The Deepest Red (44 page)

He glances at the sky nervously then to Daniel, calculating the risk. The aroma of rain floats heavy in the air, having chased away the sunshine from earlier. Jay’s eyes roam over the silent woods, as do mine.

“If we don’t rest we’ll be easier to kill.”

Jay focuses on Daniel and narrows his eyes on the bloody cloth wrapped around Daniel’s waist and chest.

“We won’t be able to put up much of a fight either way,” Lonnie remarks.

When I’m able to control my breathing, I retrieve a bottle of water from my supply bag. I take a few large gulps and pass the remaining continence to Bryan, who smiles thankfully.

“There isn’t any set rules on how to do this, brother,” Jay says as the twins stare at one another.

Lonnie’s face drops in defeat, “Fine, but we need to find a safe place first. Then we can rest for an hour.”

We walk along narrow paths stepping over dead tree trunks as we find our way. I break through the tree line first and step onto broken pavement. Cars litter the old road, stranded, their windows busted and steel bodies rusted. I breath a sigh of relief being out from under the shadows of the branches. Steadying my shaky walk, I’m surprised my aching legs still work and even more surprised the men behind follow without words.

Clouds darken the sky as a sharp wind rushes by.

“Looks like rain,” Bryan comments from behind me. “Won’t be long now.”

The wind picks up.

“It’s gonna get dark way before we thought,” Lonnie says, sighing.

I ignore all of them and walk behind a sixteen wheeler truck. It’s the largest vehicle I’ve ever seen.

“Just think,” Bryan says, knocking on the vessel’s hollow walls. “There could be a ton of stuff crammed into this container.”

I extend my arm, attempting to open the back compartment. The heavy doors make a clunking noise but do not release.

“Didn’t they used these things to carry scouting goods to other locations?” I ask, peering around the other side.

“Yeah. You could say that,”  he replies, opening the cab door.

A strong odor of mildew and mold drifts from its interior. I watch him and take note of the lack of blood on his clothing.

“We can stay in here,” he suggest.

I shake my head.

“I don’t want to be somewhere I can’t defend myself, plus the upholstery stinks.”

I motion toward the dingy seats. Bryan takes a whiff and backs away.

“You might get used to the smell,” he says and closes the door.

“How did you hurt your head?” I ask.

He wipes the dry blood, crusted along his hairline.

“Fell out of the tree at the plane.”

I study him closely.

“And at the creek?” I question calmly, measuring his response.

“I had another set of clothes,” Bryan remarks blankly, his eyes turning cold for a brief moment.

Lonnie steps between us misinterpreting our awkward composure.

“Don’t worry, Millie. I’m sure Bryan won’t make you sleep separately from the guys in this situation.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to sleep inside,” I say warily.

“So you would rather be rained on?” Daniel asks as he leans against one of the truck’s large tires. He checks the bandage at his chest with a shaky hand.

“If it means I can better defend myself. Rain never hurt anybody,” I answer.

Without waiting for a response, I hoist myself on top of the large container. The last thing I want is to be trapped behind glass and steel with a group of blood covered guys.

“What are you doing, Millie?” Daniel asks from below.

“I’m going to rest before the bottom drops and this seems like the safest place.”

I collapse onto the hard metal and use my supply bag as a pillow.

It isn’t long before three of the men have joined me. I hear the door of the cab slamming as Daniel settles in.

“I’m not tired so I’ll keep watch.,” Bryan says, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the truck.

I decide against questioning Bryan further on his clothes. Now isn’t the time. Instead, I allow my weary eyes to stare up into the heavy gray clouds. My thoughts turn to the burned bodies and the men I killed. Tears threaten to drown me as I replace the horrible images with ones of Connor, his stern gaze and confident stance- the way his eyes soften when I smile. Would Carter be dead if he was here? Would we be somewhere safer? Would I feel safer?

I straighten my beret blocking out the “what if” questions my mind wandered off to. I was tired before but now with the promise of rest, my body refuses to give in- punishment for what I’ve witnessed.
Why do I keep seeing such horrible things?

A tiny voice in my head answers back.
Because you’re a horrible person.
I shift my body disregarding the voice and reach for Tom’s pocket knife still clipped onto my belt. I trace my fingers along the rough red centipede design wishing I could have talked to Tom one last time.

A memory comes to mind instantly throwing my thoughts back into the past. I’m too tired to fight the reminiscence.

Tom stood at the edge of my library table. Annoyed, he leaned his weight onto the dull surface. The white of his long beard, reminding me of his age even though he never acted very old.

“You need to learn this Millie,” he chastised as he guided his wrinkled hand through his thinning hair. “Now what is an acronym to remember if you are lost in the red zone?”

I rolled my eyes as I leaned back into my chair. I had joined the scouts so I could put the past behind me, so that I could be closer to my mother’s memory, not bother with less than the basics.
So trivial.

“This is stupid.” I said, striving not to look bored but failing.

“My job is to train you, not stand here and grow fond of your eye rolls.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Well, you could sit down,” I countered.

He picked up a small book laying in front of him and threw the hardback at my head. I blocked it barely with my hand.

“Stop it,” I said irritated.

Tom quirked an eyebrow and asked, “What did you say?”

I make a face.

“I said Stop. S. T. O.P.”

He laughed, his deep hearty laugh.

“That’s right,” Tom replied with a self satisfying smile. “S, stands for Sit down, T stands for Think, O stands for Observe your surroundings and P stands for Prepare for survival by gathering materials.”

I smirked, “Really? That’s going to help me?”

Tom straightened.

“It’s the first step once you lose this attitude.”

I rolled my eyes again receiving an irritated growl.

“You wanted to be part of the scouts. I didn’t come to you begging for you to learn this. You volunteered and right now I’m going to give you some advice.” He coughed loudly into his hand then glared directly at me. “What ever bug crawled up your ass, you need to kill it and drag it out because your mother would want it that way. She would want her girl to be useful.” 

The memory fades as fast as it came. His advice, ringing in my ears. I don’t know why I acted so horrible toward him when they first assigned us together. Sometimes, I think I was just angry because I knew he had trained my mother and she had died. Nothing he had taught her had saved her life. Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d taken better notes. I had so many questions for him that I was too afraid to ask.
Why didn’t I ask?

In an attempt not to cry, I banish the pocket knife to the inside of my boot and sniff. My tears stay right on the edge of my eyes as I will myself to sleep and not focus on the knife’s weight inside my boot. After a few short breaths the sleepiness hazes my thoughts and my eyes close.

I enjoy one moment of peaceful darkness before startled awake by a large drop of water hitting my face. With a sigh, I realize the sky didn’t take long to decide to rain. I’m sure Lonnie will begin his “told you so” speech momentarily.
Crap, I needed the rest.
 

Still laying down, I reach up to wipe the rain drop away from my cheek. The moisture is warm and thick between my fingers. Another drop lands on my forehead urging me to swipe at my skin in annoyance.  I open my eyes to my hand. Blood covers the tips of my grubby fingers. Another drop lands on my arm and I watch the blood travel down my skin to the sleeve of my shirt. The dampness stains the edge of the material with a crimson red.

“What is-?” I say confused as another drop lands thickly on my tongue.

The coppery taste sends panic down my throat. I sit up and realize I’m alone on the container. Lonnie, Jay, Bryan and Daniel are nowhere to be seen. Blood begins to pour down all around, splattering the truck I sit upon.

“Noooo.” I scream in a hurry to escape. There is no one to help.

I attempt to stand on the slippery surface but fall hard onto my bended knees. My hands slide through the color of red. The site, turning my stomach. I try again to take shelter from the assault but my limbs are unable to find purchase. I gaze helpless in a scary fascination as the blood’s warmness latches onto my bare arms like a predator. The liquid slithers like a snake- the redness deepening as it travels up to my shoulders. A piercing sound brings pain to my ears. Moments pass before I realize it’s my own scream.

Suddenly, ominous smoke fills the air halting the rain. The colored vapor wraps around me in a whirling haze. I choke on the fumes, tasting metallic on my tongue. Images of Carter flash by in a frenzy, his muffled cries, his body submerged in flames and the fragrance- the sickening perfume of death. I rock back and forth chanting to stay calm.

“I didn’t kill him!” I shout to the darken sky- letting myself feel the bitter burning of sorrow. “I tried to save him!”

Laughter circles around me on a gust of wind as tears flow down my ash covered face. A voice of grit and hate whispers in my ear.

“Too late. I’m here.”

Then, darkness.

I awaken to Bryan shouting, “Get up! Get up!”

I glance around confused, trying to figure out where I’m at. The blood has vanished, along with the taste of metallic smoke. I stand to see what is going on and finally understand his words.

“Wake up. They’re here. Wake up!” Bryan grabs his knife and focuses on me. “Run Millie. RUN!”

I turn to the trees to discover about two dozen men emerge. They’re larger than the men we fought before and much more menacing. I realize the ones we ran into earlier were nothing in comparison to these men. These soldiers must be the elite of the cult’s army. One of the largest men, wears loose clothing, easy to move in. His face is dirty but his hair is pulled neatly into a ponytail behind his neck. He glares at us standing tall and well built. They all are.

Jay sets loose a wave of arrows. They fly from his bow with practiced skill, hitting the opposing men’s arms, chests, and legs. A few hit their mark and those men drop to the ground dead. It doesn’t take long for the soldiers to react. The large men launch behind tree trunks and old automobiles, anything to shield themselves from Jay’s fleeting supply of arrows. With a curse, Jay throws his empty quiver and bow to the ground and removes two long daggers. We all dash to the edge of the sixteen wheeler and jump to the ground. My weapons are unsheath as soon as I roll from the ground.

“Bryan go with Millie,” Lonnie says as he pulls out a long knife.

“Run!” Jay shouts as he sprints by us and in front of the large vehicle.

I look past Lonnie’s shoulder and find the cult’s soldiers advancing.

“No,” I say, sternly. The hatred I felt before swells in my chest. “I’m fighting.”

I push past Bryan. He grabs at me but I move out of the way of his touch and run straight toward the men of my nightmares. The fear that has been gathering fastens itself around my heart, releasing the adrenaline I crave.

My enemies welcome my coming. They know my intentions even though killing someone living gives my soul lingering heartache. This is my life now. I understand why my dad wanted to keep me from the red zone’s clutches- the uncertainty the wilderness holds, the danger.

“I’m sorry Dad,” I say as I acknowledge it’s too late.

Tom’s voice echos in my ears of usefulness. I draw those words into my very being as I shove my fear away and swing my axe at one of the cult.

He is about the same height but outweighs me by at least fifteen pounds. He reflects my swing with a large blade. I counter quickly dropping to my knees and slamming my hammer into his shin. I hear the crunch as I stand, spinning around with my axe and slicing through his gut. He holds a look of surprise and pain as his intestines begin to ooze from his split stomach.

Another man nearby strikes. His punch lands on my face. Pain burst from out of my cheek blurring my vision. I lash out with my axe into the empty space not seeing where my attacker stands. His other fist slams into my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs. I fall to the ground clutching my weapons. The impact of my knees hitting the hard ground causes pain to flare in my legs.

My vision clears long enough to distinguish my enemy as he prepares for the death blow. I’m glad Connor isn’t here to see my demise but I’m also sorrowful that my dad will lose yet another person he loves to the red zone. I anticipate the final searing pain.
Will it be my neck? Through the chest? Will it hurt?
But it’s taking to long, too much of a hesitation. I peer through my obscure vision expecting the haze of a blade racing toward my throat. Instead, above me is a blond headed man with a long scar that stretches down his jaw bone and onto his neck.  His eyes are cold as he studies my face then bends to grab for my weapons.