The Scavengers
Page 19
Chapter 18
I ran.
I ran as fast and as hard as the adrenaline pumping through my veins would let me. I ran as bushes and trees cut through my skin. Running blindly in the dark, I fell down an embankment next to a small creek and scraped my hands, stomach, knees and face. I drank the water from the creek and I then I ran again. I ran until the adrenaline wore off and I collapsed at the base of a huge sycamore tree, sobbing and gasping. When I could breathe again, I ran some more.
I ran up hills and down the sides of mountains. I ran across grassy fields and through woods that were thick with brush. I ran until my hands and feet were cut to ribbons from the thorns of vines I'd pushed my way through. I ran until I didn't think I could run anymore.
And then I remembered the way Drake had described my mother's screams of terror, and I ran some more.
I suppose it was only by luck that I stumbled across Kennedy's corpse. I certainly hadn't been searching for him. To be honest, I didn't even know what direction I'd been running.
Drake had disemboweled Kennedy and then cut off his hands, his feet and his head. He'd burned the torso, pelvis and thighs, but he'd arranged the parts he'd cut off in a sick shrine. Kennedy's hands were being stepped on by his feet. His head, eyes glazed and mouth open in a silent scream, was below his hands. I gagged hard as I turned away, determined to keep running.
Kennedy's backpack was laying a few feet away from the scorched remains of his chest. I started to walk past it, but then I stopped myself. The pack looked like it had been flung to the side during the attack and then forgotten about. If Drake hadn't raided the supplies then there was a good chance I might be able to use the items Kennedy had so carefully packed when he had chosen to flee the Scavengers and the Cube for good.
I unclasped the heavy buckles that held the bag shut and pulled it open. The first thing that greeted my eyes was Kennedy's brown leather jacket. He'd been wearing it the last time I'd seen him. He must have gotten hot hiking and put it into the bag. I pulled it out and laid it gently on the ground beside me. Below the jacket were a spare change of clothes. The fabric of the cotton shirt stuck to my scrapes and cuts almost as soon as I put it on and the pants were both too tight and too short for me, but I was glad to have protection from the elements again. My own clothes were still on the river bank where I'd fled from Drake.
Below the clothes were a small supply of canned sausages and bottled water. I pulled the tab on the can of sausages and forced myself to swallow each and every one of them. I washed them down with the stale water and felt better for having something in my stomach. No one could go on for days without eating. I knew I was running near the end of my strength as I kept rummaging through the belongings of someone I had almost been willing to consider a friend.
Kennedy's tools were wrapped carefully and lovingly in a blanket in the center of the bag. I had no real use for them and didn't know what half of them were for, but I knew they had to be valuable if he'd taken them with him when he'd left. I tucked them back into the bag, shoving them down into the bottom where they wouldn't get in my way.
The bag also contained several spare weapons, including a vicious looking knife that was entirely too long to comfortably carry anywhere on my person. I stuck it in between my spine and the waistband of my pants. I'd rather be uncomfortable than dead.
Kennedy's boots were the hard part. Drake had left them on his feet. I needed shoes. I'd already cut my feet up pretty badly when I'd been running and I knew my tenderfootedness was slowing me down. I wasn't safe from Drake yet. If he'd followed Kennedy this far and killed him, he could do the same to me. For all I knew, he might be watching me right now.
The thought terrified me. I scanned the trees and the grass surrounding me and saw no sign of Drake or any other threat, but I knew how easy it would be for him to overpower me. I was nowhere near as strong as Drake. No one was as strong as Drake, except maybe for Seth.
I hadn't thought much about Seth since I'd fled the riverbank. I hadn't had time to wonder what he'd thought when he'd come back to find us gone. I wondered if he thought I had gone back to Drake. I wondered if he cared.
I knew I was allowing my mind to wander away from the necessary task at hand. Steeling my nerves, I grabbed Kennedy's booted feet and removed the feet from the boots. With a silent apology, I left his feet beside his head and put his shoes on. They were a little too big, but the thick soles would give me protection from the rocks and thorns I kept stepping on.
I shouldered Kennedy's pack, adjusted the straps so that it would ride comfortably and I ran.
I ran and ran until I could run no more. When my legs finally gave out, I laid on the ground in a grassy field and cried.