fact, when they finally made it ashore just before the river made a turn north, they were in a marshy field. With no weapons, they had to scurry away more than once when a creeping zombie would rise from the muck.
Just before dark, they came upon the village of Cliffe. Too tired to care, they broke into the first house they came to and searched it as quickly as they could. Between the ebbing of adrenaline from the excitement of their escape, as well as the threat of zombies, both women were absolutely exhausted.
Barricading themselves in a tiny bathroom on the second floor of the very first flat they came to, Gemma slept curled up on the tile floor and Chaaya slept in the shower basin. When they woke the next day, they searched the house for any signs of supplies. The pickings were meager and consisted of a can of kidney beans, three jars of pickles—one sweet and two gherkins—and a can of butter beans.
Beggars can’t be choosers , Gemma thought as they opened the can of kidney beans. They looked at the remnants and both had to struggle not to drool at what they were seeing.
“How can so little seem like so much?” Gemma asked, not expecting any sort of response.
“When you have had nothing for such a great deal of time, even the slightest thing could seem like a treasure.” Chaaya plucked a pickle from the jar and rolled her eyes in bliss as she made a noisy crunch.
That had been as satisfying of an answer as she could hope for. The rest of the day was spent systematically going from house to house in a search for more supplies. More than once, they encountered zombies inside the house they were searching.
Fortunately, Chaaya had found what would pass for a weapon until they got an opportunity to upgrade. It was a piece of pipe about two feet long and surprisingly heavy.
By the next day, they felt more confident that none of those crazies were on their tails. They had found a knapsack and an actual pack early the previous afternoon. By the end of the second day, both were full of food and they had even managed to scrounge up some bottles of water.
“My friend was going to try to make it to Queensborough,” Gemma said as they sat in their new camp—a second floor flat with a bathroom so small that there was no way she could sleep in the room without partially tucking in her knees.
“I have heard terrible things about that place. Even worse, I know of at least twenty people who went there to check it out and never were seen or heard from again.”
They sat in silence until they both eventually dozed off. Gemma had a dream about Queensborough that chilled her to the bone and made her wake with a start. In it she saw Vix being beaten and chopped up like she had seen Harold. Only, Vix did not cry out so much as once. Instead, she simply repeated the same thing over and over to the rhythm of the beating she was receiving. Even after her head was cut off and hung from the giant board, the mouth continued to move and the words rang clear as a bell.
“This is all your fault, Gemma.”
***
“I see five.” Chad handed the binoculars to Caroline.
She brushed her shaggy brown hair out of her face and lifted the glasses. Chad was already up and moving in a crouch to a fallen tree by the time she had scanned the area.
“Maybe they are just passing through.” Caroline handed back the binoculars and peeked over the tree to where a road once ran alongside the reservoir. The harsh and changing weather of the area had done its part to crumble, wash away, and cover most of what had once been a two-lane highway.
A group was moving with obvious caution. In her experience, that never meant anything good. Still, she could not be blamed for hoping.
“Dad!” Ronni hissed.
Chad and Caroline turned as the young woman came up to their lookout point in a hurry. No longer a little girl, Ronni had grown into a woman with a fierce determination and will to survive. She was hardly the little girl that Chad had fled
Just before dark, they came upon the village of Cliffe. Too tired to care, they broke into the first house they came to and searched it as quickly as they could. Between the ebbing of adrenaline from the excitement of their escape, as well as the threat of zombies, both women were absolutely exhausted.
Barricading themselves in a tiny bathroom on the second floor of the very first flat they came to, Gemma slept curled up on the tile floor and Chaaya slept in the shower basin. When they woke the next day, they searched the house for any signs of supplies. The pickings were meager and consisted of a can of kidney beans, three jars of pickles—one sweet and two gherkins—and a can of butter beans.
Beggars can’t be choosers , Gemma thought as they opened the can of kidney beans. They looked at the remnants and both had to struggle not to drool at what they were seeing.
“How can so little seem like so much?” Gemma asked, not expecting any sort of response.
“When you have had nothing for such a great deal of time, even the slightest thing could seem like a treasure.” Chaaya plucked a pickle from the jar and rolled her eyes in bliss as she made a noisy crunch.
That had been as satisfying of an answer as she could hope for. The rest of the day was spent systematically going from house to house in a search for more supplies. More than once, they encountered zombies inside the house they were searching.
Fortunately, Chaaya had found what would pass for a weapon until they got an opportunity to upgrade. It was a piece of pipe about two feet long and surprisingly heavy.
By the next day, they felt more confident that none of those crazies were on their tails. They had found a knapsack and an actual pack early the previous afternoon. By the end of the second day, both were full of food and they had even managed to scrounge up some bottles of water.
“My friend was going to try to make it to Queensborough,” Gemma said as they sat in their new camp—a second floor flat with a bathroom so small that there was no way she could sleep in the room without partially tucking in her knees.
“I have heard terrible things about that place. Even worse, I know of at least twenty people who went there to check it out and never were seen or heard from again.”
They sat in silence until they both eventually dozed off. Gemma had a dream about Queensborough that chilled her to the bone and made her wake with a start. In it she saw Vix being beaten and chopped up like she had seen Harold. Only, Vix did not cry out so much as once. Instead, she simply repeated the same thing over and over to the rhythm of the beating she was receiving. Even after her head was cut off and hung from the giant board, the mouth continued to move and the words rang clear as a bell.
“This is all your fault, Gemma.”
***
“I see five.” Chad handed the binoculars to Caroline.
She brushed her shaggy brown hair out of her face and lifted the glasses. Chad was already up and moving in a crouch to a fallen tree by the time she had scanned the area.
“Maybe they are just passing through.” Caroline handed back the binoculars and peeked over the tree to where a road once ran alongside the reservoir. The harsh and changing weather of the area had done its part to crumble, wash away, and cover most of what had once been a two-lane highway.
A group was moving with obvious caution. In her experience, that never meant anything good. Still, she could not be blamed for hoping.
“Dad!” Ronni hissed.
Chad and Caroline turned as the young woman came up to their lookout point in a hurry. No longer a little girl, Ronni had grown into a woman with a fierce determination and will to survive. She was hardly the little girl that Chad had fled
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