Until the End (6 page)

“You can’t.” I whisper. “You can’t protect me. Not from this.”

His brows draw in tight. “You’re not talking about the infected, are you?”

“No.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“What aren’t
you
telling
me
?”

We stare at each other, neither of us ready or willing to give up our secrets, and I notice again how tired he looks. It’s not simply physical. He is mentally tapped and stretched too thin, which is probably why he’s so emotional right now. He’s taken care of me, saved me, and though I returned the favor back on the dock, I feel I still owe him.

“Jordan, let me take over rowing. You need to rest.”

He reaches out his hand, the one I’m not holding, and presses it to the side of my face softly. My breath hitches and I sit perfectly still as he leans over me, staring down at me. I know he’s not going to kiss me and the disappointment I feel is ridiculous. He rubs his thumb over my sunburned cheek and closes his eyes briefly.

“I let her…” his voice is hoarse and gruff as though he’s fighting for the ability to speak, his body trying to hold the words in. He swallows hard and opens his eyes again. “I let them—“

A branch crunches behind us where the trees line the path running through the park and along the river. We intentionally sat in the shade closest to the water, but when I hear feet trample through the brush, our small boat seems miles away. Jordan drops his hand away and we both lunge for our weapons. He steps in front of me with his bat raised as I reach back for an arrow, notch it and stand at the ready. There’s silence for a long time and I wonder if what we heard wasn’t an animal. I’m about to tell Jordan as much when someone comes sprinting out of the trees toward us.

Her skin is tan, her clothes bloody and her movements sure and fast. I have a split second to decide. A half a heartbeat to know if she’s chasing or being chased before she’ll be within striking distance of Jordan. I have one shot at this. One shot at saving my savior or murdering an innocent and I have no time to decide. The moment passes in a blink and I have to act. I have to choose.

God forgive me if I’m wrong.

The girl’s blond hair streams behind her, long and wild. I see Jordan’s bat flutter in the air, a hesitation rippling through him as she enters his strike zone. Whether she’s alive or dead or undead doesn’t matter now because she’s on him. She falls to her knees in front of Jordan and grabs her stomach then heaves its contents all over his pants and shoes. It looks normal, not black tar, but the blood rhythmically pumping from twin crescents on her shoulder are a dead give-away. She’s human now, Jordan and I weren’t wrong to hesitate, but she won’t be for long. The vomiting is a good sign The Fever is working its magic, and I wish Jordan would step away and put some distance between them. There’s little time between The Fever and the biting.

“You have to help me.” she pleads weakly, looking up at Jordan with watery eyes.

She would be beautiful if it weren’t for the vomit, blood and impending homicidal tendencies, and Jordan simply stares down at her. His back is to me and I can’t see his face, so I have no idea what he’s thinking. I sincerely hope he’s not thinking we try to save this girl because she’s obviously been bitten and there’s no coming back from that. Not that we know of, and even if there is an antidote, I doubt it’s in the form of Gatorade and Tylenol which is really all we have.

“Jordan.” I say cautiously, trying to stir him into action.

I scan the trees she came through with the sight on my bow, waiting to take down her attackers. They will follower her to finish her. I have no doubt about that. Unless she makes it through her fever before they devour her. Then they’ll just help her devour us instead. Either way, I want to get out of here NOW.

“Get the boat ready.” Jordan says calmly, not looking at me.

I quickly grab our packs, toss one on each shoulder, and start to walk back toward the boat slowly, never turning my back or taking my attention off the trees and the girl still at his feet. I’m nervous about what he’s doing, why he’s staying where he is, but I know that no matter what we need the boat in the water to make our escape, so I do as he says.

“She’s got an expiration date and it’s coming up fast.” I call out.

I shove the boat back into the water. I’m shin deep in the icy cold current and I think of the running zombie and how this was as far as he made it before backing off too. Smart guy; no way I’m going any deeper if I can help it. It’s February, and even though it’s a bright sunny day, that doesn’t mean the water is warmed up.

I see Jordan nod his head but he’s still watching the girl, never taking his eyes off her. She’s writhing on the ground now, clutching at him and groaning. He takes a small step back and she stops, her body tense like a tiger, and she growls at him. He freezes.

“You smell so good.” she moans, sniffing the air around his knees.

I call bullshit because he’s been rowing like a machine all morning and I know for a fact that he smells like sweat. And now vomit. I guess that’s not what she smells and I’m getting scared because at this moment I truly feel Jordan is standing beside a hungry wild animal. Even though he has probably seventy pounds on the girl, the look in her paling eyes says she can take him.

“Jordan. Tick tock.”

“Get in the boat and go.” he says firmly, never making a move. “I’ll catch up. Just go. Now.”

I don’t question it because, frankly, there’s no time. Any questions risk his life, so I toss in our packs, hop in the boat and turn to sit so I’m facing the shore, my bow at the ready.

“I’m in.” I say, just loud enough that I hope he hears me. “I have her sighted. Turn left and run.”

“Yours or mine?” he calls back.

The girl is rising to her knees.

“They’re the same left. Stage right.”

“What the hell is stage right?” His voice is rising and so is the girl. She’s almost to her feet and I can see movement in the trees in my peripheral.

Time’s up.

“Go, Jordan!” I cry, and pray he goes to the freakin’ left, otherwise I’ll end up shooting him in the chest instead of her.

He pivots left and runs like hell toward the water. I’ve started drifting a little bit and there’s a wind, but I’ve got it under control. As the girl lunges, I put some extra force behind the arrow and let it go. It sails through the air and hits a little more to the right than I wanted but it
finds a home and stays there. It pierces her breastplate and I’m hoping it finds her heart, but I’m not choosy at the moment. I’m also hoping my assumption is right and her ability to still feel sensations, such as cold water and pain, will slow her down enough to get Jordan clear.

Luck is with us. I might not have hit her heart, but an arrow in your chest still hurts like a bastard and she goes down hard, screaming wildly. I’ve lost an arrow and that sucks, but as the swarm of fifteen or so zombies comes into the clearing and Jordan hits the water running, I’m thinking we made out alright. He has to swim a short ways to get to the boat and when he hoists himself inside he’s a sopping wet, trembling mess. I don’t know how much is from adrenaline and how much is from the cold but it all worries me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching for him.

He nods quickly and brushes my hands away. “Get us out of here.”

“You got it.” I say briskly, and instead of using the oars I pull hard on the string on the motor like it’s a lawnmower and it springs to life. I don’t know what we were saving her for but I think now is a good time to use the horsepower and put some distance between us and the park. Jordan doesn’t say anything against it.

“That was close!” he shouts over the sound of the engine and the wind rushing up the river right into us.

“Too close!” I shout back. “What were you doing standing still like that!? Did you freeze up?!”

He shakes his head. “You couldn’t feel it?!”

I scowl. “Feel what?!”

“Her! I don’t know what to call it other than survival instinct, but when she puked on me, everything in me said to keep still. No sudden movements!”

I nod in understanding. “I had the thought that she looked like a tiger ready to pounce. Then she freakin’ sniffed you!”

“I know!” he cries, and we know we’re not yelling out of necessity now. He has a small smile on his face and I can feel one on mine too. It seems an odd time to be grinning like idiots, but it’s the thrill of surviving. It makes you giddy.

We cruise upriver for a while making great time compared to rowing, but eventually Jordan makes the
cut it
sign across his neck and I kill the engine.

“Let’s save what gas we’ve got in there. The tank isn’t very big.”

I think it’s worth burning it and finding more when we need it, but I don’t argue the point. The boat coasts forward for a short distance on residual momentum and then we’re at the current’s mercy again. I turn to start rowing but Jordan stops me.

“I’m frozen solid. It’ll help me warm up.”

“About that. We need to get you into dry clothes. And get sunscreen. And chapstick and a toothbrush and more water.”

He’s grinning at me as I make our shopping list and I stop.

“No,” he says brightly. “Keep going.”

“It’s time to loot.” I reply seriously.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face slowly. “I really didn’t want to do it so soon. Looters are nuts. They will shoot us over your toothbrush.”

“I think we have to take our chances that the crazy looters have done their business and are holed up in their mini fortresses by now. It’s been about twenty-four hours since it started. The crazy looting was probably done last night.”

He looks unconvinced. “Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it. I lost an arrow back there, I only have five left and I don’t know how to make them.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” he asks, his voice surprised. “I thought you loved shooting, how do you not know how to make an arrow?”

“You like boats.” I point out. “Make me a boat. One that doesn’t take on any water, one that we can trust to function just as well as this one here.”

“Okay, I get your point. So we need arrows.”

“Yes. If we go to a pro shop I can probably find a book there that can show me how to make arrows. We can get you a bow too. I’ll teach you how to shoot it. And if we’re both going to start firing them, some of us with more accuracy than others, then knowing how to make arrows will come in handy.”

Jordan grimaces. “A pro shop? That’s the first place a lot of people are going to go to loot.”

“Then they probably already did it and it will be deserted. Or people will be hiding there, staying near the gear.”

“All the more reason to
not
go there.”

“We need to go.”

“Tomorrow.” he says firmly. “Let’s give it one more day. Please? It feels too soon and I want to get farther south before we stop.”

I stare him down and let my displeasure show but he doesn’t flinch.

“Fine.” I say grudgingly.

“Thank you. Now get of my way, I need to warm up and we’re losing ground drifting like this.”

The trading of places is awkward and ends up with us hugging each other in the center of the boat and then pivoting until we’ve switched spots. He is freezing cold and the water that seeps out of his shirt into mine gives me the shivers. It took us four hours to make it a little under six miles, so I’m glad it looks like he’s gotten a second wind and starts rowing vigorously. The current isn’t terribly strong, thank goodness, and we make decent time. Less decent when I’m at the oars. I don’t have half his upper body strength and it shows when it’s my turn to drive.

We’re well out of downtown Portland and I can tell Jordan is relaxing a little. We’re still in a really populated area, though I can’t tell exactly what part of the city or if we’ve moved into a new one yet. I do notice that the wind is getting colder, the sky darker and rain is definitely on its way. I point it out to Jordan who stops rowing and frowns.

“Great.” he mutters. He’s dried off now, at least most of him. I imagine his jeans are still uncomfortably damp and getting drenched again cannot sound fun.

“We should stop for the night.”

“What time is it?”

“About 4pm.” I tell him, and I know the answer the second I say it.

“No way, too much daylight left. We should keep going.” he says reaching for the oars.

I reach out and touch his shoulder. “Wait. Hear me out. It’s going to rain soon and our bags aren’t waterproof. The first aid stuff could get soaked. Also, you said we could loot tomorrow and there’s a Hank’s Sporting Goods in Lake Oswego. We’ve gotta be close to there, right?”

He nods grudgingly but keeps his back to me. “I think so, yeah.”

“Then we should stop there. We’ll get someplace warm and safe and wait out the night then hit the store early.”

“Alright,” he says on a sigh. “We’ll stop in Lake Oswego. But we’re not staying in a house.”

“Jordan,” I begin, trying to sound reasonable and not whiny but I don’t think I succeed.

“You can if you want, I won’t stop you,” he interrupts “But I’m not going into a populated area and opening myself up to being surrounded. Besides, it’s not even just zombies you have to worry about now. People will be crazy and desperate. If you try to bust into a house where people are hiding, they might have guns and most will shoot anything that comes through their door. It’s what I’d do.”

He’s right. Last night in the apartment if anything had come through my bedroom door I would have at least put an arrow in its leg without blinking, and even if that’s the worst injury I receive, it’s still one we can’t afford.

“Fine.” I concede. “But a roof over our heads at least, right?”

He starts rowing again, this time more languidly. “We’ll figure something out.”

Once we reach Lake Oswego, we hide our small boat in some brush on the shore and head cautiously inland. Jordan is nervous because we’ve seen people lately, people who look like us with packs on their back and fear in their eyes as they walk across bridges or down abandoned streets running along the river. They’re heading out of town I assume. Toward the interstate. I know that the Hank’s is near I-5, which is exactly where Jordan doesn’t want to be, exactly where all these people are going, and I feel bad about forcing him out of his comfort zone like this. He needs more protection than that bat, though, so this trip isn’t all about me. At this point I’m thinking a gun, despite its many potential failures and obvious downside of going BANG! really loudly and alerting the infected of your position. It’s still a better solution for him than the bat if he gets surrounded. Also good if we’re still alone when my meds run out and I’m a viable threat. I’m starting to wonder if I can get him hooked up with someone else before that happens. Maybe a group he’d be safer in.

We make our way through the streets beside the lake and the neighborhood is decidedly wealthy. Mini mansions and quite a few real mansions span the shoreline. Then there are some mansions that I thought were mini mansions but turn out to be guest houses down by the water and up behind them are the super ultra-mega mansions. I’m convinced this entire city is run by drug cartels and I’m not even 100% sure what a drug cartel is exactly, but I know they make bank and the people living along the shores of Lake Oswego are definitely doing that.