30. Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Shelby
By the time dinner rolls around I’m fighting off dread. The guys haven’t returned which could mean any number of things, but the worst is what I obsess over while I pick at my food.
Beyond the cramping which resumed after my struggles near the garden, my head pounds to its own beat and my limbs ache. All of this I ignore as Zoey tips her head my way, her wide eyes solemn to which I muster a smile, and say, “Tell me about the chickens, Zo.”
Although she’s smart enough to understand what I’m doing, she takes the bait anyway and I listen attentively while she describes the chickens in detail, even providing the names she picked out for each.
Amanda chimes in here or there with an indulgent smile and once again, I hope that these two girls will live to be the women I see burgeoning in their eyes.
“You named them?” Nate interjects and when she nods, he says, “But if we ea–”
This is where I shove my shoulder into his and he drops into silence while Lance laughs uneasily and says, “Well, we didn’t name the cows but there was this one hulking one that kept following us around.
Man, I always thought cows were cute. Not this one though, he damn near seared me with those beady eyes. ”
Lance waggles his brows and Zoey giggles before the talk turns to other things. I’m glad to see Lance opening up although he seems more comfortable with Nate than the rest of us.
Somewhere between Amanda’s age and Nate, he’s been helpful when needed but painfully quiet. Perhaps he has his own demons, I don’t know but whatever he encountered before still haunts his eyes.
Later, I roll out of bed. I know I’ll just stare at the ceiling if I stay here, so I step onto the front porch and find Nate sitting on the porch swing.
After sitting on the couch adjacent to the swing, I turn to his blue eyes, gleaming in the twilight as he says, “It’s so quiet here.
You could almost believe that nothing happened, ya know? ”
“Yeah,” I say. Where would I be if this hadn’t happened?
Thinking back on it now, I suspect the only reason Ben came home that day was because shit hit the fan. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for it and when he found me still in bed at noon, avoiding everything once again, he lost his mind.
How could I laze around when he was out working so hard to bring in money? Who the fuck did I think I was? If he hadn’t come home when he did, would I still be in that home, cowering to his demands?
The notion is so repugnant that I push it aside and ask, “What were you doing before?”
It’s a loaded question because if he asks the same of me, I can’t give him the truth. Still, I want to think about anything but my own wretched choices.
“I was at work, delivering pizzas,” he says with a snort, and I chuckle. When his eyes meet mine, they crinkle, and we both burst into laughter. Tears run down my cheeks as he sputters, “I was delivering fucking p-pizzas.”
My throat aches but it's a good kind of ache as we slowly wind down and I wipe my eyes. As soon as I can breathe again, I say, “I’d kill for a pizza, right now.”
“Right?” he says, bobbing his head. “Extra cheese and pepperoni.”
When my stomach growls, I throw out my hand and say, “Stop. You’re making me hungry.”
He grins but it slowly fades before he whispers, “It’s never going to be the same again. Is it?”
“No,” I say, raising my gaze to the stars. “It’s not.”
Cason
Thankfully the roads are clear and from my vantage point at the back of the truck, the scenery is both beautiful and deceptively calm. Rolling hills of lush green grass interspersed with clusters of trees surround us, still damp from the morning dew.
Overhead a few clouds mark the road in shadows, a possible portending of what’s to come. Will it be rain or more of those undead fuckers? Probably both with the way our luck or lack thereof seems to be holding up.
Jason and Larry are up in the cab but with my dwindling mood, I opted to spare them my grumpiness by sitting in the back.
Can we truly fortify the farm to the point of keeping them out or should we be looking for something different?
There aren’t enough of us to fight off a horde but short of looking for other groups to join, we have to work with what we have. Thoughts like these are a never-ending loop in my head but with no answers, I do what I can, which is push forward with the current plan.
Per Lottie, the feed store is closer to Lebanon than Albany. Five miles as the crow flies, but a little more involved using the backroads between.
When we pass a sign proclaiming the population of 19,344, dread pools in my belly. Although no comparison to places like Portland or Salem, even one of the undead is too many.
It’s achingly quiet as we roll down the street, passing a little diner with the windows boarded up. At the stop sign, I turn to the south, eyeing the mini-mart across from the feed store.
Other than the lack of power, it looks untouched and on any other day, pre-fucking-apocalypse, I would be stopping by right about now for an icy cold soda.
With a silent sigh, I turn to the feed store, whose sign hangs at an odd angle along the road. Was it that way before or did something happen to tilt it off its resting place?
As Jason pulls up to the door, I do a final sweep of the parking lot but it’s empty save for a few pieces of paper trailing along the ground.
Once they’ve emerged from the cab, I jump to the concrete and stop beside Larry, who’s assessing the front entrance with a grim smile.
“Just a little spring shopping, eh?” I say and he raises a brow. Since my attempt at a little lighthearted humor fell flat, I turn to business, pointing to the side of the building and saying, “I’m going to check out the back. If it’s clear, we’ll proceed.”
Matching grunts are my reward, and I move away quickly because the sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back to the farm.
The area beyond the wall is clear and after confirming the back door remains closed with nothing loitering behind it, I return to the two men waiting by the entrance.
“If there’s anything inside, we have a bit of a funnel here, yeah?” Jason says and I nod toward the door.
“We’ll open it up, make a little noise and hope whatever is inside takes the bait,” I say, and Jason grabs the handle.
Luckily, it’s a single door with a broad window allowing us to see what’s coming but sweat still stings my eyes as Jason opens it and Larry bangs the crowbar he took from the farm against the frame.
Immediately I spy a few bobbing heads in the shadows and tighten my grip around the spade, I grabbed earlier. The pungent odor of rotting flesh precedes two of them and I ignore my twitching nose for the first undead who appears at the threshold with a spine-chilling groan.
The former man stumbles forward without benefit of his eyesight because both dark sockets were cleaned of the now missing eyeballs. A shudder runs through me at the sight but now is not the time to consider where they went. Really, it’s never going to be a good time.
Strangely, he zeroes in on me anyway and I step back to create the distance needed to swing before slicing through the edge of his skull with the blade.
My efforts to avoid the intestines dangling from his midsection go by the wayside when he stumbles forward and they jiggle against his waist.
With another weird moan, he collapses to the ground and after a quick glance to ensure Larry’s good with the other one, I pull the spade loose before bludgeoning his head. The thick, viscous goo surrounding his brain stains the pavement around him and avoiding the mess, I step closer to the door.
By unspoken agreement we pause, and I search the darkened interior but it’s impossible to know if there are more without going inside the shadowy depths.
There are three checkout counters to the left and a small section of clothing to the right.
Beyond are rows and rows of aisles where anything could be hiding.
Sweat slicks my back as I step further inside with my weapon raised high. Larry follows his breath heating my neck. With Jason at the rear, I move beyond the checkout area, muttering, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Larry chuffs and if I wasn’t laser focused on what might be before me, I’d tell him to back off a step but turning away from the possible threat could be deadly.
As soon as we reach the darker part of the building, I hand my flashlight to Jason, and he shines it down each aisle while I prepare for an altercation.
Rows of plumbing supplies line the first aisle with paint and brushes down the next. We pass the gardening tools before reaching the end and stopping at the door leading to the storage beyond.
“Could be a whole bunch of the suckers in there,” Larry mutters and although it’s not exactly a surprise, I silently agree.
“Bang on the door,” I say, and Jason taps the butt of the flashlight against the swinging doors. When nothing happens, I nod, and just as we did before, Jason grabs the edge of one of the doors and swings it outward, although this time, he flashes the light into the room.
More shelves line the space, hiding everything within, however I can’t imagine any of those things not rushing for a meal. Either way, I’m not satisfied that the building is clear until we’ve reached the last aisle and nothing, but the back door is in view.
Did we take out two of the employees? If not, where did they go?