//Don't Pick Up Strays
By //Emmalee_Sky
Zombie brain's in the hair. Not again, I thought as the pink, gooey liquid exploded from the swing of my ax to the blonde's head. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, feeling the stickiness dripping down my chin. I exhaled, staring down at the woman's clouded eyes and partially missing face.
"Mila! Behind you!"
Someone collided with me, knocking me into the zombie I'd just gotten rid of. We fell to the floor, three bodies and a tangle of arms and legs. My hands slid in the blood on the tiled, white floor. Shit. Shit. Shit. I scrambled to my feet but kept slipping. This was it. This was how I was going to freaking die.
An arrow fizzed over me and embedded in a zombie's right eye. It exploded, and the rotting corpse stumbled back for a moment. It was back in a second, its right arm reached out while its left was missing from the elbow down.
Angel, who'd knocked me over, was on his feet. He slashed with his left hand, and a head thumped on the time. Wiping brown hand from his sweaty forehead with one hand, he cleaned his knife against his jeans.
A sharp cry tore through the shop as a woman flew over the counter and fell to the floor by my feet. Brown hair covered her face. I jumped over her just as a teenage zombie rounded the corner, bumping into it. Its head jumped a bit, not thoroughly attached. Its face was rotted through, teeth visible. I swung, and the whole head tumbled to the floor.
Catching my breath, the sounds of the store hit me. All the zombies were down, and everyone in the group seemed to be okay. Randy helped Lydia to her feet while Stephen picked up her pack. Christine made her way to Angel, opening her pack and pulling out gauze, while Isaiah leaned against an aisle, catching his breath, parts scattered around him. And David walked towards me, yanking his arrow out of the zombie's eye. The head rolled with the action. David wiped the goo on his pants as he continued forward.
He slid the arrow back in the bow and pointed it at the woman. "Who're you?"
David, with his blond hair and blue eyes, had the perpetual resting dick face. Screamed total douche, but that was only what he looked like. He was pretty cool, but strangers weren't his thing.
I laid my hand on his bow and pushed it down as the woman pulled her hair out of her face and blinked at us with wide, green eyes. "Don't freak her out," I told him, wiping blood from my face. A small smile formed and shrugged. "But seriously, who are you?"
Her mouth dropped. "What?"
Shrugging, I rubbed my hands together. "Sorry. Learned real fast that you gotta get info quick." I smiled, though.
She wiped her mouth then frowned at her arm. Blood slid down her forearm. "Ugh." She set her jaw and closed her eyes.
"Hey, don't pass out." I grabbed her shoulder, my fingers digging into her military jacket. "Take deep breaths."
David shook his head and walked away, leaning against the detergent aisle. "Don't baby the woman, Mila. She's a stranger." He took the arrow and put it in his quiver.
Pinching my bottom lip, I turned back to the woman and tossed her a cloth from my pack. "Let me get Christ-
A scream tore through the shop, and I turned as a patchy, dirty head perched on David's shoulder. He yanked it off then stumbled back, clenching his neck. I ran over, pulling his hand back as a sick smack followed the head's landing. David stomped on its head a few times for good measure.
But it was too late. Blood oozed from the wound. A bite. David was bitten. My heart dropped. Not another one. God, not another-
"I've been-" He stopped, shaking his head.
I laid my hands on his shoulders. "It's going to be-"
He shook his head harder. "No, I won't be one of them. Not after Kimberly." Then he grabbed his knife and stabbed himself through the temple.
"No!" I cried as he fell into my arms.
"What the hell?" someone cried from behind me.
"Oh my God! David!" came another.
And the uproar began s the others gathered what happened, I laid David on the floor. I stared at his body, feeling the numbness gather in my own. Push past. You can't mourn. I felt it rise for a moment, but I pushed it down. I closed his eyes and stood. I ran my hands over my face and groaned. Blood. Crap.
Exhaling, I walked over to the new woman. She stared at David's body, eyes wide. She backed up when I approached. "I-I-I-"
"Who are you?" I asked again.
She gulped then licked her lips. "I-I'm Jillian. I got- I got separated from my family about a week ago. I'm trying to get to Byron's Fort."
"Byron's Fort?" My eyebrows rose.
"It's a safe haven. There are supplies and safety there. My family's heading there, I know it. I'm going. That's where they'll be," Jillian said, looking down at her hands. She brushed a lock behind her ear out of her face, and I noticed a scar running from her left eyebrow to the top of her forehead. She patted her jeans. "I-I'll just gather some stuff and be off. Thank you for sa-saving me." She smiled, looking around the shop. She hoisted her pack higher up her back and started down an aisle.
I watched my group, standing or kneeling around David, then I moved after her. "Byron's Fort? Tell me more about it."
She flinched then shot me a shaky grin. "Sorry. Just a bit jumpy." She brushed a lock behind her ear again. "It's a few days away. By Newstead Abbey. Though, it's mostly known as Newstead Folly."
I blinked and shook my head. "Never heard of it." I shrugged when she shot me a look.
"Really?"
"American," I told her. "Was studying abroad when the apocalypse came a-knocking."
"Ohhh! I was wondering about the accent." She looked over her shoulder, outside the store. "Well, like I said, a few days from here."
"We only travel during the day." I quickly pushed back memories of tearing and screams and pleas and so much blood.
"That's smart." She nodded and reached for a box hidden in the back of a shelf. She put it back when after seeing a box of Jell-O then reached again. She smiled when she pulled out another box. Gauze. She slipped it into her bag.
"So, it's real? This Byron's Fort place." I couldn't help but ask. I scratched the back of my neck and grimaced, pulling my hand away. Zombie brains. I'd forgotten all about it.
"Yes!" she said. She peeked at me from the corner of her eye then looked back at the shelves. We walked for a moment before she added, "I've got shampoo. Do you want it?"
My eyes widened. "Shampoo? Really. Yeah." It'd been ages since I'd really washed my hair. I ran out of the little bottles I usually carried weeks ago. Now, it was mostly water and soap, if I found any. "Hold on," I told her and walked back to the group. "Guys, let's set up for now." I started to turn but stopped. "There's a door that leads to back. Two of you check if there's any grass so we can find a nice spot for David. And get rid of the zombies."
And that was that, I thought as I walked back to Jillian. Mourning time nowadays was short. It had to be. If you were still stuck on it, you're less alert, and that made you slow. Slow made you dead. Mourn on your own time or when you're safe. Taking moments when you could helped.
When I found Jillian, she was in the bathroom, playing with the faucet. It actually worked.
"Unfortunately, it's only cold," she said when she saw me.
"Better than nothing." I dunked my head and got to it. It felt heavenly. When I was done, the water dripped down my neck and disappeared underneath my t-shirt. I leaned back, closed my eyes and rolled my neck. "Byron's Fort sounds like a myth. Something we tell ourselves to keep going."
She shrugged. "You can believe what you want. It's a safe haven. It's real."
"This is the real world, Jillian." I shook my head and crossed my arms. "Shit like that doesn't exist. Safe havens went out the door when some bastard decided that the world needed a little less people."
She snorted. "Americans."
I glared. "What the hell-"
"Is your brain too little to contemplate something like a safe haven?" she asked, her voice rising. "I heard Americans-"
I cut her off. "Too little? What the fu-"
"Did you say safe haven?" Randy walked into the bathroom and looked between us. "Did she just say safe haven?" he asked me.
Sighing, I ran my hands through my wet hair. "I need to think. I'll be outside."
Randy reached out to me. "Don't go out by your-"
"It's still light out. You can see me from the shop." I threw over my shoulder.
The shop was empty as I stepped out the front. The sun blared, and I wiped a wet strand of hair away from my forehead. A green and white Volkswagen camper was parked out front, all four tires were flat, and the driver's side window was shattered. We'd checked it for supplies and zombies when we first passed the shop. Nothing but Grandma's clothes from 1967 and a seriously dope collection of Precious Moments figurines.
My mom slipped into my mind. She'd collected Precious Moments. But then those thoughts were gone. Family and friends from back home, I forced myself never to think about them. There was no way to know what happened to them, so I spared myself all the pain and thought of them as dead. It was easier that way.
I leaned against the camper with my arms crossed and sighed. A safe haven somewhere out there? And at a reasonable distance? Could that be true? Could we take that chance?
Groaning, I pushed away from the camper and started to pace. So many questions, but it wasn't just my choice.
Randy came out from the shop and stopped when he spotted me. A grin pulled on his lips. "There you go again."
I glared but kept going.
"We need to take the chance," he said.
I kept moving.
"David's only the latest. Since we met up, there's been Carl, Laura, Judy, Timothy-"
I stopped and turned to him. "I get it, Randy." I ran my fingers through my wet curls. "I get it. I just- What am I supposed to do? What if I take her word for it and there's nothing there. What if it's all for nothing?" My hands closed into fists.
Randy shrugged. "Then we keep searching for something. If we lose hope, it's over. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that."
"I know!" I threw up my arms. Randy grinned, and I couldn't help but smile back. "Dine. But it's not just my decision. We'll decided as a group."
When we reached the others, they sat on the back steps of the store. We buried David, and after a few words, we laid him to rest. Once finished, I stood before them as Randy made his way to Stephen, sliding his arm through his and leaning his head on the other man's shoulder.
Rubbing my hands together, I spotted Jillian standing behind them all with her arms crossed. Someone patched up her forearm wound. Probably Christine.
I cleared my throat. "Byron's Fort. Jillian says it's a safe haven. We've been searching or something, anything, where we can hole up for a time." I scratched my neck and shrugged. "This may be the place. What do you think?"
"I think it's worth a shot," Randy spoke up first.
"Do you think they've got beds?" Stephen asked, eyebrows raised. "I haven't slept on a bed in ages."
Randy elbowed him. "You slept in a bed two months ago!"
Stephen rolled his eyes. "That wasn't a bed. It was a straw-covered with a cloth. I had stitches in my back till almost yesterday."
"" Angel rolled his eyes. "Don't lie." He turned to me and nodded. "I'd like to go too."
"And if he goes, you know I'm going. Can't let the little rascal out of my sight. He'll only cause trouble," Christine added, ruffling Angel's head.
"No soy un niño," Angel told her, brushing off her hand. "I'm 15, you know!"
Christine chuckled, pulling him closer. He didn't fight her.
"I don't know," Isaiah admitted. He looked over his shoulder at the woman. "I don't trust her. She could be leading us into a trap."
Jillian stiffened, her face paled. "I-I'd never! Why would I do that?" Her hands clenched into fists.
Isaiah shrugged, turning back to me. He scratched his cheek. "I don't know. We just don't know you."
And wasn't that the kicker. He was right, but what choice did we have? We kept losing people. We needed stability, in a sense. I needed more to help me protect my group.
"You're right. We don't know her, but we need more," Lydia said, speaking up before I could. She wiped at her sweaty forehead. "We need more than this, Isaiah. If there's even a chance, we have to take it."
He exhaled. "Well, if everyone's for it then I guess I can't exactly complain." He took out a honing rod from his pack and started to sharpen his knife.
"Figured that's it," I said. "We're going to Byron's Fort."
***
Two days later, and Jillian fit right in without much work. She teased Angel, talked memories with Christine, sang classic rock songs with Lydia, discussed books with Randy, and played word games with Stephen. She only seemed to be avoiding Isaiah and me.
Isaiah, I could understand. He kept his distance too, except when we made camp, and we were all forced to huddle together for warmth and safety.
But me, it nagged me. Why was she avoiding me? I'd been nothing but nice to her, accommodating even. Sighing, I rubbed my temple. It was stupid. I knew that, but I couldn't help myself. What was her deal? So friendly with everyone, why wouldn't she talk to me? The worst part? Her dumb smile when she laughed at something someone said, or when she brushed her dark hair out of her face, or when she talked in her sleep. It was all stupid, stupid, stupid.
As we walked down the street, I ran my hands down my face and jumped when a hand landed on my shoulder.
Jillian smiled at me. "Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."
I cleared my throat. "It's okay. What's up?"
"We're close. We'll reach it before sundown." We both looked up at the rising sun. It wasn't even midday yet.
"Good." I scratched at my neck. "That's really good."
"What's the first thing you're going to do when we get there?" Angel asked. "I want peaches. A whole can of them! We used to grow them on my family's farm back home. !I miss it so much." He sighed, looking up at the sky and closing his eyes.
Christine laughed. "Like Stephen said before, I'd like a bed." She grinned. "I could sleep for days. Weeks. Maybe a year."
"Look for a guitar," Lydia admitted. "I lost mine a few years back."
"A bed," Stephen said, chuckling.
"I'd like some lubricant to-" Randy started.
"Randy!" Stephen cried, flushing bright red.
Laughter tore through the group.
Randy's eyes widened. "Vaseline, you freak!" he said quickly, rubbing at his lips. "My lips are crazy dry!"
"Tell the truth," I couldn't help but say.
Both of the men were bright red.
"It'll definitely make it easier," Jillian pointed out then laughed. She looked at me, her green eyes moist with mischief.
Oh goddammit, I thought.
"There's a child here, people! Control yourself!" Randy said, shooting glares around the group.
"I'm not a kid!" Angel cried, stomping his foot.
I was laughing when a gunshot blasted through the air, and I watched as Isaiah stumbled, clenching his chest. He looked down as his shirt started to turn red.
"Isaiah!" I yelled, running forward. "Ambush!"
I fell to my knees on the asphalt, cutting up my jeans and knees, but I didn't feel it. I pulled Isaiah into the cover of an old beat-up pickup. "Stay with me!" I told him, slapping his cheek. His dark eyes fluttered, his mouth opening and closing. "Hey, c'mon, Isaiah!"
He coughed up blood, it rolled down his dark skin, and my body ran cold. God, no. Not another one. Not so soon after David. No. No. No.
I held my hands over his wound as screams and gunshots rang on. My heart pounded. I needed to do something for the others. I couldn't just sit here and watch Isaiah die while the others were still in trouble. I looked down, and his eyes were already closed. I started to check his pulse, but I knew it was pointless. Isaiah was gone, or at least inches away. My duty now were my people.
As I stumbled to my feet, I felt cold steel press against my temple. My breath caught in my throat.
"This'll do," a voice whispered in my ear. "Come this way, please."
We moved away from the truck into the middle of the street. The others were down. Angel on his back with a man's boot on his chest, Christine's arm were held behind her back, and Lydia was on her front, a knife in her back, blood pooling around her. Stephen had a knife to his throat, but he didn't even seem to notice. His eyes were on Randy, who laid on his side, his back to me, not moving.
I licked my lips. My knees shook, but I locked my legs.
God. After everything I've been through... I rubbed my hands on my jeans. I felt skin through a slight tear. I scratched at it and stared right into Jillian's eyes. She knelt before me, green eyes wide. Her hands were up, blood dripping from a missing pinky on her left hand. A single tear rolled down her dirty cheek.
I opened my mouth to say something, but she shook her head.
"Well, well, here we go," a voice whispered in my ear.
The gun slid down my jaw to under my chin. It pushed up, my head snapping back. My heart pounded. The muzzle dug into my skin. Jillian flinched but froze when the gun cocked.
I licked my lips again.
"Don't move, Jilly. If you do, she's dead. They're all dead," he said.
My heart stopped. Jilly? She knew them?
"Oh, you're surprised, aren't you?" he asked.
I clenched my jaw.
"Of course, you are. You took in this girl with some sob story about being all alone, and two days later, you're attacked." He chuckled. "We've been following you. Jilly's got a tracker, and we just waited for an opportune moment to jump right in and start a party."
"Jillian led you to us?" I whispered.
It can't be true, I thought. My hands shook, but I slipped them into my pocket. Jillian was one of us. Had been for days. There was no way she-
"Jillian's our best bait." A man walked into my view, and I got a good look at him. Light brown hair, a wicked smile, but the most unnerving part was the blue, blue eyes that stared back. They were beautiful, but there wasn't an ounce of compassion in them.
I gulped.
How could the woman be their bait? What did that mean? She led them to this man? To these men. Why? Why the charade of a safe haven if she was going to walk us into a trap?
"And Byron's Fort? Is that even real?" My heart pounded. I'd been conned. I thought... I shook my head, and the muzzle dug deeper. I froze and looked at Jillian and stared into those big green eyes. "Was any of it real?"
Jillian opened her mouth, but the man spoke before her.
"Byron's Fort? What the hell's that?" he asked, turning to Jillian. She shook her head, and he took a step away but kept the gun on me while he moved towards her. "What's she talking about, Jilly?" He grabbed her by the throat with his right hand and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled.
"I-It's nothing, Jacob!" she cried, scratching at his hand. "S-Stop!"
"Tell the truth, Jilly. What's Byron's Fort?" He removed his hand and slapped her across the cheek. She winced. "Jilly!" When she didn't answer fast enough, he did it again.
"Nothing," she told him again.
"And after everything we've been through. After we took you in when your family died. After all that," Jacob said, shaking his head and loosening his grip.
"You killed my family, you bastard!" she cried.
He slapped her harder, and she fell onto her back. "Ungrateful bitch." He turned back to me and shrugged. "We didn't kill her. We took her in. Raised her from a small squirt that just cried all the time. We saved her, and this is all we get. Kids these days, huh, Donald?" he asked one of the other men, who shook his head.
"That's fine," Jacob continued. "There's no point of a dog who bites the hand that feeds. Guys, Jilly's on the menu tonight. After we kill this group."
The men cheered.
My eyes widened.
"No!" Jillian cried, jumping to her feet with a dagger in her right hand. She slashed it across Jacob's throat from behind him, and I stared while his own eyes bugged out in his face. He fell to his knees then to the side and didn't move.
With the moment of surprise, I grabbed my ax at my hip and threw it at the man holding Angel down. He fell back as I ran towards him, taking up the ax with a sick squishy sound.
Stephen had gotten away from the man who held him and was fighting Christine's captor. I chanced a look at Jillian. Blood dripped from her hand as she stood above Jacob's body. The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered to the concrete. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, but a groan yanked my attention away, and I watched as one by one, down the guys went.
The groan came again. It came from Randy. I ran for him, falling to my knees beside him. "Oh God," I whispered. "Oh God- no."
"I may be dead, but I'm still pretty," Randy mumbled, clenching his side. "Right?" He opened one brown eye, and a pained grinned slipped onto his lips.
I fell back on the floor, clenching the front of my shirt and exhaled, a mix between a laugh and a sob pushing through. "You're not dead, jerk." I smacked his forehead, and he winced.
"Don't hit me. That hurts." He sat up, covering his wound. He cleared his throat and looked around. He wiped blood from his nose. "Is Stephen-" He stopped, eyes closing. "Is Stephen alive?"
I exhaled. "Yes, but Lydia and Isaiah..." I rubbed my lips with the back of my hand, and they came back slick. Shit. I forgot they were bloody too. There was so much blood everywhere; pooled on the concrete, all over the group and the gang, bodies littering the area.
I'd always thought zombies would get us. Humans never crossed my mind, but the longer time passed, the more obvious it became. As the years went by, the more humanity slipped away.
Damn.
A hand squeezed my shoulder, and I looked up into Jillian's eyes. The green was light, moisture making them shine. A pang cut through my chest. I breathed out, licking my lips. Her left cheek was red from Jacob's slaps, already starting to swell. And it looked like her left eye had the forming of a bruise. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
I brushed off her hand and got to my feet. I wiped at my chin. More blood. Just more and more and more blood. I stumbled away from her and the others until I reached a car and leaned against it. I slid down to the floor. My heart accelerated. Who could you trust in this world? I'd lost people since the apocalypse. One person after another and another. And it would keep on going.
Looking back, I watched my remaining group members. Stephen knelt by Randy's side and threw his arms around Randy's shoulders, holding the other man tightly. Angel and Christine sat together against a building, Angel's head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he covered his face, crying.
It was moments like this when I remembered how young he was. A child living through the apocalypse, living in a world overcome by zombies and humans who've lost their ways.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I swiped it away.
"I swear it's real."
I blinked. Jillian blocked my view of the others. "What?"
"The safe haven at Byron's Fort. I swear." She held her right hand to her chest. A cloth was wrapped around it, but blood still oozed down her arm. "I swear on my mom, dad, K-"
Waving her off, I got to my feet. "Why should I believe you?" Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second then fell closed. She exhaled. I bit my lip to keep from reaching for her. There was something there, I felt it as her shoulders hunched and her forehead furrowed.
"I have no right to say it, but it's real. Mila. It's a real place! I-I've heard things over the years while I was with Jacob and his group. I know it's real. I know." Her eyes fluttered open, and she exhaled. "I have to believe it. If it's not..." She cleared her throat, looking away.
And I have to believe it too. I pinched my bottom lip. A safe haven. Since the beginning, I've been walking around, meeting people, picking them up as we go. Nowhere to go, nothing to do but just survive. But a place where we could be safe? A place where we didn't have to be on our guard all day, every day.
I stood, brushing my hands down my jeans. "Let's go."
"Y-You mean it?" she asked, reaching to brush a lock of hair behind her ear but stopped, grimacing. She looked at the bloody cloth.
"Let's get you patched up first. Christine!"
***
We were almost there. The trip through the trees and down the pathway, even though we were on alert- always having to be when there's so many places to hide- I was taken away. It was beautiful, a sight that seemed about impossible in the dreary days. And the closer we got, the more the stiffness in my shoulders, which had been there for God only knows how long, seemed to loosen. It was within reach. I felt it.
"We're just about there," Jillian whispered at my side.
I smiled at her. "Just about."
"I want peaches!" Angel said from behind us.
I laughed.
There was a large, metal gate, ten feet high or so, and a huge sign that said 'No Stiffs Allowed.' Randy laughed, and when we looked at him, he laughed harder.
"Sorry, sorry!" He waved us away, groaning and holding his side. "Ow."
The guards watched us approach, nodding to each other. One ran away from the gate, peeking back every few feet until he disappeared around a bend.
"Are there any infected?" one of the guards called.
"We're clean!" I said.
"We'll be the judge of that." The gate parted briefly, and a man came out. "If you're clean, well then, welcome to Byron's Fort. You're safe now."
And God, I'd never heard more beautiful words than that in my entire goddamn life.