In the Lone and Level Sands (25 page)

Something else was
bothering Max, even more than all of the questions he now had no
answers to and likely never
would
. It was another
hard-to-identify feeling, like the boy’s detached head back at the
carnival. As the wreckage became smaller, the zombies more sparse;
as the apartment complex faded from view and the white lines in the
road blurred into one, as the city grew smaller and smaller, Max
realized that, for the first time in his entire life, he felt
free.

31

In Lynnwood Stadium

The sun brought Martha to life at some early
hour of the morning. Her wrinkled eyelids opened slowly. The
stadium lights were on, illuminating the field, and her back was
stiff from sleeping on the cot.

She sat up and took a deep breath. It was
sweltering inside the dome, and the scent of body odor filled her
nostrils. Martha looked around and saw the majority of the hundreds
of other survivors were still sleeping. The rest were chattering
quietly. Some people even had board games set up. Martha heard
faint moans beyond the stadium walls, and couldn’t help but feel
that until help arrived, they were all like rats in a cage.

Francine was awake and reading Nora Roberts
again.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Martha said.

“Yeah, have been for the past half an hour.
Just stopped being tired, I guess.”

“I suppose I can join the club.”

“How did you sleep, Grandma?” Francine
asked.

“The piece of shit cot felt like a rock
slab. My back’s killing me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Francine set the book face-down on her cot.

“No, it’s fine,” Martha said. “I’m surprised
I slept through that incessant moaning at all. Dear Lord, it’s only
been one night, and those damned… Whatever you want to call them
are driving me nuts.”

“I heard from one of the policeman that
they’re supposed to get a bunch of ear plugs in,” Francine said.
She looked tired.

“That’s good.” Martha looked over the others
in her group. Billy and Emily still lay motionless on their cots,
which they had pushed together. Phil and Angela were asleep as
well, but Jesse was wide awake, playing a game on his PSP. He was
wearing earbuds, and the sounds from the game were silent to those
around him.

Alan was asleep. It was just as well; he had
stayed up later than the others, scribbling in his notebook.

“Hey, do you want to play cards?” Francine
asked. “I’ve got some in my bag.”

“Sure,” Martha said. “Anything to keep my
mind busy.”

Francine went through a medium-sized Green
Day messenger bag adorned with various buttons and badges. She took
a pack of cards out of the bag, then pulled the cards out of the
box. They were well-worn, with a deep crease in the exact middle of
each card. Francine shuffled, dealt, and she and Martha began a
game of Go Fish.

****

Later in the day, the dome was abuzz with
laughter and chatter. Some people sat in their cots reading or
listening to music. There were stations where surge protectors were
plugged into electric outlets, so people could charge their
devices. Some people even had laptops with them.

The food stations were set up near five
o’clock. Everyone was allowed to grab one piece of meat, one
spoonful of vegetables, and a roll. There was plenty of water for
everyone.

A police officer got in line behind Martha’s
group. Billy recognized him as Francis, the officer who had let
them into the stadium.

“Hey, officer!” Billy said. Francis grunted.
“How is everything? Where’s your partner, he eating lunch with
you?”

“He’s dead,” Francis said.

“Oh, shit, Sorry.”

Martha watched as a man in front of her
tried to sneak a second piece of chicken onto his plate. She
frowned, but didn’t say anything. However, the man ahead of him had
spotted it as well.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re
doing?” The man set his plate down and glared.

“What do you care?”

“I care that you might be making it so
someone doesn’t get to eat!”

“Look how much is here!” the greedy man
said.

“It doesn’t matter! This food isn’t for just
you, you fucking fatty!”

“You know, you’re pissing me off.” The
greedy man set his tray down and approached the man who had called
him out.

Francis abandoned his tray and his place in
line. “Is there a problem over here?”

“Yeah, this man is taking extra!” The man
pointed to the thief, who quickly picked his tray back up and
placed his napkin over his food.

“Let me see, sir,” Francis said. “Let me see
your plate.”

“Why should I? There’s plenty here for
everyone!”

“Let me see the plate!”

“Just show him the fucking plate!” someone
said.

“What’s the hold-up? Come on!” said
another.

“I’ll give you one last chance to cooperate,
or we’ll have to take a different route,” Francis said.

“You want to see it?” the thief said. “Well,
here! Look and see!” He removed the napkin and smashed the plate
into Francis’s face. The two pieces of greasy meat bounced off his
cheeks, the green beans dripped down his chin, and the blood boiled
in his veins.

The greedy man had an ear-to-ear grin. The
Francis reared his arm back and let go. His tightly clenched fist
smashed into the man’s nose, breaking it, and he fell to the
ground, unconscious. Everyone in line went silent.

Two more officers made their way to the
scene.

“You all right?” one of them asked Francis,
who was wiping the grease from his face.

“I guess we’ll have to break out the cages
after all. Everyone, listen up! We have mobile jail cells with us.
Anyone else who wants to follow this guy’s example will find
themselves in there with him!”

The greedy man was carried off, and the line
began moving again.

“I can’t believe people can be so
irrational,” Emily said. “I mean, I know we’re in the middle of a
crisis right now, but it’s not like we’re being underfed,
here.”

“He’s just scared,” Alan said. “I’m not
condoning his actions, but that’s all he is.”

“Right,” Phil replied. “Soon, we’ll all be
let out of this place, and we can get back to our homes.”

“I hope so,” Jesse said. “Those cots are
killing my spine.”

“You’re sixteen, and you’re complaining of
back problems?” Phil said. He chuckled. “Just wait ’til you’re my
age!”

“I hope this gets taken care of sooner
rather than later,” Beverly said.

“How is this even happening?” Jesse
asked.

“Who knows?” Alan said. “Probably some
virus. It has to be a new strain of something. All we can do is
hope there are scientists out there finding us some answers.”

“How do you know it wasn’t scientists that
brought this on in the first place?” Angela asked.

“I don’t. But I do know that it’s best to
stay positive.”

“It’s not easy to stay positive when you
just lost someone you love,” Beverly said.

“No, it’s not,” Alan said. “Don’t think for
a second I don’t know that.”

“…I’m sorry. I know it’s not much of an
excuse, but I’ve got a splitting headache. It’s the damn people.
Everyone talking as loud as possible. I hate crowds.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m sure
they’ve got something for a headache. The medical tent is just that
way.”

Emily followed Alan’s finger and nodded.
“Let’s go see if we can get some Advil or something for that.”

“I can go by myself,” Beverly said.

Emily shook her head. “We should always
stick together, never leave anyone alone. I’ll go with you.”

Beverly sighed. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Speaking of headaches,” Francine said,
“weren’t we supposed to be getting earplugs today? That’s what I
heard, anyway.”

“I guess not,” Billy said.

“I’m hoping we get them soon,” Martha said.
She stared at the ground with tired eyes.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Angela
asked.

“No,” Martha said more sharply than she’d
intended. “I’m tired, and I’m ready for this to be over. I want to
go home. I want to sleep in my own damn bed.”

“We all do. We just have to wait it out, as
painful as it may be.”

“Being stuck in here is better than being
zombie chow,” Jesse said. That made everyone chuckle a little bit,
and even a little bit was better than nothing at all.

****

It was nearing ten o’clock and everyone was
settling down. Alan was scrawling away in his notebook. Billy and
Emily were facing each other in their affixed cots, talking
quietly. Beverly had cried herself to sleep. Phil and Angela were
sleeping peacefully. Jesse was lying down with his ear buds stuck
in his head and Rammstein blasting in his ears. Francine was
reading from Roberts once again, now about halfway through the
novel.

Martha reached underneath her cot, toward
the suitcase next to the trash bag. Out came the picture of her and
Charlie. They both looked so happy in it.

Things were different, now. Charlie was
gone, and Martha wasn’t even given time for proper grieving; she
was just thrown into this dangerous new world. She had survived so
far, but God knew what was in store for her and her group in the
coming days.

Martha kissed the glass and then tucked the
picture back underneath her cot. Finally, she lay down slowly, and
closed her eyes.

****

The second morning in the stadium began a
little later for Martha. Francine awakened her around nine, when
breakfast was being served. There were no outbursts or incidents in
the line, so the refugees were able to get their food quickly.
Later in the day a helicopter airdropped a package, and with it
came more food and 2,500 packets of earplugs. With no space to land
and no radio communication, the pilot also included a note: More
supplies ETA one week.

“Finally!” Francine said, cradling her
package of earplugs in her hands.

“I think more are gathering around outside,”
Emily said. “It seemed louder last night.”

“They most likely are,” Alan replied.

“I wonder how long the barricades will
hold,” Jesse said. “If they’re constantly trying to break through,
won’t they eventually get in?”

“With enough force against the barricades,”
Martha said, “just about anything could get in.”

“Mother,” Emily said. “I know this is tough,
but please try to stay positive. It’s not healthy to be so
negative.”

Martha frowned. “I don’t mean to worry you.
But it’s also not healthy to ignore the possibilities.”

“Martha’s right,” Alan said. “Anything is
possible. But if something does happen, I’m sure the officers can
re-barricade the doors. Lord knows there are enough people in here
to help.”

“They’d better be able to handle it,” Billy
said. “They took our guns away. We’d be helpless if those things
got in.” He turned his head when he noticed a little boy standing
near his cot. The boy’s mother was sitting not too far from
them.

“They won’t get in, will they, Mommy?” the
little boy asked.

“No, of course not!” his mother said. “We’re
safe in here, Caleb.” She glared at Billy and the others. “Why are
you talking so loudly about this? You’re not the only people here,
you know!”

“We’re sorry if we’ve scared the boy,” Alan
said.

“It’s just talk, lady,” Billy said. “Cover—”
Emily grabbed Billy’s arm and pinched.

“Bill, come on! Quit it!”

“Ow!” Billy said. He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. Hey kid, your mom’s right. Those creatures won’t be
coming in here. And when we get out, they’ll be gone.”

Caleb didn’t respond, he just looked at
Billy with tears in his eyes. He sat down with his mother, who
sighed and turned her attention back to him.

Phil looked over at his wife. “Are you doing
all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Angela said. Phil kissed
her on the lips.

“Could you get a room?” Jesse said.
“Seriously.” He rolled his eyes, then turned around on his cot,
facing the opposite direction. Everyone laughed, except for Martha
and Alan. They were deep in thought.

****

The third day went similarly to the one that
preceded it. Everyone in the stadium was trying to make themselves
busy. People traded games and tried to do things differently, and
though they were bored, everyone was at peace with one another, for
the most part. Nothing was perfect; there were a few disputes, but
none required police intervention.

Two officers, Benson and Pete, stood guard
near one of the barricades.

“Hey, Benson, you think you got this? I
gotta take a piss.”

“Sure, Pete. Hurry though. Watching these
barricades gives me the creeps.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Pete said. “I’ll be
back in three minutes.” He started off.

“You’d better!” Benson said. Pete waved
back, without looking, as he walked toward the nearby Porta
Potty.

Not long after Pete left, a board snapped, a
piece fell to the ground. Benson jumped.

“Pete! Pete, get your ass over here! We’ve
got a breach!”

“What? Fuck! I’m coming!” Pete zipped his
pants up, readied his gun, and left the toilet.

A male zombie was able to open the door and
get through. He headed for Benson, who wasn’t fired a few shots.
One hit the zombie in the shoulder, but it kept coming.

A few more zombies entered the stadium by
the time Pete arrived. He aimed and fired. The first zombie
stumbled backward and fell on the ground in front of the open door,
where more zombies were filing in.

“Hurry! Shoot!” Pete said. He grabbed a
nearby megaphone and put it to his mouth. “We need backup over at
the main entrance!”

Upon hearing this, murmurs shot through the
crowd. Three other officers sprinted toward the breach.