Nope. Certainly not me.
That made me think of Barrett and his relentless teasing of me about her and a wave of sorrow passed over me. I couldn’t believe he was gone. There were so many things we were going to do together and now the best I could hope for was that the zombies had taken his head so that none of us would have to shoot him. I don’t think Barrett would make a good zombie. He’d have to eat people and he certainly wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with that.
I sighed and was almost surprised by the tears I felt running down my cheeks. I’d never been this weepy before. Hell, I hadn’t cried when Barrett told me my mom was dead. Fannie Mae reached up and touched the wetness on my cheeks. She didn’t say anything as we looked at each other by the fading light. She leaned forward and I could tell what she wanted. A part of me wanted it, too. My heart was full of sorrow and it needed filling with something just a little happier.
She leaned forward and tilted her head up. I kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, no moving of the head or tongues rammed down each other’s throats. It was just the pressing of our lips together. Yet. And yet, still, a tingle of electricity shot through me and every hair on my body stood on end. The electricity was coming from our lips but I could feel it like a ball of energy in the pit of my stomach.
We finally parted and just looked at each for a moment without saying anything. Then she sighed and leaned into me, placing her head on my chest. She was asleep in moments. I squeezed her shoulder tightly where I had my arm around her and put my chin on the top of her head. I tried to close my eyes and sleep but nothing happened. I could feel the dreams and the horror just behind my eyelids, waiting for me to fall to sleep.
So I shook it off and looked around the room.
Parts of my brain were happy and confused. Confused, but happy. I decided now wasn’t really the right time to think about me and Fannie Mae. The next thing to intrude was to see all the suffering and fear and crying in the room and to flash on the at least 20-ish zombies roaming around outside and to think about how that was all my fault, but I pushed all that away, too.
Then thoughts of Barrett intruded in, but I wouldn’t even allow myself to go there, so I threw that aside, too. Not much was left at that point.
I looked around the room at the 65 people there. Most looked like they were in shock and couldn’t believe what was going on. I didn’t blame them as I still had trouble with it myself. This wasn’t what it was like in the movies. On film the survivors always banded together and had a virtual arsenal they could use to mow down the zombies. There was usually one or two like Jennings – I sneered in his direction – but usually all the others were true survivor-types.
That certainly wasn’t the case this night.
I counted maybe eight guns in the room, not counting what Fannie Mae and I had on us. I’d say half of them were shotguns. A couple looked like they were .22’s. I’m not sure what they intended to do with those little rifles. You’d have to be a crack-shot to kill a zombie with one of those. I’d rather have a pointy stick. And the rest were an assortment of handguns. They’d probably work all right but I’m thinking the shotguns would be the best bet. Who knows exactly where in the brain you’d have to shoot a zombie to kill it? I certainly didn’t and I was probably the only one in this room who’d actually faced one down.
I’d much rather go with the wide spray of a shotgun shell.
No wonder Washington had wanted to take the gun away from me. He had men stationed at every window but I’d say less than half of them had weapons. If we were attacked the best they’d be able to do would be to yell really loud and run like hell, but there was no way he was getting this weapon from me. The three of us had gone through way too much to get it.
Thoughts of that made me think of Tamara. It seemed like forever since she’d crossed my brain, which was odd in and of itself since she used to be all I could think of in my hormone-laced teenager dreams. It’s amazing what a difference 24 hours can make in your priorities. Survival becomes the top issue, depending on the type of person you are. I know rape isn’t the girl’s fault but in this instance I felt like she had at least an even amount of responsibility for our current predicament. I wouldn’t want rape to happen to anybody and I definitely didn’t want anyone to become a zombie, but if she hadn’t been in the middle of a graveyard at midnight with a thug like Mason Smith than none of this would have happened and I’d be whistling away none the wiser at what the real world really held.
Real world? Was that what this was now?
I wish Barrett was still here. I’m sure he’d have all kinds of lore and good information we could use for the final group of survivors holing up in the last bastion of safety. He’d know good things we’d need to watch for and holes we’d need to fill to make sure the zombies didn’t get inside. But Barrett was gone.
I shoved that thought aside again.
I knew I should take the rest while I could but after a half hour or so of Fannie Mae snoring softly on my chest I knew there was no point in even trying anymore so I slowly extricated myself from underneath her. It wasn’t easy doing it without waking her up but I finally managed it. I laid her down on her side on the floor and let her use my jacket for a pillow.
I stood and stretched, hearing my back crack like an old man. A skittering part of me wanted to run and find a bolt hole and hide but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I didn’t feel safe here at all. There were too many personalities and moods and minds involved for this to be that safe of a place. They all took the idea of the zombies seriously because they’d seen what had happened out in the road with Donny but I don’t think they truly took it seriously. The zombies hadn’t attacked the House yet.
Yet.
But I’m sure they would. The lights shining through all the windows would surely appeal to them when they were ready. My guess was that there were still a few people out there huddled in their trailers with the lights off trying to hide from the zombies but I could easily see them in my mind’s eye being attacked and overwhelmed. It would only take one or two zombies to really get the job done. One would make two, those two would make four, then eight and on up to infinity. There was no defense against that kind of madness and the zombies seemed to go for the easy pickings first.
I wanted to go for a walk and check the windows and doors myself but I wasn’t sure how Washington and the other men would really feel about that. The only other guys there my age were cowering under blankets with their families. They weren’t men, but I felt that my responsibility and my deeds this past day surely qualified me for that job and I think Washington sensed that when he let me keep the shotgun. So screw it. My safety depended on it as much as anyone else’s and I didn’t trust any one person here to keep me safe, except for Fannie Mae, and I
