Elliott woke to the sound of a rumbling engine and the sight of Shavian’s beautiful brown eyes staring at him. He was lying in the back of the van, his shoulder and hips aching from being bounced around on the hard bench. Shavian took his arm and turned the wrist to check the abrasions, and her face went from softly concerned to amused and a little derisive.
“Morning, Snow White,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and went to sit on the other side of the van.
Elliott hoisted himself up, rubbing his head. “Where are we going?” he asked blearily.
“Treeville,” Higgins said from the front seat, flashing a little smile at Shavian. The redhead harumphed and looked away.
Elliott shook his head. “But I thought no one-“
“We never got a chance to tell you,” Shavian said, grumbling. “We found the address to Treeville at the festival.”
“We?” Higgins said.
Shavian scowled. “Fine, Higgins found it. I’m still not sure how he managed to ask.” Higgins seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, and he was doubled over the steering wheel, shaking with silent laughter.
“That’s great!” Elliott exclaimed, feeling hopeful for the first time all day.
“And we’re almost there, my boy,” Roger said. “We haven’t run into any more zombies either. We’re on the outskirts and I think they’re sticking where they can find… you know…”
“Food?” Higgins said.
Elliott grimaced.
They pulled up next to a large cinder-block-like building with its windows heavily shuttered. The sign outside read, “Treeville Coffee Company. Since 1995. Proprietor Don Christianson.”
“This is the place,” Elliott said. He looked all around them, checking for undead. Higgins took point, opening the back door of the van and making sure there was nothing threatening. Shavian glared at him and grumbled something about her mission from God and her superior marksmanship, but didn’t push the point.
Elliott practically bolted for the front door of the coffee factory, pushing past Higgins and Roger despite their protests. It was locked of course. He turned to ask Roger if there was anything in the van that they might use to break the lock, and had to leap screaming out of the way of a battering ram. It slammed into the door with with the combined muscle of Higgins and Fipps behind it.
“What the hell?” he shrieked, landing hard on the sidewalk. The ram hit the door and rebounded; apparently the coffee was secured better than expected.
Roger leaned against the wall to the side of the door. “Shouldn’t stand in front a battering ram, my boy,” he said.
There was a sound of shattering glass and everyone looked over to see Higgins standing in front of the window he’d just broken. He used a nightstick to knock the rest of the glass out of the frame with a smile.
“Easier,” he said, nodding at the window by way of explanation.
Roger and Fipps looked down at the battering ram.
“We found this in the van. It’s more fun,” Fipps complained.
Ignoring him, Elliott dashed to the broken window and scrambled through.
Inside he found a typical factory floor, hoppers and roasters all around. There were catwalks spanning above, and high ceilings. The scent of roasting coffee permeated everything.
Junie sat in the middle of the floor, cross-legged, hugging her tactical mug and looking despondent.
Elliott ran to her, throwing his arms around her and trying not to shed unmanly tears. She patted his arm absently.
“Hi, Elliott.”
“Junie, are you okay?” he asked, rocking back on his heels and looking her over for bites and scratches. She appeared to be unharmed, but she looked distraught.
“They just left,” she said, her voice hollow. “They were here when I got here, and then they just left.”
Elliott brushed her hair away from her face. She looked close to tears herself.
“They just left you here by yourself?” he asked, his voice sympathetic.
“The coffee, Elliott. They just left all the coffee.”
Elliott searched for words of comfort. Then his face brightened, and he gestured around the factory, empty of everything but coffee. He said, “Hey, but look at it this way. More for you!”
Junie looked up at him and smiled from ear to ear. “You always know how to cheer me up, Elliott.”
She glanced down at his arm and frowned. “Elliott… did you get bitten?”
He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, and fainted away once again.