It sounded… like a dog? She thought at once of wolves and coyotes. Did they play tricks, lay traps? Draw in a victim by playing injured?
The whining grew abruptly softer, as if the animal’s last bit of energy had deserted it. As if its last hope was gone.
Her fear forgotten, Wren called out. “I’m here. Just let me know where you are and I’ll come. I promise. She tread softly across the gravel, so she would hear the animal, stopping by the water’s edge. Downstream was moonlit, upstream was dark. Nothing to see downstream but a couple of beached logs, she turned upstream and followed the water’s edge. “Talk to me,” she coaxed.
The whimper came again. It was here, right here, somewhere close. She saw nothing, only a log half in, half out of the water.
She gasped, recognizing she was seeing a body, not a log. The body of a very large dog, its dark fur wet, plastered against its ribs, ugly gashes across its ribs as well. The wolves, she instantly knew. She rushed forward, her hands hovering over the injured animal. “Oh, you poor thing!”
The dog’s eyes followed her, but it did not lift its head. It was completely spent.
“Did you swim across the river to escape?”
How could she move him? He had to be close to a hundred pounds. Maybe a shepherd-lab mix? A shepherd mixed with something bigger? This was one huge dog. She caught the sound of a tranny coming up the river’s edge. Should she hide? Could she pull the dog to safety and hide it as well? Would she hurt it more if she did?
“Wren!” a little girl’s voice drifted in the night air. Rhea! It was Bill and the children! Of course, he wouldn’t leave them behind to search for her.
“I’m here.” She jumped up and waved, then stopped. They wouldn’t see her. The lights of the tranny were not on. Good move, Bill. She shouldn’t be shouting either. How to call attention to yourself, Wren. This was supposed to be a stealthy escape.
The tranny sped up. They’d heard her. Thank you! Thank you!
Out of the gloom, the tranny materialized, Bill at the wheel, and Wyatt and Rhea strapped side-by-side in the front passenger’s seat, their jackets pulled on over pajamas, their faces relieved. Bill’s expression was a mix of relief and shame.
She ran toward them. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re just in time.”
Bill stopped the tranny and he and the kids scrambled out and embraced her as if they hadn’t seen her, had not been with her in years, not hours. She’d been stupid to run away. This was her family now.
She stepped back. “We have a rescue on our hands. A dog. He’s hurt and can’t get out of the river on his own.” She pulled them along with her to the dog’s side. The children were on their knees instantly, cooing over the animal. Wren said to Bill, “I think this is what the wolves were hunting. I think he escaped by swimming the river. He’s hurt and too exhausted to get up.”
Bill ran back to the tranny and grabbed up some blankets.
“You came prepared?”
He grimaced. “I didn’t know what we’d find.” She peeked into his head just for a moment, saw all the horrible scenarios he’d been torturing himself with since she’d run off. How had she thought he was uncaring?
“Oh Bill. I’m so sorry. Running off like that.”
“No. Stop. You’ve had one hell of a shock, I’ve been living with this for months. And, my reaction to your… ah…” He dropped his eyes, then glanced up at her, then away again. “Your gift? Talent—.”
“Handicap?” she provided, more serious than her joke let on. She did think of it as a handicap, had prayed to be relieved of it every night when she was young.
He grimaced at her joke. “I was an ass. And I’m sorry.”
She hugged him, so grateful he was here with her. “Help me with the dog. We can sort out all the rest later.”
They hurried back to the dog, laid out three blankets, one over the other, creating a thick padded bed. Together, children and adults, they lifted the animal up and laid him down on the padded bed. Then they grasped the edges, and sling-style, shuffled to the Tranny. After some wrangling, they set off for camp with the children in the back with the dog at their feet, and Wren beside Bill. Heading downstream, the way was better lit and they were able to find camp without headlights quickly.
They transferred the dog into Wren’s tent, and all squeezed in after it. Wyatt held a flashlight, Rhea soothed the dog by petting his head in the only place that wasn’t torn, a very small area, indeed. She sang a little song to him. The dog’s eyes never left her face. Bill dried him off gently, careful of his wounds, while Wren pulled apart the first aid supplies she’d brought from her father’s house.
Bill stilled his drying, studying the wounds. “Well, the wounds are as clean as they’re going to get, what with him swimming the river. Same water we’d have used.”
Wren looked over the slash marks. “Those are clean. But the bites and tears? The worst are the punctures. Punctures drive bacteria deep into the tissue, where infection is almost certain. That’s the real danger here. She tested the dog’s limbs, which moved naturally and easily enough. “Lucky. No broken bones. That’s a whole other level of first aid I’m not near good enough to address.”
Bill’s eyes met hers. “A whole level of first aid we have to learn for ourselves. There’s no visit to emergency anymore.”
“You’re right.”
“I have some medical books. We need to make reading them a priority. One night me and the kids snuck up to the hospital. It was empty of course, mostly ransacked, but we were still able to collect a bunch of tools, some of the stuff I can’t even guess what it’s used for. But, just in case—we have it.”
Wren widened her eyes in admiration for the kid’s benefit. “You guys! You three are so brave and so smart.”
The flashlights beam wavered as Wyatt dropped his gaze shyly, a little smile hovering on his mouth. Rhea paid no attention—she had eyes only for their canine patient.
Bill picked up the bottle of aspirin and read the dosage guide on the side of the bottle. “I think we’re safe to give him a child’s dose with food, if he’ll eat.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Wren took a deep breath to center herself. “Okay. We stitch up these slashes. We can’t leave them open like this. Then we slather them with this antibiotic cream and wrap him up. The rest? Antibiotic cream all over them, wrap ‘em and hope for the best. He’ll have to travel in one of the trannies. Who has the most room?”
Bill said, “We’ll shift stuff around. Figure it out in the morning.”
Wren ran the needle and thread thru’ rubbing alcohol, then leaned over the dog. “Okay, guys. You’ll have to hold him still. This is going to hurt.”
She pierced the skin with her needle, her hands trembling. The dog didn’t move. Surprised, she drew the skin from the opposite side of the wound across the open flesh and stitched it closed. Again, no reaction. She knotted the thread. Bill clipped it close to the skin.
The dog’s gaze remained riveted to Rhea’s face as if he were a lost ship and she had the power to lead him safely home.
Rhea said, “He knows we love him already.”
Wren blinked back sudden tears at the child’s simple words, and knew them to be true. She pierced the needle through the near side of the slash wound she was closing and carried on.
Wyatt trained the light on the wound. Wren stitched. Bill clipped. Rhea soothed.
“I know!” Rhea looked up at them, her brown eyes sparkling. “Let’s call our dog Hero.”
11
DEKLIN SIGNALS
Coru parted the boughs slowly and peered at the big white farmhouse. The smoke that had drawn them was coming from a huge bonfire set in the middle of the front lawn. There was a table laid out with plates, cups, dishes of … food? Yup. There was bread, salad, what looked like sliced meats and cheeses under plastic. Despite his suspicions, his mouth watered. There were empty lawn chairs. There were water buckets and fresh firewood stacked neatly beside it. This fire had been d
eliberately set. But no one was in sight.
He whispered to Mattea. “Could be a trap. Could be a signal for help.”
“What… ‘Help us; come, join us in a picnic’? They must think we’re a special kind of stupid. It’ll for sure attract anyone in the vicinity, and we know how that turns out. Someone will be a victim before that fires out.”
“We should just pass on by, then?”
“I don’t know.” Mattea grimaced, shaking his head doubtfully. “What if they genuinely need help, and they’re this naïve?
Coru growled with irritation. Mattea was right of course. They couldn’t just leave someone in trouble, no matter how ill-advised their method of attracting attention might be. Their band of rescues was growing into a tribe and the idea of finding Wren Wood alive here in the north marched farther away from him rather than closer, with every passing day. But could he see himself leaving his people—and they were his people now—behind and striking out on his own? There were millions in the future whose lives rested on his success. Maybe if he and Mattea could get their tribe to a safe place?
He jerked his head. He’d been down this road a hundred times and still had no answer beyond bringing them along with him in his search. Two impossible tasks rolled into one.
Mattea whispered. “I’ll stick in the woods, circle around back and see if I can see any evidence of numbers. Vehicles, horses—some way to get a loose head count.”
“I’ll check the out buildings. They’re close enough to cover I think I can—”
Mattea grabbed Coru’s arm and pulled him back, murmuring, “We have company.”
A gangly teenaged boy appeared on the front porch with a glass of milk in his hand. He looked down the rutted farm road expectantly then raised the glass and drained it dry.
“Look how he’s dressed,” Mattea said, his tone puzzled.
Coru saw nothing extraordinary in the boy’s dress. He was neat and clean, with a buttoned blue plaid shirt and clean blue jeans. His hair was tidy, slicked back from a remarkably unlined face… Oh! That was Mattea’s point. The kid was clean as a whistle, dressed in his best, ready to go to town. They were all struggling to stay reasonably clean and warm and this kid was dressed for a social occasion. He glanced at the picnic table once again, confused. What the hell was going on here?
Mattea’s eyes followed the fire’s wide plume of smoke as it pumped into the clear sky. He turned to Coru. “He’s inviting us to a party!”
“Us and every creep for miles around. This kid’s in for a world of hurt.”
“We’ve got to put out that fire. Now.”
Mattea stepped out from the cover of the forest. The kid jerked, dropping the glass. It didn’t break, it just landed with a thud and rolled around on the porch, back and forth, back and forth, before coming to a stop. The kid stared at Mattea with big eyes.
Mattea raised his hand. “Hey, kid. Saw your fire.”
The boy wailed, his mouth open, launched himself from the porch, still wailing and galloped gracelessly across the grass. Alarmed, Coru stepped out beside his partner. The kid stayed the course and threw himself into Mattea’s arms, sending the big man staggering. The boy was sobbing now, words tumbling out, though what he was trying to say was lost in a sea of emotion. Coru and Mattea exchanged confused glances. Mattea was first to snap out of the shock of their welcome. “The fire,” he said to Coru over the kid’s head.
“Yeah.” Coru jogged across the yard, dropped his rifle, grabbed the first water bucket and tossed it on the flames. Hissing clouds of vapor burst from the fire. The second, then third bucket deadened it for good. Coru watched the last of the truncated fire smoke drift up into the sky, praying no one had seen it besides themselves. The good news was, if they did, the fire would no longer lead them to this specific place, only the general area, and that help would be gone quickly. The upper draft of the winds was erasing the smoke as he watched. Someone upstairs was watching out for the kid.
Mattea walked the boy across the yard, his arm still around him. The boy wiped happy tears from his flushed face. A fresh, innocent face. “This here is Deklin Biczek, Coru. Biczek spelled with a ‘z’. Deklin lives here by himself now. His Mamma and Pops are in heaven now.”
Again, they exchanged meaningful looks. This boy was delayed in some manner, but high functioning. It was immediately obvious he had no filters and was a true innocent. His parents had loved him, obviously, had protected him out here on their farm, and had taught him well. Coru shuddered at the thought of Deklin in the hands of someone like Topher.
Coru held out his hand, a custom he’d quickly picked up back here in WEN 2046. A habit that had no doubt aided in spreading the virus so quickly around the world. “Hello Deklin. Glad to meet you.”
Deklin transferred his hold on Mattea to Coru, pressing his head against Coru’s chest and squeezing him surprisingly hard. The kid was strong!
Coru laughed, the sound rusty even to himself. When had he last laughed here in WEN 2046? Had he ever? “Hey, Deklin. Hope you use those muscles for good, not evil.”
Confusion passed over the boy’s face, but then the penny seemed to drop and he brightened. “Oops.” He released Coru and stepped back, wrinkling his nose and shrugging his shoulders impishly. The boy had an expressive face. Again, Coru was struck by the fact the kid had no filters, no defenses. “Sorry. Pop says that’s because I do the milking and chop wood.” He raised both arms, made two fists, showing off his biceps. Coru couldn’t help himself—the kid was impressive. And yes, he was slow to get there, mentally, but he did get there.
Mattea patted the boy on the back and guided him toward the house. “Did you set the fire to tell people you’re here?”
Deklin’s wondrous expression at Mattea’s insight made Coru smile. “You’re smart, mister!”
“You’re the smart one.” Mattea replied. “But I have to tell you some things you need to hear, Deklin. The reason Coru put out your fire so quickly is not everyone is nice out in the world right now. In fact, lots of the people out there are mean. That’s why we stopped the smoke. We don’t want any mean people here.”
Deklin’s eyes were big again, fearful. He shook his head adamantly. “No mean people. No sir!”
“Also. You can’t stay here by yourself. You need to come with us to our place.”
Deklin’s expression morphed to guarded. “Your place?”
Coru stepped in, lying through his teeth. “Yeah. We’re heading to a safe place, and you should come with us. There are others with us. Three ladies and another little boy, just like you. His name is Malcolm.” God, he hoped there was a safe place …
Deklin’s face morphed again, and this time it was as if the sun had just risen in his world, revealing treasure. “A boy just like me?”
Coru relaxed. Malcolm was the answer. “Just like you. Malcolm could use a friend.”
Deklin chortled, his head bobbing, eyes shining. “I could use a friend.”
“Let’s see what you need to bring. We have horses with us—.”
“I have five goats—Toby, Grizzly, Daisy, Echo and Smudge. And Missy and Junior. Junior is Missy’s baby. Missy’s a cow.”
A cow? Coru checked with Mattea, who was laughing silently. Mattea knew Coru wanted to travel light and quickly and this would not be light or quick.
“And I have bees.”
Coru’s heart sank. Please. No names for the bees.
“My special bees. They make honey. Lots and lots of honey.” He grabbed both men’s hands and ran backwards, pulling them with him across the yard toward the barn. “Pops told me to not let them die. He said, no matter what, keep care of my animals. He said be careful, but if someone kind comes, I should share.”
Coru muttered, “He did, did he?”
Deklin’s father had seen what was happening, and had prepared his son as best he could. Coru could only imagine what that conversation had been like for the father. Heartbreaking, leaving an innocent behind in a newly cruel world. But, bees
? Cows? Goats? “I’m not sure we can bring them,” he began.”
Deklin jumped up and down now as he pulled them along. “But we can. I have it all figured out.”
How would he say no to this boy, crush this boy? Coru let himself be drawn into the barn, dreading what he would find, dreading the conversation they must now have—and stopped short. The barn was extremely neat, airy and well lit, with a huge stack of bailed hay along the back wall, and stalls on either side. But it was what was in the middle that had their attention. There were four ATVs parked inside, each outfitted with large cages in their cargo area, with crates and sacks of feed already strapped down in the backseats. A nimble troop of colorful little goats made sport of the outfitted ATVs, tripping into and out of them as part of a self-made obstacle course.
Coru and Mattea approached the ATVs. The cage floors were lined with clean straw, with watering bottles attached to their sides. Canvas walls were rolled up along their roofs, tied up neatly. Across the roofs were solar panels. These vehicles were a dream come true! “Who taught you…” he stopped, knowing the answer. Pops, of course.
“Pops said God would bring kind people to our farm. He said I needed to be kind too. He said I had to earn my place.”
Coru wrapped Deklin in his arms and hugged him, blinking back tears of gratitude and enormous affection, the strength of his feelings a huge surprise. It had taken only this short time, and he already cared for this boy. Over the boy’s head, he could see Mattea shared his feelings. Deklin was coming with them, cow and calf, goats and bees. They’d find a way.
A gunshot boomed in the distance, echoing, sucking the oxygen from the interior of the barn, leaving a vacuum of fear in its wake.
Mattea barked, “The women!”
“Stay here, Deklin!” Coru shouted. He and Mattea raced from the barn, across the yard to their secreted horses.
Deklin cried after them, “Take me with you!”
“It’s too dangerous! We’ll be back.”
Galloping down the rutted road, they waited until just before the highway to veer off into the forest with Mattea in the lead.
Lost Sentinel: Post-Apocalyptic Time Travel Adventure (Earth Survives Series Book 1) Page 12