Crowded Yet Desolate: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

Eventually, well fed and clean, Reginald fell asleep in Cam’s arms. Kyle had tunelessly sung Sunday school rhymes as he fell asleep. Soon after, Kyle and Cam also fell asleep, and Ryan looked at the three of them slumped against each other and had to chuckle. Each of them were filthy, their clothes stained with sheets of sweat and blood. They looked like a progressive homeless family. He stood and left the room, hoping the baby would sleep long and hard.

What Ryan then wanted to do was go upstairs and check on Albert, but he knew there was no point. On his way to the cafeteria for a snack, Ryan stopped and stared up the staircase, debating on whether to go up.

He didn’t hear Molly come up behind him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Ryan jumped, startled. He spun around, hand on his rapidly beating heart. “Jesus, are you trying to kill me?” She continued to look at him, waiting for an answer. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was doing. I was on the way to the cafeteria.”

“You were staring up there for a while. What’s up there?”

“Up there? Oh, nothing.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know,” she said playfully.

Ryan changed the subject. “Always have been. And I guess that means you’re a good liar?”

She smiled. “Not at all. I’m the worst liar in the world. I have too big a conscious. I once cried in middle school because I found out someone cheated off my test. I told the teacher, and we both ended up with zeroes, even though I wasn’t the one who cheated. I cried for days about that.” She told the story casually, as if talking to an old friend. She crossed her arms, which pushed her breasts up and made them appear larger. Ryan stole a quick glance, and Molly caught him without him realizing. “Some things will never change,” she said.

“What?” Ryan asked.

“Nothing.” She walked off down the hall. “Come on, Ryan. I’ve never gone this long without food in my life. Let’s eat.”

Ryan followed her into the cafeteria. It was well past noon, and he was hungry too. She was shuffling through the grocery carts when Ryan walked in. She grabbed two cans of beans, two plastic spoons, and a can opener, and then walked to him and handed him the supplies. Ryan removed the lid and gave her the can. They ate in silence. Occasionally, they would make eye contact and look quickly away.
She’s an odd, awkward one isn’t she?
Ryan thought.

“So, do you always sleep in this late?” he asked.

Her mouth was full of beans, and she covered them with her hand, looking away. She turned back around with an empty mouth. “No. I’m normally an early bird. But, you know, my body has kind of been through a lot in the last few days.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess I have been wanting to talk to you about that.” She paused. Ryan knew better than to speak. She continued. “I would never do anything like that in real life.”

Real life,
Ryan mimicked.
So is this not even living anymore?
“I–I just want you to know I’m not psycho or emo or anything. You don’t have to worry about me. I just thought it was the end. I didn’t have any weapons or anyone else to rely on. I was all alone, and I decided I’d rather be dead than turn into one of those monsters.”

Ryan understood this line of thought all too well. To him, what was important was that her suicide attempt failed and that she was here with him now. “Listen, we all get it. I know it sounds cliché of us to say, but we really do. We’ve all seen too much shit out there to think we’re still fully in control.”

She squinted and frowned, her face suddenly sullen and dark. There was shame in her eyes, but Ryan had nothing more to say. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity until Cam, Kyle, and Reginald came into the cafeteria.

Cam was hysterical. “This–this thing! I swear! It’s a poop-making factory. We couldn’t have been asleep more than thirty minutes, and it crapped on me and then started crying. I actually have shit on my arm right now–actual, real life shit. It’s like the worst fucking alarm clock ever.”

“Welp,” Molly said, pointing at the diaper. “There’s your problem. Who put that on him?”

“Welp,” Ryan said, mocking the way she pronounced ‘Well.’ “I did. What’s wrong with it?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? Look at that! You have it on completely wrong.” She stood and walked over to get a closer look at Reginald. “And as expected, there is crap leaking out the sides. Come on then, show me where the diapers are.”

She took the baby from Cam, who turned and looked desperately at Kyle. “I’m scared, Kyle. Hold me.” He followed Molly out.

Chapter 18

The sun poured through the window and reflected off the tile, brilliantly lighting the cafeteria and showcasing a wide ray of whirling dust in the middle of the room. Ryan sat in the focus of the sun, the warm aiding his bitter mood. He had woken early to inspect Albert, but the courage of the previous morning seemed gone, and he ended up lying on the floor until everyone in the room woke, one by one. All of the school’s occupants were currently circled on the cafeteria floor, and they were eating a batch of Cajun Chicken flavored Raman Noodles, which Molly had prepared by firing the gas stoves with a lighter. Everyone appeared happy, talking and laughing, except for Ryan, who was finding it difficult to concentrate on the conversation. Cam asked Ryan a question, and Ryan absentmindedly replied yes. That seemed to be the right answer, for Cam laughed and said something to Molly.

Ryan wondered if the others had forgotten about Albert, if the others realized what was waiting for them upstairs, or had their minds established defense mechanisms too? Possibly, he thought. It was also possible that despite their cheerful appearance, they each had pain and doubt inside.

After a few minutes, Ryan’s disguise finally snapped into place, allowing him to fully forget Albert and to tune into the conversation at hand. Cam must have asked about Ryan and Kyle’s uncontrollable laughter the day before because Kyle was now explaining the Bible’s stance on cursing. Cam jokingly attacked his view. Ryan was surprised by how soon he lost himself in the laughter.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded from above, which was followed by a long scraping noise, immediately recognizable from childhood as desks sliding across tile floor. The cacophony continued and then ended with a final crash. In the silence that followed, Ryan was sure the others could dance to the audible rhythm of his heart.

“What was that?” Molly asked, speaking quickly, her eyes wide and full of fear.

Ryan remembered everything: how his final conversation with Albert left him distracted, how his confusion caused him to walk away without barricading the door again. Cam’s and Kyle’s eyes went to Ryan, almost as if trained to do so, and the lines around them sharpened with scrutiny.

“No time to explain” Ryan said. “We need to get armed, and we need to get up there.”

Cam and Kyle jumped up and followed Ryan out, without their desired explanation, and left Molly and the others terrified and alone. They gathered weapons and Ryan, knowing it was loaded, grabbed the handgun he had used the day before. As Cam and Kyle prepared their weapons, too slowly for Ryan’s comfort, Ryan fingered the trigger with his index, feeling the weight of the weapon, both physically and mentally. By the time they finished, the gun seemed an anchor, pulling his arm down strongly and holding him there, though the gun still felt light in his hand.

“We’re good,” Cam stuttered. “Let’s fucking do this.” If Ryan was scared, then Cam was terrified. Trying to hide his emotion, Ryan nodded, heaved the gun into both hands, and ran towards the stairs. At the top, Ryan peaked his head into the hallway and saw that the office door was open, the rubble scattered along the hallway.

Ryan’s necked tingled with fear. “Shit, shit, shit. He’s out.”

Cam was beginning to sweat heavily. “Guys. I don’t think I can fucking do this. I’ll-I’ll make five more groceries runs by myself, and I’ll mow down every single one of them mother fuckers–man, woman, child, nun–it doesn’t matter. But not Albert. I can’t shoot Albert.” Cam looked as if he might hyperventilate.

Ryan looked at Kyle and nodded. “Stay here. We can handle this. But Cam, listen to me. If somehow he gets by us, you have to take him out. You can’t let him down there. No, listen. If something happens, you have to protect everyone downstairs.”

Cam jerked his head up and down. Knowing this was the only reply he would receive, Ryan went down the hall, stepping carefully and quietly, and Kyle followed in pace, the hand holding the gun balanced on the nub of his other arm. Their weapons led the way, checking each doorway before them. As each one turned up empty, they spun out of the room and continued down the hall. Ryan’s mind was racing too quickly to register any tangible thoughts: his focus was wholly on his surroundings, which, despite the bright sunlight, were dark and barren and silent, except for the sound of sneakers on tile. The hall smelled of piss and shit as they neared the office. They maneuvered carefully around the scattered desks. There were only two more classrooms now, one on each side of the office. The left was open. They approached, and, suddenly, Kyle tripped on the leg of a chair and sprawled onto the floor. When he hit the floor, he clenched his fist, firing the gun. Ryan ducked for cover as the bullet buried itself in the distant wall.

A mixture of voices filled the air. “Jesus Christ what’s happening out there?” and “Guys what’s going on?” Ryan looked to Kyle, and saw the same confusion on his face that surely was on his own.

Ryan said, “What the hell
is
going on?”

“That’s precisely what I fucking asked?” a fast, high-pitched voice returned from the open door.

Walking towards them, Cam said, “Albert? Was that Albert?”

“Of course it was me! Who else would it be?” Albert screamed, almost comically hysterical. His head slowly came into view around the doorway, and then he stepped into the hall. He had regained his natural skin tone. There was no swelling in his neck, which Ryan hadn’t noticed until it was now gone. Albert was no monster, nor was he sick; he was just the small, mouse-like nerd that each of them had come to know.

“Holy Shit!” Cam yelled. He jumped up and down, bursting with happiness.

“I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” Kyle said, shaking his head and standing up, leaving the gun on the floor.

Albert looked to Ryan. “You said morning, and I got sick of waiting.” He had an infectious smile, and Ryan had to smile back.

“It’s good to have you alive,” Ryan said sincerely. Albert gave an appreciative nod.

Cam rushed Albert and embraced him. He picked the small man up and spun him in circles.

“Whoa, whoa there, all right, you can put me down now.”

Cam set him down with a huge, clownish grin on his face. “I’m sorry. It’s just I thought we were going to have to kill you.”

Kyle reached his hand out and Albert took it. “Wow, I don’t even know what to say. I thought I’d never have to see that face again.”

“Holy Shit!” Cam repeated. “Does this mean you were right all along? About the virus, and, well, everything else?”

“It certainly looks that way. Although it may be more prudent to say that I wasn’t wrong.”

Ryan interrupted. “Albert, man to man, you were right. I’m sorry for not trusting you sooner with this. And I’m sorry I was too chicken shit to come up here this morning.”

Albert clapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ryan smiled, knowing Albert meant it. “Hey, but next time, maybe you should say something before Kyle tries to blow your brains out.”

Realizing what this discovery meant, Ryan finally knew why he had opposed Albert’s idea so strongly. Zombies were the monsters that haunted his childhood nightmares, what had hid under his bed and lurked on the other side of the shower curtain, always hungry, always someone familiar. He needed the virus to transfer through bites, as did Joe and Roe, because it gave them a solid foundation on which to fight these monsters: don’t get bitten, and you can survive. Ryan thought about what Albert said long ago: if the theory doesn’t line up with the facts, then it’s back to the drawing board. It didn’t matter how much Ryan wished otherwise, it was true and he could not deny what was in front of his eyes.

The others continued to celebrate, and Ryan, truly happy for Albert, tried to join in. But his disguise had fallen and something–something pessimistic, which was beginning to taste too familiar to Ryan–ate at the back of his mind: Albert’s life meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Ryan realized something that the others failed to realize or chose to ignore, something that would ultimately lead to their deaths.
If the virus isn’t spread by biting, then we don’t know how the fuck everyone is getting infected.

Chapter 19

Ryan did not express his thoughts that night, for the group celebrated Albert’s survival and enjoyed a blatant disregard for portion control. The conversations were nothing but pleasant, never once straying towards the virus or zombies; this was not the time for such fearful thoughts. A more proper time came when Ryan lay down, after Reginald’s tears and alarmingly empty grocery carts prompted the end of the party. The quiet in the classroom contrasted sharply with the festive noises. The darkness pressed in on him, seeming more complete than previous nights. Ryan once again felt fear cloud his mind. He recalled that he had spent much of his life afraid, fearing rejection, loneliness, strangers, public speaking, and, of course, unlocked doors–the list itself a terrifying length. He had battled these fears by trying to stay optimistic about everything, but he felt this optimism breaking down as the fear of the unknown sieged all good thoughts.
What is beyond the locked door this time?
He rolled over, unable to get comfortable.

Most of all, he was afraid that the fear of the unknown would drive them apart, not together. With their first rule–don’t get bitten–gone, they did not know how to protect themselves; therefore, no one could be trusted.
Will this turn us away from one another
? Ryan wondered. These thoughts plagued his mind as he struggled to sleep.

By the time he fell asleep it was time to get up. After closing his eyes for what seemed like seconds, Ryan opened his eyes to an empty room. He groggily moved, waking his body. For a moment he was worried they had abandoned each other, but he calmed himself, realizing this was a hasty assumption. Ryan was not truly relieved, though, until he arrived in the cafeteria and found everyone there, eating breakfast and looking tired. Empty wrapper and water bottles were strewn across the floor from the night before. Walking to the others, Ryan picked up a bag of left over potato chips from the floor, sat down, and began eating. The chips had staled over night, but the flavor was still good. He looked at the mess around the room and decided to start with a joke rather than dive into his thoughts.

“Man, I’m surprised the cops didn’t show up last night.”

Cam said, “Things did get a little rowdy here.”

“I have been known to cause a bit of mayhem,” Albert said, his voice squeaking on bit.

“We’re all just glad to have you back.” When they finished eating, Ryan said, “Your antics have caused some mayhem, though. It’s not your fault. If not for you, we would still be in the dark. It’s just . . . ”

“We have no clue how to defend ourselves anymore,” Mr. Bennet said. “Or do we?”

All eyes turned to the professor. He smiled, glad to be the most important person in the group. “I have had much time to think about it. Taking everything we now know–how quickly the virus has spread and its physiological effects–we don’t have many options.” His face darkened. “It’s unbelievable that the United States was so heavily devastated in less than four days. Truthfully, I wish I would’ve been wrong.”

Molly asked, “What about blood?” The group turned to her, and she blushed. “Sorry. But isn’t that what happens in some of the movies?”

Albert spoke with a tone that reminded Ryan of his professors, a tone that corrected but also encouraged further discussion. “It is quite possible that mixing their blood with ours could cause us to change, but it’s unlikely that it’s been the main way of its transfer. It’s pure madness out there, but how often do you think enough blood is transferred between individuals for that to happen? Not to mention, when would Jaden have ever mixed blood with them?” No one had an answer.

“So do you think it has been traveling through the air or something?” Cam asked.

“You took the question right out of my mouth, young man,” Mr. Bennet said.

“No way,” Ryan said. “That would mean we’d all be infected right now.”

His eyes alive, Albert turned to him. “Precisely. Now, this isn’t going to be popular–and realize this is only a theory. But maybe we are all infected.”

There was silence.

“Wait a minute,” Kyle said, uncomfortably. “Are you suggesting we all have what those things out there have? I don’t like that one bit.”

“Nor do I,” Albert assured him. “It raises as many questions as answers. But if these monsters are truly the walking dead, then it is possible that when we die, by whatever means, then we too will reanimate into the undead.”

Ryan then saw his fears realized. There was clear mistrust in their expressions–awkward eye contact and uncomfortable shifting. It would spread through them just like the virus spread through the nation, Ryan thought.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. “We don’t know if this is true. It’s just an idea, so don’t let it get to your head. We’re no worse off now than we were before. It’s important that we stick together. We need each other just as much as we did before.”

“He’s right,” Albert agreed.

Ryan shook his head. “This changes nothing. Our biggest enemies are still the things outside these walls.”

Still, as time passed, paranoia managed to spread its way through the group. While no one said anything aloud, the feeling of gloom and despair was on their faces. And Ryan felt it too. They were all afraid, afraid that they were next or, worse, afraid that someone close to them would be next. The day moved on with this distrust ever growing.

It was another hot, humid Georgia day, and the sun beat down on the school, making Ryan feel like he was on broil in an oven.
God I miss air conditioning
, he thought with a strange reminiscence. When the sun was at its hottest, Ryan, Kyle, and Molly ate lunch together. Molly and Kyle made idle talk, and Ryan ate in silence.

Since the meeting that morning, Ryan had been working through his thoughts. He had realized that he was tired of feeling responsible when none of the deaths, Deborah’s included, were his fault. How could he hold blame when they knew nothing of how the virus operates? He missed Deborah, and she would always be a part of him, but, sitting there in the cafeteria, he was finally able to let the guilt go. There was no immediate change, no releasing effect or calming sensation; he had only taken the first step in a long string of steps. To fully rid himself of the guilt, he must continue to let it go of the guilt every time he felt it rise. He did, however, notice one immediate effect: he could imagine and see Deborah’s eyes more clearly than ever. When he came out of his thoughts, jerking his head to the side, it dawned on him that instead of remembering Deborah’s eyes, he had been gazing into Molly’s.

Later that night, it rained again.
What could be causing it to transfer so quickly?
he thought, staring out the window, at the droplets of water falling onto the random patterns of the undead below, only visible by the brightness of the lightening strikes. No reasonable answer crossed his mind. Presently lighting struck close by, showing proof of the apocalypse below. It was the first time he had thought of the word. Ryan waited for the thunder, but it never followed. He had always heard that the longer the pause between lightening and the thunder, the farther away the lightening strike was. He wondered if this were true. But that puzzle wouldn’t be solved tonight, nor would the puzzle of the virus.

Ryan decided to try to sleep. He shut his eyes. The storm continued to beat against the window, and the cadence took him closer and closer. His body relaxed, and his mind cleared. He listened to the rain pounding against the building. Sleep was close. The noise grew louder and louder. It was too loud, unusually loud. He sat up, half-asleep. Three consecutive thuds sounded . . . it wasn’t the storm. He shot up and found Kyle already standing.

“You hear that?” Ryan asked.

Kyle nodded and whispered, “Sounds like someone is knocking.”

Albert and Cam were now up, and Molly was stirring. Ryan walked to her and woke her. “Molly you need to get up.” He moved her arm back and forth, and her eyes slowly began to open.

Five more thuds echoed and a faint voice whispered under the rain. Ryan tensed as fear shot through his body.

“I don’t like this one bit, captain,” Cam said.

“Should we check it out?” Kyle asked.

Ryan nodded, despite his numbing legs. “Let’s get the weapons first, then we’ll head down. Albert, go wake the Bennets.”

Albert nodded, his face as pale as when he had the fever.

“What about me?” Molly asked from the ground.

“Can you use a weapon?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t know.” She yawned. “How hard can it be?”

“You stick with Albert, then.”

Ryan, Kyle, and Cam armed themselves and went to the stairs. As they descended, they hugged the wall, like spies in a movie.

“Who do you think it is?” Ryan asked at the bottom stair.

Cam said, “Bandits? A gang? Who fucking knows.”

“All right.” Ryan nodded quickly, his head trying to match the tempo of his heart. “Remember the glass is bulletproof, so we don’t have to let anyone inside. But we should at least see who it is.” The inaccuracy of the statement hit him as he realized that the glass was not invincible, and the building could certainly be burned. Not to mention if those outside had explosives, which were probably easy to acquire now, they could easily get in. He thought it better not to mention this, and the others seemed too preoccupied to worry about such things just yet.

The pounding on the door was incessant.
Someone really wants in
, Ryan thought. Ryan stepped into the hallway, and they walked towards the door in the almost pitch black hallway. The screaming began again, audible above the thundering rain. The glass doors offered their reflections as they approached, giving no clue as to who or what was outside, so Ryan tried to decipher the voice. It was male. Ryan caught the words help, die. A weave of lightning struck, and its luminous glow danced across the sky. Two figures stood outside, one leaning heavily on the other.
Could that be?

Ryan quickened his pace to a sprint and reached the door before the others. As he neared, lightening struck again, and is light instantly revealed Joe and Roe outside the door. One of them was leaning on the other, holding his stomach, blood gushing.
What the fuck is going on?

Cam and Kyle unlocked the door and threw it open. The twins hobbled inside. Cam and Ryan grabbed the injured twin, and, by the armpits and knees, heaved him up the stairs.

“Albert! Albert!” Kyle screamed as they went, so that seconds later at the top of the stairs Albert was there waiting for them.

Albert stormed away: “Bring him here.”

Albert led them into an empty classroom and slammed the door, leaving the majority of the group in the hall. They laid the injured twin down on the tile. Albert grabbed the bloody shirt and tried to rip it, but he wasn’t strong enough.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Albert snapped. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and pointed down. “Someone get this off of him!”

The healthy twin bent over, ripped it with one smooth motion, and handed it to Albert. As he did this, Albert pointed at him and asked, “Which one are you?”

“Joe,” he answered, barely above a whisper–the whisper looking strong enough to push him to the ground.

Albert began inspecting Roe. Ryan crouched behind him, staring over his shoulder with a taut, blank face. Roe’s body was soaked from the rain, and his skin looked cold and clammy. His face was white, and he moaned heavily from the trauma in his belly. The floor collected the blood that spilled from the gunshot wound.

Albert shook his head. “Jesus Christ. How long ago was this?”

Joe fumbled for words. “Oh, I, uh, ten, fifteen minutes.”

Albert poked and prodded. As he pressed just to the right of the wound, Roe’s arms and legs flailed, he screamed, and then fell unconscious.

“The bullet may have passed through the stomach. Damn it, I’m not a medical doctor, and I’m certainly no emergency surgeon. And even if I were, I don’t have any tools.” He turned to Joe. “I don’t see him living through this.”

“Are you telling me there’s nothing we can do to save him?” Ryan asked, a bit shaken by Albert’s lack of bedside manners. Albert, scared and drowning in blood, didn’t answer. Ryan stood, not knowing what to do but wanting to do something. He paced the room

Joe had been muttering, and his voice became louder. “They’re coming, coming. They know we’re here. They followed us. They had to.” Ryan stopped in front of him and looked at him gravely. “They’re fucking coming.”

Ryan grabbed Roe’s shoulders. “It’s Okay. The zombies won’t be able to get in.”

“Not fucking zombies!” Joe yelled, hysterical. “Forget the goddamn zombies. They didn’t shoot my fucking brother!”

Ryan looked down at Roe and then turned back to Joe. Trying to keep his voice calm, he said, “Who then? Who is coming?”

“Rick and the others! Bandits! A gang! I don’t know, whatever the fuck you want to call them! They’ve got to be close now. They knew where we are!”

“The doors are locked. They can’t get in.” His tone betrayed what he already knew
. No one locked the doors after helping Roe in.
It was too late. Ryan heard the voices from downstairs. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground, he barely noticing the pain that shot up his leg. He was reliving his worst nightmare again; his obsession would be the death of him.