~ Welcome to Quills ~

Ep. 2

 

For the longest time, my sleep was too deep even for dreams, but after a while I was aware of watching shadowy shapes move back and forth against my eyelids. I was back at the clinic. Doc M was telling Rae and David about Taijitsu, how it had come to be. David, as always, would barely let the Doc speak.

 

“What else have you been lying to us about, huh?” I had heard him demanding. “You’ve got more of those things out there in the back somewhere that can break loose and come after us, is that it?”

“For f*cks sake, would you shut up and listen!” the Doc had snapped.

“I’m not gonna listen to another f*cking thing you say –”

“That thing is her son!”

 

There had been such a silence in the room after that. Still tied down to my hospital bed, kept conscious only by my will to hear Rae’s reaction, I had listened to the scuffle that had broken out, and later the Doc’s hurried scientific explanation. Not much after that. But there were certain words that had stood out.

 

“We don’t know … the virus’ molecular construction … know what … factors are on the body’s reproductive organs …”

 

That had spun around in my turbulent mind for some time. In my fight – argument – with Rae much later (at least it seemed much later), she had said something that struck a similar nerve:

 

“God, what am I telling you for … we don’t even know what you are let alone breeding …”

 

For some reason both of those thoughts revisited me now. Maybe it was something about the deep, healing sleep I’d been in – that didn’t really make sense, but what else could it be? Why else would I suddenly be wondering about myself? Not in the way I usually did, about my past, but about my future. Did I have one? Assuming I survived the zombies, the humans; assuming some day maybe I was able to live a semi-normal life … Would it even be possible for me to have children? In the planet’s current predicament, even considering bringing a child into the world was insanity – as Amy had said way back when she’d first mentioned the Doc – but later, if there was a later, would I even have the option? In some way I could be considered infected, I supposed. Was I … sterile? Maybe that would be for the best. What if any offspring of mine turned out to be disfigured, stillborn, or even something like Taijitsu? Whatever I had been ‘made’ for, I was pretty sure it wasn’t the continuation of the species.

 

But still, in my dreams, once I got past the uncertainty and the worry – I could only smile to myself inside. It was impractical, but … I knew that at some point in the future, I wanted a child. I didn’t want everything about me to die when I died. I wanted my blood, my impervious, regenerating blood, to go on. I hoped that even if I hadn’t been made for it, I would be able to contribute to repopulating Earth. Freeing it of zombies was a foul, despicable job, but bringing it back to life … that, maybe, wouldn’t be such a terrible job.

 

I wouldn’t be able to do anything alone. There would have to be a father of course. As soon as I thought that, I was embarrassed to find I thought of Dean. Flashes, almost like memories of the future, filled my head with images of kids with his dirty-blond hair and grin, and my dark eyes. Instantly, my heart swelled with love for these children who didn’t even exist yet – but then the darker thoughts returned, and I imagined all the miscarriages and horribly disfigured babies that might come before them. Dean was just as different as me. What if mixing our DNA was only asking for twice as much trouble?

 

Without warning, Jonathan invaded the dream, bringing with him more memories of the future. Smaller, less animate kids who looked more like me but had his secretive little smile, the same one he wore while he weaved between the undead, cutting them apart, or shot them down from his safe perch –

 

I was grateful to wake up, but the afterimages lingered on my eyelids when I blinked.

 

The first thing I became aware of was electric lighting, then the whirring and sputtering of a generator. Then, perhaps unsurprisingly, Dean and Jonathan’s voices, sounding as though they were arguing.

 

“I’m telling you this thing’s not gonna last, we oughta cut it off while we’re gone –”

 

“I lived in a goddamn sewer for years, you think I didn’t have a generator down there?” Jonathan retorted. The voices were distant, but not very. “I know about these things, I went through four of them, and I’m telling you it’ll be fine. It’s not worth running the risk of Trinity –”

 

“Jamie.”

 

“– waking up in absolute darkness.”

 

Oh. They were arguing over my well-being? That was … sweet. I pushed myself up, looking around. It looked like some little store – hadn’t I heard Jonathan mentioning a store? – but not a chain, more like one of those little mom-and-pop types. It didn’t seem to have been ransacked; probably no one thought it was worth the effort. I was temporarily fascinated by the fluorescent lights, not to mention the air-conditioning, but their charm wore off fairly quickly. I knew better than to get used to it.

 

Standing, I discovered I’d been bedded down behind the counter. The shelves that lined the single large room’s walls were cluttered mainly with knickknacks, souvenirs, small stuffed animals. The front wall was almost entirely glass, and through the dusty makeshift barricades someone – I assumed the owner of the store – had put up, I could see daylight creeping through. Free-standing racks held clothes, and knit blankets, or at least the ones that hadn’t been confiscated to make my bed. A back room, its door labeled ‘Employees Only’, seemed to be where the generator and the guys were. I was climbing over the counter to go tell them not to worry, that I was awake, when the lights went out. In the sudden silence and darkness, Dean’s amused voice almost echoed through the building:

 

“I thought you said it would be fine?”

 

“Oh just shut up.”

 

Dean laughed; he had enough good-naturedness for the both of them. A flashlight beam cast out the doorway, and Jonathan came through first. The windows provided enough light for me to see him smile when he saw I was upright and mobile, but it reminded me too much of the children I’d dreamed of for me to return it with complete sincerity. I was relieved when Dean came out right behind him, and they approached me at the same time.

 

“Feeling better?” Dean asked. I nodded.

 

“I should think so,” Jonathan commented. “You’ve been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours.”

 

As if he hadn’t spoken, Dean addressed me, “We were just about to go check out the rest of the town. You want to come with us or stay here? Don’t push yourself,” he warned.

 

“I’m fine.” I shook my head. “I just … need a little time to get my bearings. Go on.”

 

He studied me for a second before nodding and heading for the door. Jonathan shot him an irritated glance, then stepped forward to take both my hands in his and whisper in my ear, “I was worried. It’s good to have you back.” Then he kissed me quickly and ran after Dean.

 

They were both gone as just as I’d gotten used to their presence. I sat up on the counter and pulled my knees to my chest. Now that I was alone, I wished I’d gone with them. No reason to mope, though, I told myself briskly, and jumped down to start looking around the store. Surely there was something there we could use. At the very least … I looked down at my ripped, blood-stiffened, stained t-shirt and then at the racks of clothes. Soon I’d found a white replacement for my mangled shirt, and I changed into it hurriedly just in case the guys decided to come back soon. I also managed to find a gray sweater not unlike my old one, which I tied around my waist until I needed it, and then moved on to peruse the shelves.

 

Although it was primarily useless junk – the kinds of things people had bought an abundance of simply because it looked pretty in the old world – I did find a section of foodstuff. Cheese and bread that had long since hardened into blocks that would have been better for building something, improperly-sealed bags of beef jerky that had turned white, canned soup and vegetables that should have still been edible, and small unopened bags of peanuts and cashews that looked fine. I took the canned goods and nuts over to the counter so I would remember to pack in up with us later. I didn’t even realize the irony at first – putting my ‘purchases’ on the counter as if I was actually going to pay for them.

 

Eventually I ran out of things to look at. The back room was empty save for the generator, and I’d thoroughly investigated the main room in less than fifteen minutes. I sat down to wait for Dean and Jonathan to return, feeling annoyingly useless. When I heard approaching footsteps, I jumped to my feet anxiously. I was ready to leave the town and keep moving – the Park (and Rae) was practically calling my name.

 

Wait.

 

I tilted my head.

 

Three sets of footsteps?

 

I really had no way of knowing if two of them were Dean and Jonathan. What if the town had other inhabitants? They weren’t shambling zombie steps – they were definitely human – but that didn’t necessarily bode well. You would think that humans would come together in these dire circumstances, but all too often they were more interested in stealing from each other, even shooting down fellow men as if they were undead already. I had been guilty of it, though I’d tried to push it to the back of my mind, before I’d gotten to the Park and was running solo in permanent hunter mode. I had an excuse at least, I told myself; ordinary humans didn’t.

 

When I heard the murmuring voices and knew for certain that none of these three people were my guys, I vaulted over the counter and crouched down, pressing myself flat against it. They were definitely getting closer … closer … and, sh*t, the door opened. Three shadows were cast dully on the wall, two of which were smaller and gave me the impression of women. The third, from what I could tell, was a man holding something across his shoulders. I didn’t dare try to peek over to counter for a better look.

 

“… here,” said one of them, a woman. “Right?”

 

“Yeah,” answered another, male. His voice was almost ridiculously slow and deep.

 

The man grunted and unloaded his burden onto the counter. A pale, limp hand at the end of a black leather sleeve flopped down right next to me.

 

“That’s what he said at least,” the man added in the same monotone.

 

I bit my tongue before I could hiss, “F*ck.”

 

“Check it out,” another female voice said. I watched the three shadows move further into the store, out of my line of sight. “Someone’s definitely been here.”

 

“Probably aren’t anymore,” said the other woman.

 

“Still worth a look-around.”

 

While the three of them – primarily the two women – shuffled around the store remarking on the things I’d disturbed, I carefully shifted so I could reach my pistol where it lay amongst my other weapons and makeshift backpack, and slipped it into my belt. Then I started nudging Jonathan’ hand, hoping he would wake up enough to be of some use. Unfortunately, and I should have seen it coming, he only came to enough to moan softly, which only served to call everyone’s attention to the counter. Where the hell was Dean? How had he and Jonathan been separated? Why did this have to happen now? I could see just one option – bluff my way through and hope Dean appeared, because when they came back to investigate Jonathan, there was no way they’d overlook me again.

 

I shot up from behind the counter, lifting my gun – which may well have not even been loaded – to point it at whoever was nearest. I caught only a glimpse of the small puddle of blood by Jonathan’s head as I straightened, then a flicker of the three people, before one bullet tore through my right shoulder, another grazed my left side, and the butt of a rifle smashed into my temple.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With his hands cuffed behind his back and attached via a long chain to the new shackles around his ankles, a sullen Jonathan was led to the tiny beige room, along with the four guards he’d injured. Tera flurried around the place, applying wet rags, antiseptic, and gauze, and calling out instruction to me when there was a job small enough to trust me with. Soon she’d bid the guards farewell, assuring them that she would sedate ‘the prisoner’ so he wouldn’t give her any trouble, and set to cleaning his new slice. He just sat staring ahead flatly.

 

“Smoking?” he said finally. “He wants me killed because I f*cking smoke? And own a pack of cards and a couple books?”

 

“No,” Tera said briefly. “He wants you killed because he let her off.”

 

I blinked.

 

“Paddy rules through fear,” she elaborated quietly. “If he lets too many people in free – he gets soft – no one’s gonna be afraid of him anymore. Besides,” she nodded to Jonathan, “you’re a rougher-looking character than her. He has most of the men who wind up here killed, actually, except the more spineless ones who’ll grovel for him.” She sighed and dabbed at the cut. It wasn’t half as bad as it’d looked in the courtroom. “Didn’t think you were the groveling type.”

 

“Huh,” Jonathan scoffed.

 

“Plus, he has to stick pretty close to his rules or else he’ll get considered soft, again. And you were in pretty big violation of some of those rules, there, Jonny.” He glared at her, but she’d turned away to find the tube of antiseptic. “Guns are a no-no, but knives are even worse. Matches and lighters are ‘dangerous’. Pretty well anything electronic, like the clock in your compass. Books, newspapers, magazines … things that remind us of the outside world or the time before we came here aren’t allowed.”

 

“But you’re safe here, right?” I said lowly with my own bitter sarcasm. “Leaving would be stupid.”

 

“I didn’t say I liked it, okay?” Tera snapped. “Because I don’t. I want out of here more than anything. But there’s no way out. There’re Jeeps and armored trucks down in the basement, but Paddy’s personal guards keep the keys. And as for the front gate, he’s the only one with a keycard for that.”

 

“Oh, you think that, do you?” Tera and I both looked at Jonathan in surprise. He smirked. “I would quite happily show you the fruit of my labors, but my hands are otherwise occupied.” He nodded to me. “Top inside pocket, right side.”

 

Almost hesitantly, I stepped toward him and reached into his coat. My fingers met with something smooth and cool, and to my astonishment I withdrew a card with the words HEAD JAILER embossed on it.

 

“How –? When did you –?” Tera sputtered.

 

“Well I didn’t jump him because I thought he smelled nice,” Jonathan responded dryly. “Now do you or don’t you have some way of getting these cuffs off me?”

 

“But you didn’t even know about this yet then,” she protested, but turned and started fishing through a drawer for something to remove the cuffs.

 

“Let’s just say some things never change,” he muttered. “Anyway, even if his pockets had been empty, at least I would have pissed him off by making him bleed. Oh, and Miss Trinity, if you look in the top left inside pocket, you’ll find another key, a proper metal one. I couldn’t tell precisely what it was for, but I would assume it’ll get us a ride out of here.”

 

When Tera turned again, needle-nosed pliers in hand, I held the metal key out for her inspection. She grinned and verified that it was for an armored truck. Quickly bending a few of the links binding Jonathan’s limbs together out of shape, she told us that her friend Kenny would be cleaning up the courtroom; she would go talk to him, bring us back our weapons (“and things,” she added with a look to Jonathan), the both of them would return to the med room. Neither had anything to bring. We would leave immediately. Jonathan only had so much time before Paddy’s men came looking for him, after all.

 

At the prospect of escape, she was much more animated than she’d been before. She gestured emphatically with her hands as she spoke, smiled slightly every time she met my eyes, and looked like she wanted to hug Jonathan for offering her this chance. As a result, when she breathlessly ducked out the door, promising to be back ASAP, the room seemed quiet and dead. After a second, I scooted up onto the table next to Jonathan, where he sat playing with the chains that still dangled from his shackles.

 

“You’ve been in here before,” I said. “Haven’t you?”

 

He nodded but said nothing.

 

“For what?”

 

“Theft. Petty theft. I was only a minor criminal,” he said, almost pleadingly. Disconcertingly, I recognized the soft, sweet voice he rarely used, and wondered whether, if he did have multiple personalities, it was representative of the person he’d been pre-Gas Z, pre-prison. “The single biggest thing I ever stole was a bicycle,” he added hopefully.

 

I swallowed. “It doesn’t matter,” I assured him. “I just wanted to know.”

 

It did matter. I didn’t know if I could believe him – if he wasn’t schizophrenic, if he was merely using these subtly different voices to tug at my heartstrings … which didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility … If he was cleverly deceiving me, then what? Was I walking hand-in-hand with, sharing blankets with, and kissing a murderer? A rapist? Then again – though I didn’t want to think this way – did it matter? Jonathan wasn’t exactly what you’d call harmless, but neither had he shown any violent or unwanted behavior towards me. I usually felt strangely safe around him, much as I did around Dean. His tongue was sharp, and as he’d said, he wasn’t noble or chivalrous, but excepting those first few minutes I’d been around him, he’d never seemed truly dangerous.

 

“Why,” he piped up suddenly, back to his ordinary voice, “does Dean call you ‘Jamie’?”

 

“Long story,” I mumbled, caught of guard, and luckily Tera and Kenny entered at that exact moment. Having been returned our “things,” we were whisked away, Tera in the lead and Kenny behind, down many a flight of stairs and many a hallway. Again, I was completely at a loss as to where we were headed or where we ended up in relation to where we’d been, which was frustrating. I was used to knowing precisely where I was relative to somewhere, but in the prison I just felt … lost.

 

Eventually we wound up in a giant underground parking garage. Light could be seen shining down a ramp on the far side from the door we came in through, but long fluorescent tubes mounted on the low cement ceiling lit the area. Tera ran from vehicle to vehicle, first trying the Jeeps, then the armored trucks, while Kenny ambled along behind her rather like a massive, slow-witted, but obedient puppy. Jonathan and I watched from a slight distance, still close enough to hear Tera murmuring about how we’d have to ditch the truck soon because it would be too easy for Paddy to track.

 

“Will he come after us?” I asked, confused. “I mean, we’re four people. Surely we don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.”

 

She shook her head and yanked the key out of another slot it wouldn’t turn in. “Like I said, he rules by keeping the fear. He makes an example out of us, posts our heads on the outer wall so to speak, and that’ll do wonders for his reputation. Besides – I’m one of his nurses. He can’t really afford to lose me. There’s just me and two other girls, and his personal doctor.”

 

Just as she finished her sentence, one of the truck doors finally opened. She hissed a “yes!” and furiously motioned us all in. Somehow I was elected to drive, Jonathan squeezed in next to me, and Tera climbed in after him. Kenny, because of his size and the already-cramped cabin, had to get in the back. He was also given the keycard, as it would be easiest for him to get out and operate the gate. I maneuvered around the other vehicles carefully, only one hand on the wheel as my right arm was still largely unusable. I had no real memory of ever driving before or learning to do so – I simply knew how. The ever-present voices in my head occasionally called out helpful pointers.

 

When we reached the ramp, Kenny had to get out and use the keycard to raise a bar gate. From there we could see, some twenty yard away, the main gate, and past that, freedom. As grateful as I knew Jonathan and I were to be seeing the end of the place (him for the second time), I thought the other two had to be ecstatic, but when I glanced over at Tera, she only looked nervous and worried.

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s – it’s probably just a rumor …” she trailed off.

 

Jonathan was more forthright. “A buzzer will sound when the keycard is activated,” he recited. “And when the head honcho realizes it’s not him, there will be gunfire, and it will not be friendly.” He shook his head wearily. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen the scars on my back. I pity the one who goes out there to open the main gate, but it’s not going to be me.”

 

I shrugged my injured shoulder only slightly and it throbbed just as painfully as it had before. Why was I healing so slowly? It was just a goddamn bullet wound. I’d recovered from worse things more quickly. I remembered back to my earlier theory – that I was burning out early – and felt a sudden chill. Maybe my lack of regeneration was evidence that that theory was right. Either way, right then I felt just as mortal as anyone else in the truck. I wasn’t offering my life up in this endeavor.

 

As soon as Kenny had made it back into the truck, I revved the engine and bumped up the ramp into daylight. Behind us, I heard the promised buzzer, but tried to ignore it and will the sluggish truck to reach the gate more quickly. Kenny was already back outside, unprotected, when I heard the first bullet ping off the truck. Apparently he heard it too, and upped his shuffling speed, but he just didn’t seem to be capable of fast movement. Tera watched him, her entire body tense, fists gripping the seat belt she hadn’t bothered to put on. Luckily the truck seemed to shield him somewhat from the shooters’ current vantage point. It took decades for him to slide the card through the appropriate slot and begin his trek to the back of the truck.

 

And then, just as the gate was almost open enough for me to squeeze out and we were all waiting with bated breath for Kenny to make it the other half way there, there was a terrifyingly audible shtunk. Red blossomed almost instantly across his chest; bowing his head to look at it, a confused expression crossed his face. Tera threw herself at the door, screaming his name, and Jonathan lunged after her, catching her around the waist just before her hand reached the door handle.

 

“No!” he shouted. “Stupid girl! You open that door and you put us all at risk! Drive, Trinity!”

 

“Kenny! Kenny!” She struggled against him, ignoring the logic of his words. “Go back, go back! What if he’s still alive?”

 

“Trinity! Move the goddamned truck!”

 

I couldn’t budge. What if he – and I – I would be responsible if – and what if it had been Jonathan gunned down back there, could I have –

 

A heavy boot stomped down on my foot, flooring the accelerator.

 

“No! No! Kenny!”

 

In the rearview mirror, the gunners standing atop the prison grew smaller and smaller. Kenny’s body lay flat, unattended. Who knew how long it would be there, or what Paddy would see fit to do to it once he bothered himself to send someone out to collect it. Jonathan’s foot still mashed down on mine; I elbowed him sharply to back him off as Tera’s grief moved into the shock stage. She stopped fighting, stopped screaming, never even cried, just stared into that little mirror until her dead friend disappeared behind a small hill. Jonathan directed me toward the town in brief, command-like sentences, releasing her and roughly pushing her away.

 

“Why didn’t you move?” he demanded of me in a low voice, as Tera curled up against the passenger door.

 

“I’m sorry if my jailbreak skills aren’t as refined as yours,” I hissed back. In truth it was a façade – I was shaken and could barely find the energy to be angry at him for his coarseness. Either he realized that, or he had no real will to bicker. He fell silent.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

“Where’ve you been?”

 

“Where the hell were you?”

 

We’d ditched the truck and stumbled back to the store, if for no other reason than to get our supplies. And who did we find pacing impatiently but Dean, instantly jumping on us for running off without him. Jonathan was quick to put him in his place.

 

“What’re you talking about? You’re the one that disappeared,” Dean retorted. I took Tera’s wrist and led her behind the counter to let them duke it out.

 

“Hah!” It was more a bitter exhalation than a laugh. “So you never saw me get captured my those –”

 

“Look, man, you’re the one who had to run ahead ‘cause you thought you heard something, and when I got around the corner you were gone.”

 

“And I suppose you devoted long hours to searching for me.” Jonathan smirked.

 

“Hey I looked around but you were gone.” Dean made a magician’s poof sign with his hands. “And then I came back here and I find blood –” he pointed to me, “Jamie’s blood splattered on that wall –”

 

“And mine on the counter, too, but I expect you ignored that –”

 

Tera and I sat behind the counter. She pulled her knees to her chest and closed her eyes – I had no doubt she was reliving those second over and over again. I left her alone, quietly repacking my bag and re-arming myself. She turned to me suddenly with a pained expression.

 

“Are those two always like this?” she asked hoarsely.

 

I sighed. “Sometimes. I don’t know. They get along passably well usually, but they’re just looking for a chance to tear each other up.”

 

(In the background Jonathan was shaking his shackles at Dean, demanding to know if the other man had any idea of how they’d gotten there or how differently they’d each spent the past few hours. Dean obviously didn’t care, and was still pressing Jonathan to find out why my blood was on the wall.)

 

“Why?” Tera wanted to know.

 

I just shook my head. “It’s complicated. And you’re tired.”

 

“We can’t stay here. Once Paddy sends out searchers, they’ll come here first.”

 

“I know.” I shoved the last of the canned food into my bag and hesitated, trying to find the right words to say. “Tera, I – I’m sorry about Kenny. And I’m sorry you’re mixed up in my mess now. You might’ve been better off back there, at the Jail. At least then he’d be alive.”

 

(I was relatively sure Jonathan had just thrown a punch at Dean, largely because of Dean’s indifference to his suffering. Apparently Dean just wanted “to know how Jamie’s f*cking blood got on the f*cking wall, all right?” And despite the black eye and shackles, he wished Jonathan would calm the hell down. I could’ve killed both of them if I hadn’t been so weary.)

 

Tera smiled weakly. “No. No. I’m … glad to be out. I think Kenny would be happy. I just – I just wish he could’ve seen –” At that point she looked down and bit her lip. She took a deep breath before continuing, “It wasn’t hard to tell Kenny wasn’t the brightest bulb, you know? But he was sweet. He … he would have happily died for me to get out of there.” She wiped at her eyes quickly. “I’m not going to spend one second wishing I was back there. If I did that, then he – he died for nothing.”

 

I nodded as if I understood when I really didn’t. I understood the concept, but dying for a cause, any cause, making your death somehow noble didn’t bring anyone back to life. Still I had nothing but good thoughts for Tera and bringing that up would have been heartless. I would go along with whatever made her feel better just then. I gave her a brief, awkward hug, the wiped at my own eyes to keep them open and stood back up. I clapped my hands to get the guys’ attention and tiredly told them we had to get moving. Jonathan tugged at one of his cuffs almost anxiously, and Dean gaped at Tera as if just seeing her.

 

“And who’s she?”

 

Apparently he had just seen her.

 

“If you’d been listening to me then you’d know already –” Jonathan started to snap.

 

I cut him off with a raised hand. “We’ll fill you in on the way. For now let’s get these backpacks hooked together and get on the move. And Dean, you’ll have to lead, I … I’m too tired to know which way we’re going right now.”

 

Dean looked uneasy but set to his task. Since Tera had no pack, a bungee cord was looped through her belt and she was hooked to me and to Jonathan, who would be bringing up the rear of the train. Discovering she still had the pliers in her pocket, she promised to work the rest of the links off his shackles as we walked, which appeased him somewhat, though he kept shooting Dean evil looks even in the darkness. Slogging along next to Dean, leaning on him heavily, I filled him in quickly on what had happened. I skimped over the court thing, and completely left out Jonathan’s admitting he’d been in prison before. He just didn’t need to know that. Finally, I hesitantly gave him my theory about why I didn’t seem to be healing. His glowing red eyes closed once and flicked back and forth as he shook his head.

 

“No.” He sighed. “No, you’re not gonna die. But you will become as good as an invalid if you don’t get what you need.”

 

“Which is?” At this point, I had no choice but to trust he knew what he was talking about and was telling me the truth.

 

“I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it.” He lowered his voice further. “Blood. Both our bodies – yours more so – just need more fuel to heal with than they can produce. Drink it, shoot it up, either way works; but if you keep getting injured, especially severely, you’re just going to get weaker and weaker. Hasn’t got to be a certain type, but it does need to be human.” He looked away and softly added, “Used to use off each other whenever we needed to. It’s better – takes less for a quicker result.”

 

I closed my eyes and thought about back when Taijitsu broke into the clinic. I’d been dead then, and had been again earlier that very day, and had barely suffered at the time. But then, I’d also …

 

I slid my hand under his head, trying to determine the best way to carry him. I stiffened when I felt the soft stickiness of the back of his skull – really, what had I been expecting? But I withdrew my hand and brought it to my face, staring at the thick red liquid that now covered it. On impulse, I touched my middle finger to the tip of my tongue.

 

It was … wrong.

 

But licking the rest of the blood off my hand seemed so natural. It felt like something I had done countless times …

 

I shuddered and stumbled, but it was a faintly jangling Jonathan’s arms I tripped into. I knew Dean was looking down at me, eyes normal now, and I heard his voice and Jonathan’s. Again, they seemed to be arguing – and to my distant surprise it was Tera who admonished them. Dean put in the last word. Then my wobbly legs were swept out from under me and when I breathed in, it was Jonathan’s slightly disconcerting feral-cat-and-moonlight odor instead of Dean’s cleaner, ‘brighter’ scent. But it hardly mattered – I had fallen asleep smelling it before and it didn’t take me long this time.

 

“She’ll be better in the morning,” I heard Dean say ominously just as I was dropping off, “but not by much.”

Sudden pain again – not intense, just there, niggling at my shoulder and tapping dully at my insides. There was no moving-truck rumbling on my back, and though it was colder, my body felt warmer. I knew instantly that I could move if I wanted to, and if I was wary not to aggravate my various aches and pains. And strangely, everything that had just happened seemed dim and distant and dreamlike. Had it been a dream? Looking at it now it did seem … wrong. In the short amount of time I’d known Tera, I’d seen nothing to indicate she’d be quite so coldly calculating, and it was especially odd for her to be able to so loosely speak of my death so soon after Kenny’s. I didn’t think she was capable of such an about-face; she came across as a more honest, simple, raw type of person. As for Jonathan’s almost fanatical devotion to me … Well, who could say – even though I’d known him longer and somehow become quite close to him, I still didn’t think I could accurately predict his actions, much less what was going on in his head.

 

But to have imagined such a strange scene … Had I been feverish? Oh – was I now?

 

My eyes sprang open. I felt fine, more or less, but I also remembered my first awakening in the Park and how ‘sparkly’ everything had seemed. I was reassured when I saw how dark and decidedly un-sparkly the inside of the truck was. There were a couple of narrow benches or shelves mounted to the side walls, but I had been laid out on a sleeping against the back one – or front one, if you wanted to look at it that way. The one furthest from the double doors and closest to the cab, at any rate. When I pushed myself up with my good arm, a slight glare fell into my eyes, cast by a short, thick white candle sitting on one of the benches. Jonathan was curled up, presumably asleep, underneath that bench, while Dean sprawled as much as possible in the small space on the other one. Only when I saw him did I realize his jacket was still wrapped around my shoulders.

 

Tera was nowhere to be seen, and for a bewildered moment I wondered if I’d dreamed her up entirely. Then I sarcastically reminded myself that if she hadn’t been real, then we wouldn’t have a truck and I wouldn’t have an injured shoulder. Obviously, she was outside on watch. There was no other way both the guys would be asleep at the same time.

 

And I watched them for a moment. There was something strange about seeing it – I knew neither of them could have been very happy about sleeping near each other and putting themselves at risk for a surprise attack, no matter how unlikely it was. Yet there they were: Jonathan almost catlike in his defensive little ball hiding under the bench, Dean completely at ease in sleep and snoring slightly. It was funny, I reflected, that he was the more human-seeming of the two when he and I sometimes barely seemed human at all. Jonathan, even with whatever screws were loose or misplaced entirely in his head, was more ordinary that Dean and me.

 

Swallowing made me realize how dry my mouth and throat were. I remembered throwing up in the cave I’d never really seen, and the slightly acidic taste still lingering at the back of my mouth reassured me that that, at least, had been real. However long ago it was, it had been the last time I’d had anything to drink – and besides being thirsty, I was starving. Looking around verified that none of our packs were sitting by handily, much less the one with food in it; either they were outside with Tera or Dean had left them in the cab. It figured. I wondered if I’d be able to slip out of the truck without waking Dean and Jonathan.

 

Well. They’d just have to be woken up if I couldn’t. Their beauty sleep was all well and good, but I hadn’t eaten in … hell, I wasn’t even sure how long. Though my legs complained of stiffness when I pulled them under me to stand, the movement felt good. After such a period of inaction, I suspected any movement would feel good. I rolled my shoulder experimentally, and the bullet wound merely tingled – it was really no worse than a slightly more severe pin-and-needles. Curious and surprised, I pulled back the jacket and shirt and discovered that it was all but healed. The majority of the discomfort was simple muscle stiffness. Although it delighted me in a way – hah, Dean was wrong, I just needed rest, I’ll be good as new once I’ve stretched out some – it also worried me. How much time had this recuperation cost me?

 

I’ll have to ask Tera about times once I get outside, I thought. When I carefully planted my right hand on the ground to help push myself up, my fingers brushed something. Looking down, I saw a used hypodermic needle lying as if someone had hastily thrust it under the sleeping bag to hide it. I had disturbed its cover when I woke and sat up. I held it up to the candle’s light for a second, perplexed, before deciding to jam it in one of Dean’s jacket’s pockets and ask someone about it later.

 

The guys were, apparently, sleeping quite soundly. My every move seemed thunderously loud to me, but Dean kept on sawing logs and Jonathan never showed a sign of uncurling, even when the door handle slipped out of my hand and banged slightly as I was closing the door behind me. I remembered rain, before, and though it had stopped, the dark forest still smelled strongly of damp pine and cedar. I breathed deeply – I couldn’t think of a more wonderful scent in the world.

 

Cha-click.

 

I spun towards the gun-c0cking sound, eyes wide.

 

“Christ!” Tera hissed angrily, shoving the shotgun barrel back down just as suddenly. “Don’t do that to me! I thought zombies were trying’ to get in the truck!”

 

“Sorry,” I said, somewhat faintly.

 

She sighed, rubbed at her forehead, and apologized herself. “Shouldn’t’ve snapped. I’m just tense, you know? Got used to safety in the Jail, and now Dean puts a shotgun in my hands and tells me to guard like it’s nothing.” She shook her head to dismiss the thought. “You seem to be a lot better now.”

 

I nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was just exhausted, before. But – how long have I been out? Last I remember was passing out again at the cave.” It didn’t seem prudent to mention the conversation I might not have even heard between her and Jonathan. The more I thought about it, the less real it seemed, anyway.

 

“That was two days ago,” she answered with a wince. “A very … fun two days.”

 

“No wonder I’m starving. Tell me about it while I eat?”

 

“Sure. Dean kept the packs up front while he was driving.”

 

After I had collected a bag of trail mix and a bag of beef jerky, I joined Tera in her circuit around the truck. Judging by how bright it was, it must have been a full moon, not that I could see out through the tree cover. It also helped that every curving leaf and slight ditch were filled with rainwater, reflecting the moon’s light back up and all around us. A fire would’ve been nice for the heat, but we certainly didn’t need the light.

 

“Has it been raining this whole time?” I asked, tearing into the trail mix.

 

“Pretty much.” She propped the shotgun over her shoulder naturally. “Not steadily, but off and on. Probably come back again, before long.”

 

I thought about how muddy and miserable rainstorms had been at the Park. Here, deep in the forest, it was a thing of ethereal beauty; I couldn’t muster any of Tera’s disappointment in the coming precipitation to respond with, so I asked her about the events of the past two days.

 

“Well,” she said, “for starters I think I’ve heard a grand total of five words out of Jonny in all this time. I thought he just didn’t want to talk to Dean – not much of a secret they don’t like each other – but when I tried to talk to him he was all monosyllabic with me too. He’s just been sitting back there with you. When we took a break to eat or sleep, we’d see he might’ve moved from one corner to another, but that was it. Eventually Dean just moved the food up front so he …” She hesitated. “So he wouldn’t have to look at him, or you, I guess.”

 

I looked down. It had to have been hard on Dean – he had to navigate, no one else could, and seeing Jonathan’s apparent devotion had to sting. I wouldn’t put it past Jonathan to rub his face in it somehow, either. He didn’t always need words to say what he wanted to say, and I didn’t think it was below him to do such a thing.

 

“Anyway, after that I pretty well stayed in the back,” Tera was saying. “Save room up front. But before then, while I drove, Dean kept me awake by telling me some about you.” She smiled.

 

Cautiously, but trying not to sound it, I said, “Oh yeah?”

 

“He told me you two were friends before the sh*t hit the fan, but something happened that made you lose your memory. Wasn’t too clear on what went down, though.”

 

“Yeah,” I was quick to fill in, “neither of us knows exactly what happened. He was unconscious and I …” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I don’t remember.”

 

She accepted that with a nod. “It’s neat that you met back up though. I mean, things like that don’t happen in real life, much less … now, you know? That stuff’s for fairy tales and bad romantic comedies.” She paused, then hurried on. “And it’s probably not my business, but he doesn’t seem to think you realize that.”

 

I wanted to ask if he’d put her up to this, but it wasn’t really his style. Besides, she seemed genuinely concerned, she just didn’t know as much as she thought she did. Slowly, I said, “Things between Dean and I are … complicated right now. I do care about him, but I’m not positive it’s the same way he cares about me. And he can’t accept that I care about Jonathan in any way, shape, or form, when I am positive about that.” Kind of. I took a breath and added, “And – um, I don’t mind you talking to him or anything, but if you could avoid talking to him about, well, us, please?”

 

“Oh, right,” she said hastily. “Like I said, I know it’s not my business, it’s just –”

 

“Did you hear that?”

 

I had stopped suddenly, half in the process of wadding up the empty bag of trail mix. The diversion couldn’t have come at a better time, I thought selfishly, but I knew I’d heard something. A twig cracking, a leaf rustling. Not necessarily undead, but not necessarily friendly, either. A second later, I heard it again – definitely a sign of life, or of undeath. But the forest was filled with thousands of tiny mirrors, and I could see nothing. At least not with Tera there to witness it.

 

“Get in the cab,” I told her, shoving the bags into her hands.

 

“What?”

 

“Get in the cab.”

 

I pushed her towards the truck door and climbed up onto the hood. Without another word she jumped into the cab and slammed the door, watching me with a mixture of fear and confusion as I ascended to the roof of the truck. My shoulder, still slightly sore, reminded me of its state, but I ignored it and scanned the trees. Maybe all I had to do was stare into the dark long enough. Maybe if I blinked a few times – or maybe I had to elevate my heart rate or something –

 

A disorienting second later my eyes were able to pierce the surrounding night. Now everything looked as cold as it felt – and even blacker were the lean, languid forms coming closer. Hellmutts. A pack of two dozen or so, slowly and quietly approaching the front of the truck. It intrigued me that zombie animals seemed more intelligent than zombie humans (who would have simply charged in bumblingly), but I supposed since the dogs operated primarily on instinct as it was, Gas-Z hadn’t robbed so much from them, only lent strength and agility. If their size was anything to go by, these had been wolves before their deaths, which made them more dangerous than your average undead Fido.

 

First I thought of Tera, closed up in the cab where I’d sent her, but it was an armored truck – surely the glass was reinforced. She would be safe. Dean and Jonathan, too, were ensconced safely in the even-more-heavily-armored back of the truck. It dawned on me slowly that I was the one in the most danger, more or less exposed up top as a sitting duck. I wasn’t sure what to do about it at first. I was accustomed to being the one going into danger to rescue others; simply finding myself there was just as disorienting as suddenly being able to see temperatures.

 

It occurred to me that I might be able to slip in back with the guys without being attacked, but it seemed wrong to leave Tera alone up there. There was no guarantee that the glass, reinforced or not, would protect her, and since I’d made her get in there, her death would be entirely on my shoulders if the hellmutts broke in. I had to find some way to get her out and back to safety, and fast – the dogs didn’t seem to realize I was onto them yet, but they were steadily coming closer.

 

Just forget her, whispered a voice persuasively. Get in back. It’s not like either of them are going to mind if she’s dead.

 

That makes it okay for me to kill her? I demanded of it. What about what I mind?

 

Do your morals outweigh your survival instinct? Think about this … If it took you over two days to recover from a simple little bullet wound, don’t you think being gored by hellmutts will set you back a month, or longer? Maybe much longer – like forever? You really can’t bank on being invincible anymore, you know.

 

But I’m fine now, I insisted, knowing it wasn’t true.

 

Yeah. Two days late. Besides, you’re still sore and out of it, and time’s running out. There’s nothing you can do in time unless you want to sacrifice yourself for her – and why would you do that?

 

That question was still echoing in my head when Tera took the initiative and leaped out of the cab herself. How she’d seen the hellmutts, I didn’t know, but it was obvious she had and wasn’t waiting on anyone to save her. She scrambled onto the top of the truck, tackled me, and before I knew quite what was going on, she’d dropped us back off the back end of the truck. I came to my senses in time to wrench the door open – realizing vaguely that my sight was normal again – and push her inside ahead of me. Apparently my ‘hero’ instincts came back in the heat of the moment.

 

When the first wolf threw itself against the truck a second later, Dean lurched up in shock. Seeing me upright, he almost smiled, but then apparently figured out that from three feet away, I couldn’t have woken him up.

 

“What –?”

 

“Hellmutts,” I told him shortly.

 

“How many?”

 

“At least two dozen.” I was suddenly tired. Maybe I had over-extended myself, or maybe it was just because I was so weary of fighting zombies all the time. I sunk down next to the candle and rested my forehead in the palm of my hand as the growls and thuds grew louder and more frequent.

 

“Not that bad,” Dean said. Happily, I thought. By now he was probably spoiling for a fight.

 

“I think they’re wolves,” I added, hoping it would deter him. “We can wait them out, they’ll go look for other prey before too long.”

 

He just scoffed. “Couple dozen hellmutts is nothing. Remember what we took on back at the creek?”

 

“But they’re wolves,” I tried again in a tiny voice, but he’d already gotten up and retrieved his shotgun from Tera. Either he hadn’t heard me – which would have seemed perfectly likely if I hadn’t known his hearing was just as good as mine – or he had chosen to ignore that comment. I was right. He just wanted a fight, wanted the high, the adrenaline rush that sending things to their second grave brought. I understood, or would have at one time, but right then I just wanted him to stay inside where it was safe. I wondered if, if I begged, he would do it. Maybe …

 

He nudged Jonathan’s still form with the toe of a boot. “Hey. You.”

 

When no response was forthcoming, Dean crouched down and shook him slightly with two fingers. Again there was no reaction, so he shrugged and stood back up, motioning idly for me to come on as he strode the few steps to the door.

 

“I’m staying in,” I said stubbornly.

 

He gave me a blank look. “Aren’t you feeling better?”

 

“I’m … tired.”

 

He turned his head to Tera, but she gave him an incredulous stare and said, “I’m not goin’ back out there. Not if they’ll go away on their own.”

 

He looked between the three of us – unresponsive, ‘tired’, and appalled – for a moment before turning back to the door. Just before he slipped out, I heard him mutter under his breath, “Why do I have to do everything?”

 

Knowing it was directed mainly at me, I retreated further onto the bench, pulling my legs up and wrapping my arms around them. Just what was wrong with waiting them out? Couldn’t he survive without a regular dose of battle? I sulked, and Tera just looked all the more confused. With an exasperated sigh, she flopped down on the other bench and shook her head. As I was reflecting on the fact that Jonathan might as well not have been there, his voice floated up from beneath me.

 

“Is he quite gone?”

 

I smiled slightly at how he put it. “Yes, he’s gone,” I answered wryly.

 

Jonathan uncoiled, stood, and stretched, his movements just as feline as his sleeping position. As soon as he’d stretched, he sat down again next to me, sliding an arm around my waist to pull me closer. I surprised myself again by automatically letting my head rest against him, but if it seemed strange at all to him he didn’t show it; in fact he propped his head on mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Tera gave us an amused glance.

 

“Aren’t you a cute couple,” she said with a chuckle.

 

I was about to pull away in embarrassment – I hadn’t thought of how we looked to others – when the first gunshot from outside made all three of us jump. I held my breath until I heard another, and didn’t realize I was until I breathed again. Tera sighed again and made herself more comfortable on her bench, but I just couldn’t be at ease with Dean outside and possibly in danger. I found myself counting the seconds between gunshots, telling myself that he was probably dispatching a fair few of them with the stock of the shotgun and his bare hands. After a moment, Jonathan interrupted my counting by venturing, “So are you … better now?”

 

It was funny how all three of them had used the word ‘better.’ I guessed no one would ever be ‘all better’ or ‘good’ or ‘okay’ again, at least not while zombies and infection and disease ruled the planet.

 

I nodded as best I could. “Yeah. I think.”

 

“Good.” As if he’d considered it for a second, he said again, more quietly, “Good.”

 

Another gunshot. I took off counting, expecting it to be at least fifteen seconds before the next, but it surprised me by coming in half the time. Then there was another in three more seconds.

 

“That’s not right,” I murmured with a frown. I sat up straighter and eyed the door. “Something’s going on.”

 

Two more in close proximity, then a bang against the side of the truck that made us jump again. Dean yanked up the door, cursing under his breath and murder in his eyes – which were unashamedly pointed at Jonathan.

 

“Who was the last one in the cab?” he demanded.

 

Timidly, Tera raised a finger. “Th-that would be … me.”

 

When he turned to her a great deal of his fire went away, but in anger, his Southern accent was more prominent and harsh. “Ya didn’t close the f*ckin’ door?”

 

“I – I didn’t –?”

 

“No. You didn’t.” He scowled and stepped up into the enclosed area, banging the door closed behind him. “Hellmutts got in and made off with most of our food. Pretty much everything, actually. I hit one of them, but the shotgun pellets busted open the cans, and the blood got in them, so …”

 

“So we probably don’t want to eat that,” Jonathan offered needlessly.

 

Dean shot him a glare but addressed all of us. “If it keeps raining like it has been, we’re not going to reach the Park for another two, three days. I don’t think we’ve got enough food the last it, and as far as I know, there’s not another town before then we can restock at.”

 

I opened my mouth to suggest we detour to one of the towns further back from the river, where Jill and her crew had been scavenging before, but he cut me off.

 

“I can scout ahead alone much faster than we can all move in this thing,” he said. “I’ll go on to the Park and bring back some supplies. You-all keep moving and meet me halfway.”

 

Again, I started to make my suggestion – I was sure that there was at least one small town a little closer than the Park – but Tera had already said it seemed like a sound plan to her, and Jonathan had (less enthusiastically) added his vote. No one seemed to notice when I said nothing; Dean simply nodded, took up his shotgun and turned to go back out the door. Just before he closed in behind him, he finally acknowledged my presence by leaning back in to ask for his jacket back. I, having forgotten about it yet again anyway, was quick to shrug it off. I did remember Jonathan’s lighter, which I pulled out of the pocket, but I decided to leave the hypodermic needle. If Dean asked about it, I would at least know he’d had nothing to do with it.

 

I offered the lighter to Jonathan, but he refused it and kissed my forehead. “It’s yours, sweetheart.”

 

Dean gave us – or Jonathan, anyway – a disgusted look, put on the jacket, and was gone.

 

It was Tera who got us moving afterwards. I would have just sat there, staring into thin air, and likely Jonathan would have too, if she hadn’t roused us. We all moved up to the cab, stashing what precious little food was left in the back: one can of soup and half a bag of beef jerky. It would have been fine for one person, but three? Still, I figured with careful rationing, we’d make it, especially with Dean meeting us the next day, or early the next at the latest. If our lives had actually been in danger, he wouldn’t have bothered to conceal his true speed; it would been a simple matter of taking maybe a ten-minute run to the Park, grabbing some supplies, and ten minutes back. As it was, we were pushing it, but we would survive. I personally was still starving, but wasn’t about to let that on. I sat between Tera (who drove slowly and carefully) and Jonathan, and hoped my stomach wouldn’t growl.

 

It still amazed me somehow, how dark it was in the forest. Even with the reflections of moonlight all around and the headlights on full brightness, there were so many patches of blackness. So many places for things to hide. I wondered if Dean was one of them – staring out at us with his eyes glowing red, watching over us for as long as he could – or if he’d simply run, as he and I were both wont to do when things didn’t go exactly our way.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

Okay, sorry it's taken a while to post, I have been a naughty little hobbit as of late. I had all these ideas last week and got distracted with assignments and got lazy and lost my momentum. I hate when that happens! So I tried to write and hated what I came up with. I scrapped 6 pages in total or thereabouts and kept 8 or so. So for tonight it'll be another short post at least until I get my next assignment out of the way or hopefully get 'reinspired' back to my usual level where I can't seem to think about anything else! Damn it I'm ranting! I'll shut up now and just post. Again, it's dismal and small compared to yours but at the moment sadly my head hasn't been in it. I'll get back there, given time... hopefully ;)

EDIT: Okay formatting is off again. But it's posting anyway right now that's the main thing.

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The going was treacherous. Amidst the heat and the glare we pushed on, trudging over car boots, roofs and bonnets like some obstacle course from hell. The sun struggled through the smoky haze, resembling a broken egg smeared across the sky. Light flashed on the glass and mirrors, debilitating in its fury. Sand that had been whipped up across the man made causeway buried cars to their axles. It coated every surface, choked every cranny; Mother Nature was slowly swallowing up all evidence of man and burying her undead secret beneath the sand. Several times I almost fell headlong into the open arms of the zombies as they sat snarling inside their vehicles. They watched us pick our way across the endless stretch of cars unable to follow, scratching at the glass with their fingers worn down to bloody bone; their angry growls filling the air. It held back the desert silence and stillness that otherwise surrounded us from every conceivable direction.

Panic had given way to something else as I fought to follow in David’s footsteps. The heat, the noise, the tension was unbearable. The pack on my back felt like lead. Skidding on the sandy glass I scrambled back up onto the roof of some station wagon and knelt there struggling to catch my breath. The zombies below were thumping and clawing at the ceiling. I could feel them; the thin sheet of metal that separated us seemed too thin at that moment, allowing sensation through. Choking on fear, on thirst, on dehydration I winced. David studied the back of a Land Rover, another wagon, and a sports car with its top torn away. With a decisive huff he snatched his pack off and threw it atop the tallest vehicle and watched it land somewhere on the roof with a heavy thud and a cloud of dust. Casting a glance in my direction he uttered something, leapt forward and clambered up the back of the SUV. The zombies in the car beside him growled louder, clawing in the air viciously. The undead beneath me clawed harder at the ceiling, spurred on by their rotting counterparts. Instinctively I shimmied forward, skidding down the windscreen. The glass creaked and threatened to break. Beneath the dust I saw a fracture fanning out. Fear closed my throat tight. I slid across the bonnet and came to a stop. The ground beneath where the road should have been was swallowed up in the ceaseless tide of sand. I stared at the windscreen cracking, cracking, behind the zombie’s hungry claws. With a wince I swung my eyes up looking for signs of David. I couldn’t see any movement at all on the roof of the SUV. I couldn’t see anything but the sand, the sky, the cars and the zombies. I winced again in lieu of speaking. My chest was tight. All I could taste was sand, and sweat and vomit.

I waited, straining my ears for signs of David’s whereabouts. I could hear him thudding around on the cars in front of me but the noise of the dead was disorienting. I couldn’t get a handle on anything. The glass still cracking behind me was loud, unnatural, sounding like some invisible hand was etching into it, trying to free the undead trapped within. I stared back at them less than a meter and a half away and then at the SUV David had climbed atop at an awkward angle in front of me. I struggled to get my bearings, to project the path he’d taken with his fearless stride; step on the back of that one, on the rear side fender of that one and then- But the cracking glass and the chorus of the dead and the heat and fear and desperation overcame me. I stared up at the SUV’s roof helplessly. My pack was dragging me backwards. If I tried to jump like he had I’d never make it. But if I didn’t keep moving-

Grimacing at my fate I slid my pack off, looking for another safe route to throw it. The risk of it sliding off into the path of the dead was too great and without it I was as good as one of them, but in my state without food, without adequate water, without decent rest I couldn’t keep shouldering it. It was too much; all of it was too much. I was too dehydrated to cry but I sobbed as if I were able to. A moment later I shuffled forward in an attempt to follow David. I launched myself off the bonnet of the wagon and slipped against the sand. The world went sideways for a split second before something cold and hard jarred my hip and shoulder. My leg went down straight off the bonnet while the rest of me teetered over the edge. I glared ahead in a panic. My shoe was buried amidst the sand between the vehicles. The echoes of my scream came back at me like an afterthought. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it as I struggled to get abreast of what had happened. I wriggled my foot and panic blossomed into a familiar heart-thumping fear. My shoe was caught on something buried in the sand but I couldn’t jerk it loose. Terror kicked in. I was kicking blindly. A moment later was scrambling backwards from off the front of the car minus one shoe. Then a skeletal arm burst through the sand. I couldn’t kick it wearing just a sock and looked around in desperation. Where the f*ck did he go, where the f*ck did he-

“Your pack!”

I looked up. David crouched over the edge of the SUV watching me. The zombie grappled blindly between us. The glass was still splintering behind me. The dead inside wanted out. The dead beneath wanted more than just my shoe.

“Throw us your god damn pack! Now!”

“What?” I choked out. I huffed. He couldn’t be serious!

“Wh-why?”

“Just do it! Come on!”

I looked at the dead all around, surrounding me, closing in on all sides, and looked back at David with my head shaking.

“No.”

With a grumble David crawled back and disappeared again. I drew a breath to yell at him but stopped. He reappeared a moment later and reached out towards me.

“Do you want to die? Will you just trust me! Give it to me! F*ck!”

“Why?” I challenged. “So you can run away? Leave me here to die without my stuff?” but even as I was speaking my desperation betrayed me. I scrambled to my feet to get as far away from the rising dead as I could but not too close to the windscreen that could give way any second behind me. All it took was one loose end of material billowing behind for them to grab on to and I was history. But I looked around seeing nothing but worse predicaments on either side; a minivan with it’s windows down, the sports car with the reanimated dead thronging about inside it. I was out of options and David knew it.

His glower, at the end of his outstretched arm, gave me nothing by way of consolation. “You trust me enough to f*ck you for months but not with your food, is that it?”

He snorted at me and drew his arm back. Bastard. So that was the way it was going to be again, was it? I snarled. Wrenching the strap of my pack in fist I glared up at him, watching him stand in readiness to catch it. A second later with a fierce grunt I swung my arm and hefted the bag aside; instead of sailing into David’s waiting arms it flew sideways over the car bonnets where it came to a loud and heavy thud against the embankment. At first David couldn’t say anything, just stare. His shoulders sank without commentary as he looked down at me and glared. He shook his head, every curse under the sun flashed in his narrowed eyes. I stood panting, reeling in my rebellion. Better the dead have it than he did I wanted to say but couldn’t. My triumph was short lived as I watched it roll down the steep incline and disappear beside the furthest car. A rotting corpse lay melding into the fabric of the passenger seat but the driver was dead and moving. Huffing with a tiny smirk, I rolled my eyes back up at David.

“The f*ck’s the matter with you?” he muttered under his breath bitterly. A moment later he shouldered his pack and disappeared.

Winded by the effort, not quite so much his venom, I looked back to where the pack had landed and tracked a visual path atop the cars towards it. The roofs were hot beneath my sock. I was walking on flat coals and the accumulated sand offered little respite. Off balance without one shoe I knelt briefly to wrench the other off. I threw it aside hearing it clang off into the distance and scrambled now with more urgency. Three cars, two cars, and I was almost at the side of the traffic jam. I looked up at the embankment, climbing a precarious 70-80 degree angle in front of me, at the manmade barrier buried beneath Mother Nature’s fury. Slowly, and without the usual army of roadside workers, of caretakers and engineers, she was wiping all trace of us from her face and rendering us to nothing more than a distant, painful memory. A dry sticky click sound echoed in my throat as I attempted to swallow. Fear and dehydration were draining me. I stared up at the wall of sand ahead, on the other side of the car, like a tidal wave threatening to crash down over all of it and swallow the earth whole. I huffed weakly. I had to keep moving. Darting up onto the roof of the nearest car I knelt, letting the jeans over my knees take the brunt of the heat. I looked around, vaguely aware that David was following me. He wasn’t the only one. Between the cars and beneath the sands the dead had begun to rise. Behind us, back the way we had come, there was a small army of them, either standing alone or in fetid clusters, most locked in between car bumpers and fenders without the coordination to crawl on hands and knees and get out. But some by sheer instinct were still dragging themselves along, some struggling between the sandy incline and cars as I was about to. I knew there was no time to hesitate and in two strides threw myself over the cars towards the sand and prayed for a miracle that no dead arms would catch me. Luckily none did. But the driver in the nearest car had been watching my progress. He growled and lunged at the air towards me. The sand had jimmied his door shut but he was still moving freely. Half his torso was outside the car struggling in the air and sand towards me. I clambered up a few meters until I felt sure none could reach me and looked back again to get my bearings. Then I realized the zombie directly below hovered over my supply pack. And what was worse, he didn’t have a seatbelt on. There was in short nothing keeping him inside that car. I was going to have to shoot it. Running on adrenalin and fear I snatched the rifle off my back and inspected it. The zombie was ceaselessly struggling through the sand ever closer, filling my peripheral vision. In front the zombie was three quarters out of the car. It was clawing the sand handful by desperate handful.

                                                    (Here's more) 

In the looming shadow of a city in ruin we staggered into suburbia. The earth shook and the sky rumbled, heralding her contempt for our arrival. Darkness was still a long way off. The glare of the sun continued to beat down. Around us houses, yards, dusty deserted streets emerged. Everywhere we saw carnage and destruction of a world dying in a terrified panic. It was a ghost town. Upturned cars littered roads, sidewalks, some in yards, in houses, burnt out twisted metallic skeletons left behind as people fled. Behind rusted gates vacant houses stood silent. In some, open doors resembled hungry mouths, and the rank breath of naturally decayed corpses wafted out to the constant buzz of flies. Windows were boarded up, or broken, or left with curtains and blinds drawn like snapshots frozen forever in time. They were time-capsules of life in its fragile complacency just before the war had taken hold. Standing between houses that were riddled with bullet holes or smeared with brown-black bloodied handprints, those rare few left untouched were perhaps more terrifying than the rest. Even as we staggered between them in my delirious state I studied them with narrowed sideways eyes, knowing that the dead still lingered within, whether they were reanimated or permanently deceased. I found it hard to get my head around the fact that these houses, that had once been homes to loving husbands and wives and mothers and fathers, kids with their dogs, their noise, their chaos, were the mirror opposites of their pasts now. The silence, the stillness, the remnants of all those lives lost made these buildings seem like life-size tombs. We were unwelcomed visitors trespassing on a restless graveyard being chased by nature’s fury. The streets were eerily absent of bodies or corpses, making it seem like the human race had vanished overnight in a wave of chaos leaving no physical trace of themselves behind. But amidst the heat and stillness and incessant swarm of insects the walking dead no doubt still lurked, watching from the shadows, waiting.

Eventually we approached one, deviating off the roadway dotted by overgrown trees that somehow seemed out of place amidst such unforgiving conditions. Too weary to offer his usual signals David merely gave me one of his dour looks before he broke in through the front door. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to berate him for it, watching him jimmy the lock with his knife and fingers like some common thug; his criminal acts now revealed apparently had no limit I scowled, soon following him in. In urgent and bone-weary, movements we cleared the house finding no visible signs of infection. The air was stale and thick with the stench of death and decay. It smelled like the family dog had taken a crap before rolling in its filth where it lay down and died. The buzz and hum of insects was amplified in the quiet. Every heavy footfall we made echoed like the structure’s heartbeat reluctantly coming back to life. Sweeping upstairs we entered a bedroom and stopped. Huddled together on the master bed four corpses lay, while a fifth lay curled at an unnatural angle at the foot. The mother and her children looked to be sleeping, save for the black dots that marred each one’s forehead or temple. Looking at the baby, little more than a skeleton with a distended sunken stomach clutched tight to the woman’s breast, I cringed and turned away. David regarded them a moment longer before he strode up and stole the pistol from the father’s cold dead fingers. By the progression of his decay his guilt had only kicked in when his food had run out. David snorted rather than say anything. I was relieved that he didn’t. He checked the clip and snapped it shut again. Then with a dour pout he stuffed the pistol in the waistband of his pants and walked out and leaving the family in all their rotten horror behind.

In the bathroom I found him screwing the lid off of the toilet cistern.

“What are you… doing?” I croaked. I was so weak and so dry by this point speech was more than a chore to me.

I watched as David, free of his pack, hefted the lid off and set it down on the floor. Then with cupped hands he began scooping water into his mouth.

“What the hell are you-!” I started to protest. I staggered forward to stop him. I don’t know why I cared but the disgust seemed instinctive, primal, as if knowing on some level the act would kill him. “I’m thirsty too but- toilet- poison!” I croaked.

With a curt response David shoved me away. I was too fragile to catch what it was he said. The message was evident enough however given the flash of his eyes. The sight of water dripping off his chin flashed in my mind, of back there at the clinic after he’d turned on the rest and slugged me, but after trudging through the desert the water looked more precious and more beautiful than any diamond I’d ever seen. I swooned with the force of my inner conflict. I hit the wall and stood there panting. It was the only thing holding me up. Slowly, limply, I slid down it, coming to a stop atop curled legs upon the floor. I watched David drink and belch until he was bloated. Losing strength, satiated, he too quickly hit the tiles. Wrenching his makeshift turban off he rubbed his scalp and face, too stubbled, too red from the sun, too gaunt from the elements and uttered a long exhaustive sound. With a knee drawn up he slumped backwards, his head cracking against the wall. His eyes closed so he didn’t seem to notice me watching, staring in disgust and defeat. He sounded weak. In all the time I’d known him he’d never sounded like that, so… vulnerable. Gagging on parched throat I closed my eyes feeling darkness closing in on me.

“We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we?” I wanted to ask, speaking if only for the sake of speaking.

But as the darkness gathered and gravity finally drew me to lie down atop the cool hard tiles, the silence of the bathroom remained undisturbed. It stayed like that until the storm descended and night followed soon after.

*

I slept so heavy I didn’t dream, or if I did dream its comfort and peace eluded me. I awoke fitfully in the gloom, stiff, agonized, and disoriented and desperate. A heavy black shadow lay curled up on the floor beside me. Hearing the rains applauding down and mask everything, even the sound of my own haggard breaths, I hesitantly drew closer. I reached out blindly, expecting a cold corpse and instead feeling warm skin. With a gasp I flinched and reluctantly, against my better judgment, cuddled against him. Then I was dragged back down into the darkest depths of sleep.

*

When I awoke again this time it wasn’t to darkness. Outside the window the rains still continued to pour down, streaking against the glass like endless tears. In the pale blue hue of dawn or dusk I stirred, wincing and groaning as my body protested every movement and attempted to rebel. Hearing a slight clatter above my head I craned my head upward. Slowly, achingly, I pushed myself up to sit. David sat a few feet away with his back against the side of the bathtub. His pack was open beside him. He sat spooning a mouthful of beans out of the can in his fist and hungrily devoured it. My eyes darted instinctively towards my pack, the one I had fought so hard to keep and had almost died for, with my eyes narrowing and falling meekly. The zip was still shut and just how I’d left it, but the unspoken implication lingered regardless as David snorted and resumed eating.

I was famished but I couldn’t eat. The smell of food made my stomach lurch, and it wasn’t just from the moldy mildewy smell that encapsulated us in that bathroom. The moisture in the air, in direct contrast to the hot, sticky dry conditions from before, coated my throat making it easy to breathe. Despite this a dry raspy tickle in my throat induced a coughing fit and ended with me smearing clumps of dust from the corners of my mouth and nostrils.

“Here,” David uttered, nudging a canteen towards me with his foot.

I watched it spin on the tiles and snatched it up before it came to a stop, devouring the contents thirstily. A mouthful, two, three, four later I choked again and reluctantly drew the bottle away. I looked up at the toilet cistern with its lid still on the floor and met David’s eyes accusingly. He smirked and swept his back teeth with his tongue before he spooned in another mouthful and savored them before swallowing them down. He pointed to the window with the end of his spoon. That’s when I realized a thick sheet of material was wedged beneath the glass and the window ledge. I looked up behind him, at the white plastic rings that sat strangely vacant on a silver pole. I narrowed my eyes at the shower curtain and marveled with a frown at what point he’d managed to hang it out the window in such a fashion let alone why. My initial response was that of panic, afraid he was giving away our location in some kind of S.O.S. beacon to any potential survivors like us that happened to be in the vicinity. The sting of betrayal must have been apparent as David snorted again. He thumbed over his shoulder. The tub, remarkably, had at least 3 inches of water in the bottom. It didn’t look putrid, in fact it smelled… fresh. How on earth was that-?

“Bucket. Found it downstairs last night,” he said as though it were of no great consequence. “Along with a few other things. Thought they might be useful.”

I frowned and struggled to wake fully. “When did you go down there last night? I didn’t hear anything.”

“You were asleep.”

“Still,” I huffed, trying to ignore the sick possibilities of everything else he might have done while I had been unconscious and would never know about. I cleared my throat. “You should’ve woken me. You could have been… killed or something.”

David pouted and shrugged noncommittally.

“I’m touched,” he muttered, stabbing the bottom of his can with his spoon. His sharply averted eyes gave a distinctly different impression. You’re not my boss, bitch, no matter what you seem to think. I put you in your place once; I can sure-as-sh*t do it again if you push me. “I can take care of myself, remember?”

Yeah, but whose gonna take care of me in Zombieville if you’re dead? I wanted to say. Instead I sat quiet, arms folded, until the stalemate was breached. I sighed through my nose heavily.

“What time is it?”

“Five.”

Slowly I crawled over to my pack still lying just inside the bathroom door. Rummaging around for food of my own I lamented on how the rains, though a blessing in some ways, was going to delay our progress.

“Hopefully the rain stops long enough for us to make ground before night sets in again,” I said.

Finding a can with its label off, I shook it, peeled the lid back, and grimaced at the asparagus shoots within. Behind me now David snorted.

“It’s five in the afternoon, princess,” he muttered.

I swore and set the can down.

“Not to piss on your parade, but we won’t be going anywhere tonight. Judging by the looks of it I’d say it’s set in for a few days. Better get used to the idea. Looks like we’re stuck here. Together. Again.” He sighed. “Just like old times, huh?”

 

-- Edited by Ravynlee on Thursday 3rd of September 2009 04:09:39 PM

 

David scoffed. “Why would you? Have you ever been behind bars in your perfect life?”

“No.”

“No? Figures. Then how could you? Understand? You can’t,” David murmured. He shook his head and drew his knee up to slouch against it. A dirty hand smeared his burnt and stubbled scalp.

“What was it like?”

“Like a f*ckin’ fairytale, what do you think?”

“You killed her.”

“I’m not going down that path again. I told you-”

“I just wanna know how? Why-?”

“Why? Will it help you sleep at night? Why, so you can validate your perceptions of me as being this sick, heartless bastard that needs your help?”

David waited. He was challenging me. Rather than give in I stared back and frowned seriously.

“I don’t wanna help you. I just want answers. What else have you got? You’ve already shown me enough to make up my own mind about you.”

David snarled contemptuously. “God, you sound just like her.”

“What was she like?”

“Why don’t you go f*ck yourself.”

“Why can’t you own up to it? You can’t even talk about her without losing it.”

“You want the details, is that it? Huh? You want to hear how I put my hands around her throat and squeezed the life out of her before cutting that f*cking thing out of her womb? Yeah… I bet you do. I told you,” he said, his voice now little more than a low, dangerous grumble, “She got what she deserved. It doesn’t matter who did it or why, she f*cked around and it caught up with her. End of story. That’s all you need to know.”

“Did you love her?”

David’s mouth opened to retaliate but closed again with an indignant huff.

“If you loved her so much why didn’t you just leave her? Why’d you have to kill her? Was it really your kid?”

David shook his head and snarled at me. Eye contact was low and minimal. “You think you know it all but you don’t. You weren’t there. God, you walk through my life any given day of the week and see how well you would have coped. Jail was nothing compared to that. I tried. For years I tried. Of course I… loved her. But there’s a limit to how much sh!t a man can take. This here, this sh!t’s nothing. Give me all the dead you want, I’ll take them all on.” Despite the bravado of his words his tone dropped and lost much of its power. “In there,” he said, “things are much different. It’s a place with its own set of rules, its own laws. You can’t eat, sneeze, take a piss without asking someone’s permission. Eat this, come here, sleep now; it’s all regimented. You want to know how it is? It’s nothing you can imagine. It’s enough to send a man insane. They tried.”

“What do you mean, ‘they’?”

“Everyone. Big Brother. There’s eyes watching you 24 hours a day. When you shower, when you sleep, when you… That’s where I was, for the most part, being shipped back and forth between C block and the Mental Observation Unit.”

“You were a mental patient?”

“We’re all f*cking mental patients,” he murmured dourly, cupping the top of his head. Another grim, humorless smile. “Schizophrenia. Apparently. Misdiagnosed. Mis-medicated. Misrepresented. At my trial, given the ‘violent nature of the crime’ they gave me the death penalty but the powers that be couldn’t make up their minds whether I was a dangerous psychopath, I was acting insane, or really was crazy… There was some talk, some final stay or appeal. I’d just been transported back to C block when the riot started. It didn’t take a genius to see what was going on, how the infection spread. The bombs had already dropped and the place had been operating since on some kind of skeleton crew. Most of the guards had fled home to be with their families while we were left to rot in our cells. The world was in a panic but you know how it was. You saw it. The government tried to contain civil unrest by throwing jaywalkers in with us; murderers, rapists, the worst motherf*cking criminal element you can hope for. And that was my home.” As he spoke David’s tone softened, taking on a distant miserable quality that seemed a mockery of his usual brutish snarl. “Place was a f*cking mess. A few good Samaritans started opening cells, letting a few of us out. That’s when it turned ugly. The dead just multiplied. There was nowhere to run… We were just meant to be human shields against the wave of infection sweeping in; A stupid f*cking move. I don’t know how it got in initially, a screw, conjugal visitor, I don’t care. It just seemed to be nowhere and everywhere before you knew it. People ripping into each other, people screaming, dropping dead, getting back up; TV stations had been broadcasting these stories of walking dead for weeks and no one believed it. We all thought it was bullsh!t, even those of us in C block. It was f*cking surreal…”

“So, that’s how you got out? The guards let you go?”

“No,” he shook his head, still nursing his scalp despondently. “No one unlocked our cell. We stayed there for what felt like weeks, me and Danny, the guy who shared the cell with me. Big guy. Quiet. Nice enough… After the sh!t died down we waited watching the sea of undead getting bigger and bigger outside our gate. No food. No water. Nothing to arm ourselves with; they kept every god damn piece of furniture welded or bolted down for that precise f*cking reason. That cell and that noise, god the noise of them, it echoed. It was the world’s biggest rat-cage. The only thing that kept us going those first few days was the water in the toilet.”

I nodded in acknowledgement when his eyes sought mine.

“After a while with the darkness and the moaning and the smell, Danny went crazy, like cabin fever; he wanted out. He had a wife and kids on the outside he wanted to get to, wouldn’t listen to reason when I told him they were probably already dead. We fought. He came at me. I remember at some point he went down, hit his head on the corner of something... There was blood everywhere. I don’t know if he died then or how long it took but he never got back up. After that, things became desperate. I saw how those things were all trying to push through the bars to get at him, they seemed to be turned on by the blood; the smell just seemed to drive them crazy. So… using him as bait I started throwing him out there to feed them, distracted one enough to steal his revolver. I blasted as many as I could as I made my way out. They didn’t like fire, I learned that the hard way, and got the f*ck out before the place went up. Got away,” he shrugged and raised his brows. That was that; happily ever after in the land of the dead.

I frowned back dubiously. Questions buzzed about my head. They must have been showing on my face. I opened my mouth, “But what do you mean- how did you-?”

“What? Eat? What the f*ck do you think I ate? I saw people in the cells across from me trying to live off their own sh!t! I wasn’t going down that path, I made my choice.”

My frown buckled when realization eventually dawned. My mouth fell open. “You ate him?”

“No!” he was quick to assert. It was the only time I saw him shift from his seated position at all since the mention of his ex Meaghan. “No, it’s not like that- It’s just- meat-”

“My god, that’s another person you’re talking about!”

“It was him or me! I told you, before; I said I never killed anyone that wasn’t already dead. He was dead! I was starving!”

“You actually ate another human being?” I cried, my voice rising in indignant pitch.

David shuffled forward. Reactively I shuffled back.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh my god, it just keeps getting worse-!”

“Shh! Keep your voice-” he started, and then he feel eerily silent. His head c0cked and zeroed in on the back of the door. His expression buckled. “D’you hear that?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m gonna be-” I struggled to be free of his grip smothering my mouth.

Thinking it a ruse I struggled to push him off, my head connecting with the wooden door of the linen cupboard for my troubles. A dull thud echoed loudly in the bathroom. David grabbed my head and jerked me forward; he was practically holding me in a headlock. I fought until he hissed at me to shut up and whether through fear or realization I suddenly froze and strained my ears too. I did hear something though I had no idea what it was. Then it struck me like a mallet. Holy f*ck, was that-?

“Someone’s out there,” he whispered hoarsely down over me.

My sense of cleanliness, of peace, of relative comfort had been permanently stained by not just his words but by the slightest touch of his hand. As David prized himself off to creep towards the door with rifle once more in fist, I sat smearing my face with my sleeves, my cheek, my neck, the pinch of my face still more sour than terrified. I glowered at him as he stopped inside the doorway and slowly rose to his feet. His finger was to his lips then gesturing towards the pistol lying atop my sleeping bag. I glowered as I snatched it up. Disgust was etched all over my face. His words and mine were echoing deafeningly over and over inside of my head. David was crooking a finger at me, beckoning me like some mongrel puppy. I shook my head and looked around for shoes only to remember with a groan I no longer owned any. As if on cue my feet stung fiercely as I stood, re-instigating the blistering and burning and swollen agony from the arduous trek across the desert sands. Through clenched teeth I bit back loud whimper, hearing that dull thudding sound getting ever closer. It was definitely footsteps alright and they were creeping up the stairs towards us. Whoever it was knew we were here. There was no urgency to it’s pace, it was slow and calculated. Struggling between revulsion and fear I met David’s eyes and implored him fretfully. His hand went back, ushering me to stand back first against the wall. After that brief rest I was finding it difficult to stay upright. I dropped to my knees again. The footsteps were right outside now, approaching the master bedroom. We waited with breaths fast in our lungs, waiting for the footsteps to pass us by and keep moving. In a terrifying moment we realized that it wasn’t the slow ambling gait of the dead – since when had they learned to climb the stairs (outside the dreaded military base)? – And what was worse I could hear nothing but silence. The footsteps had stopped. The intruder now stood on the other side of the bathroom door.

                                                                                    *

-- Edited by Ravynlee on Thursday 3rd of September 2009 04:14:18 PM

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

When we came to the fork, Tera got out to stretch her legs and separate out what we could and couldn’t carry with us. I kicked open my door so she could get out, but I myself turned to where Jonathan still lay. Once she’d disappeared behind the truck I slid down next to him, where she’d been, and looked into his sleeping face. He looked different – peaceful and innocent. Not as deceitful as I had no doubt he could be. I wondered if we all looked that way in sleep, even murders, psychopaths, rapists – everything he might be. Everything he might have lied about not being.

 

I realized I wanted to cry and blinked away the tears. How could I trust him? How could I trust Dean? Maybe trust just wasn’t a luxury any of us had anymore, but I expected it. Even though I wasn’t always truthful, I expected others to be – so I was a hypocrite along with everything else. I closed my eyes again and took a second to make sure all the tears had melted away, then leaned in to kiss him awake. He smiled in his sleep, and as his eyes opened, something of the peaceful innocence lingered, but only for a moment. His usual wry amusement entered his voice.

 

“Well, that’s not a half-bad way to be woken.”

 

I smiled, trying to keep the sadness out of it. “We’re stopped at the river,” I told him. “Thought we’d eat what we’ve got before we cross it and move on.”

 

“A wise choice.” He put an arm around me to pull me closer, as he always did. It was so hard to believe it was all an act. “And where is Tera?” he asked.

 

“She’s in the back right now,” I answered listlessly. He just had to bring her up.

 

“Good.” He slipped his other arm under me, letting it wrap around and rest at my waist. His fingers lightly traced the slim band of exposed skin where my shirt had ridden up. “Then we can stay like this for a while.”

 

A chill went up my spine; although I suppressed a shiver, it wasn’t cold or fear I was feeling. My instinct – probably the same stupid, human instinct that made me want children – told me to just stay there, to curl closer to him and enjoy it, but my suspicious brain told me to get out. I listened to it and pulled away regretfully.

 

“We can’t. We need to get moving.”

 

Jonathan gave me a pouty look, but sat up. He rubbed at his eyes briefly, pulled a cigarette out of the folds of his jacket and lit it with a match, then jumped out of the truck. I thought he would go on, but he paused and looked back at me with a questioning expectancy. Though I considered shaking my head and motioning him on just to see if he would go without me, after a second I followed, taking his offered hand to help myself down.

 

We walked around the truck to find Tera had organized our scant supplies into two piles: things she didn’t think were necessary, and things she did. Jonathan and I both had our say, but it was really fairly basic – food and wearable clothing went, everything else was auxiliary. And since we were eating everything and could wear what little useful clothing we had, we would be traveling very light. Dean still had the majority of the weapons and the remaining camping supplies with him. As soon as that was taken care of, Jonathan set to building one of his perfect fires to cook the soup over – though we no longer had any bowls, as they’d been contaminated with hellmutt blood. Tera found two small metal cups in with the supplies that had been taken from the shack, and I spent some time cleaning them with purified, boiled river water before we all reluctantly agreed they’d have to do. Then it began to rain again, while the soup was still cooking, and we had to use our own bodies to shield the fire.

 

Eventually, though, it sputtered out and we settled for sipping our half-cooked broth, soaking wet, in the back of the truck. As he had with Dean and I, Jonathan rationed himself severely so we could have more, claiming he’d gotten used to very little food. I tried to coax him into having some of mine, and Tera made a token effort, but he refused both of us, saying something obscure about chivalry. I couldn’t help but snicker at that, and he mocked offense but still wouldn’t take more than three swallows of soup. Unbeknownst to the other two, I had also ‘cheated’ myself and given Tera part of my portion, reasoning that she doubtless needed more than I did – wasn’t I some sort of superhuman, after all?

 

Tera and I sat on the benches, while Jonathan opted for the floor, and we all looked out into the downpour. We had tried to keep from getting too cold by removing our outermost layers of clothing (since they were most wet), but it didn’t make much of a difference. We still shivered for at least the next twenty minutes.

 

“Such good timing,” Tera commented sarcastically at one point.

 

“I wonder if it’s going to let up,” I said.

 

Jonathan reached out to fill his empty cup with rainwater, then let it trickle out onto the ground. “I would guess, no.”

 

After some time, I found I had moved down to the floor. Jonathan slouched against the wall, and I slouched against him with his arm around me loosely. Tera lay on her stomach on the bench behind us. We handed around the bag of beef jerky (there, too, Jonathan passed it up time and again), but it emptied quickly, and we could only watch the rain fall dejectedly and think about our wet clothes and grumbling stomachs. The food, if anything, had only made me realize how hungry I was. When it truly got dark, I got up to light the little white candle, but soon returned to Jonathan’s side where it was at least marginally warmer. Tera fell asleep and twitched periodically in her dreams; I dozed but couldn’t relax with the rain thundering down on the truck’s metal roof. Every time I slipped back into wakefulness, Jonathan was in the same position, eyes open to watch the night as if guarding us from things he couldn’t see. I wondered if he had actually meant a syllable of what he’d said about chivalry.

 

Eventually the candle sputtered and dimmed, drowning on its own wax.

 

Jonathan sighed and quietly said, “I thought that would start happening soon.”

 

“Guess we didn’t really need the light anyway,” I offered.

 

“I suppose not.” He rubbed my bare arm slowly, and I felt that chill creeping up my back again, bringing with it that weakened feeling I wasn’t sure I liked. I tried to push it away, but it didn’t seem to be working. “Trinity?”

 

“What?”

 

“Relax.”

 

“I’m not –”

 

“You’re stiff as a board,” he said wryly.

 

“I’m cold,” I insisted. “It’s the rain.”

 

“Trinity, I – I’m not going to do anything,” he said suddenly, sounding offended. “Nothing you don’t want me to. I’m just trying to make you comfortable – if you tense up every time I touch you, I’ll stop.”

 

“No, it’s not – I mean – no. I don’t mind.”

 

“Then why –”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Is it that you’re thinking about Dean?”

 

“I told you it’s nothing.”

 

“Because if –”

 

“It’s nothing! Okay?”

 

Jonathan fell silent, but another voice drifted in through the rain: “Third time’s a charm, huh?” I jumped, my hand falling to my pistol, but it fell away again as Dean appeared in what little light the candle still threw out. “I can’t see anything in this sh*t,” he added, climbing into the truck. I blushed as I realized he’d probably heard most of our conversation. While Jonathan and I sat frozen, he shook Tera awake and sat down heavily on the other bench, whisking a hand through his drenched hair to send little droplets flying.

 

“You’re soaked,” Tera observed groggily.

 

He shrugged. “I’m used to it by now,” he said nonchalantly. “So, I got some good news, and some bad news.”

 

“Good news first?” I asked, glad for the distraction, hoping whatever news he brought would make Jonathan forget about our conversation.

 

He grinned at me, and I blushed again, knowing he was probably wise to my plot. “Good news is, the storm’s moving on. Looks like we’re in the clear for the next few days at least, and it oughta be letting up here pretty soon, so we can all move on to the Park.”

 

“Great,” I said, relieved. Anything to be on the move again; I thought the bad news couldn’t possibly take the edge off that. Of course I was wrong.

 

“Bad news is,” Dean continued, his grin evaporated, “there’s no food at the Park. Looks like we got raided.”

 

“Cr*p,” I mumbled. “Even the garden …?”

 

He shook his head. “Barren. So far as I can tell they ripped everything out.”

 

Even as he said it the rain ceased pounding on the truck. Food or no, the Park was our goal, and there was no reason to hang around and mope. We decided to set out immediately, hooking ourselves together again since it was dark, with Dean in the lead, me right behind, and Jonathan taking up the rear. I was sure exactly how that happened, but put it down to some subtle work on Dean’s part. I didn’t really mind anyway, as I wanted to speak to Dean privately for a moment, and I knew Tera would leave us alone. I was also a little afraid that if I walked with Jonathan, he would want to pursue what we’d been talking about before Dean came. More than that, I was afraid our tenuous relationship was well on its way to becoming more complicated, when its simplicity was the very thing that made it exist.

 

Once we’d crossed the river and re-drenched every square inch of skin that’d dried, I sped up my walk to draw even with Dean.

 

 “Dean?” I said quietly, so only he could hear. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Yeah, of course.” He looked at me curiously. His eyes shone a dull red, so that they wouldn’t stand out against the blackness of the night.

 

“Do you … love me?”

 

He looked down at the ground for a moment. When he looked back up, those eyes held such a sincerity – and such a sadness – that I knew the answer before he said it. Maybe I already did. “I do. Of course I do. You know that.”

 

Plunging ahead, I asked, “Have you … always?”

 

“Jamie, I have loved you since the day I first saw you,” he said solemnly.

 

“And …” I hesitated; did I really want to know?

 

“What is it?” he murmured.

 

“Could you … settle for someone else? Could you ever pick someone over me?” I forced out, unable to look at him.

 

“Never.”

 

“No one?”

 

“God no.” He said it immediately, but then paused and asked, “Jamie, where is this coming from?”

 

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just needed to hear it, I guess.”

 

Carefully, he reached out to take my hand. I could have sworn an electric spark leapt between us, and I almost recoiled. “You know I’m here for you, right?” he said seriously. “No matter what. I’m done running, I swear.”

 

“No matter what,” I whispered, not sure if I wanted confirmation as to what he’d said, or if I was just horrified that he’d said it.

 

He simply nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Finally I looked back up at him. “Dean, please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

“I can keep it. I will. That’s what I’m telling you.”

 

“I know,” I said sadly.

 

If only he’d said yes, he could settle for someone else. Then, at least, I wouldn’t feel so goddamn guilty about the decision I had to make. Because the only way I could keep him and Jonathan both was to hurt him – there was no doubt of that now. If only I could actually believe he’d be satisfied with Rae …

 

While I wasn’t paying attention, my foot caught under a root, and he grabbed my arm to keep me from falling. Even that contact made my skin tingle, even though he released me as soon as I regained my balance. He seemed to know I didn’t want his touch, but I wondered if he knew why – if he felt the same thing I did, or if it was all in my head. Maybe it was. I couldn’t remember it always being there, only when I was upset with him or unsure about him. It could be some kind of overblown self-defense system, one he might not have. Then it occurred to me that it wasn’t at all unlike what I’d been feeling recently with Jonathan – the tingle, the spark – except with Dean it was more instant and strong, just like everything was with Dean. I wasn’t sure I wanted to acknowledge what that might mean.

 

“Hey, Jamie?” he said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Can I ask you something now?”

 

I nodded, now afraid that I knew exactly what he was going to ask. He kept his eyes on the ground.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

“I don’t know,” I said immediately, like it was a programmed response. Then, tumbling out after it, came the confession, “You kind of scare me sometimes.”

 

“Scare you?” he asked, appalled. “How?”

 

“I don’t know,” I mumbled again.

 

“Wait, hang on,” he protested. “I scare you and that freak back there doesn’t?”

 

I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “You’re … and he … I don’t know, it’s like – it’s like with you, you expect me to be a certain way, you know? And I don’t know how I should be. And Jonathan doesn’t. Expect anything, I mean.” I realized I was babbling and shut my mouth, aware that Tera and Jonathan himself might have heard some of what I’d said.

 

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Okay, look. The only thing I expect from you is you. You don’t have to try –”

 

“But I do!” I said urgently. “Because I don’t know … I don’t know how I was before, and what if I’m not like that anymore? What if with – with everything I’ve been through, I’m not the person you expect me to be anymore? I don’t … I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

He surprised me by smiling, even chuckling a little. “Jamie, believe me, you haven’t changed a bit.”

 

For him, that seemed to be enough. From his point of view the problem had been fixed. I, on the other hand, couldn’t switch off my second guessing just like that. My mind kept racing and panicking, wishing it could find some way to verbalize what I felt, even wondering if I’d somehow said something wrong just then and led Dean to believe something that wasn’t true. How … unreliable speech was; if I could somehow make people perceive my thoughts without having to convert them into semi-coherent sentences first –

 

Then, like a whisper from the smallest, darkest corner of my mind:

 

youweren’tthere
youneverwantedme

I stumbled again, my breath catching. Dean grasped my arm even before I tripped, giving me a confused look. He mouthed, What? I started to respond, but the voice came back, crashing through my head with a million times the power and volume it had had before. It overwhelmed even my vision, my sense of touch.

 

IwaitedsolongandyounevercamebackformeandIwassoafraidIwouldneverseeyouagain
andIblamedyouIblamedyouforitalleventhoughitwasneveryourfault

eventhoughitwasyourfaultthatIendedupbeingwhatIam
andItoldmyselfyoudeservedeverythingyougotandItoldmyselfIwasthevictimbutI.
ButIlovedit.
Andthatwasn’tyourfault
andI’msorryIdidn’twantyouwhenyourchangedyourmindbutIhadtoprotectmyself
becauseIwassoscaredyoucannevercomprehendhowscaredIwas. Andthat’swhyIhatedyouandthat’swhyIactedhowIdidandI’msorryIdidn’tcarewhenyoucared
butyoudidn’tcarewhenIdidsoIguessintheendwewereevenright?

 

The words themselves and the manic, breathless sound of them seemed so familiar, but at the same time, they put me in such a panic that I couldn’t concentrate enough to remember where they came from. It was my voice – not one of the ones I’d heard chiding me or snapping at me in my head, but truly mine, terrified and crying. I didn’t know what I had been so afraid of, but simply hearing that voice brought back all the emotion I’d felt then – I’d been so alone, so frightened, and betrayed, but somehow it felt like I had deserved the betrayal.

 

Dean was shaking my arm, saying something, panicked himself. Jonathan shoved him away – he seemed to think Dean was the cause of my strange ‘attack’ – but when Dean released my arm, I found I couldn’t stand. My legs simply crumpled under me. Tera kept my head from hitting the ground, while Jonathan and Dean argued. The latter held his hands up as if saying he’d done nothing, but Jonathan’s accusations – still silent to my ears – didn’t stop. Another voice, also familiar but this one unplaceable, was roaring though my head now, just as whispery as the other.

 

I’msorryI’msosorryI’msosorry

It’smyfaultandit’sbeenmyfaultallalongImadeyousufferandIdeserveeverythingIget

Butyounotyouyoudon’t

OnlymeOnlyme

 

As it faded away and my senses returned briefly, I heard Jonathan’s voice crack on whatever he’d been saying, and saw him collapse much as I had. Dean caught him reflexively, giving Tera a confounded look. I thought I heard him saying, “What is this, the plague?” and Tera suddenly remembering how Jonathan had cut his own food away to give it to her and me. His hands were spasming as Dean cursed and lifted him up onto his shoulders.

 

I tried to remember the last time I’d had a real meal, and right before I passed out, I heard two more words.

 

“F*cking malnutrition.”

 

Okay, I've got about 20 or so pages lined up but at the moment I will only post the first 'episode' *lol* - I have another 3 or so coming. Just finishing the last main bit before we get where we're supposed to go! Be warned, you're gonna have a lot to read this arvo/tonight (My Aussie time) as I get this all up and finalized

Carries on directly from the end of my last post - reread that in case you've forgotten *shrugs*

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I started to speak but was sharply silenced. David grit his teeth, bighting back an intended verbal reprimand. The noise outside the door shifted. Then, faintly, came the noise of something else.

What was that… was that crying? But it sounded so quiet, surely it couldn’t be-

Behind the door with his back now to the flanking wall, David checked his rifle and drew the bolt back delicately. He leant his head against the tiles as his fingers danced against the wooden stock. Outside the noise continued. It was low and muted and disguised by the rain; hard as I attempted I just couldn’t make it out. David caught my eye, raised a finger, two, and reached for the door. Just as his fingers grazed the handle my head c0cked, drawn by another sound. The hinges creaked as David sidled up, shoved his foot in the gap, in one deft motion swung it open. He stabbed the muzzle of his rifle into the blackened hallway. Ignoring my pains I lunged to my feet.

“David-no!” I gasped. I caught hold of the door and slumped against it.

Out there, framed by the pitch black darkness of night, stood the shrunken frame of a small child; a boy. He was pale and emaciated and stood shivering with water dripping from his fragile frame. Momentarily taken off guard David’s rifle wavered. The boy looked up at him slowly and the rifle snapped up again.

Reaching out I slumped heavily on David’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s infected!” he snarled, peering down the barrel.

The boy’s gaze was vacant but not unfocussed or filmed over by the usual outward signs of death. Instead, he stood there dripping and shivering. He looked terribly gaunt. He looked frightened. David’s finger hesitated against the trigger. On impulse I used my body weight to shove him off balance. The small child shifted his focus to me. His head leant just to the side. It seemed strange… almost an alien gesture of comprehension. Like something a dog would do. Then his eyes widened. With a nervous smile I leant down towards him.

“Hey,” I gasped breathlessly.

My mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. Where had he come from? What state was he in? Were there others like him out there? Had he been sent in as a decoy? Had he come to steal our food? What was wrong with him? Was he infected? What if that was the rest of his family in there? I flicked my eyes up to the closed bedroom door behind him. David, now recomposed with rifle in the kid’s face, shouldered me back, attempting to push me behind him. But the child’s eyes – so dark, so fathomless – stared back now, following my every move. He showed no signs of aggression, of feral tendencies as other survivors left alone without human contact were sometimes known to do or hostility as I tentatively leant closer to venture, “W-what’s your name?”

“Rae!”

“Don’t! I know what I’m doing!”

“You’ll know it if it f*cking bights you!”

“If he was one of those things he would have bitten me already!” I barked.

David stared down his shoulder at me with his chest still heaving with adrenalin. His eyes slid across to the child still filling the doorway. Then, slightly, the rifle lowered. But only by a fraction.

“There,” I said, making sure the gun really was lowered as a conciliatory gesture. “There’s nothing to be scared of. We won’t hurt you.”

David made a sound of gruff defiance in the background. Ignoring him I raised my arm. I reached out towards the boy. The kid lunged forward. David snapped the rifle back up, the muzzle digging into the child’s bare slick flesh. I panicked. I tried to recoil as he fell into my arms. Something inside my brain switched off, an alarm sounded; my nerves were wired in an instant. I stood braced for that moment of impact waiting for that piercing grinding sensation of teeth gouging into my flesh, into the muscle and ligament and tearing into my neck. But some internal impulse had my arms encircling the child, nursing him to me, catching him before he hit the floor. The terror lasted only a handful of seconds as I whirled inside the bathroom and fell to my knees on my sleeping bag, with the kid still wrapped up in my arms. David panicked, his rifle trained on both of us. Then eventually, over a handful of moments, he reluctantly calmed. The blur and chaos and panic eventually gave way to the soft tinkling and pattering of the rain still falling against the glass outside.

“Rae-”

“My god,” I intercepted. “He’s freezing.”

I looked up at David. Still holding his rifle in a terse grip he frowned over me. Suspicion etched his haggard features. Nothing comforting came from him. I hadn’t expected it, but I added his lack of empathy to a seemingly endless list of personal insults and filed them away for future reference. Undoubtedly there would be more. Undoubtedly… unless he murdered me like he does everyone else in his company eventually, I chided. Not if I get him first.

Snatching up my discarded clothes, even though they were covered in sand and had been laying on the cool tiles, I hurriedly wrapped the boy up, attempting to push aside my vicious thoughts as much as it was to warm him as he lay lifelessly in my arms. I paused as I caught sight of our reflection on the porcelain, our shadows cast behind from the modest little flame hung like a shroud above us. An unsettling thought came to me – we look like that marble sculpture I’d seen in books years ago and so loved, Michelangelo’s ‘Pieta’, of the Virgin Mary nursing her slain son – and was stifled as the boy buried closer in against my chest and stayed there.

Reluctantly David shut and locked the door, wary now and apparently too on edge to sit as he stood back-first to the flame and cast himself in flickering shadow. He watched saying nothing as I tried to comfort the starving waif. For a long while neither one of us spoke, we couldn’t, the reality of a child having survived this long in such a hostile environment alone seemed laughably impossible and so far removed from what we had been expecting. As I sat holding him, rocking him, whispering sounds more than words to him, I met David’s stare with open trepidation. What the hell were we going to-

“It can’t stay here,” he finally grumbled.

“It?” I rebuked; Funny how insulted I sounded in that one sharp word. “It’s a child. It’s not some monster-”

“I don’t give a f*ck what it is-”

“Sh-Where is he supposed to go?” I started. Frustration grated away at me. Anger sparked on my still charged nerves. “We don’t even know where he came from-!”

“It’s not our problem!”

Our? My god! You just won’t let up will you? You call yourself human? You don’t even have a heart!

“I know!” I grumbled. I huffed through my nose in an attempt to dispel my rising anger.

Rather than look up I sat studying the child’s sunken face. My limbs were shaking. He did look infected. He did look to be on the wrong side of dead. With his bald head and his hollowed cheeks even his flesh seemed tinged with a grey wash, but I reasoned it could just as easily have been the shadows in here, blocked off from the tiny barely perceptible source of light that David shielded behind his back from us. Besides, though I had to strain my ears to hear over the din of the rain, I could hear him breathing. He was still alive, even if it probably wasn’t for much longer. Ignoring David’s comments that invariably followed, I tried to convince myself that if there was a bight mark on him we would have already seen it; there seemed barely a skerrick of hair on him save for his lashes and eyebrows. In truth perhaps selfishly I almost didn’t care if the boy was infected, even if by some other communicable disease; after everything that had happened, after all I now knew, the prospect of surviving even in an empty compound left me feeling hollow and cold. I’d had nothing to go back to; I was going back simply because there was no where left to go forward. Inexplicably, my prayers had been answered. I didn’t care how or by what source or for what purpose. It couldn’t have all been delirium; yes I was hungry, yes I was exhausted, I was overwrought, I was probably delusional, I told myself, but the kid locked in my arms meant more than all of that. In some primal way I wasn’t actually thinking about what I was doing or why, I was just reacting. It was what we did before the war, what we did as a species, we nurtured and we comforted one another when someone else was in distress, and my fears didn’t even enter into the equation when faced with an innocent child’s mortality. This was instinct. And be damned if I was going to justify what it meant to be human to a parasitic psychopath like David, I scowled, I wasn’t even going to bother wasting my breath.

“He needs food, water,” I uttered instead.

Reluctantly David perched down atop the toilet seat’s lid. I ignored him as he shook his head, wringing the rifle between both hands. He almost seemed to be embracing it, keeping his hands busy. He wasn’t about to aid me. Clearly I was on my own. But there was something in his gaze then as he stared at us – maybe my previous convictions had been a tad harsh, I thought, maybe he was worried, maybe he did care but was wary of letting his guard slip, and then maybe it could have just been a trick of the light. Timidly I dipped my eyes away from him. The last thing I needed was to sympathize with The Devil at this point; I’d done that enough and look where it had gotten me. As I drew back to reach into my supply pack the boy made this high guttural sound.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you. I’m right here,” I cooed.

David studied me gravely as though I’d said something wrong. I continued to ignore him. With one hand I gathered up my canteen and unscrewed the lid to pour our precious water between the child’s cool shivering lips.

“He’s too far gone,” David said.

I shook my head. I persisted. “No, he’s just…”

“What, sick? Look at him. Rae, come on. We don’t need this. He’s as good as-”

David reached out to touch the grey skeletal arm. I jerked back. We both froze. The look on David’s face startled me. At first I assumed it was due to my defensiveness but then, a second later I watched him cringe and his hand draw back.

David, cringe? I thought. I almost wanted to laugh. I was sure I smiled. That was just preposterous! The man beat, butchered and feasted on people for f*ck's sake, there was nothing on earth I knew of that would make him-

“Oh my god,” I gasped.

In the silence of the bathroom I’d barely been aware I’d even spoken. Beneath my fingers the small boy’s arm seemed too hard, impossibly hard, like muscle and sinew even if there was nothing there but skin and bone. On top of that came a sound, so low, so alien I wasn’t sure at first if it were coming from inside the room or from another source outside, or was even conjured from inside my fractured memories. I knew that sound, I’d heard it before, I had to have. I shook my head. I swept a hand over the boy’s temples and forehead. They were still damp. Feverish? Had to be. But surely that was-

“Impossible,” David murmured.

His gaze was heavy, loaded, bewildered and accusatory as they met mine. His palms squeaked as they clenched tighter around the rifle. Outside the window the rain had stopped. Drains tinkled with dripping water. Silence and stillness settled over everything. All save for this one low familiar bestial sound…

I gasped. Inside I was choking. Outside I was repulsed. My lips moved, looking to be inciting some kind of prayer. I reeled at the force of memories, of still raw wounds, of events I had attempted to bury since and felt them rush to the fore now, trapping me. As I sat there swaying back and forth a single solitary, tear flickered on my lash and dripped off.

The long face, those lips, that severe brow; how I knew them. I knew that face anywhere. It stayed with me always, haunting my dreams, and plaguing my waking thoughts. How he looked like him, his father-

“Taijitsu,” I quavered.

As if recognizing its own name the boy rolled its head, opened its dark, pitch black eyes, and smiled up at me.

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(This will be explained in the posts that followed - bear with me ;))
The rest will be up later tonight (if not sooner) - promise.

-- Edited by Ravynlee on Saturday 5th of September 2009 03:40:13 PM

(There'll be another 2-ish updates tonight after this before we're at The Park I'm figuring. I just wanted to post the initial few pages originally so you didn't di anything contradictory with Taijitsu in your upcomming posts! More after this later tonight, time permitting ;))

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The new dawn brought with it a new dynamic. At David’s insistence I uncurled myself from the sleeping bag, and stretched with a smile, the warmth of the covers beside me somehow a comfort. Just like old times. Then I froze. Splayed fingers slapped at the cooling material.

“Where is he?” I gasped. My eyes flared up at David viciously.

Stepping over me David drew the rifle down from his shoulder and snorted. I watched him sit down, kick his boots off and set the gun down like a sleeping partner beside him.

“What have you done with him? Where’s Tai?” I accused.

David stopped his weary ritual and frowned across at me.

“Tai?”

My mouth opened in defense and remained briefly silent.

“God,” he shook his head.

He didn’t have to say anything else as he reached behind me to drag his pack up and punch it into place before lying back with his head inclined on his makeshift pillow.

Hurriedly I struggled to get away from him, from the insinuation, the implication, the age-old memories now of being little more than his blow-up doll to abuse at will and got to my feet. David laid staring back with his brows raised in a look of mock-defiance.

“If you’ve hurt him…” I started.

Again he scoffed, slung his forearm over his eyes, and ignored me.

The sound of movement at the door drew me away. Taijitsu stood, tucked away behind a corner, peering in uncomfortably. Seeing me he smiled again, a little. In the pale blue hue of dawn he looked pale still but somehow fuller. Maybe he was growing into his skin, a voice scalded. I smiled back fearfully and swallowed down my nausea. With a wary eye on David he reached out and snagged my hand and drew me quickly from the room.

As we had slept David had obviously secured the house. The rains had stopped and birds sang, filling the dank interior with a sense of life. Through gaps in the boarded windows the murky sun attempted to rise and peer in. Dust motes swirled as we made our way through the living room and in to the kitchen. Amidst the stench of old melt water from the fridge and that of stale air and rodent feces there was evidence someone had been in here earlier. Wet rings lined the table top still laden with condiments and glasses containing congealed matter. Tai led me to the open pantry doors and with a grin reached up towards a box of something on the top shelf. I slid in beside and drew it down only to have it snatched out of my hands. I started to protest on impulse and stopped. Tai ripped open the cardboard and was hoeing into the dog biscuits ravenously.

Okay, I accepted. We’ll have to work on that…

Contrary to my earlier assumptions there was still some usable food left in the pantry, bringing into question the real motives behind the murder- suicide of the house’s former tenants. Casting my eyes towards the ceiling I forcibly pushed the memories aside. I could smell coffee and followed the trail of mess on the bench where David had obviously spent some time last night making himself at home. Tch, I scoffed, typical male. There was a saucepan on the stovetop that was still warm to the touch. After inspecting the stove I switched a dial and pressed a button and blue-orange-tipped flames burst up from their elements. Tai cringed and staggered backwards behind me. I caught a chair before it could clatter on the floor.

“It’s okay,” I cooed to its wide open eyes. “It won’t hurt you, its gas, see? For cooking.”

Tai looked at me dubiously and slowly relaxed – sinking, I thought – as it watched me set the chair back and see to the saucepan with a child’s sense of awe and wonderment. I smiled back sheepishly. I bowed my head and turned away. There was still so much to get used to, still so much to… Later. Later. First things first.

While David slept I patrolled the house, sporting the pistol in my pocket in some strange decision to keep it well out of Tai’s wary sight. The street outside remained silent save for the call of wildlife, what little had survived after the world’s end. In the living room we perused the home’s contents, more like visitors of another time and place walking through a life-size exhibition. We turned over a few things but for the most part left things as they were. Behind me Tai trailed, studying his surrounds fastidiously. Though still lightheaded and weak and aching I smiled back at him often, reassuring in some regard as much as it was a gesture of wonder. He would smile back when he noticed, almost mirroring me without comprehension while his pitch-black eyes ticked over, processing, comprehending, struggling to understand with alien logic. I pushed onward. 
Hours passed and we found ourselves upstairs again in what had been one of the children’s bedrooms. I passed the time explaining things, menial objects like toys and books and posters as Tai stood all the time listening, saying nothing.

“Car,” I said, holding the small Hot Wheels model out for him to inspect. “Can you say ‘car’?”

Tai frowned as he touched it but said nothing. He walked back to the dresser and picked up a picture and brought it back. He held it out towards me. I took it and set the toy down. Tai grunted, prompting me. My smile saddened.

“That’s a boy and his mum,” I said. I delicately traced the child’s beaming face with my fingers, struggling to compare it to the sunken rotting horror of putrification that lay in there mere rooms away. “They look happy don’t they?”

Tai reached out and slipped the picture from me. He studied it hard. I reached out and cupped his shoulder, his body now swathed in items taken from this very room.

“M-m,” Tai grunted.

“Can you say ‘mum’?”

“Muh-mmm-”

“Yeah, that’s it. Mum. Mmuuum-”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Choking on my words I snapped up, eyes wide, catching sight of David standing in the doorway. A towel was draped around his neck. His scalp was bald again. His face however was still darkened in that perpetual shade.

Tai dropped the picture and darted behind me. I reached up curled my arm backwards to console him.

“It’s okay, it’s just David-” I started. Tai’s whimpers drowned me out.

Smearing his temple with the end of the towel David stepped into the room and stopped again.

“What the hell are you doing?” he repeated. His eyes were narrowed. “What the f*ck’s the matter with you? You’re trying to domesticate it?”

“It’s not a-”

“Yes it is, Rae. Like it or not, that thing’s not human. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. It’s acting-”

“I don’t care.”

“Well I do. Am I the only one who remembers it attacked me once, remember? It tried to kidnap you?-”

“It saved our life; ours and Keith-”

“It’s a damn monster Rae. It’s one of those things. We should shoot it now and put it out of its misery.”

“You lay so much as one finger on his head and I’ll f*cking kill you, I swear it,” I ground out.

Tai, behind me, cuddled against my back, was shivering.

David stared back and stewed on that a moment before he nodded. He snorted, his lips were drawn up in that detestable smirk that always bordered on disdainful.

“Whatever,” he murmured, clearly unafraid, “Don’t be surprised if it turns out to be another Amelia-”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you. But you saw what it took to put her down. Don’t say I didn’t warn you-”

“I won’t.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He had to have the final word.

 

-- Edited by Ravynlee on Saturday 5th of September 2009 04:00:18 PM