Chapter 5

The sun is much further in the sky by the time I reopen my eyes. Kat is up and pacing from wall to wall while Dion silently watches on. I watch her, too. Her normally overly confident demeanor has dissolved into one of worry, and uncertainty. Even in this state, though, she looks beautiful and strong. Her lilac camisole wraps around curves in all of the places my clothes hang loose and flat, so that even in the relatively plain ensemble, she looks sexy without trying at all. Her manicured nails match her top and her glossy, braided hair smells of her signature coconut scent even from across the room. There’s something about the familiarity of that smell that relaxes me, even in these decidedly anxious moments while we wait for our friends who should have been here hours ago. I find myself wondering how she ran a shower without acquiring the unwanted attention of the ungodly amount of sick who are lurking just outside. Next to her, I’m a grimy and disgusting mess. I didn’t trust the squeaky, squealing shower in my apartment, and so the only personal hygiene I have maintained over the last two days was a quick scrub down with a washcloth last night, and brushing my teeth.

Dion stands, leaning against the doorframe of the large basement bedroom and staring around the room avoiding eye contact with either of the women he is accompanying. This is the first moment I have had to really look at him, and take in his features. He has large dark eyes, an even deeper brown than the ones on the other side of the room, now scrolling through chat boxes on her Cast. Even in his relaxed stance, he looks ready to take on the world. His clothing choice even screams apocalypse. I look like I might as well be roaming outside with the rest of the blood-soaked victims of the variant. Kat looks like she’s ready to go the mall. I know that eventually we are going to have to get on his level of hard realism, but I just want to stay in the relative safety of this room with Kat and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. She looks me down, probably really noticing the state I’m in for the first time since we walked in the door, and pulls open her walk-in closet doors to grab a pair of jeans and tosses them my way. I smile with gratitude, and pull myself up to shut myself in her closet and change out the pants. I transfer the keys into the pocket of the jeans, which are a bit too loose but at least stay up on me. Then, I lay back down on the bed in the same place I just left.

Kat sighs and moves to take her spot next to me again in the bed, and I make room for her. She glances in Dion’s direction, but avoids eye contact. There is a definite awkwardness between those two, each of them shifting their body away from the other and refusing to make conversation. I look back and forth between the two, trying to piece together the relationship so that I don’t have to ask. Honestly, she meets and ditches so many boys that the names fly out of my brain the moment they fall from her lips. A couple of weeks ago, though, there was one that didn’t call her back, which amused everyone but her, because she didn’t want anything to do with the guy until he failed to fall all over himself to gain her attention after their first date. She enjoys when they call her and take her on a couple of dates, then drops them before any feelings can developed. She obsessed over him for days on end, before falling off the face of the earth over the weekend. The more I observe his features: Tall, dark, and very handsome. Lean muscles, hands that could absolutely do some damage. Her words, not mine. Yep. This is the guy, which both bemuses me, and annoys me. The city is crawling with people, or ex-people, who want to devour us in a very different way, and these two are afraid of post sex pleasantries like “hi” or “How have you been?”

A Cast is pushed into my hand with a message from Kat.

How do you know Dion?

I shake my head and type back that I do not know him. Which is true since the only things I do know are that he saved my life and that he’s a jerk.

What the fuck Alana?????

I groan, already frustrated with the dramatics. She probably thinks I’m being coy since that is what she would do, but she should know me better than that. One thing about Kat is that everything is a bigger deal in her world than it is in reality.

He got me out of a bad situation last night, and then brought me back here this morning to meet up with you. She starts to type a response, undoubtably finding a way to make the most unsexy situation into something provocative, but is interrupted by the roaring engine of a car speeding toward us. Seconds later, the buzz of a call slices through the silence and Kat fumbles to answer.

“Get your asses in the car! Let’s go,” Becca yells.

I peel past them both and take the stairs two at a time to peak out a window. The dull silver Toyota is idling in the driveway, surrounded.

“No way,” Kat whispers from beside me. “We’d be dead in a minute.”

I can just make out Rayne in the driver seat. There’s nothing but determination on her face as she slides the car into reverse and mulls down anyone behind her. They don’t even notice their bodies being crushed and maimed so they continue to limp or crawl towards the 3 people in the vehicle as if nothing happened. Every second that passes brings more putrid, bloody, infected people into the fray. One moment Rayne is desperately trying to clear a path for us to have a chance at running to the vehicle, failing because there are simply too many, and the next she is peeling down the street as fast as the small, now severely damaged, car will take her. Time moves in slow motion while I look on helplessly. I see Isaac in the passenger seat yelling something at her and waving his hands in our direction. I see Becca in the back crying. I see Rayne in the rearview mirror, with no hint of empathy or sorrow written on her face. Her dark features are set in an expression of resolute determination. For a moment, I can respect her will to live. But looking around after they are long gone at the mess she left behind, that respect morphs to hatred. She brought dozens of them to us, and then left us to die, and didn’t even think twice about it. She didn’t look back in regret, or call us on the Cast to come up with a backup plan ... she just saved herself.

“She’s just drawing them away and circling the block,” Kat says with complete confidence. “She’ll come back.”

I shake my head but wait at the window anyways, willing it to be true. After a minute, my shoulders sag in disappointment.

“That bitch” hisses Kat, which pretty much sums it up. She taps Raynes picture on the Cast and waits while it rings. No answer. She sighs and goes call Isaac next, but I grab her arm and shake my head. It won’t change anything, and it’s too much noise when there’s so many infected outside.

The remaining woman of the group who tore after their car is stumbling along amidst the crawlers who are using their remaining operational limbs to scoot themselves toward the direction Rayne drove off. She looks around, sniffing at the air like a hound dog, and turns in our direction randomly. I meet her eyes, and just as before, a sick feeling consumes me. She knows I am here, and she wants me. The infected is a brunette with frizzy hair and round cheeks. She chokes out a sound that is something between a hiss and a growl and the few mangled stragglers that haven’t yet disappeared in pursuit of Rayne, Isaac, and Becca stop and turn at the call. Suddenly, the already insufficient steak knife clutched in my palm feels utterly useless. I glance jealously at the intimidating blade held by Dion’s side protectively. Kat backs away upon seeing the change in our demeanor and bolts back down the stairs. We are on our own.

“Look out back and see if the path is clear,” Orders Dion. He hasn’t noticed that Kat abandoned us, and there’s no time for me to make a fuss. I rush to get it done. The windows facing the rear of the home are located in the kitchen, so while I quickly glance through each one, I look for a more appropriate self-defense weapon in the drawers and cabinets. Nothing. There are a few who were late to the party and are making their way to the front of the house from the backyard, limping to where they heard the call of their brethren. I take care not to be seen again through the large bay windows, knowing that if we are attacked on both sides, Dion won’t be able to keep up, and I’d have to pull my weight to give us a fighting chance. If it comes down to it, I like to think I can do it - I can fight for my life and come out on top, but there’s doubt that sprouted in the back of my mind when I was tackled and almost killed within minutes of coming out here on my own. That trickle of doubt is growing by the second. I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of not only myself, but two others as well.

Most of ones currently assaulting the front window are injured, minus the one who originally saw me, but there are hundreds more nearby and will migrate towards the sound soon enough. The leader is a slender girl with long black hair that’s been twisted into dreads. She makes quick work of smashing in the easiest access to her prey – the window we were stupidly staring through moments ago. She falls through the opening, tearing her arms and belly on the jagged glass. Dion is ready. The moment she hits the shiny wood floor, he separates her head from her body. When it’s done, he looks at me expectantly, eager to work out a plan.

“They’re coming around front – 6 or 7 of them? They’re slow. I think they’re injured in some way.”

Dion doesn’t care about how they are making their way to us, just that they are. The ones whose feet or legs were crushed from Rayne’s crazy driving are crawling to where the window used to be, clawing and scratching at the siding of the house. They can’t comprehend that they could keep scratching for a year straight and would still never get to us that way. Dion must have come to that conclusion as well, because he makes no move to attack the crawlers. Instead, he focuses his attention on getting the hell out before the ones who are able to get in here figure out exactly where we are. The road in front is abuzz with activity. Infected are sniffing the air and communicating in guttural hisses and groans. They know what they’re looking for is nearby, they heard the call of the black-haired girl who’s now decapitated on the floor, but they must not have seen us yet. Lucky us. I turn my back to Dion, certain in his ability to defend himself, and attempt to fling open the basement door, only to find that it’s locked.

“Kat it’s me. Open the door.”

“No.”

“I’m not infected. Open the door.”

“Where’s Dion?” She asks suspiciously.

“He’s ... He’s standing right next to me,” I say, glancing at him as he hides on the side of the window motioning for me to hurry up. I keep trying, even knowing that a small crowd of infected bodies are going to start pouring in, and the more I talk the quicker they’ll find us. I decide that they know where we are anyways, and urgency is more important than stealth right now. “Kat, open the damn door and get out here with us or we will pull a Rayne on you.” Silence.

“Please,” I beg. I hate how pathetic I sound. I hate that I’m bothering to plead with her at all because right now, she doesn’t deserve it.

A few seconds later, she cracks open the door just enough for me to grab it and pull it open before she could change her mind. I grab her wrist with every bit of my negligible strength and pull her behind me. She’s not fighting to get away yet, but I’m not losing her once we get outside either. Dion swiftly pulls open the same white door that we snuck through only a few hours ago, and scans the surroundings. Behind us, I hear the thud of a body hitting the floor. I do not need to look to know what is happening.

“Go!” I shout frantically.

We pile out together, and slam the door behind us knowing damn well that a closed door isn’t stopping anyone. The things don’t seem to have the best navigation skills though, so they continue to pile in and follow the most direct path to us rather than considering a better route. It’s good that they are stupid, because we don’t know what the hell we are going to do. Well, I don’t. Kat doesn’t. Dion has done this before. He is sure-footed as he chooses a direction and sticks with it. We are moving away from my car, which seems silly because we cannot outrun what doesn’t tire. I can’t complain though, since I don’t have a better plan and am expending all of my energy just keeping ahold of Kat’s shaking hand. She is a runner, so keeping up with me is not an issue for her. It’s keeping control of herself that is a problem. She hasn’t been outside since this all started, waiting for parents that we both know are never coming home. In the distance, I hear the crash of yet another window busting out. They really have a thing for breaking windows.

“I still have my keys,” I pant out, eager for a place to sit on my ass. My sides are burning and I am slowing down despite myself. Now Kat is the one dragging me along. To her credit, she isn’t letting me go and abandoning me to my fate this time. Dion nods and changes direction, heading roughly to where my car is. We have picked up more of a following. They hear the pounding of our feet on the asphalt, and are eager to join in on the chase. By the time we reach the car - another five minutes of agonizing running (more of a jog for me at this point) - they are right on our tails. Dion stands behind me while I open the driver door and slashes the first to approach us across the face. I dive in toward the passenger seat so that he can get in behind me, and hurry to unlock the back door on the passenger side. Kat darts to that side of the vehicle and climbs into safety just as Dion slams the driver door behind him. My old kia is modern enough not to require keys to be put in the ignition, just for the driver to have them on their person. I already took the key fob out of my pocket and tossed it in one of the drink holders. Bodies smash against the metal of the car as we peel away. There’s a moment of nothing but gasping while we take a moment to breathe. Once my side stopped burning, I am reminded that I made a mistake.

“We have to go back - I forgot Stuart. We need to go get Stuart.”

“We are not going back for a cat,” he said, frustratingly calm and assertive. Of course he’s calm. It’s not his pet.

“We can’t leave him. He’s not an outdoor cat. He doesn’t know how to live in the wild.” I can’t believe I forgot him.

“Guys -” kat tries to interrupt.

“I’m not risking my life for a god damn housecat. Again,” he stresses.

“Then drop me off and drive around the block,” I insist. I don’t know why I am still fighting him on this, we have already put too much distance between us and Kat’s neighborhood, and we have gotten more attention from the masses with every mile. The roads are congested both in front of and behind us, and even slowing down to turn around might be suicide at this point. There have to be thousands of them, pressed together as they pursue us, on the roads alone. Kat unzips a bag I didn’t notice she was carrying, and the chirps and angry wails of Stuart, which I can only interpret as cursing in meow, immediately fill the vehicle. The relief is overwhelming and tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I swallow to regain control of myself and Stuart looks around for a moment and then plops into my lap. I can feel the stress and tension in his body, so I try to soothe him – as well as myself – while I give Dion the side eye. Just because Stuart is safe, no thanks to him, doesn’t mean he is forgiven.

“I figured you’d be pissed if I didn’t at least grab Stuart. Plus, your bag has all of the water.” Kat had already consumed the water her parents left for her, so what I have now is what we have until we make it somewhere safe. “There’s no cell service out here,” she added matter-of-factly. She quiets for second, but I know her well enough that when she’s like this, there’s always a storm brewing. “You know, I was fine before the two of you showed up. I was safe. Nothing’s tried to eat me for days. Then, everyone decided to invite themselves over and here we are! Where are we even going? Is there a plan or are we just going to drive around til we’re out of gas?”

Dion is already having to weave and drive on sidewalks. He has clipped too many of them to count, but so far has avoided any real collision. Nobody answers her for a moment, because we are all making decisions on the fly, with no long-term plan.

“I don’t think they are trying to eat us,” I finally say, unhelpfully. Kat rolls her eyes; Dion raises his eyebrows.

“Did you miss all of the biting going on around here lately?” Kat argues.

“Right, but they’re not, like, eating brains. Also, have you noticed that they use several different methods to try and infect their victims? They’ll scratch you, bite you, drool in your mouth. I think the parasite is just concerned with infecting as many people as possible. I don’t think we are dealing with zombies, just ... sick people who are no longer in control of themselves.”

“Oh, they’re zombies. Just because they’re not your everyday cliché horror movie kind of zombie, doesn’t change that they bite you to turn you into one of them. You can call it apples and oranges, if you want to – but they’re still both fruit,” Kat argues.

“What I’m wondering, is if they’ll kill themselves off. The disease already killed millions of people who didn’t even get a chance to turn into a – a zombie,” I nod pointedly at Kat. Not necessarily because I agree with her logic, but because it’s not worth it to argue semantics, and I don’t know what else to call them. “Maybe these are just the one’s it’s taking longer to kill. Maybe in a few days it will burn itself out and things will go back to normal.” I think of April, a crazed maniac now, lurking in the roads (or maybe – hopefully – still stuck in my apartment) with the thousands of others in Minneapolis, dead. For real dead. No cure to bring her back dead. “Sort of normal,” I add.

“We need a plan,” Dion states. “We can’t be out on the road when it gets dark. And your gas is going to run out at some point.” I had a full tank when this all started, but unfortunately, I am one of the few who still drives a 100% gas powered vehicle. Almost everyone drives an EV or at least a hybrid. It’s the newest trend. The most modern, expensive cars are solar – but the technology is newer so they still have the ability to charge at a standard charging space at a gas station or car lot. I filled up with April on Saturday, and hadn’t driven the car since so we have awhile before it becomes a real concern, but he’s right that we need to come up with something. Right now, I’d give anything to have taken the ridiculous car payment for a solar charged vehicle. Instead, my parents bought mine outright for $3000. Gas-powered vehicles are a thing most people would rather leave in the past, so they’re cheap – and the lack of demand means refueling is also cheap. More importantly, I don’t have to pay a parking garage $200/mo for overnight charging. It takes 6 hours to fully charge an EV unless you have access to a super charger, which are mostly found outside of convenience stores, or car lots. Solar vehicles obviously only charge themselves during the day, but sometimes that’s enough to not require a manual recharge for several days, when they get enough sunlight to output more electricity than the car consumes.