WILLA, стр. 12
Oddly enough, Mom didn’t panic. All she said was, “Mom should’ve put up those solar panels as your father suggested.”
I just stared at her in disbelief. First, because that was the calmest thing she’d said since before the outbreak. Second, because Dad had tried to convince her to let him have our house converted to solar energy, and she’d thought it would look tacky and said no.
“He was right,” was all I said, as I sat on my cot and watched chaos fall across the house.
I made a mental note to ask one of my uncles or Grandma if it would be possible to set up solar panels. A generator was too loud. As it was, the smell of cooking meat drew the attention of the zombies, but we had a deep freezer full of stuff that we needed to cook. Most, luckily enough, we could turn into jerky, which would last a fair bit and didn’t need to stay cold.
Three hours after the electricity went out, and we were confident that it wasn’t going to come back on, Uncle Carson let out a loud whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“Shut up,” his son, Sam, hollered from half-way down the stairs when people continued to talk.
Nearly all of the adults turned to glare at him. Sam just smiled at them and adjusted the shotgun on his shoulder.
“Listen up, people. Life around here is going to get a bit harder now that we don’t have power. We still have a gas stove, but we replaced the gas water heater years ago. When the world calms down a bit, we’ll try to go to the city and get one, but for now, we’ll have to draw water from the well and boil it. That means more of you will have to venture out of the house. Those people will need to learn how to use a gun, spear, sword, and other weapons.
“I realize that many of you think that because you haven’t heard constant gunfire that we haven’t seen many zombies. You are wrong. We kill a dozen or more of those creatures a day. We just do it with quiet weapons because noise seems to get their attention as well as smell.
“Because there will be more people outside, we need ideas on reinforcing the barrier we’ve created around the house. Some of you probably don’t know this, but we’ve created a circle around the house with cars. So far, none of those things have slipped between one, but that’s because they only come through here in twos and threes. If they come in groups more significant than that, we might have a harder time killing them before they figure out a way through the cars.
“Once we have ideas, we’ll need bodies to help us erect whatever it is we put up. I think that’s it. I need all volunteers to come upstairs. If not enough people volunteer, we’ll have to pick people on our own. I don’t want to do that, but I will if I find it necessary. Your safety here—as with anywhere you go—comes with a price. I’m sorry it has to be that way, but it does.”
Without saying another word, he turned and went upstairs. For a solid minute, no one followed him, but then as time passed, people started to go after him. I’d tried to be one of those people, but Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the bed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked with a snarl in her voice.
“Helping. You heard your brother. He’ll pick people if he doesn’t get enough volunteers.”
“He won’t pick you.”
“You don’t know that. I’m sure I’m pretty high on the list of people he would pick.”
“You’re just a child. He’ll pick adults first.”
“I’m not a child. And no, he won’t go just after adults. He’ll go with anyone who’s shown signs of doing what they have to do to survive. You haven’t, but I have. I’ve willingly gone outside and passed the ring of cars to get eggs and would gladly do so again.”
Someone had eventually let it slip that I’d gone after eggs, and Mom had a come apart. Now, she pretended as if she didn’t know.
“Do you want to die? Is this some sort of suicide thing?” Mom asked me.
“No. I want to help. I’m perfectly capable of learning to defend myself.”
“I won’t allow it. You help all you want as long as you stay in this cellar.”
“Mom, eventually, I’m going to have to go up there. I’m going to have to go outside. It’s better if I know how to shoot and fight before that day comes.”
“Why? Why would you ever have to leave here?”
“Because Grandma’s house may not always be safe,” I said in a whisper. “I know you’ve never watched a zombie movie before, but you have watched natural disaster movies. How often do survivors get to stay in their so-called safe place? Not long. Something always happens. Always. And those things out there, if they are anything like the zombies from fiction, could live hundreds of years. At some point, I will have to face them. I will have to fight one—probably even kill one. Hell, I might have to kill a living person to survive. I should learn as much as I can now so that I’m not trying to figure it out on the fly.”
“You’re wrong,” was all she said and turned from me.
I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I rose and went about my morning routine of setting up the tables in preparation for breakfast. All the while, I wondered how I should go about requesting water to brush my teeth, if we were going