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CHAPTER NINE


Every time we go outside, they’re around. Zombies. Everywhere. Shoot one, two more appear. It’s better to hide. Always better. Safer. Safety is better than aggression. They don’t hunt you if you stay quiet and hide.

From: Collected Radio Transmissions of the Fall,

University of the South Press, 2053



The next morning, I was up just after dawn. Sister Ann and a few of the younger girls were preparing breakfast. It wasn’t much—grilled potatoes and some Spam—but I’d grown to like it over the past few months. I wolfed mine down quickly before heading out. Temple’s farm, and his neighbor’s, sounded like they were still well-stocked and I wanted to get out there and check them out.

Normally I would have brought Lucia with, but since I wasn’t planning on grabbing anything just yet, I figured I would make it a solo trip. Plus, after how much Lucia had been doing around campus lately, a five-mile hike would wipe her out. If I found anything worthwhile, I’d bring her back with the four-wheeler and load up on stocks. Temple had already told us he didn’t have much left at his farm. The shamblers had done a number on his pantry and kitchen. All that was left was what he’d already stored down in his basement.

His neighbor’s farm, the Boyds’, on the other hand, had remained abandoned the entire time. The old lady who’d lived there had died of the flu in the hospital and Temple had locked it up in anticipation of her son coming in to go through everything after the funeral. Except . . . the world had ended, there’d been no funeral, and nobody had come to the farm since.

Temple, in a moment of brilliant foresight, had latched the storm shutters over the first-floor windows before the Fall had truly kicked off.

He hadn’t been too interested in what was inside, though he did remember from the few times he’d gone over to check on her before she’d gotten sick that she had a massive canning addiction. Apparently the woman had canned everything from whole chickens to bread—and was good at it to boot, and had been doing it for longer than most of us have been alive.

The possibility of canning supplies alone would have made the trip worth it. Kayla was pumped about the prospect of having a magnetic lid lifter. Whatever that was.

The morning was cold. Last night, while out on the rooftop with Emily, it hadn’t been too bad. Apparently I’d angered nature by commenting it’d been too nice out for this time of the year. Whatever cold that had been lacking previously was in full effect today. There was frost everywhere and every step made a soft crunching sound. On pavement it was going to be slick, which meant I’d have to be extra careful when crossing the tracks behind campus on my way out.

Testing out the new GPS device Emily had gifted me, it was pretty easy to locate Temple’s farm. There weren’t many houses up the road that way. I plugged the location into the map and then set the distance. On a straight path it was two miles. Since I wasn’t stupid enough to stay on the road, though, it was probably going to be closer to four. This was going to be an all-day trip. Sighing, I pocketed the electronic and headed out.

Carefully navigating the path down, I noticed the morning was eerily quiet. Curious, I paused and waited. Usually I’d hear something out in the forest, even if it was only a few birds. This morning? Nothing.

That usually meant a shambler. Not always, though. Swallowing, I decided not to risk it. Slowly bringing Baby up into what Sister Ann called the low ready position, I began to scan my surroundings. Each part of the forest was quickly divvied up into quadrants as I searched for threats. I didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any shamblers around. The beta that had been hanging around down by the creek might have crept closer to campus.

Movement. Left, in the underbrush by the tracks. There was a cluster of trees right there. Turning, I started to back slowly up the way I’d come before stopping. I could see something behind one of the trees. The odds of it being an aggressive shambler were almost zero, but I hadn’t survived this long being stupid. As cold as it was, if it was a shambler it could be nearly dead.

If it was the beta, though, this was the perfect time to take care of it.

Instead of hurrying back up the path to grab Ulla so we could hunt some shamblers, I moved sideways and slipped behind a large bush. The odds of it being here by the time I returned with her were slim and I didn’t want to waste more time. Plus, I was tired of this thing lurking around. With the bush between me and the shambler, I was able to move quicker. The challenge was avoiding all the sticks and leaves on the ground as I moved. While doing this, I kept a close eye on where I’d seen the shambler at. The damn thing wasn’t getting away this time.

There! A flash of tan to my left. Pivoting, I kept Baby up and ready. Considering how sneaky this little beta seemed to be, I didn’t want to waste a shot and run the risk of others in the area coming to investigate.

My breath came out in short little puffs of steam. It felt as if the air temperature around me was dropping. Feeling dampness on the back of my neck, I realized I’d started to sweat. I mentally cursed. The last thing I needed was to be covered with sweat in below-freezing temperatures. Taking another cautious step to the right, I tried to get a better angle on the shambler. The damn thing continued to keep the tree between us, though.

Silently swearing, I moved behind a smaller tree closer to where the shambler was hiding.

The cold stung my eyes. My fingers began to ache from being in the same position for so long. Carefully flexing my left hand, I tried to get the blood circulating again. It was painful. I hadn’t realized just how tight I was holding the grip.

The beta was still behind the tree. Something was odd, though. My instincts were screaming at me that this was different, but I didn’t know what just yet. My eyes kept flickering around the forest, looking for any signs of additional threats. There were none that I could see or hear. While it was a little comforting, Sister Ann’s lessons echoed in the back of my mind: Stay focused, and stay aware. Trust my instincts. Keep my booger hook off the bang switch.

Freaking Marine nun . . . 

I was on its blind side now. The shot was still obscured, however, so I moved farther right and closer. Somehow the damned thing kept the tree between it and me, like it knew I was trying to sneak up on it for a better shot. Shamblers weren’t normally this smart.

“Gotcha,” I muttered.

The shambler screamed in fright, then tried to run away. It slipped on the icy ground and fell, tumbling through branches and leaves as it rolled down the hillside. Leaping around the tree, I took off in pursuit. It fell fast. I struggled to keep up. It finally came to a halt abruptly—by slamming into a downed tree. It let out a low groan and raised its hands in the air. I moved in closer, preparing to take the shot.

“Please . . . please don’t shoot me!”

I stopped just before pulling the trigger. Squinting, I watched as a very sane-looking face looked up at me between the branches. What I’d thought was the beta shambler was something else entirely.

It was a boy.

The guy being clothed should have been my first clue that he wasn’t a shambler. In my defense, the tan jacket and old, dirty khakis played tricks on my eyes. It being freezing cold didn’t help my awareness, either. Plus, I was tired. I’d stayed up too late with Emily watching the stars.

He looked about my age, probably. It was hard to tell. He was skinny and dirty, as if he’d been on his own for a long time and hadn’t been able to find a lot to eat, but enough to stay alive. A lot of the girls at school had that same look. The Fall, it seemed, had become the world’s greatest—and by greatest, I mean worst—diet plan. Not that I’d needed it in the first place. My hardest problem was keeping weight on so the other girls would quit calling me anorexic.

“Uh . . . hi?” he said in a meek voice, holding his hands up in surrender. He was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. His eyes kept flickering back and forth between the AR-15 and my face. Keeping Baby pointed just off to the side, I just stared at him for a few moments before finding my voice.

“What are you doing up here?” I finally asked. It was a stupid question, sure. But I hadn’t expected to find, well, a real person running around up here.

“Hiding from the zombies,” he answered. “Please don’t shoot me.”

“Hiding from shamblers up here?” That seemed even stupider than my question. But then, lots of things had become stupid since the world ended. This was just another checkmark on the dumb-ideas list. “Why up here? How long have you been watching?”

“I saw lots of girls with guns running around,” he replied after a moment. “Y’all were killing zombies left and right. I didn’t want to get shot, so I stayed away from the campus. Lots of little cabins around here. Hunting cabins, you know? Some were trashed, but there’s a ranger station not too far away that seemed safe. Been hitting some building near the river not far from here for food. It had a stove but then y’all took it.”

So that’s where all the canned food from the Moose Lodge went. One mystery was now solved, at least. I don’t know about killing shamblers left and right, though. We hadn’t shot one in days. “And?”

“And what?”

“And why are you out here? Hiding out? We’ve got survivors living with us.” Kind of true, thanks to the arrival of Temple and the girls. I wasn’t going to give this guy exact numbers, though. I had no idea who he was and didn’t want to encourage him. I knew some of the local townies from before the Fall but he wasn’t one of them. “You could’ve come down the main road and, I don’t know, asked for help. Like any reasonable person would. Where you from?”

“Grew up in Lexington. Moved to Callaghan three years ago after my dad left us.”

I kept my face calm, but my guts churned. Callaghan was farther west from Covington, and one of the last towns before West Virginia. Callaghan was also at Mile Marker 10, off the back road that led straight to campus—and the one way we didn’t want King Dale coming from. Since the boy had been lurking on the mountain, he also probably knew about the secret path along the railroad tracks by now. He’d admitted that he’d been watching us, but hadn’t said for how long. The idea of someone spying on us from up here made me shiver unexpectedly. It was suspicious as hell.

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m up here,” he begged. “Please? My mom turned into a zombie and . . . I had to . . . she . . . after, I ran. Can’t go back. I’ll go to jail. They’ll put me in the chair or something.” The last few words came out in a whisper.

Suddenly, his not showing up at the front entrance of the school made a lot of sense. His instincts had been to come down, but what he’d done stopped him. He’d had to kill his own mom after she turned, and then live with the guilt forever after. I understood completely, but I’d come to terms with shooting shamblers. As Sister Ann had put it, I’d made the mental disconnect between people and the shamblers. They weren’t human anymore. Junior here hadn’t managed to do that just yet. Depending on how long it’d been since he’d had to kill her, he might never.

“Look . . . you really should come over to the school and join us. No one’s going to judge you. Besides, it’s safer there.”

“Can’t.” His voice was hoarse. He looked away and shook his head. “No. I can’t.”

“Okayyy.” I let the word drag out slowly as I tried to think. “You said you found the ranger station here on the mountain?” He looked back up at me before nodding. He looked rather pathetic down there on the ground, and I felt sorry for him. “We’ll work it out. You can stay there. How are you looking for food?”

“I’ve got some cans of those mini hotdogs left.”

“Some?”

“I don’t know. Three, four?”

The kid was going to starve if I left him to his own devices. But since he didn’t want to come back to the school, it was going to be hard to keep him alive. He had to want to live. That was one of Sister Ann’s points early on: give us something to work toward besides just surviving.

Plus, he was unarmed. If a shambler found him—or worse, one of King Dale’s men—he wouldn’t last long even with food. Starving, he wouldn’t have the energy to run far. Only weapon I had besides Baby was a small pocket knife, so I wasn’t about to give him either. Besides, Sister Ann would kill me if I gave a complete stranger a weapon, no matter how innocent they seemed.

“Come on, get up.” I helped him to his feet. He brushed a few icy leaves from his pants and jacket. He wasn’t even wearing any gloves, the idiot. “Look . . . just stay hidden for now. We’ll . . . I don’t know, we’ll figure it out.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

“Sister Ann is going to have some ideas—”

“No!” he interrupted me, clearly terrified. “Please, no. Don’t tell anyone, please?”

“Okay, fine! Sheesh.” I paused and looked around. The coast was clear. No sign of a shambler anywhere. Or anyone else, for that matter. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

“Uh, yeah. Colton. Colton Raher.”

“Nice to meet you, Colton. I’m Maddie.” He nodded but didn’t say anything more. After a few moments of awkward silence, I continued. “Look, I want to help you, but you can’t stay up here forever. The shamblers are going to find you eventually.” Or King Dale, I didn’t say. If he didn’t know about the wannabe ruler already, then I saw no reason to accidentally steer him that way and give the tinpot ruler a new potential ally who knew his way around the mountain. I pointed at his jacket. “That’s looking kinda thin. You got anything else warmer?”

“No.”

How the guy survived this long was beyond me.

“So you said you’ve been staying at the ranger station?”

“Once or twice,” he said through chattering teeth. “It really gets dark up here at night.”

“Yeah. That’s a feature, not a bug.”

“Is it always like this?”

“When it’s cloudy, it’s almost pitch black,” I told him. He looked a little pale at that. Or it could have been the cold. He was shivering, which was a good sign. Hypothermia victims stopped shivering in the cold. Speaking of . . . “Look, you need to get out of the cold. Since you won’t come up to campus, let’s get you someplace warm. Ranger station?”

“Uh . . . okay?”

He wasn’t thinking clearly, which was a potentially bad sign. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You know where it’s at?” he asked.

“Duh. I’ve lived here for three years almost. I know this mountain better than anyone else.” Except for Mr. Stitmer, bless his soul, I didn’t add.

The way to the ranger station, in a straight line, was a little under a mile. However, we were in the mountains, so nothing was in a straight line. Also, it was on the far side of the campus, below and to the south. If I wanted to avoid prying eyes, we’d have to go the long way around—which meant crossing Dunlap Creek down toward the ruined paper mill. Not my favorite way to go but if I didn’t want to be seen by whoever was on watch—or, more importantly, answer some awkward questions later—then it was the best way.

Looking across the mountainside, I wondered for a moment just why Colton was over here. It wasn’t as if this was an easy route to take. There were other paths around the ranger station that were easier to navigate. The only plausible idea I could come up with was that he had been heading toward the Moose Lodge when I’d stumbled on him and started the chase. Since I am the opposite of shy and subtle, I asked directly.

“What were you doing over on this side of campus anyway? If you were creeping on us, I’ll shoot you in the kneecap.”

“What? No!” he protested. “I was, uh, heading to look at some of those houses by that lodge place. The elk? I think. I was hoping they’d have food or something.”

As I’d suspected. “Okay, good. You were on the right path. Good thing you didn’t try to cross the tracks. With the ice and how much you’re shivering, you’d probably fall into the creek and freeze to death.”

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” he asked me. “It’s really cold out.”

“I was on my way to scout out some locations when I thought I saw a shambler running around,” I replied, jerking my chin in his direction. He chuckled softly.

“Oh.”

“C’mon,” I said, motioning for him to follow. “I still have stuff to do.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, clearly nervous. I sighed and tried not to roll my eyes.

“The ranger station, remember? I need to get you somewhere safe for now, since you’re afraid of coming to St. Dom’s.”

“I’m not afraid . . . I just don’t want to go to jail.”

“News flash: there are no police anymore. Just us.”

“Still . . .”

“See? This is why I suggested the ranger station. Multiple times now,” I said. Turning, I started walking the roundabout way to the station. After a few seconds I stopped and looked back. He hadn’t moved. “I’m not carrying you. I don’t think I can. Let’s go.”

I could have sworn he muttered something about crazy gingers under his breath but since I was in a somewhat forgiving mood—I remembered how shook up Temple and his girls were when he spoke about what had happened to his family—I ignored his comment. Instead, I focused on my footing as we trekked around campus, slowly making our way to Dunlap Creek. We’d have to cross it, then circle back and cross it again, but it was the only way I knew of to the station without Ulla spotting us.

The deer trail was narrow and slick. The freezing temps did nothing to make the going easier. Still, we made decent time to the creek. Only once did Colton slip and land on his butt. Fortunately, he didn’t hurt anything other than his pride. I didn’t even make fun of him once.

See? I can be mature.

Crossing the falls was another matter altogether.

Longtime residents of the area probably didn’t even know this, but Dunlap Creek had a little waterfall area and a pond right before it fed into the Jackson River. There were some massive fish in the pond, too. I wasn’t into fishing much, but if I were I’d be happy catching one of those. The pond and the waterfall were both still technically on St. Dominic’s land, so nobody came down here.

Nobody, that was, except Sir Chonk, loyal slayer of shamblers and trash bins.

“Crap!” I hissed and froze as the massive black bear lumbered out of the pond. Everything I’d read about the bears in the area said they’d be hibernating for another month or two. Apparently nobody told the bear that he was supposed to be asleep. I don’t know why, but I was absolutely certain this was the same bear who had inadvertently helped me out months before.

In his mouth was probably the biggest fish I’d ever seen caught around here. Mr. Stitmer would have cried jealous tears.

We watched and waited quietly as Sir Chonk slowly ambled on the opposite bank of the pond toward a small recess in the rocks next to the waterfall. The fat bear suddenly disappeared around the corner. I blinked, confused, before realizing it wasn’t a regular recess back there but a cave.

“Well, that’s convenient,” I muttered quietly.

“Is it going to eat us?” Colton asked.

“No. Sir Chonk is a loyal shambler slayer.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Come on.”

“There are bears up here?” Colton asked in a low voice, clearly reluctant to move. I nodded.

“Three or four, I think. Besides Sir Chonk, that is. Okay, it’s safe, probably. Come on,” I whispered, and he followed. We continued along the path next to the pond. Every few steps I’d turn and look back to see if Sir Chonk was following us until we were past the pond and the falls. From the new angle I could see the cave better. I wondered for a moment how I’d missed it in the past before continuing.

The bear didn’t follow us. Apparently the fish was more than enough for his midwinter snack. The idea of Colton and I trying to outrun an angry, incoherent, and probably hungry bear was a dumb one. It would have come down to my aim versus his hunger, and the odds were about even there.

Plus, I felt like I still owed Sir Chonk. I’d rather leave him be.

Eventually we came to the path which led back up to the ranger station. It was more washed out than I remember it being, something I blamed on the wet winter we’d had so far. The forest around us was quiet, which meant the birds knew we were there. I stopped for a second so Colton could catch his breath while I listened for any sound of shamblers.

Relieved, I leaned against a tree as Colton bent over at the waist. He was breathing heavily. A few moments passed before I asked him if he was okay.

“Yeah,” he replied after a few seconds. It was clear he was struggling. “Just not used. To walking so much. At one time.”

“Cardio is your friend,” I told him. He cracked a smile at that.

“Cardio is the devil.”

I snorted. The guy had a decent sense of humor, I’d give him that. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

It was another quarter of a mile on a steep incline before we reached the abandoned station. Though it was only slightly lower than St. Dominic’s, elevation-wise, it felt like farther down the mountain due to the steep drop below. Colton sounded like he was dying the entire way up. Mentally I was dropping the odds of his survival with each passing step. He clearly was not cut out for any sort of long-distance hiking. Not yet at least. Maybe after he got some more food in him and built up his strength and endurance? I wasn’t sure.

The ranger station was an old log cabin that actually had been upgraded a bit over the years. While it definitely lacked power, it at least had a relatively new roof and covered porch built on. The path to and from the front door was clear, though the back was partially blocked off by a cluster of blackberry bushes I hadn’t even known were there before the Fall.

We picked that sucker clean the moment berries appeared. Lots of it was canned but for a week, all the surviving girls of St. Dominic’s had blackberries for dessert. It was wonderful.

“Wow,” Colton muttered once he got his breath back. “That’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

“I thought you said you slept here?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. He turned and nodded.

“It was dark. I was gone before sunrise. Didn’t get a good look at the inside. Too dark.”

Oh, that made sense. I knew how dark it got up on campus. Down here, without moonlight and in the shadows of the mountain and all its trees? Still, in the morning hours it got plenty of light. Once it changed into late afternoon, however, the building would be cast into darkness. Not enviable for the rangers who might have been stuck in here back in the day. I undogged the latch, pulled the heavy door open, and slipped inside. Colton followed closely behind.

Inside it was much warmer. I wouldn’t have thought the station would be insulated but I’ve been wrong before. Either that or it had some sort of natural heat source I wasn’t aware of. Perhaps the plywood-covered windows were better at keeping the heat than regular windows? It was worth investigating later, especially when we started using the cottage dorms again. This sort of insulation would make Emily cry happy tears.

There was a loft with a ladder on the far end of the single-room building. I remember Sister Margaret showing a few of us the station when I’d first arrived on campus. She’d told us the history of the building, its purpose, and how the forest service rangers used to sleep up there. There used to be a tower that rose about twenty feet into the air connecting to it but apparently it was removed some years ago when the forest service quit using it full-time. Sister Margaret had been saddened by the loss. Apparently it was one of the more unique features around St. Dominic’s, and the nuns loved climbing it to gaze upon the wonders around them. Not quite a cloister but according to her, good enough.

Maybe that’s what she meant when she’d said, “try your best, and rise above the rest”? Probably not. Rising above everyone else? That was more my speed.

Colton clambered up to the loft while I inspected the rest of the station. I hadn’t been in here since we’d first been discovered by King Dale down by the river, and was surprised as how clean it still was.

He hadn’t used the stove at all. For a guy who’d stayed in probably the safest place on the mountain not named St. Dominic’s, he’d declined to take full advantage of the place. Or perhaps he didn’t know how to use a woodstove? It was kind of absurd, but not everyone was a camper. Or understood that the body’s core temperature couldn’t get too low before hypothermia set in. The fact that he hadn’t froze to death just yet was further proof that God loved children and fools.

The ranger station was safe for now. It was a good spot and, because they used boards over windows and locked everything up tight when it was not in use, the inside was in great shape. In the long term, I’d need to convince him to come up to campus where it was safer. For now, though, he was fine. Just needed to keep Ulla from accidentally shooting him. It would be bad if he died because she thought he was nothing more than a shambler.

“Try to keep away from shamblers,” I told him as he moved around up on the loft. He disappeared for a moment. After a second his face reappeared. There was a huge smile plastered on his face. Seeing it made me grin as well.

“I can see everywhere from up here,” he stated as he swung back down the ladder. The guy was surprisingly nimble. He landed next to me. His smile turned into a frown. “Well, I can’t see the school.”

That was by design, I didn’t say. It would have been real creepy if a forest ranger had a clear view of the dorms at St. Dominic’s. “We can find you a better place later . . . maybe until you think it’s okay to come up to the school?”

“They’ll lock me up in jail and toss the key,” he said in a mournful tone. I nodded and pretended to understand. I’d shot enough shamblers at this point that I’d stopped considering what they’d once been. I doubted there would be anyone stupid enough to arrest anyone for shambler killing these days.

“Okay, you can stay here until we find something better,” I told him, looking around. It was dry and dusty, with no sign of leaks in the roof. Not that I knew what to look for. You’d think they’d be easy to spot, though. Large stain on the ceiling? Yeah, easy.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, fearful. Trying not to roll my eyes, I explained.

“I need to get back and tell Sister Ann—”

“But you said—”

“—and tell Sister Ann that there might be survivors out and about. Nothing about you or you being up here, okay? Relax. I’ll then tell the others not to shoot someone on sight, just in case,” I finished, barreling over his protests with the grace of a water buffalo. “We don’t need anyone shooting you accidentally.”

He swallowed, clearly wary. Good. His whining was starting to get on my nerves a little bit. “Okay.”

“Only burn the woodstove at night,” I warned him. “Cook for the entire day then. Keep the windows closed. Light attracts shamblers, and smoke from a chimney attracts curiosity.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll get some food for you from our stash,” I added and reached out to squeeze his arm comfortingly. Blinking, I let go quickly. The jacket hid a bit of muscle. Maybe he was eating better than I’d thought? “Just . . . stay safe, okay? When you’re ready, maybe I can convince you to come up to campus, where it’ll be safer.”

“Live at a school full of girls and nuns with guns? No, thanks,” he chuckled darkly and pushed his lanky hair out of his face. His eyes met mine. They were a light blue, almost green like mine. “Uh . . . thank you for . . . all this.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned him. “There are still shamblers running around. You won’t be safe until you’re down at the school with us.”

Plus, you still might freeze to death because you have no idea how to gather firewood, you cute idiot, I didn’t say. I stopped and blushed. Fortunately, he wasn’t looking my way. What the hell, Maddie?

What the hell?


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