Thirty-Three
theo
The long grass brushed against my jeans as I stepped up to the van. Sadie had taken the baby—our baby, apparently—over to an open patch of grass, setting up a nappy-changing station where we could see each other.
If anything came at her, one of us would know before it was too late.
“You’ll be feeling better in no time,” she said, her voice drifting toward me on the breeze. “Just… try to keep still. This is about to get messy.”
The baby let out an uncertain whimper, and I couldn’t decide which one of them was more nervous.
Eager to get back to them, I rounded the van and opened the driver’s door. I'd already ended the passenger, and her partner faced the front now, leaning toward me and taking swipes at the air. Her moans grew louder, her movements desperate.
Whether they used to be mothers, partners or friends, it didn’t matter anymore.
“Sorry,” I said under my breath.
One strike through the driver’s temple with the tip of my sword, and she slumped against the steering wheel, arms hanging loose beside her.
After all the persistent thumping and rocking, the silence felt so final, and I set down my sword, taking a minute to reset.
With a sigh, I crouched and drew her arm toward me, pushing up her sleeve and revealing full-colour tattoos.
I searched the intricate artwork—a collection of jungle animals with vines running through—and the more I looked, the more hidden animals I found.
It was skilled, highly detailed work I would have taken the time to appreciate if things had been different.
When I turned her hand over and examined the underside of her wrist, I expected to find the baby’s name there. I’d done countless tattoos on women in that exact location honouring their kids.
Nothing.
I checked her other arm and got the same result. There was no way I’d remove her clothing and search the rest of her body, so we’d have to name the baby ourselves.
“Theo! This nappy—I want to swap jobs right now!”
I laid the woman’s arm gently on her lap. “Your daughter’s wreaking havoc,” I said with a smile, “but you can rest easy now. We’ll take care of her.”
When I straightened and turned from the van, Sadie was on her knees in the grass, hovering over the baby.
Strands of hair had broken free of her ponytail, and she was muttering curses under her breath.
I paused and watched her for a minute. She was so far out of her comfort zone, but it wouldn’t stop her from trying, especially when someone needed her, and that someone happened to be small and defenceless.
“What do you need?” I called out.
“A change of clothes for the baby and a hazmat suit for me. It’s everywhere—and I wish I were exaggerating.”
“I could probably help with the first one,” I said. “Hang in there. I’ll be over in a minute.”
I leaned inside the van’s sliding door. The car seat was right at eye level, the stains and smell almost as bad as the stench coming from the dead in the front. We couldn’t put her back in that. She’d have to sit with Sadie.
Holding my breath, I climbed through to the next row, rummaging through belongings that had scattered on impact. Garbage bags and plastic tubs. Clothes still on their hangers. Every spare space had been filled, like they were running toward something, just like the rest of us.
I dug around and found a pink suitcase covered in cartoon characters. A rush of energy moved through me, but instead of searching it here, I tossed it out onto the grass.
After some more digging, my fingers snagged the strap of a baby carrier, the kind Mia used to cart Ruby around in years ago.
Sadie could keep her strapped to her chest while I drove, maybe tuck the seatbelt underneath and keep them both contained. I threw it outside next to the suitcase and kept searching.
A full box of nappies and a couple of tins of toddler formula—one half empty, one full—joined the other discoveries.
“Are there any bottles in the nappy bag?” I called over my shoulder. If not, I had a feeling I’d find them in here somewhere.
“Bottles? Oh, for milk?”
I gripped the back of the seat and waited, hunched over in the cramped space.
A minute later, Sadie had an answer. “Yep. I found two. No formula, though. Maybe one of them was breastfeeding?”
We were on a roll. “Don’t worry, I’ve got that part covered.”
“Wait—there are two jars of mushed food, too.”
More good news. I’d found enough to keep her clean and comfortable. She’d grow out of her clothes and eat through the food in no time, but we could go on scavenging missions once we’d settled at Dad’s.
I backed out of the van and stepped down onto the grass, more optimistic than I’d been in a while.
I took the suitcase over to Sadie and knelt beside her, flipping the lid. She’d cleaned the baby with wipes and wrapped her in a fresh nappy, leaving the soiled clothing in a pile, a safe distance away. The chill in the air pushed me to hurry.
“Good job.” I looked the little girl over as she lay on the changing mat. “Seriously.”
The baby gazed up at me and made mmm and aaah sounds that had Sadie smiling.
She tugged on the fastenings on each side of the nappy. “I think I've got it tight enough, but not too tight. She was so red it looked painful,” she said. “There was a tub of cream in the bag. It said it was for nappy rash, so I put some on her.”
It suddenly occurred to Sadie that her hands needed washing. She crinkled her nose and held them away from her body, looking around for a solution.
“I’ve got everything you need,” I said. “Give me a minute, and I’ll get it set up.”
I arranged a wash station on the lowered tailgate of the Ranger. While Sadie scrubbed her nails and lathered up like a surgeon, I dressed the baby in the warmest clothes I could find—a pink onesie with bunnies on it, a white jacket with a hood we could pull up if we had to spend more time outside.
I lifted her from the mat and rose, holding her against me.
With her eyes locked on me, she patted my chest hesitantly, like she was testing me.
Warmth spread through me from the point of contact, and I took in her sweet face.
We’d never know how much she’d seen during or after the crash, but there were no obvious signs of distress, and I told myself she was young enough to forget.
We’d help her forget.
“Hey there, little one.” I pulled off her headband and dropped it on the nappy bag, smoothing her wisps of dark hair.
“Oh! Did you find out her name?” Sadie asked, drying her hands.
“Nope.” I rubbed my finger under the baby’s chin and went over to join her. “You’ll have to choose one.”
“Really? Hmm.” A silent beat passed as her features turned thoughtful. “It seems weird to name her after anyone in my family, so I’m going to call her Brynn.”
I’d never heard the name before, but if Sadie liked it, that was good enough for me. “Brynn, it is. Better get moving. I want to show up at Dad’s well before dark.”
Brynn lasted all of ten minutes on the highway before her soft sounds turned into whines of frustration. I’d hoped to make it to the farm before she got restless, but we’d run out of time.
Sadie bounced her in the carrier and talked to her in a calming tone, but the noises kept coming. Pretty soon she’d progress to an all out wail, and I wanted to be outside the car when that part kicked off.
“She’s hungry,” Sadie said. “I don’t think we can make her wait.”
“We should have fed her before we left the crash site.” I nodded at a sign indicating an upcoming rest area. “I’ll pull over here.”
We hadn’t passed another car in the last five minutes, and although the infected had made it out here, they were spread far apart and easy enough to dodge. With only trees and long grass on either side of the two-lane highway, nothing stood out as dangerous.
I flicked the indicator out of habit and eased into the rest stop, parking with the nose facing the road.
When I killed the engine, Brynn’s cries ramped up, and her patience ran out.
Sadie unclipped the seatbelt and removed her from the carrier, her hands fumbling under pressure. “All this noise makes me panicky,” she said, “like I have to move fast.”
“It won’t take long.” I opened the door and caught the faint scent of decay in the air, grabbing my sword just in case.
After I’d gathered all the supplies we might need, I followed Sadie over to a picnic bench near the bin and toilet block.
Brynn was crying harder now, cheeks red, body stiff. Sadie perched on the edge of the bench seat, her mouth pressed into a tense line. I couldn’t blame her. We hadn’t voluntarily signed up for this. She wasn’t ours. But it didn’t change the fact that she needed us.
“That’s a lot of noise for someone so small,” I said to Brynn, unloading the armful of supplies onto the table. I rested the hilt of my sword against the seat and said to Sadie, “We need to get her fed and quiet. Who knows how many infected are around here.”
Her gaze swept over our surroundings as if Brynn had distracted her from considering the dangers. With a baby to look out for, shit had just got a lot more real for all of us.
I handed her a spoon and an opened jar of sweet potato, then prepared the bottle as fast as I could, hoping Brynn was hungry enough not to care that nothing was warm.
Sadie dipped the spoon into the mush and tried feeding her, but she took one whiff and shoved it away, splattering orange goo on Sadie’s t-shirt. As she arched her back and wailed even harder, Sadie didn’t say a word. Just set the jar and spoon on the table, her eyes shining as they met mine.
“I’ll take her off you in a minute,” I said, working faster.
Brynn twisted and tried to fight her way out of Sadie’s arms, legs kicking, her scream rising to epic levels. I winced as I shook the bottle, mixing the powder and water. Poor kid had reached her limits, and Sadie wasn’t too far behind.
“Here.” I held out my hands for the baby, and Sadie all but shoved her at me.
I lowered myself to the seat and positioned her on my knee, resting her in the crook of my elbow.
As soon as the bottle got within arm’s reach, she wrenched it toward her mouth.
Seconds later, the noise died to almost nothing, and she drank with deep pulls, her eyes roaming and taking everything in.
“She must have been starving,” Sadie said, swiping at frustrated tears. “Or thirsty.” She flicked the sweet potato off her t-shirt, leaving stained blotches behind. “I’m not good at this,” she said. “I feel like a failure, and we’ve barely known her for an hour.”
“You’re not a failure.” I cupped the back of her neck with my free hand and eased her closer, pressing my lips to hers over Brynn’s head. “You’re the best person I know,” I said beside her mouth. “And I know some good people.”
She sighed and kissed me, holding me to her. Another kiss, and I could feel the tension leaving her.
I didn’t get the chance to try again. Brynn pushed her hand between our mouths, her fingers creeping up to my chin.
I pulled back before she could hook my lower row of teeth.
“No respect for personal space,” I said, taking her hand in mine.
Her fingers wrapped around my thumb, and she drank greedily from the bottle, her eyes jumping between Sadie and me.
It floored me that she could trust us without having a clue who we were.
“You’re such a natural,” Sadie said as she smiled at Brynn. “I’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Well, one of us has a niece, and the other doesn’t.” I wiggled my thumb in Brynn’s fist. “I used to spend a lot of time with Ruby.”
“She’ll be hanging out to see you again.” Sadie went quiet for a minute, then shifted in her seat and glanced over at the public toilets. “Will you be okay for two minutes? I want to pay a visit while I have the chance.”
“Take the sword with you, just in case.” I stroked Brynn’s head, still coming to terms with being responsible for her wellbeing in a world that had never felt less safe.
“I won’t be long.” Sadie pushed off the seat and scooped up the sword, traipsing off with a more carefree bounce in her step now she’d offloaded the main source of her stress.
“Don’t forget to check for the dead before you go in there,” I called after her.
She threw me a smile over her shoulder.
I watched her walk away, a woman I’d only admired from afar until a few weeks ago. So much had changed since we had our first conversation on the rooftop.
Now there was no more rooftop. No Laura, Owen, and the girls.
We were starting fresh… with a baby.