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Arnold scrunched his face. “Nerit, I might not be able to turn around, so I'll have to back out of here. Which means I could potentially drive off the hillside.”
“I trust you not to do that,” Nerit said, patting his shoulder.
“You can do this, Arnold. I have seen you do some crazy ass driving,” Monica said.
“Arnold, you’re the best driver the Fort has. We all know this,” Juan added. “You said you can parallel park a tank.”
Arnold frowned. “I did not say a tank.”
“I’m sure Nerit wouldn’t ask you to do something she didn’t think you could do,” Emma added encouragingly.
“I truly appreciate y’all trying to build up my confidence, and it’s working. Let’s do this!”
Emma moved up the aisle to where the hatch was located. Craning her head, she stared at the blue sky through the opening. As she had done a hundred times before, she pictured exactly what she needed to do in the next few minutes. It was like playing a short film in her mind over and over again until she memorized every action. It was this ritual that had kept her alive throughout the last sixteen months.
“Are you sure you got this?” Juan asked.
“I know what to do.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve been doing this type of thing since the zombie apocalypse started. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Juan appeared doubtful, but he nodded. “Maybe I should take your place.”
Nerit stepped toward Juan and gestured toward a nearby window. It had a heavy metal grating over it with an opening that would allow a weapon to be aimed through it. “I need you there taking out every goddamn zombie you can.” She hooked a thumb at the roof. “I need someone lightweight and fast up there.”
“Nerit, Emma says some of them are in bad condition. I can be of help to save them,” Juan protested.
The older woman took him by the hand and lifted her chin to stare into his green eyes. “You’re too emotional. Too connected to what’s happening. I need you to take out all your anger and fear on the zombies.”
Juan exhaled in obvious frustration, ready to protest.
“Juan, I may look skinny, but I’m pretty spry. I know what I’m capable of. I can get your friends back on this bus safely as long as you’re giving me cover.”
There was no way in hell Emma wanted him on the roof with her. Juan was obviously carrying way too much emotional baggage where Belinda was concerned. Nerit knew him much better than Emma did, and it was evident she also believed he was too caught up in his need to be a hero to risk him taking point.
“Em, just promise me that you’ll bring her back to me. I can’t lose someone else.”
“I promise, Juan, I will do my best.”
Nerit yanked on Juan’s shirt to get his attention. “I need to know you’re good with this plan.”
“I’m good. I’ll do my part.”
Swiveling about on her heel, Nerit walked back to Arnold’s side. “All right, Arnold. Time to save our friends.”
20
People Are Assholes
As soon as the bus shifted gears and rumbled toward the outdoor restrooms, Emma started to have grave second thoughts about the plan. She’d promised Juan she could handle the rescue and she didn’t want to let him down.
The short bus rambled along the gravel drive at a steady pace toward the parking area and the restrooms. Once in the line of sight of the undead, the bus would be swarmed and the situation would become even more perilous and unpredictable. She wished that Arnold would speed up so they could get this over with as soon as possible, but slow and steady was the best way to go about it. With so many zombies in the area, it would be easy to make a miscalculation when traveling at a higher speed, which would put the team in a bad spot.
Gripping the back of the seat in front of her she planted her feet wide to prevent being jostled about. Staring straight ahead through the windshield, she witnessed the moment the zombies heard the bus. In unison their heads swiveled toward the approaching vehicle and their voices rose in one stomach-churning wail. It was the sound that haunted her nightmares every time she closed her eyes to sleep.
Since the first day when the zombies became a part of the world and started the slow disintegration of civilization, Emma’s brain had done a splendid job of creating coping mechanisms. The sound of their wails became white noise while their mottled, dissected bodies blurred into gray figures. They would remain that way until she had to concentrate on individual ones to kill.
