Stopping a few feet away from her frail figure, I called out to her again. No response. Stepping closer, I saw no rise and fall of her chest. I could make out something round by her head. As I circled her still body, I realized it was the cover to a pill bottle. Three bottles lay open and empty in front of her. I knelt down, my eyes watering from the strong smell of urine, and touched her cheek. She was cold to the touch and I instinctively felt for a pulse, knowing I would find none.
My first instinct was to scream for help. I stopped, thinking of the fear that screaming would bring the others. There was nothing to do for her at this point. She chose the escape of suicide, her pain too hard to live with. We knew nothing of what she had seen. The only word uttered since her arrival had been her name.
Jake was on the wall. I found Adam playing fetch with Daphne. She had really taken to him. I wondered if she had become a comfort since he’d lost his daughter the same way she had always been with me for never having had a child at all. I scooped her up and gave her a kiss, handing her to Margie who was reading a book to the kids. “Child, you stink to high hell,” she said as she used one hand to squeeze her nose and the other to take Daphne.
“Adam, I could use your help with something.” I led him toward Sandra’s body, stopping along the way to grab a cart and a set of sheets. Thinking more clearly, I doubled back and grabbed two sets of rubber gloves. His eyebrows rose at my shopping list.
“Seriously, Emma, I hate to break it to you, but you really do stink. Don’t get offended, but did you crap yourself?”
“You caught me. But hey, thanks for that. I’ll be sure to pay closer attention next time.” Rolling my eyes at him, I shook my head. “It’s Sandra, not me. She, um, took the blue pill. Apparently Wonderland wasn’t her cup of tea.” I could tell my Matrix quote was lost on him.
“She killed herself, Adam. I didn’t want to cause a panic. I thought we could discreetly put her in the cart and cover her with the sheets.”
Mouth agape, Adam asked the obvious question. The one I didn’t want to answer for fear of sounding barbaric and callous. “And then what?”
“And then I thought we could take her to the canal and give her a burial at sea.” I don’t know why I held my breath waiting for his response. I didn’t want him to think badly of me. “Unless, you’ve got a better idea?” I really hoped he did.
We unceremoniously dumped Sandra into the canal and watched as the white sheets around her billowed down into the dark depths. Our cheering squad still stood en masse on the other side of the water. I flipped them the bird before turning back to the store. “Cleanup on aisle three,” I muttered under my breath and went about cleaning the floor of the excrement that had evacuated Sandra’s body. My callous reaction was enough to give me pause. I questioned my lack of compassion and how, in just a few short days, I had been left feeling cold and empty.
Chapter 13
Apocalyptic Picnic
I called a meeting of the minds. Lieutenant Dan, Jake, and a group of soldiers gathered around Adam and me under the shade of one of the little trees in the lot. I never quite understood the appeal of planting trees in the middle of parking lots. They seemed out of place. A card table was erected under the tree, on it was a map of the city and a short wave radio set up to communicate with the soldiers when they were outside the wall.
“All I’m saying is that we need to either put someone in charge of manning the pharmacy at all times, or we need to lock it up better. Once word gets out—and trust me, word will get out—we can’t have it plant the seed that it’s an option. We don’t know everyone well enough to know how they cope with fear and stress.”
Jake moved closer and took my hand as I relayed the events of Sandra’s demise.
“I agree, but I can’t dedicate an able body to guard the candy store. I need all hands on deck to keep out the riff-raff. Puri, take Samson and see what you can do to secure the pharmacy.” The two soldiers broke from the group at the lieutenant’s command. “We have bigger fish to fry at the moment. This store has a lot in the way of sustaining life, but it’s lacking one major component. Fuel. We rely on those generators to power the perimeter lights. Without that light we’re sitting ducks with no way to see what threats are incoming before they’re on us.”
Lieutenant Dan pointed to a spot on the map. In between the “You are here” circle drawn in red marker and the spot he pointed to, various red X’s marked the places the search and rescue teams had already been through.
“There’s a fuel truck abandoned here on College Parkway. Delta team radioed it in yesterday from their run. Now, I don’t know how badly infested the area is, or if there’s even any fuel in it, but it seems like our best option. Tomorrow, Echo team will venture to this location. Half will go east to continue looking for survivors and half will clear to the truck and recon the area. If salvageable, those men will return with that much needed fuel. If not, then we’ll need to start thinking about how to secure the compound without the generators. We’ve cleared the path up to about a klick away from the truck.”
I knew we relied on the generators to maintain the barricade. Without the lights, we were vulnerable, and the parking lot would be lost. While the store was secure, losing the lot meant losing the ability to leave, trapping us in behind the walls of our home until someone came for us or we ran out of food.
The sound of rifles cracking had become the staple of sound for the inhabitants of the Target. It used to be that the gunshots caused anxiety and fear. Now any long pauses between bursts had that effect. The cache of ammo boxes that lined the wall, just inside the main doors, were starting to dwindle. Running out seemed inevitable.
The group discussed backup locations should the compound become unsafe. It was decided that we would head for the Lighthouse four miles from our current location. If the lighthouse was a no-go, we would navigate our way to Cape Harbour in hopes of commandeering our own fleet of houseboats. According to the lieutenant, both options had their pros and cons.
The lighthouse provided us a bird’s eye view of the surrounding area, but should the fence come down, it would limit our ability to move freely and make continued trips out. The houseboat would provide safety from all directions once we undocked. However, it took us away from land and any damage to the boats would leave us stranded.
It was only our seventh day at the compound. I estimated we had eliminated more than a thousand undead that had threatened to breech the barricade. A thousand down, only one hundred, forty-nine thousand to go, I thought.
There had been much speculation about the zombies’ origin and capabilities, but the truth was no one had any concrete answers. It became clear early on that the infection did something to heighten their senses. Often times we could see them sniffing the air and then start walking in our direction as if our scent gave us away. The slightest noise had them on the alert, and they always knew which way the food was.
Heading back into the store to start making lunch, I noticed Jake and Lieutenant Dan huddled over the map in what looked like a heated exchange. I gave Jake a questioning glance when he looked up, but he waved me away and waved his hand to convey nothing was wrong. Not really satisfied with the hand gesture, I considered replying with one of my own. But if I was being honest, it had already been a craptastic day and I didn’t really want to add to it.
The store’s increasing stench of unwashed bodies and outhouse hit me as I walked through the doors. Poor ventilation and lack of proper bathroom facilities were violating my senses and calling forth my gag reflex. An outdoor shower had been constructed by the edge of the seawall. Hoses were rigged to a showerhead and a man-made pump system allowed the residents to take a ghetto sea-water shower. While the water from the canal was endless, the manpower to use the pump was in short supply. A schedule had been created to allow each member of the compound one shower a week, and soldiers twice that number to wash off the stains of battle.