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

by Viper, Velveteen

  Scarlett

  Too hungry and impatient to find somewhere to set up the tent, Scarlett, Riley and Quinlan had settled at the side of the road. Riley was cooking the bird while Scarlett retrieved a large yellow blanket from the boot of the car. She and Quinlan settled next to the fire and each took an end, wrapping it around their shoulders.

  “Okay,” Riley said, cutting bits of meat from the pheasant, “Crispy pheasant for everyone, lovingly prepared by the most resourceful chef out here.” Realising that what he’d said could have offended Scarlett, Riley’s smile quickly faded, and he looked at her sheepishly, “Sorry, Scar. I didn’t think.”

  “What?”

  “Travis. This is how he cooked, right?”

  “Riley,” Scarlett said, tilting her head, “it’s okay. He didn’t die.”

  “I know, I just thought it was a little insensitive, given the circumstances.”

  “What I’m saying is, you don’t have to tiptoe around me. They’re just one step ahead of us. We’re going to find them. So, make jokes. Talk about Travis and Hope. I know for a fact that he’s still cooking like that, and Hope’ll be turning her nose up at his charred offerings of rabbit or squirrel, just like I always do.”

  “I’ll bet I could do a better job of burning food than you and Travis, hands down,” Quinlan teased.

  “Hey,” Scarlett smiled, “I’m cooking next time. Someone else can hunt dinner.”

  “We couldn’t do that, Scar.” Riley announced, returning a grin, “You learned from the best.”

  * * *

  They shared the pheasant by the side of the road and quickly realised just how small the bird was. It barely satisfied the appetites of Riley and Quinlan, and they sat quietly, staring into the fire, pretending they weren’t still hungry.

  Riley looked in Scarlett’s direction. He could see by the look on her face that her optimism had been short-lived. Either that, he thought, or she was trying to convince herself. Catching Quinlan’s eye, Riley nodded to the car, subtly suggesting that he get some sleep. It took a few seconds for him to get the hint, and he stretched, taking a deep breath.

  “Right, I’m gonna turn in,” he said, standing. He thoughtfully wrapped his half of the blanket around Scarlett. As he bent down, she kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank you for being here, Quin,” she whispered.

  “Hey, don’t get soppy. It’s my pleasure. Besides, I’m about to get the comfiest sleeping space in the car.”

  Scarlett made an attempt at laughter, merely blowing air out of her nose with a faint smile, and Quinlan dutifully made his way to the car. When the door closed, Scarlett stayed silent, waiting expectantly for the reason Riley shooed their companion away.

  “You alright?” he asked. Scarlett simply looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I mean, I know you’re not, but… Quinlan might have simply come along for the ride, but you know I wouldn’t be here if I thought they were gone for good, right? You know I’d have talked you into staying.”

  “You’d have tried,” Scarlett countered. “But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. I’m okay. I just feel so empty without them, you know? It’s an odd feeling. It’s like a cavity that I never even realised they were filling in the first place. I’d be sleeping right now, safe in the knowledge that Hope was under her blanket in the Wendy house with a full belly. I miss that feeling. And I miss that little office in the warehouse, and the little private corner with its cold floor where Travis and I slept; where I could fall asleep in his arms while he complained about my hair tickling his face. Now I just have this unrelenting sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the constant threat of impending doom. I’ve got this fear of not knowing whether my daughter is alive, or if she’s alone. And questions; why did he leave? Why would he take our little girl out here, and how can he possibly keep her safe on his own?”

  She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands over her face with frustration.

  “Listen, I can’t begin to imagine how you feel right now, but put yourself in Travis’ place. He thinks you’re dead. He’s not thinking straight. He was probably so desperate to get away from everything that reminds him of you that the realities of taking care of a four-year-old on his own didn’t even cross his mind. People do weird things when they lose something precious. Particularly the first time it happens.”

  “But what if he can’t do it alone?”

  “Scarlett, you know as well as I do that Travis would die for that little girl,” Riley said, attempting to comfort her.

  “That’s what I’m worried about, Riley,” she admitted. “If Travis dies, so does she.”

  Riley tried to think of a comforting response. Scarlett saw him struggling. She gave him a weak smile.

  “I’m sorry, Scar.”

  “I’m fine. Get some rest, I’ll be right there.”

  Riley hesitantly got to his feet and began adjusting the passenger seat.

  Scarlett shifted to reach into her back pocket. She retrieved her pouch of codeine and swallowed two of the pills, deciding that once her aches from the day subsided, she would climb into the car with them.

  Chapter Three

  Travis

  Travis’ eyes flickered open grudgingly when he heard his daughter moving around the tent. Lifting his head, he could see that she was still inside her sleeping bag, shuffling toward the entrance. He leant on his elbows and watched her fiddle with the zips, gratefully remembering that he’d padlocked them together for that very reason.

  “Hope,” he said gently.

  Her head flicked around and she looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. Travis simply raised his eyebrows at her. She let go of the zips and shuffled toward him.

  “Breakfast?” she requested sweetly.

  “Yeah, I know,” Travis yawned.

  The shadowy patterns on the roof of the tent told Travis that it had been raining. Sitting up to dig through his bag, he assembled the stove, mess tins and bottled water and carefully set it up on the groundsheet. While he waited for the water to boil, he began trying to decipher the contents of the ration packs, wondering if any would be suitable for a four-year-old to eat for breakfast. Probably not, he thought, but Hope had little choice until her father found a way to hunt effectively with her tagging along.

  Hope ate silently while Travis consulted the map. He estimated that they’d need enough fuel for three days to reach the spot he’d ear-marked. Ten miles a day. That’s all he had to do. Allowing for Hope’s numerous toilet breaks and the blocked highways, he studied the route for the most rural path. That way, he thought, he could set up camp along the way.

  Hope finished her porridge, but Travis could only manage half of his powdered shepherd’s pie. He kept a watchful eye on his daughter while packing away the tent which, as suspected, wouldn’t fold as neatly as he’d found it. Giving up, Travis stuffed the messy shelter in the boot, along with the sleeping bags and Hope’s folded bed.

  The front of Travis’ shirt was damp from bundling the wet tent up and it was cold on his chest. For now, there was nothing he could do about it, and he eased his frustration by taking a deep breath through his nose, greatly enjoying the petrichor.

  The smell of peace, new life, and wonder; dense, earthly and sweet, filled his nostrils, and a sense of cleanliness embraced the atmosphere. The earth was soft underfoot and every step Travis took caused a temporary puddle. The forest was glowing under the sun’s morning warmth, but there was a definite chill in the air whenever the breeze swept gently through the trees.

  Hope got comfortable in the passenger seat this time, and Travis carefully fastened her seatbelt. She looked so tiny, and Travis’ insides clenched with fear as he slowly started to realise the danger he was putting her in. He considered going back to the warehouse, but that would mean facing up to the fact that Scarlett really was gone, and worse than that, he would have to tell everyone, including Hope.

  Ten miles a day, he told himself. He would travel the thirty or so miles and go back if he fo
und nothing.

  Scarlett

  Forcing her eyes open against the sting of sunlight, Scarlett realised that Quinlan was driving. Her head was resting on the passenger window, cushioned by Travis’ leather jacket. That explained her positive dream. Trying to lift the weight of her own head was challenging after such a long sleep. Scarlett’s neck ached with stiffness and her cheek was wet with drool.

  “Good morning,” Quinlan smiled. “Thought you’d slipped into a coma.”

  “How long was I--”

  “Fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes… ish. We weren’t really counting. Had to check for a pulse a few times.”

  “Fourteen hours?” she repeated. “Why didn’t you wake me? We might have missed something.”

  “It’s alright, Scar,” Riley said. “We already found a couple of places. Quin and I took it in turns, but we’ve had no luck yet. We stopped for a while to rest too. Here,” he handed her a pristine map, “I’ve marked down where we’ve been already, but you said you wanted to check for places you think Travis would go. You must be hungry.”

  Scarlett ignored his last comment and frantically unfolded the map, scanning it as though it was the first time she’d ever seen one. Her eyes were still glazed with sleep, so she rubbed them with one hand, willing her body to catch up with her brain.

  Her gaze landed on the outline of a large building set among a modest number of residencies. Whatever it was had good access to a river, which flowed directly behind the structure.

  Lifting the map, Scarlett held an index finger on the building to show Riley.

  “There,” she ordered. “That’s where we’re going next.”

  He studied the location carefully, working out how long it would take.

  “It’s not far, but we’ll need to refuel before then. The car and ourselves.”

  “Bad news, guys,” Quinlan piped up, “we seem to have overlooked the need for food.”

  “Okay,” Riley said with a heavy sigh, “let’s refuel the car while we’re clear of Roamers. There’s bound to be somewhere near where we’re going with something to eat.”

  Scarlett could sense Riley’s annoyance and felt guilty. Her hunger was dampened by worry and her desperation to find her family; she had neglected to think of her friends’ stomachs.

  “Is there any woodland nearby?” she asked.

  “We haven’t passed any for a while now,” Quinlan said. “But there’re some fields up ahead.”

  “Okay, pull over up there.”

  Quinlan followed Scarlett’s instruction and stopped the car next to a fenced field. Scarlett took a long look at the, seemingly never ending, over-grown grass. As tall as it stood, it was yellowing and dying.

  After slipping into Travis’ jacket and purloining Riley’s scoped rifle, she opened the door and stepped out.

  “What are we doing here, Scarlett?” Riley probed.

  “I’ll be right back. Keep the engine running.”

  With that, Scarlett closed the door and began climbing the wooden fence.

  Scarlett dropped to the ground with an exasperated grunt. She still felt permanently winded and her gunshot wound was incredibly tender.

  She began wading through the reams of grass with Riley’s rifle held across her chest. The ground underfoot was unsteady, but Scarlett tried to keep up her pace.

  Reaching the other side of the grassland, she began striding through a thick line of cattail which towered over her, at least eight or nine feet tall. Pushing it back with her arms and trampling it to the ground as she walked proved an effective way of inciting anxiety in whichever animals lay among it. She could hear the barking of pheasants and knew she had made the right call in stopping there.

  Continuing to traipse through it, Scarlett kicked her feet a little as she went, quickly frightening a group of roosters. She was ready. Pointing the muzzle of Riley’s rifle to the sky, with her eyes focused in on the scope, Scarlett kicked the brush again and the birds took to the air.

  She had to fire a few shots, but finally, one of the panicked birds dropped sharply to the ground, landing with a soft thud. Scarlett tried to track it with her eyes while gravity did its work, and she ran in a straight line back through the grass to proudly collect her kill.

  Studying the ground as best she could, she found it and took hold of its limp carcass. She held it up, smiled broadly and began walking back to the car.

  Her detour to retrieve the pheasant had left her with a slightly longer walk back to the vehicle. She found the path she’d made, and the car was visible on the other side of the fence. Riley was impatiently scanning the field for her.

  To ease his anxiety, she slung the rifle over her shoulder by its strap and began waving her arms in the air. The limp bird in her hand wobbled around as she walked, stirring a smirk from Riley. But his smile quickly faded when his gaze drifted past her.

  Scarlett could hear the rustling of grass as speedy footsteps grew closer behind her. She knew she wasn’t dealing with a shambling, blind corpse, so she didn’t turn around to look; she didn’t try to wrestle with the rifle. Too late, she started to run, and the Roamer grabbed at her; its slimy hand ricocheting off when she rolled her shoulder back. The monster was her match for speed, with the advantage of not concerning itself with the rough terrain.

  Her fear was realised quickly. She stumbled helplessly on a small mound of dirt below the grass and fell. She’d twisted her ankle and dropped the rooster a few feet in front. She cried out in pain, but quickly turned around, falling to her backside. The bloated, veiny abomination dropped to its knees, and Scarlett lifted her foot, pressing it to the creature’s chest.

  Riley watched on helplessly while she lay on the ground. He’d drawn his pistol but, holding it out in front of him, he couldn’t pull the trigger without potentially hitting Scarlett.

  The cadaver continued to flail its arms, desperately craving her flesh, attempting to claw at her legs. Scarlett succeeded in sliding the rifle strap down her arm and took hold of the weapon in both hands. She laid herself flat on her back to muster the energy she needed, and held the rifle firmly above her head, before quickly sitting up, crying out with the effort and searing pain in her ribs and back. She aimed the butt of the gun at the Roamer’s head, it connected with a metallic klunk and the Biter fell backwards. Scrambling to her feet, Scarlett spun the rifle around and swiftly pressed the muzzle against the dented cranium of the still moving creature and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

  Once it was over, Scarlett picked up the dead bird which had landed a few feet away when she fell and hobbled the rest of the way back to the car.

  Riley was waiting for her, catching his breath after witnessing everything without being able to help. He holstered his weapon as Scarlett approached, proudly exhibiting her kill.

  “Scarlett, please don’t ever do that again!”

  “You said you were hungry,” she smirked.

  “Yeah, but--”

  “I need you not to judge any of my awful choices for a while. I’m experiencing some trauma and you need to accept that my judgement is only going to get worse.”

  “That’s fair,” Quinlan shrugged.

  “Let’s find somewhere to cook this baby, shall we? All that running has given me an appetite.”

  Scarlett sat back in the passenger seat and opened the window. Riley followed suit, still in disbelief regarding her blasé attitude to the episode.

  When Quinlan pulled away, Scarlett went about plucking the pheasant’s feathers, dumping them out of the car window.

  “Nice work, Scarlett,” Quinlan grinned. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “Huh. You really haven’t known us long, have you, Quin?” Taking a break from removing the animal’s plumage, Scarlett took a swig from the canteen in the foot well. “We wouldn’t have survived for so long without fresh meat. We had to go for a few weeks living off out of date pasta and rice… until Travis came along. He was a hunter before the shit hit the fan, and he’s
damn good at it.” She turned in her seat to look at Riley, “You must be really grateful for forcing us to go on supply runs together now.”

  Riley nodded with a pretend smile. He appreciated that talking about Travis was lifting her, but he was growing more and more concerned about her apparent disregard for her own safety.

  “So, he taught you?” Quinlan examined.

  “He tried to,” she scoffed. “He really tried. As much as I’d like to pretend that I’m some badass huntress, this is my first animal casualty.”

  Quinlan took a brief look at her face and saw her eyes glowing with love as she talked about Travis. He smiled at her sympathetically and touched her shoulder when a tear fell from each eye.

  Travis

  Stepping out of the car, Travis let out a heavy sigh. He’d hoped to bypass a few miles by taking the highway, relying on at least one half being clear so that he could join up again with the country roads a few miles down. What stood before him though was an array of dust covered vehicles on both sides. He walked around to the front of his car and climbed onto the bonnet for a better look. Travis worked out that he could probably scrape through, provided he took it slowly.

  He sat back behind the wheel and glanced at Hope. She smiled at him and he did his best to return it.

  “Daddy has to try to get through those cars,” he began. “It might be loud, but nothin’s gonna hurt you, alright?”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she answered confidently.

  Travis gently pushed down on the accelerator and started snaking his way through the collection of dirty, battered vehicles.

  It wasn’t long before he started to grow suspicious. The cars, with their smashed windows and dented doors, weren’t all facing the same way. He continued to drive, grinding the right side along a stationary estate car. Hope covered her ears against the metallic creaking and Travis noticed her whole body tense up with anxiety. Taking his eyes off the road briefly, he reached out and placed a hand on the back of her head.