“We’re all getting stir crazy,” a man said from the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Been cooped up here a couple days now. Ran out of gas right outside of town. Norma and her family saved us.”
“Us too,” several more murmured.
Thank goodness for Norma and Jim, because we would have been toast without their generosity.
“Think a group could stand watch while I change the tire? Put on the spare?” Dan asked. Owen sat on his lap eating a granola bar and looking shell-shocked. I felt bad for him. For them both, but Owen especially. He’d lost his mother, his home, his safety in a shockingly short amount of time. And how did you explain the zombie apocalypse to a kid his age?
“I’ll help,” I said. “There’s a lot of stuff to unload to get to that tire.”
He nodded his thanks and I rose, groaning at my stiff joints.
“I’ll go too,” Lana said, so I pulled her off the ground. “It’ll be faster with all of us helping.”
“The rim might be ruined,” Dan warned. “We had to drive on it quite a ways before we got here.”
“In which case, you can use one of our trucks if you need too. We have plenty. I assume you all are headed somewhere, what with all the gas on your roof.” This from Jim, who had on bib overalls and a genial smile that would have made him Santa material had he a beard. His rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes certainly hinted at some magical ancestry.
“I need to get to Alliance,” Ivy said. “My daughter and grandchildren are there.” She still hadn’t deigned to look Dan’s way, and I wondered how long she’d stay pissed with him. “These ladies are headed back to Seattle to get to their kiddos.”
“Seattle! Oh my, that’s a long trip.” Norma’s hand fluttered to her chest and then she paused when someone poked their head out of the trapdoor to say that it was all clear. “Okay, go on. Mitch, James, and Anna will keep watch for you but you have to be quiet. They have wicked sharp hearing.”
Dan nodded and we trudged outside. Mindful of her admonition to be quiet, we took our time unloading, being careful not to let things clink or clang as we emptied the back so Dan could reach the spare. Once it was out along with the jack, he carefully lifted the car and took off the tire. “Rim’s toast,” he whispered.
Lana rolled the ruined wheel to the side of the house and left it lying on its side while Dan put on the spare. Once the jack was stowed once more, we loaded everything back into the back except for a couple boxes of food.
“What are you doing?” Dan asked quietly as Lana and I hoisted the boxes.
“Sharing. They were kind enough to save us, and I doubt they have enough to feed all those people for more than a few days, tops.” I started toward the house and he grabbed my shoulder, not hard, or I would have kicked him. Still, it pissed me off and I turned, eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I just don’t think …” He looked over at the house and realized we had an audience, though I doubted they could hear what we were saying.
“What?” I whispered again, knowing what he wanted to say and hating him a little for it.
He shook his head, looking annoyed, and waved us on.
Waved us on, as if he had any say in the matter.
The ass.
We brought in the boxes and put them on the table as Dan went to Owen without another word to us. Norma clapped her hands quietly when she saw the canned goods and she was so thrilled, I went back outside and got the cooler. The food in there would go to waste soon enough anyway, and by god Dan could suck the dick I didn’t have if he thought differently.
“It’s so generous. Thank you. We’ve been worrying about how we were going to feed everyone.” She looked guilty, as if it were somehow her fault she hadn’t anticipated the zombie apocalypse and a house full of refugees. “We’ll get dinner started and maybe you can tell us what you know about what’s going on. There isn’t much on the radio. Emergency broadcasts or DJs trying to pass on what news they can, but they don’t know much. The sheriff heard talk of parasites, but what does that mean, exactly? The CDC has been quiet, he said. And now he’s quiet.” She trailed off, looking troubled.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We don’t know any more than you do. We were in Omaha when things started going crazy. We know bites are deadly. We heard on the radio that spit, semen, bodily secretions spread it. We know the dead retain some semblance of brain activity because they can call out, they can talk, they can sing, but those are just lures to trick you into letting them get close.”
Her kind eyes were gazing at me with such horror I had to stop. I couldn’t be the one to add to her nightmares, though I supposed I already had.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Me too, honey.” She squeezed my hand with her paper soft one, and I resisted the urge to fall into her arms and cry.
We heated up cans of beef stew, green beans, and ramen and had the best peach cobbler I’d ever eaten for dessert. When it was time to sleep, we used a couple pillows from the car for our bed and slept on the floor beside the fridge. It
