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“I’m sure they did.” Kimber put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Lazlo is a survivor.”
“We all are, and yet here we are, barely surviving,” Kerrigan muttered.
I hoped that Lazlo had escaped. I hoped that they all had, and that Mason had been the only casualty. I didn’t know where we were, but I had to believe that anywhere that Lazlo and the others would end up had to be better than this.
Kerrigan was cursing to himself as he struggled to remove the arrow from his shoulder, so I asked him. “Do you want help with that?”
“It’s better if you don’t.” He rolled up the sleeve of his fatigues, revealing a jagged semi-circle of teeth marks on his arm.
A zombie had gotten him.
“How long ago were you bitten?” I asked.
He rolled his sleeve back down and shook his head. “Just before I went unconscious. Any ideas on how long ago that was? Your guess is as good as mine.”
By the sunlight shining through the cracks in the wall, it had to be at least five or six hours later. But then again, I wasn’t even certain about when the truck had flipped over last night.
Suddenly, there was a loud sound of metal scraping against metal echoing all through the barn, and that was soon followed by the heavy footfalls of boots stalking down the middle corridor between the stalls.
Kimber scooted back against the exterior wall, close to Kerrigan but not quite next to him, and she grabbed my hand and pulled me back with her. The two of us sat huddled together. I had already scanned the stall for any weapons, but other than sawdust and cobwebs, I didn’t see much of anything.
Outside our stall, there was the sound of a lock clicking, and when the sliding stall door opened, we were greeted by a woman smiling at us.
It was hard to say exactly how old she was, but in her sixties was my best estimation. Her dishwater hair was graying, and her eyes and skin were pale. Her nose was broad and slightly too large for her face, and while her smile was warm and lovely, her skin had the weathered look of someone who spent long hours in the sun and snow. She wore a flannel jacket over a prairie-style dress with a pair of well-worn work boots.
“You’re all awake,” she said as she grinned down at us. “You’re likely confused and afraid, but don’t worry. All will be explained. I am Elmyra Loth, and this is my son, Bly.”
I hadn’t even noticed the young man standing beside her, even though he was actually taller and wider than her. There was something about Elmyra’s presence in our doorway that seemed to take up so much space, despite her diminutive size.
Bly didn’t really look at us, so much as leer with his pale eyes. His big hands were hanging out of the pockets of his dirty overalls, and he said nothing as his mother introduced them.
“This is our family ranch, our home, our business, our life.” She moved her arm in a sweeping, expansive gesture, as if we could see anything outside of the stall we were locked in. “For generations, the Loth family raised cattle and horses on these very grounds. Thousands and thousands of animals have passed through these doors.
“But when the world changed, we changed with it,” she continued amiably. “Cattle were no longer worthwhile to raise, so we switched livestock. Even with these adaptations, the ranch requires so much work, more than our family can handle on our own.
“And that’s where you come in,” she said, and her smile deepened. “You will help us on the ranch, and we will keep you safe and keep you fed.”
“What if we don’t want to work for you?” Kimber asked, and I squeezed her hand.
Elmyra’s expression faltered slightly. “It wasn’t a question. You will work for us, and if you don’t, then we will find another use for you. We can always find a use for healthy young bodies.”
I shuddered involuntarily at that, but I did my best to keep still. I didn’t want this imperious matriarch to know how much she unnerved me.
“Given the state of the world, it seems like more than a fair trade,” Elmyra insisted.
“What would you have us do?” I asked.
“We’ll get to all that soon enough. For now, you three will stay in here until we determine that you’re safe to mix with the uninfected,” Elmyra said. “And if you’re not, we’ll move you in with the rest of the zombies.”
“You’re quarantining us?” Kerrigan asked apprehensively. “Shouldn’t the three of us be kept separate for that?”
“We have use for both the infected and uninfected, so it’s no matter to us which way the three of you go,” Elmyra said. “You all look in desperate need of some respite. Bly, make sure our new friends have food and water.”
Bly disappeared behind the stall wall, leaving Elmyra waiting in the doorway and humming happily to herself. Her son returned rather quickly, carrying two small metal bowls in each hand. He set them on the floor near the entrance, then he stepped back.
“Eat up,” Elmyra told us with her bright smile. “I will see you all soon.”
We waited until the door was closed and we’d heard their footsteps retreating.
