The Deepest Red (22 page)

“Anything you want to add?” I ask Connor as he flexes his fists.

“No, but I’ve got to say I’m not enjoying being among these bodies while y’all play catch up.”

Connor shifts away from the tree’s bark and kicks up a little dirt with his combat boots. He shoots a glance to Clover who’s studying Jay’s posture- her cheeks still a little pink. Connor’s next question flusters me.

“How long have you two been together?” he asks, glancing between Lonnie and I.

My spine stiffens.

“I told you we’re friends. I grew up with the twins,” I say.

He peers at me unconvinced.

“They both helped to train me so I could join the scouts,” I pause. “I wouldn’t piss them off.”

My voice grows unrelenting.

“I’m sure they’re a lot better fighters than what you’re used too,” I taunt.

A smug smile slithers across Lonnie’s face as Jay ignores us both, deciding to recheck his supply bag.

“I’m going to remember you said that next time we spar,” Lonnie mumbles softly to me while I ignore the comment.

“You can trust both of them to help protect Clover.” I finish, knowing extra protection for his cousin is the one thing he won’t turn down.

“Whatever,” Connor finally replies after a long pause.

I roll my eyes.

“We need to go,” Jay interjects.

He repositions his bag around his shoulder while Lonnie nods in agreement.

“Alright, time for the hard part,” Lonnie remarks, carefully approaching the horde of quieted infected.

Connor observes his movement closely as if studying an opponent. The decaying bodies lay motionless as Lonnie spots the members of our scouting party and begins to check their pockets. The action ages him suddenly. He removes an earring from the girl’s detached head and slips off a bracelet from the man’s bloating wrist. As an afterthought he reaches for their supply bags, gripping them both with one hand.

I wish I remembered their names if only so I didn’t feel the guilt I do now.

“We don’t have enough time to bury them and gain distance away from here,” Lonnie says as he walks back toward us, slipping the personal objects into his pocket. “Let’s go. We can still cover a lot of ground today and if we’re lucky, make it to the courthouse by sundown.”

I hear the grunt of Connor’s approval as he heads toward the road we came from. Clover falls in step beside me as we travel down the long drive way.

In a regretful voice she says, “Sorry about your friends.”

My eyes follow the movement of my shoes, treading through the tall weeds.

“I didn’t even bother to learn their names,” I say. “What kind of person does that make me?”

She remains quiet after my confession, allowing my mind to revisit new haunting images. I give up the lead to Lonnie who doesn’t falter in his pathway back to the prison. I’m glad to relinquish the responsibility of leading us back home. I’m grateful to only follow.

Chapter Thirteen

We continue on our hike for a few hours in silence. The cool breeze helps to keep me focused but no infected appear. I’m staring off into the wood line when Clover speaks.

“I get it now,” she says, peeking at me from behind a loose strand of blond hair.

I glance back at her and find a slight flush on her cheeks.

I smile as I say, “He’s too old for you.”

Her cheeks grow pinker.

“Yeah. I figured,” she replies sounding defeated.

Chevy, having been held this whole time sleeping, whines in her arms. She releases him on the ground, shaking out her stiff arms.

“Then again, I would rather him occupy my thoughts than what usually does,” she comments, glancing up ahead toward the twins.

I understand what she means.

“Oh, I know how you feel,” I say. “Just play hard to get,” I pause, watching Jay lean toward Lonnie to say something. Lonnie reaches inside his pocket handing him a small object,“for a few years,” I finish, teasingly. “Play hard to get for a few years.”

Jay pockets the item quickly as Clover makes a face then laughs, “I’m sure I’ll grow into his type,” she teases back, flicking my slouching beret. “Pretty hat. Is it new?”

I grin.

“This old thing?” I ask, acting surprised by her comment. She flicks the beret again before I say, “Jay is a pretty good catch. He has a nice smile, pretty eyes and a tight-“  

“You know, I’m right here.”

Connor’s annoyed tone chirps back at us.

“Really? I didn’t see you there,” I say in the same tone.

Connor turns and walks backwards as he studies us.

“Millie’s right, he’s too old for you.”

Clover’s smile widens at Connor’s disapproving demeanor.

“A girl can dream,” she replies.

He stops in his tracks and peers down at her with a mocking expression.

“Why don’t you just go admire from afar.”

Clover’s small frame seems to brighten at the idea.

“Now, that I can do,” she states as she searches for Jay’s backside.

He keeps pace ahead on the path with his brother, alert as always. If Jay heard us, he doesn’t show any signs of it. I find myself admiring his easy stride and confidence- the only similarities between him and Connor. With a sigh of relief, I realize I’m more confident knowing they’re around-not as lonely with familiar faces so near. Connor clears his throat abruptly, catching my attention. When I glance toward him a frown dominates his beautiful face.

We walk in silence as Clover’s pace quickens, eating up the distance between her and her new crush. Chevy trots beside her, tongue hanging from his mouth. In the quiet, I kick a pebble and watch the small stone skip along the ground. The killing of those infected helped in calming me down from my anger but awkwardness still thickens the air between Connor and I as we walk.

“I think my heart stopped when you opened the door and the infected were right outside.” Connor’s voice is low beside me, so as only I can hear his words. “I wouldn’t have been able to reach you in time,” he continues.

I kick a bigger pebble, still not looking at him.

“I told you I could defend myself. I’m just inexperienced in the red zone.”

He nods.

“However,” I continue. “I think I’m good now- the new has worn off.”

A chuckle comes from my left, the sound reassuring.

“After how you handled those infected- Yeah, I think you’re good,” he affirms.

After a minute of silence I ask, “How did you learn to fight the way you do? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

I steal a glimpse of him, only to observe him watching the trees. Without glancing toward me, he responds.

“My grandfather was a Navy Seal when he was young.” He assumes I’m confused because he continues. “Most likely you probably read or heard something about the Navy and US Army in your library.”

I shake my head to acknowledge him but he isn’t paying attention to me.

“Well, they were the U.S. Navy's principal special operations force and a part of the Naval Special Warfare Command and United States Special Operations Command. In easier terms, they were a bunch of bad asses you didn’t want to mess with.”

My eyes grow large when he finally looks at me.

“My grandfather was really hard on my Dad, trained him like he was going to be in the Navy Seals one day even though that wasn’t possible. My Dad did the same to me. I don’t remember a day I didn’t train growing up. My childhood was extremely rigorous but I didn’t mind because the seal training was all I ever knew,” he pauses. “I’m glad he raised me that way now.”

Connor’s gaze drifts from me to Clover, watching her as she smiles down at Chevy. The puppy dutifully walks beside her, tail wagging.

“Is that how you plan to train me?” I ask, the idea exciting and scary all at the same time.

“Nah,” he says a little too quickly as I kick a rock harder than necessary.

It bounces, narrowly missing Chevy’s paws.

“Seal training would take years for me to teach and to be honest, I don’t know if I could put you through that.” He swallows hard. “No, I’ve my own way of training you and Clover.”

Connor searches the trees once again.

“It’ll just have to do,” he mumbles to himself, avoiding my gaze.

I let him retreat back into his head, to his memories and regrets. I can’t pretend to comprehend what kind of training he grew up participating in. The only way I come close to relating is my training at the prison; drills with Mrs. Emerson, hours sparing with Lonnie and afternoons with Tessa relaying the techniques I had learned throughout the day.

Connor was graceful when he fought but brutal. He disappeared and move soundlessly. I could do neither but yet a part of me strived to mimic him. Realization strikes hard. No matter how angry I am with him in this moment, I admire him. I admire the way he fought to protect his cousin and how he faced the infected without fear. I would do anything to learn a fraction of what he knows. The notion I had only seen a fraction of what he was capable of, surfaces. The idea of learning from him has my fingers fidgeting around the hilt of my weapon. I can forgive him for not wanting me earlier if only he would teach me to fight like him.

“When we get back to the prison, I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Emerson. She trains everyone in our community,” I say, a longing for home swelling up in me. “What I didn’t learn from her I learned from Lonnie.”

Connor’s shoulders tense at the name but I pay no attention.

“Above her is Mr. Jensen, he kind of supervises all the training and watches over the prison. You would be good at that- policing,” I say, glancing his way. “They usually pick a few of the scouts to help maintain order in case a dispute occurs, which never does.”

He nods at my words while discerning the area. I should be doing the same but I don’t feel the urgency alongside of him.

“This Jensen needs to be warned about the infected and the cult,” Connor says, stepping over a detached headlight. “I would recommend getting a lot more scouts and build somewhat of an army,” he states flatly.

“We don’t have enough people to be an army,” I reply.

“You have enough not to remember two of your people’s names.”

“That was different,” I stutter. “I’m not very social.”

He lets my excuse drop.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll need some kind of defense if the cult finds the prison. It’s too good of a resource to pass up,” he continues.

I think of others I know who would never be able to hold their own in a fight.

“There’s a fence,” I comment, grasping for anything positive.

“Thank God. We are saved,” he mocks.

Connor cuts his eyes to my face observing the dirty look I’m giving him. He smirks.

“It’s a start but the cult will destroy anything and everyone for their cause. Usually, people like that don’t blink twice over a fence.” Connor’s last statement sends fear up my spine.

“How can you go from trying to heal the infected to wanting to destroy them all in such a short time?” I ask.

He remains quiet for a short while, navigating the terrain.

“The sickness begins slow, giving you hope your love one can pull through. You establish this illusion they are getting better when really the sickness is eating their insides. You watch them turn,” he pauses, stopping on the narrow path. “I can understand how the experience can make you go a little crazy.”