Arthur took enough time to catch his breath that Dalton quietly snickered. After shooting a warning glare at the towhead, he returned his gaze to the road. “I’m not sure. Um, I…” He exhaled through pursed lips with a whoosh. “Are you sure you would want to try that?”
“I am.” She slowed as more buildings surfaced beside the highway ahead. “But if you really don’t want to—”
“No, no,” Arthur objected. “I, er, do; I just… I’m only going to ruin everything again.”
“No, you’re not.” She rubbed her chapped lips together. “You are going to be terribly charming the entire time, I’m going to be swept off my feet, and we will both enjoy ourselves immensely.”
He made a strange expression like an amused grimace. “Is that so?”
“Repeat it back to me,” she commanded.
“What?” He shut his eyes for a moment. “Um, ‘Is that—’”
“No, repeat what I said.”
“What?” He lowered his brows and stared at the road underfoot.
Sighing, she gripped his shoulder to summon his gaze. “Do we need to take a break now? You look pretty exhausted already.”
“No, um…” His face strained alongside his mind. “I’m going to be terribly charming, you’ll be swept off your feet, and… we’ll both enjoy ourselves immensely?”
Stepping up the pace again, she nodded. “Once more, with feeling.”
He blinked, one eyebrow quirked, and tried to keep up. “Um, I’m going to be terribly charming, you’ll be swept off your feet, and we’ll both enjoy ourselves, uh, immensely.”
“One more go.”
“I’m going to be terribly charming, you’ll be swept off your feet, and we’ll both enjoy ourselves immensely.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but why am I saying this?”
“Because it’s true.”
He frowned. “You are putting far, far too much faith in me. Everything’s much more likely to crash and bur—”
“Stop!” Without turning, she put a finger in front of his lips. Once he cut off, she dropped her hand. “Now say it again.”
Sighing as heavily as he could manage with the little air in his lungs, he complied.
“Good.” She stretched her back. “Every time you try to say something negative, I am going to stop you and make you repeat that.”
Eyebrow twitching, he paled. “Every time I—that’s quite often, you know.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“Guys!” Dalton stepped up to her other side. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think I saw a car coming toward us.”
“Toward us?” she stammered, hurrying off the side of the street before she turned around. The highway arced behind her, leaving nothing in sight but a small stretch of asphalt going up and the ramps curling onto it from below.
“Are you sure?” She walked back towards the incline until she couldn’t continue without stepping onto the road’s shoulder.
Dalton nodded. “It’s still a while back, but it’s coming.”
“Okay—” she swallowed, putting up her rifle and grabbing the men by their elbows “—let’s go ahead and hide. The closest house isn’t too far, so—”
The low hum of an engine started to overlap her words. She tightened her grip on Arthur and Dalton, pulling them down the incline with her.
“Don’t drop anything,” she started, a spoken story replaying in the sides of her mind.
~*~
Monique had hurried after her brother as they had fled the warehouse.
“Are you sure you can carry all of that?” Émile had slowed so her shorter legs could keep up.
She had nodded, clamping her arms and hands around her half-box of canned mushrooms. She shot a glance back. The back door was shut, and the gunmen had either never noticed the siblings. or were too busy scouring the remaining shelves to care about two armfuls getting away.
A little dip in the grass had sent Monique sprawling while she had still been facing backwards. Her chin had smacked into one of the cans hard enough to put a dent in it, and a few cans had spilled over the edge. One had jumped onto the road ahead before rolling farther away.
~*~
“Or if you do, leave it,” Charlotte gasped, speeding down the patchy slope as fast as her limp would take her. Arthur, halfway being dragged, and Dalton, forearm going numb, tried to pull out of her grip. Both were unsuccessful.
~*~
“Monique!”
“I’m fine.” She had hoped none of her teeth had gotten too jarred by the impact as she had gathered her legs beneath her. Émile had helped pull her up and then pointed her towards their current house, which had lain past a few more streets.
“Let me—” She had bent to pick up the three cans in the grass before he had gotten too far ahead of her. He didn’t notice her lagging until he was already halfway across the asphalt.
“It’s okay; leave them!” he shouted, surveying the area. The gunmen hadn’t surfaced from the warehouse, but somewhere he could hear zombies growling. Were they just beyond that hill in the road?
She already had her fingers around the third can by then, so she threw it back in the box before scurrying ahead. Satisfied, he rushed past the far edge of the road before shooting another glance back at his little sister.
She slowed in the middle of the street, where the last tin of mushrooms lay. It was another meal, she must have thought. Having lost her share of those recently, she had decided gambling a few seconds to pick it up would be worth the tiny risk.
He had been too slow to even register the brown SUV cresting the hill, let alone throw his sister out of its way. He had only been able to watch as the grill had smashed
into her hip and flung her into one last graceful spin before she had crashed and crumpled to the ground.
~*~
“And keep running.”
The nearest house approached as the roar of the car grew louder. A glance back revealed a blue blur of a Jeep zooming along the highway towards them.
~*~
Hektor had tugged his little sister farther from the road as the car had come to a stop nearby. It had only taken one look at the passenger’s gun before all three siblings had been running for shelter. But one of them hadn’t been in the condition to flee quite as fast as the others.
~*~
“Whatever happens, just keep running!” Charlotte screamed as both the car and the house drew closer. Arthur was struggling for breath enough to let her drag him along. Winded herself, she tried not to choke as the Jeep slowed. She didn’t check for any gunmen; she didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to watch them shoot, didn’t want to watch Arthur or Dalton bleed. She locked her gaze on the side door as she charged towards it.
Dalton wrenched himself out of her grip, sprinting for the door and flinging it open as she continued with Arthur in tow. The three toppled into the house, and she shut the door behind them hard without letting go of Arthur. She stood there panting and looking around wildly. Then she felt how much her nails were digging into Arthur’s elbow. With a mumbled apology, she let go.
“We’re all here,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “We’re all okay. We’re—” She looked up at Dalton. “Did they see us?”
Taking a second to catch his breath, he pulled a side table from the wall and shoved it against the door. The sudden motion sent picture frames and potpourri containers sliding off the table’s shelves. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Okay.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s just—let’s just barricade… things…”
“Charlotte? Charlotte.” Arthur had to rasp several times before his weak voice could get her attention.
She spun to see him sitting on the floor. “What? Are you okay? Did they shoot you?”
“I’m fine,” he gasped, putting up his hands. He struggled with the floor for a second before getting to his feet and putting a hand on her shoulder. “But—are you okay? I know you’re not injured; you just seem a bit…” Tr
ailing off into panting, he squeezed her shoulder.
“What? I’m okay.” She realized how hard she was breathing and forced herself to slow down. “I’m okay.” She put her fingers over his for a moment. “Thanks. I’m… I’m okay. We’re okay.” She squeezed his hand and let go, giving him a smile before going to help Dalton pull a heavy ottoman over.
25
The Jeep had come and gone without incident; when they had finally slipped out of the house, not even the faintest smell of exhaust lingered. And so they had gone on walking.
When a cloudless night finally came, Charlotte left the boys in the latest house and retrieved her sextant. Adjusting the horizon level, she then turned another mirror until the North Star brushed the level of the grass far ahead. She noted the time and altitude and started calculating.
“Charlotte?”
Lifting her pencil from the mini-notepad, she looked up. Arthur quietly shut the door behind him and sat on the ground next to her.
“Hey,” she said. “Can’t sleep?”
“As per usual.” He folded his arms, leaning back against the warm bricks. “You?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine once I hit the sack. I’m just checking our location again.” Rubbing her lips together, she resumed her work on the notepad. “We’ve made a lot of progress, and I’m pretty sure we’ve been going the right way.”
“Doesn’t hurt to be certain, I suppose.” He watched her flip back a few pages to check something before he gazed up at the stars.
Tuning him out for the moment, she recorded their location and, swallowing, looked up Hunt’s coordinates to be sure.
How on earth was she so close? She hadn’t expected the journey to take this long when she had set out, but being so close to the destination now was jarring. After all the struggle, all the almost-deathbeds, all the running and walking and limping. And now the last leg was underway, just like that. She was a few miles away from seeing Blake for the first time in four long years, just like that. After so long…
He would be sixteen now. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her? What if he didn’t? Would he try to hide? Would he attack her? Would he attack the boys? They wouldn’t be aiming weapons at him, but—
Or would they? Everyone would still be on watch for monsters, wherever they found Blake. If Arthur mistook him for an infected—No, no, that wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t be so eager to make the same mistake again. When he had shot her, he hadn’t even known there were healthy humans to shoot. Now he should be more careful. Still, accidents happened…
But no, nothing like that would happen. Infecteds could still make trouble on the way, but that was easy to handle. There was no reason to assume anyone would attack anyone else when they came upon Blake. The reunion would be everything it was supposed to be. Maybe neither brother nor sister would be the same after everything they’d been through, but they would still be brother and sister.
If he was there. He could have moved on or hitched a ride with some of his friends. Or he could have been dead since the beginning. But everything was just one chance. She couldn’t predict what he had gone through or how he had changed. She only knew he hadn’t come home, and she couldn’t think of anywhere else he would run to.
So he was either dead, lost, or waiting right where he had started. There wasn’t much she could do in the first two circumstances, but she had a responsibility to bank on the third. If there was one possibility in millions that she could rescue him and bring him home, she had to go for it. She was his big sister, and that meant more than getting the cauliflower off his plate for him when Mom wasn’t looking.
Wishing she hadn’t thought the word “dead” so many times in one sitting, she exhaled through pursed lips and shut her eyes. He was going to be fine. Worse for wear, but still kicking. Maybe she would have to patch him up, or walk a little farther to find him, but he was going to be fine.
“Charlotte?”
“Mm?” Craning her neck, she faced Arthur, who had clasped his hands together.
“Are you doing well?” He scratched his jaw. “You look like you’re the one about to throw up now.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “I’m fine, thanks. Just… excited. Really excited.” With a nod, she looked back to the sky.
She wasn’t lying. How could she not be excited? Her goal for years was barely past her reach now, and it was only going to get closer.
“Just?”
She tilted her chin to look back at him. Rubbing his arm, he dropped his gaze.
“Okay, mostly.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “A little anxious, but it would be weird if I wasn’t, right? I like to be optimistic, but I can’t be unrealistic about life, either.”
He nodded slowly, as if trying to determine how there was a difference.
Exhaling, she rested her head on the bricks behind her. “Most of all, I’m glad. The waiting is almost over, right?”
He gave a mumble of agreement and stood. “Well, should we get inside before the zombies find us out here?”
“Not a bad idea.” She put away her sextant and her rifle before taking his hand and standing. He opened the door, and she stepped inside with a thanks.
Now to see if she would actually get to sleep in that nice bed she had found.
~*~
Neighborhoods, almost swallowed by legions of trees, started to pop up on either side of the road. Three side roads had branched off before Charlotte slowed down.
“Any particular street?” Dalton eyed the sinking signs as they passed.
Charlotte hesitated. “I don’t know the name.” She chewed on her tongue. “If we find some sort of tourist information building, we can stop there. The way to camp should probably be on some billboards, too.”
Arthur only briefly scrutinized her, but she caught him before he could flick his gaze ahead again.
“I’ve only been this way once,” she said, hunching her shoulders, “and the mail-to address was a P.O. box. It’s a big camp, though, so I doubt we’ll be able to waltz right past it.”
“Right.” Arthur untangled two of his arrows. “I trust you. I only wasn’t expecting…”
She laughed choppily. “I wish I knew the exact location, too, but, oh, well. It’s only a little more searching. We’re still just about where we ought to be.”
“So,” Dalton started, “we’re just cruising now?”
“More or less.” She slipped her thumb under her duffel strap and watched the trees go by.
~*~
“It’s certainly not your fault Hunt doesn’t have a booming tourism business.” Arthur paused. “Or didn’t.”
Sitting on the side of the road, Charlotte rested her forehead on her hands and sighed. “I shouldn’t have assumed they would have a fancy welcome center, though. The place is all trees.” Gripping her knees, she looked up at the fast-moving clouds. “But it’s only a minor setback. We’re close; we just have to slow down and look harder.” With a grunt, she pushed herself back to her feet.
“How about we check the houses, then?” Dalton brushed some dirt off his staff. “He could have moved into one of them if the camp was too crowded, right?”
“He could.” She scuffed the toe of one boot with the other. “Or maybe one of the houses has more info on the camp itself.”
Dalton shrugged. “Worth a shot, right?”
Nodding, Arthur pointed a thumb to his right. “Shall we start with this estate?”
“Let’s go.” She led the way to the first house off the main street. Three intact homes remained on the neighborhood’s first branch, but since one had been scorched and its neighbors had melted shingles as well, she doubted Blake was sheltering there. The burned-down area would be a deterrent to raiders, though, so the livable houses were worth checking.
“One moment.” Arthur paused to ready an arrow as two infecteds came into view. As he aimed, she gave him a look-over. His face still looked too drawn and hollow, but his joints no longer showed every ridge of bone beneath. He ha
dn’t thrown up in a while despite taking in more food, and he was keeping pace better, too. At least something was going well at the moment.
But Blake or not, they were all covering ground. She was eliminating places her little brother could have hidden if he fled the camp, and that was some sort of progress.
Stepping up onto the porch, she knocked on the door before checking the knob. Although it refused to turn, the doorframe had rotted enough that she could pull the bolt straight through it. A clump of splinters fell to the concrete as the door swung open. Sunlight fell into the entryway, patterned tiles gleaming past a fringe of torn carpet.
“Hello?” She stepped inside as quietly as the heels of her boots would allow while she waited for a response. None came.
“All right,” she sighed, “let’s see if there’s any food, then.”
Arthur and Dalton followed as she made her way to the kitchen. It had a nice skylight, although some of the glass lay in shards in the middle of the floor. She sidestepped the glinting pieces and pulled at a drawer of an island. Utensils clanged, rang, and rolled as she sifted through them.
Taking the drawer next to her, Arthur eyed its useless array of cookie cutters. “Nothing here.”
“Yep.” She closed her drawer with a bang and shuffled to the next one.
Arthur followed alongside her. After she got through a pair of empty drawers, she turned towards Dalton. Shutting the last of the cabinets beyond the island, he shook his head. She frowned as she went for the nearest door, a translucent one with the word “Pantry” in frosted glass. What little light made it to the small room illuminated white-painted, empty shelves.
“Oh, well.” She shut the door and turned around. “We can’t expect to strike gold in every house.” She looked over the other two. “I’ll go ahead and check the other rooms, though.”
“Sure.” Arthur followed immediately behind her, while Dalton stepped beside her. Guided by the towhead’s flashlight, they went through several rooms before heading back out.
The rest of the street was no better, nor the next one.
Along the Winding Road Page 20
