Dead Friends Series (Book 2): Dead Friends Running

by Carlisle, Natalie

  Going down the steps was much harder than going up. The wood that was dry last night was damp with morning dew now. I had to have at least six splinters already in my palms. The wind blew my bangs across my eyes, but I couldn’t swipe them away until I was back on the ground.

  I took each step carefully, making sure to keep watch just in case. I was down to the last two wooden blocks. I went to lower my foot onto it, and slipped. Tumbling— butt first, into a patch of scratchy weeds.

  I could have sworn I heard Missy chuckle.

  If the loud thud didn’t startle any animals or bring the woman running right back, I was pretty confident we were in the clear.

  Missy’s feet—now sneakered—stepped softly down off the last wood block and she walked over to me, smirking, offering me her hand. I was tempted to slap her hand away because she was clearly laughing at me, but instead I rolled my eyes and grasped her palm, allowing her to help hoist me up.

  I brushed my backside off with my left hand, then cradled my wrist again, doing everything in my power to try and ignore the pain.

  Surveying the woods from ground level, I re-checked our location looking for recognition. I had no clue if we passed this way yesterday or not during our search for Zac and Margeaux. All trees looked alike to me. I could tell apart the oaks from the maples and the pines from the white cedars, but otherwise a forest still looked like a forest to me.

  I was fully aware I had no clue where my backpack or car keys were, or if my car was even on that road we spotted, or how we’d even get home, but I was sure our best plan of action was to head to that pavement and start walking. We needed to get somewhere with a landline phone since cell reception sucked. We needed to start making some important phone calls.

  After we relieved ourselves, we started our trek through the tall, overgrown brush, grateful for moving but on edge every second because of the haunting memories from last night.

  We knew she was still out there and we had to be on guard.

  We hadn’t gone more than half a football field when Missy stopped and said, “I can’t do it.”

  Instantly, every fiber of my being started to scream—yet, no words actually left me.

  That dog.

  That damn dog.

  Having been saved multiple times by that canine, I knew how wrong it would be to leave him potentially injured in these woods.

  So, wordlessly, I spun on my heels and started backtracking, though I silently continued to shout.

  Missy quickly followed in my wake, mumbling “thank you,” in the softest voice I ever heard. Both filled with gratitude and shame. She recognized the dangers this meant for us again.

  For me.

  Mentally shaking my head, I couldn’t believe I was willingly putting my life at jeopardy again. I really was a freaking moron.

  Maybe I didn’t deserve to live this life?

  The morning air grew stickier, heavier. Bugs swarmed in their tiny tornadoes of wings just as obnoxiously as last evening. My legs grew weaker, gummier with each step. I slapped at least ten mosquitos off my thigh. I got another scratch on my shin from a thorn, and one more scrape on my forearm from a hanging branch.

  Birds called to one another loudly, above our heads, some flapping away as we came near their perches. A few chipmunks and squirrels scurried up the barks beside us, and near our feet.

  A red fox even peeked from behind a rotted tree trunk.

  But we didn’t see any sign of Anubis.

  We called his name over and over, but there was no responsive barking. No growling. No yelping.

  We didn’t see any flashes of yellow fur through any of the spaces in the surrounding distance.

  Heck, we hadn’t heard anymore gun shots. Or whistles.

  Or thankfully, seen any signs of that ravenous woman.

  It was like it was just us, out here in the wild. It was eerie as hell.

  Perhaps those gunshots this morning had killed her? Could we be so lucky?

  My rational side of my brain reminded me we would have found her body and not to put my guard down.

  Because there could still be others, and I should remain on full alert.

  So I walked, my eyes still scanning every tree, every gap between the trees, as often as I could. And every tree I saw just continued to look the same as the one before. Nothing stood out as familiar.

  I sporadically checked around my feet too, but if I thought recognizing bark was hard, it was nothing compared to trying to tell weeds apart.

  The jelly state of my legs became prominent and I started to waiver in balance, slowing down.

  Missy passed me, unyielding, her attention completely focused on finding the Labrador and not me.

  I tried to keep up with her, but I fell further behind, wondering how she was in better shape right now then me when I was the one that exercised more?

  I lost concentration and stumbled, slipping on some loose rocks. I debated crawling in the dirt at that point, just like a lazy, out of shape person would do.

  What was wrong with me?

  Pushing myself back to an upright position, teetering slightly, I swatted at the air around my face again and kept moving. The dizzying dots of insects were swarming so thick, I almost couldn’t see ahead of me.

  Only as I tried to bat my fingers through their dark funnels, I quickly realized my hand was slicing through just empty, humid air.

  I paused, my accelerated heart sinking to the pits of my stomach. The thousand black dots before my eyes were imaginary.

  I was swatting at nothing.

  “Miss, hold up!” I hollered, lowering myself back down, closing my eyes briefly.

  Maybe I needed to sit for a second.

  Maybe sitting would be enough for it to pass.

  But with each added second, I started panicking more, realizing how long it had been since I ate anything.

  We were in the middle of nowhere—no food in sight—and my blood sugar was dropping.

  I had dismissed my symptoms as just plain exhaustion—and now, I was going to be in trouble if I didn’t eat soon.

  Jason wasn’t here this time to come to my rescue with a granola bar and some roasted chipmunk.

  Oh why…why did I ever leave my book bag?

  The whole reason I packed that thing was to prevent this moment from happening again.

  Missy came strolling over. “What’s the problem? Why are—” The moment she actually looked at me, her entire expression changed. “Ohmigod. It’s your blood sugar isn’t it? I knew something was wrong with you. How bad is it… you look pale as a freaking ghost!”

  How bad was it? I thought. On a scale of one to seeing things—I was doomed.

  “It’s not good.”

  “Well…shit.” She started to pace, chipping at her nail polish. “What do we do? Shit.”

  “Unless you know where some food is… I don’t think there’s any—”

  She suddenly spun, stopping. “What about wild blackberries?” She gushed.

  I furrowed my brow. “What?”

  “Wild blackberries. I saw some just before. If I go grab some, that should work right?”

  “You sure they were blackberries, because berries can be poisonous in…”

  “I’m positive, Dee. Can’t you just trust me for once?” Her voice filled with frustration.

  My chances of survival were grim by this point anyway, I reminded myself.

  Nodding, I said, “Okay. Let’s try the blackberries.”

  I attempted to stand.

  “No, sit. It’ll be quicker if I go.”

  “We really shouldn’t split up,” I countered. “It’s always safer in numbers.”

  “Ohmigod, it will take longer if I have to drag your ass to them.”

  “We aren’t splitting up, forget it.”

  She blew out a breath. “You are sometimes the most difficult person I know.” She held out her hand. “Come on, you pain in my butt.” There was no malice in her voice and I almost laughed. She was the
most difficult person I knew, that’s for sure.

  Once standing, she locked her arm around my side, to support me. “You can walk some right?”

  “Yeah. I’m just really weak,” I said, trying to steady my legs. “Thank you for this.”

  “Let’s just hope it works, come on. And next time you start feeling your sugar drop. Open your damn mouth and say something.”

  22

  We were sitting on the ground. I was braced against a tree for support and Missy was crouched down, sitting on her heels, doodling in the dirt with a stick. I carefully blew on each blackberry as a makeshift way of cleaning them before eating them. They were the most bittersweet berries I ever ate.

  I truly hoped I wouldn’t fall ill from them.

  Pausing, I held my sixth berry an inch from my lips and figured I better say it now. “You know, Missy, this isn’t going to last. These berries will spike my blood levels but if I don’t get actual food, it’s just going to crash again. Berries are sugar mostly anyway.”

  She continued doodling with her half-snapped stick. “Yes, I know. But the way I figure it, you only eat a few right now then we take some with us and you keep popping one in your mouth every so often until we find your book bag.”

  “I haven’t a clue where my book bag is—we may never find it.” Seriously?

  “Oh, we’ll find it,” she boasted, rather chipper. “And when we do you’ll—”

  “Miss!” I had to interject, stopping her. This wasn’t something to just be easy, breezy about.

  Her hand paused, and she peered up at me, her blonde hair shielding half her face but I still saw her blue eyes filling with tears. “We can’t keep looking for him, can we?” She meant the dog.

  All her enthusiasm and exaggerated positivity instantly crashed. And she became my concerned best friend again. “You really need to get out of these woods, don’t you?”

  “I really need to get real food, yes—and it’s really risky to hold on to hope that I’ll find my bag because if I don’t—”

  She sniffed, and stood up brushing off her hands. “I know. You are more important. I’m sorry.” Sighing, she glanced away, tears falling silently down her cheeks.

  Wow, I suddenly felt so guilty for having a medical condition. Great.

  I said nothing for a moment, just popped another blackberry in my mouth, wincing at its taste and slowly began to shimmy myself up the trunk of the maple to an upright position.

  Missy was still staring off in the distance, disappointed in me. I had to come up with another alternative for her. Maybe if we got food then came back.

  “Look what if—”

  Simultaneously, Missy’s head perked up and she shouted, “Hey! Wait!” Taking off at a run before I could even get my idea out.

  Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of two people cutting across the woods in a different direction and angle than ours.

  I quickly tossed the rest of the blackberries, hollering after her.

  Who knew who these people were or if they were infected.

  The blackberries must have been working because at least my legs seemed functional again, not jelly legs.

  The two people stopped, spun, and instantly pointed two guns directly at Missy.

  “No! Don’t shoot!” I screamed, my voice a high-pitched, ear-cringing octave. Panic shot right through me. I knew if they pulled the trigger I wouldn’t be able to catch up to her in time to block her.

  Missy had stopped running as soon as she saw the guns, but at the sound of my voice she glanced over her shoulder, bewildered at best. Her expression clearly implying I needed to chill the heck out.

  The two guys appeared rather alarmed, but thankfully lowered their guns. They didn’t approach any closer, just assessed us in one single full body glance then mumbled something under their breaths to each other.

  I slowed down, approaching them, hands up in the air, but Missy remained dormant.

  She had brought her attention back to them, so I could no longer see her face. “Do you know the fastest way to town?” I heard her ask. “It’s an emergency.”

  Clearly my sugar levels weren’t spiking enough yet, because I was getting quickly winded and feeling sluggish again. As I reached Missy’s side, I accidentally stumbled, reflexively grabbing her bicep for support.

  The shorter guy, a man with a baseball cap and a five o’clock shadow, flashed his accusing blue eyes in my direction. “She’s ill.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah,” Missy absently agreed, “and—”

  Immediately they raised their guns, and in a synchronized movement, pointed both barrels at me.

  “Wo-ah!” Missy side-stepped in front of me as I cringed, boldly acting as my shield. “Not like that —she needs food. She’s hypoglycemic.”

  The taller guy muttered matter-of-factly to the shorter guy. “That’s what Frankie has.”

  “Frankie Ollie?” I blurted, without meaning to. “No, she’s diabetic.”

  That earned me a really hard scowl from him. He had brass-colored hair, a large hook nose, and weathered skin that pulled tight in deep crevices around his brown eyes. I guess he really didn’t like being corrected.

  “And how exactly do you know Frankie?”

  “She’s dating her older brother, Hall—I mean Jason,” Missy corrected. “Maybe you heard of her. Dee. Dee Forester.”

  “You’re Dee,” the shorter guy replied skeptical. “What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you live in New Jersey?”

  “Yeah, I’m her,” I sighed. “Long story.”

  “Don’t tell me he left you stranded here?” He looked horrified. “Last thing I’d be doing is leaving my girlfriend around these parts of the woods. Speaking of which, where is he? I haven’t seen that son of bitch since last night.”

  “You were with him?” I felt the last shreds of color fade from my face. Ohmigod, where was he? Was he hurt worse? Was he dead?

  “Nah. We took separate trails. We got a whole search party going on.”

  “Police?” I blurted, hopeful.

  “Not that I’ve seen, sweetie.”

  “Any chance you’ve seen a dog?” Missy interjected, clearly not caring that there may be no troopers in these woods after all.

  “A yellow lab?” The taller guy asked.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Missy’s face lit up. “Yeah? You found him?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Took off at a run when we tried to approach him.”

  “Oh.” Her smile fell.

  “Was it your dog?”

  “No, belonged to people we met. Speaking of which have you come across two random hikers? They may be injured.”

  Again, he shook his head. “Sorry. Only people we met …weren’t exactly people if you know what I mean. And on that note, when’s Jason coming back? Did you guys find Buck?”

  “Jason’s not with us,” I mumbled, feeling sick. “He doesn’t even know we are here.”

  “Well hell, ain’t that the shits.”

  The shorter guy grew serious, smacking the other guy in the gut. “So you don’t know what we are talking about?”

  “Oh… we know,” Missy glowered. “I’m getting real damn tired of those zombie wannabes too. We should have just let Buck blow the whole town up when he wanted to.”

  Shorter guy—and to be fair, he was still about six foot, he was just shorter than the giant beside him—seemed completely aghast.

  “Buck’s one of them.”

  “Yeah, well, he wasn’t always one of them.”

  “Ignore her,” I sighed again. “She has no filter.”

  “Whatever,” she grumbled. “So Mutt and Jeff, do you know the quickest trail to town or what? And I mean quickest, she doesn’t have all day. She needs to eat.”

  “You have money? Otherwise there’s nobody who will serve you.”

  We both grew quiet. I don’t think either of us considered that far. Oh crap.

  Tall guy nudged the shorter guy. “Come on Lew, you know
a place.”

  “I’m not there to credit their meal, now am I?”

  “Lew?” I said, raising my brow. “From the diner?”

  “Oh, you’re the guy that Kyle and I called yesterday.” Missy chimed in. “Pizza fries and a frank footer, wasn’t it?”

  Lew swatted a bug away from his face and ended up knocking his hat half off. “Yeah, Kyle cancelled that order by the way.”

  She refrained surprisingly from adding she already knew that.

  “Come on Lew, help them out,” the other guy added. “Jason’s girl looks pretty bad. Imagine if it was Frankie standing there right now going into shock.” I now felt self-conscious. How bad did I look exactly?

  Lew blew out a breath, combing his fingers through his dark crop, slicking it back only to reposition his ball cap on his head. “It’s not that I won’t help you…but the diner is about ten miles away. Will you even be able to make it there?”

  “Ten miles?” I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calm breath. I highly doubted I could make it, but I’d try. I could always go back for more blackberries.

  I opened my eyes, and found Lewis staring at me with a newfound sympathy.

  “Alright let’s go.”

  “Excuse me?” Missy cut right in, skeptical.

  “I’ll take you.”

  “To?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  “My diner.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said, shocked. “Just tell us the fastest route.”

  “The fastest route is in my Jeep.” He paused, contemplating. “It’s about a mile that way. Just got to head through that small trail over there and go straight.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that…and what about the whole reason you are out here anyway.” I was flattered but he owed nothing to us.

  “I’ll stay,” the taller guy said. He seriously had to be at least six foot, six inches. “I got a watch. I’ll meet up with you in about an hour?”

  “Make it an hour and a half. Right here?”

  “Bring me breakfast?” He smirked.

  “You got it big guy.”

  “No, no, you shouldn’t split up,” I interjected. “Please. Don’t.”

  “Honey, you won’t make it no ten miles,” Nathan concluded. “It’s best you let Lew drive you to his diner and make you something to eat. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”