Cameron smiled as he spread the map over the hood of the car, found his location, and put a red X over it. Red Xs were for cattle that were confined to fences, while blue Xs were the last known location for cattle that were roaming the countryside. He was glad to note that there were a couple more red ones than blue ones, which made things much easier. Now all that was left to do was for Yuba's resident cowboy to round them up, and take them to town.
It's been over two months since Monroe, and a lot's happened, he reminisced. First and foremost, after returning from the battle Harry decided to reward the man that had been tortured for information. The hostile got his own comfy wheelchair to move around in, a pistol, and was set free (which meant that he taken outside the walls, and the gates were shut behind him). After that a small memorial was held for those lost.
Eventually the northern wall and the wall up the hill were completed. In between that and the interior truck wall more homes were built and crops were planted. The only people that had to shack up in the community center were those poor people rescued from Monroe, or at least those that were damaged beyond repair. Becky's sister Sarah volunteered there, and whenever Cameron paid a visit it was heartbreaking. The one girl that he helped rescue would only stare off into space, and eat only when coaxed to.
The weather had turned nippy recently, so when a gust of wind passed Cameron zipped up his jacket and folded up the map. Yuba's harvest could've been a little better, but they still had a ton of nonperishable food to last when winter hit. That wasn't enough for some people, though, Cameron included. He and a few others offered to search the countryside for farm animals for a fresh supply of milk and eggs. Also, even though it would take a generation or two of cattle breeding, Cameron relished the day that steak would be back on the menu.
Getting back into the passenger's seat, Cameron was glad to feel the heater work its magic.
"Ready to go home?" asked Walsh, looking over at the sinking sun. He looked forward to getting protein back in his diet almost as much as Cameron.
"I suppose so."
"Definitely so," Becky yawned, stretched across the back seat.
"You didn't have to come," Cameron said to her. In fact, it surprised him a bit that she did considering that she wasn't exactly comfortable with people of Walsh's lifestyle (it wasn't a religious thing, really, it was just uncomfortable for her). As for Cameron he never saw what the big fucking deal was, and had even had a few gay friends back in Chicago.
The issue first arose months ago while watching Boondock Saints, and Cameron commented on Willem Dafoe's absolutely brilliant performance—Becky found it disturbing. Thankfully, though, they never let it get in the way of their relationship, and presently nothing was going to change the fact that Cameron loved her. Besides, if they agreed on absolutely everything then things would've gotten stale long before.
"And since when the hell do you do something without me?" she asked in response, causing him to shrug indifferently. Well, Cameron figured, in zombie country one had to forget about petty differences and get along.
With the job done, Cameron relaxed in his seat, and said, "So, Walsh, how's married life treating ya?" Out of the corner of his eye he caught Becky squirming a bit.
Perry and Walsh, the only legitimate, out in the open gay couple in town, had wanted to get married the previous month. That had caused a firestorm in the hardcore, fundamental religious community, as almost all of them refused to just sit idly by and let two men get married.
The only problem for those people was that the both of them were members of the militia, served proudly, and faced their share of the danger. Perry and Walsh fought just as valiantly as any straight person back in Monroe. Perry, especially, was going to be forced to use a cane for the rest of his life due to his injuries. So, basically, if you were against the marriage, you were anti-militia—and nobody in his or her right mind was anti-militia.
Even Becky and her Aunt Alice admitted that they didn't have a right to tell them no.
The vote passed, and an hour later they had gotten married at the church (the priest had his reservations too, but he never risked his neck outside the walls). Even better, a lot of the fundamentalists left Yuba voluntarily, saying that they didn't want to be in the way when God smote them down. Cameron, who was doing his shift of wall patrol at the time, waved happily at them as they left town.
Walsh grumbled a bit. "Perry's sorta been a pain in the ass. I love him, but it's always 'I got shot up, do this for me. I got shot up, do that for me.' I swear, I'm this close to strangling him." He raised his right hand, and put his thumb and index finger a few centimeters apart.
Cameron laughed. "Sorry, man, I gotta sympathize with him. I know that sometimes Becky wants to put a bullet through my head."
"True," Becky commented from the back.
They drove for the next half hour, and at one point Walsh said, "Shit, we need gas." They've been driving around the entire day looking for cattle, so it was understandable.
Annoyed, Cameron reached under his seat for the hose so that they could siphon gas from other cars…. But there was no gas to be siphoned. Every car they tried was completely dry. It made sense, though. Yuba's people had been up and down the roads for months looking for supplies or survivors. Eventually all the cars would indeed by sucked dry.
"Well what now?" Walsh asked angrily, after the sixth failed attempt.
"Beats me," Cameron responded, running his hand over his face.
Becky looked at them as if they were idiots. "Gee, I don't know, maybe we could try a gas station."
"They don't have power, so the automated pumps won't work," Walsh told her.
Rolling her eyes, she asked, "What's the nearest town?"
"Uh, Wilton according to that sign," Walsh answered, pointing.
Getting into the driver's seat, Becky switched on the CB radio. "Becky to Yuba. Come in."
"We read you, Becky."
"I need a favor. Can you ask whoever's running the power station right now to give some juice to Wilton? We have to use the gas pumps."
"Roger. We'll relay that right away. Yuba out."
"Thanks. Becky out." Looking at Cameron and Walsh, she made a ta-da gesture, making them feel stupid indeed. Yuba had commandeered the power station south of town to keep it running, and routed all the power there to save energy.
Ten minutes later they found the nearest gas station. Wilton had already been checked for survivors months before. None were found, so the zombie population was left alone. So, it was unsurprising to find a dozen or so of the things lurking around the gas station. Seeing that gave Cameron a slightly nostalgic feeling, remembering all those zombies he had run over with the Honda the day after the outbreak.
He was tempted to ask Walsh if he could drive, but he had already stepped out of the car, saying, "Let's get to work." Feeling a bit bummed, Cameron nonetheless got his rifle ready and started clearing away the zombies.
It didn't take more than a minute or two. After confirming that the power was on, Walsh brought the car around, Becky stood outside on zombie watch, and Cameron went into the station to switch on the pumps. He may not have seen anything through the glass windows, but Cameron still raised his rifle to quickly check of the store.
It was rather curious. Almost every bit of packaged food had been opened. Still treading carefully, Cameron maneuvered behind the counter and his jaw dropped. An emaciated woman was lying across a strip of cardboard as if it were a bed. She was so black and filthy that if it weren't for the bit of light still outside, he might not have seen her. Whether or not she was breathing, Cameron couldn't tell.
He shook his head. Well, he had almost missed Becky that one time, so it probably wasn't uncommon for other people to get missed too.
"Hey," Cameron whispered, wondering if she were still alive. "Hey." Kneeling down, he shook her by the shoulder.
All of a sudden the woman seemed to wake up, and with a snarl she grabbed Cameron's left hand, and took a bite out of it! Cameron screamed in shock more than pain, as the thing sank her teeth in hard enough to draw blood.
Roughly, he wrenched his hand away as he stood back up. For a second that seemed to last an eternity he simply stared at his bleeding hand, knowing what it meant. "You fuck," he breathed, as the thing got up to lunge at him. "YOU FUCK!" Cameron kicked the woman, dropping it to the ground again.
Wasting no more time, he broke out his pistol and put a bullet between her eyes. Cameron didn't stop there, though. Incensed, he shot another round, and another, and another, he just kept pulling the trigger to fill the corpse with led…finally stopping when he knew there was only one left.
Almost immediately the doors to the store opened, and Becky and Walsh ran in with their rifles at the ready. They froze when they saw the scene before them.
"Cameron?" she asked in barely a whisper.
Immediately tears began flowing from Cameron's eyes, and he collapsed against one of the shelves.
"Cam!" Becky yelled, abandoning her gun to join in. Picking up his left hand, she inspected it herself. Once she confirmed that he was indeed bitten, Becky started crying too and embraced him.
"You know the choices, Cam," Walsh said sadly, keeping his rifle up.
Cameron put his right hand on back of her head, and pulled Becky in to kiss her hard. "Leave me," he said to her, still sobbing. "I'll take care of myself."
Becky shook her head wildly. "I'll stay with you, and do it."
"Please, I don't want you to see me like this. Go!"
"No, I'm not leaving you alone." She put her hands to the side of his head, pressing their foreheads together. "I love you too fucking much to do that," Becky whispered.
"I love you, too," he said, moving to sob into her shoulder. "But you gotta go!" Cameron pleaded, much in the same manner her father once had. "When my kid comes could you help make sure he or she does okay?" Becky nodded.
"I'll be outside," Walsh said quietly, turning to leave them alone. "Oh shit!" Cameron looked up just in time to see Walsh slip and fall on his ass. "What the hell?" Lifting up his right hand off the floor, he rubbed his fingers together and sniffed them. "Is that…?"
Seeing as it was getting darker, Walsh withdrew a penlight from his pocket. Shining it on his fingers, he said, "Blood?" He focused the light along the floor, where there was even more blood pooling around the body. "Do zombies bleed?" he asked them.
Cameron and Becky shook their heads. Sure, they spurt blood whenever they were shot and/or mutilated, but they didn't bleed.
Smiling, Walsh immediately inspected every inch of the body. "Well I'll be damned," he said in hushed voice. "A Quisling!"
"A what?" they asked together.
Walsh rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake, didn't either of you read World War Z yet?"
"No," Cameron answered, wondering why such a stupid question was being brought up.
"This bitch bit you, Cam, but she's not a zombie," he explained, delightedly. "There isn't a bite mark on her. She was just stuck in here for—what? Around six months—with nothing but those things out there! So she went insane, started thinking she was a zombie." Walsh chuckled and shook his head. "I know it's not funny, but Max Brooks sure does know his shit."
The dread was slowly started leaving Cameron, being replaced by relief. "So…you're saying I'm not infected?"
Walsh's smile grew. "Nope."
Cameron's breath suddenly started coming gasps as he clutched his chest. He was going to live! Tears began falling again, and Becky suddenly attacked him with a long, heavy make out session. Not fighting back at all, Cameron wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the way she felt against him.
A zombie wannabe, Cameron thought, amazed. And just when he had been ready to put a bullet through his own head….
A/N: Last chapter seemed like The End, didn't it? Sorry about that, I'll explain myself later.