Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Asia
“Where are you headed?” Lourdes asked the next morning when I stood up from the kitchen table.
“You know,” I said, smiling at her.
Her lips lifted. “To walk the fences.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be quick and give you a break from Uncle Levi,” I said.
“A break? He’s halfway through that graphic novel he’s been reading me, and I can’t wait to see what happens.”
I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Lourdes.”
She squeezed back. “We’re a family. That’s what we do for each other.”
That was Lourdes’s way.
I didn’t have to worry about her poisoning Uncle Levi.
Didn’t have to worry about her leaving.
I turned away quickly and skipped down the porch steps, breathing in the cool air that smelled like dirt.
But I didn’t let myself linger.
Couldn’t.
Instead, I nodded at Miles and Elliot. Diane was up again today, and while she wouldn’t meet my gaze, just her being outside was something. Her daughters flanked her, their curiosity and energy indicting me with every step.
Their gazes burned as I strode across the yard and into the farmland, my back straight, my eyes taking in everything.
Uncle Levi would be disgusted with the way I kept things up, or better yet, the way I failed to.
We tried to keep the grass trimmed back, but there was only so much we could do, and only so much fuel and manpower to do it.
So I made the call, told everyone we needed to keep the grass low enough that nothing could sneak up on us, but had reprioritized some of those resources to shoring up defenses and making sure we put our energy into growing food.
Still, my heart ached as I looked at the sad state of Aunt Kathleen’s flower bed, the pasture that her horses grazed on.
The flowers were long gone. I’d ripped them out myself.
The horses were gone too, all except one.
Every day we fought for this place, but in this harsh morning, the farm looked as dead as the world.
“Get over your fucking self,” I muttered.
That would disgust Uncle Levi, too, me crying about circumstances instead of fixing them.
So I trudged through the slightly too tall grass, the swish against my jean-clad calves and the soft breeze the only sounds as the noise of the farm retreated.
I focused on the fences, my shoulders loosening ever so slightly as I worked.
It was fake, temporary, but I welcomed it.
I reached the edge of the woods. It had taken a solid week to build the fence out this far, and I always started here.
As tedious as walking the fence could be, I loved these times.
To have space, to not have anyone looking at me—or to me.
To be alone with my thoughts. Thoughts that inevitably turned to him.
Jack was nothing if not consistent, so I shouldn’t have been surprised he left without a word.
I sure as fuck shouldn’t have been hurt.
But I was.
Which proved that I learned absolutely nothing.
Proved that I deserved the suffering, whether at Jack’s hands, or—
I froze at the sound.
Not a voice. An inhuman gurgle.
A zombie.
I glanced to my right and realized far too late that the thing was close.
I fell back, my body twisting as I braced for impact.
Truly fucking pathetic.
Falling when trying to run away from a zombie.
How many horror movies had I screamed at the heroine for doing the exact same thing?
Yet here I was.
My hysterical laugh at a joke that, to be fair, was pretty fucking funny, only locked in the zombie’s attention.
It lunged at me, and as fate would have it, caught the very same rock that had landed me flat on my ass.
I braced myself again, but quickly rolled out of the zombie’s path.
A good thing too, because the instant it hit the ground, it burrowed its dead, broken fingers into the soft soil, pulling itself towards me.
I imagined being under that thing, those relentless, unfeeling fingers clawing at my insides.
Clawing at my baby.
I moved before the synapse finished firing, the slice of my blade cutting through the air.
Smiled at the dull impact of knife against bone.
I swung again, and the thing’s neck gave, yet still it thrashed.
The third swing detached the head from its shoulders, but still it thrashed, clawing at the dirt, digging a hole deep enough to reveal one of the rodents that burrowed underground.
No head, yet still it didn’t quit.
I slashed again, again, ignoring the splash of thick, red-black blood into the soil, the oppressive, awful stench.
I just needed those fucking fingers to stop.
They didn’t.
Not until my arms burned from the exertion and my chest heaved with my breath, I stabbed the zombie’s head.
The clawing stopped.
The fingers went still.
The first tear fell.
I ignored it, but couldn’t ignore the little stab of shame in my chest when I kicked the zombie’s head.
I twisted, vomiting up the stone-ground grits Lourdes had been kind enough to make for breakfast.
Let the tears fall as I walked back towards the farm.
Each step reminded me of the throb in my side from where I’d hit the ground.
My hands ached and one glance revealed the beginning of blisters on my palm from where I squeezed the knife so tight.
“What’s up?” Caitlin asked.
Of all the people to see now…
I smiled at her, but it was more of a grimace and not at all convincing.
“Nothing much. Just found a straggler, gonna grab the wheelbarrow and dump it in the pit,” I said with a frivolity that couldn’t have been more suspicious if I tried.
“Why don’t I walk with you?” Caitlin said.
“Um… I guess.”
She smiled. “You don’t have to sound so excited, Asia. It’s not a girls’ trip, but the sooner you finish walking the fences, the quicker you can relieve me on supply duty.”
“Always looking for an angle.” My smile was real this time.
“Isn’t everybody?”
I didn’t answer, and we walked in silence, the creak of the wheelbarrow rolling the soundtrack to this adventure.
“You did quite a number on that one,” Caitlin remarked.
I murmured noncommittally. “I guess.”
“It made you lose your breakfast, too?”
“I thought you were a prosecutor, not CSI,” I snapped.
“Don’t need to be CSI to see the puke on the ground, Asia.”
“Let’s just hurry up.”
Caitlin, driven by mercy or maybe God, decided to show me a bit of favor today and said nothing.
We loaded the zombie into the wheelbarrow, rolled it to the burn pit, and started the fire.
It was a little more than half an hour of work, but my ribs burned, and the calluses on my palms had cracked.
It really wasn’t that bad, just the adrenaline leaving my system, making me feel a bit more of that tussle. It would pass.
But the ache lingered as day stretched towards night and Jack still wasn’t back.
My side throbbed, and the mottled bruise I found that night explained why. My hands shook as I changed into my pajamas, and as I pulled up the pants, I wondered if the snugness was real. I touched my stomach.
It was my body but it wasn’t. Was there a slight hardness there, the beginnings of a bump?
Had my carelessness today hurt my baby?
I tightened my hold on my stomach, not caring about the rolls of fat, just needing to touch that bump. To know that he was okay.
But I didn’t know that.
I wrapped my arms tight around my body, held myself, pretending it was Jack instead, even though I didn’t know when—if—he would come back.
That thought haunted me as I lay in bed, even though my brain screamed it wasn’t my concern.
Jack was a big boy.
He could take care of himself.
I told myself that as I lay in my obscenely empty bed. The light of the stars was the only thing piercing through the darkness.
I was sure that was my last thought before I finally succumbed to sleep.
“Asia!”
I sat up instantly, Lourdes’s voice piercing through my sleep fog.
It was morning, and she was at my door, the tenor of her voice telling me that something was wrong.
Something was always wrong.
“Come quick!”