I felt caged. That day was spent studying the freaks' behavior, going from one window to the next on the second floor of the house. Once I reached one end of the house, I reversed direction until I was back to where I started, standing at a window staring down at the freaks.
That night, I loaded my SUV.
The following morning, after barely getting any sleep at all, I was back to pacing. It was difficult to control my anxiety, and I had been too nervous to see if Murano would actually start. The last time I had tested it, it had taken me a whole week to thin the freaks out of the driveway.
I had left the mobile battery charger hooked up, so every time the power was on, the juice was flowing to the battery. It had started easily a month ago when I had finished the conversion. I had no reason to believe it wouldn't start now.
The SUV was roomy enough, but the gallons of kerosene and vegetable oil I was using for fuel took up a lot of space. I wouldn’t have room to bring everything I wanted. There were many things here I would miss, like my bed and the running water. I sighed heavily, not wanting to go but knowing that staying here was no longer an option.
I needed a distraction to clear the freaks out of my driveway and had devised a plan. I was going to venture up the road to light a fire. I was sure that would lure the freaks away from my house and give me room to back the big vehicle out. As much as they were drawn to noise, they were also drawn to light. It seemed to be a good plan.
Everything was set. It was time to go.
I'd closed and locked all the windows in the house to make it secure, even going so far as to board up the window I'd broken months ago. I looked around my room one last time as I belted on my weapon. Before I turned away, I flipped off the light switch. Old habits die hard.
I decided I was keeping the keys to the house. Having a backup plan just in case never hurt anything, and it gave me a sense of security. So now I had house keys and car keys on my key chain. I snorted at the normality of it. Leaving the door to the garage unlocked, I manually raised the garage door cautiously, keeping my eye out for the freaks.
They were there, waiting on me.
Those that heard the creaking as the door was pulled up came to stand in the driveway, stopping when they sensed nothing else of interest. I had moved back into the shadows of the garage, but they didn't seem to care about me. A few shambled away after a while, going back to their daily activities of pacing up and down the street. The three that remained looked like they had decided this was as good a place to stand as any other.
I approached slowly, watching for any movement or hostility from the freaks. They didn't even look at me.
Holding an old yardstick outstretched in my hand, I nervously walked up behind the one closest to me and nudged its shoulder with the stick. It swayed forward off balance, even stumbling a few steps to stay upright. That was it. I didn't even get a moan of protest from it, and the other freaks didn't bother turning around. It was commonplace for them to be jostled around by their own kind, and it wasn’t enough to warrant an investigation.
I tested the other two as well and received the same response. I didn't matter to these things. Leaving the yardstick resting against the side of the house, I subconsciously rubbed my fingers over the scar on my forearm. As I looked out at the road, the unease rose inside of me. I was going to venture out into that crowd?
Eventually, I pushed myself to move. Grabbing the pack full of dry wood, matches, and kerosene doused rags, I slipped the straps over my shoulders and slowly walked out of the garage.
I knew exactly how many freaks were on this section of street. Twenty-seven who stood unmoving, seven that made their rounds at various different paces, and fifteen that walked up and down the street. That didn’t include the freaks on the lawns. I had initially tried to count the ones standing in the surrounding lawns, but overgrown trees and hedges, not to mention other buildings, blocked my view and my count came up inaccurate.
Regardless, knowing how many were in the street was enough to know how much danger I would be in if they turned on me. It would be a tough fight to break myself away from them, but I had my escape route firmly laid out in my mind. My route had been planned from the upstairs window, but things were already looking much different at the edge of my driveway. I was a mere five feet away from one of the immobile freaks. When I noticed the fresh wound on his arm and the blood dripping from his fingertips, I cringed.
I looked down the street to where I had planned to set the fire. It was only two houses down, but it looked so far away. I swallowed, trying to drum up my wavering nerve, and took a few steps. One of the standers further up the road turned to look towards me, and I froze, but it made no other movement.
My gut was twisting in knots, but I continued. I wasn't able to discern which ones would take notice or ignore me completely, but every time one turned towards me I shuddered. Chills were running through me and I was beginning to think this was a horrible idea.
No Ali, this was a good idea. How else are you getting that tank out of here?
I berated myself, taking a moment to drive the fear back down. One step at a time, and I was inching further, getting that much closer to my target. I wasn't able to follow a straight path there, as I had to weave around the standers and make sure I was out of the walkers’ paths as they came around.
One step at a time.
Now I was in front of the neighboring house and had managed to keep the face-eaters out of striking distance, but there was a cluster of six standing ahead of me under a tree, blocking the sidewalk and my path. I wasn't able to move out to the road either, or I'd end up in a walker's path. I would have to walk close to the group, passing maybe two feet from them, easily within arms’ reach. I paused, considering my lack of options before moving again.
My hand was on the hilt of my knife, but I hadn't pulled it yet. I was unsure if the freaks had enough of their memories left to recognize a weapon, so I kept it sheathed but ready. The palms of my hands were sweating but the leather grip was tight in my white-knuckled grasp. It wouldn't slip if I had to use it. I trusted this weapon.
I knew my pace had slowed to a crawl as I was barely inching up to the group. A couple of them were staring up into the tree, probably noticing birds or watching the leaves rustle in the breeze. I was only five feet away from them and they had taken no notice of me.
I took another step. Four feet away. Still nothing.
Another step. Three feet away. One of the freaks in the back took notice. She looked down at me, but stilled.
One more step and I was beside them. The stench of unwashed bodies was so nauseating this close to them I had to breathe through my mouth.
I stepped away from the group then, increasing the distance between us. The thought that I was in the clear was beginning to form in my mind when one of them backed away from the group, turning to regard me. It was so close I could feel its hot, sticky breath on my shoulder. Before I could stop myself, I side stepped into the road, right in front of the walker I was trying to avoid.
It ran into me. A businessman judging by the suit and what remained of his tie. I stumbled back a step, clinching my teeth together so I wouldn't scream. He stepped into me again, his chest was flush with mine and my nose was a hair’s breadth from his chin. My body went rigid. I didn't dare breathe.
Time stopped.
Looking up into his sunken eyes, I watched his pupils dilate, the black dots growing wider through the red swirling irises. The gaunt, hallow cheeks moved just a fraction as his disgusting breath washed over my face. My heart thundered in my chest as if trying to break free. He had my arm pinned against my stomach, the arm that grasped the knife. I had yet to move, thinking through the steps of how I would pull the weapon to dispatch the walker.
He took another step forward, pushing me backwards with him. I actually pushed him back a step as I drew the blade, my body reacting instinctively. He didn't seem to notice and he walked forward again, right back into me.
My addled mind put the pieces together before I raised my hand to strike. He was just trying to continue his walk.
With his next step, I let him brush me aside. He was free of me and walking down the street again, not even fazed by his interruption. I looked back at the freak that had startled me and found him staring at me, staring through me.
I still didn't matter to them.
I felt like I was going to throw up.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and upper lip, and I could feel it dripping down my neck. I was only halfway to my target location. I closed my eyes and struggled to calm myself. Deep steady breaths would slow my heartbeat and ease my nerves, but I couldn’t stop the trembling in my hands. Even though it was the very last thing I wanted to do at that moment, I sheathed my knife.
When I opened my eyes again, the target location looked even further away.
One step at a time.
I stayed in the street, as it seemed to be the clearest path now. When the walkers got too near me, I stopped and they continued past. Ten more steps and I was done. My original target still a few yards away, I couldn't make myself go any further. It was close enough. It would do.
I found a clear spot in the middle of the street. The closest freak was at least five feet away, standing motionless with its back to me for the time being. I very slowly pulled the pack off my shoulders and started to unzip it. It could have been the sound of the zipper or the smell of the kerosene that caught their attention, but every freak that was close to me turned to watch. My stomach roiled but I didn't slow. As I lowered the pack to the ground, I gingerly pulled out the wood and rags and set it all on top of the pack.
Some of the freaks were taking curious steps toward me, and I sped up my process, pulling the matches and striking one to life. I hastily touched the flame to my kindling and watched the fire eat away at the sodden cloth. Grabbing another match, I lit a few more pieces of cloth on fire before dropping it in the pile.
The fire built up quickly, flames dancing more than a foot in the air. I stood, noting the face-eaters that stood close to me were focused on the fire. I stepped backwards as the freaks stepped forward. One brushed past my shoulder, and then another, but all of them completely ignored me.
My plan was working. The idle freaks nearby were drawn to the flame, including those that had milled up into the driveway. Even the walkers had stopped to stare. I was the only one moving away. I could feel the doubt and dread fading from my body the closer I got to my house, but I couldn't celebrate yet. I was so close, but they could still prove to be a huge hazard to me if they blocked me from getting to the main road. My small distraction wouldn't clear all the freaks between here and there.
Nevertheless, I was elated when I got back to the garage and climbed into my nice new SUV. I allowed myself a sigh of relief then. Sliding the key into the ignition, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and would have truly prayed then if I still believed.
Start please, Dear God, start!
I turned the key.
The engine rumbled to life.
~ ~ ~ ~
I was free! The drive out of the neighborhood had gone better than I'd expected. Only one group of freaks was large enough to cause an issue, but the Murano was able to push them out of the way before I got overwhelmed. The problem I was having was remembering my way out of the city. I didn't have a map, and had never been to the Dallas area before, not to mention that my trip here was full of meandering paths and exploration. I couldn't begin to backtrack now.
I angled westward, and even though I had to dodge cars and freaks as I came across them, I was able to weave my way through the streets until I finally found an interstate. I-30 the signs said, but I didn't recognize it at all. That didn't matter. As long as the way wasn't blocked by cars, I should be able to navigate the highway.
One thing I had found out about Dallas, whatever had caused the turn here had been so quick there was no rush to exit. No attempts at an evacuation of any kind. That meant there weren't a lot of spots on the interstates that were completely blocked. Another thing I found out in Dallas, you could broil a freak alive in a closed car just by the heat of the summer sun. They did not regenerate fast enough to outlive that.
Most of the cars I had come across had mostly rotten skeletons in them. I didn't even want to imagine what the highways smelled like that first summer. It probably rivaled the death pools in comparison. I could smell the decay, but it faded into the background quickly enough. Nothing smelled pretty anymore.
Rolling along at a nice pace, I studied what used to be the bustling landscape of Dallas. Maybe I had wasted my time holed up in that neighborhood so long. Maybe I should have moved around more.
I dismissed the thought, knowing that I needed the safety of my house so I could recharge my will to keep fighting. There were too many times recently I had thought about giving up. Losing Seth. Leaving Joss. I needed time to forget about the mistakes I made, heal from the wounds, and find the strength to move on.
I was lost in contemplation when I spied an old amusement park coming up on my left. That was something I hadn't thought about in a long while. I slowed the SUV to a stop, knowing it would be safe. There were no freaks here. Taking the time to look over all the rides I could see from the road, I imagined them moving again; the exhilaration of the roller coasters, the serenity of the Ferris wheel. As I stared at the relics of a lost past, I wondered if the world could have anything like this again.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I continued my journey. After seeing the amusement park, I lost interest in the buildings and wanted to put it all behind me. I was actually surprised how clear the road was and made good time. The SUV was running smoothly, too. That in itself was a huge relief.
I drove through what used to be Fort Worth and was passing through a place called Arlington Heights when I saw something that caught my eye.
Army tanks.
I immediately pulled off the interstate to investigate since this was not a normal sighting. I might be able to find some very useful supplies here as it looked like the vehicles were positioned to attack, or possibly to hold something off. Maybe this had been a rescue attempt and it was defeated so quickly the military never let word get out. It wouldn't have been the only time that happened.
I rolled alongside the line of tanks, five in all, and peered around. The usual number of freaks roamed close by, some wearing army fatigues, and the handful that picked up interest in the Murano were coming closer. I had some flares in my glove box I could use for a distraction if absolutely necessary, but I wanted to save them if I could. That might not be an option, though, since I didn't have the material ready for me to build another mini bonfire.
The truck was surrounded pretty quickly, so I had to wait a bit for some of them to get bored and wander off before I could get out. I sat there for at least thirty minutes after I'd killed the engine with only one window barely cracked. The car was stifling hot, and I was dripping with sweat. I finally had to chance opening the door and test their reactions. Thankfully, I got what I had been hoping for. They ignored me.
Slipping out of the truck, I pushed the door shut as quietly as I could. As I turned to the tanks, my hand went instinctively to the hilt of my knife as I looked around.
I had seen a few tanks since the world ended, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to open these up with so many freaks around. I assumed there would be some army face-eaters still inside the tanks, but I was also banking on them being long dead from the hot Texas sun. It would be a broiler in those things.
If they were in there rotting, then so were their weapons. I couldn't pass that up.
I climbed to the top of the first one I came to and started to fiddle with the hatch. I tugged on it and thought it might be locked from the inside when I couldn’t get it to budge a centimeter, but after one hard pull I was rewarded with a loud squeal. I groaned inwardly as many of the freaks turned to me and started meandering up to the edge of the tank, but there was nothing I cared to do about that now.
Pulling up the hatch, I smiled a little at my good fortune when I didn’t smell decay from the inside. I poked my head in, watching for any movement. When I saw nothing of interest, I lowered myself into the belly of the tank to have a look around.
Nothing. The tank was picked clean, which I found very odd. I would assume there wouldn't be enough time to pull out all the supplies and leave the tank itself here. After one last, perplexed look around, I hauled myself out of the hatch.
Greeted by my audience of red-eyed freaks, I climbed back out into the daylight. Briefly, I felt an overwhelming compulsion to kill them all. I considered it, knowing I was at a good vantage point to start a fight, but I also knew it could take hours. Hours I didn't want to waste here while I could be driving out of the city to my new destination.
Where am I going?
I hadn't even considered where I was going. I had just started driving, not caring where I would end up once I was out of here. I bit my lip to stop myself from grumbling as it dawned on me. Deep down inside me, I did know.
Joss.
The idea solidified in my mind as I sat on top of the hot metal for at least twenty minutes, waiting for the opportunity to tank jump. I met the same resistance and the same loud squealing from the hatch on the second tank, and I cringed again. Executing the same routine, I poked my head in to look around, saw nothing, dropped into the tank, saw even more nothing, and climbed back out again, perplexed by it all. I sat on the tank with a thump, running my fingers through my wavy hair and wondering what to do now.
"Mmmhmm." A voice, not my own, not a freak, had me spinning around in a crouching position on the top of the tank. My knife was pulled and my heart was thumping crazy in my chest. A human voice was the last thing I expected to hear. "Making enough noise out here to wake the dead, missy."
I saw him then, standing about ten paces beyond the group of freaks. An old man wearing ragged overalls, a beige undershirt, and a Rangers baseball cap. His thumbs were casually hooked into the lip of his pockets, and he looked completely relaxed. Heartbeat after heartbeat thundered in my chest before he broke the silence again.
"Well," he started, seeming to be lost in contemplation. "Guess I could walk away and we can pretend we never saw each other, or ya could come down from there and we can have ourselves a little chat. What ya say, missy?"
My eyes darted to the freaks that were surrounding the tank I was on, and it dawned on me in that moment that none of them had reacted to him.
"I'm assuming that you're immune or these assholes would be in a rage by now," he continued, taking a few steps closer to me. "Ya care to come down or should I just walk away?"
My mind was blown. He was immune like me. I glanced at my knife and back to him. He caught the movement and easily slipped his hands into his pockets then pulled them out, showing me they were empty besides a red-handled pocketknife that he held up for me to see.
"This all I got, missy, if that's what you're worried 'bout." He gestured to my knife, dagger, and gun. "Looks like ya got enough to take out this whole bunch here if ya had a mind to. However, I'd like to ask that ya don't. I can't abide the smell and don't have it in me to be buryin' all the bodies. If ya'd like to have that talk, ya keep all your weapons on ya if that makes ya feel better. Just thought a talk would be nice. I've been alone for quite some time now."
I relented, moving to a standing position. I noticed that the freaks were watching me avidly, but paid the old man no mind. I used my knife to gesture toward them.
"How do you get them to ignore you?" I asked. My voice sounded strange in my ears. I hadn't said that many words together in a very long time.
He chuckled. "Because they're use ta me. I live just there." He pointed a crooked finger at some houses that were behind the tanks. "I talk to the bastards and they don't even notice me when I walk around outside now. Curious 'bout ya, is what they are. And you up there making all that racket, calling them to ya. Did ya expect any less?"
I looked at them as they stood above them, blocking me from leaving the tank from any direction. The old man snorted and walked forward. My eyebrows lifted in utter surprise as he started shoving them out of the way, and they went where he pushed them. No moans, no reaction, just shuffling steps as they wandered off. He looked up at me from the base of the tank.
"Well, ya comin' now, missy?"
I swallowed hard and nodded.
~ ~ ~ ~
"The name's Walter. Ya can call me Walt, though. That's what they use ta call me before all this happened." He waved his hand through the air, encompassing everything.
"Ali," I said simply. I sheathed my knife but walked a few steps behind him. I was nervous, wary of Walt, not to mention all the freaks surrounding us. Walt had his back to me, completely unguarded. I followed him to a cluster of rundown houses. They looked like their better days had been far behind them even before the outbreak.
"Are you the only one out here?" I asked as it occurred to me he might be leading me into a trap. He chuckled.
"It's just me. Ain't seen a soul, immune or otherwise, in nigh on two years. Been a lonely place, it has." He stopped in front of a little lime green house. At least I thought it used to be lime green but the paint was wearing thin now, most of it flaked away. "I still got well water, thankfully. And the lights come on every now and then. How long ya been here?"
"A few months,” I replied, watching him stretch as he stood on the first porch step. Green eyes shone brightly under his bushy gray eyebrows, and he was quite thin, but otherwise looked healthy.
"Just passing through, eh?" he said as he sat down on the step and offered the only chair on his porch to me. "Have a seat if ya care to."
I nodded, but decided to stay standing. "Trust issues."
"Suit yourself," he grunted. "Like I said, ain't nobody here but me, and I ain't no one." He looked at me and offered a smile, his green eyes sparkling in the early afternoon sunlight. "Don't know about ya, but I got a hankerin' to talk. I don't get a lot of word from the outside."
I frowned. "Other people come through here?"
"Not so much. Can count 'em all on my hand." He held his hand up and watched his fingers wiggle, then heaved a sigh as he let it drop back to his lap. "Where were ya when everything hit?"
"Los Angeles, with my father,” I replied and Walt nodded.
"I was right here. Watched the red mist come down like rain early one Sunday morning. The Misses and me, we just watched it fall. No one knew what it was, but we figured it weren't good. Not with what was going on with Florida and the White House and whatnot. Happened so fast, it was on us in minutes." He stared off in the distance, and I could see the pain in his eyes along with a weary resignation.
"Everyone just fell where they stood, even me. There was a horrible fever on us, and I just knew it was the end. Then it passed. I was still here." He tapped his forehead with a thick finger. "And they weren't."
"I never heard anything about a red mist,” I said flatly.
He looked at me and scratched the whiskers on his chin. "Is that right? How did Los Angeles go down?"
I smirked wryly then. "The red mist?"
Walt chuckled at that. "Why don't you sit, girl. Figure we have a lot of information we can share."
I relented and made my way to the big lazy-boy that occupied most of the porch space. I shrugged inwardly and decided there was no harm in talking. I spoke softly, my voice warming up after going so long without use. "My mom lived in DC, but I had been spending Christmas with my father. We saw the reports of another face-eater in Florida, but we didn't pay much attention to it."
"Face-eaters, huh? I remember those," Walt said as he relaxed against the railing. It groaned at his weight, and I was surprised it didn't give way. "They blamed it on some new-fangled drug, didn't they?"
"Bath salts,” I said. "More reports popped up in Utah and Washington State. I read some of the eye-witness blogs online. Some of it was pretty scary, but I was a kid. I went right back to ignoring it. It all seemed so far away."
Walt grunted. "The Misses was all about that online web. I couldn't manage it myself. I just kept to the TV, but a whole hell of a lot of good that did me. They never gave us no warning until after Florida went silent."
Despite the warm weather I shivered as I thought back to that morning. We had gone to bed with everything as it should be and woke up the next morning to confusion and despair. The whole state of Florida had virtually disappeared. The cars and planes that went in never came back out. Calls weren't being answered or returned. Florida based internet sites were down as well as television and radio broadcasts. All communication was gone.
"I talked to my mom a lot those last few days,” I said solemnly. "She wanted me to come back home but dad wanted her out there so we could go to his cabin. Then DC was gone too."
My voice trailed off and Walt grunted again. "Sorry to hear that, kid."
I shook it off. Those of us left all lived with pain and loss. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and continued. "We never did find out what took out all the big cities. My dad and I, we left for the mountains when Japan went silent and stayed out there for maybe six months or so.
"We had a nutty neighbor who lived up there year round. He was one of those conspiracy theorists, but I guess he showed us all. He was ready for this to happen. He actually taught me and my dad a few things." I pointed at the truck sitting out by the tanks. "He taught us how to convert a diesel engine to run off vegetable oil."
"Is that right?" Walt said, peering out at my truck and chuckled. "Well, that sure beats all."
"Still have to fire it up with kerosene, though. I don't know how long that'll last until it all goes bad."
"What about getting one of those fancy sun-powered vehicles?"
"Maybe someday." I smiled at the teasing look Walt gave me, watching his fuzzy eyebrows wiggle. I was starting to feel more at ease.
"Anyway, about six months in, we finally saw our first freak,” I continued my story. "A small group of them wandered up onto the property, tried to kill the dogs or they tried to kill them. Our crazy neighbor took them out. No questions, he just fired. I don't think that set well with my dad. We left not long after that, looking for answers."
"And ya just found more of these assholes instead, eh?" Walt asked, but I didn't answer. I don't think he really expected one. It was obvious what we'd found.
He turned to me then, squinting one eye as he regarded me. "So how'd you come to be like ya are if you never saw the mist?"
He waited expectantly and I shrugged. "I was bitten."
"Bitten?" He seemed mildly surprised. I held out my right arm where the scar showed up clearly. He grunted in mild disbelief.
"A few years back, we were hiding out in an old school. I don't know why the freaks found us when they did, but we weren't prepared. Some of us died. My dad was still alive the last time I saw him."
Walt snorted at that. My eyes narrowed for a second, wondering if he was being judgmental of my father or the situation. I went on, regardless, "By then we knew bites spread the disease, so I stayed behind to hold them off. Didn't take long for the fever to hit me and they've ignored me ever since."
"I see,” he said while nodding in contemplation. "When these army boys came through here to try to take back the city," he gestured to the tanks. "One of them was immune too. He never mentioned anything about being bitten. I just figured that red mist had taken over the world."
I leaned forward, my curiosity growing at the mention of someone else being immune.
"Well, that army boy," Walt said, "His name was Michael. He was a good kid, but he didn't know much more about what was happening than I did. The stuff he would go on about, I didn't understand half of it. He blamed the military, the terrorists, all sorts of things to the point that I didn't know if he was telling truths or he'd gone all nutty." He tapped his temple with his middle finger.
Walt continued more slowly, his sentences full of long pauses. "He stayed with me maybe two years. Not much to say it was living. He finally put a bullet in his head couple years back. I buried him over yonder in that little field. He seemed to like it out there."
Walt heaved a heavy sigh when he was done speaking. I understood his pain more than I wanted to. We let the silence linger for a while.
"Care for some water?" Walt finally said, standing up. I shook my head no in answer, still somewhat untrusting. He disappeared into his house for a while before coming back out with some water and a pipe. I watched him pack it and wondered how long his supply would last.
He grinned at me, seeing the question on my face. "Ole tobacco shop 'round the corner just there. Figure I could live two more lifetimes before I run out. They got some expensive stuff there, stuff I couldn't afford before. I sure miss beer, though."
I chuckled at that. I never had the chance to drink beer but it sure would be nice to have a soda. At least I was able to brew some tea every now and then when the cr