Dark Inside (30 page)

“I give you my word.” And this time he meant it.

She nodded slightly. They sat together in the darkness for a while. In the distance, he heard the haunting, lonely sound of a loon.

“Look on the bright side,” Chickadee said after a while.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

“Been there, done that,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“You know, I’m really glad I met you, Mason Dowell,” she said. “Maybe if things had been different, you could have been my boyfriend. There’s something special about you. It wouldn’t have taken me long to fall in love with you. I would have liked that.”

“Me too.”

Around two, she slipped into a coma. He pressed his fingers against her wrist and felt the rapid pulsations of her heartbeat. Her body broke out into a sweat, and several times he held her carefully as she twitched and convulsed. He continued to rock her in his arms, whispering softly into her ear, hoping she could still hear.

Sometime in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the treetops, Chickadee took her last breath.

He didn’t try to revive her. All he could think about was his promise. The ocean would be nothing but salt water without her by his side.

The hardest part was letting go of her hand.

Carefully he worked his way out from underneath her body and went to the window. Opening the blinds, he blinked a few times as the sunlight hit his face.

What a beautiful day. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a single cloud to be found. On the mountains the pine trees were bright and green. Their branches sparkled with morning dew. Birds chirped happily in the bushes, and a squirrel ran across the motel garden searching for breakfast.

A good day to die.

He went outside and walked around the complex without thinking. He watched a deer grazing before his presence spooked it back into the bushes. A spider spun a web from
the top of a rusty swing set. A forgotten shirt hung lazily on a clothesline. He paused to look at everything that caught his interest, but afterward he couldn’t remember a thing. Finally he stopped in front of a garden shed, where he found a shovel. At the tree line out the back of the motel, he began to dig.

The sun beat down and his shirt became soaked with perspiration. His lower back ached as the mound of dirt beside him grew and his hole deepened. Blisters formed on the palms of his hands, brutally stinging when they broke and mixed with his body sweat. Twice in frustration and anger he flung the shovel into the woods, listening for the satisfying sound as metal hit tree trunk.

It was hard work. Mechanical. He didn’t have to think while he did it. Good. He didn’t want to remember. He’d bury his pain along with her body.

Eventually he realized he wasn’t alone.

A short, skinny man with a terrible overbite and a dirty baseball cap had come over to watch. When Mason glanced at him, he gave him the thumbs-up gesture.

“What do you want?” Mason asked, pressing his foot down hard on the shovel, cutting deeper into the earth. He wasn’t scared of this little man in the slightest. Fear was a feeling, and the angry numbness trumped everything.

“Don’t want nothing,” the man said. “Just came to see whatchoo doing.”

“Go away.”

“Not very friendly, are you?”

Scooping some dirt up from the hole, he tossed it in the direction of the man. “Nope.”

“You need to learn your manners.”

“I’m not looking for a fight.” He figured the man wouldn’t
want to attack him either. Mason had a weapon, and shovels could really hurt if used properly.

“Why do you think I’d be wanting to fight you?”

“Isn’t that what your kind does? Kill anything that moves?” How had Twiggy once put it? Destroy humanity?

“Some of us, yah. But I ain’t one of those kind. I ain’t looking to kill anything without purpose. I prefer to show the truth.”

Mason tossed the shovel into the hole and stood straight. “You know. I keep hearing about these monsters who attack without saying a word. Psychotic nut jobs and all that. But I’m always meeting ones like you who just won’t shut up. At this point I’m beginning to wish for one of the crazy ones so I can get some quiet.”

The man chuckled and spat on the ground. “So it’s peace ya wanting?”

“Yes. So please shut up and go away.” Turning his back, he reached for the shovel and started digging again.

But the man didn’t go away.

“Aren’tcha wasting your time with this hole?” he said. “I’m assuming it’s for that little girl you brought down wit’cha last night. I ain’t surprised. I suppose I would have killed her too if I had the chance. But why bother burying her? Leave her in the woods. I’m sure the wolves would like a feast.”

Mason froze. “You’d better stop talking right now. You don’t have a clue what you’re saying.”

“What’s that? You got her, right? That is why you’re digging, right?”

“If you’re pushing for a fight, you’re gonna get one.” His fingers clenched the shovel tightly, ignoring the screams from his palms as his blisters popped and bled.

“Why would I want to do that? I don’t fight my kind.”

Mason paused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The man brayed in laughter, doubling over for a few seconds. When he regained his composure, he still continued to chuckle. Mason’s temper was on the verge of exploding. He began to picture what it would look like when he smashed the shovel into the monster’s smiling face. Imagined him crumpling to the ground the way the man at Diefenbaker Park had.

“You really don’t know, do you?” the man finally said. “You ain’t figured it out yet.”

“What?”

“You belong on our side, boy. You’re just the kind of human they like.”

In a matter of seconds, Mason closed the distance between them. Grabbing the man by the front of his shirt, he shoved him backward. He stared straight into his black-veined eyes. “You’re lying.” Pushed him again. “Take it back.” Once more.

The look of amusement disappeared, and anger flashed through the strange man’s eyes. “You watch yourself, boy. Alls I have to do is scream and they’ll come a running. You ain’t gonna be so tough against all of us.”

“Take it back.”

“Take what back? You look in a mirror lately? ’Cause you’ve got the face.” The man wrestled himself free and out of Mason’s reach. When he was far enough away, he turned and started walking back toward the main road. “But maybe I am lying. There’s a very good chance. Or maybe not. If you’re desirable, they’ll come for you.”

Mason turned and hurled the shovel as hard as he could. It bounced off a tree and fell to the ground several feet away. The hole was deep enough.

Back in the room he went straight for the bathroom. He didn’t want to touch Chickadee when he was this filthy.
Stripping off all his clothes, he poured some bottled water into the sink and unwrapped one of the mini soaps. Grabbing a white cloth, he began to wash away the sweat and dirt.

Halfway through it dawned on him that he hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror. He paused, the soapy cloth against his chest, and stared blankly at the sink.

What’s wrong, Mason? Why won’t you look at yourself?

He was just spooked, he told himself. The guy outside tried to freak him out because he was too tiny to take Mason on. It was his only form of action, his way of hurting Mason, because he was too cowardly to do anything else. The guy was probably collecting his friends now, aiming to bring them back to the motel to finish Mason off. And to guarantee Mason would stick around, the monster had tried to scare him into going back to the room and spending a bunch of time in the mirror.

So if that was the case, then why couldn’t he bring his face up to look in the glass?

This was stupid. There was no logical reason for him to be scared. He hadn’t done anything wrong and he certainly wasn’t about to go on a killing rampage. Sure, he was angry, but it was justifiable. Who wouldn’t harbor a lot of hate when everyone and everything he cared for was taken away?

“One.” He began his countdown. “Two.” Grabbing hold of the sink with both hands, he clung tightly until his knuckles were as white as the ceramic.

“Three.”

He brought his eyes upward and straight into the mirror. His own face glared back at him, looking both surprised and frustrated at the same time. Sweaty brown hair stuck wetly to his forehead. Blue eyes were tired and bloodshot. What was
he supposed to be looking for? Horns? Bloody tears gushing down his hollow cheeks? How about fangs? Nope. The answer was (D) None of the above.

His expression gave him a relieved grin. Suddenly the entire thing seemed ridiculous. Rolling his eyes, he returned to trying to clean the blisters on his hands. He’d have to put some bandages on them before he went back to bury Chickadee. The last thing he needed was an infection.

Grabbing the towel off the rack, he began to dry his body. Caught his full reflection in the mirror. He should be eating more. He’d obviously lost some weight over the past few weeks. Kinda hard to be healthy when the only edible food came in cans or packages.

Pulling a fresh shirt out of his backpack, he dressed quickly. There was a good chance that the lying guy was still out there waiting for him or was on his way over. He needed to get out of here. Get some fresh air. Calm down. Once he cooled off he’d be able to think more clearly.

But he wouldn’t leave Chickadee. He’d take care of her first.

He carried her outside and tenderly lowered her body into the grave. Even though he’d wrapped her in the sheets, he could still see how small and fragile her body was. When he tossed the first shovelful of dirt over the clean white cotton, the tears began to flow freely. He ignored them, concentrating on the job instead. He kept thinking he should say something out loud, anything, to celebrate her life and the time they’d shared. But his mind remained blank. There were no words good enough to describe her, anyway.

When it was over, he turned and walked away. He didn’t go back into the room to grab his backpack. He no longer
wanted it. The road was the only important item he needed.

He’d allow himself to worry about all the other details later while he headed to Vancouver. He had a long road ahead of him and plenty of time to consider his options.

He still had an ocean to feel.

They walked into Seattle. There were no more roads to lead the way. The intricate spiderweb of highways, overpasses, and tunnels were gone, leaving nothing but piles of asphalt and abandoned vehicles where they once were. Glass was everywhere. The city was covered in it. The buildings above were nothing but hollowed-out rebar and ghostly shells. The smell of smoke was strong. Several buildings were still on fire, presumably from where looters had been at work.

Dear Heath, I’m almost there. Have you waited for me? I hope you were somewhere safe when all this happened. Did they teach you earthquake safety when you got here? Remember how Mom used to warn us about what to do if a tornado ever came? I’d be both terrified and excited at the idea of one actually happening. I’m babbling now. Remember how you used to tease me and call me Empty-Head Barbie? Seattle really looks trashed. I’ve never seen such a mess. I’ll be there in a few hours. I hope you get this message somehow. I’ll send all the good vibes I have your way. Maybe you’ll feel them the way Mom felt us. Either way, hang on tight. I’m coming.

Everything was quiet. Eerily quiet. Dead bodies were everywhere. Some were obviously victims of the earthquake,
rotting and stinking from weeks of decomposition. Others were more recent, Bagger prey, still bloody and fresh. In places, they’d been tossed into piles, some of which had been burned. Clementine looked away when they came across the first bonfire. By the time they reached the eighth or ninth she stopped counting, and sometime after that it stopped making her nauseous.

What a strange thing to grow accustomed to.

“Smart,” Michael whispered. The smell of decay was strong, almost overpowering, and both of them had their shirts pulled up over their faces. “They’re cleaning the place up. They may be crazy, but I guess even Baggers worry about hygiene.”

“Why would they do that?” she asked.

“Lots of reasons,” he said. “If they plan on sticking around, they’ll want to fix things. Get rid of the smell. I’ve heard that some of them are still pretty smart. They’re not all random killing nut jobs.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she said.

Michael shrugged. “Maybe they’re planning on rebuilding civilization. I’m not complaining about a little maid service. I’ve seen enough dead bodies to last a lifetime. If they want to clean them up, that’s fine by me. Maybe they’ll fix the roads next. Start up the power. Would be nice to have electricity again. Heat too. It’ll be cold soon.”

“You make them sound human.”

“Aren’t they? A lot of monsters are human.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

They turned the corner cautiously and came across an entire city block demolished by the earthquake. It reminded her of pictures they showed in history class of war-torn Europe after World War II. Such destruction. Hard to believe Mother Nature did that.

“I wonder how many died during the earthquakes,” she said. Strange, she’d almost forgotten about the natural disaster. But in a way, the quakes started it all. That’s when the killings began.

“Probably a lot here,” he said. “I’ve never seen a city so shattered before. Look at all that glass. I wouldn’t want to be underneath it when it fell from the buildings.”

She shuddered. People would have been cut in half. Fortunately the Baggers had tidied up this area.

“Any idea how far the university is from here?” he asked.

She pulled out the map she’d taken from a gas station a few hours back. Opening it, they spread it out against the hood of a car, and Clementine tried to figure out where they were while Michael kept watch. They ended up having to walk several blocks until they discovered a street sign. Most of them had been destroyed or had gone missing. Once they established their location, they found the University of Washington on the map.