Scorched Earth

He’d been out in the forest for over three hours and the most exciting thing Garrett had seen was two squirrels chasing each other up a tree. He rolled his eyes, setting his gun down beside him as he sat down. He ripped a piece of grass up, tearing it apart between his fingers. He was tired of wandering around the forest every day, waiting for the zombies to show up.

“Stupid,” he crumpled the grass in between his fingers, trying to fold it in half along the stem.

“Fucking,” Garrett grumbled as the piece of grass ripped in half, and he threw it aside.

“Disease.” Grabbing a new one, Garrett held an end in each hand, pulling until the blades snapped in half and he tossed them angrily at the ground.

“Somehow I doubt that piece of grass is a zombie.”

Garrett looked up, locking eyes with Kennedy. “Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?”

“Aren’t you?” Kennedy smirked. He’d pulled down the rag on his hat to cover the back of his neck. Garrett could already see the signs of a light sunburn across his friend’s face. Sunblock was rare among the camp. Something about the chemicals in it had accelerated the virus once it was contracted. Lotions and sunblock had been some of the first things to be labeled toxic and pulled off the shelves. Dealing with the sunburn was normal to the survivors.

Garrett snorted. “If you call this patrolling.”

“Would you prefer brain-craving zombies?” Kennedy smiled, firing back a quick response, the corners of his mouth tilting up into a smirk.

“Maybe.”

Kenny raised one eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the left. “Really.”

“Okay, no. But that’s not the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“The point is that this fucking sucks. It’s been crazy quiet this week. I say we just head back into camp. There’s nothing out here.”

Nodding, Kennedy reached out to help pull Garrett to his feet. Ever since the virus had first broken out, it’d been the two of them. Even in the beginning, when they first made it to the survivor’s camp, the pair had stuck together. They’d settled into the routine of things easily, but they’d insisted they be on the same patrol. Even when Kennedy started dating Emily again, or when Garrett lost himself in the comfort of random women, they knew they had to stick together. They needed the familiarity the other provided, the sliver of what had existed before.

Kennedy had met his wife Emily long before the zombies, even before the idea of the virus had spread. They’d dated on and off for several years, losing touch when the infection first hit Arizona.

Garrett smiled, remembering the day when the two had met again after the original outbreak. It was during their first year at the camp. She was stuck on dish patrol in the kitchens, and kept sneaking off to steal from the large stash of peanut butter in the pantry. Kennedy had walked in, accidentally catching her. Garrett remembered how Kennedy had come to him, babbling something about a girl and peanut butter.

It baffled Garrett, but the two were good together. She kept him grounded; something he needed after everything they’d gone through. The ring shone on Kennedy’s left hand as he reached down to grab his canteen.

The day was hot, hotter than the rest of the week had been, and even the week before that. Mid-July was brutal in Arizona, but it was better than winter. Garrett hated everything about the snow. He hated how cold the weather got, and how wet the snow was. He hated how his ears and his nose would freeze and how the wind made it impossible to sleep at night. He’d gladly take the heat over that any day.

Handing the water over to Garrett, Kennedy adjusted the edge of his boots. Taking a large swig from the metal canteen, Garrett wiped his mouth with the collar of his shirt.

“You hear anything about the attacks from up north?”

“Not much, other than the place where some of th’ new survivors was completely infested. It’s spreading.”

“It’s always fucking spreading.” Garrett mumbled as they headed towards camp. He kicked the ground with the toe of his boot, sending little chunks of dirt flying.

“At least it’s not airborne yet. Once that happens, we’re fucked.”

“You and your stupid silver lining.” Garrett stopped talking, his voice lost to the sound of three large generators. Since they didn’t have electricity, the generators powered the entire camp. When he’d first gotten there, the noise kept him up at night. Now, he couldn’t imagine sleeping without the large buzzing of the generators. They had reached the perimeter. You couldn’t see over the giant wall meant to keep the zombies out and the survivors in. There was a large heavy door that stood barricaded on the East side of the camp. After shouting up to the person in the lookout tower, the door groaned open, letting them inside.

The camp was relatively empty for the mid-afternoon, most residents having taken shelter from the merciless sun. Garrett felt bad for the people that tended the giant farm, as they had to work through the afternoon heat. The farm provided fresh food to the camp’s kitchens. He was grateful to have been capable enough with a gun to be put on patrol duty instead of being chosen to work on the farm. Garrett had seen them at the end of the day, trudging tiredly back to their cabins: sweat pouring down their backs and sun scorched skin peeling away.

The two headed towards the armory, passing by the massive kitchens. The dining hall tent branched off from the small building. They could smell the early preparation of dinner, mostly for the guys that took over watch duty in the early evenings.

Kennedy groaned, staring lustfully over at the kitchens. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“Yeah, but I’m extra hungry right now.” Kennedy tripped over his own feet, catching himself as he began to fall. He glanced back towards the dining hall, his lower lip jutting out slightly. His voice took on a slightly higher pitch as he tugged on Garrett’s sleeve, whining, “I’m hungry and tired and starving.”

Shrugging him off, Garrett kept going, ignoring Kennedy’s pleas for food. “I hope they aren’t serving that meat surprise crap. I can’t take it another day.”

“As long as it’s not the liver and green bean meal that we had all last month, I can stand it. I’ll even eat the meat surprise right now.”

Scrunching up his face in a look of disgust, Garrett shuddered. His stomach churned as he thought of the sticky mess that was the camp kitchen’s “Meat Surprise.” “I dunno, man. I can’t take that shit. It’s too gross.”

“At least we don’t have to have that pasta salad that tasted like cardboard.”

“I gotta get out of here, Ken. I need to eat a real meal once in a while.”

He nodded in assent, glancing back at the mess hall. “The minute this damn apocalypse is over, I’m getting a damn cheeseburger. Hell, I’m getting five.”

Garrett raised his eyebrows, a smirk twisting across his face. “Five?”

“Yes, five. I’m fucking hungry, Gar. Besides, unlike you, I’m not watching my weight.”

“Are you implying that I’m fat?”

He shrugged, smirking back at Garrett before reaching his arm out to pull open the door of the makeshift armory. It swung open in his face and Kennedy quickly took a step back to avoid getting hit. His movements caused the door to clip Garrett in the arm. Kennedy smiled apologetically as Garrett scowled, glancing back at the person who’d just come out of the armory. She was turned around, yelling at someone inside.

“How can you expect me to stay here if I can’t even defend myself?”

“I told you, ma’am. I can’t rent out these guns. They’re for the patrol guys only.”

She whipped around, muttering under her breath. “It’s fucking ridiculous. I swear to god, if I get killed because this stupid place won’t even let me defend myself I’m going to come back as a zombie and kill the fucker for myself. Just for the patrollers, my ass.”
She glared up at the two standing there. She was shorter than both of them, but she was furious and neither one of them wanted to get tangled up in the argument. Glancing at each other, they raised their hands in mock surrender.

“I’m not even old enough to be a ‘ma’am’. Stupid idiot.”

Mumbling, she stormed off, leaving Garrett’s eyes wandering.

The door shut behind them, and the man sitting behind a large wooden desk looked up quickly.
“I thought you were her again. Thank god.”

Rubbing his arm from where the door hit him, Garrett greeted the man, “Hey Simon.”

“That chick?” Kennedy nodded towards the door as he walked over to the desk to join the other two. The man behind the desk sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He leaned back in the chair and opened his eyes. Simon was younger than both Kennedy and Garrett, but he towered over both of them. His voice was deep and his skin dark. Simon had traveled up from Florida by himself, hitchhiking most of the way. He didn't like talking about what he'd left behind, but Garrett had heard it was one of the states where the virus had first broken out.

“I’m almost ready to just give her a damn gun. “

“You can’t do that.” Garrett shook his head automatically, pulling out his pocketknife to swipe underneath his fingernails. Living in a room with nine other guys had given him a tolerance for a certain level of dirt and grime. It was inevitable, but he couldn’t stand the idea of having flecks of rotting flesh and dirt scraped underneath his fingernails.

“She’s driving me crazy, Garrett. She’s been here every fucking day since the group came in from up North. Apparently they took all their weapons away or something.”

“Good. I bet none of ‘em even knows how to use a weapon.”

“They lived this long, Gar.” Kennedy shot him a long look, his words weighed down by the bitter truth. He shook his head slightly as he saw Garrett playing with the pocketknife. Turning to look at Simon, Kennedy raised his voice. “Yeah, that’s what I heard, Simon.”

Garrett shot Kennedy a questioning look. He responded, shrugging, “Em told me.”

Simon reached out, grabbing the gun that was sitting on the desk in front of him. “I swear, it’s tempting to just give ‘er one.”

“Isn’t that against the rules?”

Simon nodded slowly back at Kennedy, a determined look in his eyes. “She’d be Mitch’s problem, then.”

Garrett grinned over at the other two. “Do it.”

Simon pulled open the drawer in front of him, reaching for a small dirty rag. He started cleaning out the gun, setting the pieces across the desk. He rubbed the outside of the gun, spitting out his words. “Mitch is a fucking asshole. I’m so tired of him getting on my ass about shit. I mean if I’m doing so much wrong, why can’t he just fix it himself instead of yelling at me about it?”

“I hate it when he does that. Or when he tells me how to hold my own fucking gun.” Garrett glared at the floor, his eyes briefly flickering to the cabinet where his favorite gun was stored.

Kennedy frowned, watching Simon as he took apart the gun to clean it. “Does he even know how to hold one himself?”

Garrett snorted, an image of the mid-sized commander handling a large shotgun. “I doubt it.”

Grumbling, Simon forcibly shoved the rag along the gun, getting off all the sweat and dirt that had been caked on during a patrol. “I could squish him beneath my thumb.”

“And how exactly would that help?” Kennedy asked skeptically.

“It wouldn’t. It’d make me feel better though. Maybe I could just stick her with him. They’d deserve each other.”

Kennedy raised an eyebrow at Simon, moving over to sit on the side of the desk. “They?”

“Mitch and that girl. I don’t even know who she is.”

“I thought you did.” Kennedy scrunched up his face as he glanced over at Simon.

Garrett stared down at his feet, letting Kennedy do all the talking. He kept a trained eye on his shoelaces, daring them to move. He didn’t want to appear interested in what they were saying. She was just a girl, and an annoying one at that.

“All I know is that she’s from up North. Nobody tells me anything other than that. Since she got here, she’s been on my ass about getting that damn gun. I say we give ‘er one, and make Mitch deal with her.”

“Sounds good to me. Then maybe she’d light a fire up under his ass and he’d actually do something for once.”

“What do you mean?”

Kennedy shook his head in disgust. “No one likes to think about it, but nothing’s being done. We’re slowly running out of supplies and no one is prepared.”

“What?” Alarmed, Simon glanced over at Kennedy.

“Gar and I were down at the storeroom before our shift this morning and we overheard Mitch and one of them guys arguing. They’re running out of food and basic supplies.”

“Don’t we have the farm and stuff? We should be good on food.”

“There have been too many new people coming in. There’s no system or anything to regulate it. It’s supposed to be Mitch’s job, but that lazy fuck can’t be bothered to do anything about it.” Garrett chimed in, looking up from where his gaze had been fixed on the floor. He was grateful for the change in subject, despite the content.

“That ain’t right. We need someone to keep everything organized. I don’t even wanna think about what could happen if we ran out of food.”

“It’s not just food,” Garrett said evenly, “It’s everything, like medical supplies and medicine and blankets. Everything the camp could need, we’re running out of it.”

“I should do it.”

“Do what, Ken?”

“I should be the leader. I should just go up to Mitch and tell him I’m taking over that shit. It needs to be put in order, and no one is doing it.”

“Kennedy, you can’t even show up to patrol on time. How exactly are you planning on running an entire camp?”

“He’s got a point, you know.”

“I don’t know. I’d figure it out. But something has to be done. This is bad.”

“Yeah. But what could we do?” Putting the gun he’d been cleaning down, Simon rubbed his temples. “We don’t exactly have the most power here. I just watch the guns, for fuck’s sake. I don’t even get to go out patrolling like you both do.”

Tuning the others out, Garrett’s eyes glazed over as he noticed the gun Simon had put down. He didn’t want to think about that girl. For all he knew, she could be married or together with someone. Why should he even care? She was just some girl that got swept into his camp by the disease.

“Garrett.” He locked eyes with Kennedy, who was waving his hand in front of his face. “You alive?”

He blinked a few times, Kennedy’s face swirling in front of his. “Yeah. Just tired. Patrol and all.”

“Especially since we had such a tiring day and all.”

“Shut up, Kenny. Let’s just go to the rec tent, okay?”

Kennedy shrugged, reaching down to pick up the gun he’d set at his feet. He handed it over to Simon and headed towards the door. Garrett did the same, gently handing his precious gun to Simon before following Kennedy out the squeaky screen door.

The heat hit them both hard, and Garrett winced. Nodding in the direction of the rec tent, he reached into the back pocket of his heavy-duty cargo pants. He pulled out a small, worn deck of cards. Absentmindedly, he ran his fingers over the cards, counting them. One of the pastimes that had carried over from the time before the infection was card games. They were simple, didn’t take much time, and provided the perfect distraction. Most board games had been marked as potentially toxic and destroyed. People had been afraid the chemicals in the colors were what caused the virus in the first place. Since electricity was powered through generators, video games and movies were scarcely used as forms of entertainment. The survivors needed new ways of amusing themselves over long periods of time.

As they walked, Garrett shuffled the cards between his fingertips. It reminded him of when he was younger, and he and his brother Trey would have shuffling contests.

Several cards slipped through his fingers and hit the ground. When he bent over to pick them up, he noticed the girl from the Armory and the Hospital Tent the day before. She was curled up against a tree, a small boy nestled against her and a worn and tattered book in her hands. Her dark hair blended into the tree, and if he held still, he could faintly hear her reading out loud to the boy.

“What’re you doing?” Kennedy peered down at him, towering over Garrett's crouched body.

“Nothing. Just picking up the cards I dropped.” Garrett said hurriedly, reaching out to pick up the last card.

Kennedy peered around the corner, catching a glimpse of the mystery girl. “Her? Really, Gar?”

He shrugged, looking down sheepishly. “What? She’s interesting, okay? Look at her. She doesn’t seem that bad.”

“You don’t even want to go there, man. She looks like trouble.”

Garrett looked back over at the girl, blushing as she glanced up to meet his eyes. She raised an eyebrow before returning her attention to her book. There was something about her that didn’t quite match up with the harshness he’d seen earlier than day. There was an almost softness and tenderness in the way she hugged the boy to her chest, and softly read to him. She wasn’t like the other people at the camp. Garrett could see that much. Trouble or not, he couldn’t help but want to know more about her.