Dex

by Claflin, Stacy

  He slid down to the ground and rested his head against the tree trunk. Did he really want to head back to his childhood home to find out what had happened to his family? He’d changed his course of direction, and look what had happened. Those men had tried to kill him, and he’d found a building full of monsters.

  If he continued back in the direction he’d been going before, he at least stood a chance of finding a place that hadn’t been destroyed by the wanderers. Maybe even a town that had never been touched by them. He hadn’t given up his dream of finding a place with bustling shops, schools, hospitals, and restaurants like his grandparents had always told him about. Life before the zombies sounded like a dream. There had to be something somewhere like that.

  Dex might be able to find that place if he kept traveling the way he’d been. If he changed everything and went back, he knew exactly what he’d find along the way. More monsters and dangerous groups of people. No idyllic metropolitan paradise.

  Would finding his dad and siblings—potentially also turned into horrible mindless brutes—do him any good? Even if he did manage to find the little community, it might take him another eleven years to get back, and there was no guarantee he could get back in. He’d escaped and immediately been locked out. What made him think that they’d let him back in so many years later?

  Maybe he needed to get something in his stomach before he made any decisions. And he also needed to take care of the gash in his leg. It now throbbed and the pain had sharpened. If it got infected, he was done for. Traveling in any direction would be out of the question.

  He pulled himself up and limped toward the sounds of the nearest birds chirping, pushing his way through thick, overgrown prickly bushes. The leaves stuck to clothes, irritating his already sore skin. Birds continued singing in the distance. They seemed to be moving farther away from him.

  A new sound made him freeze in his tracks. Dex stood on alert, listening.

  Could it be? A brook? It sure sounded like it.

  He broke into a run, forgetting all his injuries and ignoring the bushes. He came to a clearing and found himself at the top of an incline. A small fresh breeze blew by and an actual stream with what appeared to be clean water ran below.

  Dex glanced around, taking in everything he could see. There were no signs of people or wanderers. No footprints, no tents or other temporary dwellings, no remnants of previous meals. It was as though this little piece of land had been left alone for many years.

  A chill ran down his back. That was almost more worrisome than finding something.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing, other than the birds in the distance and the bubbling stream.

  He cleared his throat. “Anyone here?”

  Just the sounds of nature.

  “I just want some water. That’s all.” He adjusted the bow over his shoulder and made his way down the small, sandy hill. His feet slid out in different directions because of the loose soil and steep incline. He quickly adjusted and raced down to the water. It was clear, and no dead fish or animals floated anywhere in sight.

  Maybe this would be as close to paradise as he would get.

  Dex knelt and scooped water into his filthy hands and brought it to his mouth. The grime immediately clouded the water. He pulled his palms apart, letting the water splash back into the stream. The cool water soaked into his jeans, which also dirtied the water. If he was going to drink, he needed to clean himself first.

  He looked around again before setting his weapons on the ground just behind him and pulled off all his clothes. He immersed each piece into the water, squeezed, and ran them over some rocks to get the dirt out. Then he lay them out on some boulders to dry in the sun before bathing himself in the deepest part of the stream.

  It was a rare treat. He hadn’t been able to clean off completely since the springtime. Dex ducked underneath the water and raked his fingers through his hair and over his beard before coming up for air. The sun warmed him completely compared to the cool water. He could stay there all day, but knew better than remaining out in the open for too long.

  He treaded water for a minute before heading back to the shore. When he got to the point where the water was waist deep, something bumped against his leg. Dex froze, picturing a wanderer swimming, ready to bite. He looked down. Fish. There were several of them swimming together.

  Relief washed through him as he realized how stupid he’d been to assume it’d been a monster. They couldn’t swim. That took too much conscious thought.

  Dex studied the fish. Several more joined the ones swimming around him. They all looked perfectly healthy. No extra eyes or oozing wounds like he’d seen in some streams. Just glimmering silver fins and two clear eyes on each one.

  Perhaps fish would make a better meal than fowl. It was now a matter of catching one with his bare hands since all of his knives were on the shore. Not just on the shore, but filthy. He’d killed both people and wanderers with them. They weren’t suitable for preparing or even catching food.

  He held perfectly still as he watched the fish swimming around him. They were just as curious about him as he was of them. Were they hoping for a meal, too? Dex held his hands above the water, waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab his next meal. A little protein was exactly what he needed. Assuming he could catch one. His nails were long and ragged, but now clean, so maybe he could use them to grip onto the fish.

  They swam around him slowly as he continued holding perfectly still. He would have to be fast, and he probably only had one chance. Once he tried to capture one, they would certainly flee.

  Dex held his breath and waited for the right moment. One of the fish paused, holding still as it bumped against his thigh. It was so close to the surface. His pulse raced. He reached down, splashing into the water, and wrapped his hands around the slippery-smooth skin. It wriggled and fought against him, but Dex dug his nails into it and held on for dear life, desperate to make that his next meal.

  Chapter 7

  Dex set the now-dead fish onto a boulder near his clothes and went back to the water to re-clean his hands. His mouth watered and stomach rumbled at the thought of his next meal. Fresh fish! Maybe that was his reward for everything he’d been through that morning.

  His clothes had already mostly dried. They were just a little damp. He pulled them on and then took his knives over to the water to get all the blood and guts off.

  Birds sang, moving closer. The sun warmed and dried him. His next meal waited for him just feet away.

  It was almost too good to be true. One thing was certain. He wasn’t going to let his guard down. The second he did that, something would go terribly wrong. In fact, he needed to pick up his next meal and move on. The worst place for him to be was out in the open like he was, no matter how nice it felt.

  He dried the blades on his clothes, returned them to the sheaths, and grabbed the fish. His stomach rumbled even though the carcass didn’t smell good yet.

  Dex found a narrow path and followed it into the woods. It became narrower with each step he took until it nearly disappeared. He pressed through the thick shrubbery until he came to a tiny clearing. It was still covered with thick tree branches which would keep smoke from a fire hidden from anyone else. He’d have to breathe it in, but that was a small price to pay for being able to eat a fish that was nearly as long as his forearm.

  He gathered what he needed and soon had a small fire. It was clean, too, and didn’t release much smoke. Dex took his time holding each of his blades over the fire to burn off any germs and viruses from them. Then he gutted the fish, stuck a long stick through it, and jimmied it so that it sat over the fire at just the right height.

  Dex rolled up a pant leg and studied the wound from the broken window. It was too deep to heal on its own easily. He took one of his blades and held it into the flames. Once it was hot enough, he used it to seal the wound. He grimaced and bit back curses he wanted to shout.

  The smell of burnt flesh stung his nose. He remo
ved the hot blade and studied the cauterized wound. It looked about as good as he could hope. With any luck, the stench wouldn’t attract any nearby wanderers. It would be more appealing to them than either the smoke or the cooking fish.

  He twisted the stick, roasting the meat on all sides. Once it was fully cooked, he waited for it to cool. His mouth watered and his stomach roared loud enough to wake the dead, or even the living dead. Thankfully, his stomach and the popping of the fire were the only noises in the area.

  Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. If he ended up burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth, he would live. They would heal soon enough.

  Dex grabbed hold of the stick and bit into the fish. It burned a little, but he barely noticed. He ate so fast he hardly tasted the food. He couldn’t swallow it quick enough. The meat nearly caught in his throat.

  Once he’d finished, he was stuffed. That was a lot more than he was used to eating in a sitting. Actually, it was more than he was used to eating in a day. Maybe it would even keep him full that long.

  Scratch.

  Dex froze in the middle of wiping his mouth and listened for another noise. After a minute, he relaxed. Maybe he hadn’t heard anything after all. He leaned back against a tree trunk and rested, enjoying the feel of a full stomach. It had been months since he’d eaten so well.

  Scratch.

  He hadn’t imagined that.

  Dex grabbed his knives and jumped up, ready to fight. The struggle to survive was never ending. Relaxing after a meal was a rarity, and it was beginning to look like today would be no different. Perhaps if he made it back to his hometown and convinced them to let him inside the walls, he could enjoy that luxury again—if the community still stood.

  He shuddered, remembering his mom as a wanderer. She’d have been the last person to ever want to try and kill one of her kids. If there was any mercy in the world, then her mind was completely gone and she hadn’t been aware of what had happened. It was something Dex knew he’d never forget. His only hope was that going back to where he’d grown up would give him answers that would help explain what had happened.

  Scratch.

  Dex swore under his breath. Whatever that was, it was getting closer. He knelt, scooped up dirt, and covered what little fire remained. It was doubtful he’d return to the spot after figuring out what or who was behind all the noise.

  Scratch.

  It was definitely closer. He studied the thick forest around him, not seeing anything out of place. There were plenty of places to hide, not that the wanderers would bother with that. Only people, and he didn’t want to deal with any more of them for a long time after everything he’d been through just a few short hours ago.

  In fact, it made him all the more eager to find a metropolis—a city where people were civilized and had culture. Sure, he’d stick out like a broken, bloody nose but he could learn to fit in. He’d do anything he could to escape the kill-or-be-killed world he was so tired of fighting.

  Scratch!

  Now the noise was just making him mad.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  Scratch, scratch.

  Dex picked up his bow, slung it over his shoulder, and checked for arrows. None.

  His heart sank. He’d have to make more later and use his knives for now. Dex pushed through bushes and scanned the area. The scratching continued, growing louder and more frequent. With any luck, it would only be one or two monsters. Any more of them, and he wasn’t sure he had it in him to fight. Except that he would. He always did, no matter how tired or worn out he felt.

  He continued pushing his way through until he reached a clearing.

  What he saw made him freeze in his tracks. His heart jumped into his throat, and he nearly dropped his knife.

  Chapter 8

  Dex stared at the little girl. Her back was to him, and her brown curls cascaded down her back over her blue and gray dress. She didn’t appear to be much older than Lanie had been when Dex had escaped into the wilderness, which meant the little girl was probably no older than six or seven.

  There were several concerning things about the situation, and Dex’s mind raced trying to figure out the most likely scenario. She might be lost, but she wasn’t crying. There was no way she could survive on her own, and that meant that others had to be nearby. Given all the predators out there, she wouldn’t make it more than a few hours before running into someone who would either kill or abduct her.

  The situation could be a trap.

  Dex had seen more than his share of those. If this was a trick, it was the first time a child had been used as bait. That was pretty low of whoever was using her. Maybe cannibals? The little girl would be of more use to them to capture full-sized men like Dex.

  He hesitated. On one hand, she was a child. On the other, every group was out for themselves, only viewing outsiders as enemies. People to murder before they could get you.

  That was part of the kill-or-be-killed world he lived in.

  Even so, he couldn’t turn his back on the girl and leave her stranded.

  Not that taking her under his wing was any better of an option.

  “Are you lost?”

  The girl kept her back to him.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her hair swayed against her back, but she still didn’t turn to him. An arm twitched.

  “Where’s your family?”

  The little girl still didn’t move toward him. She might’ve been frozen with fear. That was a feeling Dex knew all too well, and he couldn’t imagine having to deal with it at such a young age.

  “I can help you find them.”

  She spun around, her hair flying around her head, and stared at him with huge, wide eyes. Her skin was pale as though terror-stricken. She clung to a ratty doll in a pink dress.

  He cleared his throat and knelt closer to her level. That was something Mom had always done. “My name’s Dex. What’s yours?”

  The little girl just stared at him, her eyes opening even more. There was an emptiness in them. It had to be from the fear. If she was alone, she’d likely seen horrors no young girl should ever witness.

  “Can I help you find your family?”

  Without a word, she spun around and ran down a trail.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” Dex rose, but guilt stung at him. He couldn’t walk away from a child in jeopardy. Not even if it was possibly a trap.

  Dex ran after her, catching up easily. Her small legs couldn’t move her as fast as his took him.

  “Wait!”

  She didn’t. They ran and ran. Dex gasped for air. The girl might not be fast, but she could go the distance, and without slowing to catch her breath. Did all kids have so much energy? He couldn’t remember—it had been so long since he’d seen his siblings, and even then, he’d been a kid himself.

  Dex’s full stomach started to cramp. He was going to have to stop and let the girl fend for herself. She clearly didn’t want his help, anyway.

  “I have to stop!” He slowed his pace, hoping she would as well. Dex wiped some sweat from his forehead. His clothes stuck to him. Staying clean sure hadn’t lasted long, not that he’d expected it to.

  The little girl skidded to a stop. Did she actually want his help? Was she testing him?

  “Are you okay?”

  She spun around. Her face was just as pale as before. She hadn’t so much as broken into a sweat nor was her face flushed in the slightest. Dex was sure his own face had to be red, or at least pink, from the exertion.

  He wiped more sweat from his brows. “Do you know where your parents are? Brothers and sisters? Anyone?”

  Rustling sounded to the right. Dex prepared himself to pick up the kid and run if a wanderer appeared. Although, given the shape she was in, they both might be better off if she carried him instead.

  “We should go.” He held out his hand and stepped closer.

  She clutched her doll to her chest and stared at Dex’s hand, then back to his face.

&nb
sp; The rustling grew louder.

  Dex’s pulse pounded through his body. “Come on.”

  Snap!

  A large branch broke only feet from them. Footsteps sounded. There had to be a handful of people headed his way. Dex needed to make a decision, and fast. Otherwise, he and the little girl would likely end up as dinner.

  He reached for her.

  “No!” someone shouted.

  Something hard struck Dex from the right side with force. He flew through the air and nearly crashed into a tree, but he regained his footing and stumbled to a stop.

  A woman in torn denim overalls and wild red hair aimed a gun at the little girl.

  “What are you doing?” Dex ran at her and shoved the weapon from her grasp. It fell to the ground.

  She glared at him. “What are you doing?”

  A tall, skinny bald guy jumped out of the bushes. He released a string of profanities, pulled out a machete, and aimed it at the child.

  Dex ran past the woman and threw all of his weight against the man, forcing him to drop his weapon too.

  The little girl stared at them all, turning from one to the next as she took small, slow steps toward them.

  “You people are crazy.” Dex forced his way past them to the child.

  “Watch out!” The woman lunged for Dex.

  A gunshot rang through the air. Dex’s ears rang.

  Every monster within hearing would make their way to them.

  The little girl fell to the ground.

  Chapter 9

  “What have you done?” Dex shouted at the two crazy people. A third person, a woman with short black hair who bore a rifle, stepped out from the bushes.

  The girl remained on the ground, unmoving.

  “You people killed her!” Dex grabbed the skinny man’s neck.

  He pushed Dex away. “I saved you.”