The Plan
A Strong Wind and Strawberries
As the winds blew through, spreading disease laden dust and pollen over land and waterways, the industrial areas fell, followed quickly by those rural areas where strawberries were a cash crop. Strawberries, the sweetest of harbingers, spread death far and wide while the dust and pollen took down those people who suffered asthma-like breathing disorders, the very old, and the very young. There were no filters small enough, no masks effective against the tiniest of allergens. And then the cell mutated, infecting and killing off even the healthiest people and animals as well. State and government capitols, unprepared for this type of warfare, were quickly inundated with pleas for help, and then, not knowing from whence the threat had come or how to fight it, slowly crumbled.
In the past, the Centers for Disease Control had been able to identify a threat quickly enough to head off a major problem. This time, however, the deaths spread like a flash flood, swamping across the country and around the world in unprecedented waves. Deaths in the millions quickly became billions, with no one left in the scientific centers to identify--much less fight against–the rampaging plague. How could this happen? the survivors asked themselves and each other at every turn and at every opportunity. And there were survivors, a pocket here and there, spared for no apparent reason. Speculation abounded, but mostly the people who lived had no more idea why they had been passed over than did the dead who, as they lay dying, wondered what was killing them and why. And then it didn’t really matter anymore, the what, how, why, or even the who if there was one—or many. Life moved on and with it went those small bands of survivors who were determined and willing to make a go of it.
The dead littered the streets, lying where they died for the most part. Toward the end, there were just too many bodies to deal with and the living, unsure of the pathogen’s course and mode of infection, stayed away as much as possible, huddled in their homes and shelters, afraid to eat or drink or breathe. Eventually, what little stock of food they had depleted, the survivors ventured out.
Chapter 3
Jeepers Creepers
“I’m just really, really glad it wasn’t zombies,” Caleigh said as she loaded the last box of canned goods into the back of the truck. She’d parked on the sidewalk in front of the Piggly Wiggly, right by the front door.
“What makes you think it’s not?” her sister asked. “Maybe they just haven’t gotten here yet.”
“I could punch you right in the face for that,” Caleigh said with a feigned smile, but the shudder that ran through her body was real. Trying not to be too conspicuous, she looked around and behind her, just in case. The parking lot was full of cars and their passengers, but she and her sister were the only people breathing.
“Mama and I used to talk about that, trying to come up with a plan for how we’d survive.” Caleigh slammed shut the tail gate and latched the inside bolt. Both women walked around opposite sides of the truck and climbed in, Caleigh settling into the driver’s seat and turning the key. The truck purred and Caleigh grinned. She loved driving a big truck and this one, though old and worn, was a gem. Shifting into drive, Caleigh pulled off the sidewalk and weaved through the parking lot, edging past the jumble of cars and trucks that blocked the entrance, finally easing over the low curb to exit through the drive-through lane at the bank.
“She suggested we develop a video game called Zombie Survival or something like that, a game where you could program in your statistics, like how many kids you have, the design of your house, you now, one story or two, where you live, stuff like that. And then you could select fast moving zombies or creepers to see how well you’d do, how many of your kids you could save.”
“Yuck!” Brighid said. “Sounds like a pretty gruesome thing for Mama to be thinking about. But the two of you strategizing about zombie survival doesn’t surprise me. I’m just surprised you didn’t include me in those conversations.”
“Oh, we did,” Caleigh said and laughed, keeping her eyes on the road. At the intersection of 317 and 41, there was a cluster of cars that slowed them down every time they came to pick up supplies. Calvin Miller’s big old Cadillac sat cross-wise in the road, bumper to bumper with at least ten other cars or pieces thereof. “You were always doing so many things at once when Mama came to visit that you weren’t really tuned in to what we were talking about most of the time.” Caleigh veered off the road and into the gravel ditch, slowing down and then glancing over her shoulder to check the load in the back before pulling the truck back onto the pavement and making a right turn at the flashing light. “Make sure you put this spot on the list,” Caleigh said looking left and right as always, scanning the road for movement or anything new or out of place. “It’s gonna flood come summer and we won’t be able to get through back there.”
Brighid picked up the notepad on the seat, pulling loose the pen clipped to the backing, and scribbled another entry on a long list. “It’s already on here but I made another note. Jackson’s got his work cut out for him,” she said and frowned.
Caleigh shrugged and continued. “Yeah, I remember one time we were talking and laughing and you asked us what movie we were talking about and when Mama said Night of the Living Dead, you smirked and went outside to smoke.”
Brighid tossed the pad back onto the seat between them. “I did not!” she protested.
“Yep, you did,” Caleigh insisted. “And besides, we figured you already had your plan prepared and your notebook compiled with little handouts for the girls and directions for Mr. Zero all printed and labeled and color coded.”
“That’s not funny,” Brighid said. “I would never plan for a zombie attack.”
“But . . ?” Caleigh gave her sister a knowing look.
“Well, I did think about what we’d do if we were ever bombed,” Brighid admitted. “I had a plan up my sleeve . . .”
“And documented and coordinated and color coded,” Caleigh said and pounded on the steering wheel. “I knew it! I told Mama and she didn’t believe me. How many copies did you print at work?”
Brighid grinned. “Three. One for you, one for Mama, and one for me. But I didn’t print them at work. They didn’t have colored paper and I couldn’t see carrying everything with me to the office so I borrowed Twyla’s printer and replaced the ink cartridges when I was finished.”
Caleigh pulled the truck over to the side of the road beside the self-serve ice machine outside Captain Jack’s Hardware Bait and Tackle.
“Let’s try the ice machine for water.” By the time Brighid had jumped out of the truck, Caleigh had grabbed the crow bar from under the front seat and was prying open the side panel of the machine. Sure enough, five five-gallon bottles of water, the seals unbroken, were lined up just inside. Together, they lifted the bottles into the back of the truck and secured them between the boxes.
“There’s another machine next to Bailey’s Ice Cream,” Brighid suggested.
“We’ll have to backtrack and then take the long way home,” Caleigh said. “Do you wanna go check now or should we head back?”
“It’s up to you. You’re driving.”
“Let’s head back, then.” Caleigh was ready to get home.
“We need to get this stuff put away before dark,” Brighid said. “And Jackson may be back by now. He was going over to the Hubbard’s’ ranch today to check on their cattle.”
“You mean to feed or for food?” Caleigh asked.
“Both, if there are any cows left. I told him we won’t be drinking any milk if he finds an old heifer, but he’s welcome to try the cheeseburgers if he wants to go to all the trouble of butchering.”
Caleigh panicked. “You don’t think he’d try to feed the kids meat, do you?” Before Brighid had a chance to answer, Caleigh stomped on the gas and the truck lurched to the left, shifting boxes and water bottles in the bed.
“Slow down for Pete’s sake. You’re going to kill us both!” Brighid yelled, steadying herself with both hands on the dashboard. “It would take Jackson a week to butcher one cow, Caleigh. He’s as lazy as the day is long, you know that!”
Caleigh let off the gas just long enough to negotiate the left turn onto Culpepper Road and then floored it. Home was nearly ten miles away and they had been gone for a couple of hours. Her fear was contagious. Brighid could imagine her husband hauling home a cow shank and throwing it on the grill.
“I know these roads better than you do,” Brighid lied. They’d both grown up and learned to drive on these roads. “Why don’t you pull over and let me drive.”
“No time,” Caleigh said and slowed only a little to take the steep curve by the long, low white buildings that comprised Anderson Packing Company. Brighid pulled out her cell phone.
“Why do you bother with that thing?” Caleigh said, glancing over at her sister.
“I don’t know. Comfort I guess, something to do with my hands.”
“You think it’ll just magically turn on one day?”
“No, I don’t. But it’s better than lighting up a cigarette.”
There’d been a collision on the road ahead, just past the intersection of Culpepper and Pete’s Road. Jackson and Jason had moved the cars off to the side, but just barely. There was just enough room for the truck to scrape by which it did, with a scream of metal.
“Why didn’t they push the cars further off the road?” Caleigh asked, swerving around another car blocking the right lane.
“Because that would have taken a little more effort,” Brighid answered. “Please, let’s not get started on why our husbands do the things they do – and don’t do. I’m pissed off enough as it is.”
Caleigh wanted to say something about her own escalating anger, but kept her lips clamped tight. The turn was up ahead. They were almost home. Caleigh let off the gas and made a sharp right turn onto the dirt road that wound its way past Bellwood Methodist Church, its dirt packed parking lot connected to the field adjacent to Brighid’s property.
“Should I stay on the road or cut through?” Caleigh asked.
Smoke billowed above the trees. Both women saw it at the same time. Caleigh didn’t wait for an answer, veering off the road and into the parking lot. A trail skirted the field that wound through the trees and came out beside Brighid’s house.
“He could be burning leaves,” Brighid said.
Caleigh glared at her sister. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Or burning the house down.”
That’s too much smoke for the grill,” Brighid said, ignoring her sister’s remark.
“Unless he used gasoline for lighter fluid – again!”
“He only did that one time!” Brighid said.
“One time too many,” Caleigh said. The house came into view, still standing and not on fire. Jackson stood in the backyard beside a raging fire, poking debris with a long stick.
Caleigh stopped the truck near the garage, just close enough to the fire to see what Jackson was burning. Before Brighid had a chance to open her door, Caleigh was out and running toward Jackson.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed, grabbing his bare arm. Jackson jerked away and turned to Brighid who’d hurried over to stand between her sister and her husband.
“The kids are in the house!” Jackson shouted back, pointing behind him. Caleigh glanced up to see the children watching from the upstairs windows, her three huddled together at one window and Brighid’s two standing, arms crossed, at another. Even from a distance, Caleigh could see her sister’s stance replicated in her nieces. Determined, defiant, pissed off seemed the permanent message in their body language. Looking back at Jackson, Caleigh could see why.
“I thought we were going to take the bodies to the crematorium,” Brighid shouted over the crackling of the fire.
Jackson ignored her.
Brighid and Caleigh stood together, horrified as they watched Jackson add fuel to the fire, bodies and body parts jumbled in a pile.
“In the backyard? Are you serious?” Brighid screamed at her husband. Looking up at the house, she too saw the kids standing in the windows watching.
“Why? What were you thinking?” she screamed at her husband. “Do you have any idea what this is doing to the girls, to Caleigh’s children?”
“Brighid, this is reality. This is the real world now!” Jackson shouted back, pointing at the bodies in the fire. “They might as well get used to it!”
“But not in our backyard! This is our home!” Brighid cried.
“And we have to take care of our home and our family,” Jackson said. “We can’t leave the bodies just lying around forever!”
Caleigh looked from her sister to her brother-in-law and then turned toward the house. “We’re leaving,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away from the fire. Brighid hurried after her.
“We said we were going to stay together!’ she shouted, grabbing for Caleigh’s arm.
“Yeah, we did. But I’m not staying here with him,” she said and kept walking. “You can come with us if you want to. We’ll find another place to stay, someplace safe, but I am not staying one more minute with him! I will not have him around my kids.”
Brighid stopped, letting her sister walk on without her. “I can’t leave,” she said. “This is our home, my children’s home.”
Caleigh turned on her sister with clenched fists. “Then you’d better get used to that,” she said. “I don’t have to. We don’t have to and I won’t!”
The garage door opened with a rumble and Caleigh’s three children ran to her. “Get in the truck,” she said softly. “We’re leaving.”
Dacey, the oldest at fourteen, began to protest, looking back at her cousins standing in the doorway. “What about . . .?”
“They’ll be fine, Dacey. Get in the truck.” Dacey didn’t argue. Caleigh lifted Brendan into the truck and then Aidan. Dacey waved to her cousins and climbed in beside her brothers, pulling the door closed behind her.
Jackson, watching from the ring of fire, threw down his stick and walked fiercely toward the truck. “You’re not taking that vehicle,” he yelled. “That truck was my Daddy’s!”
Caleigh ignored him and put the truck into reverse. “Those are our groceries,” he shouted and made a grab for the door. Caleigh gunned it and Jackson ran alongside the truck, trying to open the door. Caleigh braked to throw the truck into drive and Jackson jumped in front, bracing one hand on the hood and holding up the other.
“You ain’t takin’ this truck, Caleigh. You can walk outta here with whatever shit you brought with you, but you ain’t takin’ nothin’ of mine.”
“Get out of the way, Jackson,” Caleigh said. “I swear to God I’ll run you over.”
Brighid stood frozen in the yard, watching her sister threaten her husband. The girls, standing in the open doorway, watched, too. Caleigh inched forward but Jackson held his ground. Brighid could see his red face, distorted in anger. She couldn’t hear his words, but she knew they were full of venom. Caleigh put the truck in reverse and backed up and away from Jackson. With only a moment’s hesitation, Caleigh rammed the truck into drive and roared forward. Jackson jumped out of the way just in time. Brighid realized that, had he not moved, her sister would have run Jackson over. And then what? Where would she be without him?
Jackson ran to his truck parked just outside the garage. “Watch that fire don’t spread to the house,” he yelled at Brighid.
“What are you doing?” Brighid shouted. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going after your goddamned sister!” he shouted back. “She aint takin’ my Daddy’s truck. And she’s got our groceries!”
Brighid ran to the side of his truck. “Let her go, Jackson! Just let her go!”
Reaching through the open window, Jackson shoved Brighid out of the way. She fell back, her calves banging against the mower parked beside the truck. Jackson reached for the keys that he’d left hanging in the ignition. They weren’t there.
“Where are my keys?” he yelled at Brighid. “Where are the fuckin’ keys?”
Opening the truck door, he batted Brighid out of the way and stormed into the house. The girls, used to weathering this particular storm, had run for Finn’s room and slammed the door behind them.
“Finn! Get your ass down here and find my truck keys!” Jackson turned over baskets and bags sitting on the kitchen counter. Brighid walked through the kitchen and then raced up the stairs to Finn’s room.
“Lock the door!’ she said. “And don’t come out until I tell you to.” She heard the click and then the slide bolt engage. “I’ll be back!’ she shouted through the door and then headed for the stairs.
Jackson had turned the kitchen upside down by the time Brighid returned.
“Where’s the spare key?” he shouted and pushed past her to the living room. Brighid had kept the spare keys in a small wooden box on the bookshelves. On a whim – or perhaps a premonition -- she’d moved them. The keys were now in Jackson’s sock drawer in the bedroom, a place he’d never think to look, preferring to keep his clothes, both dirty and clean, in a jumbled pile on the floor on his side of the bed. Jackson tore apart the book shelves, tossing pictures and books over his shoulder to crash on the floor.
Brighid heard the back door open and turned to find her mother and step-father walking into the entry way. Side-stepping Jackson, she hurried through the kitchen.
“We met Caleigh at the end of the road,” her mother said as she hugged her. “She was scared and upset. We saw the bodies out back and the fire untended. Stu put it out with the hose.”
Brighid wrapped her arms tightly around her mother and looked at her step-father over her mother’s shoulder. His face, as usual, was calm. His eyes, however, held a coldness Brighid had never seen before.
“Where are the girls?” Stu asked quietly.
“Upstairs,” Brighid replied.
“Take your mother upstairs,” he said.
“What?”
“Go!” he said. “It’ll be okay.”
Brighid took her mother’s arm and steered her through the kitchen to the dining room and up the stairs. Jackson, intent on destroying the living room in his search for his keys, was oblivious to the arrival of his in-laws.
“Hi, Jackson,” Stu said quietly. “What are you doing?”
Jackson didn’t acknowledge him, but kept tossing books aside, clearing shelf after shelf. Stu reached out and touched Jackson’s arm. Jackson jumped, brushing Stu’s arm away.
“That bitch took my Daddy’s truck,” he finally said. “And I can’t find my goddamned keys!”
Stu moved in closer. At six two, he stood about two inches shorter than Jackson, but he carried about fifty pounds more muscle. Stu laid his hand on Jackson’s shoulder and Jackson moved to face him, taking a swing as he turned.
Stu easily blocked Jackson’s arm with his right hand and then stepped in closer.
“I was seriously hoping you’d do that,” Stu said and punched Jackson between the eyes with a staggering left. Jackson took a step back and Stu followed him, connecting with a right fist to Jackson’s temple. Jackson went down, his head landing inches from the stone hearth behind them. Jackson tried to pull his left leg back to kick and found it pinned by Stu’s boot. As he turned over, Stu noticed red stains on the back of Jackson’s pants. He backed away and Jackson lay curled up on the floor.
Brighid came down the stairs, followed by her mother. Both women stood in the doorway.
"He won’t last long,” Stu said turning to Brighid and Bethany.
“Did you hurt him that badly?” Brighid asked, rushing to her husband.
Stu shook his head. “How long’s he been sick?” he asked.
“He’s not,” Brighid replied. “Jackson, tell him you’re okay.” Jackson covered his face with his hands and sobbed.
“He’s not okay,” Stu said. “From the looks of him, I’d say he’s been sick for a day or two.” The dark circles under Jackson’s eyes were more pronounced as he lay on the floor, his eyes puffy and unfocused. Stu helped him up and then led him out through the kitchen. They could hear Stu talking to him in soothing but firm tones.
“Let Stu take care of him, Brighid. I want to hear about what happened here, with Caleigh and the bodies out back.” Bethany pulled out a kitchen chair and nudged Brighid into it. The blinds were open across the bank of windows behind the kitchen table and Bethany could see Stu walking with Jackson, both men talking animatedly.
“They were burning when Caleigh and I got back.” Brighid leaned over and put her head in her hands. Bethany put a hand on top of her daughter’s head.
“Are you okay, sweetie? Are you feeling okay?”
Brighid looked up at her mother. “How did you get here? The last we heard, they’d closed the borders.” She could tell by her daughter’s eyes that she had no symptoms of the illness. The eyes were the first to show telltale signs, pinkish puffy lower lids, cloudy whites.
“There’s no one left to man the borders, honey. But we’ll talk about that later. For now, we need to talk about you, and Jackson.”
“I didn’t know he was sick, Mama. I didn’t! I guess I haven’t been paying attention to him. But then again, he hasn’t been here much.”
“Caleigh said you thought he was off checking on cattle? There aren’t any cattle, Brighid. What’s he been doing?”
“I don’t really know,” Brighid said wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “He stays away and he doesn’t talk much when he is here. Since his Mama and Daddy passed, and then Parker and Cherry and their baby, he’s been in a pretty bad state. Worse than usual.”
“Did anyone survive?” Bethany glanced out the back window, seeing Stu holding onto Jackson as he heaved.
“No. No one that we know of -- so far.” Brighid stood up and pulled her mother to her. “I can’t believe you made it, Mama. I mean, I knew you’d survive, but I didn’t know how you’d get through the barricades.” Brighid sobbed and held on tight. “I’m so happy to see you,” she said.
“I’m happy to see you too, Brighid.”
“Let me go get the girls,” Brighid said. “They’re so excited to see you and I don’t want to keep them shut away.”
“Let’s check on Jackson first,” Bethany suggested. “We’ll need to keep the girls away from him until he gets through the first stage. The convulsions are pretty harrowing and if the girls are scared now, seeing him go through that will really scare them.”
“Okay,” Brighid agreed. She turned and walked to the foot of the stairs. Finn and Ally were standing at the top, listening. “Stay up there until I come back in. Then you can come down.”
The girls nodded.
***
Caleigh pulled the truck over to the side of the road on a long stretch of straight pavement, the better to see another vehicle coming up fast behind her. She was sure Mama and Stu would be able to calm the situation with Jackson, but since losing his family over the course of the previous weeks, Jackson’s temper had escalated to a dangerous pitch. Caleigh could understand his feelings. She tried to put herself in his shoes, to feel compassion for him and empathy for his loss, but Jackson had become a cruel man over the years, cruel to his wife, his children, and even to his parents. He’d stolen, lied, and manipulated everyone in his family at one point or another. Caleigh had a forgiving heart except when it came to anyone who hurt her sister or her children. Jackson had scared Finn and Ally on countless occasions and had tried to bully his niece and nephews but Jason had quickly put a stop to that.
Now, sitting in the truck with her kids huddled on the front seat beside her, still shaking from the trauma of seeing their uncle dismember and then burn the bodies in the yard, Caleigh wondered how far she would go to protect her family from her sister’s husband. Jackson had long since ceased being her brother-in-law. He was simply the man her sister had married, several steps removed from those few people Caleigh considered family or friend.
Dacey reached out and put her hand on Caleigh’s shoulder. “We should go back now, Mama,” she said quietly. “Aunt Brighid will need us, even with Grandma and Grandpa Stu there.”
“Your Aunt Brighid can take care of herself, Dacey. You know that.” Even as the words left her mouth, Caleigh knew that she would turn the truck around and go back. She just wasn’t ready yet. Her own loss suddenly bore down on her heart with a heaviness that threatened to break her. She had been able to stem the flow of tears, to stand strong for her children, but seeing the bodies in the fire brought back the memories of Jason’s body laid out with so many others for identification, then gathered up like kindling and torched. And she’d forgotten for just a moment earlier, when she and Brighid had encountered the cars on the road, the cars that Jackson and Jason had moved. She’d been angry with Jason in that moment, angry that he hadn’t cleared the path for her, made her job of taking care of the kids alone just a little easier. She had forgotten in the instant that he was gone and would not be coming back.
Time had taken a gigantic leap from that day three weeks earlier when the town bustled with people taking charge to this day, empty, with only the eight of them left, her small band of four and Brighid’s husband and two kids. Caleigh had a feeling that there were other survivors hiding behind closed doors in town, on the outskirts, and in the woods. The end of the devastation had come as quickly as it had begun, the fire of disease burning hot and then dying out almost completely. It had happened in swift waves over the course of five days. The first round took Jackson’s grandparents and his brother’s newborn daughter. Round two, a massive wave, took almost everyone else, entire families including all of Jackson’s relatives, mother, father, step-father, and brother. Round three finished off the survivors of round two, including many who just couldn’t imagine living in a world with such tremendous loss and had exited on their own terms. But Mama and Stu had survived. That made ten! With sudden buoyancy, Caleigh started the truck and made a steep U-turn. Yet she hesitated. She couldn’t pull forward; she couldn’t rush back, not just yet.
Dacey had been watching her mother closely, waiting for her to surface from the thoughts that often overwhelmed her. Caleigh glanced at her daughter. It was the signal Dacey had been waiting for.
“You know Uncle Jackson is sick, don’t you Mama?” Dacey said softly. She could see in her mother’s face that she didn’t know.
Caleigh blinked the tears from her eyes, shifted into park, and turned toward her daughter. The boys had fallen asleep between them, curled against each other like puppies.
“Finn told me. Aunt Brighid didn’t know when you left this morning or I’m sure she would have told you. I kept the boys away from him when he got back. Finn said he’d gone to look for cows. That didn’t seem like a very good idea considering, so we kept the little ones upstairs.”
“Thank you, Sweetie,” Caleigh said. “I should never have left you alone there.”
“But you had to, Mama. I know that and so does Finn. We’re not babies any more. We know what’s happening. You and Aunt Brighid have to take care of us, and you’re doing the best you can. We could never have counted on Uncle Jackson, we know that.”
Caleigh didn’t know what to say. She reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “We’re together, Dacey, and we’re going to take care of each other.”
Movement in the woods caught Caleigh’s eye, a crouching shadow moving just behind the tree line.
“Roll up your window, Dacey,” she said quietly. Another shadow moved behind the first, and then a third. Caleigh put the truck in drive as the first shadow stepped onto the grassy embankment beside the road. Covered in dirt and blood, the shadowy shape lurched toward the truck. Caleigh stomped on the gas and peeled out onto the road as the other two shadows loped along behind the first. Dacey turned her head to follow her mother’s gaze.
“Don’t look,” Caleigh said quietly but with a fierceness that bristled the hair on Dacey’s arms.
“They’re definitely not creepers,” she said under her breath and stomped on the gas pedal, speeding toward home.
As the winds blew through, spreading disease laden dust and pollen over land and waterways, the industrial areas fell, followed quickly by those rural areas where strawberries were a cash crop. Strawberries, the sweetest of harbingers, spread death far and wide while the dust and pollen took down those people who suffered asthma-like breathing disorders, the very old, and the very young. There were no filters small enough, no masks effective against the tiniest of allergens. And then the cell mutated, infecting and killing off even the healthiest people and animals as well. State and government capitols, unprepared for this type of warfare, were quickly inundated with pleas for help, and then, not knowing from whence the threat had come or how to fight it, slowly crumbled.
In the past, the Centers for Disease Control had been able to identify a threat quickly enough to head off a major problem. This time, however, the deaths spread like a flash flood, swamping across the country and around the world in unprecedented waves. Deaths in the millions quickly became billions, with no one left in the scientific centers to identify--much less fight against–the rampaging plague. How could this happen? the survivors asked themselves and each other at every turn and at every opportunity. And there were survivors, a pocket here and there, spared for no apparent reason. Speculation abounded, but mostly the people who lived had no more idea why they had been passed over than did the dead who, as they lay dying, wondered what was killing them and why. And then it didn’t really matter anymore, the what, how, why, or even the who if there was one—or many. Life moved on and with it went those small bands of survivors who were determined and willing to make a go of it.
The dead littered the streets, lying where they died for the most part. Toward the end, there were just too many bodies to deal with and the living, unsure of the pathogen’s course and mode of infection, stayed away as much as possible, huddled in their homes and shelters, afraid to eat or drink or breathe. Eventually, what little stock of food they had depleted, the survivors ventured out.
Chapter 3
Jeepers Creepers
“I’m just really, really glad it wasn’t zombies,” Caleigh said as she loaded the last box of canned goods into the back of the truck. She’d parked on the sidewalk in front of the Piggly Wiggly, right by the front door.
“What makes you think it’s not?” her sister asked. “Maybe they just haven’t gotten here yet.”
“I could punch you right in the face for that,” Caleigh said with a feigned smile, but the shudder that ran through her body was real. Trying not to be too conspicuous, she looked around and behind her, just in case. The parking lot was full of cars and their passengers, but she and her sister were the only people breathing.
“Mama and I used to talk about that, trying to come up with a plan for how we’d survive.” Caleigh slammed shut the tail gate and latched the inside bolt. Both women walked around opposite sides of the truck and climbed in, Caleigh settling into the driver’s seat and turning the key. The truck purred and Caleigh grinned. She loved driving a big truck and this one, though old and worn, was a gem. Shifting into drive, Caleigh pulled off the sidewalk and weaved through the parking lot, edging past the jumble of cars and trucks that blocked the entrance, finally easing over the low curb to exit through the drive-through lane at the bank.
“She suggested we develop a video game called Zombie Survival or something like that, a game where you could program in your statistics, like how many kids you have, the design of your house, you now, one story or two, where you live, stuff like that. And then you could select fast moving zombies or creepers to see how well you’d do, how many of your kids you could save.”
“Yuck!” Brighid said. “Sounds like a pretty gruesome thing for Mama to be thinking about. But the two of you strategizing about zombie survival doesn’t surprise me. I’m just surprised you didn’t include me in those conversations.”
“Oh, we did,” Caleigh said and laughed, keeping her eyes on the road. At the intersection of 317 and 41, there was a cluster of cars that slowed them down every time they came to pick up supplies. Calvin Miller’s big old Cadillac sat cross-wise in the road, bumper to bumper with at least ten other cars or pieces thereof. “You were always doing so many things at once when Mama came to visit that you weren’t really tuned in to what we were talking about most of the time.” Caleigh veered off the road and into the gravel ditch, slowing down and then glancing over her shoulder to check the load in the back before pulling the truck back onto the pavement and making a right turn at the flashing light. “Make sure you put this spot on the list,” Caleigh said looking left and right as always, scanning the road for movement or anything new or out of place. “It’s gonna flood come summer and we won’t be able to get through back there.”
Brighid picked up the notepad on the seat, pulling loose the pen clipped to the backing, and scribbled another entry on a long list. “It’s already on here but I made another note. Jackson’s got his work cut out for him,” she said and frowned.
Caleigh shrugged and continued. “Yeah, I remember one time we were talking and laughing and you asked us what movie we were talking about and when Mama said Night of the Living Dead, you smirked and went outside to smoke.”
Brighid tossed the pad back onto the seat between them. “I did not!” she protested.
“Yep, you did,” Caleigh insisted. “And besides, we figured you already had your plan prepared and your notebook compiled with little handouts for the girls and directions for Mr. Zero all printed and labeled and color coded.”
“That’s not funny,” Brighid said. “I would never plan for a zombie attack.”
“But . . ?” Caleigh gave her sister a knowing look.
“Well, I did think about what we’d do if we were ever bombed,” Brighid admitted. “I had a plan up my sleeve . . .”
“And documented and coordinated and color coded,” Caleigh said and pounded on the steering wheel. “I knew it! I told Mama and she didn’t believe me. How many copies did you print at work?”
Brighid grinned. “Three. One for you, one for Mama, and one for me. But I didn’t print them at work. They didn’t have colored paper and I couldn’t see carrying everything with me to the office so I borrowed Twyla’s printer and replaced the ink cartridges when I was finished.”
Caleigh pulled the truck over to the side of the road beside the self-serve ice machine outside Captain Jack’s Hardware Bait and Tackle.
“Let’s try the ice machine for water.” By the time Brighid had jumped out of the truck, Caleigh had grabbed the crow bar from under the front seat and was prying open the side panel of the machine. Sure enough, five five-gallon bottles of water, the seals unbroken, were lined up just inside. Together, they lifted the bottles into the back of the truck and secured them between the boxes.
“There’s another machine next to Bailey’s Ice Cream,” Brighid suggested.
“We’ll have to backtrack and then take the long way home,” Caleigh said. “Do you wanna go check now or should we head back?”
“It’s up to you. You’re driving.”
“Let’s head back, then.” Caleigh was ready to get home.
“We need to get this stuff put away before dark,” Brighid said. “And Jackson may be back by now. He was going over to the Hubbard’s’ ranch today to check on their cattle.”
“You mean to feed or for food?” Caleigh asked.
“Both, if there are any cows left. I told him we won’t be drinking any milk if he finds an old heifer, but he’s welcome to try the cheeseburgers if he wants to go to all the trouble of butchering.”
Caleigh panicked. “You don’t think he’d try to feed the kids meat, do you?” Before Brighid had a chance to answer, Caleigh stomped on the gas and the truck lurched to the left, shifting boxes and water bottles in the bed.
“Slow down for Pete’s sake. You’re going to kill us both!” Brighid yelled, steadying herself with both hands on the dashboard. “It would take Jackson a week to butcher one cow, Caleigh. He’s as lazy as the day is long, you know that!”
Caleigh let off the gas just long enough to negotiate the left turn onto Culpepper Road and then floored it. Home was nearly ten miles away and they had been gone for a couple of hours. Her fear was contagious. Brighid could imagine her husband hauling home a cow shank and throwing it on the grill.
“I know these roads better than you do,” Brighid lied. They’d both grown up and learned to drive on these roads. “Why don’t you pull over and let me drive.”
“No time,” Caleigh said and slowed only a little to take the steep curve by the long, low white buildings that comprised Anderson Packing Company. Brighid pulled out her cell phone.
“Why do you bother with that thing?” Caleigh said, glancing over at her sister.
“I don’t know. Comfort I guess, something to do with my hands.”
“You think it’ll just magically turn on one day?”
“No, I don’t. But it’s better than lighting up a cigarette.”
There’d been a collision on the road ahead, just past the intersection of Culpepper and Pete’s Road. Jackson and Jason had moved the cars off to the side, but just barely. There was just enough room for the truck to scrape by which it did, with a scream of metal.
“Why didn’t they push the cars further off the road?” Caleigh asked, swerving around another car blocking the right lane.
“Because that would have taken a little more effort,” Brighid answered. “Please, let’s not get started on why our husbands do the things they do – and don’t do. I’m pissed off enough as it is.”
Caleigh wanted to say something about her own escalating anger, but kept her lips clamped tight. The turn was up ahead. They were almost home. Caleigh let off the gas and made a sharp right turn onto the dirt road that wound its way past Bellwood Methodist Church, its dirt packed parking lot connected to the field adjacent to Brighid’s property.
“Should I stay on the road or cut through?” Caleigh asked.
Smoke billowed above the trees. Both women saw it at the same time. Caleigh didn’t wait for an answer, veering off the road and into the parking lot. A trail skirted the field that wound through the trees and came out beside Brighid’s house.
“He could be burning leaves,” Brighid said.
Caleigh glared at her sister. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Or burning the house down.”
That’s too much smoke for the grill,” Brighid said, ignoring her sister’s remark.
“Unless he used gasoline for lighter fluid – again!”
“He only did that one time!” Brighid said.
“One time too many,” Caleigh said. The house came into view, still standing and not on fire. Jackson stood in the backyard beside a raging fire, poking debris with a long stick.
Caleigh stopped the truck near the garage, just close enough to the fire to see what Jackson was burning. Before Brighid had a chance to open her door, Caleigh was out and running toward Jackson.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed, grabbing his bare arm. Jackson jerked away and turned to Brighid who’d hurried over to stand between her sister and her husband.
“The kids are in the house!” Jackson shouted back, pointing behind him. Caleigh glanced up to see the children watching from the upstairs windows, her three huddled together at one window and Brighid’s two standing, arms crossed, at another. Even from a distance, Caleigh could see her sister’s stance replicated in her nieces. Determined, defiant, pissed off seemed the permanent message in their body language. Looking back at Jackson, Caleigh could see why.
“I thought we were going to take the bodies to the crematorium,” Brighid shouted over the crackling of the fire.
Jackson ignored her.
Brighid and Caleigh stood together, horrified as they watched Jackson add fuel to the fire, bodies and body parts jumbled in a pile.
“In the backyard? Are you serious?” Brighid screamed at her husband. Looking up at the house, she too saw the kids standing in the windows watching.
“Why? What were you thinking?” she screamed at her husband. “Do you have any idea what this is doing to the girls, to Caleigh’s children?”
“Brighid, this is reality. This is the real world now!” Jackson shouted back, pointing at the bodies in the fire. “They might as well get used to it!”
“But not in our backyard! This is our home!” Brighid cried.
“And we have to take care of our home and our family,” Jackson said. “We can’t leave the bodies just lying around forever!”
Caleigh looked from her sister to her brother-in-law and then turned toward the house. “We’re leaving,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away from the fire. Brighid hurried after her.
“We said we were going to stay together!’ she shouted, grabbing for Caleigh’s arm.
“Yeah, we did. But I’m not staying here with him,” she said and kept walking. “You can come with us if you want to. We’ll find another place to stay, someplace safe, but I am not staying one more minute with him! I will not have him around my kids.”
Brighid stopped, letting her sister walk on without her. “I can’t leave,” she said. “This is our home, my children’s home.”
Caleigh turned on her sister with clenched fists. “Then you’d better get used to that,” she said. “I don’t have to. We don’t have to and I won’t!”
The garage door opened with a rumble and Caleigh’s three children ran to her. “Get in the truck,” she said softly. “We’re leaving.”
Dacey, the oldest at fourteen, began to protest, looking back at her cousins standing in the doorway. “What about . . .?”
“They’ll be fine, Dacey. Get in the truck.” Dacey didn’t argue. Caleigh lifted Brendan into the truck and then Aidan. Dacey waved to her cousins and climbed in beside her brothers, pulling the door closed behind her.
Jackson, watching from the ring of fire, threw down his stick and walked fiercely toward the truck. “You’re not taking that vehicle,” he yelled. “That truck was my Daddy’s!”
Caleigh ignored him and put the truck into reverse. “Those are our groceries,” he shouted and made a grab for the door. Caleigh gunned it and Jackson ran alongside the truck, trying to open the door. Caleigh braked to throw the truck into drive and Jackson jumped in front, bracing one hand on the hood and holding up the other.
“You ain’t takin’ this truck, Caleigh. You can walk outta here with whatever shit you brought with you, but you ain’t takin’ nothin’ of mine.”
“Get out of the way, Jackson,” Caleigh said. “I swear to God I’ll run you over.”
Brighid stood frozen in the yard, watching her sister threaten her husband. The girls, standing in the open doorway, watched, too. Caleigh inched forward but Jackson held his ground. Brighid could see his red face, distorted in anger. She couldn’t hear his words, but she knew they were full of venom. Caleigh put the truck in reverse and backed up and away from Jackson. With only a moment’s hesitation, Caleigh rammed the truck into drive and roared forward. Jackson jumped out of the way just in time. Brighid realized that, had he not moved, her sister would have run Jackson over. And then what? Where would she be without him?
Jackson ran to his truck parked just outside the garage. “Watch that fire don’t spread to the house,” he yelled at Brighid.
“What are you doing?” Brighid shouted. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going after your goddamned sister!” he shouted back. “She aint takin’ my Daddy’s truck. And she’s got our groceries!”
Brighid ran to the side of his truck. “Let her go, Jackson! Just let her go!”
Reaching through the open window, Jackson shoved Brighid out of the way. She fell back, her calves banging against the mower parked beside the truck. Jackson reached for the keys that he’d left hanging in the ignition. They weren’t there.
“Where are my keys?” he yelled at Brighid. “Where are the fuckin’ keys?”
Opening the truck door, he batted Brighid out of the way and stormed into the house. The girls, used to weathering this particular storm, had run for Finn’s room and slammed the door behind them.
“Finn! Get your ass down here and find my truck keys!” Jackson turned over baskets and bags sitting on the kitchen counter. Brighid walked through the kitchen and then raced up the stairs to Finn’s room.
“Lock the door!’ she said. “And don’t come out until I tell you to.” She heard the click and then the slide bolt engage. “I’ll be back!’ she shouted through the door and then headed for the stairs.
Jackson had turned the kitchen upside down by the time Brighid returned.
“Where’s the spare key?” he shouted and pushed past her to the living room. Brighid had kept the spare keys in a small wooden box on the bookshelves. On a whim – or perhaps a premonition -- she’d moved them. The keys were now in Jackson’s sock drawer in the bedroom, a place he’d never think to look, preferring to keep his clothes, both dirty and clean, in a jumbled pile on the floor on his side of the bed. Jackson tore apart the book shelves, tossing pictures and books over his shoulder to crash on the floor.
Brighid heard the back door open and turned to find her mother and step-father walking into the entry way. Side-stepping Jackson, she hurried through the kitchen.
“We met Caleigh at the end of the road,” her mother said as she hugged her. “She was scared and upset. We saw the bodies out back and the fire untended. Stu put it out with the hose.”
Brighid wrapped her arms tightly around her mother and looked at her step-father over her mother’s shoulder. His face, as usual, was calm. His eyes, however, held a coldness Brighid had never seen before.
“Where are the girls?” Stu asked quietly.
“Upstairs,” Brighid replied.
“Take your mother upstairs,” he said.
“What?”
“Go!” he said. “It’ll be okay.”
Brighid took her mother’s arm and steered her through the kitchen to the dining room and up the stairs. Jackson, intent on destroying the living room in his search for his keys, was oblivious to the arrival of his in-laws.
“Hi, Jackson,” Stu said quietly. “What are you doing?”
Jackson didn’t acknowledge him, but kept tossing books aside, clearing shelf after shelf. Stu reached out and touched Jackson’s arm. Jackson jumped, brushing Stu’s arm away.
“That bitch took my Daddy’s truck,” he finally said. “And I can’t find my goddamned keys!”
Stu moved in closer. At six two, he stood about two inches shorter than Jackson, but he carried about fifty pounds more muscle. Stu laid his hand on Jackson’s shoulder and Jackson moved to face him, taking a swing as he turned.
Stu easily blocked Jackson’s arm with his right hand and then stepped in closer.
“I was seriously hoping you’d do that,” Stu said and punched Jackson between the eyes with a staggering left. Jackson took a step back and Stu followed him, connecting with a right fist to Jackson’s temple. Jackson went down, his head landing inches from the stone hearth behind them. Jackson tried to pull his left leg back to kick and found it pinned by Stu’s boot. As he turned over, Stu noticed red stains on the back of Jackson’s pants. He backed away and Jackson lay curled up on the floor.
Brighid came down the stairs, followed by her mother. Both women stood in the doorway.
"He won’t last long,” Stu said turning to Brighid and Bethany.
“Did you hurt him that badly?” Brighid asked, rushing to her husband.
Stu shook his head. “How long’s he been sick?” he asked.
“He’s not,” Brighid replied. “Jackson, tell him you’re okay.” Jackson covered his face with his hands and sobbed.
“He’s not okay,” Stu said. “From the looks of him, I’d say he’s been sick for a day or two.” The dark circles under Jackson’s eyes were more pronounced as he lay on the floor, his eyes puffy and unfocused. Stu helped him up and then led him out through the kitchen. They could hear Stu talking to him in soothing but firm tones.
“Let Stu take care of him, Brighid. I want to hear about what happened here, with Caleigh and the bodies out back.” Bethany pulled out a kitchen chair and nudged Brighid into it. The blinds were open across the bank of windows behind the kitchen table and Bethany could see Stu walking with Jackson, both men talking animatedly.
“They were burning when Caleigh and I got back.” Brighid leaned over and put her head in her hands. Bethany put a hand on top of her daughter’s head.
“Are you okay, sweetie? Are you feeling okay?”
Brighid looked up at her mother. “How did you get here? The last we heard, they’d closed the borders.” She could tell by her daughter’s eyes that she had no symptoms of the illness. The eyes were the first to show telltale signs, pinkish puffy lower lids, cloudy whites.
“There’s no one left to man the borders, honey. But we’ll talk about that later. For now, we need to talk about you, and Jackson.”
“I didn’t know he was sick, Mama. I didn’t! I guess I haven’t been paying attention to him. But then again, he hasn’t been here much.”
“Caleigh said you thought he was off checking on cattle? There aren’t any cattle, Brighid. What’s he been doing?”
“I don’t really know,” Brighid said wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “He stays away and he doesn’t talk much when he is here. Since his Mama and Daddy passed, and then Parker and Cherry and their baby, he’s been in a pretty bad state. Worse than usual.”
“Did anyone survive?” Bethany glanced out the back window, seeing Stu holding onto Jackson as he heaved.
“No. No one that we know of -- so far.” Brighid stood up and pulled her mother to her. “I can’t believe you made it, Mama. I mean, I knew you’d survive, but I didn’t know how you’d get through the barricades.” Brighid sobbed and held on tight. “I’m so happy to see you,” she said.
“I’m happy to see you too, Brighid.”
“Let me go get the girls,” Brighid said. “They’re so excited to see you and I don’t want to keep them shut away.”
“Let’s check on Jackson first,” Bethany suggested. “We’ll need to keep the girls away from him until he gets through the first stage. The convulsions are pretty harrowing and if the girls are scared now, seeing him go through that will really scare them.”
“Okay,” Brighid agreed. She turned and walked to the foot of the stairs. Finn and Ally were standing at the top, listening. “Stay up there until I come back in. Then you can come down.”
The girls nodded.
***
Caleigh pulled the truck over to the side of the road on a long stretch of straight pavement, the better to see another vehicle coming up fast behind her. She was sure Mama and Stu would be able to calm the situation with Jackson, but since losing his family over the course of the previous weeks, Jackson’s temper had escalated to a dangerous pitch. Caleigh could understand his feelings. She tried to put herself in his shoes, to feel compassion for him and empathy for his loss, but Jackson had become a cruel man over the years, cruel to his wife, his children, and even to his parents. He’d stolen, lied, and manipulated everyone in his family at one point or another. Caleigh had a forgiving heart except when it came to anyone who hurt her sister or her children. Jackson had scared Finn and Ally on countless occasions and had tried to bully his niece and nephews but Jason had quickly put a stop to that.
Now, sitting in the truck with her kids huddled on the front seat beside her, still shaking from the trauma of seeing their uncle dismember and then burn the bodies in the yard, Caleigh wondered how far she would go to protect her family from her sister’s husband. Jackson had long since ceased being her brother-in-law. He was simply the man her sister had married, several steps removed from those few people Caleigh considered family or friend.
Dacey reached out and put her hand on Caleigh’s shoulder. “We should go back now, Mama,” she said quietly. “Aunt Brighid will need us, even with Grandma and Grandpa Stu there.”
“Your Aunt Brighid can take care of herself, Dacey. You know that.” Even as the words left her mouth, Caleigh knew that she would turn the truck around and go back. She just wasn’t ready yet. Her own loss suddenly bore down on her heart with a heaviness that threatened to break her. She had been able to stem the flow of tears, to stand strong for her children, but seeing the bodies in the fire brought back the memories of Jason’s body laid out with so many others for identification, then gathered up like kindling and torched. And she’d forgotten for just a moment earlier, when she and Brighid had encountered the cars on the road, the cars that Jackson and Jason had moved. She’d been angry with Jason in that moment, angry that he hadn’t cleared the path for her, made her job of taking care of the kids alone just a little easier. She had forgotten in the instant that he was gone and would not be coming back.
Time had taken a gigantic leap from that day three weeks earlier when the town bustled with people taking charge to this day, empty, with only the eight of them left, her small band of four and Brighid’s husband and two kids. Caleigh had a feeling that there were other survivors hiding behind closed doors in town, on the outskirts, and in the woods. The end of the devastation had come as quickly as it had begun, the fire of disease burning hot and then dying out almost completely. It had happened in swift waves over the course of five days. The first round took Jackson’s grandparents and his brother’s newborn daughter. Round two, a massive wave, took almost everyone else, entire families including all of Jackson’s relatives, mother, father, step-father, and brother. Round three finished off the survivors of round two, including many who just couldn’t imagine living in a world with such tremendous loss and had exited on their own terms. But Mama and Stu had survived. That made ten! With sudden buoyancy, Caleigh started the truck and made a steep U-turn. Yet she hesitated. She couldn’t pull forward; she couldn’t rush back, not just yet.
Dacey had been watching her mother closely, waiting for her to surface from the thoughts that often overwhelmed her. Caleigh glanced at her daughter. It was the signal Dacey had been waiting for.
“You know Uncle Jackson is sick, don’t you Mama?” Dacey said softly. She could see in her mother’s face that she didn’t know.
Caleigh blinked the tears from her eyes, shifted into park, and turned toward her daughter. The boys had fallen asleep between them, curled against each other like puppies.
“Finn told me. Aunt Brighid didn’t know when you left this morning or I’m sure she would have told you. I kept the boys away from him when he got back. Finn said he’d gone to look for cows. That didn’t seem like a very good idea considering, so we kept the little ones upstairs.”
“Thank you, Sweetie,” Caleigh said. “I should never have left you alone there.”
“But you had to, Mama. I know that and so does Finn. We’re not babies any more. We know what’s happening. You and Aunt Brighid have to take care of us, and you’re doing the best you can. We could never have counted on Uncle Jackson, we know that.”
Caleigh didn’t know what to say. She reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “We’re together, Dacey, and we’re going to take care of each other.”
Movement in the woods caught Caleigh’s eye, a crouching shadow moving just behind the tree line.
“Roll up your window, Dacey,” she said quietly. Another shadow moved behind the first, and then a third. Caleigh put the truck in drive as the first shadow stepped onto the grassy embankment beside the road. Covered in dirt and blood, the shadowy shape lurched toward the truck. Caleigh stomped on the gas and peeled out onto the road as the other two shadows loped along behind the first. Dacey turned her head to follow her mother’s gaze.
“Don’t look,” Caleigh said quietly but with a fierceness that bristled the hair on Dacey’s arms.
“They’re definitely not creepers,” she said under her breath and stomped on the gas pedal, speeding toward home.