Page 23 of Once Upon an Apocalypse

“What’s your name again? I already forgot.” I’ve always been bad with names. With everyone I meet. It takes me multiple introductions to maybe remember a name.

“Amos. Amos Rogers, if you need my full name to run a background check.”

Another slice of pain runs through me as I laugh, but I’m able to hold it together now. “I’m Laurel Hill.”

A flash of recognition hits Amos’ face for a split second. “Nice to meet you, Laurel. Though I like the name ‘Copperhead’ much better. It suits you. Dangerous in battle but unaggressive in default mode. Are you poisonous?”

I shake my head as if Amos just asked me a serious question. Then look up into his golden eyes and smile back at him, saying, “I don’t think so. I’ve never bitten anyone before.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes before he turns away from me, hopping back into the front seat. “We should get going. I don’t want to be driving too long at night. Even inside The Wall. Do you need anything else? I have some bandages in my pack. Didn’t have time to wrap you up back there. I barely got you out without being seen.”

Looking around me, I see that I’ve bled all over the black leather seats. But my wounds aren’t bleeding anymore. “I should be okay, I think. I’m just going to lie down and let my body do its thing.”

I hear a muffled, “Okay,” as Amos turns the car back on and pulls onto the road. “How does your body heal itself? How are you not a biter?”

“Biter? Is that what you call a zombie?” I ask as I slowly lie back down on the car seat bench.

“Yeah. Zombie just feels made-up. A sci-fi horror monster. Biters are real.”

“That they are.” I close my eyes for a few minutes before responding to Amos’ original question. “I don’t exactly know how I can heal. How I’m immune to whatever virus these zombies have. Doctore—Dr. Tuwile—explained to me years ago that he was attempting to mutate my DNA to fight against the virus.”

A long stretch of silence falls between us as we pass through a small tunnel leading onto Interstate 78. Two walls made from compressed vehicles and cement have been built along the highway, shielding it from the wilds of the apocalyptic world.

“Is this The Wall?” I ask Amos.

“Yes. The government began building this shortly after the outbreak. It isn’t completely sealed, but it is better than some of the other highways in Pennsylvania. The Wall goes all the way to New Jersey but stops near Clinton. The area past that was hit hard and is still too dangerous.”

“That’s close to where I’m from,” I whisper, suddenly so tired. My eyelids shroud me in a cocoon of darkness and my body finally loosens from the tension of the day, letting me fall into a deep sleep.

Chapter 17

“LaurelHill?”Ihearsomeone say my name as if they are shocked at my existence. The voice is far away, muffled by a wall perhaps. I’m still fighting to open my eyes after what feels like a century of being trapped in a nightmare. Images I wish I could forget keep swimming to the top of my mind.

The sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing echo in my ears. Those poor little orphans. Doctore did that to them. He turned them so I would be forced to put them down. This wasn’t for science. This was pure entertainment and spite. The look on Doctore’s face as I threw a spear into his gut. Gun shots. Jonah was shooting the zombies in the arena, screaming my name as they tore into my flesh.

Was I really saved from that hell? Did Jonah save me? No. He might have saved me from being ripped apart again. But he was not the one to bring me out of the arena. I have a vague memory of an angelic figure pulling me from my prison.

I don’t know what’s real. I’m terrified to open my eyes just to find out that none of it happened. That I wasn’t saved. Or if I was, then where am I now? Anything is better than where I was though, right? I dive deeper into my mind, trying to remember anything about what happened to me after I threw that spear. A vision of golden eyes appears in the front of my mind. Not an angel, but a man I’ve never met before.

He somehow hijacked the car that was transporting me to the lab. I don’t know if he killed the guards. Part of me hopes he did after he pulled me out of the black SUV.

Amos took care of me, gave me water, and talked to me like a human being. He said he would take me somewhere safe.Is this that place? Am I safe?

I open my eyes to a slit, taking a peek at my surroundings. I’m lying on a bed in what looks like a hospital room. My clothes feel much softer than the coarse gray uniforms I wore in the bunker. The all too familiar sound of a heart monitor and hospital setting makes me bolt upright and throw my eyes open. I’m not in the dank bunker lab. There’s a large window to my left looking out onto an open football field, pond, and what looks like a college campus.

“Lori!” My head whips around to see a person I thought only existed in my memories. Without waiting for my response, her arms wrap tight around me so hard I feel like she might pop my bones apart.

“Mom?”

She doesn’t answer right away, as she is too busy sobbing into my hair. The shock of seeing my mom again after years of not knowing if she had survived the apocalyptic zombie outbreak delays my reaction. When I finally wrap my arms around my mom, the tears hit me hard. I cannot stop. Neither can she.

My mom! We hold each other for a long time, letting each other feel every emotion we’ve felt on our own these past years. Our bodies bob in unison to our sobbing and our voices wail with relief. After what feels like hours of crying, we finally unlatch our arms and look deeply into each other’s eyes.

My mom’s stark blue eyes stare into mine, seeking to unveil all of my past anguish, hoping to extinguish it. Her face is just as I remember it, pale and covered in freckles. Though there is a scar across her cheek that wasn’t there before. The shoulder-length blonde hair she once had is now cut short into a pixie.

“Mom,” I say. “You’re alive.”

“So are you, my darling little girl.”

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