I turned away, and looking down the road to the left, I could see several dark homes down a very dark road. The trees were thick, and their canopy cast deep shadows over most of the area. It nearly looked like I was standing at the entrance to a cave. I did a bit of mental calculation, and I realized this road would take me behind Trey’s house which land I could cross and get to my own house quicker than backtracking the way I had come.
That sounded like a plan to me, so I moved in that direction. The sun was heading towards evening, and the adjusted sunlight lit up the entrance to the ‘cave.’ I seriously doubted I would have gone if it was darker, but right now it didn’t seem so bad. As I walked further, I chuckled to myself, realizing I was barely a quarter mile from my house, and I could have saved myself a walk if I had only realized this route earlier.
I passed a house on the left, and it looked like it had been abandoned a long time ago. The drapes were falling down in one window, and an upper window was broken. The front door looked like it was slightly open, but I wasn’t planning on going in there. The house was dead, and likely everyone who had ever lived there was dead, too.
On my right was another house, and it looked in better shape, although I doubted anyone lived there. It aroused my curiosity, because it’s backyard was directly across from the backyard of the little house in the valley.
“You’re a fool; go home,” I told myself as I walked up the driveway. Common sense didn’t win the argument, and I told myself I was just looking for information to give my dad. I looped my bow over my shoulder and put my arrow back in its quiver.
I walked up the driveway, and a squirrel chattered at me from the oak tree in the front yard. The grass was hugely overgrown and was nearly as tall as myself. The house was dark and silent, and I began to think I was the only visitor this place had had in years. In the back yard the growth was about the same, although the rose bushes were huge, out of control thorny riots of red, white, and pink. A small swing set stood lonely in the corner of the lot, and a plastic turtle graced the yard next to the cracked and weathered porch.
I looked back at the house, and it was as dark in the back as it was in the front. The house was simple but nice, and the trees around the lot meant that this place must have been nice and cool in the summer.
The back yard was fenced in, and I was grateful for the chance to get close to the creepy house without being observed. I didn’t have any real reason to be doing what I was, and if I thought about it long enough, I might come up with an explanation which might have raised an excuse even for me.
At the edge of the yard, I looked at the fence for a moment. It was eight feet tall, and that was three feet higher than I was currently occupying. Hmm.
A quick glance around the yard didn’t give me any inspiration, so I was about to leave when I noticed the swing set was just a foot taller than the fence. Worked for me. I climbed the play area quickly, and found myself in a small clubhouse with the roof high above me. I tried to see what was in the house, but I couldn’t get a good angle on it. I worked my way to the outside of the little clubhouse, and climbed slowly to the top of the awning supports. I straddled the top beam of the clubhouse and looked out over the yard to the house beyond.
It was as every bit as dark as the front. A small stream worked its way through the properties in this area, and I could see it was deep enough to dam if they wanted a supply of water and fish right outside of their door. A big bay window allowed me to peek into the interior of the house and look around. At the worst, I could see if there was anyone living there at all that my Dad could visit.
From my perch I could see very little. It was dark and gloomy, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. The house was very neat, and there didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt anywhere.
That last thought struck me as odd. Shouldn’t there be some dust? Just as I pondered that, a face appeared in the far window. I was so startled I nearly fell off the swing set. As it was, I managed to nock an arrow and aim a shaft at the face staring out at me.
As quickly as It had appeared, it was gone. I wondered for a minute while I composed myself. I was breathing hard, trying to decide if I had seen a ghost. Just for the heck of it, I aimed the arrow at the house and let go, not caring where it hit. I lowered the bow, and as I climbed out of the playset, I heard a bang as the arrow I shot collided with something sturdy. I had a lot to tell Trey, and the sooner the better.
I ran back to the street and down to the cul-de-sac. One of the homes was occupied, and I could see people moving about as the day was coming to a close. I worked my way over to the back of the furthest house, guessing Trey’s would be right on the line.
I checked the area and didn’t see any problems, so I slipped down the bank of the creek and worked my way slowly across. I didn’t mind getting wet; I knew I was going to be home soon and would be able to dry off quickly. Dad might wonder what took me so long, but he’d forget about it as soon as I told him the valley house was occupied.
On the other side of the creek I had to be wary of Trey’s nets and trap lines, and it took me a good ten minutes just to clear his yard. Crossing the road, I went through the front gate of my own property and stopped cold. In the middle of the yard sticking out of the ground was my arrow—the one I had shot at the valley house. I didn’t know what to do. I was panicky, because I didn’t want my dad to find out, and I really didn’t want my mom to find out.
I raced to the garage and put away my gear, dripping water all over the floor. Judy, dad’s mare, looked at me with big brown reproachful eyes as I stumbled and dropped things all over the place. I threw an extra handful of grass in her bin to keep her quiet, and then I went back out to the yard.
The arrow was still there sticking accusingly in the lawn. I ran over to it and removed it, pulling up a good chunk of dirt. The broad head dripped soil, and as I looked it over I was struck by another surprise.
This wasn’t my arrow.
Chapter 5
I thought about that arrow a lot over the next couple of days. I didn’t tell my dad or mom about it just yet, I was afraid dad might be mad at me, and I knew mom just wouldn’t understand. Besides, Dad was busy dealing with a Tripper outbreak down south of us, and he said before he left that they probably accounted for the two that had shown up the other day.
I didn’t think that the occupants of the house would know where I lived unless they had followed me. That didn’t make sense, as I was a pretty good stalker, and I figured I would know if someone was sneaking around in my area. I settled on the notion that they must have seen Trey and me as we stalked frogs in the creek a time or two and put two and three together to come up with my yard.
I was busy for a time, as Mom was getting back into teaching me things other than math. I was pretty well learned for my age since all my learning came from heavy reading material, not the so-called age-appropriate stuff other kids were picking up. Trey came over these days to learn as well since his mother wasn’t as good at history or reading as she was at numbers. It was the only time I ever saw Mom not worry or look out the windows in fear. She buried herself in the lessons, bringing them to life and telling stories the likes of which I am sure most kids never saw. Before I was ten years old I knew about Shakespeare and Steinbeck, Dickenson and Emerson. I liked Leaves of Grass well enough, but I wished he would have gotten to the point about a hundred pages earlier. Walt Whitman was another long-winded soul.
Thanks to his mother’s genes, Trey was a hand at math, whereas my skills tended to drift more towards the mechanical. I could figure out most things if I broke them down into easy to bite chunks. Trey just breezed through as if he were taking a stroll, which made things more difficult for me since I was constantly on the prowl for more books and materials, as ordered by my mother.
It was about noon, and we had just finished lunch when Mom announced we were running low on some supplies, especially meat. I took the hint and went out to the garage with Trey right behind me.
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sp; I took my bow off the rack and strung it, slipping my quiver over my shoulder. Trey looked at me funny.
“What are you doing?” he asked, eyeballing my gear.
“Mom wants meat; I’m getting her meat. I figure we’re good for a deer or two this time of year,” I said, belting on my knife. It was a simple blade with a slow, sweeping edge leading to a drop point. The seven-inch blade was a bit big for me I always thought, but Dad said it was just the right length. He never elaborated on the right length for what, but my imagination was full of unpleasant things.
Trey looked shocked, then looked over his shoulder. “Are you nuts? We’ve never gone out for big game without our dads before.”
I shrugged. “Meat is meat. I’d rather skin one animal and get a lot of meat than ten and get just a little. Besides,” I added, “you don’t have to come with.”
Trey frowned. “Of course I’m coming. Think I want to tell my folks I passed on a chance at deer meat?”
“Let’s get moving then.” I poked my head through the door just enough for my mom to see my noggin and nothing else. “Mom? Trey and I are going to check the lines for that meat you wanted.”
“All right, sweetheart. Please be careful.” Mom barely looked up from her book, giving me the opportunity to slip away without answering a lot of questions. Trey and I went around to the front of the house and quickly ran to his. We passed through the stone walls which bordered our properties, and I waited outside while Trey got his own gear. Trey had a crossbow which his dad had found years ago. It fired smaller arrows than my recurve, but they were just as deadly. The hardest part was finding them if Trey missed.
I had a full quiver, having spent several hours over the last two days making more arrows. It was easy to feel confident with a full arsenal, and I guess we weren’t taking things too seriously as we walked down the road. We wanted to take the St. Andrews entrance since it was easier to slip through than the other areas.
As we passed the house in the small valley, I slowed and carefully inspected the dark windows. Trey slowed with me, and we moved past purposefully and deliberately.
“Man, that place gives me the creeps,” Trey said. “Wonder if the stories are true.”
I shook my head. “Someone lives there still. I saw them.”
Trey stopped in his tracks to stare at me. I looked at him for a minute, then told him the story of how I went to the Simpson’s, and then worked my way back around the house. I even told him the part about the arrow I fired and then finding it in my yard.
I don’t know what I expected, but the last thing I thought Trey would do on hearing my story was to laugh at me. I waited until he calmed himself then asked him what the hell was so funny.
“Oh, I wish I could have seen it! Oh, baby, I wish I could have seen your face!” Trey just laughed some more.
“All right, I’ll ask. Why?” I was getting irritated at this point and wanted to thump him on the head.
Trey straightened and looked me dead in the eye. “I put that arrow in your yard, you dope. I found it at my house and used my bow to launch it over to your place. The one you shot at the creepy house is probably still stuck in there somewhere.”
Well, what the hey? I was stuck between being relieved and being sore. I settled on disturbed.
“What are you thinking, shooting arrows at my house? I ought to pound you” I snarled at Trey, not really meaning it, but trying to save some of my dignity.
Trey giggled as he held up his hands. “Oh, sure. I’ll never do it again, never, never, never.”
Chapter 6
I was about to retort when we crossed the Highland Road junction. Ordinarily we just walk, but then Lucy Simpson isn’t running like crazy towards us.
“Trey! Josh! Help! There’s two of them at my house! They’re trying to get in!” Lucy was breathless from running, so it took a minute to get the story out. She was in the garden when two Trippers showed up, stumbling through the back lots and bouncing round the abandoned swimming pools. Lucy saw them in time and hid in the corn stalks, waiting for them to go by. As luck would have it, her brother chose that moment to open the back door and yell out for Lucy to hurry up. He barely got the door closed in time. Lucy waited for them to be distracted, then bolted.
Trey asked the obvious question. “Where’s your weapon?”
Lucy pouted. “It was in the house. I was twenty yards from my door.”
Trey shook his head. “There’s only one at your house, by the way.”
“What? No, there’s two.” Lucy argued.
I stepped in. “No, he’s right. There’s only one. The other one followed you here.”
Lucy spun around and seemed to shrink into herself as she saw the Tripper stumbling towards us. It was having a hard time since the terrain was uneven, but it was coming, no doubt about it. Trippers travel in a straight line to whatever they are chasing. They don’t deviate at all. They’ll turn, but they won’t pay attention to the terrain. Lots of them have fallen down stairs that way.
The Tripper fell into a ditch and then climbed out, its eyes fixated on us. Its mouth moved in silent rage as it worked through its diseased brain how to dismember us. It was a young woman, probably in her twenties by the look of her. She didn’t seem to have that old look about her, so if I had to guess, she was infected recently. Dad would want to know about her.
Trey hefted his crossbow, and I nocked an arrow.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
I knew Trey was scared, but then so was I. We’d seen these things all of our lives, but that didn’t mean they still didn’t scare the crap out of us. We’d seen what they could do, and no one wanted to go out that way.
“Let’s let her get closer, then you put one in her. I’ll take a shot while you reload, deal?” I said, pulling back on my arrow.
Trey didn’t bother to respond. The Tripper caught her footing and moved quickly towards us, her eyes wide and furious. The splotches on her face were bright red, and stood out angrily against her pale skin. Trey aimed quickly and let fly, the bolt whipping through the air. It struck her throat with a deep smack, causing her to stumble and grab at her neck. When her hands reached the shaft, she began pulling the bolt out, tearing and stretching her skin. She finally wrenched the thing out, and started for us again.
It was hard to focus considering there was a large bloody hole in the middle of the Tripper’s throat which blew bubbles of blood for every breath she exhaled. I didn’t have a lot of choice, now that gaping wound was a serious risk to all of us, and her bloody hands would be brimming with infection.
I lined up my shot on her head, which was easier since she was a lot closer now. I could see Trey working quickly with his crossbow, but he would never have that bolt loaded in time. Lucy was stepping back, and I imagine she was looking for a place to run to.
I waited another heartbeat then let go of my bow string. My arrow struck the woman in the bridge of her nose, into her eye, and punched through the fragile bones of the eye socket. She collapsed without another step forward.
I released the breath I was holding, and looking back at Lucy, I noticed she was further away than I figured. I wondered briefly if she was just about to cut and run and let Trey and me handle this alone. That thought didn’t sit well with me, but I decided not to bring it up.
“Nice shot,” Trey said, walking over to the dead woman.
“I’m getting a lot of practice these days,” I said. At Trey’s look I quickly related the story of the man I shot over by the place where we had killed the other.
Trey looked around. “What’s going on, man? We don’t see a Tripper for months, maybe a year, then we see three in just a couple of days? Ain’t right, man.”
“I know. Let’s get our arrows,” I said. My dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing, but I really hated making new arrows. Everything was easy except for the stupid fletching. One would always be off center, then I’d have to start over.
Trey h
ad it easy. He just picked his up off the ground. He wiped it off on the woman’s leg, leaving long streaks of red on her thigh. I had to brace my foot on the woman’s face, and it was a little uncomfortable yanking out the arrow from one eye while the other looked at me. Lucky for me though, the wound was tight, and there was little residue left on the arrow. I wasn’t fooled, though. I knew there was a lot of virus on that head and shaft. I took out a lighter and quickly burned the areas that had been touched by the virus. Handing it over to Trey, he did the same with his bolt. Dad said it was the best way to kill the virus since nothing could survive open flames.
I put the now-blackened arrow back into my bow and started forward. Trey looked at me funny.
“Hey, man, the woods are that way,” he said, pointing to the south.
“Yeah, but there’s another Tripper at Lucy’s house, remember?” I replied. I didn’t look back to see if Lucy was following, and at the moment I really didn’t care. Suddenly, I got mad about the whole thing. I turned around and started walking back towards the entrance to the subdivision. Trey spun around and followed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking back at Lucy who seemed shocked as hell that I was leaving a Tripper at her house unattended.
“Tripper at the Simpson’s is none of my business,” I said, walking on.
Lucy stopped suddenly. “What?” she shouted. “What the hell?”
I turned around and looked at her. “You and your family survived just like we did when the Tripper mobs came over the land. I think your family can handle one. Besides,” I added, “I’m not going to risk my neck by being mistaken for another Tripper by poking around your place where the family is a little jumpy right now, hey?”
Well, that knocked them both back a peg, and neither of them had anything to say to me at that point. I figured logic won over emotion, and Trey proved it by shrugging his shoulders and falling in line with me on our way to the hunting grounds.
Born In The Apocalypse Page 3
