Rubbing his face vigorously, he stood up. He went to the room's only window and looked out, shielding his eyes from the sun glaring off the snow. The only things that moved outside were a couple of swirls of snow, gently making their way across the field, driven by the light breeze outside. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew on them to warm his fingers. Unfortunately it didn't help much; they were still numb. Even though it might attract unwanted attention, he had to find a way to get warm, even if it meant building a fire.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets in an attempt to regain feeling in his fingers, he left the room. He could have sworn that he remembered seeing a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. Perhaps there was a stockpile of wood and some matches nearby. He could only hope.
He shuffled into the tiny kitchen that also served as a dining room. The room was well lit, sunlight pouring in from the multitude of windows, even though many of them were covered in dust and cobwebs.
Brian considered the small table, flanked by two wooden chairs, sitting against the far wall in front of a bay window as a potential source of wood to burn in the cast iron stove, which sat in the corner not far from the table. There was a door leading outside a few feet from it that he would check first, though. He hoped, since this was a farmhouse, that there would be a woodpile nearby that he could gather wood from before resorting to busting up the furniture.
All of it would be a moot point, however, if he couldn't find something to light a fire with. Next to the door was what looked to be the most ancient refrigerator he had ever lain eyes upon. A long countertop extended away from it to the opposite corner of the room, a useless, metal sink sat in the middle of it, rust pitting the surface giving him the impression that it would fall through at the slightest touch.
He looked to the cupboards above the counter, hoping to find matches or anything else he could use in them. At least they didn't look like they were going to fall on him. If anything, the thick coating of spider webs would keep them in place. He swept the cobwebs from the cupboard door closest to the refrigerator and pulled it open.
As he opened it, the hinges creaked as if they hadn't been oiled within the last century. He couldn't believe his luck when he looked inside. Lying on its side on the bottom shelf was a foot-long tube with a clear plastic top. The heads of at least one hundred wooden matches were visible through the dirty plastic. He pulled the canister from the cabinet, reminded briefly of his childhood by the cut up pieces of a felt-like material shaped like ghosts, pumpkins, and witches that were glued to the cardboard cylinder.
He searched the remaining cupboards, but apparently his luck had run out. The only thing he could find in any of the others was a collection of filthy dishes and a few pots and pans. No pantry with a stash of canned goods, in fact, nothing edible at all seemed to be in the house. The owners must have taken it with them when they'd left.
Brian bounced the tube of matches in his hand for a moment, then set them down atop the stove. Now, to see about finding firewood. He opened the kitchen door and walked outside. It seemed as if the wind had picked up since he'd gotten out of bed, and the chill nipped at every bit of his exposed skin.
Rounding the corner of the house to head for the barn, he ran into a woodpile stacked against the side of the house. His luck seemed to be returning, even though he would have to dig through the pile to find usable wood. The top few layers were crusted with snow and ice.
It took him close to a half an hour to get far enough into the pile to find anything worthwhile. When he was satisfied that he had enough to get through the rest of today, Brian scooped up his makeshift stack of wood with both arms and went back into the house. He set the wood down in a pile far enough from the stove that an errant spark wouldn't ignite his stockpile. He placed two of the smaller pieces into the stove, and after using nearly half of the matches he'd found, he finally had a fire. He closed the door to the stove and went back to the bedroom to retrieve his backpack while he waited for the room to heat up.
When he returned to the kitchen, he set the pack on one of the chairs, opening the top and pulling several books out. Moving to the other chair, he set the stack on the table. He sat down and pulled the one on top of the pile toward him. He had a lot of studying to do if he ever hoped to grasp the concept of becoming a shaman.
Chapter 3
It had been a huge mistake to take shelter from the snowstorm in a house so close to a big town like Bay City, and it was only going to get worse as they continued south on Interstate 75. They still had to find a way through Saginaw, Flint, and Detroit. All of which would surely be overrun with zombies. Even the smaller towns, in the northern portion of Michigan, seemed to have more than their fair share of the vile creatures.
A few hours had passed since the group's latest near death experience. This time it had been Jack who saved their hides, becoming a wolf and shredding through the zombies like a hot knife through butter. Edward didn't know how things would have turned out if Jack hadn't pulled off a miracle. Surely, Melissa would have died if not for his intervention, but likely the rest of them would have shared her fate soon after.
The attack that had nearly killed Melissa, occurred in the middle of the night. After the battle was over, Edward had decided they should remain in the house until dawn, hoping it wasn't a mistake waiting for the storm to subside. With Katie's help, they carried Melissa to another room at the other end of the house. Jack had sworn to keep watch on the perimeter, patrolling the outside to keep any threats from entering.
Julie followed behind after gathering up everyone's gear, carrying it all to the front room. After laying Melissa down, Edward produced one of his feeble, magical flames in one hand and looked over her wounds. From what he could see, she had two nasty gashes on her right leg that looked pretty deep, and another on her right arm that looked just as bad. The rest of her wounds looked more superficial. "We need to get these wounds patched up somehow before she loses too much blood," Edward said, pointing to the ones he'd found.
"Can't you do that thing you did to Mike's leg back at the tavern in Haven to seal her wounds?" Katie asked.
"I would if I could. My magic is probably too weak to pull that off here, not to mention that I would have to dismiss the flame spell we're currently using for light to summon a different spell," he grimly stated.
"Crap! I hadn't thought of it like that. What are we going to do then?" Katie inquired.
"You're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way," Melissa whispered, barely coherent.
"Hand me her pack," Katie instructed Julie, holding out her hand.
Julie looked at the array of backpacks before her, trying to figure out which one to give to Katie. They all looked the same to her, so she picked one and passed it over.
"Thanks," she said absently, opening the top of the pack and rifling through the contents. She was grateful that they'd chosen to bring extra articles of clothing with them. She found a scarf in the pack that she thought might work and pulled it out. Grabbing the knife from the sheath on her belt, she quickly cut the scarf into usable strips. Katie took each one and wrapped it tightly around Melissa's wounds, tying them off in the front to create added pressure.
When she was finished, she sat back and sighed heavily. "I hope that will work," Katie said, looking at Melissa's closed eyes and wondering if she was sleeping or if she'd passed out from blood loss.
"I'll just be a minute," Edward said as he rose to his feet. "I'm going to check on Jack and make sure everything is okay."
Once he left the room, Katie fumbled around in the darkness for Melissa's backpack. After a few moments, her fingers grazed against the familiar canvas of the pack. She slid it across the floor toward her, found Melissa's head, and lifted it slightly to allow the pack to slide underneath like a pillow.
"You've been awful quiet lately, Julie. What's up with you?" Katie whispered.
"Nothing. Everything has just been such a shock to me since I found you," Julie murmured.
>
"I suppose," Katie said thoughtfully, "but it hasn't exactly been a picnic for me either. Everything I've gone through just trying to find you, it has been almost like walking through Hell itself. I guess I just thought you would be happier now that we're back together again."
"Sorry if I seem out of sorts to you. I've just had a lot on my mind," Julie apologized.
Katie turned her head and listened as she heard stomping coming from the other room. Her hand moved down to the hilt of her knife, waiting to hear the grunting and hissing of more zombies. She supposed that she'd be able to smell them coming, too; even with the background odor seeping in from the other side of the house. It wasn't strong enough to nauseate her, but enough that she couldn't rely on her sense of smell to alert her to danger before it was too late.
Moments later, she saw a feeble light approaching in the hallway and relaxed slightly in the knowledge that it was only Edward. He stepped into the room a few seconds later. "We still seem to be clear ... for now. When I tried to call Jack inside, he wouldn't come. He seems determined to continue his patrol," Edward stated softly.
Her hand slipping from the handle of her knife, Katie grabbed another of the backpacks to use as a pillow. Edward allowed the women to get comfortably lined up beside each other, then laid down next to Katie. A few moments later, exhaustion took its toll and they were all sleeping.
It seemed like only minutes had passed when Katie was awoken by a noise. She propped her head up with one hand, her elbow braced against the floor, and listened. It was so quiet now that it almost felt to her like she'd gone deaf. The wind was no longer howling outside and rattling the windowpanes. The barest hint of light was filtering through the window, telling her that she'd slept much longer than it felt like she had. It would be daylight soon.
Suddenly, she heard the sound again. The slow thud of footsteps. It could only be one of two things she could think of. Either Jack had come back inside and was carefully stepping through a dark room, or Jack was dead and zombies had made their way into the house.
She began to shake Edward's shoulder to wake him. Katie could just barely make out his face, but it looked like his eyes were open now. She put a finger in front of her lips, hoping he could see it, gesturing for him to be quiet.
The footfalls continued to get closer. Edward sat up and scooted a short distance from Katie, allowing her to do the same. Katie looked over her shoulder briefly and saw that Melissa and Julie looked to be asleep. She thought about turning to wake them as well, but didn't want to turn her back on whatever was coming and be unprepared. If it was zombies, it sounded as if it were only one, maybe two of them. Between herself and Edward they should be able to take care of it.
A shadow appeared in the doorway of the room and stopped. "Are you awake?" a tentative voice whispered.
Katie stood up and walked to the doorway. "You scared the shit out of us, Jack!" she said, punching him in the chest and knocking him back a little.
"Sorry," he replied. "I was trying not to wake anyone." He hugged Katie briefly before entering the room to kneel down next to Melissa. "Is she going to be okay?"
Katie walked over and stood beside Jack. "I think so, but only time will tell."
"If she can't walk on her own, it's really going to slow us down," Edward said, turning toward them.
"If I have to, I will carry her," Jack offered. "Lately, her attitude has improved dramatically and I've grown rather fond of her."
Katie thought briefly about his wife, Natasha, who had been brutally murdered and decapitated by her old school bus driver. I'm sure he doesn't really feel that way about her. He's probably just lonely with his wife being dead, Katie thought.
He reached over and gently jostled Melissa. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly up at him. She tried to move away from Julie so she could sit up, but grimaced in pain when she attempted to use her right arm to boost herself up. Her movements had apparently woken Julie, who began to sit up and look around.
"Is it that time?" she inquired.
"Almost. We were trying to figure out how well Melissa will be able to move around. By the looks of things, Jack will have to make good on his offer to carry her. She still seems pretty weak," Edward answered.
"I'll take on the extra burden of her pack then," Julie offered.
By now, the sun had come up over the horizon and the room was better lit. "Then I suppose we should start gathering things up and get moving," Edward suggested.
"Yeah. Before zombie central decides to wake up and come after its next meal," Katie said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
"Do zombies really sleep?" Julie asked.
Katie grinned. "No, silly. I was joking about that part."
Julie began to grab the gear she would be carrying. She strapped one pack onto her back, the other she positioned across her chest. "Could you help me get the straps tightened so these things don't move around while we're walking?" she asked, looking at Katie.
"Sure." Katie got up and went over to help her friend. Once they were as secure as Katie could make them, Julie twisted and bent, testing to see how well she could move. Satisfied, she scooped up her bat and Melissa's from the floor. Wielding one in each hand, Katie thought her friend looked like a total badass. She couldn't help but grin at the irony. Julie had always been the one that acted like she needed help with everything when they were growing up, and now she looked kind of like Lara Croft from Tomb Raider.
Jack put his pack on and handed the shotgun over to Edward, giving him a brief lesson on how to use it like Melissa had done for him. Once he was sure that Edward was comfortable with the weapon, he returned to Melissa. Bending down to scoop her into his arms, he then stood up as if he were holding nothing heavier than a small child.
Edward looked to make sure everyone was ready. "Okay. Let's go."
Chapter 4
Darkness was beginning to settle in on the farmhouse Brian had been staying in for the last day or so. Frustrated, he slammed the book he was studying shut. So far, Brian hadn't been able to get any of the spells from the books to work. Well, there was one that seemed to. A spell that brought him more in touch with an ability to sense evil. He could feel it all around him now, suffocating him as if someone had placed a pillow over his face.
He found himself looking out the windows every few minutes because of this new, heightened sense, feeling as if the zombies had found him. He kept expecting to look out and see hundreds—maybe even thousands—of them, shuffling their way across the field toward the house. So far he'd seen nothing.
If this was how his senses were when he couldn't even see anything nearby, what would it be like when there actually was? He already felt suffocated by the evil around him, when they actually got close enough to see would he even be able to breathe?
Picking up the pile of books from the table, he stuffed them back into his pack. Pulling the drawstrings tight and tying them off, he picked up the backpack and returned to the bedroom. Wearily, he sat down on the bed. I'm probably pushing my luck staying here for another night, but I need to lay down. Even if only for a couple of hours, he told himself.
Swinging his legs onto the bed, he laid back. He fluffed the pillow for a moment, sending up a small dust cloud, then laced his fingers together behind his head and closed his burning eyes.
A short while later, he woke with a gasp, feeling as if he were choking. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd slept, all that was certain was he hadn't made it through the night. It was still dark outside. His mind whirled. The last thought he'd had before drifting off was imagining what his new sense would feel like if he got any closer to evil, specifically zombies.
Brian sat up quickly as the choking sensation tightened its grip on his throat. A fleeting thought entered his head, one that wondered if there was a way to dampen the effects of his newly acquired sense. Some way to get more control over it before he literally choked to death on the evil around him.
He stood and shuffled through the darkne
ss, bumping his backpack with his foot. Moments later he was at the window, and knew he would have to get moving again. Now in fact. Across the frozen wasteland he could see many dark shapes, highlighted slightly by the starlight reflecting off the snow, moving toward the house. Somehow, the zombies had found his hiding place. Maybe the smoke from the wood burning stove, which was rising from the chimney, had alerted them to his presence. At this point it didn't matter anymore. He had to get out before escape became impossible!
He turned away from the window, quickly scuffing his feet across the floorboards in an attempt to find his pack. Moments later, his foot bumped into it. He reached down and snatched it from the floor, not even bothering to put it on his back, and hurried for the closest way out of the house.
As he stepped into the hallway and turned toward the front of the house, he realized the kitchen would be easier to reach. It would be better lit and have fewer obstacles to trip over, as opposed to the darkened living room that he would need to traverse to reach the front door.
It took about two minutes, but he managed to get to the kitchen. Just as he suspected, it was relatively easy to find the door. Within moments he was outside. He took a quick survey of the area around him, looking for the best option to escape.
The zombies seemed to be coming from the direction of the highway. As he quickly checked around the side of the house, Brian saw that he was right. The path looked clear as long as he moved further from the highway.
He started running toward the barn, thankful that the snow wasn't deep enough to slow him down. He was still gasping for breath, courtesy of his new ability, but as he continued to put distance between himself and the undead horde he found his breath a little easier to draw.
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