In the Lone and Level Sands (23 page)

Sara was humming a quiet tune. She was also
knitting, working on the same thing that she had been when Ben and
Charlotte came to visit.

The three couples rode quietly, save for
Sara’s humming. Eventually, Charlotte said, “Your exit’s coming up
pretty soon.”

Fred struck a match with one hand. The
partially torn flap covering the matches bore an inscription:
Blackwater Falls Bar & Grill
. He pinched his pipe
between his lips, lit it, and puffed before flicking the match out
the window.

A Prius came onto the highway ahead of them.
It sped along like a windup toy and merged all the way to the left.
Ben and company stayed right and slowed down on the exit ramp. Ben
watched the car disappear out of view, and then turned to
Charlotte.

“Did you see that?

“Yeah,” Charlotte said. “That’s the first
sane person I’ve seen outside of us since this shit started.”

“Wonder where he’s headed,” Fred said.

“I bet that car’s headed to the same thing
we’re headed to,” Sara said. “Family, friends. Something
better.”

“I hope they find what they’re looking for,”
Richard said.

Carah signed to Richard.

The way things have been going, I wouldn’t
expect to see a normal person.

Yeah, no kidding,
Richard
replied.

Well, God help them.
Carah
sighed.

The van got off the exit ramp and entered
the outskirts of a town. There were several zombies around. Many of
them wandered aimlessly, some stood still. The passengers rolled up
their windows.

“Turn right on Burleigh, and go down a few
miles until you get to Siever’s Crest,” Charlotte said. “It’s my
parents’ neighborhood, shouldn’t be too hard to miss.”

Fred drove slowly. Several accidents
cluttered the streets. One was positioned at an angle directly in
front of the First Bank of Maine: The back end of a Taurus rested
on the curb, while the Trailblazer it had collided with blocked the
rest of the lane. The windows on both vehicles were shattered.
Blood splotches and small, mangled remains occupied almost every
inch of the scene.

“Oh my God!” Charlotte slapped a hand over
her mouth.

“It looks like a war zone,” Ben said.

Carah signed,
This is horrible!

“
It’s okay, honey.
” Richard’s voice
accompanied his signing hands. “
We just need to get to the
house. We’ll be safe there.
”

A woman wearing a torn jersey and faded
jeans ran from a small shop. Blood stains covered her clothing. Her
brown hair was caked with sweat. Fred slowed the van after checking
his surroundings, then cracked the passenger-side window and called
out to the woman.

“My God, you’re a mess. You all right?”

“I-I’ve been stabbed!” the woman said, tears
running down her cheeks. She was shaking. “I need help. Please, I
need someplace to stay!”

Carah leaned over so she could see the
bloody woman. She looked at Richard.

She’s been bitten, hasn’t she?

It sure looks like it,
Richard
signed.

We’re not letting her in, are we?
Carah’s hands were shaking.

I hope not. It seems like Fred’s trying to
figure her out. She says she’s been stabbed.

“I don’t believe this ‘I was stabbed’
business,” Fred said. “Incredibly sorry, ma’am. We’ve got someplace
to be.” He rolled up the window.

The woman’s eyes widened. “You have to!” She
slammed the window with both fists. “Please!”

Fred looked around, saw a few zombies had
taken notice of the exchange, and then looked back at the
woman.

“They’re starting to notice us. You should
find somewhere to hide.” The woman slouched a little, and then
opened her mouth.

“Ahhhrrrrreeh!” She pounded on the window,
leaving bloody smudges.

“Drive!” Sara said. The zombie grabbed the
car, and Fred floored the gas. The zombie’s grip gave out quickly,
and she crumpled along the road behind the speeding van.

“Are you all right?” Fred asked Sara.

“I’m fine, love.”

The van continued down the anarchic street
at a steady pace. The only people who were normal were being
mauled. Blood from countless dozens was spilled on the streets and
sidewalks. Pieces of bodies hung over car doors with smashed
windows. The number of living people was rapidly dwindling.

“Siever’s Crest?” Fred looked back at
Charlotte for the answer.

“Yes. Turn right onto Burleigh, that’ll lead
us to the subdivision. Along Burleigh, turn left into Siever’s
Crest, then right onto Woodland Drive. After that, left onto Enslin
Avenue. 8401 is the house number.”

On the left side of the street was a big
sign. The letters stood out, made of tarnished brass:

A body lay in front of the sign, almost
welcoming the group.

Fred drove down Woodland until he saw
“Enslin” on a street sign. He drove for another minute, and then
they reached the house. Fred pulled into the driveway.

A few seconds later, Charlotte’s father Al
came out of the house with his gun at the ready. He rushed to the
driver’s side window of the van. With his free hand, he motioned
for Fred to open the window, then looked around. Some zombies had
noticed them. Fred rolled the window down.

“Who are you?” Al said.

“I’m Fred Samson. Your daughter and
son-in-law are with me.” He motioned back to Charlotte. Al looked
into the back.

“What?”

“Dad! Are you and Mom okay?”

“Oh my God,” Al said. He almost choked up.
“Thank God. Thank God.”

“Mind if we park here?” Fred asked.

“It might be best to park in the back,” Al
said. “There’s a gate that leads out back. I’ll open it up for
you.”

“Thanks,” Fred said.

The fence was about seven feet high, with
dark-brown wood planks that wrapped around a spacious back yard. Al
opened the gate, Fred drove through, and Al closed the gate behind
him and headed for the back door. The van came to an abrupt halt,
and everyone unbuckled their seatbelts.

****

Four couples and a dog rested peacefully in
the living room. Fred sat with his right arm on the armrest of a
chair, his hand gripping it tightly enough to turn his knuckles
white. The soft touch of Sara’s hand made his grip loosen, and he
smiled at his hospitable hosts.

“Ben, what happened to your face?” Al asked.
“The cuts, I mean.”

Charlotte clutched Ben’s hand. “We got in an
accident,” Ben said.

“Oh my God!” Ruth said.

“Why didn’t you call us or anything?” Al’s
face turned beet red. “It’s been over a day!”

“We lost our phones in the crash,” Ben
replied. “Fred and Sara here helped us out. We stayed with them,
and then everything went to shit.”

“So you’re not hurt?” Ruth asked, patting
Al’s shoulder.

“Just cuts and bruises,” Ben said. He looked
away. Charlotte looked at Ben, waiting for him to share the other
news of the crash. When he didn’t, she sighed and looked at her
parents.

“He’s suffering from amnesia. I don’t know
how bad it is, but he doesn’t remember things.”

“Oh my,” Ruth said. “What
things
does
he not remember?”

“Me.”

There was an awkward silence that no one
broke for what seemed like ages. Charlotte couldn’t take it
anymore, so she spoke up.

“When we woke up after the crash, it was
like he’d met me for the first time. The doctor in Blackwater Falls
said cases like this are somewhat common, and that it’s likely
he’ll regain his memory.” She and Ben exchanged uncomfortable
glances.

“How long does something like that take?” Al
asked.

“That’s the thing. They don’t know. They
said something in Ben’s life could spark everything back, but when
I
didn’t do that, I got pretty worried.”

“Things are coming back to me, but mostly
little things, glimpses. I’m really trying.” Ben put an arm around
Charlotte for a moment.

“This must be hard for you, on top of
everything else that’s been going on,” Ruth said, looking from Ben
to Charlotte. She stood up. “Come on, Charlotte. We’ll get the
drinks, and we can talk about it if you like.”

Charlotte nodded and looked down at Ben. He
met her gaze, and put on a small smile. Ruth asked everyone what
they wanted to drink, and then she and Charlotte went to the
kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Ruth asked as she
pulled some glasses from the cupboard. Charlotte was digging though
the fridge for the beer.

“Can we change the subject, please? I think
we’ve been on it long enough. I’m fine. We’re working through
this.”

“If you’re sure,” Ruth said.

“I am, Mom.”

“Okay, changing the subject. Hmm.” Ruth
poured cold tea into a few glasses. “Aha! So, when did Richard and
Carah come into all this?”

“We were heading here, and we spotted them
along the road. Their car had died, and they were being attacked.”
Charlotte handed Angus’s bowl to Ruth to be filled.

“They aren’t going to turn like those people
outside, are they?” Ruth asked. “Like some of our neighbors?” Ruth
looked out the kitchen window, between the bars. A rose bush
blocked the lowest portion of her view. The wind rocked the bush,
the bright red flowers swayed gently.

“They weren’t bitten. Neither one of them.
There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Okay. I trust you, honey.”

“Thank you. Now, let’s go out there and make
the best of a bad situation.”

Charlotte and Ruth headed back to the living
room and handed out the drinks. Angus lapped water out of his bowl
like he hadn’t had a drop in ten years.

“So Fred,” Al said, “what kind of arms did
you bring?”

“I have a shotgun and a pistol. Although I’m
running low on shotgun shells.”

“You came to the right place! I have a
shotgun, a hunting rifle, and two handguns. Not to mention all the
ammo a man can use in a year. I think we’re set. We have tons of
food, been saving up stores of it for years. We shouldn’t need to
go out for a while.”

“I think I can speak for all of us when I
say that makes me feel a lot better,” Ben said.

When they were bored of the banter, they
played games. After a good hand of poker, Al put his arm around
Ben’s shoulders and squeezed, smiling at him, a tinge of worry in
his eyes.

“You’re pretty good at this game!”

Ben smiled back, then looked at Charlotte,
who was laughing. Her eyes met his. Something about her always
seemed to make him smile.

Outside, away from the view and thoughts of
the survivors, zombies wandered the neighborhood. The gate to Al’s
back yard tapped softly against the rest of the fence with every
blow of the wind, unheard and waiting to be discovered.

30

In the Apartment

“I’m bored,” Tim said. It was the first
thing Max heard before he opened his eyes.

He sat up. His back was sore from sleeping
on the floor. The room was dark because the windows were
covered.

It was the same thing every morning.

In the week since Max and his family had
escaped the carnival and broken into the empty apartment, they had
very carefully gathered some essentials: flashlights, blankets,
food. They also made sure to check and see if the situation outside
was getting any better.

In fact, it had gotten worse. Far worse. It
was getting harder and harder to find provisions. Some of the
zombies had gotten into the building, and outside there were more
every day. Besides that, they had gotten faster and smarter. They
almost always hunted in packs, they fought among themselves less,
and after a few days, they could jog. Then they could run.

He could see it in his father’s eyes: Coming
to the apartment building was a bad idea. This thing was not going
to blow over. Max could tell his dad wanted to take the family
away, but getting the six of them out in one piece was probably
impossible, and by the time Andrew had realized that, it was days
too late.

Max could tell, for the first time he could
ever remember, that his father had no idea what to do. He could
also tell that, whether or not they realized or accepted it, they
were simply waiting to die.

The days had gone by slowly. The family
seldom spoke, both out of fear of being heard, and of not having
anything to say. There was little to do. Max had managed to snag a
checkers game from another apartment on one of their supply runs,
and the kids were happy with it at first, but the game got old
quickly. For a while, Max and Tim spent time trying to make up new
games with the checkers set, but nothing stuck. Now, it sat in the
corner of the otherwise empty main room, untouched for days, its
pieces scattered. Had things been different, Margaret would’ve told
them to clean it up days earlier, but that was a different
lifetime.

“I wish Dad would gather us together and
just make a run for it,” August said to Max, quietly. “We could
take these things out.”

“Don’t be stupid, okay? You’re not
invincible. This isn’t a game.”

Andrew entered from the kitchen area.

“I think I’m going to go to the boiler room
today,” he said. His family looked at him. Max could sense
something different. Andrew seemed somehow less hopeless, less
defeated. He seemed borderline happy.

“What for?” Margaret asked.

“I found something down there yesterday. I
think we can use it to get out of here.”

“What? What is it?”

“There are a bunch of gas canisters down
there. They’re for the generator, for power outages. I think we can
use them to make a bomb.”

Tim and Julie looked at each other.

“Should we be talking about this in front of
the kids?” Margaret said.

“We need to have a plan,” Andrew replied.
“I’m going to tie a bunch of those canisters together and set it
off on the other side of the complex. It’ll leave a big hole in the
building and clear us a nice path out of here at the same
time.”