When we hit the edge of the shadow, Tatum didn’t change his pace, though. He kept up the crouched walk for quite a while after we were away from the quarantine. I wasn’t sure of the distance exactly, but it was far enough that he eventually felt safe moving freely again.
“Where are we going?” I asked softly once we were walking normally.
“A campsite,” Tatum explained and pointed off in the distance. “Not too far from here. They’re waiting for me, then they’re leaving in the morning.”
“What if you didn’t come back tonight?” I asked.
“Then they would still leave in the morning. It’s too dangerous to wait around here for long.”
We didn’t say anything else until we reached the campsite. It was at least a mile away from the quarantine, and my legs and feet ached something terrible by the time we reached it. But it was just as well. My body had to get used to this again.
The “campsite” turned out to be an old army truck with camouflage fabric pulled taut over the bed. It was completely dark, and I wouldn’t have known anyone was there if Tatum hadn’t stopped there.
He rapped gently on the back gate and the barrel of a gun immediately appeared over the top.
“Easy, Boden,” Tatum said and held up his hands. “It’s just me.”
“Who’s with you?” a man demanded, presumably the Boden fellow.
“Remy King.” Tatum pointed back at me. “She’s just girl from the building. She’s totally clean.”
“Neither of you were bitten?” Boden asked.
“No, we’re both fine.”
For a moment, nothing happened. The gun remained pointed at Tatum and me, and we stood outside of the truck. Then the gun retracted, and the back of the truck went down.
“Ladies first,” Tatum said and gestured for me to go.
I climbed up first, sliding past the man holding the gun, though I still hadn’t gotten a good look at him. In the darkness, I could only make out the shapes of people, but I couldn’t really tell who any of them were, if I even knew them.
But it was definitely crowded. Just climbing in, I stepped on someone, who only grunted in response.
“Get some shuteye,” Boden commanded. “We’re heading out first thing in the morning.”
“Are you doing the watch all night?” Tatum asked quietly, but I wasn’t sure if it was so he didn’t wake anybody or because he didn’t want to attract zombies.
“No. Nolita will take over in a few hours,” Boden told him. “Get some rest. You can have watch tomorrow night.”
“I can watch,” I offered, since I really hadn’t been awake that long.
“No,” Boden snapped. “Sleep.”
I thought about pressing him, but I didn’t think he would change his mind.
I tried to find a place to hunker down for the night that wasn’t already occupied by another body, but it was difficult. I finally found a spot, sitting up squished between somebody’s boots and Tatum’s head. Tatum managed to lie down, and he was out almost the instant his head hit the truck bed.
I, on the other hand, spent most of the night watching the shadow of Boden’s head as he stared out into the night, vigilant against a zombie attack. Sometime before Nolita took over, I fell asleep.
The truck was moving when I woke up. At first I thought it was because someone was driving, but I realized it was because people were getting up. I opened my eyes and saw the other evacuees for the first time.
There were seven of us, counting Tatum and me. The only other two I knew were Daniels, the doctor from the quarantine, and Bishop, the woman who was sorta like the head of the people out in the trailers.
Daniels was still asleep, curled up in the corner of the truck bed, his neck bent at an odd angle so his head was propped up. He’d used a thick green jacket as a blanket, and his dark hair fell over his eyes. His mouth hung open wide, and he snored a little.
Bishop was awake, sitting with her butt on the edge of the truck. Her eyes were steel blue, and they reminded me of a vulture’s, the way they followed everyone around. She had to be in her late forties, with dirty blond hair that hung down to her knees when she didn’t pull it back. In her hands, she sharpened two knives against each other, making a sound that reminded me of nails on a chalkboard.
Sitting next to her was somebody I didn’t know, but he looked familiar. He was unshaven with short brown hair and surprisingly friendly eyes. Nobody had friendly eyes anymore. He yawned and stretched and didn’t look fully awake yet.
A blond guy was sleeping near the end of the truck, his legs curled up to him. Judging from his army uniform, I guessed he was Boden from last night, though his blond hair looked longer and shaggier than I was used to seeing on the soldiers.
Standing watch by the door was a girl, presumably Nolita. She looked a few years older than me, with strawberry blond hair pulled back in a loose bun. Her eyes were tired and sad, but there was something strikingly beautiful about her. Not in a model sort of way, but in a … powerful way. It was the kind of beauty someone got after they’d seen everything horrible the world has to offer, and yet somehow came out mostly unscathed.