“No, I got this.” He put some weight on his staff-turned-walking-stick to straighten himself up. The several bags hanging from his shoulders still swayed with every step. “I just haven’t been carrying much recently. Give me a minute, and I’ll get used to it.”
“If you say so.” Brows knit, Arthur turned his eyes back to the road. “I can handle another one if you ever need me to.”
Dalton dipped his head. “Sure thing.”
Charlotte looked over her shoulder at him. “Can you even fight like that?”
“ ‘Course I can.” He put his other hand on his staff, swinging it up to a horizontal and taking a strong step forward. “It doesn’t take too much spinning around to beat up the zombies.”
She frowned at him but shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get everything before it comes too close, anyway. Or I will, since Arthur has his hands full at the moment.”
“Just until we stop to eat,” Arthur clarified, lifting his catch to keep it from snagging on overgrown lawn weeds. “Come afternoon, I can resume shooting.”
“Fine by me.” She brushed some dirt off the top of her rifle. “Hopefully we don’t run into any mobs.”
The group lapsed into silence as the business buildings alongside them morphed into houses. Leaving boot prints to the left of the road, Charlotte shot down an infected and tossed the empty cartridge into a toppled plastic trash bin.
Doing her part to can litter. Not that she wasn’t the main source of refuse wherever she went, nor did she ever go out of her way to dispose of it properly. But a little effort was better than none.
Arthur watched the cartridge clunk into the dirt-brown wheelie bin, his eyebrows and a corner of his mouth raised. Dalton was too focused on his baggage to notice.
Dropping her voice, Charlotte started, “Hey, Arthur?”
He blinked. “Er, yes?”
She chewed on her cheek for a second, glancing back at Dalton. He met her gaze and nodded, looking off to the side and whistling. After making sure no infecteds were ready to interrupt, she faced Arthur again. “I’m sorry for sounding ready to send you away.”
A blank look clung to his face, but she continued.
“I forced you into a false dilemma back there, without even sounding sad to see you go. I didn’t want you to leave, all right? You’re a good shot and great to talk to, and I’m glad you’re staying with me.”
He nodded, watched the road for a moment, and turned back to her. “I’m sorry, what?”
She thumped the back of her hand against his forehead. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you, ditz.”
“I was listening!” Kneading his forehead with his fingertips, he gazed off to the side. “I just… Oh, look, a zombie!”
She burst out laughing; an infected was indeed approaching them.
“You got lucky with that one,” she said, aiming. The monster went down with a bullet in its chest.
Letting the spent cartridge thump unceremoniously on the ground, she resumed the journey. Some moments later, she ended up glancing at Arthur to find an unusual expression on his face.
“Whatcha smiling about?”
“Wh-what?” His expression faltered as he looked at her wide-eyed. “Um, nothing.”
He turned his eyes back to the road, and Dalton’s snicker trailed off before Arthur’s smile faded back in. Too weird to let her know he appreciated the apology, she guessed. Wacko.
“So, Dalton,” she started, looking back at the towhead, “glad to have joined us so far?”
“Totally,” he panted. “It hasn’t been long enough for much conversation, but there’s still plenty of time for all of us to catch up.”
Arthur shot a glance back at him, expression now tamed to a smirk. “You do seem to be lagging behind, eh, mate?”
Immediately Charlotte collapsed into giggles, grabbing Arthur’s sleeve to keep from falling down.
He nearly toppled over. “What?”
“Quit—” she could barely form words “—talking like that!”
He gave her a look that was both amused and bemused, and she made herself let go, although she wasn’t finished laughing.
“Well, it’s all I’ve got in the way of charming you,” he said, face regaining its normal color. “So belt up and let’s keep walking.”
She laughed less uproariously. “I don’t even understand that one.”
“Eh, same here. I think it sounds stupid, so I never say it.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “But I’ll do it for you.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
Dalton scurried to catch up, eliciting a snort from Arthur. The three of them had walked in line for but a few paces before Dalton paused. Assuming he was just shifting some baggage around, Charlotte slowed her pace. She kept walking, but Dalton didn’t follow.
“What, are there some infecteds?” She put the butt of her rifle up against her shoulder, but she didn’t see anything to fire on.
“No.” Dalton lowered his brows. “I thought I heard something, but…”
“Huh.” Arthur surveyed the area, but he only saw sinking houses and budding trees.
“All right, then,” Charlotte said, lowering her gun for the moment. “I guess we should—”
She cut off with a yelp when Dalton dove for Arthur. The towhead wrenched his roommate’s shoulder back so hard, both of them stumbled backwards. The action didn’t keep a sudden gash from splitting the skin above Arthur’s collarbone.
Arthur, eyebrows jumping high, pulled some now-torn strands of T-shirt away from the slash. “Holy—” He glanced at Charlotte and clamped his mouth shut, but the alarm in his eyes finished the statement well enough.
“What just happened?” She squinted at the blood dripping onto the collar of Arthur’s clean shirt.
Dalton unzipped one of his bags with one hand, the other on his staff. “Someone must have—”
“Is that my arrow?” Arthur stared at a still-vibrating shaft stuck in a nearby door before he looked down at his quiver and started counting.
She popped him in the chin to make him look up. “There are more pressing issues right now.”
“Er, yes.” He turned his head some other way just in time to catch a blur of motion. By the time the blur resolved itself into an enraged, pale face and a titanium baseball bat, it was too late to move out of the way. With a scream from its wielder and a whistle through the air, the bat crashed down on Arthur. He managed to jerk his head back, but he still took a crushing blow to the shoulder. As his knees buckled under the pressure, the bat went up for another attempt. Charlotte’s heeled boot cracked into the wielder’s chest, forcing him back.
“Screw off!” Milton yelled, swinging the bat in her direction without much force. “This is between me and the one who killed my little brother!”
Snarling, she had to step back to avoid injury to her or her rifle, but Dalton lunged forward. With two thrusts of his staff, he drove Milton back. The albino’s shoulders hit the ground, his head just missing a tree trunk. Charlotte trained her gun on Milton’s face, and Dalton stepped back to help Arthur.
Struggling to breathe, Milton bent forward but stopped before the barrel could touch his forehead. Spittle seethed between his teeth as he tried to catch his breath.
“Back off,” he wheezed. “This doesn’t concern you.” He shifted his feet, and she stomped on them before he could try to kick the gun away.
“Really?” Her voice was low. “As I recall, the only reason he killed Manfred is because you two were trying to force me where I didn’t want to go.”
“But we weren’t going to kill you!” He choked but swallowed, sucking in deep breaths.
She scowled. “Oh, so if we paid him back with exact change, you wouldn’t be angry?”
“I don’t care why your boyfriend did it. He still murdered my little brother! Maybe you can’t understand, but—” Suddenly he grinned. Charlotte cursed herself for the flash that must have gone across her eyes.
“Or maybe you can. Have a little brother, do you? Or had?” He laughed. “So you know exactly what it’s like, huh? You work so hard looking after him, screw with the kid but don’t let anybody else do the same, help him figure out how he’s supposed to deal with everything you’ve already been through, watch him grow up, hope he’s turning out better than you, then bam! Suddenly the little boy closest to your heart is face-down in a pool of his own blood, and there is nothing you can do—”
He had to cut off when she drove her boot into his jaw so hard she could hear it crack. Unable to help shouting in pain, he weakly spat out some blood.
“—except,” he croaked, “try to find some sort of justice for him, whether he can see you or not, just out of respect for his memory—”
“Shut up!” She smashed her boot down on his chin again, panting. “I get it, okay? But abandoning the group of people your brother looked after? So you could murder someone for rescuing me the only way he could? This is not acceptable, and it’s doing nothing for your—your little brother!” She let out a long exhale, but it didn’t take a hint of venom out of her voice. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t put this bullet through your brain right now. You have five seconds.”
He looked up at her blankly.
“Four,” she growled.
Struggling to spit dislodged teeth out of the way, he said in a garbled voice, “I’m still a human being.”
“Really, now? I had forgotten,” she deadpanned. “Three.”
His eyes flickered wide for a moment, but he managed to narrow them. “You wouldn’t shoot me—”
“Not a reason.” She kept her gaze locked on him. “Two.”
“—You didn’t shoot me before, and…” Rocking back and forth, he choked, maybe on a tooth, and stared up at her.
“And you used your second chance poorly.” She didn’t bother stating the end of her countdown before pulling the trigger.
14
The gunshot echoed as Charlotte wiped Milton’s blood off her rifle.
“Come on, let’s go.” She marched away from the corpse without checking to see if anyone was following. After a moment, two pairs of footsteps hurried after her.
“Charlotte?” Arthur started tentatively.
“I’m fine.”
“Not that I question your judgment, but, um, shouldn’t we be going the other way?”
At that, she finally came to a halt. Her hand went to her pocket for the compass, but first she caught sight of the old wheelie bin up ahead. Her spent cartridge from earlier was undoubtedly in its bowels.
“Y-yeah, sorry.” Exhaling, she turned around, sidestepped the boys, and resumed her quick pace.
“Charlotte—” Arthur, grateful for his new shoes, caught up with her and dared to put a hand on her shoulder. She jerked, and he pulled away stammering.
“Don’t worry, just a reflex; you’re fine.” She paused, though her legs continued ahead full-throttle. “Are you fine?” A sideways look at him confirmed the cut had stopped bleeding, although his black shirt now gleamed below his collarbone.
“Um, yes. I don’t believe he broke anything.” Arthur rolled his right shoulder back with a wince. “But how are you?”
“Fine.” She shrugged, watching the road ahead. “He didn’t even hit me.”
“I don’t mean physically.”
When her gaze hit his, he looked down at the raccoon hanging from his hand.
“If you, um, don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to…” He reached to scratch his head but cringed enough to cut the effort short.
She sighed, watching her feet displace bits of broken asphalt. “Maybe later. It’s more important to keep moving.”
He stayed beside her for a moment before his line of sight fell to the makeshift bag of meat. Lifting it in front of her, he offered, “We’ll have to stop for lunch at some point, and, um, now’s as good a time as any. If you’re hungry. Dalton, how about you? Hungry?”
Dalton watched a cloud brush across the sun. “Hungry enough.”
“Two votes for ‘let’s eat,’” Arthur said, looking back at her with a nervous grin.
She swallowed, looking ahead in time to sidestep a crumpled pink car. With one hand, she pushed herself off the side of the trunk and kept walking. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Once we get to the lake, okay?”
Nodding eagerly, Arthur lowered his catch and stayed in line with her as they walked. Dalton kept up the same pace, although he seemed content to stay a few feet behind them.
They came up to the golf course sooner than she expected, and they had to slow down to avoid walking straight into the water. They came to a stop at the edge of the asphalt and hesitated, both men throwing glances at Charlotte to see what she wanted to do next.
After watching the water in silence, she turned and took a step to the side. “I’ll gather some firewood.” Her voice was drained. “Stay here and… pull out the bones, or whatever we’re doing.”
She trudged towards the trees, a speechless Arthur staring after her. Dalton got hold of the raccoon and unwrapped the meat. After another moment of watching Charlotte pick up branches, Arthur sat down by his roommate to help with the meal.
“Have you already gutted this?” Dalton pulled at the meat’s midline to check for himself.
“Yes. We just need to skewer it or pull it apart or something.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Arthur reached for the raccoon with the wrong arm and immediately put it down with a sharp swear.
Dalton’s eyes flashed up to meet his. “I don’t have that many painkillers, but—”
“No, no,” he sputtered, sliding his fingers over where his neck met his shoulder. “Save them for something more serious. Or at least until tomorrow. If I’m not back to shooting by then, it could be more of an issue.” He turned his head with a wince to check on Charlotte. “Although I feel she’s done all the shooting she wants today.”
Dalton pulled a stray piece of fur off the meat. “I can take the lead for a while, since I’m not too injured to fight.”
“That sounds promising. I’ll take one of your bags.”
A clatter of wood, and Charlotte’s pile of firewood fell to the ground beside them. Arthur scooted over to arrange it as she unloaded her baggage. Dalton skewered the raccoon meat without meeting her eye.
“If you’d be more comfortable just talking to Arthur,” he said, “I can go somewhere else for a minute. I’ve only just met you, so I would understand if you’d rather not unload your personal baggage right next to me.”
She swept some stray chips of wood off her arms. “No, it’s fine.”
An earthy-smelling smoke signaled Arthur’s success with the fire, and Dalton scooted over to put the raccoon in place. Dragging her bags behind her, Charlotte took a seat by the campfire. The faint crackling went on uninterrupted for a while.
“So,” Arthur started eventually, crossing his legs. He opened his mouth to say something else but thought better of it and turned towards Charlotte.
“So.” She leaned forward, her chest touching her bent knees. The growing warmth of the fire was a nice feeling, despite the lack of any chill today. “I shot Milton.”
Arthur watched the flames writhe. “He deserved it.”
She let out a short sigh, wrapping her arms around her legs. “Maybe. But I wasn’t exactly in a lucid state of mind when I passed judgment, and even now I…” Shaking her head, she sucked in a shuddering breath, and Arthur was hit with the thought that he might see her cry for the first time. He pulled himself closer to the fire.
“That was entirely his fault,” he said. “And his attempt to tear your mind apart only shows more of his depravity. Furthermore, he was hardly going to leave us alone if you spared him. I promise you were justified in shooting him.” His arms trembled enough that he chose to fold them.
The roasted scent of meat was diffusing now, but Charlotte was looking too far back to delight in the meal ahead. “Yeah,” she managed, reaching for the skewer to tur
n the meat.
After a while of nothing but the fire spitting and a few birds chirping, Dalton sighed. “But what he said about your brother hurts just as much?”
She pulled her arm back and rested it over her other one. “Yeah… I just like to think of Blake as safe, you know? Even though I might not find him. Even though all the odds are against it. Even though Manfred was worlds stronger, and he got killed. And there must be so many others, and i-it just doesn’t seem like there’s a chance, between the infecteds a-and the psychos and even just someone p-passing through, a-and that’s not even worrying a-about normal accidents, or what c-could happen to his m-mind, o-o-or…” She finally stopped, crying too hard to keep talking.
Arthur, unable to swallow the surge of panic, couldn’t for the life of him determine what he was supposed to do about this. Half of his brain was still in shock at her sitting there sobbing, and the remainder wasn’t adept enough to do much of anything by itself. After another moment of vacillation, he shuffled over to her, touching his left shoulder and foot to her right. The contact made it so easy to feel her trembling he almost backed away right then. Instead he glued himself to the spot, although he did abandon the thought of putting an arm around her shoulders.
“He’s fine,” he started, unable to keep his voice from shaking.
She laughed, in a horrible, gasping way that let her keep crying. “Y-you don’t believe that at all, do you?”
“I d—I—I don’t know!” He looked off to the side, gritting his teeth at the twinge in his neck. “I don’t know him. I don’t know who was with him. I don’t know how things have been in Hunt, I don’t know how they’re going to be, and I don’t know what we’ll see when we get there. All I—all I know is that you two share blood, and you’re tough as all get-out, so he must have some chance.”
Gasping for breath a few more times, she pressed her forehead to her knees. “Yeah? Because I’m sure s-scared out of my m-mind right now.”
“But not for yourself.” He shifted, closing his eyes for a moment. “I… I’d care to bet he’s scared for you, too. And he has nothing to worry about, now, does he?”
Along the Winding Road Page 11
