He fingers the hilt of his machete. There may be two of them, and they both might have knives, but he has the machete and a bow. He has the upper hand now, they both think he’s oblivious to Austin’s existence.
Chris is tired of living day-to-day, wondering when Remy’s going to go off on him again. Tired of lying awake at night wondering if she’s going to put a knife to his throat. And now that he knows she’s both armed and has an ally, it’s time to bring this situation to its head. The river will cut off Homestead soon, leaving him without a place to live and in search of a new home. He’ll be damned if he spends that time looking over his shoulder.
He turns and fishes a charred piece of wood from the fireplace.
He rises, eyes taking in each wall of the room, looking for one that is relatively stain-free. He glances up at the ceiling and smiles.
This ends now, Dad.
The silence is thick, but even in his silence, Chris’s dad has one more surprise for him.
* * *
Chris doesn’t want to return to Homestead too soon. There’s no way he can handle the both of them at the same time—not with Remy’s knives and Austin’s size, the man probably has fifty pounds on Chris. No, better to take them out one at a time.
He smiles, knowing that Austin will be back before sunset.
Chris covers the route up the trail, not finding anything in any of the traps or snares. Which is just as well. He wouldn’t be able to skin, clean, or cook them tonight anyway.
He walks the path, stepping lightly. He’s never felt this way before; exhilaration and excitement, mixed with a sprinkling of fear, courses through him. The machete handle feels so comfortable in his hand, as if the grip is tailor-made for his hand and his hand alone.
Yes, there’s a change coming.
Chapter Fifteen
Austin left Remy in a rage, not even sticking around to get his rocks off with her overused vagina. He only tolerated her because he had to. She was all he had. But today had been different. Well, not really different—the dreams were still the same. The memories, the flight from Carson’s Crossing and the mob of corpses chasing them.
Then Mary.
Mary…
Mary and Remy, standing on the cracked and overgrown road. Remy, knife in hand—the three of them surrounded. He keeps telling himself that she did the right thing. That sacrificing Mary to the mob was the only way to guarantee their escape. Remy kneels on the ground, knife hidden in her hand as Mary turns in frantic circles searching for a way through the mob.
He tells himself Remy did the right thing.
She did.
She saved the both of them.
Her knife flashes outward, separating the tendons above Mary’s right heel. A torrent of blood splashes onto the pavement and the walking corpses seem to gain inspiration and press forward toward Mary. Austin is amazed. They slide by him and Remy as if they don’t exist—completely intent on the smell of fresh blood.
Then come the screams—the shrieking that fills his mind and steals his sleep night after night.
But we got away…
He tells himself that repeatedly.
He tells himself that, but it doesn’t quench the image of Mary writhing on the pavement, reaching for him as corpses swarm over her and tear her apart with their hands and teeth.
Remy runs and Austin follows close behind as the sounds of Mary’s torment follow.
They make it to the tree and spend the next few days searching for shelter and food. They exhaust the few canned vegetables they brought with them and panic begins to settle in. Neither of them knows the first thing about surviving in the wild. All they have are a few throwing knives, a coil of rope, and several boxes of matches.
They stumble on Chris’s traps a day or so later. They watch him, stealing the animals when the opportunity arises. Austin isn’t sure he’s skinning them correctly, but at least he and Remy are able to eat. They make camp as far from Chris’s trail as possible, lest the smell of the cook fire attracts the young man’s attention.
Remy devises a plan. She’ll go to Chris and hopefully, he’ll take her in—that way she can learn what they need to know to survive in the wild.
“What about me?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “He’s young and half your size… he’ll never trust you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Believe me,” she says. “This will work.”
“But what about me?” he repeats. “How will I eat?”
She’s silent for a spell, thinking the questions over. “Okay, you stay off the trail. Apparently, he makes the circuit every day to check the traps. When he leaves, I’ll meet you and give you whatever food I can spare.”
He continues to bicker and argue with her, but finally she gets her way.
“So, what are you going to do? Just walk down the trail and into his camp?”
“Why not?”
“It’s never going to work.”
“Have a little faith in me, would ya?”
He walks away, shaking his head.
They are never able to put the plan in action, though. On their way to the trail, they encounter another mob of corpses. In a flash, Remy turns on him, knife in hand, ready to stab him and draw blood so she can escape. Austin is ready. He ducks her swinging arm and stumbles away from her.
Remy turns and runs, leaving him on the ground as the sound of shuffling feet grows louder.
Austin scrambles to his feet and runs after her, but she is quick. Her pink dress flashes through the forest like a beacon, but for every step he takes, she draws two more steps away. Something to the right catches his eye and he risks a glance. There are more dead coming from that direction too.
Remy continues on, heading east towards the trail. In a few more minutes, she’ll be so far ahead of him that he might as well be alone. He turns to the north and within a few paces, he realizes that his body is beginning to peter out. Running full out through the woods is entirely different from doing it on open, flat terrain. His lungs burn with each breath and his calves have a fire to match the one in his chest.
He has to find a hiding place and he needs to find it now.
He stumbles and falls to the ground. He’s put some distance between himself and the corpses, but their groaning voices and shuffling feet grow louder by the second. He pushes himself up, forcing himself to move. Up ahead is a creek. It’s narrow but deep—but is it deep enough?
He’s about to find out. He reaches within himself and taps into the last of his reserve energy. He sprints toward the creek and as he approaches the edge, he takes a bounding leap into the air.
Suddenly, the moaning of the dead increases ten-fold—as if they are right on top of him. They are not on top of him, however, they are directly below him. The creek is full of corpses. Their reaching arms lift toward him as he flies over the creek.
This is it, he thinks, realizing too late that the creek was too wide—that he’s not going to make it to the other side. He’s going to fall right on top of them, right into their hungry, blackened teeth and yellowed, grasping fingernails.
Despite his fears, he makes the jump across with room to spare. His feet connect with solid ground and he tucks and rolls, distributing the force of his landing across his back instead of in his legs. The last thing he needs now is a busted ankle.
He scrambles to his feet and faces the way he’s just come. Dozens upon dozens of corpses emerge from the forest and shuffle toward the creek. Before he can turn and run, there’s a high-pitched scream from somewhere off to his left. As if controlled by a single mind, the mob of corpses turns toward the sound and begins marching away from Austin.
Remy. That was Remy’s scream. Did they get her? He spits on the ground and whispers, “Serves you right, you cunt.”
* * *
He knows where the boy’s traps and snares are located, so he searches north of the trail for shelter. There has to be something around—a camp house or cabin left from befo
re. He finds the house by the creek a few days later and is so thankful there’s a mattress and a stack of old, mildewed blankets. He washes them as best as he can in the creek.
From then on, it’s a matter of sitting around and waiting for Remy. Austin leaves at sunup each morning and watches the trail from a hiding place. When Chris leaves to make his rounds, Austin heads to the fence where Remy waits for him with food. They talk a while and on occasion, she lets him lie with her.
Then he makes the walk home where all he can do through the winter is think and try to stay warm. Remy gives him a tin can full of coals so he can start his own fire, so keeping warm isn’t that difficult, but even with the fire, the chill of winter penetrates through the layers of blankets and clothes as if they aren’t there.
The penetrating cold is nearly unbearable—however, the memories, the thinking, and the dreams are much worse… especially the dreams. Every morning he awakens, sweating as if he’d spent the entire night running. In his dreams, it’s not Mary getting her leg cut by Remy—it’s himself. He lies there in Mary’s place, screaming for help but watching in horror as the two women run away. As the mob of corpses descends on him, his screams fade with the dream as a cloud of gray haze replaces the view of his body being eaten and torn to shreds on the hot pavement.
Then come the woods where Remy left him. He runs to catch up with her, but her pink dress pulls away and leaves him behind. He turns north and there’s the creek. He jumps, tries to fly over the reaching bodies trapped in the mud and sludge. In this reality, the reality created within his dreams, he doesn’t make the leap across. Instead, he falls just short of the creek’s far edge. His legs strike the dirt at an odd angle and the bones in both legs shatter like glass. Shards of pain radiate through his legs.
He looks back over his shoulder. Gray hands wrap around his rubbery ankles and he begins to slide over the lip of the creek. Teeth sink into his flesh and his body slides over, disappearing from view as a shroud of pain wraps him like a gift to present to Death.
Austin wakes screaming.
It’s all Remy’s fault. She’s to blame for this… she needs to die!
The thought plagues his mind as the sun rises in the east, washing new warmth over the forest. He places new logs on the dimming coals, then turns to rest his back against the brick hearth. As light filters into the room, his eyes fall to his hands. Remy took all the knives, leaving him with no weapons, but he forgot about his hands. They are big and strong hands—the hands of a potential killer. He daydreams of wrapping them around Remy’s throat and squeezing…
Squeezing…
Squeezing the life from her as he watches the light in her eyes extinguish, succumbing to the death he knows she deserves.
He leaps from his spot on the floor and barges out the door.
* * *
Remy practices with her throwing knives. Austin watches for a few minutes as she hefts them to her shoulder and then lets them fly—the blades sinking into the chests of the corpses on the fence. He takes a step toward her. A twig snaps under the weight of his boot.
Remy spins around, knife ready to fly—but she notices Austin and lets her arm fall to her side.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” she hisses. He hates it when she calls him that. On the walk over, his rage dissipated, but now her words bring it all flooding back. She closes the distance and punches him in the chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” Her bony knuckles strike his breastbone and before he realizes what he’s doing, his hands dart out and wrap around her thin neck.
The knife falls from her hands as she grabs onto his wrist. She clawing at his wrists and gasps words that he cannot make out. He leans in close and screams, “Don’t ever hit me again.” Spittle flies from his mouth and lands on her face—reminding him of when she does that dirty thing with her mouth and the white goo that squirts from his penis.
He hates her. Even now, as he tries to squeeze the life out of her, the lumps of spittle on her face are a stark reminder of all the times she brought him pleasure. Does he really want to end all that?
The rage flushes his face and he can feel the heat within. Before him, Remy’s skin begins to turn white, then blue. She tries to speak but he presses harder. Her eyes begin to roll back into her head.
Mary.
Austin’s breath hitches in his throat and his grip loosens considerably.
Mary.
Mary—so kind, so motherly. The sudden through of her, hobbled by Remy’s knife, makes him take stock on what he’s doing. If he kills Remy, would Mary forgive him if she were still alive?
No, Mary would reprimand him—just like a mother would do.
Thoughts completely on Mary, Austin loosens his grip and watches as Remy falls to the ground. She clutches her throat and gasps for breath. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Get up,” he says, voice suddenly full of emotion. He kneels before her, holds his fist in front of her face. He flexes his fingers out, then closes them again. “I should just be done with you…” He remembers her fleeing pink dress in the woods. With a hurt sadness, he says, “You left me…”
Her voice croaks, “I thought we were putting that behind us… starting fresh.”
Austin shakes his head. “I dream about it. I relive it every time I see one of those fucking corpses.” He leans forward, putting his face right in front of hers. “I see it all over again when I look at you.”
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? I panicked… all I could do was run.”
Austin straightens and shakes his head. He’ll never believe another word from her. For his own safety, he must always be wary of this woman—something he realizes he should have done from the beginning. “I’ll never be able to fully trust you, Remy. Never. Remember that.”
“I’ve got it.”
He helps her up, and the sudden rumbling in his belly reminds him that he’s starving. Remy tells him about the deer Chris killed and she leads him to the fence. He follows her through, wincing at the sound of the armless, legless corpses impaled on the wooden pikes as they try in vain to stretch their necks and sink their teeth into him. He turns to follow Remy to the hut, but something catches his attention. Something is tickling his feet.
He looks down, expecting to see ants or something crawling into his boots, but there’s nothing there. It’s coming from the ground. He kneels and places his huge hand flat against the ground. His head cocks to the side, as if listening. Then he stands and takes a few steps toward the southern cliff.
He hears a soft footfall behind him, followed by Remy’s raspy voice. He obviously hurt her throat enough to change the sound of her voice because when she speaks, the words come out raspy and chopped—much like the sound of an old record player back when he was young.
“Are you coming?” she asks, standing on the path, watching Austin with her hands on her hips. He hesitates. His eyes play over the ground and follow an invisible line to the southern cliff and the river beyond. He can still feel the tingling in his feet and wants to figure it out, but his stomach takes a violent flip and growls with hunger. He turns toward Remy and follows her to the hut.
He follows her inside and she immediately begins to strip her dress off.
“No.” His voice is low, commanding and abrupt.
She stops with the dress halfway over her head—her sagging breasts hanging low, the unruly thatch of hair between her legs beckoning him. He feels a stirring in his groin.
“No!” he says again, more to his swelling penis that to her this time, but she doesn’t know this. She recoils as if slapped. The dress falls back into place and in the dimness, he can see her eyes are full of blazing rage. They narrow to slits and her lips sneer at him.
“What’s your problem, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?”
“Don’t call me that.”
She jeers at him, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”
He takes a step toward her but stops. Her right hand is behind her back and he’s certai
n she has a knife poised, ready to strike out at him if he tries to harm her again.
He looks away, defeated by her taunts. She takes a step toward him and forces him to meet her eyes. “For such a big, giant man… you sure are a pussy.”
“Please,” he says. “I just need some food.”
She continues to bore holes into him with her eyes. He turns away again.
“Here,” she shouts, grabbing a small plastic bag with deer jerky. She chunks it at him and it strikes him on the shoulder, where it bounces off harmlessly to the dirt floor.
He grabs the bag and retreats from the hut.
Behind him, Remy croaks, “Stupid pussy!”
* * *
If Austin had headed straight back to his home, he could have stumbled upon an intruder. Instead, he walks along the edge of the river, heading north to try to clear his head. He has two routes to and from his makeshift home, and this is one of them. He follows the river north and then skirts the creek from the river back to the clearing.
As he walks, he digs into the plastic and takes out a thick strip of dried meat. He expects it to be hard and dry, but is pleasantly surprised when his teeth sink into it and flavor explodes into his mouth. He devours the strip of jerky and fumbles for another one. He was so weak earlier, but the salty meat gives him a boost of energy—something that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Rabbit and squirrel just don’t have the protein to sustain a body for any length of time. It keeps the body from starving, but it does nothing to help build fat—something a person needs during the cold winter.
Before Austin realizes it, morning has given way to afternoon, and now half of that is gone. It’s time to go home. It’s time to lay down and dream—and maybe his dreams will more pleasing than of late.
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