Sunrise (9 page)

A soldier was no use if he couldn’t fire his gun.

“You won’t leave him here,” Dakota whispered. “You won’t.”

Steve looked up from a map on the table. “Bullshit I won’t.”

“His arm’s a mess, Steve. He can’t fend for himself.”

“He’s an ignorant prick who let someone bully him into doing something he didn’t want to do. I’m not taking him with us. Besides, his arm’s fine. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Just like yours was?”

Steve froze. His eyes rose and his jaw clenched together. “You’re telling me,” he began a moment later, “that my
arm
was just a
flesh wound?”

“It wouldn’t have killed you.”

“My
arm
was almost
amputated
because it was so bad.”

“It wouldn’t have killed you though.”

“You’re not getting the point. My
humerus
was almost
snapped in half,
and you’re saying it couldn’t’ve killed me? That’s bullshit and you know it. I could’ve bled to death.”

“Steve—”

“I love how you’ve just turned this situation around just to make me look like an asshole.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“I don’t
give a fuck,
Dakota. It’s bad enough that you want to take an
ex con
with us, but now you’re belittling my injury? I could’ve
died
out there.”

“Look,” Dakota said, raising a hand. Steve tried to slap it aside, but Dakota took a steady hold of his friend’s upper arm, sighing when his thumb traced the ugly scar under his shirtsleeve. “I’m just…confused, not sure what to do.”

“We leave him.”

“We can’t just leave him here. That’s like…like what they did to you.”

“My unit thought I was dead.”

“They still would’ve left you behind if you hadn’t called to them.”

Steve remained silent. Head bowed and eyes closed, he reached up to grip Dakota’s arm. He took hold of his wrist and gently pried it away, careful not to apply any unneeded pressure.

“It still hurts,” Dakota said, “doesn’t it?”

“It always hurts,” Steve muttered. “It’s always gonna hurt.”

“I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“I am too, bud.” He paused, then smiled and said, “I ever tell you you were the first thing I thought of when the bomb went off?”

“No.”

“Well, you were.” Steve chuckled, though the sound held no amount of joy. “I thought I was gonna die. The only thing I could think about was how you’d take the news.”

“I’m alive because of you, Steve.”

“I know, little brother. I know.” Steve wrapped an arm around Dakota’s side and pulled him into his chest. “You listening to me? We’ll take him with us. Just promise me you’ll watch him.”

“I promise,” Dakota whispered.

He bowed his head into Steve’s chest and closed his eyes.

Such moments were to be treasured. They were so easily lost.

“We’re gonna take you with us,” Steve said, “but you have to agree to a few things.”

Ian waited. Dakota thought the man would nod, but he didn’t; he simply stared at Steve with the same cold eyes he’d had since he’d been tied up.

“You listening?” Steve asked.

“I am,” Ian said.

“You stay put,” Steve began, “and you stayed tied up, at least for now. You listen to whatever either of us tells you. No talking back, no bullshit. If you try to run, we’re shooting you in the back.”

“I’m not going nowhere.”

“Good. If and when we decide to untie you, we’ll talk about it then. For now though, just listen to what we say and do what we tell you to do. Dakota may think you’re worth saving, but I don’t trust you, not one bit. You’re gonna have to prove yourself to change my opinion.”

“Sounds right. What’s your plan?”

“The moon’s going to be out tonight, so we’re going to take full advantage of it. We’ll take the highway for three-hundred miles toward Arcburrow. We should have enough fuel to make it there. I siphoned the gas out of the rest of the buses.”

“What if we don’t have enough?” Dakota asked.

“There’s stops along the way. We can make it.”

“What happens if we get stranded in the middle of nowhere?” Ian asked. “What then?”

“We won’t get stranded. It’s a one-way shot.”

“And the zombies?”

“Won’t be able to keep up with us,” Steve finished.

“All right then,” Ian smiled. “When we leavin’?”

“Just before the sun sets.”

Night washed over the horizon like a fresh tide to a sparkling beach, along with a sense of dread unlike anything Dakota had ever felt. While Steve helped Ian onto the bus, struggling with his broad shoulders and his equally muscled weight, Dakota stared out of the garage and tried to imagine what life would be like away from the town he had grown up in his entire life.

This is it,
he thought.
You’re leaving.

Settling down at the foot of the open garage door, he crossed his legs and set his gun in his lap, taking slow breaths to try to fight off an oncoming headache that threatened to bloom at the base of his skull. He heard something fall behind him, then one of the two men swear, but chose to ignore it. He couldn’t help them—not now, especially if he couldn’t even help himself.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “What was ever here for you anyway?”

Home.

If it could even be called that—the adoption center was never really
home.
Home wasn’t supposed to be a place where a dozen children ran amok, asking a woman who was not their mother if they could go somewhere. Home wasn’t meant to isolate twelve boys into one designated room, then make them sleep together up until the day they turned eighteen. Home wasn’t supposed to strip away dreams and inspire fears. No. Home wasn’t supposed to be anything but good, a happy place in which you could feel comfortable regardless of everything else going on around you.

The adoption center was never home.

He hadn’t been home for nearly seven years now.

“How you holding up?” Steve asked, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Dakota tensed, fingers tightening around the gun in his hand. “Kinda,” he said. “Sorta.”

“Worried about leaving?”

“Worried about how I’m supposed to feel is more like it.”

“Think of it this way,” Steve said, crouching down beside him. “We’re leaving to go somewhere safer.”

“I’m worried about leaving...”

“Leaving what?”

“Home.”

Steve remained silent.

As the sun began to fall and the night began to lay it to rest, Dakota felt the last shreds of his old life dying.

He’d been holding onto the past for so long.

Now…he had to let it go.

The sun passed by in a flicker of brief moments. First like light divided by plastic curtains, then like a glowing object slowly sinking in the sea, it crested the horizon until it eventually fell into nothing. Its light, however, did not wane. For at least an hour after the sun disappeared, its presence could still be seen in the sky by the halo pulsing in the far distance and the tones of pink and purple bleeding from its existence.

When the sun finally disappeared—when the world finally went dark—all that was left was the road, the bus, the men inside it and an endless, rolling plain.

Seated in the frontmost seat on the right side of the bus, Dakota watched the plains roll by with a dead sense of wonder, body slack and eyes slowly willing themselves to close. At his side, Steve navigated the stretch of road with a stunted yet fluid ease. It was obvious from the way he drove that he’d never handled a bus, let alone a vehicle bigger than the standard moving truck or something similar. He’d speed up, stop, then speed up again, much to Ian’s displeasure, who almost always slid about in his seat whenever Steve adjusted their speed.

“Could you try and drive a little slower?” Ian asked, grunting as he fell back into his seat. “Or at least try and keep your speed?”

“Never drove one of these before,” Steve replied.

“I can see that.”

Dakota chuckled. Steve cast a glance at him in the mirror normally reserved for watching the civilian passengers. “What’re you laughing at, kid?”

“You,” Dakota smiled. “Hey, Ian, lean back in your seat and push your feet against the seat in front of you. No one’s going to care.”

“That doesn’t help me any.”

“It’s better than rolling around in the seat. Besides, at least that way you can get some sleep.”

“I’m not even tired.”

Neither am I,
Dakota thought,
but that doesn’t mean we really aren’t.

Shaking his head, he bowed his head to his chest and closed his eyes, hoping that he could simply sleep this drive off.

He had a feeling he would have no such luck.

What seemed like a moment later, Dakota opened his eyes to find the bus still moving. His hopes dashed and his disappointment more than light, he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked out the window, sighing when he saw no identifiable signs of Arcburrow in the distance.

“We’re still going,” Steve said, drawing Dakota’s attention away from the window.

“How long was I asleep?”

“I dunno, an hour, maybe.”

“How fast have you been going?”

“Fifty, sixty. I don’t like the way the bus moves when I’m going too fast.”

“So we’ve still got at least a five-hour drive before we get there?”

“Pretty much.”

“Is Ian still asleep?”

“I’m guessing. I haven’t heard him move or say anything.”

Lucky bastard.

Dakota stood and prepared to make his way toward the back of the bus, where Ian sat somewhere between the fifth and eighth row. However, when he gripped the bar above Steve’s head to support himself, he stopped to look at his friend. “You haven’t slept at all,” he asked, “have you?”

“No.”

“We can stop.”

“We’re dead weight if we pull over to rest. I’d feel better and much more comfortable if we kept going. I can sleep when we get there.”

“You have any ideas about where we’re going?”

“Not really. I’ll probably just pull into a gas station and see if we can find a parking garage unless you have any better ideas.”

“Not really.” Dakota readjusted his hold on the support bar, then leaned forward and gripped Steve’s shoulder. “If you want me to drive, I can. Just teach me how to run the controls and I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, bud.”

“No need to thank me.”

Turning, Dakota continued down the row of seats until he found Ian dozing in his seat. Face twisted in a mix of discomfort and content, he mumbled something in his sleep, then slid further down into the seat. Dakota grimaced when he thought of the plastic ties digging into his skin.

We’ll have to let him go eventually.

But when? When would it be safe for them to untie Ian and allow him to walk freely among them? When would it be safe to look him in the eyes and not have to worry about what lay on the other side, about the thoughts he could possibly be having or the motives that might be hidden beneath the surface?

When,
Dakota thought, would it be safe for them to sit side-by-side without having second thoughts?

Probably never,
he thought, thinking back to the man’s horrible confession.
We’ll probably never feel completely comfortable around him.

It seemed hard to believe that a man such as Ian could ever be swayed into doing something he didn’t want to do. He was tall, at least over six feet; broad-shouldered, with muscles broadening his frame and cording his thick arms; and tattoos covered his shoulders and branched out from underneath his shirt. His cold eyes often seemed angry, like sparkling ice in the coldest place on Earth, and the scars on his hands spoke of a life rife with violence and the tendencies it followed. Of anyone Dakota had ever seen or met, Ian seemed the least likely to ever allow anyone to control him.

“Shit happens,” he sighed.

Ian’s left eye cracked open. “You say somethin’?” he mumbled.

“Just talking to myself,” Dakota smiled.

Ian snorted and went back to sleep.

Not sure what else to do, Dakota made his way back to the front of the bus and reseated himself next to Steve. It only took one look out the window to summon a thought in his head. “Steve, are there any towns out this way?”“Not that I recall, why?”

“Because I just got a bad feeling for no reason at all.”

Chaos stormed their lives as dawn cracked the shell of the horizon.