Pocalypse Road

  Should he reach over the dog and take her hand? It was uncomfortably close to French’s talking her out of the shakes. And there was getting them all inside, out of the weather, to consider.

  But he couldn’t get out of the truck and leave her like this. He set the parking brake, and the walkie-talkie crackled.

  “What’s the plan?” Juju’s voice came through loud and clear. He hadn’t said a word about French threatening him, or about leaving the motherfucker behind.

  There was, really, nothing to say. Lee reached for the talkie. “On the ground in five. Gear up.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Lee slid his sidearm free, checked it. Familiar, habitual movements he could perform in his sleep. He pushed the gun back home, lifting his hip off the seat, and glanced at her. “Don’t worry,” he said, again.

  “I’ll try.” Two pale, faint little words. Traveller, quivering in place like the good hound he was, shifted a little to settle his hind end more firmly against Ginny’s hip. Scooching over to get as close to her as he could.

  Lee could relate. “Safe seconds, remember? Just keep counting them off while I’m gone.”

  “I…I don’t feel safe at all,” she whispered, staring at the front of the store. She was too pale. “Can I go with you?”

  I’d like that, really I would. But she was safer in here, so Lee shook his head slightly. “Trav needs someone to keep him company.”

  “Blame it on the dog.”

  “Big Q always said that was the secret to a good marriage.” That, and letting a woman have whatever she needs. His grandfather never said the latter when Nonna was around, but it rubbed through in little ways. The man had been done gone over his wife, and Lee supposed his own daddy had been the same over Lee’s mama.

  That was an unpleasant thought, though, one he shelved with a mental effort so reflexive he barely remembered when it had started. Enough that it went quietly.

  Ginny tried to smile. “You ever been married?”

  “No ma’am.” It almost hurt him to see the effort she was making. Trying to put him at ease? It was just like her.

  “Me either.” She settled herself, turning back to the windshield, chin rising a little, defiant. “Okay, go on. I’m hungry.”

  No sign of critters, and the windowless employee breakroom was neat as a pin. There was enough room in there, if they pushed an ancient couch up against the wall, for everyone to spread out their foam pads and sleeping bags. Steph and Mark went off in search of something for dessert, Ginny to look for first-aid supplies—you could never have too much, in her opinion, and she was the one with medical training—and Juju was on a mission for a certain beloved kind of baked beans again.

  Maybe, Lee thought, he should let Juju bunk somewhere else for the night.

  Lee, flashlight beam bobbing, moved aimlessly through the store, looking at the shelves and thinking. One problem was solved, but a few others were raising their ugly heads. They’d been almost unbelievably lucky so far, and you couldn’t count on that. It was vanishingly unlikely that Ginny’s parents were still alive, and his little group weren’t making good time through the slippery roads, especially with the weather deciding to turn all at once. Going north into snowstorms was a fool’s move.

  He was racking his brains to think of a better destination that wasn’t in Grandon’s letter when the fine hairs all over him stood up and he froze between one step and the next, listening intently. What had he heard? Something familiar, but out of place.

  Thunk. The sound of a swinging door sealing itself, to his left. But nobody was over there—or at least, nobody from his group.

  “Lee?” Ginny, from the end of an aisle behind him. Maybe she’d found all she needed. “Is that—”

  “Shhh.” His hand blurred for his gun just as the girl came around the corner and dropped her own weatherproof flashlight. The beam swung crazily, narrowly avoiding blinding him, and she dug frantically at her belt.

  Sixteen tops, with a fine-carved face and dark eyes, the black girl peered wildly from under a hunter-orange knit cap. Her blue coat was a little too big for her but she had a well-worn .45, and she finished lifting it as Ginny appeared from behind the aisle-end and a glossy stack of plastic sacks on display.

  Lee eyed the girl, she eyed him right back, and Ginny outright gasped.

  “Who the hell are you?” the girl demanded, quickest off the mark.

  Oh, good Lord. The business end of a pistol always looked very big, and very dark, when it was pointed at you. “Easy there, miss.” Lee took his hand away from his own gun, and spread his arms a little. “Ginny, stay back.”

  The girl, thin braids holding small blue beads doing their best to escape her hat, narrowed those velvety dark eyes. She had a fine stance; someone had taught her how to shoot. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Oh, my God.” Ginny peered the rest of the way around an endcap stacked high with chips—potato and corn, and glass bottles of salsa or queso dip. “Oh. Hello.” The words shook a little. “You’re alive.”

  The girl’s gaze flicked past Lee to Ginny. If she was relieved at seeing a woman, it didn’t show. “What?” At least she had some trigger discipline.

  “Please.” Lee cleared his throat. “Put the gun down, miss.”

  “Like hell.” The young lady didn’t think much of this notion. “Who the hell are you?”

  “He’s Lee,” Ginny said, helpfully. “I’m Ginny, Ginny Mills. We don’t mean you any harm.”

  “Yeah, well…” The girl studied them both, and Lee waited for her to make up her mind. No need to shoot, but accidents happened. And he didn’t want to be in the path of one, or God forbid, have a stray shot hit Ginny. Calm and easy was called for here.

  Another small sound—thunk-chock. It was an employee door, Lee realized, swinging wide and closing—he and Juju had gotten in through the employee entrance on the west side, sheltered from the wind, but any grocery store had holes in the back, as well. Quick footsteps followed, squeaking slightly. Another female voice, very young. “Mandy! Mandy, there’s people—oh.” Another teenage girl, a redhead with milky skin and sleepy pale eyes, halted behind the dark-haired one. “Hi.” A red jacket to match that carrot-top, and her jeans were almost wet to the knee.

  “Hi.” Ginny stepped out, slowly, her hands held high. “I’m Ginny. You are?”

  “I’m Carline. That’s Mandy.” The redhead stepped close and jostled the other girl, and Lee’s back prickled with sweat. You didn’t bump someone who had a bead, for Chrissake. “She’s, uh, a little wired.”

  Lee decided to keep his mouth shut. Ginny was going to be way more soothing than him, and he had to focus on breathing. If that girl put her finger on the trigger, things were going to get unhappy right quick.

  “We all are,” Ginny soothed. “We’ve been shot at, and then there’s the…” She took a deep breath. “The zombies.”

  “Any of y’all sick?” Mandy demanded. The gun shook a little; her boots were damp and very new. “At all?”

  “No. No fever, no convulsions, not even a sniffle.” Ginny spread her hands a little more, and sonny Jesus save him from a heart attack, stepped in front of Lee. She moved towards the girls, hands still up, her braids dangling down her back. “We’re all healthy. We’re just here for food, and we’ll leave if you want us to.”

  That was music to the dark-haired girl’s ears, apparently. “Promise?”

  “Mandy. Stop it.” The redhead elbowed her again. Christ, if that gun went off—

  “Jesus.” Mandy lowered the .45. Her dark eyes were huge, and Lee thought it pretty likely she was the decision-maker in this little couple. “Okay, just…you know, a guy shows up, and we’re alone, and…”

  The redhead—Carline—snorted a half-giggle. “Don’t tell them that, idiot!”

  “Lee?” Juju called. “Lee?”

  “It’s all right,” Ginny called back. “Stay where you are, please.” Her tone dropped, became businesslike. “That’s Mr Thurgood, h
e travels with us. There’s Mark and Steph too, they’re about your age.”

  Carline brightened. “Oh. Y’all travelin? Where you goin?”

  “New York.”

  “What’s there?” Mandy holstered the shootin’ iron, very slowly. She didn’t have to look to do it. A very capable little miss, right here.

  “My parents.” Ginny relaxed a little, lowering her hands. Was she smiling? It sounded like it. Lee’s palms were damp, and he was pretty sure his balls had crawled northward to escape carpetbaggers.

  Lucky again. But he was gonna have to have a talk with her about stepping in front of guns.

  The girls stared at Ginny like they couldn’t quite believe what they’d heard. Lee let out a long, soft breath. “Ginny,” he managed, through a throat gone dusty-dry. “Maybe we should, uh, let these ladies get back to whatever they was doin.”

  “Huh.” Carline studied him. “We’ll let you stay here. For a bit, at least.”

  “Unless you’re a rapist,” Mandy chimed in, bending for her flashlight. It was a good thing it had a heavy rubberized cover, or the damn thing would have cracked. “Then I’ll shoot you.”

  “Yes, well, if he was I’d shoot him myself,” Ginny said, calmly. “But for right now, maybe we could try to get along without guns?”

  At that, both girls began to laugh. It was a screechy, not-quite-sane sound, but nice and comforting nonetheless.

  That was how they met Mandy and Carline.

  Early Enough for Rules

  Sterno cans sizzled busily under rickety grillwork. Hot dogs, frozen solid in the depths of the grocery store’s coolers a short while ago, were now sweating grease and charring a little. The buns hadn’t gone bad—preservative-laced bread was doing better than the organics, that was for sure. Ginny longed for some Thai food, or Chinese. Egg flower soup would have gone down really easily. With a salad. A big, deep-green salad with bright red tomatoes. Bagged kale was probably still good, but the tomatoes in the produce section were all liquified by now.

  She poked at the hot dogs and suppressed a sigh.

  “Carline’s mama worked here.” Mandy accepted hot cocoa from Steph with a smile, obviously much easier now that she saw someone her own age in this new group.

  “Night manager,” Carline chimed in. “So she had keys. When everyone got sick and started zombifying, we figured it was safer here.”

  Mark was eyeing these new arrivals with no little trepidation. “What about your parents?”

  The black girl turned somber and stared into her cup, her chiseled lips pursing. “Well, once they get sick, they don’t seem to care ’bout no family ties.”

  “We had to beat her mama off with a two-by-four.” Carline shuddered, only a little theatrically.

  “Wasn’t much of a change,” Mandy muttered, and took a large gulp of cocoa. It was probably too hot, but she didn’t grimace.

  Steph nodded, pouring hot water into another mug with Swiss Miss mix. A high pretty flush stood out on her cheeks. “We had to run over my daddy. Well, Mark did. And my mama…well.”

  “Gruesome.” Carline was a little ray of sunshine. It was both disturbing and heartening to see the girls feeling each other out, subtle social cues flashing between them lightning-quick. “I had to use a lacrosse stick on mine. She was always on me to practice.”

  Mandy swallowed, her shoulders hunched. There was more to that story, anyone could tell just by looking.

  “Maybe exchanging the details could wait until after dinner, ladies.” Ginny glanced at Mark. “Hand me the platter, will you?”

  Lee and Juju hurried in through the unlocked front door, stamping fresh snow loose. They were getting really good at finding employee doors and getting glass ones open without making them unusable afterward. Finding a place to shelter the vehicles was going to be a problem, since the power was out and that meant no engine-block heaters. Or so it appeared to Ginny.

  That wasn’t something she could solve. It was a relief to find something she didn’t feel responsible for, frankly.

  “Nothin movin outside.” Lee set his rifle down, carefully, and stretched his hands over the grill. Juju got the door closed and locked, peering out into a wind-whirling white dusk. Dim light from the blue flames and the Coleman lamps reflected off the end of a few checkstands; there was an entire display of charcoal in paper bags. There was a propane refill station here too; Ginny had, after much thought, opted for the cans of alcohol gel. The risk of carbon monoxide poisoning precluded any large barbecue plans, but Ginny was just tired enough to find the idea funny.

  The grilling, that was. Not the poisoning. It was the end of the world, and here they were with a cookout.

  Mark’s head swiveled, trying to keep track of the new arrivals as he held a red plastic platter. It tipped dangerously as Ginny loaded it with hot dogs, each nestled in a toasted bun. “Careful, kiddo.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He righted the plate, but his gaze wandered again. Impossible to tell which new girl he was more fascinated with. Lee might have been about to bark at him, but Ginny shook her head a little. Let the kids the kids.

  Just as she thought it, Carline hopped to her feet and shouldered Mark aside. “You gotta hold it straight. Jeez.” She made a little motion with her head, either tossing her hair or dismissing him, it was hard to tell which.

  “I’m surprised y’all ain’t goin to Georgia.” Mandy finished her cocoa with another gulp, put her elbows on her knees. Her cornrow braids, each a neat ridge, ended with blue beads that made tiny cheerful noises whenever her hair swing. Her hunter-orange hat lay neatly in her lap. At least she’d laid the gun aside. It looked like a real cannon, but Lee didn’t seem concerned about her carrying it. Not like Brandon’s carbine.

  She didn’t want to think about Brandon. At least they were miles away, and he was presumably an adult. He could shift for himself.

  “Why?” Ginny loaded another batch of hot dogs onto the grill. Still half-frozen, they were easier to handle with tongs but she was going to err on the side of burning them, just to make sure. The last thing they needed was food poisoning. “Juju, come eat while it’s warm. Steph, sweetie, we need something other than chips, really. Something with fiber.”

  “Fiiiiiber.” Steph giggled, and the other two girls did too. Ginny couldn’t help but smile.

  Mandy sobered first. “The last thing we heard on the radio was the gov’mint tellin everyone to go there. Atlanta, the CDC.” She pushed herself upright, stuffing her hat in her jacket pocket. “We were talkin about goin out that way, maybe.”

  “Said they was working on a cure.” Carline made a slight tsking noise. Her cheeks were downright rosy. “I’ll take this, you pass out the plates.”

  Mark hurried to obey, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed nervously. Lee pulled his hands back like they’d been singed, and straightened. “Atlanta, huh?” His gaze rested on Ginny, thoughtful and distant.

  Go ahead, if you want to. She busied herself with laying some more buns down to toast, too. Sterno was nontoxic, right? The flames were small enough dioxide poisoning wasn’t a huge risk. She’d carefully thought that out before approaching the problem of cooking tonight. Her fingers were numb; her headache had retreated but her neck was still tense.

  “That’s what they said.” Mandy did a smart about-face, unearthing her big rubberized flashlight from inside her coat. “Imma go find something healthy, Miz Mills.”

  “It’s Ginny. And you don’t have to—”

  “Take someone with you,” Lee piped up. “Safer.”

  “Ain’t nothin in here, sir.” She slipped between two checkstands and was gone in a wink, flicking her flashlight into life.

  “Stubborn,” Carline called after her, then dropped her tone. “But she’s used to going off alone. ’Nough to drive you crazy.”

  Lee looked about ready to pick up his rifle and follow the girl, but Ginny shook her head again. “Don’t.” Softly, so it wouldn’t carry. “Better for me to go, or Steph. Or just let h
er be.”

  Puzzlement wrinkled his forehead, but smoothed as soon as it dawned on him. Ginny waited for him to get angry, but his expression settled between remote and rueful. “Aight.” He scratched at his cheek, stubbling up fast. “Glad we cut that feller loose.” It was obvious who he meant.

  “Me too.” She didn’t ask what had happened once she and the kids had left the foyer that morning. There was no point—she couldn’t see Brandon agreeing gracefully, or Lee caring at that point. “This’ll be done in a little bit.”

  Civilization was a thin veneer indeed. How long before it cracked like an egg?

  “Just let ’er go, I guess.” Lee tucked his gloves in a pocket. “Tomorrow’s early enough for rules.” If they’re coming along, was the unspoken corollary. He reached for the tongs, but she whisked them away. “Why don’t you go sit down? Have Steph bring you some cocoa. You look peaked.”

  “I’m fine.” She watched Steph load a plate for Juju, who settled on an upended milk crate, sideways so he could keep an eye on the door. “This batch is all yours.”

  “What about you?”

  “Cook eats last. You know that.” She was turning into her mother. Cook sits down last, Mom would say, with the unspoken corollary that she got up at least fifteen times during the meal to fetch things, fuss at something, or refill a glass hung over every bite.

  Lee’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Next time I’m on KP.”

  “No thanks.”

  “You don’t think I can?”

  She glanced up, hurriedly, to check his expression. The smile remained, and she almost sighed with relief. Then she felt like an idiot, but that quick jab of social discomfort was damn near instantaneous. “I want to feel useful.”

  “You’re right useful.”

  Somehow I don’t think my skillset is particularly applicable. “Maybe you guys should go to Atlanta. If they—”

  “No.” He didn’t even let her finish.

  “Lee.” She poked at a charring hot dog, turning it over.

  “I told you, I ain’t havin you hurt.”