Authors: Brian J. Jarrett
“Could I have some more of that jerky?” Trish asked. Ed handed her the rest of the package.
He stood up, preparing to leave. “You get some rest now. Yell for us if you need anything.”
“I will,” she told him.
Ed walked to the door, then opened it to leave.
“Ed?” Trish asked. He turned to face her. Her eyes engaged him. “Thanks again.”
Ed smiled and nodded, then shut the door.
The following morning Ed left the boys in the bedroom across from Trish’s, then knocked on her door. “Come in,” she replied. She was sitting up in the bed, her back resting on the pillow.
“Good morning,” Ed said. He walked over to her and felt her forehead. It felt cool. The dark circles under her eyes had almost completely disappeared. She was still thin though, incredibly thin at that.
“Fever’s down,” he told her. “Feels like it’s almost gone.”
Trish smiled at him. “I’m hungry, too,” she said.
“That’s good. You up for some Spam? Fresh out of the can.”
“I’d love some,” she replied, smiling.
Ed pulled a can of Spam from his backpack, removed the lid, then produced a metal fork from the pack before handing it all to her. He walked out of the bedroom, leaving her to her meal.
Ed sat on the front porch of the farmhouse watching the highway while the boys played beside him. They had a good view from the porch, hopefully good enough to see trouble coming from a distance. The back doors of the house were locked, and Ed had jammed some old two by fours he’d found in the shed under the door handle, nailing them to the floor.
He thought about Trish, trying to imagine what she must have gone through before they’d found her. She said she’d been raped, and he had seen the bruises on her thighs while caring for her while she was sick. She also had cuts on her head and large, bluish-black bruises on her back and shoulders. She looked as if she had been hit by a car.
No wonder she'd almost killed him.
Now that the fever had almost passed and she’d gotten some rest she was beginning to come around. She was talking, and she showed no signs of aggression or fear. They hadn’t had much conversation over the past several days, but they had had enough for him to feel comfortable with her mental stability. Bringing her to the farmhouse had been a good idea; he could thank the boys for that. They couldn’t stay forever though; supplies were running out. They’d need to get back on the road soon and restock.
And then there was the big conundrum: what were they going to do with the girl? He couldn’t just leave her, not in the condition she was in. She’d be a sitting duck. Taking her with them concerned him as well. Ed had been traveling with only the boys for a long time. They had a system, they relied on each other, and they were family. They were a team. Taking on someone else meant they would need more supplies and he would now have to be responsible for yet another person. She might slow them down, maybe even get them all killed.
But, despite his initial misgivings, Ed was beginning to like her. So were the boys. He thought about Sarah and how pitiful and tragic she had been in the end. He remembered how helpless he had felt then, how completely useless his efforts to save her had been. In the end he did end her suffering, but he didn't save her. This time around he had a second chance to get it right.
All this internal dialog assumed she actually
wanted
to travel with them. For all he knew she might want to go it alone, exactly as she had been doing when they found her inside that Target. He had to consider that possibility. It would be as much her decision as it would be his.
Movement near the road caught his eye, ripping him from his thoughts.
It was a carrier.
“Get down,” he whispered to the boys, pointing in the direction of the thing. He slowly moved from the front steps to where the boys were sat. They crouched down behind a porch swing, hoping it and the thick slats supporting the front railing would be enough to keep them concealed.
“Don’t move,” he told the boys. “If it spots us go into the house immediately. I’ll be right behind you.” They nodded in acknowledgment.
They watched as the carrier continued to make its way slowly along the highway, dragging one of its legs behind it. It was slow and meandering, almost confused in the way it walked. It looked near death, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t charge if it saw them.
After a several more minutes the carrier had walked far enough away that they felt it was safe to move again. Ed couldn't sit on the porch anymore; it was too dangerous. Maybe it had been a bad idea all along. They walked back into the house, then closed and locked the front door behind them.
Ed turned to the boys, his face painted with consternation. “We need to get moving soon.”
Trish sat upright in the bed, eating another container of Spam. The color had returned to her face and the fever had all but disappeared. She was now finished with her antibiotic treatment and was on her first day without them. She was progressing well and feeling better than she had in weeks.
Ed didn't tell Trish about the carrier he'd seen from the front porch. He didn't want to upset her, especially since there was nothing she could do about it anyway. Instead he brought the boys up to her room to allow them to spend some time together.
The boys told Trish all about their time spent on the road. She listened intently to their stories, nodding where expected and asking questions. They seemed to get along well. Ed wished they had something else to talk about, but the truth was they didn't.
They had just finished telling her about Zach’s run-in with the carrier at the sporting goods store some weeks back. Zach seemed a bit sheepish about it, but Jeremy told the story with real conviction. He beamed when he got to the part where Ed had stormed in and killed the carrier with the baseball bat.
Seeing that Zach had become a bit uncomfortable with their discussion Ed stepped in and brought things to a halt. “Alright guys,” he began, “how about you two get back over to our room and play for a while? Trish has heard enough stories for today.”
“Do we have to?” Jeremy asked. Ed nodded.
“C’mon,” Zach pushed. “Dad said we need to go.” Jeremy shot him a disapproving look. The boys walked out of the room with Zach in the lead.
Ed pulled up the chair from the kitchen then sat down beside the bed. “How’s the Spam?” he asked.
“Good,” she replied, looking at him. He looked down at his hands. An awkward silence followed. “Something tells me you’re not all that interested in how good the Spam is.”
He looked up at her and smiled. “You’re pretty observant,” he said.
She smiled back then stuck the fork in the remaining Spam before setting the can down on the nightstand. “What do you want to talk about then, if you don’t want to talk about Spam?” she asked.
Ed wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He decided the best thing was to just come out with it and see where the chips fell.
“We’re going to be leaving soon, maybe sooner than you might expect,” he began.
She nodded.
“It’s completely up to you, but this farmhouse is just a temporary stay for the boys and me,” he continued. “We’re running low on supplies, so we’re gonna have to get moving again soon.” That was, of course, only part of the reason.
Trish looked at him, a slight smile forming on her lips. “And you want to know if I want to come with?”
“You
are
observant,” he said, chuckling.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Ed said.
Trish laughed. “Well, maybe a little thought.”
Ed finally decided he’d beaten around the bush long enough. He just needed to come out with it. She was either going to come with them, or she wasn’t. He started to ask, but never made it that far.
“Carriers!” he heard Zach yell as he came barging into the room. His eyes were wide with concern. “Out front!”
Jeremy raced in behind him. “Lots of ‘em, too,” he added. “They’re headed toward the house!”
Ed looked at Trish. The humor in his face had washed away. He had hoped they would have more time. “Can you walk?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“Can you run?”
“I think so,” she answered.
Ed turned to Zach. “How close are they?” he questioned.
“I don't know exactly, pretty close,” he replied, his voice shaking.
Ed turned back to Trish. “Get dressed as quickly as you can. We're getting out of here.” He didn’t wait for a response. He raced into the bedroom he and the boys had been using then peered out the window. There were dozens of carriers descending upon the house, just as the boys had described. They needed to get out fast; they would be sitting ducks on the second floor.
He ran back toward the back of the second level; from the window he could see as many carriers as were in front. They were flanking them from both sides like a hunting pack.
The doors and windows were somewhat secured, but that would only buy them a little time. Eventually the whole lot of them would come crashing down upon and they would make it inside. The only question was how long would that would take. As if to answer that question Ed heard a loud crash from downstairs. It was the unmistakable sound of a window breaking. They couldn't make the jump from the second floor so that left them only one option; they would have to shoot their way out.
“Boys, get your packs on and follow me,” he commanded. They did as instructed. He walked over to Trish’s room, the boys in tow. She was struggling to get her coat on, but was otherwise dressed. Ed helped her with the coat.
“I think at least one is in the house,” he told her. “Probably more by now.”
“Shit. I heard a window break,” she replied. “What's the plan?”
Ed was surprised by her calm exterior. She had been through a lot already though, he reminded himself. “We’re going to go out through the front door, then we’re going to make a break for the highway.”
“Are you crazy? How are we going to get through all the carriers downstairs?” she asked.
“Shoot anything that moves,” he replied.
Zach and Jeremy stood behind him. Their faces were covered with their masks, their eyes covered with their goggles. Ed put his on as well. He looked around, the pulled out his knife, cutting a thin line of fabric from the bedsheet. “Tie this around your mouth; it'll have to do for now.”
As Trish tied her makeshift mask onto her face, Ed continued. “Stay together, in a single line. Don't separate. We head straight for the door. Like I said, shoot anything that gets in your way. Understand?” They boys nodded, their eyes wide with anxiety.
“It'll be okay,” he told them. The words felt hollow on his tongue.
They walked to the top of the steps, then paused. Ed looked at Trish and the boys, then nodded. They could hear the commotion downstairs as the invading carriers wrecked the place. The boys drew their guns, and then they all started down the steps.
Before they could make it three steps a carrier appeared at the bottom. It caught sight of Ed and his group, then stopped to watch them. They stood this way for several second, then it then opened its mouth and began screaming. It scrambled up the steps madly, ready to attack.
Ed quickly put a bullet in the thing's chest. It fell backward, tumbling down the steps, landing hard at the bottom where it lay dead. Ed heard another deadwalker scream from somewhere on the first floor; the sound of the shot had their attention now.
Ed and the others arrived at the bottom of the steps, then turned ninety degrees and headed toward the front door of the house. They ran in a tight group, just as they discussed. Ed saw three carriers in the house, all situated between them and the door. He shot them all, using up four bullets to do it. The carriers fell to the ground, two of them screaming from gutshots. The room smelled like urine, meat, and feces.
Ed heard a shot from behind him. He turned to look and saw a carrier go down from Jeremy's pistol. He was glad they had found that gun. The living room was now clear, so they sprinted for the front door.
Suddenly Trish screamed. “Ed, to your right!”
Ed turned quickly in that direction as a carrier charged from the side. Ed brought it down with a lucky shot to the throat. Trish turned and covered her face with her hands, trying to avoid any blood spatter.
After what seemed to them like an eternity, they got to the door. It was blocked by the chair Ed has placed under the door handle. They stood there, feeling more exposed than ever while Ed wrangled the chair out from under the door knob. The seconds ticked by like hours.
He finally removed the chair, tossing it to the side. He then opened the door, peeking his head through to check the porch for carriers. There were five carriers on the porch with a handful more walking aimlessly in the front yard. He looked at Zach and pointed toward the two carriers to their left. They didn’t have time to discuss a plan; more carriers were entering the house behind them; they could hear more glass breaking as the screaming intensified.
Ed ran through the door and onto the front porch; the others followed. Zach turned and shot the carriers his dad had assigned him while Ed took down the other three. By then the remaining deadwalkers outside had taken notice and were descending upon them.