The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide (28 page)

"You're sick right now, I know, but we'll help you. We'll get you somewhere safe, somewhere that
will
help you. Please Lee, please let us help you."

She thought she was beginning to connect with him as the sneer faded away and he blessedly closed his mouthful of human remains. Hope coursed through her, she didn't know what they would do with him, but if there was a chance that he could still be saved she was going to take it. Then his lips pulled back again and a snarl escaped him as he barreled toward them.

"Lee no!" Riley cried.

She tried to get out of the way but he was much faster than she had anticipated given his condition just ten minutes ago. He crashed into her, knocking her back into Carl and John as they toppled like dominoes onto the floor. Her breath rushed out of her from the impact against the floor. She didn't have time to regain her breath though as Lee loomed over top of her.

"Lee," she pleaded in a choked whisper.

His hands were clawing at her stomach as he sought the apparently desired meal that tender area offered. Riley beat against his hands as she fought to knock them free of their persistent pursuit of her organs. Carl and John scrambled and fought behind her as they struggled to get free of the weight of her and Lee's bodies. Feet kicked against her back but she couldn't get off of them as Lee kept her pinned down.

"Lee no! Stop!" she cried.

He showed no signs he heard her, no signs of stopping as he knocked one of her hands aside. Her fingers curled around the gun, she lifted it and smashed it off the side of his head. A small grunt was his only response as he continued to paw at her like a dog digging for a bone.

A gurgled scream tore from her as she felt his fingers curling into her flesh. Felt his fingers digging into her skin to rip her belly apart. A sob escaped her as she lifted her arm and pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

"Forgive me," she whispered before pulling the trigger.

CHAPTER 22

Carl

Somewhere in Mass.

Riley remained motionless and mute before him as he popped the top off the jug of water John handed him. He'd never seen John look so pale, and he was concerned that the kid might pass out. Then he lifted his brown eyes and met Carl's gaze head on. He didn't shy away, didn't look as if he was going to break down as he pulled the plastic stripping off another jug and held it before him.

Carl turned back to Riley. He didn't know what to say, what to do for her, other than to clean the blood and splattered brain matter from her dark hair and ashen face. She hadn't spoken, but he didn't know if that was due to the fact that what had just occurred had finally broken her -and he wouldn't have blamed her in the least- or if it was because she didn't want to get any blood and body matter into her mouth.

Her shadowed eyes lifted to meet his; the normally vivid blue color of them was deeper than usual, more turbulent like the sea before a storm. He could only imagine the storm raging within her. It was bad enough to shoot a human being, but a
friend
, and one that had been trying to kill them all was something that he couldn't quite contemplate.

He glanced at John and then at the others surrounding him. He shuddered at the thought, but if he'd been able to get his arm free he knew he would have shot Lee too. Silently, he began to pray that he wouldn't have to shoot any of them within the coming days.

"Hold your shirt closed," he instructed.

He thought she was going to remain unresponsive before him, but then her nimble fingers fumbled forward and she pulled the tattered and bloody remains of her shirt together. Her head bowed down, she closed her eyes as her shoulders hunched forward. Carl tilted the jug and began to pour it gradually over her head.

He knew they should probably save the contents and use the water sparingly. After everything they'd encountered over the past couple of days he was pretty sure that water might become scarce. Right now he didn't care though; he would use every last drop of water in this store if it meant cleaning her of the remains of her friend. No one should have to deal with that.

Her hair was plastered around her face but unfortunately bits and pieces still clung to her. Carl hesitated but in the end it was Riley's broken look, and the fact that he wanted it gone almost as badly as she probably did, that caused him to pull them from her hair. Riley flinched slightly but remained otherwise unmoving as he tossed away the last of something he didn't want to identify.

He took the new jug from John and washed his hands with it. Riley's body on top of theirs had protected them from most of the debris, but even so John had a blood smear on his right cheek, and his hideous Hawaiian shirt had some blood splatters on it. He was going to burn this shirt when he was done with it, he was certain of that.

He started to pour the water over Riley's head again. Despite the heat she shivered and pulled her shirt closer against her flesh as the last of the gallon poured over her. Other than the blood staining her shirt and he was certain still seeping from her gashes, she was clear of the remains of her friend.

Her head tilted up, her haunted eyes shimmered briefly as tears swam within them. "You did what you…"

"Don't," she whispered. "Just… don't."

He fought the urge to tell her something,
anything
that would ease that broken look, but what was there to say? She knew there had been no other choice, she wouldn't have pulled the trigger if there had been.

"Get me some of those bandages John."

John nodded and turned away from them. Al had managed to get back on his feet but he had one hand on the counter and was leaning heavily against it as he surveyed the bloody corpses littering the floor. Carl had never seen so much blood in his life, had never even thought so much blood was possible. Though he knew he was standing amongst the carnage he felt as if someone else was surveying the wreckage surrounding him.

He wasn't here, but he was. That wasn't Lee, but it was. Lee hadn't done
that
to that man, but he had.

One among their group had gone nuts, he'd been with them this entire time, breathing their air, sleeping in the car and hotel room with them, and yet Carl wasn't concerned that it was going to happen to them. Lee had gotten sick quickly, the people roaming the roads had also taken ill fast. There was still a possibility another one of them might have to be put down, soon, but for now he felt an odd sense of security.

He was probably a fool for feeling so, or perhaps he was just living in the happy la la land of denial.

However, he didn't fear anyone surrounding him but he
had
feared Lee in the end. He had disliked being in the car with Lee and had been certain he was the one who was going to have to put him down. He hated the fact that he felt relief from what had just happened, especially when Riley was staring at him as if no one had clapped for Tinker Bell.

He grasped hold of her hands, but they tightened on her shirt. "I have to clean the wounds."

Riley swallowed heavily, tilted her chin up and nodded briskly. Her fingers loosened but remained hooked as she released the shirt and dropped her arms to her sides. She didn't look away from him as he grabbed the tattered ends of her shirt and carefully pulled them away from her wounds. He tried not to show any reaction but he couldn't stop a small wince at the jagged claw marks that marred her skin. They were a good quarter inch into her stomach and some of the flesh had been pulled back to reveal the muscle and sinew that ran throughout her belly.

If she had waited any longer Lee would have gutted her like he had gutted the stranger in the aisle. Carl fought back a shudder at the reminder of
that
hideous scene. He'd never seen anything like it, but was oddly resigned to the fact that he would probably see it again. He would prefer if next time it wasn't someone he knew that caused such carnage.

He thought she might require stitches but there was nothing he could do about that now. Blood ran down her belly in a pink stream that was carried by the water still dripping down her body. Rochelle's hand trembled as she handed him some peroxide, ointment and bandages. The plop of water hitting the floor sounded exceptionally loud in the abnormally hushed atmosphere surrounding them. He kept waiting for the coolers to kick on, but they would probably never turn on again.

Riley remained unmoving as he dabbed some ointment on the wounds and taped the gauze over it. The shirt fell back into place but she didn't look at him as she tried to tug the remains back over her stomach. He had the urge to comfort her but he didn't have the foggiest idea how.

Outside the lonely cry of a Mourning Dove shot his head toward the door. His breath froze in his lungs as he strained to hear it again. Perhaps he'd been imaging it; he hadn't heard so much as a bird chirp since yesterday. A person would have to be completely insane not to be going a little bit crazy, and imaging things after everything they had endured.

Then the low, forlorn cry of the bird pierced the air again. "A bird," Rochelle whispered.

"A dove," Al murmured.

"Peace, ho… pe," Riley's voice hitched but the tears that pooled in her eyes didn't spill. "Hope," she whispered again.

Carl squeezed her shoulder and turned away as the call echoed across the land again. "They're not all dead," John said.

"Help me gather some supplies," Carl said to him.

John followed him as he made his way toward the boxes that Riley and John had tossed aside. "Is she going to be ok?"

John hovered at his side as Carl grabbed the first box. "Physically, yes."

John swallowed heavily and glanced over his shoulder. "Is she going to become like him, you know how a werewolf…"

"Did you really just say werewolf?"

John scowled at him. "Have you been looking around you lately?"

"All I've done is look around me lately, and I haven't seen anything even remotely resembling a wolf."

"Well, I'm not discounting the possibility of anything. A scratch or bite from a werewolf can turn a person, aren't there even some zombie legends where a scratch can turn a person too?"

Carl shoved the other box into John's chest. "Well if she suddenly bursts out of her clothes, sprouts a snout and starts howling at the moon you'll be the first one to know. Until then we're going to assume that she is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as she can be for having just shot her friend."

"Carl…"

Carl stepped closer to him. "I understand your concerns, I do, but keep them to yourself for now. She's in shock, Rochelle looks like she's going to pass out and Al can barely stand on his own. Throwing this into the mix is only going to add more confusion to an already
awful
situation."

John looked about to argue further before he took a deep breath and nodded. Carl pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. He dropped his arm on a shelf and savored in the rush of fresh nicotine as it hit his system. He didn't think there was enough of the drug to calm his racing heart, but he was pretty sure he was going to find out by the end of this day.

"That was pretty messed up." John rested his head in his hand and shook it back and forth. "I mean, did you see him? There was no reason left in him. The other people, yeah they were crazy, but that was
Lee
. He sat with us, he helped us; he was her
friend
. He didn't even know who any of us were."

Carl's gaze focused on the backroom as he tried to get the image of Lee's snarling face out of his mind. He shuddered at the memory and stomped on his butt. "Let's get some supplies and get out of this place."

John nodded and though he still looked like he'd just seen someone rise from the dead, some of the color was beginning to return to his face. "I hope she doesn't fall apart."

"I think if she's held it together so far, she will continue to do so."

"Carl." He stopped and turned back as John halted abruptly in the aisle. "If that happens to me, if I become like him…"

"John, come on."

"Don't hesitate like she did. I don't want to live like that; I don't want to
become
that. Just pull the trigger, don't give me a chance to injure someone."

Carl sighed heavily and nodded. "I won't, just as long as you do the same for me."

John smiled wanly. "I've already been tempted to shoot you a few times."

"Feeling's mutual," Carl told him before turning away and walking back to the front of the store.

Riley had moved to the doorway and stood staring out at the newly forsaken world. Lee's body was still sprawled face down on the floor, his right arm beneath him while his left was flat against the floor. Blood pooled around his head but Carl couldn't bring himself to look at the damage Riley's bullet had caused.

Rochelle and Al were standing just beyond the door, staring at the vehicles as the dove cooed once more. What had once sounded so hopeful now sent a shiver down his spine. "Quickly John, I want out of here."

The words hadn't been necessary as John was already tossing whatever food was salvageable into the box. Riley turned toward them. "That's not a bird," she stated.

Carl froze in the act of stepping around the man that had started this whole mess to begin with, but then if he hadn't opened fire on Riley and John they would have been in the car with Lee when he turned into a flesh eating monster. He shuddered at the thought.

"What do you mean?" John demanded. "It sounds like one to me."

"It's meant to," Riley said. "But that's not a bird."

"Then what…"

"Humans," Carl interrupted. "Humans with reason are calling to each other. We have to go."

Carl grabbed the remaining Duct Tape from the floor and tossed it into the box. "How could you possibly know that?" John demanded.

"I used to be a girl scout and one of the things they taught us was how to do bird calls," Riley told him.

She stepped out of the door and turned back. "Lee, we should, we have to…"

"There's no time Riley," Carl told her as he nudged her forward. "There's a reason they aren't coming out, a reason why they're calling to each other."