My brain still has reservations about going with her. It wants me to stop and weigh out the ramifications of what could happen. There’s no time for that, though. We enter the narrow alley between the two sets of buildings and continue on. It’s cramped, only offering two arm lengths worth of space for us to shuffle down. I’m not even sure it’s an alley. Both of the structures are so close to each other, I feel as though I could stand in the middle, with my arms stretched out, and touch both brick walls at the same time.
The woman enters the building through an opening and continues to motion for us to hurry along. I try not to think the worst of what could happen, but given the events over the past few months, I’ve learned that one must be vigilant and cautious if one hopes to survive.
The truck is so close now that I can hear clearly every defect within the rough-idling engine. I step past the dark open space, and spot the woman lurking within the shadows.
“Come on,” she beseeches once more.
I turn and face the street, and allow Lucas to go first. Duke follows close behind him just as the truck comes into view. As much as I yearn to rip the automatic rifle from my shoulder and unleash hell on the vehicle, I refrain from doing so.
I will find and rescue you, Cassie. I promise you that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I duck inside the structure behind Duke and Lucas. The woman squeezes past us and heads for the opening. What light the rising sun offers is quickly snuffed, plummeting us into a black void of nothingness. I can hear her move, but struggle now to see where she is. I search my person for the whereabouts of the flashlight I had, but then remember that I dropped it back at the truck.
A spark of light flickers to life, and the smell of sulfur taints the air. The warm glow from the match’s red, phosphorous tip gives light to the woman’s aged and slightly wrinkled face. It’s nice to see that school wasn’t a complete waste of time. I actually retained something.
In her other hand, she is holding a lantern. She lights the wick, and closes the clear door. She flicks her wrist, reducing the match to nothing more than a puff of smoke that fades to nothing.
I shift from foot to foot. My fingers loosen then tighten back over the machete’s handle. I glance to Lucas, then over his shoulder to the blackness beyond before training my sights back to her.
She lifts the lantern higher in the air and squints her eyes. “Are you ok?” Her voice is soft and sweet. I can’t tell if she’s whispering or just soft spoken. She stares at me with a concerned expression like a mother has for a child. Reminds me of how my mom would look at me when I hurt myself. Still, despite her pleasant and outwardly caring disposition, I’m slow to respond.
A part of me feels like I have been ruined on trusting people. My initial instinct now is to keep my guard up, and be prepared for anything. Right now, everyone is my enemy until they prove me wrong.
She seems to pick up on this fact as her eyes shift toward the machete that is still tightly grasped within my hand.
“You have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to hurt you.” She shifts the lantern to her left hand and focuses it on Lucas, who’s resting against a beam. She stops the light at his injured shoulder, revealing his blood-soaked hand. She narrows her gaze and squints, revealing the crow’s feet, as Mom called them, on both sides of her eyes. “Oh, my lord, you’ve been injured.”
He nods, then tilts his head toward his blood-soaked shirt. “Yeah. Those people out there shot at us while we were trying to get some fuel. Caught me in my shoulder.”
She raises her hand toward his shoulder. Duke growls under his breath and lowers his ears. I step closer to Lucas.
She stops cold. “Like I said, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to take a look at the wound, if that’s ok?”
We’ll see about that.
“My trust in adults right now is less than stellar, lady. I’ve come across a ton of bad people, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you at the moment.”
“It’s fine, James.” Lucas wearily removes his palm from his shoulder, revealing the bloody flesh and smirched clothing. She reaches for the wound slowly as she glances to me. She moves the torn fabric carefully out of the way and examines the area. She pulls him gingerly toward her, and shines the light at his back.
I watch every move she makes vigilantly. She glances to me out of the corner of her eye. Yeah, I’m right here, and I’m watching what you’re doing.
She takes a step back and lowers her hand to her leg. She wipes her fingers off on her pants. “We’ve got a first aid kit upstairs that I can patch him up with if you’d like me to?” she offers. “The wound needs to be cleaned and dressed to keep it from getting an infection.”
Lucas pushes away from the solid steel beam and nods. “Anything you can do would be most appreciated.”
She offers a warm smile, even to me.
“I’m Lucas. This is James. And this is Duke,” Lucas says.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Beverly. If you will, please, follow me.” She scoots past Lucas and Duke, who stops his growling for the moment, and walks down the dimly lit opening of the silent space.
“I hope you know what you’re doing here,” I say as we turn and follow her.
“Just keep your eyes peeled. I think if she wanted to do something to us, she could’ve just left us outside. That would’ve been enough. Besides, I need to get this patched up. Getting an infection now would not be good at all.”
Beverly turns to the right and heads up a rickety staircase. Each board creaks and pops. Duke goes first, followed by Lucas then me. I crane my neck, and try to look past Lucas at her. She remains front and center with the lantern lifted in the air. She doesn’t offer a glance back over her shoulder at us. Apparently, she trusts us infinitely more than we trust her. Well, at least me anyway.
Don’t get me wrong, when it comes to people’s intentions, I’d like to be proved wrong for a change. Before the world was cast into the nightmare it is today, I had this notion that all people were good and innocent until proven otherwise. Mom and Dad taught me that. There is evil in the world, but not every person I meet will have mischievous intentions. When people act like they genuinely care, they really do. Although they told me to not blindly follow, and be aware of what is happening, there are those that I’ll come across during certain times in my life that are just what I need. Perhaps, this is one of those times. We shall see.
Beverly hits the landing and turns to her right. She walks along the narrow space between the peeled and scuffed white walls and the drab banister. My eyes follow her every movement, my head twisting back over my shoulder to follow her.
“Hold up for us, boy,” I order Duke.
He stops his pursuit of Beverly and glances down to us from our right. He plops down onto his hind legs. His left paw comes up and scratches at the side of his head.
Lucas makes the landing with a heavy clomp of his boots. He takes the corner in a sluggish manner as his hand braces against the railing. He continues after Beverly, who pauses across the way at an opening that leads into another room.
She motions with her arm for us to continue following her. “Come on, this way now.”
Duke gets back to his paws and continues on. She moves farther into the dimly lit space and temporarily disappears from my sight. The flickering of the wick from the lantern still moves and shifts across the wall. Shadows of bodies within the room play on the walls.
My anxiety is all over the place. My mind wants to convince me this is a trap. That she’s leading us to our inevitable doom. Regardless of how nice and helpful this woman presents herself to be, I’m finding it difficult to let my guard down. She could be leading us to a feeding frenzy of chasers that she has restrained. Their gaunt bodies in need of human flesh to sustain their existence. Perhaps she is just looking to rob us, although, she could’ve done just that outside given our situation. In either case, I remain vigilant, and alert to whatever may happen next.
/> We enter the large, loft type space, cautiously. I take in the drab looking walls and tattered, bare wood floors. The lantern gives off enough light to get a general lay of the land.
The space is completely barren except for some backpacks and blankets that are laid out on the floor. A single wooden crate sits in the corner that offers the lantern a place to rest. Beverly kneels down next to an elderly man with a rag draped across his forehead. Blankets cover him up to his neck. She places her hands gently to the sides of his face. A single groan escapes his thin lips.
He appears to be on his death bed. Or in this case, death blanket. “He’s not infected, is he?”
Beverly pats her hand softly on his chest and stands up. Slowly, she turns to face us. A solemn look of sadness washes over her. “No. He has a heart condition. We ran out of his medicine a week or so ago. We have been trying to find more, but most, if not all of the stores that have pharmacies have been rummaged through and pilfered already with not much left that’s worth anything.”
Lucas groans subtly in discomfort, but still manages to offer a sympathetic response. “I am sorry to hear that.”
Beverly gives us a half-smile, which looks to be forced through the grief on her face. She holds her hand out in the direction of a set of blankets that is laid on the floor to our right. “Here, let's get that shoulder taken care of.” She accompanies Lucas across the room. Duke stays by his side. He has always been in tune with people who are in pain or in need of some comfort.
I catch sight of a tall, slender man leaning against the wall next to a boarded-up window. Beams of sunlight slip through the thin spaces between the wooden pieces that are nailed to the walls. He looks to be in his early twenties from what I can tell. His head is covered with a black beanie that is lowered down just above his eyebrows. His eyes are narrowed at me, lips taut as he spits something from his mouth. He’s holding what appears to be a shotgun in his right hand.
“So, I see you actually brought them in with you. I don’t think that was a wise thing to do, Mom.” His tone is blunt and snarky. There is no warm, inviting feeling from him. He wants us gone. Honestly, I can relate.
Beverly assists Lucas as he carefully sits down on the folded-up blankets. She says something to him that I can’t quite hear.
Lucas subtly nods his head as his body melts into the wall. The muscles in his arms and shoulders turn to sludge and drop lifelessly to the blankets. The upper lids of his eyes droop down slowly. His will to stop them seems to be too much for him to bear. I imagine that the lack of sleep and proper eating is only adding to his already fatigued state. Duke sits by Lucas’s side with his head resting on his front paws.
“We don’t know them,” Shane says. “For all we know, they’re just as bad as those people who killed Dad and took Jenny. Hell, for all we know, they’ve already killed Donny. That is, if the chasers didn’t get to him first.”
“Yes, Shane, I know where you stand on the matter, but your father wouldn’t want us to just cast aside people who are in need.” Beverly grabs a small, white, square box that is off to Lucas’s left and opens it. “With your sister and brother out there, would you want people to just turn their backs to them if they needed help?”
He scoffs, and glances out through the opening between the wooden slats covering the window. “Yeah, well, Dad’s dead now, and Grandfather won’t be far behind. We may not even see Jenny and Donny again.”
Her hands freeze with some gauze and other items clutched in her fingers. They tremble, as if being compelled to a violent recourse isn’t out of the question. After a moment of complete silence, she releases what sounds like a sniffle.
In that moment, I can relate to how she is feeling—wanting to be strong and carry on with a hopeful glint in your eye when your soul is being torn apart over and over again. She wants to break down and cry, but doesn’t. Her a-hole of a son is less helpful. Beverly remains in control of her feelings though, and snuffs out the heartache and anger churning below the surface. I can only imagine how much strength it takes to let those feelings subside. I wish I was that strong. Hopefully, one day, I will be.
“Can you please just leave me be? I need to concentrate on what I’m doing, and don’t have the time or energy to deal with you right now,” she calmly says. It sounds more a demand than a request.
With a snicker, he shakes his head, and leans the barrel of the shotgun against his shoulder. He walks across the room toward me in a huff of frustration and anger. His gaze cuts to the woman with venomous contempt as he brushes past me.
“I’ll be downstairs… Beverly.”
Beverly digs inside her pack as if she didn’t hear him, and retrieves a small bottle of liquor. She removes the cap and places it in Lucas’s palm.
“Here. Drink this.” Lucas doesn’t question what it is. He knows what’s coming. He lifts his arm slowly, and takes a hefty swig of the stout spirit. The taste bites him hard. He grumbles and flinches, making his face contort in disgust.
“I’m sorry about that,” Beverly says. “He’s been devastated by everything that has happened. He’s never really been that good in dealing with stress.”
She can say that again. Although, I’m much the same way at the moment.
Beverly unbuttons Lucas’s shirt. She maneuvers the dingy fabric off his left shoulder far enough to reveal the injured flesh. Just to the right of the gunshot wound is a large tattoo of what appears to be a skull with spikes surrounding it.
I walk across the room toward the window, and peer out to the street below. The truck is nowhere in sight, and its grumbling engine cannot be heard. I hope Cassie is ok.
“Do you know who those people are that took your daughter?” I inquire.
“Savages. Scum. Take your pick. They’re all of them and then some.” Her voice is laced with disdain, tone infused with indignation, yet her touch remains gentle and caring while attending to Lucas. “They snatched my daughter while we were inside a store nearby searching for supplies about four days ago. My husband tried to stop them, but they killed him without thought. They would’ve killed us too, but some chasers showed up and drew their attention away from us. We were forced to flee and find shelter. We found this place and have been holed up ever since.”
She grabs a canteen that is close to the pack and soaks the gauze in her hand. She brings it up to Lucas’s shoulder and cleans the damaged flesh. Lucas winces. His teeth clench and eyes clamp shut as she cleans the area as gently, and yet as thoroughly as she can.
I probe deeper. I need to know as much as I can about these vile degenerates, so I can figure out how I need to approach getting Cassie back. “Why did they just take her?”
She discards the blood-soaked gauze, grabs another piece, and douses it just the same. She carefully pulls Lucas’s dead weight forward, and cleans the back of his shoulder.
“To be honest, I don’t exactly know. They literally came out of nowhere and surprised us. One of the men did mention that she would work, but didn’t elaborate any more than that. My oldest son, Donny, has tracked them down and went to rescue her. Shane wanted to go along, but Donny told him that he needed to stay behind and protect us in case they came back. That was a day or so ago. We had hoped that they would have returned by now.”
Listening to the woman retell the sad and sickening tale makes me even angrier. Given the fact that they showed no interest in robbing the family, and was only interested in taking their daughter, tells much more of who and what we are dealing with.
Beverly finishes cleaning off the excess blood, and eases Lucas back against the wall. She pads the wound with some gauze, and wraps a white bandage around his shoulder. Once finished, she helps Lucas lean over and lay flat on his back on the mound of blankets.
Duke scoots out of the way, but remains close by his side. His big eyes look over at me as he vents a sigh through his nose.
“Your father will be ok, but he needs to rest for a bit.” Beverly places the medical items back into the box. As she
stands up and turns to face me, she wipes her hands off on a rag that is clutched in her hands.
I start to correct her, but stop. Not sure why I didn’t set it straight that Lucas isn’t my father. I think a part of me sees Lucas as a father figure in the way he’s been looking out for me. Back at the cabin, where he came into my life, he could’ve passed on helping me get to Mom and Cindy, but he didn’t. Despite how much I gripe and lash out, he’s still around. I’m thankful for that.
“Thank you for helping us. We really appreciate it.”
Beverly offers me a kind smile.
I try to repay her with one, but ultimately just nod. “Does Shane know where they have taken your daughter?”
“He does. He’s been itching to go after them, but doesn’t want to leave me and his grandfather alone.” Beverly glances at the door. Her eyes start to glaze over with sadness. She runs her fingers under both to clear out the tears forming. “He’s been through so much over the years. It’s been one thing after another. At times, I feel as though I have failed him as a mother. Probably why he hates me so much.”
“I doubt he hates you,” I sincerely reply. “We all handle stress in different ways. What’s currently happening in the world with the chasers, and with this recent tragedy, probably just has him in a tailspin of not knowing how to deal with everything. Believe me, I can attest to that.”
Beverly folds her arms across her chest and clears her throat. “How old are you, exactly?”
“I’m fifteen and a half,” I say rather confidently. Lately, I’ve felt invincible. Perhaps it’s the desire, and sheer will not to give up since Cindy is alive. Much like Donny, and even Shane, I’d do anything for her. Cassie too, for that matter.
“I didn’t think you were much older than sixteen. You know, for a teenager, you’re pretty perceptive.”
The elderly man groans once more in discomfort. His breathing seems forced, and shallow. A low, subtle whistle escapes his pale lips.
Beverly discards the rag and checks on him. She lowers down to both knees and takes his wrinkled hand into hers. “I’m here, Dad.” She speaks softly to him as her free hand strokes back his thinning white hair. His fingers twitch slightly, and barely close over the side of her palm. She grips his hand tighter as if that will keep him from slipping away.
Dead State (Book 3): Executioner Page 11
