I wait until Ama's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, curled up against me on the thin mattress in our tent. I ease myself away from her, listening to her mumble indiscernibly and curl further in on herself. Guilt eats away at my chest.
I'm not even saying goodbye. She'd try to stop me if I did.
I lean over her, lifting a hand to her hairline and running my fingertips through the baby hairs that curl in wisps along her forehead. In the darkness, she furrows her brows in her sleep, the soft edges of her face bathed in shadow. I bend down to place a kiss on her forehead, combing my fingers once more through her hair before I slowly get to my feet, crouching once more to pull a fallen blanket back over her shoulders. The idea of staying here, of pulling her into my arms and falling back asleep with my nose pressed to her neck, is almost too tempting for me to resist.
I could leave a note, but I don't think I need to. She'll know.
I let out one final exhale, steeling myself, and move the tent flap, stepping outside and letting it rustle back in place as softly as I can. My timing is perfect—Noah ducks out from the shadows of the garage, hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans. His pistol is holstered at his hip; I haven't had many chances to teach him to use it, but any weapon is better than nothing.
"Ready to go?"
No.
"Yeah."
I fall in step with him, deciding not to mention the watery glint in his eyes.
A croaking bird's call pierces the night as we head outside, giving the guards at the gate a nod in passing. The air is warm and humid, pressing on my skin like a damp blanket.
Noah leads me to the bus with purpose in his stride, winding through the streets until it appears in view. He pries open the doors, heading straight for the rear emergency exit, throwing it open. I hurry past the remaining rows of seats, grabbing at his shoulder as he fumbles for the blood-stained mattress.
"Noah. Noah, let... let me help."
He moves aside, breathing hard, while I grab the edge of the mattress and shove it out the doors. It folds limply onto the crumbling asphalt, bloodstain disappearing into the dark shadows beneath the tires. I pull the door shut and move the latch into place, pushing the two remaining mattresses over to cover the gap left behind. Noah's calmed down when I turn back to him, expression stony.
"Do you know how to drive a bus?" He asks.
"I... I've driven other vehicles before. Can't be that hard."
"Then we should get going. Got everything you need?"
I tug at the strap of my backpack, hand flicking to my rifle. "Yeah. How long are you thinking it'll take?"
"I don't know. I've never been to the Golden Gate Bridge."
"Me neither." I settle into the driver's seat, examining the dashboard. "Oh, boy. Okay."
"You sure you got this?"
"Yeah. It'll just take some getting used to."
"Good. We have to get going."
"Right. Got a map?"
"Yeah." He sits down gingerly in the seat behind me, not casting a backwards glance at the rest of the space. He settles his backpack in the aisle and pulls out an aged, yellowing square of paper, unfolding it and spreading it over his knees.
"Will this thing even run?" I place my hand on the ignition key.
"It should. James takes—James took good care of it. Good as he could manage, I mean, with whatever we could rip from other cars. We ran it sometimes... uh, once every two weeks or so, to make sure it was in shape." His voice gets quieter as he talks, until it verges on breaking. I can tell how hard he's trying to hide it, lips pressed together, chin trembling.
"Okay. Then I'm sure it'll be fine." I try my best to smile, turning the key over. The bus wheezes in protest before the engine finally coughs and starts, like an ancient horse being prodded into a gallop. "Let's get going before the sound attracts a horde. Ready to kick some ass?"
Noah nods and manages a smile.
—
"Alright, we'll have to scrounge around for gas. I'm running on fumes. I think there's a gas station a few blocks down, but..."
The bus comes to a shuddering halt. I curse, hitting the steering wheel, then lean back. I twist over my shoulder to peer at Noah. "You know how to siphon gas?"
"Yeah. It's how we fuelled up the bus the first time. We've got tubing and gasoline cans in here somewhere."
"Okay. We should do that, then." I sigh, passing my hand behind me. "Hand me the map."
I feel paper brush my palm. Noah's presence falls over my shoulder as I unfold the map; a moment later he points down at a spot. "We're about here."
"And the bridge is here." I trace my finger up to the Golden Gate. "Fuck." I squint up through the windshield, where the brilliant sun peeks through gathering clouds. I know what a Californian storm looks like on the horizon—we'll be hit hard by midnight tonight. As of right now, the sun is past its zenith, moving steadily downward. "We've travelled for hours but we've only made it about halfway. I kept having to take detours because of traffic pileups." I toss the map down onto the grooved floor.
"That's fine. We'll... get there eventually."
I can tell by his tone that it isn't fine, and he's frustrated, but not with me.
"Okay. Let's go find that gas."
I'm just pushing myself out of the driver's seat when something hits the side of the bus with enough force to throw Noah against the opposite window. He shoves himself off of it, looking rattled, fumbling for his pistol.
"Shit!" I rush to the side of the bus where the bang cane from, sliding between the rows of rotting seats. I press my palms to the wire grill covering the glass, peering down at the asphalt.
A blistered hand slaps against the other side and I stumble back, reaching blindly for my rifle. I swing it up to my shoulder.
"Wait!" Noah grabs my arm. "They can't come through."
Another mutated throws itself against the glass doors, smearing blood and viscous black gore against the surface. It's not smart enough to tear at the rubber seal between the doors, but the ungodly screeching and slamming against the door is enough to scare me.
"Are you sure?" I realize I'm shouting, but it's impossible not to as the bus shivers under another blow, this time from the other side.
"Positive. James and I reinforced every glass surface."
If he's convinced by his own reasoning, it doesn't show in his body language. Noah whirls as a body hits the emergency exit, screaming in gargled frustration at its inability to get to the living, un-mutated humans within. He lifts his pistol to shoulder height, eyes wide.
"The bus isn't going anywhere until we get more gas in it. Do we just wait out this horde? Have you ever had to do this before?"
"No." He shakes his head, desperation making sweat bead on his brow. "But it—it should be okay. It should be—"
One of the windows shivers in its pane. The mutated are piling up now, trying to climb on top of each other, pushing rotting nails into any crevice they can find. The entire bus quivers under the weight, creaking on its aged tires. The creatures plastered to the windows press against every surface, faces twisted and burned in swollen lumps. The chemical deterioration has eaten away at them, leaving oozing holes in their flesh.
They don't stop coming, either. The bus is flooded, surrounded on all sides by the writhing, screeching horde. Noah is pale, spinning and pointing his pistol in the direction of every new sound.
Glass shatters as a hand pushes through one of the windows, blackened fingers outstretched and pushing into the metal cage keeping it out. I advance on it in a single stride, smashing the butt of my rifle into it until the mutated behind it retreats, fingers broken and crooked into strange positions.
"Teddy—"
I spin just as the upper half of a mutated forces its way through the narrow door, skin scraping away against the broken glass. Its hands find the steel barricade keeping it out, using it to pull its legs inside. I stick the muzzle of my rifle through the fence and put a bullet in its skull, watching it explode in a spray of gore.
"Won't be long before the rest of them figure out that trick. Not sure your barricade is gonna keep them out for long."
"What do we do?"
"There should be an emergency exit on the roof." I scan the ceiling of the bus, spotting the hatch. "We can get out that way."
"And then what? We're surrounded."
"Figure it out once we're there," I grunt, stretching up to reach the bright red lever. Once it's open, I gesture Noah forward, lacing my fingers together in front of me. Two more mutated are working their way through the smashed glass, weight pressing against the barricade. "Hop on through."
Noah's boot lands in my hands and I hoist him upwards. A cacophonous screech goes up from the surrounding horde as their prey comes into view. He twists to peer over his shoulder, then back down at me, kneeling at the edge of the emergency exit.
"Hurry, Teddy, they're trying to come up."
He lowers a hand into the bus and I leap for it, using his help to scramble up through the hatch and onto the roof. The barricade inside creaks, threatening to give way under the slew of mutated slowly pushing their way into the bus. The humanoid monsters are plastered against the sides of the bus, rocking it as they press their weight against it, pulling themselves on top of each other as they make a clumsy ascent towards us.
"Fuck. Okay. Uh..."
"What do you think happens when you die?"
"What?" I freeze, jolted out of my current panic by Noah's question and the sudden calm in his voice. He stands at the edge of the bus roof, staring at the horde beneath. A few of them are close enough to make swipes at his sneakers, screaming their frustration at the sky. Gore coats the once-sleek paint job in long, grisly streaks.
"Do you think I'd see James if I died? It's gotta be worth a shot, right?"
"Noah!"
His eyes have welled over, tears slipping down his cheeks. His chest quivers as he stares at the mutated, a ravaging force inches below him.
"Noah, step back from there." I grab his backpack and haul him towards me, away from the edge. "We still have a job to do, remember?"
"But—"
"No. Shut up." I reach into my backpack and pull out my rifle, aiming it at the nearest mutated. Its hands cling to the edge of the roof as it pulls itself up, head appearing. I put a bullet in its mouth, sending out a spray of thick black gore and decaying bits of its brain. "Just start shooting."