Chapter 9

 

 

The sun had fully risen. I was annoyed for sleeping so late, though even I had to admit it felt good. I woke everyone up, made them eat a lousy breakfast and dress in warm clothes. Nerves tingled throughout me at the thought of leaving. The apartment was warm and welcoming just as much as it was run down and crappy. I looked reassuringly at the three large duffle bags full of food, clothes, medical stuff, and miscellaneous things I thought we could use. In my purse were the ‘emergency get away’ supplies. Logan helped sort through some of this stuff. His face flashed through my mind. I hated that we were leaving him, even though he was infected. But we needed to get to safety. That’s what Logan would have wanted.

I stiffly slipped my arms into a brown, leather bomber jacket. I had two sets of keys and needed to figure out which cars they belonged to. Of course, the easiest thing to do would be to hit the panic button. It would lead me, and the zombies, right to the appropriate cars.

Zoe ungracefully walked from the bedroom wearing a pair of my pajama pants. The hems caught under her slippers and she tripped, dropping Finickus, her stuffed cat, and a plastic bag of cat food. Argos took off, chasing the fat cat around the apartment.

“Argos, no!” I yelled, wondering if the dog would even bother listening to me. Somewhat surprisingly, he did. Since this complex didn’t allow big dogs (and especially wouldn’t allow ‘aggressive’ breeds) I figured his owners had made sure he was well trained. Lisa helped Zoe up, scooping up the spilled cat food, while Zoe picked Finickus back up, soothing him like a baby. I hadn’t planned on taking Finickus. He had no value to us, wouldn’t help us survive. How could I tell that to Zoe?

I rooted through one of the bags until I retrieved a pair of scissors. Careful not to clip her skin, I cut several inches off the hem of Zoe’s pants. She needed to be able to run if she had to. I wanted to wrap Zoe in a blanket and tuck her in the backseat of the SUV. I was banking on Jason or Padraic carrying her, which wouldn’t work with that stupid cat in her arms. As if he could read my mind, Finickus looked at me and meowed.

 

* * *

 

Padraic gripped a movie dagger that made him look out of place. He followed Argos and I through the hallways while the others waited inside the apartment. Our plan was to test the car keys I’d taken from the apartments on the cars parked in the lot. There was always the chance that I’d find a car or truck that I knew how to hotwire, but these were few and far between.

Down the hall and around a corner, Argos pawed at a door. I pressed my ear against it. Suddenly, something bumped on the other side. I jumped back. The thing clawed, making horrible gurgling growls.

“Zombie,” I mouthed. I didn’t know what to do. Should we bust down the door and kill it? It had probably been in there for weeks; I didn’t see it getting out now. I took hold of Padraic’s wrist and pulled him along.

“You’re gonna leave it?” he asked, his mouth open in alarm.

“I don’t think it will get out. Come on, we’re wasting time.”

The rest of the complex was zombie free. I stood guard while Padraic went back to get the others. I had wanted them to stay safely on the second floor in case something happened, but Padraic insisted we all be ready.

Too bad I was right.

A horde of zombies shuffled around the parking lot. I stood, transfixed on their jerky movements, rotten skin, and unified moan. A blur of black whizzed past me. I didn’t have time to scream his name. Argos leapt onto a zombie, knocking him to the ground. The movement gained the attention of the others; soon six more dragged their feet in Argos’ direction.

My heart ached for the dog. I pulled the gun, aimed, and shot. The scope was off. The bullet hit the zombie in the neck instead of the head. Its neck flopped back, arms flailing to the sides. Then it collapsed.

“What the…?” I muttered. I shot one more, this time in the ear, before telling myself not to waste any more bullets on a dog. My heart hammering, I pulled the keys from my pocket. Seeing no use in being surreptitious anymore, I hit the lock button. A small SUV beeped in response.

“Thank God,” I whispered. This was exactly what we needed. I flew to the door, my hands shaking as I unlocked it. I jumped in, jammed the keys in the ignition, and started the engine. “Son of a bitch!” I hit the steering wheel. The ‘check engine’ light came on. Taking a car with engine problems isn’t a good idea even if you’re not running for your life. We couldn’t rely on this.

The second set of keys didn’t have a remote. The Chevy symbol was etched into the black top of the key, which helped narrow it down. The parking lot was nearly empty; only three Chevys were in sight. The truck would be too convenient. The Camaro, however, was the least practical. And it was a match.

I didn’t know how to drive a stick. I had always planned on learning but the opportunity came and went. The engine roared to life. I forced the stick in any direction it would move. In reverse, the car jolted back, slamming into another car. Fumbling, I moved the stick one over. The engine squealed, but the car was moving.

Leaving the engine running, I jumped out and ran inside. “Go!” I yelled, waving them out. “Hurry! There are zombies out there!” I caught Padraic’s arm. “Keys,” I instructed.

He reached into his pocket.

“The Camaro’s a stick,” I explained shortly. “I can’t drive a stick.”

“I can,” Hilary said. She hoisted her bag up on her shoulder and darted out.

My fingers closed around the Range Rover’s keys and I was off again. I didn’t want to look for Argos. I couldn’t stomach the sight of zombies ripping flesh off his body, shoving it into their decomposing mouths. The Range Rover was close to the main doors; we snuck out through the back. I ran around the building, my thighs burning from moving so fast. I could barely breathe as I started the SUV.

I slammed on the break and swerved, threatening to tip the vehicle. There Argos stood, practically untouched, wagging his stump of a tail. I opened my door and called him. With ease, Argos jumped inside, stepping over me and into the passenger seat. I jumped out, almost forgetting to put the SUV in park, to help load the remaining bags and Zoe. By some miracle, Finickus remained wrapped tightly in her arms.

The zombies that had chased Argos were making their way back with disturbing speed. I scrambled to throw the heavy bag of food and water into the back of the SUV. Argos sniffed the air, showing his teeth and turning in the direction of the zombies. He tried to jump out the back of the open SUV. I reached out for him on impulse, my fingers wrapping around his collar. He jerked me forward, pulling my left arm which sent ripples of pain across my torn flesh.

I involuntarily cried out. Padraic appeared, getting Argos back in the Range Rover. He shut the door, put his fingers through mine and moved forward, only to get stopped by a zombie. Letting go of my hand, Padraic swung the dagger at the zombie, slicing its chest. Pale yellow pus and blood oozed out.

Argos barked and Zoe screamed. More zombies were coming. We were about to be surrounded. The zombie in front of us staggered, waving its hands blindly in our direction. The eyes were clouded over. I didn’t think it could see very well.

“Drop!” I whispered to Padraic. His eyes questioned me, but he followed suit. I crawled under the running SUV, desperately moving away from the zombie. My hands burned from pulling myself along the pavement as I scrambled up. The zombie had just figured out where we had disappeared to. Padraic kicked it in the face and dragged himself into the clear.

I shot another zombie in the shoulder as I frantically got into the car. With no real destination in mind, Padraic gunned it. We tore out of the parking lot, past a herd of zombies, and onto the main road.

“The highway,” I panted.

Padraic made a U turn (an illegal U turn, but who was gonna stop us?).

It was a little sickening to remember the full carts of food, water and supplies left to fester in the street. I told myself there’d be other stores to rob.

More zombies than I could count meandered around the chaotic streets, with absolutely no signs of human life. It was horrifying. And it confirmed my worst fear: we were the only survivors in the city.

Cars were pulled over on the side of the road with their doors left hanging open. Suitcases, bags, and other personal belongings lay scattered and forgotten amidst the occasional dead body. Where had everyone gone? Following the body trail seemed like a literal dead end. I kept my mouth shut. I needed to go north. I had to see if she was alive.

The number of zombies dwindled the farther we got from the heart of the city. I waited until we made it ten minutes without seeing the dead milling about to say that we needed to stop for gas.

“Where?” Padraic asked. “I don’t think the gas stations will accept my credit card anymore. That and I don’t have it.”

I rolled my eyes. “We need to stop at a house, preferably one with a nice garden. Then, you’ll see.”

“A garden?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“You’ll see,” I repeated. “Get off on the next exit,” I told him. “And we’ll try to find a neighborhood.”

Every minute that passed without finding what I was looking for felt like a waste. I nervously wound my braid around my fingers, thinking about her, hoping she was somehow still alive. I had zoned out when Padraic said, “Is this ok?”

“It’s perfect.” I straightened, almost smiling at the sight of the large houses. We passed three massive brick homes and pulled into the driveway of an impressive colonial that was elaborately decorated for Halloween. “Stay here,” I told Padraic. Looking back at Zoe, I added, “If anything happens, drive. I’ll meet you at the front of the neighborhood.”

“Orissa…” he shook his head.

“Keep her safe,” I persisted. “Come on, Argos, let’s go.”

The decent thing to do was to knock, which was what I did. No one answered the door, as I suspected. I peered in through the big, living room window, kicking a fake gravestone out of the way. I knocked on the glass too, just in case. I looked, I watched, and I waited.

Nothing.

I picked up a decorative brick, red-hot pain searing through my stitched flesh as I did so, and threw it against the glass. It shattered, but not as neatly as in movies. Using a stupid plastic skeleton arm, I broke away the rest, allowing Argos and myself to get through without slicing ourselves open.

“Hello,” I called out quietly. “If anyone is hiding in here, sorry I broke your window. And I’m not a zombie, so don’t shoot.”

Still nothing.

The house was incredible. The décor looked like something out of a magazine. Everything was grand and must have cost a fortune, but it wasn’t overdone. Whoever lived here had good taste. And apparently a dog; Argos happily picked up a rawhide bone.

“Maybe I’ll find you some food,” I told him. My first priority was the kitchen and the garage.

Every nonperishable item had been taken, including all beverages. There was a small bag of dog food in the walk-in pantry. It wouldn’t last Argos long, though it was better than nothing. With the food in one hand and gun in the other, I carefully picked my way into the garage. Argos followed.

“Yes,” I whispered when my eyes feasted on the shiny, pearl white Cadillac parked in front of me. It was roomy, way better for a long road trip than the sports car Hilary drove. I went back into the house and began somewhat frantically looking for the keys. An odd feeling of dread and anxiety began to form in my stomach. I wanted out of the house. I was wasting time. That’s all it was. I knew I needed to hurry.

Giving up and leaving the Escalade behind, I grabbed a pair of garden shears and exited through the back to find a hose. I pulled a few feet out and cut it. I bent down again. It could be helpful to have two siphons.

A gun fired behind me. I jumped, dropping the shears. I snatched up my own gun, expecting to turn and see a dead zombie and the person who’d saved me from it. My heart raced when I turned. There was no zombie, only a man.

And his gun was pointed at me.