Thank you for your reviews ! I hope you like that chapter as well!
PS: Don't drink and drive, that's bad.
2.
Night had fallen while a field gave way to another field as the truck rushed by. Effie didn't know where they were. She and her team had been staying at a motel not far from the little town and the fields where they had been shooting in but she couldn't imagine it would be safe anymore so she was happy to let the strange man – who hadn't deemed proper to introduce himself – drive at random provided that he took her far away from there.
Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Portia's face when that thing bit her. There had been ten or so… zombies, since it was apparently the proper term, and the rest of her team had screamed and yelled but they hadn't been clever enough to do anything else. Portia would have run with her probably… But Portia had been the first to fall and Effie had run without looking back. Guilt and shame were a raging fire in her belly.
Keeping herself together was taking all of her strength. She could feel the burning pressure of tears behind her closed eyelids but she was sure if she started crying she would never stop. Now wasn't the time to cry. She needed to find her parents, they couldn't be dead she refused to believe it. That man was crazy anyway. That man had probably saved her life, argued a little voice in the back of her head. Not without a lot of convincing though.
Washington could still be untouched. For all she knew the virus was localized to the part of the country they were currently in. She had never been lucky. It would be just like her to agree to a lame photo shoot in the backcountry where there wasn't even a good phone reception or wifi only to be attacked by creatures escaped from a bad horror movie. It was the same sort of luck that let her survive a zombie attack only to get almost run over by an alcoholic madman. Who had rescued her, added the same annoying little voice. Well, that sort of rescue, she could do without.
Her mind wandered to Los Angeles and the nice house she owned there, it was nothing to her penthouse in Washington but… She immediately felt even more guilty. She had friends in L.A. – as much as you could get friends in her professional environment anyway. Models, actresses, singers, producers… It was always for show. Despite what she had told her not-so-chivalrous-rescuer, she wasn't totally fooled by President Snow. She did agree to be the face of his administration for a while but, to be honest, the pay and the fact that her face would be seen everywhere had more to do with it than actual patriotism. She had needed the money at that time. When she had met him, at an official event, President Snow had been very courteous, charming and attentive but there had been something about him that hadn't sit right with her.
Still, her friends deserved better than a fleeting thought. She should have worried about Seneca sooner for instance. Their on and off relationship often hit the headlines but she did care about him dearly even though she wasn't in love with him. As far as boyfriends went, Seneca had certainly been the best she ever had. And now he probably was dead or roaming around in search of someone to eat. That was both sad and disgusting.
And she was a terrible person for thinking of Seneca becoming a zombie as disgusting.
She turned around and curled on her other side to face the man. It really wouldn't be polite to give him the cold shoulder much longer and she needed something to distract her from her somber thoughts. The headlights were the only thing separating them from darkness, it was barely enough for her to make out his face. He was quite handsome for a madman. A bit unkempt but… It rather suited him. His dirty blond hair was a much too long messy thing, the stubble covering his jaw was threatening to become a full beard, his grey eyes had made her pause for a second when she had first met him because they looked so sad, exchanging a simple glance had made her heart break a bit, his clothes were stained and well-used, as was the truck. But the clothes and the car had once been expensive, she could tell, she was a fashion expert and her father had bought the same model a few years ago. The bottles of alcohol everywhere were easy to explain, the man was obviously addicted. He had taken a shot every time he had gotten upset or they had brushed a sensitive topic. The guns though… She had only taken a glimpse at the back seat but it had been enough to know there was a lot of weapons there and boxes of ammunitions too. That made him either a redneck or a veteran, that would explain the paranoia too either way… But she would bet there was something else. Something that related to those sad tortured grey eyes of his. In short, the man was a mystery and Effie had never been able to resist a good riddle.
The bottle of vodka was half-gone but he didn't seem sleepy or really drunk. The car was going in a straight line – and at a normal safer speed since night had fallen – he had propped and arm against the window, his other hand was carelessly resting on the wheel. He seemed lost in thoughts.
"Do you have a name?" she asked at last.
The man startled. Perhaps he had believed her to be asleep or perhaps he had forgotten her. She didn't know how mad he was after all.
"Done sulking, sweetheart?" He glanced at her.
She stayed huddled on herself because it kept the cold away. The golden dress wasn't meant to be worn, it was every bit as much an accessory as her high heels or the clips in her hair. It was thin and a bit too revealing for her taste given that she was lost God knew where with a stranger. A gentleman would have offered her his jacket but she had very much understood the man was everything but a gentleman. Propriety didn't seem to be his prime focus – probably for the best since he was taking her away from zombies. Given a choice, she'd rather have a rude man focused on getting them far away from monsters as a companion than a gentleman.
"My name is Effie." His patronizing nicknames would be getting old really fast. "You never properly introduced yourself." she insisted. "Poor show of manners, that."
His lips stretched in a small smirk that did strange things to her stomach. She immediately stifled the thought. "Who says I care about manners?"
"It's very obvious you don't." she retorted. Her hands wandered towards the bottle of vodka resting between them on the bench seat, propped on her heels, but in the end she didn't dare. The man didn't miss the aborted move though.
"Go for it." he said. "But don't drink it all. It's hard to come by."
It didn't seem hard to come by, the car was full of alcohol. "Would you… Would you happen to have some water?" she hesitated. She didn't know how far she could go. He had agreed to get her to the next town not to feed her and gave her something to drink. She would drink the vodka if he had nothing else but it wouldn't quench her thirst.
He looked at her like she was the most insufferable person in the world. "There must be some somewhere on the back seat. Food too." His eyes trailed down the length of her dress and stayed on her legs much longer than necessary. "Grab a shirt while you're at it before you freeze to death."
She had to unbuckle the seatbelt and bend in two over the back of the bench seat to rummage around all the crap piled up at the back of the car. She was sure he was getting a really good view of her behind but, at that point, she didn't particularly care. She managed to find a small bottle of water and a box of crackers. Further investigation showed that there were indeed some clothes randomly balled in corners or stuck under guns and boxes of ammos. She caught a flannel shirt and quickly slip it on, before downing half the bottle of water.
"Slower or you will get sick." the man warned without even sparing her a glance. For someone who didn't care, he acted very much like he did. He puzzled her.
"So…" She opened the box of crackers. She was starving all of a sudden. "I apologize, I didn't quite catch your name."
"That's because I didn't give it, sweetheart." He was still smirking so he was probably making fun of her. She decided she wouldn't rise to the bait about her name.
"Should I call you sweetheart too?" she teased.
"You can try." he chuckled. "You can also walk to the nearest town."
She ate the crackers slowly and with as much poise as she could. It wasn't because the man had no manners at all that she had to stoop as low.
"Haymitch." he grunted after some time. She almost made him repeat himself before she realized he was actually telling her his name.
"Haymitch." She tried it out, it rolled easily on her tongue. She offered him a real smile. "Nice to meet you, Haymitch. I'm Effie Trinket." She outstretched her hand but he barely glanced at it.
"So you've said." he snorted. "Repeatedly."
"Well, you must have heard it wrong each time because you're still calling me by stupid monikers." she replied, taking back her hand.
The smirk came back full force. She wondered if he was enjoying the banter and if that was the reason he was being so difficult. "You have a very annoying voice. Somebody ever told you that?"
She rolled her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. "Do you want me to drive?" she asked. "You could sleep for a few hours. You must be tired of all the…" She feel silent at the very last moment. She wasn't sure calling him on his drinking would have been wise.
"I can drink and drive, sweetheart." He speeded up a bit, just to prove his point. She fastened her seatbelt very quickly. That only amused him. "Besides, I don't sleep."
"Everybody must sleep." she argued, settling herself as comfortably as she could on the leather seat. It was soft and cracked in some places. "What are you? A superhero?"
"Maybe I'm a zombie." He replied very seriously. "How would you know? You jumped in my car and you never once asked if I had been bitten or scratched. Not very smart, Effie."
"You're not a zombie." She waved his bad joke away. "A gun dealer, maybe, but not a zombie. And you're not suffering from short time memory loss, you actually can remember my name." She offered him the box of biscuits. "Crackers? If you insist on driving with that much alcohol in your blood, I would feel better if you were to eat something."
He shook his head in disbelief but still dug in the box for a handful of crackers. "Why, thank you for offering me my own bloody food, sweetheart."
"And here we go again with the memory loss…" she clucked her tongue. "You should have it checked, you know."
He snorted and she giggled a bit, feeling very stupid. Perhaps it was because she was feeling so emotional… She often laughed before starting to cry when she was exhausted. And she was exhausted. Walking under the hot sun hadn't been a piece of cake and that was without taking in the stress of being jumped upon by a horde of zombies. The sole of her feet was hurting, the road had been burning hot. Some antiseptic cream probably wouldn't be amiss…
"So, Haymitch, what do you do?" she asked, to distract herself from that train of thoughts. "Except rescuing girls barely wearing anything from the side of the road in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, that is."
"I didn't rescue you, you high-jacked my car." he corrected, glancing at her. "I'm retired."
"You're young to be retired." she observed. How old was he? Around forty? He couldn't be more than six or seven years older than her. "What did you do before? Gun dealer?"
He smirked at her joke but he didn't reply at once. He looked at her thoughtfully and then shrugged as if whatever he had been thinking about didn't matter anymore. "CIA."
She blinked twice and then rolled her eyes. "Right." She curled back on the seat, making sure the seatbelt would still work. "Are you ever serious?"
"Says the girl wearing three inches of fabrics and so much make-up it makes every clown in this state die of jealousy." he retorted. "All that's missing is a red nose."
"Trapeze Artist." she argued. "It was an artistic photoshoot."
He stole another handful of crackers. "Famous last words, sweetheart."
"How many times did you crash the car because you were drunk?" she frowned. Now that she was fed and her thirst was clenched, she could feel the stress taking its toll on her body, her eyelids were dropping.
He let out an irritated sigh. "None. You can sleep in peace. Worst comes to worst, you won't even realize you're dying."
She mumbled something but she wasn't sure what it was, she was already dozing off. Her dreams were confusing and nerve-wracking and she bolted awake when the car jolted on a bump on the road. It took her several seconds to remember why she passed out in a stranger's car. The sun was barely up and Haymitch looked wrecked, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, the bottle of vodka was gone replaced by a bottle of whiskey and he had slowed down to a snail pace.
"Did you drive all night?" she asked.
"I took a nap." He barely spare her a glance and took a swing of whiskey. "You whimpered in your sleep."
"Sorry." she said sheepishly. She didn't remember her dreams. "I could drive. I don't mean any offense but I don't see how you can safely stay behind that wheel any longer."
"We're almost at the next town." he nodded at a sign on the side of the road. "Trust me, we'll probably need me behind the wheel for that. The last two I passed while you were sleeping weren't easy."
She rubbed her face. "Zombies?"
"Everywhere, sweetheart." he sighed. "They're popping all around like bloody daisies."
They drove in silence for a while until they started to pass by a few farms.
"Haymitch." she warned when she spied the first grey skin human-shaped thing by the road. Haymitch only speeded up with a curse. He didn't look tired anymore, just damned focused on the road. "Maybe we should try another road." She didn't fancy another meeting with a group of zombies.
"You wanted a town." he reminded her. "I'm giving you a tour. Make sure your seatbelt is on."
She unfastened it and fastened it again just to be on the safe side of things. The town outline jumped at them out of nowhere, it was a classic little town where everyone must have known everyone and their neighbors… Now, it was a ghost town. As soon as they heard the noise of the engine, the things began to converge toward them. They were slow and decaying and it sickened Effie to no end. Some of them still looked like human beings but barely. They snarled pathetically, trying to catch the car but it was faster than them. Haymitch speeded up again, bypassing those in the middle of the road, hitting others on his way… It wasn't easy because he had to sidetrack around abandoned cars. Effie clenched the edge of the seat, her nails digging at the leather. She allowed herself to breathe again only once they exited the town.
Haymitch stopped the car when the last farm was far behind in the rear-view mirror. "That was a small country town." he said without looking at her. "Do you still want to go to Washington?"
She undid the seatbelt and stumbled out of the car. She retched in the ditch. The graying green rotten skin, the smell… It was disgusting. Properly disgusting. She felt weak, her legs were shaking so badly she leaned against the car and closed her eyes, trying to find her breath back, to hold back the tears that wanted to fall down.
How many people had there been in that town originally? Five hundred? A thousand? How many had managed to escape? How could anyone survive in a bigger town, not to mention a city where you couldn't take two steps without bumping into someone? It would take a few hours only for the virus to spread.
Haymitch didn't do anything to help. He got out of the car and propped his elbow on the hood, staring at her. Her lips wobbled and some tears fell despite her best intentions.
"Are my parents dead?" Her voice was small and fragile. She didn't know why she needed to vocalize the question. The answer was obvious. They were old, her father had a bad hip, he wouldn't be able to run and her mother… Her mother would have been more concerned about looters and being robbed…
"If they're lucky, yeah." he offered.
She hated him for not lying to her.
She forced her sobs under check. Crying never helped, her father always said so. When she was sure she wasn't going to fall apart, she took a deep breath and turned to the man who was still staring at her.
"Well, thank you very much for your help." She slipped the borrowed shirt off her shoulder, the dress immediately started reflecting the sunlight – she felt like a disco ball – and handed it back to him. Then she grabbed her heels from the car but didn't bother putting them on.
"What are you doing?" Haymitch asked, obviously lost.
"We had a deal, didn't we?" she forced a smile on her lips. "Next town, end of the line. It's rude to impose."
He rolled his eyes and flung the shirt back at her. She caught it instinctively. "Don't be stupid, sweetheart." He shrugged and avoided her eyes. "You can crash in the car until we find you one of your own or a group of people you can stay with."
"Really?" She was surprised and not a bit unhopeful. She had to remind herself that she didn't know the man – and that he was very obviously mad and alcoholic – and that she shouldn't feel as enthusiastic as she was about that. But even a possibly crazy man she'd known for less than twenty-four hours was better than no one.
"Yeah, sure." He gave her a long suffering sigh. "'Can't exactly leave you here, can I?"
She put her heels and the shirt on the roof of the car and sidestepped the hood quickly to hug him. "Thank you!" He was clearly startled and didn't hug back so she let go quickly and cleared her throat, a bit embarrassed.
"I'm already regretting this." he grumbled. He looked her up and down again and shook his head. "First thing first. I'm taking you shopping."