“I keep seeing things that I wish I could forget,” I say.
“I hate admitting this, but I’m glad it was you who was with One when he died.” He looks up from his palms and leans back into the cushion. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had to watch him—” His voice trails off. The memory still burns under my skin.
“I want things to be done. I’m so tired of surviving. It doesn’t look like there’s an end in sight.”
“I’m just happy that I’m surrounded by all you guys. I have no family left—kinda like you. I’m rooting for you to reunite with them though, but I want nothing more than to have a couple more seconds with One.”
“I know the feeling. When my fiancée died, I’d kill for just one more moment with her.”
“You were engaged?”
“Yeah.” I forgot that I never told anyone about my past—my past before the wendigos, before the food went missing. “Her name was Cassandra. Everyone called her Cassie though. Cassie Henderson.”
“It’s a good name,” he says. “Don’t know much else I could say about her given the fact this my first time hearing about her.”
“She was the best part about me. My father was an alcoholic. His PTSD got the best of him. Never found help, never tried to get help. It took its toll on my mother and I. Cassie and her sister Hayley—”
“Wait, like the Hayley at the fort?”
I nod. “They were twins. My only friends. Cassie and I started dating in high school. The day we graduated, my father took me down to the recruiting office for the Army. I told him no. He whooped my ass pretty good that night. Even with his alcoholism, he was a tank. I never stood a chance.
I drove to Cassie’s house and passed out in her front porch. She knew it was my father. We both decided together to go to college. She knew that my father was going to hate that. I remember so clearly how afraid she was for me. I told her not to worry.
I’ve never regretted that choice. Not once. My dad died of liver cancer a couple months later.”
“How did Cassie die?”
I take a deep breath in and let it out through my mouth. “Hayley and her were in a car accident together. Hayley lived, Cassie didn’t.”
Aside from the occasional thunder, the house fell into a haunting silence. “We don’t have to talk about this,” Two says. “I don’t know why I’m prying.”
“No worries. It’s actually refreshing to talk about this with someone. Keeping things in doesn’t work well.”
“Yeah. That’s for damn sure.” He massages the center of his right palm with his thumb. “Is that how you ended up with the girl Hayley?”
“Yeah actually,” I respond. “She was hurting bad, but so was I. We went hiking and rock scrambling in the ‘Gunks by the Mohonk Preserve. That’s when the fires started. We had no idea what was going on in town.”
“You’re lucky,” Two says laughing. “I almost got my brains blown out by my dad.”
“One told me that.”
“My dad was one scary sonofabitch.” He cracks his neck and closes his eyes for a moment. I knew that look all too well—a memory flash. “I still don’t know why nobody said anything and got us out of there.”
“‘Cause they were all hoping someone else would. Believe me, I know.”
“The day the food went missing, he went down to the sheriff’s department to see what was going on—”
“You’re dad was a cop?”
“A deputy,” he responds. “He would’ve corrected you.” He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Anyway, he went to the station and when he came back, he was different. Savage even. It was like—”
“A switch flipped?”
“Yeah. How’d you know I was gonna say that?”
“I’m beginning to think it was a common thing with authority figures,” I respond. “Wanna know my theory?”
“Probably not, but go ahead.”
“I spoke with a couple other survivors out there. The general consensus was that this was planned—planned by our government.”
Two nods his head. “Makes sense. Get the people who hold power in our communities to lose it first. That causes chaos. Take all the food away. That causes desperation. Then, anyone else who doesn’t know how to survive—”
“They join the gangs.”
Saying my theory out loud made us both fall into a silence that not even the thunder could break through. If what I believe is true, then we are at the mercy of our government. There were a lot of questions that were left in the wake of all the destruction. If this was planned, why is it still going on? What is their ulterior motive? But more importantly, when will it stop?
“This is a screwed up world we live in, huh?” Two says, looking over at me.
“Damn right it is.”
A crack of lightning flashes through the windows illuminating the look of fear on Two’s face which I’m sure my own reflects as well. The thunder that follows is more comforting than the screaming thoughts in my head.
Georgia: June, 2017
“Bring the sights up as close to your eye as you can.”
“Won’t it kick back?” Georgia looks over at me past the butt of the her AR15. “Like the shotgun did?”
I chuckle. “No.” Her shoulder still sports the bruise from the butt of a shotgun colliding with her. “Trust me.”
She supports the weapon and brings her eye almost touching the beginning of the sights.
“Good. Now you see the circle? Focus just past that on the straight line.”
“Got it,” she responds.
“You wanna aim just above where that line ends. That’s where your target should be. Make sense?”
“Yes.” She takes a deep breath in and lets her finger slide to the trigger.
“Fire when ready.”
I plug my ears with my fingers and keep my eye on the metal can about fifty yards in front of us. The shot goes and the can bounces off its post. Georgia points the rifle at the ground and looks over at me with a huge grin across her face.
“You’re a natural, Georgia—”
“George,” she says. “I wanna be called George now.”
“Ok. My memory’s not that great so, you’ll have to correct me a couple times most likely/” I grab another can in my hand march it across the yard to the seventy-five yard post.
“So,” I shout across the yard. “Where’d you pick up the aim?”
“No where,” she responds.
“You’ve never shot a gun before?”
“Paintballs. I’ve shot a paintball gun before.” She clicks the safety on and places the rifle into its homemade stand.
“Oh come on,” I say in the silence that follows. “You can’t just say paintballs and then not tell what that means.”
“Well, can I know a story about you?” She fiddles with the drawstring on her sweatshirt without making eye contact with me. “Story for story?”
“I’ll try my best.”
“I ask first,” she says glancing up at me. I nod. “Why do you leave at night?”
The question stuns me. I thought for sure I was covering up my tracks well enough to hide my trips to the fort. I look up at Georgia and lean back against the overhang to the house. “You’re observant,” I laugh. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I leave to go to the fort.”
“I thought we were supposed to go out in pairs? And I thought night trips weren’t allowed anymore?”
“We are and they’re not.” A sigh escapes my lips as I look out across the backyard. “I’m going to honest with you, but what we’re talking about stays here alright?” She nods with a half smile. I take a deep breath in and lean against the wooden support to the awning. “I lost family members before I came here. My best friend was stabbed by a gang. They were, what we now call, wendigos. The fort took her and a little girl we rescued from a sporting goods store further downstate. But they wouldn’t let me in.”
“Why not?”
I shrug.
&nb
sp; Georgia frowns then, shakes their head. “Can I be honest?”
“Sure.”
“I’m glad you didn’t go there,” she says looking away from me. “If you had, I wouldn’t be learning to shoot. I’d probably be out there with my parents—wherever they are.”
Geese cry overhead as they fly across the backyard. It’s strange never seeing airplanes anymore. They used to fly so frequently over Pine Bush that a constant stream of white exhaust streaked the sky like scars. I’d give anything to be up there watching this all from a safe distance.
“I was in a paintball league.” Georgia’s voice draws me out of my thoughts. “My team was first in the country.”
“Paintball huh?” I say. “I only ever played once. It was at a party when I was seventeen. Got shot in the arm at point blank.”
“Ooo.” Georgia winces and rubs her arm. “That had to hurt.”
“I’ve got a scar from it.”
“Can I see?”
I lift the sleeve of my shirt out of the way to see the thick, dark pink scar from my gunshot wound. Georgia lets out a gasp and covers her mouth. “Well damn,” I say. “Guess this one took the old one away.”
“Is that a real gun shot scar?”
My mind flashes to running from the fort with Earl’s gang after me. I can still feel the fiery pain from the wound somewhere under all the scar tissue. I squeeze my arm to shake the memory out. “Yeah, it was from years ago.”
“When you lost your friend?”
I nod.
“Xavier! Georgia! Inside, now.” Nikia waves at us from the back door to the house.
“It’s George,” she grumbles.
“Looks like our shooting got cut short today.”
“Damn,” Georgia says. “Can we go again tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I respond.
She holds out a fist to me. I stare at it trying to recall what she wants me to do, but my memory just won’t cooperate.
“Fist bump?” she says, stretching out her arm further. “Don’t leave me hangin’.”
I do as she says, and a smile spreads across her face again. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.” She jogs off towards Nikia and disappears inside the house. I pick up the AR15 and jog behind her.
“Hunter!” I call out. He comes around the corner of the house barreling towards me.
“Seems like you made a friend,” Nikia says once I’m within hearing distance.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“She any good of a shot?”
“She will be.” I scratch Hunter behind the ear. A whiff of wet dog fills my nostrils. “You reek.”
“You can use the bathtub in my room if you wanna give him a good scrub down,” Nikia says covering her nose. “Actually, I insist.”
“Alright Hunter. Bath time.”
His ears go back, and his tail shoots between his legs.
“Looks like you’ll need back up this time.” Nikia cracks her knuckles and lifts Hunter’s front half. I grab his lower legs as he squirms to break free.
Nikia and I struggle to put him into the bathtub. After about ten minutes of fighting, Hunter gives up. I look over at Nikia and smother a laugh. She’s drenched from head to toe in water.
“You’re soaked too,” she says making eye contact with me and flashes a smile. “I think you look better that way anyway.”
“Thanks,” I laugh. I feel comfortable right now. My laughs aren’t faked anymore. Is this me moving forward or forgetting? Nikia smiles and jokes with me now. She hated me when I first got here, and she had every right to.
One’s voice pops into my head. Is this how she reeled Trenten in? But she told the real story. She told me what happened. She wasn’t trying to turn me into her next version of Trenten. We both had similar stories. She loved someone in the fort and so did I.
We scrub Hunter together, and with each passing second, my thoughts get louder. By the time she rinses Hunter off, I have a splitting migraine. I dry him off with a towel until the muscles in my hands are tired.
Hunter barks and sprints out into the main hall, sliding on the hardwood floors all the while.
“Xavier.” She waves her hand in front of my face. “You doing ok?”
“Yeah. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“You and me both.”
“Thank you for letting me use your tub.” I hang the towel over the curtain rod. “A lot easier than the shower.”
“I’ll bet.” We stand in an awkward silence until my skin feels like it’s crawling. “See you at dinner then.” She leaves in a whoosh which makes my migraine dissipate.
Am I really falling into a normal routine? Am I forgetting? I think back to when Hayley and Aisley’s were screaming inside my head. I can’t remember the sound of their voices anymore. I was laughing a few moments ago like everything was normal.
But everything isn’t normal. There a vicious people out there hunting us. What’s left of the people I know from before all this happened are just out of my reach. I have to remember them or else I’ll forget who I am.
Panic freezes me in Nikia’s bathroom. I want nothing more than to hear their voices now.
July, 2017
“My name is Xavier Rodriguez,” I say. “I am twenty-six years old. Roughly four years ago, the food went missing. I was camping with my best friend Hayley. I love her—”
A sting of guilt washes over me. I started this speech after One died. The only thing that keeps me grounded is saying my life out loud in the order everything happened. Stating things as facts. Believe it or not, I feel a little bit saner each time I recite it.
“Gang members in the woods took Hayley and drugged her. I saved her. We found Aisley. She was nine then—” A knock at the door makes me jump. Hunter responds with a half grunt, half bark noise.
Nikia pokes her head out at us. “Nice to see you have clothes on,” she says. Hunter trots over to the door and sits in front of her, tail wagging. “Good morning, Hunter.”
“Just getting ready.” I push myself from my bed and slip into my boots.
“Georgia is downstairs,” Nikia says handing Hunter a scrap of chicken. He takes it and runs back to the pile of blankets on the floor. “We’ll warm up the truck.”
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I respond lacing up my boots. She nods her head and shuts the door behind her.
I take in a deep breath and close my eyes. “We ran to a hotel close to Fort Ticonderoga where Hayley was stabbed by cannibals. I ran them both to the fort where they were taken from me,” I throw my jacket over my shoulders and zip it up to my neck. “I survived in the woods. I killed a lot of men and women without a second thought.
I found Hunter. He’s my best friend now. Nikia found me in the woods with him a year after losing Hayley and Aisley.
I stay at the house now. I broke while I was here. But now I’m living. The cannibals in the woods—we call them wendigos.
One was bitten by them at the hospital. He killed himself in the woods with my gun—” I clear my throat and brace myself against the closet.
That part is still raw. It hurts admitting it. I can still feel the branches of the trees whipping across my face as I ran toward him. I thought I would get to him faster. I didn’t think he would give up hope so fast. His blood was still warm by the time I reached him—but it was a clean shot. Straight into the side of his head and out the other.
Part of me thought I could save him. There was an exit wound, right? I applied pressure to his temples with the false hope that his heart would start beating again. That’s when the growling started.
They smelt it. They smelt the one thing that they survived off of for years and it woke them. I took the radio, his machete and my pistol and ran back to the truck; I closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see me leave him.
It was the first time someone died without my say so. I knew One was going to die. I had a shred of hope that some of the meds we collected would somehow keep him all right for a little wh
ile longer. Maybe just long enough to say goodbye to his brother and throw a fuck you to Nikia. I would’ve dealt with his death on my own terms. In my head, I would’ve been the one who killed him.
But he killed himself before I even got the chance.
I grip my bow and sling it over my shoulder along with my quiver. The strap to my tightens against my thigh and slip my pistol into it. Hunter sits behind me. “Ready to go today?”
He barks and bows, wiggling his tail all the while.
“Today’s important,” I say. “Today, you have to find birds for Georgia to shoot.”
He barks again and stands up straight.
I walk out of my bedroom door and allow him to trot out before shutting it. “She’s learning. So you have to be sure to stir them.”
He pants and trots down the stairs ahead of me.
“And Hunter,” I say once I reach the bottom.
He turns and tilts his head.
“No squirrel chasing.”
Georgia sits off on a bench near the swing set. Zachariah stands in front of her making wild gestures with his hands. Her laughter fills the backyard at a silent joke I can’t hear. He looks up in my direction and I wave. Both of them make their way towards me, still with smiles on their faces.
“‘Bout time you got up Xavier,” Zachariah says once he’s within earshot. “We thought you forgot about George’s lesson today.”
“Just needed to sleep yesterday’s run off,” I say cracking my back. “Mind if I steal your friend for a couple of hours?”
“Eh, I guess I don’t mind.” Georgia smirks and turns her face away from Zachariah toward me.
“We’re not going far today. Go get your hiking boots on though. You’re going to need them.”
“Ok,” Georgia responds. “Meet you out front?”
“Alright.” I watch her jog off towards the house until she disappears behind the back door. “So, Zachariah.”
“So, Xavier.”
“How’s target practice coming?”
“Not bad,” he responds. “Nikia said I’ve got the best aim next to George. Which is saying something isn’t it?”
I nod. “Been reading up on game?”
Painted Red Page 15
