Roads Less Traveled (25 page)

* * *

This is ridiculous
, Kyra thought as she stared into the darkness. It was raining, which, to Kyra at least, only added insult to injury. To Ben it seemed that his new girlfriend was sulking, hurt and upset with first, shooting a living person, second, that person having been Mia, and third, being the focus of Kasey’s wrath. But he couldn’t be more wrong. Kyra didn’t give a rat’s ass about shooting Mia. To her, the thing that had limped and staggered its way up the driveway was something to be taken care of. Something she had been lectured on ever since she first arrived in this backwoods shithole that everyone else considered their salvation.

She also could care less about what Kasey thought of her. Kasey, strutting around as if she was the boss of everyone, as if she owned the damned place. Which, technically, she did, but what gave her the right to act so righteous? She wasn’t any better than the rest of them, but she acted like her shit didn’t stink, like anything and everything that came out of her mouth was golden. This royally irked Kyra. As far as Kyra was concerned, Ben was hers, and in his eyes, Saint Kasey could do no wrong. Kyra, small, diminutive, unimportant Kyra, was feeling very resentful. She had begun to hate Kasey, period. End of story. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Ben and Jake had talked endlessly since leaving the house, something that merely added to Kyra’s irritation. She was tired, angry, and embarrassed. In her mind, Kasey was the enemy now. Just who the hell did she think she was, hitting her and talking to her the way she had?
I hope Mia dies,
Kyra thought. Yes, it would be the perfect revenge. Kyra, whom Kasey had never liked. Kyra, who everyone thought was useless and vain. Kyra, the stupid cheerleader who killed Saint Kasey’s best friend. Yes, Kyra thought this would be the perfect revenge.

So she spent the rest of the trip into Matias praying harder than she had ever prayed in her life. Oh, and once Mia was dead, she would put on her sad face, cry on Ben’s shoulder, then tell him they had no other choice but to leave. It wouldn’t take much to convince him, Ben was so soft and weak. That would be the icing on the retribution cake: taking Ben away from Kasey. She chuckled to herself.

“Glad to see your mood is lifting,” Ben said softly, easily mistaking the look on Kyra’s face. She turned her attention from the rain-spattered window and smiled at Ben, who had leaned over and was watching his new love from between the front seats. He smiled back, then turned around and resumed his planning with Jake. She casually turned back to the window, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. She would get through the next few hours, or days, do whatever it took until the opportunity presented itself. And when it did, she would prove to everyone just how capable she truly was.

* * *

They divided the town up into four sections; each one of them responsible for searching their own designated part, and the fourth was to be avoided no matter what. The “No Fly Zone” was at the end of town around the Hoskins’ house. They each had a walkie, a gun, and a flashlight. Basically the plan was to search every house, constantly staying in contact with each other, then return to the store when finished.

They weren’t too worried about deadheads, since Kasey had been pretty sure the people who had previously called Matias home were either scattered across the pavement in front of the store, or had Gotten Out of Dodge ASAP when the shit hit the fan. Mostly it was the former, with Tommy and Shannon being the only folks Kasey had noticed missing from the crowd in front of the store. Regardless, the three were confident the town was clear, but reminded each other every five minutes or so to keep their eyes peeled and stay sharp.

Kyra was busy searching the first house in her quadrant while listening to the boys trade quips over the radio. She had been assigned the section at the entrance of town which included the store. Ben was searching the part across the street from hers, and Jake had taken the piece next to Ben’s, which was across the way from the “No Trespassing” segment. Fine with Kyra, she didn’t care in the least if crazy Tommy Hoskins decided to throw some lead at Jake. She didn’t like him anyway, always giving her dirty looks.

She kicked her way around the kitchen, carelessly opening drawers and cupboard doors, and basically poking around the place with a don’t-give-a-shit attitude. She didn’t pay much attention to the bloody trail on the floor, or the handprints on the wall, or the length of intestines that was draped over the stairway banister. So far, this was a waste of time, and Kyra was sliding by with as little effort as possible. Her walkie crackled as Ben updated Jake.

“Still nothing. Moving on to the next house,” he said.

“Alright, be careful. Kyra, you find anythin’ yet?” Jake asked. She rolled her eyes as she walked outside, looked up the street, and moved on to the next house.

“Nope, nothing. I’m moving on to the next house too.”

“Stay alert,” Jake answered.

“No shit,” Kyra said to the cool night air. There was a slight breeze, and it carried the sweet, putrid stink of the bodies, or what was left of them, from the store and past Kyra. She crinkled her nose and stomped up to the door. Ben was leaving the house he just searched and was walking up the street to the next when he caught sight of Kyra and waved. She smiled and waved back before stepping inside.

The smell hit her in the face instantly, thick as fog, and nearly made her puke. She slapped a hand over her mouth and coughed several times while her eyes darted back and forth, trying to locate the source of the intense reek. It was a zombie, of that much she was certain. She raised her gun and aimed her flashlight ahead of her, then proceeded through the house. This one was a single story, and it was small, so not too many rooms to search, a fact she had been happy about before the stink had slapped her in the face.

The house was quiet, and the closer she got to what she assumed was the bathroom, the worse the smell. On the wall across from the open door was a huge spray of blood, with bits and pieces of bowel and the owner’s last meal spattered throughout it. This time Kyra couldn’t hold it; she turned her head and promptly lost her cookies. She wiped her mouth on her shirt sleeve, all the while keeping her gun and light raised. The blood spray went all the way to the floor, then turned into a slimy trail which of course disappeared into the bathroom.

She took a deep breath, regretted doing that when she gagged on thick stink again, then quickly moved to the doorway. It was a small room, so the source of the smell was in plain sight.

“Ugh,” she whispered and made a face. Apparently not everyone in town was at the store that day.
Kasey doesn’t quite know everything after all, does she?
she thought. The medicine cabinet hung above the sink, and the very dead body of a fat woman was wedged between it and the toilet. Well, previously fat. Something had been chowing down; the woman’s abdomen was nothing more than a hollowed-out husk.

Kyra dared to step closer, just enough so she could see why this thing wasn’t up and moving around like all the others. She suspected head trauma of some sort, and it turned out she was right. Apparently the lady had whacked her head a good one when she fell backwards into the bathroom. There was a severe dent in the side of her skull, and upon further investigation, Kyra found a bloody smear along the side of the toilet bowl.

She shuffled back into the doorway, biting her lip and studying the medicine cabinet as she deliberated.
Should I say the hell with it, or squeeze in somehow?
She was so engrossed in trying to make up her mind, she failed to notice a faint, wet, popping sound coming from the lady on the floor. The noise persisted, something like cooked spaghetti noodles being squeezed. As Kyra was about to say the hell with it, the wriggling and squirming changed into a sharp hissing.

This got her attention. She jerked the flashlight down and screamed as the beam lit up an ugly and gut-smeared opossum face. It hissed again, jaws wide and sharp teeth exposed, feeling slightly cross for having its fine dinner interrupted. Kyra staggered over her own feet and fell into the hallway. She slammed her hand against the wall to catch herself, then screamed again when she felt blood and guts ooze between her fingers. All this proved to be a little too much for her; she quickly turned and stumbled around like a drunk as she ran out of the house, exploding out of the door just in time to chuck behind the shrubbery.

“Kyra, are you okay?” Ben asked over the walkie. She jerked around and saw him watching her from across the street. He was just about to move on to his last house when he noticed his girlfriend with her head buried in a bush. Kyra wiped her mouth again, nodded, and waved her hand at him as she moved on to her last house.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jake asked. She sighed and grabbed her radio from her pocket.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just a little sick at my stomach is all, from all the dead smell. Moving on to my last house,” she answered, still smiling at Ben, who was walking backwards up the street and watching her uncertainly.

“Copy that. Ben, any luck?”

He waved one last time at Kyra before turning and ducking into the house.

“No, still nothing. Doesn’t make any sense to me, not a single person in this town was sick? I’m inside my last house now, hopefully I’ll find something. How about you?”

“Nah, not a damn thing. I’m scopin’ out Hoskins’ place now.”

“Don’t you dare, Jake. We have enough problems without you getting into a gunfight tonight. And please make sure he can’t see you,” Ben pleaded.

“Don’t worry ya big puss, he can’t see me. He’s in there though. I can see him movin’ around behind the curtains. Be pretty easy to take him out, check his house too.”

“Leave him be, Jake. Go to the store if you’re finished.” Ben was nearly done searching this house, and he had lucked into finding some Vicodin. Other than that,
nada.

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Jake said, chuckling.

While the boys were bickering, Kyra was standing in another bathroom, this one devoid of death, and staring at a bottle of Cipro. Her mouth hung open in surprise and the beam of her flashlight shook a bit.

“I’ll be damned,” she finally managed to whisper. She leaned her gun against the sink and carefully took the bottle from the medicine cabinet. She looked at it and handled it like it was a nuclear bomb.
Antibiotics, and a full bottle at that
, she thought. The walkie chirped in her pocket as Ben informed her he was heading to the store with Jake.

“Are you done yet?” he asked. She stared at the bottle in her hand, not entirely sure what to do next.

“Kyra? Are you there?” Ben asked again. She snapped her attention away from the bottle and pulled the radio from her pocket.

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” she answered. She gripped the bottle tightly and stared at her reflection in the mirror. This was her chance. Payback’s a bitch, they say. There was a small trash can beside the toilet. Her eyes flicked from the bottle to the can, then back to her reflection. Yes, Perfect Revenge. She shoved the bottle down into the tissue-strewn contents, then for good measure, took a handful of toilet paper from the roll, balled it up, and stuffed it on top. She checked from every angle, making sure the bottle was covered completely. Mission accomplished.

Exhilaration pumped through her as she left the house. Exhilaration and triumph. She stopped at the front door to pull herself together. Wouldn’t be good if the guys saw her grinning like the Cheshire Cat. After clearing her throat and taking a few deep breaths, she stepped outside and started towards the store, her face set in solemn stone.

“No luck?” Ben asked when she met up with them. He and Jake stood in front of the plate glass window, Jake with a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips, and Ben fidgeting and wringing his hands. Kyra sighed, shrugged, and shook her head, a little too dramatically.

“No, didn’t find a thing. Hard to believe isn’t it? You would think
someone
here would have had some antibiotics.”

Jake eye-balled her but kept quiet. Ben pulled the bottle of Vicodin from his pocket and shook it.

“Well, I found these. At least they’ll help with the pain. We better get up top, call it in,” he said. Jake pushed himself off the window, eyes still on Kyra, and crushed out the butt with the heel of his boot.

“Yeah, better call it in. I’ll take first watch, you two love-monkeys can get some sleep,” he mumbled and pulled open the door. Kyra lowered her head and followed them inside, the corners of her lips twitching with buried amusement.

Chapter Fifteen

October 12
^th

“They’re right behind me,” Mia was mumbling. Nancy, who had nodded off shortly before daybreak, was on her feet and bent close to her patient, trying to decipher her groggy words.

“Mia, it’s okay, you’re safe. Open your eyes for me,” Nancy coaxed. Mia’s eyes fluttered and slowly opened, then focused sharply on Nancy’s face.

“Who are you?” she asked. Nancy smiled and patted her hand.

“My name’s Nancy. I’m a friend of Kasey’s. I’ve been taking care of you.”