The Seventh Day (11 page)

I open my eyes, jumping a little when I see
the grinning face of Danny Hillman standing in the doorway. His dark greasy
hair and dirty grin instantly make my skin crawl. “More guests for the party?
Is that you, Lou?” he asks casually, stepping out onto the concrete deck and
pulling a cigarette from his dark shirt pocket. “Welcome to the zombie-free
zone, baby. We have made this the party house for the apocalypse.”

Jerking away from where he stands, I pull
Sasha back with me, noticing the instant change in her. Her head drops and her
lip quivers. It’s not my badass friend with me. It’s a weak and watered-down
version of her.

Two other guys come into view behind Danny.
I know them too—Danny’s cronies, Lance and Kelly. They are all scummy
guys who are older than us but still show up at our parties, helping girls get
drunker than they should be and making the party rowdier than was intended.
They’re trouble, not the hot kind either.

I drag Sasha farther behind me, an act that
feels natural somehow. My right hand stays on the hilt of the gun, ready to
pull it. “We’re leaving.” I am suddenly a girl I don't know—a strong
girl. But I have an idea of what’s going on here.

Danny shakes his head slowly. “No. You got
here just in time. We were just about to have us another party, huh Sasha?” He
lifts his hand like he wants to grab at her.

I don't let her answer, but I pull the gun
from my pants and point it straight at his balls. “We’re leaving.”

“Well now, that's not what I expected to
find in your pants.” His grin lifts as the other two guys walk out to fully
join him. “You can’t shoot all three of us, Lou. Put it down before you piss me
off.”

“I can shoot your dick off before they stop
me though, and that would make whatever they did to me afterwards worthwhile.
Not to mention, this is a Sig Sauer MK25. I’ll get off more than one shot
before they get me.” I imagine there is a desperately blank stare in my eyes. A
hard-core, end of sanity look that I suspect is lingering all over my face, left
over from seeing my mother’s twitching hand and the haunted look in my friend’s
eyes. There isn’t much left in me. My heart is a dark place and the girl
surfacing inside of me isn’t a good one. I can feel that shift.

He cocks an eyebrow. “I suspect you don't
know how to shoot that gun, Lou.
A pretty girl like you.
So I’m going to call your bluff—”

“Bad choice.” I shoot the concrete next to
his leg. It ricochets off the deck and smashes a sliding door behind him,
sending glass everywhere.

“Holy shit!” He jumps, crouching and laughing
aloud like a maniac. The other guys try to jump back inside of the house like
the cowards they actually are, but I shoot the other window making them both
stop in their tracks, hands in the air.

Sasha nods against my face. “Her dad is
military, you idiots.” Her voice hasn't recovered any of the strength it used
to have. I don't know exactly what they’ve done to her, but I have an idea and
it enrages me.

Danny smiles wide. “I guess we are at an
impasse then, Lou. And I owe you a good scare.” He’s enjoying this.

I grab Sasha’s hand and drag her along the
grass with the gun still pointed at them. When we get to the gate I sigh in relief,
seeing Mr. Milson is standing on the grass holding double shotguns on the
house. He nods at the truck and we don't hesitate in running.

As we round the corner, Danny and the boys
come out the front door, I’m sure hoping to stop us with the piddly handguns
they probably stole from houses in the neighborhood. All three halt when they
see Mr. Milson. I pass the second Sig Sauer
MK25, that
I had grabbed from my dad’s weapons locker, to Sasha. Mr. Milson double racks
the shotguns off his thighs like he’s someone from a movie, not the kindly old
man I thought I knew. He could be ex-military or even some sort of militia
maybe. It’s weird seeing him so badass. His sparkly eyes are still there
somehow too. Like badass Santa. “You boys
gonna
make a
move?” he asks smugly.

I check my magazine and grin. Sasha follows
my lead, nodding. “Make a move, assholes.” We sound like more than we are and
her voice is still filled with weak bitterness.

“You can take Sasha. No one likes a girl
who cries all the time anyway. But this isn’t over for you, Lou.” Danny points
directly at me, making me want to shoot him. I have never felt that desire
inside of myself before. We ignore him, climbing into the truck. I start it up
as Mr. Milson climbs in. Sasha hangs out the window, pointing her gun at them.
“Screw you, Danny!” she shouts and pulls the trigger. She isn’t as awesome as I
might have imagined her to be, shooting out a window nowhere near them. Not
that it matters. They run back inside instantly, ducking like chickens.

She laughs
wickedly,
firing until I put a hand on her arm and mention the only thing we have in our
favor, “Don't waste the bullets.”

She nods, lowering the gun but the weird
look doesn't leave her eyes.

I’m scared of what’s behind her eyes—they
look like mine, and I know what I’ve seen.

Day Five

Sasha smiles out the window, shaking her
head. “Mr. Milson seems all sweet and stuff, but he’s a bad dude. He has this
whole thing figured out.” She’s bounced back fast since we got back to the
cabins, working hard and being strong and loving to the girls.

I glance at him cutting wood in his “yard”
and shrug. “He’s got skills I never knew about.”

“My dad knows him. I’m pretty sure he was
military when he was young. In a war even, I think.” She scans over the three
peaceful girls in the corner of the cabin coloring. “I’m glad. I think we might
need him.” Her eyes get that weird look they had yesterday when I saved her
from Danny, a situation she will NOT speak about. Not like I want details. “In
case they come looking for us.” We both know she means Danny and his skid
friends and not any of the biters.

Joey looks at me from her page in the
Barbie’s Dreamhouse coloring book. “What’s for lunch?”

I open my lips, about to say we should walk
over to the Milsons’ and see what she’s cooking, but there’s a knock on the
door. Furgus lifts his head, tilting it to the side. He doesn't bark so I
assume it’s her, Mrs. Milson. I don't think, I don't hesitate, and I don't
blink. I open the door, jumping back instantly.

“Hey.” A girl with curly blonde hair,
holding up a semiconscious brunette, smiles with a pleading look. “We’re
unarmed.” She speaks fast with an East Coast accent, like she’s done this
before.

I step back, wishing my gun were in the
back of my pants. The three girls look up from their coloring and smile
instantly when they see the two girls. Furgus gets up, maybe sensing my worry,
but he doesn't attack. He just watches.

“Please don't close the door. We’re not bad,”
the blonde says. Her blue eyes lower to the weak-looking girl in her arms. “My
sister needs help and there’s nowhere to go. We smelled your wood smoke and
were hoping you’d let us warm up for a bit and let me bandage my sister. We won’t
stay long and we don't need food, just bandages.”

I back up, not certain what to do. Sasha
comes to stand next to me, placing my gun in my hand. The girl’s blue eyes focus
on the gun. “We don't want trouble, honestly. We just need some help, I swear.
She’s getting worse.” There’s desperation in her voice. Her eyes dart from the
gun to my huge dog. When he wags his black tail and smiles with his mustache,
she shakes her head. “He doesn't bite?”

“No. He’s a gentle giant. He’s a hundred
and sixty-five pounds but he’s like a kitten.” Joey stands and beams. “Come in.
We have a whole medical kit. Don't stand there, Lou, help her.” Her little face
finds mine and I know she just sees a lost girl and her sister. I think she
sees us. She looks back at the blonde. “We have all kinds of medicine and
stuff.”

“You do? That's friggin’ lucky.” She smiles
at the dog. “He’s so beautiful.” Furgus saunters over, yawning and rubbing
against her, as if he can tell he’s been complimented.

I almost tell the girl to get lost but my
brain sides with Joey and silently asks me what if it was my sister and I was that
desperate? I would want someone to take pity on us. I realize it's the thing my
father would do, mostly because it's the natural thing Joey does. She always makes
the right choice. And the girl seems oddly friendly, considering the moment
we’re in. She’s even petting my dog.

“Okay.” The word leaves my lips with regret
followed by several more. “You can come in but if this is a con in any way,
you’ll be dead before you blink.”

“Fair enough. Dead by your hand would be
better than any death I’d find outside anyway.” The blonde nods, dragging her
sister into the house. She sets her down on the couch and drops to her knees in
front of the semiconscious girl. “She was shot in the side. Someone thought we
were sick but we weren’t. We were just trying to find food and they shot at us.
She pushed me outta the way and took the bullet. I thought people from the
Midwest were all friendly. Not that guy. Clearly, he hasn't seen
Fargo
as many times as I have.” Tears
fill her blue eyes as she lifts her sister’s shirt, revealing spider veins
coming from the sister’s side. I press my lips together, knowing we have no
choice; we have to help her or she’s going to die. I’ve seen that on TV before
and it’s bad. I turn and walk to the cooler bag with the medicine and pull out
the already made pills we got from the pharmacy.

“I have some meds but she’s going to need that
to get cleaned.” I gag imagining the things that will ooze out of a sore like
that one.

“Girl, that's blood poisoning. We need the
needle of antibiotics and the pills.” Sasha drops on her knees and gets close.
“The bullet in there still?”

The blonde shakes her thick head of curly
hair. “No. It’s a graze.” She looks about my age, maybe a year older. Her
sister, who looks nothing like her, seems like the older of them. The dark-haired
one is slim with lush dark hair and tanned skin. Her blue eyes are the only
feature that matches her sister’s.

Sasha takes over, grabbing the booze my
uncle stashes under the sink—something she found instantly upon arriving
like she smelled out its location. She pours it on the wound, making the
brunette wince and moan.

Sasha ignores the noise and barks at the
girls, “Grab me some clothes from the clean pile.” Joey runs and fetches them
quickly. Sasha soaks the cloth in booze and presses it on the wound. She holds
it there, nodding at the blonde. “I’m Sasha.”

“Lee, and my sister is Erin.” The girl is
friendly, oddly friendly. I can’t shake that. Should we really be befriending strangers?
It’ll be hard to send them on their way if we make this personal.

Joey beams at her. “I’m Joey, and that's my
sister, Lou. And those are my friends, Julia and Lissie. Where are you from?”
Joey doesn't see what the girl and her sister could be, she just sees people in
trouble. She sees girls my age and assumes they’re good. I don't. I assume
they’re bad—that way, if they turn out to be good I’ll be pleasantly
surprised. But if they’re bad, I’m ready.

The blonde, Lee, sits back on her heels and
shrugs. “We’re from out East. My sister was in Maine for school. I went there
for the weekend when this started but I’m from Chicago. We’re from Chicago.”

Lissie comes and sits, watching wide-eyed
as Sasha pulls back the cloth, making blood seep down the girl’s side. “Is she
gonna be okay?”

Sasha nods. “She’s got blood poisoning but
we have a very strong dose of antibiotics. Lou got it from the cooler at the
pharmacy. They had emergency coolers on backup generators so they should be
fine.”

Lissie nods along but I can tell she’s
clueless about it all, like I am. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Sasha grins. “My mom’s an ER nurse and my
dad’s a kinesiologist and a trainer. My whole life has been waiting for this
moment.” She’s joking but I actually think she might be right. Being the girl
in charge suits her and makes me smile on the inside because it means she
feeling better.

Lee cocks a dark-blonde eyebrow. “Man, we
showed up at the right cabin. I was
gonna
go to that
one next door, but that old man looks really crabby. I saw you guys from the
window and just hoped there were no dudes in here.”

Julia shakes her head. “No, he’s super
nice. Him and Mrs. Milson are really sweet.” I don't think I can ever see him
as sweet again.

The idea that she found herself up here,
all the way from the East Coast is weird. My eyes dart to the door and I can’t
help but wonder if she’s alone up here. Avoiding dudes is a good sign. I
suspect we’re avoiding them too. “Wanna come help me with some firewood, Lee?”

Her eyes dart to her sister as a worried
look crosses her face. I think it’s a good sign she’s scared to leave her
sister with us. She nods, standing and walking to the door. I just hope she
doesn't notice the large pile of wood beside the fireplace. When we get
outside, I stop, listening. She does the same thing.

“Why are you here?” I ask when I hear
nothing but us both breathing uncomfortably.

She swallows hard. “We heard there’s a
place on the West Coast, a closed off town, where everyone is normal. I guess
it’s a military base on an island. Wigbey or something?”

“Whidbey Island. It’s just off the coast.”
I lift my gaze from the yard. “You think it’s true?” If my dad is anywhere, a
naval base on the coast makes the most sense. The military wouldn’t just let
him off to come and get us. They would make him stay and fight. That's been my
biggest fear since this started.

“Yeah. We had a friend whose dad was
military,
he said to go there. They blew the bridge and
isolated the island to a small part. No biters.” She nods her head at the
rundown car she has parked in my driveway. “You wanna go with us when Erin’s
better? I mean, unless you still think we’re here to rob you. Might be hard
with no weapons and my sister dying on your couch.” She laughs, but I can feel
the tension in her voice. It’s so thick with worry.

“I don't think that.” I shake my head, realizing
it’s true. I don't think it—not really. I can see the nervousness inside
of her. It’s so obvious. She flinches at noises like birds and wind. Her eyes
constantly are drawn to the windows where her sister is. Her fingers fidget and
there is a look of sheer exhaustion on her face. The black circles under her
eyes scream of a lack of sleep.

We stand in a moment of silence before I
speak. “My dad is military and he was supposed to come here but he could be
there, on the island. They would make him stay behind to figure out what this
is. He’s a scientist.”

“Yeah, they won’t let him leave.” She looks
around nervously. “We should stay together anyway, safety in numbers and shit,
huh?” Her eyes dart about constantly.

“How bad was it coming from the East?” I
sit on the cold wooden step and watch the wind swaying the trees.

She slumps down next to me, picking at her
chipped nails. “Bad.” Her voice lowers like we are confidants. “I had this
weird dream that my mom was telling me to run. I tried to shake it off but Erin
said she had one too. It was super weird. That was the first day.”

“Where’s your mom?” My insides tighten.

Her blue eyes narrow but she doesn't lift
her head to meet my gaze. “Dead. She died in a car accident two years ago. I
haven’t dreamt of her in two years, and then not even a week ago I had this
crazy dream she was telling me to run.”

Chills creep up my spine, bringing with
them the memory of my own dream of my own mother screaming at me to run. But I
don't say anything because she continues talking with her soft haunted voice
that contradicts the rough Chicago accent.

“We were at my sister’s place in Maine and
I shot
up off the couch, panting and sweating and all I heard was my mom screaming for
me to run far away. It was bizarre. I held my hand out and I could see it
shaking. I hadn’t had a nightmare since I was little.” She looks up at the sky
and smiles. “My sister came in the room, looking weird. She said she had a
weird dream about Mom. We knew then something was wrong. She tried to call our
dad but it said the circuits were all busy and the cell phones were down. The Wi-Fi
was down. It was crazy. We watched the news and it was about some attacks on
people in Europe and that weird fog."

Fear fills my stomach. “The same thing happened to
me. My mom was in the house and I heard her screaming in my sleep and when I
woke I couldn't shake it. She was just screaming for me to run, over and over.”

“That's weird.” She bites her lip, leaning against
the beam for the stair railing and I can tell dread has filled us both. She taps
her finger against the beam she’s leaning on for a minute before speaking
again. “Erin told me to get my shit so I grabbed my clothes from every corner and
stuffed them into my backpack. We ran. I don't even know if we knew why, we
just did. I guess maybe it was the dream.” She gives me a look and I feel like
we’ve been friends our whole lives. “I haven’t been that scared since the
hospital called and told us our mom had died.”

Sasha opens the door behind us. “She’s fine. I’ve
dosed her with a ton of antibiotics and washed the hell out of the wound. She needs
a stitch, and Mr. Milson has some of that glue that works for stitches. I saw
it yesterday when we were unloading. Can you go get it?”

I stand, feeling the stretch instantly in my legs.
“Yup.”

“Is she awake?”

Sasha shakes her head at Lee who jumps up. “Maybe
some sleep will be good for her.” She shrugs and nods at me. “I’ll come with
you.”

Our feet crunch on the gravel as we stalk over to
the cabin. Mr. Milson’s wood chopping is the only sound on the lonely mountain.

“So what’s his deal?” she asks, but I don't know
how to answer. Do I trust her or him?

I shrug, deciding not to trust either, not fully.
“He’s been our neighbor up here for a while. We’ve known him for years. Just an
old retired dude. His wife is crazy sweet. She’s going to make you come inside
and feed you.” I’m warning her but her eyes widen in excitement.

“Seriously?”