Amanda Carter in the L.A.Z., life after zombies (4 page)

Chapter 6

“
D
oesn’t this feel good?’ Maryanne asked her daughter, speaking of the cold air that was blasting from the air-conditioner.

“Why can’t we do this all the time, Momma?” Tammy asked, holding both of her little hands up to the vents, relishing the feel of it.

The red had left her little face, and instead of looking sour and pinched in her countenance, she looked happy and refreshed. Maryanne hated to see what these days were doing to her once happy, healthy children.

“Because, sweetie, it’s complicated,” she answered her daughter while thinking of her husband lying there with a fever that would surely kill him before too long. She too was wondering where Amanda was.

“Where’s Amanda?” Tammy asked, and Maryanne winced, wishing that her daughters would stop asking because she had no good answer for her.

At one point, they had discussed having Roy set up a CB radio for them, or some handheld radios. But after much discussion, it was decided that it was best to stay radio silent because there were others out there that listened in and could more easily discover their location or set them up to be ambushed.

“Sometimes going to town takes a long time, honey. She’ll be back, you’ll see,” she said, hoping to God that it was true for everyone’s sake.

O

“Roy?” Sam asked, “Do you think when Amanda gets back that my parents will let her teach me to shoot a gun and fight? She’s got some moves.”

“I know,” Roy answered. “She’s saved my butt more times than I can say. Hell, kid, she’s the reason that your father and I even made it back last time. She’s got a sense about things, you know.”

Roy was playing with the sand, picking it up and letting it sift through his hand.

“I don’t even know how she knew where to look for us, but she knew, and that’s why we’re here now because she went out after us and brought us back, and we were all broke up and everything. Don’t you worry about, Amanda, kid, she’ll be just fine, you’ll see,” Roy said.

Secretly, as the hours ticked by, he was becoming increasingly concerned. But he realized that in trying to cheer Sam up, he had given himself some hope too.

“Mary, Maryanne?” It was Jason’s weakened voice that spoke, carrying to them on the wind.

“Daddy,” Sam said, flying up and dashing to her father’s side.

“Daddy, you’re awake,” Sam said with obvious relief.

He reached out and clasped his hand in hers, squeezing so hard that it hurt. Sam tried to hold her hand there despite the crushing pain that rendered her grip useless.

“Maryanne, Maryanne?” he repeated, not seeming to see his daughter.

Sam leaned in closer and whispered her name.

“They’re coming, Maryanne, protect the children, they’re coming,” he said, with his wild-looking eyes locked on hers but still not recognizing her. Sam felt fear.

Jason’s face was bright red, even though he had been lying in the shade of the tarp. His gray beard looked almost bleached white in comparison to how bright his face was.

“What’s he saying?” Sam pleaded loudly to Roy, and now she had become terrified. She tried to yank her hand away, but her father’s grip was too tight.

Roy hustled over to place his hand upon Jason’s forehead.

“It’s not safe, it’s not safe anywhere,” Jason croaked, “they’re coming. There’s so many of them.”

His lips appeared to look white and cracked.

“Roy, what’s he saying?” Sam shrieked, and now she was yanking and pulling to free her arm.

“Shhh, Sam,” Roy said while unclenching Jason’s fingers and freeing her arm. “Can you feel how warm he is?”

“Yes,” Sam said with a nearly equal look of terror at her father. Sam was near tears and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she forced herself to breathe and then nodded her head.

“He’s delirious with fever, Sam. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I need you to go and get your mom, okay?” Roy said, careful to speak slow and clear for Sam’s sake.

Sam gulped and then took a long drag of air before nodding several times and stealing a glance back to her father. She quickly looked away, but still she had not moved.

“Run, Sam,” Roy said urgently.

Jason latched onto Roy’s large hand now. He kept mumbling, making no sense as his speech began to slur. Roy didn’t want to admit it, but he had a sinking feeling that they were losing him. And then, Jason began to seize, his body jerking uncontrollably, eyes rolled back in his head. Roy felt helpless, not knowing what to do.

At this time, he was experiencing a flashback of being face-to-face with a creeper that was trying to devour him, and he wondered if Jason might have become infected with that virus.
Will my friend turn into one of them?
he wondered.

“Now,” he told himself, “do something now.” But he had no clue what, if anything, he was to do. He got up and backed away, staring.

Maryanne arrived, breathless, quickly taking charge.

“Roy, listen to me,” she said, putting her face close to his. “Take the children to the Jeep. Play a CD or something, but get them out of here. Can you do that for me?”

She must have understood how paralyzed he felt, but her calm commands snapped him back and into action.

“Got it,” Roy said.

Both the children were more terrified than he had been. He scooped up Tammy into his good arm and instructed Sam to follow; only Sam didn’t follow.

Instead, the girl sniffled and wiped her wet nose on her arm and then slid her clammy hands down her dirty jeans. She watched her father, trying to get up the courage to do what she felt that she could.

“Sam, come on,” Roy yelled.

“No,” she stated flatly, “I’m staying. Take Tammy, and keep her busy. I’ll stay and help Mom.”

Maryanne had run to grab the rubbing alcohol bottles and had returned quickly. Jason had stopped seizing and was lying so still that Sam feared him to be dead.

What if he’s infected?
Sam thought.
What if he suddenly pops up as one of
them?

“Doctor?” Roy questioned, “Sam’s dead set on staying, that okay with you?”

“That’s fine, Roy, thanks,” Maryanne said, sounding tired.

Sam sat down beside her father, wishing him to keep breathing, knowing then that he would not awaken as one of them.

“Mom, he’s not going to—” Sam began but was interrupted.

“Honey, his fever’s very high, and that’s what’s causing the delirium and the seizures. You can help me get the fever down. Will you do that?” her mother asked even as she was opening up the front of Jason’s shirt and then stripping him down to his boxer shorts.

“Yes, yes, I can,” Sam said bravely while holding back a sniffle.

“Good, Sam, real good,” the doctor said using the familiar form of her name that she preferred.

“I’ve been saving this rubbing alcohol for an emergency. I guess that this qualifies.” Maryanne said, wetting a cloth with the alcohol. “This will help to lower the fever. Now you go get a washcloth or any cloth and the pan of water, and bring it here,” she told her daughter.

“Um, Mom,” Sam said, “I kinda used all the wash water earlier on cooling him down.”

Maryanne sighed, knowing what this meant. “How much drinking water do we have left?” she asked, looking pained.

“I don’t know, Mom, maybe two gallons,” the girl answered.

“Go ahead and bring a gallon or so over here, will you,” the doctor said, realizing that they would be in a much direr situation than she had thought, much sooner than she had thought.

Maryanne had reverted back to her training in the ER so many years ago, as she had worked for her residency. There was a big difference, though, between here and in the ER. There she had had IV fluids, monitors, a stethoscope, proper medicines, and so much more. Here, her options were very limited and the decisions she would make now could affect everybody’s survival and not just her husband’s.

Maryanne steeled herself for the task at hand. With any amount of luck and a few guardian angels, she could get him stabilized and Amanda would be returning soon.

Chapter 7

F
unerals, Amanda considered, and eulogies were ways that people coped with loss. She had an idea that she hoped would help Red to move on so that they all could get out of here as quick as possible.

Amanda proceeded to move around gathering stones and resting them over the man. She had a shovel in the truck, but frankly, it was too hot to be digging a grave with the little bit of energy she had left; the rocks would have to do.

After most of the body was covered, she then stood over the man, taking off her hat. The sun beat uncomfortably on the top of her head. Eulogies were better when the person being spoken of had a name, but there was nothing that she could do about that.

“He was a good man,” she said. “He was a good master. Please, God, help him to rest in peace.”

Amanda finished and slipped the ball cap back upon her head. Sweat streamed down her body, and she knew that she would be in need of more water soon, as would the dogs.

“Are you two coming or staying?” Amanda asked of the dogs while gathering up her things.

She began walking back to the truck, hoping for the sake of her conscious that she would have two new companions. The time that it had taken her to do all that was costing daylight and leaving the truck exposed to the possibility of theft.

This time, she didn’t look back but knew that they were following because their panting had become pronounced.

She made it back to the truck quicker than she had expected, probably propelled faster by the thought of nightfall approaching. In the dark, it would be impossible to see a horde of creepers descending upon her until they were lit up by her headlights; then it might be too late.

Amanda was relieved to see that the truck had remained undisturbed by raiders. The desert was vast out here, and no one besides the horde had come across it, and the horde had had little interest in it, leaving it untouched as they passed, save for some greasy handprints here and there.

First things first, she thought. She needed water, the dogs needed water, and the truck needed water. The water was warm, almost hot, but it did the trick as she gulped some down and then poured a little atop her head. Next, she dug around the supplies in the extra cab, finding a pan, and put water in it for the dogs. She set the pan underneath the truck and both dogs crawled under for a drink and then set themselves down using the truck for shade.

Hopefully this will work
, she thought as she popped the hood and twisted off the cap to the radiator. She poured a gallon of water and part of another into the truck and then partially filled the dry reservoir.

Red whined from underneath the truck, and for some reason, it sounded like a warning. Amanda grabbed the binoculars, raising them to the direction that the dog was looking. Red issued another whine, followed by a low growl.

The dog was right. In the distance behind them, Amanda could see a dust plume that was being thrown up by a vehicle, a truck it looked like, but it was still too far away to be sure.

“Good job, Red,” Amanda said, feeling her pulse quicken. Soon, they would not be alone. In the LAZ, coming across strangers was rarely a good thing.

Amanda dropped the binoculars and jumped into the driver’s seat, holding her breath as she cranked the key. The truck started and stalled. She tried again, and this time, the truck stayed running, warm air busting out from the air conditioning because it had not had time to cool yet. She shut the air off.

Jumping out, she looked under the truck to see if the water she had just put in was pouring out anywhere. All she could identify were some leaks dripping from the radiator but nothing to be too alarmed about. She slammed the hood of the truck down.

“Get in,” she said to the dogs, indicating with a sweep of her arm that she wanted them to jump into the cab. “Let’s go, guys,” Amanda said again, and Red was the first to leap in, followed by his little companion.

With quick, efficient movements, she picked up the pan of water that they had finished, tossing it in the bed of the truck. Next, she went to the back of the truck, standing on the rear bumper to gather up a cargo net. This she dropped behind the truck, careful to unravel it and spread it out evenly. She had found this method to be the best for disguising her tire tracks.

Fortunately, the dogs had remained in the truck, and she jumped back in, moving the vehicle into drive. The vehicle behind them was most likely filled with raiders. At this point, it was still probably fifteen minutes in their wake but gaining. The road was rutted with potholes and occasional gullies, making travel at high speeds inadvisable.

It was hot inside the truck, even though she had left the windows halfway down when she had had to abandon it. The dogs panted heavily, losing droplets of saliva off of their tongues, and she felt like panting herself. She gave in and switched the air conditioning back on. This time, cool air trickled out of the vents, having trouble displacing all the hot air that had accumulated in the cab. She turned it up until it was on the third setting, hoping that it wouldn’t put any strain on the truck and cause it to overheat again. Cold air pooled out, bathing them in its stream. The dogs moved closer to the vents, and Amanda raised her arms a little, feeling the coolness hit her armpits.

They were moving along at an average of thirty-five miles per hour, a speed that Amanda felt was safe enough to negotiate the rough road, but if the vehicle behind them continued to gain on them, she would be forced to increase the speed and risk getting the truck hung up or damaging it. She hoped that it would not come to that.

As she drove, she kept stealing glances in the rearview mirror to keep an eye on the vehicle behind them. It did not appear to be gaining anymore on them, but she couldn’t be sure. She wished that there were something that she could do to lower the dust wake that her truck was leaving besides slowing down to a crawl, and that was not an option.

There were many things to be concerned about besides the raiders and the creepers. She had used the spare tire and still needed to replace it. The roads out here were harsh, and a large sharp rock had punctured a tire on her last trip. If that were to happen again, there were no spares, and the truck would essentially be disabled. She made a mental note to remedy that on her next trip to town. It made no sense to be traveling hundreds of miles of desert terrain without a spare if it could be avoided. Back in town, there were a lot of vehicles and tires to choose from, but she had been moving so quick today that it had slipped her mind to take care of that before making the return trip to camp.

It wasn’t like her to forget very important details like that, but a lot had happened lately, and events had begun to take precedence over well-planned to-do lists. But she would need to be more careful because in the conditions that she now lived, oftentimes, survival was in the details.

Typically, she would have enjoyed this part of the run, playing music, enjoying the air conditioning, and watching the desert landscape. But that was without all the added stressors that she had now.

She turned the music from her favorite CD on and the air conditioning off. The cab had cooled down measurably, and she knew that she was risking the possibility of overheating the truck again by continuing to use it.

Normally, Amanda liked the drive across the long expanses of desert. To her, it was like navigating a great ocean—isolated, unpredictable, wild. Like the ocean, the desert was a beautiful and dangerous place. But today, she was not alone on her journey. Again, she checked the rearview mirror, forgetting to sing along when her favorite song began to play. It irritated her that others had come into her ocean to steal away her pleasure.

Amanda was thirty-two years old and had kept herself in shape before the world had changed. She was an outdoors type of person that had preferred to not be stuck behind a desk all day. Exploring and photographing nature had become her passion. Her parents had been disappointed in her because her choice of career paths had not made her a lot of money. Instead of going to college, she had opted to hike the Pacific Coast Trail, from California to Canada, with a group of friends. She had kept a photographic journal along the way, which was bought for a little bit of money by a major magazine. Later on, she had been happy to spend her time traveling in an older RV, taking photographs and selling them to magazines.

She had come to the outskirts of Blythe two years ago and had photographed the wild horses on the Arizona side and spent a lot of time photographing old mining sites. Up until that point in her life, she had had no desire to settle down, but she had started to call this land her home and had even had a steady boyfriend, and they had begun to talk about marriage when the infection had taken over. She had lost her boyfriend early on to an infected bite.

While in town looking for supplies, she had come across Roy attempting to save his neighbors, the Albrechts. Jason, Maryanne, and the kids had barricaded themselves in their home and were under siege by a dozen or more creepers. The family had been in desperate need of food and water. Amanda had swept the family off in her motor home to the way out part of the desert. Everyone agreed that it was the safest course of action, given the circumstances. Along the way, the motor home had broken down, and Roy had taken them all the rest of the way in his Jeep.

They had made camp where they were now, relatively safe from the creepers and the raiders. But runs to town were necessary for food, water, and other supplies.

Amanda was only five-foot-two, but she had rarely ever been called short because what she lacked in height, she had gained many times over in spirit. Her sister had called her a force of nature, and the term was very apt.

She had olive-colored skin that tanned easily, high cheekbones, long black hair, and dark brown eyes that could flash with a fire that burned from within when she felt crossed or when something felt unjust. No one had ever accused her of being easy to get along with, but at the same time, everyone that knew her had trusted her.

Amanda had not had any contact with her parents or her sister in San Diego after the initial outbreak. She had kept her cell phone charged and on her, waiting for a call, but none came. Eventually, the cell phones had stopped working, and though Amanda hated to admit it, she presumed her parents and sister to be among the dead.

At the time of the outbreak, the military had set up roadblocks, and travel from city to city had been cut off. She had had no way to reunite with her family, but events had provided her with a group of people that had come to feel like family.

The next time she checked her rearview mirror, it appeared that the vehicle behind them was farther back. It was possible that they weren’t trying to catch her at all, but she couldn’t take that chance.