Zomb-Pocalypse 2 (10 page)

“You’ll want to avoid that room on the left,” he tells me, and I follow his gaze to a closed door. It must be the living room. I nod, selfishly thankful I got to avoid seeing that.

“Do you want something to eat?” Ryan asks Sunny, and she shakes her head.

“It will make you feel better,” Ryan cajoles, and Sunny slumps in her seat.

“Okay,” she agrees in a small voice, and Ryan pulls some crackers out of his bag and sets them in front of her.

Sunny picks one up and gives it a half-hearted nibble before setting it down. She still looks a little green.

“Do you want to lay down?” I ask, and she nods. I look over at Ryan, and he springs up from the chair to show us the way to one of the bedrooms. We climb the stairs, and he opens up a bedroom door on our left.

“What do you think about this room?” Ryan asks with a grin, and I watch Sunny’s face brighten.

“Wow,” she breathes as she steps further into a room that obviously belonged to two little girls. The walls are painted a light pink with white lace curtains, and there are bunk-beds with the latest princess bedding on both the top and bottom. My eyes scan the room stuffed with toys of every kind, and I smile at Sunny’s enthusiasm, even though a small part of me wonders what happened to these little girls.

“Maybe there will be some clothes that fit you,” I say, looking at Sunny sitting on the clean, pink bedding in her grubby, travel worn clothes. They don’t look like they were the best even before she was forced to live on the street for two days, and I wonder how many of the holes in her jeans were there before the zombies.

I open the closet doors and see rows of frilly dresses, Sunny exclaims loudly over them, but I stubbornly shake my head. “These aren’t the right kind of clothes to wear right now,” I tell her and shut the door firmly, going over to the large dresser drawers instead.

The first drawer is stuffed full of underwear and socks. I pick up a pair of underwear and read the tags—two different sizes. “What size clothes do you wear?” I ask her, and Sunny shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she says, and Ryan, who’s sitting beside her, flips the back of her collar down and checks the tag.

“Size six,” he informs me, and I nod my thanks.

“It looks like we have a size four, and a seven,” I say, digging through each thing to check the sizes.

“That isn’t too bad. The sevens should fit,” Ryan says, and I grin at him.

“We’ll have to pack some of this stuff up for her,” I tell them, and Sunny claps her hands.

“Everything is so pretty in here,” she breathes, delicately running her fingers over a fuzzy pink blanket, and I feel sad by how awestruck she is. It’s a nice room and actually looks pretty similar to my own room growing up and I realize, not for the first time lately, just how lucky I was.

I pass Sunny a clean pair of pink leggings, a t-shirt with a pony on the front, and a pink sweater that looks like it will be really warm. Ryan excuses himself while she gets dressed.

I look around the room and decide to pack a few things up now. If I’ve learned anything during this zomb-pocalypse, it’s that you can’t put things off or you’ll probably go without. If a hoard were to show up here, we’d have to run for it.

I grab a pink duffel bag with a picture of a ballerina on the side and empty all the tutus and tap shoes out into a pile on the floor, then I start going through each drawer and separating all the small-sized clothes from the bigger stuff and throw it into the bag. The bag is already bulging, but I manage to squeeze in a couple extra books, dolls, and ponies– no sense letting all this stuff go to waste.

“Is that for me?” Sunny asks, her eyes bulging, and I nod, giving her a big smile. I’m surprised when she leaps out of the bed and gives me a huge hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her words muffled in my vest.

I pat her on the back before I usher her into the bed. She chooses the bottom bunk, and I tuck the blankets around her. “Have a sleep, and you’ll feel better when you wake up,” I tell her, and she finally shuts her eyes after making me promise that she can play with the toys when she wakes up.

I leave the room smiling with the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Ryan is out in the hallway, and he smiles back. “Cute kid,” he says, and I nod.

“Where’s Silas?” I ask, and Ryan nods towards the stairs.

“He’s out in the garage taking some of the stuff out so we can clean it.” I’m a little surprised at that.

“I’m gonna go put this bag in the back for Sunny,” I say, and Ryan looks like he wants to follow me, but stops.

“Do you think it’s okay to leave her up here alone?” he asks, and I shrug.

“I have no idea,” I tell him honestly. “The house is clear, and the garage is attached, so we could leave the door open to listen for her,” I say, and Ryan nods.

“Good idea,” he walks up and kisses me on the forehead before sliding the duffel bag off my shoulder. He slings it over his own shoulder, and I have to suppress a giggle. He looks pretty adorable with that pink bag. I don’t say anything though; I’ll leave that up to Silas.

Silas, predictably, bursts out laughing when Ryan and I walk into the garage. Ryan looks confused, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“What?” he asks, frowning at Silas.

“Is that your new purse?” Silas mocks with a chuckle. “Do you carry your tampons in there?” A giggle escapes my lips, though I stiffen my upper lip when Ryan looks my way. It’s immature I know, but we don’t have a lot of moments like this anymore.

“Real mature guys,” Ryan mutters, loosening one of the tie down straps and shoves the duffel bag into the back of the truck. I watch him skillfully tie it back up and stop laughing. I really do have a lot to learn. It seems unfair that this stuff comes so naturally to both the guys.

“How’s it going back there?” Ryan asks Silas, choosing to ignore the fact that he’s still laughing. Silas stops laughing and wrinkles his nose.

“Not too good. I’ve got everything unpacked, but it’s gonna be a big job,” he says, and I peek my head around to look at the seat. There are enough windows in this garage that we have plenty of natural light. Though after looking at the seat, I kind of wish I couldn’t see it quite so well.

It’s a gory mess. I knew it was bad, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to really examine it. The blood has dried and hardened, though the smell has only gotten worse. Small green fuzz is starting to grow out of the black crusted zombie blood, and I wince. That can’t be healthy! The floor is no better, but I’m hoping we can pull out the mats and get rid of most of that mess. In addition to the blood and mold, there are also small bits of bone and skin fragments everywhere. I stare at a piece of skin that has dehydrated and shriveled up enough to mold itself around the top of the headrest.

“This is impossible,” I say, feeling discouraged before we even start.

“I saw some cleaning supplies under the sink, I’ll go get them,” Ryan says, taking off at a jog. I’m left alone in the garage with Silas as we both stare at the mess.

“I have an idea,” Silas says, reaching into the truck and pulling one of the levers on the side of the seat. The seat starts to fold up, and Silas yanks it right out of the truck.

“Whoa,” I say, surprised that the seats are removable.

“These seats come right out. It will make it easier,” he says as he lifts the seat down onto the garage floor, being careful to keep the grossness away from his face.

The next seat is bigger and is actually two seats together, so I go around to the other side and help him lift it out. Though really, I’m probably more of a hindrance than a help.

The truck looks way different without the seats, and the main mess is now just on the carpet mats. Silas reaches in and pulls them out, which takes care of a lot of it, but there is still some gore that the carpet didn’t catch. “A little elbow grease and the carpet is probably salvageable. The seats are screwed though,” Silas says, and I can’t help but agree with him.

“Are we just going to drive it without seats?” I ask, feeling skeptical. Silas shakes his head.

“That won’t work because the front seats are messed up too, and the driver needs to be able to sit up.”

Ryan comes back lugging a cardboard box of stuff. “I found some gloves, bleach, pine sol, and a broom,” he says, setting his stuff down and staring into the truck.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Silas says, putting a damper on Ryan’s excitement. “The seats are too messed up. We’ll never be able to get the stains out, never mind the smell.”

“What if we…” Ryan starts to say and then trails off—he has no idea either.

“If we had electricity and an industrial upholstery cleaner—maybe,” Silas says, though from the tone of his voice, he’s still skeptical

“What are we going to do about Sunny then?” I blurt out, making Silas look sour.

“She might just have to suck it up,” Silas says, making Ryan and I both glare at him. “What?” Silas demands, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “This isn’t some princess tea party, its life and death.”

“If we can fix it, we have to try,” Ryan says stubbornly, making Silas roll his eyes.

“She needs to toughen up, and fast,” Silas disputes, sounding cold and heartless.

“Silas, she’s just a little girl,” I remind him, but he stubbornly shakes his head.

“Exactly,” he says like that proves some sort of point. “I wouldn’t go getting attached if I were you,” he says callously, and I actually gasp.

Ryan steps forward and shoves him hard enough that his back hits the wall. “Shut up,” Ryan warns him, but Silas just grins at him in a twisted way.

“You two can’t handle the truth,” he taunts us, making me want to slap him. I curl my hand into a fist and squeeze until my fingernails hurt my palm. “She’s going to die, and there’s nothing you two can do about it. We can barely survive—a kid has no chance,” he says flatly.

Ryan pulls his arm back to punch Silas right in the face, but I throw myself between them.

“Don’t!” I warn Ryan, and he looks stunned.

“You’re actually gonna defend this guy?” he spits, and I shake my head.

“No, he’s being a jerk, but it won’t help anything to hit each other.” Ryan shakes his head, steps away from Silas, and turns his back on the both of us.

“I don’t care if you think it’s pointless, I’m going to clean the truck anyway,” Ryan huffs as he grabs a seat and starts spraying it with something.

Silas and I watch him work in silence for a few minutes. I turn to Silas, and there is a weird look in his face, self-loathing probably.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want a clean truck,” Silas says, walking over towards Ryan and pushing the seat out of his hand. “I just said this isn’t the way to do it.” Ryan’s scowl is black as he looks up at Silas.

“What then?” I demand, and Silas grins.

“Silas saves the day again,” Silas says, making both Ryan and I cringe. “I’m going for a drive, this is a super common truck, especially out here in farm country, there has to be another one around. We can swap the seats.”

I digest his idea. It’s kind of crazy. “How will you even find another truck?” I ask, and Silas snorts.

“Most of the population is dead, people’s vehicles will just be sitting where they left them. I’ll do a snatch and grab on the first one I see.” Silas pulls the keys out of his pocket and starts towards the truck.

“Wait,” I say, and Silas surprises me by actually stopping. “You can’t go alone,” I say, making Silas look annoyed.

“I’ll go with him,” Ryan volunteers, making my heart stutter.

“You can’t,” I say, making them both look at me sharply. “You’ll kill each other.”

Silas laughs. “One of us might die, Blondie, but it wouldn’t be me,” he says cockily, and again I have to resist the urge to slap him.

“I’ll go,” I say, surprising myself. Have I become some sort of dangerous thrill seeker?

Ryan and Silas both shake their heads. “It’s too dangerous,” Ryan says, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Someone has to stay with Sunny who can protect her properly,” I tell Ryan, and he and I both know that person should not be Silas.

I jump in the passenger seat before either one of them can protest. Silas stares after me before shrugging his shoulders. “Blondie and me will be back before dark. You protect the brat and hold down the fort,” Silas says, obviously trying to stir Ryan’s temper once more before we leave.

“Do you have to be such a jack ass?” I ask him when he gets in the driver’s seat, and he nods at me with a grin.

Ryan looks like he’s going to refuse, but after a couple seconds of staring after me, he goes to the door and lifts it for us. We drive out, surprising a zombie that’s hanging around outside the garage door. Silas runs him over with the truck before revving the engine and taking off like a shot.

I look back in the rear-view mirror and watch Ryan stab the twitching zombie in the head before pulling the door back down.

My stomach twists into knots of anxiety. I hope we aren’t making a huge mistake by breaking up the group.

Chapter Ten

We drive in silence for the next few miles, our eyes scanning the landscape for our very own Hail Mary save. I know Silas is pretty good at stuff like this, but I still try and keep a mental map of each turn we take. I’m a little terrified of getting turned around and lost out here. Everything looks the same. Sure, we all know where we’re headed, but I would hate myself if I stranded Ryan in the middle of nowhere without a vehicle, and only a little girl to help him reach the cabin.

“Relax, Blondie, I know where the farm is,” Silas says, tapping his temple like I’m supposed to believe he’s infallible, and once again I find it creepy that he seems to be able to read my mind.

“Where are we going?” I ask, pushing the feeling aside, and he shrugs.

“Hopefully not too far,” is all he says before cranking up the country music. I bite back my annoyance as we tear down the deserted country road at breakneck speeds.

I reach over and snap off the music. “I can’t take it anymore,” I admit. “You need to find a new CD.”

Silas chuckles. He seems way more relaxed now that we’re away from Sunny and the farm.

“So…” I say, and Silas looks at me uneasily, his face turning back down to a scowl.

“What?” he asks gruffly.

“Why were you being such a dick back there?” I blurt out and then hold my breath, waiting for him to explode.

“Just drop it, Jane,” he warns me, and I really do want to follow his advice, but I figure if we’re trapped together in this truck, I may as well make him hash it out—clear the air.

“I can’t,” I tell him honestly.

“It’s like I said, and I’m not saying this to be a dick, but you shouldn’t get attached to Sunny. Little kids can’t survive this. Honestly you shouldn’t get attached to anyone,” he clarifies, and I feel my anger start to rise, but then I take a closer look at Silas. He isn’t gloating or trying to piss me off. He honestly believes this.

“Is this because of your brother?” I ask, hating to bring it up, but I feel an almost burning need to find out what is making Silas tick. Silas’s mouth turns down, and he shakes his head.

“Drop it, Jane,” he warns, but he isn’t yelling. His voice is quiet, and that’s almost scarier than angry Silas.

“If Sunny was your brother, you’d want someone to help him,” I say, knowing that I’m hurting him and hating it, but I want to drive my point home. He can’t take his feelings out on a little girl.

“My brother is dead!” he yells at me, his face twisting into grief for a second before he turns back to the road and looks away from me. “He’s better off. That bite saved him a horrible, hard life.” I sit in my seat, shocked that he actually just said his brother is better off being dead. Silas reaches over and flips the radio knob and country music pounds back through the cab. I don’t turn it off this time because even terrible country music is better than the awkward silence between us.

We develop a bit of a routine. Every time we come to a farmhouse, Silas pulls in and we slowly circle the driveway looking for what we need. There are a lot of old beater trucks in this area and a few new ones too, but, so far, none that match what we need.

Silas even gets out and peeks in garage windows, but still, nothing.

“Maybe we should just take one of these other trucks?” I suggest, but Silas instantly shakes his head.

“We have way too much stuff to move, never mind the fuel tank, it’s half full, and we’d never be able to move it ourselves,” he tells me as he puts the truck in park and stops to pull out the map. “There has to be one around here somewhere,” he says, but I’m not sure I believe him. We’ve been at this for over an hour already.

“It’s gonna get dark soon,” I remind him even though I’m pretty sure he knows.

“Yes, Mother,” he snipes back, folding up the map and cranking the wheel of the truck to change directions.

“Where are we going?” I ask, not liking this at all.

“There’s a small town about ten miles from here. There will be something there for sure,” he tells me, and my stomach sinks. What is with Silas and all these towns?

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, making him release an annoying snort of laughter.

“It’s too much of a crapshoot going farm to farm, we need somewhere there are more people to increase our chances.”

I don’t even bother reminding him that more people mean more zombies. He already knows; he just doesn’t care.

I see the town up ahead and wonder how we missed it this whole time. It’s the only thing around here for miles! The first thing I see is a large blue water tower that juts up higher than any other buildings. It’s another one of those small, picturesque towns that could be on a postcard with all the white picket fences. Silas tears through the middle of town past zombies who are so slow they almost look like statues.

He takes a corner much faster than he should, and then we are on a smaller side street with shady trees overhead. “What about that one?” I ask, pointing to a blue Ford parked up the street.

Silas shakes his head. “It’s too old, the seats won’t match up,” he tells me, and I feel disappointment, though I guess it really couldn’t be that easy.

We drive up and down the smaller side streets, avoiding the main part of town until I see a truck that looks a lot like the truck we’re driving. I must see the truck at the same time Silas does because before I can even open my mouth, Silas slams on the brakes.

We both pull our guns from our hips and ease out of the truck. Silas walks over to the other truck, cups his hands against the window, and examines the upholstery. “It looks the same,” he says, and my heart does a little leap of joy.

Silas reaches over and tries the door handle, but it’s locked. “Damn it!” he cusses.

“What now?” I ask nervously as my eyes scan every nook and cranny in our surrounding area for movement.

Silas doesn’t answer me as he pulls his axe from his belt and swings it as hard as he can at the driver’s side window. “Get ready to move, Blondie,” is the only warning he gives me before the horrible honking alarm starts to go off.

My heart falls to my feet, and I stand rooted to the spot, stunned. Is Silas for real? I stare at Silas as he uses the handle of the axe to clear out the rest of the window and then reaches in and hits the door locks.

“Turn it off!” I demand, but he just shakes his head; he can’t hear me over the screaming alarm.

“Silas!” I squeak, spying a group of curious zombies that comes surging around the corner of the street, but of course, the alarm is so loud he can’t hear me.

Silas has the first door open and is manhandling the front seat out, but he doesn’t have time to place it, so he just chucks it in the truck box on top of our other supplies. A few zombies are staggering out of a nearby house, and I raise my gun and aim at them. The shot goes wide, so I do the craziest thing ever, and run towards them so I can get closer for a better head shot.

The zombies go down hard each with a neat bullet in their brain, they land with a soft thud in the overgrown grass, and I suck in a deep breath as I sprint back towards the truck. Silas has one of the backseats out, but he’s forced to drop it to bring his gun up and take out a zombie that’s gotten way too close.

He shoots me a dirty look as he picks the seat back up, stepping over the corpse to race around to the other side of the truck. I grind my teeth together in frustration.
He’s seriously mad at me?
He’s the one that set off the zombie beacon! He didn’t even stop long enough to loop me in on his big master plan.

I sense more than feel a shadow fall across my back, and the terror makes me lose my mind. Silas is in front of me, so I know whatever is behind me is nothing good. For a split second I’m almost tempted not to look, but that would be crazy. I spin just in time to avoid a zombie whose teeth have almost made their way into the flesh of my shoulder. “Holy shit!” I yell as I press the muzzle of my gun to the zombie’s face and pull the trigger. He’s so close that I can’t do anything else. I take off at a dead run back towards the truck. I need something solid at my back so I don’t have to worry about attacks on all sides.

More zombies are approaching, and I really don’t see how we’re going to get out of this alive. “Just leave it Silas!” I scream at him at the top of my lungs to be heard over the blaring truck, but he stubbornly shakes his head, reaching into the back of the truck to pull out another seat.

I aim and squeeze off a few more rounds, but my fingers are shaking too much, so my shots aren’t hitting. I stop for a second and shake my fingers out, hoping to get rid of some of my jitters, though it isn’t likely with this many zombies coming at us.

The entire street is filling up with zombies in all directions. Attracted by the noise, they’re swarming like locusts, and I lose my nerve.

“Silas!” I scream, aiming at a zombie that’s gotten so close that I actually hit him. Silas glances up from tossing the other seat in the back of the truck. “We have to go!” I yell to be heard, and thankfully, after taking a look at the crowd, he nods.

The zombies are closing in fast, and I watch Silas climb up into the back of the truck to avoid the few that are snapping at his ankles. It’s a tight squeeze with all the seats he’s jammed up there on top of the stuff we already had.

“Jane!” he yells, taking the keys from his pocket and tossing them over to me, and my heart stutters.

I watch them sail towards me, and I reach for them. They’re almost in my palm when a zombie bumps into me, knocking me back against the truck. I let out a scream, expecting the bite at any moment, but instead I feel the air whoosh by me as a bullet comes within an inch of my skull.

The zombie goes down right on top of the keys, and I let out a frustrated yell as I’m forced to roll the stinking corpse to the side. I grab the keys out of a puddle of black sludge and leap into the truck. I’m glad we didn’t already replace the old gross seats as I wipe the keys a couple times against the filthy upholstery before ramming the key in the ignition, with a quick prayer that the goop doesn’t cause some kind of engine failure.

The truck fires right up, and I let out a sigh of relief, even though we are nowhere close to being home free. Zombies beat against the windows, snarling and snapping at the glass, and through all of that noise I can hear Silas yelling at me to get the hell out of here. I press down on the gas and force the truck through the wall of zombies. They are thickest on the road, so I aim the nose of the truck towards somebody’s once perfectly manicured lawn and pin it when I see a break in the crowd. Zombies bounce off the truck, and I only begin to relax once we’ve outdistanced the horde.

I drive us out of town, and finally the hammering in my heart slows down enough that I can hear other things over the roar in my ears. The first thing I hear is that damn country music cd, and it makes me even madder at Silas.

I reach over, pull it from the disc changer, and chuck it out the window as hard as I can. I feel a small surge of vindictive pleasure doing so, I’m not gonna lie. I drive a few more miles until I’m sure the road is deserted, and then I pull over and get out.

Silas jumps down from the box of the truck and grins at me. I don’t return it. “That was some good drivin’ back there,” he exclaims, his southern drawl extra pronounced in his excitement.

I start walking towards Silas and his
stupid
grinning face, and Silas, of all the crazy things, holds his arms out to me like he thinks I’m going to hug him! I walk right up to him and give in to the urges I’ve been having for the last few days, and punch him square in the face.

Silas doesn’t move a muscle when my fist bounces off his cheekbone, but I do. My hand feels like it’s on fire. I let out a roar of pain and clutch my throbbing hand to my chest as I double over. I look up to see Silas watching me with a grin on his face, and I’m thunderstruck. He isn’t even mad.

“I might have deserved that,” he admits, surprising the hell out of me.

“Damn right you did,” I say, forcing myself to stand up straight despite the throb in my knuckles. “I threw away your stupid CD too!” I yell at him, and he actually throws his head back and laughs.

“I don’t think Garth Brooks and the Dixie Chicks deserved that, but I did,” he says, and I’m starting to wonder if he didn’t do some sort of voodoo personality swap with one of the zombies back there.

“First time hitting someone?” he asks.

Even though I’m pissed at him, I nod grudgingly.

“Next time don’t put your thumb inside your fist,” he tells me, making me blink in surprise. It’s weird that he would help me because chances are, if there is a next time I punch someone, it will most likely be him!

Silas takes a bottle of water out of his backpack and takes a long swallow before pouring some on a clean t-shirt, also from his bag. He folds it up into a small square and passes it over to me. “Put this on your hand for a while. It’s not ice, but it’s the next best thing,” he says, and I reluctantly take it.

“Thanks,” I mumble, feeling guilty when I notice that his eye is starting to get a bit of a bruise.

“Let’s get back, it’ll be dark soon,” Silas says when I continue to stare at his face.

I almost miss the stupid CD on the way back to the farmhouse where we left Ryan and Sunny, neither Silas nor I have much to say, and the silence is a bit heavy.