A Wilderness Within

by Emma Castle

  He took the man outside. They were far enough south that the ground was not frozen now that it was March. He laid the man down on the ground and then picked up a shovel from by the back door. Lincoln dug and dug until his back ached and his palms were raw from the old splintered wooden handle of the shovel. Then he carried Rick over to the shallow grave and buried him.

  When he was done, he stood looking down at the four mounds of earth. Caroline’s parents, sister, and brother-in-law were all gone. She might have seen them one last time if he hadn’t gotten shot back in Omaha. He’d cost her the only thing she’d wanted. Her family. She would never forgive him. Hell, he’d never forgive himself.

  Lincoln stared at the gun in his hands, unaware of when he had removed it from his shoulder holster. It would be so easy to… There would be nothing left, no more guilt, no more misery. Only a true silence and true darkness, one he wouldn’t mind.

  “Lincoln?” The single word shocked him back to himself. He slipped the gun back into his holster with shaking hands and faced her. She was standing half a dozen feet away, her gaze worried and her eyes red-rimmed. She had been crying.

  “Sorry. I’m coming back in now,” he promised, his voice rough with emotions he wished he could hide from her.

  “Thank you. I know what you did…how hard that was. I can’t even imagine…” There was no hate in her voice, no fury, not even pity. There was only compassion in her too lovely hazel eyes and…a deeper emotion that scared him more than anything else.

  Why was she not condemning him? How could she not hate him right now?

  “I…” He didn’t know what to say next, and his words trailed off into silence.

  Caroline walked up to him and embraced him. She wrapped her arms tight as though trying to crush him, and the pain in his still healing shoulder felt good. Like it was cleansing him somehow. He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her in return. This woman was and would always be the beautiful bright lighthouse tower in the storm around him. She cut through his darkness, even the parts he swore would never see light again.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered against his chest. “It’s okay…”

  He should have been the one comforting her. He should’ve been holding her in his arms and promising to give her back the life she’d once had. But here he was in a cold, quiet yard, four graves at his back, and all he could do was hang on to her for dear life.

  “Do you mind if I say a few words?” she asked, and pulled out a slender old-looking book from her coat.

  “No,” he replied. “I think they’d all like that.”

  “I know they would,” she agreed with a sad smile. “This was my dad’s favorite book of poetry. It has some classics in it, but there’s one I think that’s the best. It’s called Do not Stand at my Grave and Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye. He read it at my grandmother’s funeral a few years back, and it’s always stuck with me.”

  She thumbed through the pages, and he stood silently beside her, one arm around her shoulders, the other gripping the shovel’s handle so hard his knuckles were white.

  She cleared her throat, trying to smile, but it soon faded as she began to speak.

  * * *

  Do not stand at my grave and weep

  I am not there; I do not sleep.

  I am a thousand winds that blow,

  I am the diamond glints on snow,

  I am the sun on ripened grain,

  I am the gentle autumn rain.

  When you awaken in the morning’s hush

  I am the swift uplifting rush

  Of quiet birds in circled flight.

  I am the soft stars that shine at night.

  Do not stand at my grave and cry,

  I am not there; I did not die.

  * * *

  She was quiet a long moment afterward, but her words seemed to echo in the still yard.

  Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there; I did not die.

  Lincoln struggled for a breath as he watched his woman stand there and not cry. Her eyes held tears, but she didn’t shed a single one.

  “They aren’t there; they didn’t die,” she finally whispered and then turned to him. It wasn’t a denial of their deaths. Rather it was an acceptance of they had been something more than mere bodies living on this earth. Who they were deep inside, their souls, was all around them, glinting off snow, shimmering in the night sky, or a soft whisper of birds’ wings as the dawn broke over the horizon. She was right. Her family wasn’t there buried beneath the ground, nor was Adam still lying on his cot in the bunker.

  They are not there; they did not die.

  The burden crushing him slowly began to ease, and he pulled Caroline into another hug. Somehow she’d done the impossible—she’d shared his burden and given him the strength to go on. He’d been right. This woman was the embodiment of hope.

  “Let’s go inside. We have a lot to pack. They stocked up on baby supplies. Formula, diapers, all sorts of stuff. Regular supplies and dog food too. They were prepared for the long haul.” Caroline’s voice held a hint of false cheer, but he only saw her courage. She was strong. How could he ever have believed this woman was weak?

  Lincoln followed her inside, and they were both greeted by the excited prance of the Irish setter.

  “Hey, Kirby.” Caroline ruffled her hand in the dog’s fur on the top of his head. Kirby twirled expectantly to Lincoln, and Lincoln suddenly laughed, which sounded ridiculous at first in the silent house.

  “What? What is it?” Caroline asked.

  “I’ve wanted a dog all my life. My dad never let me have one, and obviously I couldn’t have one in the service. It took the world ending for me to finally get my childhood wish.” He knelt down at face level with Kirby and reached out to pet the dog. Kirby bumped his nose into Lincoln’s outstretched palm, then moved in for an excited lick of Lincoln’s face.

  “You are wrong, you know,” Caroline said. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him.

  “Yeah? About what?” He straightened.

  “The world ending. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. The world never ended. The wind still moves, and the grass will grow in the spring. The birds still sing. There is still life. This isn’t over, Lincoln. We aren’t over. My niece Ellie is in her nursery right now, perfectly healthy. She’s alive, we’re alive. Joanie and Glenn are alive. That woman from the CDC is alive. There are others. We have to find them, have to tell them to join us. We need to band together.” She grasped his face in her hands, pulling his head down to hers. “We can do this. We can rebuild. I know it.”

  Then she kissed him.

  13

  @CDC: We recommend that you wear medical face masks and protective eye gear when around infected individuals. It is also greatly recommended that you avoid close contact with other people, even if they do not show signs of infection. The incubation period of Hydra-1 is still unknown.

  —Centers for Disease Control Twitter Feed

  January 7, 2019

  * * *

  Her kiss was like a damn drug, making his mind go blank of all things except how good she made him feel. It was like feeling the sun on his face after a century of gray skies and endless rain. Her breath was warm against his face and he sighed, wishing he could kiss her for hours. He wrapped his arms around her waist, absorbing the emotions he swore he could almost taste as she met him kiss for kiss. There were promises of trust, passion, desire, longing, and sorrow. Caroline could fit a universe of feelings in just one kiss. She was the kind of woman a man dreamed about, the kind Lincoln had never believed he would find.

  When their lips parted, she stroked a fingertip over his mouth as though trying to memorize the shape. She half smiled, and the expression made her glow somehow, even in this dimly lit house.

  “Come on, let me show you everything. I don’t think we’ll have to a chance to come back here anytime soon. I just want to see everything one last time.” She checked to make sure Ellie was sleeping in her crib before she took h
im through the house of her childhood, pointing out room by room the things that had made it home.

  Her father’s messy office held the lingering hint of cigar smoke. Her mother’s studio had oil paintings of the gardens that she’d created on her free weekends. The cozy sunroom with bookshelves stuffed with every kind of book imaginable. There was the kitchen with its country French colors and welcoming design. The dining room had a large table set for eight. Closets full of board games with worn covers from years of use. The piano in the formal living room had dozens of pages of sheet music piled up on the music stand. Her and Natalie’s bedrooms were full of high school photos and college graduation pictures and notes from friends, journals, and travel books. The last room they entered was the nursery. The pink elephants painted on the walls held a personal touch. He thought he recognized the style.

  “Your mother painted these?” he asked Caroline.

  “Yeah. Natalie and Rick lived close and visited a lot, so they made their guest room into a nursery for Ellie to use when Nat and Rick came to visit.”

  Ellie lay in her white wooden crib, shifting her chubby legs as she tried to kick free of the blankets. She was so small, so vulnerable. Caroline picked her up and held her out to him. He tried to refuse, but Caroline gave him a firm look that warned him he had to take her. He picked up Ellie and stared down at her. She scrunched her nose and yawned, and the soft kittenish sound she made slipped through a chink in Lincoln’s armor and went straight into his heart. He settled her into the crook of his arm and inhaled her sweet baby scent. He’d always wondered if that baby smell people talked about was real. Turned out it was, and it did funny things to him. He wanted to just close his eyes and hold on to her forever.

  “I found these in the bathroom.” Caroline held a pregnancy test box. “I’ll wait a week and try it.” She put the tests in a backpack and began to stuff diapers and baby clothes inside.

  “I think we’ll have to teach Kirby to carry Ellie’s emergency go-bag,” Lincoln said as he rocked the small blanketed bundle in his arms. She couldn’t be more than five months old.

  “Good idea.” Carolyn took the baby back and placed her in the carrier. Two hours later they were packing up the car again, this time with the baby and a dog in tow.

  “Ready to leave?” Lincoln joined Caroline by the steps to her home. She wiped her tears away, and her expression changed to one of steely resolve.

  “Next stop, Atlanta?” she asked.

  “The CDC is our best bet. Others will be picking up the transmissions, I’m sure.” Lincoln curled an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. It was easier now to touch her, to be affectionate. He’d never imagined he could be what his men had called “domesticated.” They’d all joked about being half-wild with the way their lives were and the way they lived. Yet now he was settling down. He had a woman and a baby to look after, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than where they needed him to be.

  “Atlanta it is, then.” Caroline leaned against him for a brief moment, then pulled away and got in the passenger side. Ellie was already asleep in her carrier in the back, and Kirby thumped his tail as they got inside.

  Lincoln said nothing more as he drove them away, but he reached for Caroline’s hand and squeezed it tight.

  The gray sky seemed thinner now, and the horizon was flushed pink with the sun sinking below the trees. Lincoln prayed for a day with clear skies and sun, just one.

  As they drove toward the highway, Caroline pulled out his phone and connected it to the vehicle’s speakers. Bill Withers started to croon “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

  Bill was right. If Caroline went away, she’d take every bit of light with her.

  Caroline eyed the small house they’d found off the highway for the night. Ellie was restless in her carrier and likely needed a diaper change.

  “I wish I knew more about babies,” she confessed to Lincoln. He was unloading their emergency packs and heading for the door. He glanced over his shoulder at her, a sweet, amused smile on his lips.

  “You’ll figure it out,” he promised. “If not, I’ll find a bookstore and get you some baby books.”

  She huffed and picked the carrier up from the back seat and followed him.

  “You mean we’ll figure it out. You’re part of this now, Lincoln. Ellie, Kirby, and I, we are your new unit.” She was teasing him, but when she caught up to him at the front door, she saw he was taking this seriously.

  “You’re right. You are.” Then he focused on the door, using an iron Halligan bar he’d found in an abandoned fire truck earlier that week. It had a forked end to bust doors open.

  He was a true soldier, a man of few words, but when he did speak it always had meaning. Sometimes she missed the idle conversations, but other times she didn’t mind the silence, not when he was with her.

  The door opened, and Lincoln entered first, gun at the ready, but Caroline doubted anyone was alive inside. There were few cars around, and where there were few cars there were usually fewer bodies and likely no survivors. Once Lincoln cleared the house, he left her and Ellie so he could unpack the chickens from the car. Kirby followed him out, a little too curious about the live fowl.

  “Come on, Ellie,” she said as she took the baby carrier down the hall and found a bedroom.

  She pulled the baby out of the carrier and laid down a changing pad on the bed and checked the diaper situation. As she’d suspected, fully loaded. She did her best to clean the baby off and put a new diaper on her. Caroline fixed the little onesie back up and tucked her back in her carrier. Lincoln had found a travel crib in her parents’ house that they would be able to leave Ellie in tonight.

  Caroline stroked a fingertip down Ellie’s cheek, her heart breaking all over again as she watched Ellie’s bright blue eyes fix on her. When would she realize her mom and dad weren’t ever coming back? Caroline knew that babies recognized the faces of their parents. Would she recognize the fact that she would never see them again?

  “I know I’m not your mom and Lincoln is not your dad, but you’re ours now, and we will love you just as much as your parents did, okay?” She wiped a tear from her nose and let Ellie grasp her finger tight. The baby made breathless little grunts and exhalations as she tried to communicate to Caroline in return.

  “Should we go see what the boys are up to?” She scooped Ellie up, feeling oddly comforted knowing that her talking was welcomed by the baby. They wandered through the house toward the den and found Lincoln setting up lanterns and drawing curtains closed.

  He nodded at the baby in her arms. “Is she hungry?”

  “Probably.” Caroline looked at the baby, who was watching Lincoln with rounded eyes.

  “I’ll get a fire going in the fireplace. It’s too dark for anyone to see smoke. We can warm some water and formula in a pot.”

  “Okay.” She set the baby down on the floor on top of a thick soft blanket, then retrieved Lincoln’s satellite radio.

  “Can I use this?”

  “Sure. What are you wanting to do?” He knelt by the fireplace, arranging logs before he used a paper towel from the kitchen as kindling to get the flames going.

  “We need survivors to come to Atlanta, don’t we?”

  “We do. The CDC will want as many blood samples as they can to figure out what we all have in common.”

  “I want to find people. I want to remind them that we are all in this together. Anyone who has a radio might hear me. I’ll try a different channel each night.”

  Lincoln stared at her for a long moment. “Don’t tell anyone where we are, not specifically. Not until we’re in a more secure situation. You could paint a target on our backs.”

  “I won’t,” she said, clutching the radio to her chest before she went to the kitchen to retrieve the formula from Ellie’s emergency pack.

  Lincoln did a good enough job of warming formula and water over the fireplace and then filled the baby bottle after testing the formula on his skin. He stared at h
er when he caught her watching him, a smile on her face.

  “What?”

  She chuckled. “How do you know what to do?” She didn’t have the faintest clue about taking care of a baby. Whatever other women said, this didn’t come naturally, at least not to her. She felt protective, overprotective even, but she didn’t have any instincts about what to do, when to feed her, when to check her diapers.

  “Haven’t you seen Three Men and a Baby?” He smirked. “You can learn a lot about babies from TV.”

  “I forgot about that one.” That had been one of her mother’s favorites. Three bachelor friends had found an abandoned baby on their doorstep, and they took turns raising it until the mother came back to claim the child. It was a sweet movie and, as Lincoln pointed out, reasonably instructive on caring for a baby.

  “You’ve had her for a while—let me feed her,” Lincoln offered, and he took charge of Ellie. The baby stared up into his face, eyes wide and solemn, the way only a baby could be. Lincoln smiled at her, and the baby cooed in delight as he offered her the bottle, which she sucked eagerly. Caroline’s heart fluttered. Lincoln was right about ancient instincts taking over. Seeing a man like him holding a baby was stirring all sorts of emotions inside her. She could have taken him right there and then, but she needed to focus on the future. She had to get on the radio to see if anyone else was out there.

  “That’s a special military-issue radio. You should be able to cut through any signals currently being broadcast to communicate with anyone out there listening.”

  “I’ll be back.” She took one of the lanterns and headed into the master bedroom. She sat cross-legged on the bed and turned the radio on. She chose the lowest number channel and then held the button. She felt nervous, talking to no one, or maybe everyone who was left.

  “This is Caroline Kelly. I’m hoping someone out there will hear me. If you can, that means you’re a survivor, like me. We are the same—we are in this together. The CDC is operational in Atlanta, and they need survivors. With our help, they can find a vaccine. I know a lot of you are scared. There are people out there preying on others because they can, because they think everyone left in the world is looking out for themselves. But if we stick together, if we trust each other to work together, then we can save humanity. We can rebuild. This is bigger than any of us. Our children and their children deserve a better world, but to do that, we have to stop the chaos, stop the violence and mistrust. So…if you’re hearing this, I’m going up to the next channel tomorrow night to find more people and spread the word. Meet us in Atlanta. If we save each other, we save the world. Caroline out.” She released the talk button and drew in a deep breath. It was a start.