Trepidation (5 page)

My little speech, with a bit of a guilt trip, worked wonders. Carrying the wounded, they left reluctantly.

Z motioned me to follow him and his gang past the warehouse and down the street. “I bet you miss Claire,” Z said.

“What did you do to her?” I demanded.

“She’s at the pool, soaking up the sun and snowflakes,” he said, with that sinister tone seeping into his voice again. 

My stomach clenched, and I was sick of his games.
If he’s harmed one hair on her head...
I thought as Z and his minions walked me two blocks away.

When we turned down another street, I could hear a woman screaming.

Claire
! A wave of terror washed over me. I bolted through an unkempt yard, to the back. Taking the stairs two at a time, I raced to the top of the slippery deck.

Zombies surrounded the frozen pool, but the ice had broken, and Claire had fallen in. She was pale, almost a shade of blue, flailing around in the ice-cold water as the undead walked precariously around her, reaching for her and snapping their jaws. Some had already fallen through and were floating beneath the thin layer of ice. Like some kind of grim scene from a nightmarish shark movie, one latched onto her leg and bit down, and Claire screamed in agony. She grabbed a long, thick piece of ice and impaled its rotting, decaying head.

I glanced around for anything I could use as a suitable weapon, but all I found was a leaf skimmer. I grabbed the pole and rammed it through a stick-thin zombie who was dressed, quite fittingly, in a pink bathing suit. A few of the other zombies sensed fresh meat and began to head toward me. I took out a biter in a blue and white, dirty jogging outfit and thrust the pole through another that was missing its lower jaw, causing black-red blood to ooze out onto the snow-covered deck.

Much to my surprise, Z and his men began firing at the zombies.

Claire tried to climb out of the frozen pool, but slipped back down. Her lips were chapped and looked as if she’d been eating a bowl of blueberries. Clearly, she was very weak and probably in shock, and she needed to get out of that water and under some blankets before she suffered from hypothermia.

I ran over and pulled her out. “C’mon, Claire!”

“Dean...” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I-I...”

I cupped her face. “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

One of Z’s men laughed. “Liar. She’s far from okay. She’s been bitten. It’d be best for both of y’all if you’d just let me put a bullet in the pretty little popsicle’s head.”

One of the other men held up a gun and pointed it at her. I recognized him as one of the men I’d laughed and joked with on the way to help Z get oil at the warehouse.

“No!” I wailed. “Don’t!”

“You know what will happen to her,” he said. “She’s zombie bait now!”

I
jumped in front of Claire, trying to shield her from their impending gunshots, as if they’d have any problem shooting both of us. “Please don’t do this!”

“Well, Z? You want me to shoot him or what?” the man asked.

“Nah, let him take the girl home to die. Let her friends and loved ones watch her turn into one of the infected. I want them to know that if they cross paths with me, this is only the beginning of what I’ll do to them.”

Claire’s eyes fluttered back, and I knew time was running out. “I need to go,” I said.

“Pssh. There’s no point in rushing. She’ll never make it back alive,” one of the others said.

“She will if you’ll drive me,” I said. “If you get us there, both of us alive, I’ll deliver your message.”

Z shook his head, then pointed his gun at me. “Not gonna happen, Dean. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you ten seconds to get outta my sight before I shoot you. I suggest you go now. Ten...nine...eight...”

I knew he meant every word, and his eyes were colder than I’d ever seen them before. I picked Claire up and climbed down the stairs while he continued to count. I raced through the brown vegetation and cut through another yard, then bolted left. Breathing hard, I kept going until I was sure I was far enough away. I zigzagged in several different directions, but I was worried about my footprints in the snow giving me away, so I created a false trail by circling back to my original path, then retraced my own steps.

When I was sure they weren’t following me, I looked for a safe place where I could put Claire down while I hunted for a house with a fireplace. I knew if I didn’t get her to a warm place soon, she would freeze to death. I found a deserted car with the keys in it, but the engine wouldn’t turn over, and I was no mechanic. I knew a little and fussed under the hood but it did little good. I opened the back door and gently set Claire inside. Her entire body shivered, and I knew she was losing heat at a dangerous rate.

“Don’t leave me,” she said, her voice slurred. “I-I don’t wanna die alone.”

“Nobody’s gonna die on my watch, Claire,” I said.

“Dean, please don’t go.”

I knew she would be easy prey for any zombie straggler, and I had to hurry and find shelter quickly. I kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. “I’m gonna close my eyes, just till you get back.”

I noticed that her breathing was very slow and shallow, and when I felt her pulse, it was quite weak. I knew I was losing her; Claire wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. I hated to leave her, but it was a tough, life-or-death decision I had to make. I took a deep breath, slammed the door, and hurried off as fast as I could through the snow drifts, knowing her life depended on me.

I scouted house after house but couldn’t find one with a fireplace. I’d found a pile of wood in one of the basements, along with a lighter and even a tiny bit of kerosene. It’d be enough to get a fire going, if only I could find a fireplace. I gathered the supplies and kept looking. Finally, I happened upon a ranch-style house, and when I opened the front door, I sighed in relief at the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen: a huge, stone fireplace. I secured the house, found a few jugs of water, and double-checked for zombies, glad to find that it was all clear.

It was pretty easy to get a blazing fire going. I grabbed a blanket off one of the beds and put it in front of the fire so it would get warm and toasty. I then trekked back to the car where I’d left Claire, gathered her up, and carried her to our newfound sanctuary.

When I set her down on a leather chair in front of the fire and wrapped her in the warm blanket, she trembled. “Wh-where did you find an electric blanket? Or electric, for that matter?” she joked.

I chuckled. “I just set it in front of the fire.”

“You’re so smart. That’s what I love about you. I know you fought hard back there. I can tell by your clothes. You’re covered in zombie guts. I just wish I woulda been there to help you.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “We’re all survivors. We fight to stay alive.” I gave her a few sips of water in a blue glass from one of the jugs I found. She didn’t want much because it was so cold, so I let the water sit by the fire for a while. “I’m gonna search the bedrooms and hunt for some dry clothes,” I said.

“Okay. Thanks,” she whispered.

I searched several drawers and closets. Everything smelled musty, but at that stage of the game, considering what our nostrils had been put through, smells really didn’t matter. With a most interesting ensemble in hand, I hurried back into the living room. “I found you an outfit,” I said. “You’ve gotta get out of those wet clothes.” When I pulled her boots off, water spilled out of them.

“My feet are numb,” she said. “I think everything is.”

I helped her slip her soaking-wet coat off. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you warmed up. We just have to get you dry and snuggled up in all these blankets.”

Her teeth chattered as she reached for the clothes I’d found. “Thanks, Dean. If you can just turn the other way, I’ll get dressed.”

“I’ll go look for supplies,” I said. “We need to dress that wound. Besides, I need to get into some dry clothes myself.”

“All right. Try to find something stylish,” she teased.

I walked down the hall and checked the bathroom for useful medical supplies. There wasn’t much, other than some alcohol and a few strips of gauze. When I shut the medicine cabinet, I stared into the mirror for a minute. The reflection didn’t even look like me, just a shell of my former self. My face, hair, and clothes were covered with blood and gore. My eyes were bloodshot, and I’d lost so much weight that my face looked almost skeletal.

In one of the bedrooms that looked like it used to belong to a teenage boy, I rummaged through the drawers until I found something that would fit, and then I headed back to the bathroom. I stripped out of my bloody, wet clothes. The room was freezing, and I started to shiver. I poured water on a washcloth, along with some liquid soap that smelled like vanilla, then washed up the best I could in the tub. I poured the rest of the jug of water over my head, because I knew my hair was matted with zombie chunks and blood. I even found a little bit of shampoo and used it to wash my hair. The black and red sludge that oozed off of my body and down the bathtub drain was disgusting. I dried off with an oversized black towel, and then put the dry clothes on, a checkered shirt and pants two sizes two big. When I tucked the shirt in and used the belt, the pants at least stayed up. Regardless of the fact that I looked like an anorexic farmer, it still felt good to have all that slime and gore off of me. I poured a little alcohol on some of the open cuts on my face, my battle wounds, and I winced with the sting.

“All done!” Claire called.

I walked back into the living room and saw that she’d piled her wet clothes by the window. The new outfit just hung on her, a green sweater and some grayish sweats, but we really couldn’t care less how we looked, as long as we were warm and dry. I carefully cleansed and bandaged the zombie bite on her ankle. It wasn’t festering or oozing all over the place like a typical zombie wound; since Claire was immune, the zombie bite wouldn’t kill her, but the hypothermia could.

“I fought those zombies at the pool so hard,” she said, “but they just kept coming and coming.”

I squeezed her hand. “You’re tough. You did as well as you could, all by yourself.”

“But I got bitten.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re immune, remember?” I said. “Z’s men didn’t know that. If they did, they probably wouldn’t have let you go. They thrived on you dying back at the apartment building, that way it could send a message.”

“They couldn’t have cared less that their actions put me in the position to get bitten. I meant nothing to them. Is this what humanity has turned into? Are they as cold and heartless as the zombies?”

“Not all of humanity, Claire. There are still a few good guys left.”

“Yeah, well, look at you. You have the biggest heart.”

“So do you.”

“Nah, my heart is dead, black, and cold, just like the zombies. Still, I’m not gonna let the past have power over my future. I’ll try to be the best person I can be.”

“And you show us that every single day.”

“I try.”

“I’m so cold,” she whispered.

“You’ll warm up soon,” I said. “I’ll keep putting wood on the fire.”

“Dean, you’re so sweet. Maybe I picked the wrong brother.”

I let out a long breath and remained silent, not sure what to say to that. I sure didn’t want to mess with my brother’s relationship. Claire was tough and funny, sweet and beautiful, and I hadn’t realized what a catch she was until recently, since we’d been spending a lot of time together. Our kiss flashed in my head, but I knew I had to tune that out.
Claire is off limits,
I kept telling myself, reminding myself that Nick would kill us both and that even if he wouldn’t, it just wouldn’t be right.

“Dean...” she said.

“Yeah?”

“You really could use a haircut,” she said.

“Well, I hate to break it to ya, darlin’, but I think somebody ate my barber.”

She smiled weakly.

“I’ll tell ya what,” I said. “There’s a beautician two doors down from us. I promise to make an appointment the second I get back. Deal?”

“Deal, because you look like a bushman.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “Somebody has to scare away the bogeymen.”

“There’s only one way to scare them away,” she said, “and that’s a bullet to the head. I finally learned that the hard way. See, I had this great teacher who told me that if I wanted to survive, I had better get used to fighting.”

“You’re a fighting machine now.”

“I’m a little tired though. Do you mind if I shut my eyes for a few minutes before we leave?”

“Sure. Get some rest and warm up. I’ll be right here to keep you safe.”

“One of the good guys,” she said, winking. 

I helped her onto the makeshift bed I’d made on the carpeted floor in front of the fire and wrapped her in a soft blanket I’d pulled off a king-sized bed in the master bedroom. She shivered uncontrollably as I held her close in my arms next to the fire. I figured the body heat would help warm her freezing body—not to mention that I was freezing myself, and I hadn’t even been dog-paddling with the undead.
I can’t imagine how cold she must be.
Tears welled up in my eyes. She didn’t look good at all, and as hard as I’d tried to save her, I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it. There was no doctor around, and I was all she had.
If she dies...
I thought, then put the horrible thought out of my head.

“I’m gonna kill that Z if it’s the last thing I ever do on this zombie-infested planet,” she whispered. Before I could reply, her eyes fluttered shut.

“Claire?” I said, shaking her. I didn’t know what to do. I would have given anything to have Val, Nick, or Lucas there. I shook her again, but she didn’t budge or flinch. “Oh, Claire,” I said, “please don’t die on me. I can’t lose you too. I just can’t.” After pillaging through the house and finding more blankets, I covered her up and put a pillow under her head. I felt her skin and realized it was cold and clammy. The pulse I felt in her wrist was so very weak. She was alive and holding on, but I didn’t know how much longer she had. I stared at her long, red hair, spread out like an angel’s wings. I knew I couldn’t go back without her; she was part of the family, and my heart simply wouldn’t be able to bear losing Claire.