Odium II: The Dead Saga (31 page)

“Nova?” I say again, just as quietly as the first time.

She looks at me, pulls her cigarettes out of her pocket, and lights one up with a sad shrug. “Bitches be crazy,” she says sadly and walks away.

I look at Michael, wondering what he’s going to do now, but before I can ask him he walks away. I stand there, alone—well, apart from the dead Rachel on the floor—wondering what the fuck just happened and how things got screwed up so quickly. I walk toward Rachel’s body, wanting to cover her up, wanting to give her a little dignity, but then I think of that poor woman out there somewhere in this world full of death and destruction, carrying a monster around with her, oblivious to the fact that it’s going to kill her soon. If it hasn’t already.

I step over Rachel
’s body, leaving her there all alone like she would have done to me. I don’t feel good about it, and I know it’s not the right thing to do, but I can’t stand the thought of helping her in any way, giving her any pride—pride that she doesn’t deserve—because she stripped that away from those poor people, those children, and that mother. No, Rachel deserves everything she got.

I head back to the department store, feeling exhausted both ph
ysically and mentally. Nova is back in bed, but Michael is nowhere to be seen. When I climb beneath the soft duvet that smells of newness and cleanliness, when my head sinks into the soft pillows filled with duck feathers, I don’t feel contented, but tortured.

In the darkness I hear Nova crying, but it
’s not my place to comfort her. In truth, Rachel brought this on herself, but I still feel responsible for her death—as if I pulled the trigger, not Nova. If I hadn’t been so damn nosy, if I hadn’t gone snooping and sticking my nose in where it wasn’t needed, then…then what? Nova wouldn’t know the truth, that her sister was a head case. That she infected and killed innocent people. That she bred a zombie baby inside an innocent woman and then sent her off into the world without telling her.

I
’m a piece of shit for opening Nova’s eyes to the truth, and for that I feel terrible, but Rachel brought her death upon herself—not Nova, and not me.

The darkness surrounds me. T
he silence in this place would be eerie if it wasn’t for the noisy thoughts rattling about in my head and stopping me from sleeping. At some point I do sleep, though. At some point in that eternal guilty darkness I sleep fitfully, and when I wake I don’t remember my dreams. I only know that my pillow is wet from my tears, and my heart heavy with guilt at the burden that Nova is carrying.

We pack up our things, dragging everything close to the fire exit where the truck is parked before opening the d
oor. The deaders have moved on—don’t get me wrong, they’re still around somewhere close by: I can smell them and I can hear their groans—but at least we can safely load up the truck with all of our supplies.

None of us speak this morning. T
hrough our breakfast of canned soup and a shopping spree for luxury items for everyone, not a word is spoken, not a smile displayed or a joke cracked. Nova avoids Michael but not me, I guess feeling bitter and resentful that he knew what their sister was up to, what she had been doing all along.

I check the map
of the mall, which is on a stand in the middle of the food court, seeing what other shops there are and trying to decide if there is anything else that might be useful for us. There’s not much room left in the truck after packing everything else, but we can always squeeze a little more in—hell, we could get another truck, if need be. We haven’t been down to the underground parking garage, but there’s bound to be some good vehicles down there if we get desperate.

I point at the map, mentally marking off the health food shop, the pharmacy, the candy store, the home department store
, and camping and outdoor activity store—all the places that we’ve raided. We ransacked the place for new underwear and socks and grabbed plenty of boots and sweaters for people, making sure to also grab children’s clothing for the small group of children we have. We took the little food we could find, feeling lucky that we found cans of cooking oil, salt, and condiments, but even happier that we found the tons of dried noodles and pastas at the Italian and Chinese restaurants. We had hoped for more food, but what we lacked in food, we gained in other unexpected provisions. I truly wish we could take more with us, or even that the base was closer to the damn mall so we could get back here easier, but it’s not and we don’t, and that’s the way it is.

My finger lands on the pharmacy again, and I
realize that I didn’t get Nova’s item—the pregnancy test she asked me to get her. I head over there to grab it, passing the music store on the way, and see that Rachel’s body is gone. Long red smears of blood show that the body was dragged, and I know that Nova or Michael have moved her body. Secretly I’m glad. Even though I hate what she did, she was doing it for the right reasons and I can’t hate her for that. Well, maybe a little bit.

I walk the rows of products—
nail polish, lipsticks, hair products. I grab a couple of boxes of the red hair dye and stuff them in my bag, remembering seeing Nova’s dark roots showing yesterday. We grabbed all the sanitary products last night; you don’t realize how much you miss those things until they’re gone, so we made sure to clear every shelf out.

I pass the perfumes, each bottle glistening with unused scents. Each one will smell stale and rank now, their beauty gone, like everything
else in this world. And then I see the baby aisle—the baby formula and diapers, the wipes and cotton balls, creams and bubble baths. Sadness creeps up on me. What kind of world is this for a baby or a child to grow up in? What do they have to look forward to? Safety? Sanctuary? That’s all gone. No matter how many times we try to rebuild it, those simple luxuries are gone. All we’re doing is working to establish some sort of environment that makes it bearable.

My hand glides acr
oss the top of a baby blanket. It’s soft beneath my palm, and I can imagine a little bundle of joy nestled into it. Soft chubby cheeks, pink lips opening on a gurgle, and wide eyes so innocent and lost. My heart aches for what can never be, because I can never—will never—bring a baby into this world.

I grab the blanket. I
f Nova is pregnant she’ll need this—among other things, of course. Or maybe it’s me that doesn’t want to let go of the blanket, this symbol of what will never be.

I grab a pregnancy test and stuff it in my backpack. It
’s a twin pack, so we’ll have a spare, too, which is good. While I’m there I grab condoms as well. Hell, if she isn’t pregnant, maybe she’ll be more careful next time. I never thought protection would be important—hell, I never thought sex would be important, but it is. For some people it’s a coping mechanism, for some people it’s the only way to express themselves now. In this world, every day you have to be on guard and on top of your game, aware of everything and everyone, so if you manage to find that one person you can physically connect with, that’s the best feeling in the world.

As I leave the store, my backpack bursting with the last of my essential items, I
realize that as a community we’re going to have to talk about protection and prevention of babies. We definitely need something more long-term.

I meet Nova and Michael by the emergency exit
, both still quiet from what happened in here, and I wonder if they will ever be able to stand to come back for more supplies. I couldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to. They lost their sister here, Nova found out some dark secrets and that part of her life was actually a lie, and as a community we lost an important member of the team.

As we drive away, I can
’t help but worry how everyone is going to take the news, if I will be accepted anymore. After all, this is partly my fault for sticking my nose in and asking questions.

The funny thing is
, though, with all the questions that it did answer, it also brought up many more.

Nova rides with up front with me. I
’m pretty sure it was her choice, and I’m glad. I don’t know how polite I could be to Michael right now. He knew what was going on, he knew that they were killing people—children—and then making some sort of freaky zombie baby. He knew this and he did nothing. And he was going to let her kill me. That really pisses me off. His love for his sister isn’t a good enough reason in my books.

We drive in silence for a while, Nova eventually breaking it with some humming, and then finally she grabs a CD out of her bag and pops it in the player. These trucks didn
’t normally come with one of those, but Nova has upgraded it many times to make it more comfortable, from what I can see.

She looks at the back of the case, picking a track before hitting
play
, and as
Highway to Hell
by AC/DC blares through the speakers, I see the cellophane from the CD and realize it’s a new CD that she picked up from the music store, and that she must be the one who moved Rachel’s body.

She grabs out her bottle of rum,
unscrews the lid, and chugs some back before singing along loudly to the song. It seems fitting somehow—this song, right now—and I sing along too.

*

I nudge Nova in the shoulder. Her snores have been ringing in my ears for the past hour and it’s driving me crazy now.

“Wake up.” I push her again
and her head slides to the other side and thumps against the window lightly. She snuffles but doesn’t wake up. “Wake up!” I yell, louder this time.

She opens her eyes, takes a deep breath and stretches, and then looks across at me. “
’Sup?” she asks, retrieving her cigarettes and lighting one up.

“You were snoring loudly,
” I grumble. Sure, I’m tired and cranky, and I’m ready to pull over somewhere for the night, but I haven’t found anywhere that seems safe yet.

Nova frowns at me. “I don
’t snore,” she says with confusion.

“Sure you do.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t snore. That was, like, the truck or something.”

I roll my eyes and ignore her, giving an overly exaggerated yawn as I sit up and attempt to stretch
out my back.

“You tired? Do you want me to take over for a little while?” she asks.

“Is that okay? I’m no good with a gun, so if something happens I won’t be very useful.”

“Not like I
’m much use when I’m sleeping.” Nova grins.

She has a point
but I still feel nervous, even as I stop the truck and we swap places. Nova stares ahead through the windshield. Nighttime is creeping up on us and we should probably pull in somewhere, but we all want to get home. It’s been a pretty shitty trip, and one that hasn’t exactly ended well.

“Nova?” I say quietly.

She turns to look at me, her eyes sad even though her mouth quirks up into an awkward smile. “I never fucking knew,” she says. “I want you to know that. I didn’t know any of that shit was happening. I thought we were helping that woman and her husband escape, I didn’t know that they had knocked her up or whatever.”

I look down at
my feet, the guilt weighing heavily on me. “I know,” I say, but I don’t, not really. How would I?

“I knew about the zombie tests, that was it.
I didn’t know about the people—the children, I didn’t know about those tests.” I look back up and see her staring back out the window again. “I didn’t know about that poor woman.” She looks back to me again. “What do you think happened to her? Do you think she died?”

Even in the darkness of the cab I can see how pale and
worried she looks. But I haven’t got any comforting words for her. Hell, I’m not the comforting type, but I wish I could be for her—for Nova. She deserves that much to be free from her conscience.

“I don
’t know,” I say simply, because I don’t know what else to say and I really don’t know.

“I hope she
’s okay, and the baby…do you think the baby is okay?” She picks at her fingernails, cleaning the grime from underneath them.

“I don
’t know,” I say again.

Nova breathes heavily. “I need to let
dumbass back there know that we’re switching. If you can’t shoot for shit, he needs to be aware that he’s covering us all.” And with that she climbs out of the truck and heads toward the rear.

The engine is noisy and so I can
’t hear her talking, but a couple minutes later she climbs back in and pulls the truck back out onto the road and we continue to head home. I see the trails down her face, the smears of dirt washed away by fresh tears, and I call bullshit on her telling Michael that we swapped places. But I don’t say anything; she needed those couple of minutes.

“We
’re coming up to a bad patch,” Nova says, checking that all her weapons are within reach.

Nova had driven through most of the night without complaint, and I had slept fitfully. When I woke for the second time, a scream caught in my throat
, I decided to not bother trying to get any more rest, and we had swapped places again. Nova hadn’t slept, though; she’d sat staring out into the darkness, occasionally swigging on her rum, and smoking. I knew she was hurting, but couldn’t think of any way to ease that pain. She had shot Rachel, her own sister—chosen me over her kin, and for that I’m eternally grateful, but of course her sacrifice comes with restrictions.

I know she feels more betrayed by Mic
hael than anything else; that much she did say, and I can’t blame her. They were all supposed to have each other’s backs, but they were keeping dark secrets from her. She helped them all escape, helped that other woman escape, and she thought she was helping but really she was making the problem worse.

In hindsight
, though, we’d all do things differently.

“No matter what,” Nova begins.

“I don’t stop,” I finish for her quickly. “I know.”

She nods, understanding that Rachel told me that on the way out. My mind is on what will happen, what happened last time, and the fact that it
’s not raining and hasn’t rained for at least twenty-four hours, so I can afford to go a little faster. I’m debating all this when I see a dark smear along the middle of the road, and I know that’s where I hit the woman on our way out. I floor it, not thinking anymore, just hoping not to experience the same thing again.

Nova open
s up her window, levels the barrel of her gun out of it, and starts shooting. I don’t know if she’s aiming for anyone in particular or just shooting to scare the crap out of whoever is there. I know she’s a good shot, but she can’t seriously be hitting anyone at these speeds.

I
hit sixty miles an hour, feeling every bump in this old damaged road. I see shapes in the trees, movements of people, but I try to keep my eyes on the goal and keep driving forward, increasing my speed a little more. The sound of bullets ricocheting against the metal of the truck is unmistakable, but unlike last time I’m not frightened by it. I feel different from the woman that came out on this trip. I can’t say how—I mean, I can’t harden any more than I have these past few months—but something has definitely changed in me.

Nova crouches down in her seat, a snarl on her face
as she reloads her gun. I slouch down as low as I can while keeping a decent amount of control on the wheel—not an easy job at this speed, I’ll tell you.

I
hear Michael’s return gunfire from the back, and even over all the shooting I can hear him cursing something fierce, but we’re over the worst of it and thankfully nobody seems to have gotten hurt this time. At least I didn’t have to run anyone over. It’s all a little underwhelming, if I’m honest. That sounds stupid—I know, I know, I’m evil and insensitive, but I was all geared up for something really bad.

The truck hit
s seventy and I look in my rearview mirror as we speed away, watching as several people come running from either side of the road. I can see them still shooting at us, but we’re too far away now and going way too fast for them to do any real harm, and all I can think is that they should probably save their ammo, fucking assholes.

“They
’re not real clever, these guys, are they?”

Nova laughs loudly. “I wouldn
’t think so. If they were, they would be laying better traps than these ones.”

“Other than the throwing a random person in the middle of the road ones you mean?” I say with only a hint of
humor because, you know, that’s not really funny. But sometimes you have to laugh or your brain gets fried from all the bad shit that keeps happening.

She takes a deep breath. “Yeah, other than that.”

“Desperate people do desperate things. Let’s be glad that they don’t have any real ammo.” I roll my eyes at the thought. These guys with big-assed guns would be a bad combination.

“They
’re like those really irritating little flies that hang around no matter how many times you swat them away.” She laughs.

I laugh back because I couldn
’t agree more. I ease off the gas, slowing to fifty miles an hour. Stopping for gas is never one of my favorite things, and I’d like to make it back without having to fill up again; leadfooting it isn’t going to help. I keep checking the rearview mirror to make sure we’re not being followed. Not that I really need to—Michael will be on high alert or whatever now, and he’ll take care of anyone that tries to follow us. He’s totally silent now, which is a good sign.

We drive in silence for a while, both our thoughts wandering in their own
directions. The only sound is the noisy-ass truck, which probably signals everyone and everything to our location. My ass is numb from the vibrations and my back and shoulders are getting stiff. I know we’re nearly back now, and I can’t wait. I want a long, hot shower, some decent food, and to see Mikey and Emily.

My stomach sinks when I
realize how much I’ve come to depend on them—not on their skillset or how they can help me, but on them being there, their affection and love.

“Fuck
me,” I whisper to myself.

“Say what now?”

I look at Nova, my face white. “I just realized that I give a shit. Like, really give a shit.”

She stares at me for a minute before lighting a cigarette. “Happens to the best of us, darlin
’.” She shrugs and looks sad again, even with the smile she flashes to me. “You’ve got to think—what would be the point in surviving if you didn’t give a damn.”

I think about what she said, and know she
’s right. If you don’t care, then you’re just surviving. And I don’t want to just survive, I want to live. I’ve done the whole surviving thing and it sucked: it wasn’t a life worth living. But now I have purpose again. With that purpose comes responsibility for other people, but I know I would be willing to do anything to help them survive—to live.

*

The rain pitter-patters on the roof; it’s therapeutic but also makes me tired. I know we’ll be home any time now: we passed the zombie attack hot-spot—as Nova calls it—a while back. The road is still littered with bones and dead zombies. I’m not sure if they’re the same ones I ran over on the way out or if these are some others that someone else ran over. Either way, I’m glad we pass it with no trouble.

We finally pull
into the circular entrance of the base, and we’re let in through the security gates. Mathew and Jessica are on duty today and both of them look extremely happy to see us. Nova rolls her window down and leans out. I don’t know either of them much, but they seem nice enough. I’ve chatted with Jessica a couple of times; she’s sweet but keeps to herself. Mathew is boyishly good-looking and I’m sure all the girls go crazy for him, especially when he carries around his bad-ass bow and arrow.

“You get anything good?” Jessica
asks, leaning out of the small security box doorway.

Nova smiles. “Of course, d
arlin’. I got you some of that fancy bubble bath you asked for, and I picked up some rub-in hair product thingy—it sounded like the one you asked for.” Nova shrugs. “I’ll get it to you later today.”

Mathew is staring at us both eagerly.

“Yes, we got you your books,” Nova says. “Michael even got you some new arrows for your bow.”

“Are you serious? That
’s awesome.” Mathew cheers and fist pumps the air, and I can’t help but laugh, even though a dread has taken me over. “Did you get the comics I asked for?” He chews on his bottom lip, worry crossing his face.

Nova shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Yes, I
got your damn Punisher comics. Didn’t know which ones I was getting, but I grabbed a bunch of them. Now let us through and stop hassling me.”

“Sorry, sorry, yep, no problem. Straight through.” He smiles, looking genuinely pleased for himself.

Nova starts to roll up the window as I begin to pull away, but I hear Jessica shout to me and I slam on the brakes again.

She jogs up to the side of the truck.
“Emily is pissed at you,” she says with regret. “Thought I’d give you a heads up.”

“Figured as much
.” I nod a
thanks
and set off again.

A deep and unsettling feeling
sits in my gut. Not for the fact that Emily is pissed at me—she’ll get over it and I have bigger problems—but because of Rachel. She lived here before me. She was their bomb-maker, a great fighter, and a friend to most. Not to mention that she was clearly insanely up on her science, and lord knows if she used that skill around here for anything useful. I can’t help but wonder if everyone will turn against me now. I didn’t kill her, Nova did, but will everyone be as disgusted as I was to hear what she had been doing previously? Or will they think that I overreacted?

I pull the truck up to
the warehouse bunker and Nova jumps out and opens the doors. I watch from my rearview as Michael jumps out and wanders off without saying anything—I’m guessing to go and speak to Zee about everything that happened. He still hasn’t spoken a word to me and I’m unsure on how to take that. Is he processing it all or is he plotting on his revenge? I mean, none of this would have come to light if I hadn’t hassled him so much.

I back
up the truck and, once inside, climb down from it and close the heavy steel doors. Nova and I set about unloading everything. Others will be along shortly to do this for us, but we both want to pick out the couple of things we got just for us before anyone else arrives and it gets taken to the consignment shop. It’s no big secret—I don’t think anyway—and I’m sure everyone does this when they get back. Call it first dibs or whatever you will.

We
’re about halfway done when Zee and Michael come in. Zee looks grave and heads straight for me. Michael joins Nova in unpacking the truck, and I hear them whispering angrily as Zee takes the crook of my arm and attempts to lead me away.

I shrug out of his grip. “What the fuck?” I manage to say it somewhat discreetly and surprise myself.

“We need to talk, now. Not here,” he says and stalks off, leaving me to follow. He reaches the small door that leads to office space further inside the bunker and turns back to look at me. “Well?”

I roll my eyes. “Fine, let me get my bag.” I stom
p over and grab it along with Mikey’s samurai and then stomp all the way back over to him. He holds the door for me as I walk through, and then barges back in front to lead the way. Seems stupid to me, to be polite and then an asshole all at the same time. It also seems uncharacteristic for him.

He leads us into a dusty office with chairs still up on the desks ready for cleaners to come in.
Of course cleaners aren’t going to be coming in anytime soon—that would be weird, given the whole-end-of-the-world thing going on, and completely pointless. I grab a chair down and sit on it, hands folded in front of me like I’m in high school detention.

Zee gets a chair and sits in front of me, a lot more calmly than I did, making me look
like a bigger asshole. I roll my eyes at him and huff.

“What?” I snap. “I
’m tired and have shit to be doing. I don’t need your weird starey thing right now.” I huff again.

Zee clasps his hands in front of him, trying to compose himself. “I
’m sorry for the way I grabbed you back there. That was rude of me, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You can say that again.” I look
out the window. The rain is coming down heavy again, I note.

“The thing is
, I didn’t want you leaving and speaking to anyone before I had chance to speak to you,” Zee continues.

I look back at him, a frown crossing my face. “You mean about Rachel? I
’m sure that’s what Michael went tittle-tattling to you about.” I stand up, my temper getting the better of me again.

“Please sit down, Nina. Everything will be okay.” He sits up straighter
, yet looks concerned.

“Then why am I being pulled in here and not those two?” I arch
an eyebrow. “If everything is going to be okay, then why the hell am I the one being singled out?” I stomp over to the window and stare out into the rain. I can see a couple of shadows moving through it toward us—people coming to help unload, no doubt.

Zee stands next to me. “Look, we don
’t have much time. Please listen to me.”

I can feel him staring at me
but I refuse to look at him. I’m being pissy and unreasonable, I know, but I can’t stop myself. “What do you want?”

“I want you not to say anything about Rachel. If anyone asks
, she got killed in the line of duty,” he says calmly.

I turn to look at him now
, an even bigger frown on my face than previously. “What? Why? Do you know what she did?”

He nods, his eyes looking away before meeting mine again. “Michael
just told me, and I understand that she threatened you, but I believe it is in your best interest if we don’t tell people that part. It’s the best for everyone. Michael has specifically requested that nobody find out what she did previous to being here. He doesn’t want her memory tarnished.”