An (Incomplete) Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse: Chapter 5
March 12th, 1999 - 11:34 am
"Where's Eric?"
The road is silent for a moment, other than the sounds of Katie crying softly and Tex shushing her, and the relief of finding and rescuing Katie dims as the realization that they'd lost a member of their team settles in.
Tom runs a hand over his face. "Fuck. I didn't see him. I saw Katie, her yellow shirt, and I got completely distracted. And then there was no time, we barely made it under the car as it was."
Rachel is nodding, already forming a plan in her head.
"We need to start a search party. With how many of the infected there were I'm ... not hopeful," she says, and her voice is quiet, somber. "But we have to try. We have maybe six hours of daylight left. We'll start a grid search, cover both sides of the road, starting with the area you first saw Katie."
Kara and Danny immediately volunteer to go together, and Rachel sends them off to begin searching the northwest side of the road. Tex, however, grips Katie tightly to his body and says, "I'm not leaving her."
"You need to," Rachel says, matter of fact, and Tex opens his mouth, presumably to begin arguing, but Rachel holds up a hand. "I need to stitch Tom up," she says, and gestures to his head. Tom frowns, reaching up to probe at a cut he didn't realize was there, wincing when his fingers come into contact with warm blood and ragged skin.
"Ouch," he says, and Rachel shoots him a wry smile.
"Adrenaline. It'll start hurting soon," she promises, and then continues. "Once I'm done with him, he can join you and I'll stay with Katie. I swear, Tex," she says, meeting the eyes of the older man and trying to convey her complete sincerity. "I swear on my life, I will not let anything happen to her. But we need to try and find Eric. You're our best tracker. We need you out there."
Tex swallows, a new wave of tears gathering in his eyes, but nods. "OK. All right. I trust you," he says, and he puts Katie down though it's clear that it nearly kills him to do so. The little girl immediately runs to Tom, clinging to his waist, and he hoists her up onto his hip, wincing as the movement pulls on the scrapes and cuts on his back. "Stay with Tom and Rachel," he tells Katie. "Don't leave them, no matter what, OK baby?"
Katie nods, and then presses her head into Tom's neck, waving as Tex sets off in the opposite direction that Kara and Danny had.
"All right then," Rachel says, and then begins walking back to the van. "Let's get you stitched up so you can join them."
"A change of clothes for me and Katie would be a good idea, too," Tom tells her, falling into step beside her as they walk. When she looks over at him curiously, he gestures to his wet shirt and Katie's pants. Rachel makes a soft face at the little girl, who had clearly been terrified for her life, and nods.
"We can manage that," she says, and when they reach the van she tosses Tom a t-shirt and helps the little girl climb inside to change her underwear and pants. Tom waits outside, stripping off his old t-shirt and using a dry corner to clean his stomach as best as he can. He's about to pull on the new shirt, despite the fact that he's not as clean as he would like, when he hears Rachel exit the van.
"Here," she says, and hands him a package of wet wipes. He takes them gratefully, and begins wiping off his chest and stomach, looking up after a moment to see that Rachel's still staring at him. He's about to grin and make a flirtatious comment when he realizes what she's staring at - his scars from the land mine. They're gruesome, spanning from his chest all the way down to his hips. The skin is raised and red, tight in places where it has healed incorrectly. It looks, he muses, like a deranged spider used his skin to form webs all across his front. Not a very sexy image, he has to admit.
"Pretty grisly, huh?" he says, trying to make light of the moment, and then quickly discards the wipes so he can pull the t-shirt on and cover himself.
Rachel, realizing that she's been staring, pulls her gaze away from his chest and up to meet his eyes. Her cheeks are pink (she hadn't meant to stare at him), and her eyes wide.
"I'm so sorry, Tom," she says, and reaches out to put a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Do they hurt?"
He shrugs, liking the warmth of her hand on his arm more than he wants to admit.
"A little. I think I was running on adrenaline yesterday, because when I woke up this morning I was just sore all over. They're tight, and they pull when I move."
Rachel nods, and runs her hand down his forearm before pulling it away and gesturing him inside of the van. Katie has already changed and is curled up on one of the sleeping bags, holding a stuffed bear close to her. She watches them as Rachel directs Tom to sit near the back next to an open medical kit. He does, and winces as Rachel begins to clean the area around the gash on his forehead with an antiseptic wipe.
"Will she be OK?" he asks quietly, gesturing to where Katie is silently watching them, and Rachel shrugs.
"She has to be. There's no other option, really. But yes, I think so. Despite how awful that was, we've had closer calls."
Tom feels sick at the thought.
"Like what?" he asks, although he's not sure he wants to know.
"Being touched or grabbed by one of he infected. Being trapped. Frantically searching your skin afterward to make sure they didn't scratch you. It's terrifying, but you learn to move on. It's all we can do."
Tom is silent for several moments as Rachel discards the antiseptic wipe. She grabs a needle and thread, and sits up on her knees to get a better look at what she's doing. "This is going to sting," she warns him, and he nods before closing his eyes and biting his cheek when she makes the first stitch. He grunts, and she places her free hand on his cheek, angling his head so she can make the second stitch.
"It was very brave," she says, and he lets his eyes flutter open to see her face right next to his. Her chest is pressed to his shoulder as she works on his forehead, and he breathes in the scent of her soap and toothpaste and sweat. "What you did for Katie."
Tom shrugs, and then winces when the movement tugs on the needle Rachel is threading through his skin. "Anyone else would have done the same."
"Maybe," Rachel says. "But you're the one who did it. You've only known us, her, for less than a day, and you almost gave your life for her. It's admirable."
Tom doesn't respond, not used to receiving praise for his actions. In the military you were yelled at far more often than praised, and besides, he didn't feel like he necessarily deserved recognition for what he'd done. Anyone would have done it.
"Why were they out there?" he asks quietly, and Rachel sighs, tying off the fourth stitch and leaning back to sit on her haunches.
"Katie told me while she was changing that she needed to go to the bathroom. Eric offered to take her, thought it seemed safe enough."
She has a look on her face that it takes Tom a second to place, but when he does, he reaches out, stalling the movement of her hand as she goes to finish the fifth and final stitch on his forehead.
"Rachel," he says softly, and when she turns to meet his eyes, he knows he's right.
He's seen that look, on the faces of many of the men he served with.
Hell, he's been the one with that look on his face, more times than he can count.
She's feeling guilty. She thinks losing Eric is her fault, and he realizes in a moment of clarity exactly how much weight she's carrying on her slender shoulders.
He stares into her intense, green gaze and says, slowly and clearly, "It's not your fault."
His words cause tears to spring to her eyes, and he wonders briefly how long she's been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. He wonders why no one else on the team has stepped up to help her, to share the burden of responsibility.
Maybe, he thinks, she hasn't allowed them to.
"Losing Eric was not your fault," he says again, and she nods, though he's sure she doesn't believe him. "You're carrying this team all by yourself," he continues, and Rachel's hand is shaking as she reaches up to finish stitching his wound. "I can help you. You can talk to me," he offers, and she smiles at him, cutting the thread and pasting a bandage over the cut. "You don't have to be alone."
"Thank you," she whispers, and he nods, wanting to continue pressing but knowing there are more important matters to attend to.
"Of course," he says. "Do you have a weapon I can borrow? I need to join the search, but I don't want to be defenseless."
Rachel nods and reaches into her boot, pulling out one of her own knives. They're beautiful, a matching set, and Tom takes the weapon carefully into his hands.
"Thanks. I'll bring it back in one piece," he promises, and Rachel smiles.
"Be safe," she says, and Tom nods once before sliding the van door open and climbing out. He closes it softly behind him, not wanting to make any noise that will alert the zombies to Rachel and Katie's position, and then turns to head off in the direction Tex had gone.
March 12th, 1999 - 3:09 pm
By mid afternoon, Tom is exhausted and losing hope fast. He's been working with Tex to clear the area around the road, checking every tree and cave and hole. They'd been moving in a grid pattern, the two of them no more than six feet apart, traveling in one direction for almost a mile before turning around and heading back, and then repeating the process. They called out Eric's name as loudly as they dared, not wanting to bring the zombies to them but wanting to make sure Eric could hear them if he was hiding.
"We're not gonna find him," Tex says at one point, and Tom silently agrees. "If he was out here he would have heard us, or headed back to the van on his own."
"I don't disagree," Tom says. "But we have to keep trying, at least a little longer."
Tex nods, and they begin walking toward the road, calling Eric's name softly and searching every nook and cranny they can find.
"Thank you," Tex says after a long moment, and Tom nods.
"Of course, man," he responds, and then, "She's very brave. Beat the shit out of me when I grabbed her. You definitely trained her well."
Tex grins. "Yeah, when she was little she had no concept of stranger danger, so me and her momma worked hard to teach her how to get away from someone if something ever happened, how to find someone trustworthy to help if she got lost, all of that stuff. It's come in handy with the whole apocalypse thing. She's good at hiding, and if she's not panicking, she's pretty level headed."
Silence falls again until they're within sight of the road. When they reach the edge of the woods, they walk several paces away from the path they'd just taken, and head back in, canvasing the area.
"I'm angry," Tex says as they work together to clear a ditch, to make sure Eric hasn't fallen into it. "That he took my little girl out of the van and into the woods. I ain't wishing death on him or anything," he adds, when Tom shoots him a look. "But I sure as hell am pissed at him. His only job when we leave him with Katie is to keep her inside the van, or the house, or wherever we happen to be. He should have gotten one of us, if she needed to go to the bathroom. He shouldn't have taken her out on his own. She could have died. She almost did die."
Tom doesn't disagree with the man; he can understand Tex's anger and frustration, but he also feels sympathy for Eric. He'd made a bad call, and it was looking more and more like he was paying for it with his life.
"Well, I hope you get the chance to yell at him," he finally says, because if Tex does get the chance to scare the shit out of Eric, at least he'd be alive. Tom thinks that the chances of them finding the teenager are slim to none, but doesn't have the heart to give up the search yet.
Tex doesn't respond, and the two men finish searching in silence.
By four in the afternoon they still haven't found anything - not a trail, a scrap of cloth, or even a footprint, so they call it quits and head back to the van.
When they arrive, Kara and Danny are already there, and Tom can tell from the looks on their faces that they haven't found anything, either.
"We've searched at least a two mile radius," Danny is saying. He's leaning up against the outside of the van, his expression subdued. "I think we need to call it quits for the night. We need to find someplace safe to sleep. That was the largest herd we've ever seen, and we've tempted fate enough trampling through the woods searching. If they turn around or there's another herd, we're fucked."
"We didn't find anything, either," Tex says succinctly as he climbs into the van and immediately moves toward his daughter. "No tracks, no trail. No human trail, that is. Lotsa zombie prints. Distinct, the way they drag their feet through the dirt."
Rachel turns to Tom and he nods once, confirming what Tex has said.
"We searched at least a mile out, two miles across," he says, and hands Rachel her knife as he sits on the edge of the van, wincing as his scars and scratches and bruises pull and ache. God, he'd kill for a hot bath right now. "Nothing."
"We can't just leave," Kara argues, and Rachel sighs, pressing a hand to her head.
Tom can see that she's torn. She wants to stay and look for Eric, but she also wants to make sure the rest of the team is secure and safe. The others are all staring at her, waiting for her to make a decision, and Tom understands with sudden clarity how this team runs. They all look to Rachel to make decisions for them, so they don't have to bear the burden of responsibility. And, while Tom knows that they aren't trying to put that much pressure on her, no one else is offering any solutions.
Maybe, he thinks, he can help her out by simply sharing the burden of decision making.
"How about this," he says, and everyone turns to stare at him. "We find somewhere safe to park for the night, somewhere defensible. I think I saw a rest stop a few miles back. We could back the van up between two of the buildings so we're not having to guard all four sides, and take turns keeping watch. We can sleep in the van, and search again tomorrow."
Everyone's attention swivels from Tom to Rachel, and he follows their gaze to see Rachel nodding slowly, contemplating his plan.
"That... could work," she says finally, and then offers Tom a small smile. "We can use the time to prepare, gather supplies, so we're not just waiting idly. We can siphon gas from any cars on the way, and search them for anything valuable."
"All right then," Tom says. "We divide and conquer. Rachel drives with Katie in the front seat, so she can't get into any more trouble. Each time we come across any vehicles, two work on siphoning gas, the other two search cars. Tex, you and I can search. Kara and Danny can be in charge of gas. Sound good?"
Tex nods, and Tom turns to Danny and Kara. They both seem a little uncomfortable with Tom giving directions, and turn to look at Rachel. She just smiles and shrugs.
"It sounds like a good plan to me," she confirms, and with their boss's approval, the team clambers inside to begin their trek to the rest stop.
March 12th, 1999 - 6:30 pm
"Thank you," Rachel says softly as she and Tom work together to make a small fire later that night. They're a few feet away from the rest of the group, gathering twigs and leaves and forming them into a small pyramid. Tom strikes one of the waterproof matches, cupping his hand around it so the wind doesn't douse the flame.
"For what?" he asks, and blows gently on the leaves as they catch fire. He grins at the crackling sound, adding larger and larger sticks to the flame until it's big enough to sustain itself.
"For helping me lead," she responds, and Tom looks up at her in the darkness. The light from the small fire dances in her eyes, and he finds himself smiling as his eyes roam her softly lit features. She's beautiful, he thinks, not for the first time, and busies his hands with adding sticks to the fire so he doesn't reach out and touch her.
"You're welcome," he says. "The downside of being a leader is the weight of decision making. No matter what you'll always second guess yourself, worry that any one of the hundreds of decisions you've had to make is what led to disaster. You shouldn't have to carry that alone."
"I'm glad we found you," she whispers, and Tom can't help himself this time. He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it briefly before dropping it.
"Me, too," he says simply, and then turns to grab the crate of food she'd brought out for them to cook. "Now, what's for dinner?"
Rachel rifles through the crate, pulling out a package of noodles and a jar of white sauce. She adds a can of mushrooms, and a can of canned chicken to the pile, and then passes Tom a pot.
"We eat a lot of pasta," she warns him, and he chuckles as he fills the pot with water from the jug she holds out. "It stays good for a long time. So does the sauce. You can change it up by swapping out what you put in it. Tonight is chicken and mushroom Alfredo."
"Sounds good," Tom says, and he's not even lying. "Do you do the meal planning, too?"
Rachel shakes her head as she opens the box of fettuccine noodles and dumps them into the cold water. Next she brings out a metal grate and settles it over the fire before adding a few larger blocks of wood to keep it going. Tom settles the pot on top of the grate, and puts the top on before sitting back, admiring their work.
"No, Kara and Tex do that. They keep inventory of what we have, and make 'look for' lists for when we do supply runs. Obviously we'll eat anything we can find, but it's nice to have a plan. In the beginning, we ended up with two entire crates of dried noodles and canned green beans. Not a good combination."
Tom winces at the thought of plain noodles and canned greens, though he supposes he would eat anything if he were hungry enough. And they can't be as bad as some of the MREs he's eaten.
Rachel continues, "Since then, we've come up with a system. We have the crates, and we try to keep them full. We have two crates for vegetables, one for fruit, one for pasta and sauce, and one for ready-to-eat dried goods. Mostly that one holds granola bars, or chips."
"Sounds... very organized," Tom comments, and Rachel shrugs, sitting down on the ground beside him. There's several inches of space between them, but Tom can still feel her warmth. They watch the fire together in silence for several minutes, listening to the sound of the others behind them. The van door is open, and they're all lounging on the sleeping bags and pillows, talking softly and laughing together.
It's nice, he thinks. The crackling of the fire in front of him, the voices and laughter behind him. It's not so quiet, here, and he's glad that if he had to wake up in this nightmare, at least he gets to be with these people.
He's about to turn and tell Rachel what he's thinking, to thank her again, probably, for taking him in, when he feels pressure on his arm. He glances over to see that Rachel has nodded off, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, and he feels his chest warm at the sight. To know that she trusts him enough, already, to be vulnerable in his presence.
He turns back to the fire, unmoving for fear of waking her up, and basks in the warmth of both the fire and the companionship he's found.
