Chapter 12
Stella
“We haven’t seen very many zombies,” Bianka remarked to no one in particular as we walked along one day. The broken asphalt road was wide enough that we travelled in a lax clump, loosely sandwiched between the forest to the west and the Staulo River to the east.
“At least not any living ones,” Leandro corrected her with a laugh.
It had been a week since he and I had fallen in the pit with the zombie corpses. Since then, we had stumbled across a few more lifeless bodies along the way, including one that had been decapitated just outside Priest’s Mill, but there had been zero confrontations with moving, biting zombies.
“This time of year, they’re usually searching for something to eat like a grizzly bear waking up after hibernation,” Murphy agreed.
“We’ve been lucky, I guess,” I said, deflecting the truth.
The entire time we’d been travelling together, I’d been doing my best to use my pheromonal communications to keep the zombies away from us.
But Murphy and the others didn’t know that.
Outside of my family, no one else knew about my connection to the zombies.
It seemed safer, especially because I couldn’t fully explain it myself.
Since Leandro and I had escaped the spike pit, the journey had been relatively uneventful. The hunting hadn’t exactly been plentiful, but we’d managed to catch a couple good-sized chinook salmon once we reached the river, so that helped.
Cole’s condition continued to worsen, with his gums bleeding throughout the day, and he’d lost even more weight. Somehow, he was able to keep going, with the aid of a walking stick and Bianka’s help.
Then, finally, on the afternoon as we walked along the dilapidated road, Boden announced, “We should reach the S.S. Barbarabelle by nightfall.”
I almost cried out in delight, and I had to fight the urge to run the rest of the way. The area around us looked vaguely familiar to me, so I’d known we were close, but I relied on Boden’s more extensive knowledge.
“So, what should we expect when we reach this boat anyway?” Bianka asked. “I know Stella’s already told us so much about it but I – ”
Murphy snorted in derision. “You mean Stella’s nightly bedtime stories about the magical steamboat utopia didn’t satiate enough of your curiosity?”
Everyone laughed at that, even Cole, whose laughter sounded more like a wet cough these days. My cheeks burned in embarrassment, and I readjusted the straps of my pack as I stared down at the ground.
Most nights, after we set up camp, I had been telling them about life on the Barbarabelle.
My main motivation had truthfully been because I was homesick, but I had also thought they’d want to know about it.
And it wasn’t like there was much to do besides watch the stars and the embers in the fire pit once the sun went down.
“Oh, come on!” Leandro chastised them with a smile. “Like you all didn’t want to know as much as you could about where we’re going?”
“I do,” Murphy admitted as her laughter subsided. “I just don’t know that I completely believe the fairytale that Stella is spinning with satin blankets and warm water showers and big dinners in the dining hall.”
“To be fair, the showers are more tepid than warm,” Boden conceded.
“But everything else Stella’s said has been the truth.
Our chef Oakley Cruz does make the tastiest meals around, and our medic Joseph Worrall works hard keeping everyone alive.
And I liked Stella’s the nightly stories.
” He smiled back over his shoulder at me.
“Anyway, what I really meant is what happens when we get to the boat?” Bianka asked. “Is there a quarantine or an inspection? Do others have to vote if we can stay or not?”
“When you get on the boat, you’ll be given a room and time to acclimate,” I explained. “After a few weeks, you can decide if you want to stay, and the boat will decide if they want to have you. But most people who want to stay are allowed to, assuming they aren’t rude or violent.”
“And that’s it?” Murphy asked, sounding surprised.
“And that’s it,” I replied.
“What more were you expecting?” Boden asked.
Murphy shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just usually not that easy.”
We walked on in silence for a while. It wasn’t until I rounded the curve that the unmistakable scent of ash and blood hit me, and I faltered. I couldn’t see the boat through the trees on the shoreline, but I got a glimpse of the burnt remains of one of the Barbarabelle’s mainland gardens.
I didn’t think, I bolted forward. Boden called for me only once, but then he gave chase after me. Splatters of dried blood lined the worn trail, both rust colored from the uninfected and mossy green of the infected.
Panicked and out of breath, I finally reached the clearing on the shoreline.
A shed for storage should have been there, along with wooden racks, which held the shuttle boats used to ferry us between the land and the anchored Barbarabelle.
But instead, all I found was blackened earth and the burnt shells of boats stacked on top of each other.
Charred shapes were scattered among the driftwood, and flies buzzed about in the stench of death.
My only relief was that the Barbarabelle was still there, floating placidly in the middle of the river.
“What is going on?” Murphy shouted behind me, but I barely heard xer.
With all the shuttles burned, there was only one way to get out to the steamboat and make sure my daughter was okay. I shrugged off my backpack, kicked off my shoes, and strode into the river.
The water was a shockingly cold juxtaposition against the warm summer sun, and it threatened to take my breath away if I let it. Instead, I concentrated on making my freezing limbs work as I frantically swam out.
Behind me, someone crashed into the river. Probably Boden, maybe the others. I reached the side of the steamboat and hauled myself up, cold and dripping, every muscle trembling.
There, on the deck, were more disturbing signs. Scattered and broken chairs, bloodstains smeared across boards, a single boot left by the rail.
“Fae!” I yelled. “Rafaella! Edie!”
I ran inside the boat, rushing through the opulent entrance and dripping wet all over the rugs. I kept calling for my daughter and Edie, and by then my heart was pounding so hard, I could hardly even hear myself think.
“Stella?” Harlow responded, and as I was racing toward the grand staircase she appeared at the top. “You’re finally back.”
“Where are Fae and Edie?” I asked as I jogged up the steps to meet her.
“They’re both fine,” Harlow assured me. “They’re in Fae’s nursery.”
“Thank you,” I said as I rushed past her. Then, almost as an afterthought, I asked, “What in the hell happened here?”
“It was a mess,” Harlow replied, but I didn’t wait any longer for her answer.
I ran down the hall straight to Fae’s room, and there she was sitting on the floor playing with toy blocks.
She was bigger – my god, how she’d grown in the weeks I’d been gone, her downy auburn hair was even longer – and a lump formed in my throat at the time I’d missed with her. But mostly what I felt was relief.
Fae’s eyes lit up and she squealed when she saw me. I knelt down in front of her and scooped her into my arms. She squirmed at the cold, dampness of my clothes, but she let me hold her tightly to me, and I cried softly into her hair.