Part Three

The plan was made to take a wheelbarrow of vegetables to Lytle for the Saturday market. In the days between, Reagan proved to be helpful with all of Catherine’s chores. Whether from shock or by nature, he rarely spoke. Catherine didn’t either, and aside from a few words to direct him for his share of the chores, they worked and ate in silence.

Saturday arrived, and both Catherine and Ragan rushed to complete the chores and get out of the house before the sun fully rose on the tree line. They helped Maggie to pick vegetables, and Catherine brought along two dozen eggs even though she didn’t plan on trying to barter for anything.

Maggie rambled as she always did, keeping her voice low to listen for odd sounds. But the crunch of the rubber ties over the gravel road could still drown out shuffling steps, and Catherine lost what Maggie talked about while she swiveled her head to keep watch.

“Then I’ll pull off my panties and whirl ‘em over my head,” Maggie remarked.

Reagan laughed, drawing Catherine’s attention back into the conversation. “What?”

Snorting with mild annoyance, Maggie shook her head. “Did you tune out everything I’ve said? That was good advice for finding a man. Reagan was nodding his agreement.”

“No, ma’am. I was dozing off,” Reagan said and laughed before he fell silent again.

“Didn’t the two of you manage to talk about anything this week?” Maggie asked.

Catherine glanced at Reagan, who smiled and shrugged. She shrugged as well. “No, we don’t really have anything to say.”

“All right, look dear; when you see a man you like, you do know you will have to say something to him?” Maggie smiled at Catherine, but there was also a trace of genuine concern on the old woman’s face. “Didn’t you ever read The Little Mermaid? The mermaid can’t use her voice, so she can’t interest the prince. That’s going to be what happens to you too.”

“I’ll die and turn into sea foam?” Catherine asked.

“You’ll die a spinster, and you’re better than that. You can cook, you have your own property, and you can promise to keep a man and his children safe until your very last breath. But he won’t know that if you won’t say-” Maggie stepped into a hole and shouted, dumping the wheelbarrow to the left while she sank.

The hole on the side of the road was deep enough to sprain the old woman’s ankle and tear a tendon in her knee simultaneously. “Oh, son of a-” Maggie drew her leg gingerly up out of the hole and tried to walk one step before she dropped, her face pinching in a pained look. “No, it’s not working. You’ll have to-”

“You’re not staying out here. We’ll carry you in the cart.” Catherine set the wheelbarrow back up and stooped over to dip her head under Maggie’s arm. “Use your good leg.”

“But the vegetables-”

“Put it on my tab.” Catherine lifted Maggie with a grunt. “I’ve already lost two neighbors this week. That’s my limit.”

Their progress had been slow before, but with only Catherine to carry the handles of the wheelbarrow, the pace dropped to a crawl while the sun rose higher into the sky. The air warmed, and Catherine’s skin grew slick with sweat under her jacket. Every time she leaned over to rest and huff for air, she could smell herself, and the pungent scent worried her. For the first time in many weeks, she didn’t want to find work as a zombie killer.

They were nearing a farm with a large white three story house when their luck ran out. Drawn in by the scent of sweating live bodies, a scattered group of zombies began to roam around the house toward the road.

Catherine set the wheelbarrow down and moved up the road with several quick jogging steps. Untying the knot around the handle of the scythe, she drew her weapon. “Reagan, I need you to scream and make them chase you.”

The boy’s brown eyes widened in shock, but he nodded his head before he jogged toward the zombies and screamed. Catherine started shrieking a second later.

The pack split, and three of the zombies went after Reagan, while four more continued to bear down on Catherine. None were fresh, but she had no backup, and no way to get Maggie to safety without fighting.

She was still preparing for the worst when one of the zombies tumbled forward. A split second later, she heard the metallic clanks of many steel traps snapping shut.

“Reagan, get back on the on the road and watch your feet!” Catherine shouted.

Just as another zombie pitched forward, the front door of the massive house opened. Four girls ran out of the house armed with spiked clubs and bats, and they spread out across the wide front property before they randomly started screeching at the zombies.

Catherine couldn’t understand their plan until another zombie fell into a trap. Tripwires were strung through the tall dry grass, and the zombie were flopping into bear traps which either snapped or completely severed their heads. The girls never had to move once they’d taken positions, and within seconds, the zombies were dispatched.

For all her skills as a killer, Catherine felt humbled by the simple yet lethal efficiency of the traps. She had to work to kill every zombie, while the girls just stood in place.

The oldest of the four walked toward the road with her head down, and she used a high stepping stride across the property which seemed to confirm the presence of the tripwires. The younger girls returned to the house, occasionally glancing back to watch Catherine.

All of the girls looked similar to each other. They all had light brown skin and eyes which were almost as black as their long, straight hair. The eldest sister appeared close to fourteen, but none of her sisters looked to be into double digit ages yet.

“We’ll have to push your mom over to the driveway,” the oldest girl said in a thickly accented voice while she pointed further up the road where a gravel driveway turned onto the property. Setting a hand on the barbed wire fence surrounding the property, she leapt and swung her legs nimbly over the top before she continued talking. “We had a break in the back of the property line this morning. Breakfast cried until we let her back in the house, and then you started screaming too.”

Catherine smiled with confusion filling her green eyes. “Breakfast?”

“My pet rabbit.” The girl smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Tina Suarez.”

“Catherine Murphy.” Catherine shook Tina’s hand before she gestured back at Maggie. “She’s not my mother, though. Maggie is my neighbor, and so is Reagan. We were supposed to be moving him to Lytle to look for his aunt and cousins.”

Tina frowned before she nodded. “You friend won’t make the trip. I’m sorry about that.”

“Why would–" Catherine groaned. "You dug the holes in the side of the road?”

“Yeah. It helps when the larger groups pass through.” Tina waved back at the house. “My mother has plenty of room here, but your friend will need to stay a few days.”

Catherine nodded and turned to walk toward the wheelbarrow. “All right, that work unless Maggie has any objections.”

“I’m sold,” Maggie agreed.

By the time Maggie was in the house, Catherine’s arms and back were aching from the strain of trying to move the wheelbarrow quickly up the inclined gravel driveway. Setting the old woman on a living room couch, Catherine slipped off her jacket and crinkled her nose when she got a whiff of herself. “Do you have running water?”

Tina smiled and shook her head. “No, but we still have a tub filled with water if you want to rinse off.”

Catherine nodded and waved her hand. “Lead the way.”

The bathroom on the first floor was cleaner than Catherine’s, but there were still patterns of black soot from candles being burned in the room. They littered the counter and the rim of the tub on several wooden stools.

The water in the freestanding tub was grey and smelled of homemade soap. Catherine didn’t care what the water looked like, and she barely glanced in the tub before she nodded to Tina and shut the door to strip out of her clothes. She sank into the cold water quickly and uttered a soft gasp before she bent her knees to dip her head under the water.

She didn’t intend to soak, but after coming out of the water and leaning back, her limbs started to feel heavy. She raised her arms long enough to unroll her braid out of the tight bun from the back of her head. She let her braid drop into the water over her chest and rested her head on the rim of the tub before she closed her eyes.

Catherine thought she had closed them for only a second, but she slept for ten minutes before Tina woke her by knocking on the door. Tina held out a bundle of clothing as she stepped into the bathroom. “These might fit you. They belonged to my aunt.”

Catherine nodded, not bothering to apologize while she watched Tina leave. No one ever did because everyone had lost family members. Everybody knew how sorry everyone was, and people just stopped echoing the sentiment after the first massive piles of bodies were burned.

Catherine’s fingers had pruned in the water, and when she ran her hand over her shoulder, a layer of old skin, sweat, and dirt peeled away in tiny beads. She spent another three minutes rubbing her hands over her skin to rid herself of the filth she’d built up, and then she stood up and opened the window, savoring the breeze on her wet skin.

She dressed without drying off before she leaned over the tub to wring out her braid. Laying her damp hair over her shoulder, she opened the door.

And then she saw him. He had to have been waiting for her, because he sat on his haunches with his back leaned on the wall. His dark brown eyes had been fixed on the bathroom door, but he quickly raised his gaze to meet her eyes before he smiled at her.

He was close to the same age as Catherine, maybe a little older, and his thick frame swelled the red flannel shirt and faded denim jeans he wore. His black hair was long and covered most of his forehead in the front. His ears and neck were lost under the shaggy locks, but there was nothing feminine about his appearance.

Catherine heard Maggie’s voice in her mind telling her to talk, but when she tried, she barely managed a whisper. “Hi, I’m…” She forced herself to relax. “I’m Catherine, but all my friends call me Cat.”

“I’m Juan. I don’t have any friends, but I think they’d call me Juan too.” He rose onto his feet, offering his hand as he strolled down the hall. “You’re going to Lytle today?”

“Yes, I have to find a boy’s family.” Catherine looked down when Juan wouldn’t let go of her hand.

“You’re a zombie killer, right?” Juan asked.

“Yes.”

Juan nodded and stepped back, tugging Catherine’s hand in a gesture for her to walk with him. “Can I go with you? My aunt won’t let me leave the house to go to town by myself, but if you’re going with me, I think she’ll allow it.”

“She won’t allow it?” Catherine snorted. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Juan shrugged at her bemused smile. “My mother died during a trip to the market, so Gabbie’s just a little paranoid these days.”

Catherine pulled back her hand. “I don’t know. I already have to watch over-”

“You don’t have to watch over me,” Juan insisted. “I fought my way back home after my dad and I ran out of ammo. I know how to use a bat just as good as my cousins.”

Catherine sighed. “Do you have anything to trade at the market?”

“No,” Juan muttered and looked down before he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “But the markets are supposed to be a good way to meet girls.”

“Ah.” Catherine turned away from Juan to hide her frustrated expression. “Well, I guess if you haven’t met anyone interesting yet, you could tag along.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but his comment wounded her deeply. She only felt more irritated with him when she looked up to see the surprised expression on his face. It was like he’d just realized she was a girl.

His face blanched and became apologetic. “I thought…well, you look too young to–”

“I’m seventeen,” Catherine snapped. “I’ll be eighteen in three weeks.”

Juan cringed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t–um…” He broke into wordless stammering while he fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

Seeing how nervous he was, Catherine was able to relax. “It’s okay. I just took it badly.”

“Well…I’d still like to go to town, but…I just don’t get to do anything out here.”

Catherine considered his request for much longer than Juan liked, and he fidgeted more the longer she deliberated. But she knew if she agreed to escort him, his aunt would hold her responsible for his life. She already intended to keep Reagan protected, and with Maggie injured, her backup was missing.

So the voice of common sense was screaming NO repeatedly for very good reasons. But Juan’s yearning expression was also causing another, more timid voice to speak, and it said If he walks to town with me, I might be able to talk to him.

Juan’s aunt, Gabriela Suarez, was willing to let him go to the market with one other provision; his cousin Tina would also need to accompany him.

Catherine wasn’t sure if she liked adding another person to watch out for, but she felt more assured when Tina and Juan both descended the stairs brandishing spiked bats.

Catherine nodded to Tina. “Do you have one of those to spare? I’d like to give Reagan something to carry for the trip.”

“We can give him Betty’s club.” Tina turned to walk back up the stairs. She returned with another club, and they walked into the living room, where Maggie and Reagan both sat on the couch.

“Good news, squirt,” Maggie said. “It looks like you’re still going to the market.”

Reagan nodded, getting up from the couch before he accepted the spiked club, which had served as a table leg in the past. Reagan rested the club over his shoulder and fell into step behind Catherine.

Catherine decided to leave her belt behind. She used the scythe as a walking stick instead, which allowed her to walk beside Juan instead of keeping her distance as she normally would with an escort.

Tina moved out in front of Juan and Reagan chose to remain behind Catherine, creating a zig zagging line in the middle of the road. For the first half hour, everyone walked in complete silence. Catherine wanted to say something, and yet even with the imaginary version of Maggie lecturing her to “get with the program,” she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Tina chose to break the ice by glancing over her shoulder to smile at Catherine. “How many zombies have you killed?”

“I didn’t start counting until after we broke the first wave, but I have credit at the local market for killing…three hundred and ninety-two zombies.” Catherine smiled at Tina’s soft whistle. “I have to say your defense system is very nice.”

“Yeah, but it only works for small groups. Once the traps are sprung, we get swamped.” Tina slowed down and fell into step on Catherine’s other side. “Some of the women in Lytle are running convoys out as far as Corpus Christi, but every time they ride back, they bring waves of zombies with them.”

“We haven’t seen that much activity in Natalia,” Catherine said. “Where are they going?”

“Florence takes care of a lot of them, and there’s a defense team patrolling the town.” Tina shrugged. “I haven’t been to Lytle often. Emmit and Florence make regular stops at our house on their way back from the markets. We operate a safe house and supply stockpile, so we have lots of ways to get supplies without going to the market. Even when my mom goes, she usually leaves us behind.”

“I wish I could run a stockpile,” Catherine remarked. “With the lack of escort work in Natalia, I’ve been hunting and trading my chickens’ eggs.”

Tina and Juan both gasped. “You have chickens?” Tina asked.

“Yes, five hens and a rooster. I’ve got three female goats, but none can give milk.”

“The Ramirez farm has males,” Juan said. “Maybe you could hire Florence and Emmit to escort your goats for a breeding attempt.”

Catherine made a quiet laugh. “I’m not sure. Florence scares me.”

“She’s a sweetheart once you get past her size.” Tina glanced around before she relaxed again.
They lapsed into silence for only a minute before Juan asked “Who do you live with?”

“I don’t.” Catherine gestured back at Reagan. “Until he showed up, I’ve been living alone.” Juan pouted at her in a way that made her heart flutter, and she turned her head away, checking her surroundings for an excuse to avoid his intent gaze. But on her other side, Tina was also frowning with a look of concern in her dark eyes. “It’s not so bad, really. Besides, the folks in town don’t talk to me anymore.”

“Why not?” Juan asked.

“Almost everyone in town thinks I killed my mother during the first wave,” Catherine shook her head. “Well, I did, but she’d just had her cheek torn off by a zombie. She was going to die anyway, and I had to protect the kids, even from her. So…so I cut off her head and moved to the next zombie reaching for a child.”

Her voice fell as she spoke, and it became a dull monotone while she tried to prevent herself from feeling any real emotions for the memories she described.

Then the quiet sound of sobbing caught her attention. Reagan’s face was scrunched into a mask of anguish when she looked back at him, and she stopped and knelt down in front of the boy, setting her scythe on the ground before she laid her hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t do it.”

Reagan shook his head. “I-it is my fault.”

Catherine frowned, leaning her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’ s‘posed to be ou’side…” Reagan was slurring through his sobs, and he tried to get himself under control. “I didn’t see the cat. I saw the dogs, but I didn’t…it was gonna bite me, and I was trying to run away from it…”

The club slipped from Reagan's limp grasp. He stared down at it, and his tear streaked face was filled with shame. “I ran back into the house. The cat scared Simone, and she ran outside. The dogs...” Reagan raised his hand to wipe his eyes, shaking his head as though he’d made a decision not to relive the memory again. “Then the zombies got in the house. Momma killed one of the men. But the others…” He paused to make another edit in his memory. “I ran for the back door. I kept running and hiding until I found you, and the cat kept finding me…kept bringing more zombies, and…”

When Reagan lapsed into a huffing silence, Tina handed Juan her bat and knelt down beside Catherine. She raised her hand to grab Reagan’s shoulder and pull him into an embrace. He resisted her for a second before he laid his head on her shoulder and started to sob quietly.

They didn’t try to make conversation once they started walking again. Every topic could potentially lead to a dour revelation, and the mood was already somber. The last thing anyone needed was a zombie attack. Which was probably why the zombies chose to make their presence known.

The first few shuffled around a curve in the road, and Catherine could tell their age by the way their limbs shook. She turned her head to check the fields on either side of the road.

“Reagan, stay back with Juan and Tina. All of you keep your distance, and don’t try to save me if I get swamped.” Catherine waited until they all nodded before she took up the scythe in both hands and began to jog up the road.

The first zombie was nearing a point of total collapse, and one of his eyes had burst. But the socket wasn’t empty. Instead, grubs mingled with maggots, squirming behind the rotted skin before they pushed out of the socket to tumble down the man’s pitted face.

Catherine raised the scythe over her head, twirling the shaft in her hand to build up momentum while she continued to run toward the first zombie.

When she allowed the blade to dip, it was moving fast enough to hum. On the second downward stroke, the blade sliced through the zombie’s neck. The rotted man froze in mid step, and Catherine moved past him to cut down an old woman who looked like she was vomiting maggots from her open mouth. Catherine’s aim was off, and the blade slashed the woman’s mouth. Her desiccated cheeks shredded before the blade removed the top of her head. Maggots rose from her throat hole, and when she fell forward, they spilled out in a flood.

Catherine sidestepped the body and turned to launch a spin kick at a male zombie. She had not yet reset her foot on the ground before she dipped the blade to cut down a woman with bloated skin and few open sores. When the blade severed her flesh, a putrid moist air sprayed out of her in a sudden burst. She deflated while she fell, her neck stump spurting black viscera and violet pus.

Behind Catherine, the head of the first zombie finally toppled off of its shoulders. The sound of the body flopping to the ground followed a second later.

But the few zombies rounding the bend were scouts for a larger group, and Catherine found the task of keeping up the speed of her weapon more difficult when she had to chop down two and three zombies with each stroke of the scythe.

She never spotted the dog in the crowd, but when she saw it leap from between two zombies, she had the presence of mind to get the shaft up in front of the pit bull’s jaws. The dog was fresh, and the leap it made gave it enough momentum to topple Catherine onto her back.

As in life, the pit bull wouldn’t let got of the shaft once it had its lower jaw locked. Catherine didn’t try to fight for control of her weapon. She dropped her hand to her bowie knife and stabbed the point through the side of the dog’s neck. She sat up and shoved while she pulled down on the scythe, forcing the blade to sever the dog’s spine.

Catherine tried to roll out from under the body, but a zombie fell over her, and hands clenched her forearm while the zombie dipped its head for a snap. Catherine yanked her arm back, and the zombie only got a mouthful of her jacket. He started to choke while he tried to swallow it, and his trachea bobbed in an exaggerated manner.

Rolling over, Catherine arched her back to loop her arm around the man’s neck. She pulled him over and gripped his forehead before she snapped his neck.

Hands gripped her hair and her legs at the same time. She curled into a ball to pull away, and she heard a wet crunch before another zombie fell over her. Again, hands gripped her legs, and before she could fight, she was dragged on her chest across the gravel road.

By the time Juan stopped running, her jacket had ridden up, and several thin cuts covered her stomach. Her palms ached for the smaller bits of gravel embedded under the top layer of skin, and Catherine clenched her teeth while she tried to curl her hands into fists.

“Are you-” Juan began.

“What did I tell you?” Catherine got to her feet and glared at Juan and Tina, who both stared with disbelieving expressions. “If I go down again, stay out of my way!”

She strode over to Reagan and took his club. Giving it a test wing, she nodded and started for the horde of zombies again.

“What are you doing?” Tina asked.

“I’m getting my weapons back,” Catherine said.

And she did. She had to kill most of the zombies to locate her bowie knife, and she didn’t locate the scythe until after killing the last of the stragglers. She still had to use the club to pry open the pit bull’s mouth, and the surface of the oak shaft was pitted on both sides from the dog’s teeth. Catherine looked around, panting while she counted her kills.

Behind her, she heard gravel scrape and turned to see Juan gaping at her. “What?”

“Your clothes…”

Catherine glanced down at the pus and viscera splattered all over her clothes and raised her head to the sky while she made a frustrated expression “But I just took a bath!” She heard Tina snicker and chose to ignore it. “Can anything go right today?”

Tina sighed. “You could try saying thanks for us saving you.”

Catherine turned around to watch Tina with a deep frown. “How would you feel if I’d killed or wounded Juan because I’d mistaken him for a zombie?”

Tina seemed flabbergasted. She glanced at Juan before she said “But you-”

“I’ve been dropped in a huddle before, Tina. I’ve never lost my cool, or my escorts.” Catherine paused to shake her head. “You lost your cool. If you still think I owe you thanks, we’ll go back to your house now. Do you want to go home, or go to the market?”

“I’m sorry,” Tina said.

Catherine watched Juan nod before she looked back toward the road. “If there are any more problems on the way into town, maybe you should prove it by doing as you’re told.”