Amongst the Dead (5 page)

She arrived at the cabin an hour later—starved, thirsty and tired. She hoped the dogs wouldn’t pursue and if they did, would lose her scent.
 

Inside the cabin, she felt secure, safe, like a priest in a church. She gobbled down cereal, stale pretzels, canned peaches and water before gathering enough energy to set up the perimeter alarms—strings of cans and broken bits of glass.
 

She went into the pit and began gathering the smallest, most filling and nutritious foods that she could take with her should the need arise to leave. She couldn’t take the chance of the army men finding her. Fighting off a couple of losers was one thing, but military men, even if they weren’t officially trained, were another story. She would hide out somewhere far away, returning when enough time had passed, the area cooling off. The weather was becoming warmer, making survival outdoors much easier than a few months ago.
 

When she finished gathering food goods, stuffing a nylon bag with them, she returned upstairs.
 

“Hello,” a male’s voice said from behind her.
 

Riley froze, her mind yelling a plethora of commands on how to react, ultimately leaving her with none. Her breath was caught somewhere between her mouth and lungs making her unable to speak. Her rifle was against the bed at the far end of the room and the .38 was still outside under a rock in a plastic bag.
 

“Turn around, slowly,” the man said.
 

She did as she was told, her arms trembling, the groceries suddenly heavy.
 

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice soft, but smoky. Riley’s eyes widened in shock. Sitting before her and leaning back in one of the kitchen chairs was the same man she’d shot a few hours ago. He had a large gun pointed in her direction, his chest looking just fine.
 

Chapter Four

Departure
 

The man patted his chest. “Kevlar vest.” He grinned. “Hurt like a bitch, but I’m alive.”
 

Riley held still, feeling foolish and angry. She should’ve made sure he was dead. Who would’ve figured he had a bullet-proof vest on? She had made another blunder. Her mental notebook was becoming jammed with things to never do again. Maybe she was afraid that if the man she shot wasn’t dead she wouldn’t be able to finish him off. No, that was bullshit, she was assuming and careless.
 

“What do you want?” she asked.
 

“For starters… Why’d you shoot me?”
 

“I thought you were after me, wanted to hurt me.”
 

The man kicked out the chair opposite him and lowered his weapon. “Sit. Relax,” he told her.
 

Riley placed the items down before meandering over to the table where she took a seat. The man pulled an apple from his coat, tossing it to her. She caught it, looking upon it as if it held the answer to the apocalypse.
 

“Haven’t seen one of those in a while, eh?” he asked.
 

“No.” Her stomach was queasy, her mouth watering. Riley’s eyes, like two spherical sponges, absorbed the sight. Her tongue seemed to throb, begging for a taste, but her mind was wary. Was the fruit poisoned?—like in the fairy tale with the witch? Maybe he was going to drug her, make her less of a problem when he had his way with her?
 

“Don’t worry. It’s not poisoned,” he said as if reading her mind. He pulled out another apple and took a bite, the crunching vividness echoing throughout the small cabin. Riley’s mind went blank, her mouth winning over as she brought the fruit to her mouth and bit. Her mouth flooded with saliva, her taste buds thanking her over and over as the sweet sugary juices flowed down her throat. Once she began she couldn’t stop gnawing on the apple, devouring it all down to the core. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Riley plucked a seed from the core, admiring it.
 

“Plant that, along with the others, and hopefully in a few years you’ll have yourself a few fruit-bearing trees.” He was only half done with his apple as if it were a common item for him. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
 

“I shot you,” she said flatly.
 

“Before that.”
 

“No.”
 

“I found you at the diner during one of our sweeps.”
 

She remembered now. He’d asked if she was alone, infected. He’d seemed pleasant, his voice and manner genuine, but she wasn’t about to trust him.
 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said, placing the skeletal apple core on the table.
 

“Okay, go ahead then.” He gestured to the door.
 

Riley got up, hesitated. Was he tricking her? Once her back was to him would he attack her? Try to force himself on her like his fellow soldier?
 

“Problem?” he asked.
 

“No.” She kept walking, wincing with each step, expecting to be tackled. She reached the door, a sigh of relief falling over her.
 

“We’ve got a lot to discuss and little time so hurry back.”
 

She closed the door behind her. She hadn’t a clue what the man was referring to, but knew running wasn’t an answer. He’d catch her within minutes. The man, after getting shot in the chest, had followed her to the cabin—avoided her alarms, walked across the floor without making a noise and sat at her table without her being aware of any of it. She was left with only one option.
 

It was dark outside, the sun having dipped way below the horizon making room for the gloom to set in. Riley walked toward the rock she’d hid the .38 under, hoping it was still there.
 

Like a gleaming jewel, the gun rested under the rock, sealed securely inside the plastic bag. She took it out, made sure it was loaded, and stuffed it into the small of her back—the cold steel sending goosebumps along her flesh.
 

She went back inside the cabin.
 

“Before you shoot me—again,” the man said, catching Riley off-guard, “we need to talk.”
 

He must have been watching her through the cabin’s windows, saw her retrieve the weapon.
 

“You’re very well trained,” he told her. “Parents in the military?”
 

“No.” She didn’t bother removing the gun, if the man wanted her dead—or in other ways—he could have had her already. She decided to hear him out.
 

“There are men looking for you,” he told her.
 

“Why me?” she asked, thinking she knew the answer.
 

“You killed that man in the diner, right?”
 

She wasn’t sure where this was going. Maybe the man was here to bring her back alive, a trophy to be tortured. His posture hadn’t changed since she’d laid eyes on him. He remained casual, relaxed, with the gun lying across his lap. Soldiers looked out for each other no matter what happened. Maybe this guy wasn’t like the man Riley killed back at the diner, but they were still brothers, brought together by a deeper bond.
 

“I killed him,” Riley said, not afraid to be blunt about it. The man’s eyebrows rose. “He deserved it.”
 

“He had a bad rap. Did he attack you?”
 

She looked away, unsure, then stared into the eyes of her new visitor. “He was a pig and wanted to have his way with me, regardless of my protests.”
 

“I shouldn’t have left him alone with you. I’m sorry. I never thought he’d try anything in the middle of a fight.”
 

Riley took her gaze from his, her face feeling flush, and stared at the floor.
 

“I’m glad you killed the son-of-a-bitch, but now the squad, headed by his brother, Deak, wants his killer dead.”
 

“You’re the only one who knows it was me.”
 

“I told Deak that Ben—the man who attacked you—was bringing in a little girl. Like I said, I never thought he’d be stupid enough to try anything.”
 

“Someone else could’ve killed him,” she said continuing to stare at the floor. Her eyes locked onto a piece of cereal. It was probably a few days old. She’d need to clean it up later.
 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re involved. At least that’s how Deak will see it.” The soldier took a sip of his tea. “The luckiest you’d get is a shackled work order. But most likely you’ll be killed, but not before… Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.”
 

Riley looked up, staring off into space. “All because it was my birthday and I wanted to see the town.”
 

“Happy birthday,” the man said.
 

She shot him a look of disgust, her face scrunching up. “Why are you telling me all this?” He wanted something. A trade. Maybe he was more like his dead buddy Ben than she thought, simply using a different tactic to get what he wanted.
 

“I’ve done some bad things, looked the other way when I had to. I want out and if I can save your ass… Well, it’ll be a start down the road to redemption for me.” His tone was somber, quickly becoming more upbeat. “Don’t get me wrong. What the army is doing, at least the northeast division, is a good thing: eradicating the undead. But there’s no application period, no background checks. They’ll take on anyone. They need the man power. This new military is hardcore. The officers let the men get away with a lot during the downtime, keeping the troops happy. Being around them has ruined me, damaged my soul.” The man looked haggard, his face appearing to have aged ten years. “But if you want food and safety you join up and play along.”
 

“My name’s Riley,” she told him.
 

“Jack.” He smiled, his face brightening. He went on to explain a few things, bringing Riley up to speed.
 

After being shot, he followed her through the woods to the cabin. The other men, Ben’s squad mates led by Deak, would start searching the area at first light. They’d known Jack was with the dogs and when they returned without him they’d know something was wrong—the dogs were trained to return to the nearest encampment when fired upon. The squad would search for his corpse along with Riley and when they didn’t find either they’d assume he’d been taken hostage.
 

“We need to pack up and move as quickly as possible,” Jack said.
 

She didn’t want to believe him—a soldier bent on making up for his past. Why couldn’t he simply leave her alone, let her be. Damn the town, damn the soldiers and damn the world for causing her such grief. She’d fought to keep the cabin, had killed people to stay alive and had escaped the clutches of a rapist, making it back home only to be told she had to leave it. What would her father have her do? The answer was simple.
 

They packed up as many essential supplies as possible—fishing line, flashlights, batteries, matches, knives, toilet paper, toothbrushes, among other things, and food—mostly dried goods and canned items. They left immediately.
 

Riley’s brain told her not to look back as she walked away from her home, but her heart insisted, wanting her to burn the memory of it into her mind. She shed a single tear, wiping it away quickly, not wanting Jack to see her angst. She marched onward, never looking back again.
 

Jack had explained that the soldiers would only chase them so far before it wasn’t worth their time and effort. He and Riley needed to hoof it, make haste. Take minimal breaks and stay hydrated, but not enough to cramp up. Once they figured out Jack was a deserter and aiding the individual responsible for Ben’s death, they’d have orders to shoot to kill. Riley only walked faster.
 

Using flashlights, they hiked south, going around Roscoe and onto Route 17. Traveling the open highway was risky, but a blessing on the travelers. The forest, with each footfall taken, could prove a potential broken or sprained ankle. Riley’s knee ached from tripping on a rock and falling. They were both branch-whipped and itchy from pine needles. Traveling at a fast pace in the woods during nightfall had been an unwelcoming prospect.
 

They walked along the cracked asphalt highway. Weeds sprouted about; the flora determined to take back what man created.
 

The moon was almost full and with the sky clear of clouds, the way was lit well, allowing the travelers to save their batteries.
 

If a vehicle came along, the noise or headlights would alert them in time to dash into the woods alongside the roadway, where they’d hide until the way was clear.
 

After four hours of non-stop walking, the two companions stopped for dinner. They ate beef jerky, canned tuna and drank small amounts of water.
 

“We can’t rest for long,” Jack said.
 

“We must be far enough away by now,” Riley figured, chewing on a piece of jerky, her face grimacing at the taste. She desperately wanted something different.