Zomb-Pocalypse 3 (8 page)

“It probably
didn’t come out because we were disguised under all the zombie mess,” Dad says
thoughtfully as he and Silas go into the bathroom and wrap the zombie up in the
shower curtain before hauling her outside with the old couple. Silas and my dad
turn the water off and even insist on washing the bathroom floor before they’ll
let me back in there. They both go over every inch with a flashlight to be sure
there are no more surprises. Silas even removes a large black spider that he
finds in the corner, and relocates him to the kitchen.

“I’ll be fine,” I
reassure them as I close the bathroom door in their faces, and then I’m alone
again in the bathroom that nearly killed me the last time. It smells really
strongly of bleach now, and there is absolutely no sign of the zombie—except
the missing shower curtain. Silas has thought of everything, and he’s even hung
a large bed sheet up in its place. I start the water again and turn to the
mirror. It reminds me too much of earlier when I look back and see the empty
closet door, so I turn away and start to mentally prepare myself for my icy
shower.

Something is weird
though, steam is rising out of the shower. I blink in surprise as I dip my hand
underneath the spray and have to yank it back when it burns me. My first real
smile today splits my face, and I chuck my towel and climb underneath the
spray. It’s heaven, well worth nearly getting eaten by a zombie. I close my
eyes and rinse all the dried gore from my hair and skin, washing and rinsing my
hair three times before I’m satisfied. It’s been so long since I had a hot
shower, not since Camp Freedom. At the cabin we heat water over the fire and
use that to wash up, but it’s a huge production to fill the tub, so we usually
don’t. Or, if we do, there is a line up and all of us girls end up using the
same water.

I stand there
until the water starts to get cold, and then I feel guilty that I’m hogging it
from Dad and Silas. I turn off the tap, and I’m instantly chilled by the cool
night air. It was almost easy to forget for a moment and pretend that I’d step
out of this shower into a heated room and a world that hasn’t completely fallen
apart.

I quickly wrap
myself in a towel and dig out a warm change of clothes from my bag, getting
into my clothes before hypothermia sets in.

I open the
bathroom door to find Silas and my dad looking at me anxiously. “You’re never
going to believe it,” I tell them, and they both look confused.

“What?” Silas
asks, and I grin at them.

“There’s actual
hot water,” I confide and watch them go slack-jawed in surprise. Whatever they
thought I was going to say, they hadn’t expected that. Silas takes one step
towards the bathroom and I frown. “You’ll probably want to wait until it heats
up again,” I say with an apologetic look. Silas nods like it’s no big deal, and
he and my dad follow me into the kitchen instead.

“How are you
feeling?” my dad asks when I sit down with my pack and pull out a can of
peaches and some dry noodles.

“Great after that
shower,” I tell them with a smile, even though I know he’s really asking about
the zombie in the bathroom. I ignore them both as I add the chicken soup seasoning
to the noodles and shake it around. They are hard and crunchy, but weirdly
filling—I guess because the noodles soften and expand in my stomach.

I sit and eat
while they stare at me; it’s a little awkward. Finally, when I can’t stand it
anymore, I turn to Silas. “I think that water should be warmed up by now,” I
tell him, and he nods as he gets up from the chair. It’s almost like they don’t
believe I’m actually okay, that I’m going to turn into a zombie if they take
their eyes off me for a minute.

When Silas is
gone, my dad gives me a tired smile. “So how are you fee–?” he starts to ask,
but I shake my head.

“Don’t ask me that
again, please,” I beg, and Dad lets out a sigh.

“I just worry
about you—I can’t help it,” he says, and I nod.

“I know, but I can
take care of myself…at least a little bit,” I tell him, and Dad lets out a
small chuckle.

“I know that,” he
surprises me by saying, and I look over at him to see if he’s serious. He nods
his head. “I’m sorry for treating you like a baby these last few days. I know
now that you are capable and strong. It’s just going to be hard for your mother
and me to loosen up with all the…” he pauses, searching for the proper word.

“Zombies?” I
suggest, and he cringes.

“I hate that
word,” he confides, and I nod.

“Me too. It feels
so fake,” I say as I toss my empty peach can in the sink.

I stare at Dad for
a few minutes and then nod towards the bedroom. “I think I’m going to hit the
hay,” I tell him, and he stands up and almost gives me a hug before he remembers
that he’s still covered in zombie guts.

“It is late,” he
agrees, blowing me a kiss instead.

I head toward the
first bedroom I come to and push the door open to find that it’s kind of girly.
It must’ve belonged to the zombie from the bathroom. I creep around using my
lantern to check the closet before I head over to the bookshelf and pick
through the titles. I see a romance that catches my eye and lay down with it,
but I don’t make it past the third page before I give up and tuck the book
underneath the pillow. The lantern is a nice companion in this strange room
that used to belong to a dead girl, but the batteries aren’t a luxury I can
afford. So after giving myself a stern talking to, I reach over and switch it
off.

The entire room is
bathed in darkness, and it’s a little creepy. So I do the only thing I can
think of. I whisper my prayers, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my
soul to keep.
” Better than a zombie taking it.
My dark thoughts intrude,
but I push them aside
.
“But if I die before I wake…” My prayers starts
to creep me out, and I can’t exactly remember the second verse anyway, so I
give up and close my eyes.

Chapter Seven

“Rise and shine
kiddo,” I hear my dad’s voice, and I open my eyes only to slam them shut again
when I realize his flashlight is pointed right at my face.

“Dad,” I yelp as I
cover my eyes, and he reaches over and turns on my lantern.

“Sorry,” he
mumbles, and then he’s gone, leaving me to get up. The room is still dark, but
with the bags over the window that isn’t a surprise. It definitely messes with
your inner clock though. I pull myself out of the bed with a groan; I’m stiff
from yesterday.

There isn’t a lot
to do since I’m already dressed. I haven’t worn pajamas since the morning Abby
phoned to tell me about the end of the world. I quickly run a comb through my
hair and braid it into a long, tight braid at the back of my head so it’ll be
out of the way. I tuck the book I started reading into my bag and meet Silas
and my dad in the kitchen.

“Morning, sunshine,”
Dad says, whistling a happy tune as he plants a huge bowl of hot oatmeal in
front of my face and passes me a bag of brown sugar.

“Morning,” I
mumble as I add an obscene amount of sugar to my breakfast, making Silas wince.
“Why are you so chipper this morning?” I can’t help asking my dad when he hands
me a cup full of hot chocolate. It’s an awesome treat.

“Why wouldn’t I be
in a good mood?” he asks, answering my question with a question of his own.
“We’re alive. The sun is shining. This kitchen is well stocked, so we’re having
a good breakfast…” My dad pauses like he’s thinking. “Oh yeah,” he says when
Silas’s face breaks out into a huge grin. I frown at them both. “Silas found a
car this morning, and it runs.” I feel my pulse start beating double time when
he says that.

“Really?” I shout
as I explode out of my chair and hug them both, nearly knocking my oatmeal onto
the floor. My dad catches the bowl at the same time he catches me in a hug and
he squeezes me back.

“There’s even
enough fuel to make it back home,” Silas tells me, and I smile. Home. The cabin
really is home now, everyone I love is there. I frown thinking about my mom.

“The sooner, the
better,” I tell Dad. “Mom is probably worried sick.” My dad winces as he nods
in agreement.

“Eat your breakfast
and we’ll go,” he tells me, and I have to sit down and force myself to eat even
though I’m almost too excited. Yesterday, laying in that pit amid the rotting
body parts, the thought of making it home was such a distant hope, but this
morning it is actually within our reach. I feel something I haven’t felt very
much in the last couple of months—joy!

I eat so quickly I
barely taste anything…except sugar. I almost give in to the urge to have
another hot shower before we go, but I know it’s a foolish want, not a need.
I’m not dirty, and everyone is probably worried sick about us.

After breakfast,
Silas leads us outside to the late model station wagon he’s found. It looks
like it’s seen better days, but it has four wheels and an engine, so I’m
tempted to kiss its wood-paneled exterior.

I climb in the
back with my bag. Silas finishes loading in the few boxes of stuff he’s
pillaged from the house and then climbs into the passenger seat.

“I can’t believe
you found this car,” I tell him while we wait for my dad to come out.

Silas turns to me
with a grin. “I know. Luck was on our side today,” he says and I laugh, I can’t
help it. The whole day just feels so…great.

My dad slides in
behind the wheel and hands Silas and I each a large bag of chips. “I found these
in the room I slept in last night,” he tells us, and even though I just ate
breakfast, I open my bag of dill pickle chips and dig in.

Our plan is to
retrace our steps from yesterday and take the same route home. I’m surprised to
find that we reach Wal-Mart only ten minutes after leaving the farmhouse.

“It seems like it
should be so much farther away,” I say when we pass the superstore and head
back through town.

“That’s because
walking sucks,” Silas chimes from the front seat, and I can’t agree more.

Thinking back over
the harrowing run for our lives, I think about Barry and feel my face flush in
anger. This whole thing was his fault.

“What are you
going to do about Barry?” I ask, and both Silas and my dad are quiet in the
front seat for a bit.

“I guess I’ll wait
and hear his side of the story first,” my dad says, making me groan.

“Come on, Dad. He
left us!” I exclaim.

“For dead,” Silas
adds, apparently he isn’t willing to forgive and forget either.

“Thankfully none
of us died—so I’m feeling lenient,” Dad says, making both Silas and I huff in
annoyance.

We drive in
silence through the remains of town. There are zombies everywhere I look, but
in the car they are much less terrifying.

I’m staring at an
elderly woman wearing a babushka, surprisingly she looks much more spry as a
zombie than she probably was in life—when my Dad suddenly slams on the brakes.
“Ouch,” I say as I face plant the seat in front of me.

My dad looks back
at me in the rear-view mirror and frowns. “You’re not wearing your seatbelt?”
he demands, and I shake my head.

“What, is a zombie
cop going to give me a ticket?” is my smartass reply, which only makes the
frown lines in my dad’s forehead become more pronounced.

“No smart mouth,
but a seatbelt will still stop you from going through the window, so law or no
law, I want you wearing it.”

“Fine,” I huff,
crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Why did we stop?” Silas points out the
window, and for the first time I notice the truck parked crookedly on the side
of the road.

“Is that our
truck?” I ask, even though I know it is. There are a lot of black pickup trucks
that look the same, but not very many with the red fuel tank in the back, or
the piles of supplies that we took from Wal-Mart. “But why would it be here?” I
burst out before I realize that obviously Silas and my dad know nothing more
about it than I do.

“I’m gonna go
check it out,” Silas says as he slips from the station wagon and pulls his gun
from his hip. My stress level goes up several notches now that Silas is out of
the car. I scan the area to make sure there are no zombies in the immediate
vicinity…there are a few lifeless ones around the truck—I count ten.

“What do you think
happened?” I ask Dad, but he just shrugs without answering me. He’s too busy
watching for trouble. Silas approaches the truck and looks through the window,
and then I see him hop in. The taillights light up as he starts the engine, and
my Dad pulls up alongside him.

“What do you think
happened?” my dad repeats my own question to Silas once he’s leaned over and
rolled down the passenger side window—no automatic windows in this beauty.

Silas shrugs. “I
can’t be sure, but it looks like Regg ran into some trouble when he left us.
Maybe he ran into a group that was too big?” Silas shrugs again. “It’s
impossible to know,” he says helplessly. I feel my heart dip in fear for Regg.
He was a nice guy. I really don’t like the idea that something might’ve
happened to him.

“Do you think he’s
still out here somewhere?” I ask, climbing over into the front seat. Silas and
my dad both scan the area.

“We can’t know for
sure,” my dad says, and even Silas shakes his head.

“I think if Barry
didn’t pick him up, then he isn’t out here. Not anymore,” Silas says as he gets
out of the truck and points to all the zombie gore on the outside of the truck.
“See these dents all along the side and the hood?” he points, and my dad and I
both nod, our hearts sinking. “It must’ve been a lot of zombies, and you can
tell someone was in the truck or they wouldn’t have bothered with it,” Silas
says, sounding like a professor of zombie studies.

“Let’s get ready
to go,” Dad says, motioning for Silas to get back in the truck. “The zombies
must’ve moved on,” he says to me.

I watch Silas
stand outside the truck and scan the area again with his binoculars. “CHAD!” he
shouts, making me jump.

“What is he
doing?” I hiss at my Dad, but he doesn’t seem all that concerned. He’s looking
around for any sign of Regg.

We strain our ears
and listen, but the only reply is the far off moan of hungry zombs.

“Damn it!” Silas
curses as he gets back in the truck with a resigned look. “I was really hoping
we’d find him.

“I’m sure he’s
back at camp,” I tell Silas, but he doesn’t look convinced.

“We’ll follow
you,” my dad yells across the car to Silas, and Silas nods as he puts the truck
in gear and pulls away. I wait for Dad to follow him, but his hand doesn’t even
twitch towards the gear shift. I turn to look at him, and he’s looking
pointedly at my seatbelt.

“Okay, okay,” I
mutter as I buckle myself in. It’s probably a good idea; I doubt this car has
airbags.

It’s a relief to
pull into the driveway at the cabin, and a smile lights my face as I get out
and stretch before jogging over to Silas, who’s just backed the truck in for
easier access to unload. We both spot the car Barry used as his getaway vehicle
parked around the side of the cabin and frown.

I open my mouth to
say something to Silas about it when the door of the cabin bursts open and
Barry stands on the porch with a shotgun in his hand. “What in the actual
fuck,” Silas mutters under his breath as he grabs me and pulls me in behind the
truck for protection.

“Barry,” I hear my
dad holler. He’s also dove behind the station wagon. It might seem like a bit
of an overreaction, but not really after what we know about this guy. He’s
super shady and had no problem leaving us all to die.

I peek around the
truck and see Regg come out behind Barry. Regg claps a hand on his shoulder and
easily disarms him with some military tactic when Barry doesn’t automatically
lower his gun.

“Relax man, it’s
them,” I hear Regg say, and then my mother is bursting out the door sobbing.
She stops when she sees my dad.

“Where is she?”
she demands, looking terrified and hopeful all at once. My dad points to Silas
and I, who are still hunkered behind the Ford. Mom runs up and grabs me in a
half-hug, half-chokehold, and Silas steps back quickly, not wanting to be
involved in something so emotional. “I thought I’d lost you,” my mom sobs,
laughing hysterically at the same time. I’m not really sure how to react, so I
just pat her awkwardly on the back, half-wishing I could run off like Silas. My
mom pulls back and looks at me as her eyes narrow, and I know I’m in trouble.
She’s glad I’m alive, but now she also wants to kill me.

“Mom…” I start to
say, but she doesn’t give me the chance to finish.

“Jane Elizabeth
May Hanson,” she says, raising her voice with each name she adds, and I wince.
I hate it when she uses my whole name, and I hate people hearing it and knowing
my whole name.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I
just couldn’t let them go off alone. I was worried something was going to
happen to them,” I say in a rush, and my mom stops and takes a deep breath like
she’s trying to calm down. My dad comes over, puts both his hands on her shoulders,
and gives her a squeeze.

“I think we should
talk,” he tells her, and I send him a grateful look.

“Oh, don’t think
you aren’t going to be punished,” he tells me. “You disobeyed us and you caused
your mother a lot of stress,” he continues, and my heart sinks. “But…” he adds,
and I look up at him in surprise. “You also proved your metal and your mom and
I are going to talk about letting you have a few more responsibilities…maybe
even allow you out of the house,” he jokes, and I attack hug him.

“Jane!” I turn
from my dad’s hug and see Ryan striding towards me. He looks angry, and I guess
he has the right. I would be pissed if he snuck off. “Don’t you ever do that
again,” he tells me as he wraps his arms around me. Despite the fact that I’m
torn between him and Silas, I squeeze him back because no matter who I pick,
they are both still my best friends and I love them.

“I’m sorry,” I
tell him, and I really do mean it. Abby comes over and hugs me, and so does
Sunny and Megan and even Regg…Chad.

“What happened to
you guys?” Regg asks when we’ve all hugged each other. “Barry said you were
surrounded and ripped apart right in front of him, back at the store.” My mouth
opens in shock to hear the fairytale Barry fabricated to explain our absence. I
hear Silas swear as we all turn to look at Barry. He’s sweating and pale. I’m
so surprised, you could probably knock me over with a feather, when my dad lets
go of my mom and strides forward and punches Barry right in the nose. Barry
goes down like a sack of potatoes, and I’m just a little bit impressed with my
dad, even though I’m definitely going to make fun of him later…after all, he
was the one that said we should all forgive Barry.

“I can’t believe
you left us for dead and then just came back here like nothing happened,” my
dad spits as Barry climbs to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Barry
says, surprisingly not making any excuses. “I shouldn’t have done it.”