Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (27 page)

“Oh,
want me to get off?”

“Not
just yet.”

The
radio came to life a second time with Lizzy again leading the comments.

Interlude – Miranda’s Story

Miranda
arrived at the
Nebraska
National Forest the day before it all
began. Her home was in
Washington
,
on the outskirts of
Seattle
where she lived with her parents. They had been traveling to
Florida
to see her father’s ninety seven year
old grandmother. The woman was suffering from severe senility and had no clue
whom Miranda, or anyone else, was. Miranda had steadfastly refused to accompany
them, finding such visits extremely distressing, so she’d been handed off to
her aunt for a couple of weeks instead.

Blind
since early childhood, Miranda remained with her parents for reasons of
convenience and safety, but although only twenty two years old, she was
financially independent. Miranda worked freelance, creating audio books and
performing dictations of other documents. Her voice was crystal clear and
lacked any obvious regional accent. She was able to read Braille with no
difficulty, and many of her productions were intended to accompany books in
that format as a supplement or learning aid. She also possessed excellent
memory and could recite several paragraphs flawlessly after hearing them a
single time. Miranda tended to forget the material after an hour or so, but
this talent was extremely beneficial considering her line of work.

Normally,
Miranda would have remained home while her parents were gone, but her seeing
eye dog, a golden retriever named Rover – she selected the name specifically
because it was outdated – had passed on shortly before. Without him, she found
the house a tad too lonely and getting around outside difficult. Additionally,
Miranda liked her aunt. They’d always gotten along, and an extended visit would
be pleasant.

Miranda’s
Aunt Betty had a home within the national forest where she was spending a few
years undertaking federally funded research. As a botanist, she spent most her
time hiking about counting plants and performing soil tests, and the woman was
more than happy for some company.

“It’s so
good to see you.”

“You too
Aunt Betty.” Miranda never called her Bethany, nor had she heard anyone else
use the name, other than her mother, and that was only when she was irritated
or angry. “It should be fun.”

“We’ll
definitely enjoy ourselves, but let me show you around first. The place isn’t
large so you should have it figured out pretty fast, and there isn’t all that
much furniture to walk into. I already packed up my boxes and notes and moved
most to the shed. You know how I sometimes leave things lying about.”

Miranda
nodded. She once fell down the stairs at her aunt’s old house because the woman
had dropped a stack of binders on the floor in the upstairs hallway planning on
putting them away later. Miranda had been twelve at the time. It was also one
of the infrequent occasions when her mother had used the name Bethany while
shouting, very loudly, at her for being so careless. Since then, Aunt Betty had
been superbly diligent in making certain the house was as prepared as possible
before Miranda came over.

“Only
two doors going outside.” Taking Miranda’s hand, she set it on the door knob.
“Front one is here. The living room is behind you. The steps going upstairs are
to your left. There’s the kitchen and a small study off the living room. I’ll
show you. Oh, and the fireplace too. It has a raised stone base. I’ve tripped
on it a few times so don’t forget about that.”

She
guided Miranda around the room showing her the furniture and doorways. It was a
simple enough layout, and after a few minutes the young woman had no trouble
navigating.

“What
about the kitchen?” she asked.

“Back
door is there, same as the front.”

The kitchen
tour was even shorter.

“On the
second shelf of the fridge I have two big Tupperwares. The square one is
strawberries. The round one has blueberries.”

Miranda
nodded. She did love her berries and ate far more than her share, but, as her
mom always said, they were a lot better for you than cookies. And cookies had
been hard to keep around. Rover tried to steal them every chance he got. The
dog had a sweet tooth and tended to neglect his manners and training if he
thought he could snatch a treat when no one was looking. She missed him.

“There’s
a small bathroom downstairs” continued her aunt. “It’s off the den, just a
toilet and sink. The proper one is upstairs, along with the two bedrooms.”

After
showing her these, and giving her a shelf in the small cabinet for her personal
items, Aunt Betty let Miranda plop herself down on the sofa. It was late, and
both were tired.

“I’ll
take you about the yard tomorrow, and I’ll introduce you to my neighbors. Got a
park ranger living next door. There isn’t much to worry about. No fences or
raised flower beds, no trees immediately by either house.”

“That’s
good. I don’t think I’ll be going out into the woods without you. I would if
Rover were still around, but you know.”

“You’re
getting a new dog soon.” Her aunt took off her boots and set both feet on the
coffee table, placing the footwear underneath so it was out of the way. “Your
mom said after this visit, wasn’t it?”

“That’s
right. I could’ve had one sooner, but I didn’t want to until we were all back.
It can be disorienting for the dog if the first few months aren’t spent in the
home.”

“Well, I
have no problem guiding you. Nothing too bad out here for you to worry about
either. Worst that’s likely to happen is for some malicious squirrel to be
tossing nuts at you.”

The
remainder of the evening was spent catching up, telling stories, and otherwise
chatting. Aunt Betty was a bit dismayed to learn Miranda still lacked a
boyfriend – this was coming from a die hard, obsessive romantic who never dated
because it interfered with work – and wasn’t all that worried about it either.
Miranda kept up with her friends on a regular basis and did some volunteer work
with those recently blinded by accidents or injuries, mostly soldiers, so she
certainly had a social life. And the young woman was quite content with that
state of affairs, at least for the time being.

*
* *

Miranda
woke early the next morning, following a restless sleep. The bed was
comfortable enough, but the lack of familiar sounds, namely traffic, was a bit
disconcerting. Having an owl hooting outside the window in the middle of the
night hadn’t helped either. Still, she forced herself up and walked to the
bathroom, one hand on the wall and a toe carefully tapping the floor in front
of her. The staircase was a whopping three and a half feet from the bathroom
door, and Miranda didn’t fancy taking a tumble. Aside from it hurting, her aunt
would probably have a heart attack if that happened again.

She
brushed her teeth, showered, and washed her long hair, leaving it to air dry as
was her norm. After dressing in jeans and a blouse of whatever color – her
mother had packed for her so everything matched no matter the combination –
Miranda made her way downstairs. She’d heard her aunt moving about and could
now smell breakfast cooking.

“Morning
Aunt Betty.”

“Good
morning Miranda. I have some bacon going, along with eggs and toast.”

“Didn’t
mom tell you that the doctor said I have high cholesterol?”

Eggs and
bacon had been banished from their house following her last checkup, which
Miranda thought rather drastic. No medication had been prescribed, just a
warning to watch what she ate. The numbers were only a little above average.

“Of
course she told me, about nine times. I suppose I can make you oatmeal instead,
if you want, or you can have real food and we’ll just tell her that I gave you
the oatmeal.”

Miranda
laughed. “I’ll take the eggs and bacon.” She was on vacation and would indulge.

“Hear
from them yet?”

“Nothing,”
she replied, easing herself into a chair by the small kitchen table. “Do we get
reception here?”

“You can
get calls on your cell, sure. I’ve had it iffy in some of the outlying parts of
the forest, but I think that’s interference from something since I get it all
over the region, probably from a radio tower or whatever.” She shrugged.

Betty
could tell you anything about plants but was close to helpless when it came to
electronics. The woman had an old television in the house, but Miranda couldn’t
remember her aunt ever turning it on. Most of her entertainment involved
sitting down with a book, usually a trashy romance novel, or hiking around in
the wilderness for fun, often right after having walked miles in the same spots
doing her work.

“My
cell’s in the den if you want it. I never turned on the normal phone in the
house. There is 911 service, but that’s the only number you can reach.”

“I have
mine upstairs.” Miranda stifled a yawn. “I’ll call them later.”

“Here
you go.” Her aunt set the plate on the table, along with a fork. “Scrambled
eggs are on the left, bacon on the right. I’ll get you some juice and napkins.”

Miranda
let her fingers drift across the plate and picked up a slice of crisp bacon. It
had been cooked in a frying pan and still had plenty of grease on it.
Delicious.

“Want
some toast too? I have plenty, butter and grape jelly as well.”

“The
jelly please. No butter.”

Betty
complied and then joined her niece. They chatted a bit, the plan being to go
outside and take a long walk. Her aunt had to check some instruments scattered
about the forest. It wouldn’t take long, and the route was easy enough for
Miranda to accompany her.

“Done?”

“Yes.”
She got up, plate in hand, and headed to where she remembered the sink being.
“Is it nice outside?”

“Two
feet to the left.”

Miranda
corrected and found the edge. “Thanks.”

“Very
nice, but it’ll get hot before lunchtime.”

“I don’t
mind.”

*
* *

The
dishes done, the pair headed outside, after Betty detoured briefly to grab a
daypack from the den which held her notebook and some tools she might need. It
was sunny – Miranda could feel the warmth on her face – with a decent breeze.
That should finish drying her hair quickly enough. Hopefully it wouldn’t get
frizzy.

“Huh.”

“What is
it?”

“A
couple of people, not sure who they are. They’re coming this way. Look funny
though.”

“How
so?” Miranda shifted her head but didn’t hear anything. “Where are they?”

“About
thirty yards ahead of us, coming down the drive, but they don’t look right.”

“How
about being a little more specific.”

“Oh?”
She blushed. “Sorry about that. They’re walking funny, short steps and their
faces are kinda blank. I’m leaning either toward extreme intoxication, or being
stoned, or them being sick with something. I’ll go ask.”

“Aunt
Betty!”

Miranda’s
aunt had already left her to move forward. She’d never been one to let a
mystery, of any sort, go uninvestigated, but the abruptness of leaving her
behind did annoy Miranda, more than a little.

“Are you
folks okay?”

There
was no answer.

“Hey
Miranda, there is definitely something seriously wrong with them.”

“Be careful,”
she cautioned.

“Come
on. Say something, or I’m calling the rangers over. They’re allowed to arrest
people you know.”

A few
seconds later Miranda heard a shriek.

“Aunt
Betty! What’s happening?”

“They
grabbed…” She screamed in pain. “Miranda! Get in the house. Get back in the
house now!”

Miranda
was torn. Part of her wanted to help, a strong part. She’d always tried to
overcome her blindness, to make it as tiny a handicap as possible, but she was
unfamiliar with the area. She didn’t know what, if anything, obstructed the
path between her and the sounds of struggling. Miranda didn’t even have any
idea how large the two attacking her aunt were, or if they were male or female.

“Miranda.”
The call was weaker, pained. “Get inside and lock the door.” The woman was
almost gasping the words.

Miranda
hesitantly took a step back. “What’s happening?”

There
was no answer, but she heard a faint thump as if someone had fallen, then
nothing beyond some shuffling noises. In the distance birds were chirping, but
that was all.

“Aunt
Betty?”

There
was only continuing silence in response.

She
turned and then stopped. Wait. Where was the house? Miranda had to think.
They’d come out the door and walked forward for… for ten to fifteen steps. It
wasn’t more than that. Then her aunt had shifted the angle to the left, heading
for the drive. They hadn’t stepped on concrete or paving stones, only grass and
pine needles, so she couldn’t follow a walkway back. How far had they turned?
She struggled to remember. They’d been talking. It hadn’t seemed important.