The Human Wilderness (A New America Trilogy Book 1)

by S. H. Livernois

  "We're short on both. Be on your way now."

  The men growled with hunger and fear. The last winter, their first after the Fall, haunted them. Food and warmth were mere feet away. The alternative: starvation, disease, and helplessness.

  Standing outside the gray building, hate and panic struck Eli like a fever. Hate for people who'd see them starve without a second thought, panic that he'd go another night without eating. It had been two days since he'd eaten — a rabbit leg and half a can of fruit cocktail.

  The Commander whispered in Eli's ear, "Find us a way in."

  Eli peeled off from the group and jogged down an alley. Around the back, he smelled earth and animal manure, heard sheep bleating and the cluck of chickens. The wall wrapped around the courthouse, along a side street and back to the front, every inch impenetrable. He told the Commander there was no way in, but the man's expression didn't change. It was a minor detail that would soon be overcome. The Commander turned back to the courthouse and the figure on the roof.

  "Hospitality is a virtue!" he shouted.

  "We can't afford hospitality," the voice answered.

  The Commander smiled, his cold gray eyes sparking with mania. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'what goes around comes around?'"

  The voice didn't respond.

  The Commander glanced at his men. Guns were cocked and raised and Eli obeyed like the rest. He knew if he shot these strangers, he could spend the night warm, with a full belly, away from the infected. At peace.

  "Kill anything that moves," the Commander ordered.

  The thunder of a half dozen guns exploded in the quiet street. Bullets gouged into the stone building and tore through bodies. A figure fell from the roof, red spots blooming on his shirt. Eli was sure his bullet had killed him.

  He told himself it was a small price to pay when you were so hungry.

  A hand smacked his arm.

  The dead men hit the ground, the shots faded, and the scene vanished.

  "Eli! Are you listening?"

  Fingers snapped in front of his eyes. Jane's blurred face took shape — the sandy brows, the pointed chin and the emerald eyes, now scowling.

  "You feeling okay?"

  Eli sat next to Jane on a log beside a cracked road. He had food in his hands and his side throbbed.

  "Sure, sure." He nodded. "I'm fine."

  An eyebrow shot up. "Eat before you fall over. Doctor's orders."

  He did as he was told. The food filled his belly halfway and a meager strength enlivened his limbs.

  "So, how far away are we?" Jane asked.

  Eli opened the map and traced the road — the only one that snaked west — with a shaking finger; a stone dropped in his stomach.

  "A hundred thirty-five, maybe."

  Their journey west had lasted all morning and they'd trekked a mere fifteen miles. At mid-afternoon, the clouds had finally cleared and only wispy white dregs dotted the deep, hazy blue above.

  "And you think you can make it, sick as you are?"

  "Sure, sure." He stood, tucked the folded map into his pocket. "Simon'll be there for a couple days, at least. We just can't stop."

  "You'll drop dead long before we get there."

  Eli hid his face so Jane wouldn't see that he agreed; he limped back to the road. "Let's go."

  "At least rest a few minutes more," Jane whisper-yelled at his retreating back.

  "No."

  A few minutes' rest meant he could be a few minutes late getting to the next target. Jane jogged up to his side, hissed in his ear.

  "At least slow down. Your body needs to heal. At least give it a fighting chance."

  Eli smiled down at her angry, frustrated face. She was right: his body fought every footstep with a pain and nausea that infected his very bones and made his heart rattle and skip.

  "What?"

  He kept walking; Jane followed. "You're a good doctor."

  A smile curled her lip. "A nurse. Better than a doctor."

  "Why a nurse?"

  Jane kicked a chunk of asphalt hidden in the weeds, clenched her jaw. "I wanted to heal people. Starting with my dad. He got diabetes when I was fifteen." She ran a stubby hand through those soft curls, now shining with sweat, and smiled. "I bossed him around, stuck him with needles, bitched at the doctors for him. Comforted him when he was dying..."

  Her words drifted into nothing, the silence filled with ringing cicadas, distant birdsong, the ragged rhythm of their boots scraping the road, Jane sniffing back tears. Eli palmed her shoulder.

  "You're a good nurse. Saved everyone back home at least once."

  She snorted. "A bunch of cowards and gossipers. A couple perverts. People ain't worth shit anymore." Her mouth bloomed in a smile. "You, though. You're different."

  Jane's pale cheeks, already flush from heat, grew redder. Eli fought a smile; her words, the kindness in her face, didn't make sense. Didn't she remember what he did in the farmhouse?

  "No, I'm not." He shook his head and focused on the sights that passed: a stone farmhouse, a road sign, a silver glint in the woods off the road's left shoulder.

  A glint, like off something metal. Eli squinted to focus on it. The fender of a car?

  "I see something."

  He grabbed Jane's hand and pulled her off the road, through brush and into the shadowed woods. Up ahead, a cluster of dull colors and rounded shapes poked up amid jewel-green leaves: cars. The glinting fender was one of a half dozen, arranged in a large circle that enclosed a space in the middle.

  "I'm guessing the people who set this up didn't make it long," Jane said, studying the rusted bodies, the grimy windows. She stopped at one and pointed at the ground beneath — it had been raked with tire tracks.

  "Someone moved that car," she said.

  They peered into the barricade; the ground inside was pitted with footprints and the ashes of a campfire.

  Eli dropped Jane's hand and hurled himself over the hood of one car, pain ripping through his side. Jane jumped into the circle behind him, inspected the fire, and announced its ashes were cold. Eli spotted shards of glass scattering the ground and a broken window, dry blood sprayed across a car door.

  "I have something." Jane crouched in front of an orange van and motioned to him eagerly. "A name."

  Eli squatted next to her and read words scratched into the mud underneath the van. "'Meagan was here,' I think."

  "Meagan. I wonder how old she is?" Jane squeezed his shoulder. "You did good."

  Eli felt sick. The map was leading them in the right direction, and he only had the map because he'd tortured Bill. This success seemed like a reward for his violent act.

  "We have to hurry," he said. "This camp is less than a day old."

  Eli stood up quickly and his legs buckled. Blackness crawled in from the corners of his vision and Jane's strong fingers held him tight and steady. Eli warmed at her touch but shrugged it away.

  "I'm fine."

  "Bullshit." She put a cold palm to his forehead. "You have a fever. Let me look."

  Her hand shot toward his waist and he caught it. "I just got a little dizzy. It doesn't even hurt."

  She pursed her lips. "We need to go to this courthouse, Eli. It's closer. You're sick as a damn dog." He climbed over the nearest car and hopped down on the other side. "They may know something that could help us. They're crossed off on that map of yours, if you didn't notice."

  "Let's go." He offered her his hand to help her over. She smacked it away and hopped down beside him on her own.

  "Listen to me." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Whoever these people are, they're fucking nuts. And I'm one person, Eli. I can't save Lily on my own."

  "I'm not gonna drop dead."

  She let him stroke her arm, but just for a minute. "Stubborn bastard." She burst past him through the woods and into the sunlight steaming over the western road.

  What she didn't understand was he wanted to feel it. The pain was the only way he could be punished — for what he did to
Bill, failed to do for Lily, for the courthouse. For killing so many other people.

  He deserved it.

  By early evening they reached a slow river flowing through dark woods beside the road. Jane ordered Eli to sit on the shoulder while she climbed down a steep hill to gather water. He followed her anyway so she wouldn't suspect he felt worse.

  The wide black river gurgled. Eli squatted on wobbly legs and dove his hands into the clear, frigid water. He brought a handful to his hot face and felt his skin sizzle, then filled his canteen. He stood, breathless, and braced his muscles on the riverbank to keep himself from falling.

  Jane watched him. "Give me the map." He handed it over and she studied it for a half minute. "Looks like this target of ours is eighty miles away. Courthouse is about only five, and on the way.

  "Good to know. Let's go."

  He propped one foot up on the riverbank, ready to climb back up, when a deep groan rattled in the distance. A twig snapped.

  Jane clutched his arm. "The kidnappers?"

  They clambered away from the river, deeper into the woods and into a thin growth of birch. Jane led with her spear, Eli with Frank's ax. They heard it first: footsteps stumbling, slow and heavy breaths rattling with phlegm. Then a gray shape emerged, lumbering between white trunks.

  "Holy shit," Jane said. "What the hell's wrong with it?"

  The Parasite wore tattered, filthy jeans and a necklace made of rope and animal bones. Greasy shreds of its hair fluttered in the breeze. It slogged toward them like a walking corpse, staring with vacant eyes stripped of frenzy and hunger. The creature was pale, gaunt, and hollow-eyed, its lips painted red with blood. Purple bruises covered its chest, shoulders, and thighs. Brown blood streamed from a gash in its side, coating it ribs to ankles.

  Eli walked toward it.

  "What are you doing?"

  "It won't hurt me. It's dying."

  Eli stopped a few feet away from the creature. A weak desire flashed in its eyes and it raised thin arms. Eli gasped.

  The tips of its fingers had been cut off. The creature opened its black mouth and Eli spotted raw and toothless gums. He motioned Jane to his side.

  "You see that?" He pointed to its mouth and hands.

  "Would they do that to their own?" she whispered at his shoulder.

  "Doubt it."

  As if sensing something, the creature swung its head left and dragged its clumsy, weakened body left, toward the river. Eli began to follow, but Jane gripped his arm with a firm hand.

  "What the fuck, Eli?"

  "Maybe he senses the kidnappers."

  They crept behind the Parasite as it plodded through the woods on wobbly legs, crashing into trees and stumbling over roots and rocks. Eli spied more injuries: a dark purple bruise spread over its shoulder blades, a gash cut around its side to its back, slicing through the leathery, mottled skin. Eli peered through the trees beyond the creature, excitement building in his chest. What if it did lead them to Simon and Lily? What if he was only minutes away from rescuing her?

  Wood smoke scented the air. Eli spied squat cabins between the trees, brown and green like their surroundings. A couple bony figures moved among them. Their grunts and shrill calls echoed into the canopy above.

  Eli stopped in his tracks, blood burning through his veins like cold creek water.

  A Parasite camp.

  Be calm, stay invisible.

  Eli spun around to face Jane and put his fingers to his lips, took her hand, and led her into thick brush. He tried not to look behind him as he raced silently through the woods. He imagined the Parasites behind him, their grimy fingers and sour breath.

  Be calm, stay invisible.

  In a hundred feet, he found high ground in a tall cluster of boulders. He helped Jane up and climbed behind her, his legs burning and side throbbing. At the top, he crumpled to his knees, weak. Jane's warm body pressed in beside him and she released a long, steady, tense breath. He squeezed her hand.

  The boulders faced an opening in the trees, so they could see the camp below: dense woods surrounding a cleared swath of land, dozens of little earthen camps along its edges. A corridor of trees separated the camp from the river.

  The wounded Parasite strolled through the middle of the camp, past fellows huddled over campfires, turning meat on spits, sharpening spears, or sleeping. They looked like him: their privates were covered in leathers, hair spun with twigs and ferns, lines across cheeks and chests. The lone creature shrieked among them in a shrill and pained voice, almost pleading, then fell to the ground.

  The others kept sharpening their spears and cooking their meat. Their fellow lay sprawled in the dirt, utterly still.

  After a couple minutes, two of them exchanged glances. One nodded and both rose and walked to the creature's side. One took its bony ankles in hand, the other its wrists. The trio vanished into the woods and reappeared on the riverbank.

  They swung the body back and forth and the creature flinched weakly. They released its wrists and ankles. It soared through the air, arms and legs flailing mid-flight. It splashed into the water and sunk below the surface for a moment. A few feet away, its head popped up above the water, a pale orb in a sea of black water. Its last cries faded as the river turned a bend and flowed away. The creatures returned to their camp.

  "Jesus," Jane breathed.

  "We have to get out of here." Eli stretched up to peer through the trees at the land around them. He spotted a church spire as a Parasite howled from the camp below.

  The church stood alone on a one-lane road, a sturdy brick building with boarded stained-glass windows. Inside, thin shafts of light peeked between board and window frame to outline the curves of the pews. Wood beams stretched overhead. The place smelled of pine and echoed with scrapes and thuds as Jane moved furniture to bar the door.

  Eli slumped in a pew and stared at the cross; his weak body shivered.

  "Bless me with safe travel," he muttered. "Make me stronger. Help me find her and keep her safe until I do."

  Jane plopped next to him. "That should do it. "Now, let's take a look."

  He was too tired to stop her from untucking his shirt. She gently pressed her hands against his skin and he held in a whimper; his entire side throbbed.

  "It's hot, red, swollen." She sighed and put her hand to his forehead. "And you have a fever."

  "Nah, it's fine. You worry too much."

  She snorted, then rifled through her pack. Eli smelled garlic, and then she smeared something cold and wet on the wound. It burned, but he pretended it didn't hurt.

  "If this doesn't work, we'll try maggots," she mumbled to herself. Her voice was taut, firm. She was trying not to sound worried. "I'm running out of clean bandages." She wrapped a fresh one around his middle.

  "I just need one more day, Jane. I can take the pain."

  She shook her head. "God damn it, Eli, you're stubborn." She gripped his jaw and pulled his face to hers; tears shimmered in her eyes. "If I think you're gonna die, I'm dragging you to the courthouse by your curly hair."

  She rose from the pew and walked the dark center aisle. Eli shook his head, amazed this woman was so determined to save his life. He thought of the Parasites, how they'd thrown one of their own, still alive, into the river, like he was worthless. Imagined his own hands tugging Bill's body into his grave.

  His throat spasmed with a sob.

  "Do you think I'm a good man?"

  Jane spun around two pews away; the top half of the cross peered over her shoulder. "Why wouldn't you be?"

  "I tortured a man to death." Eli stared at her chin, her shoulder, anywhere but her eyes.

  "Oh, that," Jane said casually. She bit her lip, strolled forward and leaned against the pew in front of him. She fixed him with a serious stare for a long time, as if deciding something. She took a breath.

  "A girl about Lily's age was raped a few months before you came. The creep who did it ended up at my place, beaten half to death. Tobias told me to fix him up. When he got be
tter, he was going to be banished. Tobias left for a few minutes and I was alone with him." Jane spoke simply, clearly, without emotion. "I did what I was supposed to. He was going to be fine. But I didn't think that was right. So I went to the kitchen, got a steak knife, went back to the room, and pressed it against the back of his head. Right before I was going to shove it in, Tobias came back."

  "What happened?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Creep got better. They let him go."

  "And the little girl?"

  "He got her pregnant," Jane whispered. She stared at her hands. "Died in childbirth. I couldn't..."

  The light in the church darkened and Eli swayed in his seat. Jane swept next to him, steadying him by the shoulders.

  "But you didn't kill him," he muttered.

  "I wanted to. And I would've. I don't think that makes me a bad person."

  Jane's green eyes gleamed in the dim light.

  "But if you do kill someone?" Tears burned his nose; Eli swallowed them back and turned away. "What then?"

  "If you did nothing, Bill would've taken me. If you did nothing, we wouldn't know where they're taking Lily. When you don't act, something worse happens."

  Jane took him by the shoulders and forced him to look at her. "When I said you're different, I meant you're a good man. Truly good." She smiled. "You want to save everyone."

  Eli wanted to tell her how wrong she was, but her hands were strong on his arm and her words were comforting, even if he didn't believe them. He swayed in the pew, nausea gagging his throat, the church blurring into swaths of brown and black.

  "You're wrong," he said. "You'll see."

  The color and light faded to black. Shadowed hands pushed him down and his head smacked against wood.

  "Eli." Jane cupped the back of his head. "It'll be okay."

  Strong fingers rubbed his scalp and he drifted in and out of present and past. Gunshots pattered the autumn sky. Bodies fell from a roof. Colored glass and pine. Soon, he was dreaming.

  He felt a soft bed beneath him. Unfamiliar hands pressing his flesh. A voice he didn't recognize, humming and muttering. The scent of blood and vinegar and rosemary. His eyes fluttered open to a bright room. A stern face came into focus above him, haloed by sunlight — pointy nose, mossy eyes, freckles, a sharp chin. To him it was a beautiful face. He wanted to touch it, so he lifted a hand and tried to cup the soft cheek. His bruised knuckles looked rough and dangerous against her skin. A smaller, freckled hand reached up to grab it.