I decided that Charlie hadn’t always been a medic.
The diner was dark, so we hit the light switch. Nothing happened. Charlie cursed. “Looks like we’re already having some pockets of power outages. Let’s hope it comes back on and that it’s not too widespread. I’m not ready for the power to be out for good yet.”
The deserted diner gave me the creeps and I reached down and rubbed Mojo, the feel of the big dog relaxing me a little. I whispered, “Why don’t you take the kitchen and I’ll see if there’s anything in the storeroom to take. And I’ll look for big bags or boxes, too.” I just wanted to get out of there as fast as we could.
I found a box in the storeroom that was almost empty. I dumped the contents out on the floor and then started loading it up with soft drinks, hamburger and hot dog buns, chips—just whatever I could find to throw in there.
“We’ll have a cookout tonight, Ty!” said Charlie with a whoop. “Some good stuff left here.”
“Great,” I said, but I know I sounded less than enthusiastic. I was getting a bad feeling about this place. I glanced at Mojo, who trotted through the storeroom door. He looked relaxed and happy with his tongue lolling out. Maybe he was already picturing the feast he was going to have later on. I felt better seeing that the dog was so laid back.
“Did you find any boxes?” asked Charlie.
I grabbed one that was partially full of paper products, dumped it out and walked into the kitchen. Charlie was in the diner’s fridge and pulled stuff out as fast as he could. I slid the box next to him and he started flinging things in.
We both froze when the bell on the front door of the diner rang. Charlie cursed. “I should have locked it behind us, deserted or not.”
Mojo was no longer relaxed. The fur on the back of his neck rose up. Charlie motioned for me to hide in the janitor closet. I shook my head and opened a drawer. I pulled out a knife. Charlie frowned at me but also reached in the drawer for a knife.
Charlie told Mojo to stay. The dog was about as obedient as I was. At least he waited until Charlie had stealthily walked out the door before he slunk along after him.
We heard a chair knock over in the main room and Charlie and I glanced at each other. That wasn’t a good sign. Zombies were clumsy. We crept closer to the sounds we were hearing.
We’d apparently left the lights in the on position because suddenly there was a power surge and the lights flickered on and off again. Finally they stayed on. We saw a figure weaving around the center of the room. It stumbled against a chair, knocking it to the side.
“Do you think there’s a back door?” I muttered to Charlie, my voice shaking. Because even though we had knives, I didn’t really like my chances with a knife against a zombie. I didn’t want to get that close.
Then the figure turned, and Charlie said under his breath, “I don’t think that’s a zombie.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlie
The figure in front of us wasn’t a zombie but a middle-aged man wearing a button-down shirt and khaki pants. His clothes were stained and wrinkled. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy but not empty like the zombies’ eyes were. And his mouth wasn’t as slack as the zombies’ were, either. But he was stumbling around just like he was infected. Then I figured it out.
“Drunk as a skunk,” I murmured to Ty.
The man didn’t seem especially worried about Ty and me, despite the knives we were holding. He gazed at us and then said in a thick and slurring voice, “Thanks for getting me in here, guys. I’m Trent.”
I lowered his knife. “No problem. Looking for something, are you?”
Trent shrugged and seemed to concentrate very hard on sitting down. “About to run out of booze. Can’t face the end of the world sober, you know.”
I sat down near Trent but Ty wasn’t as excited about hanging out with him. Instead, he walked over to the front door and locked it as best he could. At least a zombie wouldn’t be able to figure out how to make it through. I’d been so intent on our quick foray that I couldn’t believe I’d been sloppy about locking the door. And it would have been nice to have brought a gun inside, too. Next time I wouldn’t be so slack.
I said, “Who else is left in this town? Have you been able to get out and assess the situation?”
This man looked like he wasn’t really able to even assess his own situation. He said, “Nobody here.”
Ty gave a shiver and I couldn’t help but agree with him. The idea of this being some sort of little ghost town was pretty creepy.
“Nobody at all?” asked Ty. “Are you sure?”
The man turned in his chair to look at Ty and nearly fell out of it. “Nobody
alive
. Just those infected dead people.”
“Why haven’t you left?” Ty still lingered near the door.
The man shrugged again. “No point. I’d have to keep running. If there are zombies here in this town, there are zombies in
all
the towns. That means I’d have to keep going from place to place to find supplies and escape infected people.” He stopped talking, shaking his head. Then he put a hand to his forehead like it hurt.
I said in my most authoritative voice, “There’s a better plan. You could come with us.”
The man looked at me unsteadily and then gave a short laugh. “Right. Because you’re
not
running.”
“I’m getting Ty connected with family in a retirement community. That might be a good option since they would have food and rooms and living areas. Then I’m going to head out into the woods or another rural area and set up there. I can do some small-scale farming and hunting. You can come along.”
The man gave me a scornful look. “And that’s a life?”
I frowned at him. “Better than getting drunk and waiting to be infected.”
“Says who?” Trent’s eyes were suddenly exhausted. “What have I got to live for? My family has been infected. I’m guessing that my friends are, too. My life wasn’t even all that great before this happened, and it sure hasn’t gotten better now.”
Usually, I was a pretty chilled out guy. Everyone always said how laid back I was. But this guy’s hopelessness really got to me. He’d basically just thrown in the towel and given up—on the very first week of the zombie apocalypse. And, for whatever reason, there was just something in my genetic makeup that couldn’t leave this alone.
“Look, it’s way too early in this crisis to just give up hope,” I said briskly. “Join up with Ty and me.”
But my persuasive speech was cut off. Ty leapt back away from the door when suddenly there were loud thumps and knocks at the other side, along with a rattling of the doorknob. Mojo whined, ears back, tail down.
“Zombies,” said Ty. “They won’t be able to figure out how to get around the locked door.”
“Unless they just break the thing down,” muttered Trent.
“Let me in!” demanded a frantic woman’s voice.
I ran to the door.
“I wouldn’t open it,” said Trent laconically. “Sounds like those things are chasing her.”
I shot him a look through narrowed eyes and yanked the door open, pulling the woman, a frail brunette, inside as fast as I could. But before I could force the door shut, several zombies pushed their way in, grabbing at me. I reared back and lifted my leg up to kick one of them in the stomach as hard as I could, but it somehow managed to get my leg.
I struggled hard to get away, sweat pouring out of me, hopping on one leg and trying desperately to get away. Until Mojo flung himself at the zombie, knocking it backward across the floor.
“Run!” yelled Ty. “Come on, out the back!”
The woman was already ahead of us, running for the back door. Ty was following her. “I’ll grab the stuff, Charlie,” he called to me.
Trent sat calmly at the table as if there weren’t predators in the room with him.
“Trent!” I barked. “Come on!”
Trent sat still, gazing wearily at me as the zombies stumbled closer to him. “You know you can’t take that woman with you. She was bitten on the arm. I saw it.”
I shook my head at him in frustration. “Trent! Let’s go!”
“Get out of here,” he said with a sigh, picking up his glass and draining it with one gulp as a zombie reached for him.
I heard Ty’s voice, frightened but strong at the same time. “Charlie?”
“On my way,” I said, running now, as a zombie in a suit and tie shambled toward me.
I ran through the kitchen and grabbed one of the boxes that Ty was struggling with. “Okay,” I said, “let’s get out of here.”
We didn’t have much time since there was already a zombie, who apparently used to be someone’s grandmother, heading in our direction. Fortunately, I felt pretty good about my chances avoiding this particular zombie. But there were sure to be others right behind her.
Ty whispered urgently to me as we jogged to the back door with the supplies, “So what are we doing about the woman? Trent said she was infected.”
I felt a pang just thinking about Trent and how I’d left him to his fate. “Trent wasn’t exactly thinking straight, was he?” I muttered to Ty.
“Yeah, but what if he’s right? Should we take her along? They turn pretty fast sometimes,” said Ty in a low voice.
Sure enough, as we headed out the back, the woman was bent over, clutching her stomach and moaning. It wasn’t a good sign.
Suddenly, I realized the danger I’d been willing to put Ty in, all because of my desire to save the world. Whatever superhero complex I had, it needed to stop. Because I’d have pulled out with Mojo on the bike and left Ty to his fate with the infected woman in the truck. I hadn’t thought it through.
Ashamed of myself, I shifted the box and put a hand on Ty’s back. “I’m sorry, man. You’re absolutely right. We’ve got to leave her behind. She must have been infected, just like Trent said.”
We threw the boxes in the back of the truck.
“How do we get rid of her?” asked Ty uneasily. “She’s probably not going to want to stay.”
Most likely not. Especially since she’d just been shrieking and running in terror away from the zombies. I couldn’t see her volunteering to hang out at Zombie Diner.
Almost as if she could read my thoughts, the woman, sweating profusely, straightened up and grabbed the passenger door to the truck, climbing inside.
I groaned. It had been a rough week. I’d gone from sitting in an ambulance intent on saving lives, to allowing someone I could have saved to die. And now it looked as if I was going to throw someone to the wolves. Practically literally.
I squared my shoulders and quickly grabbed the door handle of the truck to open it and pull out the woman. Despite her obvious illness, she saw what I was doing and locked the doors to the truck.
I swore under my breath. “Ty? The keys?”
Ty handed them over to me. “Charlie? The zombies are on their way out.” His voice was urgent.
I swore again. “Ty, hop on the bike with Mojo and get away.”
Ty shook his head, looking frantic. “Charlie, I don’t know how to even start the bike.”
Sometimes I forgot he was only fifteen. “It’s okay,” I said in as calm and steady a voice as I could muster. “We’re gonna get out of here. You and Mojo get ready to hop in the front seat, okay? But not until I pull her out of the truck, just in case she’s already turned.”
Ty moved around to the driver’s side and Mojo followed him as he whistled softly to the dog.
I jammed the key into the lock and then held on the door. Despite pulling on the door with all her strength, the woman was no match for me, especially as sick as she was.
Then I saw it, right as I had the door fully open. Her eyes went blank, her mouth went slack. And she started moaning. She reached for me.
I unceremoniously grabbed her by the legs and jerked her out of the truck. I pushed the lock in, slammed the door, handed off the keys to Ty, and then scrambled to the bike before she could get back up. Or before more zombies could find their way outside.
We drove for miles before Ty motioned to me to pull over. “Hey,” he said, and his eyes were exhausted, “let’s not stop again. I don’t think I can handle any more excitement right now. I just want to get to a safe place and rest a little.”
“No more stops,” I promised him. “Straight to your Nana.”
Admittedly, I hadn’t spent much time hanging out at retirement homes in the past. But there had been a few visits when I was a teen and my mom took me to see my great-aunt. I remember that they were bustling places. There were residents boarding vans for various excursions, taking strolls, and participating in lots of scheduled activities.
It was eerie to pull up to the Crofton Retirement Community and see the wrought-iron gates shut. It was even eerier to see no sign of life on the grounds of the community.
Ty pulled up beside me and rolled the window of the truck down. Mojo scooted over to stick his head out the window and grin at me.
“Okay,” I said to Ty, “so what’s the best way to get in this place?”
Ty’s face was drawn with exhaustion and worry and I could tell he didn’t have his A-game on. The sun was low in the sky. He was clearly getting overwhelmed. “When everything was normal, there’d either be some guy working the gate, or else we’d intercom in and someone would open it up.”
It
was
a gated community. But it was the kind of gate that wasn’t going to keep zombies out. It was just going to keep our vehicles out unless we got them to open up. And right now, I didn’t fancy the proposition of abandoning the truck and walking through the grounds exposed.
I especially didn’t fancy it when I looked through the gate and saw a white-haired gentleman in navy pajamas who was staggering up to the gate, gazing hungrily at us.
Mojo growled and shifted on the seat.
Ty gave a shaky sigh.
“Hey man, just because we see one infected resident here doesn’t mean they’re all that way,” I said with a confidence I didn’t really feel.
Ty said in a low voice, “If I see Nana wandering up to me, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“We’re thinking positive, right? Actually, let’s see if we can think better right now than we have been. We have a problem. We need to get through these gates and drive right up to the door so we don’t have to encounter Zombie Zeke over there. So how are we going to do it?” I asked. I was asking myself as much as asking Ty.