Dead Meat | Day 7, page 12
part #7 of Dead Meat Series
She cries for the longest time.
Liv usually never cries, and she hates to do so in front of Dan, whom she hardly knows. But she has no real say in the matter; she can either cry or the pain will rip her right open.
Finally, the worst seems to pass—at least for now—and she’s able to sit up.
Dan is standing guard by the van.
“What … what happened to her?” Liv hears herself croak as she wipes her wet cheeks.
Dan looks at her, and his eyes are full of empathy. It looks like he considers for a moment lying to spare her the truth, but then he just tells it plainly: “Someone killed her with a knife. I think they did it to get the jet ski.”
Liv nods and sniffles. “That would make sense. Solveig would never give it up voluntarily.”
“I’m very sorry,” Dan says. “I know how you feel. I know nothing I can say will make it easier.”
Liv gets to her feet. It feels like climbing a mountain. She manages to do it, though, and she brushes the dirt from her pants. Then she looks in at Solveig, and it’s almost enough to get the tears flowing again. She breathes deeply to keep them in.
Dan says nothing; he just stands there, giving her time to do or say whatever she feels like.
“You know,” Liv murmurs. “That thing they say … about twins having this special connection?”
Dan looks at her. “Uh-huh?”
Liv shakes her head. “It’s bullshit … I didn’t feel anything when she died … I had no idea …”
Dan nods and looks away.
They just stand there for a few minutes more.
“Do you want to bury her?” Dan asks softly.
Liv hasn’t even considered it. But now that she does, the answer seems obvious. She looks out over the bay. The sun has gone down now, and the summer night is almost dark, its deep purple color is reflected on the water. It looks immensely peaceful. Bottomless.
“She loved the water,” Liv says. “We both did. I think if she could choose, she’d prefer going there, not in the ground.”
“All right.” He hesitates. “You want me to do it?”
“No,” Liv says firmly. “I’ll do it.”
She steps up into the van. Bending over Solveig, her hand stops in midair. Instead of grabbing her sister and hoisting her up, Liv finds herself caressing her hair. It’s soft and dry.
Liv’s eyes fill with tears. “Damnit,” she mutters, turning away, not wanting to show Dan she’s crying again, but her voice betrays her as she croaks: “You do it.”
She leaves the van and stands there, holding herself and watches as Dan lifts up Solveig and carries her from the van as gently as possible. He puts her down by the shore, steps out into the water and drags her along. As he shoves her gently out into the stream, Solveig turns facedown, and her hair spreads out like a giant sunflower.
Then, just as the stream begins moving her out towards open sea, she slips below the surface and she’s gone.
Liv keeps staring at the place the water swallowed her up, fresh warm tears running down her face.
Dan comes over. He stands beside her, not looking at her. “Anything else you want to say?” he suggests in a low voice.
“I’m starving,” Liv says. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Dan looks at her with mild surprise. “Me neither. There’s food in the van. She brought a whole bag of it.”
Liv just nods. The thought of eating the food Solveig had planned for the trip is strange. Like her sister will be doing her one last act of kindness.
“Well, that’s it,” Liv says, turning to face Dan with a sudden determination. “I’m the only one left now. Just like you.”
The smile on Dan’s face mirrors the underlying pain Liv is feeling herself. “I guess we’ll get used to it.”
“Probably.”
“So, where do you want to go?”
Liv breathes deeply. “I have nowhere to go. Not anymore.”
Dan says nothing, but Liv can sense him eyeing her.
She looks at him and asks: “You want me to come with you?”
He shrugs, pretending not to care as much as he obviously does. “If you want. The only thing is, I promised the guy to come alone, so he can’t know you’re there. If you choose to come, that is.”
Liv nods slowly. “You really think you’re going to stop this thing?” The question comes out a lot harsher than she intended.
Dan doesn’t seem to mind, though. “I’m going to try anyway,” he says earnestly.
“Well, I guess I have nothing better to do,” she says, shrugging. “Let’s go save the world then.”
THIRTY
Since the episode in the laundry room, Iver has been lying on the bed in the upstairs room, brooding.
The shock of seeing Linda and Chris go at it has worn off, and he’s made an effort to shake most of the accompanying uncomfortableness too. Yet what remains in his stomach is the same feeling from earlier, that gnawing of something he can’t place, except now it’s even stronger.
As he’s lying there in the darkness, feeling his pulse throb behind his eyes and listening to the faint choir of moans coming from outside, sleep seems very far away.
Finally, as the clock passes 11:00, he decides to get up and do something. He’s not sure what, but simply lying around worrying about something he can’t place is maddening.
So, he gets dressed and slips out of the room. He checks on Adam. The toddler is sleeping soundly in his crib, hugging a teddy bear.
Iver opens Agnete’s door as well, peering in and seeing the old lady sleeping under the blanket.
At least they’re okay, he thinks, slipping downstairs.
Not that he suspected anything would be wrong with either Adam or Agnete. He’s just not sure what is wrong—except that something is; he grows more and more certain with every minute.
He stops in the empty, dark kitchen and listens. From the living room he can hear Leif snoring. He steps closer and peers in there. Linda’s couch is empty. The blanket has been moved aside, which Iver takes to mean she was lying there earlier.
Was she waiting for Leif to fall asleep? And once he did, did she get up? Get up to do what? Maybe she’s just out for another cigarette.
Or maybe she and Chris are going at it again.
Or maybe Linda is up to something else, something much more sinister.
Iver turns towards the hallway leading to the laundry room. He feels a sudden prickle of goose bumps down the back of his neck.
Where is Chris, anyway?
He was supposed to take the first shift, staying awake and keeping guard in the kitchen. But he’s nowhere to be seen.
Iver notices the fridge door being ajar and he goes to close it, when he sees the empty shelves inside.
He frowns. Did someone go on an eating spree? No, the fridge had been packed full of food; no one could eat all that in one go.
But then where has it gone?
Iver is getting really nervous now. He goes to the hallway, stepping lightly, holding his breath as he approaches the door to the laundry room. He stops in front of it and listens. Nothing.
Then there’s a noise from the opposite door, the one leading to the garage. Iver stares at it. It’s standing ajar, and a faint glow is coming out from there.
He reaches out a hand and opens the door just enough for him to look out into the garage.
Leif’s car is parked there, the engine off but the headlights on, pointing at the closed garage door. On the other side, Iver can hear the deads scratching away eagerly.
Linda is standing by the open passenger door, smoking a cigarette. She’s wearing a sweater which looks like it belongs to Agnete.
Chris is busy loading stuff into the backseat. He’s wearing his black jacket and boots.
The trunk of the car is open, and from where Iver is standing, he can see plastic bags full of stuff—the stuff from the fridge. Both weapons are also there, along with the boxes of ammo, piles of clothes, spare shoes and other stuff.
“You done soon?” Linda asks in a low voice, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it. “I thought you said we needed to move fast.”
“I did,” Chris says, going to the shelves and helping himself to different tools. “I just need a few more things, and we’re out of here.”
As the full picture is finally revealed to Iver, he finds himself stepping into the garage without really thinking and without making any attempt to hide himself; he’s simply too outraged.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
Linda jumps and Chris spins around, dropping a hammer, which lands with an awfully loud clatter on the concrete floor.
“Holy shit, you gave me a scare!” Chris says.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Linda hisses at Chris. “That’s the second goddamn time he walks in on us …”
“Where are you going?” Iver asks again. His heart is pounding hard enough to make his vision go fluttery. “Are you sneaking off in the middle of the night? With all the food and all the weapons? Are you really doing that?”
He looks from Linda to Chris. Linda just stands there, staring back at him, licking her teeth with her pink tongue.
Chris throws out his hand—the one not holding any tools—and tries for a casual smile. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it sure looks like you’re about to fuck us all over.” Iver is surprised to hear his own voice jitter from rage. He hardly ever swears, but he’s so angry, he can’t help himself. “How did you get Leif’s car in here? Does he even know?”
“Could you keep your damn voice down?” Chris asks. “We don’t need to wake up everybody else …”
“No, that would ruin your plan, wouldn’t it?” Iver says, still talking loud enough that he hopes someone will hear him. The living room is a little too far away for Leif to wake up, but maybe Charlotte can hear him, as her room is closer.
“Could you deal with him?” Linda asks Chris.
Chris doesn’t take his eyes off of Iver. “Listen, dude, let me explain this to you, all right? It’ll make sense.” As he talks, he steps closer to the car.
Iver picks up on what Chris is doing and acts before he has even time to think. Iver steps to the trunk of the car—he’s closer than Chris, so he has time to yank up the rifle and point it at Chris.
Chris—who was obviously planning on doing the exact same thing—stops dead in his track and holds up his hands again. “Woah, dude! What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” Linda exclaims at Chris. “Just take it from him! It’s not loaded.”
“It is,” Chris says. “I made sure.”
“What? Why would you drive around with a loaded rifle?”
“Because we might be needing it fast. I didn’t want to waste time fiddling with the bullets while a fucking dead guy was gnawing away at me.”
Linda sighs. “You idiot!”
Chris darts her a look. “What did you call me?”
“You can leave if you want to,” Iver says, addressing both of them. “Take your sick love affair as far away from here as you please. But you’re not taking all the food with you. Get that out of the trunk.” He waves the rifle at Chris, but Chris doesn’t move.
“Okay, listen. You caught us. All right? No need to do anything crazy now. Let’s just talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Iver says, straining to keep the rifle steady. He’s shaking all over. His finger is curled around the trigger. Just seconds earlier, he was furious enough to shoot the rifle if he needed to. Now, actually holding it, he feels a lot less certain he can do it.
“I want to explain what we’re doing here,” Chris goes on, “and why you should join us.”
“What?” Linda exclaims. “No way we’re bringing that faggot.”
Iver feels a sudden urge to swing the rifle over and point it at Linda instead. But that would be a mistake. First of all because Linda is shielded by the open car door. And secondly, Chris is only four or five steps away and might be tempted to close the distance and wrestle the rifle from Iver if he sees the chance.
“Just take the fucking rifle from him already,” Linda goes on. “He’s not going to use it. Look at him. He’s pretty much pissing himself.”
“Could you shut the fuck up for a moment?” Chris says through gritted teeth.
Linda sends him a mean look, but doesn’t say anything.
Chris looks at Iver. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to leave. We get inside that car, all three of us, we open the garage door, and we plow through those dead fucks outside. Okay?”
“And what then?” Iver asks, feeling sweat run down his back. He realizes he’s doing the same thing as Chris now: stalling him. He’s still hoping that Charlotte or anyone else will come. “We’re on an island, you know. You can’t drive off to anywhere else.”
“I contacted a guy on the east coast over the radio. He has a boat. He’ll take us along in exchange for a weapon. That’s why we need to bring both.” Chris nods down at the rifle in Iver’s hands.
“And where are you going to sail to? There are dead people all over Europe.”
“We’re going to St. Petersburg.”
Iver frowns. “To Russia?”
Chris nods. “I was stationed there. I know some guys, some real tough guys. They have military complexes over there like you wouldn’t believe. Bunkers that are meant to sustain decades of nuclear war.”
“Why are you telling him all this?” Linda cries out. “I told you already, he’s not coming!”
Chris pretends not to listen. “If you keep your cool, you can come with us. You don’t have to go all the way to St. Petersburg if you don’t want to. But you need to get off this island. You know that, right?” Chris raises his eyebrows. “It’s a death trap here. I was hoping the dead couldn’t cross water, but they can. Meaning that more and more of them will be coming, until this whole place is swarming and you can’t step a foot outside. What will you do then, once your supplies of food run out? Grow a wheat field in the living room?” He shakes his head. “We need to scram while we can.”
Iver realizes the rifle has dropped a few inches, and he lifts it back up. “Then what about the others?”
“We can’t bring the whole island with us.”
“No, but I’m talking about Agnete and Charlotte and Leif. And Adam.” Those last two words make his voice tremble. “Are you just going to leave them to die?”
Chris shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry. I really am. But they’re dead regardless.”
“Not if they get to come!”
“There’s no room. Look at the car—it’s already packed full. Besides, an old lady, a scaredy-cat, and that big dumb guy in there … they’re all just liabilities.” Chris takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “Come with us, Iver. Seriously.”
It’s the first time Iver hears Chris use his name. It was probably intended to instill trust, but Iver feels even more repelled. He steps back. “I’m not leaving them.”
“Listen, this is no longer about doing the right thing. It’s too late for playing the hero. That’s for when the world can still be saved.”
“I’m not trying to play the hero. I just can’t leave them to die.”
“Then you’ll die too. And for what? You’ll just be another corpse. Another fucking zombie the rest of us will have to deal with. You’ll be part of the problem, man. Don’t do it.”
Iver breathes shakily a few times. Then he looks over at Linda, who’s been following the conversation keenly. “What about you? You okay with leaving your uncle like this? Without a word?”
She doesn’t answer, just keeps boring into him with those piercing blue eyes.
“Jesus,” Iver says. “You two really deserve each other.”
“Okay, listen,” Chris says. “You can take the baby with you. If that’ll ease your conscience.”
“What?” Linda asks. “Are you insane?”
“I’m negotiating,” Chris says, staring at Iver. “Go upstairs and get him now. We’ll make the car ready.”
Iver considers for a moment. He really does. He hates himself for it. He knows he can’t trust Chris. But he also knows he’s most likely right about the outlook of staying on the island.
Still, the thought of leaving the three others behind is too much for him. Besides …
“You’ll just drive off while I’m upstairs,” Iver says, his voice sounding weak now.
“We’re not leaving without that rifle,” Chris says. “It’s our ticket out of here.”
Iver shakes his head. “I’m not doing it.”
Chris’s expression changes slightly. It grows darker. “Then you understand you leave me no choice, right? If we can’t make a deal, I’ll just have to take the rifle from you.” He steps closer.
“Stay back!” Iver says, his voice breaking. His back hits the wall next to the door.
Chris doesn’t stay back. In fact, he’s about to lunge at Iver.
Then a big, broad figure steps in through the doorway. “What’s going on here?” Leif asks in a groggy voice, peering around at them with narrow eyes. “What’s all the commotion about? Hey, how did you get my car in here?” Leif sees the rifle in Iver’s hands. “And what the heck are you doing, Iver?”
Chris hesitates.
So does Iver.
None of them knows what to do or say.
Linda does. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she says and steps over to the wall and presses a button.
A metallic rattling as the garage door begins lifting.
“No, no!” Chris cries out. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You guys figure things out,” Linda says as she slips in behind the wheel. “I’m done talking.”
She slams the door and the engine roars to life. The garage door is halfway open by now, revealing a forest of legs, the most eager of the zombies already crouching down to duck under it.
Linda revs up the engine and guns it, the car lurching forward, tires screeching as she blasts into the rows of undeads, plowing through them, dead bodies flying off to the sides, the roof of the car scraping against the garage door.
