CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“A noble man compares and estimates himself by an idea which is higher than himself; and a mean man, by one lower than himself. The one produces aspiration; the other ambition, which is the way in which a vulgar man aspires.”
—Marcus Aurelius
“Maddie? Can we talk?” Sister Ann asked quietly as she poked her head in my room. I was up but I wouldn’t call it awake just yet. My jumbled, half-asleep brain had started braiding Ulla’s hair about ten minutes before I’d crawled out of bed and gotten dressed. The kid had climbed into my bed again sometime in the night, long after I’d passed out from sheer exhaustion. Her nightmares had probably come back with a vengeance after what happened yesterday.
Not that I could blame her. I was still reeling emotionally from everything.
Since I was out of bed and already dressed, it was pretty easy to slip out of the room without waking Ulla. She’d gone through a lot yesterday. There was no need to wake her up just yet.
You went through a lot as well, a silent voice reminded me as I followed Sister Ann out into the main room. None of the other girls were up yet, which was strange. I glanced around as my brain finally began to register that it was early in the morning.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“A little after five,” she replied instantly. She handed me a cup of warm water. It smelled odd. Sniffing, I realized she’d used one of her precious few remaining tea packets to give me a little boost of caffeine. Raspberry oolong tea, if I wasn’t mistaken. I looked at her, suddenly suspicious. Was she concerned about how I’d slept? Short answer: I hadn’t, really. But I was not going to admit that. Not to anyone.
“This is serious,” I muttered but sipped the warm beverage anyway. It was bliss. One thing I missed more than anything else was caffeine. We had some, sure, but it was carefully hoarded stuff, like Sister Ann’s tea. Eventually we would run out. That would be a sad day for everyone. There might even be tears.
Humor is what kept me going most of the time. Dark humor. Very dark.
“How’s our security situation?” she asked after I’d lowered the cup from my face.
A jolt of nervous energy ripped through my chest. Did she know about Colton? I’d planned on going to see him today, to tell him what had happened. He’d understand, I think. Swallowing, I paused for a moment, giving my heart a chance to calm down before I replied.
“Decent, I think. Not a lot of shamblers running around on our side of the river. If they ever learn to swim—or remember, whatever—then we might have some problems.”
Ah. I knew where this was going now. She was trying to keep my mind focused on tasks instead of the man I’d killed. Part of me wondered if she had any idea how much I appreciated her efforts.
“Not what I was thinking,” she said, her eyes locked on my face. “We might have a bigger problem.”
Does she know? I couldn’t say. Not wanting to volunteer any information, I stayed quiet. Instead of speaking, I took another sip. Speaking when not asked a direct question was just one of the insidious ways Sister Ann managed to get the truth out of other girls. A student of her game, I knew it was in my best interest to let her ask a direct question before answering.
“I’m thinking King Dale showing up at Dr. Jefferson’s around the same time we did was a very odd coincidence, don’t you?”
I swallowed the tea, feeling a little better. This wasn’t about Colton but something else. “You think he’s watching the entrance somehow?”
“We know he’s got horses, and there have to be other cars he’s acquired, but who knows what else he has? We have radios that work up in the mountains. Who can say he doesn’t as well? Someone watching the front entrance or the main road and reporting in when we move.”
That made a certain amount of sense. It also kept the lingering thought of what had happened the day before from breaching the mental defenses I’d thrown up. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just be wary out there,” she told me. “After yesterday, they might try and snatch one of the girls. I never thought King Dale would do anything so drastic, but . . .”
“He’s been trying to get up here for months,” I pointed out, ignoring the hurt in my heart. The sick feeling wasn’t as bad as it’d been the night before, but it was still there. So much for my defenses. “What do you mean, you didn’t think he would do something like that?”
“It’s all psychological for him, Maddie,” Sister Ann explained as Lucia stumbled into the room. She looked at the two of us, shook her head, muttered something under her breath in Spanish, and staggered back the way she came. Sister Ann waited another few seconds before continuing in a lower voice. “The BearCat, the bridge, everything. He wants to be seen as the conquering hero, not simply the conqueror. If he really, truly wanted to take control of the school, he would simply swarm us with guns and men. They do outgun us, and there are more of them then there are of us. His mentality is that he’s saving us from the dangerous world. To protect us. On the surface, it’s a noble gesture and idea. You said it not too long ago yourself. The problem is when someone rejects his saving them, like we are. He can’t comprehend why we refuse to be saved. In his eyes, I’m being selfish by keeping all you girls locked away up here when he thinks you would be safer with him. Get it?”
I thought so. He really thought of himself as a good guy. I had said something along those lines back before we stole the BearCat, but nobody ever listened to me. “So he wants to roll up on us like the big hero and be cheered on, like some sort of Johnny Football?”
“Precisely. And that makes him dangerous.”
“Huh?” Unsure where she was going with this, I motioned for her to continue.
“There is nothing more dangerous than a noble villain who is convinced that he is in the right.”
She had a point there. “So keep an eye out for anyone who might try to snatch one of the girls, or me. Got it.”
“And shamblers.”
“Naturally.”
“And Madison?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“While I can’t hear your Confession, you can always talk to me about anything. You know this, right?”
I took a final sip of the tea and nodded. She was right. I could talk to her. What happened the day before, for instance. I could talk. The question was, would she understand? The answer was probably. I couldn’t be certain, though. She’d never told any of us why she chose to become a nun so late in her life.
Sister Ann always listened, though, and accepted without interrupting—unless we were lying and she knew it. But even then, she oftentimes just let us talk it through. It was one of the many things I loved about her.
But some things I just preferred to keep to myself. Things like what was going on in my head, and Colton.
Who, as it turned out, didn’t even have the courtesy of being home when I got there.
After waiting on the front porch for a few minutes, I wandered around to the back. There was a privacy fence that wrapped around the entire backyard—stupid, since the closest neighbor was about two hundred yards away or so. However, one thing we did figure out early on was that the tall privacy fence had kept out any shamblers from having easy access to the backyard.
Another added benefit was that the backyard got a lot of sunlight. Someday, someone might be able to start a garden back there.
Looking around, I could see he’d made some improvements. One of them included a strange-looking device that sort of reminded me of a solar panel. Only this had a weird bend to its shape, instead of being flat like I’d seen in the past. He had even run some wires through the former owners’ doggy door inside. Curious, I went in to investigate.
Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see the boy had a future running an electronics store. He continued to grab any and all electrical devices apparently while I had been up on the mountain. Not that anybody really cared since every house we’d found along this way had been abandoned, but it still felt a little weird seeing him hoard a bunch of dead people’s stuff.
“What are you up to?” I muttered as I continued to look around. He really hadn’t added much to his food stocks, despite my advice. Other than some canned Vienna sausage and some mysterious unlabeled soup cans, he didn’t look like he had much food left. I frowned. The last time I had been by he had had about the same amount. It was like he wasn’t even trying to prepare for the future, only thinking of staying alive in the moment.
Except . . . there was all the electronic equipment. Mentally, I shrugged. He was a weird boy.
He did have some new clothes neatly folded and piled to the side. Well, new-ish. At least he wasn’t running around the mountainside in nothing but a cheap jacket and torn jeans anymore. This was progress. Honestly, he probably would’ve frozen to death by now if not for me. It was a good thought, me being responsible for his surviving.
Sister Ann was right—again. I really did like keeping people safe and protecting them. Now here was something I never thought would happen. I was responsible for other people. My parents would have fainted if they’d ever found out. Or rather, they would have fainted if they had been around to see this.
Stupid zombie apocalypse . . .
I decided to be nosy and check out what else he’d done around the place. He’d made some changes since the last time I’d been inside. What had been the dining room before was now his bedroom. It made sense, really. There was a window, but it was high off the ground and too thin to climb through. It was also on the south side of the house, so it probably was warmer. While the living room had the fireplace, this room was more secure.
I guess my lectures had stuck.
For some reason I felt like I was intruding in somebody else’s personal space. Which was stupid. We found this place together. Okay, sure, we had found it for him, but it wasn’t like it was his place to start with. The sensation was persistent, though. Like a nagging voice in the back of my mind. I needed to leave. Or at least, be somewhere else.
Which sucked, too. Colton would’ve understood. He was a lot easier and less judging to talk to than the girls back on campus. Well, except Ulla. But then again, it wasn’t like she argued with anybody.
I went out the same way I’d come in, being very careful to shut the door behind me. The hinges squeaked a little as it closed. Listening, I could hear a few birds somewhere in the distance making noise. Even in the dead of winter, life went on. The birds didn’t seem to care whether it was freezing or not outside. They were made to sing, and sing they did.
Adjusting Baby slightly on its sling, I walked back around the side of the house to the front. Still no sign of Colton. Frowning, I started walking up the road toward the Moose Lodge. There was a slim possibility he’d gone there. What for, I didn’t know. Maybe he’d seen something there he wanted that we’d overlooked? It was hard to tell with the kid sometimes.
Movement to my right. A keening howl pierced my ears. Stumbling, I managed to narrowly dodge a shambler as it came out of the shadows. I don’t know how I missed it. I started to bring Baby up, but stopped as the shambler turned around and I got a good look at it.
The shambler was a dead ringer for the man I’d killed: beard, roughly the same height, and even looked the same in the face. Or did he? Were my eyes playing tricks on me? The only difference that I could see was that there were no bullet holes from where I’d shot him. Had I missed? No, I’d watched him die. So had the others. Sister Ann had even seen it happen. Yet here a shambler was, uninjured except for a festering, oozing wound on his thigh.
No. It couldn’t be him. There was no way.
My trigger finger froze. I was shaking. Nothing wanted to move. It was like my spirit was outside of my body, looking down at the girl shaking in her boots. My brain was a jumbled mess. The shambler let out another angry howl. That keening cry seemed to pierce my soul. I couldn’t shoot it. Taking a step back, I tried to warn it off with a shout, a cry. Something. Only nothing came out of my mouth. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
There was no way this was the same guy. Shamblers aren’t zombies. They are not the walking dead.
Instead of shooting it, I turned like a coward and ran away. The shambler howled and pursued.
I don’t remember much of the run back to the mountain. The only thing I was really aware of was the sound of the shambler’s bare feet slapping on the road as it ran behind me. My lungs burned and everything was blurry. Tears. I was crying. Why? It was just a shambler. What was going on with me? Was I broken?
Branches bereft of leaves slammed me in my face as I ran. Thorny bushes snagged my jacket sleeve. Plants seemed to be reaching out from the underbrush to grab at my ankles, trying to slow me down. I could feel the panic rising further in my chest. This was not how I thought I’d die.
Something cracked in the air. It sounded like thunder. I could swear I felt something brush past my hair. There was so much going on in my head that I didn’t make the immediate connection. I heard something wet slap behind me. The shambler stumbled to the ground. Panting, I stopped to look back. Half of the damn thing’s head was gone. For a moment I was confused. What had happened? Then I remembered.
Ulla. I don’t know how I forgot about my protégé. In the heat of the moment, I suppose anything was possible. Of course she would be up on the rooftop standing watch while I was out. The girl was deadly with her rifle, and had been looking out for me. She was helping me do my job—just as I taught her. Why was I surprised?
Why was I so confused about everything at the moment? It was like my brain wasn’t working at all.
The shambler was clearly dead. Nothing could survive having half their head shot off. My girl hadn’t missed. It was one hell of a shot from that distance. She was already a better shooter than I was. Thank God for that. Hurrying up the mountain along the secret path, I couldn’t help but keep looking back over my shoulder at the dead shambler. It didn’t get up. It didn’t stagger to its feet to come and eat me like I was half expecting it to. No, it stayed dead. Zombies weren’t real. Shamblers were something completely different. I knew this. We all knew this.
Why was nothing making sense at the moment?
My hands continued to shake. What was wrong with me? My stomach roiled and I felt queasy. Everything that I done the day before came back to my mind. The smell of gunpowder, the stench of blood. Ulla screaming for help. The bearded man trying to take the little girl away.
I had to stop. I almost dropped Baby, which would have been a cardinal sin. Turning, I heaved my guts out onto the dirt trail. What little I’d had for breakfast went everywhere. Even precious tea. Or at least, I hoped it was the tea. Stomach acid burned when it came up.
The taste was foul but it didn’t burn. Spitting once, twice, I tried my best to get the aftertaste out. It was no use. The nasty combination of vomit and breakfast was going to stick with me until I could brush my teeth. Thank God we found the toothbrushes and toothpaste in the donations closet. For a moment I wondered if I should change boots. I’d been dying to try those new ones out.
Why was that on my mind? My thoughts were nothing but a jumbled mess. The only thing I knew for certain was that there was a dead shambler behind me, courtesy of Ulla. My lungs hurt from the cold air, and the run. My calves were cramping. How far had I gone? Colton’s house was almost a mile from campus. Had I run the entire thing? I couldn’t remember. Judging by the burning in my thighs, though, I would say I had. No wonder I felt wiped out. I hadn’t had to run that far in months, possibly before the Fall even.
Crossing behind the cafeteria, I passed by one of the younger girls. I thought it was Wendy but I wasn’t sure. Faces were a blur at this point. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything anymore. There was only one thing I wanted, and that was to get inside, get situated, and then . . .
Then what? I had no idea. Maybe sleep. Yeah. Sleep sounded good. I could crawl into bed, bury myself beneath the blankets, and ignore the rest the world for as long as I lived. That sounded like one heck of a plan.
Only I knew I couldn’t.
Sister Ann greeted me at the back door. The concern was evident on her face. I don’t know how she knew, but she did. Or at least, she knew enough. That much was evident.
“Maddie?” she asked. There were so many questions in the way she said my name. It was weird. In that single breath she asked if I was okay, what had happened, and if anybody else was in danger. The weight of the world was on her shoulders, and she was more concerned about me than anything else. I don’t know why. I didn’t deserve it.
Shivering uncontrollably, I collapsed into Sister Ann’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I tried. I couldn’t. I tried. I’m so sorry!”
She held me tightly and stroked my hair. I don’t know how long I cried for.
It was after midnight when I dared come out of my room again. Ulla was sound asleep, having somehow snuck into my room during one of my crying spells. She’d snuggled up against my back so gently I hadn’t even noticed she was there until her snoring kicked in. For some reason it made me feel a little better. Not much, but it was there.
I padded silently into the main room. The stove was still radiating plenty of heat, which told me someone was up and tending it. There were faint voices in the stairwell just outside the bunker door. I recognized Sister Ann’s immediately, but not the other. Curious, I crept closer until I figured out who it was.
Dr. Brittany and Sister Ann were locked in a heated discussion about . . . something. Listening in, it didn’t take long for me to realize what they were discussing. More accurately, who.
“She’s just a kid,” Dr. Brittany said hotly, though she managed to keep her voice down. “She’s a kid who thinks she has to protect everyone.”
“She’s capable of so much more—”
“That’s your problem! You think everyone can be great because you think God put them here for a reason,” Dr. Brittany said, cutting her off. “This is why I’m atheist, you know. There is no greater purpose for her! We’re in a screwed-up world trying to do the best we can.”
“. . . in the eyes of God,” Sister Ann added calmly. “Believing everything that has happened up to this point, including us surviving, was because of pure chance and not divine inspiration is far-fetched, even for someone who claims to believe in nothing.”
“Chance? Luck? Ever hear of those things?” Dr. Brittany asked. “I got lucky. You got lucky!”
“Perhaps,” Sister Ann said. “Or perhaps it was the Almighty, guiding us to be where we needed to be. There were many instances that occurred throughout my life that could have taken me down a different path. Would I have I been called to the cloth if I had joined the Army instead of the Marine Corps? Would I have even joined the military at all, if not for an ex-boyfriend? While we make the choices, it is God who lays down the path. Every single action in my life, every decision, every choice, has led me to this moment. A former marine turned Sister of Notre Dame de Namur, a Catholic convert who was raised Protestant, the only survivor at a school filled with at-risk teenage girls in the middle of what many could argue are the end times.
“I cannot believe for an instant that every single happenstance and coincidence lined up perfectly in this world to allow me to be here, where I would be needed the most. All your decisions in your life, Doctor, led you to choosing Covington instead of, say, Roanoke. Is that luck? Happenstance? Or maybe you are part of God’s plan as well?”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t say that unless you have belief in God, Doctor. I believe you are to play an integral part here. God led us to you for a reason,” Sister Ann told her. “As for Madison . . . she will do her part as she sees fit. I will never ask her to do anything I believe she is unfit for. Right now, the best thing I can ask her to do is rest. She’s been through a lot, and she’s vulnerable. She will decide what she wants to do next.”
I crept back to my room, mind whirling. The thought that I was vulnerable was absurd. Sister Ann knew me, and knew I was past things like that. To suggest I was a broken little girl was almost insulting.
How was Sister Ann so calm and reasonable with someone who only believed in coincidence and luck?
Conversely, how was Sister Ann’s faith so unflagging after all that she’d seen, experienced, and suffered through?
I didn’t know.
I doubted I would ever know.
Either way, I slept on the floor that night. I didn’t want to disturb Ulla, or the two Great Danes who’d somehow taken over my bed.