Stories in a Lost World: Kristy (3 page)

It’ll give us a chance.

Keith and I walked south. We had been to most of the houses on this stretch of road. At least in this county, roads are all 1-mile intervals. It’s kind of weird, but it works. It gives a good understanding of how far you’ve gone, especially since not all of the roads have names. When people get their mail here, it’s just “rural route 5” or “rural route 10.” There aren’t any street addresses.

It’s good for being anonymous, I suppose.

We walked for two miles. That’s how far it took to find a house we hadn’t been to yet. There are about two or three houses per 1-mile stretch of road. Nothing like having space from your neighbors, right?

Because there’s so much space between houses, it gives us the element of surprise. We
are
those evil survivors sneaking up on houses. If a place looks like it’s being lived in, we skip it, of course, but seeing as how we haven’t encountered survivors in awhile, I would venture a guess there aren’t many here. If people didn’t get infected or kill themselves, they’ve probably starved to death by now.

The first house we stopped at was a welcome sight. I had to pee and my knees were killing. We only walked two miles, but I haven’t run in a little while, so I’m starting to get out of shape. I relieved myself quietly behind a tree before we approached the house, bats in hand.

It looked empty. The front porch was covered in leaves and brush from the recent storms. I think if someone was living there, they would have cleaned off the porch. We walked around the house a couple of times before deciding it was safe to break in. The doors and windows were all locked, so we broke a first floor window and waited.

Waiting to see if an Infected comes at the sound of broken glass is the worst. You always want to hope they don’t come, but usually, they do. Not today. Today we waited and nothing happened, so we crawled inside. There wasn’t a car outside, which makes me wonder where the family went.

Did they go for groceries before the infection started?

Did they go on vacation?

Did someone get sick?

Did they try to get to a hospital?

These are the questions I have. The thing that makes it unbearable sometimes is knowing I’ll never have answers. There is no one I can ask. There is no way to look these deaths up on the Internet or in a newspaper. There’s just nothing.

We went inside.

The house was eerily silent, so we made the rounds as quickly as possible. We’re looking for a car, yes, but we’re also looking for supplies. We loaded our backpacks with canned food until they were heavy. Keith found a box and put a bunch of food in the box. Then he placed that box close to the front door. I said he should put it on the porch and we could grab it on the way home, but he was worried about wild animals.

If we’re hungry, he argued, then they’re
definitely
hungry. And while I don’t think zombies are attracted to normal food, there’s always the chance.

There wasn’t really anything else useful in the house, but I found some condoms and I placed them in the box. Keith looked at me like he was trying to figure out if I wanted him.

“For Bridget,” I said simply, and he didn’t say anything else. Neither one of us cares that she and Paul are an item. Both of us care that we might lose her if she conceives. None of us has medical training. None of us knows how to deliver a baby. It’s best to just avoid that entire ordeal.

We headed back down the road. The next house had an old woman inside who was infected. She was decayed, though. She could barely move. I used to wonder if reanimating meant you’d suddenly be fast or strong, but it doesn’t. If she couldn’t move very fast before she became a zombie, she certainly couldn’t move fast after.

Keith killed her, but I looked away. She reminded me of my grandma. I couldn’t do it.

My hands are killing. I’ll write more later.

Okay, my hands are rested. Here’s what I’ve got. In that second house, we explored and found batteries and water bottles. Those went into the backpacks. Keith found a duffel bag that we loaded up with a few random household things, like soap and toothpaste. I was thrilled. I hate having apocalypse teeth. Seriously, I’m afraid I’ve got like 20 cavities by now and it’s not like I can do anything about it.

When we went outside, everything changed. We had been laughing about something stupid, trying to make light of the fact that Keith just killed someone, when he stopped. I looked up to see what he was staring at and there were three guys there. Big guys. Bigger than Keith. They looked like they were in their 40s, maybe a little older.

What
really
mattered is they had guns. Lots of guns. Keith and I held our hands up like people in movies always do. One of the guys laughed.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing with a bloke like him?” The guy asked. I wondered if he was English or if he was just trying to be. I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Keith said. “We’re just looking for food.”

“Aren’t we all?” One of the guys asked. “Hand over the backpacks.”

We did like he asked, keeping our hands in the air as much as possible. They looked through the bags and seemed satisfied, but they weren’t.

I thought they were going to kill us, but they wanted something from me first. Two of the guys stayed with Keith and one grabbed me. I knew what he was going to do.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a woman as pretty as you,” he said.

“Or any woman with a heartbeat,” another guy added, and I felt sick. I tried not to throw up, but I did. All over the ground. I started heaving and the guys just laughed. While they were distracted, Keith jumped up and grabbed one of their guns. He immediately shot that guy in the chest and the guy next to him. They both went down quickly. They didn’t die right away, but they screamed these horrible sounds and rolled around. The second guy he shot didn’t have a gun, so they were both useless. The guy next to me had one, though.

He reacted quickly when he heard the shot. He grabbed me mid-puke and held me tight. It was horrifying and embarrassing at the same time. How is that even possible? I had puke on my shirt and on my chin, but he was holding me. He had a gun to my head. Keith stared at him for a minute.

The man said something. I don’t know what. I knew Keith was a good shot, but this wasn’t the movies. He could probably make a headshot at 10 feet away, but what if he missed? What if he got me? I didn’t have time to be afraid. I knew if I did nothing, the guy would kill Keith and then me. If Keith missed, I’d die. Not all of us were getting out of there alive.

I was afraid that Keith was going to put his gun down, so I did the first thing I could think of. I reached behind me and squeezed the guy in his “special place” as hard as I could. He loosened his grip on me just enough for me to drop to the ground and Keith shot him.

The guy fell on me and I screamed and screamed until Keith managed to get the body away. Then he just held me. I was covered in vomit and blood and I just cried and cried and cried. I couldn’t stop crying or screaming, but Keith finally told me I had to.

“You’re going to bring Infected,” he whispered, but I kept screaming. Finally, Keith apologized and tore part of his shirt. He shoved the fabric in my mouth and tied my hands behind my back so I couldn’t take it out. He basically hog-tied me. If this had been any other world, it might have been weird and kinky, but it just made me feel sadder.

Keith dragged the bodies behind the house somehow. The guys were huge, so I don’t know how he did it. We both knew the bodies would bring Infected. We didn’t see any yet, but there had been a lot of gunshots. It was only a matter of time.

Before the infection, I would have just thought it would be okay to escape from the men, like that would be enough, but I know better now. They had to die. It was them or us. If Keith hadn’t killed them, they would have found us eventually. Then our deaths would have been so much worse. It was better this way.

I didn’t notice that the guys had come on bikes. Three of them. That’s why we hadn’t heard them. Their motorcycles were really quiet. Keith grabbed the backpacks and me and drove me home on one of the motorcycles. He gave me to Bridget and told her to clean me up, then he and Paul walked back to the house again to get the other bikes. I’m lucky they both know how to ride because I certainly don’t.

I asked why they had to go that night and Bridget said we couldn’t risk anyone figuring out what happened to them.

“If their friends find the bikes or the bodies, we’re all fucked,” she whispered.

She gave me a sponge bath and put me in bed. Naked. Keith and Paul just got back with the bikes. I hear them downstairs.

What does it say about me that it wasn’t weird to have my friend give me a bath?

What does it say that I’m not sad those men are dead?

What does it say that I’m just happy Keith is back?

He’s my protector.

June 14
th

Last night I thanked Keith with more than just my words. I don’t know what this means. Maybe things will be different between us. Maybe things won’t. I just know that there’s no point in morals anymore.

June 15
th

I’m bruised from when the man fell on me the other day. I was worried I had a cracked rib, but I think I’m okay. I do look like a walking advertisement for a domestic abuse hotline, though. My eyes are red and puffy from crying and my abdomen is blue and purple.

Now that we have transportation, we’ll be able to do more exploring and get more food and supplies. Keith and Paul brought back the box of food from the first house we scavenged around in the other day, so we’re starting our winter stockpile.

The only bad thing about the bikes is that Bridget and I don’t know how to drive them. We’re so limited on gas that the guys don’t want to teach us, which I understand. Paul and Bridget took one bike and went out today. They were gone all day and came back with backpacks full of stale crackers.

When the guys were talking, Bridget pulled me aside and gave me something she found just for me. When I looked, I started laughing. Lingerie. She brought me freaking lingerie. We both laughed so hard, but I was also grateful. My idea of “new clothes” is very different than it used to be.