Chapter 39
We didn’t say much as we walked, and pretty soon we passed the Simpson’s old house. The place was deserted, and there were still bones in the yard. The front door was open, and we could see where animals had been in and out.
Rounding the corner, we headed west and passed a few more homes. Some were occupied; some were not. As we moved I watched the sky, trying to figure out when the next snow was going to fall. If we were lucky, we would catch up to the man before the next heavy fall. If not, we’d lose him for good. I didn’t see any snow on the horizon, and the sun was coming up, sending bright rays all through the world.
Up ahead, we saw a stick standing upright on the side of the road. A small string was tied around the top of the stick, holding another stick in place. The other stick was cut in two places, forming a small arrow that pointed north.
I cocked my head at the sign. “Geez. You’d think your dad had more confidence in us than that.”
Trey shook his head. “This is tame compared to what he did when I was learning how to track. He once stuck a stick in every footstep a deer made just to make sure I saw the tracks.”
“Well, let’s see what we’re after here,” I said, bending down and taking a look at the tracks. I pushed the snow away from the imprint, being careful not to knock any on the print itself. The point here was to see if there were any strange things on the footprint that would distinguish it from others if it happened to cross another trail.
“Normal boot print,” I said. “But look up here.” I pointed to the toe of the boot which, based on instep, was the left foot. “There’s a cut on the tread, third from the top. Looks like it’s missing about half the tread.”
Trey nodded. “All right. We got him. No place to run if he leaves a print anywhere. You ready?”
I brought my bow up and pulled my string from my inside pocket. That was a trick my dad taught me. If a bowstring was cold, it could snap, which could take your eye out if you were unlucky. I quickly strung my bow and gave it a test pull, keeping my face away from the string. Nothing snapped, so we were good for a while. If the temperature dropped, I was going to have to take the string off and warm it up.
“Let’s do it. I’ll watch the terrain; you keep your eye on the tracks,” I said.
We walked into the yard of a home that had been abandoned and followed the tracks to the back yard. The home butted up against some railroad tracks, and we followed the trail down the train line for about a quarter mile west, then the tracks led north again, cutting through a hole in the thick brush.
Trey and I followed, and when the brush opened up, we found ourselves in another subdivision. The homes in this area were substantially larger than the ones we were used to.
“Looks like this area has been hit more than once, if you know what I mean,” Trey said, following the tracks through the yard toward the main road.
“No kidding,” I said. The houses, as big as they were, had been hit at least once by the Trippers and then again by looters and drifters. The one we passed had all of the ground floor windows busted in and a couple of the upstairs. It was too bad, since it seemed like it was a nice house.
The houses next to it were in the same condition, and all up and down the road the houses were the same way. Some had their garage doors open, and it looked like anything of use or value had been taken. One garage was huge, and my first thought was I could stable Judy in there with a friend and still have room for when Pumpkin came to visit.
My next thought when I looked at the homes was how hard it would be to heat one of those big places. Guess that wasn’t a worry when everything worked back in the days before Tripp.
“Come on, the tracks lead this way,” Trey said.
We followed the trail down across the road and into a small valley. As we walked, I could see a huge expanse of land spreading out to the east. It was loosely populated with trees, and a creek wound its way around the area. It would be the perfect place to run Judy if I could make sure it was safe.
A house was at the bottom of the valley, and it looked like it had once had people in it who had made it through the worst times. The yard was surrounded with a solid wood fence, and behind the house was a decent sized pond for water. I made a mental note to check this place out later when I had more time. Right now it looked shuttered and abandoned.
We followed the tracks to the creek as they swerved along the water, crossing a bridge. We moved across the entire open area, and on the other side was another subdivision. This one had homes that were even larger, and the tracks went right through the middle of them. I looked off to the east and saw the biggest home I had ever seen. It was at least four times the size of one of the homes we had passed, and was all pillars and windows.
“Jeez, who lived there?” I asked Trey, pointing at the big house.
Trey shook his head. “Dunno. Governor, maybe? Hey, watch yourself. The tracks go into that house.”
“Got it. I’ll check around back to see if he left,” I said, circling around towards the rear of the house. I had to go through a garden gate, and I kept tripping over something hard in the snow. I circled wide and kept my arrow pointed at the house. If the man was there, he was going meet another pointy object in a hurry.
The back of the house was a tangled mess of trees and long grass. A large glass enclosure at the back of the house contained what looked like the remains of several large plants and even a couple of trees.
I checked the snow and found that the tracks led out the back door of the house and into the next yard. I whistled for Trey, and in a minute he was back leading the way.
Chapter 39
We walked past the houses and crossed what must have been another road. This one had more than a few tracks in it, and Trey and I slowed down. We didn’t know if we were going to see drifters, Trippers, or what. We listened for a moment, then crossed the road, picking up the tracks on the other side.
I looked down the lane of houses, and for a brief moment wondered what it must have been like to live in this area when everything was normal.
I must have been daydreaming because I bumped into Trey. He was standing still next to a tree and staring straight ahead. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that I had bumped into him. He just stood very still.
I looked over his head and saw what had stopped him. In between the houses, right on the trail, was a large man. He was at least six feet four, if not larger, and his clothes were tattered beyond belief. His large hands were black with dirt and dried blood, and his face was dark as well, especially around the mouth. His eyes were deeply bloodshot which, according to what my dad had told me, indicated how long he had been infected. If they were light red, they had been infected for a few months to a year. If they were blood red, they had been infected for at least five years. This guy’s eyes were a purple color which I took to mean he was probably an original. We were standing behind a small pine tree which had covered our approach. The blotches on the man’s face were nearly black, giving him a very scary look.
The Tripper swayed from side to side, and he seemed like he was trying to make a decision. He put his hand out to touch the house, then he stumbled over to the other house to touch it as well. The journey was twenty yards across, but he only made a yard in our direction.
I pulled the arrow back until the fletching touched my cheek, then tracked him to the left. When it looked like he was going to stop for a second, I let the arrow go. The shaft flew straight past the man’s head and into the side of the house.
It hit with a bang, and the Tripper’s head snapped up. He had stumbled at the last second which had caused my arrow to miss. He looked at the arrow, then looked around. His hand reached out and touched the still quivering shaft that stuck out at an odd angle in the siding of the house. His eyes then scanned around, and his gaze fell on Trey and myself.
The Tripper’s breath heaved out in an exaggerated wheeze, and he bared his teeth with the fury of a trapped animal. In a flash, he was
stumbling backwards, the crossbow bolt that Trey had fired hit him squarely in the face, punching through his nose and spearing his brain. He flopped back into the snow, staring blankly at the brilliant blue sky that had witnessed millennia before this.
“Nice shot,” I said, walking over to the house to try and get my arrow out. It had gone in between two boards, and with a little work I managed to get it out. The point was dented a bit, but I could fix that on a rock.
“Thanks.” Trey walked over to the dead man and pulled his arrow out with a nasty squelch. He wiped it on the dead man’s shirt and then rubbed some snow on it. He put it back in his cocked crossbow, and we continued on our way.
Right into a pack of Trippers. They saw us just as we saw them.
“Run!” Trey yelled, leaping forward.
I didn’t need any more incentive than that. I used my dented arrow to put down the lead Tripper, and then I was right behind Trey. Trey stayed on the trail, only this time we were running instead of walking. It solved two problems. We were getting away from the infected and closing the gap on our gate crasher.
“Come on!” Trey said. He ran up to a house and bolted inside the open door. I was right behind him, and the wheezing, snarling Trippers were not far behind. Trey dodged and darted around furniture and debris, and finally got out the other side. He was halfway across the yard when I stopped him.
“Stay here, and make sure they see you,” I said, returning to the house and closing the back door before moving through the snow towards the front of the house.
“What are you doing?” Trey said.
“You’ll see,” I said. I left Trey in the back yard and moved quickly towards the front of the house. When I reached the corner, I brought up my bow and used it to aim my eyesight as I slowly turned around to the front. Five Trippers were stumbling through the overgrown landscaping into the house, one right after the other. When the last one went in, I waited for a minute.
When I heard Trey shouting in the back yard, I ran towards the front door and closed it, slamming it shut. An instant after it closed, the door shook from an impact on the other side. I guess one of the Trippers happened to look back.
I ran to the back yard and met up with Trey again. I grinned at him, and I got a nodding smile in return.
“Not bad,” Trey said. “If they don’t break a window, we just might have saved a few people down the line.”
“Let’s get moving,” I said. “We need to get to an area with a little more room to see. These houses are a trap.”
“Well, the tracks lead that way, and we’ve got about five hours of daylight left,” Trey said. “Maybe we need to move a little faster.”
“Think you can keep to the track?” I asked, shifting my pack and making sure I could reach my arrows. The pack felt tighter than usual, but that was probably due to the fact that I was wearing more layers.
“We’ll find out,” Trey said. He verified that the track he was following was the one he wanted, and started after it. The trail led towards the east, then abruptly went through another hole in the brush heading north. We ducked through it and climbed up a small hill. At the top of the hill was a cleared path that ran out of sight both east and west. The path was flanked on both sides by heavy brush, and if there weren’t any Trippers on this trail, one could travel in relative safety.
“Wonder what this used to be?” Trey said, looking back and forth.
“Not sure. But those look like mile markers, so people must have used it for some sort of travel,” I said, pointing to a faded post with painted inscription of 3.4 mi. on it.
“Well, we’ll take the horses on this sometime and let them have a nice long run on a level ground,” Trey said.
“One of these days,” I said. “Let’s keep going.”
The tracks led down the other side of the hill and towards what looked like another subdivision. As we moved, I was learning a little about our quarry. He was a shorter man with a measured stride. He didn’t move like he was running anymore, and he probably figured he wasn’t being followed. The trail didn’t wander all over the place, and there was no attempt to hide the tracks. Either he didn’t know we were coming, or he didn’t care, a thought that made me pause a little, but when I spoke to Trey, he dismissed it out of hand.
“I doubt whatever he may have in mind for us that it figures on how fast you are with your gun,” Trey said.
“My gun is in my pack.” I said.
Trey looked at me. “Oh. Well, you’re pretty quick with them arrows, aren’t you?”
“Quick enough,” I said.
“Hope it won’t come to that,” Trey said. “Hold it. Step back.”
I moved into the shade of a tree that was close to the road. Trey ducked down and motioned with his hand that there was something ahead of us. I looked out on the other side of the tree and saw a Tripper stumbling up the road. He was moving away from us, and the speed at which he moved told me he was pursuing something, or something caught his eye and he wanted it.
“Can you get him?” Trey asked quietly.
I looked at the retreating Tripper. He was about forty yards off and moving pretty well. The snow slowed him down, but he was still plowing through pretty good. It would be a long shot, but I figured I could do it.
“Hang on,” I said softly. “Is the scope broken on your crossbow?”
Trey actually had the grace to look embarrassed. “Jesus. I forgot,” he said. He brought up his own weapon, sighted the Tripper, and released the bolt. The arrow was a black streak across my vision, and then the Tripper was falling down, having had his skull penetrated by a rather rude arrowhead.
“Nice shot,” I said. I was truthful when I said it. It was a good shot.
“Thanks. Come on,” Trey said. “You hear that?”
I listened for a minute. “Sounds like a fight,” I said. It did, too. There was a lot of snarling, banging, and some odd sounding thumps that I hadn’t heard before.
Chapter 40
“Let’s go see.” Trey said. He paused long enough to reload his crossbow, and we both went up the long hill, passing house after house on an odd stretch of road. It was odd because it went nowhere. It literally ran smack up into the trees that closed off the other subdivision. The contrast between the homes couldn’t be more different. These homes were small, with maybe twenty to thirty feet on a side. The other homes were easily sixty to eighty feet on a side.
At the top of the hill we could see a little better. There was yet another subdivision in front of us, and from our small vantage point, we could see that it was a vast network of roads and houses.
“Damn, that’s a lot of houses,” I said.
“Damn, that’s a lot of Trippers,” Trey said.
I looked in the direction he was and nearly dropped my bow. Near what looked like another main road was a strange building that was mostly glass in the front. But the stranger thing was a young woman standing on top of a metal bin swinging a club at several Trippers who were crowding around and snarling and grabbing at her legs. When one would get close, she would smack it with the club and knock it away, but she couldn’t get close enough to really kill one or two, because the other ones would pull her down. The wall behind her was too tall for her to climb, so she really had nowhere to go. A small pack was in the snow about fifty feet away from the dumpster, and it was easy to see that she had been surprised by this group, and had retreated to the only place of marginal safety.
“I’ve got enough arrows,” I said. “Let’s get to a spot where they can’t see where the shafts are coming from.”
We ran over to a couple of trees that were close to the road, and I saw the woman watch us run. She was experienced enough to stamp her feet and keep the attention of the Trippers on her, so we were able to get into position without being chased there. If I had more time to argue about it, I might have lobbied for a higher position in the house across the street.
I took the right side and aimed for the nearest ones in the back of th
e crowd. They were about sixty feet away, so it wasn’t that difficult of a shot. I hit the first one in the back of the head, and she dropped like she had been struck with a sledgehammer. Trey fired while I was drawing another arrow, and he put down a short older man. I fired again, killing another Tripper. They hadn’t figured out where we were or even that their friends were dying.
Trey’s next shot went wild, since his target ducked her head for a moment. It glanced off her skull, careened upward and struck the wall behind the woman mere inches from her head.
“Hey!” she yelled, ducking with her hands up.
For whatever reason, probably because he was raised to be polite, Trey held up a hand and yelled out.
“Sorry!”
Every Tripper in that pack turned our way. They caught sight of us since we weren’t that well hidden by the trees and started our way.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked out loud, firing an arrow at the nearest Tripper. He went down without a fuss, and I put another one down quickly. It was easier to hit them since they were getting closer. I put two down to every one Trey put down, and we made short work of that pack.
I had to wonder a little bit about how we had grown in the last couple of months. Just last fall we would have run like hell from these Trippers. Of course, last fall we didn’t have any of our family members killed, so there was that.
When the last of the infected fell, Trey and I went around and collected our arrows and bolts, wiping them off carefully on the dead clothing, running them through the snow, and wiping them off again. While we were doing this, the woman who had taken refuge on the container had gotten down, and she picked up her pack on her way over to us.
She as about twenty or so and a little taller than me. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, held in place by a small leather band. Her coat was a little bigger than it needed to be, which told me she was wearing a man’s coat. She reminded me of my mom when my mother used to put on my dad’s coat to run outside in the fall to scare away the crows from the garden.
Born In The Apocalypse Page 15