“Of course. Aren’t you?” Chas asked. “I feel so useless lying here in bed. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
Vanessa studied her with her bright blue eyes. “Yes, I’m worried about the camp, and my foster mom. I hate sitting here when we should be out there doing something. I’m used to fighting.”
“Fighting?” Chas asked.
“My entire life has been a battle. A fight against the system, the authorities, my biological parents, the foster ones who weren’t right for me, the social workers and endless rules and restrictions.”
“It must’ve have been hard for you.”
“It was, and it was all for nothing.”
“What do you mean?” Chas asked.
“The apocalypse still happened. The dead walk the earth, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My mom is sick, my dad is dead, and the world has gone to hell, and nothing I did could’ve changed that.”
“Maybe, but we can still save the camp,” Chas said.
“I know, but if you force yourself out of bed too soon, you’ll die out there, and so will we trying to protect you. For once, we need to wait, I think. Not rush things too much.”
“But it doesn’t bother you? Doing nothing?” Chas asked.
“Of course it does, but I tell myself to be patient. That things will work out as they should,” Vanessa said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Chas eyed Vanessa with raised eyebrows. “And how’s that working out for you?”
Vanessa hesitated then grinned. “It works…most of the time.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“I drive Emily and Dean nuts, of course.”
Chas laughed. “That’s my girl. For a minute there, I thought you’d gone all yogi on me.”
Vanessa grinned. “Not quite, but don’t let it stress you out too much. Focus on healing first.”
“I’ll try,” Chas said. “I promise.”
“See you later.”
“Later.”
The door closed behind Vanessa, and Chas was left alone with her thoughts. It was an unsettling experience, lying all alone in the small room with its dated decor. In a way, it was comforting, the flowery quilt reminding her of Lala and Grumps’ house.
But it also felt lonely. She hadn’t been truly, properly alone since the apocalypse began. Ever since, every day had been spent surrounded by either her friends, family, or other survivors. Privacy was a luxury, and even showers lasted only a minute or two and was often shared.
She fidgeted, scratching at the quilt with her fingernails. At last, she got out of bed and walked around the limited space until she grew tired. “Don’t stress, she says. Easier said than done.”
She thought of how much Vanessa, rash, insecure, rebellious, Vanessa had changed. Not only had she grown tougher, but she’d also become calmer, surer of herself and her place in the world though she retained her independent streak.
Dean and Emily too. They were stronger, more adult and growing into their new roles. Dean’s childish sense of fun was giving way to the kind of goofball humor that kept everyone relaxed, that cut through the tensions threatening to undo their sanity.
Emily’s tone was gradually shifting from condescending to informative, her sermons growing less severe. Chas could see her taking on the role of doctor or teacher, a kind person who saw the bigger picture but also the value in life. All life.
They’d all changed, Chas realized. For the better, so far. “I can only hope we keep doing that, and that we don’t end up losing it all somewhere along the way like Major Brown and his nephew. We’re not one of the dead, and we should never act it.”
Chapter 12
It took another three days before Chas’ leg had healed enough for her to walk, and even then it was only with the aid of crutches gifted to her by Sandy.
“Go on. Take them, hun. I’ve got another spare set I can use when my knees act up,” Sandy said, her face as calm and benign as ever. “You’re not getting far without them.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Chas said, gingerly testing out the set of crutches with their worn handles. They were comfortable enough and would be a great help. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
“Oh, it was nothing. Your friends repaid me with the fruits of their labor. I’ve got enough firewood to last the winter now, and my vegetable garden is in excellent shape,” Sandy said, patting her dog Henri on the head.
Chas looked out over the land below them, the view from Sandy’s porch second to none. They had a long way to go, and she hoped they could scavenge a working vehicle. At least the weather was good, the sky a clear blue and the heat from the sun comforting rather than blistering. It was a good day for a walk.
About time too, Chas thought. Despite all Vanessa’s talk of patience, it had been a rough few days spent twiddling her thumbs in bed while worry over the camp and Lala consumed her. She looked around at her friends. They looked just as eager as she was, dressed for the outdoors with their backpacks fully loaded with water, food, and other supplies.
Sandy had been generous, providing them with freshly baked bread, homemade apricot jam, and preserved peaches. A veritable feast.
“Ready, guys?” Chas asked as impatience overwhelmed her.
“Ready,” they chorused.
As one, they prepared to leave, saying their goodbyes to Sandy and giving old Henri a last pat on the head. He stared at them with his usual droopy expression, but Chas was certain he was sad to see them go. Though old and a bit cranky, his presence in the house had been a comfort to them all.
As they trooped down the driveway toward the gate, Chas looked back for the last time. Sandy was still waving at them, her expression sad but determined. She was a tough old lady, and Chas hoped she’d be okay on her own.
“I’m going to miss her,” Emily said, her eyes suspiciously bright. “She had a lot of books, and she knew stuff. I liked talking to her.”
“Me too,” Chas said.
“I’ll miss her cooking,” Dean admitted. “She could make a mean stew.
“I bet you won’t miss the ax, though,” Vanessa joked.
He groaned, patting the machete that hung from his side. “Nope. Not at all!”
They’d reached the gates, and after making sure no zombies were around, they climbed over with Dean and Vanessa helping Chas. With their eyes and ears open, they set off down the road.
The crutches were a bother at first, and Chas stumbled a few times over the uneven terrain, but eventually, she found her groove, and their progress was steady. Still, it was tiring, swinging her legs back and forth, and she soon worked up a sweat.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, and the breeze disappeared, she began to wish more and more for a car. Any car. Even one filled with zombies.
Noticing her discomfort, Dean volunteered to carry her bag which was a great help but also made her feel guilty. She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Not when the crutches dug into her armpits until she wanted to scream out loud. Every step she took ended in a tiny grunt of pain.
“Are you okay, Chas? Do you need to take a break?” Emily asked, her brow furrowed with concern.
Chas dearly wanted to say yes but didn’t want to hold the group back. Not when they’d barely gone more than a few miles. Biting her lip, she said, “No, I’m fine. Carry on.”
With reluctance, Emily turned away, and they kept going. An hour passed. Then another. Each one was more excruciating than the last. Finally, Emily called a halt. “That’s it. We’re stopping. You look like you’re about to fall over, Chas.”
“We don’t have to stop just for me,” Chas protested.
“Yes, we do, and it’s not just for you. It’s past noon, and we’re all tired and thirsty, I’m sure,” Emily said, dropping her backpack to the ground. “We can use a break.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chas said in a dry voice, somewhat taken aback by the bossy side of Emily. She was secretly grateful, however, and her legs shook
as she lowered herself to the grass in the shade of a small tree. Dean settled down next to her along with Vanessa and handed over her bag. Rummaging through it, she removed a bottle of water and a sandwich slathered with jam. The food was simple but good, and she relished every bite.
Afterward, she leaned back with her eyes closed and her legs stretched out. The throbbing pain in her leg receded to a manageable level, helped along by a couple of aspirin. Sucking in a deep breath, she sighed as the tension leached out of her muscles and into the ground below her. “Man, I could fall asleep like this in a heartbeat.”
“Me too,” Dean said, one arm looped around Vanessa’s shoulders.
“Yeah, well, you’d better not,” Emily said, her tone sharp. “We’ve got company.”
Immediately, Chas sat bolt upright. “Where?”
“Over there. Top of the hill.”
Chas squinted in that direction, and sure enough, a shuffling figure was making its way down a grassy slope toward them. The thing, Chas didn’t want to think of it as a person, was slow and stumbling. It had probably been badly injured, either before or after death and didn’t represent much of a threat.
“Is that a house behind it?” Vanessa asked. “If it is, there might be a car too.”
“Let’s go check it out,” Chas said but stopped when Emily glared at her.
“You’re staying put. We’ll deal with the problem first,” Emily said. “We can’t have you hopping along with that thing out there, no matter how slow it is.”
Chas had to stop herself from saluting and settled for a nod instead. “Okay, fine. I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll babysit her,” Vanessa said.
Rolling her eyes, Chas settled down again, waiting. She watched as Emily and Dean walked up the hill, their machetes in their hands. The zombie sped up when it got closer, eager for the kill, and its jerky movements reminded Chas of a marionette on a string. “I can’t believe these things have taken over the world.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to swallow that dead people can walk around like that, even look and see…eat. I wonder if they still think. If they’re still in there somewhere,” Vanessa said.
Chas shuddered. “I hope not. That would suck.” She tensed as the distance between her friends and the zombie shrank, worry causing her to stiffen. “Careful.”
“They’ll be fine. It’s an easy—” The rest of the sentence remained unsaid, devolving into a horrified shriek instead as the zombie lost its footing and went tumbling downhill, straight into Emily and Dean. Together the three of them rolled further down in a tangle of limbs and screams.
Before Chas could even think about it, she was up and hobbling along on her crutches. In a blur of speed, Vanessa outpaced her, sprinting uphill with the effortless grace of a gazelle. She reached the ball of humanity first, her foot lashing out like a pro-footballer which sent the zombie falling backward, teeth spraying from its mouth.
Jerking her machete from her belt, Vanessa chopped at the undead monster’s head, her movements furious. Angry shouts burst from her lips with every blow, and she didn’t stop until the zombie’s head was in pieces.
Dean and Emily had untangled themselves and stood breathing hard, their eyes wide and frightened. Chas finally reached them and called out to Vanessa who still paced up and down, her cheeks flushed with angry blood. “Vanessa, calm down. It’s dead.”
Vanessa kicked the zombie corpse in the ribs. “Not dead enough, it isn’t. Attacking my friends like that. My boyfriend.”
Dean blinked, and a slow grin spread across his face. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me, babes.”
Vanessa stared at him with a frown. “Of course I do, stupid. You’re my guy.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” he replied.
“Could you two stop schmoozing for a second?” an exasperated Emily cried out. “We need to check for bite marks, duh. And if you haven’t noticed yet, you’re bleeding, Dean.”
“What?” Vanessa and Dean cried in unison.
“Where?” Chas asked as dread settled into her bones.
“There,” Emily said, pointing at Dean’s forearm.
Chas looked at the limb and blanched. A deep cut ran along the bone, and the flesh gaped open in an obscene display of fat and muscle. Rich, red blood ran down the gash and dripped from his fingers to the ground.
Bile rose in Chas’ throat. “Oh, that’s bad.”
“What happened?” Vanessa whispered, reaching out to Dean.
Emily stepped between the two and held out her hands. “Stay away from him. You’re covered in zombie muck and could infect him. Go fetch our bags. I need to fix that cut right away. Meet us on top of the hill.”
Vanessa nodded, her cheeks pale. She ran down again to collect their things while Emily stripped off her belt and tied it onto Dean’s upper arm as a tourniquet. The flow of blood slowed immediately, and she helped him walk the rest of the way until they reached a flat spot on top of the rise. Chas hobbled along behind them, feeling utterly useless. Thank goodness we’ve got Emily.
When Vanessa arrived with the bags, Emily handed her a bottle each of disinfectant, soap, water, and a washcloth. “You’d better get cleaned up. Let Chas help you while I take care of Dean.”
“Okay.”
Together, Vanessa and Chas cleaned the zombie blood and gunk from her skin, hair, and clothes, spraying it all with disinfectant afterward. The machetes too.
Emily, meanwhile, had rinsed out the gash in Dean’s arm with disinfectant causing him to scream loudly before stitching him up. The black thread looked like ants crawling up his arm, and each stitch tore a hoarse cry from his lips until he was pale and sweaty.
Once she was cleaned up herself, Vanessa steadied him, holding his shoulders firm and murmuring comforting words in his ear. It helped a bit, and Emily was able to finish closing up the wound before disinfecting it once more and wrapping it with a bandage.
With the arm slung across his chest in a sling, Emily set about examining the rest of both him and herself. After a few minutes, she nodded. “I think we’re clean. No bites. That cut on Dean’s arm was likely caused by his own machete during the fall. We should wash up anyway, just to be on the safe side.”
While they got cleaned up, Chas wandered around on top of the hill. A short distance away stood an old farmhouse and next to it was a truck. It was old and rusted, but it had wheels and hope rose in her chest. She glanced at the fallen zombie, noting the faded jeans and boots. “Must be the owner. A farmer, maybe.”
After a minute or two, Emily joined her. “What is it?”
Chas shrugged. “A ride, I hope. We’ll need it now. Dean’s not walking anywhere.”
“Not today, he isn’t,” Emily agreed.
“I’ll go check it out,” Chas said.
“I think from now on we stick together,” Emily said walking alongside Chas as they moved to explore the house and its contents. A weak-looking Dean followed while being supported by Vanessa.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. We should stick together,” Chas said. “We’re stronger that way. Let’s just hope we find what we need up there.”
Emily smiled. “We will. I’m sure of it.”
“How come?” Chas asked.
“Because, after all the bad luck we’ve had, we’re overdue for some of the good stuff,” Emily declared, raising her chin as if daring the world to tell her she was wrong.
With a shake of her head, Chas walked along, buoyed by Emily’s confidence. “You’re not wrong, Em. We are due for some of the good stuff. Let’s go fetch it.”
“Let’s,” Emily agreed, forging ahead with a determined stride.
Chapter 13
Chas circled the truck on her crutches. It was an old model, rusted in spots and faded blue in color. She was glad to notice it was clean on the inside, however. The leather seats gleamed from recent oiling, and the interior was immaculate. To her, it meant the owner had looked after it. “Should be in running condition. We need to fin
d the keys.”
Emily nodded. “It’s either in his pockets,” she said, pointing at the recently deceased owner’s corpse, “or it’s in the house.”
Chas grimaced. “You check his pockets. I’ll check the house.”
Emily flashed her a look. “I’ll check him, but you’re not going in there alone.”
“Why not? He’s dead,” Chas protested.
“Yeah, and who turned him?” Emily asked with cold logic.
The hair on the back of Chas’ neck rose as she turned toward the house. Her eyes traveled up the wooden porch toward the screen door. It was slightly ajar and covered on the inside with a white lace curtain. Similar curtains adorned the windows on either side, and her mouth dried up at the thought of what they might be hiding. “Um, okay, Emily. Check him first. I’d rather not go in there if I don’t have to.”
“Roger that,” Emily said, jogging back to the old farmer’s corpse. Vanessa and Dean shuffled closer to Chas and the truck, using it as support.
Chas studied Dean. He looked pale and sweaty. Likely from the pain. He needed time to rest and for the painkillers to kick in. The last thing he needed now was a zombie fight. Speaking of which…her eyes swiveled back to the porch, and she almost jumped out of her skin.
A corner of the curtains twitched. Chas stared at it, wondering if it was her imagination. The material twitched again before being swept aside by a little hand. A pair of dark brown eyes stared at her through the window.
Chas gasped.
It was a little boy, his hair cut short above the navy collar of his shirt, and he was no longer human. His lips peeled back, and he growled at her through the glass, his stubby fingers scrabbling at the barrier between them.
“Emily! You’d better hurry up,” Chas cried, fumbling for the hatchet at her waist.
The boy coughed up a spatter of black blood, his hands smearing the putrid liquid across the window. Chas backed away on trembling legs, her horrified gaze fixed to the boy’s face. This was a nightmare come true. Coming face to face with a zombie child.
Vanessa took one look at the boy before hurrying Dean around the truck to the other side. She propped him up against the door before drawing her machete and joining Chas. Together, they stared at the child trying to claw its way to them.
Gen X: The Undead Adventures of Chas (A Young Adult Zombie Apocalypse Thriller Book 3) Page 7