We haven't been able to reach Jenna or Scott, either. Every time I call Jenna's number, it goes to voicemail. I can only hope she's safe...and alive. I haven't seen any footage of the coastal areas, so I'm holding out hope that maybe they weren't hit as hard as interior cities.
Chloe, on the other hand, is convinced that Scott is dead. She insists he would have tried to come to the house to check on us if he was still alive. I have my doubts. I've always liked Scott...he and I get along great...but I don't believe he loves my sister as much as she loves him. Otherwise, he would have married her long before the world ended. Plus, there's the longstanding rumor he's been sleeping with Molly Latham on the nights Chloe isn’t around. No, I believe Scott is barricaded in his huge underground cellar...looking out for number one, like always. Maybe Molly is in the cellar with him.
I glance at Chloe, suddenly paranoid she can read my thoughts, but she's still sitting on the couch, cradling a dead cellphone in her hands, lost in thought. She's not strong. Not in the ways she needs to be, so it's my responsibility to keep her safe. She's the only family I have left. I can't risk losing her, too.
Not to the Revs.
Not if I can help it.
I peek through the living room blinds. More dead bodies pepper driveways and line the street. I'm sure by this time tomorrow, there will be even more. Those who aren't dead are Revs....shuffling along the road, aimlessly searching for their next victim. Chloe stands, stretching a kink out of her back, then sits back down on the couch.
"Are they still out there?" she asks.
She doesn't have to specify who they are.
"Yep. Just milling around, like usual."
She doesn't respond. I turn to check on her, but her eyes are closed. Her stomach growls loudly. She's trying to ignore the hunger crawling through her belly; a slumbering beast guaranteed to wake soon. The subtle threat of starvation worries me almost as much as the obvious threat outside. Especially for my sister. Chloe has always been thin, maybe a 115 pounds at her heaviest. She can't afford to go without food for as long as I can.
And our food supply is dangerously low.
I look back through the blinds at the lumbering figures moving in and out of the early-evening shadows. The Revs are more active at night. If we leave...no, when we leave...we'll have to do it during the day.
* * *
Chloe
Daniel and I hadn't planned on being trapped in the house for four days. We thought we had time to stop by the local market after our lunch at Hannah’s Cafe on Saturday. We thought we had time for a lot of things.
We thought wrong.
Now, we're paying the price. Daniel and I have been rationing the little bit of food left in the pantry, but it's going fast. I try to ignore the hunger pangs that hurt during the day and keep me awake each night, but it's nearly impossible to forget that I'm hungry. Especially when there's nothing to do all day but sit and wait for a Rev to figure out there's live bait waiting inside this house.
I hear another neighbor scream as they try, unsuccessfully, to leave their home under the cloak of night. I risked looking through the blinds earlier today, and quickly wished I hadn't. Our neighborhood isn’t a haven for the living anymore...it’s been converted to a graveyard. The sound of people being maimed in their front yards with increasing regularity is a gruesome melody of terror and despair, and my own guilt is the unwilling spectator. I feel like an accomplice to their murders. I want to help them...I honestly do...but each time I gather enough courage to walk toward the front door, Daniel catches my arm and quietly shakes his head.
I don't argue. He's only trying to keep me alive.
Three hours ago I watched Susan Davenport from 209 Maple Drive suffer a horrible death. I did nothing. Afterward, I turned to Daniel. "Do you think God will punish us for not helping them?" I asked.
"God?" He asked, and shook his head. "No. I think God has more on His mind right now than us. If he even exists," he added quietly.
"Daniel!" I said, horrified at his admission.
He just shrugged. "What? I mean, think about it...we're watching dead people come back to life and kill other people. And it just keeps repeating itself, over and over again. How do you see that and still believe there's a higher power somewhere out there, just watching it all happen?"
I was at a loss for words. He had a point. None of what I had seen made any sense, but it still seemed wrong to turn away from the little bit of faith I had. Finally, I said, "I don't know, Daniel. But I do know that now is the worst possible time to stop believing in God."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because we need Him more now than we ever have."
But now, as I listen to another set of screams cut short, followed by the low, guttural howl I've come to recognize as Rev-speak, I wonder if Daniel had a point.
Chapter Nine
Daniel
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Chloe runs a trembling hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Daniel. We can’t just take their things. That’s stealing.”
“It’s not like they need them anymore.”
She stands up and paces around the living room. “It doesn’t feel right to go through their belongings.”
“Chloe, think logically for a minute and ignore your feelings,” I say. She turns to look at me, but doesn’t speak. “Our neighbors are dead. Dead, okay? They couldn’t care less if you or I go through their cars and homes looking for food.”
“I don’t know,” she says. She sways slightly, exhausted and hungry, yet still arguing with me about looting our neighbors' houses.
I groan, frustrated. “How would they even know, Chloe? They’re dead!”
Tears fill her eyes.
I pull her into a hug. “Look, I know it feels wrong,” I whisper into her hair. “And under normal circumstances we wouldn’t do something like this...but Chloe, this isn’t some normal natural disaster, where help is on the horizon,” I say, squeezing her tighter. “This is survival, Chloe. If you don’t want to starve to death, you’ve got to get past not wanting to go through dead people’s things.”
Her body trembles, and even though she's not making a sound, I know she’s crying. I rub her back. “I’m sorry, Chloe. But we have to do this. Especially if we want to stay close to the house.”
Finally, she pulls away from my embrace and wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Okay,” she says, and sniffles. “We’ll go house to house, car to car. I don’t want to, but I understand why we have to.”
“Thank you, Chloe.”
I walk to the kitchen and grab a couple of old grocery bags. They’re the cheap plastic kind, with the name Big-MART emblazoned across the front. I used to believe that company would last forever. I kept waiting for it to put all the other grocery stores out of business; I figured it would happen in my lifetime. We never got one in Everly, but once, Chloe and I drove the 30 minutes to the nearest Big-MART. It was amazing. We saved the plastic bags to reuse in our trash cans at home.
Now they’ll be used to collect supplies left behind by dead neighbors.
I hand a couple of the bags to Chloe.
“How are we going to do this?” she asks nervously.
“We’ll cross the street to the Hamrick and Beckett houses, get what we can, then head back.”
“Only two places?”
“I don’t want to risk being outside any longer than we have to." I shrug. "It’s not like it’s going anywhere.”
She looks down at the bags in her hands, then back at me. “What if other survivors come through and take what we don’t get?”
“It’s a chance we have to take. I’m not risking a lengthy trip...especially our first time out.”
She takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
* * *
Chloe
We step out onto our small front porch, and wait. One second, two...ten. It doesn’t seem like any Revs are out. I glance
at Daniel. He nods, as if saying, now is as good a time as any. I look at the bloated bodies of our neighbors littering driveways and front yards, and wonder how I'm going to be able to stomach walking past them. Swarms of flies dance around each of them, celebrating the unexpected feast. I put a hand over my mouth and nose.
“Try not to think about it,” Daniel advises.
My eyes water. Not from sadness, but nausea. The stench lingering over the neighborhood threatens to make me physically ill.
“It’s a shame this had to happen in May,” he says. “The warm weather sure doesn’t help the smell.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, I guess there’s never a perfect time for the world to end.”
He tries to laugh, but it sounds strangled. I know he’s trying to distract me from the horror of our current situation, but I wish he would stop talking. It only makes me think about it more. We begin walking slowly through our front yard, toward the houses across the street. As we approach the Beckett’s house, I whisper, “Which one first...car or house?”
Daniel points to the house. “I want you in there. I’ll take the car.”
“We’re not staying together?”
He shakes his head. “We need to get back to the house as quickly as possible.”
I nod and rush to the porch, taking the brick steps two at a time until I’m standing at the front door. I reach for the knob and turn it. The door opens without protest, and a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding escapes my lips. I didn’t expect it to be unlocked. The Beckett's must have left it unlocked while they made trips between the house and car. I push the door open and enter the house. It still smells like whatever air freshener Gladys used...something with apple in it. I pause just inside the living room, listening for any sounds that shouldn’t be in an empty house. Hearing none, I walk to the kitchen and start looking for food. Luckily the Beckett's hadn’t fully emptied the pantry or refrigerator. I collect a half-gallon of milk, several boxes of cereal and breakfast bars, and some lunch meat. There's no bread, but when you’re hungry, things like breadless sandwiches don’t bother you.
Once done, I walk back to the front door and peek outside. Daniel is finishing up at the car. When he sees me, I smile and hold up the bags. He motions for me to come toward him. I forget to catch the screen door as it slams behind me. The bang of the door against the metal frame seems as loud as a gunshot in the quiet afternoon. I freeze. Daniel quickly looks around to see if the noise attracted unwanted attention. My heart thunders in my chest.
How could I be so dumb?
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Daniel hisses as I run towards him.
“I'm sorry! I didn’t expect it to slam like that!”
He looks at the surrounding houses. “Luckily, I don’t think any Revs were close enough to hear it. Come on, let’s get back to the house.”
“What about the Hamrick's house?”
“Forget it. We need to get back inside in case a Rev heard the noise. We don’t want to get stranded out here.”
Later, we sit in our living room, eating a bowl of cereal. It almost feels normal, like we didn’t have to steal the Honey-O’s and milk from a dead neighbor’s house.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Daniel says in between bites. “I shouldn’t have been angry with you. I know it was an accident.”
I look at him and smile. “I’ll be more careful next time. Promise.”
“You have to be, Chloe. This isn’t a game. One mistake, and we’re both dead.”
“I know, I know. You’re right.”
He takes another bite of his cereal. “If all the houses have as much as the Beckett house we might be able to make it here for a while before we have to leave the neighborhood.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. The thought of having to leave our neighborhood to scavenge food and supplies is scarier than I’d like to admit. I find myself wishing, not for the first time, that I’d suddenly wake up to find this whole thing was just some terrible nightmare. I take another bite of cold cereal. The burst of energy coursing through my body as it absorbs the sugar and protein of the cereal feels too real to be a dream; like it or not, this is my life now.
And it’s mine to keep or lose.
Chapter Ten
Daniel
We’ve survived three and a half weeks living off the items our neighbors left behind. Unfortunately, not all houses were as plentiful as the Beckett house; some were completely cleared out, while others were only half-stocked...but it was enough. For a while, anyway. Now I’m standing in front of the last house in our neighborhood that we haven’t already plundered.
I left Chloe at the house. I didn’t feel comfortable bringing her this far...especially since the Revs have become more active in this area. Last Thursday, I counted 57 Revs walking up and down our street, searching for something to alleviate the hunger I can only assume never eases. Yesterday, I counted at least 100. I quickly scan my surroundings to make sure I’m still alone before I mount the steps of the cement porch.
I never met the owners of this house. I know a man and woman lived here, but I’m not sure if they were married or if they had kids. I never saw any children, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t exist.
I try the front door; it’s locked. I lift the crowbar I brought along and wedge it into the door jam. A minute later the door swings open and I step inside. I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and cover my nose to block the smell of rotten garbage, then head to the kitchen and start opening drawers and cabinets. Nothing. I open the refrigerator next, and rummage through items that expired weeks ago.
The sudden smell of decay, followed by a garbled mewling sound, causes my heart to skip a beat. I look over the top of the refrigerator door, slowly, knowing what I’ll find, yet hopeful I might be wrong. I’m not. The Rev is standing on the other side of the refrigerator door, swaying back and forth. Its milky eyes are level with mine, and its mouth opens and shuts in that automatic, disconcerting way that all Revs’ mouths move. My own mouth goes dry. I back away from the refrigerator door in an attempt to distance myself from the Rev. Although he’s been dead for several days...maybe weeks...I still recognize the man who lived in this house before the world toppled over on its side. His dark brown hair, once thick, is missing in large patches, and his scrubs are torn and filthy, but I’m certain it’s him. I used to see him going in the house after work, wearing the same scrubs. I always wondered if he was a nurse or a surgeon, or maybe a PA. Now, I’m standing in front of him in what used to be his kitchen, pilfering through what used to be his food. I glance at the badge attached to the left breast of his scrubs...Dr. Hansel, Obstetrics.
Suddenly, he lunges for me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt in his rotten hands. I jump backward, turning as I do, to shed the shirt. Thankfully I chose to wear a button-up shirt over my t-shirt today. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to free myself so easily. I fight to keep my balance. The last thing I want to do is end up on my back with a Rev standing over me.
I might as well sign my death certificate now, if it comes to that.
Darting past the Rev, I barrel toward the front door, running as fast as I can without tripping in the process. The distance seems so much farther than it did when I entered the house, but finally I reach it and burst out into the bright afternoon sun. I’m temporarily blinded, but I can still hear, and it doesn’t take long to realize I’m not just fleeing one Rev. When my eyes adjust, I notice four others approaching from my left, and another two from the right. Not to mention the one coming out of the house behind me.
I rush straight ahead into the street, ducking between parked cars as I make my way toward the house. More Revs spill into the street. My heart is racing. There shouldn’t be this many out during the day, but here they are, chasing me through the neighborhood like we’re playing some odd game of doomsday tag. I don’t know what to do. If I go back to the house, it’ll lead them straight to Chloe. I don’t know if our door is strong enough to stop a herd o
f them. But where else can I go? If I’m gone too long, Chloe might get worried and decide to come looking for me. Then she’ll be face to face with the nightmare chasing me now.
I hang a right and run up the side yard of a house two lots down from ours. I don’t see any new Revs, and I’ve managed to put some distance between myself and the Revs chasing me, so I keep running, praying I don’t slow down until I get to our backyard. My legs feel like jello. I push the fatigue down as far as I can...just a little farther. The back door of our house is in view; I glance behind me at the empty yard...still no sign of the Revs.
I run to the back door and knock frantically until Chloe opens it.
“What the heck, Daniel?” she asks.
“Shhh!” I say, shutting the door as quietly as I can behind me.
Her eyes widen. “What is it?” she whispers.
I hold a finger to my lips, then point to the window in the door. The herd of Revs, absent moments earlier, begin filling the adjoining back yard, searching for the meal they let get away. They don’t seem bothered, though. They know it won’t be long until some other idiot forgets to check a house before pilfering its contents.
They know they’ll eat again soon enough.
Chapter Eleven
Chloe
I’m standing in front of the pantry, taking inventory of our food supply. There’s not much left on the shelves; a few cans of beans, a jar of spaghetti sauce, one box of noodles, and a nearly empty bag of cereal. We’ve managed to stockpile a healthy supply of paper goods, soap, toothpaste and other personal hygiene items taken from our neighbors’ houses, but we can’t eat those, so we’re just as screwed as we ever were.
There aren’t any houses left in our neighborhood to plunder.
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