"So, who are you and what's your story?" Blondie asks, trying to distract herself, no doubt from the noise her friend is making as Anna continues her trashing.
"Umm, well... My name is Emma. I came from an average family before this started... When things were getting bad my dad and my brother were both drafted in a way. My brother tried to escape the Army too. He wasn't as lucky as yours... They caught him and executed him. We only found out a few weeks ago. My mother came to my school and pulled me out of my classes when she got the letter. I was in the last couple of weeks of my senior year. I've been on the run ever since..." I trail off.
"So what happened to her? Your mom, I mean."
"She died. They came in and took my best friend, turned her mother. Mom wanted us to go to the base and find my dad. I made it, she didn't." My heart folds under my story, not allowing me to tell the whole ugly truth.
We both sit in silence for a minute. I feel all of the pressure of this fall down onto me. It presses against my chest, making my head feel fuzzy and my heart hurt with despair. It's been three weeks since then. Since Mom gave her life for mine. She saved me. I've lost everyone I loved in a matter of a few days. Lauren, Will, Mom.
I have no idea how to get to Dad. No idea where we are going or if they can be trusted.
Anna's screaming and flailing brings me back to the car. I look behind me in horror as I hear the box crack from the strength of her thrashing. Her hand flies through the top of the box as she punches a hole in it. Her hand is bloody and blistering and grotesque. We've got to get her out of this car.
"It's too late," Blondie mumbles and I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing she is on the same page as me. "I'm so sorry, Anna. I wanted to save you."
"Coward!" Anna screams, throwing her fist randomly in the air. "I saved your ass and you want to throw me out like the trash."
"This isn't you. We talked about this, you said you'd rather die than be one of them... I'm sorry." She presses a button on the right side of the steering wheel that releases the trunk latch.
"You stupid BITCH! I hate you!"
"Climb back there and open the trunk all the way," Blondie orders me, ignoring Anna's taunts. I unbuckle myself and climb to the back, trying to stay close to the side and out of reach of Anna's arm. Pushing open the hatchback, the inertia of the car and rushing wind threaten to pull me out. My hand jerks upward, grabbing the hard, tan, handlebar to keep myself from being sucked out.
"Please, push it out for me," she says with sadness.
I nod at Blondie in a quiet understanding and work my way back to the front of the coffin.
"No, NO! I'll kill you. Once I get out of here, I'll come back and kill you. I can't believe it, I rescue you, get bitten in the process and this is how you repay me!" Anna punches her other arm through a new hole. Holding onto the sides of the front seats I push my feet hard into the front of the coffin. It moves slowly and Anna continues to scream with every kick from me.
A good bit over the edge I stomp my feet one final time into the coffin. The broken tomb falls completely from the car. It crashes and slides down the road, breaking into pieces. Anna's body breaks on the hard pavement, ceasing her flaying. As we speed forward, I close the door and climb back to the front. I can see Blondie's eyes in the rearview mirror as she watches me. They are glass, a haunting blue.
"Thank you," she says, wiping away a tear.
What do I say to that? You’re welcome? No problem? I just killed your friend but let's act like it's a semi-normal thing to do now. Slamming back into the seat, I close my eyes tight and try to push back the part of me that hates myself for doing that.
I guess I get it. I didn't want to have to take my mom's life when I knew that was what she would have preferred over the other scenario. I wish I would have been brave. I wish I would have given her what she wanted.
"Sure." I rub my hands together nervously, unsure what to say next. But then it comes out, "You know she doesn't really hate you right? That's the virus talking. We did what she, what the real Anna, wanted."
"Sure."
Nothing more can be said. Nothing more can be done that will make losing family or friends easier. Right now, the only thing that can help is time. She needs time to grieve over the death of her friend and I need time to grieve over my mother.
We grieve for our friends, we grieve for our family, and we grieve for each other.
Chapter 17
My eyes flutter open and closed, heavy with sleep as I stare out the window, watching what feels like the billionth tree blur by. We drive in silence for almost another hour before Blondie begins playing with the radio.
She shifts through the radio static, allowing the hazy vibration to pulsate through the speakers for the briefest of seconds before pressing the seek button once more. My mind buzzes with every stop of the dial as it reflects the fuzz from my brain trying to wrap itself around everything.
With every small burst of static that punctuates the otherwise silence in the car, my head rattles even more. What in the hell is she looking for? Does she expect some great tune to come blasting through the car’s base?
The next station the radio stops on shrills through the car. The same broadcasting beep you typically hear from a severe weather alert or weekly testing is beeping brazenly. A stark contrast from the static of before.
Blondie’s eyes roll in her skull, nearly as loud as the beeping before she presses the seek button again.
“Wait! What are you doing? Go back!”
“Why?” She glares at me in bewilderment.
“What if it’s from the President or Governor? What if they have something import to say?”
I guess I don’t get the joke, but Blondie apparently thinks I’m hilarious. Her eyes lighten the smallest degree as she lets out a little laugh.
“Okay, go ahead, hear what they have to say.” She shakes her head, pressing the button back to the previous station.
The obnoxious beeping is coming to a close as the station comes back in.
“This announcement is being brought to you by the National Emergency Service Broadcast Station. Safe zones have been established for North Carolina residents in serval cities.
“These cities include Asheville, Charlotte, Durham, Elizabeth City, Fayetteville and Winston-Salem. If you need shelter, food, supplies, or are searching for family; please find the nearest safe zone to you. Help is there.”
Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.
“This has been an announcement from the National Emergency Service Broadcast Station.”
“Wait, so they are offering safe zones? I don’t get it.”
“I wouldn’t believe everything you hear on these stations. Sometimes there are just ass-hole survivors trying to take advantage of gullible people. Hopefully, those guys get themselves caught and taken in. That, however, really was our even bigger of an ass-hole government.”
“I guess I don’t really get why they have safe zones in the first place if they are the ones infecting people and aren’t offering the cure.”
“Because it’s not really one,” she says; the tone of her voice letting me know that she thinks I’m one of the gullible people out there.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” she responds, shaking her head. “You’d have to see it to believe it.”
“Have you seen one?”
“No, but from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to.”
“Well, then how do you know they aren’t trying to help people.”
“Would you like me to drop you off near one instead of letting you stay with us?
“No, but- “
“I didn’t think so. From what I hear, if you get into one, you probably won’t be coming back out.”
I nod and turn to look at the window. Trying to understand her context. Maybe I am naïve to have thought it could be real. Has the government really done anything thus far to prove that they are on our side?
“Hey, I know we just met, but you’re going t
o have to learn to trust me.”
Yeah, great timing, as I’m second guessing everything I thought I knew.
“I’m going out here on a limb by letting you come back with me,” she continues. “Only because you helped save me and then helped with—” Her words stop abruptly as she gulps fiercely to try and clear her throat. I think she might continue for a moment. Instead, she clenches her jaw into a tight tilted line, flaring her nostrils as she breathes in.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Thank you.” I know we just met, but I somehow do trust her. Her sorrow in her deep breath, it’s my fault. A gnawing sensation chews at my stomach. I may have saved Blondie’s life, but if they had never stopped to help a complete stranger, Anna would still be alive.
Her allowing me to come along with her is way more than I deserve. Guilt pulls at my insides, contorting my thoughts in unwelcome ways. My neck leans to the glass window, resting my temple to its surface.
Soon, Blondie is slowing us down. Out of nowhere she jerks her car into a tall overgrown bush. She slams on the breaks nearly causing us to hit an old sign.
"Sorry," she mumbles to me as I pant, having grabbed hold of the handlebar to stabilize myself. She ever so slowly eases off the break allowing the car to creep forward into the sign. The dent in the front bumper matches up perfectly with the curved pole of the sign.
"We walk from here," she says, getting out of the car. "Stay here for a second but stay low."
"Wait, where are you... going?" I finish to myself as she disappears into the dense forest of grass.
This is great, I tease in my own thoughts. Left here by a complete stranger in the middle of nowhere.
As fast as she disappeared, she comes back out with a spacious red wagon in tow. "Come on, help me with the bags."
She lifts the hatchback open and starts filling the wagon with them as I climb inside to move them forward closer to her. Peeking here and there, I can see jugs of drinking water, canned foods, and bags with rice and beans. Some bags have ammo for guns, boxes of nails and small propane tanks.
"Okay, let's hurry before it gets dark," Blondie tells me as I climb out of the back. I grab my backpack quickly before closing the doors and swing it over my shoulders. Blondie and the wagon have once again disappeared into the tall grass and I have to scramble to catch up.
I don't see a marked path anywhere, but Blondie's steps never falter as she leads the way to our unknown destination.
"Where are we?"
"Allendale."
"Where?"
"Exactly! Most people have never heard of Allendale before. Those who did live here either died or moved away. No one is here but us," she says proudly, pleased to be so secluded and out of reach. "We do unfortunately, have to drive a way out to get most of our supplies. We've already searched everywhere close to us."
"What about your brother, is he still with you? I mean, it's a bit dangerous going into big towns like that with you and Anna by yourselves, right?"
"I can manage myself pretty well if you haven't noticed. Better than you," she adds.
"Yeah, well I'm a bit new to being on my own," I say bitterly. "Looks like you got a lot of supplies though."
"Yeah, from the other side of the river. That place is crawling with Infected." My heart drops as she shares her observation. She doesn't notice and continues on as we move from grass to woods "We got in and out as quickly as we could. Anna remembered from before that downtown Riverside was a wealthy area and wanted to check it out."
"Find anything good?" I ask sullenly.
"Never had a chance, we saw a bunch of Ragers chasing after you and figured we should help."
"Ragers?"
"Yeah, it's the nickname we gave them."
We continue to walk for a moment in silence before I speak up, "Thank you again, for rescuing me. I'm sorry we weren't able to save Anna."
Blondie nods at me and keeps going, falling into a content quiet. The woods are darkening slowly as the sun dips lower in the sky.
"How much further do we have to go?" I ask smacking a gnat. It leaves a small red raised spot on my arm.
"Oh, not too much further. It's about another fifteen minutes."
"Great..." I mumble to no one, trudging forward.
Chapter 18
My shoulders are drooped forward, and my back is aching under the weight of my backpack. This is so sad. My lungs feel like they are on fire as we trudge through the thick forest. There Blondie is though, dodging tree limbs and pulling the wagon over twisted roots like it is nothing.
Finally. Through the trees I see a clearing starting to form ahead. I heave a sigh of relief. The woods break completely revealing a wide, open plot of land with an old double wide trailer in the center. The dilapidated trailer appears to have once had white vinyl siding but now it is a mess of dark green and yellow. There is a well nearby and three old brown buckets beside it.
"Help me bring these in," Blondie says as she reaches the back of the house. She leaves the wagon at the bottom of the rotting stairs and grabs as many bags as she can. I follow suit, but at a slower pace as I try to take in the darkening landscape. The field stretches out in every direction, but the forest surrounds us, closing us in and keeping the home invisible to the normal passerby.
The stairs and deck are chipped and broken so I watch my step carefully as I heave supplies through the open door. A damp musk hits my nostrils when I come into the trailer. A plaid couch is sitting across from the door with a small oak dining table to left of it. To the left of the door lies a small open kitchen with only a small portion of the brown wooden cabinets protruding from the wall to create a small barrier from the entryway.
"Home, sweet, home" she says in a bitter tone as she leads me around the dining table to a small empty room beside it. Empty hookups and a small, covered hole on the outside wall tell me this should be a laundry room.
"Let's put everything in here for now. We'll need to divide and sort it all out, but we can do that tomorrow. You look as exhausted as I feel." Her eyes soften as she says this, and I can't help feeling like I must look absolutely terrible.
"I look that bad, then?"
"Yeah, a little."
The laundry room is at the beginning of a short hallway to what looks like other rooms, but Blondie walks the other direction. "I'll show you to my room, you can take my bed for the night."
She leads me down the hall on the opposite side of the house. At the end we come to a plain room with dingy off-white paint and thick brown carpet. Her room has a single dresser with a mirror above it and a full-size bed. She has a small window above the bed which is pushed into the wall to make the most of the space. Only a small fraction of light is coming in through her curtains, which are drawn tightly closed.
"I'm going to go take a quick shower, okay? I'll be out in ten." Before I can say another word, she disappears into what must be the bathroom right beside her room.
I slide my backpack from my shoulders setting it next to the bed. I slip the gun out of the back of my jeans, putting it into the bag before zipping it shut.
She was right, I think as I lay on the bed. I do feel completely and totally drained. My brain wants to work. It wants to try to think of what my next move will be, but every time it tries, I can hear an annoying beeping from the radio station in my head and my thoughts go all fuzzy.
My heavy eyes can no longer take it, my hand falls to my book bag as I succumb to sleep.
****
What the hell was that!? I jump on the bed from the sound of the trailer door closing. A low murmur of voices drift down the hall to me, shaking away my fatigue and throwing me into a state of keen alertness.
Warmth evaporates from my body as I rise off of the bed and tiptoe to the open bedroom door and down the hall. My heart is racing, pumping blood ferociously through my veins. I inch my way down the narrow hall trying to make out the whispered conversation. I'm at the end of the hall, I can see the closed door and an empty kitchen, but I am blind to
the rest of the house.
Crap! I left my gun in the room. My hand flies to Will's knife in my socks, enveloping it in my hand. I stand stock straight listening. The voices have stopped but the hairs on the back of my arms are sticking straight up. Cautiously I peek my head into the living room with the knife clenched in my fists and tucked tightly to my chest.
A rough hand grabs my wrists, knocking my arm into the wall and sending my knife cascading across the room. In one fluid movement, I am wrenched into the living room and slammed on to the floor. My head spins as I try to focus, but all I can see is black spots.
"Tell us who you are. How did you get here?" My vision begins to clear, and I start to make out a tall black-haired guy speaking down to me in a deep commanding voice. His dark hair is slicked back to the base of his neck but a strand or two falls forward over his rounded forehead as he looks down to me. He has a pointed jaw line, dark chestnut eyes and a gun held in his muscular rose bronze-colored arms that is pointed right at me. His form is sharp, reminding me of someone with military training.
"I... I..." stumble as I try to formulate a coherent sentence.
"Where is Jamie? Did you hurt her?" His voice is different. His blonde hair is swept to the side of his face and his piercing grey eyes are haunting against his lightly tanned skin as they bore down into my own. His voice betrays the strength of his arms while they pin mine to the floor; I can hear the hint of panic beneath it.
"Blondie? You're her brother?" I half ask, half say.
"Where is she?!" he says more fiercely, shaking me as he does so.
"Get off of her, Jake. I'm fine!" Jamie huffs as she crosses the kitchen to us in nothing but an old, battered t-shirt. Her hair is still wet and hanging to one side. She has a hairbrush in her hand that she's using to scold her brother with.
"Jamie, what the hell are you doing bringing someone else here?" The dark-haired guy asks, lowering his gun and walking towards Jamie. Jake loosens his grip on me but still keeps me pinned down, unsure of what to do.
"Anna's dead." Jamie replies, dropping her eyes and arms to the floor. Then she lifts her head towards Jake, "and this girl, that you are unnecessarily holding hostage, is part of the reason I am still alive... Now can you please get off of her?" she adds when Jake stares at her.
A Whisper in the Flame (The Ragers Series Book 1) Page 10
