Page 29 of Outbreak

“I’m Ghost,” he interrupts, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Her husband.”

I choke on my own spit as I almost swallow my fucking tongue.I’m sorry. WHAT?

“It’s nice to meet y’all. Where y’all heading?”

“We’re trying to get to my parents in Florida. They have a boat?—”

“Casey!” Tom interrupts her, pulling her to him and whispering in her ear.

She brushes him off and steps back to me. “Excuse him. He thinks he’s an amateur doomsday prepper, so this is like his dream come true.”

That’s not exactly how I would describe what’s going on, but… okay then. “It’s okay. You were saying?”

“My parents. They have a boat in Florida that we’re hoping to ride this out on. Where are y’all heading?” She asks as her husband throws his hands in the air and mumbles to himself.

“Um, not sure yet.” I have no idea how to answer her on this either. Maybe I should let Ghost do the talking again. “Just trying to keep moving right now.”

“Have y’all seen any…” she trails off, and I understand. I don’t know how to describe what they are either. Dead–but not? What did they call them in The Walking Dead show? Walkers? That doesn’t really fit either.

“We have,” Ghost answers when I don’t respond, too lost in my own internal debate on what to call the fuckers.My bad. “Have y’all?”

“We, uh… yes. My brother. He got sick and isolated himself at home. We went to check on him when we couldn’t reach him and… found him. It was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll never forget the milky white of his eyes. He tried to a-attack me. If it wasn’t for Tom, I’d be dead.” She’s shaking as her voice breaks and a tear slips down her cheek. Tom doesn’t miss it as he pulls her in and wraps his arms around her.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, and the girls are safe, and that’s all that matters,” he softly tells her as she cries into his shirt.

Ghost stands there awkwardly as I try to discreetly wipe my own tears from my face. Her emotions are so strong, it feels suffocating, and I can’t control my reactions. Tom kisses her forehead and wipes her tears away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get emotional.”

“Hey. This is a very traumatic situation. You have every right to be emotional,” I tell her, reaching out and grabbing her forearm in support. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And in this situation, stayinghumanis the goal.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude shines in her glistening eyes.

“I hope you and your beautiful family make it to Florida, Casey. I’m glad we met.” I tell her, stepping back over to Ghost before calling over my shoulder. “It looks like we’re going to be neighbors tonight, so if you need anything, just ask.”

“You too.”

Once we’re back at the tailgate of the truck, Ghosts puts it down and sits me on it, climbing up beside me. We sit in silencefor a few minutes before I whisper, “Do you think they’ll make it?”

I don’t know if I mean Florida or just in general, but the response is the same either way. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” I whisper, laying my head on his shoulder. “Me too.”

CHAPTER 22

Rue

“Ghost!” I scream, panic ripping through me as I search the crowd for him, not seeing him among the living or the dead.

Less than an hour. That’s all it took for this shit to go sideways. One minute we’re sitting on the tailgate of his truck, just existing in the quiet night, and the next… Chaos.

We heard the screams before we saw them. Too many to count. We tried to make it inside the truck, but I got pushed into the ditch, and I have no idea what happened to Ghost. Tears prick my eyes as gunfire pops in the distance. The crowd running from the dead pushed me into the woods, and I quickly got trampled over.

My heart ricochets in my chest, and my stomach churns when I look down at myself. My body is coated in blood and guts. I was spared because the ones who trampled over me were being torn to shreds by the dead, and their bodies shielded me from getting eaten alive myself. The death in the air is overwhelming me.

I need to find Ghost.I need him.I need to get out of here.

My breaths come in labored pants, my lungs seizing with hyperventilation as I spin in a circle, trying to find the road. He was on the other side of the truck. Maybe he made it inside. Maybe he’s not lying dead on the pavement, waiting to come back and rip the flesh from my bones.Maybe I’ll let him.What’s the point anyway? If he’s dead and my friends are dead, what is the fucking point of trying to survive in a world that’s trying to kill you? I’ve lived most of my life like that, and now that I might be truly and utterly alone, I don’t know if I can do this on my own. I don’t know if I want to.

“Shit!” I yelp, my palms digging into the blood-soaked ground as I trip over something—someone. Scrambling to my feet, my eyes snag on something, and I hit my knees again, spewing the contents of my stomach all over the ground. Bright yellow converse.

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