Wanderer (Book 2): Hunters

by Lincoln, James

  The night had fully taken the sky now. California sat on one side of the fire while I sat on the other. He tossed something he had been fiddling with in the fire.

  “We can’t keep searching like this,” California said.

  “What else can we do?” I said.

  “What if they’re not even out here?”

  “Then there’s nothing left.”

  “There’s a whole god dammed camp back there. We may have lost ours, but there are hundreds of people back there who need our help. We need to go back.”

  “If we go back, we’ll end up just like Charlie and Emily. Larson will take control and then we’re all fucked because God knows what he’s planning.”

  “What good are we out here? We may have trouble with Larson, but if we stay out here then there will be nothing left for us to go back to.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “What are you trying to prove out here?” he asked.

  “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said and stood up. “You’ve been trying to prove something this whole time. It’s why you’re doing this. But you don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself. If you want to prove something, then we need to go after the kid.”

  “After all that?” I said. “We don’t even know where the kid is.”

  “We know he’s out here and we can pick up on his trail. We know more certainly that he’s out here than the zombies because so far, we haven’t found shit on them. For all we know they’re heading north or south or anyway away from here.”

  “What if he’s dead?”

  “Then he’s dead, but at least we can bring closure to someone. Fix one of our problems.”

  I was going to say more but a noise behind us intruded into our conversation. We both turned our attention.

  “Coyote?” California said.

  “Maybe.”

  I listened closely and could here two distinct footsteps moving away.

  “Don’t move yet,” I said in a lowered voice. “It’s human.”

  California looked at me, but I kept my gaze fixated ahead trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness.

  California started to say something, but he was cut off by the person in the trees running away. We both chased after him into the night.

  I moved through the dark grey trees in the middle of a pitch-black abyss. I was trying to follow the noise of the running footsteps, but it was difficult to make them out over my own. The fire’s dim glow provided some light, but it was impossible to see anything until it was right in front of your face. It was too dangerous to keep pursuing. I stopped running.

  In the darkness I could only hear one person running away. California had decided the same thing I had.

  California and I had returned to the fire at the same time.

  “Alright we’ll go after the kid,” I said. “But not until morning. It’s too dangerous and he won’t get far tonight.”

  The smell of smoke greeted us in the morning. Someone had lit a fire nearby last night and now it had burnt itself out. Fifty yards from our camp we found the remains of what I assume was the kid’s camp.

  There was a smoldering fire ring in the center with a can of beans sitting next to it. On the opposite side of the ring was the motionless body of a dog. I remember now Emily telling us that she had gotten her brother a dog some years ago. He had done his best to feed her, but I’m guessing the fire at the house destroyed most of their food and now the dog was just skin and bones. The dog was curled up, so she most likely passed in her sleep.

  I looked around the ground and could see vague foot tracks around the fire that headed off toward our camp. I didn’t see any tracks leading back to his camp and just to my right was a bag with a jacket draped over it.

  I walked over to it and knelt down. I removed the jacket and looked inside the backpack. There weren’t any more cans of food, so the can next to the fire was the last bit of his food. Just on the other side of the backpack was another one of the bloody bandages. I picked up the bandage and could see the dried, brown blood that had completely soaked the bandage. Before it was even close to my face, I could smell the odor emanating from it. His wound was badly infected. If we didn’t find him soon, he would succumb to the infection before the elements, and that didn’t give him a lot of time.

  “We’re running out of time. If we do this, we do this now,” I said to California. He was staring at the dog. “I’m going to fix the tire.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to bury the dog.”

  I didn’t say anything else and ran back toward the camp.

  Our fire was still smoldering a little bit, so I grabbed one of the branches sticking out of the hot coals and examined the tip. It was still red hot, so I blew on that until it grew into a flame. Next I grabbed a can of starting fluid that was in the toolbox and sprayed the void of the tire and the bead of the rim.

  Eric had filled the tires with nitrogen which helps keep the pressure as the heat doesn’t affect it, which was nice since I placed the flaming branch close to the tire. The fire ignited the fluid and the tire snapped back into place. The tire would be low on pressure, but we could at least drive on it.

  I tossed the flaming stick over my shoulder and hastily picked up the camp and threw it into the toolbox.

  When I pulled up to California, he had already finished burying the dog and I could see he had the collar in his hand, the metal name tag reflecting the sun light. He hopped through the open window and we were off again.

  It was a moonless night. We were stopped on the ridge above the field with the black SUV in the center. California had spotted the kid walking toward it at about dusk. The kid crawled into it and hadn’t left since. We kept constant surveillance on it to make sure he hadn’t snuck away. We gave him a few hours to fully fall asleep before we snuck up on him.

  This was our one chance to nab him and if he slipped away during the night there was a good chance he would not make it until morning. Once we had decided it was go time, I slid the gear shift into neutral and the truck started to silently roll down the ridge toward the SUV.

  California guided me through the trees with the night vision binoculars because I left the lights off. The truck passed into the field and approached the SUV. I eased on the brakes and stopped about ten feet from the SUV.

  As quietly as we could we pulled ourselves out of the truck. The rocks crunched underneath our feet as we stepped forward. It was extremely quiet in the field, almost as if the sound had been sucked out of the world, yet something felt wrong.

  I made a noise that signaled California to stop and I listened to the silence. Then as if the world was suddenly shifted to the negative side, light flooded into my eyes, blinding me. I raised my hands to my eyes to shield them from the light.

  I heard the back door of the SUV open. Stumbling I made my way around back and through the purple and green I could see the kid running off into the dark. Then I heard the truck roar to life. The lights mounted on the truck flooded the darkness of the field and I saw the kid disappear into the woods. California gunned the engine and the truck headed after the kid.

  “California!” I yelled, but it was no use, even if he could hear me over the engine he wasn’t going to stop. I started to run after him.

  The cold air burned my lungs as it flooded in and out. My vision slowly returned as the sun crested over the distant ridgeline. Sunrise started to turn the black void into a dark shade of blue. I did my best to follow the sound of the truck, but it was getting further and further away.

  I tried to dodge the various trees and branches protruding into my path, but I was getting hit in the face pretty regularly.

  The sun suddenly crested through the trees and I could see much more clearly. All of a sudden, I heard a loud snap echo through the trees.

  I stopped immediately. It was silent again and then there was a loud crash and a weird staccato ringing of other objects raining down. This repeated
itself three or four times until finally, there was another loud bang and a scraping sound until it suddenly stopped. I stood frozen for what seemed like forever. I didn’t want to see what had caused that barrage, even though in my mind, I knew.

  The forest floor eventually gave way to an odd single line of trees that were perched on the edge of a cliff. In the center was a large gap. The trees that had previously occupied that spot were snapped off at various heights and I could see the tire tracks leading right up to them. My heart didn’t beat at all as I ran up to the edge of the cliff, I didn’t want to see how bad it was. Clouds of dirt were starting to rise up from the cliff face like it was a large cauldron.

  When I got to the edge of the cliff, I couldn’t see the bottom from all the dust, so I had no idea how steep it was.

  “California!” I yelled. There wasn’t an answer, but I don’t think I was expecting one.

  There was a single quiet bang that found its way through the dust. I needed to get to the bottom of the cliff and hoped it wasn’t too steep. Pulling the scarf around my neck up over my mouth and nose I headed down the cliff face and into the dust.

  About halfway down the cliff I came across a large crater in the cliff face, this was most likely where the truck hit on its way down. For the rest of the way down I noticed pieces of the truck strewn about the cliff side. Luckily, or unluckily, I didn’t notice California anywhere.

  It only took me a few minutes to traverse down the cliff. By the time I reached the bottom the dust had settled, and I could see the chaos of the crash.

  The birds didn’t seem to care that anything was going on here because they were continuing on with their morning songs. The truck was lying upside down in the middle of an outdoor basketball court. The court itself was part of a school’s sports area.

  Directly in front of me was the school itself. The building was painted a grey and blue and blended in with the bleak surroundings. It seemed to be relatively untouched by nature as compared to the rest of the world.

  I recognized the surroundings, the kid’s house was just beyond the school, a short walk from here. I could see that a door leading into the school was left ajar. If the kid had led the truck down here, I would bet that he went into the school. He would have to wait, however, because I needed to check on California.

  The impact had bent the driver door open somewhat and I had to pull the door open the rest of the way, its metal scraping the asphalt as I did so. California was still strapped into the front seat, his arms dangling on the roof, blood pouring from his forehead. His goggles had fallen around his face. I knelt down next to him.

  “California?” I said.

  He didn’t answer. He was still unconscious. I couldn’t leave him upside down like that.

  “California, if you can hear me, buddy, I’m going to get you out of there.”

  I reached in and located the quick release latch around his lap. Positioning myself to catch him when he fell, I twisted the latch. All of his weight was suddenly in my arms. I wasn’t ready for it and his weight pulled me into the cab of the truck. His shoulder hit the roof of the truck and he rolled onto his back. Repositioning myself I reached under his arms and pulled him out.

  “Jesus, you’re heavier than you look,” I said.

  I propped him up against the side of the truck and went to look through the toolbox. Not knowing what was in the school I was going to need one of the rifles, if it wasn’t thrown out of the truck.

  On the other side of the truck the toolbox was still attached, and the lid was still closed. I tried opening it, but it was jammed. I stood up and kicked the door with all the force I could muster. It took half a dozen kicks, but the latch finally gave way and the lid fell open spilling all of its contents on to the ground. The two rifles were under all of the straps and parts. I heard California moan from the other side of the truck, so I quickly grabbed the riffles and ran over to him.

  I leaned the rifles against the fender of the truck and knelt down next to California. He was slowly coming to and he was rolling his head back and forth trying to get his bearings. I placed my palm under his chin and lifted his head up to look into his eyes. He was looking around confused. I tried to get him to focus on me.

  “Look at me,” I said. His eyes went to mine. “You okay?”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You crashed the truck. Knocked you unconscious.”

  “The boy?”

  “Alive. I think.”

  California looked toward the school. The birds that were once chirping had stopped.

  “I’m going in after him,” I said.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No,” I said.

  California didn’t say anything.

  The outside doors to the school opened pretty easily considering how much time they had sat unused. They looked like they had been pried open long ago, probably from the early days when people were just trying to survive. I peeked inside before entering to make sure we weren’t walking into a trap.

  I heard something behind me and turned to find California standing there.

  “You know I never listen,” he said.

  The hallway was dark. To my left was a door into what I thought was a classroom, a small sliver of light escaping from underneath the door and into the hallway. At the end of the hallway was another door and to the left of that looked like another hallway. I turned to California and motioned for us to go in silently.

  We both flicked on the flashlights on the end of our rifle barrels which offered a little respite in the dark hallway. I had my light pointed down the hallway as I passed the first door on our left and paused. Without breaking my line of sight, I raised my left arm and motioned for California to check the classroom. He quietly opened the door while I watched toward the end of the hallway. Two seconds later I heard the same door click shut and he was again at my side. We continued.

  One slow step at a time we made our way down the hallway, always keeping our attention on the intersecting hallway approaching. The door at the end of the hallway now appeared to be two separate doors. One of them was an elevator, and the other some sort of supply closet that was ajar ever so slightly.

  I was scanning the floor with my flashlight when it passed over something. I had to double take and come back to it. A small black object was lying in the middle of the floor about six feet from the door at the end of the hall. I locked my gaze onto it and headed straight for it.

  As I knelt down, I could now see that it was a holster for a pistol. I reached out to pick examine it. It was dirty, but it wasn’t the same dirt that covered everything here in the building. No, it was fresh dirt. The holster had recently been dropped here because there was still a layer of dirt underneath it and as I traced its origin with my flashlight, I could see scrape marks scored into the dirt from where the kid had tossed it.

  I placed the holster back on the ground and raised my flashlight up to the crack in the door ahead of me. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the reflection of his eyes in the blackness behind the door. They appeared like floating orbs, fireflies dancing in the darkness, but slowly faded away. I quickly raised my hand for California to stop. He did. I knew the kid thought that I couldn’t see him, so I didn’t want to startle him, and I didn’t want California charging in there either. I pointed for California to head down the stairs. As he did, I approached the door.

  There were some items blocking the door, but it opened with ease as I’m sure the kid had already moved the objects, whatever they were. As I had witnessed from the hallway the room was completely black. To my left was a faint triangle of light, most likely coming from the classroom we had passed when we entered the building. I scanned the room with my flashlight looking for where the kid might be hiding. The room was filled with large black storage boxes. There was really only one logical path to take so I followed it into the room. Even with my flashlight the room felt like a black hole. The beam appeared to just disappear toward the back as if w
e had just walked into the vacuum of space. I was transfixed with the void when I felt something hard, with enough force as a battering ram, crash into my side.

  The blackness was already disorienting and then to have the wind knocked out of me I felt like I had just downed a large bottle of vodka. Whatever it was smacked my rifle out of my hand too and it went spinning into the darkness, further adding to my disorientation as the flashlight spun around. I felt myself lose my balance and fall onto the towers of black boxes. Only instead of feeling the hard, sharp corners of the boxes I felt something warm and soft, the kid.

  The rifle had landed a few feet from us and the light was illuminating everything in our direction. I could finally see his face.

  He wasn’t much younger than Emily and I could see that they had the same eyes, only his were filled with years of torment and despair. They were old eyes and had seen much. Much more than a kid his age should have to see or experience.

  I looked down at his arm and saw just how dire the situation had become. He had a wound extending from his shoulder to his elbow that was inches deep. The skin had started to turn black and was extremely infected. If we didn’t get him back to camp soon, he was going to die from that wound. Exposure and the zombies were the least of his worries.

  He pushed me off of him and started to fight me. I could feel the desperation in his strength. He had no idea we were here to help him, and he would do anything to get away. He had been hiding and on the run for the last few days in fear of us, there was no way he was going to listen to us, and I had no choice. I punched him in the face. He stumbled back an froze, stunned. His hand was covering his face where I had punched him.

  I didn’t know what to do. I felt like a parent whose kid was about to cry because they had just injured themselves. I took a step forward when all of a sudden, he lashed out with his left leg and made contact with my chest. I heard a quiet snap coming from his leg and I knew he had broken it. I fell back into the boxes, the air once again stolen from my lungs.

  “Wait,” I tried pleading with him as I regained my footing.