The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (20 page)

Alex
thrusts his knife toward Sal, the tip dripping with juices from an
apple he just sliced open.  My stomach growls at the sight.
 They must have come through one of the orchards not far from
the base.  “Victoria thought she could outsmart Sal. Bet
him her food ration that he couldn’t solve one of her riddles.
 Guess ole’ Sal ain’t as dumb as he looks after
all.”

“That’s
terrible. She must be hungry.”

He
shrugs and pops another piece in his mouth before passing me a slice.
 The flesh is softer than I would like but still tastes sweet.
 “A bet is a bet.  She’d have made him pay up
if she’d won.”

I
draw my legs under me and reposition my sweater to cover my lap.  The
scent of mothballs has begun to fade at least.  

The
air in the church holds a strong chill and I stifle a shiver.
 “What’d he stand to lose?”

“His
hair.”

I
blink, sure that I’ve heard him wrong.  “His...his
hair?”

Alex
nods and wipes his knife on his pants.  “She says it’s
not fitting for a man his age, and with his state of hair decline, to
be wearing a mullet.”

I
clasp my hand over my mouth to stave off my snort, but it’s not
enough. Giggles erupt from my lips and Alex’s grin broadens.
 It feels weird to laugh again. Haven’t had much reason to
recently.  “Even though I’d hate to live with her
gloating, I almost wish she’d won,” Alex says.

“Me
too.”  I raise my hands overhead and stretch, feeling each
muscle pull taut. It’s going to be a long day.

As
I lower my hands I see Alex glancing at me from the corner of my eye.
 I blush and wrap my arms over myself, feeling self-conscious in
my skin tight white shirt.  If I’d had a better option I
would have left any memory of my time spent at that military base
firmly seated in the hottest part of the fire but clothing is limited
now.  I can’t waste needlessly.

Turning
to done my swear, I find Cable’s spot empty.  I hadn’t
realized he was awake. “Where’s Cable?”

Alex
shrugs and pops the final bit of fruit in his mouth.  “Said
he needed some air.”

“In
his condition?”  I frown and hurry to lace of my sneakers.
 My white pants are stained and dingy, more brown than anything
now.  Rubbing my fingers along my pants, I  feel the dirt
embedded in the fibers. I feel gross but I’ll have to wait for
a wash.

Slipping
out of the church, I sneak down the front steps and look around.
 Cable is nowhere to be seen.  I creep out to the road and
use an abandoned car to shield my body.  The road splits in
three directions.  Cable could be down any of them.  

“Cable,”
I call, cupping my hands over my mouth. I duck down and wait to see
if there is a response.  Being out in broad daylight bothers me.
 Despite the frigid cold that keeps us company at night, I feel
safer.

A
noise from the street to my right captures my attention.  I call
his name as I head in that direction.  The noise sounds like
someone kicking a can, but I follow it.  Three blocks to the
south I discover four Withered Ones on the road.  They stumble
forward together, with only a couple of feet separating them. One
tumbles over a mailbox while the others continue on, oblivious to
their loss.

I
creep up toward a cottage style home with blue shutters and a peeling
white wooden fence.  Remnants of flowers lie buried and lifeless
beneath the window sill as I peer into the house.  No sign of
movement.

A
loud crash sends me ducking low. I look all around for the sound.
 Slowly I rise, planting my hands on my hips as I chuckle.
 There, scampering through the gutter, is a small raccoon with
its head stuck in a can.  It runs straight ahead and bashes into
the curb before scurrying off in another direction.  

“Scared
of a household pest.  Wow, this is a new low, even for you.”
 I turn to head back toward the church and freeze.  A block
down on my right I see Cable, perched atop the hood of a truck.  He
is bent over his knees, his head buried in his crossed arm.  I
run full out toward him, terrified of how exposed he is.

“Cable,”
I hiss, waving my arms to get his attention as he looks up.  His
face is ashen, his chin trembling.  His eyes are watery but he
doesn’t try to cover his tears. I stop beside him and place a
hand on his leg. “What? What is it?”

“I
found it.”

I
glance all around.  He has nothing in his hands.  Nothing
sitting beside him on the hood, and that’s when I see it.  The
faded red paint on the hood of an old beat up Ford truck, more rust
than metal now.  “Cable,” I whisper as he slides
off.  I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him as he cries
into my shoulder.

Now
that I’m close I detect bullet holes in the hood.  The
windshield is a mass of spider webs. Blood stains the driver’s
side.  The door hangs open but no one is inside.

“I’m
so sorry.”

Cable
releases a shaky breath as he pulls away.  “I checked
inside.  Eric and all of the supplies are gone.”

Why
did he have to go for this walk?  What couldn’t he have
just stayed in bed a little longer and left this town with the
thought that Eric made it to wherever he was headed? That he would
find peace and happiness?

I
glance at the neighborhood around us.  Middle class homes.
 Manicured lawns.  Basketball hoops standing at the end of
long driveways.  Even a birdbath or two decorating the lawns.
 Not the sort of area you would have expected a drive by in days
past.

“We
should get back.”  

He
nods and turns to follow though I can tell he is reluctant to leave.
Losing Eric the first time was hard.  This is far worse.  I
can only hope that his end came fast.

As
we walk back toward the church, I cast furtive glances toward Cable.
 He is sullen.  I don’t want to push him so I remain
quiet as we walk side by side down the street.  I keep an eye on
each intersection, each window curtain but nothing moves apart from
the random Moaner.   

“How
are you feeling?” I ask as the church appears one street ahead.
 

“Well
enough.”  His response is flat.

Movement
on the church steps captures my attention.  I wave toward Alex,
signaling our return.  I pick up the pace as he waves back and
heads inside.

“I
don’t like the way he looks at you.”

I
glance back at where Alex stood a moment before.  The porch is
empty now. “He’s harmless.”

“You
so sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Cable
turns slowly to look at me.  The change in subject seems to have
woken up him a bit.  “Not all guys have good intentions
all the time, Avery.”

I
bristle and pull to a stop. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”
 He shakes his head and brushes his foot along the street.  He
tucks his hands deep into his pockets.  I can tell by the way he
holds his arms close to his sides that he’s still hurting.  “I
just see things.”

“Well,
so do I, and I think you’re jealous.”  

I
wait for his reaction, knowing without a doubt that there will be
one, but what I see surprises me.  No humor. No laughter. No
crinkling of laugh lines around his eyes. Instead, he grows all the
more serious.

“What’s
wrong?” I whisper and reach out to grab onto his arm.  

Though
he speaks to me, he does not look away from vacant porch.  “It’s
been bugging me all night. Probably why I went for a walk this
morning. Always did think better outside.”

I
wait for him to make his point.  My patience is on a thin rope
today.  Must not have slept as well as I originally thought.  Or
my mad dash through town in search of him has left me frazzled.
“Those men that followed Alex’s group onto our farm
didn’t seem like they were giving chase.”

I
fall still.  “You’re saying you think they followed
closely behind Alex?”

He
slowly looks over at me and the anger I see darkening his gaze chills
me far more than the blustery winds the night before.  “I’m
saying I think Alex led them to us.”

I
start to speak, to deny that Alex would do such a thing, but I stop
myself.  How well do I really know Alex?  Devon?  Whoever
was calling the shots when they came to us.

“Just
be careful,” he whispers next to my ear. “Keep your eyes
open.  We don’t really know who we can trust.”

I
turn to look at him and realize that our lips are scant inches apart.
 I breathe him in, savoring the distinctly masculine scent that
surrounds him. I lick my lips and pull back slightly, unnerved. “And
I can trust you?”

The
hard lines of his face soften as he reaches out and cups my cheek.
His palm feels rough but warm against my skin.  “With your
life.”

I
stare into his dark eyes, lost in the moment.  A long time ago I
trusted a guy.  That had been a big mistake, one I swore I would
never repeat.

A
throat clears nearby and I look up to find Alex staring down at us,
his hands planted on the church railing.  His shoes are laced,
his jacket buttoned, and both packs rest on his back.  “It’s
time to move out.”

I
glance up at the sun and frown.  “It’s daylight.”

“Yes.
 It will help us get our bearings. Sal and Victoria are
preparing to leave.  Figured I’d give you a few extra
minutes to gather your things.”

“Thanks.”
 I watch as he walks away and sigh.  “Here we go
again.”

I
start to climb the steps but Cable tugs at my arm. “Remember
what I said.”

I
do.  And I will also remember everything that was left unsaid
between us.

When
we reach the edge of town without further incident I breathe a sigh
of relief.  The hours pass by just as slowly as the night before
but we don't stop when dusk falls.  We keep walking, trying to
stay ahead of whoever it is that might decide to come looking for us.
 That list seems to be getting a bit too long for my liking.

Alex
and his group remain well ahead of us. From time to time I spy their
flickering lights. Cable and I move slowly, carefully picking our
footing in the moonlight. Cable warned me against using flashlights.
They are too easily seen from a distance, and who knows when we might
be in desperate need of light in the days to come?

Hours
turn into days. They all feel the same, look the same. The cold is a
constant, so much that at times I almost forget what being warm felt
like.  For several days we stick to the forest, pitching rustic
campsites made with blankets and spare clothing for bedding.  We
huddle around small campfires at sundown, squashing them out before
night hits and the light could be seen from a distance.  We
sleep back to back, Victoria and I in the middle, Cable behind me and
Alex and Sal behind Victoria.  

The
nights are long as we shiver together in silence.  It feels
wrong to rest when we should continue moving, but exhaustion weighs
heavily on all of us.  Victoria begins to show signs of struggle
as the terrain becomes more unstable.  My ankles are a constant
ache as flat farm land gives way to hills and rock.

We
spot stray Moaners from time to time.  One of them was stuck in
the mud of a river bank, sunk up to its knees.  It clawed at the
air in its relentless attempt to move forward.  We found another
caught in a hunter’s trap.  The metal claws buried so
deeply in the bone of its leg that it could not get free.  

The
Withered Ones don’t bother us, well...not any more than can be
expected.  I awoke to one trampling through camp in the early
morning hours two days ago.  It tripped over Victoria as she
slept, sending her into a full blown panic attack as the rotting
woman flailed atop her.  We got a late start that morning.  It
took hours for Victoria to calm down.

Just
outside a small town we found a landfill and spent a few hours
digging through trash.  Never in my life would I have imagined
that I would do such a thing.  At least not to this degree.  As
Alex and Sal sorted through a small pile of things I would consider
to be questionably useful, I hunted down Cable, only to find him
caking his body with mud.  He said it was for the bugs.  Even
in the dead of winter the darn things seem to find a way of getting
you.  

Yesterday
we found an old shack to sleep in.  It stank of animal feces and
urine.  We kicked most of the nests out of the corners before we
bedded down.  I slept with my sweater tied around my nose to
help with the smell, but I slept better than I had in nearly a week.
 I was semi-warm.

This
morning I woke to find Cable feeling better than I’d seen him
in days.  Color has returned to his face.  The flush in his
cheeks has begun to fade.  After a meager breakfast of cold
beans out of a can, we all crowd around Alex’s map.  We
are still heading south, but not nearly fast enough.  Even if we
manage to avoid military or gang detection, the elements might take
us in the end.  

The
terrain continues to change.  The gentle rises become hills with
high enough cliffs that you could do some real damage if you fell. We
skirt along hiking trails, realizing that we have entered a state
park.  We pass picnic benches and small wooden buildings hosting
the first toilets we’ve seen in days.  I won’t deny
that I teared up a bit when I saw real toilet paper and made sure to
stuff a few extra in my pack for safe keeping.

The
march through the night is hard.  Although the hills block some
of the winds, around a bend it funnels it straight at us.  I
huddle behind Cable, grateful for his height and the breadth of his
chest.  From time to time he reaches back to hold my hand in the
dark.  Though his fingers are cold, his grip is reassuring.

Just
before dawn we spot an old graffitied rail car on the far outskirts
of a small town. Alex and I help ease Cable inside and close the door
behind us. We spend the whole day in the box, warm and snug.  As
night falls I can feel Alex’s reluctance to leave.  No one
would look for us here.  We are out of the way, off the main
roads.