The Savage Road: A post-apocalyptic survival series (A World Torn Down Book 2)

by Rebecca Fernfield

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I thought it was supposed to be less dangerous out of the city,” Cassie says wryly as she looks across to Rick.

  “Me too!” he returns as he puts the bag of medicines down on the table. The kitchen is dark but for the torch that stands on the counter top casting it’s light up to the ceiling. He’ll have to call for one of the others so that he can see better when he’s ready. Reaching into the bag he pulls out a canister. “Hmm,” he murmurs as he reads the label, ‘Spray on Plaster’, ‘Antiseptic on application’. “Useful.” He digs in again and holds his findings to the light: large sterile wound dressings and packets of pain killers. “Finn did good,” he says as he digs again into the bag.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Looks like she got what we need to treat that wound,” he replies and opens one of the small packet of painkillers, popping out two small pills. “Take these,” he says crossing the floor grabbing a bottle of water from the counter. She looks up, smiles and takes the pills. He watches as she swallows. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” Cassie returns with a groan.

  Rick walks to the door and calls down the hallway. “Dan! Can you come here, please? Bring one of the torches.”

  “Sure,” he calls back from the living room where the children are gathered. Rick hears movement and a wail of ‘it’s too dark’ as Dan leaves the room.

  “Don’t worry,” Lina says. “We’re together. Rick will need the extra light to help Cassie.”

  The noise settles and Dan walks in through the kitchen door, his face grim, the light from his torch shining over Cassie. She sits still in a wooden chair pulled up to the huge scrubbed pine kitchen table. The short bolt sits firm in her flesh, its metal fletching sticking out from her shoulder. From this angle, he can see the tip sticking out through her back, a nose of spiked metal.

  “Cassie, we’ll need to take that shirt off,” he says quietly as he steps towards her. “I think we should cut it.”

  “Cut it! No. I’ve only got this and the other one you picked out for me at the shop.”

  “We’ll be able to get more,” Dan soothes as Rick passes him the large kitchen scissors. “Me?” he questions.

  “Yeah,” Rick returns. “I thought … it would be better if you cut them off … you’re her husband.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake. I’ve got a bolt stuck through my shoulder, I’m not going to get squeamish about a man who’s not my husband cutting off my shirt. I’m going to be half-naked anyway.”

  “Calm down, Cassie,” Rick chides.

  “Sorry,” she returns. “I’m tired and in pain.”

  “Hey, no need to apologise,” he soothes again. “If you’re sure, then I’ll cut it off myself,” he continues stepping forward, “unless … Dan, do you want to?”

  “No,” he returns. “I’m OK holding the light.”

  “Fine. You ready, Cassie?”

  “Yes, please, just cut it off and pull this thing out of me!”

  Rick steps behind her, scissors in hand, and takes hold of the shirt’s lapel. She tenses. “It’s OK, this won’t hurt.”

  “No, but the rest will.”

  He doesn’t answer as he cuts through the fabric, careful as he works close to the bolt, until it falls away leaving her chest and shoulders bare, the light illuminating her tanned skin, one cup of her lacy bra stained dark with blood. He peers closely at the wound. It is puffed and angry around the bolt’s entrance and at the back the metal tip points out by about an inch.

  “You’re lucky,” he says as he scrutinizes the metal spike.

  “How’d you figure that out?” Dan asks. “She’s got a bolt through her shoulder!”

  “Yes, she does, but it’s not one that has an arrow-style head.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we can just pull it back out. If it had an arrowhead on it we’d have to cut through the shaft,” he returns, irked by Dan’s questioning.

  “Oh,” Dan responds, peering down at the protruding rod. “Damn nasty looking thing though.”

  Cassie winces.

  “It is,” Rick replies, irritated. Didn’t the man know when to keep his mouth shut? “But, it won’t hurt too much when we take it out,” he continues, his voice soft as he catches Cassie’s worried frown. He walks back to the bottles and packets of medicine set onto the table, picks up the bottle of liquid antiseptic, and unscrews the lid. Holding his hands over the sink, he pours it over first one, then the other, and shakes them off before walking back over to Cassie. “This may sting a bit, Cassie,” he says pouring the bottle over the bolt’s entry point. She sucks in her breath as the liquid settles on her skin and seeps into the wound. He watches for a moment then repeats the process on her back.

  “I’m ready,” he says putting the bottle back on the table.

  “Good!” she says gritting her teeth.

  A wave of pity comes over him as he notices the paleness of her complexion and the dark circles beginning to spread beneath her eyes.

  “Get this thing out of me.”

  He bends over and reaches for the bolt and stops. “Dan. Come and hold Cassie’s hand. She’ll need something to grab onto when I pull this out.”

  “Sure,” he says, his eyes glued to the bolt as he pulls up a chair next to Cassie and offers up his hand. “Squeeze as hard as you like, Cas,” he says stroking her cheek with his free hand. She nods in return, her face set grim.

  “Ready?”

  She nods again and takes a deep breath.

  Rick reaches for the metal bolt, the fletching cool and hard against his skin. It is stuck firm and he’s undecided if he should just pull it out quickly or ease it out. He looks at Cassie, her eyes screwed tight against the coming pain.

  “What the hell is that on the wall?” he says, making his grip firmer around the bolt.

  Her eyes flash open and he pulls at the bolt with confidence. It slides out as she searches about the room, looking for the mysterious object on the wall.

  “Aagh!” she yelps.

  “It’s out,” he returns, standing, holding the bolt high. “Hah! I did it,” he says as Cassie groans.

  “Thank you!” she manages. “That was a dirty trick!”

  “Yes, it was,” he smiles down at her as she leans back in the chair. “But it worked. Like pulling off a plaster—it’s better if you just rip it off.”

  A knock and a small hand grips the door.

  “Is it over?” Celie asks as she pokes her head hesitantly around the door, her eyes wide. She squints then covers her eyes as Dan shines the light towards her.

  “Yes, Celie,” Rick smiles at the small child. “We got the bolt out and Cassie’s fine. She’ll be able to sleep now.”

  “Oh, good!” she says with relief and steps into the room. Another face appears behind her as Harry pushes in.

  “Let me see!”

  “Harry!” Celie complains as the boy pushes past and then stands in front of Cassie, staring at the hole speared into her shoulder.

  “Gross!” he says in admiration. “Does it hurt?”

  “A bit,” Cassie replies smiling up to him and pulling at the cut fabric of her shirt, covering her stained bra.

  “If I put my finger in it, will it go all the way through?” he asks as Rick reaches for a towel to wipe away the residue of antiseptic and dried blood.

  “Don’t be so gruesome, Harry,” Lina reprimands as she stands in the doorway, relief obvious on her face.

  “I guess it would,” Rick laughs as he peels open the packet holding a large sterile plaster, “but I don’t think Cassie would like that!”

  “I wouldn’t,” Cassie returns looking up at the boy and holding out her good hand to him. He takes it and stands closer to her, watching as Rick places the plaster carefully across the wound.

  “Sit forward for me, Cassie,” he says as he reaches for another plaster.

  “Garlic can help heal wounds,” Lina says as she steps further into the room, h
er gaze intent as Rick places the plaster over the swollen wound on Cassie’s back.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. My mum used to make it as a poultice to help with healing. You can’t leave it on for too long though.”

  “That’s good to know, Lina,” Rick says, smiling across to her though she doesn’t meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on the plaster he’s smoothing over Cassie’s skin. “We’ve got some antiseptic in a bottle, but when that runs out-” She stops, distracted by the growing noise from the living room.

  “What’s going on in there?” Dan asks and disappears out of the room.

  “There you go. Good as new,” Rick says as he surveys his handiwork. The plasters look neat, hiding the ugly holes in Cassie’s flesh.

  “Dan,” Cassie says as he steps back into the room. “Could you get me a clean shirt out of my bag. “I don’t want to sit here in my bra all ni-”

  Rick, alerted by her broken sentence turns round to look at Dan. He stands in the doorway a concerned and confused frown writ across his face.

  “What is it, Dan?” she asks.

  Celie, Harry and Lina all turn expectant.

  “Outside. There are dogs.”

  “Eh?” Rick questions. “And why is that a problem?”

  “Well, Kyle says one of them is the one that bit him!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Through the window, Rick stares down at the fluffy white dog sitting on the path outside the hotel whilst Kyle stands at his side, peering out from behind the lace curtains.

  “That’s the one, Rick, the one that bit me.”

  “How can you be sure? They all look the same to me.”

  “I wouldn’t forget those vicious eyes!”

  “Hah!” Rick laughs. “Vicious! It’s just a pup.”

  “A pup? Have you see what it did to my arm?” Kyle pushes his pale forearm in front of Rick. Dark wounds puncture the skin.

  “You should get some antiseptic on those,” he responds. “There’s some in the kitchen.”

  “Sure, but what are we going to do about that?” Kyle says jerking his head towards the dog.

  “Do? It’ll get bored and go away. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Rick’s right,” Finn adds. “You’re overreacting. The dog’ll go soon.”

  “It’s cute!” Celie says as she pulls back the lace curtain. “Can we give it some food?”

  “No way!” Kyle responds. “We’re not bringing that beast in here!”

  “Beast?” Harry adds with childish scorn. “What? You think it’s come to eat you?”

  “Well-”

  “Don’t be silly, kids,” Cassie says as she walks into the room.

  “Cassie! You should be resting,” Harry says with concern as he turns to look at her.

  “Don’t worry, Harry. I’m feeling much better now that the bolt is gone.”

  Relieved, he turns back to the window, and stares down at the dog. “It’s not doing much! Just sitting there staring up at us.”

  “It’s probably just hungry,” Celie adds. “Rick, can we feed it?” she asks again.

  “I’m sorry, Celie, but no. We haven’t got any food to give.”

  She looks back through the curtain. “Poor thing. I bet it’s just hungry.”

  “Yeah and the others too.”

  “Others?” Rick asks stepping back to the window and pulling back the lace to peer back out into the darkness. Movement across the road catches his eye and he watches as a large dog, an Alsatian perhaps, trots towards the small white dog. His eyes widen as another dog appears from the darkness behind it. This one squat and powerful with a broad head. A staffie!

  “Finn!” Kyle exclaims as he turns back into the room. “They’ve come to get me!”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Kyle!” she laughs then steps again to the window and pulls at the curtain. “Of course they hav-”

  “Rick?” Cassie questions from the back of the room. “Are there more dogs now?” she asks concern rising in her voice.

  “Yes,” he replies trying to keep his voice calm. “Yes, and they seem to be gathering.”

  ***

  “They’ve just smelt food,” Cassie soothes as she slowly walks across the room wanting to see the dogs for herself.

  “What food, Cassie?” Kyle turns to her, a look of expectant relief on his face.

  “There isn’t any food,” Finn responds. “They’ve smelt us!” she says in an alarmed whisper as Cassie reaches her. “I don’t want to scare the kids, Cassie, but do you think they’re here for us?”

  “No, don’t be silly,” she returns though a knot forms in her stomach as she peers outside the window. There are four dogs gathered outside all of them prowling up and down on the path outside the hotel. “Since when do dogs eat people?”

  “Since they’re starving!” Kyle returns.

  “Hmm, well … they seem to be waiting for something,” she says looking at the small fluffy one. “That one looks too cute to do any harm,” she says. “I had a friend who had one like that—she used to carry it around in her handbag—it wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Hah! Well that one tried to eat my arm. Look!” Kyle says thrusting his wounded arm under her nose. The light from the moon is enough for Cassie to see the dark puncture wounds against his pale skin.

  “Oh! That must’ve hurt,” she says sympathetically, trying not to let the anxiety that’s beginning to creep over her show in her voice. “Keep it clean and it’ll be OK,” she soothes. “Dan,” she says as her husband steps up beside her, “should we worry about that?” she asks keeping her voice low, aware that Celie and Harry are watching her. She smiles across the room to them as she waits for Dan’s reply.

  “I don’t know. They can’t get in here though, right?”

  “We can lock the doors and there’s a yard and long garden at the back, but if they wanted to get in then they could easily get over the fence as it’s only about three feet high in places further down the garden,” replies Rick.

  “We should move the bodies out back into the outhouse,” Dan suggests, “if that’s what they’re after.”

  “Do you think that’s what they want—the bodies?”

  “Of course!” Finn returns. “They want the bodies you moved outside.”

  “We should have put them in the outhouse,” Dan says frowning as he looks at the prowling dogs on the street. “Rick, shall we finish the job?”

  Rick groans. “I guess we should.”

  “Dan, are you sure?” Cassie asks, concern bubbling over.

  “Yes,” he replies smiling down at her and she’s thankful when he puts his hand gently on her good shoulder. “They’ll go away then and we can all rest,” he continues and leans in to kiss her. She accepts the warmth of his kiss and then watches as he walks with Rick to the door.

  “Are they going outside?” Harry asks, the worry in his voice strong.

  “Yes, Harry. They’re just going to make sure we’re safe.”

  “Then I’m going too,” he says squaring his shoulders and turning to follow them.

  “Harry! No,” she calls as he disappears through the door. “Stay with us.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “You don’t really think they’ve come for us, do you?” Dan asks as they step out into the moonlit yard. “We had big dogs when I was a kid - Great Danes and Wolfhounds - and they were just gentle giants. I can’t imagine them turning on people.”

  “It’s probably just the smell of these,” Rick replies as they reach the row of bodies, each wrapped in a makeshift shroud, lined up at the side of the yard. “We should have thought to put them into one of the brick outhouses.”

  “It was a hard enough job clearing them from the house,” Dan sighs. “I’m still aching from shifting them all downstairs.”

  Rick grunts in return.

  Irked, Dan bridles. “C’mon then. Let’s get them shifted,” he says and bends down to pick up the ends of the first sheet. He may ache, but he’ll show Rick he�
�s tough enough.

  “Let me check the shed’s unlocked first,” Rick returns, obviously irritated.

  “Can I help?” a small voice calls from the back door and Harry steps down into the yard. His eyes widen as he takes in the row of bodies and Dan is thankful they are all covered over with the sheets, glad he’d taken the time to cover each contorted and blackened face.

  “Harry! No, I don’t think so, at least not at the moment,” he replies. “They’re too heavy for you.”

  “But I’m strong,” he says walking over, “and I’m not afraid,” he continues, looking down at the row.

  “Let him help,” Rick replies as he returns from the shed. “We could do with a pair of strong muscles.” He grimaces as he catches Dan’s eyes. “The shed’s unlocked and there’s enough space to lay them in there.”

  Dan ignores the slight. “If you’re sure?” he presses Harry, hoping that dealing with the bodies won’t give the boy nightmares.

  “I’m sure,” Harry replies, but although his voice is confident, there’s a flicker of reticence in his eyes. “I had to help move the bodies back at the petrol station and at least these are covered over.”

  Dan smiles at his words, though a sadness waves over him. At any age, experiencing this kind of trauma would be bad enough, but for a ten-year-old! He clenches his jaw as the familiar pain gripes at him, the gnawing self-loathing that overwhelms him if he lets it take hold. Taking a deep breath, he smiles down at Harry and offers him a corner of the shroud. “This one’s heavy,” he says remembering the carcass of the huge man they’d brought down from the top floor, “I could do with your help.”

  As they pull at the cloth a dog howls and Dan tenses and straightens to listen.

  “Ignore it,” Harry says still pulling at the cloth. “It’s just a dog calling the others home. Wolves and wild dogs do that. One of them stays home and calls the others to come back after the hunt—like a homing beacon.”

  “I’m impressed,” Dan replies. “How do you know all that?”