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Annie was far too sweet and kind-hearted.
That left Hughes by default. Doing the deed wouldn’t mess him up for life. He was already as messed up as he could be, but he was messed up in just the right way. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. He was always a little cold and could become a real hard-ass when necessary, but now he was practically heartless. It was the only way he could keep going.
So when Carol slipped out of consciousness, he drove the truck just past the outskirts of town and asked Frank to help him carry her to the tree line.
Hughes wasn’t going to shoot her. They had to conserve ammunition, and they’d already brought enough attention to themselves and given away their location with the noise from the truck. But the biggest reason he didn’t shoot her was because enough violence had been done to her body already. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bash in her head. He may have become cold and heartless, but he was not a barbarian.
So he gently plugged her nose and covered her mouth. She didn’t struggle. He released her a few minutes later and made sure she’d stopped breathing.
Everybody just stood there in silence and shock.
They didn’t have a shovel to bury her with, so they pushed dirt and rocks and leaves and sticks onto her.
Everyone helped, even Parker.
Annie sobbed.
They stood around her in a circle when they were finished. Nobody said anything for a long time.
Finally, Annie spoke up. “She was the last innocent person.”
Kyle swallowed hard. Frank looked disturbed. Parker didn’t seem to know what to do with himself.
Hughes didn’t feel anything. Come on, he thought. Cry. You saved this woman’s life once and now you’ve just killed her. For fuck’s sake, cry like a man.
Annie later had a terrible thought. It all but seized her with panic. What if Carol had been immune too?
They parked the Chevy a half-mile from the bicycle shop and walked the rest of the way, bringing as many supplies as they could carry in their packs. Nothing and no one followed.
The shop’s windows had been smashed in and the door left ajar. Somebody had taken some bikes, but dozens remained and they only needed five.
The air inside smelled okay. A little musty, but nothing had died in there recently.
Nobody carried a watch anymore, since day and night were the only times that mattered, but the sun was low in the sky so they knew they wouldn’t be traveling. Not at that hour.
The bicycle shop seemed as good a place as any to hunker down and sleep. It wasn’t more secure than anywhere else, but it had exits in the front and the back. They might be okay for one night as long as they didn’t make noise.
They set five bicycles out front and five out back. If anyone heard anything coming, they could leave in either direction and ride away fast and hard back to the truck a half-mile away.
They slept in shifts and everybody slept dreamlessly. Everybody but Annie.
She found herself in her apartment that wasn’t really her apartment sitting on a couch that wasn’t really her couch. They were her dream apartment and dream couch. Her sister Jenny sat next to her.
She was infected.
Part of her cheek had been torn off to her jawline. It looked like she’d been bitten on the face. She had blood in her mouth and all over her arms. She even had blood in her hair.
Jenny spoke. Her voice did not match her appearance. She spoke casually as if she were chatting with Annie over breakfast and coffee.
“We’re special, you know,” Jenny said. “Both of us. Think about it. You know the reason.”
Annie woke gasping on the floor and knew at once that she had to get to South Carolina immediately.
“We need to get to a marina immediately.” Kyle’s voice. The first thing she heard when she woke up in the morning. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet.
Her back hurt. For a moment she thought she was still at the grocery store, but she opened her eyes and saw bicycle wheels hanging from the ceiling above her. She was in the bike shop now, free of Lane and his henchmen.
Carol was dead.
They were going to ride to Olympia, snag a boat, and sail north to an island, to safety.
But Annie had to get home.
“Before we head up there,” Hughes said, “we need to get some more gear.”
I need to get to South Carolina, Annie thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. She could not tell the others.
They rode their bicycles back to the Chevy they’d parked a half-mile away, loaded them into the back, then drove to the outdoor store in the next town and loaded up three more backpacks with extra supplies. They grabbed fresh clothes, fresh socks, soap, water filters, flint fire starters, hunting knives, hatchets, rope, fishing tackle and poles, sleeping bags, maps and compasses, flashlights, batteries, four more first-aid kits, a couple more solar chargers, and the last two night-vision monocles.
They strapped the packs to their backs, ditched the Chevy, and rode hard toward Olympia.
Nothing and no one saw them, not even when they had to slow down and weave around cars. Annie didn’t understand how that was possible. Where were all the infected? Were they off in the woods? Were they dead? Dying? No, that couldn’t be. They’d been attacked the day before by more than she’d ever seen at one time.
Maybe they were coalescing into bigger and bigger hordes.
That would be good and bad. The infected wouldn’t be as widely dispersed, which meant she’d run into them less often, but if they were organizing themselves into larger and larger swarms, they’d eventually turn into armies. Pistols, crowbars, and shotguns would be useless. They’d have to be mowed down with machine guns. Or air strikes.
Annie and her companions took what appeared to be the least-traveled roads and weaved their bikes around the old world’s detritus: shattered glass, abandoned cars, leaves, tree branches, and human skeletons with their bones picked thoroughly clean.
They didn’t enter Olympia. They bypassed it entirely. It was too dangerous.
But her sister Jenny was in there. And Jenny might be immune. She and Annie were full sisters. At least one of their parents was also most likely immune.
Mom and Dad were definitely still back in South Carolina, but Jenny was probably gone. Most people who got bitten didn’t turn. They were killed. The only people who turned were those who managed to flee to relative safety after getting bitten. Not many people could do that. One percent at the most.
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