––––––––
“Morning, Sunshine,” said Gus as I rolled over in the bed to face him.
I blinked my eyes, which were dry. “Hey.”
Gus had lit the oil lamp beside the bed, making it still feel like night time. With the windows boarded, it very well might have been.
“I need to go relieve Sam and take watch. Do you want to keep sleeping?”
I shook my head side-to-side. “I’ll get up with you. What time is it?”
“About two o’clock, still the middle of the night.”
I groaned.
He leaned down and kissed me on the neck. His kiss was hot against my skin and his several-day-shadow was surprisingly soft. He cupped one of my breasts in his hand and began exploring my flesh with the other. As badly as my body wanted to give in and enjoy his touch, my longing for Hope was stronger.
Sensing my hesitation, he stopped and looked into my eyes. No words needed to be said aloud. He knew instantly why I was unsettled. He simply nodded, kissed me sweetly on the lips, and rolled out of bed.
I hesitantly climbed out from under the covers, the cold making me instantly regret doing so. I walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer, which was heavy and filled with ammunition. “Christ,” I mumbled.
“What is it?”
“Bullets. A lot of them.”
He approached to see for himself.
“Fuck. That’s a lot of ammo.”
He pushed the heavy drawer back in and opened the next one down.
“Holy shit,” I said under my breath.
Inside the second drawer sat padded trays that looked similar to egg cartons, filled with grenades. Gus whistled inward.
“Looks like we came across the right group of people.”
“I hope so. The last few haven’t turned out so well.”
The next three drawers were much more benign, offering us exactly what we needed - fresh clothing. They smelled musty but were clean and dry. I found a pair of low-rise jeans that were a size too large so I used the drawstring from a pair of men’s exercise shorts as a belt. A purple v-neck t-shirt with a print of an old fashioned Mickey Mouse was the next best fitting thing I found, but it too was baggy on me. Gus was out of luck as everything but a pair of socks was too small for him. He pulled out a dark green hoodie and tossed it to me. I slipped it over my head and was glad for the warmth it would provide. The only socks were men’s, also too large for me, but once I pulled them up to my knees I managed to get my tennis shoes on and thought about how badly I was in need of a new pair of shoes.
“We’ll get you some the next time we come across ‘em,” said Gus as he snuffed out the wick of the oil lamp.
I smiled at him and we left the little bedroom together.
As soon as we were in the hallway and before I shut the door, Gus called out to Sam.
“Coming out.”
“Great,” he called back. “Come on into the dining room.”
We followed the dim glow from Sam’s lantern, turning the corner to the right. He was sitting at a small desk, cleaning a handgun.
“You can go sleep,” I said to Sam.
“Thanks guys. Let me just finish with this gun. The window to my right has a peep door. The glass is broken out, so try to keep it shut as much as you can. Keep an eye on the weather though. Looks like a storm is brewing.”
“Any issues while we slept?” asked Gus.
“Nah. Just some wind every now and then. And more ash. It’s the damnedest thing. We almost always have at least a few of the Dead wander through here. But it’s just...wind and ash. No signs of the Deads.”
“Okay, brother. Go get some sleep.”
Sam punched the clip into the pistol and stood. He left it on the desk, I assumed in case we needed it during the night.
“Sleep well,” I called out as he walked down the hallway.
He raised his hand and waved acknowledgement without looking back.
“Let’s settle in for a bit. Talk about our next steps.”
Wind howled outside, knocking something into the side of the house.
“What if the weather’s too bad to travel?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“We have to trust that Hoot’s taking care of her.”
The sound of thunder cracked in the distance, shaking the old farmhouse. Once it settled, a deep quiet fell around us. We walked together into the living room and sat on an old gray velveteen sofa. The cushions sagged and the backrest was too firm, but it felt good to be close to Gus. He wrapped a hand around mine and I leaned into him. The little house groaned and creaked as another gust of wind wrapped itself around the structure. A chill crawled up my spine; before it got to the nape of my neck Gus’ hand tightened around mine. I suddenly doubled over from intense and excruciating pain in my hip and abdomen. While I wanted to scream, intolerable buzzing in my head made it impossible. My eyes clenched shut and the world fell away from me. I was aware that Gus stood. Once he let go of my hand I was surrounded by darkness, hunger, and pain. Not just my own pain, but their pain as well. Their darkness. Their insatiable hunger. I could hear Gus and Sam talking loudly, but wasn’t sure what they were saying. There was another noise drowning their words, like a TV channel blaring static. Gus was trying to get into my head, and I fought hard to fight my way out of the virtual pit of despair that the dead created.
“Zoe, they’re surrounding the house. Do they know we’re in here?” my husband asked as he shook my shoulders.
I opened my eyes and looked through him. “They’re so hungry. But more than that, they’re in pain. There’s so many of them and they’re hurting each other.”
“Fuck,” he grumbled.
“We need to get the hell out of here!” shouted Sam.
“No, it’s too late. They’re everywhere,” I gasped as I stood, my legs shaky.
The intensity of the wind increased and the walls threatened to give way. A brief lull preceded a palpable change in air pressure that soon built into a shrill howl.
“The crawlspace! Back bedroom, now!” Sam shouted, fighting to be heard over the noise outside.
I didn’t question him. My heart pounding, I held onto his outstretched hand and followed him through the kitchen and down the hallway. I reached my other hand back until Gus found it. The agitation of the storm stirred dust long hidden within the walls, annoyingly surrounding us as it fell to the floor. I coughed as we fought to get to the bedroom. Living in the Pacific Northwest, our only real threat had ever been the big earthquake everyone said was overdue. Even so, I knew what was trying to claim our lives. It wasn’t the eruption of Mt. Rainier. It wasn’t the Roamers that surrounded us. It wasn’t the expected “big one” that was so overdue. At that moment my name may as well have been Dorothy, but I’d be damned if I was going to visit somewhere over the rainbow.
We rounded the corner and raced to the bedroom that was nearest the end of the hall. Sam had left his battery operated lantern behind while he was trying to sleep, and it now lay on its side on the floor. Sam broke his hold on my hand and rushed to pull back a tattered area rug that sat in the middle of the small room. The screaming outside grew louder, if that was possible. The outer walls of the house were being battered.
“Hurry! Get in!” yelled Sam as he pulled open a panel in the floor of the closet.
Long shadows from the tipped-over lantern made the opening in the floor appear warped. Going below the house was not something I wanted to do. I had no idea what was down there, how far down the bottom might be, or how secure it was from the dead. Sam lowered himself down the hole first.
“Zoe, quick,” Gus said to me calmly. He knew me well. He knew that panic would not go over well.
I crouched by the opening and hastily lowered my legs down. Sam’s arms received me and before I had a chance to catch my breath he pulled me away from the opening. The sound of the wind wailing changed to include glass breaking and wood splintering.
“Gus!” I screamed.
“He’ll make it down,” Sam yelled as he continued to drag me from the opening.
On cue, the crawlspace filled with light from the lantern that had moments before been on the floor above us. Gus’ hair was littered with dust and debris and blood poured down his face from a wound at his hairline.
“We’ve got to get away from the hatch!” screamed Sam.
The sound of the old farmhouse being ripped apart followed us as we ducked under beams and belly-crawled away from the opening in the floor. I balled my hands into fists and pushed myself forward as far as I could. Sam stopped, preventing me from gaining more than another foot of ground. Gus continued forward, covering my body with his own the best that he could. The weight of his body pressed me against the cold damp soil. I reached up and wrapped my hands around the back of my neck, trying to protect myself from anything that might fall on us. Time seemed to stand still as the horrific sounds of the tornado continued.
It all stopped as quickly as it had begun. Where floorboards had been moments before, cold water now rushed in at us. In the distance the growling of the tornado gradually faded.
“Gus?” I called out. I still felt him against me, clinging to me.
“I’m here. We need to move.” He sounded near panic.
“Sam? Sam, are you okay?” I called out.
“Not sure,” he called back. He sounded farther away than I recalled him being.
Gus pushed himself off of me. The pressure of his hands on my legs was uncomfortable.
“What does ‘not sure’ mean exactly, brother?”
“It’s my arm. I think it’s pinned.”
“Where’s the lantern?” I asked.
“Hell if I know,” grunted Gus.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“It was a fucking goddamned tornado. A tornado, in fucking Washington State!” replied Gus.
“Sam, can you tell what’s pinning you?” I asked.
I heard the man strain to free himself. “A beam, I’m guessing. This end of the room must have collapsed. Your end?”
“Gone,” said Gus.
“We need to get out of here,” I urged. Rain was falling heavily and cold water was pooling underneath me.
“I need to get past you, darlin’. I can’t help Sam from here.”
Gus, the crawlspace is starting to flood.
I didn’t want Sam to overhear, so did my best to relay the information silently. Gus didn’t answer.
“Did you hear me?” I asked aloud.
“No.”
“There’s a lot of water,” I said, trying to keep the alarm out of my voice.
“Hang tight. I think I feel the lantern.”
Light flickered and then suddenly surrounded us, indicating he had found it. Gus’ appearance was alarming. The blood that ran down his face as he first entered the crawlspace was now coated with dirt and grime. His hair was disheveled and his eyes full of grave concern. Whatever was going on inside his head, I wasn’t privy. The last time we had lacked connection I had been pregnant with Hope, and I was quite certain that was not the case now.
“It’d be awesome if you could hurry,” said Sam, starting to sound panicked.
“It feels like we have company nearby,” I said
“Zoe, talk to me,” urged Gus as he struggled to crawl past me.
“They’re scattered but starting to move toward us.”
I moved backward, trying to give Gus more room. He was so much bigger than me and debris blocked his way.
“This is as far as I can go,” Gus shouted. “Son of a fucking bitch! Sam, can you see what’s pinning you?”
“Barely, but the light helps. Right now there’s a shit load of mud pooling by my left shoulder. My right hand’s caught under a collapsed beam. If I could roll that direction I think I could get it free. There’s no goddamn fucking room to even rotate.”
“I can’t reach him,” grumbled Gus through gritted teeth as he attempted to move aside collapsed flooring that blocked his way.
“You guys need to get out of here while you can,” called out Sam. He was clearly in pain.
“Gus, let me squeeze through. Before it’s too late,” I said.
As he began to back up, I slithered by him. The flooding was worsening and I could feel the chill trying its best to slow me down.
“Hand me the light!” I urged. The situation was quickly turning beyond dangerous.
I reached back until I felt the plastic casing of the lantern. My fingers gripped the edge of the base; it had broken and painfully sliced my right index finger open. I winced, but didn’t waste time in inspecting the wound.
“I’m almost there, Sam,” I grunted as I forced myself farther under the collapsed floor.
Sam’s feet were bare and coated in mud. He was twisted at the waist and struggling to free himself.
“If you can’t get me out, head east,” he grunted.
“We’ll get you,” I said sternly as I reached his side.
He ignored what I said. “There’s an old root cellar built into the hillside. We have emergency packs in there. It’s next to the ruins of an old smoke stack. Hard to miss.”
“Lay on your back,” I said. “I can’t see your hand.”
He flattened himself the best he could. His forehead was inches from a collapsed beam and the back of his head was surrounded with the sludge that was steadily rising. I wedged my torso across his and finally found his hand. It was pinned from the wrist to the ends of his fingers; only his pinky remained exposed. Blood pooled around his flesh.
“What a stupid fucking way to die,” he grumbled.
“Shut up. You’re not gonna die.”
I wedged my own hands under the collapsed wood and concrete that pinned him down. Lacking space, I barely managed to get my fingertips under the edge.
“Seriously, though. A fucking stuck hand?”
“Sam, shut up. I can’t get my hands under this crap. Can you wiggle your hand at all?”
I watched as his pinky flinched.
“Not really.”
“Zoe, we need to hurry,” urged Gus.
“I need to try to dig underneath his hand,” I called back to him. “I need a knife or something.”
“Don’t cut it off,” pleaded Sam.
I nearly choked. “I don’t intend to. I just need to loosen the dirt underneath so you can slide it out. Gus?” I called out. “A knife would be awesome right now. Or even a freaking spoon!”
“Hold up, darlin’! Both of you keep quiet. We have company.”
A chill ran up my spine. I still couldn’t fully sense the creature that was approaching. I didn’t know if it was one or more. I couldn’t tell if it knew we were there. I struggled to turn from my already awkward position. The movement caused Sam to cry out harshly.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
I looked back and watched as Gus pulled himself up through the opening in the ruined floor. The light from the lantern flickered as if the battery was struggling. The sound of rain continued to hammer down and the flow of sludge beneath us intensified. I knew that if I turned back to help Gus, Sam would drown.
“Go with him,” Sam said through clenched teeth. I turned my head back to look at him and saw the pain on his face as his muscles tensed under the effort to free himself.
“I told you to shut up,” I replied, irritated. “We’re on our own for now, and so is Gus.”
“My left back pocket. My pocket knife might still be there.”
I inched over until my hand found his waist. It was impossible to see since his body was half submerged. Faintly, I could sense Gus’ worry. He was afraid, but it was more than that. I frantically felt under the cold dirty water, searching for Sam’s blade.
“It’s not there, Sam!”
“You need to go,” he spat. I looked at his face.
The waterline was close to his mouth I knew he was right, that I should go, but found myself unable to leave his side.
“Fuck it,” I muttered as I stretched my body across his again.
Positioning was awkward. I needed both of my hands free, which meant putting all of my body weight on Sam. He was already having a hard time breathing.
“This is gonna hurt.”
“It’s useless. Just get your asses to the root cellar.”
I ignored him and reached for his injured arm.
“Don’t hurt me, Sam,” I said through clenched teeth.
I wrapped both hands around the far end of his arm, where the flooring trapped him. He flinched beneath me, realizing what I was about to do. I dug my knees into the ground the best I could, but had such little room above me with which to work. I managed to lace my middle and index fingers together and pulled hard.
“Nooooooo!”
Sam’s scream was earsplitting. It was followed by a half groaning, half crying. I felt his wrist cracking and crumbling beneath my hands. Knowing I wasn’t strong enough to break bones in this situation, I could only assume it had broken during the floor’s collapse.
“Stop!” he pleaded.
“It’s the only way. You’ll die if I stop,” I shouted.
I pulled again, pausing only when his other hand met my side painfully. His fingers dug into my flesh, but the pain didn’t stop me from pulling even harder.
“Zoe!” shouted Gus. “You have to get out of there!”
I took a deep breath, shoved a knee into Sam’s side, and pulled one last time. The resulting scream shook me to my core. I hit my head on a beam when his hand at last came free.
“Sam, move!” I ordered. “I don’t care how much your hand hurts, move now!”
My side ached horribly where his hand had squeezed me, and the bite wound on my butt was throbbing. My head hurt and sparkles of light littered my vision.
I backed up, only slowing to make sure Sam was following me. The crawlspace was even tighter for him and he was hindered by being one-handed and in agony. Mud made the way slippery and getting to the exit seemed to take an eternity. Eventually Gus’ hands found me and with his help I emerged from the wet and cramped space.
The first rays of light were shining in the east and Gus was covered in blood.
“It’s okay. It’s a Roamer’s, not mine,” he assured me quickly.
I nodded. “Sam’s gonna need help. His wrist is broken.”
Our voices seemed to echo in the eerie stillness that was left behind by nature.
“I’m on it,” he said.
I watched the horizon as Gus leaned down and grabbed Sam under his good arm. Gus strained as he pulled Sam topside.
“The root cellar,” he huffed, out of breath.
“Gus, we have to head east. Sam said there’s a root cellar built into the side of a hill with an emergency stash.”
“Can you walk, brother?” Gus asked, looking intently at Sam. “You look like you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
“Zo, we need to make a sling for his arm,” Gus said.
The three of us looked at each other. None of us had been prepared to suddenly flee outside. We didn’t have much time, so I slipped out of my muddy hoodie and used Gus’ knife to slice the elastic section from the bottom of the sweatshirt.
“This’ll have to do,” I said as I reached up and hung the makeshift loop across his torso and helped lift his injured wrist into the other end. Sam looked pale and was breathing hard. I dropped the remainder of the wet shirt to the ground.
“Let’s go,” said Gus.
We set off in the direction of the rising sun. It was still too dark to make out much of the landscape, but we skirted around a fallen Roamer. Gus’ handiwork, I was sure. By the time we reached the ruins of the smoke stack, Sam had slowed considerably and his pallor had worsened. Gus supported him as we continued east.