"So that guy you were with...was he your boyfriend or something?" Carmilla's question comes out of the blue. It catches Laura off guard. She's been sitting watching the road pass by for the last couple of hours and, in all of that time, Carmilla hasn't even attempted to initiate anything that could be considered conversation. She gives the younger girl a sidelong glance, waiting for an answer.
"Kirsch? No, he's... he was, my neighbour. We grew up a few houses apart. We kissed once, but it was on a dare." She's been quiet for so long that Laura doesn't seem to be able to stop talking. She knows she's rambling, but talking about Kirsch makes her feel a little better; even if she's always going to be talking about him in the past tense from now on. "Our parents always thought we'd end up getting married and having kids, but Kirsch was never my type. He was cute and really sweet, but I only ever had eyes for Danny..."
"Sounds like a lucky guy." Carmilla's offhand remark reminds Laura that she knows nothing about this girl. It might not be a good idea to out herself in front of someone she doesn't know in the slightest. Growing up in such a close circle of friends, with loving and supportive parents, Laura hadn't had to put much thought in to coming out – even if it was only a couple of years ago. It seems like a lifetime ago now. Maybe, in a way, it was.
Sensing an opening, Laura fired off a question of her own. "What about you? Do you have a guy waiting for you back home?" Carmilla's only answer comes in the form of that knowing little smirk of hers; which is no real answer at all. She keeps pressing, trying to get to know her rescuer a little better. "Okay, so what's Silas like? Other than small and out of the way?"
"Silas is..." Carmilla starts, but then stops to mull the answer over. Laura doesn't miss the way she chews at her lip, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, but not really seeing it. "It's home. It's safe." She shrugs, not really knowing what else to say.
"That's descriptive." Laura huffs, giving up on trying to keep the conversation going. Carmilla watches her out of the corner of her eye as the teenager sulks a little lower in her seat, her arms folded across her chest. She mentally kicks herself for getting too invested, but she asks the question anyway.
"What was home like for you then, Cupcake?"
The other girl's face lights up at the question. She actually sits up straighter in her chair. "Okay, so I grew up in Shakespeare, Georgia. It's one of those quaint little towns that hasn't changed much since the fifties, like our house actually had a white picket fence." Laura's grin is widening the more she talks. Carmilla finds it hard to keep her eyes on the road when the tiny human is being so animated beside her. She thinks it might be the first time she's seen Laura smile. "Danny lived next door, and Kirsch lived down the street, and we used to do the usual stuff that kids do, play hockey in the street, crack open the fire hydrants in the summer...I guess we still did all that stuff last summer actually...This year would have been our last summer all together. Danny, kirsch and Perry were all going to be going off to college... and me and LaF were going to be left behind." That simple fact had been the cause of much contention when she and Danny had still been together.
"I guess that was one of the reasons why I ended things with Danny." Laura has no idea why she's admitting this to Carmilla, it's probably the first time she's even admitted it to herself. "I left her before she could leave me." If Carmilla notices her slip of the tongue, then she doesn't say anything. Laura's eyes are tearing up again. She rubs furiously at them, angry with herself for getting word vomit in front of the other girl. She expects some snide remark from Carmilla. Instead, she's surprised by something pretty close to compassion.
"I know what that's like... You get so used to people leaving, you just start pushing them away first."
"Sounds like you had a Danny of your own?" Laura pushes her luck, hoping to keep Carmilla talking.
She doesn't bite.
Instead, her attention is fixed on an overturned school bus, which blocks the road ahead of them. It's lying on its roof, it's rear end smashed in to the metal guard rail on the right hand side of the road. Carmilla, who up until then had been cruising at a steady speed of fifty, slows the Jeep right down to a crawl. They're not far out from Montgomery, near Deatsville. If the interstate stays as clear as it has been, then they'll make it to the state line by nightfall; that is if they don't have to turn around and take a detour because of the school bus.
The car lurches to a stop a few yards short of the obstruction. Carmilla drums her nails against the steering wheel, like a regular commuter stuck in rush hour traffic. Her nails are polished black; the paint is chipped in places, and the colour is a stark contrast to her alabaster skin. She hasn't fed since she snacked on the dying owner of the cabin, and that was four days ago now. She's feeling weak, and irritable. She should have fed again by now; but Laura has been glued to her side ever since she woke up. Carmilla knows it's too soon to try and feed from her, and they haven't come across any other survivors. Humanity is spread so thinly now. What is left of it has gone in to hiding.
The human race has finally figured out isn't at the top of the food chain – that it never was.
"Should we maybe turn around and try to double back?" Laura can see murky shadows moving from inside the bus. The shapes in the windows have no real distinguishable figure from this distance, but their tiny stature betray what they once were. Bloodstained fingers claw hungrily at the cracked glass. Laura has no choice but to look away, or else risk bringing up those Oreos she ate for lunch. Luckily, Carmilla has a stronger stomach.
"Wait here." There's a hard-edge to her voice as she pushes her door open. Laura watches her walk confidently towards the bus that blocks the road, and the horrors that wait inside of it. Carmilla may only be a few years older than her, but Laura knows there is a world of difference between them. She can see it in the way the other girl carries herself; everything about Carmilla screams of self-certainty and attitude. She doesn't so much as flinch when one of the shadows lurking near the front of the bus flings itself at the door.
Its once innocent face is contorted in to something of abject horror as it's mouth hangs open in an eternal scream, it's dislocated jaw hanging on by tendrils of thick, sinewy muscle. Carmilla watches it closely as she walks right up to. Separated from it by a thin sheet of glass, she is reminded of the first time she saw sharks in an aquarium. Like the sharks, the feral things inside are stirring at the scent of blood. It isn't Carmilla's that they want though. The milky white eyes that are staring back at Carmilla do not see her; the dead don't interest the dead.
Carmilla glances over her shoulder, checking on the cause of all the commotion from within the bus. Laura sits hunched over in her seat, gripping the dashboard with a terrified expression, her eyes never leaving Carmilla. The vampire offers her a cocksure smile. There's nothing out here that she needs to worry about. Walking past the front of the bus, she inspects the small gap between the concrete central reservation that divides the opposing lanes of traffic. It will be a tight squeeze, and they might lose a wing mirror or two, but they'll make it. The other side of the northbound lane looks pretty clear as far as Carmilla can see, which is definitely farther than any human ever could.
Heading back to the Jeep at a leisurely place, she slides back behind the wheel. "Glad to see you've still got your belt on, Cutie. You're going to need it." That's all the warning Laura gets before Carmilla shifts in to gear and slams her foot down on the accelerator. The car shoots forwards, heading straight for the small gap at the front of the bus. Carmilla is driving so close to the concrete barrier, which separates the north and southbound lanes, that there are sparks flying from the wheel rims. The Jeep tries to lurch to the right, but the vampire is strong enough to keep it hugging the concrete wall; they're practically driving at a right angle to the road.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." Laura is gripping her seat so hard that her nails are digging right in to the leather upholstery. The tiny human is terrified. Her heart is going ten to the dozen in her chest; Carmilla struggles not to dwell over how sweet all of that fear must be making her blood right now. It takes only seconds for them to come up on the bus, the sides of both vehicles smashing in to one another. For one glittering nano second, Carmilla thinks they might just make it; but then the Jeep is tipping to the right again and she's powerless to stop it.
The roof gets wedged under one of the large side-view mirrors of the school bus, and the wheels carry on spinning without actually getting them anywhere. "Fuck!" Carmilla curses loudly, her foot still flooring the accelerator, like she can force the Jeep through by sheer stubbornness alone.
"Uh, Carmilla?" Laura is distracted by something just outside her window. She tugs urgently on the older girl's arm, and gets an irritated snarl back.
"What?!"
Laura doesn't have to answer. Carmilla can see the milky eyed zombie, which was previously trapped on the bus, pressed up against the passenger door. It's palms are flat against the glass, and its vacant eyes are fixed on Laura. In life, the walker had been a fourth-grader. His messy blonde hair hangs limply in front of his eyes, caked with grease and dry blood. He's wearing an Adventure Time t-shirt, and for some reason this alone is enough to break Laura's heart. She feels tears welling up as she stares out at the lost little boy – He isn't alone.
Behind him, more walkers are piling off the bus; the impact from the Jeep having dislodged the jammed door that was keeping them in. Their size makes them look like a hoard of murderous pygmies, intent on smashing their way in to the car. Carmilla weighs up their options as Laura shifts over towards her, trying to put as much distance between herself and the window as possible.
Abandoning the car and all of their supplies isn't an option. They won't stumble across such a haul by accident again. Carmilla could probably take out the pint-sized walkers if they weren't all pressed so close up to Jeep; and if she didn't have a captive audience. She's going to have to take care of their little problem like a human would. "Okay, Cupcake, sit tight." Snatching the gun off the dash, Carmilla opens up the sunroof and slips through it.
The dead that surround the car take no notice of her – Laura is there intended prize.
"Okay, so final count. We've got: Four cans of tuna, six cans of soup, three cans of mystery meat, a kilo and half of white rice and a bag of M&Ms..." LaFontaine announces their pitiful haul from the gas station. It hardly seems worth all the risk.
"That's crap." Kirsch slams his hands down against the steering wheel, like a toddler having a tantrum. Beside him, Danny doesn't flinch. She's been quiet and withdrawn ever since they left the gas station. It's becoming abundantly clear to her that they've only survived this long through dumb luck. They need a better game plan, and they need it fast.
Surprisingly, Kirsch is thinking along the same lines as her; and he's the first to come up with a suggestion. "We need to start thinking smarter, bros! Stores are full of people, more people equals more walkers, right? And a lot of places are already picked clean."
"So what do you suggest? We look for a farmer's market?" Danny's tone is dry and scathing. She knows Kirsch is talking sense, she just doesn't like this shift in their dynamic of late. Danny is used to being the one who takes charge.
"Dude, farmer's markets only happen on weekends, duh!" Kirsch rolls his eyes at her, and Danny is about to rip him a new one when she feels Perry's hand on her shoulder.
"Danny, sweetie, play nice."
"We need to try some place we know there'll be a lot of food and not too many walkers." Kirsch carries on, oblivious to the verbal beat down he's just narrowly dodged. "I think we need to start looking in houses."
"Isn't that a little, well, ghoulish?" Perry turns her nose up at the suggestion, while looking to LaFontaine for backup. They tactfully avoid her gaze, their silence speaking volumes.
"It is, but it's also brilliant." Danny takes Kirsch's side, and it's settled – Democracy in action.
They're parked up by the side of the road, only a few miles away from the gas station. Danny is sitting up front as usual, with her feet up on the dash (despite Kirch's constant grumblings). She pushes her hair out of her face and ties it back up again. "Houses have more than just food and water, there'll be clothes, blankets, other useful stuff. I'm with Kirsch on this one."
"Nice, bro!" Kirsch holds his hand up for a high five from her, but quickly draws it back when she leaves him hanging. "...Whatever."
"We should stick to homes in small towns. We're less likely to run in to a hoard that way." Danny starts to feel slightly more in control again as she formulates a plan. She needs something to work on, something to keep her mind busy.
They're all too run down and worn out to attempt to put their new scavenging plan in to action today, so Danny decides that they'll start fresh in the morning. "You know, there's like loads of hours left until it gets dark. We should do something, something fun." Kirsch offers. They've all been through a lot lately, it won't hurt to give themselves some time off.
"Something fun?" Danny shoots him a look. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, bro. We've been working our asses off, we deserve some fun! Back me up here, dudes." He turns in his seat to look at LaF and Perry, hoping they'll agree with him. They both shuffle uncomfortably as Danny turns around too.
"Wow, I'm suddenly reminded of every road trip my family ever took." LaFontaine's wisecrack goes down like a lead balloon, and it doesn't get them out of answering. "Okay, Kirsch has a good point. We have been sort of burning the candle at both ends. We could all use a little fun..." Beside them, Perry nods along in agreement.
"Fine!" Danny throws her hands up in defeat, before crossing her arms over her chest in a sulk. "What did you have in mind?"
She instantly regrets asking when he reaches under his seat and pulls out a football – a wide, boyish grin playing on his face.
Laura's ears are still ringing from all the gunfire. Smoke lingers around the Jeep, along with the now unmoving bodies of the half-size walkers. Carmilla emptied the full magazine taking out most of the dead kids from off the bus, but a few of them still remain upright, stumbling over their fallen comrades in order to get closer to the car. The older girl drops the gun back through the sun-roof, letting it bounce harmlessly against her seat. The handgun is the type that Laura's dad would have loved, an old cowboy style gun with a long narrow barrel; it reminds her of a BB gun that Kirsch used to have.
"Hang tight, Princess." Carmilla pulls her legs up out of the car and swings them over the side, dropping down from the roof with the grace of a cat. She doesn't bother with the handful of walkers that are still pawing at the car, and they don't give her a second glance. They're far too focused on getting their next meal. This works for Carmilla. Laura is so terrified by the walkers that she fails to see the other girl reaching up and yanking the wing mirror right off the school bus. She carelessly tosses it aside, the metal clinking as it bounces and rolls along the road. It draws the attention of the walkers away from the Jeep, and Carmilla is able to slip back in while they're distracted.
"How did you do that?" Laura's mouth is hanging open as she stares at Carmilla, seemingly in awe. The vampire feels her stomach drop, wondering just what Laura actually saw. She's making up excuses in her head, of how the wing mirror was practically hanging off anyway, when the other girl elaborates. "You just walked right out there, you're not even afraid of those things...I don't know how you do it."
"They're slow and they're stupid. Not much to be afraid of, Creampuff." Carmilla shrugs. There isn't much left in this world that the vampire is scared of; save for Mother of course.
Carmilla eases the gas pedal down. The Jeep inches forward, the screeching sound of metal scraping on metal filling the air. Once it's past the bus, the car rights itself again. The remaining few zombies stumble through the gap after them. Laura looks in the rear view mirror, pity written all over her face. Despite the fact that the things outside would happily rip her apart, Laura feels sorry for them. She still sees them as children. "It's so sad...they were just kids. I mean, they didn't even make it home from school." She looks like she's about to break down crying again.
Carmilla lets out a heavy sigh. Reaching in to the back of the Jeep, she pulls out a collapsible shovel and throws open her door. It doesn't take long to disperse of the last few walkers. "Thank you." Carmilla is glad to see Laura's eyes are drying up when she gets back behind the wheel. She has no idea how someone like Laura has even survived this long. She's far too innocent for this world – Something twisted, and buried not so deeply inside of Carmilla, wants to tell her this. She wants to tell Laura that she won't last long if she doesn't toughen up, but something stops her. Laura's innocence and naivety is almost refreshing – A reminder of a time when Carmilla herself had been just as pure.
"Don't mention it, Cupcake."
Progress along the interstate is slow, hampered by several more road blocks and a hoard that takes hours to fully pass by them. Carmilla wants to carry on, but Laura insists on stopping for the night. It makes sense. The road is getting more and more congested the closer they get to the state line, and the headlamps of the Jeep barely make a dent in the inky darkness ahead of them. Carmilla reluctantly pulls over to the side of the road. They'll have to spend the night in the car.
"Hungry?" Laura asks, pulling a pack of Cheetos out of the bag full of food they'd found on the back seat. Carmilla is starving; quite literally. Her fangs are aching as they strain against her gums, threatening to break through and reveal themselves. With a simple shake of her head, she refuses the offered chips. Laura frowns in concern. "You haven't eaten anything all day."
"I'm good." Carmilla insists firmly. She pulls a book out of her duffel bag, a well read copy of Dante's Inferno, and makes herself comfortable with her feet up on the dashboard. It's a struggle for her to concentrate though, with Laura sitting so close and crunching so loudly. By the time the teenager is tucking in to a packet of Oreos, Carmilla has developed a twitch in her left eye and is biting down on her tongue so hard that she can taste blood at the back of her throat; it does nothing to satiate her hunger. If she doesn't feed soon, she's going to lose it all together.
There's some blood in her bag, kindly donated by her last living meal, but it's been stagnating in a plastic bottle for a few days now, and it's far less appetizing than the gourmet feast sitting right beside the vampire. It's too soon for her to try and feed from Laura yet, she needs to win the girl's trust first. Carmilla will just have to wait until the human girl goes to sleep and then make do with the stale blood in her bag.
Hours pass, and Laura shows no sign of falling asleep any time soon – Despite the two girls having laid back their seats and climbed in to sleeping bags. Laura is jittery, jumping at every little noise outside the car. She isn't used to spending the night on the road, out in the open for the dead and the living alike to see. The temperature outside has also plummeted, leaving the Jeep feeling like an ice box. Laura's teeth are chattering as she lies on her side, facing away from Carmilla and trying not to show just how cold she is. Carmilla doesn't seem that affected; in truth, she barely registers the change in the temperature. She can tell the other girl is suffering. She's worried about Laura getting sick, but it's not like she can offer up her own sleeping bag. Carmilla needs to keep up her act as a regular human, and part of that includes feeling the cold.
It's clear Laura isn't going to fall asleep while she's shivering though, so Carmilla is left with only one option. Putting her book aside, she climbs in to the back and starts pulling the seats down, making a sort of bench out of them. Once she pushes some of the supplies further back in to the trunk, there's just enough space in the back for two people to lie down. Laura watches her, curious as to what she's doing, when Carmilla pulls her sleeping back in to the back. "You waiting for a formal invitation, Creampuff?" The vampire cock's her brow expectantly. Something about the older girl beckoning her has Laura's stomach twisting in knots.
Her anxiety only grows as she clambers in to the back and Carmilla takes her sleeping bag from her, zipping it together with her own and turning it in to a double. "I hope you don't mind being the little spoon." Carmilla smirks as they climb inside. With an ex-girlfriend who stands over six foot tall, Laura is certainly used to being the little spoon. What she isn't used to, however, is curling up in the back of a Jeep with a relative stranger. Carmilla doesn't actually cuddle in to the smaller girl, instead the two of them lie back to back; Laura has to admit, she's already much warmer.
It doesn't take long for her to finally drift off, exhaustion taking over. It was only a few days ago that she was a hair's breadth away from death. Had it not been for the restorative properties of Carmilla's blood, Laura would be just another faceless corpse in a world overrun with the dead. Saving the human girl's life has taken a lot out of Carmilla too, as has staying awake all day. Though the vampire can walk freely in the sunlight, she is nocturnal by nature. She can feel her eyelids growing heavy as she waits for Laura's breathing to even out. Once she's sure she is asleep, she carefully slips her bottled blood out of her bag, which she had strategically placed beside her before lying down. The pint of blood vanishes in seconds as Carmilla hungrily gulps it down. The lukewarm blood tastes disgusting, and only leaves her craving more – Laura's blood seems to sing to her in the darkness, calling out for Carmilla to take her fill. Ignoring the aching need in the pit of her stomach, she hides the empty bottle back inside of her bag and settles down beside the teenager; grateful when sleep finally takes hold of her.