Roamers (Book 2): Fear. Loss. Survival. Hope.

by Viper, Velveteen

  “Riley, please,” she started, “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I left last night, without Travis or Hope. I came back this morning to find they were gone and I’m going after them.”

  This didn’t seem to answer any of Riley’s queries, so he continued to stare at her until she expanded her explanation.

  “At the hospital, when Travis was trying to get me to the car after I was shot, I got bitten on my leg. I noticed it yesterday in the bathroom; little dents in the shape of teeth. It bit me through my jeans, and I was covered in blood, so I assumed…”

  “You got bit?” Jack chimed in. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Jack, I couldn’t. Travis would have tried to stop me leaving and it would have put everybody at risk.”

  “So why did you come back?”

  “The blood on my leg wasn’t from the bite. I’m not going to turn.”

  “Then wha--”

  Quinlan was cut short by Riley raising his hand. He knew as well as Scarlett did the answer to his unfinished question. He wouldn’t make her say it out loud.

  “Please, I don’t want to argue with anyone, I just want to find Travis and my daughter and bring them back.”

  Before anyone else had a chance to pipe up, Scarlett turned toward the door and began walking. Riley watched her for a moment and made a split-second decision.

  “Scarlett, wait.”

  Scarlett stopped and gawped at him, along with everyone else, while he swung his duffle bag over a shoulder and slid his pistol into his belt. He approached her and took the rifle from her shoulder.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “What?”

  “What?” River repeated.

  “Sorry, River, but she needs me.”

  “No, I don’t,” Scarlett said belligerently.

  “I’m coming with you, Scarlett.”

  “She doesn’t need you, Riley.”

  Riley turned to look at River while everyone stared at him. He couldn’t say what he wanted to at that moment, not with everyone listening. Turning back to Scarlett, he dropped his bag to the ground.

  “Please, Scar, don’t go anywhere yet.”

  Scarlett sighed, but nodded her head. She just wanted to start looking for Travis and Hope. Riley pointed River in the direction of the armoury and they both began walking. River’s inflamed whispers could be heard the length of the warehouse until the door was firmly closed.

  Scarlett had nothing to say. She sat her weary body down on a picnic bench to wait for Riley. Quinlan bravely approached and sat down opposite.

  “Don’t mind River,” he began. “She’s not angry with you. I think Riley should go.”

  “Thanks, Quinlan. But I don’t want to put anyone in danger. He’s better off here.”

  In the armoury, Riley waited for River to launch into a verbal attack. She didn’t. Instead, she stood with her arms folded, glaring expectantly at him.

  “I’m coming back.”

  “When?” she hissed at him. His mouth wobbled open, but no words came out. “Supply runs are one thing, Riley, but you’re risking your life, for what?”

  “Hope and Travis are out there--”

  “You know as well as I do that Travis would never allow any harm to come to his daughter.”

  “River, he thinks Scarlett is dead. He is not going to be thinking straight, which is exactly why they need to be found.”

  River pursed her lips and looked at the ground.

  “How long have you known?” she asked him.

  “Known what?” he frowned.

  “That you’re in love with Scarlett.” As she spoke, River fought the urge to keep her eyes fixed on the floor and instead looked at him so that she could read his face. She didn’t like what she saw, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “What the…? It’s not like that, River.” He tried to take her hands, but she deliberately avoided his touch, “Of course I love Scarlett, but I’m not in love with her. I want to help her. She’s my friend. She’s just lost a child and now her other one is missing. I want to help her find Hope before Travis finds the strength to tell her that her mother is dead. If he hasn’t already.”

  “I knew as soon as I saw your reaction to thinking she was dead. I mean, I’ve suspected it for a while, but that was all the confirmation I needed. And now this.”

  “Hold on, that’s not fair. We thought she was dead, of course I was upset,” Riley said defensively.

  “We’ve lost so many people, Riley, and I have never seen you as devastated as you were when it was her.”

  “Look, I’m going to help Scarlett find Travis and Hope, and then I’m going to come back… to you,” Riley sighed, exhaustedly.

  “Oh my god,” River said, staring into his eyes, her expression softer. “You haven’t even realised.” She stepped forward and gently kissed his cheek while a single tear rolled down her face, “I hope you find them.”

  River quickly turned and left, fearful that Riley might see her cry.

  Scarlett was growing impatient. On seeing River, she stood and swung her bag over her shoulder, waiting for Riley to emerge. When he did, his eyes were fixed on the ground. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye as he approached his belongings.

  “So, what’s happening?” Scarlett asked matter-of-factly.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Fine. Then we need to go now.” She turned to observe her friends’ gawping faces. Her attention was drawn to Henry’s pitying expression, “What is it, Henry?”

  “Scarlett, after what your body has been through, I’m not sure you should be out there. You could get an infection. Without the proper medical care--”

  “Just give me some fresh bandages and some alcohol wipes. I’ll be fine. I appreciate that you’re concerned, but Travis thinks I’m dead. When we find him, and my daughter, we’ll bring them back. I’m confident that you all understand that I can’t just sit here and hope that Travis sees sense. We’ll see you soon.”

  Without another word, Scarlett made straight for the door, followed hastily by Riley.

  After loading the boot of the green estate, Scarlett sat down in the driver seat and started the engine, once again waiting for Riley. She glanced into the rear-view mirror and watched some sort of negotiation taking place between him and Quinlan.

  The pair of them approached Scarlett’s window and she quickly opened it.

  “Scarlett,” Quinlan began before Riley could get a word in, “please take me with you. I can’t stay here, it’s… too much.”

  “Too much? Quinlan, what the hell do you mean?”

  “I don’t deserve to be safe, in a place like this, when I know you and Riley will be out there. Please, Scarlett, I’ve got so much to make up for. I want to help you find your family.”

  Quinlan’s pleading was beginning to annoy Scarlett, so she nodded silently. He sat in the back seat next to his rucksack which contained his few belongings.

  Riley was the last to organise himself and he eventually sat in the passenger seat. The second he shut the door, Scarlett accelerated toward the gate. Colin was waiting. As Scarlett came to a stop, he leant in toward her window and handed her some of the medical supplies and Hope’s doll.

  “I sincerely hope you find them, Scarlett. Make sure Hope gets this. I hope you decide to come back when you’ve found them. I’d like the opportunity to make up for everything, if you’ll let me.”

  “I’m not really thinking that far ahead right now, Colin,” she said frankly. “I’m just concentrating on finding my family.”

  “I understand.”

  “But, thank you. For looking after us in the time we were here. We would have died if it hadn’t been for this place, and your people getting us out of that horde.”

  With that, Scarlett rolled up the window while Colin and Elizabeth slid open the gate.

  Scarlett didn’t even bother to check for Roamers before speeding out toward the main road.

  “Where are we headed?” Riley asked.


  “I don’t know. But, I at least know that they’ll be going in this direction,” Scarlett answered dimly.

  “How?”

  “Travis will want to put distance between them and the warehouse, but he knows there was nothing left for us at the cottage.” She nodded to herself, “He went this way. He probably has a map. If we can get hold of one, I’ll be able to pinpoint a few places he could’ve gone.”

  “Do you think they’ll be okay?” Quinlan probed.

  “I know he’ll do right by Hope.”

  “Scarlett, I’m not trying to worry you, but he’s not going to be in the right frame of mind,” Riley said, regretting the decision to speak up before the words had finished leaving his lips. “Doing right by Hope would have been deciding to stay at the warehouse.”

  “Riley, please don’t question his motives. I just want to find them. He’s not going to let anything happen to our daughter. Now, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to concentrate on the road. You both need to keep your eyes open while I drive. They might have stopped somewhere nearby.”

  The further Scarlett drove, the more anxious she felt. Her thoughts were no longer focused on what she was going to say when she found them. Instead, she was thinking of how she could ever go on without them. Night was growing aggressively close, and it wouldn’t be long before Riley chimed in with his suggestion that they all get some rest. But Scarlett couldn’t have been further from sleep.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities and Riley’s words were playing on her mind. He was right; she had no idea how Travis was taking his ‘loss’ and wondered whether or not he’d broken the news to Hope yet.

  Had Hope come face-to-face with any Roamers? What if something happened to Travis and their daughter was alone? How was Travis going to hunt or scavenge without anyone to watch her?

  With these questions tumbling around in her head, Scarlett had no choice but to pull over. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, and beads of sweat began forming on her face. Her heart was racing, and the car seemed to be closing in on her from all sides. She suddenly had to be outside. She started running toward the woodland at the side of the road and Riley sprung out of the car after her.

  “Scarlett, stop!” he said, trying to keep his voice low.

  He managed to catch up and took hold of her elbow. It took a surprising amount of force to be able to turn her to face him, but when he did, he drew her into a hug. She was trembling as Riley steadied her.

  “What if we don’t find them, Riley?” she sobbed, struggling for breath with every syllable. “What if they’re dead?”

  “Stop, stop, stop,” Riley soothed, stroking her head. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I’m sorry. We will find them, and they’re going to be just fine.”

  “But what if something happens to Travis? What if Hope is all alone? She’s just a baby, she must be so scared!”

  “Listen to me,” he said sternly, holding her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him, “we can’t afford to think that way. We will find them, Scarlett. I promise you that. Let’s go back to the car before we draw any Biters. You try to sleep. I’ll drive; either until we find them, or we need to refuel, whichever comes first.”

  Scarlett nodded and Riley laid his arm around her shoulders, leading her back to their vehicle. She dropped herself in the passenger seat and reached into the back for her bag. Rifling through it, she pulled out a box of codeine and her canteen. She ejected two pills from their blister pack and swiftly threw them into her mouth before gulping down some water. Her face contorted with the powdery residue they left on her tongue and the sensation of them sliding down her throat.

  She shimmied out of Travis’ jacket and held it to her chest. It still smelt like him, and she felt tears in her eyes again, but took a deep breath in an effort to stop them from rolling onto her cheeks.

  Although he was driving, Scarlett felt as though Riley was watching her; like he was splitting his gaze between her and the road. She tried not to think about the pitying stare she might have been receiving and kept her eyes fixed on the leather coat in her arms.

  Chapter Four

  Hungry, sweaty and thirsty, and still peppered with the blood of four men, Travis had traipsed the rest of the highway to the next town and desperately needed to stop. Relief spread through him when he finally saw a boundary sign which read, Shadowhurst. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, and he had no idea how he’d avoided the attention of any Roamers, but somehow, he’d made it. His next obstacle would be to find shelter before night came.

  His back was stiff and sore. He’d managed to haul all the camping gear, minus Hope’s bed, on his back, all while carrying his exhausted daughter. Her head was draped over his shoulder, half sleeping.

  Travis couldn’t go on any longer without a break. The first building he reached was enormous, and he knew that he stood no chance of clearing all of it on his own. But provided Hope was quiet, he could barricade them in one room on the ground floor for long enough to get some rest.

  He approached the rear of the building and was thankful to find that the river ran parallel with the car park. Sitting his crossbow and his sleepy daughter on the tarmac, he sought his canteen in the rucksack before snipping the chain link fencing separating the building, which he discovered to be a school, from the riverbank.

  Hope sleepily followed her father to the water’s edge, gripping the bottom of his shirt tightly while he filled the canteen and screwed the lid on firmly.

  “Daddy, go home now?” she said quietly.

  Travis turned to face his daughter and knelt down in front of her.

  “Sweetheart, we’re gonna find a new home,” he rumbled.

  “With Uncle Riley?”

  “No, Hope,” Travis said sadly, “Uncle Riley won’t be there.”

  “I want Mama.”

  Travis opened his mouth to speak, but he realised that his brain wasn’t providing a response. His attention was quickly stolen from Hope by movement from the road. He scooped the little girl into his arms, fearful that the group of men he’d killed had more people than he’d seen.

  The inside of the building was dark, and Travis stood in the entrance for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. It was so quiet that the sound of Hope’s breathing seemed amplified, and, despite closing the door, Travis could clearly make out the chirping of birds in the trees across the river.

  Moving forward, each step was carefully considered and tentatively placed, but still the noise of Travis’ boots on the tiled floor seemed to boom in his ears.

  It seemed like a lifetime before he reached a turning in the hallway. Rounding the corner, Travis was faced with several Roamers huddled only a few metres away. Between him and them was a staircase. He considered going back, but he was painfully aware that both he and Hope needed decent rest, so he took his chance and began gently ascending the stairs, clinging tightly to his daughter’s exhausted little body. Travis held his breath, internally praying that she didn’t speak or shift in his arms in case the monsters heard them.

  The first floor appeared identical to the ground floor, and Travis continued to sneak down the dim, sinister hallway until he reached an open door. He was quickly hit with the scent of chalk and charcoal, oils, glue and paint. The room he was walking into was formerly an art classroom.

  The same off-white tiles from the corridor covered the floor, but these tiles were sprinkled with evidence that there used to be life in the building. Displays still clung to the walls; once bright and proudly placed with drawing pins by the teacher, the masterpieces had become fusty and crinkled. In the centre of the room, the desks stood taller than normal school desks, and they were arranged in a ‘U’ shape, at the opening of which stood the art teacher’s desk. The desks were spattered with dried on paint, with the exception of a few clean patches where the paper had once been, creating perfect rectangular areas of the surface’s original colour.

  Travis guided Hope into the room and close
d the door softly, pleasantly surprised to find that the door was lockable. He secured it and made his way to the back of the room to settle with his daughter in the corner.

  “Okay, Hope,” he whispered, kneeling down in front of her, “we can get some rest here for a while, but we have to be as quiet as mice.”

  “I saw the monsters, Daddy.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But they won’t bother us if they can’t hear us, alright?” Hope nodded and smiled innocently at her father.

  Travis slid down the wall to the floor, his back and knees overcome by a sharper ache with every inch. He felt like an old man.

  He unlaced and toed off his boots to reveal grubby, sweat soaked socks; sighing heavily with the liberation of his throbbing feet and reluctantly removing his pungent socks to reveal the damage. His toes were dirty and blistered, and a couple of them were bleeding with the strain of extra weight he’d been carrying. He began rubbing them, unable to determine whether it was helping or making the pain worse, when his gaze drifted to his daughter. Her nose wrinkled with disgust at the powerful stench her father had unleashed with the removal of his footwear.

  Too afraid to speak in case she alerted the Roamers, Hope remained silent, but her involuntary expression depicted the revulsion she felt. Travis pulled his rucksack closer and delved his arm inside to grab his only fresh pair of socks.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, silently amused. “Just hold your nose for a sec.”

  Blocking the smell as best he could with his clean socks, Travis picked up the old ones and stood, willing his stiff feet to come back to life. He made his way to the large window. It took some force to slide it up, and as it moved, flakes of old white paint from the wooden frame floated to the ground. Travis balled up his old socks and tossed them to the ground before carefully lowering the window again.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “A little,” Hope whispered, “but your shoes smell bad.”

  “I know. But I can’t throw them out too.”

  Travis picked up his tatty boots and placed them by the door, the furthest point in the room from his daughter. Realising that she was finally placated, Travis settled down in his corner again, and Hope sat across his lap and cuddled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her before leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.