With a big grin, Miranda began pumping the gas, and Ashley opened the trunk and pulled out three large gas cans.
“We’re in business!” Miranda said to her boyfriend.
He jogged to her side, and then interlaced his fingers on top of his head when he saw for himself. “Oh, thank God.”
“I’ll go get my car and fill it up, too, and then we can be on our way. You can pull up to the house and wait once you’re finished here. Load up what you can.”
Miranda nodded. “Will do.”
They were all bouncing and smiling, excited that we would be leaving soon. Once I made the quick walk to Walter’s house, I waved to Joy and Zoe, and then hopped into my car, which was still parked in the middle of the dead end.
“I’m going to fill up with gas, and then I’ll be right back to get you.”
Zoe smiled.
“I’ll pack you a few things,” Joy said. She was smiling, too, but her eyes were heavy with sadness.
Bryce was just topping off the last gas can when I pulled up. I’d passed Walter on the way. He didn’t look up. I imagined he was probably sad, too, and the responsibility of surviving alone was weighing on him. Guilt burned my insides, but not enough to sway my decision. They could come with us, or we could ask the doctor’s permission and then come back for them. Things weren’t so bad in Shallot that they couldn’t survive for another day or two. At least as long as the infected were still ambling around on the highway instead of in town.
Bryce put the last of the gas cans in the trunk, and then they crowded into the Bug. Ashley was hunched over in the backseat, sitting on both Cooper and the soldier. It looked uncomfortable as hell.
Miranda smiled. “We’ll meet you at Walter’s.”
“Does one or two of you want to ride with me? Looks kind of cramped in there.”
Miranda looked to the boy in the passenger seat, and then to those behind her. “Yeah, I bet Joey could fit better in your car.”
Joey lifted his hand. “Joey.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said with a nod.
They pulled out of the lot onto the street, and I pulled up the lever on the pump, waiting for the noise to click on. It didn’t. I jogged into the station, and toggled what I thought was the switch, but I wasn’t in there when Walter had showed the boys, so I wasn’t sure which it was.
I had barely crossed the parking lot and stepped into the street when I saw an infected just a block away making her way to the highway. I turned on my heels and ran back to my car, reaching inside to pull out the bag of guns Skeeter had given me.
Skeeter. As I made my way back, I thought about my brother and sister-in-law. They were both likely dead by that point. Aubrey probably was, too. Aubrey and Skeeter’s parents had been gone for several years, but knowing they were all gone made the situation even sadder. Zoe was the only one left.
When I approached the porch, Walter smirked. “You forget something?” he said, nodding to my car that still sat at the pump.
I laughed once, glad for the distraction. Walter and Joy were good people. Changing their minds about joining us at the doctor’s place was still a possibility. Once I got Zoe settled in, I was determined to come back for them.
“The pump didn’t come on.”
“No?” Walter said. “I can head back down there to see what the problem is.”
“Do you mind?”
Walter descended the porch steps, taking care to use the railing. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do, son.”
Miranda had parked in front of Walter’s house, and then she and her group lingered around the Volkswagen, discussing their next move. Joy and Zoe had just come back out to the porch, Zoe with a small packed bag hung over her shoulder. Walter and I had barely stepped out into the street when gunshots rang out. We’d heard them in the distance every day, but this time they were closer. Much closer. Soon after, an engine revving echoed through the quiet streets, and then a car came careening down the main street from the highway, fishtailing out of control.
“Daddy!” Zoe yelled, just as the car T-boned mine, both crashing into the pumps.
A huge explosion accompanied by a big boom immediately took the place of the gas station. As soon as the ball of fire traveled up into the atmosphere, the charred vehicles were visible only for a moment before thick, black smoke and even more fire shot from where the pumps once were.
“What do we do?” Joy said through the hands that covered her mouth.
The kids were still standing next to their car in shock, and my hands were on my head, my fingers knotted in my hair. “No. No!” I yelled the second time, in complete disbelief. I knew my car was gone, but with each passing second, the comprehension of everything that being without a car meant became more real. We were trapped, unable to travel on foot, and worse, every infected lingering on the highway would be enticed back into town by the explosion.
Just as that thought entered my head, I saw the first infected. One after another they stumbled down the street, until the irregular pattern turned into groups, and then an army of undead, moving as one unit, toward the street.
“Nathan?” Miranda said, her expression frozen in fear at the sight. She reached inside of her car and pulled out a rifle. The others did the same before slowly retreating to the porch, keeping their eyes on the dirty, bloody parade.
“Move slow,” Walter warned quietly as he and I backed away from the street to the house. “Don’t draw their attention over here.”
The kids were at least smart enough not to make any sudden movements. I glanced up at Zoe, who was watching with a blank face like it was something she’d seen a hundred times before. As a knee-jerk reaction, I thought about discussing her lack of reaction at Zoe’s next therapy session, but there would be no more counselors, or evaluations, or IEP plans.
It seemed that once we realized Zoe was not like other children our lives had been consumed with meetings and doctor’s appointments, care plans and behavior management. Life was difficult enough for those of us that could process stress and overstimulation normally. Even when we had what seemed like limitless tools to help Zoe head off or navigate the meltdowns, life would never be easy for her. A different panic emerged, one that we couldn’t run away from: those things we took for granted were no longer available. The recognition of that truth made a wave of dread wash over me. Zoe thrived on routine, and she was without treatment during this decimation of everything familiar. A plague that could last months, or years . . . or forever. Zoe would have to survive both.