As she sighed and marched towards another house, Arthur thumbed at his arrows and quickened his pace to walk next to her. After thrusting both hands into his pockets, he cleared his throat.
“Would it, um, help in any way if I were to ask you on that date?” He only made eye contact with her for a moment. “Not necessarily right now, and, should we find your brother in a few moments, we can cancel all of it with no hard feelings whatsoever. But if you, uh, at least don’t want that hanging over your head, too, we could get it over with.” Scuffing his foot on the concrete, he locked his gaze on the porch step ahead.
She cracked a smile. “And how do you think that date would go?”
“I think—” He cut off and exhaled. “I’m going to be terribly charming, you’ll be swept off your feet, and we’ll both enjoy ourselves immensely.”
“Sounds like a good change of pace to me.” She ran a hand through her hair. “And it’s not like it’ll take all day or anything. Tonight, tomorrow, in two days—when are you thinking?”
“Tonight would be fine. Smaller chance of finding your brother first, right?”
“Right.” She smiled. “Two houses left here, and then you can set up. If Blake isn’t here, of course.” Stepping under the entryway, she tried knocking again. “Dalton, has he already asked you about this?”
“Natch. It’s fine with me.” Dalton watched her pull the door open.
“Great.” She threw one more smile back at Arthur before stepping into the house.
~*~
It was still a good hour before sunset when Arthur invited Charlotte inside. The house, near the middle of the neighborhood, had gotten an unprotected window bashed open at some point, but he had swept all visible shards elsewhere before he called for her. Scuttling around to hold the door open, he gave her a nervous nod as she smiled and stepped inside.
“I feel less underdressed this time.” She glanced over his unchanged clothes.
“Um, that sounds positive.” After a glimpse back to ensure he wasn’t about to slam the door on Dalton’s nose, he followed her inside.
“It is.”
With a nod, he darted ahead and then slowed as the carpet changed to the wood of the dining room. “Well, we’ll start with dinner. I’m afraid I didn’t find anything to shoot down, but I’ve managed to scrounge up a few morsels.”
Although the round table seated four, only two chairs remained, precisely across from each other. One plate rested at each place, bordered by silverware. Two small glasses and two neat, short stacks of paper napkins accompanied the rest. No candles were lit, but a decent amount of sunlight streamed over the table from the large window beside it.
She wasn’t close enough to identify the food before he darted to one chair and dragged it farther from the table. Swallowing, he made a gesture of offering with one hand as the other clung to the chair back trembling.
“Thank you,” she said, setting her bags down by the dining room wall and sitting.
“You’re welcome,” he responded breathlessly.
She scooted the chair in before he let go and fled to his own seat.
While she had smelt some grease cooking earlier, she’d had little idea what to make of it. Even now, she wasn’t sure what the diced chunks among her cut green beans were, but she suspected it was Spam. The only thing that smelled fresh was the small tomato, sliced into wedges. Then again, the little plastic bowl of blueberries between the dinner plates didn’t look like it had recently exited a can.
“It looks great,” she started, taking her fork before getting a proper look at the glass. It wasn’t filled with water as she had thought; in fact, it was empty. She chuckled and looked up at him.
“One moment.” With a jittery grin, he clapped his hands twice. “Dalton!”
She tilted her head to the side before the front door swung open. Casting one last glance behind him, Dalton hurried inside and set something on the table. He bowed with a wink at her and started back out. Arthur thanked him, but she couldn’t hear the words over her own laughter.
“What?” Arthur started, maintaining his grin and turning the bottle of wine so she could see what was left of its label. “Is it a bad kind?”
“Are you serious?” She laughed into her hand. “Where did you even get that?”
“The top shelf of a pantry somewhere,” he replied, sliding the bottle towards himself and getting after the cork. “Of course, if you’d rather not, I have thoroughly memorized where you keep your water bottle and can fetch that instead. After all, I have no idea how well this type of wine complements cheap, canned meat.”
“It’s fine.” She shook her head. “Silly, but fine. I’ll take it.”
“Excellent.” After pausing to take a deep breath, he worked the bottle open and divided up the contents.
She grinned. “It’s not to help calm you down, is it?”
Pausing in the middle of pouring his own cup, he nearly let the liquid go over the rim before he straightened the bottle. “No, of course not. I’m perfectly calm.” He proceeded to set the bottle down and knock over his glass in the process.
Emitting a strangled noise that did not in any way bear resemblance to a swear word, he righted the cup and threw half his napkins at the mess. With a glance at Charlotte, he started mopping up the spill. “I feel as though people are usually supposed to have a few glasses before they do that.”
She chuckled. “Probably.”
~*~
They had cleaned the plates of everything but a few smushed seeds and mixed juices when Arthur led Charlotte into the living room. Almost all the cherrywood furniture and other items were clustered in the corners and against the walls. One little glass-topped table still stood a few feet shy of the room’s center. The curtains rippled and glowed orange in the late sunlight.
“Okay.” Arthur went through his drawstring bag as it dangled off his elbow. “Hopefully this is still in working order and you won’t find the sound too irritating.”
“Oh?” She watched him pull out a little wooden box and toss his bag onto a dull, bronze-colored couch. Winding up the box in the back, he carried it to the small table and set it down. A flip of the lid revealed a few dusty compartments stripped of jewelry and started to grind out a tinny melody.
He rubbed his hands together as he walked back towards her. “Shall we?” He spread his trembling arms. She recognized the tune as “That’s Amore” before she realized he was asking her to dance.
She smiled and stepped closer. “Sure.”
He clasped his fingers around her palm one by one and let his other hand hover over her hip before he hesitated. Looking up into her eyes, he started, “Would you mind taking off the heels?”
“What?” She glanced down at her boots before laughing. “Okay, one second. I can’t promise I won’t still be taller, though.”
He went to wind up the music box a bit more as she slid her shoes off.
“All right.” He sucked in another breath before stepping back towards her and resuming his previous stance. “Let’s do something simple so I have a smaller chance of screwing it up. To your left on the first beat.” Shutting his eyes, he tilted his chin up a bit and waited. With small steps, they went to the side, swooped back, turned, and wound their way around the room.
The music box was still chiming when she trod on his toes. Quickly and not without stumbling, he pulled the appropriate foot back.
“Sorry.” She watched her socks as they got back into the rhythm.
He shook his head fiercely. “No. It is always the man’s fault in missteps, so I apologize to you.”
She chuckled. “Keep up that kind of attitude, and this could become a good relationship.”
“I could handle that.” He shrugged, but not enough to lift his hand from where it rested on her waist.
Her laugh faded to a smile. “Don’t, though. I get the feeling you’re a little too good at blaming yourself.”
“No, only when I should.” Watching a walls spin aro
und them, he let out a puff of air and smiled. “Although I’ll try to tone it down if you’d like me to.”
“That’s sweet—” she raised her eyebrows with a grin “—or is ‘sweet’ not something our tough guy is allowed to be?”
He dragged his gaze back to her eyes. “If it’s only for you, I might be able to stomach it.”
No sooner had he looked away than she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.
~*~
Although trees blocked some of the view, the living room wasn’t a bad place to watch the sunset. Few clouds were poised to catch the light, but the brilliant scarlet fading out into rose-pink was beautiful enough on its own.
Arthur wiped some sweat off his palms onto his side of the couch. “Better than the last date, I hope?”
Smiling, Charlotte nodded. “I enjoyed it.” She eyed him sideways. “Immensely.”
He chortled, scratching the back of his head as he looked back to the sunset.
“That’s all, then?” She stretched, leaning back against the couch.
“Yes.” He blinked at her. “Was there something else you wanted to do?”
“Oh, not particularly.” She folded her hands in her lap and grinned at him. “Unless you wanted to, I don’t know, kiss good-night or something.”
Although his face was already tinged red by the sunset, he still flushed quite visibly. “Is that—Are you…” He looked down at his hands. “Would you want that? Seriously, I mean?” Head still tilted down, he eyed her.
She regarded him. The desperate look, the trembling hands, the strong frame that had been much stronger before he had abandoned his old life to be with her—starving, beaten, and unrequited, if necessary.
She rested her hand on his. “Seriously.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Of course, if you don’t want to kiss me—”
She got no further before he took her head in his hands and thrust his lips onto hers. As rushed as it was, the kiss wasn’t on-center, but she quietly tilted enough for it to be comfortable. And she kissed back.
Above all else, Arthur was trying not to pass out. Even with his eyes closed, the sunset blazed at his vision, and chilling, tingling waves of adrenaline washed over him. His own unsavory breath still ate at his tongue, but her faint scent—between the smell of powder and greenery—was too nice for him to care. Also, she was kissing him.
Once he broke contact for breath, it was over. She pulled his hand away from her head without letting go of it. He turned towards the fading sun and tried to stop panting. His pulse still fluttered in his throat when she stood.
“It’s about time to set up shelter for the night.” She tucked some hair behind her ears with her free hand. “Ready to let Dalton in?”
Blinking away spots, he gripped her hand hard and stood beside her. “Sure. I don’t know. Go ahead. What are we doing?”
She giggled. “Come on, let’s fetch him.”
Partially dragging him behind her, she started back for the door but kicked a fallen backpack on the way. Yelping as if he had been the one to trip, he dropped down to push the bag back against the wall. Notebooks and papers had already shot out across the floor.
“Sorry.” He glanced between her and the mess he tried to put back in order. “Should have thrown that elsewhere.”
“It’s fine.” She knelt down with him and, after releasing his hand, started scooping papers together. “Nobody got hurt.” She turned one of the papers over. “Huh. Wonder why there’s a flyer for a church camp in Maine. A little far, don’t you think?”
She had stacked a few more papers together before she paused and exchanged a glance with him.
“Want to scoot farther into the light?” she started.
With a nod, he scuttled backward, and she followed, scrutinizing the papers. After a few pages of unfinished algebra problems were tossed aside, a good handful of camp flyers remained. Hands trembling, Charlotte thumbed through them one by one. A camp in Arkansas. Oklahoma. Amarillo.
Hunt.
She let the rest of the pile slide to the ground as she stared at the bright blue flyer. He watched her look it over.
“Is that a map?” she said blankly.
He squinted in the vanishing light. “I believe it is.”
“It’s a map.” She rose to her feet with his help. “A nice, local map.”
Hooking her arm around his, she bolted for the door. “Dalton!” The panel flew open once she finished scrabbling at the knob. “I know exactly where we’re going tomorrow! Also, it’s about time to lock up for the night, so come inside.” Descending into giggles, she leaned against Arthur as Dalton stepped inside. He examined the flyer she offered him.
“Most excellent.” Dalton glanced at the two-person conglomerate with a smile before handing the paper back.
26
A shred of banner still clung to the splintery, uneven fence at the camp’s entrance, but it didn’t afford many clues. The careful arrangement of stones opposite it still read “Lonehollow” in carved letters. Between the two markers, where the fence gaped open, a smooth path cut into the camp.
Shivering despite the heat, Charlotte folded up her flyer-map and shoved it into her backpack.
Arthur stood close, although he was sweating too much to attempt physical contact. “I take it we’re here?”
Nodding, she drew in a breath and took a few steps ahead. “It looks about right. I don’t remember the details after all this time, but…” She swallowed. “Yeah. We’re here.”
She stood staring at the road for a minute before he followed her gaze.
“Are you ready?” he murmured.
“I sure hope so.” She smiled and, switching her rifle to her left hand, gripped his palm. “How about neither of us starts shooting too quickly?”
“Uh, yeah.” Arthur tried not to stare at their held hands as she took a step forward. The gesture comforted her somehow, but he wasn’t entirely certain why. Was it the lower possibility of shooting her brother, or did she also like holding his hand? The date may have been a startling success, but that hardly guaranteed her irrevocable love, but they did kiss, but—
Stop it. Now was a terrible time. She was finally going to see her brother, which, if he recalled correctly, had been the point of the entire journey. He could wait. She had enough trouble putting one foot in front of the other without worrying about her relationship status.
Although, once she passed the fence, she picked up speed. Past a few more trees and over a creek, she marched onward until another road split off to the right.
“I guess we’ll need to check any hiding place we can find.” She pivoted to the side. “Every road has to have something, wouldn’t you think?”
“Surely.” Arthur walked alongside her as they made the turn.
“Char’,” Dalton said, stepping up to her other side and pointing, “up ahead. Looks like a zombie man to me.”
“Okay.” She hesitated before letting go of Arthur’s hand and readying her rifle. The figure by the side of the road was staggering forward quite pathetically, but she didn’t shoot until she saw its blank face. No recognizable features but the blood staining its mouth.
With a long exhale, she ejected the empty cartridge and got back to walking.
So there were infecteds in the area. Few, but still here. Her brother wasn’t hiding in the one little safe pocket of the world. Of course he wasn’t. That wouldn’t be realistic. He had to fight for survival just like everyone else.
Why had she taken so long to get here?
Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath and kept going.
~*~
The first two buildings were bare of everything but a few desks and corkboards. The third building, hidden by a bend in its own side road, had been kept up more. The gutters were still rusted beyond repair, but scraps of metal tacked on at uneven intervals reinforced the door.
Once she ensured the others were ready, Charlotte sheathed her rifle and risked a few knocks on the paint
ed wood. A thump came from inside, and she froze, her knuckles still against the door. She dragged her hand down and stepped back, fingering the knife in her belt but refusing to draw it.
“Who’s there?”
The voice was female, probably a teenager’s. Charlotte’s shoulders went slack as she let out a breath.
“Travelers,” she called back, resting her hands on her hips. “Would you mind chatting a little? It would be easier face to face, but I understand if you’d rather not open the door.”
The resident said no more, but soon chain locks were grinding and jingling just behind the wood. Charlotte took a few steps back and watched the glint of the metal reinforcements in anticipation. With a creak, the door opened, one last chain keeping it from revealing more than a hand-width. A young woman, her hair coarse and short, looked up at them, only one of her eyes visible.
She blinked. “Charlotte?”
Taken aback, Charlotte stared at her, unable to break the vague sense of deja-vu until she caught sight of the necklace. Hanging right at the bottom of the girl’s throat was a teardrop-shaped charm of fused glass. On it, a shining ladybug perched on a leaf of green swirls.
“Lori?”
With an exclamation, Lori fumbled at the last lock and swung the door open. Charlotte barely had time to prepare herself before she was attacked with a hug.
“Were you at this camp, too?” Charlotte released the shorter girl and looked her over. “It’s been so long—I’d forgotten.”
“Yeah, I was.” Lori squinted at Arthur and Dalton, but their weapons were lowered, and they looked more confused than greedy. “Along with all the neighborhood boys.”
Charlotte took another moment to relish the wellbeing of her little brother’s best friend. Then she started wringing her hands. “Is Blake…”
Leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, Lori glanced at the empty field to her right. “He’s not in here. I’m not sure if he’s still around, but—” she looked back up at the three “—do you want to come inside and sit down? I don’t have much water to spare, but I could offer you some jerky.”
Charlotte didn’t check with the rest of her party before nodding. “Sure. That sounds great.” Whatever the news was, Lori knew more than her about Blake’s whereabouts. Charlotte intended to hear any clues she could.
Along the Winding Road Page 21
