The Scavengers (15 page)

“I wanted it to look like an accident,” Drake said with a nod. “But yes, I let the zombies into the junkyard. I needed to kill a couple of people and I try not to get blood on my own hands if I don't have to. I'd rather let zombies do my dirty work.”

“Why-why Pilar?”

“Because she stood up in front of everyone in the entire Cube and asked some very valid questions about how her aging, decrepit parents could have possibly gotten through our top-notch security.”

“So you killed her?” Jeb demanded.

“Her father was already an issue. He'd asked too many questions too many times,” Drake said. “You may have been too busy spending summers on your family's yacht to notice George Augustus, but most of the nice folks who spend their days operating can openers knew his name. He'd been in the Cube since the beginning of the apocalypse. He refused to swallow the load of bullshit that the Powers That Be stuffs down all of our throats. He kept records of all the disappearances. He ran test runs for different methods of escaping the Cube. He knew there was no way out unless we let him out.”

“Was he trying to escape?”

“No. His wife was terrified of her own shadow. She was so afraid of zombies that she wouldn't even go out into the brickyard when it was still open. Bud said she was so hysterical with fear that she pissed herself and then fainted when they were carrying her out to the meat wagon.”

“The meat wagon?” Jeb asked.

“It’s our pet name for the truck Bud uses to carry the sheeple to slaughter. He keeps it parked just outside the view of the Cube. Can't have anyone looking out their window and seeing all the screaming little sheeple being loaded up the ramp to die.”

“Jesus you're sick,” Jeb said as he turned away from Drake. “You are really, really sick.”

“Sick or not, you're the one in line for my job.”

“I don't want it,” Jeb said. “I won't. I can't. We don't slaughter and eat people.”

“But they taste so good.” Drake closed his eyes and blissfully licked his lips as he taunted Jeb. “You'll never again be able to eat a steak without wondering who is on your plate.”

“I'm going to be sick,” Jeb said.

Drake laughed. “Be sick then. And hurry up with it. We have a bus to repair and a whole lot of cans to load before we go back to the Cube and report how all the other Scavengers were gobbled up by zombies during our noble quest to feed the masses.”

“You want us to go find cans and then go back to the Cube?” Jeb asked with obvious disbelief.

Drake shrugged his concerns off. “I'm not too worried about finding cans. We keep a few pallets hidden in a warehouse a couple miles north of the Cube especially for smoothing over situations just like this one. You and I will be going back to the Cube victorious. Two lone survivors who managed to come home with 5,000 cans despite the vicious attacks we endured. Heroes.”

“I can't.”

“You will. Unless you want die the same way Kennedy and Shayla did?” The threat was clear as Drake pulled a bloody knife out of his pocket.

“Bud would kill you,” Jeb said flatly. “The entire time you've been standing here talking, I've been trying to figure out why you would tell me all of this. It's because of Bud. You won't kill me because Bud will kill you if you don't bring me home alive.”

“Maybe you are smarter than I gave you credit for.” Drake smirked at him and put the blade back into his pocket. “You're right. Bud told me to bring you back alive or I'd never see my pretty white house on the hill again. He said I'd wind up on his plate as a rib-eye if you died in a hunt.”

“Remind me never to eat dinner with Bud again,” Jeb said as he turned away from Drake. “We should go fix our bus. We have cans to haul.”

“Now you're talking like a real Scavenger,” Drake said with a grin.

“Right. Yeah. Sure. Let me go take a leak and then we'll head out.” Jeb gestured for Drake to look the other direction. When Drake turned towards the river, Jeb walked straight over to where I was hiding in the bushes. He unzipped his fly and stared straight ahead while he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Run,” Jeb said to me. “Run.”

I ran.

I ran as fast and as hard as the adrenaline pumping through my veins would let me. I ran as bushes and trees cut through my skin. Running blindly in the dark, I fell down an embankment next to a small creek and scraped my hands, stomach, knees and face. I drank the water from the creek and I then I ran again. I ran until the adrenaline wore off and I collapsed at the base of a huge sycamore tree, sobbing and gasping. When I could breathe again, I ran some more.

I ran up hills and down the sides of mountains. I ran across grassy fields and through woods that were thick with brush. I ran until my hands and feet were cut to ribbons from the thorns of vines I'd pushed my way through. I ran until I didn't think I could run anymore.

And then I remembered the way Drake had described my mother's screams of terror, and I ran some more.

I suppose it was only by luck that I stumbled across Kennedy's corpse. I certainly hadn't been searching for him. To be honest, I didn't even know what direction I'd been running.

Drake had disemboweled Kennedy and then cut off his hands, his feet and his head. He'd burned the torso, pelvis and thighs, but he'd arranged the parts he'd cut off in a sick shrine. Kennedy's hands were being stepped on by his feet. His head, eyes glazed and mouth open in a silent scream, was below his hands. I gagged hard as I turned away, determined to keep running.

Kennedy's backpack was laying a few feet away from the scorched remains of his chest. I started to walk past it, but then I stopped myself. The pack looked like it had been flung to the side during the attack and then forgotten about. If Drake hadn't raided the supplies then there was a good chance I might be able to use the items Kennedy had so carefully packed when he had chosen to flee the Scavengers and the Cube for good.

I unclasped the heavy buckles that held the bag shut and pulled it open. The first thing that greeted my eyes was Kennedy's brown leather jacket. He'd been wearing it the last time I'd seen him. He must have gotten hot hiking and put it into the bag. I pulled it out and laid it gently on the ground beside me. Below the jacket were a spare change of clothes. The fabric of the cotton shirt stuck to my scrapes and cuts almost as soon as I put it on and the pants were both too tight and too short for me, but I was glad to have protection from the elements again. My own clothes were still on the river bank where I'd fled from Drake.

Below the clothes were a small supply of canned sausages and bottled water. I pulled the tab on the can of sausages and forced myself to swallow each and every one of them. I washed them down with the stale water and felt better for having something in my stomach. No one could go on for days without eating. I knew I was running near the end of my strength as I kept rummaging through the belongings of someone I had almost been willing to consider a friend.

Kennedy's tools were wrapped carefully and lovingly in a blanket in the center of the bag. I had no real use for them and didn't know what half of them were for, but I knew they had to be valuable if he'd taken them with him when he'd left. I tucked them back into the bag, shoving them down into the bottom where they wouldn't get in my way.

The bag also contained several spare weapons, including a vicious looking knife that was entirely too long to comfortably carry anywhere on my person. I stuck it in between my spine and the waistband of my pants. I'd rather be uncomfortable than dead.

Kennedy's boots were the hard part. Drake had left them on his feet. I needed shoes. I'd already cut my feet up pretty badly when I'd been running and I knew my tenderfootedness was slowing me down. I wasn't safe from Drake yet. If he'd followed Kennedy this far and killed him, he could do the same to me. For all I knew, he might be watching me right now.

The thought terrified me. I scanned the trees and the grass surrounding me and saw no sign of Drake or any other threat, but I knew how easy it would be for him to overpower me. I was nowhere near as strong as Drake. No one was as strong as Drake, except maybe for Seth.

I hadn't thought much about Seth since I'd fled the riverbank. I hadn't had time to wonder what he'd thought when he'd come back to find us gone. I wondered if he thought I had gone back to Drake. I wondered if he cared.

I knew I was allowing my mind to wander away from the necessary task at hand. Steeling my nerves, I grabbed Kennedy's booted feet and removed the feet from the boots. With a silent apology, I left his feet beside his head and put his shoes on. They were a little too big, but the thick soles would give me protection from the rocks and thorns I kept stepping on.

I shouldered Kennedy's pack, adjusted the straps so that it would ride comfortably and I ran.

I ran and ran until I could run no more. When my legs finally gave out, I laid on the ground in a grassy field and cried.

“You've really made a mess of this one, Pi.” Julie was leaning against the stump of an old tree. Her long red hair was gleaming in the sunlight and she was wearing a sheer, silken lace dress that I'd only ever seen in the drawings she used to sketch in between our shifts in the hospital ward.

“You're dead,” I told her.

“Doesn't mean I'm not watching you. Drake turned out to be a real jerk, didn't he?” Julie asked.

“Yes.” I looked down at myself. I was surrounded by fluffy green grass and wearing a white gown that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress. “He turned out to be a homicidal maniac.”

“I guess I'm glad I never did get him to kiss me,” Julie said whimsically. “How was it, by the way?”

“He was a homicidal maniac. Why do you care what it felt like to kiss him?” I asked.

“I care because kissing him was our dream. We spent all those afternoons practicing. Don't you remember?” Julie laughed.

“I remember my Mom asking me what we'd done to get my pillow so slobbery,” I admitted. I reached for her hand. “Julie- I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you.”

“You tried, Pi. It wasn't your fault I died.” Julie laced her delicate, artist's fingers through my thick, stumpy ones. Julie had always been the beautiful one.

“I always thought you would be the one who'd get to kiss Drake,” I whispered.

“I'm kind of glad it was you,” she replied. “I would have fallen in love with him if he'd ever kissed me. He would have lead me to my death like a lamb to slaughter.”

“Lamb.” I frowned as the word got caught in my memory. “Little lamb. He calls me little lamb.”

“You mean Seth?”

“You know about Seth?”

“I watch you. Always. I watch over you.” She squeezed my fingers reassuringly.

“Is he evil? Seth, I mean. Not Drake. I know Drake is evil.”

“No one is ever truly evil,” Julie told me. “We're all just victims of our circumstances and reflections of our characters.”

“How very philosophical of you.”

“Death changes the way you look at things,” she said. “But as for Seth, I can't answer your question.”

“Are you not allowed to?” I asked. “I mean, is there some kind of rule or God that won't let you?”

“No. I just don't know the answer.” Julie smiled at me and shrugged. “I don't want to lead you astray. After all, I'm the one who once said Drake was a god with a little 'g', aren't I?”

“You did.”

“I'm thinking maybe you shouldn't follow my advice on men,” Julie suggested. “I already failed you once. You never really wanted Drake until I sold him to you. I spent so many hours convincing you that he was the perfect man. You didn't really like him at first, remember?”

I did remember, vaguely. “I thought he was arrogant.”

“You were right.”

“Lot of good that did me. I fell right into his trap.”

“A lot of people have fallen into his trap,” Julie said. “He's betrayed and killed more people than you could possibly imagine. There is no one who he won't lie to.”

“He's afraid of Bud Moon.”

“Everyone is afraid of Bud Moon. With good reason, I might add.” Julie shook her head and frowned. “He took your parents, Pi.”

“And killed them. I know.”

“No. He hasn't killed them. Not yet.”

“Mom and Dad are still alive?” I stared at Julie in shock. I barely dared to believe she might be telling the truth.

“I would know if they weren't,” she said softly. “You can't give up, Pi. I know you want to, but you can't give up.”

“I'm not giving up,” I said even though in my heart I knew that I wasn't exactly telling the truth.

“I wouldn't be able to talk to you now if you weren't,” Julie said. “I've tried to get through to you, to talk to you, so many times since I passed. You've never been able to hear me or see me until now. You can see me because you're giving up. You're losing your will to live and that's why I can reach you.”

“I'm tired and I'm scared, Julie.” The words came out before I could stop them. “You're gone. Dad's gone. Mom's gone. Drake's a monster. I'm a monster. I'm wearing shoes that I took off the feet of a dead friend. I'm hungry but all that's left in my pack is a bag of jerky and I don't trust it. It probably started out its existence as someone I knew.”

“You are not a monster.” Julie's fingers didn't feel as solid in my hand as they had a moment before. I looked down and saw that they were fading from my grasp. She was disappearing right before my eyes.

“Then what am I?” I asked as I squeezed her hand even more tightly. I wanted to beg her not to go but I knew it would do me no good. The world around us was dissolving just as rapidly as my best friend was.

“A survivor,” Julie said. “You'll always be a survivor. I love you, Pi.”

“I love you too,” I whispered. The words were still on my lips when I woke up, alone in the woods but no longer nearly as afraid as I had been when I'd first come into them.