All That I See - 02 (7 page)

“Go get some sleep
,” I said. “I’ll get you up in a couple of hours.”

She nodded, “Are we going to look for them?”

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s still early. We’ll have a few hours to drive around.”

She went upstairs, and I went out on the front porch to get some air. I looked out across the property, and I had a little flashback about the day I lost Jen. I’d been standing on that very spot shooting zombies while my friends were trapped in the truck. Th
e truck was still there, but as
ide from the damages to it
where I had crashed into it
, there were no traces of the violence that day. The bodies had been burned, the blood and gore had been either washed away by the rain or lapped up by some animal. This really was a good place. Had we put a little more effort into securing it, everyone might have survived that day.

Sara and I had not confirmed that the menstrual cycle attracted the creatures, but we would know soon enough. We hadn’t talked about it, but I figured she would be having her period any day now….or should have had it already.

There was some movement out in the pasture in front of the house near one of the watering troughs. It was one of the chickens. I was amazed the poor thing had survived all this time. I looked around for the other one, but I didn’t see it. Chickens usually stuck together, so either the other one had died during the past couple of weeks or it was off somewhere laying an egg or brooding. With all of the zombie activity, I didn’t think it would be easy to catch them. They would probably be wary of people.

The front door opened and Sara stepped outside.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, coming out and standing next to me.

“
Good to know one
of the chickens made it,” I said, nodding toward the pasture.

“
The other one is around somewhere,
”
she said. “I saw them both out there this morning.”

“I’m curious,” I said. “Shouldn’t it be about time for your period?”

“I’m late,” she said.

“How? I mean—“

“I don’t know. Stress probably.”

“Oh.”

We continued to stare out at the pasture.

“Well, it’s bound to come,” I said. “When it does, we need to be in a secure location, just in case it is something that affects the infected.”

“We should go back and check on
our seedlings,” she said. “They’ll need to be
watered. I hope those men didn’t steal all of our food and supplies.”

“Chances are, they did,” I said. “They have the M-four.”

“I’m really worried abo
ut Nicholas and Judy,” she said, “e
specially with those men in town. I’m afraid something has happened to them.”

“Let’s go right now,” I said. “I’m going to need you to drive; I’m still not a hundred percent.”

We drove the Crown Victoria. Sara still had her AR-15 with a partial magazine, and the Somervilles left her a loaded .22 revolver. She told me that she and
Mr. Somerville
had gone out right after I got sick and collected a few supplies from some of the nearby houses. However, they had not been able to find any more firearms. My hope was that Wheeler, Corndog, and the others had ignored our school bus where we kept most of our supplies. We had enough stuff in the house for them to think that was our complete store. If they did take the bus, then we’d have to start over.

“Let’s go over to Tucker Road first,” I said. “I’d rather not have to see that bastard if I don’t have to.” I was referring to Nathan, the leader of the group at the high school.

“I don’t know where it is,” Sara said. “We’re going to have to fi
nd a map of the area somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t know where to get one,” I said. “It’s not like the county back roads show up on the highway maps. I always had to look them up on the internet. The map from the helicopter would have come in handy about now.”

“
The
welcome center has maps,” she said.

“Yeah, but that’s
close to
town, and I think those are just city maps.”

“No, they have county maps, too. I’m going over there. Couldn’t hurt.”

“
Well, it could hurt, but
we don’t have much of a choice.”

CHAPTER 8

I was very familiar with the welcome center. Being the director of the museum, a possible destination for visitors, I was in there
at least
every other
month for meetings. I’d never really looked at their brochure rack, except to make sure the museum was represented. If Sara had seen county maps in there, then I’d have to take her word for it.

She pulled up in front of the building.

“Wait here with the engine running. Let me know if any infected come around,” I said.

“No, I’m going in,” she said. “You’re still sick.”

“It’s just a map,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

We’d seen a lot of sick and undead out that day. They seemed to like the warmer weather. They’d all been infected for a little more than a month by that time, and it showed. Many of them were emaciated. Their clothes were rags. Also, there was a stench in the air to which I could not get accustomed.

I went into the
visitors’
welcome center with the .22 in one hand and the machete in the other. I was still a little light-headed and tired, and I really needed for this to be a quick in-and
-out. Of course, it wouldn’t be.

Alan was in there.

Alan ran the welcome center. He had been a nice enough guy, I suppose, but he was
cursed with a tendency to over
think simple things and overlook the obvious. He’d always done a good job of running the office itself, but he didn’t have much of a vision for what out-of-town visitors could do for Clayfield. He liked to stick with safe and mediocre, and for the most part no one ever questioned it because the town–both citizens and government–had be
en content with the status quo.

Knowing the history of the town, I had attempted to get him to focus on some of our more colorful past events and some the landmarks that went with them. “Everyone likes a good story,” I’d told him. But he was never interested in taking a chance. He felt those events would put Clayfield in a bad light, and he thought it would
be best if they remained hidden.

He stood in front of me now, bloated and dirty. A clump of his sandy hair had fallen out, and though it was difficult to tell in the dim light, it looked like maggots were working on his face. His mouth dropped open, and he made a gurgling sound.

“Hey, Alan,” I said.

“Gaaaahh,” he replied.

“
We’ve got some newcomers in town this week,” I said, pushing the .22 down in the front of my pants and gripping the machete with both hands. ”It looks like that clever ‘Clayfield is Cool’ campaign of yours is finally paying off. Thanks for including the museum in that, by the way. Oh wait…you didn’t.”

“Heeeeehhh.”

“You were probably right to ignore Clayfield’s history. I mean, it was just the only thing that made the town interesting.”

“Gahhggg.”

“It turns out we have some new attractions. The visitors are coming into town for guns, food, and…let’s see, what did they call it
?
…oh yeah, ‘healthy pussy.’”

“Ggggeehh.”

“We should try to work ‘healthy pussy’ into the town’s slogan at our next meeting.”

“Are you about done?” the voice startled me. I turned around and Sara was standing behind me, rifle in hand. She brushed her bangs away from her eyes and looked at me expectantly.

“I told you to wait in the car,” I said, embarrassed.

She rolled her eyes, “Just take care of him and get the damn map. Or do you need to vent some more over things that don’t matter?”

“You just said ‘damn,’” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before. What would Jesus think?”

“I’m tired,” she said. “Leave me alone, and stop with the Jesus jokes. You know how I feel about that.”

“Gaaagh,” Alan chimed in.

Sara lifted her rifle and blew Alan’s head apart.

“Me and my healthy pussy will be in the car. Don’t take all day.”

She left the building without looking back. I stood at the glass door and watched her walk to the car.

“I think I might have crossed a line there, Alan.”

I turned and walked past Alan’s body to the brochure rack. I took every map there–both county and city. I figured they would make good additions to our future supply caches.

There was a toot on the horn from outside. I exited the building with my stack of maps. Some zombies were approaching, but I had plenty of time. I got in, put the machete in the floor at my feet, and pulled the revolver out of my pants to
make sitting more comfortable.

Sara put the car in reverse and actually swerved so she could hit one of the nearby creatures. The thing flopped up onto the trunk then rolled off.

“I’m sorry if I made you mad,” I said. “I was just joking.”

“I’m not mad,” she said, putting the car into drive and ramming a second creature.

“If you say so,” I said.

She looked over at me, but she didn’t reply. She pulled out onto the road and headed south. I kept waiting for her to say something. I wasn’t used to the women in my life letting me get in the last word. My ex always got in the last word, as did Jen. Sara’s silence bothered me. It made me want to needle h
er some more so she would talk, b
ut I didn’t.

“I knew Alan from before,” I said, trying to make conversation.

“I could tell,” she replied.

“He always shot down my ideas. He was nice, but…you know…kind of passive aggressive.”

She looked at me and nodded.

“I just had to get some things off my chest….you know.”

“Yeah.”

“One time he told the city council that they should cut funding to the museum. He said it was a waste of money.” I shrugged and looked down at my feet.

“Sorry to have stolen that moment from y
ou and your machete,” she said.

Ouch.

“Yeah…listen…I’m sorry about the Jesus joke. It’s just that I ne
ver heard you cuss, that’s all.”

“Water under the bridge,” she said. “Open the map, navigator. We’re looking for Tucker Road.”

Tucker Road was out away from town and almost out of the county. It was one of those long, narrow, meandering back roads that probab
ly started out as a wagon path more than a
century before, its course determined by trees and barns and property lines that no longer existed.
We took it slow on the road, not just because of its unnecessary curves, but because we were looking for a house with solar panels on the roof. We didn’t have a specific address. Luckily, the road didn’
t have that many houses.

We passed an intersection with another road, and I looked at the map.

“
That was Sion Lane,” I said. “We’re almost to the end of Tucker now. Are you sure it was Tucker?”

Sara sighed heavily and gave me an impatient, “Yes.”

“
M
aybe Mrs.
Somerville was mistaken,” I said.

“Maybe,” she replied.

We drove for another mile and the road ended at a stop sign where it connected to one of the main highways.
Sara pulled out into the highway, did a U-turn, and head
ed
back the way we came.

“We must have missed something,” she said. “I
’m
going to pull in at every house this time.”

“If we’re doing that, we should check for supplies while we’re at it,” I suggested
.

She shook her head, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to focus on finding
Nicholas
and Judy.”

The first house was a newer mobile home with a small yard. The property butted up against a fenced cow pasture. To the side of the home was a child’s swing set.
Next to the swing set was a scrawny, naked undead woman. She started toward us, dragging her feet. I stared at her, but Sara ignored her.

“The panels might not be on the roof,”
Sara
said. “In one of your Mother Earth News magazines, I saw how some people mount them on stands in their yard.”

“I don’
t see anything like that here,” I said absently as I kept my eyes on the approaching woman.

“I know,”
Sara
said, even more impatiently
as she backed out of the driveway and back into the road
. “I
’m
trying to tell you what to look out for.”

“Are you okay?” I asked
, turning my attention to her
. “You seem upset.”