For Necessity Hath No Law
by Sean M. Foster
“Necessity Hath No Law.” It’s kind of funny: I probably saw it every day for the last four years, but I don’t know where it came from. I mean, I know where the plaque came from, of course — Carl Andersen gave it to Aggy on the day she graduated from the Academy — but I have no idea where the quote came from. Maybe it’s traditional, I don’t know. It is true, though; God damn it, it is true. I only hope that Aggy understands. Hell, Carl himself would have wanted us to run. Or he would have wanted Aggy to run, anyway — he never did like me very much.
She must be awake by now. Of course she’s awake by now. I’m surprised that she hasn’t been kicking the cab to get my attention. I’ll try to explain it all to her when I stop to gas up.
Wyoming is the least populated state in the United States. Six times as many people live in the Twin Cities alone. Six times in an area one-fifteenth the size. There are going to be zombies in Wyoming; of course there are. They’re everywhere now. But at least we’ll have ways of dealing with them there. We won’t be outnumbered, so we’ll be able to fight. We’ll have room to move, so we’ll be able to run. We’ll have options. Do they have options in Texas? In California? Nobody’s even heard from New York or Philadelphia or Washington since Saturday. When Aggy went to the station for that emergency meeting, what did they tell her? That there was a chance we’d be able to regain control? That there was a chance everything would be okay? Bullshit. Bullshit. If all of this has happened in a single week, what do they think it’s going to be like a week from now? Fortunately, I was making other plans — realistic ones.
God, she’s going to be angry. I’m going to have to keep her cuffed for a while. Or maybe I could just hide the gas cans after we’ve found a good place to hole up? She can’t leave if she can’t leave.
Life is going to be different from now on. And? There’s not much I can do about that. In a few days, there will be no more U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. There will be no more Marshall Police Department. There will be no more hospitals or schools or Wal-Marts. There will be only the living and the dead. It’ll be hard, yeah. And I do feel bad for Aggy when it comes to her parents and her sister. She was close to them. She’ll get over it, though… she’s tough. I got over it when my parents died in the accident, and God knows that she’s tougher than me. Besides, they were in Baltimore. They were probably killed and turned days ago. Aggy thought she was being hopeful; really, she was in denial.
Pennington County. It won’t be too much longer now. I should find some way around Rapid City; it would be stupid to try to drive straight through.
God, I’m putting this off. I’ve got to stop and talk to her. She’ll understand. She has to.
Wyoming. It’s a beautiful place. It will be a beautiful place. I know how to hunt; I know how to fish; I know how to survive. We’ll do all right. And if Wyoming’s not far enough away, we’ll go to Canada. We’ll go to Saskatchewan. We’ll go to Alberta. We’ll figure it out. You need to know when to fight and you need to know when to run. There’s nothing shameful about running when you can’t win a fight. I’ve seen bears, cougars, even wolverines run when they know they can’t win. They’re not stupid. They accept the difference between want and need, between what should
be and what simply is.
“Necessity Hath No Law.” Wise words.
I should have taken the plaque as a reminder.