The Deepest Red (16 page)

“Just promise me, Millie.”

When he says my name I feel my heart leap for a brief moment. I enjoy the sound the symbols create coming from his lips. I can’t bring myself to look away from him even though Chevy wiggles in my arms.

“I promise,” I declare automatically with an unfamiliar voice, too raspy to be my own.

Connor leans into me, his face lowering to meet mine. His steel eyes burn into mine as his hand reaches to my face and gently strokes down my jaw, bringing my lips closer to his.

“I’m too distracted around you.”

He draws nearer, a breath away, and my heart ignites in my chest, my nerves seeming to electrify at once as a new ache filters into my insides, leaving me raw.

“You should work on that,” I say, anticipation building.

Chevy jumps from my arms at Connor’s closeness resulting in my frightened cry. He bounces to the ground and shakes out his body. The fur of his coat fluffs out liking him to the appearance of a giant hairball. I clutch the skin above my heart and glance back at Connor. The moment is gone. The annoyance he glares at the puppy is almost amusing.

“I’m starting to dislike this Chevy,” he says the puppy’s name as if the dog personally insulted him.

I let out a small giggle I can’t contain. Connor’s head turns toward me with a smirk displayed on his perfect lips. I step ahead of him cautiously and continue walking toward Clover. She stands in front of us trying her best to look anywhere but at my embarrassment. A full blush fills my cheeks since I know she has witnessed our scene. I reach for my knife by my side.

“I think I’ll lead for a while,” I declare, picturing her rolling her eyes at me.

We continue this way for the next few hours, me leading the way and the two of them following with their soundless steps, until we come to an old road. We rest on the side of the cracked asphalt. Grass runs in between the broken pieces appearing as if they’re its veins. A rusted truck lays useless, flipped over in the adjacent ditch, its windshield mirroring the effect of the grass on the road. I sit imagining a story of how the bulky vehicle met its fate when Clover hands me her canteen.

“I hate traveling down these roads,” she says as I sip at her water. “We’re so open and exposed.”

Clover lets out an exaggerated shiver and smiles down at me.

“Your cousin says I‘m to climb trees with you at the first signs of danger,” I admit.

She lets out a quick laugh.

“Yup. Heard the details earlier.” She points to her ears. “I’ve excellent hearing.”

“I’m so sorry Clover. This must be weird.”

She stops me with a quick hand gesture.

“Nah, more funny than weird.”

Her smile widens.

“I’m not a bad fighter,” I say.

“I’m not either,” she responds, taking the water canteen from my hand and taking a small sip. “I’m not very strong nor do I have the combat skills like Connor,” she takes another sip. “but I’ve learned many of my better attributes. I’m small, so climbing up trees and waiting for my prey works for me. Allurement,” she snickers offering me back the canteen.

I shake my head.

“I’m a fast climber and pretty good at jumping from tree to tree. Connor’s dad told me once the best defense is a good offense-whatever that means.” Clover lets out another laugh at the confusion on my face. “Let me put it this way. I work what I got. If climbing up a tree and hiding till my target walks past gives me an opportunity for an open shot to kill, then that’s what I’m doing. On a good day, I would be dead at hand to hand combat with a full grown healthy man.”

I peer into her young face wondering what all she has done in her lifetime.

“I have a feeling you could hold your own just fine,” I say.

She looks around the broken street.

“That’s the plan when Connor finishes training me and I’m sure once Connor evaluates your skills he won’t be asking you to climb up trees.” Her face softens. “Well, maybe he will but it will be for a completely different reason.”

I can’t stop the smile that forms on my face.

“I’ll do what he ask for now but only because the sooner I get home the faster I can put this whole experience behind me.”

She nods and gives me her hand to help me from my sitting position.

“Where is Connor?” I ask searching the trees.

“He’s probably listening to us.”

I straighten, more alert.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see him when he wants you to see him.”

Chapter Ten

Our hike toward the prison continues throughout the morning and well into the afternoon. We stop occasionally for food, water, and to let our aching feet rest. Connor seems to disappear and reappear often. It’s hard to know when he’s around because you never hear him come and go. I try not to focus so much on him and instead study more of our surroundings. I stay alert wondering if Connor is somehow evaluating my skills. The infected have yet to appear but I agree with him, they will show up eventually. I dread when they do.

Clover stays close behind me as we walk the broken road toward my home. Every once in awhile my eye catches the gleam of her knife held out in front of her chest like a shield- always at the ready for an attack. I leave mine in its sheath, figuring if anything appears there will be plenty of time to react. My finger grazes the silver pocket knife clipped onto my belt loop. I feel the rough engraving of the centipede as I remember images of my nightmare- the wave like rhythm of the creature’s legs, its body forming out of Tom’s blood.
Was it only yesterday he died?
I bear the pain flaring inside, seeming to age my soul. I’m so much heavier as if the new knowledge obtained from this place has latched on to me, dragging me down into the darkness hidden behind crumbling buildings.
Am I to become broken and forgotten like this desolate landscape?
I continue to walk.

The day has become increasingly gloomy as we travel. Rain threatens to fall at any moment from the dark clouds looming overhead. A light wind encircles us, chilling the sweat on my skin. Everything in the red zone seems to have foreboding characteristics. Even many of the trees hunch over to intimidate. Their welcoming branches beckoning, promising horrors if I only climb up their great height and peer out.

I see a curve in the road ahead of us, nothing around us but those menacing trees. My thoughts start to race at the sight.
What’s in store for us just around the bend? Will I find relief by discovering someone from our scouting teams or an army of disfigured infected?
I continue to stroke the pocket knife.

The voice of my Dad’s soft scolding enters my thoughts.

”Millie, why would you join them? I don’t want you scouting in the red zone. Do you even understand what you’re asking for?”

I remember the creases on his forehead, the ones that only got deeper when he was upset.

“Do you have any idea what it means to become a scout?” His tone weights down on my head till I’m bowed in front of him. I slouch, shoulders heavy at the meaning of his words. Throughout my childhood, I only remember a couple of times where my Dad was truly angry with me. In fact, most of the time he encouraged my training and told me to do my best with the assigned chores given to me, but this… I recognize the pain in his eyes every time I became brave enough to glimpse into his face.

“Your mother was never the same after her first trip out into the red zone. Your actions shape who you are Millie. Don’t end up like her, alone in the dark.”

He didn’t bring up my mother often. My dad hated to talk about her even now and if I did ask the occasional question, which I rarely did, he never answered it completely. I developed a great skill of discerning half truths. I always felt secrets around me without any evidence of them.

“I made my decision Dad. I’m old enough now to do what I think is best.”

I turn my head away from him looking at a stack of books piled on the floor.

“Maybe mom would be proud of me for doing my part in making sure we survive,” I say.

At that I got up and walked away from him. If I had understood the red zone completely, I might have done things differently.

“Are you alright, Millie?”

Clover’s voice breaks through my memory.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just lost in thought. I guess.”

I give her an apologetic smile.

“You don’t want to be lost in thought out here,” Connor states. “Well, unless you want to die,” he says matter of factly.

I glance around searching for him and find his gaze. I wasn’t aware of his reappearance. Connor approaches thoughtfully and I take comfort in the fact he’s near.

“You’re right,” I say, turning back around allowing my feet to carry me closer to the unknown.

As I walk the sharp curve I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t see any armies of infected, no drifters or threats of any kind. In fact all I perceive is a mailbox in the distance. Green vines wrap around its wooden post and threaten to consume it.

As we get closer to the mailbox, goose bumps begin to appear on my arms. A strange feeling surfaces, a feeling of deja vu. Large oaks and pine trees mix together in what seems like a thick wall, obscuring any view of the house. I stop to stare down its long driveway. Invisible hands push me toward that direction promising answers to unasked questions. The driveway is nothing special. Nature reclaimed the pathway long ago but it’s still passable over the tall grass and fallen trees.

Beside me, Connor stands examining the same scene. He cocks his head to the side and studies my expression.

“Why did we stop? Are we going the wrong way?” His questions are valid but I can’t answer them.

“Who do you think lived here?” I ask.

I’m surprised my voice is steady and calm because my insides are anything but. Chevy brushes up against my legs flopping down onto the ground beside my boot in a grateful rest. His leg elevates quickly to scratch at a spot behind his ear, the large paws surrendering him off balance.

Connor’s eyebrows lift at the odd question.

“Someone who doesn’t live there now.” He stares baffled at me.

“I’m going to go check,” I say as I slide my knife out of its holder.

“The hell you say.”

Connor’s voice rises in a mock tone.

“I can do what I want. Remember?” I say looking at him sternly. “We’re not holding you prisoner.” I mimic Connor’s deep voice in my best impression.

My imitation does the trick since I recognize the look materializing on his face. The expression reminds me of the first time we spoke. I narrow my eyes.

“Isn’t that what you told me, I’m not a prisoner?” I question, turning away from him.

I begin walking down the long stretch of driveway.

“Millie.”

I hear the pleading words like a grasp and turn around to face Connor. A struggle within his eyes ignites causing my will to soften toward him.

Clover’s annoyed voice speaks up.

“We’re all going,” she says walking toward us.

She bumps Connor playfully with her fist as she passes by and gives me a flirty wink.

“Follow me,” she continues waving her hand dismissively. “The driveway ends sooner or later.”

With a thankful expression, I follow her graceful steps as she leads the way. Only once do I look behind me to make sure Connor is still following. His expression is dark and angry so I decide to stay quiet.

The driveway is long with a canopy of branches stretching above. Tiny chipmunks scurry across the open path, rustling the fallen leaves. The peaceful scene would be pretty if not for the threat of the infected suddenly appearing. I feel the weight of Connor’s stare baring into the back of my head but I ignore it. When we reach the house, my legs abruptly stop on their own. A hollow feeling of fear corrodes my nerves. As Connor passes by, my right arm stops him with a jolt. I don’t know if it’s the tension on my face or my out stretched arm that keeps him from walking, I don’t care.