Without having to stop for fuel, we make great time. We make even better time because Silas is driving, and he doesn't go much below eighty miles an hour. I can tell that Ryan hates it, but Silas seems to be a good driver, always in control of the vehicle. He's had to slow down a couple times to brake for shamblers on the road, but otherwise it's been a straight shot down a wide open highway.
We get more than halfway to Indiana before the late afternoon starts to fade into evening.
"We need to stop for the night," Ryan says tersely from the passenger seat. He's been tense all day.
My bladder is close to bursting, so I secretly rejoice at his words. I haven't wanted to slow us down, and I definitely haven't been in the mood to have the guys pull over so I can pee on the side of the road while zombies try to bite my exposed butt.
"How about this place?" Silas says, which is really more of a rhetorical question because he's already pulling off the road. He parks in front of a house that is nearly invisible from the road because of a large copse of trees.
Ryan eyes the trees nervously for any sign of zombies. I do the same, but nothing seems to be moving other than the branches swaying in the wind.
The place is small. It can't be more than a simple one or two bedroom house. The wooden slats on the outside are faded from the sun, and the whole place looks a bit dilapidated.
Silas pulls his gun from his holster and gets out of the vehicle without waiting for either Ryan or I. Ryan curses under his breath and pulls the large hunting knife from his own belt loop.
"Stay here," he commands me, and I do a double take.
"What?" I ask, my voice is frosty enough to give him a definite chill. It makes him pause and look back at me.
Ryan sends me a conciliatory smile, "It's just, with the two of us, you don't need to be in danger anymore."
I roll my eyes. It's the zombie apocalypse, I am in danger every second of my life, and the sooner I learn how to deal with that, the safer I will actually be.
I pointedly ignore Ryan and slide out of the truck, making sure not to slam my door. I pull my gun from my hip and jog over to join Silas, who has his lock picking set out and is working on the door knob.
"You should wait for backup," I lecture.
He snorts. "What do you think I did before you came along?" he challenges me. I could argue, but I let it go and turn my back on him to keep a watch on what might be coming up behind us.
Silas might not have the most amiable personality, but at least he treats me like I'm capable of doing things.
Ryan walks up, but I make a point to purposely ignore him. He doesn't say much to me either. We both turn when we hear the door click open. Silas pauses in the doorway and lets out the same low whistle I heard him do back at my old house.
I turn towards the house and smell the air. It smells stale and dusty, but nothing along the lines of rotting flesh jumps out at me, and more importantly, zombies don't jump out at me. Ryan brings his flashlight up and pans it back and forth in to the dark house.
His light reveals a kitchen with a grubby linoleum floor, and Silas takes his first few steps inside.
"I think it's okay," he says, motioning for Ryan and me to follow him in. "This place is a shoebox, it shouldn't take too long to clear." Silas moves into the kitchen and opens a door that reveals a bathroom. There is a washer and dryer squeezed in there as well.
The only other rooms are a living room with a small couch and a bedroom with a double bed.
"This place is no frills," Ryan remarks, and I secretly agree.
Ryan pulls the black garbage bags and duct tape out of his backpack and gives me a handful. "We'd better get to work."
There aren't a lot of windows, and it takes us less than ten minutes to cover them with bags.
Silas watches us silently while we work, not offering to help. He doesn't speak till we are done. "That's a good idea," he says at last, when I hand Ryan back his roll of tape.
"It was Ryan's idea," I tell him, making Silas grunt.
I want to shake them both. They haven't out and out fought, but I can tell they are feeling the pressure of having two alpha males in the group.
I roll my eyes at them and unsling my backpack. I can't wait to get back to the camp and infuse my life with a little estrogen.
I sit at the tiny kitchen table and watch Silas dig through the cupboards. He finds a large can of coffee and dumps the grounds out into the sink.
He sets the can on a baking sheet in the middle of the table and then disappears outside.
My heart skips a beat, and I almost follow him out, but Ryan puts a staying hand on my arm.
"Don't," he warns me, and I actually heed him. The idea of going outside when it's so dark you can't even see a foot in front of your face is terrifying, flashlight or not.
Five long minutes pass while I pace around the kitchen, practically wearing a hole in the already worn lino.
Silas comes back in the house with a bang, carrying an armful of dried sticks and twigs.
"What the hell are you doing man?" Ryan asks as Silas sets the wood down in the middle of the floor.
"Making supper," Silas murmurs as he breaks a bunch of small twigs up with his hands and stuffs them into the coffee pot. He starts breaking up the bigger sticks. I suddenly remember seeing a newspaper in the living room, so I go and get it for him. I'm pretty sure he's making a fire.
Silas grunts his thanks and crumples the paper up in a ball before pulling a lighter from his pocket.
He blows carefully on the tiny flame while it smokes and splutters until it grows larger. When the flames are high enough that they are flickering merrily out the top of the can, Silas pulls his pack of smokes from his pocket and uses the flame to light it, like a total bad ass.
Silas takes a deep puff and blows the smoke out through his nose. Ryan, who hasn't said a word during this whole production, lets out a pointed cough, and despite our situation, I giggle.
Boys can be so immature.
Silas finds a clean fork, knife, and plate from the kitchen and pulls out two cans of spam from his bag. He slices the spam and uses a fork to toast the meat over the coffee can fire.
Despite how disgusting spam was to me once, the sizzling smell of cooking meat makes my stomach growl.
Silas hands me the first slice, and I barely let it cool before I shove it in my mouth. It burns my tongue, but I haven't tasted anything so good in days. I lick the grease from my fingers and sigh.
Silas finishes roasting the spam and divides it up into three piles. Ryan looks like he wants to refuse, but it really does smell delicious, and I know that he's just as hungry as I am.
When I've eaten my share, I get up and prowl around the kitchen, looking through the cupboards to see what else I can find.
Silas grins when I come back with a bag of marshmallows. He hands me the roasting fork and I spear two marshmallows on at once.
We eat the entire bag, and then I think the combined salt and sugar makes us all feel nauseous.
"I'm ready for bed," I tell both Silas and Ryan, who haven't said very much all night.
"You guys take the bedroom, I'll take the couch," Silas surprises me by offering, and I give him a smile.
"Thanks Silas," I say. Then, I grab my bag and disappear into the room. Having a full belly, combined with weeks of not sleeping very well, just about put me to sleep right there at the table.
I set my bag down and lie down under the thin blankets. I miss the days when I could get into a pair of pajamas before bed, but unless I want to be running from a horde in my slippers, I'd better stay in my regular clothes for now. I let out a sigh. There are so many simple things I never took the time to appreciate before this mess with the zombies started.
I'm almost asleep when Ryan comes in. He stands awkwardly in the doorway.
"Is it alright if I sleep in here?" he asks, and I feel a lump form in my throat. I haven't been the nicest to him lately, but I really do owe him everything.
"Of course," I manage to choke out, and I feel the bed move a little as he lays down.
He doesn't touch me, so I roll over into his arms and lay my head on his shoulder. I can feel some of the tenseness in his body relax at my peace offering, and his arms tighten around me.
"I'm sorry that I was so stubborn today," I blurt out before I lose my nerve.
"I get it. You really wanted to go back...I just didn't want to see you get hurt," he says, and I feel myself thaw out completely towards him.
"Good night," I mumble, and he plants a sweet kiss on my forehead. We haven't talked about our passionate kiss on Liberty Island, but with everything going on, I'm not looking to 'date'.
I'm glad Ryan is willing to just let things go back to the way they were, and he isn't pressing the issue. I sleep better than I have in a long time.
I wake up and Ryan is still sleeping soundly, spread out on the bed, snoring softly. I ease out of bed and am surprised that he doesn't wake up. I grab my bag and strap my holster back to my hips, it's become second nature now.
The couch is empty and so is the kitchen and bathroom. I relieve myself and wash my face, then peel back a corner of the garbage bag to take a look outside. I see Silas out there having a smoke, but I don't go out, it's too early to deal with things that want to eat me.
I dig in my bag for a power bar, water, and some more antibiotics. Ryan gets up while I'm eating. We are outside loading up the truck within half an hour, at Silas's urging.
"Who drives?" Ryan asks when we've finished stowing some food into the box of the truck. It's obvious from his tone that he doesn't want it to be Silas again.
"Jane," Silas suggests, and I turn to him in surprise.
"I don't know..." I say, not sure I'm the best person for the job.
"Why not?" Ryan asks, and I freeze. I didn't think Ryan would be on board with Silas' crazy idea.
"You need to learn," Silas presses, and I feel a tad defensive.
"I've driven before. I had my learners permit," I say, making them both smirk at me.
"Prove it," Silas taunts, and I snatch the keys out of his hand.
"Fine. I will," I say, accepting the dare. I get in the driver's seat and have to adjust the seat because Silas has ridiculously long legs. Then, feeling like I'm being judged on my driving prowess, I back carefully out of the driveway, and we are back on the road.
Our moods are surprisingly jovial as the truck eats up more and more miles of our journey. We have to pull over on the side of the road, and Ryan shows me how to fuel the truck up from the external gas tank.
Nothing stirs around us, and as I stare out into the bald fields, dotted with trees, things almost feel normal.
We get back on the main road quickly, and I find myself pressing my foot harder to the gas pedal the closer we get to the camp.
"Maybe you should try using the cruise control," Ryan suggests when I hastily take my foot off the gas for the tenth time after realizing I've been going too fast.
I glance down at the wheel to try and figure out how to do that, and things happen so fast.
"Look out!" Silas shouts from the backseat.
All of a sudden, Ryan is grabbing the wheel and cranking it. I jam on the brakes and look in my rear-view mirror to see what all the fuss was about. I see a lone zombie in the middle of the road, staggering in the direction of the truck.
"You have to keep your eyes on the road," Silas lectures from the backseat. I turn to look at Ryan. Even though I know that he is loath to agree with anything Silas says—he nods his head too.
"It's dangerous to risk destroying the truck when we don't know how easily we can find another one, and we are too vulnerable out here without protection and mobility."
I nod to show that I understand, but inside I'm angry with myself and embarrassed.
"It should only be another ten minutes to that town where we picked up the truck," Ryan tells me, probably trying to take my mind off of my bad driving.
"You can practice your city driving," Silas snickers from the back seat, and I shoot him a glare in the rear view.
The thought of seeing Abby is the only thing that has me putting the truck back into gear.
It isn't very far, just like Ryan said, but as we pull into town, I begin to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. When we'd left, the town hadn't had any zombies wandering the streets. It'd been mostly cleared out of walkers, with only a few houses and business that needed to be cleared. Now there are a surprising number of them stumbling around, and absolutely no military presence.
I swerve the truck around a zombie that's standing stock still in the middle of the street and accidentally clip him with the corner of the truck. Ryan looks like he wants to say something, especially since it's so soon after our talk about not wrecking the truck, but after one look at my face, he doesn't berate me.
"You're doing great Jane," he encourages, probably noticing how white my knuckles are on the steering wheel.
Silas reaches up from the backseat and clasps his hand on my shoulder, "Just keep it steady champ." Their words have the opposite effect on me, and the confidence boost, especially from Silas, makes me panic.
Usually I can tell myself that things aren't as bad as I think they are, but not when these two are acting like I'm driving through a minefield. I guess I am, a minefield with teeth.
I'm an okay driver under normal circumstances. My parents use to take me out driving, though I hadn't been allowed on the freeway yet... Zombies running up to the vehicle and trying to eat us wasn't covered in any of that defensive driving training, and the sheer number of them is making me freak out.
"Just pull over and we can switch," Ryan tells me, but his idea seems ludicrous. There are at least ten zombies right up against the truck, and close to fifty more heading our way.
"I can't," I tell Ryan. I'm too scared to pull over. Even if we switch inside the truck, sixty zombies surrounding the truck might be too many to get away from. My fight or flight response has kicked in and my brain is telling me to run.
"Maybe if I can just get to the Camp?" I question Ryan, biting my lip as I steer around another zombie. I'm trying so hard not to have a teenage girl meltdown. I'd honestly thought this stuff was behind me.
From the corner of my eye, I see Ryan and Silas exchange a look.
"What?" I demand, and Ryan looks guilty.
"He's worried that the camp has fallen. If the military cleared this town, I don't see why they would let the dead take it back," Silas says quietly from the backseat. His words are like a punch to my gut. I gasp, trying to draw in enough breath to keep from hyperventilating.
I look at Ryan in the passenger seat. He looks grim. "Maybe we should find somewhere safe to hole up, and then try to figure out what's happened," he suggests delicately.
I see red at his suggestion. "Abby is there! And Megan!" I yell at them both. I temporarily forget my fear and step on the accelerator a little bit too hard. I instantly hit a zombie, but I try to shake off the ill feeling in my stomach. I can do better than this. I will do better than this. I need to know if Abby is okay.
Tears prick my eyes as I make my way, from memory, back to the school.
"Jane," Ryan says, but I make a conscious decision to ignore him. He says my name three more times before he reaches over and tries to grab the wheel from my hand. I don't think. I just react and do something that I never thought I would be able to do to anyone, especially Ryan. I draw my pistol from the holster at my waist and I aim it at him, making him back off.
I don't actually put my finger on the trigger, but it wouldn't take me long to move my finger the hair's width to reach it.
"Don't make me do this, Ryan," I plead with him, tears running down my cheeks because it's come to this.
In the backseat, Silas lets out a long, low whistle, "You got balls girl."
"Shut up Silas," I snap as I turn the truck down the road where the high school sits at the end.
I don't look at Ryan's face. I already know the emotions that will be most visible: shock and hurt. I can barely believe that I am doing this, but I would do a lot more to make sure Abby is safe. If she needs me, I'm not going to be sitting somewhere safe while she suffers.
I can see the military fence in the distance. For a minute, I let out a breath of relief. My celebration is cut short when we get a little bit closer and I see the state that the gates are in.
The gates hang wide open. One side is bent and crooked. The other gate is down on the ground. Zombies litter the school yard, hanging out against the fence. They all turn and look hungrily as I drive by.
"Don't go in there!" Ryan shouts, but I don't listen.
I gun the engine and drive over the collapsed gate. Zombies begin to move towards us, but I'm driving too fast for them to catch up. I circle the school yard to assess the damage.
Is everyone trapped in the school?
I roll down the window a few inches and scream Abby's name out as loud as I can.
"Jesus Christ," Silas curses from the back seat. "Are you going to do something?" he demands of Ryan, but Ryan is so shocked by my behavior that he doesn't seem to know what to do.
I pull up beside Abby's parents' Suburban, which is still in the parking lot. I jump out of the truck like a crazy person, zig zagging around zombies, and run to look inside to see if there is some clue in there. A zombie staggers too close. I pull my pistol from my hip and fire twice at him. I don't feel any elation when my aim is true and the zombie's head explodes. It's a fresh zombie dressed in military fatigues, and it makes me feel sicker.
Silas is beside me then, firing like crazy into the crowd as he tries to pull me back towards the truck, but I miserably shake him off.
"Are you kidding me?" Silas roars at me as he picks me up in a fireman's hold, with me struggling and kicking, and runs for the truck. He dives into the back with me still in his arms and sets me down none too gently. I bump my head on the floor, but sit up quickly.
Ryan is in the driver's seat now, and we are already peeling away. I struggle to get free so I can find Abby, but Silas has me in a death grip so hard that he's practically choking me. I'm not sure it's entirely unintentional on his part.
As we drive by the backside of the school, I see something that makes my heart drop. The gym door is flung wide open. The school must be full of zombies.
Ryan aims the truck for the wrecked gate, but there's a zombie in front of us, standing right in the way. I grab desperately for a bag and start to vomit when I see who it is. Ryan pins the truck and plows the zombie down. Her skull is crushed and lands on top of the truck hood. Her brains smear and mix with her tangled blond hair, even as a red high heel goes flying over the windshield.
"Was that zombie wearing high heels?" Silas asks incredulously as I cling to him, and my stomach heaves again.
"We need to get Abby!" I manage to get out around my burning throat. Neither of the guys answer me.
"Ryan!" I scream at him, but he doesn't turn around. He's focussed on getting us out alive.
"She isn't there anymore," Silas says softly after a minute.
I look at him blankly. "How do you know?" I can't help asking, not sure how he can know that.
Silas shakes his head like he actually regrets what he's about to say. "Because, either she got out, or she didn't."
My heart aches to even think of Abby as a zombie.
"What are we going to do now? How do we find out?" I ask.
Silas shakes his head; he doesn't know. Ryan finally looks back at us, his eyes hard and bright with unshed tears.
"We go back to plan A, the cabin."