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“Go ahead, then. I can take anything you want to give me.”
21
WILLIAM
Spending the morning digging through piles of clutter has finally proven to not be a waste of time when my fingers close around a bottle of vegetable oil. I set it inside of my bag along with the sugar, baking powder, and salt I’d acquired. Now all I need is to find a waffle iron and figure out how to get fresh eggs, and I’ll be able to make Emily her waffles.
I can’t believe it took me this long to even think about searching the town for these things. Max had checked the drugstore and brought out the canned goods that we’ve been eating the past few days, but I didn’t even think about what else might be in here until now. Things he didn’t think to grab.
We need to keep an eye out for chickens. I know we won’t be in this town for much longer, with Griffin getting better every day and Emily still having a mission we’re all going to help her complete, but maybe, just maybe, we could do something with this town. If we could find chickens and keep them here, then we could have fresh eggs to make waffles every single morning.
As long as Emily comes back to us.
I think about yesterday when she climbed up onto the roof to sit next to me while I played. It was the first time since the dead rose that I put my lips to the harmonica and made music. The most surprising of all is how much Emily liked it. She even wants me to teach her how to play it someday, and now I haven’t been able to stop thinking about which song I’m going to teach her first. And if I can find another harmonica, we could play together. The thought makes my stomach flip.
Maybe someday I’ll be able to teach her how to play a guitar, too, if we ever find one. A world of music could be ours again.
I close up my bag with my findings and try to think about where to hide them. Probably in the bar next to the general store. No one has gone in there since the incident.
On my way back toward the front of the town that we’ve made into our home base, I stop in at the bakery. The most foul stench reaches my nose when I open the door and I almost double over.
All the food inside has gone bad. This building will take some extra care if we ever wanted to clean it out and use it for something. There’s a diner farther down the road that might have a waffle iron, but that place will have the same issue with spoiled food.
Well, someone has to do it.
Setting down my bag of finds outside the door, I take a deep breath of fresh air before venturing inside. I move as quickly as I can, gathering all the spoiled food together that I can fit into the first trash can I find and then rush out the door again, gasping for air.
Most of this can be dumped into the fires for fuel, so I set off toward the fires back behind the general store first. I stop and listen when I hear Emily’s laugh. She’s playing with Buddy. Finding that dog has been good for her. I wonder if there’s a pet shop in this town. We’ll have to explore it before we leave.
I unload the food into the fires as quickly as I can before the stench can reach anyone else, and notice that the fires back here as low on wood, so I add some more and then head into the trees to refill the piles. With how many fires we have going around here, we go through wood pretty quick.
When my arms are full of as many sticks as I can carry, I turn around to head back when my foot steps on a soft piece of ground and I go down.
The landing hurts, except for part of it that was cushioned by a soft body. I scramble to my feet and look around. The sun barely reaches down here, but I can make out the stirring forms of a few rotters that I seem to have woken up. They reach their hands out and gnash their teeth at me. Flesh falls from their bones when they move. I raise my hand to stab the one closest one to me when I realize I must’ve dropped my knife. I glance up and see how high it is. It’ll be quite the climb. I shut my eyes for a moment to gather my senses and then pull out the gun on my hip and end the three rotters with one bullet each, thankful I still carry the one we took from the dregs in the pub.
My breaths quicken, but I force my mind not to venture back to the day when the dead rose. Instead, I look up again and study the dirt walls surrounding me. The hole I’ve fallen into is maybe five feet wide and several feet deep. Really deep. Way deeper than my height. The top looks so far away from down here and the longer I stare at it, the farther away it seems to get.
Dizziness. I press a hand against the dirt wall to steady myself. The rotting stench invades my nose. I can’t stay here.
Taking a deep breath, I grab onto anything and everything I can and climb. My hands and feet slip. I try again.
The dirt crumbles beneath my touch.
The top of the hole seems to get farther and farther away, even when I should be getting closer.
My breathing intensifies.
I swallow hard, wishing I had brought some water. When did it get so hot?
My breaths come out ragged as I hyperventilate.
Images flash across my mind. The underground bunker with the broken ladder. The radio warnings while losing signal. My friends. Their screams and cries as they became infected, and then their gurgles when I ended them before they could infect me. The stench of their rotting bodies. The thought that it might be the end for me, too. The overwhelming darkness that I couldn’t climb out of for over two-hundred days.
Something falls to the dirt in front of me, but I can’t see anything other than the still forms of my friends begging me to help them.
Warm, soft hands press against my cheeks, a voice that sounds muffled and far away.
The vague scent of strawberries cutting through the stench of rot.
