Page 37

CHAPTER 36

Noah

T he road stretches endlessly before me, the sun shimmering above me. Every step feels heavier than the last, my boots dragging against the cracked pavement. The heat clings to me like a second skin, sweat trickling down my back, soaking into my clothes. My limbs ache, and my head throbs with exhaustion, but I can’t stop. Not yet.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, smearing sweat across my skin. The world around me is eerily quiet—no cars, no voices, barely the whisper of the wind. But the occasional chirps of birds and calls echo through the trees next to me. In a way it reminds me of life before, life when it was simple and safe.

My chest tightens, memories of Rue, Mallory, and me sitting outside in the sun. We’d lie in the grass, staring up at the sky with Mallory talking about cheer. Rue would usually hide in the shade while I enjoyed the burning from the sun. Back then, life was easy, worrying about if we’d pass our next English exam or when I'd next get laid.

It’s a strange kind of pain—one that lingers, settling deep in my chest. I never thought I’d miss the rudeness from Rue. The way she’d roll her eyes when I told her about what guy I was sleeping with. The way Mallory would talk to fill the silence, the bad jokes she’d make just to see me smile. And I miss them.

I hate the emptiness they left behind. I hate that I still hear their voices in my head. I hate how much I miss Rue's sarcastic comments and the pointless arguments we’d get into.

I hate it.

And worst of all, I hate the zombies. They took everything away from me. It’s their mindless hunger, their rotting flesh that hangs from their dead bones. They tear into humans with their soulless eyes, stealing away life. I hate that I have no idea where Rue and Mallory are. I can hope and pray as much as I want that they’re in Florida and that my shitty parents took them in. But I won’t know until I get there.

My chest tightens at the fear that they might not be there. If they’re not, then I left Reed for nothing. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I shake my head, pushing away the thoughts threatening to slip in. There’s no room for the what-if games. I don’t have time to worry about what he’s doing, even if that’s the only thing that is holding me together.

So I keep walking, sweat dripping down my temple, my heart pounding as the birds sing above me. I just have to make it to the next town, then I can rest. When I’m inside—safe—for the time being, then I can fall apart.

* * *

By the time I finally see the town on the horizon, the sun is already beginning to set. I smile at the orange and sprinkle of red for a moment. While I would love to stop here for a second and bask in the beautiful sunset, all I can think about is the little time I have left before darkness swallows everything. I don’t want to be caught out in the open at night. I’m already vulnerable out here alone, but in the dark, there's no telling what could happen.

My legs scream in protest with every step I take, exhaustion settling deep in my bones as I push myself to walk faster. The town is almost too quiet, debris covering most of the road. Abandoned cars sit on the sidewalk, some with their car doors hanging open. Every rustle sends a shiver down my spine.

By the time I make it further into town, buildings cast shadows, and I’m no longer seeing much of the sun. I don’t have time to hesitate about which building I should pick to settle in for the night.

I spot a small hardware store from the corner of my eye. Making my way over, I push the door open, the hinges creaking loudly in the silence. I freeze, holding my breath, waiting for something to jump out at me. Nothing stirs, but it doesn’t make me feel any safer.

My grip tightens around the mallet as I step inside, moving cautiously, my ears straining for any sound. The air is thick with dust, and the distant stench of rot lingers. Moving around, I check between the aisles, behind the counter, and in the back office. I push the door open, the mallet firmly in my hand. Blowing out a breath when nothing pops out, I lean against the door, my muscles slowly relaxing.

I’ll rest here tonight and get a move on it in the morning. Peering around, I shut the door and move an old shelf against it. I’m not sure it’ll stop a horde of zombies, but it’ll be enough for one or two.

Sagging against the desk, my body collapsed into the chair beside it. I try to relax, but the fear still lingers. I didn’t think about the fact I would have to stop while on my travels. Clearly, I didn’t think things all the way through.

Slipping my bag off, I reach inside and pull out a can of spaghetti. Prying it open with trembling fingers, I take a large bite. It’s cold, metallic, and tasteless, but I force it down. My stomach twists with fear and exhaustion while I take bite after bite.

Every tiny noise—the wind outside, the distant creak of the old building settling—makes my breath hitch, my fingers clenching tighter around the mallet. I back the chair up against the far wall to have as much distance between me and the door. Doubt creeps in like a sickness, poisoning my thoughts.

What if I had missed one? What if they heard me come in here? What if they’ve somehow developed, and now they’re laying low and waiting for me to fall asleep?

I know it sounds ridiculous, but we know nothing about the zombies. No one knows how they got turned. There are rumors that some kind of drug started the process. Then it just rolled into those that were infected, died, and came back. But we don’t know the truth.

Fear coils in my chest, twisting around my ribs like a vice. I should stay awake. But my body has other plans; my head feels too heavy on my shoulder. Exhaustion that’s been weighing me down for the last few hours and is winning. My body slumps to the side, my head resting against the dusty filing cabinet. And before I know what’s hit me, darkness pulls me under.

* * *

A sudden sharp sound rips me out from the depths of sleep. My eyes snap open, panic slamming against my chest before I can gather my bearings. For a split second I have no idea where I am, the room unfamiliar, before it comes back. The abandoned town, the hardware office.

Sitting up, my body protests with stiff and aching limbs. Stretching my fingers out, I realized I was no longer holding my mallet. Fumbling forward, my gaze snags on the weapon lying at my feet. Snatching it up, I hold the thing against my chest like it’s my lifeline. In a fucked-up way, it might as well be.

It’s then I hear the sound again. Slowly and cautiously I shift in the chair, every movement feeling too loud. I need to get out of here, but that would mean leaving the cramped office. I need to slip out and just make a run for it.

Forcing myself to take a breath and then another, I climb to my feet. I place the mallet on the shelf of the bookcase before grabbing the corners and moving it slightly out of the way. Once there’s enough room for me to squeeze through, I grab my mallet again and slip through the door.

Gripping my weapon tight, my pulse hammers in my ears. The sun shines through the windows, leaving the store in shadows. I force one foot in front of the other, moving to the front of the store. I feel the freedom, the exit being right there. I’m itching to make a run for it?—

Movement catches my eye. I jerk to the side, weapon raised, expecting the worst—rotting flesh, hungry eyes, something dead.

But it’s not.

A girl stands just a few feet away. Her stance was tense, her breathing coming in short. She grips a crowbar, holding it out in front of her like she’s ready to swing if I even dare to speak. But it’s the silent, dark, and spooked expression plastered to her face that tells me she might not.

“Uh…” Words fail me as I think of something to say. Trust is a luxury—one that I refuse to have anymore. My eyes flick over the girl, her hands steady on the crowbar, her posture guarded. She can’t be any older than thirteen, maybe fourteen.

“Are you alone?” I finally ask.

Her gaze hardens, her knuckles turning white as she tightens her grip on the weapon.

“I–wow, that sounded creepy,” I rushed out. “I’m sorry—I, uh, please tell me you have a parent around here.”

The living are just as dangerous as the dead—maybe even worse. But that doesn’t mean I want to just leave this child out here alone.

“I do,” she whispers.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I open my mouth to ask where or to tell her to have a good day, when the crash of breaking glass shatters the tense moment. A group of zombies barrels through the windows, their movements jerky and chaotic.

Instinct screams at me to run; my body is already tense and ready to make a run for it. But something smaller inside me causes me to grip the mallet tighter. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as the first zombie lunges towards the girl. Its rotten fingers reach forward, clawing at her. I swing the mallet before it can grab at her; the impact sends a sickening crack through the air as the zombie's head caves in.

The girl screams, swinging the crowbar at a second zombie reaching towards us. My muscles burn, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I swing the mallet again, hitting the second zombie in the face. The thing falls to the ground. I sidestep when the third zombie lunges towards us. The girl trips as she tries to do the same. The third zombie jaw hangs loose, blood dripping as it tries to bite towards me. Chest heaving, I swing the mallet back, using all my force to hit the thing in the head. Its body slumps to the ground, twitching. Pulling the mallet out, I stomp my foot into its head.

“Molly!” A man's voice screams into the store.

Panting, I watch a man—an older teenager—run into the store. He barely glances at me before his eyes land on the girl. She rushes forward, her arms wrapping around the man's waist. His hands landed on her back, squeezing her like he didn’t think he was going to see her again.

Her soft cries reach my ears, reminding me that while I’m glad she has someone, I don’t.

There’s no one watching out for me. No one is waiting for me to come back. I’m alone out here.

I swallow hard, forcing myself not to break down. Not now, not when the guy turns around, holding his hand out.

“I–I saw what you did,” he breathes out.

My brow furrowed before I realized what he meant. I could have run. I was close enough to the door that I could have left the girl to defend herself. And from the looks of it, she wouldn’t have made it.

“It—it’s okay.” I give him a sad smile.

“Thank you, I–I can’t thank you enough. I’m Jake, by the way.”

“Like I, uh, said, it’s okay. And uh… it’s N–Noah.”

He eyes me for a moment, clinging to the girl. “You alone?”

I hesitated, not quite sure if I should be truthful or lie. I hated being alone, but being around other people, it could become complicated. Being around people would mean making more noise; things could become risky.

“Uh, yeah. I–I’m alone.” Even if I tried to lie, I was terrible at it. Rue and Mallory have told me many times.

“We, there's a camp about a mile up the road. There’s a small group of people that—we all travel together. Better in numbers and all. Anyways, if y–you can join us.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He wasn’t wrong about better numbers, but how was I supposed to trust someone again? My grip tightens around my mallet, unsure what I should do. Mixed feelings swarm around my chest, that is until we hear it. A low, wet gurgle sound is coming from the back of the store.

“Come on, what’s it going to be?” The guy asks, his eyes shifting to the back before focusing on me for a second.

My breath catches, fear sinking into my bones.

“Y–yeah, uh, let’s go.” I barely make it out before the siblings are rushing out the door with me following them.