Now I'm sad. Or am I nostalgic? Eh, it’s too late for being awake.
I listened, and heard that Clyde wasn't asleep either. His breathing wasn't like it was before, when we were in the car.
“Hey, you awake?” Whispering now felt weird, like I was doing something I wasn't supposed to do, but I still did it, even though I knew the answer.
“Yes ma’am.” The southerner replied, in the complete darkness.
No house lights or street lights. Nothing. If it wasn’t for the comforting sounds of my family’s breathing, I suspected that this level of darkness would’ve totally gotten to me.
“Okay. Just wondering.”
He breathed out a quiet laugh through his nose, and I heard him cross his arms, or, at least I think that's what he did.
Who knows how long had p
assed before I finally spoke again. An hour? Two? I checked my watch, and the little light I jumped to conceal from shining out the window told me about twenty five minutes. Psh.
“Why don't you just sleep already?” I whispered, thankful I didn't wake anyone up, but jealous that they could sleep so soundly.
“Why don't you?” He countered maturely.
“Because I'm keeping watch. Making sure that... just that nothing happens.” What would happen? People, I guess. A group that could find us in this car out of all the others and overpower us. I shuddered at the thought that the creep could’ve been part of a larger group of more creeps.
“Well, I'm just keeping watch too. What's wrong with that?” His voice was deep, so he didn't have to keep his voice as quiet as I had to with my higher one.
“Because it doesn't make sense for both of us to be awake. So just sleep already.”
I knew that he had the envious ability to fall asleep whenever he wished. I, on the other hand, had too many thoughts in my head and too much trouble falling asleep on a regular night.
“As you wish.” He answered after a moment of silent, and about five minutes later, I could tell that he had kept his word, because his breath evened out to the familiar pace that I recognized from hours before.
After Clyde let his mind be taken over by whatever lied in his unconsciousness, I was alone, fighting the sweet embrace of sleep. It was slightly easier when I knew he was awake with me, fueled either by the knowledge of another human looking out for me or by the irritation that he refused to sleep. Even when I was exhausted, fear would keep me awake. Fear of what would happen if I fell asleep. Fear of being attacked. Fear of nightmares.
I asked myself what needed to be done. I need to stay up and keep watch. How can I achieve this? Stay the frick awake, Ophelia.
So I stayed awake. The. Entire. Freaking. Night. Just watching out of this tinted window for any sign of movement or light, straining my ears to pick up on noise that never showed itself.
The task sounded simple enough, but it was plain awful. All I wanted was sleep.
So when the first rays of sun crept over the trees, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get up, and get moving.