Sadie Walker Is Stranded (21 page)

Nobody stood near the fire pits or down by the dock and so I followed the gunshots to the back of the cabins, closer to the edge of the forest. A line of people spread out in front of me, their faces turned toward the thicket of trees and the white shadows creeping out of it. Whelan stood in the center of the line with Nate and Banana at his sides. They each held a rifle and peppered the advancing zombies with several rounds. Andrea watched, fascinated, and Moritz and Noah hung together to the side. I noticed Cassandra hanging back from the others, both hands covering her ears. Her body jerked after each round of fire. Shane stood beside her, his fists frozen at his sides as he stared resolutely at the tree line.

I hurried up to Andrea, leaning on her shoulder to take some of the pressure off my feet.

“Morning,” she said. I could barely hear her voice over the sound of the rifles. She didn’t seem to think anything of the ear-blistering racket. Andrea sipped from a tin cup. I smelled the warm, bitter scent of coffee.

“What a way to wake up,” I replied.

“They just keep coming,” Andrea said. She shivered. “Whelan thinks they followed us up from the southern part of the island.”

“Does he now?”

“It’s not a comforting thought,” she added with a frown. I had to agree. The sight of so many undead shambling toward us made my empty stomach twist. The island didn’t feel very big and that was a lot of zombies for such a small parcel of land. Then I remembered the boat and nearly being dragged under the water by one of those things …

“Where do they all come from?” I asked her.

Whelan answered instead in a yell. “No way to tell. We’ve dealt with them ever since we got here. Seems like there’s an endless supply.”

“Sorry,” I said to Andrea. “I know this isn’t the most cheerful housewarming.”

“They’ve got coffee,” she said simply. “And that’s pretty damn cheerful.”

While she and Moritz and Noah were taking the appearance of the undead in stride, Cassandra looked ready to crumble. I went to talk to her but she jerked away. She smelled terrible. The bloodstains on her scrubs had turned rust brown and her red hair was matted down to her head.

The sight of her shrinking away from me made me wonder if joining Whelan’s tribe was such a hot idea. I glanced over my shoulder as the gunfire stopped and the last undead straggler fell forward into the dirt. We couldn’t have held off an onslaught like that. No, I’d made the right call.

Isabella and Teresa stood at the very end of the line next to Stefano. They were tucked into his sides and they turned to look at me with matching brown eyes. Not twins, as I had initially thought, but siblings, close together in age. Stefano saw them watching me and leaned over to whisper something in their ears. The two girls sidled up to me, Teresa tugging shyly at her braid.

“Good morning,” the girl on the left murmured. They wore matching T-shirts for something called “Stardusters.” Judging from the logo and explosion of pink and glittery stars it was some kind of dance studio or tap class.

“Morning,” I said. I tried to dredge up the meager amount of Spanish I’d learned in college.
“¿Como estas?”

“Not bad. How is your little boy?” the one on the right, Teresa, asked.

“He’s doing okay. You’re not … afraid of them?” I gestured to toward the tree line.

Isabella shrugged. She was taller, with less little kid chub on her face. “Sometimes they come,” she said. A flicker of fear darkened her eyes. “But we always kill them.”

“Whelan kills them,” Teresa corrected, poking out her tongue.

“Whatever.
Estupida
.” Isabella rolled her eyes, adding, “There’s breakfast ready, okay? Help yourself.”

Their duty done, they fled back to Stefano. He seemed more like an uncle or guardian, too young to have girls their age. Giggling and chatting, the girls glanced at Shane, alternately hiding behind Stefano’s legs and peeking out to glance at my nephew. Shane seemed oblivious to their gawking, choosing instead to amble up to Whelan and stare at his rifle. That wasn’t what I had in mind for this early. I ran to Shane, herding him back to the campfire so we could eat, safely out of stray bullet range.

Now that the immediate threat of the zombies had been put down, nobody seemed to have any idea what to do or where to go. Whelan turned away from the thicket and stalked back to the fire pits. I watched, swallowing a mouthful of oatmeal. His jaw worked as he slopped a can of baked beans into a cast-iron pot. He slid the pot onto a spit and jabbed at the dwindling fire before pushing both hands through his floppy hair. I was finally getting used to the idea that from now on I’d either smell like a campfire or fish.

“Shouldn’t we arrange some kind of … ice-cream social or something?” I asked.

“Be my guest.”

Banana and Nate drifted past, tossing a casual greeting to me as they continued on their way to the docks. Nate had acquired a fishing rod and some buckets. I had a feeling someone would soon be put to work clearing the dead bodies from the thicket, and us being the newcomers, I could see the task falling to us. For the moment I’d wait and hope that someone else volunteered.

“Maybe not ice cream,” I said, shifting around on a fat log rolled up snug to the fire pit. Shane had already finished his food, eyeing the pot of oatmeal. I didn’t feel comfortable yet telling him he could go for seconds. “How about a clam bake?”

He shrugged, his back to me as he hunched over the fire. “Sure,” and then even more curtly, “if you want.”

Caveman poke fire. Man grunt. Caveman no like pushy woman with prickly feet and too many questions.

“Right, sorry for that.”

I took Shane’s empty bowl, stacked it on top of mine and stood.

“There’s a lot on my mind,” he said. I guess that was maybe the start of an apology, or an apology wearing the dastardly guise of an excuse. “That’s the most I’ve ever seen. Here, I mean, on the island.”

“Isabella and Teresa didn’t seem concerned.”

“They’re
kids
.”

Shane frowned.

“How many?” I asked.

“How many what?”

“I was half-asleep. How many did you take out?”

“Fifteen,” he said, rubbing his darkened jaw. He needed a shave. “Maybe more.”

“But the rifles…” I slowly pointed out. “It didn’t seem like they posed much of a threat. Are you low on ammunition?”

“No,” Whelan replied, then, “not yet. We’ll run out a hell of a lot faster if that many keep turning up.”

Well, this was a positive way to start the day.

“Besides,” he continued, “we were fine because we were awake, Sadie, ready. But there’s no predicting when they’ll turn up. If we’re swarmed at the wrong time…” He paused, fixing his gaze on the flames at his feet. Shane made a soft sound of confusion or maybe fear. I put my hand on his head, hoping it was enough to ease his anxieties, at least until I could come up with something encouraging to say.

“I get it,” I said. “Crap. I thought we’d left all this behind in Seattle.”

“Wherever you go…”

“There they are.”

Whelan nodded. He had changed out of his blue polo and into an oversized fisherman’s cardigan, gray and speckled like a wren’s egg. I caught a glimpse of something dark at the collar, a tattoo maybe. The baked beans began to bubble, drawing my attention, their scent and sound making my mouth water. Baked beans weren’t a natural follow-up to oatmeal, but when you haven’t been eating well …

“Still hungry?” he asked, chuckling. I wondered if maybe my stomach had yowled and I hadn’t heard it.

“You bet.”

When Whelan handed me my bowl, I saw that he gave me a slightly bigger portion. Ludicrous, considering our respective sizes, but I accepted the small gesture with a grateful smile. After Shane received his portion, I discreetly leaned over and shoveled most of my extras into his bowl.

Whelan ate with his eyes in his beans. Over his shoulder I watched Noah and Moritz chatting in front of one of the cabins. Moritz watched us, his mouth moving, responding to Noah and all the while his gaze lingered on me, or Whelan, I couldn’t tell. I shivered.

“We need to make more arrows for that bow of yours,” Whelan said. Isabella and Teresa had found their way down to the beach. Cassandra tagged along at a distance, laughing and skipping, putting her feet into the divots their shoes had left in the sand. The girls soon began sword fighting with driftwood. Cassandra watched, her toes in the surf, just close enough to the water to make me nervous. Maybe the little girls would help bring Cassandra out of her shell. Stefano wasn’t down there with the girls, which struck me as remarkably laissez-faire. But this was their camp. They knew best.

It was shaping up to be a bright, mild day with just the softest cool breeze rolling in from the water.

“You can have it,” I said. “The bow, I mean. I’m not any good with it.”

“Then where’d the arrows go, hm?” He smiled. That motherfucking dimple was back. It was a start.

“One’s in a lumberjack’s leg and the other’s in his face.”

“You shot some zombies?” Shane’s eyes went wide.

I blushed.

“I was lucky. Really lucky.”

“So let me get this straight,” Whelan said. His spoon plopped down into his bowl, splattering his hand with bean juice. “You went into the woods, alone, armed with a homemade bow and a handful of arrows?”

“I had a knife too.”

“Sadie…”

“Yeah, okay, it wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. But desperation makes you do funny things,” I said. I shrugged over my beans, feeling sheepish at his implication that I was, for lack of a better description, fucking insane. “I wanted to get food for us. It didn’t turn out like I expected.”

“Sounds to me like that bow’s in good hands,” he said, softening. “You hang on to it. And kill us a deer or two if it’s not too much trouble.” He held up a spoonful of beans. “Red meat could make you a lot of friends around here.”

I smiled back at him, wondering if I should feel this relaxed after a wave of zombies came for us at the camp. The two girls down on the beach began laughing, and then one of them burst into tears, holding her arm. She had lost the sword fight. They were still awfully close to the edge of the water. Cassandra rushed forward, kneeling to help Teresa, who was the smaller of the two sisters and had fallen to her sister’s blows.

“You know they could be coming from the mainland,” I said quietly.

“Who? The undead? You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I wish I was. That’s how we lost our captain. He was fishing off the boat and one of those things yanked him into the water. They almost got me too,” I said. My ankle throbbed right on cue. The bruise lingered, just about to fade. I put my hand on Shane’s shoulder, hoping the mention of the event wouldn’t upset him.

“Your ankle,” he said. So he had seen more than just the spines in my feet. Observant. “How deep was the water?”

“Well … too deep.”

“
Shit.
” Whelan coughed. “I mean,
shoot
.”

Whelan stared at me, unflinchingly. A tendon worked like a piston below his ear. He was afraid. I couldn’t help but share in his renewed dread. His eyes narrowed, and he squinted, sizing me up maybe or rethinking some estimation he had made previously. This was new information, important information. I hated being the bearer of bad news, but—to be honest—I didn’t mind the feeling that I was now someone to be trusted and looked to for advice.

“The one that tried to drag you down in the tide pool … He wasn’t a fluke. They can handle themselves in the water.” I glanced over my shoulder at Isabella and Teresa again, just in case. Whelan seemed to pick up on my concern.

“No,” he murmured, “that’s north. They’d come from the east. If they’re crossing the water they’d come from the east.”

“Mainland?”

He nodded. A piece of dark hair fell over his forehead and he shook it away impatiently. I tried to swallow another spoonful of beans but they had gone lukewarm and tasted too sugary sweet.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said after a long stretch of silence. “I mean, supposing they
are
filtering over from the mainland. Why us? We’re so few here. Unless everyone on the mainland…”

“Is dead?” I laughed. “No way. We’re probably just closer. Or maybe they have refined tastes.” Neither of us could rustle up a chuckle. Near the cabins, Noah and Moritz stopped talking. Moritz ducked inside, taking one last glance at me as he did so.

“Whatever the reason,” Whelan said, standing, “I’ll add a watch on the docks and to the east and hope that that’s enough.”

I nodded, thinking what a stupid word that was. Enough? Looking down at my lukewarm beans I shifted, anxious in my own skin, anxious under a sudden weight. Your defenses were always enough, until they weren’t.

TWELVE

“Clams! Clams! A love affair begins.” Andrea dipped her head down into the wooden bowl filled with steaming, fragrant shellfish. “I could die right now and be happy.”

“Please don’t say that.”

I was on edge. I realized I hadn’t drawn anything in days. That energy stored up inside can make me jumpy and out of sorts. And besides that, my discussion with Whelan over baked beans had helped a cold suspicion settle in my chest.

I had half-hoped Whelan would brush off my suggestion that the undead were coming over from the mainland. But he hadn’t brushed it off, not at all. He was spooked. Together, he and I were the only dash of ill temper at an otherwise rousing success. The clams, and also Banana’s rum, had given us southerners a good excuse to mingle with the northerners.

No Mason-Dixon bitterness here. So far introductions were going swimmingly.

To my surprise, Cassandra took a shine to—of all people—Danielle. The presence of little Isabella and Teresa seemed to make the nurse more lighthearted too. The little girls flitted around the fire playing tag with their dark hair turned burnished gold from the flames, while Shane looked on with a disdainful little scowl on his chubby face. Danielle had managed to coax Cassandra out of her disgusting scrubs and into a candy pink T-shirt and white denim shorts. The change in Cassandra’s mood was startling.