My heart leaped. We would know by the end of the day. I was just as excited to calm her fears as I was to see her.
When we stepped out from behind Shallot's hill onto Highway 123 and turned north, that was when I really began to get excited. Seeing Mom today was actually happening. Dad was still quiet, twisting the wooden handle of the trident he'd found in someone's barn the week before. He still carried the semiautomatic rifle he'd found on the overpass near Anderson, and I still carried his rifle and Jud's aluminum bat, but because of the man with the guns, it was easier to get out of town than it was to get in.
I never found out if the man--whoever he was--was trustworthy, but he was definitely smart. Walking to that side of town every day to shoot the infected had not only thinned out the undead population, but the noise had also drawn them to the opposite side of town from where we'd stayed. When we'd left, we'd only come across a handful.
Dad was right. We hadn't been on the road for more than twenty minutes when we discovered the first group. They were headed north, but we were upwind. Once we got close enough, they turned toward our smell.
"Get ready," Dad said. "Knees first and then the head. Swing hard. Halle?"
"Yeah?" she said, fear nearly drowning out her voice.
"Stay out of the way, but don't just focus on us. Pay attention to your surroundings."
When the first infected got close enough to Dad, he thrust the trident into its face. It immediately froze, and when Dad jerked out the metal prongs, it fell to the ground. He went for another one, and I twisted the grip of the bat, holding it low and to the side, until I was close enough. They were mostly focused on Dad. It seemed like whenever one was killed, those around it became agitated and more fixated on the aggressor.
I swung at the knees of a woman approaching Dad's side, and then I swung again when she fell to the ground.
"Get back a little, Jenna. Stay close to Halle!"
I complied and fell back, glancing behind me. Halle was standing in the middle of the road, like Dad had instructed the night before. She was watching us but also looking around herself often.
"You're doing good, Halle. Keep it up!" I said, swinging at an infected that came too close.
Within minutes, the group was down, and Dad and I were standing over them, breathing hard and smiling.
"We did it," I said, huffing.
"Good job, kiddo," Dad said. "You all right, Halle?"
She ran to my side, hugging my arm. "Let's hurry!"
We continued walking in a slower pace until we caught our breaths, and then Dad set it a bit faster.
"You made me proud back there."
"Yeah?" I said.
He grabbed the bill of my hat and playfully pulled it down. "Yeah. We make a good team."
"Told you so," I said with a smug smile.
"You, too," he said to Halle.
She looked up, squinting one eye, and grinned.
"You're different," I said. "In a good way. You don't really yell anymore, and you don't get super mad."
Dad hooked his arm around my neck. "Well, maybe the apocalypse forced me to grow up."
"I think Mom will be surprised."
"You think so?" He chuckled.
"Yeah, and she'll be grateful to you for bringing us safely to her, for taking care of us all this time."
"Well, that's nice, but...I didn't do it for her. I did it because you're my kids, and I love you."
Halle hugged one side of him, and I hugged the other. We stood there together in the middle of the road in a tangled wad of love, acceptance, and gratitude. I felt like Dad and I finally had an understanding, and I knew that things would be different once we got to the ranch--between him and Mom, too.
As the sun rose and the heat turned everything a foot off the highway into wavy lines, our lovefest turned into a single line of sweat and determination. We weren't halfway there, and Halle needed shade and a water break.
Dad took a sip from his canteen and handed it to me. "We're going to have to step it up, girls. At this pace, we won't make it by nightfall."
I looked to my baby sister. "I know it's hot but think about Mom. Just keep thinking about Mom."
"Don't let the heat keep you from paying attention to your surroundings," Dad said. "We have to--"
Too late, I heard the moan. After all the infected we had slipped by and taken down, it just took one to appear from the trees and sink his teeth into Dad's forearm.
Dad cried out and pulled the creature down with him.
Halle screamed, too, but I didn't have the luxury of being afraid or even being sad. I was angry. Dad had been bitten, and I could see in his eyes, and he in mine, that it was over. A few miles ago, we had just come to an understanding. We had just figured everything out. Things were going to be different. I funneled every bit of that anger into my bat, and with one swing, the infected went from gnawing on Dad's arm to a lifeless, harmless body on the ground.
Halle was still screaming when Dad stood. She was staring at his arm like it was on fire.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice thick with emotion and my chest heaving. "I'm so sorry."
"The first-aid kit!" he said, pointing to his pack.
He turned around, and I pulled on the zipper, lifting out the plastic container.
"What? What do I do?" I asked. The tears were falling then.
Halle's screams blurred in the background.
"The tourniquet!"
I handed him the stretchy band.
"The gauze and the tape!"
After he tied the tourniquet with his good hand and his teeth, he placed one large square of gauze on the wound and then another before wrapping the tape around his arm on each end.
I held out a can of antibiotic spray. "Do you need this before you tape it?" I asked.
He looked up at me, hopelessness in his eyes. "It won't do any good." He stood up and looked at Halle and me. "I'm so sorry, girls." His eyes filled with tears. "I'm so, so sorry."
We hugged Dad again--this time, with no understanding and no peace. We were all sobbing.
Dad sat down and leaned back against the tree. "I'm going to rest for five minutes."
"Halle, give him the water," I said.
The anger had gone away, leaving only an empty ache mixed with fear. I thought about how Tavia had leaned over her brother's body and how that scene hadn't been anything like what I was feeling. I thought about Connor and how he existed every day with emptiness in his eyes. I always believed he was just suffering unbearable sadness that he couldn't describe with words, but sad was wrong. Sad was a common term, and this was very specific. It was unique only to those who had been unlucky enough to experience it, yet it was different for everyone. Dad would run into burning buildings for a living. He would bring people back to life. He was invincible. But there he sat, next to a tree, mentally preparing to die, to leave his young daughters alone. He didn't say it, but I could see the torture within him, swirling in his eyes.
"We'd better go," he said. I reached to help him to his feet. "I don't know how long I have."
"Back to Shallot?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, Jenna. I really am," he said, his voice breaking.
"Whatever you want to do. Let's just get you somewhere to rest," I said.
"C'mon, Pop Can," Dad said, reaching out for Halle.
My bottom lip quivered, and I supported his every step, slow but steady, all the way back to where we'd started. With each step, the guilt bore down on me. It was heavier than Dad. He'd had a bad feeling. It wasn't because of a deadline or even that Mom wasn't going to be there when we arrived. He'd felt his last day coming, and I'd pushed him into it.
Once in a while, he would groan at the pain in his arm, and it spread to his wrist and shoulder. Then, the headache began. By the time we got back to the dark green two-story house that had been our home for the past month, Dad was pale and soaked in sweat.
I helped him up the stairs of the back porch and into the living room where he c
ollapsed onto the couch.
I looked at Halle. "I'm going to check the house first. You stay here."
Checking each room, behind every door and inside every closet, I made certain the house was clear, and the windows were still secure. I couldn't take care of Dad and worry about what might sneak up on us.
I ran into the bathroom and ran cold water onto a washcloth. I tried not to cry, whispering to myself to be strong. He was going to die, but I could make it easier on everyone if I kept it together. I looked up at the dusty mirror. My hairline was wet with sweat, my face pink from the sun. My clothes were filthy, my eyes sunken and dim.
This was not like the video games. We didn't get to start over.
I went into the living room. I knelt next to the couch and propped Dad's head with a pillow. He sucked in air through his teeth, making a hissing noise.
"Everything hurts?" I asked.
"Like the worst flu in the history of ever," he said with a weak smile.
I wiped his face with the rag and then folded it before gently laying it across his forehead. "This is bad," I whispered in a brittle small voice. "I don't know what to do."
"Yes, you do. Jenna, listen to me. We've planned for this. I had the flu shot. I'm going to go downhill fast." His stomach and chest heaved once, and then he swallowed.
"Go get a bowl," I said to Halle.
"But--" she began.
"Now!"
"Jenna," Dad said, "keep the gun on you until I quit breathing."
I shook my head. "I don't wanna do this. Please don't make me."
"Don't wait. Don't even say good-bye. Have Halle go into the other room, and take care of it."
I pursed my lips, trying to hold in the sob. My vision blurred with tears. I was going to have to shoot my dad. What kind of world was this? Nothing could have prepared me for that conversation and definitely not for the act itself.
"Daddy..."
He furrowed his brow, and then pulled me against his chest. "I'm sorry you have to do this," he said, his voice breaking. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," I said through faltering breath. "I love you, too."
He let me go. "Promise me, you'll take care of your sister, no matter what."
"I promise," I said, wiping his face again.
Halle returned with a large bowl, her cheeks wet and red. When she saw my expression, her lip jutted out and trembled.
He pulled his mouth to the side, regret in his eyes. "Jenna, you're smart. You're smarter than me, and it's going to save you and your sister more than once. Trust your instincts. Use your head, not your heart." He grabbed the bowl and heaved into it, expelling the contents of his stomach, which wasn't much. He leaned back against the couch, his face a sallow color. The veins beneath his skin were beginning to darken.
"I don't want you to die, Daddy," Halle said, sucking in breaths.
He pulled her in. "It's going to be okay, Pop Can. You're going to be okay. You're so strong. You're both so strong. I trust your sister to take care of you. You have to trust her, too."
"Okay," she said, sniffing and nodding against his chest. He let her go, and she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I want you to be okay though. Please be okay."
Dad's bottom lip pulled up. "I can't. I wish I could. I'm sorry." He swallowed and then vomited again.
It was happening fast. I had the strangest sensation come over me. I didn't want him to leave us, but I was desperate for his suffering to end.
"Don't get in a hurry to leave," Dad said. "Don't make emotional decisions. Think about things first--for several days, if you have to. When you think you have it all figured out, think on it some more. And get a good feel for the neighbor before you talk to him. Take a gun, but don't let him know you have one. Teach Halle how to protect herself." He looked up. "I'm forgetting something. I need to tell you everything. I should have taught you how to drive a car, how to--" His stomach lurched, and he groaned as he threw up into the bowl again.
I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.
"I was so worried about protecting you that I forgot to teach you how to survive without me."
"You did good, Dad. We're going to be okay."
I stood and took the bowl to the toilet. I emptied it and then rinsed it out in the sink before returning quickly to Dad's side. He was so hot that I could feel the fever radiating off his skin. His eyes were bloodshot, and his veins kept getting darker as the virus took hold of his body.
"You will because you're tough like your mom. You can do this."
"Halle," I said, "get another cold rag for his head."
She obeyed without question.
After an hour, he seemed to stop fighting, and his body relaxed. He was exhausted. He could barely move. Halle was sitting in the recliner across the room, staring at him. I was trying my best to keep him comfortable--changing out the rags for his head, putting ice on his arm, and giving him water even though it would come right back up.
I wanted to beg him not to do this, not to make me do this, but he had no choice, and neither did I. We both had to be strong for Halle until the end, and I had to be strong after. I tried not to let my mind wander to thoughts of what it would be like to survive alone with my sister. We had to survive his death first.
"Jenna," he drawled.
A thick mucus had formed in the corners of his mouth. His veins had branched out under his graying skin, dark and frightening--like the monster he would become. I'd seen those things so many times, but none of them looked like someone I knew. None of them looked like anyone I loved.
"Yes, Daddy?"
"I love you. I love Halle. Get ready."
He sucked in a few more shallow breaths and then paused for a moment. Then, he exhaled it all, never taking in another breath. His head fell to the side, and his eyes stared past me, vacant.
I choked back a cry. "Dad?" I swallowed. "Daddy?"
His words about not waiting repeated in my mind, and I nudged him.
Nothing.
I put my hand over his eyes to close them, and then I stood. "Halle, go into the other room and cover your ears."
I pulled the thick black strap from my shoulder and held the rifle in both hands, steadying my feet.
"Daddy!" Halle cried, reaching for him.
I stopped her with one hand, holding her away. "Go into the other room, so I can do this before he turns."
"Jenna, don't!" she yelled.
"I don't want to! I have to!" I said, twin waterfalls spilling down my cheeks. I checked the rifle's chamber and then took off the safety.
Dad's fingers twitched.
"Jenna, look! He's still alive!" Halle cried. "Don't do it!"
His lids opened to reveal two milky eyes, and then he blinked. He looked over at me, and his lips began to form a snarl.
My chest lurched as I held back a sob. "Please look away, Halle." I raised the rifle, and through the tears streaming from my eyes, I aimed and pulled the trigger.
HALLE PLAYED WITH A PORCELAIN CAT and a coffee mug in the shape of a chicken next to the kitchen table as I tried to keep busy. We'd eaten the last of the rice for dinner the night before, and Halle had become nearly hysterical at the thought of me leaving her to find food.
She played with her toys while her stomach growled.
"We have to get food somehow," I said.
"Then let me go with you," she said.
I sighed.
She stood up and walked the edge of the living room to get to the bathroom for a drink of water. She wouldn't go all the way into the living room anymore. I didn't really like to either. I couldn't get the bloodstains off the couch, so I'd covered it with a bedsheet, which wasn't much better.
Halle stopped wanting to go outside, not that it was safe anyway. I wasn't sure if it was because the neighbor had stopped drawing the infected to the other side of town with his gunshots, but there seemed to be more of them roaming the streets and yards. Though, many of them were wandering out of town toward
the highway.
I felt bad for Halle, not being able to play under the shade trees in the yard, especially since it was so hot inside. We'd open the windows upstairs in the evenings just to keep it comfortable enough to sleep. Every day that went by, the sadder she became, and the less she ate. She wouldn't even look out the back door to the yard, not wanting to see the shallow grave where we had buried our dad.
I'd hold her at night while she cried herself to sleep, wishing I had the luxury of doing that, too. I pretended to be the adult though because that was what my sister needed.
I wondered if Halle and I should just stay or if we should chance the road to Red Hill ranch. Now that there were so many infected, it seemed impossible even if we wanted to.
We had done the opposite of what Dad had always taught us to do--pay attention to our surroundings. We had been lulled into a false sense of safety in the shade of trees and off the road. That one mistake had led to Dad's death. I was trying to decide if it was more important to keep Halle alive here in Shallot--at least until she was old enough to travel--or attempt the daylong walk to the ranch without making a single mistake, so we could be with our mom.
Dad had been faced with that same choice, and I'd rushed him even though he asked me not to. Knowing the result of that hasty decision made it easier to ignore my emotions urging me to leave for Red Hill and to spend more time thinking about a strategy. There were only two of us now, and Halle wasn't strong enough to fight off the infected. I couldn't take on more than one, maybe two, and we had come across more groups than we had loners.
Unless it rained soon, I wasn't sure how much longer the water would last even if we stopped using it for anything but drinking. Leaving Halle alone to go scavenging was the most terrifying thing. If something happened to me, she would have no one. It wasn't impossible, but the odds of her surviving alone were low, and I had promised Dad to take care of her. I couldn't take care of her if I were dead.
It had been at least a week since we lost Dad. The days were blurring together. My birthday was coming up, give or take a few days. It had been months since the first day of the outbreak. Mom probably thought we were dead, and I wanted so much to prove to her that she was wrong. But I couldn't think about that anymore. I had to concentrate on Halle.
"Halle, if the neighbor comes back, I'm going to go out and talk to him."
"What?" she said, frozen.
"I want you to bring Dad's knife. If he tries to grab me and I can't get away, you're going to have to help."