The Roar (The Roar Series Book 1)

by A. M. White

  “How could he do that?” she cried upon my shoulder.

  I hugged her tight. Timothy sat on the other side of her; we encased her body.

  “Cara, he had been through a lot. He just couldn’t live with it,” Timothy said.

  “I could’ve been enough, if he had given me the chance,” she moaned.

  “You could’ve been but he didn’t hold on long enough,” Timothy answered.

  I held on for the anger I knew was coming. Cara was strong. She would mourn for Max but she would become angry. Max hadn’t been strong and that was going to make her angry when she came to terms with her sadness.

  “You guys don’t have to hover over me. I’m not going to do something stupid,” she sniffled.

  “Ok, but we aren’t going to leave you completely alone,” I said.

  Timothy and I released her. Cara fell onto her back and stared at the sky above. We left the boat for land. My feet sunk into the muddy water.

  “What in the world happened? “ Timothy asked.

  “He just lost it,” I replied. “He kept saying I can’t do this over and over. Then he said if we had stayed at the house, he might have had a chance.”

  Timothy held me close while he kept an eye on his sister. He kissed me on top of the head. The smell of him made me relax. I needed that.

  “You know Cara best, is she going to be alright?” I spoke into his chest.

  “I think so, she is strong,” he sighed.

  I sat on a fallen log. “He wasn’t,” I closed my eyes.

  Timothy sat next to me and his dark hair fell over his eyes. “No, he wasn’t. I hate that he couldn’t be for my sister,” he said softly.

  “Have you lost people before?” I pried gently.

  Timothy folded his hands in his lap. They were bloody. I pulled them so I could have a better look, but he drew back and shook his head.

  “Yes,” he admitted. ”They were never people we had become close with. There were people we tried to save but they weren’t able to be saved. People like Max, too conditioned to live in their environment.”

  “I don’t know how you’ve done this for so long,” I wondered and I tried to imagine.

  “Today, I’m wondering the same thing,” Timothy remarked.

  I kept a close eye on Cara. She positioned herself to watch the water flow by. Her stillness contrasted the rest of the world going about its business. Birds flit from branch to branch, the clouds over head steadily passed, and the breeze dropped leaves to twist in the air.

  “Timothy, let me look at your hands,” I demanded.

  He gave in to my stern voice and held them out for me. They were raw and blistered from the wooden oars.

  “I didn’t know I was gripping them so tight,” he mumbled.

  “I’ll wrap them. Maybe Cara has some cream we can spare,” I hoped.

  I turned his hands over and kissed them.

  “Please don’t make a big deal about it to Cara. She has enough to worry about,” Timothy urged.

  I nodded in agreement.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I didn’t like having to disturb Cara. She seemed so peaceful by herself in the boat. We let her be for as long as Timothy thought was safe to stay.

  The boat bounced upon our entrance. I shuffled through the pack looking for anything I could use to wrap Timothy’s hands and some medicine.

  Cara didn’t acknowledge me. Her face was blank except for the tears staining her cheeks. I found what I was looking for and stepped around her to Timothy.

  He held his hands out for me to apply a small amount of the medicine that was left. I was careful not to use it all. His wounds weren’t deep but I wanted to ward off infection. I tore a shirt into strands and tied them around his palms. His fingers weren’t in bad shape so I left them free for him to use.

  Timothy decided that he would keep watch with the gun. My station was at the oars until I tired. I resolved to push myself beyond my normal threshold for Timothy’s sake. At this point, we needed to count on ourselves so Cara had as much time as she needed.

  My leg stung, reminding me that it was waiting. I had ignored the irritation and apparently, it felt neglected. I massaged it quickly and then rowed.

  It was a gorgeous day just to spite us. In every book or movie I brought to mind, it was always a gloomy day when someone important died. The sunshine and birds singing mocked our mood. The river was less rocky, allowing the water to sweep past, whispering calmly.

  “I should’ve known better,” Cara broke her silence.

  Her profile was visible since she was turned sideways in the bottom. She blinked slowly.

  “I should’ve known better,” she repeated.

  “Cara, you took a chance on someone. That isn’t a bad thing,” Timothy said soothingly.

  “It sure feels like it was,” she said. She crossed her arms on top of her knees and rested her head upon them.

  “Don’t shut down like that,” Timothy pressed his lips into a thin line. “Did you care about him?”

  “What kind of question is that? Of course I did,” Cara growled.

  “Then remember what you both gained from it,” he advised. “What’s done is done, but you loved for a little while. How did that feel?”

  Cara scrunched up her face. I braced myself for her to lash out. Instead, she surprised me and a smile played at the corner of her lips.

  I eyed Timothy and silently cautioned him not to push it further. He grinned at me, proud that he had been able to lift Cara’s spirits.

  I feared the anger. I knew was coming from her. It was only natural to go through it after a loss.

  I remembered my own anger at the roars and the moles when they took my family. There was anger that swelled inside of me when they took our things.

  In the beginning, the roars made me want to rage because they took our freedom of choice. It was all part of the process, weeding out those that could become numb and those that couldn’t. I wondered if that made me weak or strong.

  Timothy waved at me to snap me out of my own thoughts. He pointed at Cara; she had drifted off to sleep.

  He took the pack and retrieved the grocery bag Cara had used to fish. He peeked over the edge and dragged it in the water. Several times, he jumped before the fish was deep enough in the bag. I giggled softly. He grimaced and stuck out his tongue at me.

  Luckily, he got the hang of it and scored a decent dinner for us. Five small fish laid beheaded on the bow of the boat. He gutted them and threw the innards back in the water.

  Cara stirred and stretched from her nap. She looked around to get her bearings. Her eyes rested on me. I think she hoped it had all been a nightmare. Reality hit and her face sank.

  “Timothy caught us dinner, Sleeping Beauty,” I offered.

  “What is that?” She asked.

  “Well, there’s fish and more fish. Take your pick,” I joked.

  “No, I meant Sleeping Beauty. What is that from?” She corrected.

  “Oh, it’s a story. It’s about a princess that is cursed by a wicked witch that makes everyone go to sleep for a really long time. Then a PR-,” I trailed off.

  I stopped myself. I had great timing with the whole prince kissing and saving part. I cursed myself and blushed.

  “Go on,” she said,” I want to hear it. Even if my prince was a weakling and dove to his death, doesn’t mean all stories have to end like that,” her voice was sour.

  I looked to Timothy and he shrugged.

  “A prince came along and kissed her. The whole kingdom awoke from the curse. The witch came back to defeat them all, as a dragon. The prince slayed her and they all lived happily ever after.”

  “They all lived happily ever after,” Cara whispered. “What kind of crap is that?”

  “It’s a dumb story,” I agreed.

  Cara huffed, “What a complete load, right? There is no happily ever after. There should be dying at the end of every ever after. That is everyone’s outcome, right?”

&nb
sp; “Cara, I’m sorry. It was a stupid reference. All of the silly fairy tales people came up with end like that. I didn’t mean to-“

  “Hold on,” she interrupted and held a hand up at me. “All of your stories end that way?”

  “Well, they aren’t my stories,” I exasperated. I felt like I was digging my own hole.

  “No wonder your people are so weak. You people tell stories that end that way. You do some stuff, meet a prince, and live happily ever after,” Cara cried.

  Timothy interjected, “Cara, calm down.”

  “Wait, I’m not done,” Cara sneered. “I’m out here saving the princess. Where’s my place in the story? Is there ever a prince’s tag along sister? I bet not because she’s at home waiting on her own prince to show up and do his duty. Then if they get lucky, they get old and nasty together. Probably end up hating the sight of each other and die. How’s that for an ending?” She glared at me.

  “Cara,” I started.

  “Save it,” she grumbled, “I’m so glad you found your prince. Just don’t count on the happily ever after junk.”

  “That’s enough,” Timothy jerked her arm.

  “How dare you,” she punched at him.

  He restrained her.

  “That’s enough,” he growled.

  “Really! You are going to do this? You are an idiot, too,” she strained.

  I dropped the oars in case he needed my assistance. Cara struggled against him. Timothy’s wraps came loose and his hands smeared blood on her arms while holding her tight. She looked down and saw the bloody handprints on her. She slumped in his grasp, sobbing.

  He laid her down. “Are you done?” He asked.

  She nodded through her cries.

  “No more fairy tales,” Timothy said scornfully.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized.

  Timothy’s face softened.

  I picked the oars up and continued crying quietly. I am an idiot, I thought to myself. Maybe there was some truth in Cara’s rant. We were pumped with those cheesy stories and real life could never live up to them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  After the fall out, Timothy announced that we had one more day left in our journey. I should have been happy, but the unknown scared me.

  He told me that we would stop for the night, soon. We would have a place to stay. He was still being short with me but I relaxed knowing the end of rowing was near.

  I had pushed myself much further than I imagined possible. My arms burned but they turned in a robotic motion that only my mind kept going. I didn’t dare ask for reprieve since Cara’s meltdown.

  She had stayed curled up among the floorboards the rest of the day. She barely moved, only flinching in her sleep. Timothy scouted the trees and the banks along the river. He listened intensely to the noises around us. He made himself look very busy.

  My leg screamed so I stretched it the best I could while rowing. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t offer help, either. My shin throbbed and more than once, I felt a trickle of warm blood run down into my boot. I didn’t have the gumption to say anything to the others.

  Finally, Timothy pointed to the shore. I rowed to the spot he directed. He pulled us aground. I stood, each vertebra popped, and every joint crackled. I limped from the boat. Timothy scooped up Cara in his arms.

  As he passed me, he whispered, “I’m going to take her down first. We have to pull in the boat.”

  I followed him away from the river. In the side of a slope leading upwards, Timothy kicked dirt from the side. There was an indenting that looked like a handle. He nodded at me to pull it. I yanked and a small wooden door cracked open. I used my hands to dig it free. It looked like an old bomb shelter. The inside was cemented and round like a silo that had been put into the side of a hill. He crouched to walk in and I did the same. A few feet inside, the ceiling opened and we were able to fully stand. Timothy placed Cara on a cot and waved me back to the entrance.

  Once outside he said, “We need to stow the boat over there.” He pointed to thick brush encased by a circle of trees.

  We dragged the boat up as far as possible. I remembered this was a job for three people but there were only two of us. We hoisted the boat and waddled under the weight. I had to ask several times for a break.

  Timothy was growing impatient with me. I didn’t like his new attitude toward me. My normal reaction would be to give it right back but I knew that wasn’t going to get us anywhere.

  The boat was lowered into the bushes. Timothy pulled out branches to envelope it. I stepped back to fully appreciate the camouflage. No one would ever see it, unless they stumbled directly upon it.

  “I’m going down to sweep away the drag marks,” Timothy said. He abruptly turned away from me.

  I caught his shoulder as he passed. “Come on, you know I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he relented. “What you said hurt her. And what she said back had some truth to it.”

  “Yes, it did. We are weak, overall. That is why your people have conquered us. I get that. Our arrogance and unfounded belief that we ruled this Earth got us here.

  However, that isn’t you and I, we are here and living. I would like to spend any time I have left facing it with you,” I shrugged. “The only humans I’ve run into out here are animals.”

  Timothy looked me square in the eye, “No fairy tale needed?”

  “Are you kidding me?” I stomped. “Look around us, I want to survive. I want you and Cara to survive.” I cautiously reached for him.

  He fell into me and wrapped his arms around me.

  “Surviving is good,” he spoke into my neck.

  “It’s definitely better than the alternative. I have never hoped for princes or magical sunsets to ride off into and I never will. For one, I’m not an idiot,” I said. I savored his body close to me.

  “I didn’t think you were. It’s just that I can’t live up to anything remotely like that. Trust me, I’m not a prince,” his lips caressed my neck.

  I chuckled. “I only want us to live. Everything else is a bonus,” I squeezed him.

  The pain in my leg stabbed sharply and I crumpled. Timothy held me upright. He took a step back and looked down at my leg, it was bloody. He immediately picked me up and carried me to the underground shelter.

  Cara was still curled in a ball on a cot. Timothy nudged it as he past. “Cara, get up. Alex’s leg is bleeding.”

  Timothy laid me on another cot. Cara sat up blinking herself back to reality.

  “I need to stop the bleeding,” he said to her.

  She glanced at me and begrudgingly pried herself from her resting place.

  “Listen, I know you’ve been through a lot. Alex and I both understand. However, she needs you. Please,” Timothy begged.

  She shuffled over to me. I rolled up my pant leg. It exposed the old, dirty dressing she put on a few days ago, soaked with blood.

  She gasped, “Alex, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize it’d been so long since I checked it.”

  She scampered around the small room to gather the bag.

  “Timothy, I’m going to need a fire and boiled water,” she instructed.

  Timothy put his hand on her back. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll get it going. I need to brush down our tracks too.” He turned and exited.

  Cara carefully sat beside my legs. She peeled back the cloth over my shin. I winced as it pulled dried blood away from the wound.

  “Why didn’t you say anything about your leg?” She asked wide-eyed.

  “You’ve been a little busy,” I shrugged and laid back.

  “This is no joke. You could have an infection setting in,” she scolded.

  She felt my forehead for fever. Her facial reaction revealed that it wasn’t good.

  “It didn’t hurt that bad,” I lied.

  “I’m sorry, for what I said in the boat,” she apologized. “I lashed out at you because you made an easy target. It wasn’t fair
of me to say those things.”

  “I expected you to get angry at some point,” I admitted. “I guess I didn’t think it was going to be directed at me, but I expected it.” I grinned, despite the pain.

  “One day, I will ask you about the fairy tales again,” she smiled at me.

  I shook my head, “You’ll have to take that up with Timothy. I promised no more fairy tales.”

  She grunted. “I need to make peace with him, too,” she sighed. “I’ll go help get things ready. I can’t do anything without the water anyway.”

  I covered my face and nodded.

  When I peeked between my fingers, she was gone. I lifted myself to get a good look at my leg. The light was dimming and it made it difficult to see. I could tell that the blood on the bandage was caked with crusty blood and dirt. My leg appeared to be in the same condition as the bandage. I hovered my hand over the wound; heat radiated from it. I knew that was a bad sign.

  I wiggled my toes and a shock ran through me. I gripped the sides of the cot. A strange movement under the skin occurred.

  When I dared to try it again, I forced my eyes to stay open to watch. Immediately after my toes stopped, the same shock spread through my body. This time, I saw a long cylindrical shape protrude under the skin and slowly recede.

  “Cara,” I called.

  Both Timothy and Cara ducked inside. “Are you ok?” Cara rushed to me.

  “I think so, but this is new,” I nodded to my leg and held on to the cot. I moved my toes and the same thing happened again.

  Their eyes widened. “It looks like it is trying to work its way out,” Cara exclaimed. “We have to get her leg stable, now.”

  Timothy ran from the shelter and returned with water. Cara, set to cleaning the bloodied area. She scraped away the dry crust and more blood seeped out from the top and bottom of where the cylinder was.

  “Timothy, I need you to get me things to make a splint. She’s can’t move her leg below the knee anymore,” Cara directed.