I turned around.
Dropped both bags. One bottle of mouthwash must have busted. Green fluid spilled, pooling around the items inside the plastic. Smelled antiseptically menthol.
The child was four, maybe five. And dead.
Shoulder length red hair framed decaying flesh, and a frothy mouth with a missing lower lip. Milky, lifeless eyes were set below thin eyebrows, and long matching eyelashes. When she growled, upper teeth grinding against lower ones, I panicked.
I kicked out. My foot struck the child in the chest. She went reeling. Didn’t fall, though. Her arms shot forward.
The Kid and I ran. She pursued.
We were running from a toddler. It made no sense.
It did. I couldn’t kill her. I wasn’t going to swing my shovel. Wouldn’t.
“Run,” I said. The Kid ran. I followed, but not sure why. “Toward the front of the store!”
He changed direction. Going right. We ran along the back of the store, passing the refrigerated areas. Hot dogs, cheeses, milk and eggs. Then cut up an aisle.
I didn’t look back. Had no reason to think the child-zombie had stopped chasing us, but felt confident we were putting some serious distance between us.
“She behind us?” The Kid said.
“Keep running,” I said.
We had nothing. The bags were busted in the aisle, and the whole purpose for entering the store was shot. “Run!”
I saw Allison and Dave. First check-out. Both had backpacks slung over a shoulder.
Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing.
“Chase?” Allison said.
“Go,” I said, “get out.”
Allison grabbed Dave by the arm, spun him, and pulled him to the exit.
The Kid and I right behind them.
Outside, Josh stood ready, weapons drawn. His twin hand-shovels at the ready.
“What is it?”
“A child. A freaking zombie child,” the Kid said.
Allison cocked her head to one side. “Seriously?”
“I wasn’t going to kill her,” I said.
“We didn’t see anyone in there,” Dave said.
“The child is in there. Hideous little bastard, too.”
“Chase dropped all the bandages,” the Kid said.
“You little mother fucker,” I said. “I should send your ass back in there. It’s your wrist that’s broken.”
That shut him up.
“I’ll go,” Josh said.
“No. We’re done,” I said. “We’ve wasted way too much time here. And for nothing.”
“We got some stuff,” Dave said. “Food and stuff. And a can opener. One you twist by hand.”
I bit my lip. “Let’s go.”
“Give me two minutes,” Josh said. “I’ll get the supplies for the kid’s wrist.”
I knew it was guilt. Dave had broken the Kid’s wrist, and I’d bet Josh spent his life trying constantly to right wrongs. “Two minutes,” I said.
Josh nodded.
“And cigarettes. If you can find them.”
Josh disappeared into the store. I started counting down.
“I’m sorry,” David said.
Allison placed a hand on the ox’s shoulder. They must have bonded on the tour through the grocery store. I ignored it all. My eyes scanned the parking lot. I saw a small herd of zombies on Mt. Read, but they seemed to be headed toward the Barnard Park, the Greece Police station--east, away from us.
The kid coddled his wrist up near his chest. He, too, was looking everywhere. His face was covered in sweat, his hair a mess. He was taking quick shallow breaths. I wanted to tell him just to calm the fuck down. Josh came out of the store. He held two plastic bags filled with the medical supplies. “Grabbed some toothbrushes and toothpaste, too,” he said. “Figured, why not.”
“You see the girl?” the Kid asked.
“No one.”
“Let’s head back to the woods. Bandage up the Kid’s arm there. Then we can figure out how we’re going to move forward from there,” I said.
No one argued. Didn’t suspect anyone would.
As we left the parking lot and entered the trees, the sky opened up. Rain poured down. The canopy of the trees was thin at best. Most of the leaves were crisp and brown and on the ground. We were going to get soaked, and cold.
Allison did her best to keep the bandages dry. She splinted the Kid’s wrist, wrapped it, and then used the plastic bag the supplies came in as a glove, sliding it over the Kid’s hand. She made small talk while she worked. “So are you a football player?”
“Was,” he said.
“For the Greece Cardinals?” She pointed at his shirt.
“From the time I was five.”
“High school?”
“Where I went, they didn’t have a team. School was too small.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Was still going to try out when I went to college this fall.”
“You’re in college?”
“Monroe Community,” he said, “they don’t have football either.”
Allison just smiled. Finished her work. “This should help.”
“Thank you,” he said.
I checked my phone. One battery line remained. I couldn’t afford to let my cell die. It was the only chance of contact with my kids. Too much time had lapsed since the last call. I wanted to stay optimistic. These things out on the streets were relentless, strong, and hungry. They kept the five of us hopping. We were adults. Mostly. And fighting them off was a challenge. How were two kids. . .
I couldn’t go there. To do so would be like surrendering. They were all right. Somewhere safe. Had to be. Had to be, or all of this--my life, was for nothing. Not a thing. They were fine. Waiting for me to come rescue them. They were holed up in a vacant spot, scared, maybe wet and cold now, but safe. And waiting.
“He all set?” I said.
Allison nodded. “He is.”
“Then we’re moving. Let’s go.”
“I think we should find shelter. Wait out the rain,” Josh said.
I didn’t face him. I didn’t acknowledge his input. I didn’t say a damned thing. I just hoisted my shovel over a shoulder, and picked up a backpack and started walking back toward the Tops parking lot. I wasn’t concerned about who, if anyone at all, followed me. Either I had the four people behind coming, or I was going it alone. It was that simple.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sky was not cooperating. It looked black. A reflection of our mood, no doubt. The wind picked up. The rain continued to fall. Hard. It came down at an angle. At us. The cold drops stung exposed flesh. My skin felt clammy, and numb. Drops dripped from my hair into my eyes. I gave up wiping it away and just pushed through it, squinting to see.
The good thing, the best thing about the weather, the zombies didn’t seem to care for it much either. We’d gone two blocks without seeing a single one. It felt a little promising. Misleading perhaps, but I was thankful for the reprieve.
Dave and Josh talked in mumbled whispers behind me. No clue what the subject might be. Had my guesses. A coup? Go their own way? Whatever. It wasn’t my concern. I felt like I’d be less of a target, and better off on my own than in a group. I didn’t need, or ask for friends. I only wanted my kids. Nothing else. Once I had them, we’d survive together. The three of us, and Allison if she wanted to stay. That was fine with me.
When thunder boomed and lightning split the sky--a skeletal hand finger-stepping across black clouds, we stopped.
“This isn’t going to let up, Chase,” Allison said. Her lips had turned blue, teeth chattered. She shivered so badly, her shoulders shook.
I couldn’t look much different, any better. I looked at the others. Out here, it smelled like worms.
I never asked to be in charge, a leader. I looked at the pooling rain on the pavement. My dress shoes were ruined, my socks soaked, my feet like ice. We were going to get sick. The lot of us. Pneumonia, or worse.
“We can’t stop. We’re getting closer.”
“I know we are. I’m not saying we stop. Just -- maybe we find another house. Throw our clothes into a dryer for a bit. Find new clothes. Maybe we find an umbrella or two, and then keep going. We don’t have to, I’m just saying,” she said.