Day 7: Zane
I trudged through the snow, doing my best to ignore the cold and dampness on my feet. I pictured my toes frozen stiff and bluish purple. Dead. Just like the rest of the world. I thought to curl my big toe. The image didn’t move, but I felt the soft brush of the inner-soul of my boot reassuring me that the frozen foot was just imaginary.
I looked out ahead of me. I was in the woods, no indication of where I could be heading. I pulled up my mental map, imposing a graph over it. Two points connected by a line. The image was calming, but I saw it shift a bit. The line curved, turned back on itself, and completely lost its course. Like I had the potential to.
The snow was letting up, but there was still a gray-white haze blurring my vision. And the trees all looked the same. I could have turned a dozen or so times without realizing it. I kept telling myself that I didn’t. I never had any problem with directions before. But I had to wonder if “before” even exists anymore in the apocalypse.
“Zane!” I heard it as a whisper, which meant Moira was yelling. I turned around to see that she’d fallen behind by about 20 feet. That was just another thing that could go wrong. She could fall behind. Lose sight of me. I could get so far ahead that there wouldn’t be a chance of hearing her when someone else would have been able.
“So fast,” she said with shallow breath after running to catch up. Even after four days, I wasn’t used to walking with someone. I still had trouble slowing down.
“Sorry,” I said as I started to walk again, keeping an eye on her.
“okay?” she asked as she grabbed my arm to stop me. I looked at her too quickly and she flinched, removing it. I made a note not to be so sudden again. “It’s ju—not that I’m chatty anyway, but you’re—silent today.”
“I’m f-fine.” I lied.
I didn’t ask her how anyone could be okay. I didn’t point out the world we were in. That we were no longer humans—we were survivors. With no way of knowing how long that would last, we couldn’t even be sure Linvalley was a truth. Farmer’s Flu could have wiped it out or it could have been some trick all along. I could have been leading her to a ghost town. Or death. With each passing hour, it was less and less likely that Linvalley Hospital would be sanctuary.
I didn’t tell her that I was obsessing about all of that because I was out of Xanax.
“Are you sure?”
I was about to tell her that she didn’t need to worry about me when I saw something over her shoulder. It was an enormous black dog, vicious teeth on full display. There was no foam or anything to indicate it was rabid, but it wouldn’t have to be to attack us.
I couldn’t help but think about how animals were only domesticated because of humans. In an apocalypse, that bond breaks down. Dogs would be forced to fend for themselves. They’d revert to being predators after a certain amount of time. I had no doubt that this beast was feral and desperate for a meal.
I stepped between the dog and Moira, gently nudging her further back as I did. It stepped closer to me and barked. I slowly raised my arms in defense, even though I knew it would be useless. I beat Devon by surprise. I didn’t really know how to fight.
It jumped at me, throwing me backwards to the ground. The dog was on top of me. I clenched, waiting for it to tear my throat out. I hoped Moira was running away.
It started to lick me. The moist warmth was off-putting, but preferable to what I expected.
“Jaxx!” a familiar voice called and the dog backed off of me. A short woman supporting a much taller man walked into view.
“Dr. Carters?” I asked.
“Zap?” She was my gen. ed. writing professor. “Are you okay?” She tried to help me up, but I refused.
As I sat up, I noticed that her husband had improvised bandages around his hips. I pulled my backpack off and took out my aid kit.
“You sh-should rewr-wrap that.” I handed her the kit, but stayed seated on the ground. “K-keep it.”
“We’re pretty close to the hospital now,” she said as she started to remove the bloodied shirt, “but it’s always better to travel in larger groups.”
I looked at Moira. “Go ahead. I’m g-good alone.”
Moira frowned back at me.
[pullquote]With no way of knowing how long that would last, we couldn’t even be sure Linvalley was a truth.[/pullquote]“I’m not leaving a student out here,” Carters asserted in her teacher voice. Some might call it a mom voice, but she didn’t have any children with her.
I looked at Jaxx. “I’m not g-going with, with you.” I was fixated by the dog’s teeth and what they had the potential to do.
She responded, but it was too quiet. She hastily finished bandaging her husband and then helped him up. Moira said something to them and stayed as Carters and her family left.
“Let’s go. Still fine?” Moira reached out her hand to help me up. I could tell she didn’t need an answer.
“N-no.” I took her hand and she pulled me up.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to be.”
I didn’t completely believe that, but I believed it enough that it helped. I was still worried about the forest, still worried that Linvalley was a dead-end, but with her to help and me finally accepting it, it felt a little better somehow.
We rested there for an hour. We weren’t tired, but I needed it. We walked for the rest of the day, and by the end of it, we knew we were just hours from Linvalley Hospital.
Alexander McMenamin is a third-year student majoring in English writing with a minor in creative writing. He can be reached at AM787850@wcupa.edu. Lauren Christ is a second-year student majoring in communications. She can be reached at LC805869@wcupa.edu.