By the time the truck slowed, we had put several miles between ourselves and the zombies. In that time, I joked with Hayden, almost convincing him that I knew he was a Marine because of psychic abilities. I also took a moment to study the mounted machine gun at the center of the truck bed. Hayden complimented my shooting skills and I reiterated.
We turned off the country road and onto a broken paved drive. Rusty, metal gates limply hung on hinges. A large stone building of gray loomed ahead of us. Our driver parked the truck near the front.
Jason, Sonja, and Argos were inside the black truck I rode in. I hadn’t seen them because of the darkened windows. Lauren, Lisa, Padraic, and Raeya got out of the bed of the other. Raeya rushed over and hugged me. Four soldiers or Marines dressed in camo, boots, and vests got out, surveying our surroundings. Hayden jumped out of the truck and took the skin vest off. He handled it like it was just any other piece of clothing. He tossed it and the rest of his zombie wardrobe into the bed of the truck and pulled the black shirt off. He had a full sleeve of black Polynesian tribal tattoos on his right arm, running up to his shoulder, and down on his chest. I ran my eyes over a line of spearheads that were woven into the design of waves, shark teeth, and other Polynesian symbols that I didn’t recognize. The dark markings on his skin moved, reflecting what little sunlight shone down on us, each time he flexed his muscles.
I watched him, wondering if it was wrong to be admiring his six pack and muscular arms when zombies, not all that far away, limped across the field in hopes of ripping our organs from our bodies and feasting on our flesh.
He ducked behind a truck and changed into combat ready attire, matching his comrades. Argos jumped up at me, trying to lick my face. I knelt down to pet him. I had to count my friends twice just to make sure everyone was really with me.
One of the Marines clapped Hayden on the back. “Nice job fitting in with the zombies. See, I told you, all we had to do was pick someone whose intelligence equaled their own and they’d never know.”
“It’s a good thing we didn’t pick you then. They’d instantly kill someone dumber than they are,” Hayden countered.
The Marine—Brewster was his last name, as it was stitched into his jacket—laughed, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth. He was tall and muscular, with beautiful dark skin and buzzed hair. His dark eyes sparkled when he laughed. “Oh, I got thirteen.”
“You did not,” another Marine named Callias argued. “Machine gun takedowns don’t count.”
I looked at the guys curiously. Were they counting how many zombies they’d killed?
“Hi,” Callias said to me. “I'm Brock. You were incredible out there.”
“Forgive him,” Brewster said. “But it’s not that often we find anyone who can take down zombies like that.”
“I know the feeling," I said with a slight smile. “Uh, thanks, guys, for helping out back there.”
“Helping out?” Lauren snorted. “They saved us. And you’d be dead if it wasn’t for them.”
“I had a plan,” I spat.
“Oh, sure. She always has a plan,” Lauren said to Hayden, smiling coyly. I wanted to tell her that her attempts at flirting sucked ass even when she hadn’t gone days without showering. Her hair was a greasy mess, but so was mine. I kept my mouth shut.
Padraic stepped close to me, taking my hand in his. “Are you alright, Orissa? You didn’t get hurt did you?”
“I’m fine. Really. Hayden…Hayden saved me.” I didn’t want to be a damsel in distress. I didn’t want to admit that I needed saving, though in all honesty I knew we’d been in a situation beyond my control. Now, if I had weapons like the Marines had, it would have been a different story.
Padraic squeezed my hand, his blue eyes drilling into mine. I was reminded of his kiss. I pulled my hand back, set on not giving him any mixed signals, not that I thought I had before.
“Thank you," he said, looking at Hayden. “For saving Orissa. And us,” he added.
“It’s what we do,” Hayden said. “Come in. We have a camp set up in there.”
Brock Callias went in first, rifle ready just in case. I knew where we were as soon as I entered the lobby. Of course we would come to a place like this—an old sanitarium.
We walked down a hall, up a flight of stairs, down another hall and into a large room, it made sense why the guys had picked this place. There were bars on the windows, the walls were cinderblock or cement, and the doors were steel with multiple locks. Even though it was as creepy as all get out, it was designed for keeping violent, crazy people in. And, in our case, it would work to keep them out.
“Let’s see that cut,” Brewster said to another Marine. A young looking redhead yanked his pant leg up. He had a four inch gash on the back of his calf. It was dirty and jagged and looked infected. “I told you to watch that farm equipment,” Brewster sighed and inspected the cut. “I think you need stitches. We can go back to the compound—”
“No,” the young Marine argued. “We have orders—”
“Orders to come back when wounded,” Brewster reminded him.
“It’s not that bad,” he countered.
Padraic stepped up. “Maybe I can help.”
The incredulous look ‘Ginger’ gave Padraic sparked something inside me.
“He’s a doctor,” I bragged for Padraic.
“Really?” Hayden asked, his eyes lighting up. “You’re a doctor? A real doctor?”
Padraic nodded.
Hayden’s excitement grew. “Thank God. Our medical staff consists of two veterinarians, a few nurses and ‘an almost’ neurologist who never finished med school. And she’s crazy, not zombie virus crazy, but locks herself in her room writing scientific formulas on her wall crazy.”
“Medical staff?” Padraic asked, bending down to tend to Ginger’s cut.
“At the compound,” Hayden explained. “It’s where we, uh, live, so to speak. There are about three hundred people there. It’s safe from the hostiles—”
“You mean zombies?” I inquired.
“Yeah,” he agreed, giving me a look that let me know ‘hostile’ was the politically correct term to use. “Anyway, you can come back with us. We’re trying to find survivors. We haven’t come across a group this big since it first happened.” He looked out the window that faced the front. “You said you had cars?”
“Yes,” I responded.
“Are they in good condition?”
“The Range Rover is. The truck is old,” I confessed. “And full of ammo,” I said bitterly to myself.
“Really?” Hayden was suddenly interested. He turned to Brewster. “We should go back for them. We’re in need of good vehicles.”
Brewster initially nodded, stopping short and looking at the seven of us. “We can’t leave the civilians.”
“It will only take two of us,” Hayden pointed out. “That leaves three to guard these guys.”
Brewster considered, then looked at Ginger. “Rider’s in no condition. He probably should keep weight off that leg, right, Doctor?”
Padraic looked up, blood on his hands. “Yes. He does need stitches; you were right. So until then, he needs to take it easy.”
“I can go,” I said bluntly.
“No,” Raeya, Padraic, and the Marines said in unison.
“Why not? Obviously, I’m capable of taking care of myself. And it’s my choice. It doesn’t seem like we are being held hostage here, so I think I can leave if I want.”
I looked at Hayden.
He nodded.
* * *
I rode shotgun in the black truck. Country music quietly drifted from the speakers.
“You're not scared to go back there?" Hayden asked, turning away from the passing field to look at me.
“No,” I answered automatically.
“Not at all?”
“Are you?” I countered.
“No,” Hayden said.
“See. That makes two of us.”
“Yes but you’re—”
“A girl? Ohmygod, don’t even go there.”
“You’re not trained for stuff like this,” he finished.
“Oh. Right. Not formally. But who really was formally trained for a zombie outbreak. Were you? Did the government know about this?”
“No, we had no idea,” he promised me. “What kind of training did you have?”
“My grandpa used to take me shooting.”
“That’s it?”
“More or less.”
“Hmm.” He turned on the heater. “Is that Irish guy your boyfriend?”
I laughed. “No.”
“He seems protective of you.”
“He tries to be. We’re all pretty protective of each other,” I told him, thinking I’d do anything for any one of my friends back there…except for Lauren. “But he doesn’t need to protect me.”
“You don’t like someone looking out for you?”
“No, well, yeah, it’s nice. But I don’t need it.”
“Obviously,” Hayden said with a grin. I didn’t know if he was joking or being serious. Neither of us spoke until we were back by the barn.
A zombie lay dead—or deader—a few feet from me. An arrow stuck out of his face. I put my foot on his chest and yanked it out, wiping the goo on the zombie’s shirt. I looked around in the fading light and located another arrow.
“I never got into archery,” Hayden said as he handed me two arrows. “Always wanted to, though.”
“I like it,” I told him and easily pulled an arrow from a gummy’s head. “My grandpa preferred it when hunting because it’s silent.” I looked around. “Where is my bow?” I didn’t remember dropping it. Hayden walked with me back to the barn, retracing my steps. “Where did they all go?” I asked, looking around for the zombies.
“I have no idea. I’ve wondered about it too. Sometimes I think it would be interesting to follow them, you know, like those people that observe animals. And then I remember what they really are and I want to blow their fucking brains out.”
“My friend, Raeya, made this list of all—” My words died in my chest as the wind got knocked out of me. Something lunged, landing on my back and pushing me to the ground.