Into the Badlands (8 page)

Ed watched his boys playing on the porch; Zach with his toy car and Jeremy with his army men. He wondered if he'd made the right choice, bringing the girl to the farmhouse. He was putting himself and his boys in harm's way to help a girl who might very well die before they returned.

But in the midst of the waning daylight, the time he most often considered the choices he'd made so far and the choices he still had left to make, he felt it as the right thing to do. If he and the boys were to die, would he want to die knowing he'd lost his humanity, turning his back on someone so desperately in need? Was there a more noble cause to die for than that of humanity?

He thought of Sarah. He remembered how she'd been in the end. He couldn't let another innocent person suffer as she had. Maybe things would turn out differently this time.

He decided they would leave in the morning, the three of them.

In the end, they had to hold on to their humanity. It was far better to die as men than to live as animals.

CHAPTER 8

Brenda Peterson and Tammy Koch painstakingly made their way through an overgrown field toward an undecided destination. To their right, the highway was barely visible the overgrown brush, but they kept it in sight to ensure they weren't getting too far off track. The highway was their lifeline. Brenda felt her decision to follow it had been one of her best. In fact, she'd met Tammy along the same highway.

In her prior life, before humanity had gone virtually wholesale into the shitter, Brenda had worked in a head shop. Before that, she worked the counter at Dunkin’ Donuts. Before that she ran the drive-thru at Taco Bell. And before that just more of the same.

She’d always struggled with her weight; once an ex-boyfriend had even referred to her as “a fat little hobbit”. She tried liquid diets, carb-counting, detox diets, and a slew of other diets that never worked. Her problem was that she drowned her sorrows in beer and food, and there was more than enough of beer, food, and sorrow to go around.

Now, however, there was very little of any of those thing in her life. Once she got on the road she dropped the weight like a bad habit. The drinking went with it. And, not surprisingly, the sorrow went with it too.

Now she was short, lean, and fucking mean.

Sometimes, even though she knew the world had ended for most, she wondered if maybe it had just begun for her. She'd been coasting in life before the Walking Death arrived, drifting from goofy job to goofy job and from bad guy to worse guy. She'd always chosen the worst ones, the assholes, the ones like her step-father. Sometimes she wondered if it had ever really been a choice; maybe she was wired that way.

No focus, no purpose, no direction; that had been her life before. Now she had to focus to simply stay alive. Once she was forced to drop the bad habits and the asshole boyfriends it seemed she'd awoken from a bad dream. True, she'd traded one nightmare for another, but now she had a purpose, a reason to keep going. Grit and determination had replaced self-loathing, food, and booze as her best friends.

And so had Tammy.

Tammy was a bit rough around the edges, at least by most standards. She was a kindred spirit though, another person trapped in the trappings of society. She’d seen her share of struggle, and she knew what it was like to make all the wrong choices in life. She knew what it was like to have the wrong parents, to choose the wrong guys, and to work at the wrong jobs.

But she also knew what it was like to be a survivor.

They'd both been left behind when everyone else fled to the coast; tossed out like trash, or the pets no one could afford to take with them. They wandered independently for a few months, eventually encountering each other inside a Conoco station along the highway. They traveled together after that, scavenging for supplies and avoiding the infected.

Brenda had decided very early on to follow the highway. In the times before the Walking Death the highway had been a lifeline for travelers, built with an infrastructure to support them. Brenda figured there was no reason why it couldn't still be used this way.

Despite this conviction she feared the openness of the road itself. It was very exposed. Not only was it open to the infected it was also open to the uninfected. And two women, even tough women, were prime targets for both. She avoided walking on the road when she could, but in the long empty stretches it provided an easier path with good visibility for threat. Sometimes it was worth the risk.

How she and Tammy had survived at all was a mystery. She supposed that like most everything else a lot of it had to do with luck. She figured that in the end it didn't really matter exactly
how
they survived; what they were doing was working, and it would continue to work as long as it did. What would be, would be.

The two women trudged through the undergrowth of the field, Brenda walking in front of Tammy. Both women carried loaded backpacks. Brenda carried a small .22 pistol she'd found inside an abandoned house a couple years back. She really wanted something larger, but she'd found so much ammunition along with it that the decision to keep it made itself.

Over her shoulder Tammy carried a rifle she found at an old farmhouse. She had a single box of rounds; not enough to feel confident about. She wanted to check some houses in the subdivision they were approaching for more guns, ammunition, or both. Houses were dangerous though; they'd had some close calls in the past with some carriers that had holed up inside them.

Of course everything about life was dangerous now.

The two women came to the edge of the field and stepped out into an open area filled with houses. A concrete street ran along these houses. They were in a subdivision, one of the ones that had been built in the middle of a former cornfield. They stepped out onto the street and scanned their surroundings.

Although the front yards of the houses were overgrown, the streets of the subdivision were still mostly keeping the vegetation at bay. Weeds grew up around the edges of the street, and some grew in cracks in the middle of the street. There were also weeds in the seams where the large, individual concrete squares that made up the street butted together.

Most of the houses lining the street were large, two-story homes with two-car garages. Many of the windows were broken; shingles hung from the roofs and siding hung in long strips from random houses. Storms had done considerable damage to these structures sitting exposed in these open, flat fields. Garage doors stood open, and cars were still parked in driveways. Mailboxes still stood, some with the flags raised, waiting for a mailman who would never arrive.

Tammy turned to Brenda. “You wanna pass through, or do you wanna look in some of these houses?” she asked.

Brenda considered the question. If they ran into carriers here they might be able to escape back into the overgrown cornfields. “Let's go through a few of them,” she replied. “We could use some more food, and I know you need more ammunition. Maybe our luck will play out.”

“Has so far,” Tammy replied.

Brenda smiled. “True.”

They walked the row of houses, peering from the street into broken windows and open doors. They found a one-story brick house with boarded windows. Boarded windows were a good sign; it meant the contents inside might not have been raided. They approached the front door, initially thinking it was locked. Unfortunately they found it to be opened, and the interior ransacked.

They left the house and continued on, walking the subdivision street, looking for better possibilities. All the houses they passed appeared to have been raided at some point. It was looking more and more like the whole subdivision would be a lost cause.

The subdivision street ran in a circle, leading both to and from a larger street. It doubled back with a ninety degree turn, forming a sort of horseshoe shape. As the two women followed it they rounded the bend then walked back toward the direction they’d come from, this time on the other side of the subdivision.

That's when they spotted the carrier.

It was walking away from them, along the same street they walked, perhaps a hundred yards away. They froze. It didn't seem to notice them, it just continued walking slowly and methodically.

Brenda and Tammy looked at each other. Brenda slowly pulled her pistol from her belt while Tammy quietly removed the rifle from her shoulder. The carrier continued walking at the same pace. Something about it was strange though; it didn't have the meandering gait that carriers typically had. No paralysis either. It seemed...purposely directional.

Then it stopped.

The carrier turned around and faced them. Tammy raised the rifle, placing the butt of the gun against her shoulder. She drew a bead on the carrier's head, aligning the notch at the end of the barrel with the groove just above the chamber. She held her fire; the noise attracted other carriers and she wasn't confident they had the ammunition or speed to put them all down.

The carrier just stared at them. Brenda kept the pistol in her hand, finger off the trigger, waiting to see what happened. It would be useless at that range, but she wanted to be prepared. She looked behind them to make sure they weren't being pursued by anyone or anything. They were alone. Alone, except for this strange carrier standing motionless in the road in front of them.

They stood this way for what seemed like an eternity. Neither moved. Then the carrier simply turned around and continued walking. Tammy sighed and took the gun off her shoulder, pointing it toward the ground. She looked at Brenda.

“That's a carrier, right?” Brenda asked.

“I don't know. It didn't look infected. It's pretty far away though; tough to tell.”

“Ever have one see you and turn away?”

“No. They always come running.”

“Me neither,” Brenda replied. “Let's double back, and head the other direction. Either way, I don't wanna follow it.” She turned to leave.

“I don't think we have much choice,” Tammy said. “He's coming back.”

Brenda turned back around to see the figure walking toward them.

“Should I shoot it, you think?” Tammy asked.

Brenda thought for a moment. “Not yet. Let's see what it does. I don’t want to draw any attention.”

They watched the figure walk toward them. It stared straight ahead, right at them, but somehow Brenda felt it was looking
through
them. It continued walking, very gradually gaining ground. As it came closer Brenda was more and more convinced this wasn't a carrier. It didn't have the mannerisms, the gait, or any of the gimpy limps they often had.

And if an uninfected man was walking toward them, she didn't want to find out what he wanted.

Suddenly the figure sat down in the middle of the road.

“What the fuck?” Tammy said. “What is this shit?”

“I don't know,” Brenda replied. “He's not infected, I'm pretty sure of that.”

They watched the man for some time. He remained in a sitting position, staring at the ground, rocking gently back and forth. Maybe he was injured or sick? Brenda wondered. If so, what help could she and Tammy provide? It took all their resources just to care for themselves.

But for some strange reason she was curious; wildly curious, actually. She couldn't seem to shake it. “Let's go see what his deal is,” she said to Tammy.

Tammy's face was incredulous. “What? Are you for real?”

“Sure I am. Draw a bead on him; if he tries anything, put a bullet in his head.”

Tammy wasn't convinced. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Maybe not,” Brenda replied, smiling.

The two women walked toward the sitting figure. As they neared him they noticed he had no backpack or bag at all. He was just sitting on the ground, staring.

They also noticed his face was covered in dried blood.

“Where the hell did all that blood come from?” Tammy asked.

Brenda shook her head. “Let's ask him.”

They came within thirty feet of the man, then stopped. Now both Brenda and Tammy were sure he wasn't infected. They weren't sure, however, if he was safe. Being covered in blood wasn't helping his credibility.

“Who are you?” Brenda asked the man. She kept the pistol partially raised, ready to fire if necessary. Tammy had the man's head directly in her sights.

The man spoke, never looking up. “Who are you?” he asked.

Brenda and Tammy both looked at each other.

“What's your name?” Brenda asked. The man just stared at the ground. “What's your name?” she repeated. The man looked up, the left side of this face covered in dried blood. His hands were covered with it as well.

“What...is...your...name?” she repeated slowly, sounding out each syllable.

“They’re gone. I don’t know where they are.”

“Who’s gone?”

“They’re gone,” he repeated. “I lost them.”

“What is your name?” Brenda repeated again.

The man didn't reply. He kept looking into the sky, as if he were searching for the answer there. Eventually he spoke.

“Dave,” he told her. “My name is Dave.”

“Why are you covered in blood?” Brenda asked.

“I didn’t know I was.”

“Well, you are. Look at your hands, man.”

Dave looked at his hands then continued staring at them. Brenda thought he looked as if he was on a bad acid trip.

“What are you doing here?” Brenda asked.

“Why would I have blood on me? Is it mine?” Dave asked, seemingly unaware of Brenda's prior question.

“I don’t know if it’s yours. I don’t know you,” Brenda replied. He seemed very confused. She decided to try once more. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Dave replied.

“How’d you get here?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Who’s blood is that on you?” Tammy asked.

“I don’t know.”

Brenda looked at Tammy; her faced wore a perplexed look. “What
do
you remember?”

“The outbreak, a border town. We got kicked out; we’ve been on the road for a while now.”