Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (5 page)

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Clay was filled with satisfaction when they came upon a group of three small islands in the middle of the wide river. Each were large enough to make camp on, however the smallest would be his focus. The belief being that if any infected intended to cross the river, they would likely use the large centre island to leapfrog their way. The small island slightly upstream from it's larger counterpart looked even more promising, as anything trying to get to it would have to take the current into account if they were to successfully reach it. Clay wasn't even sure if the infected possessed the problem solving skills required to reach the islands, but it couldn't hurt to be extra cautious. Melanie stood beside Clay, wondering just how he exactly planned on getting them across the river. All she wanted to do was sleep, which was a prospect that felt attainable to her even while standing. Clay had to make his decision fast, as he thought he could see the horizon starting to brighten before them.
 

"We have to wade it. The water shouldn't be deeper then our chests..." he said to Melanie.

"Clay, I know it's summer, but I'm tired and it's too cool to get soaking wet..." Melanie protested.

Clay knew that Melanie was correct. Regardless of the warm summer air, the two of them were exhausted. Should they attempt to cross the stream as they were now, sleep would be near impossible and being sopping wet would only serve to hamper their attempt to construct a proper shelter.

"You're not going to like this..." Clay finally answered.

Melanie could tell by the tone of his voice alone, that he was proper in asserting that she would be unhappy with what he was about to suggest.
 

"What?" she asked.

“Well... You’re right. We can't expect to get soaked and then work on concealing our camp. Or get any rest when the sun comes up, with wet clothes. And a fire is completely out of the question..." Clay answered hesitantly.

"So... What's the big plan then? I've got nothing left Clay. I need to lay down..." she asked, having reached a point beyond exhaustion.

"Well... We're going to empty the shotgun and put the shells into the dry bag. Then we're going to strip down and put our clothes in along with the shells... After we cross the river, we'll use the towel that I have in my pack to dry off and make camp..." his resignation to this shitty plan was thick in Clay's voice. He knew she wouldn't be happy.

"Ugh... At least it's still dark..." Melanie conceded, being too tired to further protest.

The pair made getting undressed and packing the dry bag, quick work. Clay and Melanie, each gripping a shoulder strap on the dry bag, began to cross the river. Still wearing the flip-flops, as they would protect her feet from the stones that lined the river bottom from further injuring her already damaged feet, Melanie cautiously placed one foot in front of the other. Clay however, had packed his boots into the dry bag. He stumbled painfully on several occasions, resulting in his being pushed by the current which only further inhibit their crossing. Clay had spent a great deal of time on countless rivers, and had started well upstream of their target in anticipation of the current. As they neared the island’s edge, the awkwardness of the two strangers being naked together began to wane. Safety would have to trump modesty. As they set foot on shore they inadvertently sloshed and splashed, compelling Clay to crouch in response once they had set foot on dry ground. Clay gestured downward with his hand towards Melanie, insisting that she should do the same.
 

"Clay, I want my clothes!" Melanie protested.

"Shut up! We're going to sit tight for a minute. We made enough noise to wake the fucking dead trying to get here. If anything is heading this way, we need to see it before it sees us." Clay said, his stern voice easily overpowering Melanie's protesting.

Time slowed to a crawl before Clay was satisfied that they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention. He tossed Melanie the towel and began doling out the clothing from the dry bag. The two dressed in silence, both of them stumbling tiredly as they tossed their mixed garments back and forth. Soon after, Clay began to lay out the remainder of his plan as he loaded the shells back into the shotgun.

"We're almost there Melanie..." he began but was interrupted by Melanie waving him off.

"Clay, at this point after having seen me naked, Mel is just fine..." she interjected with resignation evident in her voice.

"We're almost there, Mel. We need to make a blind to sleep in for the day. The tent just won't cut it. It's too bright and anything creeping along the shoreline won’t have any trouble picking it off. I have a folding saw and a small trowel. The idea is to dig a depression in the ground under one of these pine trees and build a low A-frame out of the boughs to hide us. I know you're tired... But we really need this." Clay explained.

"Okay." Melanie responded. "But I'm digging.".

Clay handed her the shovel and the pair went to work. Mel scrapping at the earth, while Clay began to slowly saw away at the branches of the surrounding evergreens. Clay did the best he could to evenly spread out the branches he was removing from several trees, in an attempt to avoid thinning them too much and only increasing their odds of being detected. When Clay had amassed a pile almost as tall as he was, he stopped and checked on Mel's progress. She was on her hands and knees, digging away at the earth in the centre of a depression that was long enough, as well as wide enough to accommodate two people.

"Am I done?" she asked tiredly.

"Keep digging. And pile the dirt up around the sides." he answered.

Mel had in fact dug as deep as they required, but Clay intended on keeping her busy in an attempt to prevent her from falling asleep. Otherwise, he would have to drag her into the shelter, which neither participant would enjoy.
 

Clay opened the dry bag and withdrew the poles and ground sheet belonging to his tent. He bundled the poles together and placed one end on the ground at the foot of the depression, and the other in the crook of a y-shaped stick that he jammed into the ground at the depression's head. Due to the length of the poles, they sagged in the middle, requiring a long branch to be laid under them for support. Clay proceeded to spread the ground sheet out along the bottom of the depression and began laying the evergreen boughs widthwise across the bundle of poles, the ends of each meeting along the bundled fibre glass support. A low triangular structure began to form, as he continued to pile more boughs across the central support. Once he had finished, the pair walked back to the water's edge and examined their new home for the coming day.

"Good job... It was tough, but we made it…" Clay said, congratulating Mel, as he rubbed his palms together in an attempt to free them from the sticky pine sap.

"Tough? That's the understatement of the century..." she replied sarcastically.

Clay turned and crouched at the river's edge.
 

"Let's get washed up. The sun is going to be up soon and we need to get in the hide." he said.

The pair washed themselves as best they could at the water’s edge before returning to their camp. Clay packed their equipment back up, incase the need arose to make a quick getaway during the day. Mel was first to wiggle down into the hide, receiving the shotgun and dry bag from Clay prior to him making his own entrance into the shelter. Once the they were nestled inside, Clay dragged a remaining bough over the mouth of the A-frame, completely concealing them from onlookers should any pass by. Although the structure was large enough for two people, with their equipment hiding inside the confines of the structure, there was little room to spare. Mel and Clay found themselves laying awkwardly close to one another. Looking over at Mel who was already asleep, Clay considered trying to stay awake; intending to keep watch for as long as he could. The debate raged on in his head. Should he rely on the hope that this island would be impossible to reach for any random infected that just happened to walk by? Would they even consider an attempt at crossing the river, or were they simply too inept? Would he wake at the sound of anything disturbing the water while crossing? How critical was rest in preparation for the next night? Before he could decide, he had drifted off to sleep beside Melanie.

Clay and Mel laid prone in a small wooded area at the edge of town, observing the area for any sign of movement. Although having regretted falling asleep at camp, at this moment Clay was certainly glad that he had. The pair would need all the energy that they could muster.
 

Their concealed camp had luckily worked exactly as Clay had hoped it would. They were able to get a great deal of much needed rest and were hidden safely within the pines whilst doing so. Clay had awoken first and had awkwardly laid next to Mel for what had seemed like an eternity until she too opened her eyes. It was an uncomfortable thing, laying next to a strange woman whom he had just met and be forced to quietly watch her sleep. There was no possibility of a quick morning exit this time, as he had been able to do in the past. Although, his situation now was vastly different from that during those previous occurrences. While packing up camp in the light of a setting sun, they had worked out the plan which they were presently enacting.
 

"I haven't seen a single thing, Clay. But I've been staring at the edge of town for so long that everything now looks like it's moving..." Melanie said, slumping her head forward and rubbing her eyes. Her neck was sore from laying in the grass and looking up toward the town.

"Alright. Repeat the plan to me one more time and then we can get to it..." Clay answered.

Mel sighed, sounding a bit like an irritated teenager.

"We go to the outfitter’s for equipment. Which will probably be empty because everyone who survived, has probably already thought of trying to get the guns and equipment out of there." Melanie said sarcastically.

"I told you, it's likely locked up tighter than a jail. With all these infected creeping around, no one would likely even attempt to break in. So, it's worth a shot. Now please, Mel. The plan?" Clay interrupted.

"Okay, okay... From there we're headed to the department store. When we get there, we're looking for tools... Um, a tap and die, I think? Then we're looking for a long but narrow filter for a car or truck and gas cans." Mel suddenly regretted her earlier sarcasm, as she had briefly forgotten the tools that Clay had asked for, leaving her feeling slightly embarrassed.
 

"And then what?" Clay prodded.

"Clothing and food. If the building is safe, we're going to spend the day there. Tomorrow night, we're on the hunt for gasoline so we can fill up your SUV." Mel concluded.

"Alright then. Getting to the outfitter is going to be easy. It's right across the road. Getting in might be a challenge though. I'm thinking the roof. There has to be some kind of access point up there." Clay said as he slowly pushed himself up off of his stomach and onto his hands and knees.

Melanie stood herself up after Clay, as he was lugging his dry bag onto his shoulders. Clay had previously tucked his shotgun into the roll top of the pack. Luckily, the barrel had been shortened, preventing it from sticking out so far past his width that it would inhibit his movement. The two moved side by side across the street, trying to progress as fast as cautiousness would allow. The whole time their eyes darted from corner to corner, building to building, inspecting everything for any sign of infected until they had reached the front of the building. Clay motioned for Mel to follow him as he pressed himself close to the wall and began to follow it around to the back of the structure. After rounding the corner, Clay aptly pointed out that the dumpster behind the store could be utilized to gain access to the roof. He wanted to get off the ground as quickly as they could. They were at the edge of town and aside from an empty gravel parking lot behind the building, there was nothing but a huge soybean crop within their immediate vicinity. They were completely exposed and their movement against this perfectly still back drop made them more than just a little conspicuous. Clay pressed his palms onto the lid of the dumpster, preparing to lift himself onto it. Melanie interrupted him before he had a chance to enact his plan.

"Ahem..." she said, feigning to clear her throat.

When Clay turned, he saw Melanie pointing down at the at the wall behind the dumpster.

"Bad news... I think someone beat us too it." she said.

Clay stepped away from the dumpster and walked to where Melanie stood, looking to the spot on the wall that she was indicating. There was a window leading into the basement which had been removed, bars and all. Whoever had been here had obviously used the dumpster to conceal the entrance that they had created.

"I told you..." Melanie said pretentiously.

"Well, if they emptied it out, I doubt they'd bother pushing the dumpster back over this hole. Your group had guns. Where did they get them?" Clay asked.

“Yah. Lots of guns actually... And they had them before I got there. I never thought to ask." she replied.

Clay and Mel repositioned themselves along the side of the dumpster. Pressing their shoulders into its side, they began to push. The dumpster slid across the gravel, making an awful, hollow, vibrating sound. They stopped only when they had moved it far enough to allow a human frame to gain entrance to the building through the window. Clay dropped his pack and withdrew a head lamp from his pocket; mounting it over his head.