Zoey didn't know how long they spent in the van, but the fact that they weren't ready to tear each others heads off by the second day was encouraging. All of them still spared some thought for the people back at the Motel Six, gazing vacantly out the window at abandoned cars and passing scenery. Nobody was game to bring it up again, and she wondered if it was something that would remain tabled forever.
She frowned and tapped her feet against the window of the sliding door. It was Louis' turn to drive (she'd just had hers) and she was supposed to be sleeping, but she just couldn't turn off her brain. She glanced up at Francis, who'd had his turn before her. Zoey was using his leg as a pillow again, legs stretched out, fingers laced together over her stomach.
According to Bill, if they kept up their pace, they'd find the junction for highway sixty-two by nightfall. They'd made good time, though they'd lost some to refueling and stopping to siphon off more gas tanks. Those had been nervy stops, the oppressive silence making every second not moving a potential firefight.
So far, so good.
"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" Louis said softly, making her turn her head to look at the rear-view mirror.
"Yeah," she said, "Can't though."
"Something bothering you?" he wondered. Zoey wasn't sure what it was that made Louis such an attentive, pleasant person, but she hoped he never lost that quality.
"What are we going to do if this evacuation thing doesn't pan out?" she mused out loud, keeping her voice low out of courtesy to the others, "And what if... what if it does, but it turns out the military is mostly hosed anyway?"
"We'll figure something out," Louis said with confidence, "We made it this far, didn't we?"
"Yeah," Zoey murmured, "What do you think we'll do if we're at some military base?"
"Help em' out, I guess," he shrugged, slowing down to maneuver around some overturned cars, "Depends on how things are."
"There are so many unknowns," she sighed, lifting her hands to rub her face.
"It's always been that way," Louis said, "You probably just didn't notice until now."
"Louis?" she asked, having a thought. When he 'Hmm'd?' in reply, she continued, "Last night, when everyone was spilling their guts, you didn't say anything."
He was silent on that and she finally sat up, tilting her head at him and watching his expression.
"Well, you guys have all been through some pretty rough stuff," he shrugged, "My problems are pretty lame by comparison."
"I talked about being a college drop out," she pointed out, "Doesn't really compare to Bill or Francis."
"Yeah, but the thing with your parents..."
"Spill."
Louis sighed wearily, "My fiancée left me for some guy she met on the internet."
"Ouch," Zoey said, flinching and making a face, "Recently?"
"A month ago," he said, "I mean, it wasn't all bad. It made me realize that I'm a walking doormat most of the time, even at work. Started jogging more. Spent the money I'd been savin' for the wedding on private lessons at the firing range."
"You can find the silver lining on any cloud, can't you Louis?" Zoey said, "You're lucky."
"Some people find it pretty annoying," he said, glancing back at her, "Glad you don't, though. Get some sleep, Zoey. You're up again in a few."
"I'll try," she assured him, laying back down. The thought that she might make herself more comfortable by using more than Francis' leg crossed her mind, but she didn't let it go much farther than that, snatching the idea and stuffing it under a rock. It went right in there next to rockin' abs and her paper bag theory.
She stared at the ceiling of the van, restless. Technically, she was supposed to sleep through Francis' shift as well as Louis', but she hadn't managed it since they started driving again. He was too good a prop for her to bother trying to sleep when they weren't both in the back.
Instead, she'd move up to the front passenger's seat, feet propped up on the dash while he drove. Though they kept the windows rolled up at all times, he would wedge his arm in the window, fingertips brushing the ceiling of the van, fulfilling some vestigial need to dangle his arm outside the van.
Zoey watched him as he slept, mind whirring. Her paper bag theory seemed unfair the longer she thought about it. It wasn't that he was horribly deformed or anything, he just... he wasn't really handsome in a conventional way. All right, he wasn't handsome at all, but he had a certain scruffy charm that had managed to grow on her.
The thought was at once wholly unwelcome and long overdue. Being flirtatious at parties was one thing. Actual companionship was something she hadn't really had since high school. Amanda had been a good friend, but not that kind of friend.
God, why was she even thinking about this? About him? Though she wanted to accuse it of coming out of nowhere, it had been brewing since he'd scooped her up after the smoker had nearly killed her. Her usual type was, if she was totally honest with herself, shy nerds who could keep up with her pop culture references and got excited when she mentioned wanting to attend a LAN party. She was usually the aggressor, too, though she hadn't gone very far in that regard. Like most girls (women, damn it) her age, she had a certain set idea of what her first time would be like, and none of the boys she'd dated had really fit the bill.
She shifted a little, crossing her ankles to get more comfortable, marveling at Francis' ability to sleep through anything. He was broad, muscular, and probably didn't know what Google was (or how to spell it). Maybe it was some sort of Stockholm syndrome thing, but it wasn't like he was the only man around. Louis was attractive and fit, but she didn't spend her idle time wondering if he picked on her because he liked her, or because she was just the easiest target.
Louis didn't offer her his leg to sleep on.
Oh hell, she thought irritably, Stop it.
Maybe he had his moments, but Francis wasn't that kind of guy. Well maybe, but she wasn't going to be the one who found out. It was the end of the damn world and she was wasting a lot of energy by thinking about something pointless and stupid. This was the sort of shit that ruined movies. Why couldn't they just be good friends? Senseless pairing off just because the situation was rough was lame. Zoey had sworn off being lame a few days ago and she wasn't going to go back on her word.
Yeah, Francis was nice to her. His motives were transparent at best – she was an attractive teenage girl. Of course he was nice. Except the times when he wasn't, but... argh!
Zoey turned onto her side, facing front, scowling. By the time it was Bill's turn to drive, she was still awake, and the veteran noticed when Louis pulled over for the shift change.
"Shouldn't you be sleepin'?" he asked.
"Aw man, you still awake?" Louis said. They were both using their normal speaking voices, as the biker was dead to the world.
"I can't sleep," she protested. Zoey didn't bother trying to eliminate the sulky tone from her voice.
"Better start soon," Bill commented, putting the van into drive, "You're up after Francis."
She muttered under her breath and closed her eyes, though she knew no sleep was forthcoming. Louis and Bill chatted to each other quietly, mostly about what the younger man had noticed during his turn. After a long stretch of very few cars, they were starting to run into more the closer they got to the junction. It made sense, Bill said, because this was one of the larger extraction zones in the area. A lot of people would have made a run for it.
Louis had been asleep for a bit when Bill spoke up.
"What's eatin' at you kid?" he asked her. She was startled that he'd addressed her and opened her eyes, though she didn't sit up just yet.
"Just can't sleep," she told him, speaking softly.
"That ain't what I asked."
Even though he could probably only make out a bit of her via the rear view mirror, she could imagine his eyes boring into her, seeing the truth and waiting for her to fess up.
Zoey had very nearly cracked when it was Bill who spoke again in her stead.
"Men like Francis an' myself ain't 'fixer uppers' kid," he said. She sat up, eyes wide. Once he made eye contact with her for a brief moment via the mirror, he continued, "Our bad habits and character flaws 'er set in stone. How we are now is how we'll be until they day we die."
Embarrassed, she looked down at her shoes, not even sure what to say. Her first instinct was to protest against the topic, of course, but she wouldn't insult his intelligence by even bothering with that.
"He ain't a bad guy," Bill said in a slightly gentler tone, "But you two aren't even from the same planet, kid. Hell, not even the same galaxy. Things're complicated enough. You copy?"
"Copy that, gold leader," Zoey sighed wearily, slouching down against the bench. Well, now she felt pretty tired, all things considered.
"Gold leader? You makin' a crack at how old I am? Like a golden oldie?"
"Huh? Oh, no, no," she protested quickly, "It's from Star Wars."
Bill just shook his head and said no more, leaving her to her thoughts again. Her thoughts mutinously strayed to what she'd been thinking about the entire car ride and she resisted the urge to punch herself in the head.
She'd deal with it later. With her brain in a complete jumble, she laid her head down on Francis' thigh and drifted off into a restless sleep. By the time she'd finally shut everything out, someone was gently shaking her shoulder and she made a cranky noise.
"C'mon, Zoey, up and at 'em," Francis said, "It's my turn."
She sat up groggily and began to shuffle towards the sliding door, automatically assuming she'd be sitting up front with him. Unlike their last rotation, however, she was now hyper aware of how he rested a hand on her shoulder as he pulled the sliding door open from behind her. How he watched her sideways, not putting the van into drive until her seatbelt was fastened.
How he completely avoided looking at her as he drove.
Zoey did the same, resting her forehead on the passenger side window, staring out at the scenery passing them by. It was more farmland than cities and townships now, and she wondered how long until they were enveloped by forest.
They both saw the rest stop sign with a safehouse symbol spray painted on it at the same time, sharing a look before Zoey turned around in her seat to rouse Bill and Louis. Francis rolled to a stop at the exit itself while Bill crouched between their seats, scowling ahead at the ill-lit rest area. The only light on was a flood that had been knocked on its side, aimed at a cheerful red door.
"Sixty two ain't far from here," Bill guessed, "If we keep goin' we'll make it."
"Maybe getting there while the sun is out would be better," Louis suggested, "No nasty surprises."
"I don't like it," the veteran scowled, drumming his fingers nervously on Francis' seat. He hadn't smoked since they'd piled into the van, not even lighting up during their shift changes.
"Can't hurt t'drive down and check it out," Francis said, looking between Bill and the rest area.
"Chicago Ted wouldn't steer us wrong," Zoey quipped, making Louis chuckle quietly, "Though I guess anyone who came after him might've screwed something up."
"Drive down," Bill decided, "Get ready to drive the hell outta here if things go to shit."
"Ten-four," Francis said. He put the van into drive and steered it cautiously down the exit ramp. All four of them were glued to the windows, but the parking lot was pitch black, the tipped floodlight aimed at the safehouse door and nothing else . A sweep from the van's headlights revealed a few abandoned cars and an overturned RV, but no infected. None that were still walking, anyway.
Just outside of the safehouse door were shot-up corpses, limbs twisted at awkward angles, blackish blood congealed around their wounds and underneath them.
"I got a bad feelin' about this," Bill said as Francis came to a stop just in front of it, headlight's aimed at the door.
"You wanna bail?"
Bill was silent, and Zoey noticed how he fidgeted with his front pocket, making his cigarette packet crinkle.
"Gettin' to the sixty two durin' the day is a good idea," he said, continuing to frown, "And I could use a fuckin' smoke. But this don't sit right with me."
"Make a decision," Francis said, twisting his hands impatiently on the steering wheel and making his leather gloves creak, "I'm tired a' just sittin' here."
"Might as well look since we're here," Bill said, "Leave the van runnin'."
There was a flurry of movement as they strapped on their guns and hefted their packs. Zoey didn't have one, the contents of her pack split between the three of them, and it was something she already decided she wouldn't feel bad about. The three of them could still run wearing ammo laden backpacks – she had proven that she couldn't.
"Ugh," Francis said as they stepped over the scattered bodies, "Been here awhile."
"The door is open," Louis said.
Zoey swallowed and adjusted her grip on her pistols, mouth going dry. This wasn't like the fancy rest stops on the turnpike. The architecture was rustic and blocky, the building made of brick, and there would be no McDonald's or Starbuck's inside. A sign around the side marked where the restrooms were, and she assumed the front area was more of a convenience store than anything else, a place to stock up on munchies and pay for a tank top off before getting to the campgrounds.
Bill crouched as he approached the safehouse door and touched it lightly with his fingertips, making it swing inwards with an ominous groan. As the headlights filled the small area, they reflected back one set of dead white eyes, and the infected hissed viciously at them.
The veteran fired twice, hitting it first in the chest, then in the head, and it slumped over with a strangled cry. He paused in the doorway for a few minutes, and when nothing happened, he moved inside, motioning for Zoey to join him and for Francis and Louis to stay outside.
She swallowed and prowled in after him, her stomach turning a bit at the scene inside. There was a lot of blood sprayed on the walls and counter, not counting what was seeping out of the infected Bill shot, but the bodies weren't visible.
"Where are the other bodies?" Zoey wondered, not looking at the infected as Bill searched its body, "Ugh, don't touch it."
He ignored her and pulled a wallet out of its back pocket and she furrowed her brow at him, putting one arm over her nose and mouth. The smell was getting to her and it wasn't wafting in from outside. Somewhere, inside, there were more rotting corpses.
"Zoey, go outside," Bill said, flipping the wallet shut.
"What-"
"Go," he told her, "Tell Francis to get in here."
"Why?" Zoey demanded, voice muffled by her arm.
"Don't argue with me, Zoey," Bill said, voice hard, "Get the hell outta here."
"I can handle-"
"I said get out."
She gaped a moment, eyes wide as he raised his voice at her, and quickly retreated from the safehouse. Louis and Francis, looking out into the darkness, both glanced back at her.
"Bill wants you," Zoey muttered at Francis, standing next to him. He shot her a questioning look and she only shrugged, taking her arm away from her face. The smell wasn't as bad with the slight breeze keeping it at bay.
"What's goin' on?" Louis asked her quietly.
"I don't know," she scowled, "Bill about threw me out of there. I don't know what his problem is. Jonesing for cigarettes or something."
Louis shrugged, favoring the safehouse with a nervous look before resuming his watch out into the darkness.
She scuffed a shoe against the pavement, forcing herself not to creep back to the safehouse door and peer in at what they were doing. Bill had his reasons, and acting like a defiant teenager didn't help anyone.
When they finally came out, Francis had something in his arms that was wrapped up in a blanket. He didn't look at her and quickly went around the side of the rest stop, followed by Bill, who was dragging something more person-sized out. Not the zombie he'd shot, but a woman wearing a track suit.
Things clicked a moment later and she gasped quietly, the probable situation playing over in her mind. They had seen the safehouse door, same as them, and pulled into the parking lot. Whatever infected might have been there were out of sight, or perhaps they hadn't been careful, and they'd been attacked. The husband had fended them off while his wife and child hurried inside, but he'd gotten hit. They'd gone to hide further back, perhaps, or they were right behind him, and he'd turned on them, figuratively and literally.
What chance would they have had against even one infected?
Francis came back around the building wiping his hands on his pants with a very grim expression, not looking at anyone.
"Jesus," Zoey breathed. He couldn't help but glance at her, to make sure she wasn't pointing at anything out of place, and she saw the haunted look in his eyes before he looked away again.
Bill caught her eye next and she only nodded at him in understanding. No, she probably wouldn't have handled seeing that very well.
"It's a goddamn mess in there," Bill said, brushing his own hands off, "But it'll do until dawn."
Francis had already gone inside to get the other body, tossing it to the side irreverently, and Louis helped him set the floodlight upright, casting long shadows across the parking lot as well as the door in its new position.
After getting the sleeping bags out of the back of the van, they turned the headlights off and barricaded themselves inside. The only light in the small room was a single yellow light bulb. It made the blood spattered on the walls look black, and Zoey wasn't sure how the hell they were supposed to sleep in the middle of a bloodbath.
"Guys?" Louis said, frowning as he unrolled a sleeping bag, "Did we forget something in the car?"
"What?" Bill scowled.
"There're only three sleeping bags."
"Aw, hell," the veteran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. That didn't seem like the sort of thing that would actually bother him, and she wondered how much of his mood was affected by his smoking sabbatical.
"I don't need one," Francis said with a shrug, "I can sleep anywhere."
"You sure?" Bill asked him, scowling.
"Yeah, don't sweat it," he said, taking a seat next to the barricaded door.
"We'll check the RV in the morning for a spare," Bill decided, "First thing in the morning we'll head out."
Zoey hadn't been awake for very long in the van and found that she was restless now. From the floor, she could see long drips of blood running down a counter, and how blood had even been sprayed up on the ceiling. Intellectually, she was aware of the fact that children were very easy targets for zombies, but theidea itself was horrifying. And the child whose body was outside... to have its own father turn...
Even Francis had been disturbed by it, and he was rather cavalier around dead bodies on the whole. They hadn't run into any child infected, either, and she wondered if their little bodies were just unable to take the infection. She hugged her sleeping bag around her tighter, willing herself to sleep. There was no reason not to sleep. They were safe, for now, and she didn't want to be drowsy for her driving shift.
She sat up after awhile, just for something to do, looking at the others. Though he'd gotten even more sleep than she had, Francis was already asleep, and the same went for Louis and Bill. Somehow they were able to just turn off when they needed too, and she envied that ability. Eventually she hoped she could cultivate it, because it was terribly inconvenient to do without.
Maybe if she had a more comfortable head rest... no. No, she wasn't going there. She was perfectly capable of sleeping without plastering herself all over a biker. There was no way she was going to turn codependent in the middle of the trip. At least she hoped it was the middle. The middle part that was closest to the end.
Tossing and turning for most of the night, Zoey was in a distinctly foul mood when Louis roused her with a gentle tap on the shoulder. She was the last person awake. The two of them rolled up the sleeping bags to pack in the van, and Louis told her that Bill and Francis had gone to check out the RV.
She sat on the step in the open sliding door and leaned her head to the side, watching Bill smoke in front of the RV. Francis, she assumed, was inside scrounging.
"Girl, you look like you didn't sleep a wink," Louis observed, leaning on the van near her.
"I didn't sleep very well, but I slept a little," she said, "Couldn't get comfortable."
"Well, you got time to sleep in the car," he reasoned. Zoey sat up when she saw Francis hop out of the RV, shaking his head at Bill. The veteran flicked his cigarette away and lit another on their way back.
"Stripped clean," Francis said when they were back in earshot, "Musta been here awhile."
They closed up the safehouse while Bill finished his cigarette. He noted her droopy expression and smirked.
"New driving order," he said, "Me, Louis, Francis, then Zoey."
"I'll be okay," she insisted, "You don't have to rearrange the whole thing just so I can sleep."
"Nah, I don't have too," he agreed, "But I just did. Pile in, people. We're hittin' the road."
She stuck her tongue out at him, having a cheeky moment, and he ruffled her hair as he passed, making her laugh. God, how long had it been since she'd laughed?
"Scoot," Francis said, both hands on top of the van. It put him uncomfortably close to her, in fact, and she obeyed, sitting next to the window as he slid the door closed, adding, "Hey, dibs on the window seat."
"How am I supposed to get around your big ass?" Zoey wondered incredulously as Bill started up the car, "Here, wait..."
She squeezed up between Bill and Louis to let Francis slide past, "There."
He moved to his usual seat and Zoey plopped down next him. Once everyone was properly arranged, Bill drove back onto the road. Almost immediately she started to feel drowsy, but had a defiant urge to fight it. Or at least sleep another way.
"Why doncha lay down, Zoey?" Francis urged, peering at her, "You look like shit."
"Gee, Francis, thanks," she said in much more scornful tone than she'd intended. Zoey glared sideways at him, but he looked unphased, raising an eyebrow slightly when she made eye contact.
It wasn't like she could sleep facing the other way. There was a space between the bench and the slider, and she couldn't sleep sitting up, so...
Goddamn it, she thought angrily. While she stewed, she noted that Francis tried to discreetly sniff under his arms, obviously thinking her protest had to do with his smell. He frowned and scratched under his chin afterwards, and Zoey laid her head down in a huff. This was the last time. Well, once they were out of the car, she'd stop. And when it was Francis' turn to drive she'd just recline the passenger's seat like Bill and Louis did.
Sleep took her swiftly.
When she woke up, Zoey noticed that her neck was at a strange angle and she sat up, frowning. She must've been sleeping pretty heavily if she hadn't noticed Francis get up.
The van was empty.
Fear clutched at her immediately. The front doors were open, the back hatch ajar, and the slider was open halfway.
"Guys...?" she called out. Her voice felt small and thin, almost tinny, and she felt under the seat for her guns. They were there.
She strapped them on, hands shaking, and drew her pistols before pushing the slider open. Zoey didn't know how long she sat there, frozen, waiting for the boys to return, but the longer she waited, the more certain she was that something terrible had happened.
They weren't on the expressway anymore. The van was pulled off on the shoulder of a two-lane highway, and the silence was deafening. No animals chirped or peeped, and even the wind had died down. Only the crunch of her sneakers on the gravel kept her company, and the fear of drawing a horde onto herself by yelling out kept her lips pressed tightly together. Where had they gone?? Why had they just left her all alone!?
Zoey left the van and bolted for the tree line, crouching down next to one when she reached it and looking wildly out at the road, heart pounding in her chest.
I'm alone I'm all alone they left me because I was holding them back oh god how could theystop it.
She took deep gulps of air, forcing herself to calm down, to take stock. They wouldn't leave her. Something had happened, and it was up to her to figure it out. Losing her shit wouldn't do anything but get everyone killed.
Zoey whirled when she heard broken crying behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling, guns drawn.
It was a little girl, just a few feet away, crying over something. She lowered her guns, not trusting her eyes for a moment. She could make out pink sneakers and a bright yellow shirt spattered with blood, the child's blonde hair matted and dirty. Perhaps she'd seen where the others had gone?
"Hey," she called out softly, creeping forward, "Little girl. Hey."
The girl didn't hear, or perhaps didn't want to hear, and continued to weep brokenly.
"Hey, it's okay," Zoey cooed, using her normal speaking voice. What was this poor thing doing out in the woods all alone? Maybe there was a campsite nearby and her parents had been attacked by infected.
She continued to cry, even when Zoey came up behind her, and she frowned when she got a look at what she was crying over. A shoe?
A sneaker.
"My sneaker," Zoey murmured, brow furrowing. The child whirled on her and screeched, her fingers like long knives, her eyes burning a hellish orange, and Zoey screamed.
"Whoa! Whoa, wake up! Wake up!"
Zoey's eyes flew open they were already open and struggled against the hands on her claws they were claws oh god they were tearing her apart and then Francis came into focus. Seeing him was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on her head, snapping her fully back into reality. Only her own ragged breathing filled the van, and Francis spoke again.
"That musta been a hell of a dream," he said worriedly, "You okay?"
She couldn't stop it this time. Zoey felt her lower lip quaver a moment before she burst into tears, burying her face in his chest and clutching at his vest, just needing to assure herself that he was real.
"Jesus," she heard Francis mutter, "Aw, jeez, what's this? Stop cryin' Zoey, it was just a nightmare."
"She okay?" Louis said, his own voice laden with concern.
"Yeah, she's fine," Francis said, sounding uncomfortable, "Hey, c'mon, you're okay. Don't make a liar outta me, kid."
Awkwardly, a hand stroked her back, and she eventually faded into pathetic sniffles.
She knew the ensuing awkward silence in the van was her doing and she hated herself for it. That was it, right there. She'd jumped the shark. Now they'd all be falling over themselves to keep her from a slight breeze stirring her hair, telling her to wait behind instead of covering their backs... the thought made more tears well up in her eyes until Francis gave her a firm pat on the back to get her attention.
"You done getting' snot all over my shirt?" he asked gruffly. Zoey looked up at him and he smiled gently at her, "Hey, there she is."
She gulped a few times and looked down, feeling suddenly shy, feeling stupid. Who had nightmares that made them cry, anyway? Four year olds?
"You dream that Francis had to do long division to save you?" Louis joked, obviously trying to cheer her up. She couldn't help but laugh weakly – even Francis chuckled – and shook her head, finally uncurling her fingers from his vest. Though she was reluctant to pull away, she forced herself too, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Francis let her pull away but kept a hand on her shoulder, ducking his head down to peer at her.
"I dreamed that I was all alone," she said, voice small, "And then there was... there was a little girl, but she wasn't a little girl, she was a witch, and-"
Zoey's voice hitched and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard.
"Nobody gets left behind," Bill's steely voice cut in, making her open her eyes. She saw him looking at her in the rear-view mirror and nodded mutely.
"Think you can get back to sleep?" Louis wondered, offering her a warm smile when she looked at him next. It was hard not to smile back at him and she hugged herself as she shrugged.
"Probably," she said, "I guess I didn't sleep very long."
Reluctant, Zoey laid back down again, looking up curiously when a hand rested on her shoulder. Normally he kept it braced along the back of the seat.
"So I can punch the bad dreams if they come back," he explained.
"That's so lame, Francis," she muttered at him, smirking in spite of herself.
"Just go t'sleep, will yah?"
Rain began to plunk and tink against the van as she drifted off again, and she dreamily hoped they didn't get hit by a storm. It wasn't a good time to have low visibility.
Her sleep was dreamless and deep this time around, and she was jostled awake again before she was ready. Zoey growled something unpleasant, assuming it was Francis who had woken her, wondering what the hell was wrong now.
"I know, I know," he said, smirking at her, "But check it out. Highway sixty-two. You missed a storm too, by the way."
She sat up and peered out the window, keeping herself propped up on his leg with her arms. It was a two lane highway flanked by forest, but thankfully, it didn't twinge any unpleasant deja vu. So far this had been a realistic movie. She hated it when supernatural crap junked up her zombie flicks.
"How long until we get to the park, do you think?" she wondered sleepily, keeping her eyes out the window.
Bill, now in the passenger's seat, spoke up, "Few hours. We might have to hoof it, though. There's a lotta cars along the side of the road here. Might be clogged up the closer we get."
"I hope not," she said quietly. Though it was inevitable, she wasn't looking forward to creeping around out in the open again.
Zoey sat up all the way and Francis groaned quietly, rubbing his leg.
"Is my head really heavy or something?" she teased, "You always do that."
"Makes my fuckin' leg fall asleep," he groused, "That shit stings."
"Oh, I didn't... sorry Francis, I didn't know," Zoey grimaced.
"It ain't that bad," he assured her, "Clears up real fast, too. Relax."
Zoey didn't say anything else and rubbed at her eyes, deciding that she felt all-around crappy. She was nightmare having crybaby who didn't notice she was putting someone's leg to sleep. Plus she was a terrible shot and didn't even have a backpack.
Ugh.
She rubbed her face vigorously and slumped down in her seat. Maybe she was just getting stir crazy sitting around in the van. Though she still had to sit through Francis' shift, she was wide awake now with no means to amuse herself.
Zoey drummed her fingers on her legs and stretched her legs out between the seats, trying to see if she could touch the dash without slumping down much further. Her toes came up short and so she slumped down further, heedless of how it made her shirt and pull over ride up. It was only her stomach that was exposed, after all, and she was bored.
"The hell are you doin'?" Bill asked her, turning in his chair to look at her.
"Tryin' to touch the dash from here," she said, voice tight with concentration. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further, facing forward again. At least she knew she wasn't the only one who didn't feel like sleeping.
Francis moved in her peripheral vision and she didn't think anything of it until he started tickling her, making her squeal and writhe away as he laughed.
"You ass!" she laughed, swatting at his hands.
"Couldn't help myself," he grinned broadly, "So yer ticklish, huh?"
"Settle down back there, kids, or I'll turn this car around!" Louis said gruffly, obviously trying to imitate Bill.
"I don't sound like that," Bill protested. There was a lighter tenor in his voice, and Zoey couldn't think of a time when they'd all been laughing and smiling together.
"Are you ticklish?" Zoey wondered, wriggling her fingers menacingly.
"Nah," he said smugly, draping an arm over the back of the bench, resting the other on the window.
"Are you suuuure?" she pressed, inching forward on her knees, head ducked and eyes narrowed.
"Try me."
She hesitated, catching herself before she dove at him. This was... this was flirting. She was flirting with him right now.
He'd started it!
"What?" he asked, "Afraid yah might break your fingers on my rockin' abs?"
Louis and Bill laughed even harder and Zoey slumped down on the bench, covering her face, laughing in spite of herself even as her face burned red. She'd set herself up for that one, so she had only herself to blame.
"You guys all suck," she announced.
"You're never gonna live that one down, Zoey," Louis said through his laughter, "That's pretty much a given."
"We better be careful," she said, voice muffled by her hands, "This is usually when something jumps out in front of the car and we gotta swerve around crazily to avoid hitting it."
"You are your movie crap," Bill said, "You need a new hobby, kid."
"Can I bum a cigarette?"
"Smartass."
They lapsed into a relaxed silence, one that didn't weigh heavily on their shoulders, and Zoey exhaled a contended sigh. Ever since her little cry-splosion, she'd felt lighter, like there wasn't so much pressing in on her anymore. Maybe it had been stupid to bite back tears for so long. It wasn't like she didn't have a worry in the world, she just felt like she had a handle things.
They had a handle on it.
Traffic thickened. For awhile they were able to skirt around the jam up by driving on the shoulder, but once they caught sight of the checkpoint – conveniently at the park entrance – they knew their time in the van had come to an end.
WELCOME TO ALLEGHENY NATIONAL FOREST! a sign announced cheerily. The scene before them, illuminated by their headlights and the fading sunlight, was far from cheerful.
There were corpses sprawled out on the ground, some on the ticket booths, but only insects were interested in their bodies. She couldn't remember seeing a single bird since she'd left her dorm, come to think of it. Was the virus deadly to animals?
"I thought there'd be more infected," she whispered as they crept out of the van. Bill went around back and popped the trunk, taking stock of what they ought to carry and what they needed to leave behind.
"Musta found something better to do," Louis said, staring out into the darkness, "Pretty creepy, though."
"We'll continue on foot until morning," Bill decided, "Safehouse or not. This is the home stretch, people. We just need to keep our shit together until then."
Though it would've been very nice to take all the extra food, Bill only allowed them the backpacks and the sleeping bags, noting that they'd ditch the sleeping bags if they got too cumbersome. Zoey was glad to at least be carrying something again. Once they were all set, they stepped past the ticket booths.
There was another blockade behind the booths, this one made of sandbags and concrete walls, and they paused to read the signage. Most of it was warnings for motorists and those on foot, but there was a sign that had been pasted over one of them, directing people to take the hiking trail to a train yard, as that was where the evacuation point had been moved too. It was no longer in the park.
"Great," Louis muttered, "It's been moved to the other side of the forest. Great."
"This is good," Bill said, "They must still be actively picking people up if they had time to post a relocation sign."
"What's good about walking through the woods at night?" Francis protested, "I hate the woods!"
"Sooner we get walkin', the sooner we're out," Bill assured him, "Let's go."
There were no abandoned military vehicles, something Bill took care to point out as they moved along the road, but Zoey didn't feel all that much better. Just because the military had left didn't necessarily mean it was a good thing. What if they'd left entirely? They might get to the yard and find it overrun or empty, no further signage directing them to another extraction point.
But they'd come this far, hadn't they? At this point, it was too late to turn around and drive back.
This was the home stretch. She steeled herself, squared her shoulders, and clicked on her maglite. They just had to get to the train yard. After a city crawling with infected, this would be like a walk in the park.
So to speak.
A.N.: My word you guys are fantastic. Thanks for the continued support and an inbox full of reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this as we dive nose-first into Blood Harvest. Rawwwwrrr.
