Amanda Carter in the L.A.Z., life after zombies Page 3

  Watching the pebbles and thinking about sports drinks had caused her to yearn for an ice-cold drink. She wondered if there would ever be such a thing as a cold drink of water on a hot summer day for her again. She could only hope that their current rudimentary situation would change and that they would be able to improve their living conditions at some point in the conceivable future.

  In the far distance ahead of her, the sun glinted off of something metal and shiny. “The truck,” she whispered, feeling relieved for no other reason than that she was getting closer reaching it.

  There was a groan from somewhere nearby, accompanied by a scratching sound, like someone using a stick to etch words in the dirt. Senses alert, she followed the sound to her right. Startled, she quickly jumped sideways, scolding herself for not paying better attention. “There’s no excuse for almost stumbling across a creeper,” she told herself, especially one that was so obviously handicapped.

  After she had recovered from her initial startled response, she felt pity as she watched it crawling and scratching its laborious way through the dirt.

  Knowing what had to be done and not wanting to prolong its agony, she moved swiftly, releasing the knife that she carried on her thigh and plunging it into the creeper’s temple where it made a wet, squishing sound. Then there was the sound of suction releasing as she withdrew the blade. The creeper lay still at her feet.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she whispered to the still form. She had killed many of them, so many that she had lost count, but she never took joy in it. It was simply necessary and the kindest thing that could be done for them now.

  She knelt and wiped the blade off on what remained of the creeper’s light cotton, tattered, plaid shirt.

  What had once been a man had been crawling along the desert floor. He could no longer walk because his legs were obviously broken in several places, and still he had kept going. Amanda thought that he might be a testament to the indomitable spirit of our species, but she doubted that he had been doing it with any conscious intent. The creepers were ruled by hunger and instinct, nothing more, she reminded herself.

  Amanda stood and slid the large bladed knife back into its sheath. She always carried her knife strapped to her thigh, even when she slept. She kept a smaller backup knife attached to her belt behind her back. The pistol was in the pack.

  She only used the pistol in extreme emergencies. Ammunition was too low, and the noise drew unwanted attention from not only the creepers but also the raiders. Dispatching the creepers quick and quiet was best whenever possible.

  Over time and practice, blades had become her go-to weapon of choice. She had used a baseball bat, crowbar, hammer, and once, a piece of pipe; but all things considered, she preferred her knives. Every survivor these days had a preferred weapon, and some of the weapons she had seen were really quite creative.

  Knowing that the creeper was no longer a threat, she raised the binoculars to her eyes again, and this time she could see the truck. She was close enough to see that from here, it appeared undisturbed, but she wouldn’t know that for certain until she was right up on it. A feeling of hope surged through her like someone had injected her with it.

  She panned the binoculars around, looking for the herd. Just a few hours ago, she had seen something unprecedented out here: a herd or horde of creepers had been crossing the desert. Their numbers were staggering, and they were traveling down the dirt road on an interception course with her truck. The poor unfortunate soul that she had just dispatched must have been part of that herd, fallen and been trampled, breaking his legs. In the end, the creepers showed no mercy, even to one of their own.

  Amanda panned the binoculars back to the direction where she had first seen them coming, nothing. She slowly moved them across the desert, looking for any sign of them. Chances were good that they had not turned off the road that led to their camp because when she had seen them, they were already past the turnoff. But she couldn’t be entirely certain that they had not invaded. These days, uncertainty was a fact of life that they dealt with on a daily basis. She could only hope that all was well with the others back at camp.

  Where had they been headed? She wondered. It made no sense to her that so many of them would be traveling together, moving with what looked like purpose through a bleak landscape that couldn’t possibly provide any sustenance for their insatiable hunger. But then she considered, How am I supposed to know what a pack of creepers was thinking or if they could even think at all? And what had motivated them to travel as one across such a barren desert? Well, that was a mystery.

  Amanda turned her back on the creeper, dismissed her wonderings, and was on the move again. But she had only made it a few yards when the barking of a dog halted her suddenly. The bark was immediately followed by a low and rumbling growl from another and what sounded to be larger . . . dog.

  Chapter 4

  “This is fun,” Samantha said as she ground the Jeep into second gear, and Roy cringed, feeling it lurch forward before stalling and jerking to a stop.

  “It’s all about timing,” Roy was instructing. “Try to concentrate on your timing between clutch and gas pedal.”

  “In an emergency, I could always just leave it in first gear,” the girl said, “besides, the truck’s an automatic.”

  Roy laughed, and Samantha started the vehicle again.

  He leaned over to steal a quick peek at the gas gage, and as much as he hated to admit it, he doubted that there was enough gas to make it to town; there probably hadn’t been enough gas before their little driving lesson but especially not now. He frowned before realizing that he was doing it.

  “Why don’t you take us back now,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  He wouldn’t have minded spending a bit more time out here. The Jeep was air-conditioned, and it had cooled the sweat on his clothes. Now he felt cool and damp, but that wouldn’t last long once they returned to camp. After their return, he would have Maryanne and Tammy come spend a little time cooling down, gas be damned. It was just too damn hot out here to go day in and day out so overheated. Unfortunately, it would not be possible to get Jason down from the hill and into the Jeep, and he probably needed it the most with the fever he had been running. It was difficult for Roy to see his friend languishing there, dying, but not as tough as it was for Samantha.

  Jason had started yesterday with a fever from an infection that had set into the compound fracture of his leg, and no amount of air conditioning was going to change the fact that the man needed antibiotics. If Amanda didn’t come back or if she made it back but without the medicine, Jason would die.

  It didn’t make any sense, but for a brief moment, Roy felt guilty, fearing that Samantha might have read his thoughts. To make up for it, he smiled, but he had nothing to fear because she was paying attention to the rutted dirt road, driving carefully, creeping along real slow in first gear because she kept stalling the Jeep anytime she tried to shift it into second.

  O

  “Mom, Where’s Sam?” Tammy asked after looking around the camp. She had just awoken from a nap. “It’s hot,” she moaned, picking her long curly brown hair up and away from her neck.

  “I know it’s hot, sweetie,” Maryanne said, dipping a ladle into a pot of their precious water.

  “Hold still,” her mother said, bringing the ladle toward her youngest daughter, careful not to spill any along the way.

  “The water’s hot too,” Tammy groaned. “Yucky hot water,” she said, twisting away from the stream that her mother was pouring over her head.

  “The water’s warm, not hot, and it will still help cool you down. There’s a nice wind today, and when it hits the water, it’ll act like air conditioning, so stay still, okay?” said Maryanne.

  One more ladle, and Tammy’s hair was wet and dripping. Maryanne ran her fingers through her youngest daughter’s hair and mussed it up in a playful gesture.

  “Don’t you mean that the wind will feel like getting hit with the
air from a hot blow dryer, Mother?” it was Samantha’s voice using one of her sarcastic tones.

  But when she walked up, she was smiling, which Maryanne considered was better than the mood she had left in.

  “You’re back,” Maryanne said, “you startled me. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “It’s the wind,” Roy said. “It’s loud. We didn’t go past The Trench, not today.”

  “No, Mom, it wasn’t the wind. Roy’s teaching me to be stealthy like Amanda. It worked,” Samantha said.

  She was walking with a spring in her step and was in a good enough mood to be telling jokes. Maryanne was pleased; it had been a rough few days with her oldest daughter.

  Samantha went to the pan of water and plunged her hands in, scooping some up to splash her face.

  “Be careful with that water!” Maryanne yelled sharply, eliciting a sour look from her daughter. “If you must, use the ladle. Now the water is contaminated from your dirty hands, and we haven’t got much left to drink.”

  “Hello, Mom, I’m using our wash water, for God’s sake,” Samantha snapped back. “It’s not like I’m messing up our drinking water or something, geez.”

  “Watch your tone with me, young lady, and don’t use God’s name like that,” Maryanne said, practically echoing her own mother’s words and hating herself for it. Snapping at her daughter like that only caused more strife, but sometimes, she didn’t see any way around it.

  “Whatev,” Samantha said, using one of her favorite slang words. She wheeled around and stomped away to plop down in the dirt.

  “Whoa,” Roy said, feeling the need to step in since his friend Jason couldn’t. “It’s hot, let’s just, everybody, calm down. I don’t think that we’re thinking too clearly right now. We’re all hot and worried, so let’s just take a time out.”

  His speech settled onto the group, apparently effective because no one spoke. He generally stayed out of their mother-daughter spats and let Jason handle it, but he glanced over to Jason’s still form a few yards away and sighed. He was worried.

  “Where’s Amanda?” Tammy asked. “How come she’s not back yet?” Her big brown eyes were looking questioningly up to her mother, with her face a little pinched, showing her worry.

  Maryanne looked to Roy and Samantha, who were both staring at her, but nobody spoke, and she didn’t know what to say. At least, Samantha wasn’t making a wisecrack.

  “Wow, you’re right Roy, it’s hot,” Maryanne finally said. “What did the temperature gauge in the Jeep say?”

  “Way to change the subject, Mom,” Samantha muttered.

  So much for wisecracks, Maryanne thought.

  “It said that it’s 117 degrees out here,” Roy answered, hoping that he didn’t end up in the middle of another one of their arguments.

  “How’d the driving lesson go, Samantha?” Maryanne asked, still trying to keep things light, even as sweat rolled down her back and rivulets of it moved down between her cleavage.

  This seemed to work, and Samantha snapped her head up quickly, looking interested. “I’m a great driver, just ask Roy.”

  Both Roy and Samantha laughed at this.

  “I said,” Tammy continued, undaunted and louder than before, “where’s Amanda?” Her little face was red, and she was scowling at her mother.

  “How’s about you and Tammy go sit in the air conditioning of the Jeep for a few minutes and cool down,” Roy said, tossing Maryanne the keys, which she deftly caught.

  “I don’t know that we should spare the gasoline,” Maryanne said, giving him a look of worry.

  “That isn’t what matters right now. Right now, you and Tammy need to get cooled down,” Roy said insistently. “What matters now is that I keep the three of you in good shape, or Jason’s going to yell at me when he wakes up.”

  “Why won’t anyone answer my question?” Tammy lamented with a whine, looking like she might burst into tears.

  Maryanne looked from Roy to her youngest daughter. The child was red-faced, sweating, and as a doctor, she knew how dangerous the heat could be.

  “What about Jason?” Maryanne asked. “It’s time to sit him up and get some water in him if I can and then douse him so that he doesn’t burn up out here.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Roy said, giving her a reassuring nod.

  “I’m going too,” Samantha said, jumping to her feet.

  “No, you’re staying here and helping me with your father,” Roy said sternly.

  “Whatev,” the girl said, issuing an eye roll. “So where is Amanda anyway?”

  Roy gave Maryanne a wink, which he hoped would assure her that he could handle both Samantha and Jason in her absence. In return, Maryanne mouthed the words, “Thank you,” and left with Tammy.

  “Give me a hand with your father,” Roy said. “I need a glass of water.”

  Samantha complied without argument, and Roy went to Jason, lifting the man’s upper body to a sitting position. Jason never opened his eyes, and Roy could feel the heat radiating off of the man’s body. It will be a miracle if he survives the day, Roy thought but then worked to push it out of his mind. He was sure that Maryanne had had similar thoughts.

  It was difficult to hold Jason up because his body was so limp that he kept trying to slip away from Roy’s grasp in whatever place Roy was not holding on to. Finally, Roy got behind the man, using his knees as well to stabilize Jason’s body.

  Samantha returned with the water and knelt in front of her father. Roy felt sorry for the girl as he watched her skin turn ashen. There were a myriad of different emotions registering across her face as she lifted the glass to his lips.

  Water dribbled out from around Jason cracked lips and down his chin. Sam looked to Roy, a scared expression on her face.

  “Tilt his chin up a little,” Roy said. “Good, now just a little at a time.”

  Roy watched as Sam delivered very minute amounts of water. Jason’s Adam’s apple moved up and down a couple times, showing that he had swallowed something, but still his eyes never opened.

  “That’s good, just a little more,” Roy said.

  “He’s so sick,” Samantha said with a whisper, delivering another couple of small amounts of water, until Jason coughed.

  “Good, I’m going to set him back down now,” Roy said as he gently lowered Jason back to a horizontal position.

  Sam had already brought the pan of wash water back to them before Roy had finished positioning his friend.

  “I know what to do,” the girl said, dropping a rag into the pan. Roy backed away because it seemed that Samantha wanted some time with her father.

  Roy went to sit with his back against a boulder. He watched as the teen dipped the rag, and then she would wring it out over Jason, until the feverish man had water dripping off of him.

  “Water’s gone,” Samantha said, showing Roy the near empty pan.

  “That’s okay,” Roy said, “you did good, real good.”

  But secretly, he was worried about their water situation. There was, at most, two gallons to spread between them. During other times of the year, that might have seemed like no cause for panic, but out here in the summer, a body could easily lose a gallon or two of water a day, and there were five of them.

  Samantha came to sit with Roy.

  “The water’s almost gone, isn’t it?” Samantha asked.

  Roy didn’t respond immediately, until finally he said, “Yes, and I would prefer, for my own sanity, that we not talk about that right now, please.”

  The girl seemed to understand this, and she nodded, dropping the subject.

  “Roy?” the girl said after a while. “Why back in the LBZ did Mom and Dad used to insist that we call you Uncle Roy even though you aren’t related to us?”

  Roy took a breath and closed his eyes for a second. It seemed that children, even teenaged ones, always had a lot of questions.

  “Well, Samantha . . .” he began but was interrupted.

  “Call me Sam. All my friends use
d to call me Sam, and I wish my parents would too,” she said earnestly.

  “You’d have to ask your parents to be sure, Sam,” he said, emphasizing her name, “but I think it’s because families stick together. They watch out for each other, and well, that’s what we do for each other, right?”

  Sam thought about this, and he watched her countenance brighten a little. “Right,” Sam said, “that makes sense.”

  The hot wind buffeted them, and the tarps snapped incessantly above their heads.

  “So where’s Amanda, or would you prefer not to talk about that either?” Sam said, giving him a look that indicated that she wanted the truth.

  Roy said nothing for a full minute. He wasn’t one to spend a lot of time talking, and it seemed to him like talking and answering questions was all he was doing lately. He sighed.

  “Why won’t you answer me?” Sam bemoaned.

  “Here’s the answer, Sam,” he finally said. “I don’t know where Amanda is or why she isn’t back yet, and that terrifies me.”

  Chapter 5

  It was a shock to hear the dogs out here in the middle of the desert. She had not so much as seen a dog in months, and the last time she had laid eyes on one, it was in town. She proceeded forward, cautiously, whipping the knife out just in case. She rounded the corner of a large boulder, and there they were, two dogs. She lowered the knife, hoping that she didn’t need to use it. As far as she knew, dogs could not be infected, and these two looked healthy.

  “Hey there,” she said, lowering her body a little, so as not to appear threatening.