And the Blood Ran Black

by Nathan E. Harvey

  Brooke dumped a large amount of the seasoning onto Moto’s finger before he was ready.

  “Ow, dammit!” Moto pulled his hand back. “I told you!”

  “Oh, I guess the salt might make it sting,” Brooke read the label. “But cayenne pepper by itself is perfect.”

  “A lot of good that does me,” Moto whined, grimacing.

  John and Sprite did their best to control the swelling need to laugh, assuming that Brooke had played a trick on Moto. Unexpectedly to everyone but Brooke, the bleeding stopped almost immediately.

  “How have I never seen that before?” John stared.

  “I guess it really is good on everything!” Sprite laughed. “But don’t everyone go testing it out. We’ve gotta save some for the food. I can’t get enough of that stuff.”

  “Speaking of food, it’s been forever since I’ve tried, but after some trial and error I’m sure I could get some working traps together,” John said. “I’d hate to eat through all our canned stuff now and then have to rely on just hunting to eat. I think we’ll catch something; there should definitely be some edible critters coming down to the spring for water.”

  “You’re planning on staying out here for several days, then?” Sprite asked.

  “I think we should be prepared to,” John answered. “I’m sure we’ll expand our search areas farther and farther out from the shelter each day, but there’s no guarantees. I don’t think we should assume that we’re going to find anything better than what we have here anytime soon.”

  “It wouldn’t have been my first option, I’ll say that,” Brooke said. “But I have to admit I’m starting to feel pretty safe out here compared to the city. No people means no zombies, right?”

  “That’s the idea, for a while at least,” John said. “Sacrificing comfort for safety should definitely give us an advantage while all this stuff plays out past the early stages.”

  “Adapt to survive,” Sprite nodded.

  “C’mon Timber!” Hillary called while patting the wood floor next to her.

  The dog ran over to lie between her and Brooke, taking up a significant portion of the shelter.

  “I’ll take first watch tonight,” John said quietly to the men. “Just because we have a barricade doesn’t mean that we’re safe.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Moto sat up in a startle, covered in sweat. John was still awake, keeping an eye on everyone while they rested. Moto offered that he would take over watch. He then remembered that it wasn’t just zombies in his nightmares that had gotten to him, but that Hillary had been taken. In the nightmare, he was frantically searching for her while also trying to avoid the countless undead. He remembered that he somehow knew exactly where to find Hillary. The closer he’d get to the building where she’d be, the more panicked he’d get that it was not going to be the sweet, innocent version of Hillary that he’d find there. He had awoken just as he swung the door open in his dream. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful that he didn’t have to witness what he’d expected to find, or if the not knowing was even worse.

  Moto didn’t intend to tell John about the dream, but was already halfway through the story before he’d decided one way or another. As he knew would happen, John began his diagnosis.

  “Have you been worrying about her? I was kind of under the impression that you were more frustrated that she’d be putting us all in more danger.”

  “I don’t know,” Moto replied. “I’d definitely say that you and I would be better off alone out here as far as survival goes. Who adds in taking care of a little kid when they’re mapping out their survival plan—not to mention making a human wall around her every time she wants to pee? Not exactly ideal.”

  “The dream sure seems like you’re more worried about her than you are yourself though…” John left the statement open-ended, anticipating a response.

  “It’s just a dream, man. Not everything has to mean something. Not everything can always have some greater significance.”

  “No need to get defensive,” John said without compromising his surveying of the trees which surrounded their camp. “If anything I’d be proud of you for putting others before yourself for a change.”

  “If I could choose between us finding her and not finding her, I think you know which one I’d take in a heartbeat,” Moto said. “She doesn’t exactly bring a lot to the table.”

  After a glare from John, Moto changed the subject and pressed that John should take advantage of Moto’s adrenaline rush and catch some rest while he could. After sitting in silence surrounded by darkness, Moto startled back awake and realized that he’d fallen asleep during his shift. He was relieved to see that, though he’d slept for so long that shades of amber were already invading the sky to the east, no danger had come to the camp. It wasn’t until he sat up that he realized Hillary was nowhere to be found.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  -Three-

  “The greatest accomplishment is not in never falling but in rising again after you fall.”

  -Vince Lombardi

  The rest of the group awoke to Moto’s frantic barrage of questions. Timber had also gone missing. Moto couldn’t stop his earlier nightmare replaying itself in his mind. He saw that Hillary had left behind her diary, which he snatched and quickly fumbled to the last page of. Finding no entry about her running away, Moto threw down the notebook in frustration and paced around the camp. John looked for Hillary’s footprints or some sign left behind from Timber, but the forest’s floor was covered in leaves that offered no help. After a few laps around the perimeter and a scolding from John for having fallen asleep, Moto stopped suddenly. He stared at the exposed page of Hillary’s notebook for a moment before sprinting down the trail they’d come in on.

  “Stay here in case they come back!” Moto called as he ran. “I might know where she went.”

  John examined the notebook’s page where Hillary had drawn an unexceptional picture of an odd-looking tree.

  Moto sprinted breathlessly through the overhanging brush which gashed him deeply and shredded his shirt. He tried to put the previous night’s dream out of his mind as he ran. He caught a few glances of footprints from both Hillary and Timber in some lower areas along the trail and accelerated even faster. After only a few minutes, he was shocked to look up and see that he’d already made it to the hollow tree that Hillary had previously wanted to show him.

  Moto screamed out for Hillary, and was somewhat disheartened when Timber ran up alone to greet him.

  “Where is she, buddy? Take me to her,” Moto said as he choked back tears.

  The dog followed as Moto searched the ground expectantly for blood or possibly even a body as he approached the tree. He wasn’t sure what emotion to feel when he saw a flashlight’s glow poke out from inside the hollowed tree. The light blinded him as he turned to peek inside the tree before finally spotting a guilty-looking little girl. Hillary seemed to be fine once he got a look at her, but her face was covered in dirt that had been streaked away where she’d been wiping at tears.

  “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” she said. “You don’t have to keep me in your group if you don’t want me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Moto asked. “You’re a part of our group! I was so worried about you!”

  “Nu-uh. I heard what you said last night. If you coulda not found me, you woulda liked that better.”

  “Oh, Hillary, I was just acting stupid. I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you. Truth is I’ve been having bad dreams because I worry about you so much. I would do anything to keep you safe.”

  “What did I do to make you mad at me? I’m sorry. I can be better,” she said, tearing up even more.

  “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything different. You’ve been such a big help for us. If anyone needs to change, it’s me. And I will. I’m gonna be your best friend from now on, ok? Wherever you go, I go.”

  “Really? You mean it?” Hillary asked with a new glo
w.

  “Absolutely, kiddo. I don’t ever say this to anyone, but I love you. I want you to know that.”

  “I love you too!” Hillary smiled, rushing forward to hug Moto despite his ripped and bloodied shirt.

  “But don’t ever scare me like that again,” Moto said, holding Hillary out with his arms extended and squatting to eye level. “You have to stick with me no matter what.”

  Hillary answered by thrusting her arms forward again, stealing another hug.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  “Oh, thank God,” Brooke said when she saw Moto walking back down the trail with Hillary on his shoulders. “John, Sprite, come back! They’re okay!”

  Hillary began tearing up again when she saw Brooke. One by one, they each hugged her tight and added in a light scolding about running off by herself. In a private conversation, Moto let John know that it had been his comments during the night that had caused her to leave. John was skeptical of Moto’s pledge to treat Hillary as if she were his own daughter. The Moto he’d grown up with would’ve used such a situation as an “in” with Brooke. John didn’t vocalize his thoughts, though, and scolded himself for how close he’d come to spitting out such a damning accusation.

  John sat in silence as he loaded his extra magazines with ammunition. He fumbled with a lone round that remained and took advantage of the rare calm to sit and think. Each of them had undergone a significant transformation over the past several days. For Moto, the change was inarguably an improvement. John feared that his own internal transformation was one of pessimism and callous unlike the fruitful enlightenment the others had demonstrated. He allowed himself temporary forgiveness, considering that his personal descent could very well become the determining factor in the group’s survival or otherwise.

  John saw that one of Hillary’s markers had fallen between the shelter’s planks. Before returning it to her, he found himself considering the most likely way he’d come to experience his own demise. John decided to embrace his ever-growing pessimistic side and scribbled “Plan B” on the side of the lone bullet. He called out to Hillary who was already drawing in her notebook again and lobbed the marker back to her.

  “I may not be able to control anything else, but at least I can control the way I go out,” John thought to himself while he rolled the round back and forth between finger and thumb. Suspecting that Brooke was watching him, John tucked the bullet into the tiny pocket of his jeans. It was then that he realized he’d been habitually carrying his cell phone in its usual pocket for all this time. Perhaps in an admission to himself that the world wasn’t going to go back to the way it was, John heaved his phone across the small clearing and into the creek.

  “We could’ve used that!” Brooke said, proving that she had indeed been watching.

  “It’s been dead for a long time,” John responded.

  “When we find power again, we can charge them and use the alarms as a diversion or something. There are a million things we could find to do with them,” Brooke said, flashing her own phone.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Moto said. “As long as this thing can keep working, it’s gonna be used for music. I wouldn’t survive without it. You can take Sprite’s.”

  Sprite grinned toward Moto and sat uncomfortably close to him saying, “Can we at least share earbuds if I let her use mine?”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Over the next few days, the group successfully fortified their remote encampment to the point where they could comfortably leave only one person on night-watch duty at a time. Aside from a few sporadic stragglers, there wasn’t much threat from zombies. The occasional wanderer made for little excitement as the group consistently had more than adequate warning from Timber’s growls. The dog had proven a useful addition to their family, even considering its constant hunger.

  As the days dragged on, it became apparent that the biggest dangers they’d be facing in the near future were those of the less exciting variety. Complacency, boredom, and worries about the constant strain on resources occupied their minds for most of their waking hours. Even after they had voted to lessen their daily rations, what had once been an impressive mound of food was growing smaller and smaller at what seemed like an increasing rate. Shoes were wearing out, the weight of restless nights began to stack upon one another, and their vegetative cover from the outside world began to wilt away as temperatures plummeted.

  Each person had their own way of coping with the sudden influx of spare time. Once there were seemingly no more conversations left unspoken, they each took on new hobbies to occupy the ever-slowing minutes. Some hobbies were more productive than others, but none of them was especially necessary, except in prolonging their mental stability. Hillary heeded Moto’s advice and had begun drawing in the dirt in order to preserve the few blank pages that remained in her notebook. Moto spent his time obsessively carving out intricate shapes from spare planks of wood and occasionally sharpening his blades. Sprite had chosen to spend his time preserving his substantial muscle mass with constant pull ups, pushups, and other exercises around camp. Though it seemed like a waste of precious calories to John, Sprite never asked for any more food than even Brooke was allowed. John preferred to spend most of his time wandering off on exploratory hikes alone with Timber, canvasing the surrounding area. After reaching her fill of playing for hours on end with Hillary, Brooke took Moto up on his offer to watch the child and elected to join John on his extensive hikes. Sprite and Moto couldn’t help but notice that John’s time spent in the woods increased significantly after she’d decided to go along.

  “It might be about time that we hike back to the highway and get all the stuff we left out there,” John said as he led Brooke down a narrow path he’d cut a few days prior. He’d purposefully left his paths as narrow as possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. The foot trails were quickly expanding into a winding labyrinth that only he could navigate.

  “Why haven’t we already?” Brooke asked.

  “Seemed like an unnecessary risk, I guess. The stuff that happened out there, I don’t know. I can’t help but wonder about anyone that’s survived this long. If I have any say in it, I’d avoid doing anything that’d risk crossing paths with ‘em,” John said between hacks from his machete. “The reward is starting to outweigh the risk though. We need that food.”

  “So I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Brooke started, “do you mind me coming along on these walks with you? Cause I know it’s kind of your time alone, but it’s really become the highlight of my day.”

  Brooke skidded to a halt a half step after John had and realized that further up the trail Timber was growling quietly with his hackles standing erect. Peeking over John’s shoulder, Brooke could see that a pair of zombies stood idly under a large tree where a third zombie hung from a noose. The hanging zombie had some sort of sign hanging from its neck and still attempted some feeble movements. The others had also shrunk into pathetic, hunched forms but for their significantly bloated midsections. Even from several feet away, the odor was repulsive to Brooke as she inhaled to speak.

  “I think that one’s the dad,” she said gesturing to the male hanging by its neck.

  “What makes you assume they’re related?” John asked, trying to whisper softly as a hint that Brooke should do the same.

  Brooke continued on without really answering. “I bet you anything that one hung itself after finding out that the rest of his family was already zombies. He might’ve even been bitten by one of ‘em first.”

  “What is this? Is this how you’re replacing your afternoon soap operas?”

  “Shut up,” she scolded though still in a whisper. “Sure, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time, but I still think that’s what happened. And there’s no one here that can prove me wrong.”

  “When I die, I shall rot,” he squinted to read the man’s sign. “What do you think he meant by that?”

  “I guess he thought he was taking control. He didn’t wann
a wander around as one of them. He thought he’d just die instead of reanimating if he killed himself.”

  Subconsciously, John’s hand was drawn to the ‘Plan B’ bullet poking out from his jeans pocket.

  “We can’t leave ‘em like this,” Brooke said. “There’s only two of them on the ground. It’s not even risky.”

  “I’m tempted to disagree, but we really shouldn’t leave these two to wander up into our camp later on,” John said. “Let’s do it.”

  Sneaking up quietly, John approached the larger of the two standing zombies and struck its skull with his machete. The thing dropped to the ground instantly, but it took John’s weapon down with it. It had wedged tightly into the thing’s head, and John struggled to pull it loose. John put a foot on the dead thing’s head and tugged at his weapon as the other zombie slowly shuffled over to him. John released his grip on the stuck machete’s handle and began boxing at the other zombie to keep it at arm’s length. He gave a few calculated jabs to the thing’s face, while staying away from its dangerous teeth, until Brooke emerged with a small, dense limb and broke it over the zombie’s head. Brooke stood calmly looking at John as he waited to confirm that the thing’s movements had ceased completely.

  “John,” Brooke started, grabbing both of John’s hands, “look at your knuckles.”

  “Oh, that’s just my blood,” John said. “It’s not a big deal, it happens all the time when I fight.”

  “You can’t fight like that anymore,” she said loud enough to anger the hanging zombie. “That thing was covered in gore. Even if that is your blood, what if it got into your blood stream through your cuts? You have to be more careful! Like you were saying about the food, it’s all about risk and reward now. It doesn’t have to be a bite that brings you down. You know that!”

  “You’re right,” John acknowledged, and finally retrieved his weapon. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”