They saw us coming and opened the door right when we got there. The four of us ran pell-mell through the door and shouted at them to close it. Wilkinson quickly closed and barred it and Felix, Washington and I collapsed to the floor, leaning against the walls. All of us were out of breath and my whole chest and throat felt like it was on fire. My leg felt surprisingly spry given all the damage I kept dealing to it. Fannie Mae came out of nowhere and crashed to the floor next to me. She saw my throat and burst into tears, holding onto me tightly.
Wilkinson said, “Where’s Stubby?”
Washington just shook his head, refusing to answer. I managed to whisper, “He didn’t make it.”
“And the boy you went out to save?”
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I could see Tamara ripping the boy’s throat out with her nails. “No, he didn’t make it either.”
He sighed. “We heard all the shots. Did you kill any of them?”
Washington held a shaking hand over his eyes and finally found his voice. “Yeah, we killed some. About 30 or so I think. Isn’t that right, guys?”
Felix just nodded. “Yeah. Can I borrow your flask, Wilkinson?”
Wilkinson wordlessly handed it over. Felix tipped it over his mouth and we all heard him down the nearly full flask. He closed his eyes when he was down and leaned back and sighed.
Rodriguez was gripping his chest where Tamara had pushed him. He grimaced with pain every time he pressed. I’m guessing he was going to have a nasty bruise and wouldn’t have been surprised to hear he had a cracked rib or two.
“Was that all of them? Do you think you killed them all?” Wilkinson asked.
I flashed on Mason Smith and Barrett and some of the others I’d seen get taken today. I shook my head. “No. There’s definitely more out there.”
Fannie Mae looked up at me. “Did you get Barrett?”
I shook my head at her. “No, but I did put Tamara out of her misery.”
Concern crossed her face and she gripped me even more tightly. “Are you okay with that?”
“Not really. But I’ll wait til this is all over to break down.”
I struggled to my feet and Fannie Mae helped me stand there. I was very wobbly and all I wanted was rest. I towered over Washington and the others. “You need any more help right now, Wash?”
He shook his head at me wordlessly, not able to meet my gaze. His whole body was shaking along with his hand.
“Well,” I said, “I’m going to go take a little nap. Let me know if you need anything.”
With that I turned around and Fannie Mae helped me to our little spot on the wall. The crowd in the main room silently watched us. They’d all heard the shots and they all wanted details but the dark look on my face was enough for them to decide not to bother asking me. Fannie Mae helped me to a sitting position on the wall. It felt like all my muscles were tightening up and screaming at me. I really did need some rest. But before that…
“Fannie Mae,” I whispered.
“Yes, Dukey?” She put her face next to mine.
I felt my mostly empty pockets. I’d used nearly every shell I’d had on me. “Fill me back up with shells. Every pocket. As many as you can stuff in there.”
She nodded and broke them out of the bag. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of her stuffing my pockets, something nibbling at the back of my head. It seemed like I’d seen something or knew something that was important but I was way too tired to try and remember it.
So I slept.
Noise was the first thing I remembered. It was definitely what woke me up. The huddled masses were talking real loud and making a ruckus. I sat up from where I’d been laying and as I did something fell off my throat. I picked it up and saw it was a wet rag. Fannie Mae must have put it on my throat to help with the swelling.
She was standing about five feet away and staring at the group of people making the noise. It was about 20 of them so maybe a third of the refugees were up and about. The rest were still huddling in their corners with the blankets over their heads. I could make a joke about ostriches and sticking their heads in the ground, but I won’t. Or I guess I just did. I was a little pissy for having been woken up. It felt like I’d only been asleep for ten minutes. My clothes were still wet from the rain.
Fannie Mae turned back to me. She looked worried. When she saw I was awake she smiled and came back for me. She sat down next to me and squeezed my hand.
“What’s going on?” I rasped.
“They found out about the rescue mission and the shootout. They want to know if the men who went outside know who was killed. They’re pretty upset. A lot of them don’t think we’re actually dealing with zombies.”
I sat up straighter. “So they think we were just killing people willy-nilly?”
She sighed. “I don’t really know what they think. Some are complaining that we don’t know what’s going on, that it could be some kind of disease or infection and that they can be cured. They think you just murdered all their friends and family.”
I struggled to my feet. Fannie Mae helped me but she looked concerned. “What are you doing, Dukey?”
I just shook my head at her. “Help me over there.”
As we walked over to where the crowd was gathered around Washington, pushing our way through them, I felt my strength returning to me. It was just bone-weariness more than anything else. All I wanted to do was rest. I looked at the clock. Yeah, I hadn’t been asleep more than thirty minutes. Awesome.
We finished our way to Washington and he glanced at me, a look of consternation crossing his face. He was in the middle of saying a bunch of platitudes and trying to talk the crowd down. Screw that. They should have let me sleep.
I put my hand on his arm and felt the minute shivers in his body. He shook me off and sighed, “Yeah, Duke? What is it? Kinda busy here.”
I ignored him, too. There was a chair nearby so I dragged it over and stood on it, putting me above the rest of the crowd. I tried to speak over them but my throat was still too raspy for me to really get the volume I needed.
Suddenly I heard, “Everybody! Shut the fuck up!”
I looked down at Fannie Mae and grinned. She grinned back. She did have a set of lungs on her.
The crowd quieted down almost immediately. They stared at me expectantly. There were equal measures of hostility, outrage, concern and worry on their faces. They all looked like they could have used about 12 hours of sleep. I knew I could.
I nodded at them. “How you all doing? I’m Duke Johnson in case any of you don’t know. I turned 16 yesterday. Can I hear a happy birthday?”
You could have heard a cricket chirp. Some people just can’t appreciate humor.
“All right, then. Guess not. Let me tell you what I know. Earlier today most of us saw Donny Marsters get attacked and eaten by a person holding a partially eaten foot. Donny died. I saw it from my windows not thirty feet away. Then you know what happened? He got up.”