Static Screams

My thoughts and vision felt too fuzzy, like my brain was five steps behind my body. Sawyer and I worked in a rhythm, dragging dead and decaying bodies over to the tree line opposite the end of the driveway.

“Oh, thank god this driveway is two miles long,” Sawyer grumbled, hoisting the legs of a particularly bloated zombie off the ground.

I followed suit, grabbing the top half under the shoulders. “I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration.” We walked sideways, shuffling our way down the slight hill to dispose of the body. “It’s like...twenty yards, max.”

“Your sense of measurement and distance is fifty shades of wrong,” Sawyer replied.

We heaved the zombie into the trees, and I shrugged. “I think I’m just tired,” was all I managed. We both turned to face the dark house, and I was thankful for the full moon that cast a powdery blue glow across the yard. I could see the outline of Natalie and the other girl on the porch. “Is she okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know her,” Sawyer answered plainly.

I slapped him upside the head. “I meant Nat, you dingbat.” I remembered the solidarity I felt with Natalie back at the warehouse, how in sync I felt with her and Peter that day.

“She’s…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s struggling a bit; we all are. What we experienced there…with those people…”

“I’m sorry, Sawyer,” I said quietly. “I should have been there.”

“You showed up when we needed you, Holland,” he turned to look at me. “You could have gone anywhere, done anything, and you came back for us. For all of us.”

I tried to force a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I just feel so guilty. I feel…a lot of things, right now.”

Sawyer nodded. “I think, if ever there was a time to feel so many things, the apocalypse is probably an appropriate time.”

I considered that, before rubbing my face roughly with my hands. “Well, my head is killing me,” I said. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get up here and make sure this chick isn’t psychotic.”

As we approached the porch, we heard Logan and Natalie talking quietly with this other woman.

“—a research facility with my partner, Shaun. We were overrun, and he didn’t survive.” She took a sip of water. “I’ve been kind of wandering around since then; figured if I went farther north, maybe it would be too cold for them.”

“What kind of research facility? And what’s in the bag?” I asked, gesturing to the small bag across her body. It looked almost like a small messenger bag, the strap fraying a little, covered in what looked like mud – even in the moonlight, it was hard to tell. “I’m Holland, by the way,” I said, taking a seat on the front porch step, resting against the railing.

“It’s mostly our research, mine and Shaun’s. We were testing some…theories about the zombies.” She extended her hand towards mine, and I shook it. “I’m Wren, by the way.”

I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral. She didn’t feel like a threat by any means, and seemed genuine, but it also felt like she knew more than she was letting on.

“I’m Sawyer,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake hers. “Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled warmly, and took another sip of water. She looked around at our faces. “So…there are four of you?”

I laughed. “Nah, more like…. would you say ten and a half?” I looked at Nat. “I truly do not know anymore.”

Wren frowned. “Isn’t it dangerous to be in that big of a group?”

Logan shook her head. “Sawyer and I were actually in a fairly sizable community up until recently. I think the number we have is far more manageable.”

I nodded in agreement. “It’s really just like living in a frat house, except we’re all actually kind of responsible and the men are in the minority.” I paused for a second, and then added, “You think moving north is a good idea?”

She nodded. “I think so. I considered it because the cold seems to cause a bit of immobility in them. Sometimes it looks like their brains lag, like it takes them a minute to catch up.”

I decided not to mention that this was also how I fault at that moment, because I didn’t think comparing my exhaustion to the immobility of a zombie would be incredibly productive. “Where’s Scarlett?” I finally asked. “Shouldn’t she be here?”

“She’s sleeping,” Logan shrugged. “Doesn’t seem right to wake her up yet.”

“What if she has a concussion?” I wondered aloud. “Do you think she should be sleeping this long? It’s been a few days now, hasn’t it?”

“Not completely! She’s just napping a lot. Time just seems to run together these days,” Nat said to Wren. “We had a rather unpleasant run in with some other survivors who were most likely psychotic cannibals.”

Wren raised her eyebrows in alarm. “Are they here?”

“They won’t be messing with us again,” Peter grumbled through the screen door porch. “Holland, you’re off duty, man. Go get some sleep.”

I didn’t have the energy to protest, instead just giving a slight nod to Sawyer and patting Nat on the shoulder. “Goodnight, guys,” I pulled the screen door open, trading places with Peter. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled. “You’re going on babysitting duty.”

I laughed and gently closed the door behind me. I walked quietly through the living room, where Cosmic was snuggled deep into the couch, snoring softly. I checked the kitchen, moonlight spilling in through giant windows, just to make sure it was empty, before moving down the hall. I opened the door to the room where Scarlett was sleeping. The moonlight swept across her face, illuminating the scrapes and bruises, filling in her sunken eyes and shallow cheeks. She needed a good meal when she woke up. “I can’t wait to talk to you,” I whispered into her room. “I think we have a lot to talk about.” I eased back out, closing the door behind me.

The next room was where Lila and the babies slept. I peeked in through a crack in the door. In all our craftiness, we made baby beds out of the deep dresser drawers and extra blankets in one of the closets. All slept soundly, and I didn’t want to chance waking them up, so I tiptoed away to the last room. The last room on the ground floor held two twin beds, one which Seven was fitfully tossing and turning in. The moonlight filled the room with a pale glow, and I quickly went to sit on his bed.

“Hey, little man,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder. His big eyes popped open, and he looked frightened. “Are you okay?”

“Are the bad men gone?” he asked quietly, breathing heavily.

I looked at him and tried to paint on the most comforting smile I could. “Yeah, the bad men are gone.”

“I miss my mommy,” he said quietly, looking down.

I frowned. This was the most I’d ever engaged with the kid, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. “I miss mine, too.”

“But you’re big! You can’t miss your parents,” he protested. “You’re supposed to be brave.”

I fluffed the pillow behind his head. “You can do both, kid.” I smoothed the hair off his head. “Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared.”

“What does it mean, then?”

I pulled the blanket up to his chest and tucked it in around him. “It means that you love the people you’re with more than you’re afraid of what you’re facing. Like, what if a zombie was hurting your sister?”

“I’d be mad,” he answered. “I’d want to kill it.”

“Even if you were scared of it?”

He considered that for a moment. “Yeah, because she’d do the same for me.”

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, that’s how I feel about our group. I’m scared, too, but I’ve got more love in me than fear.”

He seemed to accept that, falling silent as I moved to my own bed, falling on top of the covers. “Holland?” he spoke.

“Yeah?” I mumbled back, rolling over to face his bed. He hadn’t moved from where I’d tucked him in, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked…relaxed.

“Can you tell me a story? Of what things were like…before?”

“Sure,” I gulped. “Have you ever been to the beach?”

“Once, when I was little.”

“Okay.” I thought for a moment. “So, when I was your age, my parents took me to the beach. It was a beautiful place, with white sand and blue water. Every morning, we would sit on the deck and watch the dolphins jump in and out of the water. And there were so many people, living and breathing, and so many kids just like me. Every day I would make dozens of new friends, and we would splash in the ocean and get sunburns and poke jellyfish with our plastic shovels.”

“Don’t jellyfish sting?”

I laughed. “They do, that’s why we never touched them with our hands. When lunchtime would come around, we would go back into our condo – it’s kind of a cross between an apartment and a hotel – and my mom would make the best ham and cheese sandwiches. She always toasted it and cut the crust off. She would let me drink as much apple juice as I wanted.” I paused for a moment. “After lunch, we would go back down to the water, where I would play with my new friends for a few more hours. Then we would come back in and get ready for dinner. We would go out somewhere, usually a seafood restaurant, and I would get so much ice cream. I miss ice cream. Then we would come home, and my dad and I would take our flashlights and my plastic bucket, and we would go catch tiny crabs on the beach, because they come out at night…”

I was interrupted by his soft snoring, and I laughed softly to myself. “I miss the beach,” I whispered quietly to myself, as I finally closed my eyes.

I slept all through the night.