When We Were Human

by Kate L. Mary

  When I meet Tara’s gaze, she smiles.

  I look away as heat creeps across my face, focusing on the chipped vinyl floor. I don’t have a clue what’s going on, but I’m starting to think being alone for as long as I have has permanently damaged my ability to relate to other people.

  11

  Two years ago…

  I shivered and pulled the blanket up to my chin, causing Lilly to frown. Her hand brushed against my forehead, and even before she said anything I knew I was burning up.

  “You’re on fire. If only there was something I could do for you,” my sister said.

  “I’m f-fine.” My teeth chattered together, distorting the words.

  I wasn’t fooling her, of course. Whatever I had was getting worse, and we were both starting to worry. We’d seen too many people in the camp die from lack of medical care.

  Another round of shivers worked their way through my body, but there was no more blanket to cover myself with. The one I had was thin and worn and dirty, but at least I had it. A lot of other people were going without, curling up together at night to keep warm. I needed to be thankful for what I had, even if my body was still covered in goose bumps.

  Lilly’s mouth turned down, and she pushed me over as she climbed onto the cot next to me. She wrapped her little arms around me like she was the big sister, pulling me closer. Trying to keep me warm.

  “You need to rest,” she whispered in my ear.

  I swallowed and did my best to ignore the painful throbbing in my throat. “I’ll try.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  Lilly ran her hand over my head, brushing the moist hair back out of my face. Then she started to sing and her soft voice filled the tent, lulling me off into a world that didn’t hurt and didn’t make me cry.

  “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high. There’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby…”

  12

  It’s dark when I open my eyes, and I can still hear Lilly’s voice whispering in my ear. I shift on the couch, trying to force my eyes to focus, but my head is pulsating. My skin is moist with sweat, and if the room wasn’t so dark, I’d swear the house was on fire. The cut that bothered me yesterday now throbs. I shift positions in the musty chair, and when my wrist brushes against the fabric, pain shoots up my arm.

  “Shit,” I gasp.

  Tara whimpers from the couch, and Walker stirs. Her head is on his lap, so he barely turns when he looks my way. “Eva?”

  I take a deep breath and sit up, but the room spins and I have to close my eyes.

  “I’m okay.” The lie comes out easily.

  Even in my fevered state, I’m afraid to tell Walker the truth. That one of my cuts is infected. One of the cuts I gave myself.

  Walker doesn’t respond, and I open my eyes to find him moving Tara so he can get up. I want to tell him to stop, but the words don’t make it out of my mouth. I lay back and stare up into the darkness, cursing myself. I must have gotten dirt into one of the cuts when it was still fresh. My fingers move up my arm and over the notches, starting at the newest one that has just barely scabbed over. The one above that was made the morning I met Tara and Walker, but it’s the one above it that throbs when my fingertips brush against it. It’s so hot that it feels like burning coals have been shoved under my skin. My hands tremble.

  “Eva?”

  I turn my head and meet Walker’s gaze. He stands over me, and the moonlight shining in the window is just bright enough that I can see how concerned he is.

  “I’m sick,” I say, feeling like a liar.

  He rests his hand against my forehead, and his skin feels cool against mine. He runs it down the side of my face to my cheek, then frowns. “You’re burning up. Did you feel bad yesterday?”

  I shake my head and focus on the ceiling once again.

  “Eva? What are you not telling me?” He grabs my chin and forces me to turn my face toward his. Even though I want to close my eyes, I don’t.

  “My cut is infected.”

  Walker’s eyes get big and his hand drops from my chin. “What?” he says, much louder than necessary.

  Tara groans and rolls over, then slowly sits up. “What’s wrong?” she asks groggily.

  “Eva’s cut is infected!” Walker runs his hand over his head and lets out a deep breath.

  I close my eyes because my head feels like it’s on fire.

  “How bad?” Tara asks.

  “Bad enough.” Walker’s words are so full of venom that I can’t face him. I keep my eyes shut. “I told you! You said it was no big deal. Just something she needed to work out. But this! No, Tara. I’m not going to put up with someone killing themselves this way.”

  “Walker.” Tara’s voice is low like she’s warning him.

  “I’m serious,” Walker says.

  I keep my eyes shut and roll onto my side, away from Walker and his angry words. My whole body aches and I’m shaking, and my arm feels like it’s being licked by red-hot flames. But I can’t do anything to turn back time and stop cutting myself. And I don’t want to. This is who I am, and if Walker doesn’t like it, he can leave me.

  “Stop,” Tara hisses. “We can’t do anything right now and you’re just going to make it worse. When the sun comes up we’ll take a look at it. See how bad it is.” She pauses, but I don’t open my eyes to see what they’re doing, and when she starts talking again, her voice is even lower. “Walker, it will be okay. I can fix this.”

  Walker’s only response is a huff that sounds like he doesn’t believe her. Or maybe he doesn’t care. I can’t blame him for that. Footsteps stomp out of the room, and I don’t even have to look to know they’re Walker’s. Lighter ones head my way.

  A cool hand brushes against my forehead. “Shh,” Tara says softly. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

  I curl into myself, hoping if I hold my body tight enough, the ache inside me will lessen. “Walker hates me.”

  “He’ll get over it. Just rest.”

  I don’t respond, and after a few seconds, she walks away.

  My body shakes and no matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore the throbbing in my arm. It’s a white-hot heat scorching through my veins. Walker and Tara are in the other room, speaking to one another in hushed tones, but I can’t make out their words over the chattering of my teeth. I’ve never been cold and hot at the same time like this before, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die. I’m not stupid. You need antibiotics to get rid of an infection, and it’s been four years since they stopped manufacturing medicine in this country. We’ll never be able to find any, and even if we got lucky, the odds that they’ll still be good are slim to none.

  I’m screwed.

  Walker and Tara come back into the room and settle onto the couch, probably trying to get a little more sleep before morning. I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to will away the tears clogging my throat. It’s an impossible task. They don’t disappear, and when they escape my eyelids they feel almost cool against my scorching cheeks.

  I drift in and out of consciousness, and time loses all meaning. It’s dark, then the room turns orange and finally yellow. All the while voices swirl around in my head as if I’m standing in the middle of a crowd and everyone is talking to me at once. People from my past argue with Walker and Tara about what to do. Mom. Dad. My grandma who died when I was eight. Young enough that the only thing I can remember about her is how she always used to give me little butterscotch candies. The wrapper crinkles when she untwists the ends, forcing the candy into my mouth. Only it isn’t sweet the way I remember. It’s bitter and burns my tongue.

  Through all the noise, I can just barely make out Lilly’s soft voice. She’s singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I’ve spent the last year trying to block the tune out of my head, refusing to let it hurt me, but now as I lay in a quivering heap of pain, it replays in my brain until everything else fades away. Then there’s just that song. The soft tune feels like an arrow slicing throu
gh me over and over again in a constant loop, cutting my heart to shreds.

  “Eva.”

  My eyes fly open when Tara’s soft voice penetrates the song. She stands above me, frowning, and Walker is just behind her. He won’t really look at me and I can’t read the expression on his face, but I know how pissed he has to be. I love and hate that he cares enough to be mad.

  Tara kneels at my side. “I’m going out for a bit. You’re burning up and we have to do something to ease the infection. There’s a plant that will help, and it shouldn’t be too hard to find in this area, but I have to move fast. Walker is going to stay here and take care of you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I reach out and grasp her bony hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” She gives my hand a quick squeeze, then stands and turns to face Walker. “Be nice.”

  He shoves his hat back and scratches his head, and when his icy eyes turn my way, they look colder than I’ve ever seen them. I miss his carefree smile.

  He rips his gaze away from me and wraps his arms around Tara, pulling her against him. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” she says into his chest.

  She twists out of his grasp and heads toward the kitchen without even a backward glance at me. Walker watches her go, and the pain in his eyes is more intense than the throbbing in my arm.

  I don’t blame him for hating me.

  I hear the backdoor open, and then close, then Walker turns to face me. He lets out a big sigh. “Are you okay?” I nod meekly, and he rolls his eyes. “Right,” he mumbles.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” The words practically scratch their way from my throat.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps, pulling his hat down over his eyes. He always does that when his emotions start to get the best of him.

  “Okay,” I mumble, closing my eyes.

  Walker doesn’t say anything, so I keep my eyes closed and try to force my body to relax. Slowly I drift off, back into the semiconscious dream world I inhabited the previous night. The one where Lilly’s soft tune haunts me while I stand in the middle of a forest fire.

  I cry out when something touches my forehead.

  “Shhh. It’s just me,” Walker whispers. “You’re moaning. I thought I should probably wake you up.”

  I open my eyes and almost cry in relief when his gentle gaze meets mine. “Everything hurts.”

  “I wish there was something I could do.”

  Walker frowns and looks toward the couch, then scoops me up into his arms. He takes me over to the sofa where he and Tara spent the night curled up together and sits with me resting in his lap. I try to resist, try to wiggle my way out of his arms, but he pulls me closer.

  “Relax,” he says, forcing me to lay my head on his shoulder.

  Once it’s there, I don’t want to move. Being in his arms makes me feel better somehow. I’ve always had someone to take care of me when I was sick. Mom when I was a kid, Lilly in the camp.

  “How’s that cut?” Walker asks, lifting my hand.

  He turns my arm until the swollen area is facing him. It’s the first time I’ve been able to get a good look at it today. The skin around the cut is shiny and red, and when I run my fingers over it, the heat surprises even me.

  “I’m going to die,” I say.

  “No,” he says firmly. “Tara will be back. She knows what she’s doing.”

  I don’t believe him. Unless the plant she’s talking about has magic powers, I’m in deep trouble. But I keep my doubts to myself. Tara and Walker have worked hard to maintain their optimism, and I don’t want to be the one to burst his bubble.

  I shiver when a new wave of chills runs over my body.

  Walker tightens his arms around me and lets out a deep breath. Then he says, “Maybe I should talk to help pass the time.”

  I nod, but the chattering of my teeth makes it impossible for me to get any words out.

  “I’ve been thinking about the past a lot lately. For years, I avoided it completely. I thought it was stupid, something that would just torture me. But now, I’m starting to think holding onto the good memories is what I need to do to keep myself going. You know, as a way of reminding myself that things can get better. What’s the point of living otherwise?”

  My body hurts too much to think of a response, and when Walker’s arms tighten around me even more, I don’t want to break the spell by talking.

  “When the invaders came, I was a freshman in high school,” he says. His hand moves up and down my spine in a slow caress that somehow breaks through the painful fog clouding my brain. “I had just made the basketball team and I was on the honor roll. I had a plan. I was going to get a basketball scholarship and go to the University of Kentucky, probably date a couple cheerleaders before finally settling down. I wasn’t going to play pro basketball, though. I had other plans.”

  “What were your plans?” I whisper, surprising even myself.

  “I wanted to be a vet.”

  “I like animals.” My words are soft, barely a whisper, and they make Walker chuckle.

  “Me too,” he says, rubbing my back some more.

  That’s how we pass the time. Walker telling me stories about growing up in Ohio while my whole body shakes with fever. He rubs my back, distracting me from the pain. Occasionally I nod off, but he’s still there. Whispering soothing words in my ear as fever rages through me.

  By late afternoon I’m huddled under a blanket, shivering from head to toe. The back door opens and Walker stops pacing, spinning to face the door. When Tara steps inside, he lets out a sigh so loud I’m certain Lilly will be able to hear it all the way down in Valdosta.

  “Did you get it?” he asks before Tara has even had a chance to shut the door.

  She pulls the yellow scarf off her head and nods. “I need help, though. Come into the kitchen with me.”

  Walker follows her into the other room and I sit up a little, then shift positions, but no matter which way I twist I can’t see what they’re doing from where I sit on the couch. I’m shivering too much to even think about getting up, so I just lie back and wait.

  Minutes pass, although they seem more like hours, and I can hear the two of them rooting around in the kitchen. When they talk, their voices are low, but I can still make out enough words to hear it when Tara asks Walker to build a fire. A few seconds later footsteps cross the room, and I catch sight of Walker just before he ducks out the back door.

  Tara comes back into the room holding a bowl of water and heads my way. “How are you feeling?” She kneels in front of me, setting the bowl down.

  “Horrible.” I can’t meet her gaze, even though I know for sure I won’t see the same blame and bitterness I found in Walker’s eyes.

  “I’m getting something together that should help with the infection.” She wrings out a rag, then runs it over my cut. The water is lukewarm, but it still stings. “We need to keep it as clean as possible.”

  “Did you find antibiotics?” I ask doubtfully.

  “No, calendula. It’s a common flower, similar to a marigold, and it’s used in herbal remedies. It should do the trick.”

  Tara dips the rag back into the water and wrings it out, then runs it across my cut a second time. This time scrubbing a little harder. I jam my teeth into my lower lip and suck in a deep breath.

  Her dark eyes meet mine, and she frowns just a little. “Sorry. I know it hurts.”

  She’s apologizing to me? I must be delirious, because that doesn’t make any sense.

  “No,” I whisper, wincing again when she rubs the cloth across my cut. “I’m sorry. I should have kept it clean.”

  Tara’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to, though. I know what she’s thinking: I shouldn’t have cut myself. She’s right, but at this point I’m not sure if I can stop it. Not until Lilly is with me and I know she’s safe.

  After a couple minutes of scrubbing, Tara stands. She pats my
forearm and says, “I’m going to check on the fire Walker is building. Get some rest.”

  I watch her walk away in silence. She disappears out the back door and I scoot into the chair, burrowing under my blanket in an attempt to alleviate my shivering. Once again I doze, floating off into a world where my family and friends are still alive and creepers never came. Where I still go to school and have a bed to curl up in.

  Eventually, Tara comes back. My eyes barely open, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the sting of the cloth when she puts it over my cut once again.

  “This is a calendula compress,” she whispers. “It will help you heal faster and draw out the fever.”

  My gaze shifts from her face to where Walker stands, looming over us. His hat is pulled down low enough that I can’t make out his expression, but his shoulders are slumped and he has his hands shoved into his pockets.

  That’s how the next twenty-four hours go for me. Drifting off to sleep, waking occasionally to Tara applying a fresh compress to my wound. Dreaming about Lilly. A couple times Walker even nudges me awake so he can force water or some kind of broth down my throat. Or maybe I dreamed that, because the guy that wakes me is different. Too serious and concerned and gentle to be the Walker I’ve been traveling with.

  It isn’t until late morning the following day that I wake feeling more coherent.

  The room is bright, and it takes me two seconds to realize I’m curled up on the couch. My mouth feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, and my lips are cracked. Plus I’m sweating, and the blanket tucked around my body feels like it’s going to suffocate me, whereas before I was sure the thick fabric was saving me from freezing to death. I violently shove it off, then turn until I can get a good look around. Walker is in the chair on the other side of the room. The leg rest is up and he has his head back. His mouth hangs open, and every time he exhales, a soft rattle comes from the back of his throat. I don’t see Tara anywhere, though.

  “Walker,” I whisper, feeling like the words are being ripped out of me.