LEFT ALIVE (Zombie series Box Set): Books 1-6 of the Post-apocalyptic zombie action and adventure series (101 page)

“I need to make a run into town and see if I can’t find some more supplies,” I tell him honestly. We have enough food supplies for a while, but I don’t think I’ll be partaking of anything. Already, I feel like throwing up, so I’m going to avoid having anything to eat. It’ll be better for them if I just avoid wasting their supplies for the next few days, before I die.

“I’ll come with you,” Greg says, stepping away from the wall.

“Like hell you will,” Lexi says, handing him Charlie, who is nothing more than a little bundle of sleepy joy. I look at him and smile at his little, twinkling eyes. He’ll never remember me, but I’ll remember him, and I suppose that’s important enough to me. “You’re watching Charlie while the two of us make the run.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I’ll go alone.”

“No way,” Lexi snaps at me. “You can hardly stand. I’m going with you.”

There’s no sense arguing with her. She’s going to make me accept the fact that she’s going or she’ll probably beat me. No matter what I do, she’s going to do what she wants. I look at Greg and offer him an apologetic smile. He’s going to be stuck here with Charlie.

“I should go,” Greg says to us. “We can all go together.”

“No,” Lexi says to him harshly. “You’re too fucking slow with your ankle. You’re just going to make everything that much harder if you go with us. Stay here and do something useful.”

I want to slap her for talking to him like that, but I don’t think it’s worth it. Lexi is scared and when she gets scared, she gets mean. I look at Greg and Charlie and decide that everything is in motion now. All that’s left to do is just get out there and do it. The faster we get a hold of all of our supplies, the faster it’ll be that we get back here and save his life. I take one last glance at all the madness on the walls and I realize that this was it. Fate. Destiny. Call it what you will, I am here to save him, so he can save Lexi and Charlie. If he doesn’t make it, I don’t think humanity will.

Chapter Twelve

I don’t doubt the very strong possibility that I may have just seen my boyfriend for the last time. I look over my shoulder and out the back window at the house where Greg is standing with Charlie in his arms, staring at us as we leave. I don’t doubt that he is thinking the same thing right now. The world is a dangerous place and there are evils waiting around every corner. This isn’t just an anecdote for old church folk to say anymore, it’s reality. Death could take Lexi and me, or one of a thousand problems could unfurl before us and he could be stuck with a baby for the rest of his life, however short that is. I watch him vanish behind our dust trail as we head out into the world to find help for his leg.

They both think that we’re going out into the world looking for help for my stomach wound too, but I don’t bother correcting them. The thought of me finding a trauma surgeon out wandering the streets is a tad past unlikely. The only thing I’ll find is a bullet to put myself down, and that’s if I’m lucky. No, my time has passed, but saving Greg is still a possibility. If we don’t find anything to help clear up or amputate his leg, then he’s going to die and Lexi will be left alone with only Charlie for company. I don’t want her to have to see that future. I will happily give Greg a fighting chance if he can figure out what it was Jason was doing in that house. If Greg can save the world, as crazy as that sounds, I’m more than willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Climbing into the truck, I decide that there is no point in struggling with Lexi when she decides that she was going to be the one driving us into town. Honestly, I’m a bit relieved that it’s not me behind the wheel. It’s better than the thought of blacking out and plowing us into a canal so that we’re both left unconscious for whatever comes wandering along to find us. No, Lexi can drive. I place our journey in her capable hands. After all, she’s definitely the healthiest one of us left.

Holding the phonebook in my still aching hands, I look at the listings for medical facilities. There are hundreds of places that we could go right now, just in Dayton and the surrounding area. I look at all the possibilities and I feel overwhelmed by them. The only problem is that the cynic inside of me who has the loudest voice of all now tells me that the odds are against us if we go looking at any of these places, especially in Dayton. From the look of the large X over the town on my father’s map, I don’t think he was telling us that X marks the spot in Dayton. I think that enormous X stands for 'stay away' and I intend to do just that. I feel the weight of choice hanging over me and it scares me.

We don’t have the luxury of time. I’m dying, we have limited gasoline, and Charlie is going to need to be fed sooner or later and Lexi is the only one capable. So whatever decision I make, it has to be the right one. Looking south toward Dayton, I wonder what it was that my father encountered there. Maybe it was just too dangerous to navigate in whatever vehicle he’d been driving, probably his Jeep.

Honestly, if I were alone on this little excursion and Lexi had just stayed home where she is needed, then I probably would have risked Dayton. If I were alone I could take bigger risks, after all what do I have to lose? I could probably make a run straight to the nearest hospital, find what we need, and get home before there is any trouble. But not with Lexi. No, with her here, I’m not risking a chance that she might get injured or that her life could be put on the line. Her survival is absolutely necessary if we’re to find any silver lining in this dark, unforgiving world. Right now, I see only the bad, but she and Charlie have a chance at seeing the good. So keeping her alive and finding a way to add Greg to their future are the top two priorities right now.

Staring at the map, I decide that Trotwood is going to be our best chance, and direct Lexi to head in that direction. I remember telling Greg to drive around it yesterday when we were hunting for Jason’s house, but now when I look at it on the map, it seems fresh and full of promise. It appears to be a small community, somewhat removed from the city. What others might overlook or think completely pointless, I see as a gold mine because all around us I see sprawling farmland that would have existed before all of this went down. I look at the flat, empty land dotted by houses, tractors left where they died, and barns. I look at the leaning fence posts, shifting in the soft earth. This is definitely farmland, or at least it was, once upon a time.

That means one thing, veterinarians. I look at the wall of blocks that cover the west and I know for a fact that we’re going to have our best luck there. For all the farms out here, there are going to be people with a lot of animals and those needed to take care of them. But there’s more than that. When the lack of food started to get to people, animals were quickly targeted. If they weren’t dying out from starvation, then they were getting taken and eaten. The scavengers and the carnivores were the last to die, but they died out not long before the government fell. So the veterinarian clinics were all shut down one by one, if not abandoned immediately. People would have taken the feed that they had available there for their beloved pets or even to eat for themselves, desperate measures and all. The actual medical supplies that would be locked and stored away from their customers might have been overlooked. Any looters’ attention would have been on the feed that they probably sold there as well.

I look at Trotwood ahead and I can’t help but see an opportunity to get at what we need and avoid any serious conflict. After all, it isn’t a metropolitan area, there wouldn’t have been that many people there, fewer zombies, fewer fanatics or other survivors. The idea seems so simple to me, but maybe that’ll change. Maybe we’ll get there and there won’t be anything there at all, or maybe it’ll be a stronghold. I’m not sure what to expect, but I do think that this is our best chance and Lord knows we need one.

Flipping through the phonebook, I find a veterinary office that’s right on Main Street, which goes straight through the center of town. I don’t doubt that this is a vulnerable spot if there are survivors in the town. I look at the map just before the yellow pages and I try to figure out if there’s going to be any significant danger down the center of the town. I hope not. If there were a lot of survivors, they might be able to dig in and fortify it to try and hunker through until this all passes over. That would have been ideal for our group if we’d moved out together and effectively. I shake my head, everything got screwed up and it’s all my fault. I can’t blame anyone but myself for the disaster that has come to pass. It’s only poetic justice that I should die this slow painful death for every decision I’ve made for others in all my glorious ignorance.

But I have to put that behind me. One day, Lexi is going to have the key to the future in her hands and I need to do everything in my power to make it so. All she has to do is survive and if I can give her Greg as another pair of hands, then so be it. One day she might have people coming to her for help and she might have a community. Then they could take over some place like Trotwood and fortify it for themselves.

“Keep to the main street,” I tell her as we approach the town. I look at the buildings, my eyes wide, ready to see if there is any danger waiting for us. I know that there’s death lurking behind every dark window and every shut door. I’m paranoid, cautious, and yet thus far I am completely unimpressed by this town. We pass by the first couple of buildings, isolated homes welcoming you to Trotwood on the outskirts, but nothing that looks like it’s been lived in recently or used by survivors. It’s a good sign and I’m not too worried about running into immediate danger. I look around at the buildings we’re coming up on and feel like we might have found a place without survivors. That would be so fortuitous that it might make me cry.

On its own, Trotwood is an abandoned junkyard just like the other places we’ve been through. The buildings are sad and forgotten. Without the constant interaction with humanity, everything has gone to hell. There are cars abandoned on the side of the road, parked in their final dying spots. There are only a few cars in the middle of the road, mostly stopped at an angle and abandoned. One of the cars has been lit on fire and has been left as a monument to a world gone to shit. Maybe it’s a warning. I look at the car and wonder at the countless possibilities. Perhaps it belonged to a family just passing through and trying to get somewhere safe when they were attacked for their supplies. Maybe the car just overheated and something caught fire. There is no way to tell, but the burned out metal husk gives me the creeps and puts me on edge.

There are houses and shops with doors broken open and windows smashed, probably by people passing through and looting. But there are other places that have been boarded up with plywood or two by fours. I look at those buildings and wonder if there are survivors tucked away inside of the buildings. I wonder if there are eyes on us right now, watching our every move with cautious, curious eyes peeking through boards. I hope they don’t think that we’re a threat. I wish that there was a white flag that we could fly from the top of our rattling, hobbled truck so that other people won’t think that we’re a danger or menace to the life they’ve built here.

The dust has settled over this town. From storm after storm, the town has been blanketed with dust that mutes everything, fading colors and giving off a sort of sepia look to the world in the open, naked sunlight. None of it appears to have been disturbed, which is a good sign. It means that as of last night, no one has been out and about. I look up at the sky. Dark clouds roll over, separated from the storm front like sheep that have wandered from the herd, racing to catch up with those in the front. Through the partings of the clouds, I see the pale blue sky. Even the heavens look muted. Everything seems to be coated in this abysmal ashy gray color that makes me want to look at a color wheel or turn on a television again. I would love to see a world with vibrant, living colors that didn’t make me sad or depressed. I miss the old world. I miss the real world. I have to remind myself that this is just a nightmare that we’re all enduring. The real world is beautiful and flawless in its chaotic wonders. Everything that we see now is just the fading memory of a dead planet.

The Dodge is faithful to us. It shakily navigates the streets, winding around the few abandoned cars and taking us up onto the empty sidewalk when we need to. This truck has seen the end of the world and it has traveled a great distance with us. I’m grateful for this truck and as it limps and hobbles, just like I do, I have a new sense of respect for it. It’s done what it has had to—to endure the journey that we’ve forced upon it. I wonder if we should burn it when it dies. I hope that it gets a pyre and burned up to the heavens like a Viking longship. I think that’s a fate that this truck deserves. I think about the other truck, the one Marko gave his life for, and having to abandon it in Georgia. That truck deserved a better end as well. I suppose we all deserve better ends, but we get what we get. I wish I had known that before all of this. I might have made better decisions.

I take steady, deep breaths trying to prepare myself for what needs to be done. Greg is lucky. I can cut off his leg and stop the infection from spreading deeper and deeper into his body if I have to. Me, I’m stuck with a gaping hole right in the middle of my abdomen, which means there’s no tourniquets or amputating off the infected area or keeping it from spreading to other parts of my body. So as I breathe steadily, trying to calm myself, I try and control my diaphragm in a mild attempt at keeping the infection from coursing through my body. I think that perhaps by breathing shallowly, I’ll not spread the infection as quickly. Not that it really matters.

My wound is going to open again the moment we are forced to push our limits. Painful and terrible as it may be, I know that I’ll have to endure it. It’ll speed up my heart rate, increasing the flow of infected blood everywhere. I just need to stay relaxed. I just need to realize that everything I do is going to have consequences on my body and I need to have myself under control at all times. There’s no helping the inevitable, but I can try and keep things restrained and reined in. I’m not going to send my heart rate skyrocketing because a mouse runs across my path. I need to keep calm and in control for as long as I can. The very future of the world might depend upon me being able to keep my collective calm. If that isn’t enough inspiration, I don’t know what else could be.

When we finally locate 'Dr. Dunshire’s Veterinary Clinic', I look at the building and decide that it’s exactly what it should look like. It has painted paw prints on the windows that have started to chip and fade from the repetition of heated sunlight and dismal darkness of the cold nights. There’s a sign hanging over the building with a cartoon dog next to the name of 'Dunshire’s Veterinary Clinic'. I’ve never seen a dog look like that in my experience at a vet’s office. They’re always terrified or tolerant, but never overly happy. We could always coax them into excitement, but that was usually just an illusion that we told ourselves. They’re always unhappy to be somewhere that their masters are not.

“I don’t think that Greg has enough paws to go here,” Lexi says. Although the words seem like they would be framed in a joke, as I listen to them, I only hear malice and bitterness in her voice. I want to ask her what’s wrong with her, but I figure that would be like asking a shark why they sometimes bite people just for the hell of it.

“I think we have the best chance of finding medical supplies here,” I tell her, looking at the building and feeling my warm stomach through my shirt. “When people started starving, their pets became food. Veterinary clinics started closing their doors right away just like the one I was interning at. I would guess that most of them were abandoned. People wouldn’t think to look for basic medical supplies here. If it hasn’t already been looted, we’re going to find pretty much everything we need.”