WILLA, стр. 15
“Shit. That’s crazy,” I said, staring off into space.
“Yeah. The worst part is that now Stella’s husband, Dave, is threatening to leave with their kids. He says it isn’t safe here anymore with us making people hunt and stand guard.”
“That’s stupid. What happened to Stella was an accident. Besides, the chances are that anywhere else Dave goes, he’s going to have to do the same thing.”
“That’s what Dad keeps telling him, but Dave doesn’t seem to believe him. He says that he bets that the outbreak is over and that Dad, Grandma, and Uncle Carson were just holding us here out of fear.”
“He believes this after two zombies attacked you and his wife?” I asked.
“Yep. Dave doesn’t believe there were zombies. Dad offered to show him the dead. Not just the two who attacked us, but all the bodies we have in the east field. He blew Dad off.”
“So, they are leaving?”
“I don’t know. Grandma is talking to him now, but...”
We sat in silence for a long moment. I thought about Stella and her family. I was scared for them, but I also thought about the fact that there would be four fewer people if her husband and children left. Four fewer mouths to feed. Four fewer sets of clothes I had to wash. Four fewer people to take up space in the cramped cellar. For a second, I almost wished he would go, but then I kicked myself for being so selfish.
“Will others leave with them, do you think?” I asked Chad.
“I don’t know. I know a few people have talked about it. We’ve been here at least two months. Most don’t see the number of zombies that we do, so they don’t think the outbreak was as bad as shown on television. Some even think it’s over or nearly over. They assume that we’ll be able to go our separate ways soon.”
“Then we need to show them,” I suggested.
“How. Despite our families’ bravado, over half of the ones who want to run won’t leave the cellar or are like you and can’t. Those that help try to tell the others how dangerous it is, but even some of them think they might be safer somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“A military base or CDC quarantine zone.”
“Would those places be safer?”
“I don’t know. When we’re on watch, we listen to the radios in the cars. There aren’t many stations still on, so mostly what we get is individuals. The reports we hear are contradictory.
“Some say the military is killing the creatures by the thousands. Others believe that the CDC is working on a vaccine and cure. Others say that they haven’t seen the military in weeks and that the zombies are multiplying like crazy.
“We’ve even heard that the virus or whatever it is has spread outside of the country, and not just to Canada and Mexico.”
“Wow. Do we believe there’s a cure or a vaccine?”
“I think we have to. True or not, we have to have faith that we’ll be okay. And Dad’s right, we will be if people will get their shit together. No offense.”
“None taken. I’ve tried talking to Mom, but she won’t listen to me. She’s all over the map. Sometimes she thinks we’re just sitting here waiting to die. Other times she’s making plans for us to be here indefinitely. And then other times, she thinks this will be over in a few days. The worst part is that she won’t even talk about Dad. I know he’s probably dead, but...”
“But he’s still your father, and you want to talk about him. Speculate on where he is at the moment, and what he’s doing. If he’s trying to get back here to you guys.”
“Exactly. Mom’s acting as if Dad never existed.”
“Maybe she has to think that way to keep from losing her mind.”
“Any more than she already has, you mean.”
“I guess. My mom’s doing the same thing about her parents. They were in Maine when the news of the outbreak hit. She talked to them that first day, and they were on the road, headed back here. Mom told them where we’d be, and to come here as soon as they could. So...”
“The chances are that they’re dead,” I said with a sigh.
“Yeah. When Mom does talk about them, which is rare, she says they’ll be here as soon as they can get here. And they might still be alive, fighting to find us. Just like your Dad might be. My best advice is to let him be alive in both of your minds until you know otherwise.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I better get back upstairs before Dad starts looking for me. Have fun washing clothes,” he said, bumping me with his shoulder before standing.
“You mess with me, and I’ll hang your underwear up where everyone can see them.”
“You wouldn’t,” he said with a smile.
“I so would,” I said, laughing.
My boisterous laughter was loud enough for my mom to hear because, at that moment, she called my name.
“Don’t tell her that I told you anything,” Chad said.
“Trust me, I won’t,” I replied before moving off to look for my mother.
11.
My grandmother and uncles managed to keep everyone on the property until the week a wave of the undead showed up on the farm and nearly overran us. That day was more chaotic than even our first few days in the cellar. I, as you can guess, spent the entire event in the cellar bathroom with nearly ten other people—mostly other kids, a few of our elderly, and my mother.
Mom grabbed me and ran for the bathroom, the second she heard someone upstairs scream. When the others saw where Mom headed, they dragged their kids in our direction. Thankfully, most merely shoved their children into the bathroom with us.
I found out later from Kris that more than a few people ran upstairs to help the guards get the situation under control. That knowledge made me