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CHAPTER TWO


“Please . . . we need help. We’re trapped in here! I can’t believe it . . . Zombies? Real-life zombies? Help! Help us, please! They’re everywhere!”

From: Collected Radio Transmissions of the Fall,

University of the South Press, 2053



After nightly Devotionals and the younger girls went to bed, the student council met in the bunker storeroom beneath the cafeteria. Counting Sister Ann, there were eight of us in total. We each had a separate job on the council, and we were pretty much the ruling body at the school. Well, Sister Ann was really in charge, but the council was an idea she had early on to help make decisions should anything happen to her, when we were first setting up our headquarters beneath the cafeteria.

There were two dozen concrete rooms leading off the storeroom that we’d turned into bunk rooms. The student council got their own rooms—thank God—and the others seemed more than happy to share. The storeroom was the best place for our meetings, since there were no outside windows. The entire underground bunker had been built this way, thanks to the aforementioned paranoid school director. It might not survive a direct hit from a nuke, but a zombie apocalypse? It made for a pretty good fortress.

See? I paid attention during history class.

Sort of.

Other buildings around campus had bunkers as well, but none were as expansive or well-made as the one beneath the cafeteria. We could burn all the candles and lanterns we wanted and nobody from the outside would see. Plus, the back loading dock had been secured with a two-ton lift, effectively blocking the only unsecured way into the building. The lift also blocked the outside entrance to the apartments on the second floor, where the some of the campus staff had once lived. Other than clearing one of them for shamblers back when we first set up in the cafeteria, though, none of us tried to live in them.

Sister Ann said it was too soon. The other girls didn’t understand, but I did.

I think.

“Let’s get tonight’s meeting in order,” Sister Ann said as Lucia Archuleta, my newest best friend and partner in grand theft auto, brought the shortwave radio into the room. It was mounted on a wheeled serving tray, an older one we’d found during our clearance of one of the bunker rooms, and it was more than sturdy enough to support the radio. Granted, it wasn’t that big, but rolling it out had become a pre-meeting ceremony. A tradition, almost. Sister Ann was big on traditions. Routines were good for us, psychologically. At least, that’s what Sister Ann said. “Lucia? On Monday you mentioned you needed to do a battery inventory. How are we?”

“Solid for another twelve months at least,” Lucia reported as she pushed the cart carrying the radio until it was against the large dining room table. She clicked the wheel locks on so the cart wouldn’t roll away. “Since we’ve cut back on listening to just twice a week, they might last longer. I was reading—”

“Liar,” one of the other girls muttered. I was pretty sure it was Rohena, but it was hard to say.

“Please.” Sister Ann calmly folded her hands on the table and looked down toward the other end. Rohena coughed and turned her face away, clearly embarrassed. The nun smiled sweetly. “Continue, Lucia.”

“Yeah, anyways, I was reading about solar power and all that, and it said in one of those old instruction manuals these radios can run off solar.” Lucia stopped and looked over at our resident engineer. Well, the one girl alive on campus who actually understood the basics of any mechanical crap. “Emily? If we find more solar panels—the small ones, I mean—can you hook it up so it’s like, I don’t know, permanent?”

Emily Mottesheard was a freaking genius, and one of the most reliable girls on the student council. I still don’t know how or why her parents had sent her to St. Dominic’s. The girl should have been at MIT or some place for smart kids, not stuck at a Catholic girls’ reform school. She must have pulled some crazy stuff back home to get sent here.

“Well, uh, we could do that, yeah,” Emily began, her tone low and slow as she thought it over. “The problem isn’t wiring or anything. That’s easy. We rigged the well pump up that way.”

You rigged it,” I pointed out. “We just watched with a wooden broom on standby in case you electrocuted yourself.”

“The problem is storage capacity,” she continued, her tone a little more confident now. She only needed a gentle nudge sometimes. Like I said, she was reliable. “Car batteries might work, but I don’t know how safe it would be to daisy-chain a bunch together to store the electricity the solar panels generate during the day. I mean, I could experiment, but if I fu—uh, screw it up, those batteries would be wasted.”

“It’s not as though we’re driving anywhere, Em,” Sister Ann reminded her.

“I really wish we still had the horses,” Kayla Washington complained. She’d been at the school since the fourth grade and was well-acquainted with the animals. She also was our resident gardener, since she’d been working with the farm manager before the Fall on a part-time basis. Kayla knew more about farming and crops than the rest of us combined—and that included the two elementary school girls who were working with her. Coincidentally, she was the only girl whose hair was frizzier than mine. She had hers braided in tight cornrows. I wanted to copy her look, but since I was whiter than rice in snow and she was not, it would have looked weird on me. Kayla continued, “Yeah, they’re expensive pets, but they’re handy for something like this.”

“Think any of the farms in the area have some?” I asked, curious. We’d been branching out and searching for supplies we could use at the school, but hadn’t strayed more than a mile or two from campus. Lucia and I were the only two who went solo anywhere. Every other time we went on an expedition we had a group of at least four. It was safer in a group, usually. More eyes to watch out for shamblers.

“Maybe. But I’m not about to go farther up the road looking for any,” Kayla replied. “Even the Moose Lodge is farther than I want to go.”

“I could scout it,” I offered. Kayla shrugged but didn’t reply. I made a mental note to go a little farther out the next time I was headed north.

“So we’ll put down the daisy-chain battery experiment as a ‘maybe,’” Sister Ann said, guiding us back on task. She was good like that. “Lucia, start coming up with a plan to repurpose any car batteries we might have lying around campus.”

“Lots of cars,” Lucia agreed with a nod. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll need some help gathering them up, and someplace to store them. If they leak, that’s bad news. So it’ll need to be someplace we don’t go much.”

I nodded. “Back storage area on the main level. By the lift? Out of the way and the flooring is that nonslip rubber stuff. Uhh . . . insulation, you said?”

“See? You do pay attention,” Emily said, chuckling. “That sounds good. Unless the battery casing itself fails, it should be fine to run our little experiment.”

“Excellent.” Sister Ann nodded. “Kayla? Did we have any late bloomers in the garden?”

“No, sorry,” Kayla answered as she shook her head. “I thought the string beans would do well but there’s some sort of bug on them. Not like the corn, though. Ugh. Those weevils were in everything. I washed a few of the string beans off but there was nothing inside the pods. I think the bugs ate the beans from the inside.”

“Not good, but not horrible,” Sister Ann acknowledged. “We still have potatoes.”

“Lots of potatoes.” Kayla smiled at that. “We’re not going to starve anytime soon, though we’re going to get sick of potatoes eventually. We’ve got enough dried and old canned stuff to last us through the winter and well into next summer. Now that we figured out how to can vegetables, it might even last longer.”

“Fantastic news. Maddie? Security situation.”

“Well . . .” I paused, thinking it over before continuing. “I got to see a bear kill a shambler today. That was kind of cool.”

“What?” Lucia stared at me in horror. The other girls looked just as shocked. I smiled and nodded.

“Oh yeah. It was pretty interesting, actually. Never seen a bear get angry like that. Usually they run away when we yell at them—the bears, I mean, not the shamblers. Oh, can bears turn into zombies? That would be bad, right?”

“Uh . . .”

“Probably not,” Emily said, shrugging her delicate shoulders. Her eyes drifted over to Rohena before looking back at me. She smirked. “I think there was something on the radio about higher primates and the blood. I forget. But around here they’re just oversized trash pandas. The bears, of course.”

“Cute but dangerous, big chonky bois,” I added, grinning. Emily knew what I was doing and was totally game. The girl was awesome. “The bears, I mean.”

“Did he live? The bear, naturally.”

“He got the better of it. It was bear-ly a fight at all. For the bear.”

“Do you have to clarify whether you’re talking about bears or shamblers every single time?” Rohena asked. She was clearly annoyed and glowered at the two of us. “Pretty sure we can figure it out.”

“Well, since it bugs you, yeah, I kinda do,” I replied and gave Rohena my sweetest smile. “I mean, is it unbearable yet?”

“Bitch.”

“Language.” Sister Ann interrupted, her voice snapping like a whip. All arguments ceased and we looked at her. Despite her tone, she didn’t look displeased. Merely . . . disappointed. Shame made me blush, which, considering how pale I am, made my ears and neck turn red.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Rohena and I said simultaneously.

“Sorry for what?” she asked. Oh man, I thought. She never lets me off easy.

“I’m sorry for instigating Rohena,” I replied. I tried to sound like I wasn’t lying, but I’m pretty sure she knew I wasn’t sorry at all.

“I’m sorry for picking on Rohena as well, Sister,” Emily said. She actually sounded contrite, where I knew I sounded more grudging than anything.

“I’m sorry for swearing,” Rohena added. She was sincere, but everyone around the table knew she’d pop off again at the drop of a hat, so it really didn’t matter. Swearing was second nature to her. She was the main reason we picked up sign language in the first place—to swear at one another without getting into trouble.

It also helped when we wanted to communicate while outside and we didn’t want to announce our presence in a world dominated by shamblers.

Sister Ann harrumphed. “Five Hail Marys each tonight before you go to bed. Since you three appear to be getting on each other’s nerves—again, I’ll add—you’ll all also be performing a service of my choosing over the coming weeks. Rohena, you can help Emily with the battery experiment. Hopefully the energy expended carrying the batteries will remind you to watch your tongue. Emily, in your copious amount of free time, you will assist Kayla in the garden. Weeding is soothing for the soul and eases pettiness, as well as encourages you to take your time in doing any job correctly.”

“And me, ma’am?” I asked, a little fearful. She normally didn’t add on extra consequences like this.

“I want to speak with you privately after the meeting adjourns tonight.”

“Oh, snap. You’re dead, girl,” Kayla stage-whispered. The other girls tittered, and even Sister Ann smiled. It was brief, but there. I inwardly sighed in relief. Whatever my consequences were going to be, they were designed more to teach than to punish. At least, that’s what Sister Ann always told us.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, nodding. There really wasn’t anything more I could say. Sister Ann turned her attention elsewhere and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The twins, Finlay and Fiona, had nothing new to offer. Lessons were going fine, blah blah blah. They were part of the education track, helping Sister Ann teach the elementary and middle schoolers during the day in between chores. Stupidly smart girls, though they were only eleven. They were going to give Emily a run for her money as the smartest chick around one day. For now, though, they read everything we could find and learned how to lesson plan, then assisted Sister Ann with classroom lessons. And they remembered every single thing.

Rumor had it that the reason they were at the school was because they were suspected of being a little too fond of starting fires by the police in their hometown. No charges had been pressed, but their parents had sent their possible firebug twins as far away from home as they could. I wasn’t about to hold it against them, though. We all had our little quirks. Plus, it’d inadvertently kept the twins alive when the world ended.

Once the meeting was adjourned, we turned on the shortwave and listened to the continuing adventures of Wolf Squadron.

It was another part of the routine—five o’clock, every Monday and Thursday. Initially, I’d been confused by the broadcast, but as more time went on, for us their weekly exploits turned into an ongoing soap opera drama. It was hard, though. Most of the time it was about the ships they’d come across, the amount of dead they found on board, and if there were any survivors (which was rare) or infected still alive on the vessel who had to be cleared.

Grim stuff, but better than nothing.

After an hour, we shut it down. There’d been absolutely nothing on the shortwave from any form of government since four months before. Early on, there had been the occasional transmission from someone claiming to be in a secure location, but after a few broadcasts they typically went off the air. I was actually kind of happy they stopped. Secretly, I was worried someone would be broadcasting when the shamblers broke in and ate them. The younger girls would never recover from that.

Sister Ann knew this risk as well as I did. She had to. If she was concerned, though, she did a good job of hiding it. Instead of focusing on the negative, she constantly talked up the positives. The easiest one was that people were still alive. In spite of millions and millions of shamblers in the world, there were human beings still there, fighting. This helped give the younger girls some hope that one day, maybe, things would go back to normal.

All it offered me was depression.

The girls were clearing out for bed. We had enough old storage rooms in the bunker so everyone could have their own area, but most of them chose to room up with two or three others. I couldn’t blame them. They still had nightmares. Rooming together lessened the nightmares.

I roomed alone. I don’t dream. Not anymore, at least.

“Madison.” Sister Ann’s voice stopped me before I could head to my room. Exhaling slowly, I turned around. I had hoped she’d forgotten about me after the dismal broadcast, though I really should have known better. Sister Ann never forgot anything.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“How are you coping?”

Well, that was unexpected. “Uh . . . fine?”

“I speak fluent teenager, Maddie. How bad is it?”

“I’m okay, Sister. Honest.”

She frowned but didn’t challenge me on it. The truth of the matter was, I didn’t know precisely how I was doing. I wasn’t sitting in a corner quietly like some of the younger girls, but I also didn’t associate much with the older ones. Lucia was probably the only girl I went out of my way to talk to, and that was because she was the one who gave me items to look for whenever I went out. So I really didn’t have a really good feel for my state of mind.

“I know it’s tough for you. You’ve shouldered the responsibilities of everyone’s safety, and there’s no way to properly express how grateful the other girls are.”

“They have a weird way of showing it,” I muttered. The younger girls were terrified of me. The older ones shunned me about as much as I shunned them. Well, Emily was okay, but the others? One of the middle schoolers had called me crazy last week. Unhinged, maybe. Crazy? I was a long way from that, I thought.

I hoped.

“They are still afraid, Maddie,” Sister Ann said, lowering her voice and moving closer. Though she hardly ever wore her habit these days, even in a hoodie and jeans she remained imposing. I squirmed under her intense gaze. “They’re not afraid of you, though. Constant, unending fear does things to the mind. Some are coping better than others. Seeing you go out, then returning and talking about how many shamblers you’ve seen? It terrifies them still. They look at you and wonder how you can do it. They transfer their own fears onto you. They’re processing. Give them time.”

“Time is a luxury we don’t have anymore, ma’am,” I reminded her. “I don’t know how cold it’s going to get this winter. Those woolly worm things you told me to look for? Lots of black, some red. That means bad, right?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It was from a single research survey that nobody could replicate, but . . . maybe. But that’s not where I’m going with this. We need to start thinking like those people clearing the boats at sea. Throughout history, the Church has been a light and beacon in the dark of the night. I want to start looking at ways to secure the area around campus. We’ve got our natural barriers, but what about elsewhere? What about those farther up the road? Are there any survivors?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I hadn’t gone that far from campus yet. The desire to see random bodies of people who died in their homes was not high on my list of interesting things to do. “We’re surviving here. We’re safe. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not just about our survival, Maddie,” Sister Ann said as she gently brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face. I looked away, embarrassed. She always managed to say the right thing whenever I was uncertain. “It’s about thriving. Building. If we exist simply to survive, then we are not doing what we were put on this earth to do.”

“So why am I here?” I asked, feeling a little belligerent. Once again, Sister Ann seemed to know precisely why I wanted us to stay hidden up here on the mountain. Meek, silent, unseen. Which meant no shamblers running around, and no outside threats like we heard about on the radio. She had me dead to rights, but I wasn’t going to back down easily.

“You are here as a role model to the others, to show them that they do not need to be afraid of the monsters in the dark,” Sister Ann said in a firm voice. She gave Baby a pointed look. “One way or the other, the girls know you’re going to protect them. They might be a little afraid, and sometimes they don’t show it or tell you how much they appreciate you, but at the end of the day you do not give them nightmares. You offer them hope.”

Damn it. I was afraid of that.

“I don’t want that responsibility.”

“Whether you want it or not, Madison, you’ve taken on the role. You’re a natural leader, and—”

“I’m not a leader,” I interrupted her, shaking my head. “I don’t like most of the girls. They don’t like me. I don’t want to be in charge. Why would I be in charge of people who don’t like me?”

Sister Ann gave a soft chuckle. “That’s called politics, Maddie. Every leader has opponents.”

Oof. She had me there. “Okay, yeah, maybe. But still—”

“I want you to teach one of the younger girls how to shoot the shamblers.” Sister Ann cut me off this time, her tone quiet and thoughtful. I stared at her, confused. Most of the young girls were really messed up still from the day I’d had to kill Becca in front of them. They wouldn’t even come near me, for the most part. “Your penance for instigating the others. I watched how you guided Emily and encouraged her. Which, I will add, is something you all should be past by now. You need one another, even if it’s difficult or tempting to make them miserable. We need a backup for you out in the field. My vows make the . . . handling of the shamblers problematic. But you need help. You can’t do it alone, no matter how much you probably want to.”

“Uh . . .” Did I want to be alone? I wasn’t sure. The next question I had to ask myself was a simple one: did I enjoy killing the shamblers? If I was being honest? A little bit, yeah. No, that’s a lie. More than a little. In my mind they stopped being humans the moment they turned. They wanted to eat me. In turn, I tried really hard not to let them.

Before I’d arrived at St. Dominic’s, I had been a bit of a wild child. A lot of it was simply me rebelling against parents who never told me “no” when I was a kid. When they finally did start trying to punish me for things, I flipped out and ran away. A lot. During one of those times, I’d met a guy who was like me—I thought, at least. I opened up to him, trusted him.

That . . . would be best described as a mistake. Politely put, things went downhill from there.

Sometimes when I shoot shamblers I imagine his face. Makes me want to aim for their heads and wipe that smug look off of them. Shooting them was a lot easier when I stopped considering them humans and then gave them his face. Sister Ann would have chastised me for doing it. I didn’t care. Call it therapeutic, whatever. Killing shamblers was just something I did now, with almost zero hesitation—unless a chonky bear comes along and does it for me. But I’d always assumed I’d be hunting and shooting shamblers alone, forever. Or until one of them got me before I could get them.

One good thing about the Fall? It was much easier to spot the monsters now.

Sister Ann continued, unaware of the dark memories rumbling around in my head. “I was thinking about which girl would be a good fit. It took some doing, but I think I found the right one. What are your thoughts on Ulla?”

“Ulla?” I stared at her. It felt like my brain had locked up as I tried to process her words. “Really? Ulla?”

“Yes. The other girls are having extra chores for their behavior. This is more of a teaching experience than anything else, Maddie.” Sister Ann gave me a slight smile. “Ulla needs someone she can trust and bond with. You need someone willing to listen and who won’t argue with you. I want you to start slowly and teach her how to shoot, how to move. Things you’ve picked up since the Fall. I’ll work with both of you on precision shooting.”

“Nuns with guns,” I chuckled. Sister Ann might be unable and unwilling to shoot the shamblers, but she knew everything there was to know about the actual act. Apparently once you were a marine, you were always a marine. Or something, I don’t know.

“So it’s settled. You’ll teach Ulla how to shoot, and this will perhaps teach you to not antagonize your peers.”

“Fine,” I agreed in a quiet tone. “I’ll teach her. If she doesn’t listen or starts to argue—” I stopped and chided my whining inner voice. Ulla hadn’t spoken since her sister had her throat torn out by a shambler minutes before we’d made it to the safety of the cafeteria. The only thing the little girl could do these days was listen.

And, I had to admit, she was probably the one girl I would have picked to teach if it’d been left up to me. Shambler disposal was my job, but only because the other girls’ reluctance had made it that way. The younger girl probably had a bone to pick with shamblers, once she got over her fear of them, and was a pretty good listener when given instructions. Which wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t like the girl was going to argue back when given a command. The young middle schooler was also fluent in sign language. Ulla . . . might be a good choice after all.

I snorted, amused. Of course Sister Ann was right. She always was. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Maddie.”

“Sure.”

“Madison?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I mean, ‘You’re welcome.’”

She smiled. Every moment was a potential teaching one in her eyes. “Good night, Maddie.”


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