Page 12 of Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

It’s done.”

His eyes flick to my gun and then to my face and he pretends not to notice me brushing tears from my cheeks.

“I’m Wyatt,” he says offering his hand. I take it and feel his warm, calloused skin.

“Alexandra. People call me Alex, or at least they used to.”

“Well, Alex,” he says looking out the dark window. “Looks like we’re stuck here until morning. You okay sharing space?”

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” I say feeling relief at the idea of company. It will be a long night—the echo of the gun and look on my mother’s face still flashing in my head.

“I’ll take first watch,” he says.

“I’m not tired.”

His eyes connect to mine. “I’m sure you’re not but rest anyway. I’ve got this, okay?”

“Sure,” I say, allowing the distrust and sarcasm to seep through my tone. Like I’m trusting some guy with a man-bun that I just met with my life. I slump back against the seat and stare at the ceiling, resolving myself not to cry. From here on it’s just me and my promise. There’s no one left to hold me back.

Chapter Fourteen

~Before~

8 Weeks Ago

School is cancelled.

Graduation is on hold—possibly indefinitely. Maybe the feds will change their mind, that’s what everyone says once the announcement is made. There’s a week left. Anything can happen.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

Curfew is in effect for everyone in the south. From Kentucky over to Virginia. Texas refuses. Of course they do. I wonder if parasites know not to mess with Texas. I doubt it.

People are required to be at home by eight p.m. Work from home if you can. Vacations are heavily suggested. Stay-cations. Literally.

The result is that people are pissed and don’t like the government telling them what to do. Police and the CDC quarantine homes. Don’t go to the hospital they say. If you come into contact with an infected person, isolate yourself. Call 911.

Of course, people, being people, can never just follow directions. That is one thing the news loves to focus on. Instead of staying home people come out to protest. Or rally for the dead. They swarm churches and bombard grocery stores.

All anyone is supposed to do is stay home.

Jane is stuck in Georgia and my mother is about to lose her mind over it. The result is that my mother calls her five times a day. “Are you okay? Is anyone sick? Are you staying home? Make sure you keep a safe distance…”

She talks to her while baking. Yes, the way my mother handles an epidemic is to bake. Cakes, cookies, pies, fancy cheese puffs…anything she can manage. She listens to my sister talk about her day while she uses the metal cookie cutters my grandmother left her.

I don’t tell her that the news is predicting a shortage on basics due to the quarantine, so this phase will have to end soon.

My father is one of the few required to work, since he’s officially (yes, he finally admitted it) on the E-TR eradication task force. He’s asked me not to come in for the experiment anymore, but even then I’m not off the hook. He does it at home instead. Taking the blood and giving me the shot. I ask him what it’s for but he does that thing where he answers but doesn’t answer. Long answer short: None of your business.

For those of us following the lockdown there’s nothing to do but watch TV and obsess over the virus. The tabloids were the first to nickname it E-TR, spoofing on the cannibalization side effects. Haha right? Eating people is hilarious. No wonder the world is coming to an end. People suck.

Chapter Fifteen

~Now~

Frackity-frack! I fell asleep. I wake at dawn, the sun rising like a fireball over the tobacco fields. My first reaction is to reach for my gun and relief washes over me when I make contact. I’m an idiot.

Turning my head, I see Wyatt, the man from the night before, going through his pack quietly. The bag is covered in patches: an American flag, Captain America’s shield, logos from National Parks.

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