The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (15 page)

“Like
what?”  I can tell he is hedging and that makes me all the
more suspicious.

“How
did she have clearance to come speak to me?  What does she know
about what they did to me?  Why did she aid us in escaping?  Who
beat her?”

Cable
leans back away from me and turns his gaze outward.  When he
reaches up to stroke his throat, grimacing at the windshield, I turn
to see a woman stumble less than ten feet from the hood of the
Humvee.  Half of her arm has been torn off.  The bone
protrudes from the rotting flesh. White maggots crawl over the open
wound.  My stomach churns but I force myself not to look away.
To truly see the horrors that have consumed this world.

“Eric
says that Natalia is complicated.”

I
return my attention to Cable as the woman disappears around the edge
of the barn.  “That’s not good enough.”  

“Well
for now it’s going to have to be–” he turns his
head at a raised cry and leaps from the vehicle, pulling his mask
into place as he goes. I’m right on his heels as we sprint
toward the house. “This isn’t over,” I call to him
as we hit the porch.

“Kinda
figured you’d say that.” He takes the stairs two steps at
a time.  I’m winded by the time I reach the second floor
but he’s hardly broken a sweat.  “What is it? What’s
wrong?”

Eric
appears in the doorway, his face a mask of sorrow.  His chin
trembles as he steps aside.  I can tell by the swelling around
his eyes that he’s been crying.   “Her fever is
gone.”

I
pause in the doorway as the two men go to her bedside, not wanting to
intrude.  Cable sinks down beside Natalia and takes her hand in
his. He presses his free hand to her brow.  “She’s
freezing.”

“I
know.” Eric tosses his towel aside and brushes past me.  I
watch him leave, his shoulders sagging and his steps heavy as he
descends to the lower floor.  

When
I turn back I see Cable’s head bowed low.  Four blankets
lay draped over Natalia.  Dark shadows line her eyes. Her cheeks
are sunken, as if she’s been without food for weeks instead of
only a day.

After
a moment of silence Cable lifts his gaze to look at me.  “I
didn’t take you for a praying man.”

“Never
used to be.”  He places her hand beside her and then lifts
her bandage. The bullet that entered through her shoulder in our mad
dash to evade the chopper was a clean hit.  Eric and Cable have
been diligent to keep it clean, but the fever began within a day of
our arrival here.

Her
skin is unnaturally pale.  Her veins prominent against her frail
arms.  When he opens her mouth I see that her tongue is coated
with a thick substance.  He opens her eyes and they stare back
at him with no reaction.  She looks as if she’s begun to
wither right before our eyes.  

My
breath catches as I close my eyes.  “Of course,” I
murmur and lean against the doorframe.  “She’s
turning, isn’t she?”

Cable
clears his throat but doesn’t answer.  He doesn’t
need to.  I sigh, rub my forehead and look at him. “I’m
sorry.  I’ve never seen it happen before.  Not this
close at least. Last time it was in the hospital and they kept the
woman secluded for the most part.”

“Well,”
he turns his face up to look at me.  Cable looks exhausted.
 Lines carve deeply into his face.  His hair hangs limp
against his forehead.  He shakes his head slowly and I’m
touched by the sorrow that he feels for a woman he barely knew.
 “You’re about to get a front row seat.”

He
continues to look at Natalia, seeming to be willing her lungs to
continue to expand, her brain to continue to function. He reaches to
his side and retrieves a knife. It isn’t long or particularly
nasty looking, but it looks sharp as he withdraws it from a black
leather sheath.

“What
are you doing?” I call out as he grips Natalia’s arm and
presses the blade to her flesh.

“Testing.”

With
a flick of his wrist, a thin but deep wound appears on the back of
her forearm.  No scream. No flinch.  No sign of pain.  He
hangs his head and the knife goes limp in his hand.  I enter the
room and kneel down beside him, tucking the blade away.

“It’s
not your fault.”

He
wipes at his nose and shoves the blade into his pocket.  “I’m
just sick of losing good people.”

I
know the feeling.  Even though I may not have anyone else in my
life, I’ve grown to care about a couple of people and I don’t
want to see them get hurt.  “You hungry?  I was
thinking of making soup for dinner.”

“Nah.”
 He shifts on the edge of the bed.  “I’ll stay
for a little longer.”

Feeling
like a bit of an outsider, I rise and close the door behind me,
heading downstairs.  I find Eric sitting on the hideous pink
couch, staring out the window.  He doesn’t notice me until
I sink down beside him.

“Hey,
Avery.” He offers me a forced smile and brushes his hands
through his hair. He looks terrible.  A splotchy beard has
consumed the thin growth of stubble he arrived with.  Eric
hasn’t slept, hasn't taken the time to eat.  His vigil at
Natalia’s bedside was constant.  “How are you
doing?”

I
release a breathy laugh and shake my head, resting it in the palm of
my hand as I lean on my knee and stare at him.  “Shouldn't
I be the one asking you that?”

He
slumps back into the couch and grabs a pillow, hugging it to his
chest.  His black hair falls in waves over his forehead and not
for the first time I wonder why he was never told he had to shave his
head like the rest of the soldiers. His style just seems too...messy.

“She
knew it was coming.  Started developing the symptoms a few days
back but didn’t want to say anything.  She knew the
consequences if she did.”

I
purse my lips. “So that’s why she was caked in makeup.”

He
nods and fiddles with a stray thread that has come loose from his
jacket.  “I told her to do it.  Thought it could give
her a few more days before someone found out.  The doctors
should have noticed right away but they were preoccupied.”

“With
what?”  He glances over at me and I grimace.  “With
me?”

“You
caused quite a stir back there.”

“But
why?” I lower my leg and turn to face him. “What made me
so different than all those other people? Is it my blood?”

Eric
tilts his head side to side.  “Not so much your blood, but
your plasma.”

“And
to those of us who aren’t doctors in the room that means what
exactly?”

“Alright,”
he twists his torso to face me. From this angle he looks even worse.
 Deep bags hang under dull eyes.  He is pasty and thin.
 Thinking back, I’m not sure I’ve seen him eat more
than a spoonful of soup since we arrived.   “You’ve
heard about universal donors, right?”

“Sure.
 Some people have a blood type that can be transfused into
anyone.”

“Exactly.”
He holds up his fingers, gesturing with surprising animation.  “The
number of people who have this sort of blood is right around 40%,
give or take a few thousand.”

“So
I’m one of those?”

“Nope.”
He ducks his head in low and speaks in a hushed tone, as if someone
might overhead.  “You’re even better.”

He
reaches out and grasps my wrist, turning it over.  I watch as he
brushes his thumb over the bluish veins in my wrist.  “You,
Avery, have something very rare.  A blood type that allows you
to be a universal plasma donor.  Only about 1% of people have
that, and since we’ve lost a considerable number of those
people recently, you’ve become even more valuable.”

“But
why?” I draw my hand back from him.  I trace my finger
down the curve of a vein, lost in thought.  

“Because
the government thinks your plasma could be used for a cure.” I
turn to see Cable hit the bottom step.  He wipes his knife
across his pant leg before meeting our gaze.  A wide patch of
blood stains his right side.  Small splatters dot his face.
 Eric tenses beside me.  He wavers in place but remains
upright.  I reach out and grasp his hand as he closes his eyes.
 A guttural groan rises from his throat but he doesn’t say
anything.

Cable
sinks down before us and clasps his friend on the shoulder, squeezing
tight.  I watch Eric fight back the tears, battle his grief.  I
don’t know what to say, what to do so I just sit and wait.
 Slowly, Eric regains his composure.  He takes deep
breaths, his fingers clenching tightly against his knees.  Finally
he nods and Cable releases him.

“Plasma
is a pretty amazing thing,” Eric says with a pinched voice.

“Eric,”
I whisper, shaking my head.  “You don’t have to…”

“Yeah,
I do.”  He wipes his nose with his sleeve then the tears
from his face and raises his chin as he continues.  “Easily
put, it’s a life-saving resource that we are sorely in need of
now.”

Cable
sinks back onto the floor before us.  Over his shoulder I see
that the sun has begun its descent.  Night will soon fall and we
will be forced to barricade ourselves in again.  Last night a
chopper came too close for comfort to our camp.  I overheard
Cable and Eric talking this morning about the likelihood that
tonight’s search would expand to include our farm.  Chances
are we may have lingered one day too long.

Eric
stares out the window, emotion seeping from his face as he comes to
the same conclusion I just did.  It’s too late to bury
Natalia.  We will have to wait until morning.

“How
do you two know so much?” I ask, trying to pull him back

Both
look toward the ceiling and I mentally kick myself for not thinking.
Eric returns his gaze to me. “She was trying to help, Avery.
She wasn't like the General, driven by a need for results.  She
saw the person as well as the problem.  I wish you’d had
the chance to get to know her. I think you would have liked her.”

I’m
not sure what to say, how to respond. It is true that I didn’t
know Natalia.  It’s also true that I didn’t want to,
not after she became connected to those experiments.  In my mind
she was guilty by association.

A
muscle running the length of Eric’s neck tightens as he
clenches his jaw.  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He
nods but doesn’t speak.  His fists clench in his lap.
 Cable leans forward and plunges his hands into his hair and an
uncomfortable silence hangs between us as twilight falls over the
farmhouse.  The door to the barn was left wide open. One of us
will have to go and secure it before the choppers come.  Looking
at Cable and Eric, I decide it will be me.

“We
can’t stay here any longer.” Cable says, staring first at
Eric, then at me.  He winces before he speaks, knowing that his
words will be salt in our open wounds.  “The past will
only slow us down.”

A
gargled sound erupts from Eric.  He surges to his feet.
 “Sorry,” he mutters as he staggers toward the
bathroom.  I collapse back into the sofa as I hear him retching.

“Was
that really the best time to bring that up?  And what’s
with you not cleaning your knife before you came downstairs?  Are
you trying to give him a mental breakdown?”

Cable’s
jaw clenches with each accusation.  This is hard death to accept
for both of them, but this...it just seems callous.  So unlike
him.

“Natalia
is gone. Your friends aren’t answering.  I can't risk all
of our lives for what if’s, Avery.  It’s my job to
protect you.”

“No.”
I push to the edge of the couch.  “It’s my job to
protect me.”

“And
where will we go?” I ask before he can contradict me.  “Which
road will lead us somewhere safe?  You still wear your mask, for
goodness sake!  What if we head north and the air is
contaminated there?  Or West and the food has gone bad?  What
if we hug the coast and realize the seas are poisoned too?”

“I
don’t know,” he shouts, rising abruptly to his feet and
begins to pace.  His voice is thick with emotion when he speaks.
 “I don't have the answers. I just know that we can’t
stay here.  It’s too dangerous.”

“We
can’t leave her,” Eric whispers from where he leans
heavily in the doorway.  He wipes his mouth and spits to the
side.

My
heart goes out to him.  The strong man that sat beside me looks
lost and broken.  Cable sighs are he turns toward his friend.
“Natalia would have ordered you to go.”

At
his words, a pained smile stretches along Eric’s face.  “And
I would have ignored her, like I always did.”

I
rub my hand over my face, weary and tired of saying goodbye to
people, even the ones I may not have liked.  “One more
day,” I whisper.  “Give us one more day to give
Natalia a proper burial.  If I can’t reach Alex by
tomorrow night then I’ll leave with you.”

Cable
leans forward, his hand covering his mouth as he surveys me.  His
gaze is intense but I meet it all the same.  Finally he nods.
 “Ok.  One more day.”

Sweat
beads along my brow.  I duck and swing.  Pain bites into my
knuckles, splitting the skin but I swing again, and again.  I
spin and weave, thrusting my fist up.  It connects with the
grain bag with a deep, gratifying thud

“I
think you got it.”  I spin around to find Cable standing
behind me, leaning lazily against the barn door.  “What’d
it do to tick you off?”

“Nothing.”
It feels good to sweat, to move without having to cushion my ribs.
 For the first time in weeks I almost feel whole again.  “I
just needed to let off a little steam.”

Cable
tucks his hands deep into his pockets.  “The funeral was
pretty rough, huh?”

I
nod.  “It was my first.”

“Really?”
 He straightens slightly at that.  “You never lost a
grandparent or neighbor?”  

“Nope.”

“What
about a goldfish?  Tell me you at least flushed one of those.”

I
laugh and look over at him through strings of hair.  I found a
bit of yarn to tie back my mass of curls but several chunks have
fallen free. “I’m pretty sure Goldie doesn’t
count.”