He had stood dutifully beside his favorite crack in the boards, his eyes straining to see in the dark. I bumped into a side table and gasped, prompting him to ask if I was okay and a subsequent offering of shared light in the middle of the room.
"Sorry," he said, sitting across from me. "I'm not sure yet if they're attracted to light."
I shrugged, even though it was pointless. He probably couldn't see the gesture. I still didn't feel the need to voice my answer, possibly from spending so much time with Bryce, who already knew my next thought.
We sat there for some time without speaking, neither one of us uncomfortable with the silence. I was listening for any sounds that might mean trouble, and I assumed he was doing the same.
His hair was just starting to grow out from that weird military buzz cut. The dim light gave me an excuse to study his face; his prominent chin with a faint indentation in the middle, and his upper lip that was a little on the thin side. His eyes were deep set and a little buggy, but it didn't make him unattractive. I wasn't sure there was anything about him that was unattractive. It all sort of fit him and made him that much better, kind of the way imperfections give a house character.
The wind hissed through the trees, and a low rumble sounded in the distance.
"Shit. Is that thunder?"
Joey nodded, pointing a few times with his handgun. "It's going to go south of us, I think."
I opened a can of cashews and popped one into my mouth. "I can't stop wondering where my mom is. If she's okay. I wonder if she'll ever get back here."
"Where is she?"
"She and my stepdad went to Belize."
"Oh."
"Do you wonder about your parents?"
"Yeah."
"Your high school friends?"
"I've been away a long time. I joined right out of high school. You lose touch."
Talking to him was so frustrating. He didn't offer any extra information at all. "Aren't you worried about them? Your parents?"
"My mom is the daughter of a war widow, and then became one. If anyone can survive this, she can."
"You really think she made it?"
"We're from North Carolina, and the coasts were the first to get hit. I talked to her while Dana was in surgery. She was reporting all kinds of crazy shit going down, but she was at her neighbor's house, and he's a hardass former marine. I believe he's keeping her safe. I have to."
"Is everyone you know military?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Not everyone. I lived in Jacksonville. Right next to Camp Lejeune, which happens to be the largest marine base on the East Coast. I'd say Mom has a good chance."
I smiled. "I'd say you're right. So you're a marine, then? I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not air force."
He smiled. "What makes you say that?"
"I don't know. When I think air force, I think lanky pilot with glasses. You look like a jarhead to me."
"Oh yeah?"
"If you don't want to answer, just say so."
"I'm just enjoying the commentary. I am air force, actually. I'm a PJ."
"PJ. I'm assuming you don't mean of the pajama variety."
He chuckled quietly. "No. Of the pararescue variety."
"Oh."
" 'Oh.' You say that like you know what it is."
"I have an idea," I said, maybe a little more defensive than I would have liked.
"Okay," Joey said, holding up his hands. "Most people don't. Well, some people don't."
"Some people. Like females, you mean."
"Yes, that's what I mean."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh. You're one of those guys."
He shook his head. "I'm not. Don't peg me like that. I have a lot of respect for--"
"The girl that was in your truck?" I said, watching for his reaction.
"Dana." His eyebrows pulled together and he picked at his boots. "I'd just got back, and our friends threw a welcome-home party. It was stupid. I should have just . . . I should have just stayed home with her. Enjoyed her. She was the only one I wanted to see, anyway."
"She was yours."
He nodded and his mouth pulled to the side, and then he looked up quickly and sniffed. "Yeah. She was attacked after the party. She got really sick."
"Is that why she was in the hospital gown?"
"She had an appointment for some kind of exam. It came back bad. She'd lost like twenty pounds in a couple of days, so I knew . . . I knew that she . . . they took her straight to surgery. I was going to wait for her as long as it took, you know. I would have," he said, nodding, "but she was gone for less than an hour. They'd just opened her up and then closed. Her insides were dead. There was nothing they could do." I watched as the memory replayed in his mind, and then his face compressed, his pain filled the room, barely leaving room to breathe. "Not long after she woke up the hospital went crazy. Those things were running around attacking people, and after the phone call with my mom, I knew what was happening. I didn't know what else to do. I just scooped Dana up and ran. The goddamn truck ran out of gas just outside of Fairview, and so I held her. She was in and out a lot, but when she finally came to . . . she was in a lot of pain. They'd stapled her up. It was a pretty shoddy job. They figured in a few hours she wouldn't care. I'd watched a lot of people come back as those things while I held Dana in the truck, so when she went . . . when she went, I knew I'd have to put her down. My Glock was under the seat."
He pressed the barrel of his gun to his temple, clearly trying to push the thought from his mind.
"That's horrible."
His eyes jumped up from the floor, instantly pulling away from the horrible nightmare in his head. "I've been on two tours. I've seen limbs blown off, bones protruding . . . smashed, I've seen the incomplete bodies of children brought in and out of my helo. I've seen intestines on the outside of a man's body more than once. I've seen eyeballs hanging from their sockets. I've seen grown men bawling and begging for their moms to save them from the death they knew was just minutes away. I've seen horrible. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with died in my arms, and then again when I put a bullet in her brain. That was fucking gruesome."
I stared at Joey, speechless. Every word he'd just uttered and every visual that came with them sizzled as they were branded to my brain. I wanted to cry, or throw up, or run away. But instead I threw my entire body at the stranger across from me and pulled him against my chest. My fingers gripped at his T-shirt, hoping the tighter I held him, the less pain he would feel. His chin dug into the tender part between my collarbone and the muscle of my shoulder, but the pain meant nothing next to his. After his initial shock, he held me, too, and then his entire body shook as he mourned the loss of so many things. When his grip became too tight, I just kept hanging on, letting him do what was needed to finally grieve.
When he let go, he simply nodded in thanks and stood, walking over to the window to resume his post.
The space between us was suddenly thick and full of energy, but not the good kind. That moment, however innocent, was far more intimate than it should have been, and neither one of us realized it until the moment had passed. Being in his presence was suddenly unbearably awkward. "I'm, uh . . . going to head to bed," I said, whispering so low I doubted Joey could hear. That statement suddenly sounded inappropriate, too, and I cringed, hoping he didn't think it was an invitation.
I turned and pushed myself off the floor, bumping into a figure standing in the doorway. I gasped, but then relaxed, recognizing Bryce. The relief didn't last long when I saw the expression on his face. He wasn't even looking at me. Instead, he was busy boring a hole into the back of Joey's head.
"C'mon. Let's go to bed," I said, pulling Bryce with me downstairs.
His fingers were tense, as if he were holding onto a hot coal instead of my hand. He lay in bed next to me, but because he had nowhere else to go--not because he wanted to. He didn't have to say it, the betrayal he felt radiated from him like heat on a blacktop road. I had no
idea what time it was, but starting a discussion that would likely lead to an argument in the middle-ish of the night wasn't appealing to me, so I closed my eyes and prayed the creaking walls wouldn't keep me awake. No matter what I said, convincing Bryce that such an intimate embrace wasn't what it seemed would be difficult when he'd calmed down and impossible when he was that angry. He had shared with me just hours before his disdain for the man I'd just had so tightly in my arms. I wondered in that moment if Bryce would have rather been outside in the dark with the dead ones than lying next to me.
Chapter Seventeen
Nathan
"GOOD MORNIN'," WALTER SAID, GREETING the kids with rifle in hand.
Miranda worked to produce a smile, seeming tired and cranky. "This is my boyfriend, Bryce. That's Cooper."
I nodded to them.
"Now that the pleasantries are over," Walter said, gesturing to the station, "looks like we have a situation."
It was obvious why they'd had trouble. Two infected were inside the station, pushing excitedly against the double glass doors. One of them was a young girl, not much older than Zoe.
"Yeah," Cooper said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "We've run into them before."
"It should be just the two," Bryce said. "Unless more wandered inside. I put down a male. He should still be lying by the cash register."
Walter motioned for the boys to follow him. "Better let us take care of this, Nate. I don't want you to think about this every time you look at Zoe."
Regardless of the coward I might have looked like, I turned my back and tried not to listen as Walter and the boys eliminated the infected inside the gas station. Miranda kept an eye on the situation, but Ashley did as I did and looked the other way.
"Clear," the soldier said. The jargon and tone confirmed my suspicions.
I stayed with the girls while Walter helped them look for a switch to turn on the pump. The owner's resistance to new technology was fortunate. I wasn't sure we could have got it to work if it had been one of the newer ones.
"Okay!" Walter said. "Pull up the lever, and listen for it!"
"For what?" Miranda said.
I pulled up the lever, and the pump buzzed. "For that."
With a big grin, Miranda began pumping the gas, and Ashley opened the trunk and pulled out three large gas cans.
"We're in business!" Miranda said to her boyfriend.
He jogged to her side, and then interlaced his fingers on top of his head when he saw for himself. "Oh, thank God."
"I'll go get my car and fill it up, too, and then we can be on our way. You can pull up to the house and wait once you're finished here. Load up what you can."
Miranda nodded. "Will do."
They were all bouncing and smiling, excited that we would be leaving soon. Once I made the quick walk to Walter's house, I waved to Joy and Zoe, and then hopped into my car, which was still parked in the middle of the dead end.
"I'm going to fill up with gas, and then I'll be right back to get you."
Zoe smiled.
"I'll pack you a few things," Joy said. She was smiling, too, but her eyes were heavy with sadness.
Bryce was just topping off the last gas can when I pulled up. I'd passed Walter on the way. He didn't look up. I imagined he was probably sad, too, and the responsibility of surviving alone was weighing on him. Guilt burned my insides, but not enough to sway my decision. They could come with us, or we could ask the doctor's permission and then come back for them. Things weren't so bad in Shallot that they couldn't survive for another day or two. At least as long as the infected were still ambling around on the highway instead of in town.
Bryce put the last of the gas cans in the trunk, and then they crowded into the Bug. Ashley was hunched over in the backseat, sitting on both Cooper and the soldier. It looked uncomfortable as hell.
Miranda smiled. "We'll meet you at Walter's."
"Does one or two of you want to ride with me? Looks kind of cramped in there."
Miranda looked to the boy in the passenger seat, and then to those behind her. "Yeah, I bet Joey could fit better in your car."
Joey lifted his hand. "Joey."
"Nice to meet you," I said with a nod.
They pulled out of the lot onto the street, and I pulled up the lever on the pump, waiting for the noise to click on. It didn't. I jogged into the station, and toggled what I thought was the switch, but I wasn't in there when Walter had showed the boys, so I wasn't sure which it was.
I had barely crossed the parking lot and stepped into the street when I saw an infected just a block away making her way to the highway. I turned on my heels and ran back to my car, reaching inside to pull out the bag of guns Skeeter had given me.
Skeeter. As I made my way back, I thought about my brother and sister-in-law. They were both likely dead by that point. Aubrey probably was, too. Aubrey and Skeeter's parents had been gone for several years, but knowing they were all gone made the situation even sadder. Zoe was the only one left.
When I approached the porch, Walter smirked. "You forget something?" he said, nodding to my car that still sat at the pump.
I laughed once, glad for the distraction. Walter and Joy were good people. Changing their minds about joining us at the doctor's place was still a possibility. Once I got Zoe settled in, I was determined to come back for them.
"The pump didn't come on."
"No?" Walter said. "I can head back down there to see what the problem is."
"Do you mind?"
Walter descended the porch steps, taking care to use the railing. "Not like I've got anything better to do, son."
Miranda had parked in front of Walter's house, and then she and her group lingered around the Volkswagen, discussing their next move. Joy and Zoe had just come back out to the porch, Zoe with a small packed bag hung over her shoulder. Walter and I had barely stepped out into the street when gunshots rang out. We'd heard them in the distance every day, but this time they were closer. Much closer. Soon after, an engine revving echoed through the quiet streets, and then a car came careening down the main street from the highway, fishtailing out of control.
"Daddy!" Zoe yelled, just as the car T-boned mine, both crashing into the pumps.
A huge explosion accompanied by a big boom immediately took the place of the gas station. As soon as the ball of fire traveled up into the atmosphere, the charred vehicles were visible only for a moment before thick, black smoke and even more fire shot from where the pumps once were.
"What do we do?" Joy said through the hands that covered her mouth.
The kids were still standing next to their car in shock, and my hands were on my head, my fingers knotted in my hair. "No. No!" I yelled the second time, in complete disbelief. I knew my car was gone, but with each passing second, the comprehension of everything that being without a car meant became more real. We were trapped, unable to travel on foot, and worse, every infected lingering on the highway would be enticed back into town by the explosion.
Just as that thought entered my head, I saw the first infected. One after another they stumbled down the street, until the irregular pattern turned into groups, and then an army of undead, moving as one unit, toward the street.
"Nathan?" Miranda said, her expression frozen in fear at the sight. She reached inside of her car and pulled out a rifle. The others did the same before slowly retreating to the porch, keeping their eyes on the dirty, bloody parade.
"Move slow," Walter warned quietly as he and I backed away from the street to the house. "Don't draw their attention over here."
The kids were at least smart enough not to make any sudden movements. I glanced up at Zoe, who was watching with a blank face like it was something she'd seen a hundred times before. As a knee-jerk reaction, I thought about discussing her lack of reaction at Zoe's next therapy session, but there would be no more counselors, or evaluations, or IEP plans.
It seemed that once we realized Zoe was not like other children our lives had been cons
umed with meetings and doctor's appointments, care plans and behavior management. Life was difficult enough for those of us that could process stress and overstimulation normally. Even when we had what seemed like limitless tools to help Zoe head off or navigate the meltdowns, life would never be easy for her. A different panic emerged, one that we couldn't run away from: Those things we took for granted were no longer available. The recognition of that truth made a wave of dread wash over me. Zoe thrived on routine, and she was without treatment during this decimation of everything familiar. A plague that could last months, or years . . . or forever. Zoe would have to survive both.
"We could wait this out downstairs," Walter said, pulling me back to the current problem. The break in his voice signaled that not even he believed his words.
I gripped the bag in my hand, thankful I'd taken it from the car. "We can't stay here, Walter. With all of those things in town, it's not safe."
Joy's eyes left me and settled on her husband, resigned. "Maybe it never was."
Walter's lips turned into a hard line. "Goddamnit. God damn those things."
We all retreated inside the house. Joy scrambled around to pack, and the boys stood next to the windows to keep watch. Miranda and Ashley helped Joy put as much food as they could carry into bags, and then we met in the kitchen.
"I don't . . . have a lot of room in my car," Miranda said.
"My Taurus is in the garage," Walter said, grabbing a set of keys hanging from a nail on the wall. The key ring was made of multi-color plastic that spelled ORLANDO.
"Okay, Zoe and I will ride with Walter and Joy. Problem solved."
Miranda nodded nervously.
"They're starting to fan out!" Bryce said.
A muffled, high-pitched yapping came from next door, and we all froze.
Joy blanched. "Dear Jesus, it's Princess."
Bryce and Cooper leaned against the windows to get a better look. Princess continued to bark excitedly at the horrifying procession. It didn't take long for the first of them to notice the barking and veer away from the others.
"We can't wait," Bryce said. "We have to go now before any more come down this dead end."