She shakes her head in disgust at them, arms akimbo. I look up at their faces and it makes me dizzy.
“I’m sorry,” Peter says, but he looks more annoyed than sorry. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have done it.”
Their arguing voices get distant. The sun is so bright. I want to close my eyes and lie down right here. Another wave of nausea hits. I try to scramble away, but I throw up violently on someone’s shoes. I curl up on the soft dirt and hard pebbles of the road and groan.
CHAPTER 44
I hear the sounds of tents being erected. They moved me somewhere, but I couldn’t open my eyes without vomiting. I squint and see a flash of grass in a clearing before it all starts rotating. This time I throw up all over my hands while I crawl toward the woods. Penny crouches next to me with a drink of water and fans the back of my neck. I hope it’s new water.
“Oh, God,” I moan. I sink down in my own vomit as my stomach cramps. I know it’s disgusting, but I can’t even care. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
The bathroom. Funny. What I would give for a bathroom right about now. Even the vault toilet at the campground would be better.
“Let me help you,” Penny says.
I stumble on her until we find a spot in the trees, then she wraps me in a sleeping bag and puts me in a tent. I want to ask where we are and if it’s safe, but instead I drift into a feverish sleep.
I’m sick again and again until I feel I might actually wish I were dead. I hear moaning during the night and have dreams that the infected are after me. I can’t run, so I hide and hope they’ll go past. In the dream Penny tries to get me to drink, but I knock the water out of her hand, because I know that’s how they got infected. Finally, twisted and sweaty in my sleeping bag, I wake to the chirping of birds. Penny sleeps next to me. On her other side is a long lump. James.
Penny sits up with a worried frown. “What do you need? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” My voice is dry and raspy. “Water.”
She hands me a bottle. I drink and wait for the stomach lurch, but it seems okay. I’m so thirsty I want it all, but I take careful sips instead.
“Did I sleep all night?” My head is still a little spinny and I lie back down.
“You slept all night, twice.” Penny looks me over carefully but must think I look okay, because her face relaxes.
“Really? I lost a day?”
She nods. “Not just you. James and Peter got sick, too. Nelly’s hit yesterday, but he’s not as bad, and Ana and I are fine. We’ve been taking care of you all.”
The last conversation I heard comes back to me. “It was the water?”
I can’t believe Ana and Peter didn’t filter it. I told them how important it was. But I think they only filled our containers. If they made the Washingtons sick and they had to stop somewhere to recuperate, they could be dead right now. We could have been dead right now, camping out here. Wherever here is.
“It seems most likely. Ana finally told me that they filtered some of it. I guess that was before it got too boring.” She makes a face. “So maybe I was lucky enough to get uncontaminated water. We washed all the containers as best we could and refilled them with filtered water. Ana knows how to use that filter now, you can bet on that.”
She looks triumphant, like a mother who has taught her naughty kid a lesson.
I laugh. “Thanks for taking care of me, chica.”
She smiles. “Of course. Even though you were a pain in the ass and kept trying to knock any drinks I gave you away. You kept saying it would make us moan, too. I was worried about you.”
“I was having crazy dreams. Sorry I was so annoying. Sounds like it must have been fun.” Penny shrugs and smiles. I motion to the lump that is James. “How is he?”
“About the same as you. Peter, too. It hit them later, so I figure by tonight they’ll be feeling better. If you’re feeling better, that is.”
I nod. “I might actually be a little hungry. Not much, but a little.”
“Let me see what I can find that you can stomach.” She unzips the tent, then stops and turns to me with an evil grin. “Oh, you’ll like this. Remember when you threw up the first time? Well, you puked on Peter’s shoes. He was so pissed. It was great. All he could talk about, until he got sick, was how terrible they smelled even though he scrubbed them.”
Peter’s shoes cost hundreds of dollars. I’m feeling even better now than I did a minute ago. It’s amazing how a little morale boost can improve your health.
I smile and close my eyes. “Good. I hope they smell forever.”
CHAPTER 45
Three days of people puking has done nothing to improve the aroma in the truck. A bar of soap and limited cold water don’t really cut it when you’ve lain in your own vomit. We’ve been camping in a clearing down a dirt track. Penny says she and Ana heard some cars go by on the main road. A couple of times they heard distant gunshots and what she thought were explosions.
We’re days behind schedule. I’m driving and as jittery as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, or whatever crazy thing it is that Nelly says. I haven’t had much cause to drive, living in the city with no car the past few years. Plus, my dad always said I drove like an old lady, anyway. I’m about three inches away from the windshield, afraid of what’s around every bend. Nelly, who’s resting in the back, finally opens his eyes and asks me if I want him to drive.
“I’ll drive,” James offers.
He’s perked up in recent hours and sits in the passenger seat. He looks almost skeletal now. Penny offers him a snack every fifteen seconds, pecking around him like a mother hen. I’m pretty sure he likes it.
“I’m fine,” I say, and attempt to unclench one of my hands from the steering wheel.
“Dude, you’ve got the wheel in a kung fu death grip,” James says.
I let out a laugh that’s tinged with hysteria. I offered to drive, since Penny and Ana barely ever drive and everyone else still felt worse than me, but I probably shouldn’t have. At least not in the state I’m in. Maybe it’s being weak from sickness, or because I don’t believe the ride can remain as trouble-free as the last hour has been, or maybe I’m trying for two crack-ups in a lifetime instead of one. I feel like a baby for being scared, but I try to convince myself I have nothing to prove by driving this stupid, stinky car. It’s not like I’ve spent the past days whining and refusing to do what needs to be done, not like some people I could mention.
“Okay, I’ll pull over in a few. Somewhere we can have a pit stop.”
The road wends its way through stands of forests, past farmhouses, fields and run-down houses and trailers. When we started this trip the other day there were signs of life: the occasional person outside or smoke pouring from stovepipes. Today most look empty. I can’t figure out why the occupants would have left somewhere relatively safe for a Safe Zone.
I guess I might consider it too, if we hadn’t already escaped from one and heard about the fall of another. I’m looking for a place to stop, so I’m not prepared when I round a bend and there’s someone standing in the middle of the road.
“Shit!” I slam on the brakes and skid to a stop two feet away. There are grunts as everyone in the back hits the front seats. “Sorry! You guys okay?”
“Fine, we’re fine,” Penny says, not taking her eyes off the road.
A man stands with his back to us. His hair is greasy cowlicks. He looks normal from the back, but none of us is surprised when he turns and his face is slack. A network of purple capillaries stands out on the gray of his face. They look just like the tiny, twisting lines of the back roads we’re following on the map. He shambles up to the hood and leans forward. His eyes are cloudy, like grimy old marbles.
“Run him over!” Ana screeches.
Her voice carries out the windows. He moans and pulls himself halfway onto the hood, teeth clacking together. I haven’t seen one this still and close in broad daylight. There’s a brown crust in between every tooth, like he hasn’t bru
shed in a year. I’m pretty sure it’s blood. I can see the bone in one arm, a flash of white in the tangled mess of tissue.
“Cassie,” James says in a calm voice. “You might want to go.”
I snap out of it. There’s a dead person on the hood of the car. His hands scrabble on the shiny black paint as he tries to get purchase, and I’m afraid he’ll fly up and crack the windshield. I lightly press the accelerator, even though I want to gun it.
“Jesus, Cassie, go!” Peter shouts, and the creature on the hood gurgles with frustration, or something like it.
“I don’t want to crack the windshield,” I say, as I speed up. “Hold on to something, everyone.”
I swerve and the Lexer slides off the hood. There’s a terrible thump-bump as we run over some part of him. My breath comes in gasps. We’re going fast now, and I have no intention of stopping, ever. I’m so tightly clenched that my hands and neck hurt. Everyone talks at once, but I’m silent, waiting for the next bump in the road, literally and figuratively.
“Sorry, everyone,” I finally say. “I should have moved faster there.” I feel dumb, like I can’t be trusted to keep everyone safe. My cheeks are hot.
“Are you kidding?” Penny asks. “If it were me we’d still be sitting there trying to get me to step on the gas.”
“And I would’ve floored it, and he probably would’ve cracked the windshield,” Nelly says. Peter gives a little cough. “You wanted to take off fast, too. Right, Pete? That’s why you yelled for her to go?” There’s a warning in his voice.
“Not fast enough to crack a windshield,” Peter replies.
I can see him in the rear view mirror; his jaw clenched. He hates when people call him Pete, which Nelly knows, without a doubt.
“Thanks,” I say, to everyone but Peter. “I won’t be as slow next time. I thought we were pretty safe here, but if that guy is just wandering around…”
“It doesn’t look good,” James finishes. “I can drive whenever you want.”
CHAPTER 46
The houses that looked empty now look menacing; their dead eyes watch us as we go past. I jump every time I think I see a pale face at a window, a corpse inside waiting to be freed. I would think that after days of this my heart would have ceased going into overdrive, but the body knows when it’s threatened, and it isn’t going to let me pretend otherwise. Maria said the virus lives in the brain, where our most primitive reactions are based. It occurs to me that if I allow my brain stem to do its reptilian job in response, I just might live.
The holster digs into my side in the backseat. It’s not an unpleasant feeling. I’ve never particularly liked pistols. They’ve always scared me a bit, even though I’ve shot them more times than I can remember. My dad liked to carry a gun; it was an extension of his body, a tool. Like a hammer. I feel as if I’m using a table saw with no safety cover, no goggles, and my eyes closed. Like any second it might start going off wildly, despite my attempts to control it.
My dad said I was a natural at shooting targets, and I did enjoy it. But I’m not like Nelly, who holds a gun with ease, who never frowns at the weight of it in his hand like it’s a venomous snake. I’ve never wanted a gun for protection, afraid it was more dangerous to carry than anything I might come up against in daily life. But now I’m glad it’s here. The heaviness weighs me down, roots me, and reminds me that at any instant I might have to use it. I just hope I’m still a good shot.
There are just over thirty miles left. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but it could be impossible. People drive that far to get a gallon of milk around here. Or they did; both small stores we passed were dark.
It’s about ten miles to Bellville, the town my family would visit on summer evenings for a scoop of ice cream or Fourth of July fireworks. This wasn’t our usual route, but I’ve spent enough of my life here to have traveled this road before. The farm with the wagon wheel mailbox means we’re only five miles away. I say this aloud. Everyone nods, but the car is silent.
Peter’s on the other end of the backseat. His profile is still and his eyes flick back and forth at the passing scenery. This morning he mumbled an apology at me, and I tried to be gracious about it. It’s okay, it was a mistake, I said, and tried smiling at him. His answering smile was bitter, and he went back to loading the truck. He’s so angry at me, maybe at everything. Peter’s always wanted for nothing, except the things that really matter. He’s always had money and charm to fall back on, but now all the superficial armor that protected him is gone.
Maybe somewhere in there is that guy I glimpsed now and again in his generosity or in the gentle way he would treat me, which was so at odds with the way the rest of the world saw him. I wish I could smooth things over. Maybe it’s not possible. But he’s here, and though I want to kick him much of the time, I’m kind of glad. He may hate me, but I still care enough about him to want him safe.
CHAPTER 47
A painted wooden sign welcomes us to Bellville. A police car sits sideways across the road, surrounded by a jumble of cars. Three men pop up from behind it. One rests a huge rifle on its roof while the others hold their hands up until we stop.
“Okay,” shouts a tall, blond man. “Everyone out of the truck.”
“Should we get out?” James asks. “Maybe we should just turn around. Is there another way?”
“It’s another forty miles of driving, at least,” I say. “And no guarantee we won’t run into another roadblock.” On the plus side, if they’ve got the town barricaded, everyone must be well.
We spill out of the truck as two men move forward and leave the one with the rifle trained on us. The second man is bulky, with brown hair that looks like it was cut with a butter knife, and small, mean eyes.
“Where you folks headed?” asks the tall one.
I step forward a couple of inches. “Headed to my folks’ place, about twenty miles north.”
“Any of you sick?”
We shake our heads. It’s a good thing we didn’t try to pass through here while we were ill with whatever was in the water. They look like they plan to shoot first and ask questions later. We still don’t look that great, and there have been an embarrassing number of pit stops today, but all in all we don’t look infected.
“Well, we’re not letting anyone into town. You’ll have to find another way up there.”
“We just need to pass through, up Bell Street,” I plead. “It’ll save us forty miles and we’re really low on gas. You can escort us.”
He shakes his head. “We don’t have time to escort anyone anywhere. Over half the town’s gone to the Safe Zone outside Albany. National Guard came through a few days ago and told people it was their only chance. So they took it.”
The bulky one narrows his already small eyes. “Why aren’t you headed for a Safe Zone?”
“We were already at one in New Jersey,” Nelly says. “We got out by the skin of our teeth after the infected got in. I’m sure you’re not there for the same reason. You figure you can protect your families, yourselves.”
“Damn straight. But we’re still not letting you through. Sheriff’s orders.”
Hope spreads in my chest. “Sam? Sheriff Price?” I ask.
The tall one raises an eyebrow. “You know the sheriff?”
“I do. He’ll know my name. Can you please tell him that Cassie Forrest is here?”
Mean-eyes tightens his mouth, but the other answers first. “All right, I’ll give him a radio call. Sit tight.”
They walk back to the cruiser and speak into the radio. I try not to stare, afraid they’ll suddenly refuse to help if we make one wrong move. Besides, the rifle’s still on us.
“This is no joke,” Nelly says. He leans on the truck, hands in pockets, looking nonchalant. He barely inclines his head toward town. “Don’t look. They’ve got people on the roofs. I’ve seen two so far.”
“They’re not fucking around,” James agrees. “We’ll siphon more gas if they don’t let us in. I just want to get out of here.”
I nod. It’s not worth all of this. I’m about to say so when the tall guy opens the cruiser door and smiles. He walks toward us with Mean-Eyes dogging his footsteps.
“Well, Cassie Forrest,” he says, and extends his hand, “Sam’s real glad you’re here. Name’s Will Bishop, by the way. Sorry about the welcome, but we’ve had some trying to pass through with infected people.”
He hooks his thumb at his partner. “This is Neil Curtis.”
Neil gives us a nod, and when he takes in our group his eyes linger too long on me, Penny and Ana. His eyes have no depth, like a dumb, unpredictable dog. Some of those dogs are mean, while some are so enamored with tennis balls that there’s no room in their brains for anything else. This dog right here is mean, though; I can see that.
James moves forward to block us from view. I appreciate the sentiment, but the past week has made him look frail enough to blow away on a stiff breeze. Neil notices, though, and quickly hides a look that’s much too heated. Mean dog.
“We’ll move the cruiser so you can get past,” Will Bishop says. “Sam’s down at the Town Hall. You know where you’re going?”
“I do. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 48
Sam stands outside Town Hall and raises his eyebrows when he sees what we’re driving. I jump out as soon as the truck stops and run to him.
He grabs both my hands and gives me a hug. “Cassie, it’s been too long. How are you? Are you okay?”
It’s so nice to see a face I know that I can’t stop smiling. I give him a brief synopsis of our trip as everyone joins us.
“Come along inside,” Sam says. He removes his hat and opens the door. “State police office isn’t safe. It’s where everyone who got bitten went, followed by everyone who got scared and then got bitten there. Thankfully, not too many have made their way here so far.”