“I’m trying not to judge, Juan. Especially since I never had to deal with that situation. At first, I worried that whoever died, even naturally, would come back, but my grandparents passed away peacefully and remained dead.”
“It’s the bite that does it, Em. Something in the saliva. Blood doesn’t carry it. That is what we’ve observed so far.”
Having been splattered with zombie blood, Emma suspected Juan was right. “Everyone I put down always had at least one bite. Though a lot of times they were chewed up and mangled.” Emma shivered, remembering Billy’s horrific wounds.
“I can’t imagine what you went through,” Monica said with a sad shake of her head. “I hope it gives you some peace that you saved lives today.”
“It was a change from what I’ve been doing the last year. Definitely something I could get used to.” Emma didn’t want her thoughts to drift to the woman with the little boy in the mask, but they did. She didn’t feel like she’d saved them, especially since the mother was outside the wall. It was time for a change in the conversation. “Is it always like this? Crazy busy?”
“We’ve had some lulls in zombie activity where we got a shit-ton done around the Fort,” Juan replied. “That’s when we got a majority of the exterior walls up. But once we knew that massive herd was heading our way, things got pretty intense. We’re cleaning up from them coming through. The zombie bodies are disease carriers. We have to bury them in mass graves.”
Monica frowned. “It would be great not to deal with zombies or banditos or any of that kind of bullshit for a while.”
“Banditos. Y’all keep mentioning them, Monica. Who are they?”
“The Boyds. They got busted out of prison and went back to making meth, killing, kidnapping, and raping.”
With a sour look, Juan started up the collapsible wooden steps that led over the interior wall. “You’re lucky you didn’t run into those assholes. We took out the majority of the gang, including the leader. We haven’t heard or seen anything from them since last year, but some might be out there.”
Emma hesitated on the stairs. “Wow. I missed so much. I was so convinced that most of us were gone, that I was one of the last, that I didn’t even bother trying to leave town. I’m kinda glad. Apparently, the whole world went insane.”
Monica gently took her arm to guide her over the wall. “You’re lucky. You didn’t have to deal with a lot of bullshit. Not to say that what you went through wasn’t awful, don’t get me wrong. But there’s been some stuff that’s happened around here that I wish I could forget.”
“Don’t we all,” Juan muttered. “Hey, Monica, could you help Em get settled in? I need to go check in with Travis.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll catch you later, Em.” Juan lightly touched her arm then dashed off on his long legs.
“Is he okay?” Emma asked.
Monica shrugged. “No. None of us are. Anyway, I’ll take you to our Fort storage. We keep a stockpile of clothing, shoes, toiletries, and that sort of thing that we gather on salvage missions. You can get some clothes and supplies. One of the salvage teams made it as far as a Walmart superstore and returned with a bunch of Levi and Wrangler jeans. I’m sure there will be some in your size. Sound good?”
Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Does it ever.”
“Good. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“I could use a drink later,” Emma replied. “Please tell me the Fort’s not a dry community.”
“Oh, hell no!” Monica laughed. “We have a ridiculous amount of liquor. After dinner tonight, I’ll grab my girl and we’ll hook you up with a nice icy cold one.”
Emma grinned. “I’d like that.”
7
Starlight & Dog Farts
The air conditioning unit hummed beneath the window, obliterating the sounds coming from outside. The room was nice, tidy, and suited Emma’s needs. It was far fancier than anything she had owned in her previous life. It was easy to see herself living in the small space and making it her own as time went on. She would have to find some frames for Billy’s pictures. In the meantime, she had them propped up against the lamp on the bed stand.
Spread out on the soft gray and white comforter on the bed was a collection of brand-new clothing, most of it salvaged from a Walmart superstore in a nearby town. There were tank tops, sports bras, two packages of colorful panties, two pairs of jeans, three sweaters, and a secondhand leather coat that would help her survive the colder weather in the winter.
Emma’s new jeans were a little snug, but they were comfortable after the tattered clothing she’d been wearing since the beginning of the zombie apocalypse. To actually be wearing a brand-new pair of Levi jeans was a luxury that was difficult to wrap her head around. She hadn’t had a new pair of jeans since she was in high school. Emma had grown up on the lower end of middle class. After the birth of her son, she’d sunk into poverty, struggling to make ends meet as a single mom. Her paychecks had gone into making sure Billy had decent clothing, medical care, and healthy meals. She’d settled on a wardrobe from the secondhand store, went to the doctor if over the counter remedies didn’t work, and ate cheaply. Her needs were insignificant compared to her son’s. Now that he was gone she had to look after herself.
Tearing open a package of socks, Emma was surprised to find her eyes welling with tears. She struggled to understand the sudden wave of emotions filling her. Gripping the package with both hands, she sat down on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t even sure exactly what she was feeling. The need to cry was overwhelming. Perhaps it was simply the shock of finding herself in a safe, clean environment with people who genuinely were interested in befriending her. The Fort was everything she had given up hope of finding. To be surrounded by a community determined to rebuild in the dead world was too much to comprehend.
She dabbed at her eyes with one of the new socks and sniffled again.
It was also difficult to see intact families within the walls of the Fort, especially those with small children. It was easy to imagine a scenario where Billy was with her. Though she kept him firmly in her heart at all times, it was not the same as having him in her arms. She would have done anything to save him, even travel hundreds of miles with a catcher’s mask duct taped to his head in hopes of a cure. Now that she was in a safe place, the guilt of survival was more potent. Why had she survived when so many others had died? Even if she didn’t have an answer, she couldn’t ignore the feeling that as a survivor she had a role to play in rebuilding the world. It was time to learn to live again. She’d have to learn to exist with the guilt.