The door gave under my pull, and for a second, the rush of it actually opening was all my mind could register. Until the smell hit—rot and decay.
Inside were two small bodies. One slumped over in the passenger seat, head resting against the glass, and one in the driver seat, face turned toward the passenger.
Paul and Bridget.
My lungs gave out.
Easing in front of Paul’s decayed body, I peered around to Bridget. My beautiful best friend. Not that you could even tell it was her any longer, but I knew. Betweenthem, their pinkies were hooked together, not quite in a full handhold, but the smallest possible reach for each other. A tear slipped loose before I could stop it, sliding down my cheek inside the mask where no one would ever see it. They were wearing suits like mine, but their masks were together forgotten on Bridget’s lap.
The car hadn't crashed, and from my view, there were no signs of violence. If I was being honest with myself, they’d probably taken off the masks, not realizing the invisible danger until it was too late. They’d been gone for almost six years, and for six years they sat above me like buried headstones.
I don’t know how long I stood there. My throat burned, not only from my own exhaustion and thirst, but from my reality crashing in.
I had to get out of here.
I backed away from the SUV, careful not to touch anything, and closed the door gently. Lest an animal wandered past and took care of what was left of them.
No, I was going to pretend they were only sleeping.
After standing around longer than I could afford, I finally gave up and began the walk down Paul’s long-ass driveway. The plan was to follow the highway into town, even though my chances of finding bottled water at a gas station—or even a grocery store—seemed slim to none, we were remaining positive.
Besides, there were houses in town. Lots of them. Someone had to have left a water bottle or two around.
I held the gun tucked against my waist as I walked the sloping drive. I wasn’t naive enough to think that if I encountered another person they’d just hand me a gallon and tell me to drink up. The days leading up to the fallout had been some of the worst days of humanity. KeepingPaul’s gun on me was practical, even if I detested the thought of using it. It was a last resort, and sadly, there were already a lot of those.
I busied myself with racking my tired and dehydrated brain for a new name for Patricia, because I refused to keep calling her that. Even though seeing Paul’s deceased body made me less angry. “What do you think about Lois?” I said, patting my pocket through the highlighter suit. “Still kind of old-timey like Patricia. Or Agnes.” Yeah, I liked that. I could call her Aggie. Less of a mouthful than Patricia.
The highway came into view as I stopped and reached through the layers for the gecko. “What do you think of Agnes?” I frowned and dug around in my pocket. “Agnes?”
However—she was gone.
“Patricia?”
Unzipping the suit I pulled my jacket open to search properly. She couldn’t have gone far. Maybe she’d climbed out of my pocket and fallen into the bottom of the suit. I shook my leg. Nothing. No tiny scrambling feet, nor little claws biting into my skin.
Then it hit me.I never put her back.
In my dehydration haze, I must have set her down on Paul’s desk when I stowed the pictures of Original Patricia away. I stood frozen for a moment before sighing and turning around. We’d made it this far. Despite the fact it was terrifyingly dark outside and I needed water, like yesterday, I had to go back for her. And to think I used to judge those people who said their dogs were their children…
Well look at me now. Running uphill to save my best friend’s boyfriend’s gecko, which he named after his ex-wife.
By the time I stumbled through the broken front door of the house, my legs were as heavy as wet cement. I dragged myself down the hall and pushed open the office door again, sweeping my flashlight across the room.
“Patricia?” The beam caught her immediately. She was perched on the windowsill, unmoving. “Oh no—no, no, no.” I rushed forward and scooped her up with shaking hands. Her little body was cold and stiff, and panic shot through me. It was like when I discovered her lamp stopped working. “Hey,” I murmured, cupping her gently. “You’re okay.” I tugged my jacket open and slid her carefully inside my shirt, pressing her against the warmth of my skin. “Come on,” I whispered. “Warm up.”
A glint beyond the skeletal remains of trees caught my attention as I held Aggie to my heart. It was faint, a shimmer of silver through the broken branches outside the window. My first thought was moonlight catching on torn off roof flashing in the woods but it had gotten foggy through night's descent. The sky, the shade of muddied steel.
The glint came again.
Securing Patricia in my jacket I slipped the gun from my pocket before zipping up my suit. The forest beyond the house was silent, not even a whisper of wind. The glint moved closer this time, and I exhaled a slow shaky breath. My heart was hammering as I ducked behind the curtains and made my way back through the house. Was it an animal? Another person? Orpeople…
Were they looking for supplies too?
I wasn’t sure if it was my frayed nerves—from having found two bodies, but with shaking fingers, I fumbled with the safety.They died of natural causes, not an attack.Still, my vision pulsed at the edges. If I could make it out the kitchen door, I could hide in the woods until they got what they wanted and left. Or I could decide if they were safe to approach for help.
I waited behind the door for a moment, listening, but I couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears. I twisted the knob open. Mercifully, it didn’t squeak. I slipped outside and eased the door shut behind me, tiptoeing down the patio, and across the forgotten lawn until the shadows swallowed me whole.
Around me the trees appeared as black marks in the scratched glass of the mask, blurry dark shapes that jutted up to the sky. I stood behind one, neck craned and listening. A faint crunch echoed through the forest. It was moving closer. Snapped branches and the rustle of fabric or leaves maybe. Then—
