“You’re sure?”
“Yes. If I could have a minute…”
She takes a step back, glancing toward Penny and the others. “Of course.” Dottie disappears down the stairs without another word. Her back recedes into the shadows. I already know what I need to do, but the less they know, the better.
After night falls, I gather my things. The men are sleeping, but I hear Dottie and Sadie still up, having a quiet conversation on the landing.
I slip out behind them, down the stairs, walking carefully to avoid any trip wires along the way. I don’t want my last gift to Dottie to be having to reset her contraptions again.
The air holds a familiar chill, brisk against my cheeks and hands. My eyes train on Penny and her entourage, centurions at the watch. Once more I check over my weapons, knives, bow, backpack slung over one shoulder, heavy with supplies gathered over the last few days.
I have a hike in front of me. That much I do know. Though I don’t know where I am or which direction I need to start.
Crossing the field towards the forest’s edge, a slight mist dampens my skin, not quite enough to be rain, but more than a heavy dew. My hair sticks to my face and neck.
I am grateful for the clean clothes and extra socks tucked in my bag. Dottie’s warehouse had been just the respite I needed, but the time had come to move on.
Once I reach Penny and the others, I can see the increase in decay taking over. Her mouth appears drawn back against protruding teeth. Sunken eyes and paper-thin cheeks, not much left but skin and bones.
Her body does not fare much better. Muscles sheared off, revealing edges of bones tinged with dark blood.
Yet, she looks at me, milky, vacant eyes. My connection with her mind feels like a beacon in my head, a macabre lighthouse leading me forward.
“Okay Penny,” I say. “Where we headed?”
She turns, apparently satisfied that I will follow, and takes the few steps into the shadows of the forest. The others follow along with her, shuffling steps, torn shoes catching against leaves and roots.
I follow, picking up my knees and ducking under the branches, bare bony fingers reaching for me. The rain picks up, falling on the seven of us in cold steady streams.
Eighteen
We follow the ravine, nothing more than a motley crew of myself and a handful of zombies. When we arrive at the water’s edge. I take a moment to refill my canteen and check my weapons.
The zombies mill around, largely ignoring me. I can’t estimate how far we have come since leaving the warehouse. My headache has all but vanished. Being here, with these creatures, feels strangely comforting. A short time later, we crest the horizon and the farm comes into view.
“How are we going to do this?” I mutter. They don’t respond, just shuffling in place with those blank eyes and rotting faces. “Yeah, okay. We’ll just see how this goes.”
The closer we get, the more details of the farm come into view. Tents and sleeping mats map out the space surrounding the house, most of them facing toward the fire pit.
A young boy at the edge of the circle spots me, one of the kids from Fairlight’s group. He stands, motioning to me, to the others.
I can’t imagine what I must look like, broken and covered in dust, surrounded by the undead. He calls out, rushing toward the house.
I see Ezekiel stepping from the shadows of the house and out onto the porch, shadowing his eyes against the sun. I walk toward the outer gate, arriving across from him at the opposite gate. He watches me from the expanse between us, studying my movements.
“Ash?” he calls.
“I’m okay,” I reply, hoping my voice sounds steady. I offer a wave. He motions for the others to stay back, curiosity drawing them a few steps closer. He eyes me, skeptical.
“I’m okay,” I call again. “Can I come in?”
Finally, he lifts his keys, opening the padlock and pulling the inner gate far enough for him to step through. I’ve never felt more like a pariah.
Ezekiel crosses the distance between us until we stand face to face, only the metal links of the fence between us.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure.”
“Did you get bit?”
“Do I look that bad? “No, I’m not bit.”
He gestures toward the small horde behind me. “What’s this about?”
I glance at them, hunched and lurching. “They won’t hurt anyone as long as I’m around.”
His eyes cut to the side. “How do you figure?”
“Look, can you let me in? I promise I can explain everything. And I’d love to get cleaned up. They’ll stay out here, obviously.”
“Fine,” he says, patting his holster. “But I promise, if anything goes south I’m taking them out.”
“They’re not the enemy, Ezekiel.”
“No?”
“No.”
He pulls the outer gate open. I don’t like the sound of him threatening the zombies. They are just victims like the rest of us. But I need him on my side. I hold my tongue. Once the gates are locked behind us, we head toward the fire.
“How’s Thorn?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes forward.
“He’s good. He’s better. Once we got settled here, Fairlight was able to gather more ingredients to fortify his system. He’s still healing, but he’s up and about. He’ll be around, I’m sure. Come on.” He takes off toward the group of people gathered around the fire.
I stop, painfully aware of my appearance. “I don’t think-- Look, is Fairlight here? I should speak to her.”
He pauses and turns, seeing my hesitation. “Yeah, she’s here. I’ll go get her.”
I hang back, waiting next to the maple tree halfway between the fence and the house. Ezekiel runs over to the porch, calling inside.
Fairlight emerges, followed by Thorn. He leaves the two of them speaking to each other and makes his way over to me.
Thorn. Healthy. Whole. Healed.
I want nothing more than to run to him, but I remember the reflection of myself in the pond, pale eyes, sallow flesh, and the blood. I gaze down at my hands. He can’t see me like this.
I do my best to stay in the shadows underneath the tree, but I can’t hide from him forever. He trots over to me, a look of palpable relief on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he nears.
I lower my face, but he steps forward, reaches for my chin to lift my face to his.
“Let me see you, Ash. What’s happened?”
“Don’t,” I say, pulling my face away. “It’s not what you think.”
“Why not? Ash, what’s happened? Talk to me.”
“It’s-- It’s hard to explain. I’m not bit, if that’s what you think.”
He takes a step back. “I don’t think anything, Ash.”
I muster up the strength to glance up, meeting his eyes for a second before I retreat to the safety of staring at the ground. I guess I owe him some kind of explanation, at least.
“I, um… I’m connected to them somehow. More than what I thought. I can’t explain it except that I kind of… hear them. I don’t know.”
He takes my chin, lifting my face and peering into my eyes, searching. I cannot bring myself to look at him directly. I try to move my face away, but he holds me on place, examining me.
Despite my expectation, I see no revulsion in his expression. Perhaps curiosity but nothing more. Finally, he lets go, moving his hand from his rough hold on my chin to a softer clasp at the base of my hair. All the while keeping my gaze caught with his own.
“This isn’t over, is it?” he asks.
I shake my head once.
“Ash. I’ll be here, if… When you come back. I promise. But whatever this is… You need to figure it out.”
I cannot speak. I reach up, placing my hand over his and gently move it away.
“You could stay, you know,” he continues. “Just let it go and come back with us.”
“Thorn, I have to go back. You
know that.”
Our conversation dies out as Fairlight approaches, Ezekiel a few steps behind her. She looks me over, her forehead twisted in confusion.
“I’m not a threat,” I say, extending out my palms. “Honestly, it’s worse than it looks.”
“What is it?” she asks. “What’s happened to you?”
“She’s done this somehow. The doctor. But I’m still… I’m still me, Fairlight.”
She turns to the other two. “Could you leave us for a moment,” she says. This is not a question but a command, despite her tone. They leave, Ezekiel giving me a wary glance before turning his attention away.
Once alone, she wordlessly looks me over, examining the details of my face and arms, cradling my hands in hers. The sickly pallor of my complexion contrasts stark against her healthy pink skin. I can sense the repugnance in her touch. I don’t blame her. I would be too.
“I’m going back, you know,” I say. “I can control them somehow. More than I could before, somehow. I’m not sure why.”
“Go on,” she says.
“She’s created a beacon, some kind of frequency she emits from the central tower. That’s how she controls them. Hundreds of them at once. It’s some sort of subsonic emission. I don’t quite understand it.”
“Why did you come back here?” Fairlight asks, her voice clipped and cold. “Why not stay and finish the job?”
“Because I need your help.”
Fairlight lowered her hands, watching me carefully.
“I know why I’ve been having these headaches.”
“What is it, Ash?”
Tentatively, I reach for her hand. She lets me place her fingertips just at the base of my skull. “I didn’t feel it at first because I have a lumpy skull right there, but once you know it’s there…” Her gaze goes soft as she runs the pads of her fingers over the disc.
“Ash. How did…?”
“She must have put it in there when she had me in the compound. They ran so many tests on me, I couldn’t keep track of them all. I can’t help wonder what else she did to me.”
“I see.” She lowers her hand.
“Can you take it out?” I ask.
She thinks for a moment, her pale brow pinched together. “It would be very painful. We don’t have any way to make you comfortable.”
“I can handle pain,” I whisper.
“Ash, it would be quite dangerous. If something went wrong…”
“Fairlight, can you do it?” I meet her eyes, keeping my gaze steady. After another moment, she speaks.
“Yes. I can do it.”
I’m laid out on the cot in the panic room. Ezekiel fetches Abraham’s old medical kit, a cracked leather black bag with a brass handle.
I sense Thorn hovering upstairs, outside the door. He has been tasked with making sure the house remains vacant during the procedure. Everyone else has gone outside under strict instructions from Fairlight until further notice.
“Have you done this before?” I say, my head turned to the side as I lie on my stomach.
“Not exactly,” Fairlight replies.
She places the items out onto a small table next to her, a bottle of alcohol, gauze, bandages, a shaving razor, a pair of scissors, a wooden spoon, and, finally, Ezekiel’s knife. He had sharpened it on his whetstone before holding the blade into the fire to sterilize it.
“You’ll have to be still,” she continues.
“Ezekiel will help,” I say. “Won’t you?” He nods, taking his place at the top of the cot.
“I’m going to shave this area here on the back of your head,” Fairlight says. “Just so you know what I’m doing. I’ll tell you as we go, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” I press my lips together, pressing my forehead into the cot.
She lifts my hair, snipping it away as close to the skin as she can. I hear the tufts landing on the floor as she tosses them out of the way.
The cold blade of the razor meets my skin, scraping bare the back of my head. She smooths a warm washcloth over my skin, followed by a swab of alcohol over the whole area.
“Okay Ash,” she says. “Are you ready?”
Ezekiel takes the wooden spoon from the table. I open my mouth and allow him to place the handle between my teeth.
I meet his eyes as he does so, finding in that moment a spark of trust between us. He will hold me steady, no matter what.
He crouches down, placing his hands on either side of my head. I reach forward and clasp my hands around his forearms.
“I got you, Ash,” he whispers.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”
The knife blade touches my skin. The pain is like nothing I have ever felt. Teeth clench around the wooden bit, my jaw seizing, and eyes squeezed shut.
I hear a voice, Ezekiel saying something, speaking directly into my ear.
He sounds miles away.
Something pulls against my scalp, pressure, pain, screaming, blinding pain. I feel myself falling, my whole body untethered. I am connected to nothing, and nothing holds me.
I’m falling.
Everything goes dark.
And I feel nothing.
When I wake, I am alone.
No, not alone. Someone’s hand touches my forehead. Ezekiel? Fairlight? Somehow, I don’t think either one of them capable of the gentleness apparent in this touch.
“Are you coming back to us?”
Great. It’s Thorn.
My eyes flutter open. My head aches. I’m lying on my side.
“Take it easy,” he says. “You’ve been through it, Ash.”
“Is it gone?” I say, my voice not much more than a whispered rasp.
“It’s gone.”
“Oh, thank god,” I mutter, reaching my hand back to feel the bandage.
“Does it hurt much?”
“It hurts like a bitch,” I reply. “But I wouldn’t want it any different. As long as it’s out.”
“Yeah.” He glances back toward the stairs leading up to the open door. “Well, I should let you get some rest.”
“Thorn, wait.” I reach for him, my hand clasping his, almost of its own volition. He turns to look at me with a question in his eyes. “Will you stay? Just for a little while?”
He stays, leaning against the side of the cot, our fingers intertwined. His presence comforts me, enough at least that I can drift into a light sleep.
Even then, I sense him sitting there, his steady breathing, his warmth. I don’t know how long he stays with me. I feel as if I’m in and out for hours, but each time my eyes open, he is there, his crooked smile and nervous eyes gazing softly at me.
“What must I look like?” I mutter.
“You look beautiful,” he replies.
Once more I drift off into a dreamless sleep, his hand still curled comfortably into mine.
Nineteen
The pain subsides after a few days. Perhaps it is the steady diet of bone broth brought to me by Fairlight. I had moved up to the room where I used to stay.
What had once felt cozy and homey now just seemed cold and impersonal. The bed feels far more comfortable, however.
“It’s healing rather quickly,” Fairlight says, changing my bandage. “You’ll have a nice scar, but it looks like you’ve avoided any infection.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“How is the pain?”
“It’s better. Not as bad as it has been.”
“Just a quick swab,” she says, dabbing area with a cotton gauze. I pull in my breath against the sting of alcohol. It only lasts for a moment, and she quickly secures a clean bandage into place.
“What did you do with it? The implant.”
“Ezekiel’s been studying the thing. He’s got it in there with all of his equipment. Studying bandwidths and such. I don’t quite understand it, but he’s like a kid with a new toy.”
“Good riddance. At least it’s out of my head. What is he looking for, exactly?”
“Hard to say. He’s looking for
the frequency, is what he said.”
With the new bandage in place, I turn over, careful to avoid pressure on the back of my head, curling my arms under my cheek. Fairlight takes a seat in the chair close to the edge of the bed.
“There was a bit of trouble yesterday,” she says.
“Oh yeah? What kind of trouble?”
“Someone recognized one of your monsters. The one in the yellow dress.”
My face goes cold. “Penny.”
“Her name is Saffron,” Fairlight continues. “She was one of the first ones taken. Before we really understood what was going on. Her parents left us soon after. Said they joined us for the safety of it, and if we couldn’t promise that they had no reason to stay. Whole thing was a bit messy.”
“What happened? Yesterday, I mean. They didn’t--”
“Your monsters are fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her voice takes on an icy tone. “A couple of the girls saw her. It upset them a bit. She was friends with them, you see.”
“Oh my god…”
“Some of the boys really wanted out of the perimeter. Wanted to take them down is what they said. I headed them off before anyone could do anything. Figured that was your business.”
“Where are they now?”
“The creatures are still outside. Just kind of wandering around out there. I’ll admit, it’s a mite unsettling.”
“Yeah.” I understand the meaning behind her words. “It’s time for me to go.”
She stands, brushing her hands against her jeans. “You’re healing rather quickly. It’s quite remarkable really. How are you feeling?”
“I haven’t had a headache. Not like before.”
“You should come out and eat with us. There’s quail on the fire right now. Should be ready in about an hour.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll be out in a little bit.”
When I step out onto the porch, I spot the gaggle of girls over by the bonfire, scrappy teenagers not much younger than myself. The three of them glare at me with an abundance of vitriol.
A couple of women pull weeds over at the garden, glancing up now and then. Thorn walks out of the far woods with the water skins draped over his shoulders.
I pull the blanket around my shoulders, wanting to disappear into the shadows. The others approach him, each taking turns to fill their canisters.
The Rising Ash Saga | Book 2 | Falling Embers Page 13