Roads Less Traveled (22 page)

She could see the field through the alley next to the warehouse, and screamed out in frustration as she fought her way to the other sidewalk through the slowly closing mass. A heavy-set man tripped and fell into her, his guts slithering over her arms, and knocked her and Ashton into a PT Cruiser. The car’s alarm started screaming and squawking, momentarily giving the zombies pause. She kicked herself free of the obese man and yanked Ash to his feet. He was becoming very heavy and she noticed he wasn’t helping her run anymore. She dove into the alley, looking back once to see them piling in behind her, then scooped the boy into her arms and ran as hard as she could.

She made it through the field and up the hill far ahead of the swarm. She laid Ash gently on the ground and scrambled for her binoculars. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the town: every single zombie was moving, gathering, and heading in her direction. The horde was at least three or four hundred strong, and would most likely grow thanks to that damned car alarm.

She stuffed the binoculars back in her pack and started limping over to Ashton. Only then did she notice the pain in her upper thigh. She looked down and was suddenly frozen in terror to see her pants had been ripped and blood had seeped through. Frantically she yanked her jeans down to her ankles, and was deeply relieved to see the wound was not a bite; when that fat bastard knocked her into the Cruiser, she had cut her leg on the bumper. She pulled her pants up and decided to forget about it for now.

She knelt next to Ashton. His skin had turned gray and cold, blood no longer gushing from his neck. Her body shook violently as she tried to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of her jacket. Raspy breaths soon gave way to great sobs, and she murmured over and over again, “No, no, no.” She could hear the moaning of the swarm as they entered the field, but was torn by her need to escape and her agony over the loss of this boy she was supposed to protect.

She sat next to him, her forehead resting against his, and cried until the stink of the approaching mass was thick around her. She didn’t have time to bury him, and the thought of what they would do to him once they found him suddenly caused vomit to rise into her throat. She turned quickly and threw up on the ground next to her. Terror then gripped her tightly as another thought filled her mind: what if he reanimates?

She fought down the confusion, slowly realizing what everyone familiar with zombies already knows; you only become one if you’re infected with the virus. And you can only become infected through contaminated blood or saliva.

She had cried so hard she was hoarse, and still shook violently as she staggered to her feet. Ashton’s blood was all over her hands, but wiping them on her jacket was pointless; it was coated thick with his blood as well. Hyperventilating, she stumbled the few feet over to the crest, and looked down below. A hundred feet, maybe two, was all that stood between her and the writhing swarm of putrid flesh.

She looked back at Ashton, his small body lying still on the wet, cold ground, then back again at the deadheads, then tilted her face to the sky and let loose a gut-wrenching scream.

“
I hate you!!
” she screamed, her throat so raw from sobbing her mouth filled with blood. Her lips peeled back in a growl, her fists balled tightly at her sides, and she spit the mouthful at the zombies.

“I’ll kill every last one of you sonsabitches, I swear I will,” she whispered hoarsely, then hurried as fast as her traumatized body would allow over to Ash. She lifted him gently and removed his backpack, then transferred a couple of handfuls of food into her own pack. She slipped his coat off and covered him with it, whispered a few words to him, then limped off into the woods. She only had an hour or so before dusk, and she wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and the swarm. And from the dead boy she had failed to protect.

Chapter Fourteen

October 11
^th

I woke up sometime before daybreak. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound being the snoring of the dog lying next to me. My clothes were soaked with sweat, and my head was thumping. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn I had a hangover. I couldn’t remember much since being brought back to the house, just brief flashes, like Ben sitting at my bedside and holding my hand, Jake coming in to take Gus outside, Zack talking to me, or Nancy and Kyra coming in to take “vitals.”

I slowly pulled my arms back and tried to push myself up on my elbows, but a crippling pain screaming out of my shoulder quickly put a stop to that foolishness. I bit my lip and fell back against the pillow, then sighed and stared at the dimly lit ceiling. Gus rolled over in his sleep and cuddled his back against my arm.

“What do you think you’re trying to do?” a deep, soft voice asked. I turned my head to the right and was surprised to see Zack sitting there, at the head of the bed, in one of the dining room chairs. I smiled faintly, barely able to see his shadowed face, and shrugged with my good arm.

“A girl can try, can’t she?” I said in a cracking whisper. I was shocked to hear my own voice: just how sick had I been? Zack leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bed.

“Do you need anything? A drink of water?” he asked. I nodded, so he walked over to the dresser and poured a glass. I noticed he was moving around in the dark with relative ease, and wondered just how often he had sat with me. He parked himself on the edge of the bed, lifted my head, and carefully tipped the glass to my mouth. After taking a few painful sips, I grunted and waved with my good hand, signaling him I was finished for the time being. He sat back and watched me carefully, then brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek.

“How long have you been here?” I asked. The water had whet my whistle, and it didn’t hurt as much to talk now. He simply shrugged and smiled. I asked about Shannon, and he told me she was doing fine. Still not talking to anyone, but other than that, she was good. Nancy had moved the girl into her and Kyra’s room, Jake had moved his bed and belongings into Zack’s room, and Kyra had taken to bunking in Ben’s room. My eyes grew wide and I raised my eyebrows at his last statement.

“Say what??” I asked. My face must have said it all, because Zack suddenly laughed loudly, causing Gus to jump to his feet and his hair to stand on end even before his eyes had time to open. I placed my left hand on his head to quiet him, then rubbed behind his ear until he flopped back down beside me.

“You gotta be shitting me. Ben and Kyra?” I asked again. Zack smirked and shrugged, giving me that it-happens face. I leaned back against the pillow again and was momentarily speechless. Ben and
Kyra?
Kyra?

“Just how long have I been out?” I finally asked.

“Only a couple of days. But I think this thing with them started some time ago.” He then changed the subject and began telling me how sick I had been; my gunshot wound had gotten infected and I had burned up with the fever for a day and a half. He hesitated while mentioning some of the things I had said while delirious, and I didn’t push him on it. The guys had been preparing to head into Gibson last night to find some antibiotics when my fever finally broke.

“We thought for a while that we were going to lose you,” he said, his voice lowering as he dropped his gaze from mine. Feeling the emotion building in the room, I decided to make light of my near-death experience. I took his hand in my good one and squeezed it tightly.

“Hell man, you think something like a bullet is gonna do me in? I’ll be damned, I can’t believe it,” I said, going on and on until he finally grinned.

“That’s better,” I said and smiled back. “What time is it anyway? Too early for coffee?”

He hit the light on his watch and said it was 5:30. Yeah, too early for coffee.

“Well, can you at least turn the lamp on and help me sit up. My back is killing me and I really have to piss,” I said very dramatically. Chuckling, he walked over and flipped it on, then came over to the left side of the bed and crawled over to me, gently scooting Gus out of the way. I raised my good left arm and wrapped it around his neck, while he slipped one arm behind my back and lifted me into a sitting position. I winced and inhaled sharply, the pull on the stitches by sitting up hurting my shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked, his free hand moving around to support my useless right arm. I took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah. I’m going to need a sling or something. Maybe Nancy has one, or we can make one,” I started saying before he held up a hand and hushed me.

“One thing at a time, huh? How about we get you out of bed and into the bathroom for starters,” he said as he slipped off that side of the bed and hurried around to the other. Using my good arm, I twisted my legs around until they hung over the edge of the bed, then sat there bent over a few moments to catch my breath. Damn, pain really
does
take your breath away. I also realized I probably hadn’t had a shower since I’d been shot. Awesome.

Zack held to my good arm, one hand on my elbow and the other firmly grasping mine, and slowly helped me to the bathroom. Once I felt like I had my sea-legs, I chuckled and let go of his hand.

“I think I can handle it from here,” I said after stepping through the doorway. He smiled and nodded once, then pulled the door shut. I relieved myself, once again wondering about things I probably didn’t want to know, such as, how did I go to the bathroom while I was passed out? And after realizing that I was clean and didn’t stink, how did I get clean and bathed? I decided I would give Nancy the credit and ask no further questions. Then, after an amusing struggle with my pajama bottoms, I splashed some water on my face and rinsed my mouth with a little Listerine. I stepped back into my room and cautiously got back into bed.

“Hey, there’s been something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” I said, grunting as Zack repositioned the pillows so I could lean against the headboard.

“Sure,” he answered, sitting down slowly in the chair next to me. I rubbed my nose and my eyes, pretty much stalling for time. This was a sensitive topic, and I was afraid I’d ruin the friendly relationship developing between us with just a few words.

He finally chuckled. “You had a question, Kase?” He was leaning forward on his elbows and smiling, so I dropped my good hand away from my face and sighed.

“Yeah. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, or if it’s none of my business.” I waited for him to nod before continuing. “Where’s your family? Ben told me about Kyra’s after you guys first got here, but he didn’t say anything about yours.” I held my breath waiting. Waiting for an answer, waiting for a nice go-to-hell, waiting for something, anything. All Zack did in reply was drop his head and shake it once. My question had caught him off-guard, that much was obvious. But there was something else there, a grief so deep it made me ache.

“Hey, you know what? Forget I asked. I’m sorry, I can be a real asshole sometimes.”

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly. He looked up at me and I was surprised to see that his eyes were dry. We were both quiet for several minutes, long enough that I’d finally decided he wasn’t going to answer. But just as I was about to change the subject, and talk about what the hell Ben was thinking by hooking up with Kyra, Zack finally answered my question.

“On the way here, we drove past the little community where I lived, or used to live. Where they lived. Whatever.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he rubbed his face. “They were all…everyone’s dead. Let’s leave it at that.” He shoved himself out of his chair before I could say anything and walked to the dresser to pour himself a glass of water. I watched his back for a moment, then looked over at Gus sleeping next to me. I reached out and rested my hand on his back, needing more than anything at the moment to just touch something living, to feel life, to feel his little heart beating, his little breath coming in and out. Because when it came right down to it, Zack was right: Everyone’s dead.

* * *

“You know, you made a better patient when you were unconscious,” Nancy was saying as she fussed over me. All I wanted was to go downstairs and have a cup of coffee. The sun had risen over an hour ago, everyone was up, and I wanted my coffee, dammit. She had helped me get dressed and was trying to fasten a sling around my arm when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called out. Nancy shot me a look, but kept messing with the sling. Zack walked in with a cup of coffee and a smile. I grinned back of course, knowing it was for me, and made Nancy’s job harder by twisting around to take the cup from him.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling sweetly as Nancy grumbled. “I love you, Nancy,” I whispered to the annoyed woman, which instantly broke that icy exterior and freed the sunshine underneath. She smacked me on the butt with one hand, and planted her other on her hip.

“Hmm, I’ll show you love in a second if you don’t hold still.” And with that, I quieted down and she finished fitting the sling around my arm. She harrumphed, narrowed her eyes at my smiling face, and stomped off, pulling the door shut behind her. Chuckling and shaking my head, I walked over to the desk by the window, set my cup down, and pulled out the chair. Zack carried the chair he had sat in earlier over and we chatted while sipping coffee and watching outside.