Adaptation

Chapter 2: Maggie

In the beginning Carmella had roamed. She felt that it was her job to find others. She had been raised in the Cleveland suburbs and had kept to them for several years. There were so many houses to live in. At first, living in the large, luxury homes made her feel good, but soon living in the homes of dead people and seeing the evidence of a life long gone began to haunt her. She began to seek out hotels, which were impersonal and without history. But the solitude began to eat at her even more, so she decided to put being a Midwestern girl to use and began searching for a farm where she could keep animals and plant fresh vegetables instead of living off the canned goods she found in abandoned stores.

That was when she found the old lady living in a rambling old farmhouse that had seen better days. The wolves drove her to the house. She'd forgotten about the wild animals when she had decided on this journey. Animals had taken over the manmade communities, but they were domesticated animals that used to be kept as pets or ones hunted as food and not ones Carmella would run from. It was Cleveland, after all, and she would never think of lions and tigers … perhaps bears—even if all of the animals in the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo had been released during the end of days. And even if they were now roaming the streets, there surely wouldn't be enough of them to be concerned with.

But she'd forgotten about the wolves.

Carmella had adopted a motorcycle that allowed her easy access to regular and dirt roads alike. She knew how to unlock the pumps at gas stations, and when there was no working back-up generator, she knew how to siphon gas from underground tanks using a two-way rotary hand pump and two eight-foot fuel hoses. The gas found in abandoned cars was no longer good. She didn't know why. She thought gasoline lasted forever, but evidently it didn't. The only gasoline still somewhat usable was hidden away in tanks under gas stations.

She had been riding for hours when she decided to stop and pee. Driving down I-71 through Ohio was tedious, nothing but straight road and decaying, rotting corn and soybean fields as far as the eye could see. But she didn't want to live so near the highway. The image of the endless people in buses and trucks being carted away was still imprinted on her memory. That was a long time ago …

She had ventured off the highway southeast of Columbus and had found overgrown roads to explore. The sun was hot and beat down on her relentlessly until Carmella spotted a clearing where she could stretch her legs and rest a while under an oak tree. After relieving herself, she pulled out beef jerky and a can of Coca-Cola for a quick snack. Maybe they had been tracking her for a while. There were four of them, and she smelled them before she had ever seen them. They had surrounded her before she even realized it.

They knew the moment she realized their presence because her scent changed even to her own nose. She smelled the acrid funk of her own terror as the two wolves in front began a slow advance, head low and teeth bared. They were skinny, half-starved, and mangy. She had a rifle secured to the bike, but they would be on her tearing her flesh before she could reach it. There was a pistol in the satchel that sat next to her.

Carmella's throat went dry, and she nearly choked on the jerky. Sweat rolled down her scalp as she reached into the jerky bag and grabbed a handful. One of the wolves seemed to dislike her movement and growled as he advanced, his growl a signal for the others to move in. Carmella flung the jerky at them while leaping to her feet. The two wolves in front scrambled for the jerky, which gave her enough time to dig into the satchel for her gun. She gripped the cool steel in her right hand when something hit her hard in her left shoulder and a second wolf clamped down onto her left calf. Though the pain was horrible, she squeezed the trigger and shot wildly through the satchel.

The explosive sound caused the wolves to retreat a few feet. Carmella backed against the tree while her shoulder and leg exploded in pain as the wolves advanced again. She didn't have time to aim and pulled the trigger again, clipping the closest wolf in the neck, causing it to cry out before scurrying away.

Two others followed the hurt wolf, but a third had Carmella's blood on its mouth and wanted more. He jumped at her, and Carmella screamed and shot repeatedly, the animal landing on her in a death spasm. She pushed its emaciated body away and clamped her hand on her bleeding shoulder. It was bad, but it hadn't gotten her artery. Still too much blood …

Her heart pounded in her chest and she could barely catch enough breath to fuel her movements. She stumbled to her feet and saw her bike, but somehow it seemed to move further and further from her. She was going to black out … God no. And then she fell and panted while she lay on the grass. I am dead. After all of this, I am dead.

When Carmella's eyes opened, she was met by a stench of such magnitude that it must have been like smelling salts to her system. Her eyes blinked and she tried to focus. There was the face of a woman hovering above her, and it took Carmella a long moment to understand why this was so strange.

Hers was the first face she had seen in about two years.

The woman seemed just as intrigued as they stared at each other, and then the woman's lips parted to expose the source of much of the funk. Her breath smelled of decay because she had a mouthful of rotten teeth.