Lost World (28 page)

“We could dig ourselves out,” Gretchen says.

“Yeah,” Jon replies. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t sound very hopeful, and I don’t blame him. It’s pretty clear we’re not getting out of here unless someone comes by who can pull us out. Since most of the population is dead, I can’t imagine that happening.

“I can’t get out my door,” Jon says, turning to face me. “What about yours?”

“I’ll try,” I say.

I grab the handle, then shove my shoulder against the door. It swings open, and a pile of snow falls off the roof, covering me from head to toe. It’s like being slapped in the face by Frosty the Snowman.

“Crap,” I mutter.

I jump out and shake my head while trying to brush as much of the snow off me as possible. If it melts I’m going to be soaked, and being stuck out in the middle of nowhere, I’ll risk hypothermia or frostbite.

Jon climbs out behind me, but Gretchen stays where she is. He heads to the back of the car, and I follow. The wind blows so hard it makes my teeth rattle. The sky’s pretty clear, though. Hopefully we won’t have another storm.

Jon stares at the closed trunk, and I don’t even have to ask why he isn’t opening it. The drift we crashed into has totally covered the back of the car. We’re going to have to dig it out if we want to get in, and since our shovels are in the trunk, we’re going to have to use our hands.

“How do you want to deal with this?” I ask. “Dig it out and hope we can use the shovels to free the car, or try to make it on foot?”

Jon exhales and rolls his head like he’s trying to get his neck to crack. “I don’t know. I don’t think either way is going to work, but the alternative is to sit in the car and hope someone who can help comes by. We both know that isn’t an option, either.”

“Yeah.”

We stare at the trunk in silence. All our stuff is in there, including most of our food. In hindsight, I realize how stupid that was. We were planning ahead, but using our old way of thinking. We didn’t put ourselves in zombie world. If we had, we would have realized having our stuff within arm’s reach is always the best plan.

“We have to open it,” I say finally. “If we don’t, we’re going to die for sure.”

“I know.”

“What are you guys doing back there?” Gretchen calls from the car, but she still doesn’t get out.

Jon looks toward her, then back at me. He frowns. “I’ll do it. You go sit in the car with Gretchen.”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t want you to.” Jon starts digging in the snow, not even looking at me. “Go sit in the car where it’s warm.”

I consider arguing with him, but based on the stubborn expression on his face, I know it’s pointless. He’s trying to be the man and take charge, which is what I wanted from him to begin with. Now that he’s doing it, I feel guilty. Like I’ve somehow given him a death sentence.

I head back to the car and climb in. Gretchen has cranked the heat up, and my icy skin thaws within minutes. A scraping sound starts behind us as Jon digs through the snow, trying to get to the trunk. It sounds like something is trying to burrow its way inside the car.

“What’s going on?” Gretchen asks.

“The snowdrift covered the trunk. Jon’s trying to get us out.”

Gretchen’s eyes get huge, but she nods like it’s no big deal. I hold my hands up to the heater and rub them together while I wait for Jon.

I have no idea how long it takes, but finally I hear the creak of the trunk’s hinges. The car is starting to feel stuffy, so I shove the door open and hop out.

“Where are you—”

I slam the door before I have a chance to hear the rest of what Gretchen is going to say. She should know where I’m going, and frankly, I don’t care how old she is. She should have at least volunteered to come out and help.

Jon comes around the side of the car, carrying a shovel. “Go back inside.”

“I want to help you.”

“I don’t want you to. I want you to stay inside where you’re warm and safe.”

“Who’s going to watch your back?”

Jon sighs and stops in front of me. He rests the shovel on the ground and leans against the handle. “Ginny, please do what I say.”

The fact that he calls me Ginny instead of Hadley makes my heart swell. I love that he cares enough to listen, enough to understand. That he wants to make this thing between us work so much he’s willing to take me bald and skinny and as just a regular person. Not a celebrity.

It makes me realize exactly how much I care about Jon.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go back inside. But be careful. And yell if you need any help.”

He gives me a relieved smile, then picks the shovel back up. “I will.”

I climb back inside, and Gretchen sits forward when I shut the door. “You’re back.”

“Jon wants to do it himself.”

She nods like she understands, but there’s no way she could. She doesn’t have a clue what we’ve been through.

“Because you’re pregnant?”

I turn around so I’m facing her. “How did you know?”

“I knew something was up, then I saw Jon touch your belly this morning before we left the house.” She hesitates, and I hold my breath, waiting to find out what she’s going to say. “Are you scared?”

“I don’t think I could ever face anything as scary as this,” I say with more sincerity than I’ve ever felt before.

Gretchen nods a couple times. Then a little smile turns up her lips. “At least you have someone to be with you. He’s going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

She’s right about that. I’m pretty sure Jon would throw himself on a landmine to save me if he had to. Or in front of a horde of zombies.

We lapse into silence as the sound of the shovel scraping against pavement and banging into the hood echoes through the car. The windows start to fog up, but being away from Jon makes me nervous, so I’m constantly wiping the condensation away. Trying to get a good look at him through the windshield. All I can see is his dark hair, though. Nothing else, and nothing behind him. I hate that he won’t let me stay out there. Even if we haven’t seen a single zombie since we left Millersville, you just never know.

When Jon finally comes back to the car, I have to hop out so he can climb into the driver’s seat. His cheeks are a brilliant shade of red and the tip of his nose reminds me of Rudolph. His fingers are so bright they look painful.

I slam the door behind me after I climb back in, then crank up the heater. Jon’s shivering.

“Give me your hands.”

He tries to resist, but I grab his hands anyway. His fingers feel like icicles. I pull them toward the heater vent, then rub them between my own hands in front of the warm air. Jon’s teeth chatter together.

“Did you get us out?” Gretchen asks, leaning between our seats.

I shoot her a dirty look. “Will you let him warm up at least?”

“He can answer me and get warm at the same time!”

“It-t’s ok-kay.” Jon swallows, then tenses his jaw like he’s trying to get it to obey. “I did the b-best I c-could.”

He doesn’t look hopeful that it will work, though.

After a few minutes, Jon pulls his hands out of mine and turns to put the car in gear. “Here goes.”

I hold my breath, and out of the corner of my eye I see Gretchen cross her fingers. Jon presses down on the gas. The tires spin against the icy road, but we don’t move. The engine revs when Jon gives the car more gas. We rock forward but still don’t go anywhere. Jon gives it more gas, but still nothing happens.

He slams the car into park, then sits back. “We’re not getting out of this ditch.”

“What now?” Gretchen asks, her voice ringing with panic.

“We’re going to have to walk,” Jon says, sounding exasperated. I can’t blame him. Gretchen’s whininess has increased exponentially throughout the day. It’s seems like now that she has a couple adults to take care of her, she’s reverted to her selfish teenage attitude.

“Before we even think about going somewhere, we’re going to get you warm,” I say.

I scoot over until my body is pressed up against his and rub his hands between mine again. They still feel like they’re covered in a layer of ice.

Jon grins at me. A little boy grin that’s full of mischief and gives me a glimpse of who he probably was when he was younger. “You know what would really warm me up?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I belt out a laugh.

“Ew,” Gretchen says.

Jon grabs me and pulls me onto his lap. “You can wait outside, right Gretchen?”

“I’m going to barf.”

Jon doesn’t look away from me. His green eyes move over my face, making my skin warm. When he caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, something inside me flutters. It’s like a part of me that I was sure had died is starting to wake up. It makes my heart beat in a different rhythm than it ever has before and fills me with something sweet and hopeful and beautiful. Something that should never exist in this insane world.

“I love you,” Jon whispers.

Then he pulls me against him and his mouth covers mine, and I don’t care that Gretchen is there. I don’t care about what happened in the past or what might happen to us in the future. I only care that I have Jon here. Now. That we managed to do the impossible and find a little bit of happiness in the middle of this insanity.

When he finally pulls away, the sound of Gretchen’s gagging noises makes me giggle.

“Spare me,” she says. “We need to get moving, get to Hope, and find you two a room before you get her pregnant a second time.”

I roll my eyes and Jon grins.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s get a move on.”

“You sure you’re warm enough?”

He plants a big, wet kiss on my cheek. “Very.”

I slide off his lap and we all climb out, taking the few things we had in the car with us. Then we head to the back. Jon pops the trunk again, and we dig through it. We aren’t going to be able to take all the food we have in the back, which makes me sad. There’s just too much to carry, especially when we aren’t sure how far we have to go.

“Take the lighter stuff,” Jon says, handing me a box of granola bars. “When we get to Hope, we can let them know where the car is and maybe they’ll come back for the rest.”

We’re in the middle of stuffing our packs when the sound of an engine makes me freeze. Jon whips out his gun, and Gretchen ducks behind the car. I can’t move as I stare down the snowy road at the truck headed our way.

It’s big. Like something that was made for the snow, and it’s equipped with spotlights. The front has a plow and there are metal pieces welded to the sides, giving the windows more protection. There are even spikes sticking out from the middle of the tires like a chariot and a gun mounted in the back. When it gets closer, I notice there are two other vehicles behind it. One is a military truck like you’d see full of troops, and the other is another smaller truck. They’re both as decked out as the first one is.

“Hide,” Jon hisses, shoving me behind him. “Let me talk to them. See if they’re friendly.”

I don’t argue. I pull my gun, then duck down behind the car, moving back until I’m pushed as far against the snowdrift as I can get. Gretchen is down so low she’s practically under the car. If she could get under there, I’m sure she would.

Jon steps out just as the trucks come to a stop. I hear the doors open and people get out, but I can’t see what’s going on. It makes my whole body tense.

“Hey there!” a deep voice calls out. “Run into a little trouble?”

“Yeah,” Jon says. “Hit some ice. A few snow plows would be nice.”

The man with the deep voice laughs. “Among other things, am I right? We’d be glad to help pull you out.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Jon says.

“You alone?” someone new asks.

His voice isn’t as deep, but he sounds laidback. Like he’s just asking because he’s curious, not because he’s digging for information. It’s hard to tell for sure from back here, though. I wish I could see them.

Jon clears his throat, and snow crunches like he’s shuffling his feet. “Was with a pretty good size group a couple days ago but got separated. Trying to catch up with them, to be honest.”

“Big group?” the second man says. “We’ve come across a couple people here and there, but no more than four at time I don’t think.”

“Naw,” comes the deep voice. “No big parties.”

“Well, I’ll just have to keep looking,” Jon says.

Footsteps crunch through the snow, coming our way. I scoot back, and Gretchen slams her hands over her mouth. Her eyes look like they’re ready to pop out of her head.

“You’re welcome to do that, or you could come with us,” the man with the deep voice says. “We’ve got a town less than a mile from here. We’ve been working on getting people there since right after this mess started. We have things set up real good. I think we have a chance, especially now that winter’s here. These things don’t seem to be able to handle the cold so well. We’re coming across fewer and fewer. The ones still moving around are slow.”

“We’ve noticed that,” Jon replies.

“We?” There’s amusement in the second man’s voice. “You got people with you?”