The Other Life (12 page)

Close-combat? The last time I’d fought – and won – had been against Brittany Ferris in junior high. She and her hyenas had laughed at me because I’d stepped on my
floor-length skirt and ended up pulling it off in the process. The mortification of standing in my cotton panties in the school yard had given me the motivation to bust her lip. But Brittany Ferris
wasn’t a Weeper – or at least, she hadn’t been then. Who knew what had happened to her since the rabies? The chances were she hadn’t survived, and the thought made me feel
bad. I shook my head. This wasn’t the moment to get lost in memories. I took the knife and tied the sheath to a belt loop on my jeans. Joshua gave a small nod of approval before handing me
another pistol.

So many weapons – as if we were going to war. I showed him the gun in my right hand. Surely, I didn’t need another.

“You’ll need another one,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.

Going to war indeed. What had he called it? The survival of the fittest. I took it from him and slid it into the back of my jeans. He gave me a handful of bullets next. “Put them in your
pocket. And Sherry—” He stopped me with his hand on my arm. “Use them wisely. We don’t have any to waste.” Before I could consider what his words meant, he continued.
“Do you know how to load a gun?”

“My dad taught me.” I stuffed the bullets into my pockets, hoping Joshua hadn’t noticed how my voice had cracked. I pasted on a smile.

His gaze was intense, as if he could see right through me. “Then let’s go.” He got out of the car.

I followed, scanning our surroundings. The area seemed peaceful. I’d expected Weepers to lurk at every corner, waiting to attack. Weepers that were once people like you, a tiny voice in my
head reminded me.

“Sherry?”

I jumped and glanced at Joshua, who’d walked a few steps towards one of the intact warehouses.

I sprinted after him. “Are they in there?” A part of me wanted them to be, so I could save Dad. The other part was scared witless.

“No, not in that one. But there’s a smaller warehouse right behind it. They should be there. At least, they were the last time I was here.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin as we crept past the huge building. It cast shadows on us and our surroundings. Despite the shade, the air was stuffy and I began to sweat. I wiped my right hand on my
jeans, then my left, trying to dry my palms. Joshua was a few steps ahead, his tall frame obstructing my view. He stopped and I almost bumped into him.

“What is it?” I asked, looking around for a sign of attackers. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He shushed me and scanned our surroundings with narrowed eyes. He pointed his
revolver at the door of the warehouse, which stood open a crack. It was too dark inside to make out if there was someone in there. I squinted against the sun, raised my own gun and aimed it at the
same spot.

Nothing.

The wind picked up, giving us some relief from the heat. It also jolted a corrugated sheet roof somewhere, filling the silence with its clattering.

Joshua relaxed his stance. “I thought I saw something move. Must have been my imagination.”

I lowered the pistol and took a shaky breath. Bobby and I had loved to play Cowboys and Indians when we were younger. Creeping up on each other had been fun back then. This wasn’t fun at
all. One wrong move, one careless moment, and Joshua and I would end up dead. This wasn’t a game. I followed Joshua towards the smaller warehouse.

Silence. Shouldn’t there be noises if Weepers and their prey were in there? Screams, or maybe roars?

We reached the entrance to the warehouse, a heavy steel door. The metal sheeting of the building was completely covered in dirt and soot. My gaze lingered on the places where there were claw
marks. Huge claw marks. Maybe it was just an animal.
Right
. I wished.

Joshua gave the door a small kick with the tip of his sneaker. It swung open with an ear-splitting creak. If anyone – or anything – was in there, they knew about us now. With the
bottom of my T-shirt, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I was sweating too much. Joshua didn’t seem to be as bothered by the heat. 1,141 days in the air-conditioned bunker had really taken
their toll. I already felt a hair’s breadth away from heatstroke.

We entered the warehouse – one cautious step after the other. The heavy smell of burned rubber clogged my nose. It was very dark in the building. The thick layer of soot covering the
windows high up in the walls blocked out most of the light. Why couldn’t the bombs have smashed them in? Shelves with buckets and piles of tyres obstructed our view even further, but I was
pretty sure we were alone. Or maybe I just hoped we were. Wishful thinking wouldn’t keep us safe.

Joshua waved me closer when I fell behind, and I hurried towards him. Our arms brushed as we scanned the vast hall.

“We should check the back,” he whispered.

We crept further into the room. An acidly sweet smell filled my nose. A scent I’d encountered once before. I froze. It smelled like the bodies in front of our neighbours’ house.

Please don’t let it be Dad.

18 hours and 37 minutes since he’d gone missing.

67,020 seconds in the claws of Weepers.

A bang resounded through the warehouse and our surroundings were plunged into deeper darkness. I let out a cry. There was barely enough light to see Joshua, who stood right beside me.

We weren’t alone. Something had closed the door. My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest. The pounding of my pulse seemed to fill the silence and my breath came in short gasps.
Was this how Mom felt during one of her asthma attacks?

I felt for Joshua’s arm. He didn’t move, but his body was shaking. I wasn’t the only one who was scared. Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring.

Something was lurking in the darkness, stalking us. Ready to attack.

I aimed the pistol straight ahead and resisted the urge to sneak a peek over my shoulder. I wouldn’t be able to see much anyway.

Joshua moved next to me, but I didn’t let go of his arm.

Gunshots rang out. I tried to cover my ears, releasing Joshua’s arm in the process.

The windows burst into pieces and sunlight streamed into the hall. I scrunched up my eyes against the brightness.

A scream tore itself from my throat. Raw and scared.

I shot.

Once. Twice. Three times.

There were at least three Weepers in the warehouse with us. Three that I’d seen. If they lived in the dark, their eyes were probably better than ours. Who knew how many more were hiding in
the shadows of the tyres or crouching behind one of the piles? But however many there were, they were watching us.

Joshua shot again and screamed something I didn’t catch. My ears were ringing from the gunshots. Tears and sweat burned in my eyes. I couldn’t see Joshua anywhere. He had disappeared
into the shadows.

This is the end.
The thought kept repeating itself in my mind like a never-ending mantra.

The end.

From the corner of my eye I saw movement and whirled around. I shot until there weren’t any bullets left. I grabbed for the other gun in the back of my jeans, but my hands were sweaty and
slipped off. Wheezing, I tried again.

“Sherry!”

I wrenched my head around. A creature – furry-faced and snarling – was coming for me. I heard Joshua loading his gun as fast as he could.
Click. Click. Click
.

I shot twice at the Weeper and missed both times. My hands shook so much I wouldn’t have hit a target twice the size.

Concentrate, Sherry.

My third shot hit the creature in the shoulder. Strips of dead skin fell off its body, leaving glaring red flesh. It didn’t slow down. More gunshots cracked in the warehouse, followed by
roars and whines, and something that resembled a human cry.

Joshua? Where was he?

Determination burned through me. I managed to hit my target twice more, in the chest this time. The creature stumbled and dropped to the ground. It raised its head a few centimetres and looked
at me with eyes that were too intelligent to belong to an animal. Milky tears poured out of its eyes, sticking to its fur.

Weepers. I wished the name wasn’t so fitting. But it would have killed me. It was either the Weeper or me, and I’d made my choice. Yet it had been a person once. Maybe a dad, or
mom.

Stop it!

I pulled my eyes from the dying creature and looked around. Where was Joshua? My throat tightened, as if invisible hands were choking me. I grabbed a few bullets and loaded both guns as fast as
possible.

“Joshua?” I shouted, my voice quivering. “Joshua!”

Footsteps came closer. Clattering. Something shattered on the ground.

I took aim.

Joshua came running out between two shelves. His right sleeve was torn and blood was dripping down his arm. I pointed my pistol towards him – I’d shoot whatever was chasing him.

“Get out of the warehouse!” His chest heaved. “There are more behind me.”

I whirled around and bolted towards the closed door. Joshua caught up with me. Piles of tyres had been thrown over and were rolling through the warehouse, casting twisting shadows on the walls.
There was movement everywhere. I couldn’t tell the Weepers from the tyres. Dust filled the air, making me cough. Joshua’s legs were much longer than mine – he could have run
faster – but he matched my pace. We jumped over tyres barring our way and dodged the ones rolling towards us. I was panting when we reached the door. I tried to open it, but it was stuck. Or
the Weepers had blocked it. I jiggled the handle as hard as I could, hammered and pushed until my hands burned.

It didn’t move. Not a centimetre.

Joshua turned and shot bullet after bullet. The gunshots no longer hurt my ears. I risked a look over my shoulder. Five Weepers pelted our way, shoving each other and ripping skin off in their
greed to reach us. Two were moving on all fours, the others upright like humans.

I kicked the door and threw myself against it, while Joshua kept firing. Pain shot through my arm. Desperately we crashed against the door together, and it swung open. I fell to my knees and
dropped the gun.

Sunlight blinded me. Joshua gripped my arm and pulled me upright, still shooting. I glanced behind us. Only three Weepers were left standing, but they were close. His hand clasped mine as we
ran, dragging me behind him. It was difficult to keep up with his pace. Without his grip on my hand I would have fallen. Every muscle in my body protested.

The Weepers followed us out of the warehouse, but in plain daylight they were easy targets. Joshua shot another one. The ones left stopped chasing us and disappeared from view.

“Where are they?” I panted, my eyes searching our surroundings.

“Hiding. They must have realized that they don’t stand a chance against our guns.” He gasped for air. We didn’t stop running. Hot air filled my lungs with every ragged
breath. It burned.

It wasn’t long before we reached the Lincoln. We jumped into the car, grateful for its protection. The engine roared to life and we sped off in a cloud of burned rubber.

We’d gotten out of the warehouse alive, were safe for now, but my body didn’t stop trembling. Maybe because I knew this wouldn’t be our only encounter with the Weepers.

Pushing the blanket away, I rolled onto my back. Beads of sweat glittered on my skin.

The door opened and Mom entered, carrying a tray.

A soft scent wafted over to me. Chamomile and honey.

Mom perched on the edge of the mattress. “I made some tea for you. It’ll calm your stomach.”

Her hand was so wonderfully cool. My eyelids drooped as if an invisible force was dragging them down.

“Sherry, you must drink.”

I forced my eyes open and eyed the cup. It didn’t smell bad, and I liked chamomile tea. She brought the cup to my lips.

I took a gulp. The tea was hot, but not scalding. Mom always made sure I didn’t burn my tongue.

I waited for my stomach to revolt and inched a bit closer to the bucket next to my bed, just in case. But nothing happened. A feeling of warmth spread through my insides. I relaxed against
the pillows and smiled when Mom kissed my forehead. “The public health officer will be here soon. Get some sleep until then, sweetheart.”