by Fitch, E. M.
He was strapped down, his arms pinned to his sides with leather straps, his torso and feet secured to the bed frame. He snarled at her when she drew closer. She could still see the pattern of the Buzz Lightyear pajamas someone had put him in. Next to his bed, on a nightstand; a glass, a plate with food left to disintegrate, a bottle of children's Tylenol all sat covered in dust.
"Who left you here?" she found herself whispering, staring down at the yellow-eyed boy. At her voice, he thrashed on the bed, snarling and snapping his teeth in her direction. His guttural moans were feverish with hunger, desire. And yet pity stirred her. Her eyes cast around the room, landing on a baseball bat. Kaylee's gut clenched. She grit her teeth.
No.
She backed out, moving quickly towards the kitchen. She pulled the drawers out so forcefully that they flung out from the cabinets, landing with a crash on the linoleum floor. A long, metal skewer landed at her feet. She bent over and picked it out of the scattered utensils.
It was quick and easy. He was thrashing and keeling one moment, still and gone the next. She pulled the skewer from his eye socket and let it fall to the dusty carpet at her feet.
For the first time, she was thankful that Jack had shot her mother.
~
The Squatters stayed camped in the impound lot for the next week. Kaylee spent her days in the surrounding area. Most of the other people didn't leave the encampment. A few ventured out in groups, scouting along the roadways for anything useful. There had been a celebration the night someone brought home a case of whiskey and offered to share, everyone cheering.
The fire roared loudly that night, built up to bonfire height. Everyone sat around it, passing a bottle through the circle. When it got to Kaylee, she sipped at it. The liquor curled in her gut and she passed on the next go around. Andrew didn't shy away.
His side was much better. Anna had taken the tubing out of him after three days. She spent every morning and evening listening to his chest, pushing him to hydrate. Kaylee could see how much the mothering was annoying him. He was restless and agitated, wanting to be on the move.
"It'd be safer if we had a base camp," Kaylee had said to him one night. His face was healing, a smattering of purple and yellow painted his skin, like a bizarre stage actor. Anna had drifted off to sit with Rebecca. She had made it during the last escape and had sought them out after that first night. She camped near them, sharing cooking utensils with their group.
Andrew had nodded, his eyes casting about the small space. The thirty or so people seemed less of a group and more of a wandering side show, each with their own agenda and none with a plan. They all came together at night, slept in the relative safety of numbers, but during the day they scavenged. Not collectively, but for their own selves. While Kaylee had been outside the compound she had come across men from the Circle twice, watching her guardedly, waiting for her to move on so they could access their hiding spots.
To their credit, none of them had tried to steal from Kaylee, Anna, or Andrew. One of the men had admired Kaylee's gun. She had thanked him and he moved on. They didn't share what they had, expect for Rebecca, but they didn't try to take what wasn't theirs either.
Though Kaylee was a little worried about her new acquisition. It had taken her all day to get it. She had thought she saw a handlebar poking from beneath the rubbish of a trampled shed and had spent a good part of the day digging out what turned out to be a motorcycle in decent condition. The roof of the shed it had been stored in had collapsed completely on top of it and kept the body sheltered from the weather.
It had kept it hidden as well. Kaylee didn't see anyone else while she had been digging it free of the rotted boards and collapsed siding of the shed, but she hadn't been sure. It was outside the Circle now, laid on its side behind some bushes one street over. It wouldn't do much good getting all of them out of there. But, as Kaylee said, a base group could be useful. Andrew needed to start searching for his father. And, if they could get far enough, Kaylee needed to look for her sister and Jack.
Patricia's voice rang in Kaylee's head each night as she went to sleep.
Back there? There's nothing there.
They had to be wrong. Jack had been on his own before, forced into the woods and living off the land as best he could. He was a survivor, he could do it again.
But he was hurt, unable to run. Just as Emma was.
A thrill of fear coursed through her whenever she thought about it, twisting in her chest. What if they were caught unaware? Overrun? Could the infected have found their way into that attic and cornered them? Climbed over their own broken bodies to break through into that tight space?
And if they survived the initial run of infected, they couldn't have stayed there, where would they have gone?
Even with the motorcycle, it was a risk going after any of them. They could make it back to the Walmart in a night. Back to the town they had stayed in? Probably not. Still, they had to try.
"I promised Anna one more day," Andrew said, taking another slug of whiskey. "Tomorrow night, we go.”
Kaylee nodded, her eyes focused on the leaping flame that warmed the night air in front of her.
~
It took Andrew a couple times to get the motorcycle going. Kaylee noticed he was breathing heavily after his attempts but he gestured at her impatiently. She got on behind him. He had left his leather jacket behind so Kaylee had found him a replacement, a warmer ski jacket. He would need it soon anyway.
"Be back by dawn, please," Anna said. She passed the backpack she was holding over to Kaylee. Andrew nodded. Kaylee had a sudden, flaring desire for a car. She didn't want to leave Anna behind, didn't want to split the group further than they already had. But she had tried every car within walking distance, they had all been stripped for parts.
They had a plan, at least. If Anna had to leave, if the Circle got overrun, or attacked in some way and they needed to leave, Anna wouldn't go with them. She'd break back, circle around, and find a way to get to the Wal-mart. They had a rendezvous point. It was something.
The motorcycle jerked underneath them and then started forward. Kaylee let her hands rest at her hips, gripping the seat. She didn't want to grab Andrew, hurt his healing chest in some way. He took it slow, weaving around the parked cars and debris that littered the road. The encampment fell behind them and there was nothing but dark, open road and the occasional bit of rotting limb that reached forward when the headlights swept over them.
Chapter Nine
Emma's distraction had worked, the road was cleared for several miles. Even when the bodies appeared again, Jack was able to weave through. Emma still didn't understand it, how before there had been almost no infected, and now they were literally overrun.
The bodies were everywhere, but the road stayed mercifully empty. They took turns driving.
"You do know how to drive, don't you?" Jack had asked, yawning as he switched places with her. She screwed up her face.
"What, you mean conceptually?”
He chuckled lowly before resting his head back.
It didn't seem to surprise Jack when they drove up to a fence. It was chain-link in places, cement blocks in other places, stretching out over the road and disappearing into the trees on either side.
"Did we pass a fence getting into this town?" Emma asked, staring up at the tall, imposing structure. Jack shook his head.
"No, but after The Mill we were coming from that marsh. No need to fence a barricade like that one. I figured it had to be something like this," he said, opening his car door and stepping out to get a better look. The overhead light from the car came on and cast a soft glow on the surrounding asphalt. Emma heard the snap of nearby teeth but the light wasn't bright enough to really wake them.
The part of the fence over the road was made of stacked concrete blocks. Emma noted some brick in the design as well. It was scrappy, but looked sturdy. As though to test her thoughts, Jack stepped forward and pushed on it. It didn't budge.
&n
bsp; "So you're thinking someone flooded this fenced-in area with thousands of biters? For what? To attack those men who took Kaylee and the rest?" Emma asked, watching Jack slowly release a breath.
"It had to be deliberate," he said, his voice low and soft, "for there to have been that many. I've seen hordes before, groups of hundreds that could knock through buildings. But thousands like this? It's like they were herded.”
Emma felt sick. Herded. Like cattle. Only they weren't. It seemed a horrible, callous thing to do; to use infected people as weapons, use the disease that had ripped the entire world apart for petty territory disputes.
"Either way," Jack continued. "We're gonna have to ditch the car. We want this wall intact.”
They threw their backpacks over first, then the rolled up sleeping bags they had found. They didn't have much else. Ahead there was a billboard, a rusty ladder leading up to a platform. Jack and Emma walked straight to it without discussion. Dawn was only an hour or so away.
~
The city that had look so close, shimmering in the daylight, was not so close when you had to approach it on foot. But, with the wall behind them and the open forest ahead of them, they were at least safe from the thousands of infected that had descended on them in that small town.
Jack must have been right, Emma thought. It was an intentional attack. Someone drove them in there. Of course, this did not make her feel any better about what had happened to Kaylee and the others. If the horde was directed to attack the kidnappers, then they were probably overrun as well.
Emma didn't mention this. Jack's one rule was that Kaylee and the rest were alive until it could be proven different. Emma kept her mouth shut.
There was an ease to Jack's presence, she could acknowledge that. Over the days they traveled, Emma and Jack moved among the trees like shadows. They hunted in silence, skulking through the forest, treading lightly on the wet and springy dead leaves. The underbrush was sparse now, dry bits that scraped at their legs.
The rifle he found her was light. She found it easy to aim. And the animals, so unused to silent humans, were easy to pick off.
That was her job, the animals. The four legged variety, at least. His was the infected, those brought stumbling and keening at the sounds of the gunshots. Whenever they heard it, the sudden crash and moan, she stopped immediately, shouldered the rifle and brought out her hunting knife.
More often than not, she didn't need it. Jack's machete was quick and sharp. They'd leave the bodies still leaking dark blood unto the leaves and moss, take their kill, and find a quiet hill to skin it on.
"Do you think you're infected?" he asked one night. The sun was set and Emma cleared her throat loudly, surprised as she always was by the ruff husk of her voice after having spent so many hours silent. She shrugged as she answered, wiping the grease of the turkey they roasted from her fingertips.
"I don't feel any different," she said, staring into the fire. The memory of the flame bit at her calf and she shifted positions, drawing her legs underneath her. The city was closer now. During the day, they could make out the cars that clogged the highway, see the reflection of light on the intact window panes of the high rises. "But it's not like I can test it out.”
Jack grunted, tossing a turkey bone unto the flames. It cracked, spitting marrow into the heat. Bubbles erupted along the fissure lines, glistening against the blackened bone.
The woods came alive around them, as they always did after dark. Even now, the last of the tree frogs croaked into the cold air, the cicadas not completely gone. Thankfully the mosquitos had finally all died off. Emma hated the cold, but loved not having to slap at her face every minute or so as one of the annoying bugs whined passed.
But even with the persistent life of the forest, noisily resuming its routine all around them, something was missing, something off. Emma knew Jack believed her sister was out there, searching for them. A pang in her chest reminded her all too well of what she thought. She ached and longed for her sister, for Andrew, and at the same time grieved them silently, replaying her memories of them, so as not to lose them forever. It struck her funny that most of her vivid memories of both her sister and Andrew was them yelling at her. That face they both made, pursed lips, eyebrows drawn, Kaylee looking down her nose and Andrew's eyes widened in disbelief of her stupidity; it changed the pang into a subtle ache and brought a smile to her face. She loved them both, missed them terribly. And felt their absence.
Here with Jack, they may as well have been the last people on the face of the earth. And night's like this one, when the only noises were animal, accentuated by darkness, she felt they might be. She frowned, knowing what poor company she made for the end of the world. She couldn't even be touched.
"I'm sorry you're stuck with me," she said suddenly, breaking the stillness between them. He jerked up from his own thoughts, surprised.
"I'm not. You're a better hunting partner than even Quinton was.”
It was like a small, faded punch to the stomach at Quinton's name and she saw Jack flinch as well. But then he smiled determinedly.
"Not that he wasn't great," Jack added, the words slow and thoughtful, "but you're so tiny, I don't think the animals think of you as a threat. Also, you're damn quiet.”
She lapsed into silence again. The fire popped and Jack rose to add a few of the larger logs they had scrounged up.
"You're sure that animals don't get it?" he asked. Emma was used to their conversations by now, silence punctuated by random questions, she answered without pause.
"I'm sure. Cynthia told me. She injected squirrels and things, no change. She even got some into a raccoon once, let it bite something. Nothing happened other than some really pissed off rodents.”
She didn't ask why he wanted to know, she could see his thoughts as easily as if they were swirling in the faint smoke from the fire rather than beating around inside his brain.
"If we find others, I mean other than Andrew and Kaylee," she clarified, he nodded. "I'm gonna take off, let you settle in without me, I mean.”
She had been expecting argument, anger. Instead he laughed, a soft breath of amusement. She straightened, annoyed. "I'm not joking.”
"I know you're not," he answered softly, keeping his eyes on the fire. “Why?"
"You know why," she bit out. "I'm not safe.”
"You know who won't be safe? Me," he continued, not expecting her to answer, "when I have to tell Kay and Andrew that I just let you wander off without me.”
She grunted, ignoring the pang in her chest that always occurred when he talked about her sister and Andrew like they were still alive. But even if they were, his excuse was weak.
"I like it here," she said, keeping her voice quiet and low. "It's... it's not so easy, being surrounded all the time." Emma cut off, squirming uncomfortably. She rose to her feet, gathered her sleeping bag around her and sat again, engulfed in the silky warmth. She had never expected to feel the loss of human contact so keenly. She had been so young when the infection broke out, thoughts of intimacy had left her grimacing. And as she got older, as the thought of being close enough to someone, touching unrestrained, grew clearer, it still remained unfocussed. Not so much unfocussed, she could admit that to herself in the darkness of the nearly empty woods. Andrew is who she thought about, even then, back before the world fell to madness. But he was off limits, clearly infatuated with her sister, and never looking her way longer than to offer a friendly game of cards. But still, there was the hope of someone, something happening to her.
And then she was bitten.
She was alive; she had that. She could shoot and feed herself, breathe the clean wooded air, enjoy the sunset and the soft music of the forest as night stretched over it. She wasn't ungrateful for those things.
But the thought of returning to live with others, people who didn't know she was infected, who would rub against her, knocked into her playfully, contact she would have to shy away from or feel the plunge of guilt in her stomach if she d
idn't; it was more effort than she thought she could make.
And if they did find Andrew and Kaylee, part of her felt that would be even worse. Wonderful yes, to know they lived. She longed for that, prayed for it nightly. And yet, they would never let her go. Instead she'd live with them, watch Kaylee and Jack grow inevitably closer, push Andrew farther away and possibly, if she had any decency at all, into the arms of a girl who could love him. Her chest clenched with loss at the thought. Better to stay here, blanketed by solitude, enjoying the gifts life still had left for her, not hurting anyone anymore.
"My uncle was a priest," Jack said suddenly into the quiet. Emma started from her own thoughts, squinting over at him. "I used to wonder about that, living celibate. But his life was also amazing. He traveled all over, mostly indigent areas. He wore that collar like a bulletproof vest. There was this one time," Jack's voice creaked with amusement and he laughed as he looked over at her. "He was walking around the docks in who-knows-where and just strolled right up the gangplank to a cruise ship.”
Emma opened her mouth, but Jack waved her off. "No, of course he wasn't a passenger on the cruise. It was docked for the day, letting the actual passengers off to explore the area. So anyway, he sits down at the pool, enjoying the afternoon, when a waiter comes and asks him if he wants a drink and what room to bill it to.
"So, being a priest and not wanting to steal a drink he tells the guy he's there with his boss; which, he pointed out to me is God and so yes, he's always there with him; but he didn't want to charge the drink to a room and could he pay in cash? He was told he could and so he did. He spent the afternoon sipping a coffee and relaxing by the pool. When it was time to depart, he casually strolled off and went about his day.”