Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (28 page)

“Damn,”
she muttered. Her heart was racing.

Re-orientating
so she faced the direction they had been going when they stopped, Miranda took
a deep breath and turned around. Then she slowly retraced their route. After
that first turn they’d gone further, about thirty steps. Miranda walked that
distance and stopped. Was she correct? Was that how far? She listened
carefully. Still nothing. Wait! Was that a groan?

“Aunt
Betty?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

She
slowly counted, waiting, hoping for a response. Ten, twenty, thirty, a minute
passed. Tears began to run down her face, and Miranda turned to the right,
praying she was facing the correct direction. She took a single step and
paused, sniffing the air. Nothing, not even a trace of the breakfast they’d
just eaten. Where was the house? Another step, then a third. At step twenty
two, Miranda was certain she’d made a mistake, that she had gone the wrong
direction and missed the house entirely. Two steps later, her outstretched hand
struck a window.

Relief
surged through her. All that remained was to reach the door. Now, had she gone
too far to the left or right? To the right. That was the most likely. Dragging
her fingers along the wall, she headed left, but Miranda unexpectedly stumbled
over a coiled garden hose and fell. Her hands flew up, and she hit a patch of
gravel. Wincing in pain, she bit her lip to keep from crying out and forced
herself to keep moving.

The
door! She had found the door! As her right hand reached for the knob, a new
terror filled her. Had her aunt locked it behind them? Could she get back in?
She could. Aunt Betty had left it open. Miranda moved inside and closed it
behind her, carefully locking and testing the bolt. Then she made her way to the
kitchen to ensure the back door was secured as well. After taking a moment to
find the roll of paper towels sitting on the counter near the sink, she
crumpled to the floor and used them to staunch the flow of blood.

Gingerly,
she flexed the fingers of her left hand. It hurt the most. With her right she
was able to feel the gouges, some deep, most dirty. She had to clean it out.
Miranda reached for the sink, then stopped and moved up the stairs instead,
heading for the bathroom. She used the bar of soap by the faucet to wash the
wounds as best she could, trying not to cry as it stung and burned. Then, among
her own bathroom stuff, she found a tube of anti-bacterial lotion. She rubbed
this into both palms.

How to
call the police? Aunt Betty said there was 911 service, but she hadn’t
mentioned where the phone was. The den she used as an office, that had to be
it, but where exactly, mounted on the wall, sitting on a desk? And why hadn’t
she tried to call for help first thing? What had she been thinking? Not thinking
at all, she realized. Miranda needed to calm down. She had to work this out
logically. Okay, her cell phone was in her room. It was on her suitcase which
was sitting atop a chair. She had plugged it in to charge, and the electrical
socket had been next to the chair.

Miranda
made it to the bedroom, but in her haste grabbed the edge of the suitcase too
hard. It tipped over, and she heard things fall out, some rattling as they
scattered about the hardwood floor.

“Damn
it!”

On hands
and knees, she tried to find her phone. Miranda located the charging cord fast
enough, but the cell had popped off. She found plenty of clothes, extra jeans,
a bra that had ended up beneath the bed. With that thought, she dropped to her
belly and stretched out, feeling carefully. There! Her fingers brushed
something hard, and she got enough of a grip to pull it toward her. It was her
cell phone.

Miranda
sighed in relief and pressed the speed dial button to call her mother. It went
directly to voicemail, the same for her father. Then she dialed 911 but got a
busy signal. That… that wasn’t right. She tried again, but the results were no
different. Finally, Miranda hit the button to reach Bobby. He was one of the
others who volunteered to help the newly blind adjust. He answered on the
second ring.

“Who is
this?”

“Miranda,”
she answered, relieved to have gotten hold of somebody.

“Miranda!
Where are you? Things are happening.”

“I’m at
my aunt’s in
Nebraska
, visiting. Some people attacked her. I
got back inside and locked the doors…”

“Okay,”
he said, interrupting. “Stay there. Stay away from the windows too. The people
are not right, all over the world. They’re attacking and killing each other.
The news even said that maybe…”

Bobby
was cut off.

Screaming,
Miranda tried to get him back. Nothing. It didn’t even ring. An hour later, as
she sat on the floor in her room, she heard a click as the power went out and
everything turned off.

*
* *

Miranda
finally moved sometime in the afternoon. She went to the bathroom to relieve
herself and get a drink of water. Then she went downstairs to see if she could
find the house phone or her aunt’s cell. She never found the cell. Aunt Betty
had likely taken it with her when they went out that morning. It took twenty
minutes to locate the land line. It had been mounted on the wall, high up,
beside the desk. There was no dial tone.

Hungry,
Miranda made her way to the kitchen, trying to stay low and out of sight of the
windows like Bobby advised. Her hands were still throbbing, making crawling
particularly difficult, but she didn’t let that stop her. Reaching the
refrigerator, Miranda finished off the strawberries and blueberries, along with
an apple she found.

The
water went out that evening.

*
* *

Miranda
spent three weeks alone. She took every bottle of water and can of soda she
could find and stacked them in one corner of her room. Likewise, she took the
food that hadn’t gone bad, mostly boxes of crackers and croutons and cans of
who knew what and put them in the bedroom as well. She did have the foresight
not to use the toilet in the bathroom next to her, being unable to flush, and
started using the powder room downstairs for that. But other than those trips,
she hid in her room with the door closed, sitting on the floor most of the
time, praying, thinking, and despairing.

She
wanted her parents to come and get her. They knew where she was, so why hadn’t
they arrived? Had something happened to them, like with Aunt Betty? There’d
been no sign of her since the struggle. With the phones not working, Miranda
was unable to call for help, and she didn’t know what else to do. She supposed
she could try to reach the house next door, the one where the forest ranger
lived, but Miranda didn’t know the layout of the two structures and wasn’t
certain if she would be able to find it or if she could even get back to her
aunt’s house. And she was terrified of getting lost in the forest or, worse,
having the people who attacked her aunt find her as well.

*
* *

After
hearing Miranda’s story, Briana told me that this young woman was one of the
strongest people she’d ever met. I have to agree. Miranda went through so much,
all alone, without any inkling of what was happening. Her mind should have
cracked. I believe mine would have under similar circumstances. Yet, she hung
on and even bounced back within days of being found. Miranda did not want to be
alone for any reason, and I now understood why, but other than that she was as
close to normal as any of us in this shitty world. Or perhaps she was just good
at hiding the hurt.

Chapter IX

We
rejoined Pastor Thomas Wills and his flock on the twenty sixth day. Everyone
was in a good mood, although this was dampened slightly by the knowledge of
what Miranda had been through. It was impossible not to sympathize with her,
even considering the suffering everyone else had experienced.

“It is
good to see you again,” said the preacher.

Julie
was in the background. She glared at me. Briana glared back. I ignored her, and
she soon turned away.

“We
found quite a bit,” remarked Timothy. “All this, in the back of the pickup, is
for you.”

That got
the attention of the others. The couple had donated most of the food we gave
them, their share of our looting, along with those items we had specifically
set aside for the lake camp. This latter portion consisted of all the creamed
corn, plenty of beans, and most of the other vegetables no one liked. The only
good stuff we gave away were some bags of candy, and those went to the
children.

“We have
guns too,” said Susan, “a shotgun and three rifles. Good for hunters. More
fishing gear as well.”

Along
with the long guns, we’d also come across a few pistols, mostly revolvers.
Susan remained consistent and refused them. With no input from Timothy, Lizzy
and I ended up taking the lot. Since they weren’t anything we needed, I would
offer them to the pastor or Simon later.

“And you
must be Miranda,” said the minister, walking up to Cherie and the young woman
standing beside her.

“Yes,”
she said, holding out her hand.

He took
it gently in his own. “I am so glad you survived this ordeal my dear. Don’t
worry. You are among friends.”

She
nodded her thanks.

As the
pastor came up to me, Cherie handed Miranda off to Mary saying there were a few
people she wanted to talk to. Mary seemed more than happy to stay with her, and
they began a discussion about singers and boy bands of whom I had absolutely no
knowledge. Nor did I care to learn. Dreadful music.

“Tell me
of this new area you found,” he requested, very politely.

“Let’s
park ourselves, if you don’t mind.” I gestured at one of the picnic tables.

He
nodded, and with Briana, Lizzy, and Lois in tow we sat down. A few others
drifted in close. They didn’t join us but were obviously curious as to what we
had to say. Pastor Wills didn’t seem to mind in the least. He was the type
that’d share with them anyway.

“It’s
well off the service roads, out of sight of them actually, and about as far
from US-385 as you can get and still be deep within the forest.”

“There’s
a stream behind the rise where we want to build houses too,” said Briana.
“Might be fish in it. We didn’t look, but there’s lots of water for planting
things. If it’s flowing this late in the summer, it probably has water most or
all of the year.”

I hadn’t
thought of that. Good for Briana, outthinking me, but then I was old and
decrepit, nearing the point of decay. Okay, that was a bit much, and I’m sure
she would agree. Still, I was certainly glad she was intelligent and noticed
such things.

“Large
open meadow,” I continued, “where we can plant crops or keep livestock. Won’t
have to clear any trees or, God forbid, stumps.”

“While
the phrase is not necessarily appropriate,” smiled the older man, “I do
remember digging out tree stumps. It is not enjoyable.” He paused. “I see no
reason why you should not establish yourselves there if you find it
satisfactory. I, however, think I will remain by the lake. We have grown
attached to this spot. It is safe, and we are close enough to the roads to be
quickly discovered when help comes.”

“Help is
not going…”

I cut
Lizzy off. “Your choice pastor.”

She
glared at me. Normally it’s lunch time before two separate women give me such
looks in a single day. I was on a roll.

“Have
you found any zombies?” he asked.

I shook
my head. “Not in the forest, yet, but there were some. Miranda encountered a
few, as you did that first night.”

“Very
true,” said Pastor Wills, “yet none since that time. They have been guided from
us by the hand of God.”

“Possible,”
I agreed, “or you might simply be lucky. That happens. People win the lottery,
despite the odds against it.”

“I
prefer to think it is the work of God, although we have been keeping an eye out
for anything unusual. There has been nothing.”

“Good
enough, but our spot is better. It’ll take a lot of work to get it set up of
course, but if we’re to get through the winter in any sort of comfort, we need
real structures. Tents won’t cut it, not as cold as it’s likely to get, not to
mention the snow.”

He
sighed. “I have been considering that as well. We may start working on
something ourselves, in another month perhaps, if we are not rescued first.”

I ran
the calculations in my head. That was probably doable, but the weather would be
getting bad by the time they finished. There might even be enough early snow to
cause real difficulties.

“Pastor?”
asked a woman as she approached the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“That’s
all right my dear. There is nothing to worry about. What might I do for you?”

“We were
wondering if we could cook up an extra large meal for lunch, since we have so
much more now, just this once. We can’t waste and all normally.”

He
nodded. “That is an excellent idea.” Then the preacher turned back to us. “Will
you join in?”

“We’ll
stay for that, sure, but afterwards we’ll be heading back to get started. I’ll
leave you a map with the site marked on it for your reference too.”

“Wonderful,
in the matter of you staying for lunch, though a map will also be appreciated.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to see to the others. We’ll talk more
later.”

*
* *

“Okay
you two,” began Lizzy, “what happened last night? I want disgusting details.
The holy man is gone, Susan and Timothy and their self-righteousness are
elsewhere, and Mary’s too far away for her delicate ears to get burned.”

Lois
backhanded Lizzy’s broad and fleshy shoulder. “Be nice to my sister.”

“I am
being nice,” she protested. “I made sure she couldn’t hear and be all
disturbed, her being only thirteen and probably having seen it all on the
Internet already.”

“I’m not
telling you anything,” said Briana, laughing, “not a single thing.”

Lizzy
looked at me, and I shrugged. “I think it’s best if I not speak on any personal
matters at this time.”

“Well,
you two were real quiet, but it was more whispering, tender quiet than sound
asleep quiet. I’m guessing romantic sex.” She grinned at Briana. “Try the
bouncing about screaming variety. It’s more fun.”

Briana,
to her credit, did not blush, although I think I might have.

“And I
bet there was plenty of gushy love talk afterwards.”

Lizzy
was correct in that there was all sorts of talk that lasted late into the
night, but a good deal involved discussions on impressive and implausible ways
to kill zombies, such as firing operating chainsaws out of a cannon. I can’t
recall how our conversation ended up so weird. It had just been one of those
things.

“Come
on,” she pressed. “I need something to tell Mary so she can point at you and
giggle. My personal amusement is at stake.”

“Lizzy,”
said Lois, “please stop. You’re going to embarrass them.”

“I did
that a long time ago. Besides, this is nothing. I can do much, much more.”

“You
tell me your secrets,” said Briana, “and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Don’t
you dare Lizzy,” snapped Lois.

Her
girlfriend nodded. They had an interesting relationship. I have no doubt that
Lizzy would tell Briana everything, except Lois was very, very quiet and
private when it came to such matters. She would kiss or embrace Lizzy in public
on rare occasions, but that was the extent of it. And Lizzy would never do
anything to hurt Lois’s feelings. The matter had been closed. Wonderful. There
was no way that would last.

“Come
along,” said Lois. She stood up and pulled Lizzy away from the table.

“Are you
mad at me?”

“No. We
just need to go for a walk.”

*
* *

“Lois is
a good friend,” observed Briana. “Can you imagine what Lizzy would be like
without her?”

“Dreadful
comes to mind. By the way, do you still want to speak with Pastor Wills about
us?” She hadn’t brought that up since the prior day. “We can if you like.”

“No.
Yes. Well, not yet.”

I
smiled. “It’s good to be so decisive.”

“I’m
getting there. I’m just not as ready…” Her voice dropped lower. “…to discuss
him marrying us as I thought I was. I’m good with us. I like our relationship.
I love you. I want to be with you and stay with you forever and ever and maybe
then some, though not if that means shambling about. Scratch that part. It
didn’t even make sense to me.” Briana took a deep breath. “I need more time on
making it all… formalized. I want to. I really do, but I don’t want some sudden
rushed thing. I think I rushed a whole lot in just bringing it up so soon.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?
That’s all? No, I love you Briana and want you to marry me right now, or I love
you but we should build a church first?”

I didn’t
like the direction this was heading, and I was clueless as to the correct
answer.

“Sweetie,”
I said, “I told you before, it’s me and you, the two of us. Marriage is nice. I
have nothing against it, favor it strongly in fact, but I won’t force you to
rush anything. I’m good the moment you are.” That came out sounding awkward. “I
have you. You have me. That’s the most important thing.”

She
softened. My reply must have been close to what she wanted to hear. Hurray for
me.

“I love
you Jacob.”

Briana
had such beautiful green eyes. I stared into them.

“I love
you too. I love your personality. I love your charm and grace. I love your
mind. I particularly love that you aren’t stupid. I love your looks, long legs,
nice ass, beautiful face, large…”

“That’s
enough,” she laughed. “Let’s go get Mary. She’s all alone over there.”

“Wasn’t
she with Miranda?”

Briana
looked about. “Cherie has her again. Can’t see Lizzy or Lois anywhere.”

We waved
to Mary who was heading toward our Jeeps. She gestured for us to come to her
instead, and we dutifully left the picnic table.

“What’s
up?” I asked.

“Guess
what I saw,” she replied, smiling broadly.

“No
idea.”

“Come on
Jacob. Guess.”

“Zombie
ice cream truck?”

She
laughed. “Not even close, not that you’re even trying.”

“That
was pretty weak,” confirmed Briana. “I’m going to say pathetic.”

“Okay
then, tell us what you saw.”

Mary
looked about conspiratorially. “I saw Cherie talking to Simon.”

Briana
snorted. “That’s not exactly unusual. The tramp talks to him all the time.”

“Nah,
this was different. She gave Michael some candy, good stuff far better than
what we handed to the other children. Then, before turning to Simon, she undid
the top button of her blouse to show some cleavage. Lots of it.”

Cherie
was well built, so that was easy enough and undoubtedly appealing.

“And,”
continued Mary, “she did it fast, like she’d been practicing so no one would
notice. I don’t think anybody did, other than me.”

“Bitch
probably did practice,” muttered Briana. “Can’t stand her.”

“What
did Simon do?” I asked.

“He took
a look, but it was only for a few seconds. After that he focused on her face
and talked like normal.”

“I bet
that pissed her off,” said Briana, harshly.

Mary
shook her head. “I don’t know. I think Cherie was happy he didn’t. She seemed
satisfied when she walked off. Lots of the church people did watch as she
walked by though, even some of the women. I have to tell Lizzy about that.”

“She’ll
find it entertaining,” I replied, “but it was probably just jealousy. Cherie is
prettier than most of them. Tell her when Lois is around.”

“Trying
to keep her from causing trouble,” nodded Mary.

“Bright
girl.”

“Lunch
looks to be getting ready fast,” interjected Briana. “And what do you mean
Cherie’s pretty?”

“She
is.” There was no denying that fact. Actually, Cherie was quite beautiful, but
I didn’t think it was in my best interest to come out and say so.