“What about it?”
“It’s just sitting there, mocking me.”
She smiled. “It’s an inanimate object, Danny. It’s not mocking you.”
“It’s definitely mocking me.”
“You’re just imagining things.”
“Hunh.” Then, looking across at her, “We all clear on the backup plan?”
She nodded. “Retreat into the manager’s office with Nate. Seal the door.”
“Nothing quite like a last stand in a podunk town.”
“I could think of better things to do with my time.”
“Well, sure, if you wanna be a Negative Nancy about it.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
He went suddenly very quiet, his eyes never leaving the streets outside.
“What it is?” she asked.
“When I was hanging up, I told Carly that I loved her, and she cried.”
“She misses you.”
“I mean, yes, she misses me. Who wouldn’t? What I meant was, I think she knew the truth even though I tried to bullshit my way through it. That redhead knows me too well. When I said ‘I love you,’ she started crying and didn’t stop before I signed off.”
“I’m sorry, Danny.”
“Yeah, me too, kid.” He glanced back at the offices. “I think it’s time to try on some new clothes.”
She nodded, picked up the two collaborator uniforms waiting in a small pile next to her, and jogged across the lobby and into the back hallway. The clothes she was carrying were the least bloody ones she could find among the dead; even so, her stomach churned at the thought of having to wear them. But it had to be done. Even if it didn’t work (It has to work), they had to try, because what the hell else were they going to do? The only other option was to give up, and there wasn’t a single quitter among them.
Nate was sitting at the back of the office when she entered, a large pile of rifle magazines and bullets scattered between his legs. An M4 leaned against the wall next to him and he was wearing one of the collaborator’s gun belts.
He looked up when she stepped inside. “Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Time to get dressed.”
He looked at the bundle in her hands and sighed. “You know, you used to have much better taste in clothes.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do.”
He caught one of the uniforms she tossed over and grimaced at the sudden movement (Shit, I forgot; sorry, Nate), then wrinkled his nose at the stench of blood clinging to the fabric.
“Try not to think too much about it,” she said.
Nate stuck his finger through one of the bullet holes and wiggled it around. “Look at what I can do, Ma.”
She rolled her eyes. “Put it on.” Then, “You need help?”
“Nah, I mastered changing clothes when I was ten.”
“Ten?”
“I was a late bloomer,” Nate said, struggling to stand up.
She wanted desperately to reach over and help him but managed to restrain herself. Nate needed to do it himself; even more importantly, he needed to know that he could. Finally, he was able to stand up on both feet — they were a bit unsteady at first, but that went away after a few seconds — and began undressing.
She gave him as much privacy as possible — which wasn’t much since they were in the same room together — while changing into her own pair of blood-stained shirt and slacks.
When he was done, Nate sat gingerly back down and pinched his nose. “Ugh. I thought it’d be easier the second time, but not so much.”
He was referring to Starch, when they had used a similar tactic to survive the night. The fact that it had worked then was the only thing giving her any hope at the moment.
If it worked once, it should work again, right?
While working on the buttons of her shirt, she sneaked a quick glance across the room at Nate. He looked so much better since a night ago, and all the rest he’d gotten had definitely helped. He was still shaky on his feet and it would take a while before he was even close to being 100 % again, but she felt a lot better knowing that he had survived the worst of his wound.
Now all we have to do is survive everything else they’re going to throw at us tonight.
She finished with her shirt by pushing the hem into the waistband. It was a little loose everywhere, but it was the best fit she could find.
“Bandages still okay?” she asked him.
He nodded. “You said Danny stitched me?”
“Uh huh.”
“He did a pretty good job. It totally doesn’t feel like my guts are about to burst out whatsoever.”
“Not funny.”
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon,” she smiled.
“True, though,” he said, picking up a magazine from the floor and thumbing rounds into it.
“How’s the inventory look?”
“We have eleven magazines for the rifles and thirteen for the handguns. I separated them by caliber,” he added, indicating the smaller individualized sections.
“Nicely done.”
“Hey, you give me a job, I’m gonna do it gangbusters or not bother at all.”
“I never had any doubt.”
She walked over and sat down next to him, placing her rifle on the floor within easy reach.
Nate leaned over and sniffed her. “You stink worse than me.”
“I’m pretty sure we stink about the same amount.”
“Definitely not.”
“Whatever.”
He pinched his nose again and said, his voice slightly distorted, “I heard Danny on the radio earlier. How’s the Trident?”
“Better than us right now.” She sensed him watching her intensely and turned to meet his gaze. “What?”
“You’re so beautiful.”
“My nose hasn’t healed right…”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“The scars on my cheeks…”
“I don’t care about scars.”
“I’m wearing a dead man’s clothes…”
“So am I.”
“…and covered in his blood…”
“Ditto.”
“I haven’t showered in days…”
“You smell wonderful.”
She gave him a wry smile. “You’re too easily pleased.”
“Only when it comes to you,” he smiled back.
She leaned over and kissed him. His fingers slipped into her hair, and he tugged her closer. She tried to pull away, not wanting to aggravate his wound, but his mouth was so insistent that she gave up and just enjoyed it because, she told herself, this could very well be the last time they had the chance.
“Tick tock. Tick tock, goes the clock.”
The sun wasn’t completely gone, but it had dipped below the rooftop of Gallant’s Best, so she couldn’t see it anymore. The street outside the bank had darkened enough that she couldn’t tell if the Jeep was brand new or scarred by the same explosion that had taken out a large chunk of the wall.
Her watch ticked to 5:13 p.m.
“Time to check under the beds and in the closet for monsters.”
She could barely hear Mason’s voice with the two-way handheld radio’s volume set to almost its lowest setting. Turning it off completely to silence the man’s irritating voice was an option, but Mason talking meant Mason potentially giving away something they could use.
“Hear that?” Mason said. “That’s the sound of the real world starting to wake up.”
She thought she saw shadows moving behind one of the drawn curtains that covered a window along the department store across the street. Or was that just her imagination? How big was that building anyway? Big enough for a few hundred ghouls to be hiding inside right this moment? Maybe more if they crammed into both floors. And why wouldn’t they? The creatures couldn’t care less about comfort. That was a human thing, and they were well beyond that now.