The gradual lightening of the sky told her the storm was moving on. She gathered the courage to peek down the ladder, causing a new wave of moans. She tried counting them and gave up after twenty. She couldn’t kill twenty. No flippin’ way.
These undead creatures were incredibly stupid. Then it came to her. She could lure them away from the barn, using herself as bait. Then she’d run like hell back to the barn, grab Twila, and make a run for it.
While thinking of a plan, Scarlett traded out the emergency pack with the large pack she had stashed in the loft several months ago. She sorted through the supplies. Besides a camouflage poncho and tarp, she had underwear, sweatshirts, and sweatpants for each of them, six cans of Spam, six cans of beans, six cans of corn, plastic eating utensils, six bottles of water, a first-aid kit, matches, compass necklace, hunting knife, canteen, and toilet paper. That’s it? She had meant to bring more food.
She repacked everything except for Twila’s spare set of clothes. The poor thing was still in her pajamas and robe. Thank goodness she had put on her one and only pair of shoes. Hmm, she thought about it. They had awakened an hour earlier than usual. If Scarlett hadn’t been fully dressed, shoes and all, she might not have outrun the horde.
A commotion of thuds startled her. She flashed the light down the ladder. A mob of creepers grappled the ladder. Climbing! All at once. They had managed to maintain their balance for the first few rungs, and then to her horrific relief, fell upon one another to the ground. Another group rushed the ladder. She held her breath until they fell. If creepers learn to climb, we’re doomed! It was a spine-chilling vision she couldn’t get out of her mind.
There was no way she could go down the ladder without getting ripped apart. Scarlett scanned the loft, racking her brain for a solution. All the loft had to offer was a pile of stacked lumber and hay bales. Sunlight poured through the windows. Windows? She glanced back at the two windows, one on each end of the loft. Can I jump out the window? She dashed to the eastern end and shoved opened the warped window frame. It had to be a twelve-foot jump. Too dangerous. Unless—she had something to soften the landing. Her eyes went directly to the bales of old hay. She could drop the hay out the window and then jump into the pile. It was a desperate idea. But, she was desperate. Ravers or creepers? It was a lose-lose situation. Her odds were better with creepers; Ravers were ruthless.
In a frenzy, she cut away at the bales, tossing the loose hay out the window. It was time-consuming. And, she had a flustering feeling time was running out. At this rate, she’d waste an hour dropping the hay in the hopes of a semi-safe landing. Jeez, what a shitty idea. Each armful of hay drifted in the breeze, scattering all over the place. Not the haystack she had envisioned. In a fervor of frustration, she manhandled an entire bale and lugged it over the window frame. It burst open upon impact, creating the effect she had hoped for. Another dozen or so bales and she’d have enough cushion to chance a jump.
“What!” After the fourth bale of hay, the creepers were on to her. They paced and growled below the window like a mangy pack of wolves, well aware their prey was cornered.
“They’re coming, they’re coming,” Twila recited in a trance-like state.
Scarlett cuddled Twila and rocked her in her arms for God knows how long.
Out of the blue, Twila said, “I’m hungry!”
Scarlett laughed with tear-stinging eyes. “You’re hungry?” After what we just went through, and she’s thinking of food? She was about to unpack the can of beans when she remembered the pouch of dehydrated apples in her vest pocket. She took a couple of slices and gave the bag to Twila.
“Are you hurt?” Scarlett gently went over Twila’s body, looking for injuries. “Change into these.” Scarlett handed her the spare set of clothes that were several sizes too big.
“These are so ugly, Mommy.” Twila changed clothes with a furrowed brow.
Clearly, the child did not understand the magnitude of their situation. “We’re trapped. I was planning on jumping out the window. Until they saw me. Now, they’re waiting for me,” Scarlett rambled to herself more than to the child as she muddled through their predicament.
Twila peered over the window ledge and munched on the apple slices. “Silly, just go down the ladder.”
Scarlett paused for a moment. “If they figure it out, they’ll shred me to—”
“I’ll pretend to play with them. They won’t even see you,” Twila said with confidence.
“What an idea.” Scarlett hashed it about. “Will it be too scary for you?”
Twila shook her head no. The child never seemed afraid of creepers, something that deeply worried Scarlett.
“It’s raining again.” Rain might be a good thing; it might buy her time. Because, once they escaped the barn, she had Ravers to contend with. Their daily patrols of the orchards and river varied; however, they avoided the rain and nightfall. “Are you sure this won’t be too scary?” Scarlett worried. Leaving a child alone with a horde of creepers was insane. Yet, what choice did she have?
“Time’s running out,” Twila shrilled.
The words chilled her blood, for it was the same thought going through her mind. “Sweetie, if I don’t make it back, hide behind the bales of hay. I’ll leave the pack. It has food, water, sleeping bag, and a flashlight. Just in case I don’t make it back—’til later.” How can I tell Twila I might not make it back? No! She had to return. Quickly. She was the child’s only hope for survival. And perhaps it’s what gave her the boost of courage she needed.
Twila gave her the oddest expression. “I’m doing this for you, Mommy!” And the girl scurried to the window, leaned over the window’s ledge, and shouted, “Who wants to have a tea party?”
Scarlett peered over the edge of the window. The horde clamored and lumbered to the middle of the scattered hay. They gawked at Twila almost as if mesmerized by her sweet voice. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
Scarlett crept to the edge of the barn’s built-in ladder. She waited for the last creeper to leave the barn, rambling toward Twila’s beckoning call. She crept down the ladder and suddenly decided it wasn’t such a great idea. The heebie-jeebies threatened to take over her nerves. Then, her foot touched ground. Scarlett snuck out of the barn and took off in a full run, stopping about two hundred yards later. Next came the tricky part. She yelled for the creepers to come and get her.
“Over here. Come and get me!” Scarlett yelled repeatedly. It took longer than she had expected. They appeared spellbound by Twila. Their scabbed-over faces finally gawked in her direction. When the horde staggered her way, she sprinted in the opposite direction of the river. She stopped every so often to catch her breath and made sure they followed her. She continued baiting them.
After a thirty minute light-jog pace of leading them away from the barn, she ducked behind a tree. She crawled out of their sight, flanked the horde, and then ran as fast as she could to the barn. The plan had to work. As long as she didn’t run into another pack.
Since creepers’ tracking abilities had improved, the horde would eventually follow her scent back to the barn. She had to be fast. Her plan should buy them the time they needed. The difference between life and death. She ran through the woods, her heart throbbing so loudly she thought her chest might burst. She jumped over downed limbs, ran through briars, and sloshed through the muddy soil, not bothering to cover her tracks. There was no time for it.
Scarlett made it to the barn out of breath. “Twila?” she panted up the loft.
“Mommy, they’re coming!”
Ravers or creepers? It really didn’t matter at that point. Scarlett dashed up the ladder. “Ready?” Scarlett asked strapping the pack on. They scrambled down the ladder.
Running through the woods with a horde on the loose was nerve-rattling enough when she was alone, but with Twila in tow, it seemed impossible. It was one of her recurring nightmares—on the run, unable to protect Twila. She had always managed in the past with the help of the hidden tree
house to keep them safe. How long could she protect them on the run? Shit! She didn’t even have a gun.
“We have to go back to the treehouse.” Scarlett suddenly decided.
“I have to say goodbye to Katie,” Twila said in a faraway voice.
“Later. Keep up with me,” Scarlett implored, ignoring the child’s strange statement.
“Shhh, time to play the Quiet Game.” Scarlett had taught Twila to walk lightly around the treehouse, making a game of it, which was always rewarded with a special treat in the event this day occurred. There was no special treat today: only survival.
Scarlett studied the forest. They were near the bug out. What was that? Scarlett nearly jumped out of her shoes. A snapped twig? A footstep? A deer? Scarlett led Twila to a tree. They crouched. Waited. Someone was out there. Where? For some reason, Twila tried to twist her hand free. Jeez Louise, no time for a tantrum. Scarlett squeezed her hand tighter. Something brushed against the back of her legs, nearly giving her a heart attack.
“Kitty!” Twila cried in delight.
Really? A cat? Or had it been a large squirrel? She had only caught a glimpse of it.
“We have to take Kitty.”
“Shhh,” Scarlett scolded. They crept toward the bug out. It was only a matter of time before the Ravers happened on the debris, and then they’d scour the forest looking for them. Still, she risked going back. She needed the gun.
They finally made it to the bug out. “Twila,” Scarlett said in a stern whisper, “stay here, against the tree. Don’t move.”
Scarlett’s eyes jumped about frantically while she tossed debris around, searching for the gun. A bin of dried soups caught her attention. She ripped off the lid and stuffed the pack with as many packets as she could squeeze in. Vegetarian food would keep Twila happy for a while.
Damn! Where’s the gun? It had to be there. The split capsule lay on its side with the remains of their bedding strewn about. The gun had been in her bunk, in the pillowcase. She rummaged through the bedding while Twila sobbed. It was rather odd. Twila seldom cried. Tantrums, yes, but not crying.
“Mommy—”
The butt of the gun protruded from under a pillow. Her nostrils stuffed-up. “Shit!” She grabbed the gun, pulled the loaded clip out of her vest pocket and spun around, cocking it in the same instant. Two creepers lunged in unison. She didn’t hesitate. She let off two rounds, nailing each one in the head. Their surprised expressions froze on their face at the moment of impact. In a bizarre moment, the two creepers glanced at each other and then twisted around to look at Twila, standing by the tree. They collapsed to the ground.
The rest of the horde was bound to find them any second. “We have to run.” Scarlett checked the rounds in the clip.
“Grrrrr.”
Scarlett spun around. Where was it? She smelled it. She turned, face to face with the creeper-child! It had been hiding behind the tree. It seemed enthralled with Twila. Twila reached for the creeper-child’s hand. It swayed as if contemplating. Then it reached its hand toward Twila’s. Scarlett slapped the clip back in the gun. She grabbed Twila in a swift movement, cocked the gun, and then aimed it inches from the creeper’s head. She hesitated at the barrage of shouting coming from the river.
“Not Katie!” Twila screeched and shoved Scarlett’s arm.
The gun went off. Missing its target.
It was unmistakable. The shouting was coming their way. Ravers and creepers! Shit! The three gunshots had given their position away. The creeper-child growled at Scarlett and kept glancing at Twila with a puzzled expression as if it wanted to tell her something. Something important. Not wanting to let off another round, Scarlett snatched the broken table leg from the debris and shooed the creeper away.
Scarlett yanked on Twila’s arm. “Run!” They took off toward the barn. Which meant they’d probably run into the rest of the horde.
And they did. She took a circuitous route to the river, hoping to evade the Ravers while out-pacing the horde.
“Kitty!” Twila yelled.
Scarlett wasn’t wasting time over a make-believe cat. She jolted to a halt when they reached the edge of the trees. She searched the river in both directions. No Ravers. They had probably just found the remains of the bug out. Now what? She had to think. At least they had gained ground from the horde. It was no longer in her field of vision. For some reason, she was compelled to go north. If the Ravers were searching the forest, maybe they had enough of a head start to follow the river north from the tree line.
“Twila,” Scarlett whispered as sternly as she could, “stay with me.”
“Kitty doesn’t want to go?” Her golden-flecked eyes shrouded over.
“Shh. They will eat us.” Scarlett hated being so blunt. In this cruel world, niceties were quickly becoming extinct. She grabbed her by the cheeks. “Ready?”
Scarlett only ran as fast as Twila’s little legs could go, all the while the pack bounced on her shoulder. They ran through the forest, jumping over obstacles and ducking under branches. The bridge came into view along with the sounds of revving engines. This is it. They had to cross the road or go under the bridge. There was no turning back. The bridge was usually guarded, so she had seldom gone north. They couldn’t go south, or they’d run into town. And somewhere behind them was a pack of hungry creepers. It was a maddening sensation—feeling their undying hunger. So close. To go east, they’d have to cross the river. Impossible.
A breeze picked up. She closed her eyes briefly. “Go north,” the leaves whispered in the wind. Out of choices, she stepped onto the sandy-rocky riverbank. She dared a glance back. A huge pack of creepers lumbered toward them along the riverbank. Where had they come from? It was as if they had been waiting for them. Surely, it was a different horde.
“Faster!” Scarlett urged. What? The vehicles weren’t on the bridge; they sped along the bank. The horde was between them and the vehicles. Gunfire shattered the morning. Scarlett didn’t know if the Ravers were shooting at her or the horde. She prodded Twila faster.
Once under the bridge, Scarlett jerked Twila’s hand to a stop. Hidden in the bridge’s shadow, Scarlett took a moment to assess the situation and to take cover from the automatic gunfire. Three all-terrain-type vehicles shot into the horde. It looked like the large horde blocked the Ravers’ view. Apparently, the Ravers were caught up in their sporting shooting spree. It was their chance to escape.
They ventured into the forest again and continued following the river north from the forest line. While they trudged on, Twila seemed lost in a silent cry, no doubt pouting over the incident with the creeper-child, whom she had evidently named Katie.
“Time to play the Quiet Game. And, young lady, do not let go of my hand. Do you understand?” Scarlett’s voice was stern.
Twila agreed rather solemnly. They continued without a word. Scarlett had never made it this far north. She’d been running on pure adrenaline for so long it had taken a while to realize how cold it was. It was about forty degrees—not too cold for her—definitely too cold for a child. She needed to find shelter before nightfall. Go North. Where had she heard those words? In a dream? She flashbacked. Kevin—his last text message. He had told her to go north. It seemed like eons ago: Kevin, her ex-fiance, her teaching career, and her comfy-cozy lifestyle in Roseville, California. Well, Scarlett from Roseville, what’s the next chapter in your life?
Hmm, Zac had told her to go north, too. She hadn’t. Why risk traveling with a child, when they had the well-hidden treehouse and a river full of fish and orchards of fruit? It had seemed insane at the time. Yet, there she was, on the run, trying to save a child somewhere along the Moke River in November, all the while outrunning creepers and Ravers. Really, how flippin’ impossible is this gonna get?
They hiked on at a slower pace, conserving their energy. They’d just have to stop at the first building she found, granted it was safe. They were bound to find a deserted cabin or vacation home somewhere along the riverbank, perhaps around the next
bend.
The terrain’s gradual incline continued. She was exhausted, and so was Twila. A new front of dark bluish-white clouds rolled in. It was definitely colder. Don’t tell me it’s going to snow. Give me a break! She screamed internally. In a moment of desperation, she dropped to her knees. The snow started. Scarlett was at her wit's end. She draped Twila with the poncho from the pack. The cans of Spam reminded her how famished she was. Without thinking she opened the can, offering the first spoonful to Twila.
“No.” Twila grimaced.
“It’s Spam, not meat.” Scarlett was too exhausted to sound convincing.
“I can read,” Twila retorted.
“Sweetie, you need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” She pouted.
Fine. She was tired of arguing. After a few bites of Spam, Scarlett stuffed the opened can and spoon in a sock and repacked it. She didn’t have much of an appetite either. Where the hell are we spending the night? They still had about two hours of light. The snow wasn’t sticking to the ground, yet. If it weren’t for the thought they might freeze to death, she would have enjoyed the mystical snowy display, the way the snow floated to the ground in fluffy cotton balls.
“There’s Kitty!” Twila jerked free and bolted into the woods.
“Twila—”
Uh, what just happened? Scarlett dropped the pack and chased after her. She tripped on a protruding tree root. “Shit!” She lost sight of Twila amongst the trees. She tried standing on her foot. It stung. She swiveled her ankle around; it wasn’t broken. Scarlett went back for the pack and then quietly limped through the woods listening to the sounds of the forest.
A giggle. Twila? She found a small set of footprints. To her alarm, the snow was sticking, which meant it was too cold. As she followed the footprints deeper into the forest, the sun surprisingly made an appearance, and the snow continued, creating an enchanting scene right out of Oz. She closed her eyes, pleading for one of her random flashes of insight to kick in.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 2): The Hunger's Howl Page 6
