Michele walks ahead of me, her perfect blonde hair staying in place as I’m sure she ordered it to this morning. Michele has always been one of those girls who looks put together and apparently that extends to all situations and in all types of apparel. Even now, she’s rocking the post-apocalyptic mom jeans quite nicely. Bitch.
Tall and slender, slenderer now that we have to ration meals, she carries herself with an aura of confidence that makes other women envious, myself included.
We’re coming up on the jail on the left, which is now a pile of rubble, also a victim to the fire from before. With a shiver, I turn away because this could have been my end. Instead, I became trapped with Sissy.
Jase, Manny, Michele, and I were not in town when the chaos erupted, only returning in time to try saving our friends, namely Cole and a few others. Cole has since said that they awoke that morning and went about their daily routine of chores and assigned tasks, only to realize that zombies overran the town.
Sissy hadn’t stayed with him the night before, and once he realized the danger, he set out to find her. Of course, Cole, a former marine like his father before him, is all about duty and sacrifice, and he embodies all those traits such as never giving up, never failing, and never leaving someone behind.
Unfortunately, life has failed him a lot lately, and he’s not adjusting well—sigh. Remember, patience.
Cole blew through the town trying to find Sissy while I had become separated from our group and ended up on top of the police station, coincidently where Sissy happened to be. After a rather uncomfortable heart-to-heart, we tried to escape, but Sissy didn’t make it.
My small group managed to pick me up on the way out, but after delivering the news of what happened to Sissy, we left Cole’s heart on the ground, stomped into submission.
The hotel and Sizzler are quiet, the jail equally so. We will have to start with Target because if anything has survived, we need it for our growing community on the ranch.
Clenching my fist, I wonder if Sissy is wandering around, her intestines and baby-making parts hanging out for all to see, a clear indication that the baby had been eaten if we were to encounter her. Desperately I wish for Cole to be spared this image because I know from experience that it’s impossible to unsee. I still dream about it sometimes and wish for things that can never be.
We walk cautiously up a side street and toward Target, aware of the dangers of sound where zombies are concerned. The fuckers are sneaky little bastards that never tire of their quest to eat, a fatal combination for us humans.
The dust has long since settled on the fires that burned out of control, and we’re able to navigate around the pile of bricks that once was the jail as we make our way closer to Target. When we round another set of burnt structures blocking our path, we observe what used to be a building that has burnt to the ground—literally.
Walking around the piles of ash and rebar, I see the detritus that once created the building’s shell, but nothing of value remains, and nothing can be determined of what was left, not even possible body parts.
This is not good news, but we have no time to mourn because we need to continue searching for life-saving water, food, and medicine.
The other stores in the small town were cleared out, and all the supplies were moved to various locations that Dory, James’ wife, oversaw. The where and how remains with her wherever she went; however, I have a few ideas based on early conversations, and we set about searching those buildings.
The high school, now missing a fence around the field, reveals a storeroom of medical supplies, including bandages, medicines, splints, and everything in between.
We mark it down and move on because we’ll have to make multiple trips and prioritize hauling what’s needed most first if we find enough. None of the other locations I have on my list yield much, leading me to assume someone changed their mind and moved the supplies after my last job cataloging supplies at Target ended.
We search through the houses near our previous one, yielding the same results—nothing much. Most people who survived opted to stay closer to town and share housing, but we don’t want to miss anything, so we search anyway.
Night comes on rather quickly, and despite my better judgment, we make our way back to the home that had been our first post-apocalyptic housing.
Cole precedes me through the doors of the gingerbread-style home with two stories of historical goodness and heads straight for the stairs and up to the room he previously shared with Sissy. I’m hesitant to follow, but I want to be that kind, patient person I’m determined to be. So I waffle for a moment—hey, I’m only human—and then follow.
My room was the only single, with a sweet little nook overlooking the backyard, and I pass through the room quickly to see if I can find anything I missed that might be of use. But there’s not much to see because I had nothing but borrowed clothes on my back to begin with.
Done with delaying the inevitable, I find Cole in his former room sitting on the bed with a small blue blanket clutched in his hands. It’s obviously a baby blanket, and my heart constricts at the sight.
He’s a man of few words, so I don’t expect Cole to pour his heart out to me. I walk forward and push myself between his legs, drawing his forehead to my stomach, and hug him. Cole is over six feet of manly goodness, with hard lines, huge muscles, dark, sinful eyes surrounded by chocolate brown silky hair, and gorgeous tats displayed in sleeves along his arms and chest.
He’s walking sex on a stick, and on any other day, I’d be secretly delighting in touching this God’s gift to women. . . Okay, I’m secretly delighted. Ugh.
Cole rests his forehead against my stomach, shuddering under the touch as I run my hands through his silky hair. Eventually, though, he gently pushes me away and stands. His face is an expressionless mask as he reaches up and runs his hand down my cheek before stuffing the blue blanket in a backpack he found and searching the rest of the room.
I step out to give him some time to himself and lean against the wall. I don’t know how to push past the bricks and mortar that Cole has built around his heart. And I’m afraid that maybe when all is said and done, the person who emerges from this trauma won’t be the same and therefore won’t want me anymore.
My chest aches at the thought, and I push it away for another day because after the events of the past few weeks, namely killing my newly discovered uncle after he raped me as a child, I vowed to be open about myself, about my needs and wants. Beyond that, I know I have to allow others to be who they are too, and the first step in that journey is to allow Cole time to truly grieve.
We convene downstairs for a hearty meal of canned soup and water before playing rock, paper, scissors to determine who will be on watch first. Manny loses, earning the worst shift—the middle of the night—and I head back up the stairs to my bed, dropping on it, before realizing I should probably offer it to Manny.
With that thought, I creep into Cole and Sissy’s room and lay down on the comforter, completely clothed and intensely uncomfortable with the specter of Sissy all around me. Will Cole be okay with my sleeping in this room, where the ghosts of his past linger? I’m not sure, but he’s on first watch, and I’m so tired that I can’t bring myself to wander downstairs and ask. Actually, it’s more that I don’t want to know because ignorance is bliss and all that.
I drop into sleep a short time later and am awakened by Manny for the last shift before we all rise and begin scavenging for the second day. Cole’s not in bed, and I push away a pulse of regret and focus on my shift duty. I can’t control Cole’s inner demons any more than he can mine.