She dug through some papers to the bottom of the console, uncovering an address book with gold lettering on a blue cover. She opened the stiff pages, carefully turning to the front page, and read, “This book belongs to Alisha Coons.” The address area was blank. She flipped through the book and noticed the addresses filling its pages were from all over the world. This family really got around. Allison’s eyes burned as tears resurfaced. She wiped them away and took a deep breath as she placed the address book back in the console. Where were you from? Allison opened the glove box and found the insurance card. It read, “Brandon and Alisha Coons.” The address was a P.O. box in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Not from here. Another dead end. She tossed the insurance card onto the passenger seat as she leaned her head on the steering wheel. I have no way to get to Pennsylvania or any of the places in that fucking address book. How am I supposed to make amends with this family? Allison picked up the card and put it back into the glove box.
She popped the trunk and walked around to the back of the car. Allison lifted the trunk open and her foot hit something under the back of the car. What the hell? She kneeled down, resting her knees on rough bits of pavement. Right under the tail end of the car was a bat. The bat from her flashback. As Allison pulled it out with trembling hands, she heard the clatter of things moving. She positioned her body flat on her stomach and looked under the car. There lay a heap of dark bones aged by years of exposure to the elements. A small skeleton. Her breath burned in her throat, and guilt clenched her windpipe, threatening to choke her. There was no denying it was the remains of a child.
Allison flattened her body to the ground, the rough pavement pressing into her skin, decorating it with tiny indentations. She stared at the skeleton, letting tears pour from her eyes and form a tiny pool of salty liquid in-between her cheek and the road. How did he get down here? He must have been so scared. Guilt tightened its hold on her neck, spreading its grasp to her chest, squeezing her in a crippling vise. Murderer. She let herself cry. Her chest tightened and her body shook violently with each sob. Her vision clouded with tears, and she was gasping for breath. Monster. The guilt held on, suffocating her, holding her hostage, killing her. She wheezed as she gasped for air. Anxiety grew in her chest, its tentacles reaching for every part of her being. The anxiety spread, taking away Allison’s control over her body as her breathing became more labored. Can’t breathe. She closed her eyes and redirected her attention inward. One, two, three—stay calm—four, five, six—stay focused—eight, nine, ten—don’t forget to breathe. She concentrated on relaxing her major muscles, loosening her body from its vise. Mom. She slowed her breathing. Gabby. She crossed her arms across her chest, wrapping herself in a tight hug, calming the tremble of her body. Forgive me. Guilt released its hold on her and Allison sucked in the air, expanding her lungs to the fullest, and then released. She focused on the rhythm of her breathing and in response her muscles relaxed, cleansing the anxiety from her system.
The Coons did not make it; they did not survive. Allison had known that they likely had died that day, but she hoped anyway that she would find some evidence that they had survived, gotten away from the Infected surrounding their car. That they had gotten away from her. She killed them. She killed Brandon, Alisha, Jake, and James. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t been the one to strike the blow, she had taken part in ending their lives. Allison rolled onto her side and puked. When the last contents of her stomach were on the ground, she wiped her mouth with the bottom hem of her shirt, sat up, and leaned back on the bumper of the car.
Allison plundered through the trunk of the white sedan, finding some bottled water and canned goods, which she transferred to her truck, but not before downing a can of peaches. She then took an empty bag from the trunk and gently gathered up the small skeleton, placing it inside. Allison swung the bag onto her shoulder and spotted the bat on the ground. It was wooden with red and blue lines circling the handle. The head of the bat was chipped, dented, and discolored. She scooped it up and headed to her truck. She climbed in and drove around the town until she found a lovely park.
She parked her truck warily in the parking lot near the edge of the park as she surveyed the area. She had been too reckless lately. With Dr. Neff on her tail, she needed to be more aware of her surroundings. She needed to be with other people. It would be harder to kidnap her with an audience. The black truck was nowhere to be seen. No people. No animals. No Infected. She was utterly alone.
How are they following me without keeping me in their line of sight? A thought dawned on her. She exited Old Blue and started feeling under each wheel well. Nothing. She began digging through her bag, looking for anything she didn’t recognize. Sweat wet the nape of her neck as it cascaded down her back, causing her shirt to cling uncomfortably to her body. She pulled a hair tie from her bag and swiftly tied her hair into a high bun. She brushed the loose strands behind her right ear with her fingers and stroked a small raised bump. She touched behind her left ear in the same place, no bump. She
