by Angela Scott
"What are you planning?" Cowboy wrinkled his brow. "You can't get close to that thing—"
"She's not a thing," Rivers said, tears fresh on her cheeks. "Her name's Brooke, and she was the most beautiful baby ever. I got to hold her right after she was born and she liked it when I sang to her."
"She liked to hold my finger," Fisher added.
"She was a good baby and hardly ever cried." Rivers looked at Red, her eyes pleading. "She used to smile all the time and laugh when I tickled her. She was super smart, too—I could tell."
Red nodded. "I bet she was wonderful."
"Our momma wasn't a bad person," Rivers said. "She wasn't. She just loved Brooke very much."
Red took a deep breath and slowly released it. She didn't want to do it, but no one else could. "I'll be as quick and gentle as I can." She glanced from Rivers to the boy. "I promise you."
Rivers' lips trembled as tears slid down her pale cheeks. Fisher avoided her gaze and stared at the ground.
"I have to do this. It's not fair to leave her here, suffering. You do know that?"
Rivers nodded. Even the boy nodded his head.
"When it's over, we'll bury her with your mother. That way, they can be together."
Red didn't think the kids should have to witness their loved ones being burned. A burial would be best in this particular situation. They were miles and miles from town, but they'd still have to dig a deep hole, just in case.
Cowboy stepped up beside her. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Red shook her head. "It's safer if I do this myself." She indicated the kids with a tilt of her head. "You stay with them."
"I'd feel better coming with you."
She touched his cheek. "Remember: I'm invincible, you're not."
***
The little monster held the remains of a rat or squirrel and crunched the bones between its tiny teeth. The creature caught sight of Red, tossed the carcass aside, and glared at her. It howled with ferocity and produced the same racket as earlier, when it rocked the crib from side to side and pounded the wall. Drool spilled over its blackened lips and dripped to the floor as it sniffed at the air—at her—with its partially decayed nose.
Red recoiled and wished she could just walk away and leave the little beast to its own devices. Just having fed, the little zombie was at its strongest, but left alone, it would wither and become weak. She couldn't leave. It would be more cruel to walk away than to shoot it. The baby deserved peace, wholeness—finality.
"It's okay, little one. It'll be over soon."
Red approached the cradle and kept an eye on the little monster's wild arms, reaching for her through the bars of its cage. She raised her knife, swallowed, and dragged the edge along the length of her left forearm to release a trickle of blood. It dripped from her elbow, slow at first, then in an accelerating rhythm.
The baby screeched, shook the bars of the crib, and snapped at the air.
She held her arm above the baby's head, and the wild beast lapped up the blood, frantic to catch each drop. It just might work, given what had happened after a zombie bit her. One bite was all it took. No zombie had ever bit her twice. Whatever kept her from turning had a powerful effect on them as well. Her protection was their peril.
The little monster stopped moving. It looked up at her with its glazed eyes—vacant of color, soulless—and began to foam at the mouth. A twitch, a quick convulsion, and then stillness. Red pressed a cloth to her arm and put pressure on it to staunch the blood flow. Then she pulled down her shirtsleeve and slipped on her leather jacket to hide the evidence. No one needed to know.
***
Red carried the baby outside wrapped in a pink quilt to conceal its deformities. She created the illusion of a peaceful sleeping babe. The children deserved the opportunity to say goodbye and remember their baby sister as she used to be, not as this horrific creature. They needed closure.
Rivers approached her, but the boy held back. "Can I hold her?"
Red nodded and lowered the baby into the girl's open arms. She stepped back to give them a moment together.
"I haven't held her in months." Rivers cradled the bundle to her chest. "Not since she got sick."
Red nodded and looked over at Wen and Cowboy.
When she caught Cowboy's eye, he immediately came to her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You didn't get bit, did you?" He reached out and took her hand. "Did you?"
"No bites, I promise. How's Wen?"
"He'll be okay. We're going to have to take it easy and go slow."
She nodded and became conscious again of her own head injury, which ached without reprieve. "We need to get away from here—even if it's just a few miles. It'll be better for the kids, I think."
"I agree." He leaned in close and nodded toward the children. "What're we gonna do with them?"
She shook her head. "We have to take them with us. Maybe to the next town, or onto the camps in California. We can't leave them here."
He watched the children for a moment and then looked at her. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Red touched his face with affection. "Don't worry about me. I'm more than okay."
***
All of them helped dig a large hole in the earth, taking turns with a shovel—the one used to clonk them over the head—and pick axe they found near the cabin. When it was deep enough, Cowboy and Wen lowered the mother's shrouded body, wrapped in a homemade quilt, into the grave.
Red turned to Rivers, gave her a comforting look, and held her hands out. "It's time."
Rivers handed the baby to Red, and she made a great effort to lay the infant on the mother's chest. Wen and Cowboy shoveled mounds of earth over the open grave while Red stood next to the children with her arms wrapped around their shoulders.
The scene was awfully familiar. Her mother. Her brothers. She'd experienced firsthand the kind of loss and uncertainty the kids felt.
When the last shovel full of dirt covered the grave, Rivers stepped forward and placed a small wildflower on top of the fresh mound. "There is an appointed time for everything." She spoke in a steady whisper. "And a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill,"—she paused briefly and went on—"and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance."
Red recognized the scriptures—a time for everything. Her own mother had read from the Bible daily, and Red had loved to hear the word of God. She'd believed in their truth and doubted none of it, until the world rotted with the plague and her family was destroyed. Floods, maybe. A whale swallowing a man whole, perhaps. But the undead consuming their own children? A just and loving God wouldn't have allowed for such a thing. The Bible had wise words, if one believed in them. She no longer did.
Rivers wiped her eyes and glanced up at Red. "I'm ready. We can go now."
***
They'd been riding for several miles when Red glanced back over her shoulder. The blaze of the cabin, visible through the trees, sent smoke billowing up to gray out the blue sky.
Another horribly familiar scene.
Chapter 15 – Damned
Red tucked the blankets around the sleeping children to make sure they were warm enough. Rivers wrapped Fisher protectively in her arms, and Lasso lay awake at their feet, watching over them. The dog had taken to the boy, and Red knew wherever the children ended up, the dog would most likely stay with them. The boy needed the dog more than the rest of them did. She patted Lasso's head, tucked the blankets once more, and went back to sit near the fire.
"They asleep?" Cowboy asked.
Red nodded. "They're finally out. Sleep will help—I hope."
She eyed Wen across the crackling fire. He hunched over and clasped his coffee cup without lifting it to his lips once. He'd been quiet all day, not uttering more than a word or two at a time. She chalked it up
to the pain of his fractured skull, but as the day wore on, she wondered if something more coaxed his silence.
She left Cowboy's side and sat next to Wen. He didn't acknowledge her presence, which confirmed her fears. "Are you okay? You've been real quiet today."
"I'm sorry. I just keep replaying the whole thing over and over in my mind, wishing I had done something different. You know?"
"I do. But what's done is done. We're alive and that's something to be thankful for."
"I let you down."
"You didn't let me down."
Wen shook his head. "I told you I'd protect you—do everything I could to keep you safe—and I didn't. I failed you."
She scooted closer to him and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. "You didn't fail me. I failed me. I should have been more alert. That woman fooled us all, Wen. Don't blame yourself for what happened. I certainly don't."
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Thank you. I promise to do better and keep you safe from now on."
"Wen, don't make promises you can't possibly keep. Besides, it's not your responsibility to protect me. It's mine." She shrugged. "I can't promise to keep any of you safe either. It's foolish to think anyone could."
"Is that why you refuse to tell us your name? You think that can somehow keep us from being concerned for one another? That if I don't know your name, or Cowboy's, I won't feel the need to protect either of you?"
She swallowed and removed her hand from his arm. "I don't know." Such a simple thing, a name, yet that secret kept them at a safe distance. The less they knew about her, the better.
"You don't have to tell me your name. I don't need to know it." He turned his dark eyes to meet hers. "I already know you—Cowboy, too. Hiding behind a false name doesn't change your true identity. Hide if you must. I'll keep my promises."
Red stood, but then crouched to look Wen in the eye. "All I know is that if you get yourself killed for my sake, I'll be pissed. Save yourself first. I didn't ask for your promises and I don't want them."
Wen smiled. "That's the beauty of a real promise. They're freely given. It's my promise. I can do with it what I want. You don't have to like it."
She stood and strode away, fuming. The fire gave off a small amount of light as she walked into the darkness. She'd sworn to keep to herself, yet the people around her continued to grow in numbers. First Cowboy, then Wen, and now two dependent children and a dog, made up her traveling posse.
"You okay?" Cowboy approached from behind.
She nodded.
"You shouldn't stand in the dark like this."
"I just need a moment."
"What's goin' on, Red?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You don't look so fine to me."
She leaned back against a tree, worn out by it all—the day, the kids, Wen's promise, the fact she was falling for Cowboy. "I'm sorry. I just feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders right now."
He glanced back at the camp. "I'm worried about the kids, too, but they'll be okay in time. We'll get them someplace safe and then go search for your brother."
"What about you? Wen?"
Cowboy shrugged. "What about us?"
She just stood there looking at him.
"We're coming with you. That's all there is to it."
"What if I told you not to?"
"I'd still come."
"Coming with me will probably get you killed."
He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on the tree, trapping her between his arms. "Red, the world is dangerous with or without zombies and madmen on the prowl. I might fall off my horse, or be trampled by wild buffalo. I could get shot by drunken card players, or someone who doesn't like the look of my face. My heart might just decide to stop beating while I sleep. A woman may try to feed me to her baby." He smiled. "We're all gonna die eventually, Red. No one's immune—not even you." He touched his thumb to her cheek. "The one thing I know is that while I'm alive, I'll do everything I can to protect you. We're in this together."
***
They'd traveled for hours and the sun was at its apex, so Red suggested they take a break. The kids looked like they needed one.
"Here, boy!" Fisher yelled to Lasso and waved a stick above his head. The poor dog needed a rest, too, but when the boy called, he jumped up and began to play fetch.
"I thought he was my dog." Cowboy smiled as he rummaged through the bags for something they could snack on.
"Looks like he found someone better." Red smiled. "Smart dog."
Cowboy shook his head. When she started to walk away, he caught her around the middle and pulled her close. "You're always the funny one."
"I was being perfectly serious."
"Ah, there you go again."
"If you and Wen could keep an eye out, I'd like to go down to the stream and clean up a little." She touched the back of her head. "I'd like to wash my hair at least, get the blood out."
"Go on." He winked at her. "Use your lavender soap. I like the way it smells."
She pushed him away, grabbed her towel, bucket, and soap, and made her way down to the streambed.
Red looked around to make sure she was alone, and then stripped off her pants and shirt. She waded into the middle of the stream and searched for a foothold on the slippery, moss-covered rocks. She crouched to allow the water to run over her bare shoulders and her breath caught in her chest as she adjusted to the cold temperature. The knife wound on her arm stung, but it was worth the discomfort to get it clean. Besides, the wound had closed, healing quicker than she'd expected.
She dipped the bucket into the water and quickly poured it over her head before she changed her mind. Even the cut and bruising at the base of her skull seemed better, less bothersome. She washed her hair, taking time to unravel her matted locks, caked with blood. When she finally got around to cleaning her body, numbness had spread to her extremities. She quickly ran the bar of soap over her limbs and got out of the water before losing all feeling.
Back on the riverbank, the little girl stood nearby, her eyes wide with shock. Red looked around in every direction, anticipating an attack from zombies, or some wild animal. They were alone.
Red realized the girl was terrified of her. She'd seen the bites and scars all over her body.
Red grabbed the towel and covered herself. "Rivers, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there."
Rivers didn't answer. She simply turned around and, with trembling fingers, raised the back of her shirt.
Red stared in disbelief. Jagged pink scars lined the girl's lower back. Not very many, but enough for her to recognize what they were—bites and scars just like her own.
Chapter 16 – Others
"Stay right there," Red said as she gathered her clothes. "Don't move. Please."
Rivers stood with her arms wrapped around her waist and her eyes still wide with surprise.
Red was certain her own expression matched that of the little girl—disbelief. She pulled her clothes on, but fumbled with the fasteners and it took her longer than usual to dress.
When she was decent, she walked over to Rivers. "Can I see?"
The girl nodded and tentatively turned around. Red raised her shirt just enough to see three bite marks; two had done little damage, but the third had ripped a portion of the girl's flesh from her back. An ugly, puckered scar remained.
"They're old scars. Are those the only ones you have?"
Rivers nodded, lowered her eyes, and tucked her shirt back into her skirt. "A few months ago, my momma took Fisher into town with her and left me home with the baby. Brooke had the sniffles and she didn't want to take her out, thinking her cold might get worse. So she left her with me." Tears fell down the girl's cheeks. "The unfortunates came—three of them—and I tried to protect Brooke. I really did. But they bit her even though I had covered her with my body."
Red pulled the crying girl into her arms. "It's not your fault, Rivers."
; "I got real sick. It hurt bad, but when I woke up, I was fine. Brooke wasn't. My ma thought she'd get better because I had. I wanted her to get better too, but she never did."
Red squeezed the girl and held her while she sobbed.
"My ma thought I was a freak—a work of the devil. She even said so." Rivers looked up to her in search of validation. "But you're just like me. We're the same."
Red looked down at the child, baffled and amazed. If two of them had the ability to outlive a zombie bite, perhaps there were others just like them. The questions and possibilities were endless.
"I don't know what we are." She lifted the girl's chin and looked her in the eye. "But I do know I'm not the work of the devil. Neither are you. There's a reason we are this way. But for now, I don't want you to tell anyone about your bites besides the three of us. Don't show anyone—not anyone. Okay?"
Rivers nodded. "I only showed you because I saw yours."
"I know. I'm glad you did. But no one else, okay? It's not safe out there."
Rivers swallowed hard and avoided looking at Red. "How come you have so many?"
"Because"—Red pulled the girl close, wanting to protect her from the pain she'd experienced—"I made the mistake of telling the wrong person."
***
Trace sat on the blanket next to Wen and watched the boy play chase with the dog. "Energy is wasted on the young," he said, and Wen nodded in agreement. "Imagine how much we could accomplish if we had even half the energy that kid does."
"I know. You tell a kid to take a nap and they throw themselves on the ground and have a fit about it. But I'll tell you, if you told me to take a nap, I'd probably be so happy I'd kiss ya on the mouth."
"Hell, Wen." Cowboy slapped him on the back. "Thanks for letting me know. No napping for you."
Fisher suddenly stopped moving. The knee-high grass rustled in the wind around him, but the boy stood motionless as he stared down at the grass. Trace sat up a little straighter, wondering what he'd found.
The boy dropped out of sight, and his panicked screams brought both Wen and Trace to their feet, running. Lasso barked and pranced around, lunging at something Trace couldn't see. He skipped over rocks and sagebrush toward the sound of the boy's fearful cries.
