“The cattle are acting up, but there’s nothing on screen yet.”
I watched the screens while Adam geared up and got our weapons ready. The cattle seemed more agitated than usual, shuffling into a tight bunch in the corner, which worried me. Typically, they only acted up when something was in the barn.
“Still nothing on any of the monitors,” I called.
“Check the turbine power. Maybe the infected are messing with that again.”
“No, the numbers are still climbing. I don’t think that’s it.”
“I’m ready. Let’s go find out.”
I hated leaving the bunker blindly but vacated the chair and got ready to go topside again.
The barn was far from quiet this time. The cattle were making enough noise to cover the sound of our feet on the concrete as we checked around then peeked outside. We could hear the infected’s moans coming from the other side of the house. A fair number of them. More than we could hope to face on our own.
We both withdrew to the barn again and hurried back to the bunker.
“They’ll get bored and wander away. They always do. We’ll be fine.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me close.
I wasn’t comforted.
If the dead didn’t wander away and, instead, entered the barn, we’d need to clear them out. So far, we’d been lucky only having to deal with one or two at a time since they didn’t seem to travel in packs. In my gut, I knew the number outside the house wasn’t something that we’d survive. And I was pretty sure Adam knew it, too, based on the way he was holding me.
“It’ll be okay, June. You’ll see.”
I nodded, and he released me. Together, we watched the cameras for the next several minutes.
A dead one finally found its way into the barn. Based on its shuffling movements, it wasn’t a runner, which I thought odd given the state of his tattered blue jacket. Usually, the ones that showed signs of being dead longer were faster.
Adam said nothing about going to clear the barn out, which confirmed my suspicion that he knew we couldn’t handle the number of dead people out there. Thankfully, it wandered out again without going after any of the livestock.
Adam turned to me with a grin.
“See? Nothing to it. Why don’t you go relax for a bit?”
Behind him, the same blue-jacketed dead man reentered the barn. He didn’t shamble this time. He moved fluidly as did the woman at his side.
Something must have shown in my expression because Adam swiveled back to the screen. When he swore softly under his breath, I knew he’d realized the same thing I just had. These infected were now smart enough to pretend not to be smart.
The pair considered the cattle then moved to the doorway by the silo. One of the new barn kittens dashed out from the enclosure, and the woman’s head cocked as she stared after it.
“Look at her eyes,” Adam said.
I did and felt like throwing up. They weren’t cloudy white. At least, not entirely. They looked dingier, almost a red-brown.
“I don’t like this,” I murmured.
Adam held out his hand, not taking his gaze from the monitors for even a second. I grabbed hold of the lifeline he offered, and we watched as the pair finished their inspection of the barn and left.
It took another thirty minutes for the cattle to settle down and for Adam and me to breathe easier.
“Maybe the sound of the chimes brought them here,” Adam said finally. “We won’t use them when we feed tonight.”
That didn’t help me feel any better about the situation, but there wasn’t much either of us could do about what was happening outside the bunker. Yes, I feared the infected. But slower or faster, smarter or lacking any shred of sense, none of that changed the fact that Adam and I still needed to eat, rest, and care for the livestock. The endless cycle didn’t stop for weird infected behavior. And I couldn’t let my fears rule my thoughts and actions. It didn’t matter if there were now more undead roaming the surface than living people. It didn’t even matter if the infected were evolving into something the living would have no chance of surviving.
What mattered was what I could control. What mattered was that Adam and I were doing the best we could to survive. Whatever it took, we would survive. So, I left the control room and focused on my routine.
When I finished loading the washer, I took another turn in the monitor seat so Adam could sharpen his knife. Mostly, it allowed his eyes a break. I didn’t mind watching the cattle. The way they wandered around their pen was almost as soothing as watching the tilapia swim in the aquaponics tanks. I did feel bad for them sometimes, though, and wondered if they missed roaming the pasture as much as I missed the sun. Probably. But we were all safer this way.