When We Were Human

by Kate L. Mary

  His body jerks and he bolts upright, slamming the leg rest down hard enough that the whole room practically shakes. His blue eyes are wide when he looks around, and the second they land on me, he’s on his feet. Stumbling across the room.

  “Eva? What is it? Are you okay?”

  A laugh tries to force its way out of me, but I hold it in. My throat aches too much for that. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need some water.”

  Walker lets out a deep breath, then his eyes narrow on my face. “How do you feel?” He puts his hand on my forehead, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re cooler.”

  “I don’t hurt as much,” I say.

  “Good.” Walker lets out another deep breath, then puts his hands on his lower back and twists. I cringe when his back pops. “I was really worried there for a while. Tara said that flower would help, but I didn’t know for sure.”

  “How did she know?” I whisper.

  “A book. She found it not too long after the camp was liberated. It has all kinds of natural remedies and shit. It’s helped a couple times when I’ve gotten burned or we were dying from mosquito bites.”

  I try to swallow, but my throat is too raw. “Water, Walker,” I manage to whisper.

  “Water!” he says, shaking his head. “Right. I’ll get you some. What about some broth?”

  “Broth?” I had almost convinced myself that was a dream, but maybe Walker really did feed me.

  “Yeah. I killed a squirrel and Tara made some soup with the meat. It doesn’t taste like much, but we were hoping it would help keep your strength up.”

  His blue eyes meet mine, and I find myself smiling. “You fed me.”

  Walker returns the smile and for a few seconds we stay like that, holding each other’s gaze. Despite my dry throat and the painful way my muscles ache when I move, something in me flutters slightly.

  “I did,” he finally says. Then he blinks and looks away, and the spell is broken. He turns and heads toward the kitchen. “Let me get you some water.”

  I force my body up into a sitting position, groaning at the effort. Despite feeling better, my body still aches like I was tied to the back of a car and dragged through town. Once I’m upright and I’m sure I’m not going to fall over, I look down at the offending cut for the first time. It’s still red, but the skin around the scab isn’t nearly as bright or shiny as before, and when I run my finger over it, the sting is mild. The cut is tiny. Only an inch and a half long. It’s hard to believe something so small could almost take me out the way it did. If it hadn’t been for Tara, who knows what would have happened to me.

  Walker comes out of the kitchen carrying a glass of water—an actual glass!—and a big ceramic mug. He smiles when he holds the glass out to me, and I return it. Suddenly, I’m feeling even more grateful than ever that I met these two people when I did. Without them, I would never have found out Lilly had survived the camp, and I most likely would be at death’s door right now.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking the water from him.

  He sits next to me while I sip it, quietly watching me with the ceramic mug in his hand. His eyes follow my every move, making the hair on my scalp prickle. Still, it isn’t an unwelcome feeling. It’s been a long time since I felt like the presence of another human being was a welcome thing. But it is.

  We’re still sitting in silence when Tara stumbles out of the bedroom. She’s groggy from sleep, but the second she sees me sitting on the couch, her brown eyes light up.

  “You’re okay!” she says, the relief in her voice thick enough that I could probably reach out and grab it.

  “Thanks to you.”

  Tara smiles as she crosses the room to me, resting her hand on my forehead just like Walker did. When she feels how cool I am, she lets out a relieved sigh.

  Walker reaches up and grabs her hand, giving it a squeeze that makes my heart constrict with jealousy. They stare at each other, silently communicating things that I’ll never be able to understand and will probably never get to feel. When they look at each other like that, it makes me feel like an outcast.

  “What now?” Walker says after almost a whole minute of silence.

  “Eva rests.” Tara lets go of his hand and rubs her eyes like she’s still trying to wake up. “At least another day. Then we can leave.”

  Walker nods, and I copy him. It’s impossible to express how grateful I am to be alive. I can’t even be angry at the fact that I’m losing two days of travel time.

  13

  We spend the next day laying around just like Tara said. Talking, even laughing a little. Getting to know each other better. Each moment that passes helps me see the ironclad bond between Tara and Walker even more.

  It would be a relaxing time if I wasn’t anxious about Lilly, but what’s worse, my body is itching with the need to make more notches. Thanks to the compress Tara made, the infected cut is healing, as well as the two underneath it. Still, my knife calls to me.

  I wake early on our third morning in the house. The sun is still not totally up, and the faint light glowing in through the windows is golden yellow. Tara and Walker are curled up together on the couch, and the soft rattling of Walker’s breathing tells me he’ll be out for a while still.

  If I’m going to cut, now is the time. I’ve missed three notches, including today, and by this point my body is wound tight enough that I feel like I’m ready to burst. We’ll be heading out as soon as the others wake, and once we’re on the road, I’ll have no privacy. Walker will be angry enough when he finds out I did it. I don’t want him to have to see me make the notches with his own eyes.

  I grab my pack and sneak out into the backyard. The humid air makes it feel like it’s the middle of the day, not dawn, but it’s a feeling I’m used to. I grew up in Georgia, and the hot summers are just part of life. Not to mention the fact that it’s been years since we had the luxury of something like air conditioning to keep us cool.

  I move to the right, over toward a couple rose bushes where I’ll be partially hidden in case the others wake up and come looking for me. Once there, I drop my pack to the ground and dig through it until I find my knife. Just seeing it makes the tension in my body lessen a little, but that’s nothing compared to how I feel the moment the blade sinks into my soft flesh. The pain that shoots through me when I slide the blade across my arm is more soothing than it should be. Blood pools, but I don’t pause long enough to watch it drip down my arm. I make a second cut, sucking in a mouthful of air at the sting of the knife, blowing it out as I move the sharp point down to make my third and final cut of the day.

  By the time I’m done, my arm is throbbing. Deep red blood streaks down my wrist, meeting at the underside of my arm before pooling together and dropping to the ground. I watch for a second, standing in the warm rays of the morning sun as the crimson drops fall to the ground, painting the green grass red.

  At last I feel relaxed and ready to start the day.

  I go back inside to find Tara and Walker still asleep. Unlike all the other mornings I’ve cut myself, today I take the time to clean the wounds, using some of the calendula water Tara made. Once I’m sure the cuts are clean, I dig through the drawers in the kitchen until I find a clean towel, then wrap it around my arm. I’ll take it off once the bleeding stops. I don’t want to draw too much attention to my arm. If I’m lucky, Walker won’t even notice the new cuts. It’s not like I don’t already have a couple hundred of them.

  By the time the others are up, my cuts are throbbing but have started to scab over, and I’ve stashed the bloody towel in the back of one of the cabinets where they won’t find it.

  “Ready to get moving?” Walker asks, stretching his arms above his head. Grinning at me with a playfulness that only he could manage during the apocalypse.

  “More than ready,” I say from my position at the kitchen table. I figured I should rest my legs as much as possible before we head out. I’m still not one hundred percent, but right now a broken leg co
uldn’t keep me here. Lilly is waiting.

  Tara smiles my way as she gathers her belongings, her brown eyes sweeping over me. When her gaze lands on my arm, I twist it until my new cuts are out of her line of sight. She frowns and her eyebrows pull together, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s still frowning when she goes back to packing her bag.

  We head out when the sun is still low. Tara keeps slowing down, leaving me next to Walker. I’m not sure if it’s because she saw my fresh cuts and is angry, or there’s some other reason. Whatever it is, I’m sure to keep my arm tucked close to my side where Walker can’t see them. Things are comfortable with him right now, and I don’t want him to get mad at me again. For some reason, he really hates that I cut myself. I get it and I don’t, but either way, it doesn’t change the itch inside me when I think about the cuts. It feels like I need them to live.

  The sun is low by the time the road we’re on comes to an end. We have to make a choice. To the right there are a few buildings visible in the distance and a trail of smoke flows into the air from the center of town. It’s small and constant like it’s coming from a controlled fire, meaning the town is probably inhabited. Unlike the one we just left. In the other direction is nothing but fields.

  “The road runs east to west, so we could go either way.” Walker rubs the red skin on the back of his neck as he stares toward the town. “Could be a good way to figure out where we are, or it could be dangerous. What do you think?”

  I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Tara because he isn’t looking at either one of us.

  “I think we should at least stake it out,” Tara says. “If it looks like there could be trouble we can get out before anyone notices us.”

  Walker turns to look at me. “That okay with you?”

  “I trust you.”

  His eyebrows shoot up, and he pushes the brim of his hat up. “You do?” When I nod he grins. “That means a lot. Doesn’t seem like trust is something you hand out very easily.”

  His blue eyes hold mine, and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s right, of course. I haven’t trusted anyone in a year, maybe longer. Lilly was the only person I really interacted with in the camp, and after that, when I was with a group, there was a part of me that held back. That’s probably the only reason I’m still standing here today.

  “Don’t make me regret it or I’ll slit your throat,” I say with more venom than I actually feel.

  Walker chuckles and tears his eyes away from mine. “Noted. Come on.”

  We head into the woods and walk along the edge. It takes us less than ten minutes to reach the town, and when we do, we stay hidden in the trees. From our vantage point, we can see a few houses and most of the main street. It’s tiny and run-down, with a small post office and a general store that may not have even been open four years ago. The place was probably only home to a handful of people before the invasion. At the moment though, it’s brimming with activity.

  Men and women with guns stand on lookout where the road enters the town, while other people mill around in the streets, talking and working. In the center sits a canvas shelter where several large grills are set up. Smoke billows into the air, and the heavenly scent of cooking meat is carried on the wind, making my stomach growl. Past the shelter are a few man-made structures that hold animals. Chickens, goats, and a few pigs.

  “Looks okay,” Walker whispers.

  I keep my mouth shut. With the allure of food making my stomach rumble, I can’t trust myself to be objective. But I agree. They’re armed, but they don’t seem hostile. There are women with them and even a few children. The people don’t look angry or dirty or scared. They seem like they’re trying to rebuild, which is optimistic and maybe a little stupid, but it doesn’t make them dangerous.

  Tara shifts positions and sniffs the air. She closes her eyes and lets out a big sigh. “I think we should go for it.”

  They both look toward me.

  I shrug even though I want to jump up and down. “I’m in.”

  Walker nods once, then turns and heads out of the forest. Tara and I follow, and less than thirty seconds after we leave the safety of the forest, the armed guards see us and raise their guns. They don’t point the weapons right at us, though. It’s more like they’re standing at attention so we know they’re serious about defending their town.

  I never had any doubts, so it doesn’t stop me from following the scent of food.

  A sloppy fence made of old wood and chain link stretches across the road, blocking our progress. I give it a once-over and notice that it seems to go all the way around the town. It’s haphazard, though, and doesn’t look like it could keep out much.

  We stop in front of the fence, only three feet from the guards, and Walker raises his hands. Tara and I follow his lead while he takes a tiny step closer. The men and women on the other side of the fence don’t blink.

  “We aren’t here to cause problems,” Walker says.

  The people in the background have stopped what they’re doing and turned to stare, but no one seems particularly alarmed. We must not look that intimidating.

  A man in his fifties steps forward. He’s wearing a hat that reminds me of Indiana Jones, and carrying a shotgun that he keeps aimed at the ground. “You armed?”

  Walker slowly lowers his right hand. “Knives. No guns.”

  The man frowns, and I don’t have the slightest clue as to whether or not he’s going to let us in.

  Indiana Jones nods once, then motions to the guards at his side. “Come on then, let’s get you some food. You look like you could use a bite to eat.”

  The second he gives us permission to enter, everyone in town goes back to what they were doing. For most that means eating, but a few others seem to be busy at work. Carrying things across town, headed who knows where. Washing clothes, sorting what looks like piles of random supplies. They seem to be focused and organized, which is reassuring.

  A busty blonde in her early twenties opens the gate, grinning at us with a killer smile as we walk through. “I’m Ginger, welcome to Hope.”

  Walker pauses as she shuts the gate, and I don’t miss the way his eyes move over her curvy frame. “Hope?”

  To Walker’s credit, he seems to be doing his best to look Ginger in the eye. It can’t be easy. This girl is like every teenage boy’s wet dream come true.

  The Indiana Jones-wannabe nods and tips his hat like this is a movie set in the Old West. “Seemed like a good name for a town.” He extends his hand toward Walker. “I’m Jed. Let Ginger here give you a quick tour and get you some food. I have a few things to take care of, but once that’s done we can sit down and have a little chat.”

  Ginger flashes us a genuinely sweet smile, then throws her arm around Walker’s shoulders. “Come on.”

  She doesn’t let go of him as we head down the street, and Walker doesn’t even try to discourage her. A twinge of jealousy shoots through me, and I tug at my filthy tank top while I subtly check out my own bony frame. A woman should have more curves than this.

  Really though, why do I even care? Tara should be the one who cares, but she doesn’t seem to even notice how attractive Ginger is or that Walker is practically drooling. She’s too busy paying attention to the town. Which is what I should be doing. It’s not like I have any claim over Walker.

  We pass a group of women gathered around two plastic kiddie pools—the kind that used to be popular during hot summers—only they aren’t playing. They’re washing clothes. Behind them, rows and rows of thin rope have been set up, and damp clothes flap in the wind. Even more dirty clothes are piled on the ground, waiting to be washed. On the other side of the street, a group of people are busy skinning animals. Squirrels, rabbits, and even a deer. There are a few other people with baskets of greens. Vegetables they either grew themselves or managed to find elsewhere. Either way, it seems like they have a good system set up.

  “How long have you been here?” Tara asks.

  “I’ve been here for a little over
six months,” Ginger says. “I spent some time wandering around before I found this place. It isn’t easy finding people you can trust.”

  She stops just inside the shelter and motions to an older woman with long, gray hair. “But Rebekah and Jed came here not long after the aliens took off. It was just the two of them at first, then gradually more and more people joined them.”

  The gray-haired woman is wearing an olive-green sleeveless shirt and a long, brown skirt. She’s probably in her seventies, and her fingers are bony and gnarled from arthritis, but her skin is surprisingly smooth for someone her age. She smiles our way as she hauls herself out of the chair, and the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkles.

  “Well now,” she says, pointing a fork at us. “I bet the three of you are mighty hungry. Am I right?” We nod in unison, and she cackles like a hen as she flings the lid off the grill. “We can take care of that. Mick over there” –She jabs her fork toward the men working at skinning the animals— “got us a wild boar yesterday, so you’re in luck.”

  My stomach growls as the old woman piles food onto a plate. Pork and some grilled corn. A handful of pecans and even a freshly sliced peach. She hands it to Tara, whose eyes are the size of softballs, before repeating the process. When a plate is in my hands, I can barely contain my excitement. It’s been four years since I had this much food sitting in front of me.

  As soon as the three of us are armed with plates and sitting at a picnic table under the tent, we dive in. Ginger doesn’t leave our side while we eat. She’s friendly and chatty and as sweet as the peach sitting in front of me. The more she talks the more I like her, which actually makes me dislike her for some reason. It can’t be because of Walker though, that would be nuts. He’s taken. Not to mention that I think a relationship in this world is bound to lead to heartbreak. And I’ve already had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.

  Rebekah stays by our side as well, and just like Ginger, she’s friendly. She’s the first elderly person I’ve seen since the war ended. Not many made it through the prison camps, but I can see how she managed it. Despite her age, she’s spunky and energetic. A survivor.