Apocalypse Asunder (27 page)

Jessica rose cautiously and backed a few steps from the table; one hand on her beans and the other on the forty-five.  “I’m in the same boat as you.” she said levelly.  “I’ve got to do what’s best for my daughter, and as I’ve said several times people just haven’t shown me a lot of reason to be trusting.”

“That’s a hell of a way to go through life.”

“Better than . . . you’re being a real . . . stop making this hard.” Jessica said, struggling to remain calm and patient, and avoid her impulse toward swearing.  “It’s not like food is just so easy to give out these days, and that’s two meals I’ve shared with you now.”

“Look.” Catherine said, clearly struggling to reach for a more normal tone and demeanor.  “Four is safer than two.  And two adults is safer than one.  We can work together, divide the labor.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t?”

“Jesus!” Jessica blurted.  “You’ve been hiding in the woods or whatever.  You can’t find food.  You can’t defend yourselves.  How exactly do you think you’ll be able to help us?”

Catherine burst into tears.  Jessica sighed and took her hand off her gun.  What heat there was that’d made it into her beans was cooling while she coddled this useless woman.  She managed to down two more spoonfuls before Catherine was able to speak around her sobbing.

“It’s been hard.” she cried.  “It’s not like I was ready for something like this to happen.”

“No one was.” Jessica agreed as gently as she could manage.  “You just have to do the best you can.  To adapt and do what needs doing.”

“How?”

“Oh man.” Jessica said.  She tried – she really tried – but she rolled her eyes at that.  “Look, you need to arm yourself.  At least find a bat or something, so you have a chance.  So you don’t have to always run.  Houses, small stores, places like that are where you should be able to find some food.  Find somewhere that doesn’t have a lot of zombies roaming around and secure it.  Like I told you last night.”

“How do I do all that alone?”

“If the alternative is starving to death, or worse, then you just do it.”

“I’m still hungry.” Todd said abruptly.

“That spinach is for you two.” Jessica said, nodding at the last can in the middle of the table.  Candice was sitting back with her beans, and the peas were in front of her on her side of the table.  The boy’s face wrinkled at the mention of spinach, but he reached across the table for the can even so.  “Lots of good nutrition in spinach.”

“What if you gave us a lift to the next town or something?” Catherine pressed.

“I usually try to avoid towns.”

“What, why?”

“Because they’re
dangerous
.” Jessica replied.  “We’re only this close to Ocala because . . . things got real messy.  It was an accident, a mistake.”

“You’re going to leave us in the middle of nowhere?”

“I didn’t put you here.  So I’m not leaving you anywhere you weren’t already at.”

“A little help.  Please, just a little help.” Catherine begged.

“I’ve already helped.  I’ve already broken some of my rules and helped.” Jessica shot back, beginning to seriously lose her patience.  “I’m sorry, but nothing that’s happening is my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.” Catherine said quickly, but Jessica kept talking with scarcely a pause.

“I didn’t make zombies who up and started eating people and destroying everything they touch.  I didn’t get millions of people killed.  Everything deserted, everyone hiding, everyone fighting and scrapping for whatever they can find . . . none of that is my fault!”

“I know.”

“Then stop giving me shit about it.” Jessica all but snapped.  “I’ve fed you two twice now; that’s four meals I’ll have to find somewhere and replace.  There’s nothing that says I might not be down to really wanting those four meals back for us.  What happens if I can’t find any more food; or if I can’t get to any that I’ve found because of zombies or something?”

“I—” Catherine began to say, but she was cut off when Todd abruptly sort of went stiff, then limp.  The can of spinach fell from his fingers and hit the table, followed by the spoon skittering across the surface, and then Todd’s head coming down with a loud thunk as he slumped forward.  His head went right down into the table’s surface without any sign the boy tried to stop the impact.

Jessica’s eyes widened for an instant.  She’d seen this before; but on television.  The last time she’d seen this it had been on television, and it had been followed by . . .

“Candice,
move
!” Jessica snapped, surging back from the table.  “Here, now!”  Her own can, what was left of her breakfast, hit the floor as she just released it so she had the full use of her hands.  She reached for the Taurus for what felt like the hundredth time this morning; but this time, as it cleared the holster, she knew it was going to go off.

“Todd!” Catherine said in alarm, reaching for him.

“Get—” Jessica started to say.  Candice had slid out from behind the table, rising from the bench and turning toward her mother, as Todd sat back up.  Catherine’s hands closed around his shoulders, even as his came up toward hers.  Jessica’s joined together on the Taurus, the left wrapping around the right just as Austin had trained her to do.  Everything was happening too fast, and she was too slow.  Just too slow.

“Hon—” Catherine said at the same time, hunching over to put her face closer to her child’s.

The boy wasn’t hers anymore.

Jessica finally got the gun up just as Todd bit his mother on the cheek.  She wasn’t sure about the shot, but it didn’t matter much anymore.  She squeezed the trigger even though her aim was still settling.  The gun was
loud
in the RV; even the opened windows didn’t give the report of the gun’s firing much of anything to do except to bounce off the walls and pound painfully against her eardrums.

The bullet skimmed past Todd’s shoulder.  It raised an arc of blood as it went by, but even for that it still did effectively nothing.  Catherine was screaming, pushing against Todd.  He had his hands locked around hers, but was leaning back with part of her face in his teeth.  Flesh tore, a gout of red erupted, as he bit off a mouthful; part of Catherine’s cheekbone was visible.  Her actual cheekbone, a glimpse of white beneath the muddled red mess her face was becoming.  Blood was soaking right across Todd, through his hair and down the sides and front and back of his head; but he gave no sign it bothered him in the slightest.

His eyes were fixed and dead, vacant and almost content.  There was hunger in them now, but not the desperate appetite of a child.  Now it was darker, baser, more eager and far less inhibited.  A voracious zeal that she was all too familiar with since the world turned upside down.

Jessica fired a second time; doing better, but not much better.  This bullet hit the child’s jaw as he started to chew.  She had to fight against her gorge as the entire lower half of his face – basically everything below his upper lip – shattered and spread itself across the cabinet wall behind them.  And his mother; which was now covered from hair to chest in blood and bits.

Distantly, Jessica heard a retching sound.  Something wet and warm was on her shoes.  Candice bumped into her, but Jessica steadied herself by spreading her right foot further apart as she took a deep breath.

Inhale.  Pause.  Aim.  Fire.

The child . . . the zombie . . . went down as the heavy forty-five caliber slug went through its head from one side to the other.  Jessica swallowed hard as she saw the glistening wet mess of what had been the brains and blood and skull of a first or second grader splattered around the dinette area.  And across its mother.

Catherine’s hands were pressed against the hole in her cheek, but she was covered in the bloody remains of her son, of her zombie son.  Chunks were dripping and falling from her face, and blood was dripping out around her fingers.

Jessica breathed out, glancing down briefly as she did, and saw Candice had vomited.  Some of it was on the floor, but her daughter had heaved the just-eaten beans and peas all over Jessica’s jeans and shoes.  The girl was leaning against Jessica, wiping at her face distastefully and avoiding looking at the dinette table.

With a start, Jessica realized she could barely hear.  Her ears were ringing loudly, enough that she couldn’t hear whatever Catherine was saying despite the woman’s mouth being open in an obvious scream or cry or bellow or something.  The three gunshots had left her head pounding and ears feeling like they were the conduit for a one-note bell choir.

But Jessica didn’t need to hear right now.  Grabbing Candice’s shoulder, she pulled the girl upright and flashed a mom questioning face.  Candice nodded unsteadily, though she was still trying to clean her face off.  Green flecks of chewed up peas and black beans were still visible on her chin and lips, smeared across her cheeks and hands.

Reaching over to the counter, Jessica grabbed the bag she’d been intending to leave for Catherine as a ‘starter kit’ of food and thrust it into her daughter’s arms.  As Candice took hold of it, Jessica pushed the lid of the little camp stove down and picked it up one handed.  With it under her arm, she edged over to the door and managed to get the inside handle pushed down so it would open without taking her eyes, or the gun, off Catherine.

Looking outside with the smoking Taurus still in her right hand, Jessica confirmed the area was clear.  At least, as far as she could tell, there weren’t any zombies.  She stepped down out of the RV and took another, longer look around.  Dew covered overgrown grass, the remains of the wreck that had totaled the RV and BMW, and her appropriated pickup; that was it.

The camp stove got tossed into the back of the truck, freeing a hand for her to dig the truck’s keys out of her pocket.  She had the door unlocked by the time Candice managed to heft the bag up over the side.  Jessica was glancing at the RV frequently, but Catherine was still inside.

“Come on.” Jessica said automatically, pushing the door open and reaching for her daughter.  She could barely hear herself talk, and was certain she was probably shouting.  “Candice, in.  Candice! 
Candice!
”

The girl had been looking at the RV too, but she finally turned and climbed up into the truck.  Jessica gave her a push to help her across the seat, then slid in after her and put the key in the ignition.  The engine turned over for several seconds before catching and rumbling to life.  At least, the lights on the dashboard came on in the correct sequence, and she could feel the engine’s vibrations through the pedal.

As she put the transmission in gear and released the brake, she finally saw Catherine appear in the RV’s door.  She was covered in blood from the waist up, though some was on the legs of her jeans .  Even from a distance her face looked horrible.  Through the blood coating her she was saying something, calling something, but Jessica didn’t care what it was.

She put her foot down and hung on as the truck bumped across the shoulder and onto the pavement of I-75.  Behind her, the not-yet-dead woman waved her arms for attention; but Jessica kept going.  As she glanced in the rear view mirror, a billboard on the opposite side of the interstate caught Jessica’s eye.

A juicy looking burger on a perfect rounded bun, layered with melted cheese, leafy green lettuce, red onions, grainy mustard and just a hint of thick ketchup was pictured; every bit of it looking scrumptious and juicy and beyond delicious.  In the corner was a fast food restaurant’s logo; but the word plastered across the bottom of the billboard was what made her start laughing.  Just below it were listed exit numbers ahead where the restaurant could be found, including several in Ocala.

“Hungry?” the fading and peeling advertisement read in big letters.

Candice, still wiping vomit from herself, glanced at Jessica in bewilderment.  Jessica shook her head and kept driving, despite her semi-hysterical laughter.

“Okay.” Candice said.

Jessica turned around and gave her daughter the ‘mom once over’, evaluating the change of clothing.  One of the advantages of the apocalypse was there wasn’t anyone around to watch them change out of the smelly clothes they’d been wearing.  Whatever social norms might have said stripping and redressing in the middle of the highway wasn’t something that happened, they’d died and scattered along with everything else the zombies had ruined.

The clothes Candice had on were more of what Jessica had painstakingly altered to fit her daughter.  They were a little lumpy where Jessica had gathered excess material in with not-terribly-great stitches, but they
did
fit.  And, most importantly at the moment, they were clean.  Jessica’s standards for ‘clean clothing’ had relaxed
considerably
in the absence of readily available power and water, but spending longer than was necessary in clothes that covered with stomach acids and half-chewed food was beyond even those looser limits.

“Good.  Put the dirty ones in here.” she said, holding out the garbage bag.

“But they’re yucky.”

“Yes, I know Candy Bear.  But I’m not going to wash them until we’re somewhere safe.  So in the bag.” Jessica said patiently.

Candice put the vomit stained clothes into the garbage bag, watching as Jessica started tying it closed.  “I’m sorry I upchucked.”

“It’s okay sweetie.”

“It’s just . . . ” Candice began, then shuddered visibly with a look of unhappy distaste.

“I know.” Jessica said hurriedly.  “Think happy thoughts.  It’s over, okay?  It’s over and we’re safe.”

Candice nodded and tugged at one of the shoulders of her shirt to get it settled better on her lithe frame.  After a few moments she looked around the bridge.  “Why are we stopping here?”

“Because here is a good spot.” Jessica said as she finished knotting the bag and turned with it to face the truck.

“But why?”

Shrugging as she moved other things out of the way so she could stuff the bag with the soiled garments beneath them, Jessica glanced around idly.  “Because according to the map, we’re something like twenty miles from Ocala.  Another five or so and we’ll be at the Florida Turnpike, where the road splits, and that’ll make it harder for Austin to find us.  And because this is what he would call a place with limited threat vectors.”

The pickup truck was parked on State Route something or another; right in the middle of the overpass with I-75 running beneath them.  Thanks to Florida’s perpetually flat terrain, and the way the interstate extended straight out in either direction, they could see miles along the road.  And because the spot was on a bridge, the places something or someone could approach them from was reduced to only two.

“So we’re going to wait for him some more?”

“Yes.” Jessica said as she finished tucking away the dirty laundry and opened the driver’s side door.  The old pickup didn’t have much room behind the seat, but she’d transferred some things into a couple of extra bags, and placed them inside the cab.  Several days’ worth of food and water, some bare essential toiletries, bowls and utensils, and a single change of clothing for them each.  Just in case.

“He’s okay.”

Jessica started to answer, then stopped herself when she realized Candice hadn’t asked anything.  “I’m sure he is.” Jessica said instead as she double checked the stuff behind the seat.

“How many zombies do you think he’s killed so far?”

“Probably a lot.” Jessica answered almost absently as she glanced in either direction along the bridge to make sure nothing was sneaking up on them.  Nope, clear road in both directions.  She picked up her purse – a ‘mom sized bag’ she’d carried since Joey had been born – and opened it as well.

The attic incident had reinforced the need to be ready to run at a moment’s notice.  In addition to the stuff behind the seat, which was designed to be grabbed and carried quickly; she’d also added more stuff to her purse.  Now, along with the ammunition boxes that had sort of lived there since Knoxville, she had some water and snack cracker packets.  It wouldn’t replace a proper meal, but it would give her a much larger ‘oh shit’ margin the next time something screwed up.

Not if.  When.

Satisfied with her rearranging, Jessica closed the door and moved back to the bed of the truck.  In her sorting and repacking she’d found a coil of cord in among the tool portion of what was being hauled around.  She didn’t remember adding it, so it must have been Austin’s idea.  As usual, he’d been ahead of her and ready for anything.

The SUV had been a great vehicle; and one of the reasons was it had been enclosed.  Whatever was inside it was safe.  On the pickup, the truck bed was open to anyone or anything that wandered by.  Rain was the least of her worries.  If Catherine had noticed and chosen, last night she could have simply cleaned the truck out; carrying everything away into the off-road underbrush where Jessica would very likely never have found it.

She couldn’t ensure something like that
couldn’t
happen, but she could make it harder.  To that end, she tied one end of the cord to the front corner of the truck’s bed.  With some work she could use it to create a lattice across the top of the bed.  It wouldn’t prevent anyone from getting in, but it might give her time to notice or hear something going on and decide how to react.

“How did you know that woman and boy were sick?”

“What?” Jessica asked, turning and looking behind her in surprise.  Candice gazed back at her expectantly, with no sign of humor or sarcasm visible on her face.  Instead, she seemed almost proud of Jessica.  “I didn’t know.”

Candice frowned a little.  “But you weren’t going to help them anymore.  You said they couldn’t come with us.”

“That’s right, I did.” Jessica said, resuming her work with the cord.  With one end secured, she started running the length of it around the top of the bed, from corner to corner to corner, so she’d have something to work with as a start.

“Why?”

“What’s Rule Four?”

“Don’t assume people aren’t bad guys.” Candice recited dutifully.

“That’s right.”

“But it was a mom and kid.  He was younger than me even.”

“Yes.”

“And we weren’t going to help them?”

“No.”

“But why?  We’ve been helped by people.”

Jessica paused at the passenger side front corner, checked the bridge in both directions again, then refocused her eyes on her daughter.  “We went to Doctor Morris’ house when we didn’t have anywhere else to go, right?”

“Right.”

“And we went down to Knoxville with him and his brother and their wives and those people who worked for Doctor Morris’ brother, right?”  Jessica continued.  Candice nodded.  Jessica nodded back.  “And what happened next?”

“We had to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because it was dangerous there.”

Jessica nodded again.  “It was dangerous.  It had been safe, and then it wasn’t anymore.  And remember what happened when I decided it wasn’t safe?”

Candice was silent for several seconds; long enough that Jessica resumed her work with the cord.  She got it pulled through the last corner box, then tossed the length across to the other side of the truck.

“You said we were leaving.” the girl said finally.  “Because staying and fighting over the Eagle building was stupid.”

“Remember how Mr. Morris and Doctor Morris acted when I said that?” Jessica asked as she walked around to the driver’s side.

“They didn’t like it.”

“They were kind of mean about it weren’t they?”

“Some.” Candice said slowly, clearly struggling to either remember or process the concepts.  Jessica reminded herself her daughter was only ten.  But the question had come up, and was going to again.  The time for wrapping Candice in wishes and dreams had been left a while back.  If not all the way back in Atlanta, surely in Knoxville.

“More Mr. Morris than his brother.” Candice said as Jessica looped the cord around the anchor line she’d laid across the edge of the bed.

“Come over here.” Jessica said, turning and gesturing.  Candice moved closer to the truck, and Jessica indicated what she’d just done with the cord.  “See how I did that with the cord?”

“Yes.”

“Do that and throw the end back to me when I throw it to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jessica checked the bridge again, then walked around to the passenger side.  “Toss me the cord.”

Candice flung the end over, and Jessica started looping and pulling it through.  She was creating a zigzag of line that would run back and forth across the bed.  By pulling it tight and knotting it occasionally, she hoped it would be enough to provide surety for the supplies.

The stuff Austin had volunteer to risk his life for so she could recover.

“Doctor Morris was my boss.” Jessica said, bringing the conversation back to Candice’s question; to her lesson.  “I worked for him for years, since you weren’t even in kindergarten.  And when we went to him for help, just after things got bad, he helped us.  But then when things got worse, when it started to be obvious this wasn’t going to be something that was going to go away quickly, he wasn’t as eager to help.”

“But why?”

“Because people get . . .” Jessica started, then changed her mind.  She tossed the cord across to Candice and watched, thinking, as the girl started pulling it around the anchor line.  “Helping people is a risk.” Jessica said finally.

“So we can’t help people?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what it means isn’t it?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“Austin helped us.” Candice said, a little stubbornly.  “He’s still helping us.”

Jessica stepped on her impulse toward impatience.  This was her idea.  She could’ve nipped this whole thread right off with a platitude and a few soothing words, but no; she’d decided to educate the girl on how things are in the new world of zombies and terror.  Now she had to carry it through.  Somehow.

“Austin is the exception.”

“To what?”

“To the rule.” Jessica said as she caught the cord when Candice tossed it back over.

“To Rule Four?”

“Yes, to Rule Four.”

“But how do you know?”

Shrugging, Jessica pulled on the cord.  That was an extremely fair question; how did she
know
?

“I just do.” she said after a few moments, realizing it was the truth.  At least, the truth as she saw it.

“This is the same as ‘because’ isn’t it?” Candice asked, her face still showing some confusion.

Jessica was at a loss, and gave up after a few moments.  “Because?” she asked, remembering to check the bridge.  Still clear.

“Because you say so.” Candice said with a touch of the kind of exasperation only a child can summon toward a parent.  “Like you always did when San—” she stopped abruptly.

“Like I did with Sandy?” Jessica asked gently.

“Yeah.”

“I miss her too.” Jessica said sadly.

Candice nodded unhappily, and Jessica smiled.  “Well, I sort of don’t think this is the same as ‘because’, but I guess that’s as good an explanation as any.”

“Because, honestly, it’s a better one – an
easier
one to explain to a ten-year-old – than getting into all the murky, messy, tiny, fleeting, lasting, important, irrelevant, and obvious reasons why I trust him.”
she thought as she pulled on the cord to tighten the first set of lattice loops.  The anchor line bowed in several inches on each side, and she kept pressure as she knotted the cord to hold it.

“He could’ve acted like those assholes that deserted Morris in Atlanta, then showed up in Knoxville to claim the compound and its stuff – showed up
shooting
– but he didn’t.  He could’ve ignored me and Candice during the ride down – it’s not like he didn’t have a lot to do guiding and watching out for the entire convoy all the way from Atlanta – but he didn’t.

“He could’ve brushed me off once we got
to
Knoxville; he had to secure the whole site, survey the surrounding area for threats and problems, negotiate with the townspeople, coordinate the security and scavenging efforts . . . but he didn’t.  And he could’ve stayed.  When I left with Candice, he could’ve stayed with Morris.

“Worse, he could’ve thrown in with that asshole who came to take it all away from Morris.”
  Her thoughts darkened, and she felt her brow furrowing a little as she tried to remember the name.  Ebert, Eckert, Ebbitt; whatever. 
“He’s a useful guy, talented and trained.  All he had to say was
yes
and he would’ve been safe.  No more babysitting, no more hand holding, no more carrying people who can’t get by without help.  Part of a team of a bunch of guys just like him.”

Jessica threw the cord back over and watched as Candice started another lattice loop. 
“No, not just like him.  Not even close.”