by Lisa Acerbo
“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Jenna said. “She doesn’t like to be ignored.”
The horses clomped up the hill.
“No worries, but what’s the plan for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Are they sound enough to ride?”
“Absolutely.” He held her hand when they returned to the inn. “How about in the morning?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
His parting smile made the rest of her day warm and fuzzy even if she spent the last part of it cleaning toilets.
13
Jenna woke later than usual. The room was specter quiet except for the drum of footsteps below her and the muted call of birds outside her window.
Grabbing clothes off the ground, the first items touched, a flannel shirt, black T-shirt, and jeans, created her ensemble.
What is this? Happiness? Excitement?
She couldn’t wait to see how the horses fared their first night in the barn after being free for such a long time. If they did well with a rider on their back, training them for work shouldn’t be a problem.
Skipping breakfast, the sun was warm butter on her skin.
“Hey!” Her voice failed to carry across the meadow where Quentin was on his return from the barn.
“I woke early and let the horses out.” He pointed in the direction of the field. “I had some other projects to finish so I stayed out here. I was heading in to see what was keeping you.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t sure when we should meet.” A rash of red colored her neck.
“This is as good a time as any. Ready to ride?”
“Can’t wait.”
The large drafts grazed, content with their current conditions. They hiked to the old barn, gathered the tack, and then brought the horses inside. Getting bridles into the horses’ mouth, turned out to be more challenging than expected.
“I thought I’d remember, but how does this work?” She struggled with the random assortment of leather straps and clasps. “Why is this so complicated.”
“Like this.” He grabbed the horse’s mane, drawing the draft’s head lower. “We have to get their head low, and then have them accept the bit in their mouth.”
She tugged on the halter so the horse would behave. The Clydesdale bonked Jenna in the face when it shook its mane from side to side. She rubbed her chin. “Horse’s heads hurt more than I believed they would.”
He wrestled with the other horse.
“Just you wait,” she warned. The large brown gelding lowered its head. The metal bit clanked against the horse’s teeth, and the animal stretched its neck away. Its mane whipped at her. She tried again. And again.
“He’s smarter than you.” He guided the other draft forward by the reins. The oiled leather saddle glowed.
“Can you do it? Go ahead.” The two switched places, Jenna holding the reins of one horse while he wrestled with the other to accept the bit. Minutes ticked by but the gelding turned stubborn. It pranced and stamped.
“Hold on,” Jenna interrupted his latest attempt to coax the horse into submission. “I remember something useful. If you put your finger behind their teeth, it causes the horse to open its mouth. Give me the bridle.”
Jenna soothed the horse before using an index finger behind its front teeth. The bit slipped into his mouth and she drew the bridle over the draft’s head, angling the brow band and tugging the rest of the bridle behind tufted ears. “Success.”
The horse pranced in anticipation. They walked into the sunlight and stood by the fenced in pasture.
“Can you get on from the ground?” Quentin asked.
“I don’t know. It’s been a while.”
“I couldn’t find a mounting block.”
“They look bigger today.”
“Leg up?” Quentin cupped his hands.
The first try landed her on her belly in the saddle. But getting a leg over, turned out to be impossible. She jumped to the ground. “This time you have to push harder.”
“That’s what she said.”
“What came out of your mouth?”
“I’m not taking it back.” He heaved, sending her over the side of the gelding, landing in the grass. The horse stood unfazed.
“You okay?” An unapologetic eyebrow rose once he realized no injuries were involved.
“Thanks for the help.” The words snapped against the air. She stood and tried again. When in the saddle, the horse pranced and turned in circles.
Leading the draft to a rock wall, Quentin jumped to the top of the stone surface and mounted without incident.
“Not fair.” The reins seesawed like waves when the giant pranced.
They walked by the lake where the sun began its rise over the water before steering the horses into the woods. Quentin was a natural equestrian, fitting comfortably in the saddle, well-worn jeans punctuating lean, muscled legs. His broad shoulders were erect when he guided the horse on a trail, a Mets baseball cap hid his normally unruly hair.
“What should we name the horses?” he asked. “We are not having a repeat of Cat, are we? Horse One and Two, doesn’t really do it for me.”
“I never realized I’d turned into a running joke. I’ll never live it down.”
“The horses deserve special names for surviving on their own for so long.”
“This guy could be called Devil, and it would fit.”
“You’re so negative. I doubt he’d appreciate you naming him that.”
“What about Star and Moon?”
“I could get behind those names.” He maneuvered next to her.
“I get Moon. Your guy is Star.” She kicked her energetic horse into a lope.
The two entered into the deep woods. It was peaceful and quiet, and they rode in a companionable silence.
She trusted him. Maybe he could help with her problem. It wasn’t serious, more of a nagging concern. Nothing bad had happened.
“Can I ask your opinion on something?”
“Yes, I am the sexiest man in camp.”
“This is serious.”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s about George? He gives me the creeps, and he’s been watching me.”
“What’s the question?”
“You have to deal with him often. Is he stable? Safe?”
“He’s a little off, but he had a hard life even before the end of civilization. Once you get to know him, he’s not all bad. One of the good old boys if you get my drift. I’d avoid him if he creeps you out but he’s not dangerous. Sexist, misogynistic, sure. Dangerous. I doubt.”
“Is he still with Jackie?”
“Not sure but neither of them makes their relationship status known. Some people like to keep their private life private around here. Caleb’s been spending a lot of time with Aiko lately.” He squinted hard at Jenna.
“Alrighty then.” The conversation dropped.
They roamed, enjoying the thrill of ditching chores and work.
It had been too long since she relaxed and had some fun.
Moon shivered and snorted. He sucked in a breath and started dancing again. The horse pranced and pawed the ground before turning in the opposite direction, ready to bolt.
“Easy, Star. Easy.” Quentin patted the horse on the neck and tugged the reins. Star’s nose quivered, smelling the air, eyes growing large with fear. The horse huffed.
Branches snapped and twigs cracked. A grey squirrel ran in front of the horses causing them to spook. Jenna turned Moon in tight circles before he could bolt.
“A squirrel? Really?” Jenna shook her head before patting the horse’s neck.
Relief flooded through her
Quentin made no comment, his attention focused on the prancing Clydesdale.
Star still refused to settle.
They heard the breaking of branches too late and watched in horror from their saddle when a Streaker clad in the remains of khaki pants and a green shirt, the High Point Inn’s uniform, limped closer. The undead must have tracked the soun
ds of the frightened horses. When the creature focused on them with lifeless black eyes, Jenna shivered along with the horse.
It snorted, smelling the worth of their souls.
The dead creature staggered closer.
Moon pranced in a tight circle before rearing and bucking, throwing Jenna off.
Red dots filled her eyes and pain flooded her back when she hit hard.
Quentin, still astride, vied desperately for control. His horse skittered backwards, away from the ghastly image, hooves barely missing Jenna’s head.
She rolled away and grabbed a large branch, scrambling into a sitting position. Her head throbbed, sight fuzzy. The undead hooked her boot with ghastly green, molding fingers. Her back tore against the rocks as the undead dragged her closer.
The Streaker drooled and chomped. Kicking out, she connected with the monster’s mouth, shattering its few remaining teeth. The undead’s mouth continued to crunch and chomp, attempting to reach flesh.
“Quentin!” Her scream bounced off the trees. Another strike caused the undead to stagger back and tumble to the ground. A loud snap made Jenna hopeful her boot had broken something in the Streaker’s already decaying body.
She’d pray to the gods for small miracles.
Using the reprieve, she grabbed the impromptu wood weapon, jumped up, and bashed the figure writhing and squirming on the ground like a large putrid slug.
Quentin, finally in control of his horse, jumped off only to have Star bolt when he let go of the reins. He grabbed another large tree limb as a weapon. Hoisting the massive branch, he impaled the creature in the head. The sickening crack of rotting bone and flesh accompanied the ooze of murky green fluid.
They stared at the twitching Streaker.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Jenna nodded.
“We were really stupid to come out here without weapons.” He moved close. “We have to get back and tell everyone Streakers have gotten through the fences.”
“Maybe it was only one.”
“Could be but when one arrives others soon follow. We need to find out how it got in. A fence must have broken.”
“We have to find the horses,” she said. “They ran off.”
“We will but I bet they return to the barn. They know when they have a good thing. Don’t worry.”
“I hurt my head when I fell from the horse,” She rolled her neck causing a shooting pain in her temple.”
“Be careful. You might have a concussion.”
“Just what I need.” She leaned against Quentin. “Not fun.”
He put an arm around her. “Emma needs to look you over.”
“Let’s get going. It’s going to be a long walk.”
14
Jenna leaned on Quentin and focused on putting one foot in front of another. Sirens exploded in her head and double vision blurred her outlook. More than two hours passed before making it back to the inn and by then Jackie and Emma were organizing a search party.
“There you are.” Emma’s hug made Jenna nauseous.
She stood silent when Quentin explained what happened.
“I want to see you right after this,” Emma admonished.
“Both of you should have better sense.” Gus’s lips stretched into a tight frown. “You want to go back out and show me where this all happened?”
“Absolutely,” Quentin said. “We need to make sure there are no more around.”
“Let’s grab some weapons and George and Ford for back up.” Gus walked toward the inn.
Jenna hung her head as Emma probed and inspected. After the exam, she climbed the steps towards bed.
Waking at dusk, she meandered to the lobby to discuss how Streakers managed to get close to the inn. Her head still ached, a mild concussion. With the curtains drawn back, the night sky was on full display. The over-stuffed couch in the lobby beckoned.
She’d live to fight another day, which might be soon. So much for relaxation and peace of mind.
Emma had handed her a few aspirin from their dwindling supply, but she’d returned them. Medication of any kind was running low. Jenna was also frustrated at her stupidity, heading out unarmed like the world had reverted to pre-plague.
No medication for the undeserving. Should have been smarter. They both should have thought the horseback riding through a little more before heading into the woods.
She searched for Quentin. If the horses returned, he promised to care for them, and she wanted an update.
Not here yet.
Fluff escaped from a hole in the couch. She picked at it. Even after cleaning the inn, the furniture remained in various states of disarray. Mice burrowed into the fabric of the couches, leaving holes where white tufts of material emerged like cotton balls. Chairs, while still comfortable, lacked matching cushions or had the frames repaired with odd pieces of scavenged wood.
The group was now clean and well fed. Routine and regular meals made a big difference.
Would it relax attitudes also? Would the group be mad at them for riding the horses?
Quentin arrived and sunk onto the couch next to her. “You okay? How’s the head?”
“I’ll heal. Horses?”
“Back in the barn.”
“Thank the gods.”
“They were both fine,”
“I’m worried about this meeting. I hope we didn’t piss too many people off.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t stress.”
“Aren’t you just the optimist?”
“Always. Especially about beautiful women falling for my charm and good looks.”
She was glad Peter called the group to order but not so happy when he pointed at her. As was his norm, a sullen frown sat in waiting. “Why don’t you explain what happened today.”
She began to speak, almost blurting out “Yes, Godfather” at the older New Racer whose slicked-back, oiled hair and intense brown eyes reminded her of Al Pacino.
Jenna’s gaze focused on the least judgmental of the group, Josh and Kyle. The two youngest boys were eight and ten years old and arrived in tow with Ford and Beth. Looking at the foursome who sat wedged together on a couch with the boys at their feet, she was envious. In post-apocalyptic turmoil, Ford and Beth still had each other, family, and love.
“We were overly comfortable.” She cleared her throat. “It was stupid we didn’t bring a gun out on the trails. But it’s been so quiet. There hasn’t been a Streaker close since the fences went up. The horses appeared yesterday in good shape, obviously ridden, and cared for prior, and we wanted to try them out. It was the easiest way to find out what they’d been trained to do and how we might be able to use them at the inn.”
Quentin placed a hand on Jenna’s knee. “The attack was unexpected. Lucky it was only one Streaker. The horses spooked and bolted, leaving us on the ground and defenseless. The horses came back so they must consider this home. Maybe someone else from around here owned them or someone stayed here before we arrived.”
Jenna comforted herself by covering Quentin’s hand with hers. “There’s no way to tell how the Streaker got in, where it came from, or if there are more.”
All eyes on her, she scanned the room, noting how intently Caleb watched.
“We went out after the attack and searched the area,” Gus said. “If there are more undead, they didn’t show themselves. We still need to review the perimeter of the entire property to make sure no fences are down, which is the most likely scenario. A tree fell or a deer dismantled a portion of the fence. We’ll go out again first thing in the morning.”
Everyone needs to be extremely cautious tomorrow when patrolling the perimeter. We can’t afford more injured,” Peter said.
“I’m not injured. A bump of the head.” Jenna glanced to the side. “There’s not much more to tell. We destroyed the Streaker and walked back. A regular day in the zombie uprising.”
“I should have been smarter,” Quentin said. “I’m sorry I got you into the mess.”
/> She blushed.
Caleb shot daggers at the two of them.
What was his problem? He ignored her for weeks, and now he was acting like he wanted her dead.
“It could have been worse,” Emma added. “Be happy you both made it back safe and relatively intact.”
George stood, sleeveless T-shirt creased with oil and dirt, shadow of a beard on his weak chin, in contrast to his stern posture. Long, slicked back brown hair hung limp against his neck. A film a sweat covered his brow.
Like a preacher at the pulpit, he spat sermon. “If there is one, there’s got to be more. The Streakers probably followed the horses in. We don’t want no more people acting stupid and heading outside without guns or weapons. We need to get back into military mode. As I’ve been telling the group since we got here, our lazy ways are going to get us killed. It’s a new world and if we don’t want to be extinct, we had better be ready to fight and kill, and kill, and kill some more.” He stared at Jenna with a greasy-faced glare. “Fuck your girly-girly ways.”
She returned the stare.
“Be careful what you say, George.” Beth reprimanded.
“We’ve all got comfortable.” Billy had grown an inch, blond hair sculpted in spikes like Quentin, who he emulated. “It’s been so peaceful. I go swimming in the lake every day and never bring a gun with me. It’s the only place I find solace.”
It rang true. She braided the ends of her hair to keep her hands busy. Billy had not only grown comfortable but had grown up. Not recovered but mending. At least heading in the right direction.
“We shouldn’t have done it.” She’d admit her mistake. “It was bad planning to venture into the woods without weapons. I’m sure Quentin would agree. We’re both sorry.”
Aiko’s cat-like eyes blazed. The pout on her full red lips contrasted with her sumptuous, long black hair, straight and shiny, looking styled without the aid of hair products and a straightener. “It’s obvious we need to be more careful. From now on, no one goes outside without some type of protection. It would be best if humans waited for us.”
