Chapter 17
It’s quiet, minus the sounds of spoons scraping against bowls and the occasional slurp.
Ten of us are seated around the dinner table, which is just two large folding tables pushed together.
No one has really spoken since we sat down to eat.
The only words exchanged were compliments and expressions of gratitude to Elaine for preparing homemade chicken noodle soup and fresh-baked bread.
We’re all still on edge, still trying to process what happened today.
I don’t even understand it myself. I look up from my bowl of soup and glance at each person.
Blake sits across from me. His mouth is a hard line, and he drops his gaze.
JJ is seated next to him, staring off at nothing, having barely touched his food.
The front door creaks open, and in walks my dad.
He sighs heavily and rakes his hand through his graying hair.
Aside from Chris’s family, he’s clearly taking it the worst of all, and I think that’s because he blames himself.
But he wasn’t there. He didn’t even see it happen.
I did, and now I can’t unsee it. There are some things that stick with you forever, and I think this will be one of them for me.
Like my father, I can’t help but blame myself, but unlike him, I could have actually done something to stop it.
I should have been quicker, should have gotten to Chris before he pulled the trigger.
“How’d it go, Dale?” Uncle Jimmy asks, straightening up in his chair, positioned at the far end. Aunt Julie sits beside him, her hand resting on the table, clasped in his.
Dad crosses the living room, his footsteps slow and heavy. He stops in front of his chair at the head, positioned between Blake and me, and grips the back of it, like he needs it to stand upright.
“They’re inconsolable, which is expected, and they just want to be left alone to grieve for now. But um . . . Helen wanted to thank you, Elaine, for their dinner.”
Elaine nods and says, “Of course, anything they need.”
“How’d the rest of the cleanup go?” he asks the table.
“We moved all the bodies to the far back-right corner of the property, and we’ll start burning them tomorrow morning,” Blake says.
“And Chris’s body?” Elaine asks.
“He’s wrapped in a sheet out in the toolshed,” JJ answers, not looking at anyone in particular.
“Good, because the family would like to have some sort of a memorial for Chris, so we should try to put something together with what we have.” Dad is met with nods as he pulls out his chair and takes a seat.
He briefly glances at his untouched bowl of soup but doesn’t reach for it.
“This is the first time we’ve lost someone here, and I’d like to say it’ll be the last time, but I don’t think it will. ”
A heaviness falls over the room at my father’s words.
“What happened today was a wake-up call for me,” Dad continues. “We are not prepared to survive in a world like this, so things around here have to change, and they have to change fast.”
“It was a fluke, though,” JJ says, snapping out of his daze. “A coach bus full of zombies crashing a mile down the road isn’t going to happen again.”
Dad tightens his eyes. “You don’t know that, JJ. None of us do. None of us have any idea what’s out there or what else is coming our way. So the best we can do is prepare for the worst.”
“And what did you have in mind?” Blake says, leaning back in his chair.
“First, we’ve got to beef up the fence, make it stronger, add more barbwire. I also have the supplies to add an electrical current to it.” Dad looks to my uncle, an electrician of twenty years.
“I can take care of that,” Uncle Jimmy says with a nod.
“Second, I know, before, only those that went out on runs had to train for combat. Not anymore. Everyone will learn how to fight.”
“I can’t fight,” Molly says in a high-pitched voice. Her mouth gapes in disbelief, so it’s clear she really does believe what she’s saying, but that’s only because she’s never been put in a position where she was forced to fight in order to survive.
“That’s what I told my dad when I was eleven,” I say with a raised brow. “But I learned, and so will you.”
Her mouth snaps closed, and she glances down at her lap. I can’t tell whether I encouraged or discouraged her, but I was going for the former.
“There will be no exceptions,” Dad says firmly. “Everyone will be trained. And we need to start doing more supply runs.” His eyes dart to Blake and JJ. “What did you two find today?”
“Not much,” JJ says, shaking his head.
“A case of canned goods that looked like they were left behind on purpose, since they were mostly fruit cocktail and Spam, but scavengers can’t be choosers. We also found some gardening tools and winter coats and boots,” Blake adds.
Elaine clears her throat. “How are we on food?”
“We’ll be fine for a bit.” Dad doesn’t elaborate any further, which tells me there’s not enough food for everyone.
“A bit? What’s a bit? Like, a week? A month?” Greg pipes in.
“There are more mouths to feed than I had anticipated, so three months, maybe four,” he says, then presses his lips firmly together.
“Which doesn’t get us through winter,” Blake deduces.
My dad exhales forcefully through his nose. “Correct, so we need to do more supply runs. If you’re not finding much, then we’ll go further out to search.”
“What about medicine? Or medical supplies?” I ask, realizing no one’s mentioned that. With what happened today, it’s inevitable that we’ll eventually need them.
“I’ve got first aid kits, and I’m well stocked up on vitamins and over-the-counter medications,” Dad says.
“Those are all well and good, but if anyone suffers a serious injury or illness, we’ll need something stronger than over-the-counter medication.”
Dad meets my gaze. “Then why don’t you go ahead and make a list of medical supplies, Casey, and we’ll add them to the scavenge list. And that goes for everyone else too. Anything you need, make sure it gets added to the list,” he says, scanning the somber faces seated around the table.
“I don’t need to make a list, because I’m going with.” I lift my chin, ready for Blake to challenge me.
“Not until you’re trained,” he says like a broken record. So predictable.
“I more than proved myself today, Blake.”
He squints, moving his mouth side to side, sizing me up.
“Your hand-to-hand and blade combat could use some finesse. You’re quick on your feet, but when knocked down, you’re slow to get up.
You’ve got great instinct, but you move with hesitation, like you’re unsure of yourself.
Your marksmanship needs work too. Aim is slightly to the left, which tells me you haven’t shot a firearm in a very long time.
So the only thing you proved today was that you need training. ” Blake lifts his chin, challenging me.
“I took out a third of them today while you were out collecting cans of fruit cocktail, so I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and I don’t think you do either.”
“If you’re so effective, Casey, then why is Chris dead?” he says, cocking his head.
My mouth parts and tears prickle behind my eyes. I can’t believe he said that, and from the looks on everyone else’s faces, they can’t believe it either. How dare he put Chris’s death on me.
“That’s completely uncalled for, Blake,” my dad warns.
“I think it’s a fair question, Dale. Like you said, we’ve never had a death before.
” He gestures to me with judgmental eyes.
“But within twenty-four hours of Casey’s arrival, someone ends up dead.
She’s the only one that saw it, so she should explain what exactly went down.
That way we can learn from it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. ”
“Asshole,” Tessa says from the other end of the table, just loud enough for everyone to hear. I’d hug her if Elaine and Meredith weren’t between us.
“I think what Tessa’s trying to say is that none of us were prepared for what occurred today,” Dad interjects.
Tessa sits up a little straighter in her chair. “No, I said what I said.”
“Anyway, I think your anger is misguided.” Dad looks to Blake.
“I’m not angry. I just wanna know how it happened.”
“Fine,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “We heard gunshots and took off running. I got there first. Chris was too close to the fence line, and they were already breaching it. He underestimated how fast some of them can be, and then one of them lunged at him, and he got bit. I took out that biter so he could retreat. But Chris didn’t.
He just shot himself, and I don’t understand why he did. ”
“Well, I think that’s obvious.” Blake gives me a confused look. “He didn’t wanna turn into one of those things. He was probably thinking of his family, what he—or the monster he became—would do to them. That’s why he blew his brains out.”
I can’t hide my surprise or shock at Blake’s explanation.
That’s what he thought. That’s what they all think.
I can see Chris’s face, the emptiness in his eyes.
It was the look of a man who thought he had no future.
His final parting words. I didn’t understand them then.
I just thought he was in shock. But no. He was grieving his own life.
He thought there was no other way. So he pulled the trigger before he could talk himself out of it.
But he’d had a chance . . . he just didn’t know it. And none of them do either.
“What is it?” my dad asks, noticing my shocked expression.
I snap out of it, shaking my head. “Just because you get bit doesn’t mean you’ll turn into one of them.
” I make eye contact with each and every person at the table to ensure they’ll hear me, and they’ll remember that in case it ever happens to one of them.
“That’s why I call them biters and not zombies.
” I let out a deep sigh. “You all watch too many movies.”
“How do you know they don’t turn?” Blake’s tone is cold.