August 30, 2003

My thumb aches from how low I've bitten the nail down. I've been biting all my fingernails religiously, but my thumb got the worst of it. Biting my nails was never something I did regularly, but I've picked up the habit during the past few days.

For over a month, I've gone without a period. At first I thought it was just late; it would come soon enough. But after so many days have passed, I've really started to worry. At this point, all signs point toward me being pregnant.

It's a terrible thought. If I truly am pregnant, our horrible living circumstances would only worsen. Luke and Pete would both be pissed. I'm sure there would be a fair amount of fighting between all of us, over how the hell this could have happened.

I've always wanted to have kids someday, but current events made me think I never would. Other than the fact that dead people walk around, I'm pretty young to be a mom. There's also the fact that I can't be with the father because my brother would chew both of our heads off.

What am I thinking? I'm probably not even pregnant. After all, I haven't taken a pregnancy test. I'm sure the stress of the apocalypse and the lack of proper nutrition has caused my late period and other symptoms.

We've had to keep relocating. Everyday the number of lurkers we encounter seems to double. We're low on supplies, especially fuel for the RV. We haven't come across any kind of gas station or pit stop in awhile, so we have to be close to one. If I'm lucky, I can make an excuse that we need supplies. Then, I can take Nick with me to find a pregnancy test. I just hope that pregnancy tests are still in supply.

Someone kicks at the door to the bathroom, which is where I've been hiding for the past half hour. When the RV is in motion, it's nearly impossible to get some alone time, unless of course I lock myself inside the tiny bathroom.

"Can you finish up in there? I need to brush my teeth." Luke kicks at the door again.

"Just give me five minutes, please," I tell him.

I turn to the mirror to take in my appearance. I haven't been crying, but I look like a trainwreck. My hands have been running through my hair to soothe my nerves, although it hasn't helped. In the mirror, I observe the aftermath of my anxiety. My wavy hair is now frizzy. My eyes-one blue, one brown-stare back at me with hints of fear embedded in them. I do what I can to fix my hair and calm myself down.

I slide the bathroom door open quietly, hoping to not be noticed. Unluckily for me, Luke was standing right next to the door. He makes some kind of grumble and tromps into the bathroom. Nick hears, causing him to rise to his feet. He meets me right outside the bathroom with a grin on his face.

"Hey, how are you feel-"

"Has Pete said if we're stopping soon?" I interrupt him. I feel bad for doing so, but I really need to cut to the chase right now.

As if on cue, Pete shouts to us that he's stopping the RV. I wait until Luke is out of the bathroom and the RV is at a complete stop before I speak, "I could really use some personal supplies, and I know the RV is low on fuel. I'll take Nick with me down the road and see if we can find a gas station."

The others stare at me oddly. I suppose my announcement is quite sudden.

"Do you want me to come too?" Luke asks.

"No!" I answer quickly. I realize I sounded too harsh and suspicious so I cover my tracks. "We'll be okay on our own. You took a long shift of watch last night so just get some rest."

He stares at me, like he doesn't believe me. After a moment he answers, "All right. Be careful."

I drag Nick out of there as fast as I can without looking too suspicious. We head down the road. I carry an empty backpack for supplies, while Nick carries two empty gasoline cans.

"Are you going to tell me what this is actually about? Or are you gonna' lie to me too?" Nick asks about a mile down the road.

My heart races and I get a queasy feeling in my stomach. If he is suspicious, then it's safe to say that the others are suspicious too. I have no idea how I'm going to play this off. I know I should tell Nick, but I just can't right now.

"I just need period stuff," I lie. Hopefully it is enough to suffice his curiosity. I don't think he believes me, but he doesn't bring it up again.

After a few minutes, a run down gas station with a convenience store comes into view. It's a sight for sore eyes, even though it looks like it has been run down since before the fall of humanity. The sign for gas prices is still standing tall. It's funny to think that two months ago the price of gas was something we had to worry about.

At first glance, the area appears deserted. Nick nods toward the only car left in the parking lot. It's a relatively new car, and it's in good condition too. As Nick fills the empty gas cans to the brim, I wonder if this car belongs to a living person. I would feel horrible if we were draining someone's car while they went for a run.

I walk around to the front of the car to investigate. My worries are cut short when I see the driver's seat. A rotting corpse is inside, the keys still in the dead man's hands. He has a bullet hole in his head. He has no gun in his hands, so it's likely that someone killed him. For what reason he was killed, I have no clue. Considering that the killer did not take this beautiful car, it seems to me that this was an act of cold blooded murder. I don't plan to stick around long, in case the killer decides to come back.

I use my knife to pry the keys from the dead hands and try my hardest not to touch him with my bare hands. Unfortunately, that task is unavoidable. They finally release from the tight clutch that previously held them. Nick is finishing up the gas cans as I circle back to the rear end of the car.

"Where'd you get those?" He asks about the keys.

"From the dead guy in the front seat." I gesture toward the body.

He peers through the back window, while I unlock the trunk. As it pops open, our jaws drop. Ten full canisters of fuel sit perfectly placed inside the trunk.

"How the hell are we even going to carry this all back?" Nick asks.

It's a good question, but I find the solution almost immediately. There's a grocery cart next to the building, and I push it toward Nick. He stops the cart from crashing into the car.

"At least one of us is observant," he says, actually managing to get a small smile out of me.

After we load up the cart, we head inside. Anxiety fills me the moment the bell on the door dings. Without a doubt this is the most nervous I've ever felt. Relax, I think, there's no way you're pregnant.

Before we do anything else, we search the store for anything that may try and hurt us. I thought we were in the clear, but a lurker launches itself onto me from behind a stack of boxes. I struggle against it, walking backward to escape from its grasp. My back hits the counter. I briefly think about reaching for my knife, but I know if I remove one of my hands from the lurker's chest, I'll be its lunch.

Nick grabs it by the shoulders, throws it to the ground, and stabs it.

"Jesus, are you okay?!"

He tries to grab me, but I push him away. Vomit comes up my throat in an instant. It covers the lurker. Gross.

The store has obviously been searched through by a fair share of people. Most of the food items are gone, but luckily for me, no one bothered to take the packs of gum. I pop a piece in my mouth and pocket the rest for when I inevitably throw up again later.

Nick tries to talk to me, but it's time to put my mind at ease once and for all. I need to distract him so I can find a pregnancy test. "You can search that end of the store, and I'll search this end."

"Hell no. I left you alone for five seconds earlier and you almost died," he says.

"I'll be okay. I have to look for period things."

At my mention of 'period things,' he agrees with my plan. Guys are funny in the sense that they get uncomfortable whenever you mention anything to do with periods. I so badly wish I was actually looking for tampons.

I enter aisle seven, checking over my shoulder constantly to make sure Nick isn't following me. The rest of the aisle has been picked through, but on the bottom shelf lies a pregnancy test. Its packaging is still in pristine condition, and it's placed perfectly on the shelf. It's almost like it was waiting there, specifically for me.

I check my surroundings and quickly pocket the small box. "I'm going to the bathroom!" I yell, but I don't wait around for Nick's response.

The bathroom door has a lock on it, which I gladly take advantage of. I rip the box apart in a hurry. I take the test inside the stall and place it on the sink when I'm done.

And then I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I walk toward the sink. I'm experiencing so many physical and mental symptoms of anxiety, but I'm sure in just a few short moments I'll feel much better. I peer down at the test and-

Positive.

My brain instantly feels like it's been set ablaze. It's firing off a million different thoughts at once. I don't know whether to cry or scream, so I do both. I slide down against the wall, ignoring the millions of germs that have probably been here for years. I can't breathe.

I hear Nick's fist pounding on the door. At first, it's loud. Then the noise starts to fade out, just like it did when I passed out after my parents died.

I feel myself slipping, until Nick kicks the door in. It jolts me back into consciousness, and I spiral into a sobbing, pathetic mess. He begs me to tell him what's wrong. I can't speak. I direct my eyes toward the test on the floor beside me.

He follows my gaze. At first he's confused, but I can see the exact moment in which he realizes. His face drops. "Is it mine?"

I can't believe he would even ask that. I manage to give him an answer, "Of course."

He bolts to a standing position and his hands move toward his head. He paces around muttering obscenities. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What's Pete gonna' say? And Luke, oh my god, Luke's gonna' kill me!"

Seeing Nick's panic causes me to stop sobbing. I transition to soft cries. It's a weird thought, but I feel like only one of us is allowed to panic at a time.

His thoughts shift. "Holy shit, I'm gonna' be a dad! What the fuck am I gonna' do?"

I watch him pace around the bathroom in panic for a while. I sniffle softly, but I'm mostly in shock. Eventually, he remembers I exist and his entire demeanor changes.

He crouches in front of me and cradles my face. As he wipes my tears away he says, "Hey, don't worry. It's going to be okay."

I want to tell him that he can't promise me that. I want to say that his behaviour toward the situation doesn't make it seem like everything will be okay. I want to tell him that I'm terrified of what is going to happen. But I don't have any energy left in me so I simply nod.

A loud commotion comes from the front of the store. We look for the source of it to find two dozen lurkers pressed against the glass door. The combination of yelling and Nick kicking in the door must have attracted them. The glass won't hold for long, so we need to find another way out.

The window in the bathroom seems to be the only other exit. It's small and high up, but it seems doable for an escape. Nick helps me to the window first, since I'm not tall enough to reach. I expect a tall drop when I climb out the other side, but a (thankfully closed) dumpster catches my fall. Nick follows my movements and tries to tug me in the direction of the RV.

I pull against him. "The grocery cart full of gas is still over there! And if we leave they'll follow us back."

"It doesn't matter. We can just drive the RV somewhere else," he says.

"No!" I stand my ground. "We're already almost out of gas and we need this. I'm tired of always running away. We need to make a stand."

He sighs, but agrees. "Fine, but we might get killed."

Before the lurkers notice where we are, we formulate a plan. Each of us will have to take out about ten lurkers. We'll split them up as best as possible and only use our knives so that we don't attract any more.

We walk to the front of the building to see the lurkers still pressed against the glass. I shout at them, which attracts the hoard toward us. We both utilize my go-to move of stunning the lurkers. There's a few close calls, but after a few minutes, we're standing around a pile of bodies.

I slide down the side of the building, my heart hammering. I'm sweaty and out of breath. Nick drops himself next to me, also panting. Our breathing regulates, and he places his hand on my knee.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

I shake my head and get to my feet, which causes his hand to fall to his lap. "No. I'm sorry."

His face shows complete devastation, but he doesn't say a word. He starts pushing the cart toward our temporary home. I follow him, wishing I knew what to do to make things right.