“I know that.”
He finishes his stew and places the bowl on the ground. “But you have an advantage: people underestimate you. They see a child and think you’re an easy target. Let them think that, until it’s too late.”
I nod, but I’m not really listening. What’s really worrying me is what I found in his wallet. I should’ve realized he was from Redwood before, but the thought never crossed my mind. I was too busy getting myself together after the shooting to be smart. Mostly, I’m focused on the fact that it’ll be my last chance to leave Jacob before we go too far north.
I’ve been thinking about going away for a while now but didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. Or, to be honest, even at all. There’s a lot of things he can still teach me. Plus, I kinda like the grumpy guy.
I don’t have a choice now. If his daughter or someone in her group was in Redwood at the same time as me, I’m done for. If they recognize me, they’ll probably kill me.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes,” I answer him, still looking at nothing. “Yeah.”
“Then do it.”
I look up, confused. “Do what?”
Jacob points at the pot we used to cook the rabbit. “Clean it. And the bowls too. There’s a stream up ahead.”
“No way. You hunted, I cooked. So it’s your turn now.”
Jacob frowns, but I get up and enter the car before he can try to argue his way out of the task. Sounds fair to me, anyway.
I peek outside and see him leaving with the pots and bowls. With a smile, I fall asleep.
The highway’s full of broken-down cars and wreckage, but we manage to go around most of it thanks to the size of our car. If we had taken the big truck a few days ago, we would’ve ended up needing to give it up to keep going. I spot a few infected stuck inside the cars or wandering on the road, but we are too quick for them.
Jacob follows the signs for the town of Greenville: population seven hundred and twelve. We leave the main road and arrive at a smaller one. After twenty minutes or so, Jacob parks the car on the outskirts of the town, up on a hill and between trees to hide it from anyone wanting to steal it. Working cars with full tanks are a luxury now.
From our position we can see various small Mom-and-Pop shops and a stone church in the center with a few houses spread out on all sides. I wait as Jacob stares at all of it, looking for something. Debris and scattered piles of trash cover the streets. Parked cars lie under a deep layer of snow from this morning and all the shops are boarded shut.
To tell the truth, I’m not really happy to be here. I should be, but I’m not. Finding strangers and risking them robbing us or shooting at us bothers me. What if I choke and misfire the gun again? What if I miss? What if I’m not ready to be on my own?
Then again, this is my last chance of leaving for good. I need a plan, and fast.
“Tell me what you see,” Jacob says to me.
I narrow my eyes, searching for any sign of danger. “Nobody. Nothing. Do you think there’s anything left?”
“Depends on whether there’s anyone left and where they are hiding.” He grabs a pair of binoculars and points them at the church. “Best defensible position is the church. Big oak doors that can be blocked, thick stone walls, and those windows are too narrow for most people to get through. And it has a direct line of sight to the entrance of the town.”
I nod. “And there’s room for a lot of people to sleep inside together.”
“Exactly. If anyone is still living here, they’re inside.”
“So what now?”
He takes out our radios, giving me one. “I’ll go down there, do a recon of the church. You stay here and warn me if anyone shows up.”
I take a deep breath and try to sound casual. “How about I go down there instead? You can cover me from here.”
“No.”
I groan. “I can do this. I did this a lot when I was alone. Sneaking isn’t that hard.”
Jacob pounds the steering wheel and I wince. “Enough. What did you agree to do?”
Crossing my arms, I face my window and avoid his furrowed bushy eyebrows. “I promised to do what you tell me to do.”
“Then stop questioning me.”
I turn around and point a finger at him. “You said people underestimate me and I should take advantage of that, didn’t you? So let me. I’m quicker and smaller than you, and I know how to hide.”
He lowers the binoculars again and turns to me. “And what happens after? What if the danger is ten armed men or multiple infected? I don’t have a sniper rifle anymore. I’m too far away to help you effectively. You’ll be on your own.”
And that’s exactly what I want. “I don’t need to fight anyone. I just need to avoid them and escape before they notice me.”
His face is set. “You aren’t going alone. That’s final.”
“That’s not fair. You decide things on your own all the time. You should listen to my ideas too. What’s the point of having me around, if I’m so useless? You said we were a team. Was that a lie?”
For the longest time, he only stares at me. Finally, Jacob sighs. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, but after sunset. Less chance of anyone spotting you in the dark.”
I sneak into town, head down, carrying a sports bag too big for me. I can’t see very far in the darkness, but Jacob guides me safely using his night vision binoculars. So far, at least.
Pools, barbecue grills, doghouses. Almost like home. And just like home, the buildings have broken glass, dried blood, and ruined gardens, but no bodies. Someone must’ve cleaned them up, but didn’t bother to fix the rest. Looks like Jacob’s theory was right.
“Should I search the houses, in case there’s something inside?”
“No. I can’t watch over you if you do. Stay on target. Keep to the backyards,” Jacob’s voice comes from the handheld radio. “The church is two blocks away.”
I nod, and then realize he can’t see my head doing that. “Okay.” Maybe slipping away inside a house can be my exit plan for later, but first I’ll make sure no one else is around.
“Turn left now. Move behind the fences.” I do what he says, adjusting the bag over my shoulder, since it keeps slipping. The strap is too long. “I can see two open windows on the left side of the church. You can reach them, but do it quickly. You’ll be out in the open till you get to them.”
“I don’t think anyone can see me right now,” I whisper. “It’s too dark and I’m pretty small.”
“If you’re so confident, why are you whispering?”
I pout, but he has a point. Crouched, I quickly cross the street toward the church. From this close, it looks smaller, not big enough to hold more than one hundred people. I wait a few seconds below one of the open windows. After hearing nothing, I lift myself just enough to peek inside without revealing my whole body. Nothing, except the dark shapes of pews, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t inside.
“I can’t see anything from here. Looks empty, but I’m going inside to make sure. Don’t talk to me until I say it’s okay,” I whisper quickly into my radio.
“Stay alert and close to the exit,” he says before I hide the radio inside my winter coat. If any noise comes from it, the clothing should muffle it.
My left leg goes first, then my right. I take a moment to find my balance before sliding slowly inside, my feet searching for the ground before my hands let go of the window. The second I land, I crouch and hide behind the closest pew. Completely still, I wait again for any sound: breathing, shuffling, anything. Reassured by the silence, I tiptoe to the other end of the pew, reaching the central aisle for a better view.
The other side of the church is cleared of pews, which are now piled up in a corner. Spread over the ground are three sleeping bags, unlit candles, and camping lanterns. Someone was here. Are they dead now or somewhere else in town?
I move closer. That’s when the acrid smell of pee hits my nose. I spot a filled bucket near the exit doors of the church.
Next to the sleeping bags there are also a few open cans and empty bags of chips. Someone is still living here. They could’ve peed outside, but decided to use a bucket instead. Why?
Think, Laurie. Focus.
There are no piles of dirty clothes or even laundry hanging to dry off. No trash or smell of trash nearby. The church is too clean, so they were going outside at one time instead of just hiding here.
Where are they now? What changed? What made them so scared of going outside even to pee?
Maybe they weren’t scared. Maybe they were waiting.
Oh crap.
I scurry back behind the bench and take out the radio. “Jacob?” Nothing but static. I press the button again. “Jacob! Are you there? They know we’re here. They hid in the church until it was dark.”
No answer. Three sleeping bags. Can Jacob deal with three people at the same time? Even for him, that seems too much, especially when he isn’t prepared. Please, please don’t die.
We were so stupid! Of course, anyone would wait until it was dark to check out strangers. They know the town better than us and can navigate it in the dark with no problem. Jacob was too focused on me to spot them leaving the church. This is my fault, isn’t it?
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I can’t panic. I can’t help Jacob if I’m panicking.
After another long breath, I ignore my racing heart and stand, taking out my gun from the sports bag to load it. After that, my eyes race around their camp for anything useful. There’s an open bag of food, but nothing else. I take it. Maybe I can use it to negotiate a deal with them.
I leave the church by the window again, unsure if the front doors are locked. This time, I run across the main street. It’s too dark to risk going through the backstreets without Jacob’s guidance. The hill where we parked our car is covered by darkness too, but at least it’s not on fire or something like that. Maybe I’ll get there before they do.
Somewhere between the church and the hill, I remember I’m supposed to leave Jacob. That I was planning on slipping away and never looking back. But the truth is, I like Jacob and don’t want him to die. I don’t want to be alone again.
I hear them before seeing them. No screams, no demands, and no gunshots. Instead, a soft male voice asks, “Whatcha doing here?”
“I was looking for shelter for the night,” comes Jacob’s answer.
Crouched, I do what Jacob taught me and flank them, looking for an advantage between the bushes. Three men surround Jacob, who stands with his hands behind his head. I’m facing Jacob and one of the men while the other two have their backs to me. All of them hold weapons, but only the one who spoke has a gun. The others have a bat with nails through it and a metal pipe. I could try to signal Jacob, but not without risking revealing my position, so I keep quiet and still.
“Seems your car works nicely for that,” the man standing in front of Jacob says. “Running out of gas, maybe?”
Jacob doesn’t say anything. Instead, the man closest to the car checks the panel. “It’s almost full, Rowland. We could go to Apple Valley and back with that.”
Great, they’re going to steal our car.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to part ways with this car of yours?” Rowland raises his gun to Jacob’s face. “I have family over there and would very much like to see them.”
“If they’re alive,” the man with the bat says with a roll of eyes. “Which I tell you right now: they aren’t. You’re asking to be killed.”
“Shut it, Quill. If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.” Rowland shifts the weight from one leg to the other, but doesn’t lower the gun and turns to Jacob again. “So, are you going to give me trouble?”
“If you try to take my car, yeah, I’ll give you trouble.” Jacob even takes two steps forward and lowers his hands, closing them into fists.
What are you doing? Just let them take the car!
“That’s not a good answer. But I can take the keys from your corpse.” Rowland pulls back the gun to cock it. “Sorry.”
I run. Before I even know what I’m doing, I run and scream, “Daddy!” It sounds funny even to me, but I do it. I shove Rowland out of the way and hug Jacob’s waist with all my strength. Only then do I realize I hid my gun inside my coat. Somehow, I had a plan all along.
And Jacob already knows it. He kneels down and hugs me back while I open the coat just enough.
“Please, please don’t kill my dad!” I yell while reaching for the gun. Both our bodies hide it from their view, but not for long. “Leave him alone!”
From the corner of my eye, I see Quill step back with a frown.
“Well, damn,” I hear Rowland’s voice coming from behind me. “A kid. Great.”
“So what now?” Quill asks. “I can’t hit a little girl.”
“Why not? What’s the difference from killing an old man, huh?” This time it’s the man with the pipe talking to our right.
“He was coming at me, that’s the difference!”
“He was blind.”
“You both shut your mouths. I’m thinking.”
Jacob looks down and our eyes lock. He slowly lets me go and then nods. I spin around and shoot Roland in the foot. He screams. I shoot again and miss, but my next bullet hits him in the knee, his bone cracking loudly as he falls backward onto the ground. Smoke comes out of the barrel and my hands are hot.
“Run!” Jacob’s scream rings in my ear and I’m moving, scrambling to get up and escape. I jump over Rowland’s body, ready to slip away into the woods when a loud thud and a groan stop me. I turn around. The man with the pipe hits Jacob in the stomach repeatedly as he curls into a ball to protect himself. Quill hasn’t moved, but I can’t count on him staying out of the fight.
“Stop! I’m going to shoot you!” I raise the gun in the pipe man’s direction. “Stop hitting him!”
The man spits on the ground but obeys. Jacob coughs and wheezes, but has enough strength left to crawl away from his attacker and toward me. He forces himself up and takes the gun away from Rowland, who holds his knee in a fetal position, crying silently while bleeding.
“Drop your weapons.” Jacob’s voice is shaky. He coughs blood.
Our attackers share a look, then place their weapons on the ground and lift their hands into the air. Rowland whimpers behind us. Relief washes over me. We won. I lower my gun.
“Lily, grab their weapons.”
I freeze in place for a second too long.
“What are you waiting for? Go get them.”
Still a little shaken, I finally move and bend down to pick up the bat. Maybe I heard it wrong. Laurie and Lily don’t sound that different. It doesn’t mean anything—
Someone yanks me from the ground, lifting me like I weigh nothing. A hand holds my throat while another locks me by the waist. I struggle, kicking the air and punching my fists against his arms. He doesn’t move an inch, so I stop and stare at Jacob, looking for any hint of what I should do. He’s focused on the man holding me instead.
“Lower your gun or I snap her neck. I’ll do it. I used to kill chickens that way. Just a crack and she’s dead.”
“I’m not a chicken!” I elbow him in the ribs; he grunts but doesn’t free me.
Jacob raises his gun and pulls the trigger. The man’s hands go limp and I fall on my knees as he hits the ground with the force of the bullet.
Another shot rings loudly. I turn to see Quill being shot in the back for trying to escape. He plummets, face down in the dirt. I open my mouth to breathe properly.
“You killed chickens, I killed real men,” Jacob says while patting the bodies to look for loot. He finds something and pockets it. Bullets, maybe. He picks up the pipe and bat, tossing them in the back of our car. Finally, Jacob walks toward Rowland and shoots him too, straight into the skull. I can’t move to check, my legs won’t obey me, but I know he’s dead because the crying and whimpering stopped.
A little dizzy, I get up and take a step back. When Jacob approaches, m
y eyes immediately shift to stare at the ground.
“Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, still looking at my own feet.
“Let’s go to the church and take their supplies.”
I shake my head again.
“What?”
After taking a gulp for air, I meet his eyes. “I got them. I took their food. They didn’t have anything else.”
Jacob frowns. “You did?”
“Yeah. I thought that maybe...” I look down, then up again. “I thought I could use it to negotiate with them.”
“Where is it?” I point at the bushes. “Bring it here while I get the car ready.”
When I come back with the bag, he’s already inside the car and has the front lights on. I stop for a second, glancing at the bodies for the last time.
“Get in. We’re leaving.”
I hurry and enter the car, passing the bag of food for him to check. Chips, canned beans, fruit, and sodas. Nothing extraordinary, but at least we aren’t leaving empty-handed.
Jacob tosses the bag in the back with the rest of our supplies. He drives away and we travel for a long, long time in complete silence. I’m still tense from the fight, legs shaking with anxiety. I avoid looking at him, preferring to stare out the window. Nothing. It’s too dark to see anything.
“At least that wasn’t a complete waste of time,” Jacob finally says after one hour of neither of us talking. “But we made mistakes. We can’t make them again. I should’ve killed them earlier. Next time, we don’t give them a chance to fight back.”
I cringe at the sound of his voice. “Y-yeah. Okay.” The words barely escape my mouth.
“Something wrong?”
I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t move. “No.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
I say nothing and fiddle with my coat.
“Do you have a problem with me killing them?”
Those Who Remain (Book 3) Page 14