Chapter Four

Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Ryder and Aaron suddenly go tense. Tuyen catches our behavior as well and smiles. “Don’t worry, I have to keep this area locked up because the kids like to try and get in here to snack. If I let them take what they want, we’d run out of food for sure. So I always lock it. Nothing to be worried about.”

She sounds honest and sincere, but there’s no telling if she’s trustworthy or not. You can’t be too careful these days. There might be madness lurking beneath that sincere face, and it might be too late to take caution.

“Stay close to me,” Ryder whispers, his breath hot on my ear from how close he is. He makes sure his words don’t carry—they’re for my ears and my ears alone. And I take them to heart.

I sidle closer to Ryder, feeling my arm brush against his. I take comfort in the warmth and closeness he offers. My hand drifts down until it’s resting against the grip of my gun, and I notice the others move their weapons closer so they’re ready to use if we’ve misjudged Tuyen and this is some kind of trap. Aaron and Todd even move Daisy between them and out of potential harm’s way.

If Tuyen spots our preparations, she shows no signs of it. She just takes us back through the kitchen—which I notice is full of potential weapons ranging from knives to heavy frying pans. If a zombie ever were to get in here, it probably wouldn’t last long against Tuyen. Anyone able to keep so many kids alive for so long has to be a capable fighter.

But pit it against any of the other children here and they would be in trouble for sure. None of those kids would last an hour without their protector, and Tuyen shields them from the harsh truth. They’re moderately happy in this place, and they probably don’t have any real understanding of what’s waiting for them out there. If they did, they wouldn’t be running around playing jump rope and tag.

Finally we come to the pantry. Tuyen shoulders the door open, allowing us to pass by. The pantry is a decent size, but the owners really utilized their available space by lining all three walls with several rows of shelves. A couple of the bottom shelves are bare, but the rest of them look decently stocked with all kinds of goods.

I see various canned goods lining the shelves. There are cans of chicken and tuna, various kinds of soup, fruits, and vegetables, along with cans of condensed milk and even tomato paste. I grab one of those tiny cans and examine the label, surprised to find it included here now. “It turns out tomato paste is actually really high in antioxidants, and it doesn’t taste too bad if you add it to a pack of ramen noodles or something. It’s just like spaghetti, really,” Tuyen says, though I get the feeling she’s not much of a fan herself.

The next shelves hold jars of unopened peanut butter and jelly, which I’m sure won’t last forever, but since they’re still sealed they’re definitely better than nothing. Sleeves of crackers are paired with them, along with boxes of jell-o mix, instant oatmeal, packages of ramen noodles and boxes of macaroni and cheese. The next shelves are full of packages of dried fruits, nuts, and bags of trail mix. A few scattered candy bars fill in the rest of the space. All in all, there’s tons of food here, but it’s mostly stuff we’ve already seen, and we can’t afford to bring anymore cans with us.

“You have a lot of food,” Reese says, eyeing it all appreciatively. “There are certainly enough cans here to feed you all through the winter.”

“We ate the food out of the fridge first, since it was the most likely to spoil. When I got here, the power was still on so the fridges were still running. The milk and fruit had already gone rotten, but there was still juice, packaged meats, and cheese blocks. I picked the mold off the cheese, and ate the meats. If the power ever goes out, the freezer stuff should stay cold for a couple of days if the doors aren’t constantly being opened. The pantry stuff is mostly in the event of an emergency, like if the generators ever stop.”

“So you’re planning for an emergency within an emergency,” Madison says approvingly.

“That’s smart,” Aaron adds, looking around. “I can’t imagine how much power the fridge and freezer must take, add that to the lights…it must take a lot of gas to keep this place running.”

“You have no idea. I’m constantly out looking for more, siphoning it from anywhere I can. All of the vehicles in this neighborhood have been drained, and I’ve already moved on to the surrounding ones. Each trip takes me farther and farther away from this place, and I worry that it might be the one time I don’t come back to my kids. I don’t know what we’ll do during the winter.”

“I wish we could help with the gas problem, but there’s no conceivable way to carry as much as you would need to last you guys until spring comes. You would need probably hundreds of gallons of it, maybe more. How many gallons can you carry at a time while on foot?”

“Not many,” she admits. “We use it just as fast as we get it.”

“I thought most industrial generators ran on natural gas,” Aaron comments.

“Well, this isn’t like a chain restaurant or something,” Tuyen says, sounding uncertain. “It’s like a mom and pop type place, and it isn’t all that big. Just the ground floor restaurant and the upstairs living quarters, where the family that owned it probably stayed. A smaller, gas powered backup generator probably worked just fine for them. But enough about my generator problems.” Tuyen waves her hand toward the stocked shelves. “You’re free to help yourself since you helped me. Take whatever you want.”

“That’s a very generous offer,” Reese says. “Thank you. We’ll put this food to good use.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she says, eyeing Ryder as he grabs a few bags of trail mix and stuffs them in a plastic bag he found on the floor.

I go straight for the dried fruit, grabbing a few bags of cherries, apples, and strawberries. Fruit is such a nice surprise these days, and I can’t let this opportunity pass me by. It’s almost better than ice cream after the mediocre stuff I’ve been forced to eat to survive in the past. Before we found the MRE’s, it was mostly cold, canned goods that all began to taste the same toward the end.

Reese grabs a few packs of ramen noodles. “We can boil some water when we find a safe place to bunk for the night. Shouldn’t be too hard to find an old pot in some house somewhere. It’s not like most people would think to bring their kitchen appliances.”

Ryder grunts in agreement and grabs a jar of peanut butter. Checking to make sure the seal is unbroken, he drops it into the bag. He eyes a few unopened cans of V8 juice with distaste. “Think it’s still good?” he asks me. “Might be worth the extra weight to bring those with us. We can’t live on peanuts and spaghetti-o’s forever. Sooner or later we’re gonna get hit with a severe vitamin deficiency.”

“That’s not exactly high up on my list of thing to worry about,” Reese says. “I’m much more concerned about dying from zombies or getting shot or something. Vitamin deficiency seems pretty tame in comparison,” Reese says dryly.

“Just because it’s not as big a threat doesn’t mean we can’t still worry about,” Madison says. “But I don’t think these things have an infinite shelf life. Better check for a use by date.”

I reach for one of the cans. “If it’s unopened, it shouldn’t really matter, right? It’s not like any bacteria can get in. just shake it up a little and use it fast once it’s been opened.”

“I’m not sure we should risk it,” Aaron says. “If one of us gets sick, it will really hamper our progress. And there’s no telling if we’ll be able to find the antibiotics to cure it. Something as small as food poisoning might be fatal these days,” he wisely points out.

“The date on the bottom is three months from now,” I say. “It’s probably fine.”

“But it might not have been stored properly. Better safe than sorry,” Ryder says with a sigh. Ignoring the tempting cans of V8 juice, he moves on to the unopened boxes of instant oatmeal. He rips open the box and takes the much smaller and thinner packets and shoves them into the bulging plastic bag. “All we have to do is boil a little water and voilà! Mush.”

“Decent tasting mush,” I say with a smile. “Better than nothing.”

He shrugs. “But compared to the MRE’s this mush isn’t going to taste all that great. We’re used to hot, tasty food.”

“We’ll manage,” Aaron says. He and Madison are looking over the various cans that line the shelf. Todd lingers by the doorway with Naomi, guarding Daisy in case anything unexpected happens. I see Madison grab a sleeve of salted crackers, careful to tuck them into the bag so they don’t’ get smashed to pieces.

I put my hand on Ryder’s shoulder as he reaches for a can of soup. “I think we have enough,” I say quietly. “Tuyen has been gracious enough to help us, but we shouldn’t take too much. They still need to live off of what’s left.”

“Sam,” Ryder says in that tone of voice that tells me he’s about to try and explain his point of view and why I should see it his way. “When was the last time you saw this much food in one place? We might not ever get an opportunity like this again. We should take full advantage of it.”

“But what about the kids left here? They need to eat too, Ryder.”

“So do we,” he argues gently. “I know you have a soft heart, but sometimes you have to stop worrying about others and take care of yourself first.”

“So you’d let children starve?”

He groans, managing to sound both annoyed and amused. “It’s not like I enjoy watching people starve, children especially. But you do what you have to do in order to survive in this world. Look at it this way—I’m not taking food to starve these people, I’m taking food to keep the people I love from starving.”

“But people could still starve in the process,” I say stubbornly. “We have plenty of food.”

“There is no such thing these days!” Ryder snaps, turning on me.

So far our hushed, heated conversation has only drawn a couple of curious glances, but Ryder’s outburst catches the attention of everyone in the pantry. He sighs, eyes pleading with me to drop it for now. He knows I won’t let it go for good, but he’s hoping I won’t force him to do this with an audience.

And I won’t.

Averting my eyes from him, I head over to stand in the corner with Madison. Her eyes narrow just a fraction as she studies me, like she’s looking for any indication of what just happened. Refusing to meet her questioning gaze, I focus on Ryder. Judging from the tense set of his shoulders and the fact that he hasn’t moved yet, I can tell he’s at war with himself.

With a sigh, he puts the can of soup back on the shelf. “I think we’re good,” he says, turning to Reese and Aaron. “This should help us out quite a bit. We’ll have no problems getting to Montana now.” He turns to Tuyen, who has been watching us all like a hawk. “Thank you.” He offers her his hand, which she takes and shakes gingerly.

“You’re welcome. We all have to do what we can to help each other survive. Nobody left behind and all that jazz,” she says.

Ryder turns to me, but I glance away, crossing my arms over my chest to let him know I’m unhappy. It may be childish, but even though he listened to me and put the soup back, I’m still a little pissed off at his attitude regarding other survivors. I understand that he will always put us first, but that doesn’t mean he has to harm others in the process.

Sometimes his intense desire to survive and his willingness to do anything to make it happen is a little frightening, I think to myself. He’s capable of some o the softest behavior from time to time, but on the flip side, he’s also capable of such indifference and even cruelty.

I’m not sure how his willingness to risk letting a group of children starve will affect how I see him. I should be outright repulsed, but deep down, it may actually make me love him even more than I already do. It tells me that he will do literally anything in this world to make sure the people he loves survive. Nothing will ever be more important to him.

And I know that losing the last group of people he was responsible for only hardened his resolve to stay alive—if only so he can keep us safe, too.

“We should probably get back on the road. We still have a ways to go and a few hours before dark,” Reese says. “Thank you again for the food. I wish there was something we could do in return.”

“There actually might be,” Tuyen says thoughtfully as she leads us out of the pantry. She stops to quickly lock the door, putting her back to us. “I wouldn’t normally ask this, but I’m kind of desperate and you people seem like you have good judgment. Can you do me a favor?” she asks, turning to face us again.

Ryder tenses, as if preparing himself for when she asks to use us as human sacrifices. But Reese looks more open to the idea of helping, which I’m grateful for. “Anything,” Reese says honestly. If there’s a way he can help, he will.

“If you guys come across any other survivors while you’re out there on the road, will you send them back my way? I need all the help I can get. But only if you think they’re trustworthy!” she says quickly.

“You’d let complete stranger in?” Aaron asks, as if he can’t believe she would be stupid enough to do that. “Aren’t you worried about what they might do? To you or your kids?”

“Of course I am!” she snaps. “But we won’t make it here alone. I need help gathering fuel and protecting this place. Against my better judgment, I’m trusting yours. If you think they’re safe, send them back this way if they’re willing. I don’t have much of a choice,” she says.

Reese nods. “I understand.”

“Thank you so much,” Tuyen says. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it. If we meet anyone on the road, Ryder and I can assess them. If they’re trustworthy, we’ll let them know you’re taking people in.”

She smiles gratefully at Reese, but then turns her attention to me. “To be honest, I’m not sure how reliable this cure information you have is, but for all our sakes, I hope it pans out for you.”

“Me, too.”

“Stay safe while you’re out there trying to save the world. If things go wrong or don’t work out like you want them to, you’re all welcome to come back and stay.”

“Thank you,” I say, touched by her well-wishes and helpfulness. This is why I still believe in helping people, even if Ryder doesn’t. Even after seeing the worst this world has to offer, I know not everyone is like Frank. There’s still good worth saving, and I intend to save as many people as I can.

And this cure is going to save a lot of people.

If it even works…

The look of doubt on Tuyen’s face won’t leave the back of my mind. Is she right to doubt us? I can’t keep those doubts and fears away as she leads us back through the dark restaurant. Maybe it would be best to just stay here and help the people we can for sure.

It isn’t until I see all those kids running around, screaming and chasing one another—having fun—that those doubts clear. There may be other children out there, just like these ones, and we have to help them as well. Not just a handful here or there. This cure is about helping the big picture, making it so no more children have to die like so many before them. If we can spare even one child that horrid fate…

Tuyen stops at the door, and I get the feeling that se doesn’t want to let us go. I can’t imagine how it must feel to be in her place, with all of these little kids depending on her and nobody to help. It must be a nightmare to be in charge of someone else’s safety and well-being.

Just ask Ryder what it’s like…

Ryder knows all too well what that pressure is like. He knows the pain of losing someone, along with the guilt that comes with it. Now here he is with a new group—in charge once again—and he gets to worry about each of us. Any of us is just another zombie waiting, and I’m not sure if the Ryder I know could put a bullet through his baby brother’s head, or even mine.

It would break him…

The door closes behind us, and I hope with everything I still have left in me that Tuyen and her kids will be okay.

Ryder moves closer to me, and I lean in to him. Moving away just seems like a childish, petty thing to do. And even though he’s being an uncaring, morbid dick at the moment, it doesn’t change all the good he’s done for us, or the fact that I love him. So instead of pulling away and starting a fight, I keep my mouth shut and try to put myself in his shoes.

We climb to the barricade of cars. Ryder follows me through, after handing the bag off to me. I hand it over to Reese, and he rushes off so we can get out of here before dark.

Reese and Aaron make room in the back for our bag of new supplies. The crinkle of the plastic bag makes me wince, but it can’t be helped. The noise isn’t too loud, and we’ll already most likely be making noise ourselves. A tiny rustling won’t get us noticed any more than anything else will.

Daisy stares at the restaurant as we all start to pile into our designated vehicles. Coming up beside her, I nudge her arm. “What’s wrong?”

She jumps as if she didn’t even notice me standing next to her. “Oh,” she squeaks. “I didn’t see you. What?”

“I said, ‘What’s wrong?’ Are you okay?”

“I’ll be alright. I just really miss children,” she says. She raises her hand and waves with a smile on her face. Looking up, I spot Princess waving from one of the ground floor windows. Daisy and I both wave back until Princess disappears from the window, probably to go back to bossing around some of the other kids, just like any princess would.

For a minute after she leaves, I remain rooted to the spot, staring at the restaurant. As I watch, Tuyen climbs out a window and on to the roof. She takes a seat at the table beneath the umbrella with a rifle in her lap. She nods at me, and I nod back.

Ryder honks and I turn away. I slide into the back seat with Naomi, leaving Reese to sit up front with his brother. As Ryder pulls away from the barricade of cars, I turn in my seat and dig out a pack of cards from the console between Ryder and Reese.

Naomi eagerly faces me. “Thank God!” she says happily. “Reese is a stick in the mud and won’t play with me anymore.”

I laugh. “What’s the matter Reese? Afraid you’ll lose to a girl?”

He laughs. “No, I’m afraid she’d laugh at me when we finished though.” He looks over his shoulder and waggles his eyebrows. “Naomi only likes to play strip poker.”

I feel my cheeks begin to flush. Ryder is the only person who has seen me naked—or any version of it—and I don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing what he has. My body is for his eyes only.

“Don’t worry,” Naomi says with a laugh. “I won’t make you play, prude. Especially in the car. We can stick with war. Todd taught me how to play.”

I smile and begin to shuffle the cards. Naomi’s brown doe eyes watch my hands like a hawk, ensuring that I don’t cheat. Not that I would even if I thought I could get away with it. As we settle into our game, Ryder maneuvers us through the city while Reese navigates. In no time, we find the interstate again, and we continue heading north towards Sioux Falls.

Ryder isn’t so sure about heading toward the most populated city in the whole state, but Reese points out that leaving the interstate probably isn’t a very good idea. He says we’re more likely to run into a road block on some back road than we are on the interstate.

Ryder isn’t too happy about it, but he can’t argue with Reese’s logic. A road block would just make us have to stop and double back, wasting precious time and gas, which we definitely don’t have. So he keeps his mouth shut and keeps going down the interstate.

*****

A couple of hours later, after stopping to siphon more gas from a parking lot full of abandoned cars, we leave the Interstate and pull into a motel for the night. It’s just starting to get dark, leaving us enough light to clear the place of zombies and check for other survivors, and unload all of our supplies. We don’t dare leave them in the back of our vehicles—we learned that the hard way once before.

Ryder stays with Daisy, Naomi, and Aaron to oversee unloading the vehicles. He stands guard atop the truck, rifle in hand, his trained eyes seeing everything around us. Todd, Madison, Reese, and I are tasked with searching the motel for supplies, along with anything living or dead. Surprisingly, Reese pairs himself up with Madison, and the two head up to the upper level of the motel to begin. That leaves me and Todd, and he doesn’t look too thrilled about it.

He stares after Madison longingly, which I assume is the exact reason Reese paired us up the way he did. He was probably worried they would distract each other, and distractions get people killed.

He sighs and turns to me, looking much less annoyed than before. “Let’s get this done.”

“Stay close,” I say, taking the lead. Honestly, though my skills with a gun have improved greatly under Ryder’s tutelage, I’m not really fit to take command of most situations. But neither is Todd, really. He isn’t awful with his weapon, but he’s very impatient and likely to walk head-first into a situation without assessing it first. Especially if his thoughts are on Madison and not the task at hand.

He follows along beside me, hanging back just a bit by my shoulder, eyes scanning the parking lot for any sign of movement. I can hear Madison and Reese moving around up above us, and I try to cancel out the sound of their footsteps and focus on the room in front of us. There’s a bronze number seven hanging on the door. There’s a window on either side of the door, but the curtains are drawn so we can’t see in without opening the door.

Todd and I check our weapons, making sure they’re loaded and the safety is off. I test the doorknob—it’s unlocked. Pushing the door open, I bring my gun up, ready for anything that might jump out at me. My first steps into the dark room are slow and tentative. Todd follows closely behind me.

Stepping to the side, I draw back the ugly beige flowered curtains on one window while Todd gets the other. Light floods the room, allowing us to see how empty it is. There’s nothing but a bed, a TV stand with a small TV, and a bedside table with a couple of drawers.

The bathroom door is ajar, and a quick peek inside shows nobody—living or dead. Holstering my weapon, I pry open the medicine cabinet above the sink. There’s half a box of band-aids that I empty into my coat pocket, along with a pair of nail clippers and an old, used razor. I leave those and the nail clippers behind, and close the bathroom door shut behind me.

Todd is emptying the contents of the bedside table onto the bed. A bible drops out, along with scattered papers, a box of matches, and an old pocket knife. Todd grabs the matches and the pocket knife, slipping them into the pocket of his jeans. He leaves the bible on the bed without a second glance.

We make our way out the door and move on to the next one. We find nothing in the next one, or the ones after it. In one, we find a rotting corpse that is missing most of their lower face, probably from a self-inflicted gunshot through their mouth. The jagged chunk of missing flesh on his calf tells me why he most likely killed himself.

The second we open the door, the smell hits us, as if we had just stepped into a landfill in the middle of a Texas July. It’s overwhelming and all encompassing, suffocating and choking us. I can practically taste it in the back of my throat, and it forces me to gag harshly. Bending over with my hands on my knees, I force myself to take slow, deep breaths through the mouth instead of the nose. We need to search this room for any supplies, but I can’t get past my sensitive gag reflex.

Slow breaths don’t help much, and I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat. I turn and run from the room before I puke, gasping for the sweet, fresh air. Todd pulls the door shut firmly behind him. “This is pointless. We’re not going to find anything useful.”

“We’re almost done,” I say, spotting Madison and Reese on the walkway above us. “Let’s just speed through this last one and then we can grab something to eat and get some much needed rest. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

We come to the final door on the ground floor. The word “office” hangs on the door in bronze letters. The door is ajar, and I nudge it open with the toe of my boot. It creaks, alerting anything inside to our presence. We wait for a second, listening for signs of any movement within. When nothing comes to greet us, we step carefully into the room.

Light spills in from the one tiny window in the corner of the room, highlighting a wooden desk with an overturned office chair. Papers are scattered all over the floor like a blanket of snow, and they crinkle under our steps. Immediately, we check all four corners of the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

I kick some books to the side and freeze when something thumps off to our left. Todd halts beside me. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” I breathe quietly. “But it came from over there,” I say, jerking my hand over to our other side. There’s a door nearby that is closed. It probably leads to a private bathroom for the manager to use late at night.

“The door is closed,” Todd says.

“So?”

“Zombies can’t open doors. Let’s just leave it and go on to the next room. It can’t harm us. Somebody probably locked it in there.”

“And what if it’s another survivor?” I ask. “We can’t just walk away. It could be a kid.”

“And it could be a serial killer,” he whispers fiercely.

“All the more reason to check. If we leave them in there, they could sneak out later and steal our truck, or they could kill us for our supplies. You guys have experience with bandits,” I point out. “You want to risk letting Madison get taken?”

His jaw sets firmly. “I’m not gonna be the first one through that door. Be my guest.”

Rolling my eyes, I edge closer to the door. My gun is at the ready, and I double check to make sure it’s ready to fire. Todd comes up beside me, standing off to one side. His hand is on the knob, and when he yanks that door open, he’ll be safely hidden behind it while I’m waiting to take care of whatever lurks inside this bathroom.

He lifts an eyebrow and I nod. He wrenches the door open. A blur rushes at my head and I scream, dropping to the ground instinctively. The bird shoots overhead, beating my head with its wings. It caws angrily, and Todd rushes forward, trying to swat it away before it can do any real damage to my face or eyes with its beak or talons.

They rip into my skin, tearing through the flesh easily. The bird isn’t huge, but it isn’t a hummingbird either. It’s all back like a crow, with razor sharp claws. I drop my gun and use my arms to try and protect my face as the burning pain continues. Its beak digs into my forearms, tearing through the skin like butter. I can feel blood dripping down my arm, hot and sticky. I shouldn’t have rolled up my sleeves while searching these rooms.

Something slams into the bird, sending it flying across the room. It hits the desk with an angry caw. Glancing up through my arms, I see Todd towering over me with a thick book in his hands. His eyes are wide and he looks at a loss for words, like he can’t believe what just happened.

The crow caws again, and I spin around, waiting for another attack. Todd steps in front of me. The crow studies us with a black, beady eye. He hops to the edge of the table, opens his beak, and caws shrilly again. Todd lobs the book across the room. The book clips the crow, and it takes to the air, flying back into the bathroom and out an open window, disappearing into the night.

Todd and I are both breathing harshly. He looks over at me. I’m leaning against the desk, hunched over and struggling to calm my racing heart. Blood trickles down my cheeks and neck, along with several tiny incisions on my arms. My hands are shaking at what just happened, and I can’t get them to stop. Even though the attack is over as fast as it started, my mind is still struggling to process what just happened.

I slump to the ground, and Todd crouches down to my level, concern written all over his face. “This is not good. There’s no telling what that bird had on its claws. We need to get those scratches cleaned and bandaged. Until they heal, you have to be extra careful. Any zombie blood that gets in the wounds could turn you.”

I sigh, finally regaining my voice. “There’s a first aid kit in the truck. Daisy can patch me up.”

Todd offers me his hand and I take it. He pulls me up to my feet, holding on just long enough to make sure I don’t collapse. When he’s convinced I won’t freak out or fall over, he picks up our weapons and takes the lead. I follow along behind him meekly. As I shuffle along behind him, my thoughts are running wild.

These scratches could be disastrous. Zombie blood isn’t the only thing I have to worry about. Even a plain old blood infection could be the end of me. There aren’t any doctors around to prescribe antibiotics. I’ll have to make do with Neosporin and a bandage, and that might not be enough. Will it even keep out zombie blood? Or will I be forced to go back to the useless, helpless girl I was before? Will I have to stand off to one side and watch all my friends and family do my fighting for me?