by M. D. Massey
“What are they looking for?” Scarlett asked boldly.
“Me, the girl,” he said casually.
Scarlett turned on the light and gasped when she saw the blood pooling onto the floor.
“It looks much worse than it is.” The man winced, unable to hide his pain.
“Do you happen to have medical supplies? Had to stash my gear when I found the girl.”
“I thought she was yours,” Scarlett said, confused.
“No. Found her two days ago. We’ve been on the run since. It’s been, shall I say—challenging, finding food, protecting her, and outrunning Ravers.”
“Ravers?” Scarlett asked, not liking the sound of it.
“You haven’t heard of the Ravers?” He seemed surprised.
“Let’s get your arm bandaged. Then you can tell me about the Ravers. I can’t believe I actually shot you. I am so sorry.”
“That makes two of us,” the man said with a smile that seemed genuine.
Scarlett shifted the plastic storage tubs around to make room for them. She quickly rolled out an extra sleeping bag and gently set the sleeping girl in it. The poor thing looked like a ragamuffin, dressed in a pair of tattered overalls and a worn-out sweater, like a little vagrant from the depression era. Her face was coated with layers of muddy grime. She definitely needed a bath. A three-day bath to get rid of all that muck.
“I know, dressed her in boy’s clothes and camouflaged her face with mud,” he said if he had sensed her thoughts.
“I see,” Scarlett replied hastily.
“As you probably know, it’s not so safe for the female gender. In some circles they are considered valuable property,” he said as if feeling the need to explain.
Scarlett certainly knew that to be true. She nodded in agreement.
“Nice safehouse. How many people in your enclave?” the man asked.
She didn’t answer, afraid to tell him she was alone. “Don’t go anywhere. The medical kit’s in the attic,” she said, implying there was only a small storage area above. She couldn’t risk him knowing how supplied the bug out was.
He let out a laugh. “Lady, I’m sure as hell not going anywhere just yet.”
She grabbed the deluxe-sized emergency medical kit, compliments of the original bug out owners and filled a bag with yesterday’s smoked fish, a box of crackers, a bottle of juice, along with plates and napkins. We can have a little picnic later. Maybe it won’t be too scary for the little girl if she turned this into something fun. Abruptly, Scarlett felt a strange sensation. It reminded her of—happiness?
She set out the medical supplies in front of the man, using a plastic tub for a table. “Not sure what you need,” she offered.
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said, offering his right hand for a shake. “I’m Zac.”
“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” she said with a wry smile, trying not to laugh at his formality. “I’m Scarlett, Scarlett from Roseville.” Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve said that. So much had happened since her life in Roseville. She was no longer the pampered, spoiled, at times self-righteous, and needy person she had been. A lifetime ago . . .
“Roseville, how did your people make it here?” Zac sounded surprised.
“Just followed the path of least resistance and ta-dah, here we are.” She didn’t dare tell him she lived alone. No, let him think she was with a group of people.
“What’s with the bush disguise?” Scarlett asked, changing the subject.
“Pretty clever, don’t you think?”
His smile was all too appealing despite the camo-paint. Her face went hot, and she quickly turned away from his inquisitive eyes.
“Uh, maybe if you’re a hummingbird,” she snapped back, not wanting to get too friendly with the stranger. Scarlett sat next to him and began gingerly cleaning the wound on his left bicep, attempting not to notice his muscular arms.
“Ouch, why’d you have to go shoot an unarmed man?” His eyes seemed to mock.
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re the type to go sneaking around the forest with a walking bush, unarmed,” Scarlett said, calling his bluff.
“Right you are!” He cocked an intriguing brow. “Let me get comfortable here.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a gun and placed it on the plastic tub.
Scarlett started to wipe the wound again. He shook his finger no and then reached to his back and pulled out another gun. It was slightly bigger. Then he proceeded to place two more guns and three knives on the tub beside them.
“Is that all?” She grimaced.
Zac’s smug smile vanished. He winced and gritted his teeth. “It needs to come out. Can you do it?”
“You mean the bullet’s still in there?” Scarlett was shocked.
“What the hell kind of gun is that anyway?” he asked, suddenly pissed.
“It’s a Derringer.” She rather liked the small handgun, which had been left behind by the bug out’s owner. It was small enough to tuck inside her jacket or just about anywhere.
“Your people will need better weapons than that,” he retorted, rummaging through the medical kit. “Exactly what I need.” He held up a tube of topical anesthetic cream and then applied it around the wound.
“In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t too many creepers in these parts,” she drawled, continuing her gunslinger accent. A part of her didn’t believe the encounter was real. Another lucid dream?
“Is that what you call them? Lady, creepers, are the least of your worries,” he rebuked.
“What do you mean?” She tensed.
“The bullet’s right here.” Zac pointed to the wound on his arm. He rummaged through the medical kit. “Use these.” He handed her the forceps.
A wave of nausea flooded over her. She shook her head at the suggestion.
“Look, if you can’t do it—I’ll wait for someone else,” he said a bit irritated.
But no one else was coming. “All right—I’ll do it.” What am I saying? Surely, I’ll pass out.
“Wait,” his voice turned panicky. “You don’t happen to have any tequila? I’ll pay you for it. It may help reduce my screaming . . .” His eyes pleaded.
“Back in a second.” She disappeared up the ladder again.
Scarlett returned with a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka that had been sitting in the cupboard for months.
“Classy, from France.” He twisted off the cork top and took a sip. “Not bad.” He guzzled the bottle for a few seconds, choked, and resorted to slower, longer swigs.
“How much for the vodka?” he asked between swigs.
“A special deal—just for you,” she retorted.
“My firstborn? Too late, already promised,” he mocked.
“And when was that, last week?” she responded in the like.
“Are you this friendly to everyone?” He retorted back, but she saw a glint of playfulness in his eyes. A smile slowly swept across his lips. It remained a moment too long.
Jeez, I better not be blushing. Scarlett couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under all the camo-paint. Her heart raced at the mere thought of him cleaned-up and decided it might not be such a good idea to know.
“I see, you got a thing for me already. Must be my Prince Charming good looks,” he continued to jest as if reading her thoughts.
“I’m only this nice to commandos I shoot the first time,” she hinted with a casual warning.
“You mean there’s a next time? Damn, I knew it. You are crazy.” He handed her the forceps again. This time, she accepted them.
“Okay, right here. Dig in and pull out. And lady, I mean Scarlett, don’t stop no matter what I say. Or how loud I yell,” he practically begged.
“Jeez, that really sounds encouraging.” Her gut wrenched again. Scarlett grabbed the vodka from him and then took a drink, hoping to calm her nerves. I can do this! And, she dug in with the forceps. She felt an object and latched onto the bullet. But the bullet slipped. His entire bod
y tensed as he unsuccessfully tried stifling a moan.
Zac took another healthy swig from the bottle. “Don’t stop,” he said through clenched teeth. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, and his jowl twitched. “Do it—now!” It was almost an order, but she recognized the pain in his voice.
This time, she had a better feel of the tool and the bullet, and she delved in again, determined. After what seemed like the longest minute in the world, she finally latched onto the bullet. “Got it!” she said triumphantly, holding the bloody bullet up like a trophy, and then fought the urge to gag. He handed her the bottle this time, and she took another drink to calm her nerves.
“Now it’s time for this. A few stitches should do it.” He gave her an unsure look and handed her the needle and suture thread included in the kit.
She didn’t bother to refuse and hoped he could handle the pain. After she closed the wound and cleaned it, she topped it off with several butterfly closure strips; then she carefully bandaged his arm. When she was done, he muttered something under his breath and took another drink from the Grey Goose bottle.
“Give me a minute,” Zac mumbled with drooping eyelids.
Scarlett let out a deep sigh. Certainly glad that’s over with. She turned to find Twila watching bright-eyed.
“Sweetie, how long have you been awake?”
“I’m hungry!” the little girl announced.
“Sure, sweetie, let’s have a pic-a-nic while Zac takes a little nap,” Scarlett said, trying to remember what it was like to be an elementary school teacher again, those days so long ago.
“I’m six-years-old—not two. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a little girl.” Her golden eyes flashed.
“Okay, sweetie,” Scarlett resisted the urge to laugh, not wanting to alienate the child. “Do you like fish?”
“Wait—” The girl made a funny cross-eyed face. “I’m supposed to say something—” The girl stopped again as if she couldn’t think of the word. “Veggy-terry-n?” the girl said slowly in a questioning tone, almost as if she wasn’t sure it was the right word.
“Are you the type of veggy-terry-n that eats fish?” Scarlett asked carefully, trying to stay on the little girl’s level. Scarlett showed her the smoked fish.
“Yum! She said I can eat fish,” Twila said and eyed the fish with ravenous eyes.
“Zac should be better soon. Then you two can continue your hiking trip. Where are you two going?” It was Scarlett’s turn to find out information.
“Here, I was looking for you,” the girl exclaimed like it was a formal announcement.
“Ahh.” Scarlett didn’t know how to respond.
“You are my new mommy.” Twila’s golden eyes remained steady and serious.
Scarlett smiled but screamed inwardly: Don’t tell me the poor little thing’s gone mad. I certainly can’t blame her. It’s a miracle she survived this long.
To change the subject, Scarlett said, “Tell me when you need a bathroom break.”
“Okay. More juice, please.” The girl held up her cup in anticipation.
The little girl seemed mesmerized by the bottle of juice and watched intently while Scarlett refilled her plastic cup. She slurped down the juice. “Okay, I have to pee now,” she said proudly, giving Scarlett a goofy clown-like, red-juice-stained smile.
Scarlett decided to take the little girl upstairs and let her use the real toilet, thinking it probably wasn’t safe to go outside yet. She checked on Zac and whispered, “Are you doing all right?”
Zac grumbled, “Need another minute.”
“Follow me.” Scarlett motioned to Twila. They climbed the narrow ladder to the next level.
“Holy cow, what a fun place!” The little girl’s red-clown smile widened. She turned around, oohing and aahing at everything in the room.
“Let’s keep this our little secret,” Scarlett said.
“Why?”
“It’s for girls only.” The girl seemed satisfied. “When you’re done, we can wipe off all that grime from your face.”
Scarlett washed off the mud Zac had apparently used as camouflage. “Wow, I think there’s a pretty girl under here somewhere,” Scarlett teased. “There she is!” The little girl had a mess of freckles sprinkling her entire face. She was the most adorable thing.
“Do you like chocolate? Here’s a bag of M&M’s just for you, sweetie.” Scarlett handed her a mini-package.
“You’re awesome. She promised me you’d be the best mommy in the whole wide world,” the girl proclaimed.
The statement gave Scarlett the heebie-jeebies. “Why don’t we get back to Zac before he finds out about our secret room?” Scarlett urged.
They hung out on the first level, waiting for Zac to wake up. After a while, the shouting started again. She pressed her ear to the floor of the bug out. Someone was out there, near the bug out. Zac started muttering in his sleep. She nudged him gently, hoping to quiet him.
“Someone’s out there,” Scarlett whispered.
Surprisingly, Zac jumped into action aware of the present danger. He quickly turned off the light. The three of them waited in the dark with only the late afternoon sunlight peeking through the slits of the narrow windows. The child sat in silence and arranged the M&M’s into designs on a paper plate.
Zac inched nearer to Scarlett. She found herself tantalizingly close to him. “I’m leaving at dawn. I need to warn my people Ravers are in this valley.”
“You never told me about the Ravers,” Scarlett reminded.
He sat inches from her and whispered, “We first heard of them in December, once it became apparent the world had gone to hell in a handbasket. They started out as a bunch of thugs and gangbangers going from town to town, raiding stores and homes. In the beginning, they could be bought off. But as their numbers grew, they just started taking whatever the hell they wanted. They systematically disbanded small groups of survivors by capturing the strong men—killing the weak ones and,” he paused, “capturing all the women.”
“Jeez, like modern-day pirates,” Scarlett gasped.
“More like a modern-day Genghis Khan. They have a brutal leader. No scruples on taking or killing whoever—whatever gets in their way.”
Scarlett stared at him in disbelief.
“My advice. Your people should pack up and go another thousand feet or so up the Sierras until after the harvest.”
“Why?” Scarlett asked.
“Unfortunately, they’ve chosen this particular valley. No one here is safe until after the harvest.”
“What makes you think that?” She wondered how he could possibly know so much.
“Trust me, this area is as rich as Fort Knox with all these orchards. Food’s becoming scarce. Sure, there might be plenty of food stockpiled in residential homes in the metropolitan areas. But the big cities, if they weren’t bombed, are swarming with the infected.”
“So, our government really did bomb our cities?” Scarlett asked, still finding it hard to accept. Luther had mentioned it as well. Of course, she had seen the arena in Natomas but had hoped it had been an isolated event.
“You hadn’t heard about it?” He cocked a curious brow.
“I’ve, we,” she corrected, “have remained very isolated. How else do you think we survived?”
“I get your point. Most of the metropolitan areas have been neutralized as our government calls it,” he said wryly.
The little girl handed her a red M&M. “For you!”
“Thank you, Twila.” What a sweet little girl, Scarlett mused.
“I don’t hear them now,” Scarlett said, unsure.
Zac shifted his position. “They’re probably reconning the other side of the river.”
“What else do you know?” Scarlett was curious.
“I’ve been going from town to town, reconnoitering the outlying areas, trying to find out who’s in charge.” He seemed vague.
“And, who, exactly is in charge?” Scarlett asked firmly.
�
��Whoever the hell wants to be. It’s like Mad Max out there, in case you hadn’t noticed: no laws, no morals, no scruples.”
“So, how have you managed then?” she prodded.
“Lucky, I guess—just like you. Hell, how does anyone survive during these formidable times?” Zac sighed and looked away.
She wondered what godforsaken events he must have witnessed. Scarlett often wondered how she had survived so long without any special survival skills.
Getting back to the Ravers, she said, “There’s much more farmland in the San Joaquin Valley. Why would Ravers waste their time with these little mom and pop farms?”
“Water. Another drought year for California. It only rained six or seven times the entire winter except for here in the Sierras. The reservoirs are extremely low. With no one to monitor the water supply, anyone with the manpower can divert the water and steal what little there is. The Sierra’s western-slope watershed areas supply plenty of water with all the creeks and rivers flowing with the snowmelt. Enough to supply these small orchards and farms through harvest time. Not to mention, this is a much smaller, secluded area to defend.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Hmm, so how do you really know all of this? I mean, they just got here.” She found it a bit peculiar he knew so much.
Zac turned his head to the side for a moment, giving her time to study his profile: his long nose, his sturdy chin covered with stubble, his sandy-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. His Adam’s apple rippled as he swallowed. Am I making him nervous now?
“All right, if you’re so damn smart, why are you still here?” he spouted, obviously irritated with her question.
“Never mind.” Scarlett turned away, wondering why he was pissed.
“Look, I joined up with the Ravers about a month ago . . .” Zac paused.
Was he waiting for her reaction? She didn’t say anything, thinking it was best to let him talk.
“Call it a secret mission—if you will. I have family and friends in these counties. My family has been farming this land for generations. Anyway, when rumor got out Ravers were planning on confiscating farms, I let myself be captured. I proved myself invaluable so I could obtain intel. Sure enough, the Ravers had decided to stake their claim this side of the Sierras. Right here in this valley.”
