Deathly Contagious (41 page)

“Ok,” Hayden said with a nod. I picked up where we left off, following the footprints along the trail. Adrenaline pumped through my body and I whipped an arrow out of the quiver with record speed when I heard a rustling through the brush. I waited, swallowed, and laughed.

“Zombie bunnies,” Wade said, lowering his gun. “Don’t let the little fluffers fool you; they are quite deadly.”  

“And no one will ever suspect him,” Hayden said gravely. “He’ll get away and continue out his reign of terror.”

We laughed and continued on and soon came up to a road.

“The campground is down there,” I whispered. “I know the road is curvy, but I can’t remember exactly how close we are.” I pointed to the muddy footprints leading down the road. “They walked down the road. Once the mud’s off their shoes, I have nothing to follow. I think it’d be best to go in through the trees.”

Hayden nodded. “I’ll go first. If we find the people, watch them before talking to them. If they seem sketchy, get out, get back up or leave.”

“Sounds good,” I told him. We went along the road for a few more yards before cutting into the woods.

One of my grandpa’s favorite summer pastimes was to drive out to the middle of the woods with a lawn chair, a beer, five tennis balls and a blind fold. He’d set up his chair and place the tennis balls around it, blindfold himself, and sit back and wait. It was my job to sneak up unnoticed and take the tennis balls.

I completely failed at first. Patient, my grandpa sat in that chair for hours while I figured out how to walk as close to silently as possible. And when it wasn’t possible, I learned how to move in ways that mimicked forest animals. I was always scared of being mistaken for a deer and getting shot by a random hunter in the woods.

Windy days were ideal. I’d move one foot when the gust went by, masking the sound of movement. Sometimes it took forever just to move mere feet, but it worked. A flock of geese noisily flew above us; I’d move again. Loud planes were even better. Occasionally my grandpa would move, either shifting position or reaching up to scratch his back. If he moved, I moved.

It seemed so simple but was so hard to master. It was an important skill to know, my grandpa told me again and again. Not only useful for sneaking up on someone, but it was skill that could help me get away if need ever be.

Precariously placing my foot down and distributing my weight from heel to toe, I slipped off the road without a sound. I bent down to avoid any contact with low hanging branches. Not only was the snapping of twigs a good way to give yourself away, but the unnatural swinging of the trees was a sure fire way to catch someone’s attention.

As graceful as a cat, my body moved along with the forest. I wished my grandpa was here with me now. My heart ached and I closed my eyes; I couldn’t let myself feel anything but determination right now. I took another carefully planned step.

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched. I whirled around and glared at Hayden and Wade.

“Could you be any louder?” I scolded in a hushed voice. “You’re gonna give us away or they’re gonna think you’re a zombie lumbering through the woods.”

“Sorry,” Wade whispered back. I waited so I could watch them move. Hayden picked up his feet and looked before he put them down. His machine gun across his back caught on a branch, bent it back and sent it flying into Wade’s face. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

“Heel-toe,” I whispered, lifting up my foot to show them. “It’ll make the crunching sound less like footfalls. Stay low and don’t push branches out of your way. Move out of theirs.”

After his gun caught on a tree once more, Hayden took it off of his back and held it at his side. I smiled, wondering if it was dumb that I felt proud of him, and turned back around. We painstakingly picked our way through the forest.

We heard their voices right after I smelled the familiar scent of a campfire. Hayden clicked the safety off his gun and stayed close by me. I counted eight people. I assumed there were more I couldn’t see.  Three tents were set up in front of an RV. A silver SUV, an old Ford truck, and black sedan formed a semi circle around the campsite.

An older man with white hair poked at the fire. Two young girls dumped contents of a can into a metal pot and carried it over to the man. He set it on the fire and snatched his hand away, shaking it.

“Burn yourself, Buddy?” a female voice called.

“Singed the hairs,” he replied with a smile.

A very skinny toddler ran out of a tent. Only a second later, his equally thin father dashed out and picked him up. The kid instantly started crying. His father clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth, shushing him before kissing him on the back of the head.

“I know you’re hungry,” I heard him say. “We all are. You’ll eat soon.”

The group milled about, talking quietly. Every now and then we’d catch part of what they were saying. Every one of them seemed malnourished and exhausted.  The two young girls clasped hands and walked away from the fire. Both had frizzy blonde hair and matching freckles across their pale faces. One was slightly taller than the other.

“Don’t worry, Addison,” she said to the shorter girl as she put her arm around her shoulder. “We’ll find food soon. We have before, remember?”

Addison nodded and wiped a tear from her face. It was hard to guess the age of someone so filthy and starving, but I assumed Addison to be ten since she was the same height as Lisa. Her friend was maybe twelve or thirteen.

“Quinn!” the tall girl called and was immediately shushed by the others. “Quinn!” she called again in a much softer voice. The crying toddler unsteadily ran over. He too had blonde hair and freckles.

“Lizzy!” the baby’s father scolded. “Don’t let your brother that close to the fire. We’ve been over this before; you don’t listen!”

“I’ve got him,” she said and scooped him up in her arms. She spun around with him in her arms, causing Quinn to laugh. Lizzy, Quinn the baby, and Addison sat on a picnic table in front of the RV, grumbling about being hungry. I felt bad for them and remembered all too well our days spent on the run with barely any food to eat.

The RV door opened with a screech of the hinges. Hayden and Wade’s attention immediately was caught by the camouflage uniforms. One man was holding a rifle and the other was looking at a map. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. They beckoned someone named Amos over; a man the same age as my grandpa—if not older—hobbled over.  

They spoke in hushed voices as if they didn’t want the others to hear. The guy with the gun looked around nervously as if he expected zombies to rush from the trees. He was smart…and scared. People do stupid things when they’re scared. They act without thinking and if three bodies emerged from the forest, they would most likely shoot.

Very slowly, I turned and motioned for Hayden and Wade to follow. Once we made it fifty feet away, I whispered, “What do you think?”

“They seem harmless,” Hayden responded. “Only one was armed that we saw. The others…they just look pathetic.”

“We need to help them,” Wade agreed.

“We should come from the road,” I suggested. “Less surprise that way and less chance of being mistaken for zombies.”

Hayden nodded and smiled. “I don’t feel like getting shot again.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not. Never again.” I smiled too and tip toed out of the forest.

“How should we do this?” Wade asked once our feet hit the pavement of the street. “Just walk up to them. It seems like it would be kinda…kinda…”

“Awkward?” I finished for him.

“Yea.”

“Oh well,” Hayden said with a shake of his head. “We’ll know right away the nature of the group. I’m guessing once they learn we have food, they will be more than welcoming. Weapons down but stay ready.”

Even though I saw the pathetic state the group was in, I couldn’t help the ball of nerves that formed in my stomach. The last time we picked up random strangers, Brock got bitten and two people got shot. Needless to say I wasn’t in the trusting mood.

Hayden went first. “Hello!” he called out as if we weren’t sure anyone was in the camp. The hush that fell over the civilians was unmistakable. Then a minute of chaos erupted when the survivors realized they weren’t alone.

As I expected, the two guys in military attire approached us first. The guy holding the gun was probably no taller than my five-foot-seven frame. Sandy blonde hair fell into his eyes and he shook his head to move it out of the way. His partner was taller and at one point over weight. They way his clothes hung off his body suggested he recently lost a lot of it. No diet is as effective as the zombie apocalypse diet.

I fought the urge to put my fingers around the metal of my gun. I waited as the guys sized us up, wondering if Hayden was going to hold up his hands and say ‘we come in peace’. Instead, he casually said, “Hey.”

Blondie lowered the gun and took a step forward. Careful to keep his hand slightly extended at his sides, Hayden also moved closer.

“I’m Sergeant Underwood. This is Lance Corporal Williams and…Orissa,” Hayden introduced, turning slightly in my direction. I smiled warmly at the strangers, thinking I should come up with a fancy sounding title as well. “We have a secure base down south; we’ve been looking for survivors,” Hayden explained.

“I’m Zane,” the blonde with the gun informed us. “This is Colin.” He lowered the gun and looked at us. Wade was right; this was awkward. Finally Colin shook his head.

“Wait a second, are you saying you have a safe place to stay and we’re welcome?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Hayden said. “I can tell you more about it if you want.”

“Yes!” Colin exclaimed.

I stepped up next to Hayden and spoke to the strangers. “You should probably tell your friends first, I’m sure they’re wondering what the hell is going on.”

“Right,” Colin said and turned. Zane kept a suspicious eye on us the whole time we followed them back to their camp site. Every one of their buddies had gathered in a small group, peering around the trees to catch a glimpse of us. I knew right away that there were more than eight people.

“This is Underwood, Williams and Or-iss-a,” Zane told his group. I was tempted to correct the pronunciation of my name. “They say they came from a zombie safe house and are looking for survivors to take back.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before the group burst into questions. I hung back, keeping an eye out for zombies while Hayden and Wade explained everything. It didn’t take long to convince these people to come back with us.

There were eleven in their group; half had met at an emergency shelter in Iowa when the virus first broke out and had stuck together ever since. Zane and Colin were in the National Guard and were ordered to protect the shelter. Like my soldier friends, they had no idea that zombies existed until the outbreak. The others joined up randomly here and there. In a very familiar tale, they told us about how they were staying on a farm until zombies crashed the party.

Hayden, Wade, and I stepped aside. Hayden wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“One of us needs to go find communication and tell the others to drive down this way. We’ll feed these guys,” he looked back at the eleven hungry and hopeful set of eyes that didn’t look away from us, “help them pack up their stuff and leave.”

“I’ll go,” Wade offered.

Hayden shifted his weight and sighed. “It would make more sense for Orissa to go,” he admitted, cringing as if the thought of me going off on my own was painful. “She’s been here before; if she needs to run from anything she’ll be able to find her way back.”

He pried the walkie talkie off his belt and reluctantly handed it to me. I took the M16 from around my shoulder and gave it to Hayden.

“I can run faster without it,” I reminded him before he had a chance to object. “I’ll fire one warning shot if I see a herd. I’ll be fine and I’ll be fast.”

“I hope—I mean, I know,” Hayden told me. “Be careful, Riss.”

“You be careful too. I’m not sold on trusting these people yet.” I looked into Hayden’s hazel eyes. “Watch your back.”

“I’ll be ok,” he promised.

I nodded. Before I turned to leave, I scanned the campground once more. When I found what I was looking for I quickly took off, jogging over to a washhouse. It wasn’t working of course, and I didn’t expect it to. In front of washhouses or bathrooms, campgrounds often had a posted map with a ‘you are here’ feature.

 I pushed open the little mailbox under the large, laminated map and retrieved a slightly water damaged map. I traced my route back to the road with my finger and then followed the road to the campground.

“How far past that big tree did you have to go to have service?” I asked Hayden, holding up the walkie talkie.

“About a quarter mile,” he responded. I nodded, trying to visualize what one fourth of a mile would look like on a winding trail.

“Ok. I’ll be fast. If the guys can’t figure out where they are, I’ll come back, tell you and bring them the map.”

“You don’t have to come back just to leave again,” Hayden said. “It’s hotter than hell. If they can’t figure it out just go and get here quick.”

I nodded, folded up the map to stick in my back pocket, and took off back up the trail. I gave up jogging only after a hundred yards or so. I let out a deep breath, cursing the hundreds I had l left. I wanted to take my long sleeve shirt off but didn’t since the bugs were so bad and taking it off meant that I’d have to take my weapons off too; that was something I wasn’t willing to do.

I stopped and listened for zombies. When I heard nothing but the normal sounds of the forest, I started running again. I had just passed the big tree when I saw a blur of dingy yellow. I slowed, unable to quickly catch my breath in this humid air and pulled an arrow from the quiver. I pulled it back on the bow and waited for the zombie to stagger closer.

Barefoot, her feet were nothing but shreds of dead skin and bone. Her once yellow long dress was filthy, covered in mud, blood, spoiled bodily fluids, and God knows what else. I let the arrow go. I nestled itself nicely in her skull and pinned her to a tree. Not wanting to waste any time yanking the arrow from the bark of the old tree, I kept moving.