The Human Wilderness (A New America Trilogy Book 1)

by S. H. Livernois

  Downstairs, gray light crept into the house, touching the corners of familiar shapes in the familiar rooms. He looked around, memorized the house, and popped the door open. A placid, crisp morning awaited him. It was Eli's favorite time of day. Hope was quietest at night, but dusk promised a new chance to make things better. On his morning jogs, he would imagine those better things and tell himself he was one step closer to where he wanted to be.

  This morning, he stopped outside Frank's house to say goodbye, then stood on the sidewalk outside Jane's, staring at her black windows and imagining her sleeping soundly inside. Her house was the first he knew in Hope. It was where Jane sewed up the holes in his body, kept him alive, and decided to trust him.

  "If you're some kind of criminal, best you tell me now," she'd said. "I won't see any harm come to this place. We will kick you out if you mean to cause trouble."

  Eli had told her he'd escaped a bad place and had come in peace. And he had meant it; he wanted to be someone else. He backed away from Jane's house, knowing he'd failed.

  The Parasites were now quiet, but Eli still headed to the abandoned watchtower to see if the way was clear. He climbed the ladder and walked across the gangway. This time, he didn't care if anyone saw him.

  The rolling hills around Hope rose out of a white fog. At the tree line, two figures emerged from the cloud and ran into the woods. Silence and emptiness followed. The world was silent as death when the Parasites weren't around. Only then was it clear how empty it had become, with plenty of abandoned places to set up camp and hide. Like the hobby farm and its grand old farmhouse, just a mile west. And further off, the small collection of houses between two speed limit signs.

  He gazed across the foggy landscape, calculated north and south — the location of the nearest Parasite camps — and then west. The farmhouse was close to Hope, which meant he could come back, linger at the tree line, and gaze across the green field to check on the place, make sure the walls were still standing. Eli leaned over the railing and found the hole; it had been filled in, like Frank said. He adjusted his pack on his shoulders, scanned the tree line again, and climbed back down.

  At the gate, the guards didn't ask questions. Eli had his crossbow. For all they knew, he was going out for a hunt. They let him through the first gate and the second, and Eli stood on the other side, the gate to Hope screeching shut behind him.

  Misty land stretched empty in every direction. Ahead, the woods loomed, dense and thick. Eli strolled alongside the base of the wall, alone and unseen, for one last check to ease his mind. He placed a hand on the wall, the metal slick with dew and cold under his palm. It protected them from the outside, and now it would protect Jane, Frank, and Lily from him, a man who had a beast lurking inside his soul.

  Eli's life would now be solitary. He would put up a fence first, build a cold frame and try to plant some winter vegetables. Then he'd seal the house, collect firewood, set up some snares, a rain barrel, dig a latrine, plan his summer garden. The winter would be lean, but he could hunt and forage and that would get him through. Evenings would quiet; hopefully he could find some books for company.

  Eli closed his eyes. There would be no more Sunday dinners with Frank's family, no more bonfires or town meetings or card games by candlelight. And there would be no other settlements, even if others nearby had survived and would take in strangers.

  He was better alone, with no one to hurt but himself.

  At a corner in the wall, Eli patted the metal and muttered a soft "goodbye." He took two steps and the sound of moaning rippled in the silence.

  He froze.

  The voice sounded from around the corner, out of sight. A young voice, maybe a Parasite's, but maybe a boy's. Eli shouldered his crossbow and eased forward to the edge of the wall.

  He reached it, whipped around the corner, and pointed his arrow at the sound.

  The moaning came from a shape in the grass, crumpled a few feet from the wall and wearing familiar clothes. Eli tiptoed toward the shape, his crossbow at the lead.

  Blood stained the grass. A red hand rested on top of a stomach, the wound seeping beneath. The body was soaked from breastbone to groin. The face was pale, blood-splattered, the eyelids closed.

  Eli knew that face.

  He released his crossbow and ran. Skidded on his knees up to the body; he shook the boy's shoulder.

  "Ben, can you hear me?"

  The boy didn't stir. Eli pried his fingers from the wound. Underneath, he found a long gash, pouring blood. Eli shook him again and whispered his name. This time the eyelids fluttered and sprung open.

  Ben reached out one of his bloodied hands. "Eli..."

  He grabbed the boy's wrist and squeezed.

  "It's okay. I'll get ya to Jane."

  Eli scooped the boy up in his arms, lifted him with a grunt, and started back toward the gate. Ben's eyes widened, his white, sweaty face turned to Eli's.

  "No… not me... Find her," he wheezed.

  Eli's legs stopped moving on their own. His heart tumbled hard in his chest.

  "Who?"

  Ben clutched his stomach and groaned, his eyelids fluttering closed. Eli shook the boy's entire body.

  "Who?"

  Ben snapped awake. Two bloodstained hands tugged at Eli's shirt.

  "Lily. Simon took her."

  He took Lily.

  Little Lily with the knobby brown knees and the dimples and all the questions. Frank's Lily.

  My Lily.

  Eli sprinted back to the gate. Ben moaned in his arms, his head tossing from side to side, skin clammy and white, lips blue. Wet warmth spread across Eli's arm, stomach, pants — Ben's blood.

  The boy was only fifteen. His story was as horrifying as anyone else's and Ben remembered few details except hearing his parents snarl from a kitchen cupboard as they infected his brothers. People found him wandering on the road days later, took him in and brought him to one settlement, then another, and finally Hope. He'd grown up to be kind-hearted, loved milking the goats and cleaning the chicken coop and making Lily laugh.

  Eli ran to the gate with Ben drooping in his arms, his lanky limbs hanging limp and swinging. When the guard towers were close enough, Eli screamed.

  "Open up! Ben's been stabbed!"

  Faces peeked out from the shadowed towers. The gate screeched open. Eli sped through it and into the buffer zone, toward the cabin.

  "Stop it right there!" a guard called. "You both need to be sterilized!"

  Eli shot him a look, ran around him, and called, "There's no time," over his shoulder.

  A hundred feet ahead, the second gate was still shut, the wall a hulking barrier. The guards stared down from their posts.

  "What did you do to him?" one hollered.

  "Ben needs the doc!"

  Eli pushed past the guards and ran to the closed gate.

  "Ben! Ben!" He shook the limp body. "Can you hear me?" And to the guards, "Open this gate!"

  The men shouted and motioned to each other; a figure left the post and ran down the gangway. A hand grasped Eli's shirt; Ben pulled himself up, gazing at Eli with pained, fading eyes.

  "He took her," the boy groaned. "He took Lily. I followed ... He told her ..." The boy took a shuddering breath. "He was taking her to an amazing place ..."

  The gate squealed open.

  "Hold on, kid, we're almost there," Eli said. But Ben's head had dropped back over Eli's arm; he'd lost consciousness.

  Derek sauntered through the open gate, one hand raised and the other resting on a club sheathed at his hip, a purple bruise encircling his left eye.

  "Stop! Procedures must be followed —"

  "He's not infected — he's been stabbed. Let me through."

  "Procedures —"

  "To hell with procedures!" Eli growled. "He's dying."

  Derek glanced at Ben's blanched face, the blood oozing from his chest, and back at Eli.

  "It's the rules, remember?" He took a step forward, fingers gripping his club. "You wante
d us to follow all the rules — "

  Ben's time was running out.

  Eli kicked Derek in the knee and he crumpled to the ground. Eli sped past him and ran through the gate; boots slammed the earth close behind and men yelled for him to stop. Eli ignored them and ran down the street with Ben bouncing in his arms.

  "We're almost to Jane's, kid," Eli gasped.

  The streets had come to life. Yellow morning light spilled into town, screen doors swung open, people strolled down the sidewalks and chatted in front yards, steaming mugs in hand. Everything was normal. Then they heard Eli's boots smacking the pavement and his ragged breathing. And then they saw him, racing down the street, covered in blood, a thin, pale figure draped in his arms. People forgot their destinations, stopped chatting, dropping their mugs. They craned their necks. Some asked him what happened and others frowned at each other. Many followed Eli's frantic pace down the street.

  Eli turned right two blocks from the intersection onto Jane's street. Her house sat at the very end, wedged against the wall. It seemed a mile away. He hoped she was already awake; his voice shattered the peaceful morning.

  "Jane!" he screamed, over and over again.

  Heads peeked from open windows. Doors sprung open.

  "We're here, we're here." The boy's head hung back unnaturally, painfully. "You're going to be okay.

  Eli raced up Jane's front steps to her door and banged on it with his foot.

  "Jane!"

  Eli shook Ben and the boy's eyeballs quivered beneath pale lids. Eli kicked the door again.

  "Jane!"

  Eli could feel the life draining from Ben's body. He brought a bloodstained hand and tapped Ben's ice-cold cheek, trying to wake him. He didn't stir.

  The door screeched open. Jane's voice burst from inside.

  "What the hell is going on?" The doctor appeared in the doorway in a baggy T-shirt, bleary-eyed and squinting, hair mussed, face creased from sleep. "Someone better be dying to wake me up —"

  Her eyes locked on the blood. The body draped in Eli's arms.

  "He's been stabbed," Eli said.

  Jane thrust the door open wide and Eli rushed into the smell of herbs. Jane padded through the house on bare feet, Eli following with bated breath and thudding boots. They wove through the hallway, wound left and into a large room. Jane cleared a table in its center; Eli gently laid Ben on its hard surface. She ripped the curtains open, and the room filled with white light.

  "Who did this?" Her voice was firm but frantic. She peeled the boy's shirt off and found the wound, a gaping red mouth sliced between Ben's upper ribs.

  "Simon. He took Lily, too." The words sparked fresh panic, a surge of nausea.

  "What?" She turned from her patient, her face a snarl of anger and fear, her freckles bright against her pale skin. "Why?"

  "I don't know."

  Jane leaned into Ben's ear. "Don't you worry, kiddo. We'll fix you up now."

  Eli backed into a far corner. Jane probed Ben's body and muttered to herself: his pulse was weak, his heart racing. Every inch of his thin body — the bony shoulders, the hollow chest, the long arms — was the shade of milk, his lips a stark blue.

  Lily. Simon took her.

  Eli spun around and bolted from the room, down the hallway, out the door. A knot of people had gathered in Jane's front yard, hollering questions. Eli ran down the street and their voices faded; he turned a corner, raced down another street, legs aching and lungs burning. With a sick dread, he imagined Lily being dragged from her home, hurt and scared.

  He ran down Frank's street to his yellow house with its wraparound porch and swing. The closest thing Eli had to a home. He leapt up the steps, stood in front of the screen door. Heard children's laughter inside. He pounded on the door frame.

  A chair scraped the wooden floor. Frank's familiar shape appeared, his wrinkled face crinkled in a smile. Then he saw Eli, bloodstained and heaving. The smile faded. He opened the screen door with a creak and stepped onto the porch. It smacked closed.

  "What happened?" Frank choked. "Where have you been?"

  Eli's heart pounded in his head. He was seconds away from shattering his friend's life.

  "Ben's been stabbed. Outside the wall. It doesn't look good."

  Frank leaned against the house. His kids giggled inside. "Who did it?"

  "Simon."

  "Simon?" Frank searched the air around him, looking for an answer. "What was Ben doing out there? Why?"

  Eli shook his head. Voices drifted down the street. Eli felt the gathering of bodies, of curious eyes, behind him.

  "Lily will be devastated. Those two — " But Eli's face betrayed his thoughts. Frank covered his mouth with a grizzled hand. "What?"

  "Frank ..." The words stuck in Eli's throat. Inside the house, he spied Lily's siblings — an older brother, a younger sister — standing at the kitchen counter, and Anne clanking dishes at the sink.

  "What happened?" Frank pleaded.

  "Simon kidnapped her." The voice came from someone else, far away.

  "She's supposed to be with Amelia..." Frank breathed.

  "Ben saw Simon take her. Tried to save her."

  Frank didn't seem to hear; he stared downward, his face a blank. The noises inside the house ceased. Anne had been watching and darted to the door, her pink cotton nightgown fluttering. Behind Eli, the whispers swelled. Questions erupted.

  "What's going on?" someone called.

  The screen door creaked open again and Anne stepped out. Eli spun around and his heart dropped: half the town crowded Frank's front yard and the street beyond. Mouths hung open, fear and confusion etched across every face. Something ugly and horrifying had jumped out of hiding into their safe world.

  "Frank?" came Anne's soft voice.

  He answered in his low grumble. "Lily's been kidnapped."

  As if carrying a heavy weight, Frank trudged to the swing and fell onto it. Anne sat next to him; they held each other and sobbed. Eli turned to his neighbors. He'd have to answer their questions, give them the news. He took a deep breath. Dozens of eyes stared back, taking in the blood that drenched Eli from chest to knees.

  "Ben's been stabbed. By Simon," Eli told the staring faces. "And he took Lily."

  A gasp quivered through the crowd from front to back as the news was repeated, neighbor to neighbor. From the back of the group, a man peeled off from the others, then ran down the road and out of sight.

  "How did this happen?" someone asked.

  "I don't know."

  "When?"

  Eli remembered the screams that woke him that morning and the two figures slipping into the woods. He was certain now that was Lily and Simon. "Before dawn, I think."

  "You think?"

  Everyone spoke at once. Why were Lily and Ben outside the walls? Why did he take her? Why was Eli outside the walls so early?

  Mrs. Sharpe's voice rose above the din. "I knew that man was dangerous."

  "Me, too," said a woman next to her.

  "Should've never let him in..." said another.

  "And just what were you doing out there, Eli?" Mrs. Sharpe cut in.

  "Is Ben still alive?" asked one man.

  "He's with Jane."

  The questions continued, but Eli turned away from the crowd toward Frank. He was rocking silently on his swing, his head on his wife's shoulder. Usually Eli would ask for his friend's guidance. But now Frank needed his. He crossed the porch and sunk to his knees in front of his friend.

  "She can't be far."

  Frank's stupor broke. He gazed up, his glasses spotted with tears. "You think so?"

  "Sure, sure. I don't think Ben'd been there long. We could catch up to her."

  Frank's face cleared and he nodded. Anne rubbed his shoulder, smiled weakly at this shimmer of hope.

  "Wait a minute," said Mrs. Sharpe. She stood on the porch, close enough to eavesdrop. "You're not talking about going out there."

  A ripple of whispers whirred through the crowd. Over their heads, E
li spied something moving down the street: Jane. Her feet were still bare and she still wore her nightgown, except now it was splattered with Ben's blood; her arms were red to the elbows.

  "She's probably already infected," said one man.

  "And you don't know even know which way they went," said another.

  Eli leered at his neighbors and their cowardly words. Jane was plowing through the townspeople; she emerged at the front, caught Eli's eye, and shook her head.

  A stone dropped in Eli stomach and panic set in. They were wasting time. "We can't leave her out there."

  "We have to think about the town," Mrs. Sharpe said. "We just lost one valuable person ..."

  Frank grumbled. "Lily is valuable."

  "Frank," Mrs. Sharpe cut in, "be reasonable. No one knows their way around outside."

  "Lily is my daughter."

  The crowd murmured and parted; the man who disappeared earlier returned and poked through to the front, panting.

  "I checked Simon's cell. He's gone."

  Frank stood suddenly and marched to the edge of the porch. "How did he get out with Lily?"

  The guard shrugged. "Climbed the supports, I'd imagine."

  Frank rushed down the steps and pushed his neighbors out of the way. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt and yanked him violently up to his face. Mrs. Sharpe shrieked. "And how'd you miss that?" he spat. "Any of you people even pay attention to what's going on at the wall? First zombies digging holes and now this?"

  "We can't see everything all the time, old man," the guard sneered. "Why don't you keep an eye on your kids?"

  Frank tightened his grip and launched his other hand back for a punch. Eli caught it and stood between him and the guard. Frank took a deep, rattling breath. His friend was unraveling and the thought energized him to do something.

  "I know my way around out there," Eli said.

  The ghost of a smile flickered on the corner of Frank's mouth. "You think you can find her?"

  "Yes."

  Frank's disquiet appeared to settle. Eli spun around and faced the crowd.

  "Any other volunteers for a search party?"