“I did,” Chris says. “And that’s exactly what we need here: someone to put things into a system. If we’re not organized, then we’re basically just rolling the dice that nothing bad happens. And something bad will happen, trust me.”
Linda crosses her arms. “I don’t trust people I just met.” Chris is about to say something when she cuts him off: “But I agree with you. We need to have a plan for what we do when things turn messy.”
“Exactly,” Chris says, sending Linda a smile which seems for the first time genuine.
She doesn’t return it, though, but looks around at the others. “We’re six people total. Who will be doing what?”
“We need to play to our strengths,” Chris jumps in, before anyone else has a chance. “You, for instance!” He points at Leif. “You’re strong as a motherfucker. We’ll definitely use you for rearranging the rooms and putting up sandbags.”
“Sandbags?” Agnete says. “Where?”
“In front of the doors, of course,” Chris says. “The front and back and the one in the living room. It’ll create much stronger barricades. The number of dead assholes out there is already growing, and I don’t trust the locks to hold back the pressure forever.”
“But where will we get sandbags from?” Leif asks, glancing at Agnete. “I don’t suppose you have any lying around?”
“I certainly don’t.”
“You have several roles of plastic bags in the basement,” Chris says. “And you have a very old concrete floor down there as well. We’ll need to break it open and dig up enough sand to fill at least ten bags.” He looks at Leif again. “This will be another task for you, and—”
“Hold on,” Agnete cuts him off. “Are you saying you want to break open the floor?”
“I do,” Chris goes on calmly. “It’ll give us more than one advantage. For example, it’ll provide us with a load of concrete fragments we can use as defensive weapons.” When the others around the table look at him questioningly, he adds: “I’m talking about throwing shit at the heads of the zombies.”
“And what’s the other advantages that’ll come from destroying my house?” Agnete asks in a cross tone.
Chris sends Linda another quick look, then says in an off-hand way: “We’ll talk about that later. If it becomes relevant.”
Iver glances at Linda just in time to pick up on the almost imperceptible nod she sends back at Chris. Iver frowns. It’s like something implied just passed between the two.
What the hell’s going on? A minute ago they were biting each other’s heads off, and now they’re talking about something they don’t want the rest of us to know about.
Iver looks at Charlotte and sees her eyeing Linda. Her expression is one of ill-concealed contempt, which just makes Iver all the more puzzled, like he missed something.
Did anything happen before I came down?
As Chris goes on, Iver makes a mental note to ask Charlotte about it later.
“I think your role is obvious as well,” Chris says, pointing at Agnete. “You’ll deal with the kid.” He turns to Iver. “I’m sorry, but we need you for other things.”
“Sure,” Iver says in a guarded tone, taking a bite of his bread and trying to act casual. “Like what?”
“You’re fast. I saw you run yesterday. Very light-footed. Graceful, almost. You’re obviously in great shape. I’m sure you can outrun anyone at any time. Especially the dead ones.”
“So, what? You want me to go for a run?”
“Pretty much, yeah. You’ll be our messenger. At some point, we’ll need to send someone out to get something. Provisions, weapons, food, intel, a vehicle, whatever. And you’re definitely our best bet when that situation arises.”
Iver looks over at the kitchen windows. He can’t see the zombies outside, except for when one of them passes by the cracks between the boards, but he can hear them all right. Their moaning, guttural voices. Their nails scratching the glass.
The thought of going back out there, even in broad daylight, is enough to make his blood chill. He doesn’t say anything, though.
Chris doesn’t give him time to respond anyway, but goes right ahead to Charlotte. “You,” he says. “What’s your strengths?”
Charlotte looks like someone just pulled from a daydream. She blinks and straightens up, clearing her throat. “Uhm, well … I have … I’m good at … keeping a level head in … stressful situations.”
Iver never particularly liked Charlotte, but still he feels bad for her. That answer was probably the worst she could come up with, considering how she reacted during the situation with the window yesterday. And he can tell she realizes so even as the words are coming out, because the look she sends Chris is very guilty.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Linda grunts.
Charlotte snaps her head around and glares at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, just coming up with an answer for that question made you all flustered.”
“Fuck you. You don’t know me.”
“Woah,” Chris says. “Let’s try and keep things civil.”
“Civil?” Charlotte blurts out, pointing at Leif and Linda. “Like the way they threatened their way in here? How’s that for civil?”
“Well, now they’re here,” Chris says in a diplomatic tone. “So we need to make it work.”
Charlotte shakes her head and looks at Iver. “You okay with this? With them being here?”
Iver shrugs. “What do you want me to say, Charlotte?”
“You wimp,” she scoffs, turning to Agnete. “And you! This is your house!”
Adam begins crying, providing Agnete with the perfect excuse not to answer. She picks him up from the chair and goes to the living room to comfort him.
Charlotte stands up and glares at Linda.
“Looks like you’re the minority,” Linda says calmly.
“Sit down, Charlotte,” Chris says. “Let’s finish the—”
Charlotte cuts him off: “Just because you want to fuck her doesn’t mean I need to sit here and listen to her crap.”
She then spins around, almost tipping her chair over as she marches out of the room.
“So that’s where the dog is buried,” Linda says, looking at Chris with a sly smile. “She has a crush on
