An (Incomplete) Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse: Chapter 3
March 11th, 1999 - 5:30 pm
"It all started with a virus," Rachel begins as she opens the door to the van. She motions for Tom to climb inside before following him, closing it softly behind them. He wonders if she learned the hard way to organize supplies from the inside, rather than from the back doors where they would be vulnerable. "The virus started in Egypt. My professor at Yale, Dr. Julius Hunter, was asked to take samples of it for the CDC. When he came back, he told me about what he had seen. It was... terrible. The virus killed everyone it touched; no one survived."
Tom nods, settling down on one of the sleeping bags, and begins handing various pieces of medical equipment to Rachel from the duffel bag. She seems to have a place for everything, and swiftly puts each piece away into the carefully organized boxes and crates that line the back of the van. She speaks the whole time, and Tom finds himself in awe of everything that had happened while he had been in the hospital, unconscious and unaware.
"We don't know exactly how or why it started. I was finishing up the last semester of my PhD after completing my doctorate in medicine, and so I wasn't involved in studying the virus, but Dr. Hunter thinks that it interacted with something in the lab, or someone, and just... mutated. It no longer infects the living, so we're safe from that, thank goodness. Instead, it infects the dead, and reanimates their cells."
Tom wants to know more about the virus as well as the zombies, but holds up a hand to pause Rachel in her retelling.
"Hold on," he says. "You just said you were in the last semester of getting your PhD. I thought you said you were only twenty two?"
Rachel smiles, her cheeks pink. She looks down, not meeting Tom's eyes as she explains. "I started college at fifteen. I ... needed to get away from my father. I joined an accelerated program, and received my certification as a medical doctor at nineteen. I knew no one would take me seriously in the medical field since I was so young, so I decided to just keep pursuing my education. I actually wanted to study virology next, but... well," she pauses, and waves a hand in the air to indicate their current predicament. "Anyway, the virus mutated. It doesn't seem to matter why or how a person dies, whether it's from the virus or not. They all reanimate. And, as we recently discovered... it doesn't matter if they were ever bitten or not. When we die, we will all come back as zombies. We're all already infected."
Tom swallows, and tries not to let his hands shake as he hands Rachel a package of gauze.
"I was with Dr. Hunter, at first, but he was infected pretty early on. Then I was alone, for several weeks, before Danny and Kara found me."
"About that," Tom says, and zips the empty duffel bag up after handing Rachel the last package of disinfectant wipes. "Danny and Kara. One or both of them were in the military, right?"
Rachel nods. "Yes, Danny was, and Kara's father was Army. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just curious how you became the leader of this little group, since..." he trails off, not sure how to verbalize his thoughts.
"Since I'm the youngest and the weakest?" she finishes for him.
"I wouldn't say weakest," Tom argues, scoffing at the idea. "I saw how you took down that Zombie. But yeah, being the youngest and the smallest, physically. They all listen to you, do what you say. I just wondered how that happened."
Rachel shrugs, reaching for the second duffel bag and opening it. Inside this one is food, mostly dried goods. She unpacks noodles, rice, dried fruit and chips, and stashes it all in crates that are zip-tied to the wall of the van. They're organized by the type of food in them, and Tom watches, impressed, as Rachel carefully arranges it all.
"Kara and Danny are strong, but they aren't ... planners. To survive this, we have to be smart. We have to have our next three steps planned out, and have a backup plan in case our first plan fails. We have to plan supply runs for medicine, food, and water. The zombies don't need anything to survive. They don't need food or water, they don't even need to eat people, they just like it. It's not just about killing zombies, it's about living. We have to live, if we're going to win this."
"And you're brilliant," Tom says, grinning. He's only known her for a few hours, but he can see it in her. "Always two steps ahead. You've kept them alive, so they look up to you."
Rachel smiles, stowing the now empty duffel bags in an empty crate before turning back to him. "Something like that. When Kara and Danny found me they didn't have any food or water. They were taking it an hour at a time, and it was wearing them down. We're... all tired, of course," she says, and leans back against the carefully organized food crates, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "But there's relief and safety in planning. In knowing we have food and the medicine we need. We're stronger together."
"How'd you guys meet Tex and Katie?" Tom asks, and moves to lean against the side of the van. He pulls one knee up and rests his arm on it, the other hand playing with the tie on his scrub pants. It's nice, relaxing, in this little bubble they've created. The sky is dark outside, but they're behind glass and metal, and he feels safe.
"At a pharmacy. Tex was looking for supplies for Katie's diabetes. He held us at gunpoint, demanded we give him everything we'd found, but I knew he wasn't bad. He eventually told us what was happening, and I offered to help, since I'm a doctor. He was so relieved he cried; Katie had been without insulin for days at that point, and it wasn't looking good. She would have died, probably that day, if we hadn't found them. He's been a great addition to the team."
"He seems a little sweet on you," Tom comments, and Rachel blushes noticeably even in the darkness.
"He's just a flirt," she says. "It's not like that. He's... actually more like a father to us."
Tom chuckles. "Ouch. Father-zoned."
Rachel giggles, dropping her head back against the crates behind her.
"It's not like that," she insists. "He's too old for me, anyway."
"Hey, it's the end of the world. No judgement," Tom teases, holding up both hands. "Unless he was like sixty. I'd have to judge just a little bit, if that were the case."
"Oh stop it," she says, and swats his leg.
They both fall quiet, then, and Tom can hear their breathing in the silence.
There's so much silence.
"Do you ever get used to it?" he asks softly. "To everything being so quiet?"
Rachel shrugs. "Not really. It's ... strange. Even in the country when I was little, it was always noisy in a way it's not now. Even the animals are quieter. The frogs don't croak as loudly, the birds don't chirp. I can't even tell you the last time I heard a dog bark. It's eerie."
"Yeah," Tom agrees, and then sighs. "I can't believe this is all real."
Rachel sets a hand on his leg, offering him a small smile. Tom closes his eyes, the heat of her hand bleeding through his scrub pants in a way that's comforting to him.
"I'm sorry," she says, and then pulls her hand back as she starts moving toward the door of the van. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. It must be a shock. I used to think that we never saw it coming, but I can't imagine waking up in this new world."
"Yeah," he says again, and then runs a hand through his hair, frowning when he feels the grime and oil from all the weeks he'd been in the hospital. "Hey, is there any chance I can get a shower and a change of clothes?"
Rachel laughs and nods. "Yeah, we can probably manage that, as long as you don't mind a cold shower. Hot water heaters are a thing of the past, unfortunately."
"I can live with that," he says, and follows her into the house.
March 11th, 1999 - 7:30 pm
An hour later Tom feels more human than he has since he woke up. He's stepping out of the bathroom, still shivering slightly from his freezing cold shower, and running a towel through his hair. He keeps meaning to ask Rachel if they have a razor of any sort stashed in their supplies, but being clean is a definite step in the right direction even if he is dealing with a large amount of scruff that he'd rather not deal with.
"Hey," Danny greets as he walks into the living room. Tom pauses, staring in astonishment at what they'd done while he was in the shower.
They'd taken all of the cushions from the couches and chairs, as well as what looked like every blanket and mattress in the entire house, and had used them to make a giant sleeping area on the living room floor.
"We all sleep together," Danny tells him, smiling when he sees Tom eyeing the giant bed. "It's safer. If something happens, it's easier to evacuate if everyone's together, that way we don't waste time trying to find people."
Tom nods. "Yeah, no, that makes sense. Just surprised. Hey, does anyone have a razor I can borrow? It hasn't escaped my notice that I'm the only one who looks like a caveman, so there has to be some way to shave."
Tex chuckles from where he's seated on the couch, Katie still pressed tightly into his side.
"You can use mine. Blue backpack, front pocket," he says, and points to a pile of luggage near the door. Tom nods his thanks and walks over, finding the blue backpack and pulling out a razor and a small bar of soap. "Just don't shave your balls with it or anything," Tex adds, and both he and Danny laugh. Kara rolls her eyes from where she's laid claim to the corner of the giant bed. Tom just grins.
"Don't worry," he says, waving over his shoulder as he heads back to the bathroom. "I'll only use it to shave my ass."
He closes the bathroom door to drown out Tex's shouts that you'd better fucking NOT, and chuckles as he turns the water back on. He uses the scissors he found in the cabinet to trim his beard before rubbing the soap over it, scraping the dull razor over his skin and wincing as tries not to cut himself. It takes longer than he's used to, but eventually he's rinsing his clean shaven jaw with fresh, cold water, and he feels better than he has all day. The only other thing that would make him feel more like himself would be...
He grabs the scissors, and walks back into the living room.
"Can anyone help me cut my hair?" he asks, and Kara volunteers immediately.
"I had two little brothers," she says a little wistfully as she directs him into the kitchen. "I used to cut their hair all the time. I can't promise it'll be perfect, but I do Danny and Eric's, and they don't complain. Eric Miller is the red headed kid, by the way," she adds, draping his towel over his shoulders before combing the knots out of his hair. "I don't think we got to introduce him earlier. You might have met him one day if this all hasn't happened. He was planning on joining the Navy."
Tom smiles and shakes his head. "In another universe maybe," he says, and Kara hums in agreement.
They fall silent as she cuts his hair, the sound of the scissors and the voices of the others in the living room a soothing background noise. Tom's thankful that it's not silent in the house at least.
When Kara's finished, she uses the towel to wipe away the stray hairs from Tom's shoulders, and tells him to hold tight while she grabs the razor from the bathroom, using it to shave the wiry hairs on the back of his neck.
"Done," she finally says, stepping back to admire her work. "Hey, you clean up pretty nice. You were looking a lot like Tex, back when we first found you."
"I heard that!" Tex yells from the living room, and Kara grins, sharing a wink with Tom.
"He won't let me cut his hair, but I bet he would clean up nice, too."
Tom chuckles as he stands up, running his fingers through his much shorter hair. It's not buzzed like it was when he was deployed, but it's manageable, and shorter in the back and by his ears, which he's thankful for.
"Thank you," he says sincerely. "This feels much better."
"You're welcome," Kara says, and takes Tex's razor and soap back to his backpack while Tom makes his way back into the living room.
Eric and Rachel are back from wherever they had been (probably collecting more bedding, if the new pile on the giant, shared bed is anything to go by), and both look on in surprise as he walks back into the room.
Rachel doesn't say anything, but her cheeks are pink as she gives him a quick once over, her eyes roaming from his feet to his head and back down again. Tom feels his chest warm at the obvious way she's checking him out, and finds himself idly wondering if he's too old for her. He quickly brushes that thought away, though, as he runs his hand through his short hair again and takes a seat on the edge of the cushion-less couch. Yes, she's beautiful, and brilliant, but... it's probably not the time to be thinking about things like that, he admits to himself.
The moment passes, and Tom's attention is quickly diverted away from Rachel when Tex and Danny begin to pepper him with questions. He answers them as best as he can - he figures he owes them that much, at least, for saving his life and taking him into their little group.
"What were you doing in Afghanistan?" Danny asks, and Tom settles back on the couch.
"It was my second deployment. I wasn't supposed to go, to be deployed again so soon, but tensions were ramping up with the whole Bin Laden thing. My team was sent to secure and patrol an exit point for our men in Afghanistan. Since the country is landlocked, we wanted to make sure our soldiers had an escape route should things go south. We had secured a route through Pakistan, and we thought it was safe." He pauses, and shakes his head. "Apparently not."
"You said you stepped on a land mine?" Rachel asks quietly, from the other side of the couch. Tom turns to her and offers her a small smile.
"Yeah. I wasn't paying as much attention to my surroundings as I normally did. I'd just received a letter from my girlfriend. We'd been talking about starting a family before I was deployed again, and she wasn't happy that I picked the military over her. We were pretty much broken up before I left, but the letter confirmed it, and I was in a foul mood. My teammates were giving me shit about it, so I went on ahead of them without clearing the area. I don't remember much after that, just the pain and the burning from the blast. I don't even know how badly I was hurt, but I assume it was pretty bad since I was in a coma for two months."
"Yes," Rachel says. "It must have been. I'm just glad we showed up when we did. The reason we chose that hospital in the first place was because it managed to hang on longer than any in the surrounding areas. It had just been evacuated less than a week ago, which is probably why you were still alive. We figured it would have the supplies we needed. We never imagined they would have left someone behind."
Tom shrugs. He doesn't blame them. Hauling around the body of someone in a coma is a good way to be caught by the zombies, he's sure. They had left him in relative safety when they'd evacuated, which was all he could ask for. And, considering he hadn't found anyone else alive in the hospital, he assumes that they took all of the people they could. They'd had to make a shitty decision in a shitty situation, and he didn't blame anyone for abandoning him.
"I think I might have broken my left leg," he continues after a long moment. "It aches. I also discovered while showering that I have some burn scars on my shoulders, chest, and stomach, and I assume those are from the blast."
Rachel is nodding as he speaks, agreeing with his assessment of the injuries he would have received from that type of blast. She adds, "And probably considerable trauma to your head, if you were in a coma that long. I assume a concussion, brain swelling, maybe even a significant brain bleed. You're lucky."
"Yes, I was," Tom agrees. "Being that close to the blast, I shouldn't have lived. I am very lucky."
The room is quiet for a moment, everyone somber, until Katie pipes up from her father's side.
"I'm glad we found you, mister," she says, and Tom finds himself smiling at her soft, sweet voice. He likes kids. It wasn't that he didn't want to start a family with Darien, it was just that he wasn't ready to give the military up, and she didn't understand that. She had hoped that his first deployment would be his last, and had wanted to settle down. Tom hadn't felt ready, and neither of them had been willing to compromise.
"I'm glad you found me, too," he says. "None of this is what I expected to wake up to. It's ... terrifying, honestly. But I'm glad that I'm not alone."
He imagines for a moment walking out onto the street outside of the hospital, all alone, trying to figure out what had happened to the world. He's positive that if he'd been alone when he'd come across that first zombie, the one Rachel had killed, that he would have frozen in terror and it would have killed him. And, even if his survival instincts had kicked in, the second wave that had attacked them would have gotten him.
No, he can't even imagine what he would have done if he hadn't found this little group of survivors.
"All right," Rachel finally says, after the silence lingers for several long moments. She stands up from the couch and stretches, and Tom absolutely doesn't let his eyes linger on the pale strip of skin that she exposes as she lifts her hands above her head. "It's time for sleep. We got what we came here for, so we're heading out first thing in the morning."
Everyone nods and begins shuffling around to get ready for bed. They take turns in the downstairs bathroom brushing their teeth and washing up, and then everyone starts climbing into the make-shift bed on the living room floor, their sleeping positions clearly a habit at this point. Kara and Danny curl together on the top left corner (and Tom knew there was something going on between them!), while Tex and his daughter take the spots next to them. Eric and Rachel settle onto the bottom of the bed while Tom stares on, unsure what to do or where to lay down.
Rachel looks up at him sleepily from her spot and chuckles, waving him over.
"Just get over here and lay down," she says, and makes room for him between her and Eric. The teenager is already sprawled out over the bottom left corner of the bed, and when Rachel scoots to the far right side, there's enough room for Tom to squeeze in. "We're a pretty close group. You'll get used to it. We've all woken up to Tex spooning us at one point or another."
Tex grumbles in annoyance at Rachel's comment. "You liked it," he shoots back, and Rachel chuckles.
"Anyway," she continues. "We do this everywhere we stay, for safety and comfort. Come on, we don't bite."
Tom nods, and takes the blanket she hands him, wrapping it around himself as he crawls into the open space and settles onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, absolutely certain that there's no way he's going to be able to sleep. But as the night wears on and he hears the soft sounds of the others breathing around him, and feels the warmth of Eric and Rachel on either side of him, he finds his eyes growing heavy.
Maybe when I wake up, this nightmare will be over, he thinks, and lets his eyes close, the darkness closing in over him.
