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11

Hiding Places

The big red truck slowly rolled down the red-brick streets of Ashley Oaks. Juan drove while Rune sat shotgun. Seated on the bench in the back of the cab, Emma craned her head this way and that to study the facades of the buildings, peer down alleyways, and scrutinize the wild tangle of foliage in empty lots. Rune joining her mission increased the odds of a positive outcome, or at least that was what she was hoping. Unfortunately, they hadn’t spotted any signs of Macy yet.

It had taken a half hour to get their little excursion approved and a vehicle assigned to their mission. It was peculiar to Emma just how organized the Fort was despite the apocalypse, but it made sense for such a huge operation.

“See your ghost?” Juan asked.

He’d asked the question multiple times since departing the Fort.

“Nope. He just told me to head northwest,” Rune replied. “Then he vanished.”

“You gotta ask for details, man. I keep telling you that.”

“And I keep telling you that the dead aren’t like us. They got their own priorities.”

Juan swore under his breath in Spanish.

“You can’t blame them, Juan,” Emma said. “They don’t have to worry about the shit we do. They’ve already had the worst possible thing happen to them. They’re dead.”

“Emma’s right. They’re setting things right, getting revenge, or figuring out that they’re dead,” Rune agreed.

Juan made a scornful noise. “How could you not know you’re dead?”

“Denial is a powerful thing, man,” Rune said. “How many people died those first days because they couldn’t believe Night of the Living Dead was suddenly a real thing?”

“You mean the Dawn of the Dead remake. That’s when the zombies got fast,” Juan said with nerdish authority. “Which I still think is bullshit. Zombies should be slow.”

Rune grunted. “Fine. Whatever. My point remains the same.”

Peering out the windows, Emma said, “I wish they started off slow. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”

Juan turned the pickup down another road. “Whoever made them broke the zombie rules. I’d like a harsh word with them, but they probably got eaten when the zombies broke out of the lab.”

“You think they were made?”

“Yeah, Em, I do. Someone watched too many Romero films and thought it was a great idea because they’re pendejo.”

“Rune, got any inside info on how we got zombies?”

“Nope, can’t say that I do. And it don’t matter no how. Where they came from doesn’t change that they’re here.”

The medium had a point.

The conversation lapsed for a while as they all watched for any sign of Macy.

The town had once been beautiful. Parts of it still were, but time had destroyed some of the quaint beauty

of the Texas boomtown. The old railroad station told a story Emma knew was a common and sad part of the history of the region. Towns had popped up alongside the railroad, bursting with new commerce and migration to the area. Once new lines were laid down, bypassing old stops, a lot of towns had faced a hard economic downturn. Ashley Oaks appeared to be one of those towns. The pickup rolled past what had once been a dance hall. It was crumbling, the interior filled with a bramble of trees and wild grass.

“Wait! I just saw him. Doorway of that building over yonder.” Rune pointed toward an old three-story brick apartment building. The windows were covered in newspaper and a few others were broken and boarded over. The windows on the higher floors were intact.

Juan pulled up to a buckled and broken sidewalk, wild grass and weeds poking up between the crisscrossing cracks. Peering up at the building, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

“You sure, man? This place looks hardcore abandoned.”

“I’m sure.”