6. Emily

6

The smell is awful. It’s the most foul thing I’ve ever smelled in my life, and I’ve survived nearly a year of the dead walking the earth. I miss my little colony and the safety it provides, but most importantly, I miss never having to smell so many rotting corpses in such close proximity.

It’s too much, and I end up vomiting. Unfortunately, it’s right on top of the rotter that I’m dragging over to add to the growing pile. That’s extra disgusting. Well, at least I won’t have to do any extra cleanup for it. Bright side and all that.

After waking up and forcing Max to let go of me with the promise that I’ll at least wait until after breakfast before trying to stab him with the knife he gave me—much to his disappointment, having to wait—the smell was so overpowering that I nearly threw up in his lap. It made it impossible to even think about breakfast, so we all went straight to work on tearing down the campsite and now we’re piling all the dead rotters together to burn them before driving away. I don’t know why we can’t leave them here like this, but William prefers to burn them. He says it’s a way to cleanse the earth by having a few less of them rotting around. So here I am, dragging dead bodies across the ground while simultaneously throwing up on them. But with the lack of food, it’s mostly water. I regret making that promise with Max. Stabbing him would have been so much more fun. It’s probably not too late, though. He’s the reason I’m still here. Therefore, I dislike almost as much as Griffin right now.

The man occupying my current thoughts grins at me from the other side of the pile that I finally reach. His grin is so wide, it almost reaches his vibrant green eyes. His dark hair is still wild and untamed, much like the man himself. I imagine pulling the knife from the belt holster William loaned me and throwing it through the air right at his stupid face, but my aim isn’t good enough for that yet. Although I bet he wouldn’t mind being a target practice for me. I think nothing is off the table for that man. I want to make him mad, but now I’m thinking that’s not possible.

Max tosses another body onto the pile and waggles his eyebrows at me. “Nothing I like more than a good party. Let’s do it again tonight.”

“Draw rotters in like that again and you’ll be joining them,” Griffin threatens when he heaves a torso on top of the pile right before William throws the legs on top. I turn my head and dry heave.

William is by my side in an instant, holding my hair back for me. Once I’m done, he pulls the hair tie off of my wrist and gently pulls my hair back. It’s still tangled, but he does his best to smooth my hair back before wrapping my hair up in a ponytail.

“She’s got nothing left to throw up. Speaking of which, Willie, I promised her you’d make her waffles sometime,” Max helpfully states.

“It’s William. Does she even like waffles?”

“Who wouldn’t like waffles?”

“How are you talking about food at a time like this?” I dry heave again.

“Gotta keep our appetite up. Doesn’t burning, rotting flesh make you hungry?” Max asks. “Or maybe it’s the killing. Well, they were already dead, so killing the dead. Regardless, we can’t forget about the waffles.”

William rolls his eyes and touches my arm. “Come on, let’s get you away from here. We’re almost done. Max can finish up. I’m sure this mess is mostly his fault, anyway.”

“I take pride in that,” Max calls after us while William leads me to the car.

“Don’t even think about trying anything. I still have the key,” Griffin adds before walking away to join Max in collecting the last few rotters.

I rest my forearms on the trunk of the car and drop my head down, struggling to breathe. The odor is far too great. We’ll have to drive for a while before it goes away. It’s in my clothes, in my hair, in every particle of the surrounding air. Two hundred and sixty-six days in this rotter apocalypse and I still haven’t gotten used to the stench.

A rough hand rubs gentle circles against my back while I fight to keep the nausea at bay. It’s a nice feeling, and I think it might even be working. It’s weird to have someone else try to take care of me. I’m always the one who winds up taking care of everyone else. That’s how I landed myself on this mission in the first place; I’m responsible for so many lives. It gets exhausting sometimes. The weight of the world presses down on my shoulders. At least when I’m outside the colony, it seems to lift a little.

Air struggles to go in and out of my lungs.

Zoey is counting on me, and if I fail, then there might be no one able to take my place. Sure, there are plenty of people to go out and scavenge, but none as dedicated as I am. They would probably try the same areas we’ve scavenged and go back into the colony with their palms facing up and say they tried.

“Emily, breathe. I know it’s hard right now, but you need to breathe.” William’s voice is low, strong, and calm. I do as he says and force air into my lungs, no matter how rancid the air is. He doesn’t stop rubbing circles into my back, even when footsteps approach. He speaks to someone over his shoulder. “Start the fire and let’s get out of here.”

“Move, I need to open the trunk.”

“I’m not going back in there,” I bit out to Griffin. The nerve of him. I would even choose to ride on top of the car rather than in the trunk. I ought to stab him with Max’s knife for even suggesting it.

“Actually, I was going to put the rest of the gear in there, but putting you in there instead isn’t a bad idea,” Griffin says thoughtfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Wait, is that a threat or a promise?” Max adds, reaching for the box of matches that Griffin holds out. When I don’t respond, he shrugs his shoulders and runs over to start the fire.

Shaking my head, I push myself away from the trunk and walk around the car before lowering myself into the passenger’s seat. I’m riding in first class today. Maybe I should put Griffin in the trunk, see how he likes it.

Max has the fire roaring in a matter of moments and comes running back to the car to join us, but I do my best to ignore him. All of them.

I pull out hand sanitizer from my pocket when the doors open and shut as everyone joins me inside the car. After squirting some into my palm, I’m sliding it back into my pocket when Griffin snatches it from me. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Griffin raises an eyebrow. “Wiping off the dead blood and guts from my hands, like you.” He squirts some into his hand before passing it to the guys in the back. My mouth hangs open, then he reaches out, places a single finger beneath my chin, and closes my mouth without a word.

“Whoever taught you manners did a horrible job. Ever heard of asking?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Max utters with excitement before grabbing the little bottle from William, who I’m assuming slaps him because of the sound of skin hitting skin that happens right after.

Griffin glares at me, and I stare him down. Neither of us moves until the little bottle appears in the air between us. Griffin takes it and hands it to me before turning to face forward and starting the engine.

A mistake was made last night. I shouldn’t have dislocated my thumb in order to escape. I should have dislocated his thumb instead, and then his dick.

Oh well. Next time.

“It’s empty.” I shake the little bottle. There wasn’t a lot in there to begin with, and it was my last bottle. I would have shared it with them if he’d asked, but it’s the way he took it without asking that annoys me. Although everything that Griffin does annoys me. The way he breathes annoys me.

The sound of sharpening metal reaches my ears, and when I look back, sure enough, Max is sharpening a dagger. I don’t know where he keeps them all. Every time I turn around, he’s playing with something new, sharp, and pointy.

“Do you have to do that in the car?” William asks.

“Gotta have these babies ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“Just don’t cut me.”

“What better way would there be to test the sharpness?” Max winks at me. I shake my head and turn around while they continue to bicker. It gives me an idea, though. If I can get one or two of them on my side, it could help my chances of escape. Maybe even tear them apart long enough for me to slip out unnoticed. Not while we’re driving, of course. Jumping out of a moving car might get me noticed. And hurt.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to be nice. Make conversation. Be a team player. I’m so going to rock this.

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Really? You kidnap me, put me in the trunk of your car, won’t let me leave, and then get suspicious when I ask where we’re going?” My voice rises with each sentence and I have to remind myself that I’m trying to be nice. Get him to trust me. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Griffin clears his throat. “Fair enough.”

That’s all he says. Clearly, he has no intention of ever telling me where we are, so I turn my attention to the world outside the window and keep my eye out for any signs that could give me a clue.

Eventually, I pull out my compass that I keep tucked inside of my shirt where it hangs around my neck. We’re moving south. That means when I get away from them, I’ll need to head north. Then I can figure the rest out from there. As long as we also headed south yesterday. I feel better having some sort of plan.

Griffin breaks the silence after a while. “You’re wrong.”

Then nothing. Only that one statement.

I scoff. “Care to elaborate?”

“My mother taught me manners, and she did a fine good job.”

“Yeah? Where is she now? Because I have some feedback for her.”

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles whiten. “Six feet beneath the earth in the backyard of the family’s Virginia home, along with my father, brother, and sister. Took me seventeen hours and two shovels.”

Oh. Shit. I should offer him comfort. Tell him how much I can relate because it happened to me. Instead, my brain is stuck on one detail. “What happened to the first shovel?”

“Didn’t kill my dad enough before I started digging. He came at me right as I finished the hole and pulled myself up, so I threw the shovel. Severed his spinal cord and he fell down into the hole along with the shovel. I wasn’t about to crawl back down to retrieve it, so I stole the neighbor’s shovel to fill in the hole. It’s not like they were using it anymore. They were on vacation when the virus spread.”

“Guess they went on a permanent vacation,” I mutter, and Max laughs from the backseat. At least someone thinks I’m funny. Back at my colony, people would have criticized me for making a joke at a time like this. But not here.

I reach over and rest my hand on his leg, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. His death grip on the steering wheel loosens. “I’m sorry, Griffin. I lost my family in the outbreak too, only I didn’t have to be the one to put them down. Law enforcement took care of that, back in the early hours when they still existed, before the world gave up.”

“How did they do it?”

I watch him, but he continues watching the road ahead, lost in his own mind. “I came home from college a week early to surprise them, my dad and little brother. Walked through the door to find them standing in the livingroom. Fitting name for that room, considering they were dead.”

He lowers one hand down to cover mine and gives it a squeeze.

“At that point, I knew a virus was spreading, but I knew nothing about the later stages of it. Didn’t understand what was going on until the sirens sounded and they went crazy and attacked me. I probably would’ve joined them if the neighbor hadn’t been a cop who had just had to deal with his own family.” I look out the window. Trees fly by as we soar down the highway. I’m not sure why I’m telling all of this to him. He’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve my story. I want to get him to trust me, not spill my guts out to him. I need a new plan, pronto.

“We lasted a couple days together, after the dead rose. I went out to get supplies and came back to a house full of rotters. My sister…she didn’t know. She did something on accident that drew them.”

“I’m sorry you went through that, Griffin.”

He looks at me, and for the first time, I feel like he’s really looking at me. It only lasts a moment before he watches the road again. “I’m sorry you went through that, too, Emily.”

Max’s face appears between our seats. “Are you two good now? Kissed and made up and all that?”

On reflex, I punch him. Then I remember I need him on my side so I can escape, and I immediately regret it. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

William laughs and nudges Max’s leg with his own. “That’s what you get.”

Max howls with pain…no, wait, that’s laughter. I can’t believe he’s laughing. He lowers his hands from his face and leans forward with his elbows resting above his knees with a grin on his face and a drop of red above his upper lip. “Nice hit. Maybe you don’t need that knife after all.”

“It’s mine now, I’m keeping it,” I say, hovering my hand over the knife attached to my belt. They never gave me back my own weapons, so I’ll keep any of theirs I can get my hands on.

He chuckles and wipes the blood away with the back of his hand. “For real though, you’ve got quite the aim.”

“And you’ve got a voice. Your howl was loud enough to wake the dead, and now they’re coming for us.” William points out the window.

“Not for long.” Griffin presses harder on the gas and we sail down the highway, dodging most of the rotters and running over a few. We pass by a large green sign, but I don’t notice it until it’s already passing by and too blurry to make out. “Still trying to figure out where we’re going, princess?”

“Why won’t you tell me?” I bite back, thumping back against my seat and crossing my arms.

“It’s more fun this way.”

“We need to work on your definition of fun.”

Everyone is silent over the next short stretch of time. I’m dozing off in my seat when Griffin’s voice turns concerning.

“What’s this?” Griffin reduces his speed and leans forward. Curious, I lean forward too.

“Dregs.” William spits out the word like a curse.

“Are you kidding me? For two hundred and sixty-six days, I managed to avoid the plague on the apocalypse, but after one day with you, you drive me straight to them.” I turn to face him with my back against the door. “Don’t tell me you’re one of them.”

“We’re not with them, princess.”

“Stop calling me princess.”

“Don’t worry, pet.”

“Stop calling me pet,” I snap at Max next.

“We’ve got your back, Emily. I promise.”

I meet William’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“What, no snappy comeback for him?” Griffin asks, his body stiff. He’s looking all around. Following his gaze, I can see why. There are dregs stationed all over. Most of them are in camouflage to blend in, some hanging out at the tops of telephone poles, and a few of them standing on the ground and on top of cars that are blocking the highway. The line of cars stretches out far enough that trying to go around would be fruitless, especially since they’ve already spotted us.

“He’s the only one capable of remembering my name.”

“I remember your name,” Griffin whispers.

“Right now, all I want you to remember is how to turn this car around.”

“Too late. Once we’re spotted, there’s no point in turning around. They’ll chase us down. These scum of the earth rose when the world fell and took advantage of everyone’s vulnerability. They’ll chase down and kill everyone who runs from them, and if you’re lucky, the only thing they’ll take is all your supplies. If you’re not lucky, they take your life, too.”

“I know what dregs are, dumbass.”

“Just making sure. You said you haven’t run into them yet.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are.”

As he pulls the car closer to our impending doom, Griffin gives me the most serious look I’ve ever seen. Even more serious than when he slapped handcuffs on me. “Whatever happens, don’t get out of this car.”

Right, like that’s going to fucking happen.