“I know,” she responded. “That’s not an answer.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked.
“I want you to say what you think it is,” she responded.
“You’ll think I’m nuts,” he said.
“After this, I don’t think so,” she said.
“I think they’re zombies,” he said.
He didn’t think it, he was certain, but saying something so outrageous out loud was quite different than thinking it.
“I think so too,” she whispered.
Her voice sounded heartbroken, but what Jack didn’t hear was anything that sounded like doubt.
“How is that possible?” she asked.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know that it’s possible, but it’s happening,” he said.
“I can’t believe this,” she said.
“If those soldiers have already started looting, what do you think that means?” she asked.
“It means that I wouldn’t expect help to be coming anytime soon,” he said.
Even saying the words left him empty but did nothing to alleviate his certainty. This was a very, very bad, and anyone who hoped to make it would have to do so on their own.
“You really think it’s all gone?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I hope not. But if it is, you have to be ready,” he said.
“How do you get ready for something like that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he responded.
CHAPTER TWELVE
At first Cassandra had thought her feet would fall off, but thankfully, they had gone numb. Now, she was worried about her hips. The pain in them was excruciating. Her thighs were fine, but that motion, sitting on that small uncomfortable seat for so many unbroken hours, was taking its toll.
The pain was so intense that every time she moved, she thought she might cry, but she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t dare.
Jack didn’t seem to be in any pain at all, and she wouldn’t let him see hers.
She wasn’t sure why was important that he respected her, and maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe she was doing this for herself.
She’d taken what he’d said to heart.
No help was coming.
She knew it was true.
They were on their own.
She was on her own.
The only way she would make it was through her own wits and her own guile.
Which meant something as simple and stupid as a pain in her hip or numb feet she thought would fall off was unimportant.
Jack laughed at her for wearing the helmet, but as evening began to approach, she was glad she had.
Something about it connected her to normalcy, made it easier for her to pretend that this was just an ordinary day. She could easily imagine her best friend, the one she didn’t know what had happened to and the one who wondered if she ever would, challenging her to something like this. She could hear it now. “Cassandra, let’s take an eighty-mile bike ride!”
And Cassandra was never one to turn down a dare even though she would rather do anything but. So, she told herself that this was what this was. Just another crazy adventure, one that she would tell stories and laugh about later.
And she kept telling herself back, kept talking to herself, reminding herself that this was the only way she would get to see her aunt and uncle again.
She hadn’t allowed herself to think about them.
Couldn’t let herself.
Some part of her still held out hope that maybe Jack had been wrong. Maybe this was local, or maybe something that was only happening in big cities. She couldn’t allow herself to think anything else, couldn’t accept the idea that she would never see her family again—that she would never get to tell them good-bye or say she was sorry.
She couldn’t let that happen, so she would do anything to make sure it didn’t.
When she wasn’t giving herself little pep talks, she tried to pay attention to the surroundings, though she found that her mind was wandering far more than she wanted it to.
“It’s getting dark. We need to find somewhere to stop,” Jack said.
“You don’t want keep going?”
“I do, but it’s too dangerous in the dark,” he said.
She didn’t argue and instead looked at him as he looked around.
“What about there?” she asked, pointing toward a structure.
It looked to be some kind of shack, maybe something some kids had built, but at least it would provide some form of shelter and was set off the road.
“Let’s go check it out,” he said.
Cassandra followed behind him, wheeling the bike and then letting it rest as Jack had his.
He approached the shack cautiously, the wrench held tight in his hand.
She had put the hammer in her belt loop but then had jammed it in the handlebars when it ripped her pants. She grabbed it and held it tight and stayed close to Jack as he approached the shack.
It wasn’t really a structure, mostly just some old two by fours that had been leaned against a tree.
“This’ll do,” he said. “I’m going to look around.”
“No,” she said.
“Yes. You’ll be fine by yourself. I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.
And with that he set off.
Cassandra tried not to be angry and frustrated, though it was difficult. She was angry at herself for being so needy and annoyed at him for pointing it out.
But then again, tiptoeing around her wouldn’t do her any favors in this situation, so she supposed she should appreciate his directness.
And he did have a point.
She did have to get together and learn to hack it on her own. She couldn’t do that if he was babying her, and as afraid she sometimes was, she needed to be a grownup and handle it.
With that thought in mind, she ventured away from the shack and went back to the bikes.
Carrying both of them was unwieldy, but she somehow managed to get them back to the shack and cover them with some wood. They hadn’t seen anyone, but she couldn’t bank on that meaning no one was out there.
That thought made Cassandra shiver, and she looked around, the darkness making her fear that much stronger.
“You can do this, Cassandra,” she whispered.
She wished she could believe that.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jack moved as quietly as he could, the semidarkness of the falling dusk making it prudent to be quiet. He kept an eye on the woman but chided himself for doing so. This had been her idea, but just because they were together didn’t mean that she was his responsibility.
She wasn’t.
He recognized that having another person around was beneficial for both of them, but that didn’t mean she was his responsibility. He’d had those before and failed them. There was no reason for him to pick them up again.
So, instead of paying attention to what she was doing, he focused on the area immediately surrounding them.
It sucked.
This whole situation was beyond screwed, but they would have to make the best of it.
Jack had considered the options and decided that the field and shack were the best place to hole up for the night.
The location was a little more exposed than he was comfortable with, but hiding in the woods wasn’t an option. He doubted they could be quiet enough, and getting out of the woods would prove far more difficult than making a run for it from the shack.
Plus, even though from this location others could see them, it made it more likely that Jack wouldn’t be caught by surprise.
And, as he scouted the surrounding area, he made mental notes of the places most likely to be the best source of attack.
The northwest corner, over the sloping hill.
There was also a thick swath of underbrush that could hide a person with even the most basic training. But if more of those things, zombies, came around, he’d hear them before they got too close.