Contagious (21 page)

“
These clothes are more substantial,” I said aloud to Argos as I shook the dust out. My stomach growled. I tossed the heap of clothes onto the hope chest and called Argos to follow me downstairs. My muscles were stiff from doing nothing for the last three days. It was hard to keep up with my yoga with so many rips and tears in my skin.

My foot didn’t even hit the first stair when Zoe dashed up them. Panting, she held out her hand.

“
Is everything ok?” I asked, feeling just a tiny amount of panic.

“
Yes,” she said as she gasped for air.

“
Come sit and catch your breath,” I suggested and led her into my room. I picked up the towel—which I had lazily dropped on the floor—and rubbed it over my wet hair. My thin pajama shirt was now damp and making me colder.

“
You have pretty hair,” Zoe told me.

“
Thanks.”

“
Can I brush it?”

“
Of course.” I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders after I gave Zoe the brush. I sat on the hope chest so she could kneel on the bed. She carefully brushed out the knots.

“
My hair used to be blonde,” she said, running the brush through my long, dark hair. It made me sad to think about the implications her simple statement had. “Can I braid it?”

For the next twenty minutes, Zoe brushed, braided, unbraided, brushed and rebraided my hair. Finally she was satisfied with two tight French pigtail braids. I stood and admired them in the mirror and was a little surprised by how good they looked, well as good as any adult can look with pigtail braids.

“
You did a good job, Zoe.” I ran my hand over my hair. “They are really smooth.”

She beamed. “Thanks. My mom taught me how to braid.” Lisa came into the room, smiling but not meeting my eyes. She whispered something to Zoe, who giggled and told me to stay put. I heard them loudly run downstairs and then up again, both coughing and out of breath. Zoe took my hand and, without explaining, pulled me after her.

“
Zoe, what are you—” I cut off abruptly. Everyone had gathered around the dining room table.

“
Surprise!” they shouted. Lauren crossed her arms with a sour smile.

“
What is this?” I muttered, the smell of fresh baked brownies distracting me.

Raeya laughed. “Orissa, don’t you know what day it is?”

“
No.” Thinking Padraic would accuse me of still being concussed, I quickly added, “I haven’t kept track of what day it is since we holed up in the hospital basement.”

“
It’s your birthday.”

Oh. She was right. “You made me brownies?” I asked, feeling so appreciative of her gesture.

She blushed and nodded her head. “I couldn’t make a cake. And we don’t have eggs so I don’t know how good they are.”

I bit my lip to keep the smile from my face. I wanted to hug Raeya and thank her for being the most thoughtful person on the planet. “They smell wonderful. Let’s eat!”

Despite the missing eggs, they were the best damn brownies I’d ever had. The ten of us quickly polished off the entire pan.

“
I bet I can get you some eggs,” I told Raeya as I helped her clean up the kitchen.

She turned to me, hands plunged in soapy water. “Do you think the chickens are still alive?”

“
I’m sure some of them are. Only if they got out, though. Knowing my grandpa, I’m betting he let all the animals go.”

“
I’ve been too scared to look at the barn. I don’t want to see any poor, helpless animal starved to death.”

“
I don’t want to see it either. I found some hunting clothes upstairs. It’s mostly outerwear, but it’s at least warm. I’m gonna take a look in the barn and bring in firewood. It’ll be nice to have a fire going.”

“
We’re almost out of food,” she whispered, eyes darting around. “I don’t know if anyone else but Padraic is aware.”

“
Don’t worry. I’ll get more,” I promised.

She nodded and faked a smile. “I know you will. I..I just…I’m worried and scared. Really scared.”

“
We’ll make it somehow,” I promised, feeling it was best not to tell her how scared I was too.

She nodded again. “I’ll come with you. To the barn, I mean.”

I immediately objected. “No. Stay here where it’s safe.”

“
Riss, you can’t keep me locked away for safe keeping.”

“
Yes I can.”

“
No, you can’t. I can help you.”

“
I know you can. But it’s my turn to worry,” I reminded her.

She sighed, wiping her wet hands on a towel. “You were always the big sister I never had. I can help, really, I can. And you’re still not completely better. And,” she pressed before I could interrupt. “And if you get hurt now, it will only set back your recovery. You’ve made it this far. It would be a shame to have to start all over, wouldn’t it?”

“
Yes. Ray, I know. I know you’re right and I know I can’t keep you trapped inside. But I’m still going out on my own first.” I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to my best friend.

Raeya threw the towel at me. “I liked you better when you were roofied. You are very agreeable when you’re under any kind of influence.”

“
Is she now?” Padraic asked, striding into the small kitchen.

I shrugged and smiled. “I’ve been told. I guess I’m a happy drunk.”

“
I have to say I agree with that,” Padraic said, grinning. “You are quite pleasant after you’ve had your happy pills.”

“
You guys make it sound like I’m horrible to be around,” I pouted, trying not to laugh myself.

“
Well,” Raeya began, casting her eyes down. “I didn’t want to tell you, but…” she broke off, laughing. She turned back to the sink, picking up the clean dishes to dry. The moment had come and passed too quickly. We were stuck in a house with barely any food. And zombies were eating the rest of humanity. Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore.

“
I’m gonna check the barn,” I said, pushing myself off the counter which I had leaned against. “Don’t worry; I’ll bring Argos and weapons.”

“
I’m coming with you,” Raeya reminded me. I nodded. Padraic of course, offered to accompany us as well. I armed us all, told everyone else where we were going and went upstairs to get coats for Padraic and Raeya. I looked around for my leather jacket. Not only could I not find it, but my jeans and plaid shirt were missing as well. Turns out Raeya had washed everyone’s clothes and wiped down my jacket, removing the zombie parts and mud.

“
Is this blood?” Raeya asked as she slipped her arms into a brown, tan, and green jacket.

“
Hmm. Probably,” I answered, scratching at the browned stain. “It’s probably deer blood though. Not as gross as zombie blood.”

Raeya shrugged. “I guess.” She sat down to put on the running shoes. “I wished these matched,” she said to herself. “Not that it matters, I suppose.” Being the inventive person Raeya is, she had fashioned herself an almost stylish outfit given the material she had to work with. A faded, robin’s egg blue men’s dress shirt had been made into a dress, complete with a leather belt around her waist. She used tan breeches as leggings, which, in my opinion, worked in her favor since the material was thicker. Like me, she had on only one piece of jewelry: a braided leather bracelet with a sliver elephant charm. Her thick, shoulder length hair fell in waves around her face.

“
Do you want gloves?” I asked, thinking that they might be a good idea. I rummaged through the coat closet until I found enough for all of us. Mine didn’t match and were the stupid stretchy kind that didn’t offer much warmth. I gave Padraic and Raeya nice leather pairs. I handed Padraic a .22 pistol and kept the M9 in my unharmed right hand.

Jason wanted to come with us. His eyes lit up when he looked at Raeya and his cheeks flushed when she spoke to him. She assured him we would be safe and that she wanted someone strong to guard the house and everyone in it. Without meaning to, she was flirting with him. And he ate it up.

“
Don’t worry. I’ll keep everyone safe,” he assured her, puffing out his chest just a bit. Almost apprehensively, I opened the front door. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was hiding behind clouds.

Everything was how I remembered it: over grown gardens, junk cast behind the shed, the roof caved in on the old barn, the rusted out tractor stuck in the mud as it had been for the last decade. The barn we referred to as the ‘new barn’ was built almost fifteen years ago now. The large doors had been left open and none of the stalls were closed. No animals, alive or dead, were in there. The knot loosened in my heart. Of course I didn’t want to see anything—human or animal—in distress or dead. But more so, it was a sign my grandpa had time to get things in order.

We walked behind the barn and a familiar sound filled the air. Chickens clucked as they milled about the half plowed cornfield, pecking at bugs and pieces of spilled corn. Raeya grabbed my hand and smiled.

“
At least we will have eggs!” she exclaimed.

“
And a nice, plump chicken for dinner,” I added, already dreading plucking the feathers off.

“
That all sounds delicious,” Padraic agreed. “But do any of you know how to, uh, butcher a chicken?”

“
I do,” I said flatly, turning to explore the far pastures. Ducks swam in the shallow, wide part of the creek, which I had called the ‘pond river’ for as long as I could remember. The creek cut through the property, almost exactly down the middle. If followed it into the woods; it was a perfect spot to hide in the trees and wait for deer. I was seven the first time my grandpa took me hunting. I can still hear my mother’s angry voice when she found out I shot and killed a rabbit. A small yelling match took place between her and my grandfather. She insisted it was wrong to subject a young girl to the act of taking a life.

“
You are full of surprises, Orissa.” Padraic looked at me with a slight smile.

“
I guess.” It wasn’t that surprising if you knew my grandpa. It was more surprising I turned out as normal as I did. I walked to the edge of the creek, the small pebbles crunching under my feet. The soft, rippling of water was peaceful. The forest was alive with birds, their chirping almost deafeningly loud. Geese honked, flying in the tale-tell V, signaling the end of fall and the beginning of winter. “Hey,” I said suddenly, whirling around.

“
What?” Raeya asked, gripping her tennis racket.

“
Nothing bad, sorry. I just had an idea.” I strode through the pasture, Ray and Padraic following without question. I went into the new barn. It was weird seeing the stalls taken apart. It looked wrong, so different than how I remembered it. “Dammit, there are no lights in the tack room,” I mumbled to myself.

“
What’s that?” Padraic asked. Ok, maybe he hadn’t grown up in a charming country cottage with a quaint, stone barn in the backyard.

“
Tack is the stuff you put on a horse, you know, like saddles. The tack room is where you keep the stuff.”

“
Oh, ok. What could be in there?”

“
A lead rope to use as a leash for Argos,” I explained.

“
Good thinking.”

I ran my hand along the wall, my fingers getting covered in dust and cobwebs. I knew there used to be a flashlight on the top shelf to the right of the door inside the tack room. I knocked several things off the shelf before I found it. The light flickered and turned on. I slowly circled the room.

“
Ah-ha,” I said when the yellow light illuminated a shot gun. I picked it up, blowing the dust off.

“
Jesus, how many guns does your grandpa have?” Padraic asked.

“
You don’t want her to answer that question,” Raeya told him. “Look, boots!” She picked up a pair of my old riding boots. “Maybe they’ll fit,” she said hopefully and tried them on. They were a little tight, she told me, but were better than the Pumas. We exited the tack room and made our way to another pole barn, this one deemed ‘the workshop’. I pushed the heavy door open, light spilling in, highlighting the little specks of dust that floated in the air.

There were several trackers, my grandpa’s old truck—his new Ford was gone—and three ATVs crowding the cement floor along with other odds and ends. The most important thing in here was the thing I almost ran to.

“
It’s full,” I breathed, and the knot loosened even more. I wanted to hug the gas tank. It was huge, at one point I knew how many gallons it held. I couldn’t recall the exact number, though I remember being shocked that the thing could store so much fuel. “There’s another one outside.” We went out through the back of the barn. This gas tank had about a fourth of a tank left, which, considering its size, was plenty.

Firewood, enough to last us the whole winter, was stacked along the outside of the workshop. We had fuel and firewood, but no food. My grandparents didn’t have a ton of livestock. When I stopped by for a too short visit last summer there was a small herd of seven cows, four goats, the chickens and three horses. The knot tightened when I thought of the horses. They weren’t pedigree horses by any means; they had all come from the auction. But they were well trained and taken care of. And, most of all, they meant a lot to my grandpa.

“
Have you ever ridden a four-wheeler?” I asked Padraic, rubbing my hands over my thighs. The stupid, striped pajama pants were no match for the cold November wind.

“
Never.”

“
You’re about to.”
If they start,
I added in my head. Only two did, though, it worked in our favor. It was the best way to get around in the woods other than on horseback, and that was only because being on a horse was much, much quieter. Raeya automatically took the blue ATV. It was the one she always rode when we were kids. I got on a larger red one, waving Padraic to sit behind me.