People called them zombies, but that was absurd. They weren't dead, but they weren't alive, either. They hovered somewhere in between, ghosts of their former selves, lost inside their minds.
The herd in the street grew. The people inside became restless and panicked as howls echoed outside. The panic mutated into screams of terror that echoed through the rooms. It took a few hours, but the Parasites broke through. The survivors turned, one by one, and Rebecca ran.
She ran until she was alone and hiding in a ditch by the road, having spied two of them in the distance. Laying there in an inch of frigid, muddy water, she tried to quiet her mind, knowing panic would kill her. Their feet crunched the grass above her, their noses sniffed the air. Silence. She waited an hour before peeking over the ditch: the creatures were gone.
And then she knew. To survive, you had to be like them — stony, silent, cold.
Be silent, be calm.
Rebecca envied the Parasites sometimes. They seemed to have no memories or emotion to burden and weaken them. As she walked through the wilderness with Ruby and the strangers, Rebecca was overcome with too many emotions to name: nostalgia for the past, excitement for the future, anxiety for her safety and Ruby's, and above all, terror. She recited her mantra and tried to obey it, though her heart pounded in her chest.
A rope cinched around her waist and jerked her forward. She was tied to Ruby, the rope's end in August's fat hand.
"Keep moving," he said.
They were walking on a road littered with dead leaves stirred into funnels by the wind. August lifted his ax to the sky, panning their surroundings with squinting eyes. Jonah raised his crossbow and Martha swept in closer to the girls. Rebecca searched her surroundings as well, looking for dead eyes among the trees. Every sough of wind became a footstep, every caw of a crow the screech of a Parasite.
"To the right?" Jonah croaked.
"Maybe. Keep your eyes peeled." August tugged the rope again; Rebecca trudged on.
She recognized the road they traveled — it was the road to school. The pattern of trees and meadows and little houses clustered along its edge were imprinted on her mind from countless trips down its length and a thousand insignificant memories blurred into one: sitting in the front seat with her father, Gabe and Abby in the back. Singing to the radio. Her father's simple, out-of-tune voice, crisp and loud in her ear.
This once-familiar world was now distorted. She walked in a dream, the kind where you know instinctively you're in a familiar place, even though that place looks nothing like it. The houses she'd passed by in her parents' car were now in ruins, swallowed by brush and weeds, and she knew exactly who'd lived there. The signs outside familiar businesses were faded, but she remembered the names.
For the first time, she realized that the world had ended.
August scanned the ruins, his fat fist clutching his ax handle. Rebecca shivered. The Parasites could be sniffing them out right now, the pack gathering to attack. She was terrified even though every inch of her body was covered — in leather arm and leg coverings, an armored chest plate, a scarf, and a wool scrap over her mouth — to protect her from infection.
It didn't seem like enough.
Be silent, be calm.
A branch snapped somewhere deep in the shadowed woods and Ruby flinched; her head pivoting frantically on her skinny neck, searching, terrified. A feeling dislodged in Rebecca's heart and she squeezed the girl's shoulder.
Empathy, concern. Rebecca shoved the feelings away.
Be silent, be calm.
"Stop," Martha said.
The group halted. August hoisted his ax. Jonah slipped a long finger behind the trigger of his crossbow.
"This isn't a good time," August said.
Martha glared at him and came up beside Rebecca, steel-blue eyes sharply tuned to their quiet surroundings. They'd stopped in front of a little blue house; Rebecca remembered the school bus stopping there to pick up a little blond-haired boy named Stewart. His ghostly figure floated through the weedy driveway as his mother stood in a grimy, shattered window, watching.
"Rebecca," Martha said. She was holding a canteen. Rebecca took it and smiled, grateful. "Drink, my precious girls."
She took deep pull of lukewarm water, then handed it to Ruby. Martha took back the canteen with a doting smile and pinched Ruby's chin, her eyes shimmering. Rebecca noticed something in Martha's eyes she hadn't seen before: desperation.
"You done, boss?" August said.
Martha nodded, and August tugged the rope. Rebecca wondered what happened to Stewart, her father, Gabe, Abby...
The last time Rebecca's entire family had been together, they’d witnessed the world end on TV. The news called it a chemical attack and blamed terrorists. Footage filmed the first herds, wandering the streets of New York City, chasing down and attacking stragglers. Then they headed north.
That day three years ago, Gabe and Abby were in school. Rebecca was home sick. It was nice outside, so her mother was outside in the garden, covering her tulip and iris bulbs in straw to protect them for the winter. Her older sister was getting ready for work.
Rebecca first saw the strange man walking through the backyard. Wondered what he was doing there. Her mother screamed. Victoria ran outside. She screamed. Rebecca followed the sound as it mutated into a primal, gut-wrenching peal.
The parasite was tearing through their bodies.
Rebecca ran to help, but they growled and lunged after her. Instinct told her to run, and she did, blindly, until her house was far behind her. Sometime later, she found herself on the road to Hyattsville, racing to Gabe and Abby. But the town was filled with the sound of screams, with sirens and smoke and packs of snarling, dazed people.
Rebecca was too scared to go on. She left her brother and sister there. She didn't protect them like a big sister was supposed to do.
But now, as she traveled that same road again, its length now quiet and deserted, she had to wonder: Had her father fled his office and found Gabe and Abby at school? Maybe they were all together, living down the road from her this whole time. Is that where Martha was taking them?
Something grabbed at Rebecca's waist. A rope, jerking her forward. She squealed.
"You're hurting her, August," Martha said.
"She needs to keep moving."
Martha palmed her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Rebecca nodded absently, but she could only think one thing: had her mother's tulips and irises bloomed that following spring? Her eyes drifted across the scene around her, alien and dream-like. A road coated in leaves. A sign and a building beyond it. Trees, swaying in the breeze. A pair of eyes, watching them through the shadows, and a smiling, wrinkled face.
"Are you hungry, my dears?" a voice cooed in her ear.
Eyes...
"I am," Ruby said.
Rebecca's blood chilled and she whispered, "There's something ..."
Marth nodded pertly. "We're stopping."
Be silent, be calm.
"We can eat on the move." August clamped Rebecca's arm in his meaty paw, yanking her forward.
"But—" Rebecca gestured vaguely at the eyes in the woods, a shoulder, the curve of a neck.
"How dare you touch her!" Martha said. "She is not your plaything."
August leered down at the old woman, his sausage-like fingers digging painfully into Rebecca's arm.
"You going to stop me, old woman?" August leered at Rebecca and bit his lip. A grin slithered across his face. "She isn't my type anyway."
August released her arm. Rebecca squinted into the trees. Sunlight glinted off a pair of eyes, then a second pair a few feet away.
Dead men's eyes.
Rebecca's muscles tensed and her skin prickled, like prey sensing attack.
She palmed Ruby's shoulder and whispered "Parasites" into her ear. Ruby stiffened. Rebecca glanced down the length of the rope to where it ended in August's hand.
"You," Martha said, addressing Jonah, "make yourself useful and kill
us some lunch. And you"—she sneered at August—"start a fire."
Idiots. Parasites were lurking a few feet away and they didn't even see them.
"Now," Martha barked.
August strolled over to Martha, ready to hand over the rope. His grip slackened. Rebecca grasped her end and tugged. The rope thumped to the ground.
"Run!" Rebecca said.
Sour sweat, unwashed skin, and dirt pricked her nose. The scent of an animal. Two Parasites sprung from the trees. They grunted, exchanging brisk gestures. Talking to each other.
Martha screeched. Jonah yelled in a husky, firm voice, "Protect them!" August and Martha obeyed, covering Rebecca and Ruby with their bodies.
Between their entangled arms, Rebecca watched as Jonah kicked one creature in its hollow stomach. Its skeletal body fell, smacked against the pavement. Jonah swiftly stepped back.
The second Parasite lunged. Jonah raised his crossbow. The arrow sunk into the hollow of the creature's throat; it clutched the wound and fell to its knees.
Jonah aimed the crossbow at the last one, still scrambling to its feet. Another arrow notched. Jonah hit the trigger. The arrow struck between the eyes. The creature stiffened and fell.
A wet, gasping sound cut the silence: blood burbling in a throat. Jonah strolled to the Parasite's side, propped a hand on his hip, and stared down, waiting for it to die with curious eyes. His face was blank, indecipherable.
Rebecca watched, too, as the Parasite at his feet transformed from animal to human under the power of pain and fear. Faint life surged in its eyes with a snap of electricity, then sputtered and died. The creature quieted. Martha and August composed themselves. Rebecca grasped Ruby's hand.
"Shall we keep moving, dear leader?" August said. "Or would you like to stay here with our thumbs up our asses and wait for its friends to arrive?"
Martha pursed her lips. Ruby latched onto Rebecca's waist and the girl sobbed, her young eyes fixated on the corpses in the road. Rebecca hugged her protectively.
Three years ago, the infected were indistinguishable from the healthy. Now, their skin was leathery and darkened by sun and dirt, their cheeks sunken and hair matted with grease. Their bones almost penetrated the skin — sharp shoulder blades, the knobs of knees, rows of ribs.
"It's okay, Ruby," Rebecca cooed. "I'll keep you safe."
She rocked the girl as she sobbed, her tears hot and wet on her shoulder.
"Be silent, be calm."
The cabin was dark and smelled of earth. There were no windows and the clapboards were sealed tight against the world outside. A thread of white light peeked under the door, tracing the edges of the cabin and its contents.
Ruby leaned against Rebecca's leg, then loped an arm around her shoulders and pressed her ear against the door. Martha and August were talking outside.
"We saw double walls, but only a couple sentries," August was saying. "They patrol the top edge of the wall, some sorta walkway. Escape would be easy. The main gate is hidden, in the woods. Opposite side of where we are now. Small zombie camp 'bout four miles east."
"For heaven's sake, August, stop calling them zombies," Martha said. "How big is this place?"
"Tiny. Must be shoulder to shoulder in there. Or there's hardly anyone left."
Martha hummed. "I'll go in the morning. Dawn. Give me three days, like before."
Two days of walking had brought them within three miles of Hyattsville. But they didn't go into town or take the turn Rebecca knew led to the school. Instead they had stopped at a roughshod cabin deep in the woods.
Rebecca pressed her ear against the door, confused and restless in this dark cabin she couldn't leave. She wanted to run down the road, find Gabe and Abby herself. Questions crowded her tongue: Why weren't they going in? Why did Martha send the men out scouting first?
"Keep those girls safe," Martha said, "or it'll be your head."
"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else, boss." August’s voice carried a tone of amusement, even mischief, that Rebecca didn't like. Martha was their protector, and with her gone ... Panic rushed into Rebecca's throat, choking her.
"I don't wanna be alone with them," Ruby's small voice sounded in the dark.
Rebecca swallowed her fear, overcome by a primal need to protect and comfort, to make everything right again. She squeezed Ruby closer. Rebecca had to be strong so the girl would feel less afraid, like she'd do for Abby.
Rebecca had missed being a big sister.
"I won't let them touch you. And if they try, I'll gut them both." Rebecca patted Ruby's head. "Besides, it's just for a little while. Soon we'll be with our families. Think about that instead."
Ruby nodded. Rebecca flattened her ear against the door again. August and Martha were now discussing their plans for the next day; August was supposed to meet her outside Hyattsville's walls just before dawn during their patrols' apparent shift change.
"I can't wait to see my mom." Ruby gasped excitedly. "She could have Winny!"
Goosebumps flushed Rebecca's skin. Ruby's joy was contagious; its golden rays filled her up, melted the cold shell she'd built around herself.
"Who's Winny?" Rebecca said.
"My puppy. I'd just gotten her for my birthday. She'd be grown now."
Rebecca swallowed a knot in her throat. "Tell me about her."
"She was real cute." Ruby giggled. "She looked like a little old man, with a beard and everything. I'd even taught her a couple tricks ..."
Ruby continued in this vein, telling Rebecca about the little outfits she dressed Winny in and where she slept, but Rebecca's heart thudded too loudly in her head to hear.
Where there was hope, there was doubt — a protection against disappointment. Rebecca could feel her normal life and her old self reviving, the Fall transforming into a nightmare that had never happened. But something held her back, a little voice haunting her.
The way Jonah leaned forward in his rocking chair and Martha avoided her questions. Stopping at this cabin, rather than going into town. The conversation outside.
If these people were lying, if they broke Ruby's heart — and hers, Rebecca admitted to herself — she'd gut them for that, too. A little girl needed stability and safety. She needed her family.
And so did Rebecca.
The conversation outside quieted. Boots scraped leaves underfoot and trailed to the cabin; Rebecca and Ruby shuffled away from the door. A second later, it popped open and a shaft of yellow light burst inside, revealing the cabin's details: a small table and chairs, a fire pit, beds made of pine boughs, blankets. Martha stepped inside.
"How are we, my dears? I think it's about time we had some dinner." She gazed down at them and stroked Ruby's straw-colored hair. "How's venison jerky and some cattail sound?"
August and Jonah filtered inside and dumped their packs on the ground, sending up puffs of dust.
"August, get some firewood," Martha ordered. She turned to Jonah. "And you, set some traps."
"Yes, ma'am," August said, and the men left.
Martha peered out the open door. "Dumb oxes." She smiled at Rebecca and Ruby. "Men will always need us women to keep them in line."
She shook her head and dove her hand into a knapsack, drawing out a couple bundles wrapped in fabric. Again, Rebecca was reminded of a kind grandmother. She released Ruby and stared down at the old woman, this connection to her past, the path to her family.
"How are Abby and Gabe?" Rebecca blurted. "How'd they survive?"
"They hid." Martha cleared her throat and didn't look up from her pack. "In the school."
"Is that where they are now? In the school?"
"No, they settled elsewhere."
"Where? Close by? How much longer till we get there?"
Martha stopped humming her tune and stood, glaring at Rebecca. Some of the kindness fled from her gray eyes and was replaced with an impatient coldness. It vanished seconds later with a smile.
"Now don't you worry about that, my dear." She placed the bundles on the
table and began to unwrap them. Rebecca stared at Martha's back, suppressing a shiver of sudden temper. The little voice grew louder.
She's lying...
"But I do worry about it. I want to know exactly where our families are, where we're going."
"You must learn to be patient and trusting."
"If you want my trust, be honest with me. Who's the Savior?"
Martha spun around. The wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, which until now gave her a wise, gentle aspect, now distorted her mouth into a taut line and her eyes into angry slits.
"Good girls don't speak out of turn. They don't ask questions," she spat.
Martha's words stung like a sharp slap. Rebecca recoiled, heat rising to her face from anger and humiliation and shock.
"Good girls are obedient, humble, and docile. You will learn these traits before long, Rebecca. I will not tolerate defiance."
Martha stepped close enough for Rebecca to smell her sour sweat.
"Defiance?" Rebecca said. "Of what rules? Whose rules?"
"I don't like having my honesty questioned. I told you your brother and sister are waiting for you. I told you I'm bringing you to them. To challenge my word is to call me a liar." Martha studied Rebecca's face with her lips pursed. "Are you calling me a liar?"
She didn't want Martha to be a liar. She wanted her stories to be true.
"No," Rebecca said.
Martha's taut wrinkles eased and fell back into their natural position. Her face was once again placid, pleasant, and calm. She untied Rebecca and Ruby's restraints; the ropes fell to the earthen ground with a thud.
"Now I know you'll be good girls while I'm gone. Won't you?"
Firelight cast August and Jonah's shadows across the ceiling and its wooden beams. The shapes undulated and shifted like storm clouds, but Rebecca wished she could see the stars instead.
Two nights had passed like this, with Ruby curled in the fetal position on a bed of pine boughs, a dusty blanket over her small frame. And Rebecca, trying to get comfortable in her own makeshift bed, too hot for her blanket, lay awake, restless with worry.
The Human Wilderness (Prequel): Among the Monsters Page 2