He only kept company with one group for any period of time that exceeded a few days. They were nice and caring, and that was their downfall. One of them brought an Adapted back with them to their camp, because it said it needed help. She thought it was a person in shock. It wasn’t. They all died that day. Since then Karo treks along on a path of solitude.
He’s searching for something, but he doesn’t know what it is. He spends his days scoping out small towns and cities, then looting abandoned houses and businesses, if the danger doesn't appear too great. He is aware of how important supplies are, and he is always stocked up.
“Don’t make any noise.” Karo says, his gun pointed at the back the person’s head. “Stand up, slowly.” his words are quiet.
If this is in fact a person they’ll listen, and if it’s not a person he’s not affording any opportunities to call for others. Others that are surely lurking around. Whoever, or whatever, this being before him is, it has been searching this dilapidated drug store for something. He’s never known a diseased or Adapted to do this.
The figure slowly rises from its knees. It trembles, likely afraid, however the diseased tremble too. They suffer massive vitamin deficiency and as such appear weak and ill, but the truth couldn’t be further from that.
Karo slowly takes a few steps back then instructs the stranger to turn around and face him. The person, if it is indeed a person, doesn’t appear withered or sickly. His skin isn’t discolored, his eyes aren’t bloodshot, his fingernails aren’t jagged, and his clothes aren’t foul. It’s highly possible this is, in fact, a person. Unfortunately for this older man that changes little to Karo.
“What’re you doing here?” Karo asks the stranger.
“Please, don't shoot me. I’m looking for medicine.” the stranger replies.
Karo’s brow furrows, “Why?” he asks.
“My son he-he's sick.” the stranger’s words are frantic.
Karo can feel the pain in the man’s voice, but everyone has agony within them.
“Is he?” Karo’s tone is demanding and cold.
The stranger’s breathing is growing heavier with each passing second.
“Please, we, I-I need help.”
Karo’s legs become rigid. He cocks his gun, “I’ve heard that before.”
CHAPTER SIX
"I'm tired!" Mikey moans.
The child stomps his feet, grimaces, then plops to the ground in defiance. Rosaline sighs, realizing he's a five year old little boy, but still annoyed with the outburst. She looks upon him, affection held in her eyes.
"We can't stop now."
Mikey scrunches his face and pulls his arms to his chest, crossing them tightly.
"I want to stop!”
Rosaline kneels down, blowing hair out of her face.
“I don't think we're in a good spot to rest right now bud.”
The boy's fists pound the ground as his tantrum reaches maximum.
“I want to stop! I WANT TO STOP!"
"Mikey! Stop it! Now!"
She is calm, but the sternness in her demeanor is halting. Mikey's outburst slows drastically, then ceases, lasting only a few moments. Rosaline never raises her voice, she does not scream, she never shows anger to him, he knows this. Instead, something far worse happens; she becomes quieter, distant, she tells him she's disappointed, that he knows better. There is too much danger in allowing yourself to become angry.
Mikey remains on the ground, tears now dribbling from his eyes, wetting his red, puffy cheeks. Rosaline inhales sharply, then sighs. She places her hand on the boy's arm.
"I'm sorry, I'm tired..." she frowns, knowing this world is too much for this young child, "Mikey, shit, I-"
His head snaps up, his eyes widened in shock, he gasps, "You said a no-no."
Her rigid pose breaks and she chuckles, "Yeah, I did kiddo."
She unstraps her backpack and lays it on the ground, then sits down next to him. She pulls him close to her, wrapping her arms around him.
"I know you're tired, I'm tired too. We can rest for a few minutes, but we can't stay in the woods. We have to make it to somewhere more defensible or to higher ground. That's where it's safest, remember?"
She wipes the tears from his cheeks, flashing him a smile.
"We can't be here when nightfall comes. What happens if we're not safe when it's dark?"
His gaze shifts from the ground and up to her. His eyes sag, he doesn't want to answer, and she can tell.
"What happens?" she asks again.
He doesn't say anything. She prods his sides. After a few pokes the boy giggles.
"We're dead meat." he finally replies.
"And we don't want to be dead meat."
Rosaline stands from her seated position, putting out her hand to him.
"Come on. Put the backpack on and I'll carry you for a while."
Mikey grabs the backpack and slides it over his shoulders. She leans down for him to climb onto her back. Mikey is usually a very well mannered child. This tantrum is a rarity. She has instilled within him a deep understanding of how dangerous and unforgiving the world they live in is. They've been in these woods for eight hours already with no end in sight. She has no idea if they'll be able to get out of the brush before the sun sets.
This is their every day. Roaming the outskirts of towns, avoiding cities, trying to survive, and trying to stay out of sight. There are no hopes, or dreams, or ambitions in this world. She has heard these words before, but now they hold no meaning. The only thing keeping her going is the sweet young boy attached to her back. The boy who has now slipped into a nap as the hours of carrying him have gone by.
Crack! Crack! The sound breaks through her thoughts bringing her to an abrupt standstill. She slowly, and quietly, moves to behind a tree. She sinks to the ground. Her head turns to face Mikey, waiting for him to awake. His eyes groggily begin to part. Her finger is already over her mouth and the boy understands completely.
Crack! Crack! The noise bangs the sky again. Mikey slides down off her back. She points at the ground then holds her palm in front of his face, signaling for him to stay put. She retrieves the hammer from the backpack, then slowly moves forward, keeping hunched down close to the dirt. The noise is coming from just up ahead. As she closes in she can hear voices, not discernible yet, but still she knows more than one are present.
Crack! Crack! Rosaline peers out from behind cover to see three figures gathered around a fallen tree. Two males and a female. They appear to be about her age.
"Harder chacho! Come on, you do this all the time." The female says to the larger male, who is standing over the tree holding an axe.
"Back off! I've never chopped an actual tree before." he replies, clearly irritated.
The female and the other male are holding rifles. These two share the same bronze skin tone and dark hair. They resemble each other fairly closely, though it's obvious the female is at least a few years older. These people are not Adapted, or at least not the kind of Adapted Rosaline has ever experienced.
"Dude, you gotta hurry up. We told Hawaii we'd be back before dark. Come on, you got this!" The other male interjects, attracting the attention of the axe wielder.
The largest one nods, grins, then resumes chopping at the tree. Crack! Crack!
Rosaline studies the trio for several more minutes, watching the slow progress being made to split the tree apart. Her eyes squint, her brow furrows, she's realizing these people will not be leaving soon. She turns away from them, and quietly makes her way back over to Mikey. The boy is fidgeting about with some grass, his attention not being kept by the noise. His gaze moves to Rosaline as she approaches.
"Do not speak. There are some people. They have guns." she whispers to him.
Her voice is so low that she can barely hear herself.
"We can't keep moving until they leave."
They can still hear the tree being smacked with the axe as they bunker down to wait them out. Rosaline fears she once again may ha
ve to kill actual people to protect Mikey. Life is precious, and from what she's seen the diseased greatly out number real people. She doesn't like killing people, but killing anything is her strong suit. She hates that about herself. Fate blessed her with this skill, a skill she never wanted, but on some level does appreciate.
Her attention directs back to the area the noises are coming from. She grips the hammer tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her other hand is placed upon the grip of the gun attached to her side. She glances back to Mikey. A sour look painted upon her face, a sense of uncomfortable dread rises within her, and she can see the fear in his eyes too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Kylie! Kylie!"
The words are faint. Her head rings, her mind blares with sirens. Her vision narrows, expands, then narrows again. The words seem to be dipping in and out. Her body throbs, this pain is unfamiliar. Her limbs tingle and react slowly to her thoughts. She feels like she's underwater. She fights to open her eyes. Slowly control over her own body is coming back to her. Her eye lids timidly part. It's dark
"Kylie! Kylie!"
The words sound as if they're being screamed at her from miles away. Even though they sound so distant there is a sharpness to them that pierces her mind. She can hear her heart beating, it pounds and pounds inside her chest. It's beating too fast. Her gaze turns to her arm. She moves it up to her face. She knows it's hers, yet it feels foreign.
"Kylie! Wake up! Please!”
The words are louder now, and they feel close. The voice is familiar. Her eyes dart side to side, her brow folds down, her mind races as she tries to place who it is. “It's...it's...Markus? Who is Markus? Why do I know that name? Oh, no, what is my name? It's K..K...something...K...Ky...Ky...”
“Kylie! Kylie!” Markus shouts again.
“My name is Kylie!” she thinks. Markus is screaming her name. She is Kylie. She remembers that now, but who is Markus? Why does she know that name?
"Please! Please!"
She raises her head to see him pulling a car door, straining to pry it open. The car is attached to a tree. The hood is bent in. It's like the tree grew through it.
She winces, feeling the pain more as her cognizance is returning. Her eyes narrow again, concentrating on remembering, “Markus...Markus is...he's....he's...my husband...we're married. What are we doing here? What happened to that-”
A jolt of dread smacks her face. Markus was driving. They hit the tree. Her memory is coming back quicker. “Where were we going? We were...leaving...leaving why? Ah, to get away from the city...because...because...oh, no, the disease. There's a disease.”
"Kylie!"
Her eyes lock onto her husband, but she does not move.
"Kylie can you hear me? Baby, do you understand me?"
She slowly nods her head, her eyes still cloudy.
"I can't get the door open. Patrick is still inside!"
She grimaces again, there is another person in the car. “Patrick? Who is he? Patrick, Patrick...Patrick is...is...”
Her faces washes white, a ghastly horror overcoming her. She can feel her blood rushing to her heart. Patrick is her son. They were in a car accident. Her son is still in the car. She presses her hands against the ground, pushes up, and scrambles to her feet. She can't feel her legs, but that doesn't concern her. She takes a step forward, then falls to her knees, back to the ground.
"Patrick!" she screams, fear now firmly holding in her.
Markus grabs hold of her arm and helps her back to her feet.
"I pulled you out, but my seat broke. The baby seat is turned over and wedged between the back seat and driver's seat."
Markus leans Kylie against the car. He pulls at the door handle again. It's not moving. She points to the other side of the car.
"The other-"
Her insides tumble over. She grips her gut. She doesn't feel so good now. Whatever food is in her comes rushing back out. She vomits and collapses back to her knees. In between gasps for air she forces her thoughts out.
"Try...the...other...side..."
Markus pounds his fist on the roof, becoming angry with himself. All he could think about was getting to Patrick. It didn't occur to him there are two rear doors. He races to the other side of the car and rips at the handle. The door flies open. He tugs at the car seat. He doesn't need to pull it out, he just needs to turn it so that he can get Patrick from it. His son isn't moving, he's not crying, he's not making any sounds. He tries not to let this overtake him, but he's becoming more and more anxious with each passing second. The car seat will not move.
He gets into the car and places his feet on the back of the driver's seat and pushes as hard as he can. He pulls the car seat and it wiggles. He pushes against the driver's seat again, and the car seat comes to him. He rolls it back upright. He places his hand on Patrick's chest. He's still breathing. Markus bursts into tears. He unbuckles his son and takes him from the car.
He hurries back to Kylie, who already has her arms stretched out to receive her son. She holds him firmly against her chest as she lays back against the car. Markus kisses her forehead and wraps his arms around her. They're alive, and at this moment, that's all that matters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It’s been days since she’s eaten, five to be exact, and two for Mikey. She rationed what they had, and once it became clear there was nothing to hunt in this area she stopped eating. An attempt to stretch food out for Mikey for as long as possible, with the hope she would be able to find something before it ran out. That hasn’t happened.
She watched the people chopping the tree from a safe distance. She kept herself, and Mikey, hidden. They’re not very aware, or maybe she’s become great at hiding. She’s never followed people this long before. She prefers to keep distance from all others, save for Mikey. Following them makes her uncomfortable, but Mikey is hungry. There is no other choice. They have to have a camp somewhere. There has to be food at this camp. There has to be.
She’s not a thief. She’s never stolen from people. She considers taking Mikey from the commune they were a part of as rescuing him. Those people were bad people who did unforgivable things.
They’ve been trailing the tree choppers for hours. They appear to know where they’re going. This is a good sign. She has no idea how she’s going to pull this off. All she knows is that Mikey needs to eat and she will not fail at providing for him. Not now, not ever. She will do whatever it takes to ensure his survival.
She’s close enough to hear the people ahead of them speaking to each other. They seem to know one another well. They don’t seem like bad people. That only makes this harder. Her and Mikey have been in this area for a while and she hasn’t come across one animal. There aren't any abandoned shops to raid, or any buildings at all for that matter. “There’s no telling how long they’ve been out here. How long will it take them to restock what I steal?” She can’t let these thoughts fester. She’s doing what she has to do.
The day has dwindled down to night. Their pace has slowed substantially over the past twenty minutes. They must be close to their destination. A hour or so ago they made their way out of the woods and onto a road. This has made tailing them more difficult. Her and Mikey have remained in the woods, near the tree line. It’s thick here. Traversing the terrain has been tasking, not making any noise has been more so. She’s surprised how well Mikey is handling it. This has been the longest he’s ever gone without speaking. She’s impressed.
Her stomach growls. It feels like this is the hungriest she’s ever been, but she can't really be sure of that. She tries to shake it, but her ability to do that ceased a long time ago. All she can think about is eating. Their targets cross the road and enter the woods on the other side. Damnit. Now they have to cross too. “Do these people know they’re being followed now? Did something tip them off? What if they’re waiting just inside the tree line for us to arrive?” Damnit.
No choice. They have to follow suit. Quickly, though quietly, she and Mikey cross the
road and enter the woods. She stops, giving Mikey the hold still signal. She can’t see them. Damnit. Wait, she can her something. It’s faint, but it’s there. It’s a voice. She grabs Mikey’s hand and moves swiftly, but cautiously. The voices are becoming louder again. It’s the tree choppers. She’s certain. She scans around the environment, finding only green and brown for a long moment, then, finally, she sees one of them. She continues to pan her head around. There the other two are. They’ve picked up their pace again. They have to be closing in on their destination.
As she continues forward she can see a splotch of orange brightness breaking through the thick woods. It’s not far from the upcoming tree line. The people approach the edge of the woods and exit the brush. She signals for Mikey to lay down, and he promptly does as requested. She moves to the perimeter of the woods.
She can see the people again, and there are more of them now. Five in total. They're all young and appear to be around her age. There are three men and two women. They’re sitting around a campfire. The other two must have been cooking while waiting for her targets to return. Behind them is a large open area of flat land with a pretty good size house on it. There’s a barn not far from the house.
“This is where they live?” she wonders. All five of them are sitting around the campfire conversing and laughing. They definitely all know each other well. Their situation seems nice, as nice as it can be these days. She wonders what it’s like to have friends, to have a companion. Her stomach growls again. Damnit. She watches them for far longer than she’s comfortable with. She’s not sure where they keep their food. She’s so hungry it’s difficult to concentrate. “What the hell am I going to do? They don't seem like bad people, I don't want to hurt them if I don't have to.”
She doesn’t know why, but she feels the sudden urge to show herself. She knows that is not the wisest move to make. “Maybe these people will be different than all the others. It'd be good for Mikey to have someone else to talk to, some friends-” She shakes her head, frowning at her own thoughts. “Stop that. Stop it right now. You’re just hungry. You’re not thinking straight.”
A World Fallen Page 3