Plagued (8 page)

Sarah and Mark leaned against two nearby tree
trunks and caught their breath, shaking their heads at each other in relief.

Sarah pulled one of Albert’s bandages out of the
backpack and tied it around her thigh where the branch had dug in. “That was
too close!” she said, laughing a little as she checked her handiwork. “Are you
okay? He didn’t bite you did he?”

 “No, I’m fine,” he replied, laughing with her. “I
don’t know how though.” He nursed the lump at the side of his head, feeling
sorry for himself.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Sarah said,
walking towards him. She grasped his hand and gave it a tentative squeeze.

“Just here to serve,” Mark said, grinning
cheekily.

“I’ll remember that,” she said, “because if I fall
over again, you’re carrying me.”

“You know, back there climbing the tree...?” Mark
said with a devilish grin, as they left the last remaining part of the woods.  

“Yes?” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I felt your arse,” he grinned at her triumphantly.

 Sarah’s mouth fell open at she shot him a glare.
“That’s the first thing that comes to your mind?” she said, shaking her head
and storming off in front.

“It wasn’t half bad either.”

Sarah and Mark had been walking through what was left
of the woodland for half an hour before they reached the end. Their spirits
were high — they hadn’t seen a single soul since they fell — despite being
tired, hungry, and having increasingly achy bodies.

Sarah's feet had gained blisters long ago and by
now they were red raw. She limped carefully onward, wincing with every step. Besides
her aching muscles and sore feet, she felt
okay
— numbed, in fact. She
had been in a daze for the past fifteen minutes and they both had walked the
last stretch of the woods without speaking a word. They decided they wouldn’t
sit down until they reached shelter in fear of not being able to get back up
again.

She began thinking of her parents and the daunting
fear that they were already dead. She had blocked out the thought until now,
the pain of losing her parents had been much too deep to contemplate. She just
had
to believe they were okay. Her father was a strong man, he’d know exactly what
to do and protect her mother at all costs. Slowly, her memories were beginning
to return to her intact, the muddled cloud in her brain was clearing and she
found herself reminiscing to times long before she fell down the rabbit hole.
Mark stopped in his tracks and broke Sarah out of her spell. He grabbed her arm
and pulled her down to the ground, where they both squatted in the low bushes.

“What is it?” she whispered, the bushes in front
blocking her view.

“It looks like there's a farm ahead,” he whispered back. “It could be crawling
with them.”

“Oh, for crying out loud! Not again.” She was too
exhausted to start running. She crept upwards to get a better view and her
heart jumped as she saw a roof in the distance.

They moved closer to it, curiosity outweighing
fear, and very slowly crept through the tall weeds. As they moved forward, the
roof grew and soon they could be see it belonged to a large, weathered barn
house. They both waited with baited breath to see if it was deserted. Nothing
moved around them and the clearing was soundless but for the birds, which had
started singing cheerfully in the setting sun. A bat flew past their heads,
squeaking in the high-pitched way that they do, using their version of sonar to
catch moths.
“It looks deserted. I hope it is, we certainly can't go back the way we came,”
Sarah whispered. “If there are farms, we must be getting close to Solitude.”
Mark, frowning, took one last look and sighed. “Okay, but we're going to have
to be quiet. We don't know what we're going to find.”

“Anything's better that what's back there,” Sarah said, pointing back the way
they had come and Mark nodded defeat.
The light of day had dimmed quickly and the weather turning cooler with it, the
forest was darkening — soon it would be completely black. Screams came from
far, far behind them and Sarah winced at the sound.

“If we're going, we better get a move on,” Mark said and they crept onwards,
using everything they could to hide behind. “And please try not to fall over
again, I know it’s difficult but it would be really helpful—”

A sharp smack to the back of his head stopped him
mid-sentence and he laughed, rubbing this new pain away.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” Sarah’s voice came
from behind him.

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

A barbed-wire fence with a closed metal gate came into view. A good sign, Sarah
thought, although the bloodied rag of cloth caught on the wire was
not
.
Behind the gate and to right of the barn was a small cottage with cream-coloured
brickwork that was greying with age.

They walked up to the gate quietly, listening to
the night and watching intently for any movement coming from the farm ahead. In
the coming darkness, they could just make out the ivy trellis on the side of
the cottage and the windows were boarded up from the inside. No movement or
light. To the left of the cottage, the old barn's double doors were closed — chain
wrapped around the handles and was locked with a large padlock.
When they got to the gate, Mark pushed it open; it squeaked but gave way and
they walked inside. The ground was muddy and wet, every step was unsteady in
the darkness and Sarah kept a strong grip on Mark's hand.

With Mark holding the crowbar tightly, they
trudged towards the cottage, feet squelching in the mud with every step. He
stopped to look at the barn and narrowed his eyes to get a better view. “You
see that on the ground?”

Sarah squinted as her eyes tried to focus in the
dark. She followed the dark, muddy ground towards the barn until her eyes
noticed the large, round, darker patches that were laid on it. It looked like
large lumps that — in any other place but in front of a barn door —could have
been rocks. “I can't tell what it is, it's too dark. What do you think they
are?”

“I'm not sure. I thought they were bodies but they aren't the right shape. Not
for humans,” Mark whispered, still trying to focus in the night.
Sarah shuddered. “They’re cows I think, or sheep.”

“Well since they're lying down instead of
attacking us, I don't think they're going to be a problem.”

“Have you been attacked by many cows?” Sarah
asked, sarcastically.

“Do angry women count?”

Sarah laughed and shook her head in mock disgust.

They were facing the front of the cottage. The
wooden door was a dark shade in the night; maybe green or blue with a small
square window at the top which was boarded up. There were planters on the
windowsills and the ivy grew tall up the sides of the house. Probably a beautiful
place, once upon a time — maybe the stage of a romantic flick, Sarah mused.
Or
a horror. 

Slowly, she walked up to the front door and strained to hear anything coming
from inside. Mark followed her closely. She tried the door, even though she had
a good idea it would be locked since someone went through the effort of
boarding up the windows. To her surprise, it wasn't. She gently pulled the
handle and the door creaked open. An overwhelming sense of vulnerability came
over her as the two of them stared into the face of darkness.

Mark took the lead then, pushing Sarah to the back
of him protectively and stepped up onto the stone doorstep. Somewhere in the
back he saw a very faint flicker of light and he knew he wasn’t alone. He
motioned for Sarah to stay put and before she could protest, he moved into the
room. He realized he was still holding his breath as his lungs started to burn,
and gently exhaled.

 As soon as he stepped onto the hard tile floor in
the cottage, there was a metallic sound close to his right ear. He froze.
“What is it?” Sarah asked.
He didn't answer her. Instead, he put his left hand behind his back in a 'stay
put' motion and raised his right arm. A shape moved out of the shadows next to
him, he could see it in the corner of his eye. It was human and it had a
very
big gun.

“Now it's not nice to enter someone's house without even knockin’. In fact, it
damn right pisses me off,” a creaky voice said. It was female and its crackle
made it sound elderly.
Sarah walked into the house at this moment, standing directly behind Mark and she
raised her hands in the air like she'd always seen on police documentaries.
“We mean you no harm, ma’am,” Mark said in his kindest voice, dropping the
crowbar he'd been carrying. “We thought it was empty and just wanted some
shelter for the night. We're sorry to have intruded.”
“Well you have just found out for yourself that it is
not
empty. You are
now trespassin’ in my home and I am well within my rights to shoot you both in
the ass if you don’t tell me what you’re up to,” the old lady said. “And don’t
call me ma’am.”

“We’re trying to get to Solitude. We got lost in the woods so we’re looking for
somewhere to stay. Its dark out and the infected are everywhere, haven’t you
noticed?” Sarah said, nervously.

“Yes, I damn well
have
noticed, Miss Smart-Ass, do you think I'm stupid
as well as old? They killed my cattle. I had to shoot my own husband! So don't
ask me stupid questions,” the woman interrupted in a shrill voice.
Sarah and Mark went silent. Mark backed away a little, staring into the barrel
of the gun as he did, feeling pretty sure he was going to get shot.
The lady lowered her gun from Mark's face and walked out of view. There was a
hiss and then a small, orange light flickered into life across the room. She
picked up the lantern and laid the shotgun on the kitchen counter.
Sarah and Mark sighed quietly with relief. Mark's shoulders dropped back down
and they lowered their hands, still unsure whether to speak.
In the dim lantern light, they could just see the person carrying it — she was
smaller than Sarah was and very thin. Her hair was grey and tied back in a bun,
a few ringlets flowing around her face. She looked a lot younger than she
sounded, with only a few age lines around her eyes and forehead, which were only
deepened by her current frowning. They guessed she was around her early sixties
and she wore muddy dungarees over a chequered shirt, it was hard to tell what
colour in the orange light, but Mark thought it was red. She had a cigarette in
her mouth and the smoke rose into the air in front of her face, curling and
swaying in the breeze. She stared at them, looking slightly pissed off.

“You have a lovely home,” Sarah commented feebly, glancing
around the room.

They stood in a small kitchen that had tiled floors and pine counters with an
old-style gas cooker and shelves covered in vases and knick-knacks. Most of the
pots were broken, the curtains were torn down, and all the windows boarded up
with what seemed to be parts of the dining table and inner doors.

“Thank you. It
was
a lovely home. Now it’s
a shit tip,” the woman hissed, moodily.

She walked towards Mark and looked him up and down
slowly, blowing cigarette smoke into the air. Her forehead lines finally reduced
and the distrusting expression left her face. “Well,” she said, facing them
both and taking the cigarette out of her mouth, “you're not infected that's for
sure. You wouldn't be so coherent...lucky you, I woulda shot you both dead if I
thought otherwise.”

Sarah and Mark looked at each other wide-eyed and stayed silent, as neither
wanted to ruin her better spirit.
“So, you've made a break for it have you?” The woman continued, “Can't think of
why anyone would walk this far out of town in this mess. Why you need to get to
Solitude so badly, anyway?”

“I — I'm looking for my family and my boyfriend,” Sarah said, her voice
breaking slightly. “They’re in Solitude, I think. We thought this was the only
safe way through… not
that
safe, it turned out.”
The lady stared at them for a while and muttered something to herself under her
breath, and neither Sarah nor Mark heard what it was.

“Well, that's true. This is the only way besides the main road. You’re lucky
you didn’t go that way, as the road is covered with those bastards. Saw it with
my own eyes. That was when I was with my husband, God rest his soul,” she said,
shaking the tears from her eyes. It went quiet for a moment as the old woman
drifted into her thoughts. She snapped her head back to them. “Your family is
probably dead, but you know that already don't you?”
“Yes, I know, but I have to be sure,” Sarah answered, visibly hurt by the
woman’s cruelty.
“Of
course
you do,” the lady said in a tone that sounded amused. “My
name is Annie. This is my farm.”

“This is Sarah,” Mark said, glancing to Sarah and then back to Annie, “and I'm
Mark. It's nice to meet you, Annie.”
“Yeah yeah, cut the crap,” Annie said, causing Mark to smirk in surprise. “Now,
you're probably gonna want to stay here for the night.
If
you're smart,
that is. I have dried food and water, and my boiler is still working, if you
can believe it. Thank God Harold installed that generator when he did. Thought
it was gonna be a waste of money, myself.”

“Anyway, since I’m in a good mood today, I'll cook
you somethin’ up. Then once you're fed and watered, you can go on upstairs into
the bedroom. As long as you're quiet, we don't want any visitors, do we?” She
smiled wickedly then and added, “But if you two try anything funny, I’ll shoot
you
both
in the ass.”
Sarah laughed and relaxed. “Thank you so
much
, I'm starving.”

“So am I,” Mark said, grinning at Annie, “and as thirsty as a plant in Hell!”

Annie cackled at this and patted Mark on the back
heavily. “Sorry for the unpleasant greetin’, kids, I don’t usually get visitors
especially at this hour in the night,” she cackled again. “Now I’ll show you to
your lodgings, it’s not tidy but I’ve not exactly had much company since the
husband died. To be honest, it’ll be nice to have some more faces around here
for a while.”

~

It was hard to see what Annie's living room looked like in the dark but there
was no furniture at all — just a large sofa and another smaller one to the
back. Everything else had been stripped. But besides that, it was spotless; she
obviously had been keeping it clean.

As they followed Annie upstairs, she began telling
them about her husband, how she got the farm, and then what happened when the
disease hit.

“For a while we didn't notice anything at all, being so far out of the city
it's hard to hear anythin’ even if you wanted to. But then, that was the point
of movin’ here — the peace and quiet. Not that it helped when those bastards started
wanderin’ into the woods,” she said as they followed her up the stairs, lantern
in hand.