Zocopalypse (10 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

~Now~

Wyatt and I go around the back of the diner while Cole and Chloe hit the front.

“Let me see your cut,” I say, finally getting a moment alone with him.

He pauses and lifts up his shirt and I peel back the bandage. The cut looks ugly, red, and painful. I have no idea if it will get infected but at least we can try to manage it.

“Here,” I say, digging through my bag. I locate the aspirin and some antibiotic cream, handing it over. He swallows the pills dry, gritting his teeth as he chokes them down. Next he tucks his shirt under his chin and spreads the ointment over the cut, wincing from the pain. I cover the edges of the bandage with fresh tape.

“Make sure you keep it covered,” I say.

“What are you, a nurse?”

“No, but I don’t want that to get nasty and then we’ll have all kinds of other apocalypse stuff on our hands. I don’t need another page in my diary titled “Had to kill another traveling companion today because he let his wound get infected.”

He squints and drops his shirt. “You have a diary?”

“Shut up.”

I hold back as he taps on the back door in an attempt to rouse any Eaters inside. He waits to the count of five and takes a deep step back before slamming a boot clad foot into the metal door.

His foot bounces back so he tries again, this time the veins on his neck and forehead bulging. “Mother f-er,” he grunts. He’s about to wind up to do it again when the door swings open, revealing a crossbow and a mop of short blonde hair.

“Need some help?” Cole asks.

“Thank God, I thought Wyatt was going to hemorrhage or something,” I say pushing past him.

We enter the kitchen, welcomed by flies and the undeniable, suffocating stench of rotting food. Stale, shriveled hotdogs lie skewered on the counter top, their machine no longer rotating. And a rat skitters out of the buffet warming pan with a chunk of fried chicken in its mouth.

Chloe walks up, waving her hand in front of her face. “Ugh, the flies.”

“Let’s make this quick,” Wyatt says going straight for the non-perishables, plucking cans stacked high on metal shelves and dropping them into his bag.

We each take a corner of the diner, lit by the wide glass front window. Cole goes for the water bottles, while also filling our canteens from the sink. Chloe picks through the small stash of packaged food on the racks by the register.

“Get jerky,” Cole tells his sister. She grunts and even in the barely lit room I see her roll her eyes. Her action doesn’t stop him. “And some of those packaged cheese snacks. We need protein.”

I turn to look for Wyatt and spot the back of his head disappearing into another room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask. Even I can hear the shrill tone.

“What the hell, Alex, I’m just looking in the back to make sure we’re not missing anything.”

“We have one rule, Wyatt. One. Rule.”

“Not this again.” His voice is loud. “What’s the big freaking deal? I’m still here—just in another room. And it’s not even like you’re alone!”

I react fast, moving with speed I didn’t know I had and a level of anger I’m unfamiliar with. My hatchet is out, blade close to Wyatt’s neck. He stands still but it’s not fear I see in his eyes. It’s annoyance.

“Alex, I swear to God,” he says, eyes flicking behind me.

I’m acutely aware of Cole watching me from his spot next to sink. I don’t care.

“You never go out of sight. Do it again and you may have a blade to the head, not just to the throat.”

“Come on, Alex, drop the hatchet,” Cole says.

Wyatt cuts his eyes in Cole’s direction. “Stay out of this, man.”

The visibility in the room dims, cloaking us almost in complete darkness. I instinctively look to the ceiling—for the lights but a banging noise draws my attention to the front of the diner. Hands and faces press into the glass, enough to block out the sun.

“You know I’m not leaving you, right?” Wyatt says to me.

The hatchet wavers, heavy in my hand.

“Whatever, man, she’s scared,” Cole argues.

“I don’t need you to tell me how she’s feeling,” Wyatt barks. He’s yelling but the sound of his voice is drowned out by the Eater’s screaming outside.

Cole raises his voice even higher and shouts, “Really? Because you obviously don’t get it.”

“Shut up! Both of you! Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here,” I yell. “I’m not scared of you leaving. I’m just…I have shit to do and places to be. I can’t waste time tracking you down everytime something shiny catches your eye.”

“Alex…” Cole starts, there’s something in his eyes, a thread I want to pull.

“I’m done,” I say lifting my bag off the counter and slinging it over my shoulder. My big exit is cut short when a loud crack tears through the room. The next sound is the crash of Eater’s falling through the window. I charge toward the back door, pushing it open and stepping into the glaring sunlight.

I hear them coming and for once don’t care. I’m tired. Exhausted. Too much in too little time. A female Eater turns the corner wearing a tie-dye Grateful Dead t-shirt and charges me before I can get to the truck. I spin on my heel and slam my hatchet right into the top of her head. Blood pours out and she drops. I heave the hatchet out of her skull and sling it toward the next one. Cutting his head off clean.

They keep coming and I keep fighting, barely recognizing the sound of the others in the fight with me. Wyatt is too injured for a physical fight but he can still fire a gun and he unloads into the chests of the nearest Eaters. Their bodies jerk back on impact, before falling to the ground. Chloe has the good sense to run to the truck. The engine flares to life.

“Come on,” Cole says grabbing my arm. My arms are streaked with blood but the adrenaline pumps like lightning in my veins. I want to take this anger out on someone—something and there’s a whole group of monsters asking for it right here. “Now, Alex.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” I argue like a child. The set of his jaw tells me otherwise.

I lunge at the nearest Eater, one who so riddled by the virus his eyes are black. Cole yanks me backwards and tosses me into the open tailgate. He slides in next to me and drags me away from the edge. I hear scuffling near the truck and muttered cursing from Wyatt. I try to sit up but Cole holds me back, arms tight around my chest. I breathe out when I hear the slam of the passenger side door.

The truck peels out of the parking lot. Cole’s arms are still locked around my body and I stare up at the perfect blue sky, worn out.

“Care to explain that?” Cole asks now that I’ve stopped resisting.

“No.”

“It’s okay to break down every once in a while. This has all been a really big…adjustment.” I hear his voice in my ear and to my absolute annoyance find it soothing. “But going off like that was dangerous as hell. Dangerous for all of us.”

“I never wanted there to be an all of us,” I say fighting back tears. “It was just supposed to be my mom and me.”

He releases me and I sit up, hair whipping around my face in a frenzy.  The landscape around us is nothing but pasture and farmland. Rows of sun beaten cotton, soybeans, and tobacco as far as the eye can see. Everything about it is deceptively peaceful.

“Do you want Chloe and me to leave? We can. I just thought we’d be safer with more people.”

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter to me if they stay or go, but he’s right. Four sets of eyes are better than two. I look through the back of the truck window at the back of Wyatt’s head. Cole’s eyes follow my own.

“So you and Wyatt…”

“Me and Wyatt what?”

“It just seemed like…I don’t know. That wasn’t some sort of boyfriend-girlfriend thing?”

My rage toward Wyatt while we were in the diner came out of nowhere. I have no claim on him. He isn’t even my friend. Just a guy I met up with on the worst night of my life. That’s all.

“We’re just traveling together. Like you said. It’s safer.” I take a deep breath. “But we set some rules up—okay one main rule and he was about to walk off and it just freaked me out.”

Cole looks me up and down like he’s trying to see past the blood and the dirt to something deeper. I drop my eyes out of fear that maybe he’ll be successful.

“So no separating? It’s a good rule. You lose track of someone out here, you may never find them again,” Cole says.

I nod, pleased he understands.

A knock on the window interrupts our conversation and Wyatt jerks his thumb to the right. Daylight is fading and it looks like we’re making a stop. Chloe turns down a side road and we pass the weathered sign of a campground.

“Guess we’re going camping,” Cole declares. “You got a tent?”

“No.”

He shrugs and gives me a small smile. “Guess we’ll have to share.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

~Before~

5 Weeks Ago

Paul offers the couch to my mother. She doesn’t argue, exhausted from the day or really, the last eight months. He moves his sleeping bag to the floor and pops his earbuds in and promptly falls asleep. I sit with my back to the couch and my eyes on the door. It isn’t that I don’t trust him. I do. And that scares me. It’s the end of world—trust should be doled out sparingly.

Eventually I do fall asleep, my mind filled with dreams of being chased through a maze. I’m searching for something—I don’t even know what. I wake, neck at a funny angle, sore from my tailbone to my ears. It’s been only three days since we left home. It feels like a lifetime.

“Ugh,” I mutter to myself, rubbing the sore muscles in my neck. My feet bump onto my mom’s—she’s curled up on the other end of the couch. The room is dark other than the blue glow of Paul’s electronics. My vision adjusts. I look over at his pallet and he’s no longer there. The pinprick of nerves races up my skin and even before my eyes fully adjust I see him, facing me, wide awake back pressed against the door.

“Hey,” I say trying to keep my voice normal and whispering so Mom won’t wake up. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head.  “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I got up.”

“Oh yeah, I’m thinking we’ll leave soon. We need to make some headway.” I hadn’t fully told him where we were going. Partially out of safety. The rest out of feeling like an idiot.

“I mean, you guys don’t have to leave right away, you know? I made some breakfast.”

He gestures to three napkins spread on the floor before him. A bagel has been placed in the center of each one. Cream cheese and a plastic knife sit to the side.

“Wow, you have bread?”

“There was a whole stash in the freezer—you know for open houses and stuff.” He hands me one and I only hesitate for a second before taking it.

“I really appreciate you letting us stay, but we’re trying to meet up with some family so we’re kind of on a schedule.”

“Oh,” he replies, his mood seeming to darken further.

I stand and with the help of my flashlight start gathering my things. I nudge my mom and she shifts, waking only when I flash the beam in her eyes. Once she’s sitting, Paul clicks on a small camping lantern and the room fills with a soft light. She doesn’t hide her surprise when he hands her a napkin and bagel.

“Oh thank you, dear.”

“Are you sure you want to leave already?” Paul asks again. “I have plenty of water and there is more food. We can move another couch in here.”

I don’t know what to say. His dark eyes carry a palpable sadness. But we’ve got to move forward. I eat the chewy bread, using it as a cover for my silence. Mom does the same, while changing into a clean pair of socks.

When the bagels are gone, I glance at her. “Are you ready?”

“In just a minute,” she replied.

“I guess I just forgot how nice it was to have people to talk to. Maybe I should leave when you do—just go to the evacuation center,” Paul says standing up suddenly.  He moves quickly to his belongings and starts packing them up.

“So you’re going to the center?”

“I think it’s a good idea, I can’t stay here forever. What do you think?” Honestly it’s a difficult question to answer. If Dad hadn’t told us to go find Jane would we be on the road right now? When would we have given up and left the house?

As he packs, Paul’s movements seem erratic, but not exactly crazy. I think he’s terrified of being left alone again. “I think going to the evacuation center is smart, if that’s what you want to do. You’ll be safe there,” I say.

Paul unplugs his devices and I shove the remainder of my things in my bag. Mom has slipped on her shoes and has her pack in her hands. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she says giving Paul a smile. 

I pull out my map and go over the path I plan to follow. We’re skipping the elementary school and heading straight for the Carolina Heights community. It’s an older neighborhood but we know a couple of families that live there. If they’ll give us shelter we’ll take it. If not we’ll find our own.

Chapter Thirty-Five

~Now~

The campground, or really trailer park, appears long abandoned. Rusted-out trailers with busted doors and flat tires. Animals scurrying in and out of cracked windows, obviously unused to humans. This place truly looks like the poster child for the end of the world, like a bomb rocked it into oblivion. Whatever happened here must have occurred years before the current, actual end-of-the-world situation we’re in at the moment.

Chloe eased the truck under a large pine tree, the branches scraping against the roof of the cab. My feet have barely touched the ground when Wyatt’s hand wraps around my arm and he leads me behind a faded red and white camper. I jerk my arm away but go with him.

“What?” I ask, still not in the mood.

“Let’s check the perimeter and make sure there are no Eater’s locked up in these tin cans.” His gaze lingers over my face, probably trying to decide exactly how angry I am. I’m trying to decide why I care so much.

“Sure, whatever,” I grumble and lead the way.

We each bang on the trailers, with the butt of my hatchet or the nose of his rifle, listening quietly for the sound of life. Or death? God knows anymore. We pick our way through the campers, inhaling the stale, mold smell wafting through the broken windows and open doors. This place is worse than depressing.

I stop at a large zeppelin shaped camper, the shine long gone. I hear the distinct sound of shuffling feet and wave Wyatt over.

“Probably an animal,” I say quietly—hopefully. I’m not in the mood to kill anyone else today.

He mouths to the count of three and with a tight jerk of the handle the door swings open. I’ve got my hatchet in hand, at the ready, but the angry hiss from the Eater crawling out the door startles me all the same.

“Mother f—” I breathe, lowering the blade in a clean sweep, cracking it across his head. He falls forward, tumbling down the cinderblock steps. His fingers twitch and I hack away at them, severing them from his dirty, nasty hand. An angry growl comes from his mouth and his black eyes are bloodied from my initial attack. I stab him again and again until there’s nothing left.

Shit.

“You got him,” Wyatt says from behind.

“Duh.” I wipe the blade on the grass, turning away from the corpse. My hands shake and I fight off a wave of nausea. Where is the girl that was afraid of these monsters? Have I become one myself?

We clear the remaining trailers, each one more disgusting than the last. I can’t help but wonder about the people that lived here, the ones that left behind their pots and thrift store furniture. I stop in one that has a torn Miley Cyrus poster on the wall.

“God, Miley Cyrus. I wonder where she is now,” I say aloud.

“Probably in some underground bunker plotting how to use this whole thing to her advantage,” Wyatt says, closer behind me than I expect.

The air in the trailer is dank and musty and I walk past him needing to breathe. Wyatt follows me, leaning against the nose of a small, dirty aluminum one that had once been painted sky blue and white. He takes a deep breath, eyes looking up at the fading blue sky. “I’m sorry about that before, at the diner.”

“What for being a jerk?”

He blinks. “Yes.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I just had a moment—not my best. I think I’m just really freaking tired. Plus, adding on those two…people are hard, you know? I never realized before.”

“They were hard before too.”

“I’ve got to learn how to handle my zombie apocalypse stress a little better.”

“Don’t we all,” he agreed, the uncomfortable distance between us easing.

“You know,” he says rubbing his head. “It’s okay to be angry about all this.”

I roll my eyes, noticing guts from the Eater on the top of my boot. I kick the dirt to cover it. “Thanks for the permission to feel, Wyatt.”

His shoulders raise and he opens his mouth to argue but holds his hand up in surrender. He’s done fighting with me tonight. Thank God. I don’t want to fight anymore either.

On the way back to the others I notice him touch his side and I ask, “Do you want me to look at it?”

He stops and lifts up his shirt, revealing the wound. The bandage had held but blood is still seeping through. “It’s not too bad.”

I roll my eyes but at least he let me look at it without a fight. Maybe we’re making progress. “You need to change that.”

“I will.”

We find the twins in the middle of setting up camp. Chloe has a pile of small sticks in the formation of a teepee in a well-used fire pit and Cole has his olive green tent set up.

“That was fast,” I say running my hand over the arched doorway of the tent.

“Fast is the only way to be these days,” he replies. His eyes sweep over me, and I wipe my dirty hands on my pants.

“You sure this tent is a good idea?” Wyatt says poking the thin nylon with his finger.

“We’ll take shifts,” I say. The only other option is sleeping in the truck or one of the disgusting trailers and I just…well I just can’t.

Once Chloe has the fire started I open my bag and pull out the food supplies I have to sort through and share. The others do the same and at the moment we’re doing okay. Of course if movies and books are any indicator, our good fortune should be a sure sign of trouble to come. I look at the cans of food and say, “Does anyone else feel conflicted about eating everything now or saving it? It’s like those dumb people in horror movies. When people are actually prepared they’re the first to go.”

“Yep,” Chloe says with a nod of her head. “I keep thinking, why should I save the good stuff? I could be dead by tomorrow.”

Cole frowns. “Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “Of course now that I have ten candy bars shoved in my backpack it’s the last thing I want to eat. God, I would kill for a hamburger, you know?”

“Or French fries,” Cole chimes in with a pained look on his face.

“God, I would even take some of that terrible casserole Mom used to make—the one with the peas? I hated that but now? I didn’t realize how awesome home cooked food was, you know?”

“Yeah, remember that summer she was obsessed with beets?” He laughs.

I want to talk about my mom’s food and the things I miss but a lump forms in the back of my throat. It’s too soon and these people are too unfamiliar. I look away hoping the feeling will pass.

“Chloe,” Wyatt calls and tosses her a bag of jerky, the ones she wanted so badly at the diner. She smiles and rips open the top, happily inhaling the scent of vacuum-packed meat. Slowly she eats one piece. Then another.

“So, why didn’t you two go to the shelter?” Wyatt asks. He’s fighting with his pocket knife to open a can of chili. The lid pops open with a click and he sets it on a rock in the middle of the fire.

“We actually went to the shelter a couple of weeks into the announcements,” Cole says.

“Really?” I ask.

Cole nods. “Yeah. It was just the two of us and the shelter wasn’t far from where we lived. We figured we would check it out.”

“You may not have noticed yet, but Cole is a bit of a rule follower,” Chloe says rolling her eyes. “I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Sleeping on a cot in a high school for an indeterminate about of time did not appeal to me at all, but they made that big plea for all people trained in medicine to come in so we went.”

“Because Cole’s an EMT,” Wyatt asks eyeing them both. Guess he wasn’t sure that was true.

“Plus he’s in med school.” Cole makes no move at this revelation so she continues, “We got off the shuttle and they put us in two lines. Male and female. I watched as they went through the people’s belongings, taking out this and that. Looking at their medications and personal things. After that they took each person’s temperature and a syringe of blood that was it. I was gone.”

I look between the siblings. “You just left?”

“Yeah, I made a break for it. Cole saw me and followed.”

“Did they notice?”

“Hell yes they noticed,” Cole says. “They tracked us for a couple of blocks and even sent out a search team. Apparently, once you make the decision to enter the shelter there is no getting out—”

“Alive, at least,” she adds bitterly.

“We hid out for a couple of days and then looped back home to get the weapons and additional supplies. We hit the road after that with the vague notion of traveling to South Georgia to find our dad.”

“Did you know all this?” I ask Wyatt, waving a mosquito out of my eyes. “About what it was like at the shelter?”

“I had my suspicions.”

“What about you, Alex? How come you’re out here and not in a shelter?” Chloe asks.

For some reason the truth pops out. “My dad told my mom and me not to go there.”

Cole lifts an eyebrow. “Any particular reason? That’s a big request for a kid and her mom.”

The pouch burns into my chest, almost as much as my cheeks. He called me a kid. Is that how they all see me? “He wanted my mom and me to find my sister. It was all he asked.”

Cole nods as though he understands but there is no way he can. He doesn’t carry the weight of it all on his shoulders. What it’s like to be the last one alive with important information to get to an important person in my life. But no one told me what the information is or how to get there. The weight of the unknown is almost unbearable.

I stare at the fire while Wyatt inhales his can of chili. The twins clean up their trash and Cole says, “I’ll take first watch—”

“Same,” I agree before Wyatt can jump in. I have no interest in lying in that Eater death trap of a tent and thinking about my dad and Jane. I really don’t want to think about my mom. Wyatt gives me a hard look so I add, “I’m not tired, anyway.”

We clean up and repack, making sure everything is ready in a minute’s notice. Wyatt opens the flap on the tent and Chloe enters, crawling in on her knees. I pretend I don’t see him watching her closely. Why wouldn’t he? She’s a knockout. His age.

Not a kid like me.

I settle onto the step of an abandoned camper, hatchet across my lap. The aluminum sided RV’s glint from the firelight and Cole pours some sand across the flame. Good idea. He’s smart and between him and Wyatt they may have the skills to help me get me to Jane faster.

Cole positions himself across from me on the tailgate of a broken down truck. He lifts the collar of his shirt to cover his mouth and nose to keep the bugs at bay. His blue eyes flick in my direction and a sense of familiar ease rolls down my back. Cole isn’t a bad guy. I feel it in my bones. I lean forward and say quietly, “I don’t know what my dad knew about the camps but he warned us off. After we got out of the city we saw things, my mom and I. Bad stuff. I don’t know what the military is doing but I definitely feel safer outside.”

He lowers his shirt to speak. “That’s a bold statement. What did you see?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t trust them. That stuff you said about taking blood samples and going through peoples things. It rubs me the wrong way.”

“I guess,” he says, those eyes piercing in the dark. “Our instincts are all we have anymore.”

“What do your instincts tell you about everything now?” I ask. “Being with us?”

I can’t see his face but I can hear the resignation in his voice when Cole replies, “That no matter how bad it seems, this isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.”