Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse (29 page)

The man looked at them a moment longer, then looked past them. His expression shifted from anxiety to inequitable horror. He raced toward the car.

Melanie’s heart raced. “What should we do?”

“Let him in,” Tomas said, flipping the switch and unlocking the doors of the Cooper.

Melanie opened the door and hopped out. “Come on,” she shouted, squeezing herself into the backseat next to Christopher.

The man, small-built and spindly, dove into the passenger’s seat. “Hurry! They’re coming!”

“Marauders?” Tomas asked.

“Yes. And armed to the teeth.”

Tomas tore down a narrow city street, the tiny car sliding out of control as they flew around a turn in front of a KFC. Melanie turned and glanced behind them. She thought she could see the faint yellowish tint of headlights.

“Switch off your lights,” the man said. “Take a left up here, into that small parking lot.”

Tomas did as the man said, pulling into the parking area slowly. He moved the Cooper behind an overfilled dumpster and waited quietly a few moments.

“Won’t they notice the tire tracks?” Tomas asked.

“By the looks of them, I wouldn’t bet on it,” the man replied. Melanie recognized what she thought was an American accent.

“Like zombies,” Melanie offered, meaning it as a joke.

“Exactly.” The man leaned forward and squinted through the windshield. “It doesn’t look like Ken made it.” He didn’t sound upset, only resigned.

“Ken?” Tomas asked.

“The fellow I was with. We were trying to see what’s going on inside that church.”

Tomas turned to the side and looked at the man. “What exactly is going on inside that church?”

The smaller man sighed. “They’re hoarding people. They’re rounding up survivors and using them to bait Ragers. Then they’re catching them and killing them.”

“You’re sure?” Tomas asked.

“They’re tied up in there, hanging from hooks in the goddamned ceiling.”

“Oh,” Tomas said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the man answered. He turned in his seat and put out his hand. “Hello, little man,” he said, pumping Christopher’s small hand until the little boy giggled.

Tomas introduced all of them, including Bo, who was up and alert in the tiny back compartment. “I’m Stu,” the man said.

***

When the coast was clear, Tomas pulled out onto the avenue and turned left. Stu directed them back the way they had come in, then north a couple of blocks.

“Shut off the lights and cruise slowly back toward that Tesco Supermarket,” Stu said.

Tomas did as the guy asked, wondering the entire time why he should trust the American man, who he didn’t know any more than he knew the damned Ragers. But something told him everything would be fine, that the man
could
be trusted. Tomas pulled the car around the backside of the market and parked as close as possible to the truck ramp.

Stu led them up to the docking area. He banged on the steel door with the meaty side of his fist, and after a moment, a striking black woman pulled up the loading dock door. Tomas carried Christopher inside a warm, lighted warehouse and was immediately greeted by another young boy, about nine years old. The little boy sprinted forward and hooked his arms around Stu’s waist. The American embraced the child, looking a bit dumbfounded over the boy’s reaction.

They settled in quickly, grateful for the warmth and the light. Tomas felt as if light was a new thing, something he had never seen before. He found himself looking up at the long fluorescent bulbs that ran the length of the store ceiling. He loved not having to wear his coat.

A pair of round-bodied women prepared frozen meals in a small microwave they had hooked up in a makeshift camping area in the middle of the outdoor department. The younger of the two, Denise, was jovial and flirty toward Tomas in a non-threatening way. Gladys was older and reminded Tomas of Dawn French, but not quite as pretty. Her laugh was contagious, despite her tired expression. He was grateful for their kindness.

A half-dozen tents stood, along with a semicircle of sleeping bags outside the tents, camping stoves, the microwave, and a large flat-screen television connected to a Blu-ray player. It appeared quite comfortable.

Tomas, Christopher, and Melanie took seats at a small, pre-fabricated picnic table. Bo sat beside them, grinning his happy dog grin.

After the introductions, food was served.

“Curried chicken,” Denise said, placing trays in front of him and Melanie. “And Chicken en Croute with Creamy Mushroom.”

Gladys passed a pair of mini-cheeseburgers to Christopher. “Those are the last two burgers, sweetie,” she chirped, her voice surprisingly high for a woman of her girth.

Christopher ate quickly and ecstatically; he hadn’t had a burger in a long time. Leila had seldom allowed such indulgence. “Do you have French fries?”

“No, dear. No French fries. We have some crisps,” she offered. Christopher opted for Cool Ranch Doritos.

The black woman, Tana, brought out a liter bottle of Cherry Coke and poured it into plastic picnic cups. “We have some ale left, too. We’ll have a drink after you rest.”

Bo was served two large cans of organic dog food. Tomas dreaded taking him out later, but knew it was necessary if they all were going to be happy and stench-free inside the supermarket.

A tent was prepared for them, furnished with three thick, warm pallets. Tomas and Stu ventured back out to the car and brought in a few bags, including Melanie’s iPod, Tomas’s computer, clothing, toiletries, and a few of Christopher’s favorite toys.

Tana’s son Davis climbed into the tent and helped Christopher with straightening out his bedding. The little boy seemed genuinely thrilled to have a new, healthy playmate.

“My other son, Aidan, is—was—about your son’s age,” Tana explained. “I know Davis misses him terribly.”

Melanie placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Was he killed?”

Tana shook her head. “No. He’s out there somewhere. One of them.”

Christopher and Davis popped out of the tent. Christopher dashed along the empty camping aisle, his short legs pumping, ecstatic to have room to run. Davis chased him, laughing. They vanished around the end of the shelves and, in a moment, circled back to the camp area.

Tomas watched Tana a moment, wondering how she got through such a thing. Of course, she still had a boy to live for. As Christopher jogged past, Tomas swept him up and kissed his cheek loudly, making the boy giggle. At the same time, he said a small, inward prayer for the safety of his dear son.

Stu approached, looking miserable. He had just broken the word to the nurses about Ken. Nobody knew the poor man very well, but he had been an affable fellow. With so few people left, that had been enough.

Tana slipped her arm around his waist. “We have hot water, if you want a shower,” she told Melanie. “It does wonders for the psyche.” She nudged Stu playfully in the ribs. “Doesn’t it?”

Tomas thought he caught a very subtle invitation, and he glanced at Melanie. She grinned like a schoolgirl. Neither of them would have put the small, bookish American with the stunning black Brit, but at the end of the world, anything went. Even he and his best friend’s young daughter.

“That would be terrific,” Tomas said.

February 5- 11

Chapter 44

London, England

Stu and Tomas stood atop an apartment building across the street from the store, five stories above the dead city. The freezing air cut at their faces, making their eyes water. They could see the church a few blocks over. Further away, fires, some large and others dying, dotted the black landscape like spots of splattered paint. From time to time, they caught headlights moving through the streets. Tomas wondered if they were friendly, not that it mattered very much. Safety in numbers wasn’t necessarily accurate in the new world. More people would only serve to slow them down.

He squinted through a pair of binoculars. A black SUV oozed down the lane and stopped in front of the church. A group of men and women who looked like
Road Warrior
rejects climbed out, followed by a fat, weeping woman and a little girl.

“Shit,” Tomas said. “They have a child.” He passed the glasses to Stu.

“Just one of many, my friend. The church is lousy with kids. And women. The elderly. The Ragers aren’t discriminating.”

“What do you think about taking the kids with us?”

Stu turned to Tomas, furrowing his brow. “I think it’s a shitty idea, frankly,” he said. “But I’ve also been kicking the notion around in the back of my mind. It’s… well, I was afraid I would get them all killed. I’ve dealt with enough dead kids already.”

“How do you think we should handle moving them ”

“I’d suggest creating a diversion. I’m still not sure we could get them out fast enough.”

“I think you’re right.” Tomas answered.

Tomas nodded. Stu was obviously dealing with many issues—his excessive drinking and nervous hands told Tomas that. But Stu was a good guy. Anyone as devoted to his child as Stu appeared to be had to be a good guy.

Chapter 45

London, England

Tana was everything Melanie wished she could be—beautiful and tough. She appeared comfortable with who she was. Like Melanie, the woman was committed to a man and a child, but Tana was selfless. Melanie hated herself for being so afraid. As flighty as a schoolgirl, even at the end of the world, she was worried over a thing like loneliness. Tana was a leader, even if there weren’t many left to lead—two over-the-hill nurses, four mentally challenged kids, a pair of hysterical high school girls, her own little boy who didn’t understand, and a drunken man too far away from home.

Stu outlined their plan, with Tana next to him on a folding lounge chair, her hand on his leg. They were a pair, a partnership. Melanie saw a glimpse of that in her relationship with Tomas, but most times, he was the protector, and she was a child, just like Christopher. Nevertheless, when he sat down beside her and slinked his arm around her, she snuggled against him, loving his warmth and lilac-soapy scent.

“We’re going to get that bus outside restarted,” Stu said. “All we need is a new battery and gasoline.”

“What if we don’t want to go?” Gladys, asked. She wrapped her thick fingers around a paper cup filled with cheap wine from a box.

“We can’t abide placing these children into danger over a wild goose chase, Mr. McCarthy,” Denise added.

“I agree. But we’re armed. With Tomas here, I believe we can get everyone inside and well on the way before anyone becomes aware,” Stu replied. “How far is it to Southampton?”

“More than an hour, less than two, depending on the condition of the roads,” Tana said.

“What if there’s no Sanctuary?” Gladys asked. “What then?”

Tomas could understand her uncertainty. She had four lives counting on her. But he was nevertheless growing tired of justifying his determination to find a safe haven for his child, Melanie, and himself. He was no savior. He was a father. There was a limit to his caring about others. “You’ve heard the broadcasts. We have to take them at their word. My family is moving on, and it sounds like Stu, Tana, and the girls are doing the same. You can stay, but rest assured the Ragers will come, and if not Ragers, then marauders. And very soon.”

On her lap, Ashley held a small towheaded boy with thick glasses and a contented but unknowing expression. “I’ll stay, if they stay,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to see what’s left at home, anyway.”

“That’s not an option, Ashley,” Stu said, transforming instantly from friend to teacher. “I’m in charge of you.”

“Not any more, Mr. McCarthy,” Portia said. “Everything we knew is gone. You do what you need to. I’m with Ash.”

Denise listened, sipping her wine. “We’ll soon be out of food and supplies here, Gladys. What will we do then? We can’t move these kids to a new location without a transport. Frankly, I feel we’re safer with Stu. Even if Sanctuary turns out to be a dream, we can find a new place to hide. Perhaps a country house. The city is a trap waiting to snap closed, anyway.”

Chapter 46

London, England

Melanie never considered how quickly a person could become close with others in the face of dire situations. Disasters, wars, famines, pandemics—those horrors brought out both the best and the worst of people. Back in the village, they’d allowed fear to drive them. Nothing was more horrifying that witnessing a group succumbing to mob rule. She imagined it was even worse in larger cites. Only blocks away, who knew what was happening? Were people being sacrificed? Pushed out, enslaved? Raped? Of course, the alternative unfolding inside the nearby church was much worse.

She shivered while envisioning it and tried to think about other, simpler tasks, like packing canned fruits and vegetables into boxes.

“Are you okay?” Stu asked, glancing down from atop the stepladder. He was rummaging through the higher shelves to see if they had overlooked anything that might be of use on the trip.

“Yes. I was just letting my mind wander a little too much.”

“Mine has a habit of doing that lately, too.” Then, he gave a sharp gasp. “Wow. I can’t believe we missed this.” He rubbed his hands together, then grabbed a case of bottled Guinness that a worker had apparently hidden away to steal later. “I imagine Tomas might like a pint or two.”

Melanie smiled. “I imagine he might.”

Stu was easy to be around, and she could see how Tana and the others had taken to him. He was a little odd, more than a little shell-shocked, but he tried hard to keep everyone’s spirits up, even when it was through gritted teeth and clenched jaws. That reminded her of Tomas.

“What subject did you teach, Stu?” She wanted to keep him talking, to keep her mind from becoming idle. An idle mind could get her in trouble, and she was paranoid enough already.