I arrive at the main house by sundown. Gail’s front porch light is on and I knock on the door before stepping into the living room. I follow her voice and Lincoln’s giggles to the kitchen, finding them eating dinner. The kid kicks the air with his little legs dangling from the chair while Gail insists he clean his plate. Her rifle rests against the table on her right, ready to be used if needed.
“Hey, what’s for dinner?”
Grandmother and grandson face me, Gail’s tense expression slowly relaxing as she recognizes me. Her eyes search behind me but she shows no disappointment when nobody else appears as I step inside the kitchen.
Lincoln claps and waves to me. “Sit next to me, okay? Please?”
I shift uncomfortably in place, not ready to act like a cool uncle to the orphaned kid. Instead, I lower my backpack and take out the Hulk baseball cap I found in the store back at Bedford. His eyes light up.
“You know, I found this but it’s kinda small for me. I thought you might like it. What do you think?”
“Wow, really? That’s for me?”
I nod and give the cap to him. He presses it tightly against his chest.
“That’s nice and all, but it’s past your bedtime, so go wash and brush your teeth.” Gail waves for him to go. “I’ll be there soon to tuck you in.”
After a few protests and arguments, which I stay rightly out of, Lincoln skips away to bed while arranging his baseball cap as it slips from his head. He can grow into it, I guess. With the boy securely out of earshot, Gail gestures for me to sit down. Her hands shake, but I pretend not to notice.
“Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting you to come back. Especially not so soon. I guess you...” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I guess whatever you found is pretty final. Right? Or else you would’ve taken more time to make sure. To be certain.”
I squirm in the seat, looking anywhere but at her.
“Well? Spit it out already.”
Honesty is always the best choice, or at least, I used to think that. The world got so messed up, I’m not even sure anymore.
“I went to Bedford and saw Hannah’s house. It was empty and trashed.” I pause and clear my throat. “But no bodies. Same with everywhere else. Turns out, three people have been living there and—”
What? Herding zombies? Locking sick people inside tiny cells? What do I say? Would Gail even understand? She hasn’t seen a true zombie up close. She might not even believe me. Hiding her son’s condition seems cruel too, but...
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”
I blink at her. “What? But you...”
“The way you’re behaving, it’s going to be bad. I can deal with his death. That... That I think I can accept.” She stands and starts cleaning the table and putting the dishes in the sink, her back to me. “It’s not like in the past months I expected him to come home. This doesn’t change anything, but maybe I don’t want to know if he suffered. Maybe it’s best not to know.”
“Gail...”
She waves dismissively, drying her hands on her apron. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I...” Gail laughs bitterly and sniffs, still hiding her face from me. “I suppose I had some false hopes yet. Some delusions. You gotta have some to keep going. I don’t want to lose that. I was wrong.”
Seeing this woman lose all her composure is a punch to my gut. I remember my own mother and—dammit, I’m close to tears already. She always said people needed hope and she was right. I’m in the position to give Gail hope and if that means telling her everything, then so be it, right? Let the chips fall where they may.
“I saw him. I saw Mitchell. He’s alive.”
She whirls around, unafraid to reveal her red eyes and nose. “What? Don’t toy with me, boy, if—”
“You didn’t let me finish. These people in Bedford, they’ve been taking care of him.”
She hides her smiling mouth with both hands, joy spreading over her face. “Is he hurt? My God, I need to get to him! All this time?” Gail throws her hands in the air. “I’ve been feeding the goddamn chickens while my son—”
“It’s not that simple. This disease, it’s... it’s like rabies, but worse.” I sigh. “A lot worse. People lose their minds, they forget who they are and do horrible stuff. Really, really horrible stuff.”
At this, she sits down across the table. I take a deep breath and tighten my grip on the chair.
“Your son doesn’t know who he is. He’s violent, and if he bites anyone, he can infect the person with the same virus. He’s a danger to everyone and, honestly, anyone else would’ve shot him dead to protect themselves. But these guys in Bedford didn’t because they think there’s a cure coming, but that’s... Anyway, they’re keeping him and others like him locked up in a jail cell, for everybody’s protection.”
She hangs on my every word, but from her frown I can see this is far too crazy to accept right now.
“What? Why in a jail? Why not take him to a hospital? Don’t tell me every single doctor in the whole country has died!”
“They kind of have.”
She presses her lips together, a glare directed at me as if I’m the one who killed all the medical staff in the world. “I can’t believe that. And I don’t care. I’m going to get my boy back and take care of him. I’m not going to leave him in these people’s hands. A cell? That’s—he did nothing wrong, he doesn’t deserve to be in a cell for months!”
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting this reaction at all. Shock and disbelief, for sure, but the idea that she would go after him never crossed my mind and that makes me an idiot. She’s a mother, of course she would react this way.
“If you bring him to the ranch, you’re putting Lincoln in danger. You don’t get it, Gail. He can’t control himself. He’ll attack you and your grandson, and keep attacking until he kills you. It’s how the disease works.”
“And what am I supposed to do? Let him rot in there? I’m his mother. If anyone is going to take care of him, it’s me!” She slams her hands on the table, then points her index finger in my direction. “You don’t give up on family no matter how hard things get, even if it kills you. You don’t. That’s how I was raised, that’s how I choose to live.”
I shake my head. “Don’t bring Mitchell back here. Just don’t. It will end in tragedy. Trust me, I know.”
She narrows her eyes. “Have a lot of experience with this type of situation, have you?”
“I do. I know better than anyone else that zombies can’t stop themselves. It’s impossible.” I’m living proof of that. “Could you really shoot him if that was what it took to save Lincoln’s life? Could you kill your son? I doubt it. Which means he’s going to kill you both. Do you want him to wake up one day and realize he...” I sniffle and look up to stop any pesky tears from falling. Damn it, I try so hard not to think of what happened in the past, but here am I almost crying in front of this lady. “...and realize he murdered his own mother and son?”
“So he can get better. You agree with the others. You’re saying he’s going to get better, right? How else—”
“That wasn’t what I meant—”
“No? Why not? Maybe there’s a vaccine or something. You can’t know the future. You don’t know if—”
I jump out of the chair and pound the table with a fist. “It doesn’t matter! Okay? Even if”—I fill my chest with air—“even if there’s a cure out there, somewhere, you’ll be long dead before it reaches here. Don’t put that on my shoulders, okay? I can’t deal with that.”
“Deal with what? What the hell are you going on about?”
After resting my hands on the table for support, I try to find the right words. “If I hadn’t told you about him, everything would’ve worked out in the end, that’s what I meant. But if you and your grandson die, it’s on me now. Because I told you.”
She snorts loudly and rolls her eyes. “Son, don’t be a martyr. I’m responsible for my own choices, thank you very much. I don’t know who you a
re and what you’ve been through, but my family is my business.”
And she’s right. One hundred percent right. I fall down on the chair. Gail taps the table before going back to cleaning the dishes. I rest my face on my hands, elbows on the table. I have no idea what’s the matter with me. Actually I do, but I don’t want to think about it.
“I’m sorry. You should do whatever you want. Whatever makes you feel better. It has nothing to do with me,” I say after a heavy sigh. “But why not visit him instead? Check on him from time to time? If he escapes, he might end up dead too. Can’t you just leave it alone for, like, a month?”
Gail turns, jaw set. “Why? He’s waited enough already. I was too much of a coward. I should’ve gone looking for him the night he left, but every day I made a new excuse to stay put. To avoid the danger. For Lincoln’s sake. For the sake of my family’s ranch. For the damn cow. All excuses. I was too afraid to face the truth. To face the fact that Mitchell was probably dead. That the whole town burned to ashes and I paid my taxes all these years for nothing, because, hell, there’s no government left to protect us, no support system. Just an old lady trying to take care of a boy. I say I waited long enough. My son needs me. If I can do anything, anything, to help him, I will.”
A heavy silence follows. I lower my head and that’s the end of the conversation.
I leave in the middle of the night, slipping into the shadows and not looking back. The best thing I can do for Gail and her family is to leave, and I don’t mean that in a melodramatic self-pitying way. Like Gail, I’ve been delaying the inevitable for a long time. Time to stop being selfish and to start righting some wrongs.
While crossing the field bathed in moonlight, I hear a crack and thud behind me. I crouch and wait. A small light bounces near the grass, then reveals Lincoln holding a flashlight.
Great.
The boy stands and looks around for me. With a sigh, I get up and wave. Smiling from cheek to cheek, he races toward me.
“I found you!” He laughs and points the light directly at my face. I shield my eyes from the beam.
“Yeah, you did. Yay.”
He gives me puppy eyes. “Why are you leaving? Can’t you stay?”
“Not really, no. Sorry. Places to go, people to see.”
He pouts and stomps his foot. “That’s dumb! I want you to stay. I love my grandma, but she’s so boring!”
Against my better judgment, I smile. “Hey, don’t be mean to your grandma. She’s trying.”
“But I really want you to stay and play with me. And you can fix my TV. What do I do if it breaks again?” His voice trembles, cheeks and nose red. He’s about to cry and I really don’t like when children cry.
To avoid more embarrassment, I kneel and pat his head gently. “I need to go, kid. It’s important. Really important adult stuff.”
“Is it because you are sick?”
“What?”
He nods at my half-covered face. “You look like you’re sick. Like those other people I saw back home. Grandma told me not to say anything, but if you are sick, can’t we take care of you?”
“I’m not sick. And soon nobody will be sick, but you have to be patient, okay? Because things will get better. It’s going to take some time, but your father is coming home and he’ll fix the TV for you. Won’t that be better than having me around?”
He sways his body and kicks the grass. “I guess.”
“I leave, but your dad comes back. Fair is fair. Deal?” I take his free hand and shake it. “Now run back to the house before your grandma shoots me for waking you up.”
Lincoln hesitates for a second, then rushes to hug me, clinging to my neck hard. When he releases me, I confess my eyes are a little watery, probably from the dew on the grass.
We say our goodbyes and I leave the ranch behind for good. I have promises to keep and amends to make.
THE GIRL IN THE BUSHES XI
January 15th, Friday, 2 pm
We abandon our little car after reaching a dead end. Jacob doesn’t seem bothered, already expecting a trip on foot. We take his things out of the car and split the weight between us. He carries the guns, the backpack with the pots, our water, and a tent. I’m in charge of the bags with our clothes and food supplies.
I tap the car a few times, like saying goodbye to a loyal pet. I’m going to miss it, especially the music and the warmth. I take too long to say my farewells because when Jacob calls my name, he’s already disappeared into the woods. With one last look at my favorite source of comfort and protection, I jog to meet Jacob.
A few hours in the cold weather and I’m already freezing to the bone. My teeth rattle and I hug myself. Jacob isn’t rushing for some reason. All I want is to walk faster to warm my body. Our hike is done in complete silence. I huff, he puffs, and nobody speaks. Between the cold, the snow, and the weight of our things, we don’t have any air left to spare.
Every now and then, I sneak a peek at him. He seems fine and sure of where we should go, but sometimes he touches his ribs exactly where those men back in the town kicked him. He’s been doing that for days. When I asked if he was okay, he just said there’s no other cure for broken ribs besides time. I wish I could remember what Mom said about that type of injury. She used to tell us about some of her cases at the dinner table, despite Dad’s appeals for his meal. I liked hearing her stories; they helped me understand why she wasn’t always around. Why she would only have time to kiss my forehead before going off to a shift or coming back from one. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with her schedule. Sometimes we didn’t get to see her for days, and when we did, it was only for a meal or two.
Maybe that was for the best. Maybe that’s why I’m okay, even if she isn’t with me. Maybe it’s why I’m fine without her. Yeah, maybe that’s it. I sniff. My nose is running from the cold again.
Jacob stops near a pine tree and signals me. He traces his fingers along gouges in the trunk. “See this? A buck did this.”
The picture of a deer hitting his head against a tree makes no sense to me. “Why?”
“Sometimes they do it to remove velvet from their antlers. Or maybe it was rubbing it to prepare for sparring.”
“Sparring? They fight each other?”
“It’s mating season. They do it to show dominance and win the does over.”
“Sounds dumb and dangerous.”
Jacob shakes his head and smiles. “They can’t exactly buy flowers and chocolate to impress.”
“So there’s a deer around, then? Are you going to kill it?”
He pulls up the strap of his rifle, adjusting it. “It might not be near. This could be old, last season’s. We’ll see if it’s worth the trouble.”
We keep moving. A few hours later, we stop by a creek to eat lunch. A small rabbit pops out of the nearby bushes and hops away, scaring the crap out of me. Jacob chuckles as I fall onto the ground and off the rock I was sitting on. The snow wets my butt and I spend the rest of the day in a bad mood.
Jacob pitches a tent after sundown and orders me to rest inside while he scouts the area. I open my mouth to argue, to tell him he’s hurt and to not leave me alone, but in the end I scuttle inside the tent without a word. He knows what’s he doing and my butt is wet.
He wakes me up before sunrise. I help him with the tent and we leave the creek behind after refilling our water and filtering it. My legs are sore, my hands stiff, and the tip of my nose feels numb. The weather gets worse, so we slow down. We stop to mount the tent and wait until it stops snowing to move. The days all pass like this. Sometimes I spot an animal between the trees, like a fox or a rabbit, but most of the time nothing much happens.
Three days later we find something. Well, Jacob finds something. He kneels in the middle of a clearing, wiping the snow from burnt wood. I rest my hands on my knees to take a closer look at what he’s seeing.
“What is it?”
“Someone camped here. Started a fire. They buried it with snow before moving on.”
&nbs
p; “Your daughter?”
He nods. “Probably.”
I don’t ask more questions. I don’t want to know. My heart’s already beating too fast. I knew this would happen, but...
“It isn’t buried too deep. We’re probably two days behind them. Let’s pick up the pace.”
Cool. Awesome. Great. “How come you found her so easily?”
Jacob stands and brushes the snow off his hands. “I’m the one who trained her. I know how she thinks. It helps that I know where she’s going too.”
I look at the ground, then to the sides. “What happens if we meet them?”
“We won’t. When you hunt, you need to learn to keep your distance or risk spooking your prey.”
I think that’s stupid. There, I said it. Okay, no, I didn’t. I don’t say it out loud, of course. Jacob’s determined to get to his daughter and he’ll just tell me to leave if I don’t want to keep up with this trip.
“Why exactly are we following her if you aren’t going to, you know, actually talk to her? What’s the point?”
He grunts while jumping over a fallen trunk. I climb my way over it to follow him. “I told you already. We’re her backup.”
I bite my lip and chew the inside of my cheek, but say nothing else. We start to see signs of his daughter’s party more often: broken twigs, smashed leaves, human waste, then pieces of ripped clothing on branches. We’re closer. Jacob decides to take more breaks, move slower, so as not to get too close. He’s acting like his daughter is a scared deer, ready to sprint away at the slightest sign of her father. Maybe she hates him, but I can’t see why she would.
Doesn’t she know how lucky she is? This isn’t just about me, either. Peter lost his father too. I bet a lot of kids lost their parents. Family should stick together. If my parents didn’t leave the house, if they didn’t leave me all alone, maybe we would be together right now.
Right?
But never mind. I don’t want Jacob and his daughter talking, anyway. She might know what I did back in the town. She might tell Jacob. Then I’m done for. Her loss is my gain.
Those Who Remain (Book 3) Page 18