Hunted (Collapse Book 2)

by Riley Flynn

  The head kept shaking.

  “Had him in my sights but wanted to get the dog home.”

  Together, they wrapped up the dog’s wounds. In Joan’s opinion, there was nothing much to worry about. Finn seemed well aware of his plight, slumping around the kitchen, acting ashamed, keeping still as they tended to him. All part of the learning curve, Alex thought to himself, learning when to fight and when to run.

  Alex could sympathize. He’d stood and fought. He’d turned and run. He’d stared down the barrel of a gun, felt the cordite stinging his nostrils as a dead man fell flat in front of him. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding his sleep: every time he closed his eyes, the dead stared back. Every time he dreamed, he was joined by the men he’d sent on to the next world.

  Sitting in the cabin, Alex was torn. Protect his friends. Get to Virginia. Be safe. Those were his goals, all linked up and interlocked together. But he didn’t want to kill again. He didn’t want any other people to join the ghostly horde who haunted his dreams. His skin prickled and he shivered.

  “What was that?” Joan asked, stroking Finn’s head.

  “Oh, nothing.” Alex didn’t want her to worry. “Just felt a breeze is all.”

  “It’s not the warmest cabin.” Joan kept stroking the dog’s head. “He seems all right now. Should be back to himself soon. You’ll get the better of that nasty cat next time, won’t you, Finn?”

  But the cougar was still out there somewhere. If it had been circling the cabin before, it might come back. As they all prepared to sleep, Alex volunteered himself to stay up late and watch the cabin. Just in case, he told them. Can’t be too careful.

  There had been a small disagreement. But the other two had been too tired to put up much of a fight. They packed themselves into the bedroom, leaving Alex and Finn to watch over the cabin. He watched them leave and began to prepare himself for a watch, well aware of how tired he was. Best not to let the others know. Get them to Virginia and sleep on the farm for as long as they liked.

  In the comfortable chair, in the kitchen of the cabin, Alex sat and faced the door. Once the others had retired – and he heard them sleeping– he fetched the rifle from the table. It lay across his lap as he faced the door. He didn’t know what was heavier, the gun or his eyelids.

  The plan was to stay up and watch over their temporary home. Keep it safe from vengeful cougars and anything else that roamed the forest.

  That was the plan.

  Alex woke up with the sun creeping up his face.

  Almost as soon as he sat in the chair, his mind had simply shut down. Out of gas. Tank empty.

  Dawn already. He’d only shut his eyes a moment ago.

  Standing up, searching through the cupboards with a guilty taste in his mouth, Alex tried to keep quiet. Finn stirred, nuzzling one of his wounds, but the rest of the cabin slumbered on.

  “Come on, come on,” he whispered to the sleeping dog. “There’s got to be some coffee or something.”

  Buried in the back of one of the cupboards, Alex struck gold. Well, close. Sort of close. An energy drink and not one of the big-name brands. A cheap knock-off, the kind that had been popular once the Chinese trade war had hit hard. This thing was probably made by robots in some Atlanta chemical plant. It would have to do.

  Cracking the can, downing the drink, he felt a little refreshed. It did nothing for the guilt. He tried not to think about the taste. These things were supposed to never expire, but this drink was well past its prime.

  Peeking through the windows, feeling the synthetic taurine substitute pump through his system, Alex was awake. A few hours’ sleep would have to do. He had to keep watching. They couldn’t afford to be surprised again.

  That meant going on watch. That meant checking outside.

  Picking up the rifle, beckoning for the dog, Alex stepped out into the early morning forest without making a sound. Just like the night before, he decided to take in the perimeter. Finn limped along behind.

  “Finn. Heel.”

  The dog struggled to catch up, trotting alongside Alex with a slow wag of the tail.

  “Come on. You’re not that hurt. Just your pride. If you’re going to do stupid stuff, we’re going to have to do some sort of training. Don’t know what. Can’t remember what Dad used to do. But we’ll find something. Let’s see what you know: sit.”

  The dog obeyed, creaking into position on his hind legs.

  “Okay, good. Lie down.”

  Again, the dog followed the instruction.

  “Great. Roll over.”

  Finn stared up blankly, cocking his bandaged head.

  “All right. We’ve found our limit. You know how to fetch stuff, right?”

  Bending down, finding a stick, Alex threw it. The dog chased, paws kicking up leaves into the crisp air of the morning, leaving the pain behind. They did this back and forth, Finn starting to have fun.

  “You’re supposed to be learning. This isn’t a game. Should you be having fun?”

  Alex threw the stick again. It fell in a ditch. Finn struggled to find it.

  Turning around, looking around the clearing, Alex heard a noise. Movement. Now that it was light, he could peer through the trees. It was a small sound, or far away. He trained his eyes on the distance, trusting his ears to give him a direction. If the lion was back, he would be able to see it.

  There it was. A rabbit. Only a rabbit. The dog was still searching for the stick. Alex watched. He raised the rifle, looked through the scope. He could see it clearer. The pale pine color of the fur, the pitch black of the eyes positioned on either side of the head. It hopped. Ate. Hopped again. Unaware of the human presence.

  Watching through the scope, he placed the crosshairs right over the animal. Alex felt his finger on the trigger. He could. If he wanted to. They could be eating fresh meat for dinner tonight. But what would a shot do? It’d kill the rabbit – if he was accurate enough – but would that be all? What if someone heard? One dead rabbit could be a whole world of trouble.

  Dinner or disaster. Both as easy as a slight squeeze. A roll of the dice. The rabbit didn’t even know it was being watched. It didn’t know how much its life depended on which neurons happened to fire inside Alex Early’s mind. It simply hopped around, as it might do every morning.

  The crosshairs wavered.

  Alex breathed in and then out.

  The barrel steadied. He could shoot it. Right now. It would be so easy. And he could return home with a trophy.

  He breathed in and out again, his tired eyes throbbing.

  Easy. It would be so easy. The metal of the trigger felt colder than the air outside. It would be so easy. Just squeeze.

  A hand landed on Alex’s shoulder.

  He froze, heart leaping up into his throat.

  Alex tensed his muscles, ready to swing the rifle around.

  The grip tightened. A voice drifted through.

  “You need to rest, Alex.”

  It was Joan.

  She was right.

  Chapter 7

  Alex felt his heart sink back into place. The hairs on his forearm, bolt upright as the hand took hold of his shoulder, lowered. He sighed.

  “Christ. Joan.”

  Words failed him.

  “I mean… Christ.”

  “You should get some rest, Alex. I mean it. You’re white as a ghost.”

  “I think that’s more to do with creeping up on me than tiredness, Joan. Christ. Where did you learn to sneak up on people like that?”

  His shoulders surged up and down. Deep breaths. Finn, with his stick, trotted back to the pair and presented his find.

  “I wasn’t that quiet, Alex,” she told him. “I think you might be in need of a good night’s sleep. Maybe you’re hearing things. Or not hearing things.”

  Alex knew she was right. That moment, the very second her hand had touched his shoulder, had only served to remind him how woefully underprepared he was.

  He might have fought off a gang, welded toge
ther a car, and driven out through a firefight.

  He might have escaped a city on lockdown.

  He might have kept the three of them alive so far.

  But there were limits and he was well beyond his.

  “If I don’t keep watch”—he ran a hand along the rifle—“then someone could easily sneak up on us. That cougar could come back. I think I winged him. We can’t be too careful.”

  “Alex, please. I know you mean well. But you’re no good to us in this state. Rest. I’ll take over. Once you’re ready, you can come back. I promise.”

  Alex had seen Timmy quarreling with Joan before. Timmy never won. He just enjoyed the chase.

  But Alex didn’t have the energy to argue. He knew she was right. There was no sense putting up a fight. Instead, he nodded, handed over the rifle, and turned to face the dog.

  “Now listen here, you. No running off. Behave. Do exactly what she tells you.”

  He turned back to Joan.

  “He’s all right out here with you?”

  Joan raised the butt of the rifle into her shoulder, stared down the scope, and checked the round in the chamber.

  “He’s a sweetie. I’ll be fine. Get inside before I knock you out myself.”

  * * *

  Every step back to the cabin was harder than the last. As he’d been wandering through the forest, Alex had been doing the math. About four hours sleep, that’s all he’d gotten. Wasn’t too bad. He’d survived on less.

  But then he went back further. And further. Four hours out of the last forty-eight. Of the last fifty. That was less manageable. Joan was right. He was no good to them in this state. Sleep. Recharge. Take up the watch after a few hours and do it properly this time.

  The cabin door opened and Alex barely noticed his friend sitting at the kitchen table. He waved and wandered through the room, Timmy’s words falling on deaf ears. The sound of his footsteps on the linoleum floor was hypnotic, dragging him deeper and deeper into the world of the weary.

  Without even thinking, Alex fell onto the bed and slept for hours.

  * * *

  When he woke, Alex felt his whole body complain. Every fall, every trip, every tumble, every punch, every hit, and every blow he’d taken over the last couple of weeks. It had all caught up to him at once. Stirring, he let out an almighty cathartic groan.

  “It’s alive!”

  Timmy’s voice came from the kitchen. The curtains did a horrible job of keeping out the light. Not that it had mattered much. The chance to sleep – even for just four or five hours – was not going to be threatened by anything so insignificant as the sun.

  “I am alive. Almost.”

  Picking himself up off the bed, realizing that he’d fallen asleep fully clothed, Alex stepped into the kitchen. Even now, bones creaked and tendons groaned.

  “My body is ruined,” he told Timmy. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice until now.”

  “Yeah, I think we’re all ruined. Been a tough time, man.”

  “How’s the whole, you know, deadly illness thing?”

  “Oh this?” Timmy gestured to his skinny body. “Feeling top of the world, man. Don’t let me slow you down.”

  Listening to his friend speak, Alex was sure he could detect a note of worry in his voice. Putting up a strong front. Probably doesn’t want to slow us down, he thought, maybe trying a bit too hard to be healthy when all he needs is bed rest.

  But trying to tell Timmy to take it easy would only make him work harder to prove how healthy he was. Alex didn’t know how to deal with this. He’d have to figure something out.

  Standing at the stovetop in the kitchen corner, Timmy had his back to the room and was watching over a spitting pan.

  “You’re ready to move out?” he asked, still looking down at his chores.

  Alex stared around the cabin. It wasn’t much. A ramshackle hovel outside of anyone’s attention. Far removed from the comfort or the quality he might expect at the farm. But no one knew they were here.

  “Yeah, about that,” Alex raised a tired arm and slicked back his hair out of habit. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Dangerous…”

  “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should hole up here for a bit? A couple days’ rest and recuperation? I could fine tune the car, fix her up. Make sure we’re all ready. You could do with the rest. I know Joan won’t complain.”

  Timmy turned around. Now Alex could see what he’d been doing. A few of the breakfast meal packets were open on the top. Mostly cakes and energy bars. In the pan, they’d been heated up and melded together, a kind of Frankenstein’s breakfast. The meal of champions.

  “Oh, thank God.”

  Alex sat down at the table. Timmy shut off the stove and joined him.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” said Timmy. “Waiting all morning.”

  “You think it’s a good idea?”

  “We’ve got most of what we need here. It’s as good a place to stop as any.”

  “What about our supplies? We can’t have that much food. We’ll need to make a move soon. And medicine. I know you’ve practically run out.”

  Smirking, Timmy waved away the complaints, dusting away the suggestion from the air with an illness-thinned wrist.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We should have enough food for three days here. I mean, we’re practically in Virginia now, right? I don’t know where exactly this farm is, but it can’t be far.”

  “It’s not far. Through the woods. Past the mountains. Not too far at all.”

  “Then we’re fine.”

  “I just don’t like the look of the car. It’s seen better days.”

  “So have we, man. But we’re still kicking. Wait till I tell Joan.”

  “You two talked about this?”

  “We mentioned it last night. Obviously needed the go-ahead from you, though.”

  “Obviously?”

  “Well, you know. Got to be rubber-stamped by the boss man. It’s all down to you.”

  “What? I don’t have any more say in this than anyone else.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, big boss man. Keep telling yourself that.”

  Springing up from this seat, Timmy seemed suddenly excited. Even when Alex tried to open his mouth, his friend shut him down right away.

  “Nuh-uh, nuh-uh. I ain’t hearing another word. Now sit the hell down, we’re having breakfast. Let me call in Joanie.”

  He walked to the cabin door, stuck out his head and called Joan’s name. Once, twice, three times. Leaving the door open, returning to the table, Timmy began to take the food from the pan and move it onto the plates they’d found in the cupboards.

  From outside, the pounding of the dog’s feet heralded Joan’s return. She entered, carrying the rifle with an ease Alex hadn’t expected. Placing the gun to the side, she joined the other two at the table.

  They ate. The food was better than expected. Somehow, Timmy had taken a collection of vacuum-packed breakfasts and forged them together. Not quite Michelin-starred work but an enjoyable change from the prosaic approach.

  As they ate, they talked. Joan, as Timmy had predicted, was keen to stay a few days in the cabin. For Timmy’s sake, she insisted, though he forcibly denied this. Her only concern was the medicine stock. Supplies were dwindling.

  But everyone seemed to be improving, as if the decision to rest up for a few days was a tonic in-and-of itself. Gradually, the conversation turned to other topics.

  “I’m not saying I’m better,” said Timmy, “but I think I’ve beaten this thing.”

  “The virus?” asked Alex,. “You think you’re healed?”

  “Scot-free, man. I think. Never been fitter.”

  “You’re improving,” admitted Joan, “but I don’t want to give you the all clear just yet.”

  “You don’t think I’m healthy? I’m sorry, I forgot you were the expert on these matters.”

  Alex watched the two of them. Together, they could deteriorate into an argu
ment at the drop of a hat. With a second’s notice. Entirely unprompted.

  Secretly, Alex knew, they both enjoyed the fight, though neither would ever admit it. Like two tennis pros rallying back and forth across a net. Practice. A hobby. A warm up. At times like this, the best he could do was steer their argumentative energy.

  “Joan is a nurse. Was a nurse?” Alex said. “Are you still a nurse?”

  “Of course.” She puffed up her feathers. “I haven’t unlearned anything, have I? Why would that change?”

  “There’s hardly any medical institutions now, I imagine. Like a pianist without a piano. Are you still a nurse if you’re not practicing?”

  “Mr. Ratz here is all the practice I need, thank you very much.”

  “Okay, okay,” admitted Alex. “I was just asking. I know you’re our medical expert.”

  “Plus, you know,” Joan said, “I’ve actually beaten the disease myself.”

  She pointed to her single gray pupil and then to Timmy’s own eye, both drained of color.

  “We have a pair of matches,” she said. “I know exactly what he’s been through.”

  The three of them took a moment. The plates at the table were empty, Finn licking up anything that spilled onto the floor. The dog was practically a garbage disposal at this point, the food healing his wounds. Joan petted his head.

  “Do you ever worry about all this?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  “About what?” Timmy responded.

  “About, well… everything. The Eko virus. It’s caught two of us now. Plenty more people, we’ve all seen that. Think of the amount of dead people we’ve encountered. Now extrapolate that to the entire country. Can you begin to imagine the death and destruction? It’s awesome.”

  “Not quite the words I’d use, Joanie,” said Timmy. “You sound impressed.”

  “No, you fool. I mean in the real sense of the word. I’m in awe. Shock and awe. Honestly, I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

  “I remember Ebola outbreaks,” said Alex. “At least, I remember reading about them on the news. They always seemed contained, though. Nothing like this.”

  “Exactly,” Joan said. “That’s my point. There’s nothing like this.”