by Tyler Lahey
“I mean, I’ve never hiked on it but…come on follow me. I think I can get us there.”
He shot a glance warily down behind him. Just there at a distance, appearing as a brown speck, was the field with the dead grass. Shuddering, he realized Tessa’s body was probably rotting in that grass. He gulped, feeling the sober thought settling on his fraying mind. He hated all of this.
“Just there. There used to be a little community of eccentrics that lived up here. Rich ones, not like the hillsmen, whatever they are.” He pointed ahead.
There was a clearing, which clearly used to be a lawn surrounded by trees. Now it was overgrown, as was the garden that flanked the structure. Its massive wooden deck loomed out over the hillside, and the modern house looked cut into the earth. Its two floors were all white-washed right-angles. They crept closer, stopping periodically to listen for any noises. The hillside was silent.
Liam cringed as his heavy boots thumped on the worn wooden planks. The back door, flanked by walls of solid glass, was slightly ajar. Harley frowned, and drew her small caliber black pistol. She went in first. The interior was sparsely furnished with modern black and white furniture.
Liam tapped her shoulder. There was a cutting board on the granite countertop, its accompanying knife glistening with fresh blood. The mangled carcass of a baby doe was sitting next to an open book.
“Stay calm. Turn slowly.”
Elvis stood in the living room in a trail of mud that jumped off the white carpet. His head was shaved close to the skull, and he wore a white apron. He lowered his weapon upon seeing their faces, but he did not smile. Liam found himself smiling for the both of them; it was good to see his friend alive. Harley yelped joyously and embraced him like a long-lost friend. Elvis’ arms stayed as his sides. His expression was grave. “No one followed you?”
“No, Elvis, we’re alone,” Liam said.
Harley was ecstatic. “I can’t believe you’re alive! Oh my god what are you doing here?”
Elvis broke off her needy grip and slapped a cut of meat onto the granite. “I’m doing my own thing.”
Harley moved closer to him. “But Elvis, you saved those people. Duke, Wilder, Adira. They’re alive because you drew those infected savages off.”
Elvis sniffed, and began to saw into the raw meat. “Those people aren’t infected like the others.”
Liam’s brow furrowed. “How do you know?”
Elvis stopped cutting, and he raised a stony gaze. “Why didn’t you say Tessa?”
“Elvis, the others, they-“
Liam cut Harley off. “She’s dead. She died in that field. But it’s not your fault. And Harley’s right. The others owe you their lives, and they would be up here today if they weren’t…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t want to talk about Terrence’s crime yet.
“Elvis, you have to come back with us.”
Elvis shook his head. “Not going to happen.” The sawing motion resumed.
Liam tried to catch his friend’s eye. “What do you mean? You can’t stay up here. People think you’re dead.”
Elvis shrugged again. “So tell them I’m not. Or don’t. I don’t care.”
Liam felt that ambivalence infuriating, and it was not something he was used to seeing from his friend. Gone was the goofy confidence, the polished look, the artificial swagger.
“Elvis, Tessa didn’t die because of you. Is that what you think?”
“No. I did all I could, and I know that.” He paused. “But it’s not enough.”
“Not enough?”
Blood was spraying the pure white apron with rhythmic ease. Liam found himself transfixed.
“Not enough to pay for…for my sin. I don’t want to deal with it all. With you all. I want to be alone, up here.”
“Your sin? What the fuck are you talking about?”
The knife clattered on the floor. “My transgression! My crime! My affront to morality!” He was breathing hard. “Whatever you want to call it.”
Harley looked crestfallen. “You know you can trust us, right? With anything? We’re your friends, you know.”
Elvis eyed her up and down. But it was not sexually, Liam noticed. It was an appraisal. An appraisal of her worth to him. Elvis sniffed again. “You are not my friend.”
She opened her mouth, but Elvis continued. “Perhaps you thought the sight of yourself would endear me to you once more. Perhaps you heard how brave I was or whatever they’re saying down there and it intrigued you. Maybe you just like the attention. I’m not sure. And I don’t really care. I can look at you, standing there, and tell you that despite your pleading, you no longer have an effect on me. I am numb.” He turned to Liam, “and I forgive you for stealing her from me.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
Elvis shrugged. “Now get out.”
Harley stood, motionless for a long eternity, before she left the way they came.
“I only ask one thing. Don’t tell anyone where I am.”
Liam regarded him with warm, regretful eyes as he felt the wall of cold air crash into his pale face. “I like the hair shaved. It suits you.”
And then Elvis was alone once more.
As they sped through the failing light on cracking roads darkened with swaying beams, Harley rose her arm to point. Liam could see even through the goggles. There was a shifting glint of metal on the eastern ridge, caught in the failing light. Something was coming into the valley.
…
Jaxton awoke in a little pool of his own drool, caught in his unkempt beard. His heart raced like it did every morning till he looked at Adira sleeping painfully beside him. As he always did, he listened to her breathing. He raised her light shirt and surveyed the dark bruising around her chest.
Her face was still badly swollen and discolored. Jaxton knew the lack of nutrients was not helping the healing process, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the school to hunt with the others. Duke and Wilder had faithfully brought them what little canned food they could find. He knew that Bennett was in the field, hunting. He would get it done. There was still hope.
Adira wheezed and her dark-rimmed eyes snapped open, stricken with panic. Jaxton laid his dry hands on her arm, and she relaxed slightly.
“Jaxton?” Lily was at the door of the room. He rose, sweeping his dirty brown hair out of his eyes. Lily was another who was always around to help. Jaxton owed her a great deal. Her huge, innocent eyes flicked to the cot. “How is she?”
“She’s…getting better, I think. Still the same issue with the breathing. I think her rib is cracked. I’ve been looking through the medical texts and I can’t tell if it’s going to heal on its own.”
“What did the two nurses say?”
Jaxton’s eyes floated wanly. “They barely started their pre-med tracks at school. They don’t know a damn thing about nursing yet. If you have an organic chemistry question they would be happy to answer for you.”
Lily smiled, nothing it was the first time Jaxton’s sarcasm had appeared in a week. “How is she, though, I mean actually?”
Jaxton gulped slowly. “She barely speaks sometimes. Never wants to talk about it. She wakes up constantly. She’s on edge all day and night other times…jittery, agitated. I don’t even think she could properly function if her body was healed.”
“Excuse me.” Adira’s hands gently pushed Jaxton aside. “Hi Lily.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go the bathroom Jax.” She said hoarsely without looking back.
“Does she need help?” Lily whispered.
“She’s getting better with it. It’s hard for her to squat over the bucket, and then just to dump the bucket is hard because of her ribs. She wouldn’t let me help at first, tried to get some of the other girls to. Now she tries to move alone.”
“Can I try to help her?”
Jaxton half-smiled ruefully. “You can try.”
Lily took a few steps, before looking back. “Are you ok, Jax?”
He raised his head, and wished he had shaved. “Of course.”
As the girl walked away, Jaxton ran through Adira’s ailments compulsively, muttering to himself. “She needs to cough and breath every hour. Prevent pneumonia. The lung shouldn’t collapse this late. Book said that. Something. Need antibiotics just in case. Just in case.” He slapped the upright text off a desk and clenched his fists in frustration. He bit his lip to stop from yelling. Adira could hear him, if he yelled. She didn’t need that. No, she didn’t need that. He took a deep breath and looked at the sheets. They were stained yellow. Sighing, he set off to bargain for another set.
…
Bennett crouched beside the smaller man. In total silence, Joseph raised his compound bow, notched with a razor tipped hunting arrow. Its brightly colored fletching would make it easy to retrieve. That was the point at least. They had lost several already in the mountains of dead leaves.
This one flew true. It punched through the hair, flesh, and bone of the scrawny deer just above the muscled neck, at a distance of twenty-five yards. The deer stumbled, denying the reaper a few more moments. Its struggle proved futile, however, as it crashed into a rotten stump and collapsed, lifeless.
The trio whooped and jeered, their elation carrying across the silent forest floor.
“Jesus what a shot! Fifth fucking try. God damn.”
Joseph grinned, his amicable features carrying it easily. “Fifth time is the charm then.”
Leeroy stood, “We could have had one on the first try if you let me use the rifle.”
Joseph laughed easily, the leaves crackling under his light boots. “We need to learn with the bows. The ammunition won’t last forever.”
“And winter is the hardest. You can’t sneak up on them. Isn’t that right?” Bennett joined in.
Joseph nodded his affirmation. “That’s what the books tell me. Jim Calhoun’s Bow-Hunting Manual from 2002 and the Outdoor Enthusiast’s Guide to Deer Hunting, 2nd Edition.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never hunted before. That was master class, Joseph.”
“He sings my praise! Oh ho!”
“Now the people will see us as saviors.”
“Rightfully so,” Leeroy added.
“Saviors. Who cares about that? We can all share this food now. That’s what matters,” Joseph said.
Bennett grinned. “Of course. Looks like all that prayer came to fruition.”
Leeroy snorted.
“God has blessed us.” Joseph said matter-of factly, and shrugged as they neared the fallen beast.
“I’m going to let that one slide, since you’re such a good shot.” Bennett said, still grinning. Nothing was going to ruin his mood today.
“Do what you want. I think my prayer lead us to this kill today.”
Leeroy chortled. “Look around you. The world has ended. There is no God.”
“Personally, I believe there is. Without any doubt, I believe there is.”
Bennett clapped the smaller man on the back. “Why is it without doubt? Give me a logical explanation then.”
“He can’t give you one. Faith is not logical.” Leeroy quipped.
Joseph smiled again, appearing to relish the opportunity. “Everything has a cause, does it not? Examine your world. The world around you. Everything that happens, everything you see, has a discernable cause. Correct? Logically, everything has a cause. Using the evidence of the world. Good. So let’s ask the question. Who created this tree? You would give me a scientific explanation, which would lead us back to the earth, which would lead to the galaxy, the universe, etc. There reaches a point where you have two choices. You can either accept the existence of an un-moving mover. Or you can accept infinity. Who made the universe? I would say God. The Un-moving Mover. I do so logically, knowing everything has a cause. At some point, logically, I know there has to be an un-moving mover. Something that just Is, and Was, and Will be forever. With no pretext. The alternative is ill-logical, based on the idea that everything has a cause. The alternative, is infinity. Someone made God. Someone made that thing that made God. Etc.”
“Jesus Christ. Sorry. But Jesus. I take it you have discussed this before.”
“It’s a popular argument among atheists.”
Leeroy held up his hand, and adjusted his glasses. “But infinity is a legitimate concept in mathematics. Infinity, as an answer, is not illogical.”
“But infinity is not a legitimate logical explanation to the question. Logically, considering everything has a definite cause, you MUST arrive at the conclusion of the un-moving mover.”
Bennett shrugged in exaggerated fashion. “I’ll give you this one Joseph. I’m feeling generous today.”
As they kneeled around the bleeding deer with matted hair, Leeroy held up his hand. “Wait.” He commanded.
A radio crackled. He spun around and tore off his back-pack.
Bennett crouched, his face a tightened mask. “You left it on?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Leeroy mumbled as his fingers danced over the controls. The trio craned in, willing themselves to hear a voice on the other end.
“Say again. Bennett, Bennett. Do you read? This is Lieutenant Agis.”
Bennett snatched the radio, his eagerness barely contained. “Lieutenant. Lieutenant. This is Bennett from Cold Spring. I read you loud and clear. Over?”
There was a long pause. “Bennett, Good evening son. We are inbound to your town. I say again, we are inbound to Cold Spring. Got a good group of people here real excited to meet up with you guys. Over.”
“We’ve been waiting for you for a week. Thought you guys were never guna show. Over.”
The radio cackled for three seconds before the voice came on again, confident and crisp. “Ran into some trouble on the road, over. Let’s limit the battery use though you copy son? What building should we make for?”
“You’re here now?”
“That’s right. Just entered the valley through an Eastern gorge.” Bennett couldn’t quite place the accent. It sounded straight out of a film.
“Oh, holy fu- I mean that’s great news. Make for the high school. How many of you are there?”
“We’ll see you when we see you. Over.”
Bennett could barely contain his excitement. He snapped off the radio. “This is it. This is where we start to re-build.”
For the first time since he met him two months prior, Bennett saw Leeroy grin. For no real reason at all, they started to laugh.
Chapter Eleven
“You should be out there. Just shave that filthy beard, wash your hair, and arm yourself. I’ll watch her, sir, I will.”
Jaxton knew his friend spoke the truth. But he didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want to put on a show. Didn’t want to navigate new relationships. Didn’t want to leave the room. He looked back, wistfully and mournfully, at the broken girl on the dirty cot. Adira had to be protected.
“I’ll stay with her until she heals. She won’t want to be left alone, Wilder.”
Wilder’s eyes were duller than when they had first met, Jaxton noticed. His fingers almost always rested on a leather holster with richly engraved leather. Jaxton put his hand on his shoulder, in gratitude he had people he could still count on.
“Jax.” Wilder drew closer, and his eyes burned. “I know, I know how fucked up this whole thing is. But this isn’t good for you. If you stay in here, who’s going to be the first to shake their hands?”
Jaxton stiffened, and withdrew his hand. “I don’t care about that right now. I expect you would understand that.”
“How many times have you told us of the need to be wary of them? We can’t let Bennett overtake us. I still remember how the government, the authorities abandoned Duke and I, in that sea of fire. We need-“
Jaxton cut him off, with his fists clenched. “And who would I trust her with? You? I remember charging you to watch Terrence. You failed me.” He looked back at Adira. “You failed Tessa.”
Wilder took a step back, his
mouth opening and closing mutely. His fingers stretched and compressed. Jaxton could hear his teeth grinding and knew he had been hit hard. A swift uppercut to his abdomen, but there had been no violence. “Ok then,” he muttered, and left Jaxton standing alone. Jax felt numb. There was a tiny pang of regret, but it flashed and disappeared in the roiling cesspool of his heart. He moved to the window.
“Is she ok?”
Jaxton turned once more, irritated. His annoyance lessened as he saw who had come to him. “She’s getting there. Day by day.”
Bennett nodded. “I came to tell you…I came to tell you I’m sorry. I should have been watching Terrence more closely too.”
Jaxton sighed. He wanted to lie down and sleep. “It was no one’s fault really. That he escaped. If anyone holds blame, it is my own men. I trusted them, and they failed me.”
Bennett bit his lip, but drew his shoulders higher. “They’re almost here.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Are you angry?”
Jaxton slumped into an old desk, far too small for his broad shoulders. “At this point, we could use the help.”
Bennett nodded. “If there’s anything you need, just ask. I’m sorry about…all this. Will you tell her I came by?”
Jaxton nodded, wishing he was alone again. And then he was.
Tiny snowflakes fell outside the window in a steady onslaught, little floating specks that beckoned nostalgia against a grey storm-curtain. He smiled, remembering winters past, as a child, in this very town. They would have been awoken before dawn by a distant phone call, and then the sound of their mother of father trudging up the stairs. In the darkness he would wait, heart fluttering from excitement. Could it be? The door was opened quietly, as if he wasn’t awake. Foolishness. He would leap up, and demand, “Snowday?”
The snow still fell, and the wind was still cold. But the fresh white coat that draped over everything in sight was poisoned. All along the driveway, the snow was dirtied and thrown aside by spinning tires. They left cruel dark lines, marring this apparition of purity from heaven. Their boots marred its perfection, and their hot, dripping exhausts tackled its fragility with ease. In that first snowstorm of the season, the numbers of survivors doubled in a single day.
