“Oh. I almost forgot.” He pulled his face away from the cup, not wanting to leave the steamy goodness rising up to his nose. “The water is fine.”
Her face became a beacon of hope. “Fine? What do you mean?”
Allen returned to the cup. “I’m not sure how, but it’s no longer contaminated.”
Sydney slid a single finger under the cup, found his chin, and pulled him to meet her gaze. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. The brothers showed me.” He sensed his own eyes brightening as hers filled with wondrous delight. It was almost too much to hold back, and Sydney had to help him stabilize the cup so he didn’t spill its contents. “I did it, Syd. I went swimming with them. Can you believe that? I went swimming in the river.”
Her eyes widened, perhaps considering all things that could be done in the future now that the water was safe. “But how, Allen? How did this happen?”
“I have no idea.” He brought the cup back to his lips, still staring into her eyes. “I wish I did. There is a large part of me that doesn’t trust a miracle like that.” He thinned his eyes as he considered how paranoid he could be. “I mean; I don’t want to believe…”
He trailed off into the cup and took another sip. It tasted so good, but even the elation of a hot soup wasn’t enough to pull him out of the remorse he felt for his role in the water ending up contaminated in the first place.
Sydney stood there, still waiting for his words, but he struggled to pull his thoughts together, and didn’t want to come off sounding too boyish. “Another part of me, this part that once belonged to you, can’t resist.” A troubled smile found his face, one he was sure she would think inappropriate. “I felt like a teenager again. I let go, Syd, and it felt so good not to have to think about…”
Allen trailed off again, not wanting to discuss his past transgressions. He had grown sick of speaking of the topic. Even then, the demons swirled around in his head, shaken out of their graves and wanting to make sure he never forgot his trespasses.
She lifted his chin again. “This wasn’t your fault, Allen.”
He let her, but turned away, not wanting her to see the tears welling in his eyes. She had no idea how much it pained him—the loss, the war-torn land, the creatures, all of it. It felt like a knife in his side, twisting and turning, digging deeper.
She scrunched up her sleeve in her fingers and dabbed at his eyes. This also made him feel young. He wanted to let it all out, for good, to be done with the guilt. But he didn’t think the burden would ever leave him. He would carry this cross for the rest of his life, and knowing that made him want to just bring an end to himself.
“Listen.” She tried to look into his eyes. “I believe you. You hear me? I know I haven’t always been there for you, but I am now.” She ran her fingers across his lips, a feeling like a feather tickling. When she pulled them away, a burning sensation remained where her touch had been. “We’ll get through this together. And soon you’ll get to see Orson.”
Just hearing his son’s name breathed life into him.
Is that true?
Would he really see his son? Did he want to? Hadn’t he already brought the boy enough pain?
He tried not to let these reservations consume him, but they did, weaving sticky webs in his thoughts that caught every concern, every doubt. If she hadn’t kissed him right then, they might have won out. But when her lips met his with a certain electric touch, he lost himself in her embrace.
The kiss transported him to another time, one where bad things hadn’t happened yet, where he and Sydney were happily married and had a son who played Little League baseball and liked Halloween because of all the candy he got. It was in that moment of reflection he found relief. If he could, he would have stayed in that feeling forever. But moments like that never last.
CHAPTER 36
Dale sat swathed in a blanket, forgetting where such a thing might have come from. Across the way, the others were setting up camp. The red-haired Sydney talked to Allen, tending to his needs.
Wish I had a woman to care for me.
There weren’t many options left for a guy like Dale. Then, an awful thought overcame him.
I wonder if Clyde or Dillon felt anything.
He hoped not. Having always spoke of them not being all the way infected, he believed they still could feel. Like they had as humans. Maybe that was why Sydney’s actions didn’t bother him as much as he had expected, because by that time Dillon had fully transformed. He suspected that would have been Clyde’s fate, too. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept what happened to Clyde. The visions of Clyde’s end stayed with him even now.
Most concerning, where did Dale go from here? Should he resume his drunken tirade, killing off every damn creature he encountered while working his way through the best damn old rock and roll of yesteryear? Or should he follow this ragtag band of refugees to whatever place they were heading, and hope to start life anew? And what about Allen? Did he still have a score to settle with the man?
In a weird way, he still held Allen responsible for what had happened, no matter what evils had transpired to force him to do such a thing. That part of Dale missed his family more than anything and wanted Allen to pay for his wrongdoings. But he kind of liked the man, and even considered him somewhat a brother. Fighting by each other’s side had a way of doing that. Allen likely understood that more than Dale ever could.
Maybe we can be brothers.
Given their situation and what this world had left to offer both of them, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
An ache stirred in his chest as he pondered such subjective obstacles. It burned like reflux, him wanting to let go of this hatred and seize an opportunity to change. Yet, his loathing for this world persisted. The war, its consequences, it had taken everything from Dale. Now there was a new war on the horizon, one more attuned to the core of this reality.
This country has always been at war in one way or another, either with itself or some other country.
He stood, which caught the attention of Isaac, who rushed to Dale’s side to offer a helping hand. Dale missed this sort of behavior about humanity, the good in people. In times of need people seemed capable of so much. He often wished people had found that ability in the worst of times as well, binding together instead of exhibiting hostility against one another.
“You okay man?” Isaac asked.
“Uh huh.” Dale took Isaac’s arm, shifting to shake his hand. He did so not as a greeting, but as thanks. “I feel pretty darn good.”
“You sure?”
“Well, I’m so hungry I could eat the ass out of a horse.” Dale’s stomach growled loud enough for Isaac to hear. Isaac glanced at the horse, and they both laughed. “Just kidding, my friend. Just foolin’ with you.”
Isaac grinned and slid one of his large arms over Dale’s shoulders. “Right this way. Allison cooked up some mighty good stew.”
Dale realized something right then. He could never change what had happened or the man he’d become because of it. But he could move on. He could allow himself to be happy. This small group of people had somehow become his new family. He would protect them as he had Dillon and Clyde.
CHAPTER 37
Isaac hadn’t expected the road to the school to be so challenging to navigate. Littered with non-functioning cars and debris scattered across the highway, some cars off to the side seemingly pushed there. The dead machinery presented plenty of hiding places for stray pack creatures to spring out. But they hadn’t encountered a single one thus far, and not having any such run-ins made him optimistic that they would reach their destination unscathed.
Larger packs tended to stalk the cities, and the smaller ones stuck more to remote towns, wherever there might still be life. Only stragglers and insignificant groups kept to the woods, feeding on animals and the like, the things bigger packs didn’t bother with yet. Isaac felt they would be able to handle a decent sized pack without too much trouble. Because of
the way the creatures crowded together they would be easy to spot even from a great distance. There would be plenty of time to prepare and maybe Dale could rig something up with their limited supplies to make it all easier. Yeah, he thought the odds were in their favor. Because of that, Isaac hadn’t fretted much when Gavin took the lead. Craig followed close behind the boy, no doubt doing all the worrying for Isaac.
“Slow down, Gavin,” Craig said. “This ain’t no race. We’ll get there when we get there.”
The boy ignored him.
“I’m tellin’ ya, boy. You’re gonna wear me out.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Gavin shook his head. “Don’t fuss over me.”
Craig threw his hands in the air. “What’s with kids these days, always in such a hurry.”
“What?” Gavin turned to him, equally as animated. “I’ll tell you why I’m in a such a hurry. I have to take a leak, okay? I have to piss.”
Isaac thought their back and forth more good-natured humor than anything.
Craig shouted back to the rest of them, “He’s gotta pee!”
Sydney snort-laughed.
The rest of the group seemed to be lost in their own little worlds. There was plenty to think about on a trip like this. For now, Allison rode the horse, but if things kept up like this they would need protein. Unless they went hunting, the horse was all the food they had. Isaac only now realized this had been Dale’s plan all along.
Over the first few hours of travel, Allen told the group how he met Clyde and Dale, what they had been doing. Apparently, the brothers had been born for this sort of thing.
How many have they killed?
Isaac couldn’t help but wonder just how many horses the brothers had gone through? And where did they get all of those weapons? Dale remained somewhat of a mystery to Isaac. They came from two very different pasts, so he understood little about the man.
He watched Sydney walk. She was a vision of beauty.
Any chance I had with her went out the door when Allen walked back into the picture.
He wasn’t sure what to think about Allen, either. The man was a natural leader, calm as the stillest waters when that pack came for them. Yet, the man had a dark side; one Isaac had been enlightened too shortly before the horde attacked. Moments of weakness like that could easily get someone killed.
Gavin was off in the distance, struggling to get his fly down as he darted behind a car to drain his bladder. Craig followed for a moment, then stopped and waited for the others to catch up. Then Isaac heard a noise he would not soon forget.
CHAPTER 38
“Mrs. Egerton, what’s that noise?” Orson said.
She turned an ear up, looking down her nose at him. Her face scrunched up, but her expression gave no hint at what she was thinking. “I don’t hear anything.”
What he heard had a certain rhythm to it, like someone was out on the horizon pounding on a bass drum. But he didn’t think it any sort of drum. It had to be something bigger.
“Listen, Orson. It’s coming up on nighttime. We should try to get everyone inside.” She regarded him, her pupils finding him over the rim of her glasses. “How ‘bout you go and round up all the children? And don’t forget to tell Paul, too. At his age, he needs to be reminded every once in a while. Now, hurry along.”
Orson kicked the ground, not out of frustration but because it felt like he was living the same day over and over. Each day the men took their posts while the rest of the people enjoyed the outdoors. Each night they hid inside the school. Sometimes the older people would try to teach the children what they could, Orson included, but none of it stuck much. Other times they all gathered in the gymnasium, what came off as more of an ice cream social without the ice cream. The worst times were those in which they sat in complete darkness, no one muttering a single sound for fear a nearby pack would discover them. Those days didn’t come often, but at least it was something out of the ordinary. Like today, with that strange noise only he seemed capable of hearing.
Trudging along the walkway, Orson thought there were more cracks in the sidewalk than he remembered seeing before the war. The war had been long, at least compared to those he had read about in history books. As long as Orson could remember, back to when he was around five or so, the war had been there, always in the background. And the packs had been there as well, though he rarely saw them. This war had ruined the America his mother often spoke so fondly of, but Orson had never known anything except for this new world. This nation of dismay and evil, and things that went bump in the night, had stolen his childhood. As a result of his father’s neglect, Orson had paid a price and never got to know the man.
When he reached Paul, Orson stood behind him for a moment and wondered if the man was awake or not. When he determined the old man was indeed asleep when he should be on guard, that didn’t make Orson feel any less safe than he had before he knew this. Right from the start his mother had taught him that he would always be better off thinking for himself and keeping an eye out for his own good.
The old man didn’t appear to hear Orson sneaking up on him.
“Hey, Paul?”
The old man stirred, but did not wake.
“Sir?” Orson clasped his fingers.
Paul shook awake and regarded Orson with fuzzy vision, blinking wildly in an attempt to bring Orson into focus. His gaze made Orson anxious.
“You didn’t catch that, did you?” Paul said.
Orson nodded.
“Well, don’t you go tellin’ Glenda or she’ll cut my nuts. You hear me?”
Orson laughed.
Paul could be hilarious at times. His wife, Mrs. Egerton, would indeed take his balls if she ever caught him sleeping on the job. Orson had seen firsthand how the woman ran a classroom. She was a headstrong dictator who had earned every one of the contemptuous remarks in which the children had portrayed her. Because of that past, Orson found it easy to call Paul by his name but still had trouble referring to his wife by any name other than Mrs. Egerton.
“Have you heard anything, Paul?” Orson turned toward the east, staring out over the horizon with a mistrustful gaze. “Maybe something like a marching sound?”
Paul listened. He shook his head. “All I hear at my age is Glenda nagging me to death. That woman takes a little more out of me every day.”
Orson let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “No. I mean, I keep hearing this sound.”
“Whelp, did you tell Glenda?”
“Yes, sir.”
Paul smiled. “What did she say?”
“She couldn’t hear it, either.”
Paul huffed, pushed down upon his knees, and lifted himself out of the chair. A chorus of cracking noises sprang from his bones. Seeing it empty, Orson couldn’t imagine that chair being comfortable enough to fall asleep in.
“Whelp, either we’re too old to hear what you’re talkin’ about or you got some super-hearing, boy. We’ll just have to keep an eye out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You round up the other children and get yourselves inside. I’ll get the others.”
Orson nodded, not bothering to tell him Mrs. Egerton had already set him on the chore. He went right to the playground, hands up in the air, signaling to the children it was time to retreat for the night. Like sheep they saw the gesture and made their way inside, stealing as much playing time as they could along the way.
When they were all in, Orson scanned the horizon to the east, thinking the noise came from that direction. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but he waited, certain Paul would come looking for him sooner or later.
Orson squinted, and that was when he saw them on the horizon. At least a dozen heavily armored soldiers toting large weapons approached the school.
CHAPTER 39
When the men stormed into town, Glenda’s initial concern was for Orson and the fact he had gone missing. She didn’t know if that meant these men had killed the boy or maybe left him for dead in the vast land beyond their compound. Ho
w could she put that past any soldier after such a stupid war? These soldiers looked more like mechanical monsters to her, dressed up in elaborate space suits. Though she fully understood they were human. She saw the roundness of their faces in the yellow tinted visors. All the uniforms were dark blue, almost black, save for one. That soldier wore a color similar to merlot wine, their apparent leader.
The man wearing the seven-foot merlot suit nodded, but his suit did not simulate the movement. “Ma’am.”
Glenda did not acknowledge the greeting, still busy scanning the grounds for Orson.
“What the hell are you all doing here?” Paul spoke with contempt. He would feel the same as she did. Something didn’t feel right about these soldiers.
She wondered if they might divulge any information about Orson if they knew anything. Her hands started perspiring. She worried they might have taken Orson. Either way, how could she break the news to Sydney, that she’d lost Orson?
“Did you see a boy?” she said, panicking. “We’re missing one.”
Their leader said, “We were sent by the President to clear the area of hostiles. But we haven’t seen anything in the immediate area.”
Glenda’s angst got the best of her, and she charged the red-suited man with her fists raised. “Did you shoot him? The boy, did you kill him?”
“Honey, please.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Paul’s voice. “These men aren’t here to shoot boys? Are you, son?”
The response came from one of the blue-suited men, a white number three painted on the side of his helmet. “No Ma’am. We didn’t shoot your boy.”
“We’ve also been ordered to escort any survivors to the decontamination area.” The red-suited man glanced at number four, indication enough of what he was to do. Number four walked beyond the school, surveying the perimeter of the building. “As long as none of you have been infected, we will proceed to sector three together.”
Pack Animals [An Undead Post-Apocalypse Thriller] Page 12
