Her dad left first, driving off in his beat-up old truck to buy supplies. He never came back. Next, it was her mom. She took off in the early morning hours while Amy was still asleep. She returned hours later with a trunk full of food and toiletries. That wasn’t all she brought home, however.
Amy shook her head. The memory of her last conversation with her mom surfaced again. It kept doing that. No matter how hard she tried, it insisted on coming back, over and over again.
***
“Listen to me, sweetheart. You have to do what I say,” Amy’s mom said, steering her away from the main bedroom. “Your father’s gone.”
“No, that’s not true. It can’t be,” Amy cried, unwilling to believe that her father, the strongest man she knew, was dead. Or even worse. A zombie.
Amy’s mom shook her by the shoulders. “You have to accept the facts, Amy. He’s not coming back. If he could’ve, he would’ve been here.”
“No,” Amy said, fighting against the knowledge that welled up inside. Her mother was right, she knew it, but she wasn’t ready to accept it. Not yet.
“Come now.” Amy’s mom tugged on her arm again, pulling her toward the stairs. “You have to focus.”
“Why?” Amy asked though she knew the answer to the question already. It was written in her mom’s waxen skin, the sweat that beaded on her forehead, the blood that stained the bandage on her arm. She was infected, doomed to become a zombie — a flesh-seeking cannibal.
“Because very soon, you’ll be on your own. At least until your brother gets here,” Amy’s mom replied. “He’s on his way. He said so, but until then, you have to look after yourself.”
“Mom, please,” Amy begged, yanking her arm back. “I can’t do this alone. I need you.”
“Yes, you can. You’re sixteen, not a child anymore.” Her mom paused, staring at her with sad eyes. “I can’t protect you any longer. It’s up to you now. This is the moment when you decide whether you want to live or die. I can’t make that decision for you.”
“But how? What do I do?” Amy asked, clinging to her mother’s hand, aware how clammy her skin felt. How hot.
“Stay here until Alex arrives. It’ll be a few days at most. There is enough food and water to last you a couple of weeks, and there’s fuel in the generator if the power goes off.”
“I don’t want to wait here all alone,” Amy protested. “What if those things come here?”
“You’ll be safe. The farm is isolated, and the fence will keep them out. All you need to do is be careful.”
“What about you?” Amy asked, tears burning her eyelids.
“Very soon, I’ll turn into one of those things. A monster. I can’t let that happen.” Amy’s mom gripped her elbow and led her downstairs to the living room. She pushed Amy into a chair. “Wait here.”
Amy perched on the edge of the seat, tugging at the worn material of her jeans with nervous fingers. She gazed around the room. This was her home. What would it be like without her parents? She couldn’t imagine it. “This isn’t happening. It can’t be. Dad will come home, and Mom…she’ll be fine. It’s just a small bite mark.”
But Amy knew she was kidding herself, telling a lie that even she couldn’t believe. Not after everything she’d seen on tv. The internet. In town.
Her mother returned from the basement with a shotgun, a Glock 43, and a box full of ammunition. She handed the shotgun and ammo to Amy. “I took this out of the safe. You’ll need it. Don’t go anywhere without it, okay?”
Amy nodded, unable to reply. The gun was heavy, the steel barrel cold to the touch, but she was used to it. Her father had taught her to shoot from a young age, and she’d spent many a day out in the woods hunting birds and small game. She was proficient with both the 12 gauge pump-action shotgun and her dad’s .303, but he’d taken that with him when he left.
On autopilot, she checked that the gun was fully loaded with the safety on. As per regulation, it only took three shells, so it would be better to carry a pistol as well for backup. The action soothed her anxiety somewhat and reminded her that she could defend herself. She wasn’t just some wallflower in need of rescuing. She glanced at her mother who bustled around with nervous energy. “So, what now?”
“Lie low, keep the windows and doors shut, and wait for Alex. Last we spoke, he was only two or three days out depending on the road conditions. He’ll know what to do when he gets here.”
“Alright.”
“There’s a first-aid kit in the linen cupboard if you need it,” her mom said, fiddling with the porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece. “And the keys to my car are on the board in the kitchen next to the safe keys. There’s cash in the safe too. It might not help much, but who knows.”
“Okay.” The word sounded dull and lifeless, much like Amy did herself.
Her mom stopped fidgeting and turned to face her. “Oh, my child. I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I wish I could take it all away, but I can’t. You have to be strong now. You and Alex…you have to live. For your dad and me. For us.”
Amy swallowed on the knot that had formed in her throat, her voice thick when she spoke. “I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Come here, sweetheart. We need to say goodbye.”
Amy jumped up and ran into her mother’s waiting arms, the embrace bittersweet. The wall that was holding back her tears burst, and she sobbed in earnest, not caring that she was messing all over her mom’s dress. “I’m gonna miss you, Mom. So much.”
“I know, sweetheart, but I’ll always
