Amongst the Dead (20 page)

“Seven so far,” a woman scientist answered. “Some of the parents are worried to say the least.”

“But it works,” the scientist said. “I’ll speak to them.”

There were seven other children? Riley glanced around the room again, but she was surrounded by people, making it impossible to view the other tables. A loud crash erupted from somewhere in the room. Shrieks rang out. People were scared, or worse, hurting.
 

“How’d they get loose?” one of the scientists hollered.
 

“Grab the children,” the scientist that Riley liked yelled. “Get them to safety, they are our only hope.” She watched as some of the scientists took off running. A horde of undead had entered the room and were attacking people, ripping flesh and devouring it.
 

Riley felt the air rush out of her lungs as she was scooped up from the table. The scientist that she liked held her close to his chest and was running. He ran to an exit door, pushing on the bar and going through.
 

Riley blinked and everything changed.
 

She was outside, the rain pelting her skin. “Take her,” the scientist that she liked said, holding her out like an offering. Looking at the man, she saw that he had been injured and was bleeding from his neck. She wanted to cry as fear struck her heart.
 

The next thing Riley knew, she was handed to another man, a soldier. He was dressed in camouflage and had a gun strapped to his back. The rain was pouring hard and she had a difficult time seeing. The man held her close to his chest, telling her it would be okay. She felt protected and safe, but why? Looking up, she was given the answer as she stared into the familiar eyes of her father.
 

Riley awoke, breathing fast and gasping for air. The bed sheets clung to her moist skin. She threw them off as if they were toxic. It was still night, the darkness outside attesting to the early time. The room was gloomy, but with the moon’s glow she was able to make out shapes. Reaching for the glass of water on her nightstand, she gulped its entire contents. Her eyes darted to the door as she heard the knob squeak.
 

“Riley,” Joanne said, sounding worried. “You okay?”
 

“Bad dream,” she answered, putting the empty glass back.
 

“You okay now?” Joanne said.
 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She forced a smile, hoping to reassure Joanne that she was indeed fine.
 

“All right,” she said. “I’m going back to bed.” She left, leaving the door slightly ajar.
 

Riley lay down, hoping to forget about the nightmare, but it kept replaying in her mind as if on repeat. After a while, she forced herself to imagine sitting by the river with her fishing pole, listening to the sound of rushing water, and eventually fell asleep.
 

The next morning at breakfast, Joanne asked Riley about her dream. Eric hadn’t yet come to the table.
 

“Dreams are the mind’s way of releasing stress or things that bother us,” Joanne said.
 

“It felt so real, as if it was a memory.”
 

Eric came down the stairs and took a seat at the table. “Oh boy,” he said, sarcastically. “Eggs again.”
 

“Be grateful we were able to find a few of the chickens or you might be eating bugs,” Joanne said, passing the plate of scrambled eggs.
 

“Did you have a nightmare, Riley?” Eric asked.
 

“How’d you know?”
 

“Heard you screaming in your sleep.”

“Sorry about that,” she said, pushing her plate away.
 

“It’s okay,” Eric told her. “I have them too. Mostly about… Well, you know.”
 

Riley did know. She’d heard their cries in the dark too but never said anything. Some things she felt were private and better left up to the individual to decide when the time was right to deal with them.
 

They’d all had nightmares of their time in the city. Riley had heard Joanne’s sobs on many nights after their escape. The woman put up a good front, but Riley knew it was only to shield herself from Eric. Joanne was the mother, the rock, the one who was supposed to take care of the others. Riley had wanted to talk to Joanne about it, had tried, but the woman had said all she was going to say and would speak of it no more.
 

Eric had been distant for a while after settling in back home. He rarely talked about his nightmares, but Joanne said it was good for the soul to talk about them. He eventually came around and started talking. Eric hadn’t had time to reflect with anyone but himself about the death of his father. He’d had to keep it all in until a week ago when he let it all out in one big crying session with Joanne. Riley had been in the next room listening. Since then, Eric’s mood had improved and he was much more comfortable talking about it and his time with the gang.
 

The room had gone silent. Feeling a need to change the atmosphere, Riley spoke.
 

“My dream wasn’t about the compound,” she said.
 

“Then what?” Eric asked.
 

Riley went over her dream again. Joanne seemed to listen more intently this time, unnerving Riley a bit.
 

“Wow,” Eric said when she was finished.
 

“Just remember,” Joanne said. “They’re only dreams and can’t really hurt us. And sometimes the mind does things we don’t understand, makes things up even and then, like a riddle, we have to figure out what it all means.”
 

After cleaning up the table, Riley went to sit outside on the front porch. She would have been okay if it had only been the one dream, but she’d had two about the same place and the same people. It wasn’t the first strange dream she had, but it was the first time she had a repeat that felt more like a memory than a dream. She wanted to forget about it, chalk it up to stress like Joanne had suggested, but when the dream came again the next night, she knew something was up.
 

Riley had wanted to keep a journal before the gang showed up, but never had the chance to start one. She asked Joanne if she had any unused notebooks or paper and she did, handing Riley a worn, but unused composition notebook.
 

That night in bed, she began writing in her journal, starting with the strange dreams.

The next day Riley woke early, packed up her fishing gear and headed to her favorite place by the river. She found her spot on an outcropping of rock where the river pooled into a large pond-like area before beginning its rush away again. Tossing the line into the water, she left the pole lying next to her, wanting to simply lie down on the cool stone and relax.
 

She hadn’t gone fishing so much for the fish, but more to get away from everything and be alone with her thoughts. The dream-memories had unnerved her to say the least and she needed to clear her mind. Closing her eyes, she listened to the white noise of the river.
 

Even with nature all around and the rushing sounds of the cold water, she still found it difficult forgetting about her dreams.
 

She’d been through so much, having been bitten by a zombie and not becoming one, combined with the Hag’s words floating around in her head and the dreams of the lab and her father, and the tattoo. Riley felt the need to scream. So she did.
 

She belted out scream after scream, the river swallowing up her calls like a hungry beast. That didn’t seem to help either. Finally she realized that with all that had gone on in her life, she would be able to deal with all of it except one thing—not becoming a zombie. It was funny when she thought about it. If she had died and reanimated, then all of these questions wouldn’t have mattered. It would’ve meant she was a normal person, and not special like the Hag said she was. Riley, of course, was grateful to be alive and be with her family, but along with living came the need to know. Coming to the river hadn’t done much to clear her head, but an answer did finally present itself. Joanne wouldn’t approve, not in the least. And in fact might tie her up to stop her, but she needed to do it. If not for herself, then for the world. Riley picked up her fishing gear and headed home after quickly snagging two fish.
 

She passed Joanne who was busy working in the garden. “Out early today, huh?” she asked.
 

“Yeah,” Riley said, swinging her tackle bucket. “Needed to get away for a bit, have some alone time.”
 

“I hear that.”
 

“I’ll leave the fish on the deck for you?”
 

“Sure,” Joanne said, covering up the planted seeds with dirt. “I’ll clean them in a bit.”
 

Riley continued on her way into the house.
 

“Catch anything?” Eric asked as she entered the kitchen. She had thought he might be upset with her for going fishing without him as they usually went together, but he seemed all right.
 

“Just two,” she answered and went to the deck to lay the fish out.
 

She sat in her room pondering the best way to go about her business. What did she owe Joanne? Eric? Herself? If she told them her plans they’d never let her go. They’d most likely bind her to a chair until she came to her senses. She hated to think about it, but she would need to lie.
 

When it came right down to it Joanne was not Riley’s mother. The woman had no control over what Riley did. Or did she? Did living under the same roof constitute obeying Joanne’s wishes? What exactly were the rules of this relationship?
 

Chores and duties were something Riley felt obligated to perform. They were the physical components to being part of the family unit. But what about on a spiritual level?
 

Riley truly loved them as if she’d known them her whole life, yet she still had obligations to herself. Joanne had become a mother to her, and Eric a brother, but she still saw them as outsiders in a way. She supposed it was only normal and yet she would do anything for them; die trying to protect them.
 

And that was why she would have to lie.
 

It was decided then. She would leave a note and depart unannounced in the early morning hours when they were asleep. She hoped they would understand, but knew they wouldn’t. With any luck, she’d return quickly and all would be well. Better even. The decision to seek out a zombie and purposely get bitten had to be the craziest idea on the planet, but it was something she had to do.
 

Chapter Sixteen

Seeing It Through

It was pouring outside when Riley finally decided to leave the house. She wasn’t looking forward to the weather, but the booming thunder and harsh rain pelting off the roof—creating quite a racket—would aid in her departure.
 

She packed her backpack with some essentials after writing a note to Joanne and Eric, leaving it on the kitchen table. She took a flashlight, bandages, extra ammo, and flint.
 

At the front door, she paused, turning around and looking back at the hushed house. Her stomach gurgled with anxiety, the feeling of guilt weighing inside her. She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. She knew that what she was doing was incredibly risky, stupid even. After all she and the others had been through, they’d managed to find a degree of peace. She was going to ruin that. Fill them with worry. Possibly grief if she never returned, sending their world into upheaval again.
 

With her rifle slung over her shoulder and a rain parka covering her, Riley opened the front door and walked out into the chilly, rain-filled night.
 

She walked down the driveway, leaving the flashlight off for the time being. It was almost pitch dark, the sky overhead all but blotted out of existence as if a veil had been lowered.
 

It took some time and the occasional poke from a branch, like a small deterrent not to go on, but she made it to the open road. Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom and she was able to make out the vague shapes of trees, bushes and the road.
 

The rain was coming down with a fury as if nature was doing everything it could to prevent her from leaving. Regardless of the onslaught, Riley remained mostly dry under the parka.
 

Along the open road, she was able to move quicker. Her ears were filled with the constant rush of water, reminding her of the river. It was going to be overflowing after the rains, sending a plethora of fish to her favorite fishing hole where the water pooled. The only reprieve she received from the constant white noise of rain pelting the earth was from the boom of thunder. The occasional lightning flash filled the sky, illuminating the area around her and ruining her night vision.
 

Not too far down the road, her feet were already cold and wet. The boots were not as waterproof as she’d thought, her socks nothing more than sponges. She wondered if she should’ve taken the truck. But no, that was exactly what she would’ve been doing—taking. She wasn’t a thief and if she was killed and couldn’t return, she’d be leaving Joanne and Eric without a vehicle. She was on her own just like the decision had been hers alone.