Painted Red

by Kelsey D. Garmendia

  “Nikia? Doc? Come in,” he says.

  “Doc here.”

  “We completed the medical run.” His voice clicks off for a second. “But I’ve got some bad news.”

  “No meds?”

  “Is Two around? Or are you alone?”

  “Alone for the time being.”

  “Good—good.”

  The silence that follows makes my chest throb. Looking down away from my friend brings me no solace whatsoever. I scan the forest looking for One. Nothing. I open the car door and reach for my pistol—where the hell is it? “Oh no.” I take off in the direction where One walked off.

  “I’ve—we hit a bit of a snag at the hospital, but we were able to stock up good and well.” One’s voice is the only thing that makes it to my ears past my heaving breaths. The tree branches whip across my face as I sprint down the path he took, but I don’t see him anywhere.

  “That’s great news One,” Doc’s voice says over the radio. “What’s the bad news?”

  I vault myself over a fallen tree trunk. I scan the forest searching for One’s gray shirt. I see movement about one hundred yards to my left. “One!” I yell. The figure stops and turns towards me. “Stop!”

  “I was a bit by a wendigo,” One’s voice calls out on the radio. “I’m not coming back. I’ll make sure of that. Tell Two, I’m sorry.”

  A gunshot rings out, and One slumps to the ground.

  * * *

  I pull up to the gates and Two bursts through them. “Where is he?” he yells. He rips open the door and pulls me from the driver’s seat. “Where is he!”

  “Two stop!” Doc says pulling him off of me.

  “Where’s my brother!” he yells pulling at Doc’s hands.

  “Two—” I start but an image of his brother lying on the forest floor flashes in my head preventing me from saying anything more.

  “No,” Two says shaking his head. “No, no, no, no, no.” He collapses to the ground and tucks his head into his palms. His sobbing was the only noise to fill the air.

  “Xavier, pull the truck in. Get yourself inspected,” Doc says squatting down to Two’s height. “I can handle this.”

  I nod my head and climb back into the truck. I pull into the spot next to the brothers’ vehicle and kill the engine. I sit in the car looking down at my bloodied hands and feel nothing but anger. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you give meds a chance One?” I look over to his radio; I had to pry it from his fingers when I got to him. Wouldn’t want Nikia to lose it over more lost equipment.

  I look up at the house and see her standing out on the staircase. I realize that I’m not pissed at One in that moment. I’m mad at her. Her disease made us go out alone. It’s hurting the group with each supply run. One was right all along. My head pounds. I grab the radios and book bags from the bed of the truck. While I march across the front yard towards her, my blood boils.

  “Where’s One?” she says as I reach the bottom step.

  “Dead,” I respond. “Killed himself.” I drop the supplies at her feet and storm past her.

  “What happened out there—”

  “We went to getyou meds,” I yell. I toss my belt across the room letting the metal crack into the wall. “And then, he got bit. Now, he’s dead. And he wouldn’t be if you weren’t dying back here!”

  “Hey,” she says, her voice cracking. She pokes a finger into my chest. “You two decided to play hero and go to the hospital.”

  “You were the one who told us we were idiots for not going!”

  “You should’ve listened to Two—”

  “You’re a goddamned liar,” I say pushing her finger aside. “You lied to me about the last time you went to the hospital.”

  She purses her lips together and turns her head away. “I already told you what happened—”

  “You watched someone get killed so you could survive,” I say. “That makes two deaths on your hands!” I sit at the table and wait for the needle pricking my vein. Nikia’s steps stutter for a moment before stomping off in the opposite direction.

  I need to feel physical pain—anything other than loss or hatred would be nice.

  * * *

  I stand on the front steps of the house. Two sits off to the side of the gate with his head in his palms. I inch across the property in silence. I can hear his sobs as I make my way closer. “I told you to leave me alone, Nikia,” he says.

  “It’s not Nikia,” I respond.

  Two straightens himself out and wipes the back of his sleeve across his face. “I’m sorry about earlier, man—”

  “Don’t apologize. I should be the one doing that.”

  Two nods his head and picks dirt from under his fingernails. “You wanna know what I thought when you guys left?” he says. “Fuck One. He doesn’t know shit.”

  “Your brother was full of shit,” I respond.

  Two laughs. “Yeah, he was.” An owl hoots off in the distance. “I should’ve gone with you guys.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed anything,” I say. “We split up.That’s where we went wrong.”

  “Why didn’the realize that was stupid,” Two asks looking out of the corner of his eye. “So many fucking runs, and he decides the one that’s most dangerous is the best one to do a sweep? Alone?”

  “We thought we were safe. We let our guard down. We were there for maybe five minutes.”

  “Yeah,” he responds looking down at the ground under his feet. “Did I ever explain the whole One and Two thing to you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Before all this, our father used to beat us,” he says. “He would rip into us with fists, baseball bats—whatever was accessible really. Never a reason why either. I think it’s because he always hated us.

  About two months after the food went missing, my dad took me out back and lined me up against the shed. Pointed his rifle against my forehead. Said that he wanted to eat. That he was starving. One came home from hunting and saw him. He shot my dad square in the chest.

  Since that day, we never looked back. Our names—they never mattered to our father so we dropped them and left them in the dust. We were just numbers. It was easier to exist like that.”

  “I’m sorry Two,” I respond. “My dad was military. PTSD to the extreme plus a heavy drinker. He didn’t really acknowledge me much. Wasn’t sad when he died either.”

  “One called me Larry before you left. He only did that when he was disappointed in me. It was a backhand across the face to light fire under my ass. Now, I’ll never be able to change that image he had of me before he—I’ll never be able to make things good between us again.”

  “Two, he knew you were trying to do the right thing,” I respond. “He didn’t hold you to blame for what happened—”

  “How am I supposed to do this anymore? How am I supposed to function when I have no connection, no blood left in this world?”

  I look down at my hands and laugh. “You find new connections, new things to fight for. It’s what surviving is about.”

  “Two,” a voice says from behind us. We both turn to see Nikia walking in our direction. “You’re off watch. I’ll take it from here.”

  Two pushes himself to standing and stretches. He grips my shoulder and squeezes before he leaves. A few seconds of silence pass making my skin crawl with goosebumps.

  “You’re right you know,” her voices says from behind me. “I did lie to you.” Leaves crunch underneath her footsteps as she makes her way towards me. Every fiber in me wants nothing more than for her to shut up.

  She sits on the stump where Two sat and rests her rifle against the fence. “Trenten was a great guy,” she says picking up random acorns on the ground. “We were a thing for a while. Most of the time it was just sex—”

  “Jesus Nikia,” I respond standing and walking away from her. “I don’t want to talk, and I especially don’t want to talk about your sex life—”

  “Well this is the only way I know how to come clean, and clearly I need to do
that with you.”

  I shake my head and sit on the ground across from her. “Don’t talk about sex. Keep it PG13 for Christ’s sake.”

  “Fair enough,” she says chucking an acorn through the fence. “When I lost my family to the fort, I was a mess. I felt like there was nothing to survive for anymore. Trenten was the first person to make that feeling go away. I felt like I had started over when we kissed the first time.

  That day when we went to the hospital, Trenten and I split up from One and Two. We knew what we needed to get. It was just about getting in and out undetected.

  I found an empty nursing station filled with insulin. Trenten said that while I stocked up, he was gonna go to the supply closet down the hall. I shoveled as many vials as I could into my book bag, so I didn’t hear them when they came in.

  Trenten sold me out. He told the gang that was chopping people up that he would trade me for his freedom. When I saw the look on those gang members’s faces, I knew what they wanted. I just—snapped.

  I was hurt. Angry. But most of all, I was petrified of dying.”

  “Jesus,” I whisper.

  “When I ran into One and Two, I was in shock. I tried to get them to come with me, but they didn’t listen. One hated me from that day on. Eventually, I told Two what really happened. He tried to convince his brother, but One’s mind was already made up.

  I’ve carried Trenten’s blood on my hands for years. I brutally stabbed him to death, along with all those other monsters.”

  “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I was just so mad about One. You were the first one I ran into. He didn’t even let me try and help—”

  “Would you?” she says, looking up at me. “Knowing what we know now about the disease?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He died because he took my gun. It might as well have been me pulling the trigger.”

  “And if he hadn’t killed himself, he might’ve eventually made his way back here with a whole pack of wendigos,” Nikia says sitting next to me. “Thinking what-ifs Xavier will make you dead a lot faster in this world.”

  “Thinking logically took my family from me,” I respond. “No matter what I do or how I think, people either die or disappear around me. And I’m tired of loss.”

  I push myself from the ground and jog the rest of the way to my room.

  Omission

  Four Years Later

  The New Year

  The house doesn’t speak. The wind can’t even be heard in here. Two sits on the couch farthest from everyone in the living room. Nikia paces back and forth in front of the fire place.

  After One died, most of the adults in the house took off—some even left their kids here. It’s been nothing but this eery silence since I came back from the hospital run. We’ve been silently mourning him for a year. It’s depressing as hell.

  “Maybe,” Nikia starts, but her voice trails off into the silence again.

  Our food supplies are dangerously low. I’ve been training the youngin’s that are still with us to hunt. Some of them have great potential, but that’s just it. Their potential hasn’t been tested. Even I don’t want to take them out there and risk it. It seems like the days keep passing faster too. Maybe that’s why we’ve all been stuck mourning.

  “This seems like as good a time as any,” Doc says from the doorway to living room. We all turn to see him holding a large bottle of scotch. “I’ve been keeping this in my stock for surgery purposes, but given the circumstances.”

  “I’ll get glasses—”

  “Screw the glasses, Nikia,” Two says. “That whole bottle isn’t big enough for my problems let alone all of ours.”

  Doc takes a swig and then looks at the bottle to admire it. “Not bad.”

  He passes the bottle to me. I take a long enough sip to make my nerves feel like they’re on vibrate. The booze at least makes things bearable.

  It’s been a constant battle to keep Two with his head on straight. He’s lucky he had people with him when his brother died. He’ll make it through this. Since One’s death, my head’s been spinning with images of him dead on the forest floor. All the anger has been crushing me. I’ve talked to Doc about it all until I was blue in the face. Nothing has made it change though. We’re all angry or depressed. There’s no in between.

  Two hands Nikia the bottle. She grips it with a shaky hand and looks down at the bottle. “Fuck it,” she says and takes a long swig from it.

  “One would’ve been pissed at you for keeping that hidden,” Two says from the corner of the room. “I miss him.”

  “Yeah, me too.” The bottle comes back to me, and I take a longer swig. “No more.”

  “Damn Xavier, never pegged you for a lightweight—”

  “No more deaths.” The room turns towards me. I pass the bottle to Two. “I’m done losing people. The youngin’s will be ready before the end of this year to go out there. They will learn to survive. I’m not watching another person die that I care about. I’m done doing that.”

  “I second that,” Two responds.

  Nikia makes eye contact with me from across the room. She smiles and nods. “What do we have to do to make that happen?”

  “I need you all teaching the youngin’s the basics of hunting, gathering and surviving,” I respond. “I’ll do my best with teaching them my methods of shooting, but ultimately it’s up to them how well they do at it.”

  “What about the ones that don’t want to go on runs—”

  “Not an option anymore.” Everyone looks away from me—my blood boils. “Listen to me. If we allow these kids to choose, they’ll pick the safe choice. Every time. One died because we were dog-tired.”

  Hunter lifts his head from the couch cushion and tilts his head.

  “It’s an expression,” I mutter to him. “I don’t want to have to wash someone else’s blood off my hands again. If the youngin’s don’t want to grow up and learn how to survive, the door’s right over there.”

  There’s a brief uncomfortable silence until Two’s voice cuts through it. “I’m pretty good with off-roading stuff. I can teach the ones who don’t know how drive a few things.”

  “I can do strengthening,” Nikia says. “I’m pretty good at keeping myself in shape.”

  “I’ve got the green thumb,” Doc says. He takes a long sip from the bottle and hands it off. “Not to mention first aid.”

  I nod my head and take a swig. The scotch makes my muscles feel like jello. The anger isn’t there anymore, and I have that golden liquid to thank for that. “Looks like we got a long couple months ahead of us.”

  “You gave the youngin’s a good foundation Xavier,” Nikia says. “It’s up to us to keep them alive which will keep us alive in the long run.”

  “At least we hope so,” Two says looking over at me. He tilts the bottle back and hands it to Nikia.

  “Yeah. At least we hope so.”

  Spring Rain: April, 2017

  I’m not coming back. I’ll make sure of that.

  Thunder shakes the house jolting both Hunter and I awake. He dives under the covers with just his tail exposed to the open air. I’ve heard One’s voice in my nightmares for months.

  Out of the four years I’ve been separated from Aisley and Hayley, this has been the worst I’ve felt. One was a friend. I never thought I would have someone I could call that again. I all but gave up on that notion after I lost the two people I cared about most to the mystery of the fort.

  I throw the covers off of me, exposing Hunter’s head from under the blanket. A flash of lightening illuminates the room followed by another boom of thunder. Hunter wiggles himself back under the covers.

  “I’m going for a walk Hunter. Do you want to come?”

  His tail wags under the blanket, but his body doesn’t move an inch.

  “Suit yourself.”

  The main hall is empty. I grab my lighter off the dresser in my room before closing the door behind me. I flick open the top and watch the spark turn into a small flame. />
  Snoring comes from the watchtower’s door. A youngin’ sleeps with his feet up on the desk, and his head resting against a bookshelf behind him. Normally I would wake them up, but after another nightmare, my emotions are drained and I could care less.

  It’s times like these that I want to hear Hayley and Aisley’s voices talking to me. They’ve always calmed my nerves better than anyone else here. But since I had my meltdown years ago, I’ve pushed them so far under the folds of my brain that they’re gone. All I have now are the people around me to take their place.

  Sobbing from the living room floats past me. I use the dim light from the flame to direct me towards it. Two sits in front of the ash-filled fireplace with his head in his palms. Losing his brother has completely changed him. He’s empty now. Like I was. The fear of dying isn’t there anymore. I can see it in him because I still see it in my eyes at times.

  During the first week following One’s death, he was unstable to say the least. I caught him multiple times in the watchtowers holding onto a jacket of One’s. He would press the fabric into the face and sob for hours. It killed me to watch him go through that.

  I tried to relate to him just so I could pull from his depression, but I couldn’t. Our situations were different. There was a definite answer for him. One was dead, and he would never see him again. I still had a chance.

  “Two?”

  He sits up straight and glances over my shoulder. A lantern’s light reflects off of his tears making them appear as if they’re red. An image of One’s bloodied face flashes in front of my eyes. I close them—it takes everything in my power to push them away.

  “Hey Xavier.” He turns back to the fireplace and rests his head in his palms again.

  I sit next to him on the overstuffed couch; the warmth from his lantern never reaches my bones. “Can’t sleep.”

  “Me neither.”