Zomb-Pocalypse (10 page)
“It wasn’t so bad,” she encourages us, though her cheeks are stained pink from embarrassment.
I make a face that appropriately shows her what I think about the camp toilet.
Abby wakes up within the hour and uses the bathroom as well. I feel like I’m going to die from a burst bladder, but I have a bathroom phobia that has taken me years to fully develop. I know I’m not going to be able to change it just because I’m locked in this cage.
Soldiers bring us our breakfast. This time they just open the door and set the tray down on the ground for us to grab. Megan runs over, picks it up, and sets it on the table. It’s a box of Cornflakes and a small container of milk. Abby dishes us each up a bowl, and we sit down in silence. I take my first bite and grimace.
“What’s wrong with this milk?” I asked, swallowing hastily.
Megan smiles at me like I’m a child. “You don’t think that they are still running to the store for a gallon of milk do you?”
I don’t really like her tone, so I flip my hair back and ignore her question.
Seeing that I’m not going to rise to her bait, she answers me like I’d asked. “This is fresh milk, they probably have cows here on the base, and they milk them every morning. It tastes different because it’s not full of chemicals like the store bought stuff.”
I stare down at my bowl and hesitantly take another bite. It’s not bad—I decide after a few experimental chews—just different.
“It’s probably not entirely pasteurized either,” Megan adds just as I take another bite.
I spit the milk back into the bowl and turn to find her smirking at me.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Abby interjects hastily, trying to keep the peace.
The unmistakable moan of a zombie interrupts my response. We spin away from the table and look around wildly to see where it’s coming from. The soldiers are standing at their posts like they haven’t heard the death groan. For a minute, I think maybe we imagined it.
I hear it again, and this time I know it’s not my imagination. My eyes follow the sound to the two guys in the cage beside us; they widen in horror when I see the sobbing man from yesterday as he rises up out of his cot with the shaky, staggering gait of a zombie. The other man is either still sleeping or dead as well.
“Hey!” I yell, trying to wake the other man up. I run to the chain link and start rattling the metal. The zombie turns towards me with its gaping maw and black, soulless eyes and lets out a hungry moan. “Wake Up!” I scream. The man on the cot sits bolt upright and quickly rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“What’s going on?” he mutters. His voice is enough to focus the zombie’s attention back on the more attainable prey.
“Your friend has turned, watch out!” Abby yells.
We all watch in horror as the man jumps to his feet, his eyes widening when he sees the sorry state of his friend.
“Marco, it’s me. Can you hear me? It’s Brad, do you recognize me?” he asks, but the zombie doesn’t show any recognition. I watch in horror as the zombie keeps staggering towards him, and the sick realization hits me. This guy is trapped in the cage with his undead friend.
“Run!” I shout, though it seems ridiculous since they are both in a cage. Brad sprints across the small cage, which now seems especially small, and picks up one of the stools from the card table.
“Please buddy, don’t do this,” Brad pleads with his friend, but the zombie couldn’t care less.
When Marco gets too close, Brad uses the stool to push him back. Marco snarls and snaps his jaw, but with his bad coordination, Brad is able to keep pushing him back.
The soldiers have been alerted by all the noise and come running over. One of them tries to line up a shot, but Brad and Marco are too close together. Two soldiers peel off the chain that holds the cage shut and rush in.
“Don’t hurt him!” Brad screams as one soldier holds him back from the zombie. The second soldier spears Marco through the brain with a huge machete-like knife.
“No!” Brad screams in a way that I have never heard a grown man scream before. He falls to his knees, trying to get to the dead zombie.
“He’s infected,” the soldier gripping Brad motions to another soldier to come and help restrain the struggling man. I watch in horror, feeling terrible as the mourning man is pulled out of the cage and unceremoniously shoved into a new cage a few cages down.
We witness a team wearing full hazmat gear come in and remove the body. They spend hours meticulously disinfecting the entire cell. It makes me wonder how many zombies have been taken out in the cell we occupy now.
When they finish, a soldier comes forward to inspect their work. He looks around carefully before nodding his approval, and the cleaning team unceremoniously packs up their supplies and leaves. I watch the soldier closely and am surprised when he doesn’t turn and go back to his post.
He pulls a set of keys from around his waist and unlocks the door of our cage. “Time’s up folks,” the soldier smiles at us and motions for us to come out. I stand up on wobbly legs and look at Ryan. I have no idea what to expect.
“What now?” Megan asks with all of her usual bluntness.
“Your clothing and personal effects will be returned to you. Weapons will only be returned when you venture outside the walls of Camp Freedom. You will meet with Captain Jericho and be debriefed.
We follow the soldier numbly until we get to the change rooms where were first admitted. He pauses outside the door and motions for us to go on ahead. Our clothes are folded neat and clean on the bench. I ignore my clothes for the moment and run to the closest bathroom stall to relieve my aching bladder. It was a close one.
The other girls are half-dressed when I come out, and I have to rush to catch up.
The smiling soldier is waiting for us outside the door with Ryan, who is already dressed too. Being out of the housecoat makes me feel a bit more human. Ryan’s clothes are stained dark red in spots, obviously someone hadn’t been able to remove all the blood stains.
“Follow me, girls,” the soldier says and then takes off at a steady pace. I am pretty athletic, but I have to jog to keep up. He takes us through a maze of hallways. People stop to stare until we reach our destination.
A soldier is stationed outside what looks like it used to be the principal’s office, and the two soldiers salute each other. “This is where I’ll leave you folks, but Sargent Regg will take good care of you,” the man smiles at us one more time, which none of us return.
“Follow me,” Sargent Regg barks out the order, obviously not as smiley as the last soldier. The warm press of Ryan’s hand on my back is the only thing that gives me the courage to step through the door.
We don’t have to wait long, and we are ushered into a stark office. An older man with salt and pepper hair and a rigid back is seated behind the desk in his army fatigues, scribbling furiously on some papers. He looks up and shuts his folder when he sees us.
“Welcome to Camp Freedom, I am very glad that you survived decontamination,” he doesn’t smile, but he does stand up and shake each of our hands one by one.
“You all look so young,” the Captain remarks with a sad shake of his head.
We nod. We are young. Though, after all we’ve been through, I feel like I’ve lived at least two lifetimes this past week.
“It is standard operating procedure to take down the information of all the survivors that we encounter. Think of it as a census of sorts. It’s a good way to see how many of us are left, it can also help to locate lost family members,” the Captain says, getting right down to business as he takes a clipboard out of his desk drawer and uncaps his pen. “Where are you guys from?”
“Blairsville, Pennsylvania,” Megan answers, showing a surprising amount of respect.
The Captain nods as he scribbles it down on the clipboard.
“All of you?” he asks for clarification.
Megan pauses long enough that the Captain looks up, “The three of us,” Megan motioned to Abby and I.
“What about you?” the Captain pins Ryan with a hard stare.
“Pittsburgh.”
The Captain resumes his furious scribbling. He takes down our names, ages, former addresses, and birthdates, which is how I find out that Ryan is nineteen.
“That should be good for now,” the Captain says finally, and I think all of us let out a sigh of relief. The questions weren’t especially difficult, but the Captain’s strict demeanor makes you feel a bit like you’re being grilled on suspicion of trying to shoot the President. “You are free to explore the camp, just make sure you stay away from areas that are clearly marked for military personnel only. Meal times are zero eight hundred hours, twelve hundred hours, and eighteen hundred hours. The mess hall is set up in the cafeteria, do not miss these times because food will not be available to you until the next meal time.” The Captain stops for a breath and appears to be consulting a checklist.
“Each family unit is assigned a classroom in which they sleep. Am I correct in assuming that you four would like to be assigned together?”
We don’t even have to think about it, all three of us girls nod. I don’t miss the look of relief that crosses Ryan’s face. We are family now, bonded by the infected blood we have been forced to spill together.
“Excellent, nice and easy, and saves space,” the Captain actually cracks a small smile this time. “Your room is thirty-six B, used to be an art room, I believe.”
We smile and thank him.
“So…what do you do with all this information you collect?” Megan asks when we are already standing and just about out the door.
I almost groan out loud.
The Captain looks to have a similar reaction, though he quickly schools his annoyed expression.
“We are currently working on organizing this information and eventually hope to set up a network to help find lost family members, in cooperation with all the other refugee camps within communicating distance. More people than you might expect escaped, and an important part of rebuilding is to reunite humanity with their loved ones.”
I smile at the idea.
“We are working closely with survivor camps from a few major cities, Wilmington, Baltimore, New York, and Buffalo.”
My hand freezes on the door knob, my knuckles white. “Did you just say New York?” I croak out, staring at the Captain with what I’m sure must be a maniacal look.
“Yes, last count they were up to five thousand survivors over there.”
The wind whooshes out of my lungs at the very idea that my parents could be in one of these camps. “How do you find a person in one of these camps?” I ask, my entire world hinging on his answer.
The Captain shakes his head, not a good sign.
“We don’t have anything up yet that could assist with that, but we are working diligently. I would predict that in a month or two, it will be entirely possible to cross reference our lists.”
My heart sinks, two months is an eternity in zombie land.
“My parents…they were in New York when this happened.”
The Captain’s eyebrow furor as he gives me a pitying look.
“Maybe they made it to the camp?” I force myself to say it out loud.
The Captain gives me an awkward pat on the shoulder. “It’s not impossible. Soldier’s began assisting evacuee’s as soon as things started to get bad.” His words ring in my ear as he all but pushes us out of his office with a polite excuse that he has a lot of work to do. “I wish I could help you,” are his parting words to me.
Then, we are alone in the hallway, following Megan who starts searching out our assigned room, thirty-six B. We find it without much trouble. It has the same style cots as the cages, set up neatly in a row. Megan puts her stuff down on the closest bed to the door, claiming it for her own, and goes to look out the window.
I look up to find Abby and Ryan staring at me like I’m a ticking time bomb.
“Guys, my parents could be alive.”
The camp is a nice change from constantly looking over my shoulder and running for my life, but I can’t settle down. I can’t eat, sleep, or relax—not when there is even the smallest possibility that my parents are sitting in a camp like this one, probably thinking I’m dead or worse.
I sit drumming my fingers on one of the desks in our room. The ‘tap, tap, tap’ is strangely soothing, and I jiggle my knee in tandem with each tap.
I can feel Ryan’s eyes on me; he hasn’t taken them off me these last two days. Under normal circumstances, before the end of the world, I wouldn’t have minded someone like him staring at me, but it’s not like that now. He’s watching me carefully: every reaction, every over reaction, every under reaction, every twitch. I feel like I can’t breathe.
A clatter pulls me from my inner thoughts, and I look up to see Megan scrambling to pick up the can of paintbrushes she’s knocked over. She’s taken up art, of all the crazy post-apocalyptic hobbies.
I stare at her painting. It’s an eerie rendition of a zombie tearing the flesh from a human leg. She’s been painting them nonstop. She had been lining them up around the room until Abby freaked out and made her flip them over so we don’t have to look at them. She’s actually surprisingly talented, so much so that her pictures give me the creeps.
“Can’t you draw anything nice?” Abby snaps as she accidentally trips over a canvas featuring a zombie that is looking out at her with its teeth bared.
Megan shrugs. “I paint what speaks to me.”
My fingers return to tapping. From the look that Megan shoots me, I know she can’t stand the noise. I stand suddenly. “I’m going for a walk.” I say, not pausing long enough to see if anyone actually cares.
I walk quickly through the maze of hallways. They haven’t been that difficult to figure out now that we have the lay of the land. I go outside and nod to a couple of the soldiers that look my way. Then, I begin my ritual of pacing around the perimeter of the chain link fence that’s been set up around the school.
Military men are stationed every few feet, and a couple hasty watch towers have been constructed as well. This place is like Fort Knox. Large machine guns sit perched, waiting to take out any zombies that wander too close, and there are always zombies. We can’t go more than a few hours without the guns going off. At first, the sound shocked us awake in the middle of the night or surprised us into dropping whatever were holding at the time. Now, after only two days, they barely even faze me anymore. It’s weird what you can get used to.
My mind spins, thinking about how I’m going to get to New York. I have already put it off the last few days, trying to form a plan. Every day that passes makes me more and more anxious. I’ve always been a meticulous planner, but I know that a plan is nearly pointless in this zombie infested wasteland of a world as plans tend to go awry when dealing with the unpredictable dead.
It’s suicide to even think about venturing so close to such a major city, but I have no choice. I can’t live the rest of my life wondering if my parents are still alive.
“When are you going?” I jump when I hear Ryan’s voice. I am staring out through the fence and didn’t hear him walk up.
I think about lying, but I can’t lie to him. “Soon, maybe tomorrow.”
Ryan nods and doesn’t say anything else as we walk back to the room.
Abby and Megan are still arguing about Megan’s paintings when we walk in. Abby takes one look at Ryan’s face and frowns. “What’s going on?”
Ryan looks at me; it’s my thing to tell, and he doesn’t want to step on my toes.
“I’m going to find my parents,” I say.
Abby’s frown gets deeper, “Jane. You shouldn’t go back out there, we’re safe here.”
I look at her, and let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Abby, if it was your parent’s, I know you wouldn’t stay either.” A look of hurt flashes across her face at the mention of her parents. I don’t like bringing them up, but I need her to understand.
“You’re right,” she admits after a minute, and I give her a small smile of thanks. “I’ll come with you.”
Her declaration makes the smile melt right off my face. “Abby, I love you, but you can’t come. You hated it out there.”
“I love you too,” she says, “which is exactly why I need to come.”
I’m getting annoyed. Abby’s heart is in the right place, but she hasn’t done well with the zombies. She hasn’t even killed one yet. “If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself….”
“I’m coming,” Abby interrupts me.
“You’re not,” I snap back, my temper starting to flare. Doesn’t she realize that I’m trying to save her life?
“I’ll go instead,” Ryan says, interrupting our fight.
That makes us both stop and stare at him. “Why would you want to do that? You didn’t even know my parents,” I can’t help asking.
Ryan shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, I know you Jane, and I’m not letting you go alone.”
My heart melts a little at his kind words.
“I’ll stay here with Abby,” Megan pipes up, obviously feeling no loyalty towards me whatsoever. I’m glad, though, that Abby isn’t going to be alone.
“Are you sure?” I ask Ryan.
He gives me a wink. “Yes, but we’ll need to make a plan,” he stipulates.
I nod, even though I know there will be a lot of variables that will end up messing with even the best laid plan.
Ryan turns to Megan and Abby, “Are you guys okay with waiting till we get back before going to the cabin? It will be safer if we all travel together.”
Megan nods, but Abby hesitates.
“You don’t want to wait?” I ask, a little confused because that doesn’t really seem like Abby.
Abby shakes her head. “I…I don’t want to leave Camp Freedom. It’s safe here.”
That throws us for a bit of a loop. The cabin has given us all a goal to focus on, and suddenly it’s gone. It isn’t that I particularly wanted to go live in the middle of zombie land either, but it feels weird to suddenly find ourselves at the end of the line.
“Okay,” Ryan agrees after a minute of silence while everyone thinks it over. “We will keep it as a backup though, just in case. If anything ever happens here, we still have it.”
“When are you leaving?” Megan asks, bringing our attention back to my leaving.
“Tomorrow,” I say firmly.
Abby and Megan gape at me. “That doesn’t give you a lot of time to plan and make arrangements,” Megan lectures.
“What plans am I supposed to make?” I challenged her with a scoff. “Every day I waste could make it even more impossible to find them. I own nothing to pack, and no matter how long I wait, my situation isn’t going to change.”
I feel the heavy comfort of Ryan’s hand on my shoulder. “We should go talk to the Captain,” he suggests.
“Let’s go now.” I press, wanting to put a little distance between Megan and myself.
The Captain isn’t in his office, so we sit on the bench outside the principal’s office and wait.
“This feels familiar,” Ryan mutters.
I look over at him in surprise. “Were you in trouble a lot at school?” I ask.
He nods sheepishly, which surprises me. He’s seemed so calm and responsible on the road, nothing like a hot head.
“What about you?” He asks me.
I laugh, “I was head cheerleader. The only time I went to the principal’s office was to plan a pep rally.”
I watch his eyes go wide for a minute, and then he nods. “Yeah, I can see that,” he says, causing me to playfully slap his arm.
“Something I can help you two with?” A gruff voice interrupts our flirting, and we both spring guiltily to our feet.
“Hello, Captain.” I have to resist the urge to curtsey, the Captain makes me nervous. “We were wondering if we could talk to you. We…I want to go find my parents.”
The Captain frowns at us. “Going outside the gate is suicide,” he says sternly and my heart drops into my stomach.
“Are we not allowed to leave the camp?” Ryan asks belligerently, causing the Captain to shoot him an annoyed look.
“Of course you are allowed, you’re not prisoners here,” he says, and my spirits lift a little. “It’s just a damned fool thing to do,” he doesn’t resist adding.
“They’re my parents, Sir. If there is even the smallest chance that they are in the New York camp, I have to find out.”
The Captain surprises me by nodding, “I admire your spunk. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
His brows raise at my answer. “You can go out with my patrols in the morning. We have the nearby town mostly cleared out, so it’s relatively safe. It will be a good place for you to find a vehicle and gather supplies.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Thank you so much,” I sob as I give him a hug. I can’t help it. His plan is wonderful and solves a lot of my problems.
The Captain stiffens when I touch him. After an awkward moment, I let go and step back.
“Be ready to leave out at the front gate at zero five hundred hours,” he barks gruffly, turning to leave.
“Thank you, Sir,” I call after his retreating back.
Excitement courses through my veins, and I turn and give Ryan the enormous hug that the Captain didn’t want. Unlike the Captain, Ryan wraps his arms around me and squeezes back. “This might actually work,” I whisper, and he gives me a kiss on my forehead that makes me feel even more bouncy.
“We should get our stuff packed, so we’re ready to go,” he suggests, and I reluctantly pull back from our hug.
We go back to the room and tell Abby and Megan the plan. Then, we pack up the little bit of stuff we have to our names: backpacks, my phone, and charger, which I am still ridiculously holding onto, flashlights, spare batteries, and a few odds and ends.
The soldiers went out the first day we arrived and towed the suburban back to camp. They claimed the chickens, which were thankfully still alive, and all of our food was distributed to the camp, but we were allowed to keep the rest of the stuff.
I am almost too excited to sleep, but I must’ve passed out because in what seems like only a few minutes later, Ryan is bent over my cot in the dark, shaking me awake.
“It’s time to go,” he whispers in my ear, and I sit up, instantly awake.
Megan and Abby are still sound asleep, and we don’t disturb them as we throw on our packs and sneak out. We already said our tearful goodbyes last night, and I am emotionally rung out. Waking Abby up now will only prolong our departure and make us all feel worse.
The soldiers are gathering by the front gate as promised. In the first light of dawn that begins to illuminate the sky, I can see that they are a blur of activity. Three hummers are lined up and idling, the light from their headlights cuts through the fading darkness. A few of the soldiers nod to us.
“Morning,” we turn to find Sargent Regg saluting us. “Breaking out, huh?” he asks.
I nod stiffly, still half-expecting that this is all some sort of trick and they are about to pull the rug out from under me. The Sargent pulls a heavy canvas bag off his shoulder and offers it to us.
“What’s this?” Ryan asks as he reaches out and takes it.
“It’s the weapons you were brought in with, we always return them to civilians when they go outside the gate.” Regg turns and gives me a wink, “I added a few extra goodies in there for you.”
Ryan scowls at the obvious flirting, but I smile for the first time in days. “That was very kind of you, thanks.” I reach out and squeeze his hand, and the Sargent beams.
The soldiers load up, and we are on our way out the gate the second the sun comes up, and there’s enough light to see zombie threats from all directions. The soldiers give us a ride to the small town only a few miles outside the camp.
“This is where we’ve been scavenging a lot of our supplies, we’ve killed most of the zombies, but you should still keep an eye out,” Regg warns us.
Somehow, I manage to make a sound of acknowledgement come out of my suddenly dry mouth. This is real; we are really doing this.
“Where do you want to be dropped off?” the driver of the Humvee asks, obviously wanting to get rid of us and get on with his day of looking for supplies and survivors that actually want the protection of the camp.
“How about at that truck dealership over there?” Ryan suggests, pointing to a Ford dealership a few blocks away.
“You got it,” the driver agrees, spinning the wheels of the hummer in that direction.
When we pull up outside the dealership and the doors open to the blood-stained concrete below, a wave of fear washes over me. It is one thing to want to find my parents, but actually venturing outside the safety of the fence is another thing entirely.
“Be careful, we haven’t cleared this building yet,” the driver says brusquely, making me even more jumpy.
“Guys,” Sargent Regg appeals to the three other soldiers in the hummer.
“Fine,” one of them grunts as they pile out of the vehicle, machine guns up and ready to fire.
“We’ll make sure it’s clear,” Regg assures me, and I give him a grateful smile.
“We don’t want them letting a bunch out to roam the town anyway,” the driver grumbles as he joins his fellow comrades. Ryan and I follow the tight formation that the soldiers spring into once we get inside the dealership. It looks undisturbed at first, but the doors were left unlocked, so I know anything is possible.
