Chapter Three

Ryder pulls over to the side of the road a few hours later, cutting the engine. He flexes his fingers and winces at the stiffness in them. Hopping out of the truck’s cab, I stretch my legs for the first time since we left, feeling the strength slowly return to them. We’ve been following Interstate 29 since we left at dawn, and we’re just outside the South Dakota border, which is quite the journey.

The others get out of the vehicles, stretching their tired and aching limbs while we have the chance. Madison catches my eye and nods as she arches her back until it cracks. With a contented sigh, she walks over. “I’m getting hungry. We should use this quick stop as a lunch break, too. We might not get a spot like this to stop in again.”

I nod in agreement, eyeing the area around us. Ryder’s expertly chosen our location, choosing a spot that’s easy for us to defend. We leave the highway and walk for twenty yards, coming to the top of a small, grassy hill that overlooks the highway and the surrounding area. The grass is crunchy with frost beneath our feet, but thankfully the snow isn’t quite sticking yet.

Naomi spreads out a blanket and immediately plops to her stomach, trying to relax before we have to head out again. Daisy joins her and the two begin chatting about something. Whatever it is, it must be funny because Daisy laughs, throwing back her head and closing her eyes. For a brief moment, she looks happy.

Todd and Aaron bring over some cans of food while Naomi digs through her backpack for the can opener. She tosses it to Aaron, who opens a can of baked beans. He passes it to Madison for the two of us to share, and we dig in while they get food for the others. I see a can of corn, a can of spaghetti-o’s with franks, and a can of tuna. Reese makes sure to save some of the tuna for Ryder, who is busy keeping watch over the group from a low perch in a nearby tree.

The baked beans are cold, but they go down easily enough. When we’re finished, we dig some apples out, making sure to eat them before they go bad. The fruit is still fresh, and it’s a nice little desert to go with our otherwise lackluster meal. I take a bite and wipe the juices from my chin, licking my fingers to make sure I get every last drop of the sweetness.

I’m the first to finish. Taking my bottle of water, I get to my feet and join Ryder. He’s crouching down low over a branch above my head, and he glances down at me for only a second before his eyes flick back to our surroundings. “You eat fast,” he says, scanning the hilltop around us.

“What if we get attacked? If I have to make a run for it, I want a full meal to keep me going. Never know when we’ll have time to take another meal break. Eat as much as you can, as fast as you can. That’s my motto.”

He looks down at me and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is it?” he asks, his lips turning up in a smile. He shakes his head and the smile disappears from his face. He goes back to watching the area, and I grip a low-hanging branch near me, hauling myself up the tree to join him. He scoots aside, giving me room. “You shouldn’t be up here with me.”

“Why not?” I ask, pressing closer to him.

“Because you’ll distract me,” he says, almost playfully. But he quickly reverts back to his more serious side, and I’m left sitting beside him in silence. His eyes scan the area like a hawk searching for prey in the grass below, never missing anything.

“See anything out there?”

“Not yet,” he answers. “I think we’re alone for now. But that doesn’t mean we should dawdle here any longer than we have to. The sooner we get on the road, the better chance we have of finding a decent place to hunker down for the night.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Maybe a fenced in house, or a motel or something. Anything that keeps a solid wall between us and the outside world. We’ll take turns keeping watch like always, eat a quick breakfast, and then get back on the road. Hopefully we’ll reach Montana during the day tomorrow, but if the weather worsens, we might have to add an extra day of travel. I’m not sure if our supplies will support that or not.”

“We’ll be fine, Ryder. We always are.”

He glances at me. “I hope you’re right.” The tone of his voice tells me he isn’t entirely sure that everything will work out the way I want it to, but I appreciate that he doesn’t say it out loud. He keeps a lot of his doubts to himself in order to give the rest of us peace of mind. That’s just one of the things that make Ryder an amazing leader, at least in my opinion. The others might not fully agree with me though.

“Ryder—”

He holds up a hand, silencing whatever I’m about to say. “Did you hear that?”

I know better than to wonder if he might be hearing things. Instead of asking if he’s sure there’s something out there, I shut my mouth and listen to the hills around us for whatever it is he’s hearing. For a minute, there’s nothing but the two of us, and I almost start to wonder if he might actually be hearing things, which is unlike him. But then I hear it.

Screams.

They’re faint, but there’s no mistaking them. It’s a high-pitched scream, probably from someone very young, possibly even a child. My heart slams into my throat, beating rapidly at the thought of some poor child being cornered and torn to pieces.

“It’s not possible,” he says. “There’s no way a child could survive in this world.”

There’s another scream, this one different from the first, but sounding no older. “We have to help,” I say immediately. By now, Ryder knows me well enough to act unsurprised by my declaration, and he wastes no time arguing with me.

“We have hurry before it’s too late,” he says, jumping down from the tree like it’s nothing. He sets his weapon aside and spreads his arms, motioning for me to jump down and join him. “Jump!”

I push off from the branch, sailing into open air and dropping like a rock. Ryder backs up a step to catch me in his arms with an oomph. He staggers back to avoid falling to his butt, and he sets me down carefully. Picking up his weapon, we race back the short distance to camp, where Reese is already busy getting everybody ready. Their weapons are out and they look to Ryder immediately.

“There’s no telling what we’re walking into, so we have to be on our guard. We assess the situation with impartial eyes. If the situation is too dangerous, we need to be prepared to retreat. Our mission is too important for us to jeopardize by stopping to risk our lives needlessly.” He looks at me as he finishes. “No heroics. If the situation is a lost cause, we abandon it, do you understand?”

I meet his gaze defiantly. “I’ll be the judge of if the situation is a lost cause or not.”

The screams continue as we run over the hills, closing in on where Ryder thinks they’re coming from. Our path takes us up and over the next hill, bringing us to a small restroom set back away from the highway—a rest stop.

The building has an unnaturally low, flat roof, and a red brick exterior. There’s a picnic table pushed against the side wall, and two young children have used it to climb up to the roof and out of harm’s way. A group of zombies crowds around them, stretching their arms up, scrabbling for anything live to sink their teeth into.

There are probably twenty zombies all waiting to take a bite out of these kids, and their moans sound like a symphony of death, long and drawn out, tirelessly repeating over and over again. The only thing louder is the screams of the children on the roof. They can’t be older than ten, and for some reason these children appear to be out on their own.

The only weapons they have are long, pointy spears that appear to be crudely fashioned from thick, lawn rake poles and hunting knives tied together with wire. They stab downwards at the zombies waiting hungrily below, but their hands are shaking so badly their aim is way off. They hit the shoulders and arms, but not the head. The zombies don’t seem to notice the attack, and they don’t back down.

Ryder points to a nearby wooden trash can and Reese takes off, climbing up with ease. He steadies himself and takes his first shot before the rest of us even reach the horde. A zombie reaching for one boy’s foot drops, missing part of his skull. Blood and bone fragments spray the wall of the restroom, looking thick like strawberry jam.

Ryder targets a half-decomposed zombie near the outside of the group. His boots crunch over the decorative gravel, and a couple zombies turn their focus to him and away from the boys. The first zombie reaches for Ryder with chipped, dirty fingernails, and Ryder slams his gun across the zombie’s head with a sickening crack. It drops to the ground, still and reeking of death.

One breaks away from his buddies and shuffles towards me, one gray eye unfocused and the other ripped from the socket, leaving nothing but blood and torn skin fragments behind. I bring my gun up, squeezing the trigger. The bullet tears through his remaining eye, bursting out the back of his skull. He drops to his knees, slumping forward with a crunch as he disturbs the gravel. I jump over his body, making my way over to the picnic table the boys used to get on the roof. Tucking my gun into its holster on my thigh, my boots thud against the wooden table and I press off, launching myself up into the air.

Hauling myself up onto the roof, the boys make room for me. They’re wide-eyed and shaking from head to toe. I put my arms around them, pulling them close. “Are you boys okay?”

They don’t answer, but I didn’t expect them to. They just huddle closer together, not much use to us or even themselves. For now, they’re relatively out of harm’s way, but my group is not. Inching to the edge of the low-hanging roof. I take aim at the nearest zombie—a woman reaching for my boots. I squeeze the trigger and her head naps back. She drops, dragging another zombie down with her.

One manages to wrap his hand around my ankle, yanking me off my feet. I hit the tin roof hard on my side, gasping as pain flares through my hip and ribs. The zombie continues to pull me closer and closer to the end of the roof. My gun is trapped down under my hip and I can’t get it free. My fingertips brush the butt of the gun, but before I can get a grip on it, I get yanked a little farther off the roof.

The zombies are scrambling for my legs, which are dangling in the open air above them. One’s nails tear into the fabric of my jeans, scraping against the skin. Frantically, I kick out with my free foot, trying to dislodge her grip on my pants. Her head is too low though, and my foot sails over her. She gives a yank, trying to drag me to the ground so she can tear me into pieces.

Something moves out of the corner of my eyes, and one of the makeshift spears flies past. It buries itself in her eye socket, and her grip on my leg slackens, freeing me. I scramble back onto the roof, breathing harshly. My chest rises and falls, sweat drips down my forehead and chest, and my stomach is in knots. I turn to find one of the boys holding his bloody spear, arms shaking.

He looks at me. “Are you okay?” he asks in a high, pre-pubescent voice.

I nod. It’s all I can manage. My mouth is paper dry and it feels like my tongue is numb and thick. I pat him on the head, incredibly grateful he chose that minute to break through his fear. He scoots back to his friend, who is staring at us both in awe.

I slide my gun out of the holster, checking to make sure there’s no damage to it. A quick scan shows the group is taking care of the small horde of zombies without my help. There’s only a couple left, and between Reese’s sniper skills and Ryder’s direction, the zombies go down one by one until there’s only one left. Before Ryder can bring his gun up, an arrow embeds itself through the zombie’s skull, dropping it like a rock at Ryder’s feet.

Ryder’s head snaps up, eyes zeroing in on a young woman standing beneath a tree nearby. She’s young, probably seventeen years old, maybe a little younger. She’s short—barely five feet tall—and petite and slim. Her hair is long and black, falling to her waist. The ends are dip-dyed fire-engine red, probably long before the end of the world since it seems to be fading out by now. Her eyes are a soft brown color, reminding me of warm almond butter. She’s definitely Asian, but I’m not sure which specific nationality she is and I’m ashamed to admit I don’t know how to tell the difference.

In her hands is a huge black compound bow, complete with a scope. It looks like it would be far too heavy for her to even lift, let alone pull back. She eyes us warily, like she can’t be certain who the bigger threat is—us or the zombies! She gives us a wide berth as she runs to the picnic table, hops up, and motions for the boys to join her. They crawl forward happily, throwing themselves at her. She holds them close, acting almost motherly.

She coaxes the boys down from the roof, slowly dragging their weapons behind them. She helps them down to the picnic table, ignoring me in the process. She doesn’t so much as look my way, choosing to focus more on these children she obviously knows and cares for.

I slide down from the rooftop and hop down into Ryder’s outstretched arms. He catches me effortlessly, like I weigh next to nothing, like he hadn’t been previously wounded and left almost helpless. He looks down at me, eyes full of worry. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I say breathlessly. “I’m okay for now, and so are those kids.” He sets me down and I feel strength start to return to my legs, my earlier fear almost forgotten. “I can’t believe there are still children left alive. I thought for sure they would all be long dead by now.”

We watch the two boys, who may actually be brothers now that I get a better look at them. They’re comforting each other, checking to make sure they’re both unharmed. We turn our attention to the strange girl who came out of nowhere. She’s busy staring at us, clearly sizing us up and determining whether or not we’re a threat to her and the boys in her care.

Finally, after a very tense minute that has Reese and Aaron shifting nervously, she walks over to us. She stops an arms length away. “Thank you for what you did for them.” Her voice is light and melodic, like a spoken song. “Not many people would go out of their ways to help strangers, especially these days.”

“It was no problem,” I say. “We were in the area, and we knew we had to do whatever we could to help out. I would hope someone would do the same for us if we ever needed help.”

“That’s…optimistic,” she says, clearly choosing a less offensive word for what she wanted to say.

“You don’t think there are still people who would stop to help out strangers?”

She eyes me strangely. “I didn’t until today.”

Silence stretches out between us, long and very uncomfortable. She extends her hand, and I take it, shaking it gingerly. “Tuyen. Like twin, but with an ‘e’ instead of an ‘I’. It’s Vietnamese, before you ask. Try and pronounce it right.”

“Sam,” I say. “Like ham, but with an ‘s’ instead of an ‘h’. It’s American, but you probably already knew that.”

She cracks a smile, lighting up her entire face. She doesn’t wear makeup—most of us don’t bother with it anymore—but she’s naturally beautiful even without it. The smile just makes it more obvious. She looks even younger, but she still manages to pull off the fearsome warrior routine. The way she stands—braced and ready—tells me she’s well adapted to this harsh, new world. Hell, she probably thrives off of it.

“Where are you guys heading?” she asks, turning to keep an eye on the boys nearby.

“To Montana to find a way to help stop all of this,” Madison says, coming up by my side. “There’s a place out there that may have found a cure, and we’re all going to help get it out there. There’s a chance we can stop all of this.”

Tuyen stares at us, and I get the feeling that she thinks we’re crazy. I guess I can’t blame her for thinking it. Looking around, things look pretty damn bleak, and hope hasn’t been high for quite some time. But there’s something else in her eyes other than disbelief: hesitation. She wants to believe, to hope for something better. But these long months have probably taught her not to get her hopes up.

“I know it sounds crazy—”

“It sounds batshit,” Tuyen says blandly.

“Truthfully, we don’t know what we’re gonna find when we make it out there, but we have to try. A cure for this could mean a chance for the human race to bounce back—a real chance. It could mean a fresh start.”

“Or it could mean your deaths,” she points out, as if we don’t already know. “You’re risking your lives over a pipe dream. Don’t be so foolish. Your group is crazy strong. It would be crazy to waste that. Put it to good use.”

“What better use is there than the fate of the world?”

She steps forward, closer to me, looking me right in the eyes. “Come with me. I have a secure place, not far from here. I have other children with me, not just these two. They’re too young to be the kind of useful I need. You guys could make a huge difference in our lives.”

“What kind of secure place?” Daisy asks, always hopeful for a new, permanent home. “We’ve been to “secure” places before,” she says, using air quotes. “They’re never secure in the end. Something always goes wrong.”

“It’s a restaurant, and it’s held up pretty well, all things considered. We’ve got two people on the roof at all times—usually me. The back parking lot is fenced in, which keeps them out for now. We have cars pushed together out front, creating a barrier for the part not fenced in.”

“How many people are with you?” Ryder asks.

“Counting me and these two, there are fourteen of us. I’m the oldest; the next after me is only thirteen. Then these two—eleven—and they get younger after that. The young ones aren’t much help.”

I’m dumbfounded.

“How did you manage to keep so many kids alive for so long?” Aaron asks, sounding overwhelmed. From what Madison has told me, I know Aaron was in charge of a lot of people, until tragedy struck. She told me he took their deaths hard, and I imagine there’s a bit of jealousy at the thought that a teenage civilian did a “better” job than a trained Specialist.

But I don’t voice that thought.

“It hasn’t been easy,” she says. A strange look comes over her, a shadow of grief that hasn’t healed yet. “We’ve lost a few people here and there. During supply runs, mostly. Somebody gets pinned down and we can’t get to them in time. But if your group was with us, we’d be so much better off. These kids might feel safe for the first time in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryder says. “Our trip is important to us. If we succeed, there might not be anything for you to fear ever again. We could change things at the source, not just do damage control.”

She looks like she still doesn’t understand how we can see things the way we do, and I can’t think of anything else to say to convince her otherwise. She sighs, choosing to give up on trying to recruit us. “How are you guys set for supplies? Do you need anything for your trip?”

Ryder and Aaron exchange quick glances. “Are you offering?” Aaron asks slowly.

“You saved two of mine. A few supplies is the least I can do.”

“We could always use more supplies,” Ryder says. “But I don’t want to take anything you might need from your group.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Tuyen says, dismissing his concerns. “Our restaurant came with a fully stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry. Since, you know, restaurants usually have food in them,” she says with a laugh. “The family that owned it had its own backup generator, so if the power ever went out, the food wouldn’t spoil. We make do; it’s mostly other things we need, like batteries for flashlights, warm clothes now that winter is coming, and things to help a bunch of kids pass the time.”

“Well, if you have supplies to spare, we certainly won’t turn them down,” I say. “If you’re sure you don’t need them too badly. Most of what we have is canned goods, which taste fine, but they’re so heavy and bulky and they take up too much room.”

“We have unopened boxes of granola bars, bags of trail mix, and plenty of candy bars, but I’m not sure you’ll get the kids to let go of them willingly,” Tuyen jokes.

“Do you have a ride there?” Madison asks.

“No,” she says firmly. “We always travel on foot. It’s quieter, and we can go without being seen. Plus we don’t have to forage for extra gas, just what we need for the generator. And that takes enough as it is. I always worry we’ll run out eventually and be left in the dark, with no food.”

“We can give you a ride back to your place,” Reese offers. “Those boys are in no shape to be traveling on foot. A nice, warm car ride will do wonders for them.”

Tuyen turns to the boys. “What do you guys think? Wanna ride back with them?”

The one boy looks at his feet and stays silent, but the other nods eagerly. The thought of having to walk home with zombies hot on your trail is not a pleasant one. This is one time that accepting car rides from strangers is a good thing. I’d take us up on the offer, too.

“Let’s get out of here before all of those gunshots attract another group,” Todd says, speaking for the first time. He’s eyeing a lone zombie off in the distance. It shuffles towards us, still a hundred yards away and closing the gap slowly. He’s no real threat to us, and we decide to just leave him be.

He’s not worth the bullet, I think.

Tuyen and the two boys follow us back to the road. It’s a tight fit in the vehicles, but we make it work. Madison sits in Todd’s lap, looking strangely at home there, while Reese takes over driving so I can sit in Ryder’s lap. They squeeze in around us.

Tuyen gives us directions, and in fifteen minutes, we end up in a run-down town full of roaming flesh-eating freaks. They have their faces pressed against the window, watching with morbid fascination at the monsters as we drive by. I wonder if they’ve ever really had a chance to observe and study them without fear of being eaten. It might actually seem pretty cool to an eleven year old boy.

Tuyen’s directions take us away from the main street that runs through town, and the zombie population begins to thin out a little. The roads are mostly clear, except for two zombies that Reese clips with the SUV. I feel the bump and shift in Ryder’s lap so I don’t come down on any sensitive parts next time I get jostled. Ryder flashes me a quick smile, and I can feel my face begin to heat up.

Strangely, this town seems to be in much better shape than a lot of the places we’ve been. There are dead bodies everywhere, but many of the buildings are still standing and in one piece. No fires, no explosions, no crumbling structures. It’s all still here. Maybe not as pretty as it was before, but this town still looks functional and ready to inhabit.

Tuyen’s restaurant is in pristine shape, looking mostly unscathed since the end of the world. It’s a two story building with a high roof. A small section of it is flat, and I notice a table with an umbrella, and a few chairs, serving as a lookout. There are two small shapes in the chairs, keeping guard while Tuyen was gone. The building’s windows are still intact, the doors remain on the hinges and aren’t splintered, and the roof hasn’t caved in yet.

We come to the barricade of cars, and Reese cuts the ignition. Tuyen is the first to exit the car so her people can see her and won’t feel threatened. When she signals to us, we climb out of the SUV, grab our backpacks, and follow her to the cars. Instead of pushing them out of the way to make room, she opens one of the car doors, slides across the back seat, opens the other side door, and exits.

Clever, I think, following her across the dusty, faded interior. Zombies won’t be able to open the doors, and it saves time from having to push all of these cars out of the way.

I hear the car door slam shut as the last person comes through, and we all trudge along after Tuyen. She leads us up to the front door, and it opens as we get to it, revealing a young girl—no more than six years old. She has long, curly blonde hair, large brown eyes, and a handful of peculiar freckles that coat her arms and neck, but none of her face.

She beams at Tuyen and hugs her tightly around the leg. Tuyen slings her bow across her back and picks up the little girl as if she weighs next to nothing—which she probably does in this environment. “This is Princess,” she says, turning toward us. “I found Princess hiding in a dumpster a couple of weeks after everything went to hell.”

“You said a naughty word,” Princess says, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Tuyen. “You shouldn’t use words like that.”

Tuyen sighs, but she’s still smiling and I get the impression this is a talk they’ve had many times. “I know it’s a naughty word. I’m sorry, Princess. Can you forgive me?”

Princess scrunches her chubby little face up, thinking really hard about whether or not she can forgive Tuyen. After a minute, she nods, blonde curls bouncing wildly. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” She sets Princess down and bows low from the waist, one arm crossed over her chest, hand on her heart.

Princess giggles and runs off, joining another group of children a little older than her. Tuyen stands and watches them for a minute, looking oddly at peace. “Why do you call her Princess?” Todd asks, frowning. “Should you be letting her live in some pretend playtime bullshit? Shouldn’t you be taking this more seriously? You shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of behavior, even if she is young.”

“It helps her cope. I don’t know what happened to her before I found her in that dumpster, but it was bad. She’s blocked it out and can’t remember anything—not even her name. Poor thing was half-starved and wild when I found her. She actually bit me once, and I was worried she had been infected or something.” Tuyen shows us a double crescent shaped scar near the thumb on her left hand. “But this ‘Princess’ stuff helps her feel safe and sane, so I’ll call her by that name as long as she wants me to.”

Todd makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. I’m worried he’ll insult our host, but Tuyen doesn’t seem too ruffled by his behavior. “What if something happens to you? What if this place gets overrun? She’ll be stuck in some fantasy realm where she gets to play around and be a pretty little princess. She won’t last long out there the way she is now.”

“She’s a child,” Tuyen says, her voice even and cool. “She deserves some peace and happiness. I won’t take that from her, even if it might be the logical thing to do. I don’t want these kids to grow up as monsters—cold and uncaring. I want them to be able to stop and see the good in the world, even if that good only exists in their own minds.”

I’m not so sure that allowing them to live that way is good for them, but they’re not under my care, and Tuyen seems pretty sure her way is best for them. So I don’t argue.

“Now, this way to the fridge and pantry,” she says, beckoning for us to follow her.

Todd still looks like he wants to argue with her about Princess—which isn’t surprising since he’s such a naturally pessimistic asshole who likes to argue with anyone about anything—but Madison elbows him in the side. He shuts up and follows along after her without another word. Tuyen leads us through the room, patting the head of a young boy as she walks by. The kids go back to playing their games and Tuyen closes the door firmly behind us.

I hear the click and stop.