The Dead_Wilds Three

by Donna Augustine

  “We’re not going to be able to save them. The disease will eventually get in here.”

  I spun back to Dax from my search for a pencil. “Then we go to the Skinners. I know they have a cure.”

  “Dal, we’re not going to be able to stay here at all. This is going to be a problem.”

  “We have to. You’re not making sense.” Where the hell was Bookie? I didn’t need nos right now. I needed Bookie’s optimism.

  “We can’t.” He crossed the room, coming closer to me, and then stalled, as if he decided it was best to give me space. “The cases are too close. I don’t know how many, but someone around here is going to get sick and you’re going to get blamed.”

  I was shaking my head before he finished speaking. “No. You’re wrong. I’ve been here for a while. They know I’m not contagious.” They were over it. I’d barbecued with these people. I’d shared shots of whiskey. I even had a bag of sexy books. You didn’t share those unless you liked someone. They wouldn’t turn on me.

  “Dal—”

  “You’re wrong.” I turned away from him, looking for even more space. “You’re right about a whole lot of stuff, but about this you’re wrong. Very wrong. These people like me. They really like me.” I’d seen it in their expressions and heard it in their laughter at my jokes. I was solid with these people. He just didn’t understand because he didn’t hang out with them the way I did. They were still cautious around him so he didn’t see who they were, how they were good people. “It’s not like at the farm where they only tolerated me.”

  He leaned a shoulder against the wall, as if he’d decided that he didn’t have the energy to pursue me. “The farm is different. That whole area is. They’ve seen more of the Bloody Death. These people haven’t. There hasn’t been an outbreak around here since most of these people were born. Outbreaks change people. I’ve seen it enough times to know. Once they get scared, they aren’t going to be the same.”

  “But you don’t know them, haven’t seen their memories like I have. These people are better than most of the people you’ve met.”

  “No. They aren’t. They’re just more sheltered.”

  “Stop acting like you know everything.” Why was he saying these things to me? Was he trying to drive a wedge between these people and me? He’d dragged me here when I hadn’t wanted to come and I’d made the best of it. It was almost starting to feel like I belonged, and now he wanted to yank me from here.

  “We’re going to have to leave.”

  “Is this about Rocky? Is that why you want to leave?”

  “Dal—”

  “No. I’m not leaving without a reason. We couldn’t stay at the farm, and I understand that, but there’s no reason we can’t stay here. You’re just trying to make me want to leave. That’s why you don’t want me to go to the Skinners, because it’s too close and I’ll come back here. You want me to go chasing after the people you want to get.” I shook my head and crossed my arms. He wasn’t dragging me out of here because of some crazy notion. He’d have to kill me first.

  I thought those words would make him angry, but he didn’t look mad. I wasn’t sure what I saw there as he said, “Blame me if you want, but it’ll be easier for you if we leave now.”

  “You need to have a little more faith in people. They’re not going to blame me.”

  “For your sake, Dal, I hope I’m wrong.”

  He was staring at me like the weight of the world was about to hit my shoulders and I didn’t see the crash coming from above.

  “Stop doing that. Looking like that, like you feel bad for me. I don’t need you to. Everything is good here.”

  “I hope you are right. I’ve never wanted to be wrong as much as I do right now.” He walked out the door.

  7

  It was still dark out but the birds were chirping when Dax stepped into my room. He didn’t need to knock, as I never shut the door anymore. It helped me listen for noises throughout the house when I was doing my morning inventory.

  He leaned against the doorframe and I sat up.

  “I’m leaving in an hour. I need to find out how bad it’s getting out there.”

  “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked. It was a perfectly normal question. I did live with the man.

  “Few days, maybe a week, depending on what I find. I want you to come with me.”

  “I need to stay here.” These people wouldn’t know what to do if the disease came close. They’d need me.

  “Rocky is coming with me. I don’t want you going out a lot while I’m gone. Stay inside, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, and just stay out of sight. If someone gets sick, I don’t want you to be the first thing they lay eyes on afterward. As long as you stay inside, you’ll be fine. Tank will be here to back you up, but I don’t think it’ll go bad that quickly, and I’ll be back soon even if it does.”

  “Nothing will happen quickly because they aren’t going to get sick, and even if they do, they won’t turn on me.”

  “Here,” he said, walking over and laying a gun on the table beside my bed, as if I hadn’t just told him I was fine. “Make sure you keep this with you. If someone threatens you, shoot them.”

  “What if I’m not sure they’re threatening me?” I asked, imagining myself waving the gun through the community.

  “Shoot them anyway.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “I’m not. I won’t be gone long. Stay close to the house.”

  He paused, standing beside me for a moment.

  “We should talk when I get back.”

  I knew what he wanted to talk about. I nodded, not looking at him now, as I didn’t want him to see my skin ten different shades of red.

  * * *

  “Fudge? You up?” I whispered as I walked into her house just as the sun was starting to rise.

  A yawning Fudge walked out of her bedroom. “Bookie ate the last of the roast before he went to go check on a pregnant foal, but I think I’ve got some cornbread you can snack on while I fry up some bacon and eggs,” she said as she moseyed on over toward the kitchen.

  “Did I wake you?”

  She waved a hand at my comment. “No. There are plenty of other things waking my old bones, including Dax stopping by before he left.” She went to open a cabinet and grabbed a plate for me.

  “Fudge, I’m not here for food.” It was understandable that she’d think that, though, since I was almost always looking for food.

  But maybe… “I wouldn’t mind a piece of the cornbread if you’ve got it while we chat.”

  “Tea?” she asked, pulling out the kettle and filling it with some water from the pitcher. The Rock had a pretty good setup, but not quite as good as the farm, and the running water wasn’t always reliable.

  “Honey?”

  “Got a new jar yesterday.” Honey was in high demand, but Fudge had already maneuvered her way in to the good graces of several of the honey collectors.

  A few minutes later, I was settled on the couch next to her with a mug of hot tea warming my hands. A piece of buttered cornbread on a plate rested on my lap as I watched the sun rise with Fudge, while Bookie and Tiffy still slept in the other rooms.

  “Dax thinks it might get bad. Are you scared?” Fudge asked as she sipped her tea beside me.

  “No. Not for me, anyway. I’ll be fine.” Somehow I always was. It was always the people around me that didn’t fare so well. “Are you?” I asked.

  “I’ve had a good life. If I die, I’m okay with that. But I worry.”

  “Dax thinks I’m going to need to leave here.”

  “Dal—”

  “No. They’re going to be fine,” I said. The way she’d spoken my name had said it all. But just like Dax, she hadn’t spent as much time with these people.

  She patted my shoulder and said, “It’ll work out.”

  It was one of those things people said to you when they didn’t know exactly how it would work out. Burned at the stake was a way of things working o
ut too. Just not a good way.

  I got to my feet, avoiding her gaze. “I gotta go.”

  “Wait, you don’t want bacon?”

  “No. I’m full,” I lied. “I forgot about something I told Dax I’d do. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” My feet couldn’t take me back to the house fast enough.

  8

  “They’re looking at me funny, Bookie.” I threw my stone across the lake’s surface and watched as it did a perfect skip before disappearing. “Or maybe they aren’t? Dax planted this seed in my head before he left a few days ago, and now I’m imagining it everywhere, with every look or greeting.” I turned to see if I’d lost Bookie to boredom yet.

  Not only was he paying attention, he seemed to be concentrating on my words. I’d been talking about it for a solid half an hour, and it was a subject that didn’t even deserve a mention. Damn Dax for making me see shit that wasn’t there.

  “Even if they were, and I’m not saying that they are, it’ll be okay. They’ve heard the rumors, is all. They know why Rocky left with Dax. They’ll calm down after they realize they’re safe.” He threw a stone, and I watched it do one halfhearted bounce and then sink like the stone it was.

  “So you think they are looking at me funny too?” Was Dax right?

  “I just told you that I wasn’t saying that.”

  “But you do?” He gave the shrug of the noncommittal, the one people do when they don’t want to lie to you but don’t exactly want to tell you the truth either. So maybe Dax was right. Just rumors of the sickness nearby and already this was what things were coming to.

  “When I was walking over to meet you here this morning, Carmine and Angela were walking my way. They saw me and waved but then they turned around. I told myself it was just a coincidence, that they realized they were heading in the wrong direction, but now I don’t know. Maybe it’s not in my head. Maybe Dax was right.” I grabbed a blade of grass by my hip and toyed with it between my fingers while I hoped Bookie would tell me I was crazy. But he was an optimist, not delusional, so my hopes weren’t too high.

  “Even if they did, it doesn’t matter.” He threw another rock, but harder this time. This one didn’t even have a chance of skipping.

  I was doing it again, dragging him into my messes. It was so hard not to, though. He was my Bookie, my best friend.

  “Who gives a fuck what they think anyway? That’s what I’m saying. You’re a tough woman who’s been through a lot and is still kicking ass. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Even if they all start running away screaming, you’ll always have me,” he said, trying to drum up a little laughter.

  I bumped my shoulder back into his. “I will, right?” I asked, even though I knew I didn’t have to. Bookie would be there for me no matter what. He always was. He was the closest thing I’d ever had to family. And every time I thought of taking a step back from him, getting him out of harm’s way, which was nowhere near me, where he might catch a stray bullet, I turned around and clung even tighter. It was selfish, but I just couldn’t walk away from him yet.

  With Bookie, I didn’t have to pretend to be anything, because for some crazy reason he thought I was great as is. He didn’t want to change me or make me into anything. Even though I had visions of grandeur, it was nice to be with someone who didn’t think I had to become grand.

  “Always. You’re the Doxie to my Moobie,” he said.

  “I’m not having this fight with you again. I’m Moobie and you’re the sidekick.”

  He nodded, but I realized I was laughing alone. “Bookie, you okay? You look a little green around the gills.”

  “I was in the stables pretty late last night, is all. Damn foal didn’t want to come out. Just tired.”

  As I watched, a single drop of blood trickled down from his nose. “Bookie…”

  The world froze around me as his hand came up to wipe away the moisture he felt above his lip.

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Bookie.” In that single calling of his name, years of terror came out.

  “Dal, I’m fine. Really,” he said. “It was one drop. People get bloody noses all the time. It means nothing.”

  But it wasn’t one drop—I watched a second drip down. It wasn’t nothing.

  His hand went back to his face, and I could see that even he wasn’t so quick to dismiss it now. He didn’t say anything as we both realized what might be happening. This was the very first sign of the Bloody Death.

  He was sick. I knew it in my gut. The people around me always disappeared. Why was I so foolish to think Bookie would be different? Just like Bert at the trader hole had looked at me, I was death, and if you stayed near me, it was only a matter of time.

  But please, not Bookie. No. I wouldn’t let him go. I shot to my feet, scanning the Rock for a particular face. “Where’s the doctor? Do you know where he is? We need to get you help.”

  He stood up beside me. “Dal, I’m…”

  I thought he was going to say fine, but he didn’t finish the sentence. His face contorted as if he were trying to hold back a scream as the pain, the second sign of the Bloody Death, hit him. Everyone knew first came the bloody drip, then the pain.

  He reached an arm out to me, looking for support as he stumbled on his feet.

  “I need you to help me get back to your house,” he said, his breathing ragged. “I don’t want the others to get near me. If this is the Bloody Death, you’re the only one with immunity.” I knew Tiffy would be okay, but I didn’t bother telling him. There was still Fudge and Tank to worry about.

  I nodded, half listening as I looked around the place for help. “I need to get the doctor.”

  “Dal, help me get inside first.”

  “But we don’t have much time.”

  Bookie grabbed my wrist, stronger than he looked capable of at the moment. “You have to get me inside. Don’t go for the doctor. Don’t tell anyone.”

  I hadn’t seen the Bloody Death in action, but his brain was already going. In the Cement Giant we’d been sheltered from it, but everyone knew how it went down. “Why?”

  “Because you’ll be blamed for this and it’s too late for me anyway.”

  “People survive. I did.”

  He was shaking his head. “I won’t. Dal, I’m already dead. Do this last thing for me.”

  I nodded and slung his arm over my shoulder, having no intention of doing any such thing, but he was having trouble walking from the pain. I had to get him to a bed and then I’d get the doctor. This was not going to happen. I wouldn’t let Bookie die. Not him.

  By time we were on our street, we’d been spotted by too many people to keep it a secret. There was a trail of blood running from Bookie’s nose and down to cover the front of his white shirt. Not that I gave a shit anymore what anyone thought. The earlier discussion with him seemed like a pathetic waste of time now that his life was at stake.

  I saw Tank as I neared the house.

  His steps immediately faltered at the sight of Bookie. “Is he… Does he have…”

  I watched the horror flicker over Tank’s expression before he got his emotions in check.

  Tank took a step forward and then one back, as if he couldn’t figure out whether he should be helping or running the other way in fear for his own life. I didn’t begrudge him his hesitancy. Most people would’ve just run from the first sight of us.

  The only thing Tank would achieve by getting closer was to give me another body to care for anyway. I didn’t want to waste one iota of attention on something other than Bookie, because he was going to need me if he was going to make it.

  “Stay back,” I said, as much for him as for Bookie and myself. “Don’t come back to the house. I’m going to bring Bookie there and stay with him. I need you to find the doc and send him over.”

  Tank nodded.

  He lifted his hand toward Bookie where I was struggling to move forward toward the door again. “Do you need help getting him in?” he asked.
>
  “No. I’ve got him. You’re better off staying clear. Keep Fudge and Tiffy away from here as well.”

  Another nod and he took off, hopefully to go find the doctor.

  I made our way inside, barely getting him to the bed before his legs gave out. I looked at the clock and thought about everything I’d ever heard or knew about the Bloody Death, including my own hazy memories. Seventy-two hours. That was all I needed. If he could make it past the next few days, he’d be like me, a Plaguer. It might not be the most enviable thing in the world, but he’d be alive, and that was all I cared about.

  There was a rap at the bedroom window and I looked up to see Tiffy’s face. I leapt off the bed where I’d been kneeling beside him as I saw her test the window, and was grateful I’d locked it.

  “Don’t let her in here,” Bookie said.

  “Tiffy, you have to go back to the house.”

  “But I want to help you. Let me in.” Her small voice was muffled behind the glass that separated us, and I could see the beginning of tears as she looked in Bookie’s direction.

  “You can’t.”

  “But I can help. I won’t get sick.”

  The image of Bookie was already jarring, still bleeding and now tense with pain, and it was only going to get worse. But getting the kid to walk away was going to be tough, and there was only one thing I could think of that might work. “Tiffy, you need to stay with Fudge. You need to protect her, okay? Go back to the house and stay with her. She can get sick. If she tries to leave you, tell her you’re scared. Don’t let her come here. Tell her I said to stay away and that I’m taking care of him.”

  “But I can help.”

  “I can take care of him on my own. I promise you. But you need to take care of Fudge for me, okay?” She was hesitating, but I knew I had her, and her little head bobbed before she backed away from the window, wiping at the tears that were falling down her cheeks.

  I turned all my attention back to Bookie and then to the clock. Seventy-one hours and fifty minutes to go. “We can do this, Bookie.”