“Are more coming?” Sommer asked.
“I think they’re all at the barbecue,” I said and lowered my gun.
Harlow had let go of Sommer, and she wiped her hands on her skirt, getting the blood off. Sommer looked around to make sure we weren’t surrounded. She didn’t realize the bigger issue at hand.
“Do you have any cuts on your hands?” I asked Harlow quietly. It occurred to her what I was asking, so she started wiping her hands more roughly.
“No, I don’t,” she shook her head but kept her eyes locked on Sommer, the sadness setting in.
“Come on. We have to keep moving.” I started walking away. Harlow shot a confused look between me and Sommer, then picked up the revolver and followed me.
“Where are we going?” Sommer jogged after us, but I stopped. Swallowing, I turned back to face her.
“No,” I said softly. “You can’t come with us.”
I motioned to the scratches on her arm. The way the zombie had drooled and bled all over her, she had to be infected.
“What?” Sommer didn’t understand at first, then frantically wiped at her arm, as if she could clean out the infection. “No. It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I can’t take the risk.”
“You can’t just leave me out in the middle of the desert!” Sommer cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She was a small, fragile girl, and she’d just been injured. I didn’t want to leave her out here, but I had only two options in this situation, and she would like the second one even less.
“I’m sorry.” I turned away from her, but she kept following us.
“What if more zombies come?” Sommer asked.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. Fighting back tears, I kept my voice even. I still had the shotgun in my hand, and when she kept approaching, I aimed at her. “You can’t come with us.”
“But what if I’m not infected?” Sommer pled with me, and I felt Harlow watching me.
“I have to get to my brother, and I can’t do that if you turn into a zombie and kill us. I don’t want to kill you, so I’d rather leave you here now, with a chance of survival.”
“But…” Sommer didn’t have an argument for that, and her whole body slacked.
She stared helplessly at me, and I wished I had something better to offer her. I knew she wouldn’t try to follow us this time, so I turned my back on her and kept walking north.
“I’m sorry, Sommer,” Harlow said, waiting behind me a moment longer. “I’ll never forget you.”
Sommer didn’t say anything, but I don’t know how anybody could respond to that. We’d just left her in the desert to die.
I’d just created another vessel to spread the damn virus. I made the zombie problem worse, but I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. Not when she was still a person, with rational thought and emotions. I wouldn’t hesitate once she was a zombie, though, and I hoped I didn’t run into her then.
Harlow hurried to meet my pace, and neither of us said anything for a while. I glanced over at her, and I could see the moon glinting off her silent tears. I tried to think of something comforting to say, but I had nothing.
I hadn’t even shed a tear over Beck, and as soon as I realized that, I pushed it from my mind. I didn’t want to cry for him or anyone else.
“Maybe I should’ve left her my gun,” Harlow said at length. She still held it, so I took it from her and clicked on the safety. The last thing I needed was for her to shoot off her foot or something.
“You need it more,” I reminded her. I handed the gun back to her. Harlow shoved it in the waist of her skirt, and it looked weird and bulky in her outfit.
Harlow wore a lace trimmed skirt and a matching camisole, with a loose cardigan hanging over it. She had a messenger bag covered in glitter, overflowing with her belongings.
Her long blond curls framed her face, speckled with blood, and a gold cross hung around her neck on a chain. To top off the ensemble, she had on black combat boots that were at least a size too big. With th gun shoved in her skirt, she was the poster child for post-apocalyptic fashion.
I clicked the safety on my own gun and wedged it between the strap of my messenger bag and my back, so I wouldn’t have to carry it. The farther we walked, the quieter it got, and I would be able to hear a zombie coming from a mile away.
“What if she doesn’t turn into one of those zombies?” Harlow asked.
“They all do.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to her?” she asked.
“Like what? That I’d never forget her?” I shook my head. “I hope I do forget her. I don’t want to remember every person who died. That’s far too many people.”
“What about that soldier? Beck?” Harlow asked. I swallowed hard and quickened my pace. “Was he your boyfriend?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “He taught me how to shoot.”
When Beck had found my brother and me, it was a miracle we were still alive. I didn’t know anything about survival or fighting off zombies, and Beck taught me everything I know. Without him, I’d never have been able to make it through the last few months.
“Were you in love with him?” Harlow asked, matching my pace.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Sorry,” she said, but she wasn’t easily deterred. Within a minute of falling silent, she started asking me questions again. “Where are we going?”