old man. Her refusal to respond to a simple question annoyed me like crazy. It occurred to me, leaning on the front window, to leave her there. An easy trick. Turn and hop across the parking lot, swerve around the gas station next door, and head north. Unless she looked out the window in the next ninety seconds, or so, she’d have no idea where I’d gone. I was home free.
No more painful, clingy hugs. No more complaining. No more sharing supplies.
The neighboring gas station wasn’t far away. Fifty meters. Maybe seventy-five.
“Hurry up, slow poke,” Hunny shouted through the open door.
And I couldn’t do it.
She was just a kid. Annoying, sure, but basically helpless. If I abandoned her she'd be dead by morning. And the thought of how much her parents had loved and cherished her—enough to send her away to save her life—made me feel guilty and a little bit responsible. For their benefit, at least, I could hand her off to another survivor. If I’d found her and Willa, there must be others.
So I pushed my way toward the restaurant even though I'd much rather have stayed on the road. The stench reached me before I even cracked the front door, but when I did an ungodly odor crawled inside my nose like a living thing.
“Ah.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. Too late. I wouldn’t be able to scrub the reeking smell off me with bleach and steel wool.
Other, not-so-lucky survivors had been inside this McDonald’s before us, and by the stink, never left. It must have been the first type of establishment cleaned out during the initial panic. Searching for helpful supplies was most likely a complete waste of time.
Five minutes was too long to be stuck in there.
I wanted to get back on the road and breathe fresh air again.
But Hunny was thrilled to be anywhere even slightly reminiscent of her old life. She grinned as she crossed the dining room and stared up at the broken menu board as if she considered making an order.
Except no one was assembling lunch and no one was frying burgers in the kitchen. That reality was over. For a while, anyway.
“Be quick,” I urged, uneasy. “Look for water first and then canned stuff.” Even if she only found barbecue sauce and French fry oil, we weren’t in any position to be choosy. And if we were really lucky she’d find drinkable water.
The loss of electricity and the vehicles crammed in all around the building like a half-finished blockade made the interior even darker.
The last time I’d been in a McDonald’s it had been with my mom and Mason. Dad was a health nut and wouldn’t let us eat fast food, but Mom was a French fry junkie and took us every once in a while to a burger joint. Back then the dining room had been crowded and noisy with families, and it had smelled of onions and ketchup.
“Let’s hurry,” I said, glancing around the shadowy and cavernous interior. “I don’t like it here.”
Hunny dove over the counter and rifled through cupboards and shelves. “There are a gazillion little bags of nuts and granola and…” Her voice trailed off.
Maybe it had finally sunk in how creepy this place was. Me, I had figured that out the second I smelled it. The whole restaurant gave me the chills. It reminded me too vividly of the way things had been, and how wrecked the world had become.
“Just shove it all in a box or something, and let’s go.”
“Maya?”
I recognized real fear in her voice, and my heart dropped. She had more than a bad feeling. She was genuinely spooked.
Coming here had been an awful idea.
“Maya,” she repeated, “there are bodies back here.”
I unsheathed my short sword and swiveled to see all corners of the dining room.
This was even worse than being stuck on the highway in the path of a pack of Reds. There was nowhere to hide. No cover. I was a sitting duck. Sweat blossomed over my entire body as I tensed for the coming fight.
Sometimes infected people created what newscasters had called a nest where they hunkered
No more painful, clingy hugs. No more complaining. No more sharing supplies.
The neighboring gas station wasn’t far away. Fifty meters. Maybe seventy-five.
“Hurry up, slow poke,” Hunny shouted through the open door.
And I couldn’t do it.
She was just a kid. Annoying, sure, but basically helpless. If I abandoned her she'd be dead by morning. And the thought of how much her parents had loved and cherished her—enough to send her away to save her life—made me feel guilty and a little bit responsible. For their benefit, at least, I could hand her off to another survivor. If I’d found her and Willa, there must be others.
So I pushed my way toward the restaurant even though I'd much rather have stayed on the road. The stench reached me before I even cracked the front door, but when I did an ungodly odor crawled inside my nose like a living thing.
“Ah.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. Too late. I wouldn’t be able to scrub the reeking smell off me with bleach and steel wool.
Other, not-so-lucky survivors had been inside this McDonald’s before us, and by the stink, never left. It must have been the first type of establishment cleaned out during the initial panic. Searching for helpful supplies was most likely a complete waste of time.
Five minutes was too long to be stuck in there.
I wanted to get back on the road and breathe fresh air again.
But Hunny was thrilled to be anywhere even slightly reminiscent of her old life. She grinned as she crossed the dining room and stared up at the broken menu board as if she considered making an order.
Except no one was assembling lunch and no one was frying burgers in the kitchen. That reality was over. For a while, anyway.
“Be quick,” I urged, uneasy. “Look for water first and then canned stuff.” Even if she only found barbecue sauce and French fry oil, we weren’t in any position to be choosy. And if we were really lucky she’d find drinkable water.
The loss of electricity and the vehicles crammed in all around the building like a half-finished blockade made the interior even darker.
The last time I’d been in a McDonald’s it had been with my mom and Mason. Dad was a health nut and wouldn’t let us eat fast food, but Mom was a French fry junkie and took us every once in a while to a burger joint. Back then the dining room had been crowded and noisy with families, and it had smelled of onions and ketchup.
“Let’s hurry,” I said, glancing around the shadowy and cavernous interior. “I don’t like it here.”
Hunny dove over the counter and rifled through cupboards and shelves. “There are a gazillion little bags of nuts and granola and…” Her voice trailed off.
Maybe it had finally sunk in how creepy this place was. Me, I had figured that out the second I smelled it. The whole restaurant gave me the chills. It reminded me too vividly of the way things had been, and how wrecked the world had become.
“Just shove it all in a box or something, and let’s go.”
“Maya?”
I recognized real fear in her voice, and my heart dropped. She had more than a bad feeling. She was genuinely spooked.
Coming here had been an awful idea.
“Maya,” she repeated, “there are bodies back here.”
I unsheathed my short sword and swiveled to see all corners of the dining room.
This was even worse than being stuck on the highway in the path of a pack of Reds. There was nowhere to hide. No cover. I was a sitting duck. Sweat blossomed over my entire body as I tensed for the coming fight.
Sometimes infected people created what newscasters had called a nest where they hunkered
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