Scorched Earth

The cafeteria smelled like eggs and bacon.

Garrett liked eggs and bacon just as much as anyone else. It was what he ate growing up: the eggs inhaled as he ran for the door, and the bacon in a bag shoved into his hand as he shut it behind him. Not a lot of things compared to his mother’s breakfasts; especially not the food in the cafeteria.

He held out a tray, slowly scooping heaps of dry and under-salted eggs onto his plate. He knew from experience that the bacon was always cold, and the pancakes tasted like rubber. But Garrett didn’t have much of a choice, so he grudgingly accepted his plate, turning around to face the rest of the cafeteria.

Garrett felt like he was back in high school, facing one of the girl’s stupid drama about what person was allowed to sit where, and who they were mad at this week. Normally, Garrett and Kennedy would sit together. It was unspoken. Since they’d arrived, he couldn’t think of a day where they hadn’t sat together.

He carried the tray over, sliding in next to Emily who shot him a kind smile. Kennedy just glared, forcibly stabbing his fork into his eggs, scraping the bottom of the plate. The air was tense, with Emily trying to mediate between the two boys.

“There was a new shipment yesterday. I heard that they found an old Nintendo or something.”

She was met with blank stares and the sound of metal hitting glass.

“You guys could see-” She stopped as Kennedy stood up sharply, leaving his food half-eaten in favor of walking out the door. Emily sighed, rubbing her face with her hands.

“This is getting ridiculous, Garrett. Just talk to him.” She pleaded with him, staring at the place her husband disappeared.

“Why the fuck do I have to be the one to apologize?”

“I didn’t say you had to apologize,” she began cautiously. “All I ask is that you talk to him so you guys can get over this stupid fight and get back to being the old married couple you are.”

Garrett stared openmouthed at her. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Fuck this, Em. When your pathetic husband is ready to see sense, I’ll be here. Until then, just forget it.”

He seethed as he crossed the camp; Emily’s shocked expression clear in his mind. He felt guilty for taking out his frustration with Kennedy on her, but sometimes he had a hard time separating the two in his head. His fists were still tense as he pushed into the Armory, walking past the people standing in the foyer as he headed straight to the main desk.

“I need a new patrol partner, Simon.” Garrett’s voice was even, his voice lacking emotion. He was doing what was right. He and Kennedy had fought about little stuff before, but nothing like this. Nothing on this level.

“Uh...you sure that’s what you want? You’ve always paired with Kennedy.” Simon looked up uneasily at him, hesitating.

“Trust me. It’s what I want.”

Pausing for only a second, Simon took out the patrol logs, crossing out their names and running his finger down the list of pairs. “Michael and Rich haven’t checked in yet, you could go with one of them.”

“Good. I’ll pair with Michael. Rich can go with Ken. Let him know I’ll be out by the gate in half an hour.”

With heavy feet, Garrett headed towards the door. Several times he almost turned back, ready to take everything back; it was a mistake. But he kept forward, letting his feet carry him across the camp. He put on all of his gear with numb hands, adding the extra weapons Kennedy had insisted on after their attack without a second thought. They hung heavily at his waist, a constant reminder that something was endlessly wrong.

Patrolling with Michael was unlike everything Garrett was used to. He didn’t have Kennedy’s stealth, or the same patterns. He kept expecting Michael to come up behind him from patrolling the perimeter like Kenny always did, but he never appeared. He wasn’t used to his partner disappearing in order to cover more ground. Garrett wrapped his hands tightly around his gun, unsure of what to expect. He heard rustling behind him, his eyes narrow and his entire body tense.

He recognized Kennedy instantly. Garrett would have known him anywhere.

“So where’s the new partner?” A smirk set across his mouth as he leaned against a tree, his arms crossed.

“Beat it, Kennedy. I’m trying to work.” Garrett rolled his eyes, trying to ignore him. He should have known it wouldn’t work. Kennedy was incessant; he’d always been that way. He was one of the most stubborn people Garrett knew. His hot temper got him into trouble, but Kennedy was the one who could hold a grudge.

He scoffed, circling around Garrett. “Really. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure patrolling takes more than one person. Y’know, in case there’s an actual attack? First rule is to never leave your partner.”

“And you would know so much about that, Kennedy.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at Garrett, who knelt on the ground. “You’re the one that asked to switch partners. Who abandoned who exactly?”

Garrett didn’t know how to answer and Kennedy took advantage of his silence to bend down next to him, his gun clanking against his side. “I’ve always had your back, Gar. Are you willing to throw all of that away for nothing?”

“Kennedy, hey.”

Kennedy stood, his eyes trained on Garrett as he softly greeted Michael. “Good luck with the new partner.”

Garrett’s clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the pack on the ground.

The rest of the day was full of mistakes and accidents, one right after another. Garrett tripped over his feet countless times, finding himself with a face full of twigs and leaves. Things were not where they put them at the beginning of the day, and weapons Garrett was sure he packed suddenly disappeared. Working with Michael was awkward. They were out of sync, used to working with another person.

Garrett was tired and frustrated and sore when he trudged back into the barracks that night, only to find a small note lying on his bed. Talk to him for me. Please, Gar. He didn’t need a signature to recognize Emily’s block letters. He crumpled the paper up in his hands, shoving it into his pocket as he fell into bed, not bothering to take off his gear.

That Saturday he was free of patrol duty, having signed up for a double shift the following week. He took naps as much as he could; ignoring Michael’s light snoring in favor of a few extra hours of sleep. He didn’t get the opportunity to sleep in late often, so he reveled in the extra hour or two.

Garrett awoke to the sirens blaring loudly over the loudspeaker. He could faintly hear screams and shouting in the distance. Glancing over at the alarm, he furrowed his brow in confusion. The sirens weren’t supposed to go off for another hour—ending the morning shift. It was too early.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the heat pounding his back through the makeshift window. He cursed, tripping over his pants leg as he shoved his feet into them. Shrugging on a lightweight wife beater, Garrett tugged it down his frame so that the extra fabric rested around his hips. He pulled the leather string around his neck so the charm fell underneath the edge of his shirt. Shoving on his combat boots, Garrett slid his fingers around the shotgun that leaned against his bed. He grabbed the small handheld gun from his nightstand, finally slipping it into the holder that hung at his waist.

He bolted from the barracks and headed towards the screaming. He saw the markings before the beasts themselves. With obvious practice, he tracked the drag marks in the ground to the hospital. Horrified, Garrett ran towards the main tent. He noticed slash marks at the entrance, and the overwhelming smell of blood. Without a second thought, he wrenched back the flap to the tent and slipped inside.

It was utter chaos.

Everywhere he looked, Garrett saw another zombie. The infestation was massive—innumerable bodies lay on the floor, attended to by the Infected. Garrett crinkled his nose as he saw the first of the savages, blood dripping from its mouth. He wasted no time pulling the small gun from his belt and taking careful aim. He didn’t wince as the body of the Infected dropped to the floor, spattering blood all over his shoes. Garrett joined the fray, locking eyes with Kennedy. He nodded at him, the tension immediately forgotten. This trumped any stupid fight they’d been having. The pair stayed calm, their fighting fueled by experience and fear.

They weren’t supposed to be this close to the people in the encampment. They shouldn’t have been able to breach the walls.

Zoning out for a second, Garrett thought of the man on watch that morning. He’d taken Garrett’s place. Toby was a good man: kind, focused, and an excellent fighter. He didn’t want to think of what had happened to him, let alone the damage the camp would suffer with this attack.

Kennedy’s arm collided with his, and he stumbled back. He quickly regained his footing, shooting the zombie lumbering towards him, making sure it was dead. He let his eyes trace the room, freezing as they came into contact with the one face he’d gotten used to looking for.

Melanie was standing in front of a small boy, one arm pushing him behind her. She had a long cut across her stomach and a matching one running down the length of her arm. She was fighting fiercely—her jaw clenched and her eyes trained on the zombies attacking her. Melanie wielded a large blunt object, clearly something picked up from the debris. Garrett watch as she, with a batter’s arm, slammed the piece of wood into the zombie’s head, knocking it onto the floor. With one hand, she pushed the small boy into a small crevice in the folds of the tent, blocking him from view.

Garrett lost sight of her as he was assaulted from behind. Bloody hands wrapped around his throat, but he wrenched free before the zombie could sink its fingernails into his neck. Picking up a brick that had been used to hold a gurney in place, Garrett smashed it into the zombie’s face, blood spraying across his face. Wrenching the monster away from him, he pulled out his gun, tapping the trigger twice. The body fell to the ground and didn’t move.

He quickly turned, his finger on the trigger, and his body tensed for a fight, but there weren’t any others. The room was still, save for the slight movement as people picked themselves up from the floor. Garrett glanced around the room, searching desperately for any signs of Kenny. He spotted him less than five feet away.

“Kennedy!”

He was bent over, breathing heavily when Garrett collided with him. He dragged Kennedy over to the corner of the tent, sitting him down. “Kennedy, talk to me. What happened?”

“I just…I don’t know. I freaked, Gar. They can’t be here. Not here. It’s supposed to be safe here. What if it’s not safe? How am I gonna keep Em safe?”

“Have you seen her?”

Kennedy paled, immediately standing up and searching anxiously around. He tried stepping forward and stumbled over his feet. Garrett caught him as he fell, sitting him gently back down on one of the upturned cots.

“Ken. Talk to me. When was the last time you saw her?”

“Th-this morn-ing. When I left th-the house. I left without saying goodbye, Gar. She wasn’t awake, and she jus-just looked so peaceful…what if something happened? I don’t know where she is, Garrett. I have to find her; I need to find her.”

He tried to stand, but Garrett placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“But-”

“No,” he said sharply, “I’ll find her, Ken. I’m gonna find her. Just…stay here. I need you right here.”

With a hesitant glance back at Kennedy, Garrett ran out of the tent, searching every face for Emily. There were hundreds of places she could be and he had no idea where to even start. A woman he faintly recognized passed him, and Garrett quickly grabbed her arm to catch her attention.

“Have you seen Emily Brock?”

She shook her head, a sympathetic look crossing her features. “There are a lot of people missing right now. I hope you find your girl.”

“Thanks.”

Garrett watched the woman hurry into the hospital tent, disappearing behind the bloodied cloth.

“She’s not my girl.” he grumbled to himself as he started running again, this time towards Kennedy and Emily’s cabin. If no one had seen her, there was a good chance she was still at the cabin.

The door to the cabin lay ajar, and Garrett’s head started to spin. It was all too familiar: the slightly open door and the stench of rotting flesh. He gripped the handrail tightly for balance as he made his way up the stairs. He didn’t want to think about what he might find inside.

He pushed the door open gently, calling out Emily’s name. He heard a faint cry from the back bedroom, and he ran down the hallway. She was sitting on the bed, her knees pulled into her chest and a bloody baseball bat lying next to her. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks tracked with tears. Rounding the corner, Garrett could faintly see the zombie on the ground, his skull crushed from the blow of the bat. Garrett winced before climbing on the bed next to Emily. She was shaking, staring directly ahead. She didn’t even flinch when he moved next to her, pulling her to his chest.

“Em? You okay?”

She didn’t speak, only crying harder. Garrett froze, unsure of what to do. He’d never known what to do around girls. That was Kennedy’s job. He tried his best to mimic what he’d seen Kenny do in the past, rubbing small circles on Emily’s back until her sobs turned into faint sniffling.

“Gar? Is Ken…is he all right?”

She looked up, her bloodshot eyes pleading with him. He brushed the loose hairs away from her face and pulled her closer. “He’s fine, Emily. He wants to see you.”

The sudden look of fear that crossed her face worried Garrett. He’d never seen her look that afraid. Not of anything. She was supposed to be fearless, the rock that held them all together. He needed her to be strong. For Kennedy, and for him.

“I’m here, Em. You’ll be fine. He wants to see you.” He repeated softly.

She took a deep breath and nodded, holding out her hand so Garrett could pull her to her feet. He helped her step over the body and led her out the door. She didn’t speak as they crossed the camp. He knew she was taking in everything around them. He’d never seen the camp this lively.

Everyone was running or shouting, and there were hugs and tears wherever Garrett turned.

They reached the tent and Garrett held up the flap, letting Emily duck under his arm and into the tent. He led her silently over to the corner where he’d left Kennedy. As soon as she saw him, she dropped Garrett’s hand and rushed towards her husband. Hearing her footsteps, Kennedy looked up and immediately stood, taking Emily into his arms and hugging her tightly. Garrett could faintly hear them whispering to each other. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying. He looked up just in time to see Emily and Kennedy locked in a tight embrace, kissing as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.

He smiled, turning away to give the couple a few minutes of privacy, if such a thing existed. He glanced around the room, surveying the damage. There were a few bodies mixed among the rotting corpses of the zombies. He let out a sigh as he failed to recognize any of the bodies. He saw Darrin getting his arm re-stitched, and a few of the women that work in the mess hall being cleaned up. Everything was chaos. People were crying everywhere he looked, and there wasn’t a foot that wasn’t covered in blood.

Small cries from the corner opposite Garrett caught his attention, and his eyes widened when he saw Will huddled in Melanie’s lap. She looked up, locking eyes with Garrett.

“Is he okay?” Garrett mouthed, motioning towards Will.

She smiled and nodded, holding Will closer to her body. Garrett sighed in relief, giving a soft smile before he started walking towards the opening of the tent.

He didn’t understand. The camp was supposed to be impenetrable.

The world was breaking around him, and there was nothing Garrett could do.