After the Ending (24 page)

“Actually…yes, I do,” I admitted.

Harper sauntered over with his mouth drawn into a proud smile.
“I didn’t know you had it in you, Baby Girl. Great job! A little unorthodox,
but hey, it worked.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for
a friendly squeeze.

“You said I’d have to think on my feet.” I looked back at
Jake who was still bent over in fading pain, watching me.

Harper laughed. “Alright, enough play time for today.
Let’s get to work.” He motioned toward the hospital. “Thanks for your help,
Jake. See you in there.”

I made my way to the hospital with Harper, donned my white
jacket, and started preparing the tetanus boosters we’d planned to administer
to everyone. I barely had time to pull out my syringes, needles, and vials
before Sanchez began sending people in. Dave walked in and headed straight to
Harper’s table in the treatment bay beside mine, thankfully without a glance in
my direction. Tanya was next to arrive, and she headed over to me.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” I asked while I wiped her arm
with an alcohol swab.

“Okay. Tired, but I guess that’s what happens when you
don’t sleep much.”

“You should take a nap after we’re finished. You might be
sore for a bit, but it’ll pass.” We talked for a couple minutes after I
finished administering the vaccination, and then she excused herself. I smiled
as she waved and exited through the swinging doors.

Sarah was my next patient. Dread was painted all over her
face; she hated needles and turned green just thinking about getting a shot.

“It’s okay—it’ll only prick a tiny bit, and then it’s
over.” I tried to reassure her with a promising smile.

“It always hurts. I especially hate when I have to rip
the
Band-aid
off. It always pulls the hairs on my arm
and stings.”

“Sarah, I promise I’ll—Oh, hey Biggs!” As she looked
behind her, I stuck the needle in her upper arm.

“Ow! Zoe! That’s a mean trick.” Her eyes narrowed, and
she stuck out her bottom lip.

Knowing it
was
mean, I mirrored her expression.
“Sorry, I was only trying to help.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I wiped the
injection site. “It wasn’t that bad, was it? Look, I’ll even leave the bandage
off for you.”

She sighed. “I guess not, but still.”

“You’re just upset that he wasn’t really standing there,”
I mused. She tried to repress her smile, but I could feel her happiness at the
thought of him.
I wish everyone was this easy to read.
“You love him,” I
said in a sing-song voice.

Sarah hopped down from the table. “Now that would just be
silly, wouldn’t it,” she said dryly.

“And why’s that?”

“We’ve only known each other for a week or so.” She was
trying to rationalize her feelings, but there was no denying the intoxication
they felt around one another.

“Yeah, well silliness is all we have now, isn’t it?
Rationality went out the window the moment the world started falling apart. I
think it’s safe to say you should follow your instincts.”

Sarah’s face seemed to brighten at my encouragement, and
she gave me a quick hug. “Thanks, Zoe.” She practically skipped out the door,
leaving me with an amused grin as Clara walked in. Although she smiled, my mood
immediately soured.

“Hi,” she cooed as she sat on the table.

“Hi.”
Strange girl.
“You’re not afraid of needles
too, are you?” I began disinfecting her skin with an alcohol wipe.

She laughed sadistically, sending a rush of chills down
my spine.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Clara didn’t flinch or blink an eye as the needle pierced
her skin—instead  she simply stared at me.
What a creeper.
At that
moment I was both afraid and curious to know what she was thinking. I didn’t
have to wonder for long.  

“What’s going on with you and Jake?” she blurted quietly.
Her jealousy was apparent.

“Excuse me?” I choked out as she glowered at me.

Suddenly, her lethal gaze melted, and her demure smile
returned. “It’s just that he and I have a special…friendship, and I want to
make sure you’re aware of it, that’s all.”

A switch flipped inside me, and I suddenly didn’t care
how much Clara unnerved me. “Well if that’s the case, then I’m sure you have
nothing to worry about.” I put on a fake, condescending smile, slapped a
bandage on her arm, and called out, “Next!”

Her eyes narrowed in consideration, but right when she
opened her mouth to speak, Jake strolled in. I felt the heat of his stare and
glanced at him, Clara’s eyes following suit. “Jake,” she purred. “We were just
talking about you.”

“Really?” He looked amused.
That’s twice in one day.
His eyes swept back over to me.

Clara’s face tensed with animosity as she followed his
line of sight. I tried not to let my blank expression waver.

“You’re over there.” I pointed Jake toward Harper’s
table, and he kept moving.

Obviously dismayed that she couldn’t provoke me, Clara
folded her arms and stomped away.
Psycho.

Dani

I‘d finally woken in the small patch of woods behind Grams’s
house the previous afternoon with only a few hours of daylight left. I hadn’t
known why I’d blacked out nor where everyone had gone, but I
had
known
my continued survival depended on finding more food. Luckily, I’d successfully
scavenged some nearby homes and managed to avoid further contact with
people—both known and unknown—before returning to the ranch.

With at least a week’s worth of food stocked in the ranch
house, I was free to focus on settling in. I had to stay somewhere in town, at
least until I figured out what had happened to Grams, and the ranch was as good
a place as any. Besides, the animals in residence needed someone to take care
of them.

Since nobody had died in the house, the air was
blissfully gag-free. The ranch house also had functioning plumbing, reliable
electricity, two fireplaces, a working water heater, and Internet. Then again,
there was no telling how long any of the amenities might last.

As I cleaned the front room and arranged the rustic
furniture in a way that befit my survivor lifestyle—casting a large couch as my
bed, a coffee table as my desk, and a bookshelf as my closet—I considered finding
a way to email Zoe…for the thousandth time. My thoughts flashed to the
confrontation I’d witnessed between my friends and Cece on Grams’s deck. I
didn’t know how it had ended, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t in bloodshed.
Unfortunately, one thing was certain—caring for me had almost cost Chris and
Jason their lives.

Zoe’s better off
without me. Everyone is.

By lunchtime, I ran out of things to do in the house.
Though there were plenty of chores associated with maintaining the ranch and
its dozens of animals, there was an off-site errand that was far more urgent. I
needed to figure out what had happened to Grams and to Zoe’s dad. I’d made a
promise to Zoe.

I rounded up Jack and donned my empty pack to once again
sneak through the sparse woods and tall grasses surrounding the town. We made
it to Grams’s garden without incident and carefully walked the perimeter—nobody
was in sight, and there were no fresh human scents for Jack to follow. Jason
and Chris were gone. I felt a sharp pang of disappointment in my chest, turning
my relief to bitterness.

Feeling strangely empty, I snuck back into my childhood
home. Jack and I quickly searched the interior, making absolutely sure the
house was vacant. Certain of our solitude, we scoured every room, one-by-one;
we found nothing but memories and dust. In the basement we ravaged Grams’s
fabled food stores, stocking up on canned meats and a variety of homemade dried
soups. The house was filled with remnants of the woman who’d raised me, yet
Grams herself wasn’t there.
Where are you, Grams?

We finally ended up in the kitchen, the hope of finding
any sign of her whereabouts hanging by a thread. As I searched around the room,
I spotted a plain white envelope stuck to the fridge. The hand-made magnet
holding it up was one of the few presentable items I’d created in the many art
classes Zoe had coerced me into taking. It consisted of a thin circle of clay
etched with a perfect Celtic knot representing the love between a mother and
daughter, or in our case, a grandmother and granddaughter. It had taken me five
weeks and four attempts to get it right, but my efforts had been more than
justified by the tears in Grams’s eyes when I’d given it to her on her
sixty-fifth birthday.

Removing the magnet and envelope from the fridge, I
recalled my many failed attempts to replicate Grams’s distinctive old-fashioned
penmanship. I ran my fingers over the single word written on the front:
Dani-girl. My dwindling hope swelled.
She might be alive!

In a haze of eagerness, I shoved the magnet and envelope
into my jacket pocket and rushed back to the ranch. I set the sealed envelope
on the coffee table, sneaking glances at it as I scurried back and forth
between the kitchen and front room to make tea.

Finally, steaming mug in hand, I snuggled into a blanket
on the couch and stared at the beckoning envelope.
What’s in it? A letter?
When did she write it? Is it good news?

With shaking fingers, I set down my cup of tea and picked
up the envelope. As I opened it, a torn photograph and an antique iron key
plunked onto the coffee table’s unfinished oak surface. A young Zoe and Jason
peered up at me from the faded image, captivating me, but I knew the partial
photo couldn’t provide the answers I sought. Instead, I focused on the folded letter
that was still partially encased in the envelope.

I gingerly pulled it out and immediately recognized the
note’s flowery stationary. According to the date, it had been written a couple
of weeks ago. As I began to read, I both savored and feared each successive
word.

December
9, 2012

Dani-girl,
my dearest granddaughter,

I
hope you know that you have always been more than a granddaughter to me. You
have been a daughter, and one for which I am eternally grateful. I lost my Ceara,
but I gained you. You were worth it.

As
you requested, I looked for Zoe’s father. I found him. Tom was sitting against
a tree on a bluff overlooking the ocean, dead. He had a key on a string and a
torn photograph of Zoe and Jason clutched in his hand, both of which are in
this envelope. Please give these things to Zoe or Jason if either of them
survives…if you survive.

You
must know and accept this: I am sick and dying. I’m too old to recover from
something killing even the young and healthy. I’m going into the forest for my
eternal rest. Don’t roll your eyes at me, Dani-girl, it’s the only way to
guarantee my return to nature with so few people around to take care of the
bodies. DO NOT go looking for my body, Dani-girl. I don’t want you to remember
me that way. I mean it—if you care for me at all, you will leave my body be. I
pray that you will one day read this, for then you have survived.

I’ll
love you always, my Dani-girl,

Grams

With a handful of sentences, my whole world came to a
crashing halt.

Grams…she’s dead.

She’d stepped in and raised me after my mother died in
childbirth, had molded my teenage temper into a tool to be used by a grown
woman, and  had instilled in me the importance of embracing my heritage by
teaching me her native language and traditions.
She’s dead. How can she be
dead?

I craved the release of tears, but my body denied me.
Numbness saturated me as part of myself seemed to dissolve—Grams was gone. Time
passed in my suddenly empty and meaningless world, and I eventually succumbed
to the exhausting fog of depression. My eyelids felt swollen with the
unfulfilled need to cry. Seeking temporary relief, I closed my eyes and let
sleep claim me.

I became aware of
the dream only after he arrived, like his presence awakened my conscious mind
without disturbing my sleep. Dreams were normal—incomprehensible and
forgettable—until MG arrived. He gave them substance and matter. With his
involvement, I felt like I was living in two different worlds.

I was huddled on
the ground staring at the bodies of Grams and Tom. They looked so perfect, like
they might wake up at any moment, but I knew better.

They were gone.
Dead.

As my conscious
mind merged with my dreaming self, I let out a low, keening moan.

Grams was dead.

Gently, MG crouched
in front of me and lifted my face with gentle, graceful fingers. “Dani? What
happened?”

Through a barrage
of sobs, gasps, and incoherent words, I told him about my discovery…about
Grams. I finished with, “Everyone’s dead. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Not everyone,” he
said softly and took me into his arms. “You can always go to Colorado, to the
Colony. You wouldn’t be alone there.”

Shaking my head
against his shoulder, I whispered, “I don’t know. I just don’t know. I…I don’t
think I can handle working on this tonight. You should probably go visit your
other people.”

He held me close.
“They can wait.”

Zoe

The hospital off-base was desolate—an empty labyrinth
completely
deserted by its former inhabitants.
Where are all the sick…dead people?
Harper’s
practiced footsteps were barely audible as he advanced down a linoleum
hallway—I couldn’t say the same for mine. As we rounded a corner, he scanned
the area with his assault rifle, prepared for whatever vile thing we might
encounter. Given his usually playful disposition, it was easy to forget he was
trained to kill. As we combed through the potentially dangerous building, his
training gave me solace.

“Stay close behind me,” he whispered, concentrating on
the dark corridors ahead.

I shivered. Searching the facility for supplies was a
really bad idea; every raised hair on my body confirmed it. “Don’t you think
we’ve found enough stuff?” I waited for Harper to answer, but he didn’t, so I
prattled on, “We can only take so much with us when we leave anyway.” I readjusted
the canvas duffel bag strap crossing my chest. “Besides, this place is huge. It
can’t be safe to—”

“We’ll argue later,” Harper said, dismissing my concerns
as he continued down the hall. “Be quiet.”

I followed him, my eyes darting around as I tried to
focus on anything besides my racing heartbeat. An empty nurses’ station was
cluttered with medical books and files, and stray papers littered the floor
like a rogue whirlwind had swept through the space. Some of the doors lining
the hallway were shut, and I couldn’t suppress my morbid curiosity.
What’s
behind them?

As I tried to mimic Harper’s quiet steps, I replayed the
training scenarios he’d taught me. I practiced the different maneuvers over and
over in my head to make sure I would remember them.
Just in case…

Just as I was wondering when we would reconvene with Jake
and Sanchez, the sound of static startled me. “Harper,” Sanchez said,
interrupting our radio silence. “Get down to the ER. There’s something you need
to see.” Her ominous tone filled me with dread, and I had the sudden urge to
run away, screaming.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Harper said, reaching back to
squeeze my hand.
No shit.
“Move fast and keep close.”

I hurried behind him as we turned left, right, and then
left again before finding a stairway door—an emergency exit. He pushed the
heavy door open and walked through, but I hesitated; I didn’t want to be
immersed in the pitch-blackness. I held the door open with sweaty palms while
Harper did a quick sweep of the stairwell. Returning to the door, he looked at
me, nodded once, and then motioned for me to follow him. Taking a deep breath,
I shadowed him down the stairs.

When Harper reached the first-floor landing, he glanced
back at me once more before flinging the metal door open. Again, he scanned the
area with his rifle, and I sighed with relief when he found no reason to pull
the trigger. Turning to the left, Harper advanced down the hallway.

“How do you know where to go?” I asked in a quiet rush of
words.

He pointed the muzzle of his rifle toward a sign that
read “EMERGENCY” and had a long, red arrow pointing in the direction we were
moving.
Oh…duh.
Feeling stupid, I shook my head.

The first floor was much like the upper floors, only it
was brighter and everything seemed less intimidating. Picture windows lined the
walls, letting in daylight and providing a clear view of the parking lot and
the roiling storm clouds. I
stopped in front of a window, mesmerized by
the bone-chilling sight of countless abandoned cars.

While I stared out the window with mounting fear, Harper
kept moving. When I turned and found him disappearing around a corner, I ran
after him, afraid of being left alone. Rounding the same corner, I slammed into
his tensed, motionless body. I staggered back.

Jake and Sanchez were standing beside him, equally still
and staring outside through a wall of windows. I followed the direction of
their eyes to the courtyard, and my body stiffened in horror. I dropped my bag
on the floor.

A mountain of decomposing bodies filled the space. There
were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, haphazardly piled on top of each other
like an enormous mound of garbage. Before I could look away, I spotted a pair
of milky, glazed over eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from staring, from
memorizing the rest of the face—the dry, decaying skin and the purple, crusty
sores clustered around the lips. It was more than I could bear.

“Oh my God,” I gasped and turned away, flinging myself at
the nearest person—Jake. Unexpectedly, his protective concern blanketed me.
Afraid to open my eyes again, I ignored my pride and awkwardness as I buried my
face in his jacket.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered near my ear,
wrapping his free arm around me.

“Looks like some of the fresher ones have bullet wounds,
and a lot of them are wearing fatigues,” Harper said.

“Who—” Sanchez cleared her throat. “Who stacked them like
that?” It was the first time I’d heard fear in her voice.

“We need to get out of here,” Harper said.

Suddenly, my mind was flooded with uncontrollable aggression.
Images of blood-spattered walls and mangled bodies inundated my thoughts. I
shook my head frantically, trying to dispel the scenes from my mind, but
compulsive hostility and insatiable anger overwhelmed my control. I couldn’t
escape.

When I realized the onslaught of images and feelings
weren’t coming from Jake, I peered up at him, confused. His imploring eyes met
mine as a stronger wave engulfed me, and I struggled to keep the emotions and
memories separate from my own. The room seemed to swirl around me, and my
eyelids became too heavy to keep open. Only partially aware, I felt my body
weaken and my knees give out. Jake’s arms tightened around me and the sound of
gunshots rang throughout the hospital as I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, a tree was bouncing past me,
and I could hear heavy breathing. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was
seeing. It took me a moment to realize
I
was the one bouncing, not the
tree—Jake was carrying me while he ran.

“Why are you running?” I asked him weakly. As we
distanced ourselves from the hospital, my mind cleared, and I realized
something was wrong. “What happened?” I panicked and wrapped my arms around
Jake’s neck. Straining to look over his shoulder, I saw Sanchez leaning against
Harper as she hobbled after us. She was wincing in pain.

“Oh my God.” I struggled to get out of Jake’s hold. “I’m
fine,” I said, and he hesitantly set me on the sidewalk. We were in the parking
lot behind the hospital, and for some reason, I felt safer knowing that there
was distance between us and the mountain of dead bodies. I wasn’t sure if the
breeze really carried the smell of rancid, rotting flesh, or if it was just my
imagination.

“Keep moving, Zoe,” Harper said as he and Sanchez caught
up to us. He pushed me toward Dave’s truck.

 “Was it Crazies? How many were there?” I asked
frantically, flinging open the truck door so Harper could help Sanchez climb
inside. She was bleeding from her abdomen. Harper tossed my duffel bag of
scavenged medical supplies into the truck bed before he climbed into the
backseat after Sanchez, tugged off his long-sleeve shirt, and pressed it
against her wound.

“What can I do?” I asked, but they ignored me.

“Get in!” Jake shouted as he jumped into the driver’s
seat.

I did as he commanded, yanking the passenger side door
shut as he sped out of the parking lot. Sanchez’s
breathing
was ragged, and muffled whimpers escaped from her as the truck jostled her
around.

I turned in my seat and asked Harper, “How bad is she
hurt?”

“I don’t think any organs or arteries were hit, but I
can’t tell for sure. I’ve gotta get a better look at her.” Harper glanced at
the back of Jake’s head. “Can’t we go any faster?”

Jake pressed harder on the gas pedal.

“It had to have been Crazies…how many were there?” I
asked Jake, quietly. I didn’t want to interrupt Harper as he helped Sanchez
reposition herself in the backseat.

“Five,” Jake said, taking a deep breath. “We’re lucky
nothing worse happened.”

I looked back at Sanchez again and hoped she wasn’t as
bad as she looked. Blood soaked her shirt around the wound and was smeared on
Harper’s hands and t-shirt.

Jake glanced into the rearview mirror, and his paranoia
flooded me.

“How many are still alive?” I asked, worried an army of
Crazies would drive up behind us.

“Those five are dead, but who knows if there are more.”

I nodded and turned toward the window. Thunder rumbled in
the distance, and I figured it wouldn’t be long before the clouds burst and
poured rain down on us. I rubbed my throbbing head and took another deep
breath.
Sanchez didn’t cry or complain, but the sweat
and blood smeared over her pained grimace made it obvious she was in bad shape.

“I could use a drink,” she
rasped.
Her comment put a smile on Jake’s face—it was the first time I’d
seen him smile. The expression seemed strangely natural and welcoming on him.

“I think we can manage that,” he said.

I looked back at Sanchez—her head was resting on Harper’s
shoulder and she was
struggling to keep her eyes
open.

“You better hurry,” I whispered to Jake. “I think she’s
going into shock.”

Harper glanced up to find me watching them and asked,
“What the hell happened to you back there?”

I shook my head, trying to recall everything
that had happened
before
I’d fallen to the ground. “I guess I could feel them getting closer. Their
emotions sort of blindsided me. They were so strong I couldn’t push them away.”
The horrifying images from the Crazies’ minds flashed in my head. “Their minds
were…just wrong. They’re so far gone.” Harper nodded as Jake carefully brought
the truck to a stop outside of our hospital.

Harper and Jake unloaded Sanchez, and we rushed into the
emergency room. As I hurried toward the first treatment bay behind them, I felt
an unexpected comfort at being back on base; it was the closest thing I’d had
to a home in weeks.

Sanchez cringed as she was gently set on an examination
table. She was taking shallow, quick breaths and was clutching the edges of the
table so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Harper slipped back into medic mode as he pulled on a
pair of surgical gloves
.
“Zoe, hand me some
bandage scissors.”

I hurried over to one of the drawers of stainless steel
instruments I’d organized for him a few days before and found the scissors.
After handing them to him, I hastily collected the supplies Harper would
need—sutures, several sizes of surgical needles, iodine, gauze, a local
anesthetic, and morphine.

Setting the tray with all of the supplies on a cart beside
Harper, I watched him cut off Sanchez’s blood-soaked shirt, exposing the bullet
wound in her side. The hole itself was smaller than I’d thought, only the size
of a dime instead of the gaping wound I’d imagined.

Harper glanced up at me. “Zoe, she’ll need clean clothes.
Can you go find some?” I nodded, and he added, “Something loose. And bring some
for me too.”

I nodded again and hurried into the hallway.

Halfway down the corridor, I stopped and wondered what I
should tell anyone who happened to see me in my disheveled state. I spun around
and ran back toward the emergency room to ask. I slowed just before pushing
through the swinging doors and could hear my friends talking in hushed tones.

“If we’re staying here indefinitely, we’ve gotta burn
that place down, and soon. We can’t risk any of them finding us.” Harper’s
voice sounded strained.

“Jesus, Harper!” Sanchez
gasped
.

“That was the local…you’ll feel better in a few seconds,”
Harper told her.

I didn’t hear Sanchez’s reply; I was too focused on the
knot in my stomach.
Staying here indefinitely? We aren’t leaving?
All
rational thought disappeared. I was overwhelmed with the thought of never
seeing Dani and Jason again.

Jason won’t come
here.
Or, m
aybe he would? No…he’ll want to
stay at the Colony with his team.

Jake’s voice broke my chain of frenzied thoughts. “Trust
me, it’s safer here.”
This is his fault!

Backing away quietly, I turned to leave. I dutifully retr
ieved clean clothes for both Sanchez and Harper, avoiding
everyone but Cooper. The Husky
followed slowly behind me as I
begrudgingly walked back to the hospital. Before heading into the emergency
room, I stopped to steady my nerves. After a few deep breaths, I entered
without making any eye contact and handed the cloth
es
to Jake.
“I’m going to find Biggs,” I lied, offering the first excuse
that popped into my head, and hurried out of the room.

As I rushed across the base toward the pond, chaotic
thoughts churned in my mind
.
I looked around
at the less than welcoming scenery. Ragged, dormant tree branches reached out
like withered witch fingers,
beckoning me
toward them. The wind picked up, whipping passed me, and I shivered, unsure
whether it had been caused by the frigid gust or my outrage.

Were they even planning on telling me?
It was
clear that if I wanted to go to Colorado, I’d be going on my own.
Can I even
make it on my own?

I thought about my self-defense lessons with Harper and
Jake.

Situation one:
someone comes at you from behind…

Situation two:
someone grabs you from the front…

I had a better understanding of how to defend myself, but
I was no expert. I knew the chances of making it on my own were slim—I had
minimal instinct and even less survival skill. Amazingly, I wasn’t scared of what
might happen to me. I was stupidly determined.