A Matter of Days (12 page)

Birds flew up in a mass. Dogs and raccoons dove out of our way, their faces bloody.

“There shouldn’t be—”

“I know.” Rabbit cut me off.

The train station was a mess of broken glass, graffiti tags, and brochures blowing around like confetti.

“What happened?”

Cars in the parking lot had slashed tires and broken windshields. “There may not be gas here.”

I rolled down our windows so we could hear. Nothing but the sounds of angry birds, a door banging in the wind, and Twawki’s low rumble as he scented the air and his hackles rose.

“What do we do?”

“Can you drive around the side of the building? I want to see the train itself.”

“Okay.” Rab nodded and eased the Jeep around the end. The luggage compartments were ripped open and piles of stuff were strewn everywhere underneath the train and between the wheels. It looked like the mess continued on the other side.

“Rabbit, if you see any movement you floor it and get us out of here, okay? We can always come back later.”

He nodded.

“Drive around the front of the train. Let’s see the other side.”

“I don’t like this, Dia.”

“I know.”
Me either
.

The other side of the train was worse.

With an unobstructed view we saw what the animals were eating. Rabbit gagged and so did I.

“Back to the parking lot!” I cried.

We held a few minutes in shocked silence. “I need to go back and look.”

“No, you don’t.” Rabbit shook his head vehemently.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why? They’re dead.”

“I know, but …” I had a suspicion I needed to follow through. “Why don’t you start at the far edge of the parking lot over there? Start checking the empty cars and see if whoever destroyed this place left any gas?”

“What if they didn’t?”

“We’ll figure it out. If you hear the gun you drive back to the train station sign and hide in the woods there, okay? If I’m not there in two moons you go on, okay?”

“Nadia, don’t say that—”

“Rabbit, I have to. We have to have backup plans. Turn on your walkie-talkie.” I handed him one and tucked the other in my pocket. I didn’t know what we’d do if we ran out of batteries, but at least for now this kept us in communication.

He nodded.

I picked my way around the litter. The inside of the train station was plastered with letters, photographs, and signs for loved ones. “We’re taking this evac train.… We’ll meet you in Miami.… We love you and we’ll see you soon.…” They were all the same, goodbye with a little a bit of hope sprinkled on top. “If you see this girl, she is attending University of Nebraska.
Tell her that her parents are heading south.…” These were dated months ago. When the government told everyone still alive to gather for relocation.

I kept my eyes peeled for anything useful in the luggage. But all that was left was clothing. Empty food containers littered the ground around a campfire. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Cigarette butts, drained liquor bottles.

I cut between cars and glanced inside. My nightmares were peaches and cream compared with what I witnessed. But the bodies on the far side of the train were what spooked me.

Six, maybe seven people, lined up. The blood spray and bullet holes along the side of the train told me everything I needed to know. There were survivors here. Up until last week or so there’d been people, including kids, who were living at this train. They’d been executed.

I jerked my head up to study the horizon. The flat land of the prairie flowed out around me. I saw no smoke, no movement, no vehicles. What I did see were a bunch of massive four-wheeler and motorcycle tire tracks heading away from the train. Thankfully, in the opposite direction from us. But were they the only ones?

A chill swept my spine, tightened the grip on my gun, and forced my feet into a sprint back to Rabbit.

“Those people didn’t die of BluStar, did they?”

“No.”

Rabbit nodded. “Nadia, I saw something on the map.”

“Yeah?”

“Five miles west of here was a maximum security prison.”

“Show me.” I stared at the map. “They headed that way.”

“South?”

I shrugged. “Let’s get gas and get out of here.”

“Should we start traveling at night?”

“You think?”

“What about headlights? Won’t those be easier to see?”

“We just need to be careful.”
And find extra ammunition so we can practice shooting a real gun
.

“I filled the tank.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“I haven’t filled the gas cans yet.”

“I don’t care. I want to get out of here.”

Rabbit stared at me for a second and nodded.

Getting used to being in the silent new world, around the dead bodies, the reminders of so much gone—that was easy compared with thinking there were still people in the world who murdered and partied on the graves of their victims. That was an evil I couldn’t shake off. “Let’s head north for a little while before turning east again. It might be colder, but—”

“Sure. We gotta risk going into a town.” Rabbit held the map.

“I know. Twawki won’t make it much longer.”

Rabbit nodded. The antibiotics gave the dog a reprieve, but we couldn’t keep up with the pus and he wasn’t even eating now. It didn’t matter what we offered him.

“We need fresh water for us too.”

“We explore the next town. Whatever comes.”

“Deal.” I drove forward praying that whoever or whatever was next on our journey was a good thing and not a bad one. “There’s smoke ahead on the horizon.”

“Brush fire?”

“I don’t think so.” It wasn’t a line of smoke. Just a plume of black.

“Smells different.” Rabbit lifted his head. His nose was peeling from sunburn. Skin cancer was kinda the last thing on my mind. But I heard Mom’s voice chastising me for not putting sunscreen on both of us.

“Yeah, it does.” Like meat and plastic and something sweetly awful.

We’d gotten used to looking for indications of fires, including smoke plumes, in an otherwise cloudless sky.

“That must be in the town itself.”

“People?” Rabbit’s voice quavered. We’d learned to be afraid of the unknown. Survivors we’d seen so far came in two groups: those gone crazy with the reality and those who’d been broken so far they were starving to death in their shock. I really needed to meet someone who was trying to hold it together. Someone who hadn’t let the circumstances overwhelm them.
Someone like me, like Rabbit. Are we the only ones trying to start over?

“Let’s check it out.” Rabbit thrust his shoulders back, and I saw his collarbones and elbows were bonier than they used to be. I needed to get him to eat more.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Worst-case scenario I’d gun the engine and we’d get the hell away from whoever was burning the bonfire. As we drew closer, the smoke that hung heavy in the air took on the distinct and almost cloying stink of human flesh.

“Keep your eyes open for movement, okay?”

I sucked at being brave. If it had been me alone, I would have stayed in my bedroom until I’d eaten the last of the canned
food, downed the contents of Mom’s pharmaceutical cabinet with Dad’s old vodka, and let the world turn on without me.
Do cockroaches know they’re survivors, or do they, too, think suicide sounds like the better option?

“I don’t see anyone.” Rabbit sat tense next to me, so scared he’d likely pee his pants. I didn’t blame him. I’d pissed myself once or twice in the past few weeks too.

Old houses, some turned into condos. A little white church with a postcard steeple. American flags whipped atop flagpoles at the post office. A brick K–12 school, library, and VFW meeting hall lined streets with names like Oak, Birch, Adams, and Lincoln. Combined, the town looked like a set from a classic Western turned Broadway musical.

I eased forward until we turned onto a neat and tidy main street. In the middle of the town square, next to a bronze statue of a guy on a horse, was a large pile of burning corpses and parts of skeletons. Lots of clothing. Blankets. Some all together. All ages. All stages of decomposition.

I hated being able to judge how long a body had been dead at a glance. I should be checking the clothes and shoes and deciding which were last season. “Somebody’s gathering the dead and burning them.” I put the Jeep in park but left the engine running.

“Someone alive,” Rabbit added as if zombie thoughts still haunted him.

“Hmm.”

“There’s the grocery store. It seems empty from here.”

Smashed glass was swept into piles. Empty garbage cans were stacked against buildings.

“What do we do?”

Twawki was so out of it he didn’t even lift his head, let alone growl, or wag his tail. We were on our own for this one.

I took a breath and waited for a gut feeling to tell me. I’d learned to listen to it. The voice that said
run
when there was nothing to see. The voice that said
sleep now, nothing is going to go bump in the night
. “I think it’s okay. They’re cleaning up the town, right?”

“Bad guys aren’t neat freaks?”

“Maybe?” I asked.

“Look at the spray paint. There are circles and triangles on the doors over there. Black
X
marks.”

“A code? If we start snooping they might think we’re stealing or something. I vote for waiting until we see them.”

“Me too.”

I turned off the engine and tugged the shotgun out of the back, to rest in my arms. I clambered out and climbed up onto the hood of the Jeep.

Rabbit’s door opened and he tumbled out too. He handed me one of the beat-up gray masks we used when driving through fires. It kept some of the burning ash out of my mouth and nose.

In the distance we heard an engine start and head in our direction. A large tractor pulling a flatbed trailer piled high with more bodies drew to a stop as it turned a corner and faced us across the square.

I didn’t take my eyes off the figure in the driver’s seat. A red bandanna covered the driver’s face, and the eyes were covered with shades so dense I couldn’t tell if there were even eyeballs behind them. A bright yellow rain slicker, green plastic work boots, and yellow rain pants contrasted sharply with the leather
work gloves covered in grime and goop. The person’s slicker was shiny and covered in what, I could only guess. My heart raced.
Horror-movie villain, anyone?

Rabbit stepped backward involuntarily. I tightened my grip on the shotgun and slid to my feet.

We heard a mutter and then a shouted, “Shit! I must look like something out of a horror flick.” The gloves were flung off, along with the hat and sunglasses. The man jumped down from the tractor with his hands raised. “Hell, kid, I’m sorry.” He stayed across the square and yelled. “Can I walk over to you without getting shot?”

“Yeah,” Rabbit called out without looking at me. “Unless you put your hands down and it looks like you’re going to shoot us.”

“Really?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the guy.

“Carried away?” Rabbit’s chagrined smile was evident in his voice.

“I’m gonna take off my jacket and stuff, okay?” The guy didn’t wait but started stripping while still far away. When I saw the smiley-face boxers and sweat-drenched Mickey Mouse T-shirt under all the plastic gear it was clear this man wasn’t hiding anything. No weapons. His arms and his neck and even his calves were covered in tattoos. If I’d walked past him at school I would have felt fear, but now the tats didn’t even make me blink. There were other things to be afraid of these days.

I relaxed. Probably visibly slumped; I couldn’t help it. I didn’t put the gun down, but I started breathing again. Rabbit stepped forward, not much, but enough that I knew he no longer thought the bogeyman drove a tractor.

As the layers were peeled off, a lanky, long, and lean boy
had appeared. His hair was dark and slicked back with sweat. His nose and cheekbones were red and peeling with sunburn.

“I’m Zack.” He walked toward us a couple of steps. Close enough I saw he was a foot taller than me and at least a couple of years older. Hard to tell his age.

Rabbit held out his hand to shake, as if we were meeting on a golf course.

“You know how to use that?” Zack gestured to my gun. His eyes were sunken in shadows but seemed friendly.

“Of course,” I said.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be pointing it at your boyfriend?” Zack asked with a smile. I realized I’d laid the barrel in my arms and Rabbit was right at the hurting end.

“Crap.” I jumped away from Rabbit and slapped the gun around. “Thanks.”

“Ew!
Brother
. I’m her brother!” Rabbit shouted, more concerned with the thought of dating me than getting shot accidentally.

I waited for Zack to grin, but he only nodded. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything to make me feel any more idiotic than I already did. “You guys hungry? Thirsty?”

“Thirsty.” Rabbit shuffled forward a little. “I’m Rabbit.”

“It’s been a while, but you look like a boy to me.”

“Nickname. This is my sister, Nadia.”

“Welcome to Zackville, Rabbit and Nadia. Population one, now three. Who’s in the Jeep?” He lifted his chin toward the slobbering mass of quivering dog.

“That’s Twawki. You have any antibiotics? He’s hurt bad,” Rabbit answered.

“Probably. You want Gatorade? Bottled water?”

“Either, thanks. We can trade you,” Rabbit volunteered.

“Trade me?” Zack faltered.

“Well, we know that money doesn’t work anymore and people—”

“Why don’t you drink and then we’ll figure out how you can help around here, okay? I’ve been out here a while now, didn’t know anyone else was left, so you can tell me what you’ve seen and that’ll be good enough.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“Want the tour of the town?” Zack asked me.

As if this wasn’t the most surreal conversation I’d ever had. We were acting like we’d shown up at a party unexpectedly while a pile of what used to be people burned in the background.

I couldn’t move or even nod. Maybe it was adrenaline letdown. But I really hadn’t expected anyone to be nice to us.