Madison and Brody, The Road to Chipper Ridge is Paved with Good Intentions (Patreon)

Brody stood by the window looking out to his backyard while listening to the soft sounds of his sister’s sleeping. She had slept most of yesterday. He hoped she would sleep for at least a few hours more.

Outside, little had changed for the better. Since the pool party, they had been locked in the attic with only a small amount of food and water. A bucket in the corner acted as their toilet. A single iPhone was their link to the outside world. He stared at the face of it and saw the battery bar in the red. He shut it off last night, after listening to Internet radio for most of the day and reports of the spreading infection. Bart the Geek, normally the craziest most raucous host of Nightfall’s top morning show, called the outbreak “a plague of biblical proportion.” He spoke like a normal person, Brody thought.. Somehow that scared him.

A dozen of the crazies roamed his backyard, wandering about without a purpose. A few were friends of his before the virus came. He knew their names but wouldn’t refer to them that way. He called them by the colors they wore: Red, Green, and Yellow. The other crazies were all strangers: an EMT, a policeman, a few passersby. In mid-afternoon yesterday, thirty of forty of the infected were assembled out there. A motorcycle roared by, drawing off the majority to chase it. Madison figured the noise drew them like a dinner bell in one of those old Western movies Uncle Nate used to watch. He missed his Uncle Nate. He would know how to get out of this mess.

Madison stirred on the floor. They had found a bean bag and a bunch of old pillows in the back of the attic his mom had put away, so they used them as a makeshift bed. After their blow-out fight last night, Madison cried herself to sleep. She was in one of her blaming moods, which led to the argument.

“It’s your fault we’re stuck in this gosh darn attic, peeing in a bucket and eating baloney sandwiches!”

“It was your idea, Maddie. All of it! You wanted to throw a pool party, you made us go in the attic, you killed Lizzie.”

“Brody, I swear I never want to speak to you as long as I live, and with the way things look, that won’t be for long.”

She wrapped herself in a blanket and hid beneath it—something she used to do as a child. He knew not to bother her. She cried for a while and fell asleep all night. Brody tried hard not to make any noise.

The iPhone showed It was 9:14 AM. He wondered if Bart the Geek was on the air. Hopefully, he was reporting an end to the outbreak.

“Hey,” Madison said and sat up on the bean bag. She raised her air to the side and rotated her shoulder, making a pained expression. “Do I smell tea?”

Brody nodded and knelt next to a toddler-sized desk with a hot plate on top of it. He poured a vase of light brown liquid into a Bugs Bunny mug. The nose lit up red. He crawled on one hand and knees and handed the mug to her. “We have one thingie of half-and-half left if you want it,” he mumbled.

“No thanks. I gave up sugar and diary. You know that, silly.”

“I know. I just figured..” He let his voice trail.

She sipped the tea. 

“It was smart to come up here. At least we have some stuff we can use. Mom put all sorts of things in storage. Like I found some of your clothes, a canteen, old book bags, and my lacrosse gear.” He showed her each item as he mentioned it.

“That’s great, Brody. Thanks for going through those boxes. I was so tired I didn’t even hear you. Oh my gosh, is that my Little Teacher Desk Set? From when I was in kindergarten?”

“Yep, it was in a box for Goodwill I guess we never gave over. It was the only table I could find.”

Madison raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t the hot plate burning the plastic?”

Brody turned off the power strip connected to the hot-plate wire. “Yeah, but I don’t leave it on for long and fan away the fumes.”

Brody’s iPhone rang. The face read “Jenna Frenchy.”

“Hello! Jenna? This is Brody.”

“Oh my God, Brody is that you?”

Madison reached out, pulled on the phone, and hit the speaker button. “It’s Madison and Brody. Jenna, where are you?”

“I’m at my house. I’ve been sick all the week, so I wasn’t at your party.”

Brody scoffed. “You weren’t invited.”

Madison shot a glare at Brody. “He’s so funny. Joking at a time like this. Of course Jenna was invited.” Madison let out a trill of fake laughter. “What going on over there? Are you safe?”

“I…I guess so. I locked myself in the basement but I’m out now. Uncle Rich showed up this morning.”

Rich Kovatch was probably the second richest person in Nightfall, behind the Milfords. He was a part-time teacher at Chipper Ridge High School and part-time real estate broker. Most of his money was made by rehabbing and reselling poorly made Milford homes and buildings.

“So, is it all over. Has the outbreak ended?” Madison’s voice almost broke as she spoke those words. Brody reached out and held her hand.

“No, it’s not over. Uncle Rich said there are soldiers everywhere and infected people running out of control. It’s only safe inside. Don’t let anyone in your house. Are you guys okay?”

Brody lifted the phone a few inches. “We are trapped in our house. We’re almost out of food and water. I’ll have to leave and find some soon.”

Jenna’s sigh came through the phone. “Well, Uncle Rich said school’s abandoned. Mr. Buckley sent all the kids home and locked up. Uncle Rich was going to head back there but came here instead. With all the grocery stores and the mall closed, school may be the best place to find food and medicine and stuff. If he wasn’t sick—“

The iPhone made a double beep and cut off. The outline of an empty battery showed on the screen, and then it dimmed to black.

“Darn it. That’s for the phone. I checked every box in here and couldn’t find a charger,” Brody said, laying the phone on the floor.

Madison took a deep breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and stared at the tiny window. “This isn’t good.”

“What?”

“Well if Jenna is right, we know two things—“

“To heck with Jenna. She’s a liar,” Brody stood up and took out clothes from a pile he found in storage. He stripped off his t-shirt and slipped on one of his old t-shirts.

“What is it with you two? You’re not still pissed about what she said, are you?” Madison giggled, her eyes growing wide. “No one believed her, Brody.”

“I didn’t want to do that stupid play anyway. Grease is the lamest play. High school kids who sing? It makes no sense.”

“Number one, it is a musical, so the singing is a major part. Two, you totally had a crush on Jenna. Three, sometimes when you kiss someone, your body just reacts uncontrollably. I hear that happens to guys. The AC was cranked up real high, so it was super cold—“

“Look, can we talk about something important?” Brody said, sitting near the side wall of the attic, not facing Madison. “Like, what do we do now?”

“We can’t stay here. We are already out of food and water in the attic, and we don’t have a lot of food in the house, at least not for more than a few days. Besides, electricity will go off and it will spoil. I think our best bet is to go to CRHS.”

Brody turned toward his sister. “Go to school? Seriously? Why?”

“If it is abandoned, it is safer than here. There are lots of supplies, food, water, and cars. We can take one of those team vans, load it up with crates of preserved food, and drive it out of the city. When I had to do community service, I worked in the kitchen. They have all of these vacuum-sealed meal packets. They don’t need to be refrigerated. They can last us for months.”

Brody sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t think it’s a good idea but if you think that’s our best shot at surviving, I’m in.”

Madison smirked. “Of course you’re in. You’re my brother. And if things go bad, I’ll just tell everyone that going to Chipper Ridge High School was your idea.”

---

They rode a bike along Old Bishop’s Road away from their family’s estate and made their way toward their high school. Leaving home was no easy feat, but both Milfords had sneaked around those grounds enough to get around the crazies. Madison suggested they ride on a bicycle to preserve energy and remain quiet. Brody agreed with no reluctance. His sister was the brains of the team—no doubt about it.

When the chain snapped after two miles, she blamed Brody. If he had ridden the bike more, it wouldn’t be in disrepair. Brody agreed not to argue. Madison was stressed which led to her lashing out on anyone close. He would take her jabs for now.

They ditched the bike and took to side streets for the last mile. The buildings and houses were denser now, the streets narrower, and more crazies roamed. They avoided everyone, ducked when a vehicle passed, and ran when they heard gunshots. They were hungry and thirsty. Brody felt cramps from holding a bowel movement.

With a quarter mile to go, they cut down an alley on the last leg to the high school.

“I need to stop for a minute,” Brody said, holding his side.

Madison snickered. “Why didn’t you take a dump before we left?”

Brody rolled his eyes. “Where? Our house had infected everywhere, and we haven’t stopped anywhere. I couldn’t go in the attic.”

Madison nodded and scanned the alley. She reached down and grabbed a newspaper off the ground, opened to the middle, and tore out a few pages. “Go behind that trash bin. I’ll wait at the end of the alley for you. Don’t be long.”

She handed him the newspaper. “I wish we had toilet paper.”

Turning from her brother, Madison walked farther down the alley, keeping a watchful eye ahead. From ahead came the sounds of hurried voices. She approached the end of the alley and crouched behind a dumpster. In the cross street, a woman and two adolescent children stood with their backs to the side of a minivan. The woman, who Madison recognized as Robin Mellon, held a baseball bat and yelled at the two kids. Madison guessed they were younger students, maybe an 8th and 9th grader.

“We can’t run. Noah, hold that wood up. Mason, get ready. You can do it.”

Something caught Madison’s eye. Golf clubs. Arthur Westwore’s golf clubs.

A pair of crazies came into view, running at top speed, screeching and howling. Both looked like the crazies at the pool party, their bodies fresh with the effects of the infection. They looked almost too normal, not the heavily decayed monsters she saw lingering on the estate grounds or wandering Old Bishop Road. It was like the infection made them stronger and faster without the negative symptoms.

As the two crazies snarled and lunged, Robin Mellon and her kids attacked. Robin’s bat hit the first one across the jaw, knocking him into the minivan. The older boy, Mason, swung a golf driver and bludgeoned the other one across the top of his head. He fell to the street, and the Mellon brothers took turns beating him. It looked like a fight scene in a prison yard.

Though Madison felt her brother’s presence, she still jumped when he popped up on her side. “Oh jeeze. I knew it would be you. How are you?”

Brody looked away in embarrassment. “Fine. Just drop it. Is that Mrs. Mellon? Should we go help?” He started to rise, clutching his lacrosse stick like a weapon.

“No,” she snapped and gripped his arm. “Look.”

Brody followed her finger to the van and the golf clubs. “So? They’re golf clubs. Weird though, they’re Mr. Westmore’s favorite pair. That kids even using one.”

“We’re staying here until they leave,” Madison said.

As they crouched by the dumpster, Madison and Brody heard an ATV’s motor rumbling closer. The Mellons clenched their weapons and eyed a man ride in. He double-parked on the side of the street and took off his helmet. Dark curly hair spilled out, the color matching a spotty beard over his round cheeks. He lifted a hefty leg off the vehicle and almost fell.

“Hi there! Need help?” he asked and stepped over to Robin Mellon with a brimming smile.

“Oh goodness, sir, yes,” Robin said and lowered the baseball bat. “I’m so glad someone stopped to help. We just have these silly things to fight off the infected. Good thing you came along.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Brody whispered to Madison. She shrugged.

“Don’t worry, old Petey’s here,” he said and drew out a heavy pistol from inside his jacket.

“There!” Noah shouted and pointed to a spot down the street.

“Oh my, another infected. We should go before it’s too late.” Robin said, hurriedly pulling at her two sons like she’s a hen gathering her chicks. Her motions were theatrical, and even with her limited audience, she was putting in a performance.

Petey waved his hands. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with a few of them before.” He raised the gun, closed one eye, and took a deliberate aim at somewhere in the distance. His gun discharged, and the heavy report crackled through the air. Robin didn’t flinch.

“See? All good and dead,” Petey said with a proud smile. “Now, where are you head—“

Robin’s baseball bat struck the back of Petey’s head, ending his sentence. He lurched forward a few steps and dropped his pistol. Mason swung next, clipping the man in the base of his skull with the flat head of the golf club. Blood flicked off and sprayed the van in a pattern shaped like a giant moth’s wing. Petey reached a hand out to the van to steady himself, and now Noah got into the action, slamming his two-by-four across Petey’s forearm. The man yelped and toppled to the ground.

Madison took in a sharp breath, which sounded like a squeak. Brody covered her mouth with his hand and hugged her. He held her close and blocked her view with his body. The two could still hear the sickening thumping sounds as the Mellons battered the Good Samaritan, and it went on for a hard minute. The twins shaked against the side of the dumpster.

“Okay, stop,” Robin said, panting after her workout. “Good job, Noah…Mason. Get his things. Empty his pockets. Check his ATV. Hurry.”

Madison and Brody huddled together, never looking up, like children hiding under a blanket, invisible to the monsters outside. They listened as the Mellons scavenged the dead man’s body and vehicle, stole his belongings, and argued over who got to drive the ATV. Brody thought back to their tenth birthday—in the den, a brand new BMC Sportelite, the best bicycle a boy could want. Their father didn’t add a tag to it, and though a diamond tennis bracelet rested on the coffee table, Madison wanted the bike. They argued for an hour over who got to ride it first until his mother took both gifts and donated them to charity.

When the van’s engines roared to life, the Milford twins looked up and watched it drive away, followed by Mason on the ATV. Madison wiped her eyes clear on Brody’s shirt sleeve. 

“It’s clear.” Brody stood and walked forward to the edge of the alley. On the sidewalk lie Petey’s body not battered and bloody and pulpy. Brody kept his eyes off the corpse, picked up a sweat jacket discarded into the road, and covered it over the top of Petey. Madison stepped over and looked down and only saw the circle of blood around the corpse, the broken leg, twisted arm, and the jacket. As she looked on, blood soaked through the material, turning it from blue to a royal purple.

“I can’t believe Mrs. Mellon did that,” Brody said. “It could have been us if we had…you know.”

Madison raised her eyebrows and sighed. “It was the golf clubs. Mr. Westmore wouldn’t let anyone near his prized babies. He wouldn’t even get a caddie to carry them. When I saw them in the van, I knew something was wrong. Robin Mellon isn’t even in the same league as those trophy wives old Artie Westmore kept. And I knew those two Children of the Corn weren’t going to get their grubby hands on those clubs by sheer luck. Something was wrong. Plus, I saw Robin shoulder check a Girl Scout for the last blueberry scone at the Nightfall Community Foundation’s Annual Children’s Health Fundraiser. The woman’s essentially a monster.”

“School’s not far,” Brody said and gazed across the road. Several intersections and a parking lot separated them from their destination and the hope of food and shelter.

Madison lifted her shirt and sniffed, her face shriveling in displeasure. “I smell like garbage. As soon as we get there, let’s hit our lockers. I have a change of clothes.”

They stepped across the road and walked at a heightened pace. In the parking lot, a military jeep rolled by, too far for the twins to flag it down.