ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Nine

The camp is a nice change from constantly looking over my shoulder and running for my life, but I can't settle down. I can't eat, sleep, or relax—not when there is even the smallest possibility that my parents are sitting in a camp like this one, probably thinking I'm dead or worse.

I sit drumming my fingers on one of the desks in our room. The 'tap, tap, tap' is strangely soothing, and I jiggle my knee in tandem with each tap.

I can feel Ryan's eyes on me; he hasn't taken them off me these last two days. Under normal circumstances, before the end of the world, I wouldn't have minded someone like him staring at me, but it's not like that now. He's watching me carefully: every reaction, every over reaction, every under reaction, every twitch. I feel like I can't breathe.

A clatter pulls me from my inner thoughts, and I look up to see Megan scrambling to pick up the can of paintbrushes she's knocked over. She's taken up art, of all the crazy post-apocalyptic hobbies.

I stare at her painting. It's an eerie rendition of a zombie tearing the flesh from a human leg. She's been painting them nonstop. She had been lining them up around the room until Abby freaked out and made her flip them over so we don't have to look at them. She's actually surprisingly talented, so much so that her pictures give me the creeps.

"Can't you draw anything nice?" Abby snaps as she accidentally trips over a canvas featuring a zombie that is looking out at her with its teeth bared.

Megan shrugs. "I paint what speaks to me."

My fingers return to tapping. From the look that Megan shoots me, I know she can't stand the noise. I stand suddenly. "I'm going for a walk." I say, not pausing long enough to see if anyone actually cares.

I walk quickly through the maze of hallways. They haven't been that difficult to figure out now that we have the lay of the land. I go outside and nod to a couple of the soldiers that look my way. Then, I begin my ritual of pacing around the perimeter of the chain link fence that's been set up around the school.

Military men are stationed every few feet, and a couple hasty watch towers have been constructed as well. This place is like Fort Knox. Large machine guns sit perched, waiting to take out any zombies that wander too close, and there are always zombies. We can't go more than a few hours without the guns going off. At first, the sound shocked us awake in the middle of the night or surprised us into dropping whatever were holding at the time. Now, after only two days, they barely even faze me anymore. It's weird what you can get used to.

My mind spins, thinking about how I'm going to get to New York. I have already put it off the last few days, trying to form a plan. Every day that passes makes me more and more anxious. I've always been a meticulous planner, but I know that a plan is nearly pointless in this zombie infested wasteland of a world as plans tend to go awry when dealing with the unpredictable dead.

It's suicide to even think about venturing so close to such a major city, but I have no choice. I can't live the rest of my life wondering if my parents are still alive.

"When are you going?" I jump when I hear Ryan's voice. I am staring out through the fence and didn't hear him walk up.

I think about lying, but I can't lie to him. "Soon, maybe tomorrow."

Ryan nods and doesn't say anything else as we walk back to the room.

Abby and Megan are still arguing about Megan's paintings when we walk in. Abby takes one look at Ryan's face and frowns. "What's going on?"

Ryan looks at me; it's my thing to tell, and he doesn't want to step on my toes.

"I'm going to find my parents," I say.