Two Summers Ago, the World Went to Shit

Chapter 7: What's in Store

Chapter 7: What's in Store

I tried to be hopeful for today. I thought maybe the soldiers would clear out and move on to their next town, state, whatever, or maybe they'd go back to wherever the fuck they came from. I needed stability, comfort, and security, but that wasn't in the picture right now. And with Greyson in the equation along with my unborn baby, things were, to me, a little bit more serious. I couldn't be selfish, risky, or careless anymore; he didn't deserve that nor did this baby.
Before the world went to shit, I didn't even know if I wanted to have a baby. I didn't consider myself to be a fit mother. But now that Jackson declared that we were a couple, I wasn't sure what that meant for me and my pregnancy. We hadn't exactly had the chance to talk about any of this past a small extent. Did this mean that he wanted to father another man's child, a man I wasn't sure would ever be in the picture again considering the current state of the world? Then again, abortion wasn't really an option anymore, I guess, considering everyone was likely dead—same as adoption. But, the thought of having this baby without the assistance of doctors, nurses, and medications scared the literal shit out of me. I wasn't built for a natural birth. The only thing I had going for me was that I was an obstetrics/pediatric nurse, but I couldn't exactly perform my own birth. I could eventually work with the guys and prepare them for what's coming. That would be my best bet.

"So, what's the plan," I asked as Greyson played with an action figure from his backpack.
I watched Caleb's expression as he seemed uncertain.
"We're sitting ducks in this bunker, and the dead zombies upstairs are proof that we were here. We just need to go somewhere further away, more secluded, at least until we know the soldiers are done reincarnating people into zombies."
"So, we need a car right," Jackson asked as he looked over at Caleb, hinting that Greyson might could help us.
He nodded, looking over at the toy he'd been playing with.
"Greyson, I know this is hard for you buddy, but we need a car to get out of here. Do you remember what your mom might have done with her keys," Caleb asked hopefully, squatting down in front of him.
"She always put them in her purse," he said sadly, looking down at the ground.
"Do you remember what your mom was wearing?"
"She had on a pink sweater," he said fidgeting with his toy, clicking its arms around nervously.
I thought back to one of the six zombies Caleb and Jackson had killed when we first arrived, and I remember the younger woman having on a baby pink sweater. She couldn't have been much older than me, and her life was over, just like that. I couldn't imagine a normal day ending up the way hers did. It just wasn't fair.
Caleb stood back up, sighing deeply.
"Okay. Let's try to find a way out of here. You two stay behind me and Jackson," he said.
     We quietly gathered what few items we had and accepted our fate no matter what awaited us upstairs or outside. Caleb led the way up the steps, pushing up on the wooden piece, and then propping it open. He climbed out right before Jackson who reached down to help me and Greyson out. I grabbed Greyson's hand and turned to whisper into Jackson's ear.
"Can you and Caleb move his mom's body? He shouldn't see that."
     He nodded and grabbed Caleb as they walked back towards the entrance where his mother laid, her skull split open from the impact of being hit with an axe. Greyson and I stood back while I looked around the empty space for a quiet minute, and then I peered down at Greyson. He had jet black hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He had been wearing jean shorts, didn't know those were even still a thing but cute nonetheless, with a green tee. His backpack from downstairs was now securely resting on his back with a Spider-Man design that matched his lunchbox and his black tennis shoes. He was precious.
"How old are you," I asked him as we waited alone.
"Six."
"And a half," he added while I smiled back at him.
"That's awesome!"
"Yeah, I'll be seven at the end February," he informed me.
"No way, that's my birthday month," I said excitedly.
He looked so impressed, and we both giggled almost silently.
     While Greyson and I hung back, Jackson and Caleb were back towards the entrance doing what they could to keep Greyson from seeing his dead mother. Their hands were painted in so much blood from grabbing the mutilated bodies and dragging them away from the walkway. They grunted as the bodies were like magnets to the floor, creating a struggle of dead weight. Once the last body had been removed, Caleb looked up and noticed a solider who was seemingly lost, frazzled, and stumbling around outside of the library.
     The soldier was dressed in a green camouflage uniform with tan boots. He was holding his right hand over his left arm with blood covering several parts of his body. He seemed like he'd been separated from his group, desperate to find help. Initially, Caleb backed up against the wall to hide from the soldier's sight in fear that he was a threat and warning Jackson to do the same. But, after studying the soldier circling the parking lot for a minute, he realized it was only a straggler. There was no sign of anyone else, so Caleb looked over at Jackson trying to decide what to do.
"Should we go outside?"
"No, let him figure it out," Caleb said as they watched the soldier across the parking lot.
"There are four zombies going after him. He won't make it," Jackson said, watching intently.
"Shit, he's headed for the door," Caleb said, running to turn the deadbolt over, locking the door from anyone on the outside.
     The soldier ran as fast as he could despite being injured until he reached the glass, his bloody hands smudging as he pressed against door. He could see Caleb and Jackson inside, right behind the other side. He pulled on the handle to discover they'd locked him out before he banged his bloody fists against the glass, begging for them to let him in.
"Please, open the door! Let me in," he yelled with an accent.
     They remained silent watching as the corpses surrounded him, ripping him apart right in front of them. Jackson looked away in disgust, holding back the urge to vomit. The sight of dead people eating the flesh from bones was hard to stomach for any of us. Eventually, the cries of the man were muted and only small parts of him remained.
"Caleb, is everything okay," I yelled from the other room as I'd heard the commotion coming from outside the door.
"Yeah," he said looking over at Jackson with a guilty look on his face.
He used his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, exhaling loudly.
     The library was like an oven preheating as the day progressed. There was no air conditioning, and the summer sun was still blazing unapologetically outside. Caleb had unlocked the door, and once again, the two of them prepared to take on four zombies. Fortunately for them, they were preoccupied picking meat off the soldiers bones, so they were able to take them out fairly quickly and easily. They drug those bodies away as well as what was left of the soldier before returning to the room we'd been hanging out in.
"I think we're ready," Caleb said, a pair of keys jingling in his hand.
     We followed behind them through the same area we'd entered in. There were no longer six bodies lying on the floor inside of the library, but the bloody evidence still remained soaked into the abstract printed carpet. Greyson held onto my hand as we made our way back out into the parking lot.
     There were only a few cars scattered in various spaces around the library. Caleb started looking around trying to determine which ride our set of keys belonged to. After a second, Greyson pointed towards a brown, beat up sedan. It had rust in several places, a small dent on the back, and a busted taillight. I could picture Greyson's mother as a single parent who worked long hours to make ends meet; that's the story this car and Greyson's personality told me. This car that'd once been a symbol of his education, his mother, his life was now a symbol of escape, survival, and danger.
We all walked up to the car before opening the doors. Caleb took the driver's seat, Jackson took the front passenger side, and me and Greyson took the back seat. I helped him into the booster seat and just thought to myself, what's the point? I tried to quit thinking negatively, but sometimes intrusive thoughts just swarmed my mind. I had to act like everything was managed and okay so that Greyson wouldn't be in fear about what was happening around us. I fastened him in so some part of all of this would seem familiar.
     Caleb pulled the gun strap over his head and handed it to Jackson along with the bloody axe. Jackson laid them both in his lap next to his gun. Caleb stuck the key into the ignition, and the car started up. We pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the nearby Walmart. I looked back at the gloomy library parking lot still occupied by abandoned vehicles and a pile of corpses.
We didn't really have a plan other than driving to the store. We hadn't thought up any strategy or escape plan, just going off of good faith at this point and hoping nothing went wrong. I knew this wouldn't be a quick, in-and-out run, but my brother seemed optimistic that this would be an easy task.
Throughout the ride, I continuously looked out of the window to make sure we weren't going to encounter any soldiers. Without traffic or law enforcement watching for run stop signs, you could get from place to place pretty quickly if the amount of abandoned vehicles was few from mile to mile. It was so strange seeing the roads like this. It was so quiet and lonely which was something I'd never encountered up north. I don't think I'd ever seen a road this empty while living in New York.
It was a ghost town. I was amazed at how a country with millions of people could turn into this nearly vacant version of itself. There wasn't a single person in sight, only a few abandoned cars along the highway that we'd maneuvered around. This had never been a heavily populated area to begin with, so the roads weren't blocked off by lines of cars. I was sure the interstates and major highways were impassable from the cars that had been left in an attempt to escape. I figured it would be difficult to find a route towards a city or another state that wasn't packed full of cars along the main roads. I guess we'd cross that bridge when it came.
     After seeing what was left in this area, we'd arrived to a big Walmart right outside of Pocola where it was a little more populated with people who were probably dead and walking in circles somewhere by now. The parking lot was still nearly halfway filled with cars, and this made me wonder just how many corpses we'd have to wrestle with inside. I could see the silhouette of a zombie in the distance as it limped closer to us from across the lot. These fuckers were faster than the comics made them out to be.
     I'd observed at the library that the elderly woman moved slower, and the younger woman moved more effortlessly. I began thinking that once they died, they kept the capabilities, stamina, and functioning of their previous self. Think about it, they just died. What would cause a corpse to move slower if its body belonged to an athlete versus a corpse that belonged to a seventy-year-old who relied on a cane to assist their movements? Nothing would really affect their abilities from death unless they'd been handicapped to begin with or had a broken leg. This discovery of details scared me.
     I couldn't outrun a fast zombie with this boot on. I mean, they didn't run, but they didn't drag along either. I don't think they cognitively knew what the difference between running and walking was, so I think their natural instinct was just a typical walk. It was like muscle memory, and that's what they had to go off of.
We drove up and down several aisles before Caleb pulled into a nearby parking spot relatively close to the front entrance but still a safe distance away.
"Are y'all ready," he asked with an unsure tone, looking out of the windshield.
I sighed.
"I'd just feel better if I had my gun. I'm in no position to race a zombie today," I said thinking about the one I typically carried prior to this new shit show society.
"My mom keeps one in here," Greyson said as he reached forward to put his hand on the center console.
     I lit up temporarily while Jackson opened it up and pulled out a handgun. He checked to see how many bullets were inside of it, and there was only one in the chamber. I guess that was better than nothing. He handed it back to me, and we exited the vehicle like some badass gang, slightly less cool. Jackson gave Caleb his gun and left the axe behind in the seat. We chose to ignore the straggler zombie that was a safe distance away to save our energy for what was inside, but then it yelled.
"Help, please," the man said as he continued walking in our direction.
He wasn't a zombie; he was just injured, limping with his left leg.
     We weren't as on edge was as I thought we should be, but we were armed; we at least had that going for us. The man would be stupid to try anything, so I felt confident that he was genuine in seeking help. We all remained beside the car while the man approached us, wincing from the pain he was experiencing. I looked down at his leg, but I couldn't tell much through his cargo pants. We turned to face him, looking at his pained expression in silence for what seemed like several minutes.
"What happened to you," I asked since no one else thought to address the situation.
"My leg," he choked out.
"Can I look at it? I'm a nurse," I offered, halfway hoping he'd decline.
Instead, he nodded.
     I squatted down to pull up his pants leg. I folded it up towards his thigh to uncover a wound on the side of his leg. It was most definitely a bite mark, one I assumed came from no other than a zombie. The skin around the area of the bite was inflamed, red, and looked as if he was losing circulation to that section of his leg. What did this mean though? I was curious to see the consequences of this wound, so as cruel as it sounded, I kind of wanted to keep him around to observe him like a science experiment.
"You got bit," I asked dryly.
Jackson stepped over to see for himself as the man looked down too.
"I-I guess so. I was inside the store hiding from those things when the shelving beside me collapsed onto my leg from a big group of them piling up against it. I was panicked and in pain; I never considered that I could've been bitten while the fuckers were grabbing at me from every direction," he said.
I pursed my lips as I continued to observe the wound. If a single zombie bite affected his ability to walk with giving him a limp this bad, there was something transmitted into his body, and from the appearance and changes in his leg, my suspicions were probably correct.
I gazed back up at the man feeling sad that he would probably die soon from this infection. He had to be in his late thirties, not even halfway through his life. He had short, stubby facial hair with a bald head, and he was dressed in camouflage cargo pants, a dirty tee, and muddy boots. He reeked of cigarettes, and his voice was a little raspy; it reminded me of Penny from the gas station, almost like a comfort I didn't know I needed.
Jackson and I stepped back again as we all processed the meaning of a zombie bite.
"What do you think? Am I going to be alright," he asked me worriedly.
"We should try to clean up the wound, then maybe it won't get infected," I said, not really believing that the bite would heal but attempting to ease his anxiety.
He nodded.
"I'll need to get some supplies from inside," I said looking over at Caleb.
"So, you've been inside of the store," Caleb asked the man.
"Yes, there's about forty of 'em near the toy aisle. Some girl bumped into a toy that started talking and playing music, and those dead ones went straight for it. I was in the garden center hiding, but when they got to the toy aisle, I think they could smell me because no matter how still and quiet I was, they found me. A swarm of them surrounded me, and that's when the shelves collapsed on top of me. I managed to crawl out before I took off out of that entrance in the outdoor garden center," he said pointing to the furthest entry.
We all looked over at the fenced in area filled with plants and bicycles before looking at each other.
"Did the girl make it out too," I asked curiously.
"No, I think she's still in there, but I don't believe she's worth saving. She was going to let them kill me to save herself," he said angrily.
"Well, we need to go inside. We'll try to get some first aid stuff for your leg, but it just depends on what it's like inside."
"I'll go with you. I can help you find your way around," he offered as he bent over to fix his pants leg.
"Are you sure," Jackson asked.
He nodded.
"Ok, let's go in through the grocery side, farthest from the toys to avoid that group hanging around. We need food and water no matter what, but if we can, we need to find first aid kits, Sammi's medicine, antibiotics, and anything from the pharmacy worth grabbing, camping supplies, and whatever else we think is crucial. We don't know when the next time we can get supplies will be," Caleb said sternly.
I stepped behind Greyson, unzipping his backpack. Then, I opened the back door of the car to sit his belongings down onto the floorboard.
"We might need to put some things into your backpack, okay," I said looking sweetly at him.
Again, he nodded as I brushed his hair with my hand.
     I reached up to the front passenger seat to retrieve the axe. I wanted the guy to at least stand a chance, so I gave him the axe and shut the car door back behind me. We all followed behind Caleb as he took off walking towards the grocery side entrance. The automatic doors continued to work because access to power hadn't become an issue this early in the apocalypse, but I knew it'd probably be gone soon enough.
     The inside was no different than any other day besides some items knocked over and buggies full of random items from people who'd left when trouble was brewing. The lights were on throughout the entire store, the coolers were still running, and the sound of a singing toy echoed in the distance. The longer I listened, the more I realized it wasn't just a toy making all of that noise, but it was the growls of dozens of zombies adding to the music playing in the distance.
     We looked around, and it was clear that the zombies were still gathered on the opposite end of this huge store near the toy aisle, mesmerized by the music. As ridiculous as it seems, when I'd seen the sign for the restrooms, I felt so relieved. It was located halfway between the grocery entrance where we were and the household entrance. I was relieved because I had been avoiding the urge to use the bathroom since being at the house, but I couldn't hold back for much longer. Who knew when I'd be around a toilet again—I was not built to pee in the woods, not yet anyways. So, I took this opportunity.
"I'm going to the restroom," I said.
"Well, let us check it out first. There could be a zombie in there," Caleb said, his voice still low.
"I'm capable," I said holding the gun in my hand and waving it in the air, raising my eyebrows in annoyance.
"You have one bullet, Sammi," Jackson chimed in.
I rolled my eyes before saying, "I'm aware."
"Fine, but yell if you need us. We'll keep an eye on Greyson," Caleb said patting Greyson gently on the shoulder.
The three of them branched off to various aisles to gather food and water with the guy from the parking lot while I walked towards the restroom. Jackson took Greyson with him, and I smiled to myself as I watched the two of them together. It gave me a glimpse of what could be our future, if we were lucky enough to have one.
I pushed through the door of the restroom and looked cautiously before entering the center stall. I sat the gun down on the metal bin attached to the side divider. Then, I locked the door, out of habit, not because I thought someone would walk in on me. I slid the metal lock into place, and I tried to appreciate the luxury of a working, clean toilet.
After I'd stood back up and pressed the handle to flush, I was accompanied by a growl in the background of the water swirling around. I panicked, unsure of where the noise was coming from. I looked down, and there was a zombie crawling towards me from under the handicap stall, grabbing my leg. Instinctively, I screamed. And I screamed LOUD. It was scary having dead people coming at you; I hadn't accepted that yet.
The zombie held on to my leg while tugging and pulling, just like a human could, with force. On a normal day, I'd probably be able to yank my leg away, but it had me by my right leg. My left leg being in a boot really affected my balance once my good foot was temporarily out of commission. I tried yanking it, but I failed. I collapsed to the floor, hitting my hip on the tile and attempting to grab the gun, but it was out of reach. With a zombie to my right, gun to my left, I was not in a great position.
The zombie was a young girl with red hair, green eyes, and freckles. She was lying flat on her stomach, arms stretched wide with my leg in possession. She was growling and salivating over the anticipation of chewing into my flesh, but my movements were preventing her from holding me steady long enough to get a bite in. I kicked, screamed, and stretched my arms as close to the gun as I could. Since I'd fallen, both of my legs were under the stall. I forcefully kicked the girl in the face with my boot, so that I could free my right leg. She went for the other leg, grabbing it tightly. Then, she bit down into my boot. She tried multiple times to bite through the thick material surrounding my leg and foot, but she/it/whatever was growing angry.
So, I finally decided to slide farther under the stall to where I could reach the boot. I continued kicking at the zombie while I tried to distract it from my hands while I unfastened and painfully slid my foot out of the boot. I managed to scoot myself back after releasing my leg from it's grip, grabbing the gun. I unlocked the stall door and inched away while the zombie realized the boot wasn't going to satisfy its cravings. Once her face reappeared under the stall, I pulled the trigger, shooting her right between the eyes. I laid my head down in defeat as the door swung open.
"Sammi, are you okay," Jackson asked out of breath from his sprint into the restroom.
Caleb ran in right behind him.
"Sammi," he yelled worriedly.
"I'm fine," I said, closing my eyes with tears streaming down my face.
Everyone had gathered into the restroom to see the zombie that caused all of the commotion from my scream. Jackson ran to the stall where he'd seen me crying on the floor. Caleb was right behind him worrying about whether I was okay. Jackson knelt down and gently rubbed my cheek trying to comfort me.
"Are you hurt," he asked as he examined my body.
I sat up, wiping the tears from beneath my eyes.
"I'm fine," I sniffled.
"It grabbed me from under the stall; I fell and hit my hip," I said rubbing my sore side.
Greyson was standing close to the door while Caleb and the man walked over to the entry of the other stall, gazing at the dead girl. Caleb walked over to retrieve my boot while the man gazed at the zombie.
"That's the girl," he said.
Caleb walked back over to where Jackson and I were, handing the boot to him. He helped me put it back on before grabbing my hand and pulling me up to my feet. I hobbled towards the handicap stall where the zombie had been to see for myself. The man backed away as I squeezed through to get a closer look. I approached her still body and examined her skin and limbs before discovering that she, too, had been bitten. The bite was on her right arm. It looked similar to the man's, and I'd noticed that right above the bite was a dry speckle of blood, like she'd been injected sometime recently. I looked over at the man and his face dropped once he'd seen that she died, turned, whatever, possibly from a bite.
That quickly left our focus when we heard a chorus of zombies marching through the store. My eyes widened in fear. From the chants of zombie growls getting louder and louder, I knew we were about to be surrounded and trapped. We were in trouble.
"The gunshot! They heard the gunshot. Get the door! It won't lock without a key, and they'll be able to push through! We have to hold it shut," I yelled.
I hurried over and grabbed Greyson abruptly, pulling him towards me.
"I need you to go into that last stall, lock the door, and stand on the toilet. They're smart; they'll see your feet. The zombie in there is dead. It won't hurt you, okay," I said worriedly.
He ran and did just that as I'd hurried to the door where Caleb, Jackson, and the man were now standing, their backs on the door, trying to keep it shut while the forty-some zombies pounded against the outside. I joined in on the efforts to keep them out, but there were only four of us against their small army. Our feet were slipping further away from the threshold.
"We can't hold them," the guy said painfully as he used every ounce of energy in his efforts to hold the door.
"Go get in the stall," Caleb said sternly to me.
"What? No, I'm helping."
"Sammi, go," Jackson said angrily.
I gave them a look of despair and brokenness as I feared what would happen if the door gave way. I hesitantly stood against it, hoping this was all a bad dream, like I'd wake up any minute. But it wasn't.
"I love you," Jackson said as I looked up at him hopelessly.
We'd been moving back and forth with the door, and the opening between us and them was getting bigger as we gradually lost energy. I released my hold and went over to the stalls as quickly as I could.
"Greyson, let me in," I said before he unlocked the stall for me to enter.
He opened the creaky door with silent tears streaming down his face. I grabbed him and sat down to the side of the toilet seat, sitting him in my lap. I rested my feet on the divider of the stall and held Greyson up against my chest. I brushed his hair with my hands in an attempt to comfort him as gunshots unloaded over and over and over again. It was painfully loud, and the echoes shook the walls from each bullet. This went on for a minute or two when I heard one of the guns run out of bullets. It was an empty click, click, click.
There seemed to be far less growls, but there were still a few of them left. I could hear the cracks of their skulls from the man swinging the axe. One of the guys screamed, yelled, in agony from being torn apart by multiple zombies. I could hear skin being ripped and bones snapping. I closed my eyes and held Greyson closer as I thought about Caleb or Jackson being tormented by zombies. I couldn't see anything that was going on; it was killing me inside.
I could not do this without them. They had to be okay.
They had to be.