When We Were Human

by Kate L. Mary

  Jed joins us about the time my stomach threatens to burst. I managed to eat every morsel Rebekah gave me, but my insides ache from the effort. My stomach must be the size of an acorn.

  “Sorry for the delay,” Jed says, lowering himself into a chair while Rebekah hauls herself up to get him some food. “We had a few scouts get back and I wanted to find out what they saw out there.” He frowns and shoves his hand under his hat to scratch his head. “It’s a scary world.”

  Walker leans forward with his plate just barely balanced on his knee. “What did they see?”

  “It’s them critters,” Jed says. Rebekah holds a plate out to him, but before he takes it he swipes off his hat and tosses it to the ground. “Thanks, Bek.”

  Rebekah gives him a smile, then lowers herself into her chair, groaning from the effort.

  The whole time he’s waiting to hear what Jed has to say, Walker is drumming his fingers on his leg. His plate wobbles back and forth until Tara finally grabs it. She gets up without a word, taking mine as well, then goes over to a washtub set up on the other side of the tent. It’s like she doesn’t want to hear the bad news we all know is coming.

  Jed takes a big bite of pork. “They’re banding together,” he says between chews. “The ones that are left.” He swallows and puts his fork down, giving Walker a serious look that sends a shudder shooting through my body. “We thought it was happening, which is why we decided to head on out and see what we could find. Sure enough, they’ve got a little town about twenty miles from here and they’re trying to make a go of it. It’s sloppy, like they don’t know what to do without their technology. But they’re trying, anyways. My guess is it won’t be too long before they figure this all out. Then we’ll be in trouble.”

  Walker scratches his chin. “They’re working together?”

  I shake my head because what this man is saying doesn’t make any sense. “No. I’ve seen dozens of these things, maybe more. They hardly ever travel in groups, and they’re defenseless now that their ships and weapons are gone. They aren’t a threat anymore.”

  Jed takes another bite and chews slowly. His eyes narrow on my face, then travel down my arms. Over my scars. I’m torn between the urge to cover them and to sit up straighter. I choose the latter, lifting my chin and holding his eyes while he mulls me over.

  After what seems like hours, he swallows. “I would have agreed with you a few weeks ago, but things have changed. Not sure why, but they have.”

  “You think they’ll be back?” Walker asks, forcing my gaze his way. His blue eyes swim with worry.

  Jed puts his fork down and crosses his arms. “Hard to say. They got licked pretty good. It seems unlikely that they’ll come back for a second go.”

  “How?” I blurt out, making everyone sitting nearby turn my way. My cheeks get hot, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I mean, we were losing. They had us on the run and they had us rounded up, and we didn’t have a prayer. What happened? How did we manage to win?”

  The whole thing is still confusing. I went from being sure the end was just around the corner to being free in a matter of days. I never could figure out how we got the advantage. Not with how they had us rounded up or how spread out our military seemed to be.

  Jed shrugs in response to my question. “Not sure exactly. I heard a few stories about it, but none of them corroborate. Whatever it was” –He takes another bite and smiles as he chews— “we got lucky, kid.”

  Walker scoots to the edge of his chair. “Forget all that, it’s over. I want to hear what they’re doing now.”

  There’s an edge of impatience to his voice that irks me. Like he has more of a right to ask questions than I do. It helps those warm feelings from a few moments ago melt away, which is fine with me. I don’t need complications in my life.

  Jed goes back to talking about the creepers working together, but it all sounds like nonsense to me. I’ve skinned more of those slimy things than I can count, and none of their buddies have ever come running to their rescue. They don’t travel in groups, and they don’t work together.

  No way. Jed is wrong.

  14

  I’m clean.

  The knowledge makes me sigh contentedly as I float on the surface of the pond. The sun sparkles off the cool water and somewhere in the distance a bullfrog sings a very out-of-tune melody, and I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in four years.

  Maybe there’s something behind Walker’s theory about starting over. If I can find Lilly and bring her back here, maybe I can make a life for us. They have food and shelter. They’re working together. Sure, there are still threats, but the more people that band together like this, the more likely we are to be able to create something new.

  To have a future.

  Walker’s blue eyes flash through my mind and something inside me flutters, light enough that I can almost pretend it didn’t happen.

  No. I can’t be falling for Walker. That would be too stupid for words. He and Tara have something I couldn’t possibly compete with. What’s more, I wouldn’t want to. I like Tara too much to do that.

  Something splashes right next to my face, and I jerk back. My head is submerged and I take in a mouthful of water, swallowing it before I can even register what’s happened. I kick my legs and burst out of the water, choking and coughing until it makes my throat ache.

  I look around to see Walker standing at the side of the pond, laughing. “Sorry! I called your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

  I glare at him and swim through the water, fighting the urge to give him the finger. “Sure you did,” I say as I haul myself to the side.

  He grins down at me and my heart twists in a way it never has before, and this time I can’t ignore it or what it means. I’m attracted to Walker. When the hell did this happen?

  “I thought you trusted me.” He tosses another rock in the air, grinning when he catches it.

  I roll my eyes as I pull myself out of the pond. Water runs down my body, over the wet fabric clinging to my skin, and Walker’s gaze follows its progress. Having him look at me like that sends a shiver down my spine, and it reminds me of how he looked at Ginger just a little bit ago. Within seconds, every inch of my skin is covered in goose bumps.

  “I do trust you,” I say, tugging at my shirt self-consciously. “I just happen to think you’re lying about this.”

  Walker nods, but he acts like he’s only half listening, and his eyes are still raking over my body. I steal a glance at myself, trying to figure out what he’s staring at. Thanks to the people in Hope, I’m wearing a black tank top and matching cotton panties. The wet fabric clings to me in a way that almost makes me curvy and leaves very little to the imagination. But my arms and legs are way too thin. I’m not dumb enough to think I could possibly compete with someone like Ginger, so I don’t have a clue why Walker is staring at my body like he’d love to get a better look.

  Walker clears his throat and finally looks up. Behind him the sun has just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant shade of orange. His eyes meet mine, but the brightness of the setting sun makes getting a good read on his expression impossible.

  “Thought we’d hang out here for the night,” he says.

  My skin is still burning from his gaze when I pull on my new shorts. “Sounds good. It’s nice here.”

  When I look up, Walker shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me a goofy grin. “Maybe we could come back. You know, after we find your sister.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  His smile widens and my stomach tightens in response. This is bad. Really, really bad.

  I take a step back, and one corner of his mouth drops. He tilts his head to the side and gives me a confused look that is so adorable I feel like crying. Only, I’m not sure what I’d be crying over. My own stupidity, or the fact that Tara met him first.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest to protect myself from
his intense blue eyes. “Where’s Tara?”

  His eyebrows shoot up, and understanding crosses his face. He presses his lips together and I’m not sure, but it almost looks like he’s holding in a smile. “She’s in town, talking to Rebekah.”

  “Okay, then.” I shuffle my feet, but when I realize I don’t have anything else to say, I turn away from Walker and take off toward the center of town.

  My boots are sitting next to a bush and I scoop them up on my way by. The ground is soft and warm, so I don’t bother putting them on. It’s a short walk to the center of town, and to be honest, it’s nice to have them off for a little bit. It reminds me of running around barefoot as a kid. Back when things were simpler.

  Walker jogs to catch up with me, elbowing my arm lightly when he falls in step at my side. “I’m glad we found you, Eva.”

  “Me too.” My skin tingles just from that little touch. I pick up the pace. He’s close enough that as we walk his arm brushes mine and goose bumps spread up my arm. Why does he have to be so close? “I think you and Tara have something special. It’s nice of you to let me tag along.”

  “You’re not tagging along. Stop being a victim.”

  His eyes dart toward my scars, and he lets out a deep breath. It’s slightly violent though, like he’s doing it to stop himself from telling me what he really thinks about my scars.

  I hate how much I like the fact that Walker cares.

  I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to hide the new cuts I made just this morning. He hasn’t mentioned them yet, so I’m guessing he hasn’t noticed. And I don’t want him to. I don’t know why I care this much what he thinks of me, but I do.

  “Whatever,” I say, hugging myself tighter. Keeping my gaze on the road in front of us and away from his blue eyes. “Thanks for trusting me.”

  The main street comes into view and I practically take off running. Walker lets out a little snort or laugh or something behind me, but I don’t turn to look at him. Too bad I have to stop outside the fence so they can let me in. By the time they get the gate open Walker is back at my side, but I still don’t look at him. I dart through the second I’m able to, taking off between two houses.

  Right in the center of town, Tara sits by a fire with Rebekah. They are so close to the flames that just looking at them makes me sweat. I can’t think of a single reason they would want to be that close to the fire on such a hot night.

  Walker is right next to me when I come to stop about three feet from Tara. Rebekah gets up, and Tara follows. The two women head over to a large pot dangling over the flames. The older woman stirs whatever’s inside while Tara watches her closely.

  “Soup?” Walker asks.

  I shrug just as Tara turns around. The firelight reflects off the sweat beaded on her forehead. “Soap.”

  I’m pretty sure I heard her wrong, so I take a step closer. “What?”

  Tara’s brown eyes move to me and she wipes the sweat form her forehead. “We’re making soap.”

  Rebekah stops stirring and smiles. “Trying to, anyway. Never done it before, but we thought we’d give it a shot. Won’t be long before we run out of the real stuff, and folks are likely to get mighty stinky if we don’t find an alternative.”

  “Folks are already mighty stinky if you ask me,” I mutter to myself.

  Rebekah hoots and points a bony finger at me. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, girl, and you’re right.” She hobbles over to her chair, wincing when she sits. “There are an awful lot of stinkers in this world, aren’t there?”

  I lower myself onto a wooden bench across from her and scowl. “Stinker may be too nice of a word.”

  “True, true. But there are nice folks left too, and you just got to have faith that those are the people who will prevail.”

  Tara keeps stirring the pot while Walker watches me from the shadows. His face looks twisted and deformed in the firelight. Almost evil.

  I shiver and cross my arms, turning to focus on Rebekah. “I’m not sure they will.”

  Rebekah nods slowly, puckering her lips up like she can’t decide what to say. After almost a whole minute of silence, she replies, “Seems like it sometimes, don’t it? I’ve seen all kinds of nastiness in my life. My parents survived the Holocaust, and I was a teenager in the sixties. People are awful, alien or not. But you got to hold on to the good stuff, like this sister of yours. She’s alive when you had all but given up hope. That right there is a miracle.”

  “I hope she’s alive,” I say, trying to ignore the knots in my stomach telling me she might not be.

  Rebekah leans forward and grabs my arm with her bony hand, giving it a squeeze. “Have faith.”

  Why am I the only one who can’t be totally optimistic about this situation?

  When the sun has set, the whole town gathers in the square. Over fifty people. Men, women, children, the elderly. I haven’t seen this many people gathered together since the end of the war. It takes my breath away. They pass around jugs of homemade wine in various flavors, with blackberry and dandelion wine being predominate. I didn’t even know you could make wine out of dandelions.

  Walker, Tara, and I sit off to the side like we’re afraid to join in. This group is nice and they seem to have a good thing going, but it’s still strange being a part of something like this after all that time on the road.

  The three of us have been sitting in silence for a while when out of nowhere, Ginger plops down on the bench next to Walker. Her tank top is threadbare and she isn’t wearing a bra. Her large breasts swell against the fabric. Walker squirms, but he can’t hide his dimples. My throat tightens uncomfortably.

  “Try some.” Ginger holds out the jug, smiling up at him. Even batting her eyes a little. In the firelight, her cheeks look flushed, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or the orange glow of the bonfire.

  Walker takes the jug and shoots a look toward Tara, who just shrugs.

  “Thanks,” he says.

  Ginger scoots closer, but Tara doesn’t even blink. She glances toward me and grins, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why she isn’t upset. Ginger is clearly into Walker, and if she got any closer to him she’d be sitting in his lap. Maybe Tara is okay with it because she knows Walker wouldn’t do something like that to her.

  He tilts the jug back and takes a big gulp. His mouth puckers when he swallows, and he coughs. “Damn.”

  Ginger laughs as she tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You like?”

  “It’s sweet.” Walker gives a little half-cough, half-laugh. He runs his hand over his head when he turns to look at Ginger, and I can tell when his cheeks turn red because I’m watching closely.

  Ginger takes the jug and swallows a big gulp. She smacks her lips dramatically and grins. “The blackberry wine is better, but blackberries are harder to come by.”

  “I’d imagine dandelions are pretty easy to gather,” Tara says.

  Ginger nods, her eyes still on Walker. It should irritate me more that she’s throwing herself at him, but I only have to take one look around the group to know why. There aren’t any men even close to her age here.

  “The kids pick them,” she says, then turns to me and holds the jug out.

  I shake my head. “I don’t drink.”

  Ginger shrugs, tossing her blonde hair a second time as she turns back to Walker. He takes the jug without a moment’s hesitation when she offers it to him. This time when he throws it back, he barely reacts to the sweet liquid. He puckers his lips and Ginger laughs, and then Walker holds the jug out to Tara. She takes it without comment.

  “Why don’t you drink?” Walker asks as he watches Tara tilt the jug up to her lips.

  It takes a second for me to realize he’s talking to me. I shrug and say, “Never tried it. I was fourteen before this started, remember.”

  Tara coughs and shakes her head, then forces the jug back into Ginger’s hands. “Yuck.”

  Walker laughs, slapping his knee, and Ginger giggles. They
look at each other, and I feel once again like I’m on the outside. Why am I always on the outside with Walker?

  “It takes some getting used to,” Ginger says to Tara, then passes the jug to a man on her other side.

  Movement catches my eye, and I turn just as Rebekah walks over to a group of kids. There are maybe ten of them in all, ranging in ages from four to eleven years old. Jed moves a chair, placing it right in front of the kids, and Rebekah slowly lowers herself into it. The children squirm and giggle and grin and stare up at her like they’re waiting for something to happen.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, glancing toward Ginger.

  She smiles, but she isn’t really looking at me. Her eyes are on Walker. “Story time.”

  Rebekah leans forward and every one of the children stops talking. Even some of the adults do. All eyes are trained on the old woman, and with the campfire at her side, it almost looks like she’s in a spotlight.

  “Once upon a time,” she says in a low voice, “there was a magic kingdom full of joy and beauty…”

  Her voice is low, but somehow it carries. Flowing over the waiting crowd and the crackling campfire until it reaches me. Making my throat tighten. I’m not a child and I don’t believe in fairy tales. Not anymore. Whatever story Rebekah is about to tell is not for me.

  I climb to my feet on shaky legs and head away from the fire. The darkness that envelops the rest of the town seems more inviting than listening to that story of make-believe does. I hurry away and Rebekah’s voice fades into the distance. The night air is still stuffy, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the tightening in my lungs. Not really.

  Footsteps come up behind me, and I stop. They’re soft and timid, and I know it’s Tara before I turn around.

  When I do, she frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something about listening to a fairy tale feels off.” I shrug and wrap my arms around myself like I’m cold even though I’m sweating. “They always have happily-ever-after endings. I just don’t know if I can sit through that right now.”