The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (17 page)

I
laugh, shaking my head and the moment of tension passes.  “Are
you always so trusting?”

“Pretty
much.”

“Must
be a southern thing.”

“No.
 I just prefer to think good of people.”

“That
could get you killed one of these days.”

Cable
smirks and pushes himself up from the ground.  “Well, then
let’s hope today is not that day.”

He
offers me a hand.  I brush my hand over the ground to cover my
doodling and pause.  “Wait a second.”

Rising
to my knees, I place my palm against the dirt and sweep my hand wide
across the ground.  Cable crouches down beside me.  I trace
my hand along a deep groove in the dirt, hardly unusual to find in a
working barn but something about it feels to straight, too perfect.

“Look!”

Leaning
low I blow against the dirt and reveal a distinctive wood grain
beneath the layer of dirt.  Cable begins to follow my lead and a
couple minutes later we uncover a trap door.  “Well, how
about that.”

I
loop my finger through a small hole cut into the wood, but Cable
places a hand on my arm to stop me.  “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t
what?  It’s not like we would be trespassing any more than
we already have.”

“I
know, I just think–” he cuts off as the sputtering of
static bursts from the open door of the Humvee.  I scramble to
my feet and race for the radio.  

“Hello?
 Is anyone there?”  I lean in close, fighting to hear
the garbled voice, distorted and faint.  “Please repeat. I
can’t understand you.”

“This...Alex...coming...you…”

“It’s
them,” I call back over my shoulder to Cable, only to find him
right behind me.  

“I
heard.  Let’s see if we can clean it up a bit.  Go
grab Eric.  He’s better at this than I am.”

I
toss Cable the handset and tear out of the barn.  My shirt
billows around me as I race across the lawn, grabbing hold of the
porch post to swing myself up the steps.  “Eric!”

The
screen door screeches and slams behind me as I search the bottom
floor.  I move swiftly up the stairs and check the bedroom we
shared the night before.  The bathroom is empty, as are the
spare rooms.  I fight to still my breathing as I turn toward the
only door left closed.

“Oh,
Eric.”  I reach out to push open the master bedroom door.
The morning light filters in through the white eyelet curtains,
graying with dust.  The pale rose colored rocker that sits
beneath the window is empty.  The pictures of a smiling man and
woman standing proudly on their front porch stare back at me.  White
hair and big smiles contained within a frame boasting the ‘best
grandparents in the world.’

The
bloody bed covers dangle on the floor.  The pillows bear
evidence of two heads, a dent on either side of the bed.  I step
toward the partially closed bathroom door and hold my breath as I
listen to the steady drip of water. The door squeaks on its hinges as
it slowly opens.  Grimy white tiles offset the pink soaker tub
and vanity.  Wilted flowers droop from a glass vase residing on
the double window beside the bathtub.  Droplets fall from the
tap into the bath, collecting into a tiny stream as they trail down
into the drain.

Spinning
around, I look into the linen closet and behind two sliding doors to
reveal an old side by side washer and dryer that has a manual dial.  

Eric
isn’t here.

“Avery?”

I
turn at the sound of my name and head for the door.  I pause in
the doorway, casting one last glance at the room.

“Cable?”

“Downstairs.”

My
feet feel like lead as I descend.  I should have paid attention
to Eric’s mood shift.  I should have spoken to him,
expressed my sympathy.  I knew he was hurting, mourning in his
own silent way.  I assumed with the way he poured himself into
fixing up that truck that he needed to get away…

I
hang my head.  “He’s gone,” I whisper,
realizing that he probably slipped away while I was beating up the
grain bag, when my grunts masked the hum of the engine starting.  We
should have seen this coming. Cable helped him get it ready.  We
gave him the perfect opportunity and he took it, leaving us behind.

“He
took the truck,” I say as I slowly descend the stairs.  Cable
nods, placing his hands on my arms as I stop on the final step.  

“I
know.  It’s what he would have wanted.”

I
sink down onto the step, feeling numb, cold.  “Why would
he just leave us like this?  He took our supplies and our only
transportation.”

Sinking
down into a crouch before me, he shakes his head.  “He
couldn’t let go.”

I
wipe at my eyes, realizing that my emotions have betrayed me.  It
angers me that I’m crying, that I’m feeling weak when I
should be strong.  I swallow hard.  “He was a fool.”

“Why?
 Because he loved her?”

“Because
he let her drag him down.”

I
rise and try to push past him, but Cable stops me, grasping my arm.
 “Don’t shut down.  Not now.”

“Why
not?  What good has caring ever done for me?”

His
grip loosens, his hand slides down my arm to take my hand in his.  I
stare at it, knowing that I should pull away, but I don’t.
 “Because your friends are coming.”

I
watch Cable shove cans of food and packages of homemade dried jerky
into a spare pack, digging deep into the back of the cabinets for
food we never thought we would need.  He rushes through the
kitchen, opening and slamming cabinet doors in search of more
supplies.  Spare canning jars, filled with water from the well
out back, line the counter.  He moves with purpose and speed.
 This worries me.

“Do
you need any help?” He hasn’t spoken in nearly three
hours. Not since he told me my friends were coming. He doesn’t
seem all that happy about the idea.  “I could help, you
know?”

Cable
looks back over his shoulder at me, as if realizing for the first
time that I’m still here.  “I need you outside.
 Keep watch on the west.  That’s where they should be
coming from.”

Something
about the way he says
they
makes
me wonder if he actually means Alex’s group.  I close the
gap between us and grab onto his arm, noticing how the early evening
light filtering in through the kitchen window has begun to wane.
 Twilight will be upon us within the hour.  We need to be
gone by then.

“Stop.”
 He resists and I tighten my grip.  “Stop, Cable.”

“There’s
no time for that,” he grumbles, pulling away.  He ducks
low and searches under the sink.  He grabs a box of matches,
shaking it to see if it is full then stretches to reach a half empty
pack of batteries that look as if they may have begun to corrode. “We
have to be ready to leave the moment they arrive.”

“Why?
What aren’t you telling me?”  He goes still, the
backpack falling slack at his side.

“Look,
I know you’re upset about Eric.  I want to go look for him
too, but you’re wasting energy.  He’s probably
halfway to the Illinois and Kentucky border by now.  When Alex
gets here we can all help fill the extra packs.  Who knows,
maybe they have their own supply stash.”

He
rubs his hand across the top of his head, mussing his hair as he
grimaces down at the floor.  “It’s not Eric that I’m
worried about.  He can take care of himself better than most
people.”

I
duck down beside him, our knees nearly touching.  “Then
what is it?”

He
swallows hard and focuses on his hands after briefly meeting my gaze.
 “I think your friends are being followed.”

“By
who?” My grip tightens on my knees as I balance beside him.  

“I’m
not sure.  I’ve been worried for days that someone will
have heard your messages.  Worried that if the military did
trace the call that they would bide their time.  They could have
busted in here at any time if they wanted to.”

“But
why would they wait?” Cable stares hard at me and slowly his
meaning sinks in. I blow out a breath and sink back onto the floor.
 “More people.  More blood.”

He
nods, looking as sickened as I feel. “So what do we do?  We
can’t just leave them for bait.”

“I
know.”  He grabs a rag from under the sink and wipes his
brow.  Despite the chilled air in the house, sweat beads along
his forehead. His cheeks hold a faint flush. “I’ve been
trying to figure it out.  To find a way to minimize the damage
if there is a show down.”

“You
don’t have to do this on your own, Cable.  I know I’m
not a soldier, but I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’ve
learned a thing or two about taking care of myself when I need to.”

“I
can’t risk that. If it comes down to it, we’re going to
have to fight.”

I
glance toward the barn through the kitchen window.  The doors
are closed, concealing the Humvee within.  It won't do us any
good now that we siphoned the gas and switched it over to the truck
that Eric stole.  That was our solution, our way to hide out in
plain sight.  Now we are stuck.

I
don’t blame Eric for his decision.  Not really.  I
guess, if I stopped to think about it, I might have done the same
thing in his position if I were consumed with grief.

Shaking
my head, I know that’s not true either. I couldn’t just
leave someone behind like that, no matter how much someone’s
death affected me.  “Fine.  So we fight.”

“It’s
not that easy, Avery.  If the military are on their tail then
they will come heavily armed and with far more men than we could take
out.”

“So
what do you want to do?  Leave?”

This
question places a heavy burden on him.  Cable is a good guy—
almost too good.  He places the weight of the world on his
shoulders and no one is strong enough to carry that.  

“No.
 We don’t know for sure that anyone is following them, but
I’d rather be cautious.”

“Agreed.”
I nod in agreement.  “What do you need me to do?”

“Hide.”
 He slowly rises to his feet and turns his back on me.  I
hear him resume shifting through things on the counter.

“No
way!”  I push up from my knees. “I’m not going
to just go bury myself in some dark hole while you take all of the
risk.”

He
sighs as he turns to face me.  “I was afraid you were
going to say that.”

My
eyes widen in shock at the flash of silver he swings down in an arch
toward my head.  Pain splinters at my temple and I crash to the
ground.

When
I wake, my head feels as if it’s been smashed in a trash
compactor. My nose feels slightly ajar. Dried flakes of blood mat my
hair to my temple.  My eye is tender and slightly swollen.  

“Why
is it always my head?” I groan as I roll to my side.  

A
moist cloth falls away from my face.  Small chunks of ice patter
against the ground beside me. Pressing my palm to the side of my face
I feel a chill. “A jerk and a gentleman at the same time,”
I grumble as I slowly rise.

The
throbbing in my head increases as I sit up. The air feels cold and
thick, making it feel as if I can’t catch my breath.   I
push back slowly and cry out as I hit a wall.  My fingers search
about me in the dark.  Splinters of wood burrow into my
fingertips as I trace along the wall.  I ignore the pain and
slowly work my way around the small space.

From
above, a rectangle of light can just be seen.  The light
darkens.  I raise my face toward the ceiling and cough as dirt
rains down.  My fingers guide me along a set of wooden steps
that lead up.  I can feel cold seeping through the space beyond
the steps and hurry to sink into the dark hole behind.  Earth
presses against my shoulder. I lean my head against it to ease the
pounding as shouts reach me for the first time.

Overhead,
I hear the grinding wheels of the barn doors sliding open.  My
pulse thumps in my chest as I listen.  

The
voices above are muffled. I strain to hear what they are saying, to
determine if they are familiar to me.
What
if it’s Alex and he doesn’t know we are here?  What
if they haven’t been followed and they think we’ve left
them?  What if Cable is hurt and can't tell them where I am?

Indecision
keeps me stalled in place.  I want to see, to find my former
group to make sure Eva is safe, but something holds me back.  In
the distance I hear the ping of gunfire and shiver.

“Shit.”
 The person standing overhead shifts away and the light
reappears.  I crane my neck to see, listening to the return
fire.

Cable
was right!  They were being followed!

Chaos
erupts around the farm.  Gun fire fills the air.  I hear
screams of pain drowned out by the roar of engines. The scent of
smoke slowly begins to filter into my hole.  I press my sleeve
to my face, taking only shallow breaths.  

I
can’t see
repeats through my mind as panic begins to overwhelm me.  The
dark is thick and suffocating.  
It’s
a big room with windows.  Lots of doors.  A high ceiling.

I
used to do this when I was a child, when fear of small spaces would
seize me.  My mother never locked me up.  She may have been
a crap mother but she wasn’t cruel in that way.  No, my
captivity was self-inflicted.  I would hide to be alone, to
escape the crushing fist of one of the jerks she brought home with
her after work.  Some of them weren’t too bad. Others...it
was better to be afraid of the dark than be within their reach.

I
duck at the sound of a loud thud overhead.  I hear footsteps,
slow and controlled.  Something heavy is rolled over, dragged a
few feet.

“No.
Please!”

A
close range gunshot covers my scream as I cower back.  Something
wet slaps my forehead.  I reach up and touch the warm liquid. It
is thicker than water.  Blood.

Holding
my stomach, I double over and try to block out the sounds of a
struggle overhead.  Grunting. Swearing.  The repetitive
thuds of blows landed.