Into the Badlands (15 page)

“I never heard it. Besides, carriers don’t talk,” Tammy stated emphatically.

“That’s not exactly true,” Dave argued. “I’ve heard some of them use words, but it’s always gibberish. A couple words here and there, repeated over and over most of the time.”

“And then there's the screaming,” Brenda added. “What do you think it said?”

Dave sat there, silent.

“Dave, what what do you think it said?” Brenda repeated.

Dave sat, silent still. Then he looked up at her and spoke.

“I think I heard the little one say 'Mommy',” he said.

Tammy spoke up. “Bullshit. Those things are crazy; that virus scrambled their brains. They got no idea who they are, or where they are.”

Dave thought she sounded like she was trying to convince herself of a truth she wasn’t exactly sure of. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked. “What if some of them still think? What if they can still feel emotions? We always call them 'it' or 'things' to dehumanize them, but wouldn't that make them human?”

No one answered.

They spent another eight days on the road. Along the way they passed random corpses, skirting them like piles of manure on a farm. They saw a live carrier wandering aimlessly off in a field, but were able to get by it unnoticed. The carriers appeared to be avoided the vast and vacant stretches of the highway, for the most part.

They stopped at two more exits along the way; one offered very little food and supplies, the other offered considerably more. A grocery store provided some much needed canned food for the trio. Most of what they procured was canned food, but they also took some dried food as well.

As they walked, they began to talk. Conversation was light during the day, but when they camped at night they were more vocal. They discussed the virus, the aftermath, and the scramble to get to the coasts. Tammy impressed upon Dave the differences in how the wealthy and the poor were treated after the outbreak. Brenda discussed her transformation from broken and overweight victim to survivor.

Dave spoke of Sandy and Jim. It still hurt to remember his dead wife, but his guilt had waned considerably. He was now just sad and lonely. Through the course of these conversations they learned that all three of them had lost someone close to them to the virus; it was a common thread between otherwise disparate people.

Each night after they spoke they felt a little closer to one another. Tammy softened as the days passed, to the point of even laughing at some of Dave's jokes. Dave was surprised to even hear himself tell a joke. Brenda listened to Dave's stories, commenting and laughing where appropriate. Tammy noticed her friend's body language changing; she was letting her guard down. She hoped Brenda knew what she was doing.

They continued the pattern, walking, camping, talking. The deserted road presented no major hurdles, and they encountered no carriers beyond the one they saw early on. At night they could hear them in the distance, screaming with bone-chilling agony, deep in the woods. It reminded them that they had to remain cautious.

On the eighth day they came upon another exit. It was very large, made up of multiple stores laid out in strip mall fashion. They noticed the bright orange colors of a Home Depot, along with a grocery store and a Sam’s Club. Knowing that any discount warehouse would have been overflowing with stock at the time of the outbreak, it stood to reason that there must be
something
valuable there. They decided they should check it out and see.

They exited the highway and headed toward the large warehouse. When they reached the front door Brenda drew her pistol. Tammy readied her rifle. Having no gun Dave produced the baseball bat he'd found in the car at the 7-Eleven station more than a week ago. It had a longer reach than the tire iron and a more solid impact.

“This time I think we should stay together as best we can,” Dave told them as they stood in front of the main entrance. “It’s big in there, and we need to cover each other’s backs.”

“Fair enough,” Tammy replied. Dave thought it nothing short of amazing that Tammy would concede anything to him at all.

Brenda looked Dave in the eyes. “Dave, whatever you may or may not have heard back at that gas station, you know it doesn’t change anything.”

Dave looked away.

“Look at me, Dave, right in the eye.” His eyes reconnected with hers. “It doesn’t change anything. Those things want to kill us and eat us, period. That little one back there, no matter what she may or may not have said, was still trying to kill you.”

“And eat you,” Tammy added.

Brenda glanced at Tammy, then returned her eyes to Dave. “Promise me you won’t forget that.”

“Fine,” he said. “I promise.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

They walked into the darkened store, Brenda in the lead, followed by Tammy. Dave brought up the rear, another achievement in gaining Tammy's trust. The light was ample near the front door, but was considerably reduced in the inner regions of the large structure. There were some skylights installed though, and they were providing enough light to operate by.

They walked past the cash registers and then deeper into the store, weapons drawn, searching the aisles for anything they might useful. It was obvious that others had already been there before them but, as Dave had suspected, they were unable to scavenge it all. There were leftovers, and plenty of them. It was a gold mine.

The plan they had devised was to find as many essentials as possible, and then stuff all they could fit into their backpacks. Dave had wanted to fill up a shopping cart originally, but the girls argued that they should only take what they could carry. In the end he bent, partly because he thought they were right and partly because he didn't want to cause any rifts in this new partnership between them.

They made their way further into the deeper regions of the building where the light began to peter out. The skylights did their jobs of allowing in just enough light to see, and the light passing through the front doors looked like bright dots in the distance.

They filled up on canned foods wherever they found them. Where possible they took the smaller cans; each one was a meal with no waste. Dave picked up a toothbrush while there along with two tubes of toothpaste. It had been some time since his teeth had seen a good brushing, at least since he’d been raiding houses with Sandy and Jim. The thought of his dead wife immediately filled him with sadness; he pushed the feeling down in order to focus on the task at hand. He could mourn when they were safe.

They stayed together, their weapons holstered while they used their hands to fill their packs. They worked as quickly as they could; all three of them were aware of the dangers of being trapped inside by even a few carriers.

Suddenly, they heard footsteps in the store, followed by the sound of low voices. Although Dave couldn’t hear what was being said, he could tell a conversation when he heard one. He reckoned those voices were not coming from carriers. Carriers spoke gibberish. Or at least he had thought so before last week.

Dave shushed the girls, then held out an arm to tell them to stop walking. He made a gesture for them to ready their weapons. They did. The footsteps approach closer. Dave could hear them coming from an aisle running perpendicular to the aisle in which he and girls stood.

The three of them crept to the end of the aisle to wait for the strangers to pass. Despite the strangers' attempts to speak quietly, their voices carried in the openness of the large warehouse. Their footsteps echoed loudly throughout the structure, further giving away their presence.

“Are those carriers?” Brenda whispered.

“I don't think so,” Dave answered quietly.

“Thieves, maybe?” Tammy asked.

Dave looked into the distance trying to spot any movement. He couldn't see them, but he could hear them. “Maybe.”

“You think we can we get out without being noticed?” Brenda asked.

“I don't think so,” Dave whispered back. “What do you guys think we should do.”

“Surprise them,” Tammy said. “We need to act first.”

“I don't know about that,” Dave said.

“We don't have time to vote on it. They're almost on top of us!” Brenda whispered as loudly as she could.

“Fine,” he responded.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Tammy whispered.

“I’d give you the same advice,” he shot back.

“Shut up, both of you,” Brenda chided. “They're almost here.”

As the group of strangers walked into view Dave inhaled deeply, then exhaled. His hands shook and his heart was racing. The adrenaline flow combined with the memory of his wife's murder caused his knees to feel weak and wobbly.
It’s now or never
, he told himself.

He stepped out of the shadows, baseball bat in hand, Brenda and Tammy wielding their guns behind him.

“Stop right there!” he yelled. “Don’t anybody move a fucking muscle!”

CHAPTER 13

Ed stopped running when he saw Trish lying on the ground behind them. “Zach, Jeremy!” he yelled. “Stop!” Both boys stopped when they heard their father's command. They turned, immediately noticing that Trish wasn't with them, then ran back to their father as he made his way toward Trish's motionless body on the ground.

When he reached her he saw more carriers approaching. He picked her up quickly, tossing her small body over his shoulder. She was so thin that she hardly weighed anything.

“Come on!” he yelled to the boys. They glanced toward the oncoming carriers, and then followed their father. Ed ran, flanked by both boys, as Trish lay slumped and motionless over his shoulder. They reached the highway and kept going, running until they could run no longer. Once they hit their exhaustion point they slowed to a fast walk. They kept a lookout behind them as they walked, but they saw no carriers in pursuit. They continued to walk for some time, wanting to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the carriers.

They were still in cornfield country. Ed motioned for the boys to follow, and they veered off the road and into the cornfield, penetrating a dozen yards or so. Ed needed to buy some time to check on Trish. He instructed Zach to keep a lookout then lay Trish down gently on the ground between the cornstalks.

He held his hand under her nose and felt warm breath. She moaned, her eyes fluttered, then she opened them quickly. She looked around at the cornstalks, then up at Ed. A frightened look crossed her face.

“Where are we? What happened?” she asked.

“You passed out while we were running. You’re still pretty weak. We’re in a cornfield, just off the highway. We can’t stay here though, we have to keep moving.”

“I don’t think I can walk very far.”

“That’s okay. You're riding piggyback.”

Ed helped her to her feet, steadying her when she became dizzy. “Hold on,” he told her, kneeling down and lifting her onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, then rested her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“Don't mention it,” he replied.

Ed found he was able to carry Trish further than he though he could. She had always been a small girl, and not having a square meal in so long only made her that much lighter. She held on tightly as they walked, while both boys walked on either side of them.

They continued walking along the highway at a pace that would continue to maintain distance between them and the carriers from the farmhouse. Ed doubted the ones they left standing had the physical stamina to pursue them, but it was better safe than sorry. They walked for an hour or so, stopping periodically for food and water, and for Ed to rest his arms. They still had all their supplies, so they had enough food to keep them going for a while.

Eventually daylight began to wane and Ed knew they needed to set up a camp. His arms were becoming extremely weak from the strain of carrying Trish for so long, and they had all had one hell of a day. The weather wasn’t freezing, but it was still very cool. They would definitely need to sleep in their sleeping bags tonight.

He wished he could have had a couple more days, even a week in the farmhouse. Trish really needed warmth, comfort, and rest in order to recover. She had that in the farmhouse, but on the open road these things were in short supply.
Wish in one hand and shit in the other, then see which one fills up first
, he thought to himself. It was what it was, and there wasn't much he could do about it. And there definitely wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about much of anything in the short time before dark fell. They were committed to the road for the night, regardless of Trish's condition.

Before long they happened upon another section of the road flanked by forest. The cornfields were broken by this patch of woods for maybe a mile or so, at least as far as Ed could see in the fading daylight. He decided this area would do; he wanted to get off the road and under at least some cover before night fell.

They walked off the road and headed into the woods. The canopy of trees blocked some of the sunlight, but since the trees were just starting to bloom there wasn’t the heavy ceiling of leaves there would have been in full summer. Ed figured they had at most another thirty minutes of useful light while under the trees.

They chose a place to stop, then he had the boys unroll their sleeping bags. They lay the sleeping bags down on the layer of plastic they carried with them to keep the fabric from drawing any moisture out of the ground. Ed lay Trish gently down on the sleeping bag.

“I’m chilled again,” she said softly. He felt her forehead; it was hot again. He thought she’d shaken that fever back at the farmhouse, but she had been through a lot that day, not to mention the abuse her body had taken before Ed and the boys knew her. It was little surprise she might have a small relapse.

She not only needed rest, but also heat. He had both boys lay down on either side of her then he covered them all with the other sleeping bag. The kids’ body heat, combined with her own, would help to keep her warm and would hopefully make her sleep more restful. He thought the same might be true of the boys too; they really had taken to her.

“I’ll take first watch,” he told them. “We'll take turns, first you, Zach, and then Jeremy. That should take us through the night.” The boys agreed, then snuggled in next to Trish. They were out cold in less than five minutes, all three of them.

Ed stood, looking at the three of them sleeping so peacefully. If the girl died Zach and Jeremy would be beside themselves. They were beginning to take to her like a surrogate mother. He liked the idea of them having a mother figure in their life again, but he worried about it ending badly.

Just as it had the last time.

He could barely remember Sarah's face anymore. Ed's opinion was that memory could be a real motherfucker, erasing the things one wanted to remember, but keeping the things one wanted to forget as fresh and alive as the day they it happened. This was his case, at least, and he hated it. He remembered only a concept of his dead wife. Specific details of events in their shared life seemed to blend together; birthdays, anniversaries, and just the day to day life in the pre-virus world. It was like one long dream, thin and fleeting as it was muddy and garbled.

Clear and ever-present in his mind, however, was the last image of the thing that had once been his wife. Her eyes were wild and she shook with rage. The screaming went on and on, screams of madness and frustration. Her only desire at the end was to kill and eat the father of her children, then onto the children themselves.

But that hadn’t really been Sarah. Not
his
Sarah, at least. What she’d become was a monster, a wild animal, a vicious creature that would never be satiated, no matter how many times it killed. In the end he had no choice, no power to heal. In the end he had only the power to clean up the mess, and that really wasn’t power at all. That was just responsibility.

Then he kept four bullets in a clip in his front pocket, just in case they ran out of all other options. To end his wife's suffering he used one of those four bullets that day. And since then he continued to carry the remaining three, inserted into a clip he kept in his pocket.

Just in case the worst should come to pass.

Ed felt there was a lot to be said for preparation. That much he could control. He also felt there was a lot to be said for luck. Luck, by its nature, he had virtually no control over. They had their share of good luck along the way and, if Ed were forced to admit it, he might have to give as much credit to luck as he gave to preparation. Luck and preparation were kissing cousins; complimentary conditions that, when delivered in tandem, often meant the difference between living and dying.

And sometimes it was better to be lucky than prepared.

After dawn arrived Ed took stock of his brood. Trish’s fever had subsided, lasting only a few hours the prior night. He took this as a good sign. She still needed rest though, and Ed needed a place to allow her that necessity. With no plan in mind, Ed and the boys walked back onto the highway, still heading west. Trish rode piggyback again; she was still too weak to walk long distances.

Within an hour they stumbled upon their gift from an indifferent universe. It was a large RV, abandoned along the highway. Most of the tires were flat and the windshield had a crack in it, but it was otherwise in great condition. When they reached the RV, Ed lowered Trish down on the ground. She was at least strong enough to stand. He tried the front door to the RV and found it unlocked. He opened it then peeked carefully and slowly inside. The keys were still in the ignition.

He drew his gun, ushering Trish and the boys behind an abandoned car for cover. He stepped carefully into the RV, checking for any hostile inhabitants. The investigation proved it was clear, so he directed both boys inside the RV. He then helped Trish navigate the steps leading into the vehicle. He pulled the keys from the ignition, placed them into his pocket, and locked the door behind them.

The inside of the RV was very large. The thing could easily be mistaken for a bus. It was warm inside, but not too hot. The cool weather outside kept the RV at a reasonable temperature. The air was stale, but breathable, and the interior suffered only from a buildup of dust.

Ed cracked a window to allow some fresh air to flow through. He already felt safer in the RV than he did on the open road. He even felt safer than he had at the farmhouse. He wasn't sure why exactly; the RV was a smaller structure and it just seemed easier to secure the entry points.

Ed motioned for Trish and the boys take a seat on the small couch in the RV’s living room. He then took another walk through the interior to take inventory, eventually entering a bedroom at the back of the vehicle. In it was a full-size bed, still covered in sheets and blankets. He walked back to the couch then helped Trish back to the bedroom.

He helped her get out of her clothes; underneath she still wore the nightgown he’d found for her back at the farmhouse. She slipped into the bed and he pulled the covers up to her narrow chin and then over her shoulders. She smiled at him and he felt his stomach flutter just a bit. He smiled back, trying to ignore the feeling. She closed her eyes, a slight smile still on her pale lips.

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked past the RV’s back door he checked again to ensure it was locked before returning to the children. The boys seemed content to just sit on the couch and play together, so Ed decided to take the opportunity to continue surveying the RV to see what they had available to them.

The home on wheels sported a kitchen area near the center of the vehicle, then, past that, before the bedroom, was an enclosed bathroom area. Strangely enough the RV almost felt larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Ed was amazed by how roomy and spacious it was.

He began opening cabinets in the kitchen. When he opened the first cabinet he almost gasped; canned food lined the shelves inside. He opened a second cabinet and found the same thing. Inside the third and final cabinet he found the remnants of a rotten loaf of bread and a desiccated Bundt cake, along with various kitchen utensils.

Ed walked back into the RV's living room, then sat down on a plush chair to think. He figured they could live in the RV for a week or two if needed, a perfect place for Trish to rest and get better. It was also a perfect place for the boys to sleep in a real bed and feel at least some degree of safety.

They would need to leave to get water since he didn’t trust the water that had been sitting in the RVs tanks for three years, but that risk wasn’t any greater than what they faced every day anyway.

Ed sat back in the chair and watched his two boys. They smiled at him and he smiled back. His eyes were heavy with fatigue. He was sure the boys had to be tired too. They'd all been through a lot that day. Escaping death had that effect on people.

“How about you guys take a nap?” he suggested. “You can share the couch.”

“But we’re not tired,” Zach replied.

“Yeah, we’re not tired,” Jeremy added, as if to provide credibility to his brother’s argument.

Ed thought about it; the RV was locked, the curtains were drawn, and no one knew they were there. He could surely nap safely for a bit. “Fine then,” he conceded. “You guys stay on the couch and keep your voices down. Don’t talk above a whisper. We don’t want anyone outside who might be listening to know we’re in here.”

Both boys agreed. Ed lay back in the chair, placing his head on the plush headrest. The chair seemed to cradle his aching body, and he felt his muscles relax as sleep began to take over his mind and body.
This is perfect
, he thought to himself. Then sleep swiftly overtook him.

Ed’s eyes opened quickly; something was wrong. Where was he? Where were the boys? Where was Trish? He sat up in the chair, breathing heavily, as he tried to shake the fog from his mind.

Quickly it began to come back to him. They were in an RV on the highway. Trish was sleeping in a bed near the back of the vehicle. He looked over at the couch; both boys were out cold, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. The light was getting dimmer inside the RV. He wondered how much time had passed since he fell asleep. They found the RV around midday, so he must have been asleep for six hours or more. He hadn’t understood how exhausted had been. Apparently everyone else had been as well.