Zombie Ocean (Book 2): The Lost by Michael John Grist
Authors: Michael John Grist
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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backseat in her jacket with her little snail-pack still on her back, she could almost believe she was still curled up in the sling at her Daddy's chest.
The next day she wandered, following the coastal road. She didn't know where to go really. It was OK to wander in the middle down the central white lines, because there were no cars except for cars that didn't move. At times the road lifted up over the rocks below, giving her a beautiful view out across the ocean, though she barely noticed it.
She thought about her father, and where he was. She thought about all the things he'd done for her all her life, and how little she'd done for him, and how in the end he'd chosen to leave her behind.
It hurt. Was he thinking about her now, somewhere deep beneath the waves?
Probably not.
She stopped in the shade of a billboard sticking up out of an outcrop of red rock. There was a cactus nearby; she recognized it from picture books she'd read as a little kid. Funnily enough the billboard also had a picture of a cactus, with some words and numbers that she couldn't really read.
That was funny.
She opened her pack and drank some bottled water. She chewed on a gooey breakfast bar. It was like the shooting stars, but easier to eat, and she didn't need milk. For weeks milk in every shop and refrigerator she'd seen had been bad.
She took out her Daddy's phone and looked at it. It hadn't worked for so long, and she felt like leaving it here on the rock just like he'd left her. It would be fair and even. She tried to leave it. She put the phone there and looked at it. She got up and started away but that just made her cry. Worse than that though, she felt empty inside.
She had to be strong, but she didn't know how. Holding on to her Daddy, though he had chosen to leave, was a different kind of strong from walking a long way or holding on really tight. It belonged on the inside, where you couldn't even see it. It was a kind of strong her Mommy had never had.
She picked up the phone, tucked it in her pocket and started walking again.
She could walk a long way without getting tired now. She didn't get hungry either, hardly at all. Her legs were sturdy and strong. She could be strong inside too.
She came across more cars. In some of them people were trapped: a boy, a girl, a mother and father in a long silvery car. She let them out. They didn't stop to say thank you.
"Bye then," she called after them, as they stumbled down off the road and into the dunes, together.
Late in the afternoon she entered a town. There were big empty parking lots, and bright signs sticking up on tall poles, and long mall buildings. The road climbed again, this time going over other roads below. Cars were scattered everywhere. In places one of them had gone through the railings and fallen off the edge.
She stood at the edge and looked down, to a dusty neighborhood where the walls were made of corrugated tin and the roofs were wrapped in place with black tarpaper. The car that fell through was upside down, showing its dark underbelly and wheels like a tipped-over toy.
She kept walking. The sun was low off to the side, warming her comfortingly, and the ocean breeze kept her cool. The road descended and she came to a street lined with tall buildings. Bits of paper fluttered around like secret birds.
There were two gray people banging against a glass door in the middle of the block, trapped inside. It was some kind of restaurant, but she couldn't read the writing at all. There were red lanterns in the window and pictures of fish painted onto the wall. One of the people was the chef, she knew that from his apron, and one looked like a waitress, but both had their trousers off. They looked funny.
She tried to let them out but the door wouldn't open. She stood and shrugged at them.
Thump thump, they said.
Their faces looked sad.
She walked around the side of the building, looking for a back door. Perhaps she could lead them out that way, like she'd led
The next day she wandered, following the coastal road. She didn't know where to go really. It was OK to wander in the middle down the central white lines, because there were no cars except for cars that didn't move. At times the road lifted up over the rocks below, giving her a beautiful view out across the ocean, though she barely noticed it.
She thought about her father, and where he was. She thought about all the things he'd done for her all her life, and how little she'd done for him, and how in the end he'd chosen to leave her behind.
It hurt. Was he thinking about her now, somewhere deep beneath the waves?
Probably not.
She stopped in the shade of a billboard sticking up out of an outcrop of red rock. There was a cactus nearby; she recognized it from picture books she'd read as a little kid. Funnily enough the billboard also had a picture of a cactus, with some words and numbers that she couldn't really read.
That was funny.
She opened her pack and drank some bottled water. She chewed on a gooey breakfast bar. It was like the shooting stars, but easier to eat, and she didn't need milk. For weeks milk in every shop and refrigerator she'd seen had been bad.
She took out her Daddy's phone and looked at it. It hadn't worked for so long, and she felt like leaving it here on the rock just like he'd left her. It would be fair and even. She tried to leave it. She put the phone there and looked at it. She got up and started away but that just made her cry. Worse than that though, she felt empty inside.
She had to be strong, but she didn't know how. Holding on to her Daddy, though he had chosen to leave, was a different kind of strong from walking a long way or holding on really tight. It belonged on the inside, where you couldn't even see it. It was a kind of strong her Mommy had never had.
She picked up the phone, tucked it in her pocket and started walking again.
She could walk a long way without getting tired now. She didn't get hungry either, hardly at all. Her legs were sturdy and strong. She could be strong inside too.
She came across more cars. In some of them people were trapped: a boy, a girl, a mother and father in a long silvery car. She let them out. They didn't stop to say thank you.
"Bye then," she called after them, as they stumbled down off the road and into the dunes, together.
Late in the afternoon she entered a town. There were big empty parking lots, and bright signs sticking up on tall poles, and long mall buildings. The road climbed again, this time going over other roads below. Cars were scattered everywhere. In places one of them had gone through the railings and fallen off the edge.
She stood at the edge and looked down, to a dusty neighborhood where the walls were made of corrugated tin and the roofs were wrapped in place with black tarpaper. The car that fell through was upside down, showing its dark underbelly and wheels like a tipped-over toy.
She kept walking. The sun was low off to the side, warming her comfortingly, and the ocean breeze kept her cool. The road descended and she came to a street lined with tall buildings. Bits of paper fluttered around like secret birds.
There were two gray people banging against a glass door in the middle of the block, trapped inside. It was some kind of restaurant, but she couldn't read the writing at all. There were red lanterns in the window and pictures of fish painted onto the wall. One of the people was the chef, she knew that from his apron, and one looked like a waitress, but both had their trousers off. They looked funny.
She tried to let them out but the door wouldn't open. She stood and shrugged at them.
Thump thump, they said.
Their faces looked sad.
She walked around the side of the building, looking for a back door. Perhaps she could lead them out that way, like she'd led
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