Ghosts: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (17 page)

Brook awoke with a start. The nightmare in which she and
Cade had been starring had been so vivid and hyper-realistic that for an
instant the pitch black environs of her quarters had her fooled into thinking
her weapon had failed and they were seconds away from becoming zombie food. In
her confused state she called out for Cade and Raven, which in turn caused the diminutive
twelve-year-old who had recently snuck back in to the Grayson quarters to sit
up so fast the thin sheet covering her went flying. In the next instant Raven
was lashing out in the inky black, fighting anything and everything, real and
imagined. Her left fist found something soft with a sharp ridge running down
its center. Her other hand, also curled into a fist, struck one of the vertical
bars attaching the upper bunk to the lower, causing her to call out for Mom and
Dad.

Suddenly Brook remembered where she was and the realization that
she was being pummeled dawned on her. Smarting from a perfectly placed blow to
her spine, she rolled to the right and wrapped a sobbing Raven up in a bear
hug.

Face to face with her only offspring and most important
person in the world, Brook shushed her and whispered, “It was only a bad dream,
sweetie.”

Raven said nothing. She was in the midst of a full blown
asthma attack. The labored breathing and wheezing continued for a minute or two
before Brook’s soothing words and motherly caresses paid off and Raven found
her breath.

“I’m alright, Mom,” she said, her coiled muscles relaxing.
“And I’m sorry I hit you. I thought they were getting me.”

“Me too,” Brook said. “When did you sneak back in?”

Raven mumbled something incoherent.

Brook shrugged and rose from the bunk. Found the string and
clicked the single bulb to life. She pulled Raven close and kissed her forehead.
Then the details of her own nightmare came flooding back. In it she and Cade had
somehow lost Raven and were frantically searching a vast warehouse with dozens
of gloomy never-ending halls and hundreds of closed doors with ravenous Zs lurking
behind every one. She recalled red and green laser beams lancing from their
weapons and monsters falling everywhere as they continued on, and on, and on, to
no avail.

Propped up on one elbow, Raven chewed her lip and asked,
“What does it mean?”

Brook thought:
A premonition I don’t want to interpret
.
She said, “Probably nothing.” Then her brow furrowed and her gaze went to a
widening bloom of crimson on the pillow. “You’re cut.”

Raven’s wheezing returned immediately. And though she had
grown accustomed to the sight of bloodied bodies—walking or not—a drop of her
own blood was still a catastrophic occurrence. And anything more than a little
scratch had her requesting the biggest bandage available and a Life Flight
evacuation to the nearest ER.

Eyes wide, Raven asked, “Where did it all come from? Am I
going to need an
infusion
?”

Wrapping her up in a tight embrace, Brook said, “You’ll be
fine. You cut your elbow flailing at the monsters in your nightmare.” Then she
smiled. “And no ... you won’t be needing a
transfusion
.”

Brook made a trip down to the room used to store the group’s
food and gear recently taken from the quarry. She returned with a couple of
bandages and saw Raven with the pillow held in front of her face and spitting
on the crimson stain. Afraid to ask what she was up to, Brook took the pillow
and said, “Don’t worry about the blood. I’ll take care of it later.”

Raven examined the soiled pillow. Shook her head while
saying, “I’m the only one who can do it.”

Brook quickly bandaged Raven’s elbow. Then, unable to let it
go, asked, “What do you mean by only
you
can clean the pillow?”

“Tran said that saliva takes the blood stain out. But only
our
saliva works on
our
blood. Cause of
endives
or something.”

“
Enzymes
,” corrected Brook. “
Endive
is a leafy
vegetable. Like lettuce ... sort of. When did Tran tell you that, anyway?”

“The other day. He cut himself dressing a boar.”

“It’s nice he’s pulling his own weight
finally
. But
it’s not true, sweetie.”

“He said Daymon told him about it. He said it took the blood
out of his clothes before.”

Wetting the bottom of Raven’s tee shirt with her own spit,
Brook rubbed the stain, lessening it considerably. Then she fetched a bottled
water. Wet another part of the shirt and repeated the process. The stain now
barely noticeable, she said, “The lesson you just learned is
never
take
everything you see at face value. The moisture defeated the stain ... that’s
all. The
enzyme
in our spit thing is an old wives’ tale.”

“Wives’ what?” asked Raven, her vivid imagination conjuring
an image of a geriatric woman with a graying prehensile tail.

“Never mind,” answered Brook. “The second lesson you take
away from this is that adults don’t always know everything about everything.
Daymon knows pretty much everything about the forest and fighting fires—”

Raven interrupted saying, “But health stuff, not so much
...”

“Leave that to me.”

“’Cause you’re a nurse. And the radios and stuff technology
is Foley’s specialty.”

“Correct, Bird.”

“And security to Dad and Lev and Chief ... right?”

“And Mom and Jamie and Taryn sort of ...”

“She’s the driver. And Sasha said Wilson is pretty much
worthless ... right?”

Brook looked at the ceiling. Said nothing for a handful of
seconds. Then she stared at Raven and saw her features softened by the single
bulb’s glow. Saw the innocence there and said, “Third lesson for the day. I
want you to apply lesson one and two and come to your own conclusion about
Wilson.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

Once again Raven’s face contorted and she looked at the
ceiling, head cocked right a degree.

“Well?”

“He’s done a lot more than Sasha. That means I shouldn’t
believe jealous teenagers. Right?”

Laughing, Brook thought:
A+ for today’s lesson.
But
not wanting to set the bar too high, she said, “Pretty much. Let’s get some
breakfast and bang out our daily chores. Get dressed and grab your rifle.”

“My rifle?”

“Gotta have it for lesson four.”

Brook dressed and strapped on her pistol. She picked up the
Glock 19 Cade left behind. Stowed the compact semiautomatic in her cargo
pocket, then retrieved her M4 from near the door and went through the motions,
making sure it was locked and loaded, the selector on
Safe
. Seeing that
Raven was ready and had mimicked her entirely, rifle check and all, Brook looked
down at her watch and wondered what her man was doing at this exact moment.

Two hundred and twenty miles away, Cade had the rubber stalk
between his teeth and was taking a sip from his hydration pack when movement to
his right caught his eye. Just ninety minutes after he’d first made its acquaintance,
the little lizard poked its head from behind its new rock, paused briefly and
then scurried from the shadow, stopping smartly on the nearest patch of sun-splashed
soil where it fixed one beady eye in Cade’s direction. Remaining stock-still as
if not even a hungry raptor circling overhead could see it out in the open, the
lizard rotated the eye facing Cade ever so slowly towards the flat sunning
rock, presumably its favorite, before surreptitiously letting it wander back
and settle on the silent camo-clad intruder.

As if moving his lips might scare the critter away, through
clenched teeth Cade said, “Carpe diem, little guy.”

The words elicited nothing. No shifting gaze on the lizard’s
part. No little feint towards the cover of the nearest rock. Nothing was
happening. It was a silly sort of Mexican standoff in Utah’s high desert. And
worst of all, Cade had no witness to corroborate that it was even happening.

The staring contest ensued for another couple of minutes
until the gecko shifted its slender body a few degrees to the right and locked
both meandering eyes at something far away, beyond the canyon rim, in a general
easterly direction.

Cade clamped down on the bite valve and took a long pull,
then secured the drink tube to his shoulder strap. He raised the field glasses again
and instantly saw what the gecko was already wise to. And it was an awesome
sight. Filling up the slot across the way and tearing down I-70 ridiculously
fast and low only a handful of feet above Andreason’s roadblock was a cinder-black,
sunlight-absorbing, sight for sore eyes.

Eden Compound

“Really? Lemon poppy seed pound cake for breakfast,” said
Brook with a tilt of her head.

“No different than a doughnut,” replied Raven, stuffing
another piece of the yellow morsel into her nearly full mouth. She divided the
last piece into two squares and fed one to Max, who gobbled it down hungrily.

Brook feigned grabbing the last square from the foil packet
on Raven’s lap, causing Max to leap to all fours and the girl to laugh and inadvertently
inhale some of the moist cake. Coughing, Raven scooted away on her butt until
the outer edge of Duncan’s faux crop circle was at her back. She caught her
breath and smiled and waved the cake tantalizingly at her mom.

Brook feigned like she was standing up.

Max stood equidistant from the drama playing out, his eyes
connecting the dots from Brook to Raven to the pound cake in the girl’s hand.

Without missing a beat, Raven popped the cake into her
mouth, crumpled the foil packaging and made slow exaggerated chewing motions.

“Huckleberries would have been a better choice, young lady,”
said Brook as she popped a handful she’d just spent twenty minutes collecting
into her mouth. Offering some to Raven, she added, “You have a nurse for a mom.
How often have I let you eat a doughnut over something healthy?”

Answering the question with a question as her dad often did,
Raven said, “Who says I like huckleberries? And—” she paused for a second and
swallowed “—I don’t even remember what fresh melon or strawberries or bananas
taste like. And we can’t exactly walk on down to the local farmer’s market,
last I checked. So what’s the harm?”

“I earned these,” said Brook, again offering the tin of
berries. “Take some ... I insist.”

Grudgingly, Raven accepted the offering. Ate the red berries
and washed them down with a swallow of water. Not wanting to let the argument
go, she said, “Dad
let
me have doughnuts for breakfast now and again.”

“When?”

“After he retired and was home for good. We’d go to Krispy
Kreme just about every late opening during the school year. Dad said it was for
the coffee ... but he always had two of their glazed doughnuts. Three if they
were fresh made and still warm.”

That’s a helluva lot of doughnuts
, thought Brook. Then
she factored in
No-school-vember
when it seemed like every other day was
a late arrival or a teacher’s in-service day. She said, “Better stop digging,
Raven. ‘Cause as it stands, your dad is going to get it when he returns.”

Classic diversion
, thought Raven. Then she heard
voices and saw just the people who were going to get her off the hook.

Max growled as Sasha stepped onto the expanse of beaten-down
grass. “What time did you go home?” she asked.

Raven shrugged and wagged her head side-to-side.

Brook greeted the Kids and smiled when she saw Sasha’s getup.
With the small caliber 10/22 in hand and clad in a set of tiger-striped camos
taken from the quarry, the redheaded teen looked like an extra from Apocalypse
Now. Following close behind, wearing woodland-camouflage-patterned BDUs circa
the late ’80s, Wilson and Taryn jogged an altogether different memory.

With guns slung over their shoulders and walking arm-in-arm,
they looked more like they’d just stepped from wardrobe dressed for the movie
Red Dawn than a young couple trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. The brown,
black, and green scheme worked well at concealing a person in the forest. However,
Wilson’s red hair, even tucked under the ever-present boonie hat, totally
defeated their purpose.

At their feet Max spun a full circle, stub tail going a
mile-a-minute. His exuberance lasted a dozen revolutions before he lay back
down in the grass and locked his bicolored eyes on Raven.

“What’s up?” said Brook, offering up the tin of
huckleberries.

“No thanks,” said Sasha. “I’ve got pound cake.”

Perking up, Raven asked, “Lemon poppy seed?”

“Vanilla,” answered Sasha as she plopped down and offered
Raven a piece.

“We’re going on patrol,” said Wilson, crunching his hat down
subconsciously. He took a small handful of berries and gave them to Taryn. Then
he helped himself to some, said “Thanks,” and wolfed them down.

Taryn rolled up her sleeves, exposing the black skulls and
dragons. Pushed them above her elbows and said, “We figured we’d go ahead and check
the inner fence for rotters and then maybe go pump some water from the creek.
Mind if we leave Sasha here with you?”

Sasha shot Taryn a look that said:
You’re not my mom.
Then, acting as if it was her decision, she said, “I don’t want to
pump
anything. Besides, Wilson fixed the bike he found at the quarry.” She looked at
Raven. “We could ride.”

The sun emerged from behind a slow scudding bank of clouds and
Brook removed her ball cap. As she fanned her face with it she fixed her gaze
on Wilson and Taryn and said, “I owe you guys one for letting Raven hang out in
your quarters yesterday and
half
the night.” Then she grinned and added
rather cryptically, “Go ahead ... take
allll
the time you need.”

Kicking at a stray blade of grass, Taryn said, “We’ve each
got a radio set to channel ten-one. Call if anything comes up.”

If anything comes up it won’t be here at the compound
,
thought Brook, the grin now a full on smile.
Oh to be young again
. Then,
nodding at the slung carbines, she said, “You have
protection
I see.”

Wilson’s face flushed a crimson nearly a match for his hair.

Taryn fidgeted and patted the Beretta strapped to her hip.
“We’ll be careful,” she answered, returning Brook’s knowing look.

“Don’t do anything
I
wouldn’t do,” called Sasha at
the retreating pair’s backs.

Grateful the doughnut talk had been averted, Raven patted Max
on the backside and hopped to her feet.

“Let’s ride,” said Sasha theatrically, like the bike was a trail-wise
steed and she was heading up a posse.

“But it’s a
boy’s
bike,” Raven answered with a subtle
eye roll. “I’ll share my
flying purple people eater
with you.”

“I still hate that you call it that ... so
no
.”

Raven said, “Suit yourself,” and bounded off to get her bike
with Max keeping pace.

After watching the girls and Max head to the compound
entrance where the bikes were parked, and seeing Taryn and Wilson melt into the
tree line behind the patch of level ground where the Black Hawk usually sat,
Brook was blindsided by a wave of emotion and suddenly yearned for Cade’s
embrace. So with nothing to do but kill time and wait for his eventual return,
she lay back on the grass and perched her black ball cap on her face to block
out the sun and closed her eyes. Instantly she started to relive the last three
weeks. The only thing violent about them had come when she was asleep. Cade had
been around almost nonstop. It had been like the thirteen months of bliss she’d
enjoyed in Portland before some dumbass let a bug out and started a chain
reaction that changed billions of lives in a very short time. Then her mind
drifted off to her childhood and, as she slipped into sleep’s embrace, her parents
and her brother seemed to be there with her. Only the images weren’t entirely
formed. They were like apparitions, soft and shimmering around the edges.