The week dragged on slowly—painfully slow, I might add. I kept myself busy with chores and activities with the kids, but I always ran out of things to do. The boredom was the worst of it. I had to keep busy, or else I'd start thinking about him.
There was still no information on my dad.
Everyone in the group was okay, for the most part. There was this blonde girl named Amy, she was nice. I thought we were closer in age until she mentioned being in college. I didn't like her older sister, Andrea. She was a bit condescending and was constantly hovering over Amy any chance she got. That's not to say that she was mean or anything.
You know the people you meet, and you just don't like them for some reason? There's not even a reason; you just can't get on with them? That's how I felt about Carl's mother, Lori. She was friendly yet overbearing, causing me to wonder if that was a bad thing or not. I heard about how her husband died, so I tried to keep that into account.
Walking up the hill towards camp, I gripped a bucket of water in each hand. There wasn't a lot to do, so I found myself collecting some water to boil. Going down was the easy part, carrying two full buckets of water up one of the steepest hills I've seen; that was something else. I had to stop a few times, sit down or put the buckets on the ground.
Almost there, my brain coaxed, when I made it to the top of the hill.
No less than ten meters from the campfire, Glenn appeared beside me, takingone of the buckets from my hand. I opened my mouth to make a comment, even considered taking the bucket back. Instead, I just let it go. Glenn was too nice for me to be mean.
"Thank you."
"No problem," he smiled.
We walked together. I dropped my bucket next to the fire, shaking my hand up and down to get rid of the ache. The palm of my hand had a red stripe across the middle, which turned white when I pressed my thumb to the skin. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, letting out a sigh.
Glenn copied my action, putting the bucket down beside my own. "I'm heading to Atlanta soon, is there anything you need before I go?"
I shook my head, "I don't know, maybe just something to do."
He nodded and rubbed his chin. "Maybe—"
"—SHIT!"
Glenn spun around, and I stepped to the side to see past him. The source of the outburst—Merle Dixon—had just kicked the ground, causing dirt to fly up at his ankles.
"What's his problem?" Glenn muttered rhetorically. We both knew the answer, so I didn't reply.
Merle's voice dropped lower as he continued swearing. I caught a few fun curses, along with some entertaining comments on his bike. He was standing over a partly dismantled and a box of tools that I knew belonged to Dale.
Guess it's still broken, I thought to myself. It wasn't the first time I saw him messing with it. I could see him getting more and more agitated any time he worked, which didn't bode well for the bike, considering that he ended up taking his anger out on it. He would never get it fixed that way, and I had to keep telling myself it wasn't my problem.
Glenn scoffed and shook his head, turning back to me. "I should get going. I'll keep an eye out for something in Atlanta. See you later."
I smiled and waved a hand at him as he turned to walk to the motorhome, grabbing his bag that was leaning against the tyre. He started walking to where Shane was standing, talking to some other members in camp.
Looking back at the motorcycle, I started thinking about what might have been wrong with it. It couldn't be the spark plug. When he tried starting the bike, the engine did actually ignite. The problem was keeping the engine running, which could mean the problem was in the battery or the alternator. There was no way of knowing for sure unless I actually had the chance to look at it.
Watching Merle fumble with the bike, I found myself walking in his direction, all the while telling myself mind your business; he doesn't want your help.
His brother Daryl was noticeably absent from their segregated section of the camp. I hadn't seen Daryl that day, meaning that he might have been hunting. The brothers were usually together, though Daryl did leave on his own sometimes. Merle didn't exactly seem to be in the most patient of moods, something that was probably needed for hunting.
My eyes went over the tools scattered in the dirt. Merle hadn't even tried to sort them or keep them clean or attempt to keep them close enough to reach easily. My fingers twitched with the urge to pick them up and sort them accordingly.
I leaned to the side, trying to peer at what exactly he was doing and what tool he had. He still didn't notice me.
I examined the ground again before picking up a spanner, holding it out for Merle. "You might want to try this one. It's not the same, but it might work better than the bigger one."
He looked up from what he was doing with a frown. The confusion didn't leave his face when he realised that the person speaking was a girl that couldn't have been any older than sixteen. I expected this; he was not the first to look at me that way.
"What?" Merle snapped.
I looked down at the spanner in hand, my confidence wavering, "it's just, you looked like you were struggling. I thought this one might fit better."
Merle chuckled. "And what makes you say that?"
"My dad's a mechanic," I said while forcing a smile.
I knew I wasn't being taken seriously; men like him never did until I proved that I knew what I was talking about. I had to ignore the annoyance and anxiety it caused me; it would only worsen if I looked affected by his attitude.
"That so?" He frowned for a second. "So, where's your dad at? Sure he'll be getting worried 'bout ya soon. Why don't ya go bug him?"
I wondered if that was some kind of sick joke or if he was that clueless. The group was so small and lived in such close proximity you'd think he, along with everyone else, would know my dad was not around.
Pursing my lips, I decided to ignore the question. My arm was getting tired from awkwardly holding the wrench to him. "Can I help? I know what I'm doing."
"I don' think so," he snickered, turning back to the bike.
The calm facade I had built was shattered by agitation, and I retraced the wrench a little in frustration. "What? Why?"
"Listen, girlie. I don't have time for ya to be fuckin' up my shit. Now beat it. I'm busy." Despite his words, he grabbed the spanner from my hand and switched it with what he was using. Although I wasn't happy with him, I had to hold back a sigh of relief. The only thing more awkward than this conversation was me holding out the spanner for an hour.
I frowned, crossing my arms while watching Merle get back to work. I felt my lips twitch with a smug smirk, seeing the exact moment he got the spanner to fit. I wasn't even watching his hands; I could tell by the tenseness in his shoulders, the way they stiffened when he found I was right.
I bit the inside of my cheek, refraining from rubbing it in his face while he finally got the bolt off. I expected him to turn back to me or even say something, but instead, he started to disconnect the terminals from the battery.
My eyebrows furrowed with concern, and I called out quickly. "You're doing it wrong."
Merle glanced up a scowl on his face. "What now?"
I very badly wanted to shout at him. No wonder the bike was a mess.
"You have to disconnect the negative terminal first. If you disconnect the positive one, then you could short circuit the bike, then you'd have to replace the fuses. The negative terminal is normally a darker colour."
Merle had a very different look on his face now. He was no longer amused at my presence. The scowl said that much.
I couldn't help but continue, "It's really not that complicated."
He didn't say anything for a while, just looking between me and the bike. Finally, he just snapped at me, "get the fuck outta 'ere!"
I scoffed, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from answering back. I spun around on my heels and turned away from Merle, rolling my eyes as I left.
My hand went to rub the back of my neck in a jerky motion, my face reddening with annoyance. I tried avoiding the gaze of anyone who could've noticed, switching between looking at the sky or the ground.
Without looking where I was going, my hip bumped against someone next to the motorhome. "Oh. . . sorry," I muttered, quickly turning to look at the person.
"Hey, it's alright," Amy gave a smile and stood up a little straighter, resting the bucket on her hip. "We're going to do the laundry now; do you want to come with us?"
There was nothing better to do, so I gave a nod. "Yeah, okay."
She turned around to grab one of the metal bowls for me. She nodded her head to gesture for me to follow her, and I walked down to the quarry with the rest of the ladies.
When we arrived, everyone sat in their usual positions, perched on the large rocks at the edge of the quarry's water.
I kneeled down to grab a pile of clothes to wash, looking around to grab a scrubbing brush. "Does anyone have a scrubbing brush?" I questioned.
Carol reached behind her, grabbing one of the brushes from the ground behind her. "Here you go."
When I reached over to take the brush, I noticed a bruise curling around her wrist. It looked recent like it was done a few days prior. The white space in between made the mark look like a handprint.
I felt my eyes lingering over the bruise, so I grabbed the brush quickly and went to sit down next to Amy, muttering a quick thank you before getting to work. I peered over at her out of the corner of my eyes, but she had got straight back to work, plunging her hand in the metal bowl to wash the rest of her clothes.
My mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour. I didn't notice if Carol saw me looking or even what had caused the bruise, but she didn't say anything else on the matter. I had to try and push the thought away to concentrate on what I was doing, but there were too many unknowns. My brain wouldn't let it rest. I sat in silence, not looking away from the bucket until it was time to go back to camp.
When we were finished, I put the clean clothes in a washing basket and walked back up to camp with everyone. We made it back to the camp, I helped them hang the washing out to dry.
"Here," Carol took the shirt from my hands, "I'll finish this."
"Oh-uh . . . you don't have to."
"It's fine," she gave a smile, "go on, we have it from here."
I eventually gave a nod and left them to finish hanging the washing on the line, giving a small huff as I once again had nothing to do.
I was sitting around one of the fires outside of the motorhome when I heard the rumble of Glenn's car returning. I glanced over my shoulder and waved, but he just gave a nervous smile in return.
My head tilted in confusion, and I wanted to ask him if everything was okay until Shane crossed into my line of sight to greet him. Glenn waved his hand further away from the car, and Shane followed him. I glanced down at my lap, acting like I didn't notice.
Shane was quiet, but I still heard him as he spoke. "Is something wrong?"
"It was crazy!" Glenn exclaimed rapidly.
"Calm down," Shane said, "what happened?"
Glenn stumbled over his sentence, repeating words until he got them out in the right order. "There were so many of them."
So many what? I thought, playing with the hem of my shirt to keep myself occupied.
"What?" Shane questioned.
"The dead things! Geeks! There were like, hundreds of them!"
I felt my eyes widen. Where was that many in Atlanta?! There couldn't be, how could there? Did anyone make it out?
And then the worst question popped into my head: did my dad go to Atlanta? If it was as bad as Glenn was saying it was, then my dad could be trapped in Atlanta. . . or worse. I listened for them to say something else.
Shane was quiet for a second while processing what Glenn was telling him. "What about the military? They weren't sorting it out?"
"There was no one there!" Glenn said in an exasperated tone. "I couldn't find anyone, maybe they were somewhere else in the city, but I don't know. It didn't look like it."
"Did you get around okay?"
I could imagine Glenn nodding when he spoke. "Some of the alleyways have been blocked off; I guess someone did it before it was overrun. Not many geeks get through. You can get to some of the stores that way. If you keep quiet, they don't seem to notice."
"Did you manage to get any food?" I heard Shane ask, his voice lower.
"Yeah, there was some stuff in the apartments. Enough for a week or so, but it'll run out."
"Well, we should be okay for now," Shane said. "Come on, let's move the food into the RV."
Not being able to sit there any longer, I stood up and made a beeline for camp so I would have somewhere to be alone. My chest was tightening as I thought about what Glenn said.
Shane told us that people in Atlanta must have made it out, and the military would be sorting the city out soon. If there were that many sick people in Atlanta, where was the military? When I spoke to my dad on the radio, he said that he had to hide from a lot of the sick.
It was like the flood gates had opened, and all the thoughts I had been fighting to keep out all came piling in at once. I quickly entered my tent so nobody would see the panic on my face.
What Glenn had said, with the sheer number of sick people out there, it made it even more possible that my dad. . .
Stop, I thought forcefully.
I knew that if I were to continue, then I'd be giving myself a panic attack on the scenarios that I had made up in my head. My dad was okay. Travel was going to be hard because he hurt his leg, but he was safe.
He told me.
I laid back on the pile of blankets I had been calling a bed. If I slept, it would finally shut my brain up, at least for a while.
I closed my eyes.
"Ace?"
Carl.
My eyes opened as I called back. "Yeah?"
"Me and Sophia are going to play a board game," his shadow bounced around excitedly on the wall of the tent, "do you want to come play with us?"
As much as I wanted to be alone, I knew it wasn't going to help. I would only be lying here, which would leave me with only my brain.
Not a good idea right now.
"Okay."
Carl was just as excited as his shadow. He gave me a smile as I crawled out of the tent and waved a hand at me to follow him. His arms swung back and forth as he walked forwards, giving the occasional glance to make sure I was still following him.
"We're going to play Trouble," he stated simply.
"Trouble?" I frowned. "I don't think I've played it."
"Don't worry, it's easy," he said, "I can teach you."
I felt a smile work its way to my face, and Carl grinned up at me. "Thanks."
Sophia was sitting at a small wooden table not far away from the group of tents. She smiled, giving a small wave. "Hi."
"Hi," I answered.
Carl grabbed the box off the ground, putting it on the table. I inspected the box that had a game picture that I found familiar.
"Oh, you meant Ludo."
Carl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"
"That's what I called the game when—" I stopped myself, shaking my head. "Never mind, I know how to play."
"Okay," Carl answered, laying the pieces on the board, "what colour do you want to be, Sophia?"
"Can I be blue?"
"Yeah," I said, grabbing the small plastic bag with the different colour pieces, "here you go."
"Thanks."
I took the yellow pieces from the bag and gave the rest of the pieces to Carl. He took the red ones and put the pieces in the right places.
"Is yellow your favourite colour?" Carl questioned, shaking the dice back and forth in his hand.
"Yeah," I said, "how'd you know?"
"It's just the same colour as your bag," he shrugged, dropping the dice on the board.
Observant.
I found it weird that Carl would notice that, nobody else would have. I knew that he was trying to make me feel better since I got here, inviting me to play different games with him and the rest of the children.
After Sophia took her turn, put rolled the dice myself. Five. Couldn't leave home until I got a six. Carl took the dice back.
We played the game for at least thirty minutes before someone came to check on us. Lori had a smile as she neared the table.
"Are you guys having fun?"
Both kids nodded.
Carol looked up and grinned. "Look, I'm winning!" Carl beamed.
"That's great, hun," Lori placed her hand on the back of Carl's head, flattening down the pieces of brown hair that were sticking up, "don't be much longer, okay? Dinner will be ready soon."
"Okay, mom," he huffed.
Sophia reached to grab the dice, but a rough voice interrupted her.
"Sophia!" Ed yelled from across the camp. "Come on, girl!"
She stood up quickly. "I gotta go, speak to you tomorrow."
"Bye, Sophia," Carl gave her a wave as she ran off towards her dad, who was leaning against the motorhome with a cigarette in his mouth. Carl watched her run away until she was out of earshot and started taking her pieces off the board. "Sophia's dad is mean."
I couldn't bring myself to say anything as I craned my neck to look at them. I had never spoken to Ed myself, but with everything I had seen, I couldn't deny the accusation. I just turned back to help Carl pack up the board game.
Chapter 4 here. Penn and I have basically had this one planned since the start, and we love it. I hope you enjoyed the funnier scenes as much as we do.
Again, look at Just Gone by Where'sMyPenn and Quiet by Brodunski They're both great books and definitely deserve a look.
Let me know what you thought and I'll see you all next week :)
