Painted Red

by Kelsey D. Garmendia

  “Absolutely. I can’t wait ‘till I can start hunting—”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say gripping his shoulder. “I want to make sure you know what you’re doing with that gun before I take you out into the woods.”

  “George is definitely better suited for that,” he says looking down at his feet. “I’m not as levelheaded as she is.”

  “You’re not half bad. Just need a bit more practice.”

  “Who’s running training today?” Zachariah says looking around the backyard for the rest of our crew.

  “I’m trying to teach the best in the group individually at the moment so, Two will be taking my spot today.”

  “Damn,” he says.

  “Damn?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing against Two, sir. It’s just that ever since—well, you know—he hasn’t been as fun.”

  My muscles tense as a flash of One’s dead body on the forest floor fills my head.One killed himself. He got bitten. Two days later, Two tried jumping from a second story window. Doc stopped him. Two is different now. The images fade like the wind blew them away.

  “Sorry,” Zachariah whispers.

  “It’s ok. It’s been a rough year.”

  “Hey! I’m waiting on you Xavier,” Georgia’s voice echoes from the back door.

  “Shoot straight during practice today kid,” I say backpedaling away from him. “I’m coming back around noon. It’s your turn next out in the woods.”

  Zachariah’s smile returns to his face as he heads back towards the bench where Georgia sat. Hunter trots alongside me as I jog to the front of the house. Today feels pretty normal given the circumstances.

  * * *

  “How’d it go?” Nikia stands up against the once-white pillar outside of the house. Zachariah marches past her without a word. “That good, huh?”

  I shake my head. “That kid is a nervous wreck out there,” I respond. “Nearly took my damn head off with the shotgun. Everything he could’ve done wrong, he did.”

  “He was probably just nervous—”

  “No Nikia,” I say slipping out of my boots. “This kid did things wrong from the start. Things that I know we’ve all drilled in his head. I’m not sure if he’s the right material for hunting trips.”

  Nikia closes her eyes and lets out a sigh. “Shit.” When she reaches back to massage her neck, I can see the strain on her face finally.

  “What happened?”

  “Several of the youngin’s took off,” she says.

  “Where’d they go?”

  “I didn’t even get to the bad news yet, Xavier.”

  My stomach drops. “What did they take?”

  She looks up out of the corner of her eyes and shakes her head. I stalk past her into the main hall. I can hear Two and Doc’s shouts deeper into the house where the medicine and supply closet is.

  “Please tell me at least one of those kids can shoot,” Two says when I walk into the doorway. “Otherwise we are so screwed.”

  My eyes glue to the shelves. Some of the insulin bags lay on the floor underneath the cooler fridge. The antibiotics, smoked meat and purified water are gone. “How did this happen?”

  “My educated guess,” Doc starts, leaning up against the shelves. “They’ve been planning this for a while. It probably started with just a few supplies going missing. Something we wouldn’t notice. And then, they split with the rest of it while I was out at the playground’s watchtower and Two was guarding the front gate.”

  “We have to go on a supply run,” Nikia says from behind me. “And we have to go soon before the rest of the house finds out.”

  “What’s left of them,” Two chimes in.

  “Then lets go,” I say after an extended silence. “We’ll take Georgia.”

  “One inexperienced shooter?” Two says. “Seems kind of risky.”

  “We could bring Zac—”

  “No.” I look over at Nikia while shaking my head. “You heard me before. Zachariah is not ready for this. He couldn’t land a shot in any of the birds Hunter kicked up. He nearly shot him in the foot because he wasn’t holding his weapon properly—”

  “Xavier, these kids will never be ready,” she responds laying a hand on my shoulder. “They were young when this all started. Not everyone had the same upbringing as you did. Not everyone had to live on their own and survive out in the woods. These kids are all we’ve got.”

  A heavy silence fills the small closet. My skin crawls with anxiety. As much as I want to tell Nikia no, she’s right about the youngin’s. They would never be ready—not as ready as the rest of us are. Against my better judgment, I nod.

  “We’ll go on a hunting trip at the grounds,” Nikia says. “It’ll be in a controlled environment and we’ll make it short.”

  “What about supplies though?” Two says. “That’s what we’re short on. We’ve got plenty of food in the garden.”

  “I don’t want to risk taking them out on a supply run when they barely can shoot down a bird with a shotgun.”

  “There’s more of target for them with the wendigos. Less of a chance of them missing—”

  “But whole lot more that can go wrong,” I say cutting Two off. “Hunting trip to start out. Supply run afterwards.”

  “I have to agree with Xavier, Two.” Doc pushes himself from the shelf and looks over the remaining medical supplies. “I can make do with what we have here for now. We have shelter, I can purify more water from the well out back, but what I can’t do is create more meat.”

  “You can’t create more meds either, Doc,” Two responds crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “I don’t want to have to bury another one of us, Two.”

  One was bitten by a Wendigo. He killed himself before I could get him any help. I close and open my fists to suppress the memory of his lifeless body on the forest floor. The growls from that day echo somewhere inside my head sending a chill up my spine that I don’t think will ever leave me.

  Two looks away from us and clenches his jaw. The memory of his brother is still raw with all of us. It’s why we haven’t been taking risks anymore. Something in all of us changed the day One died. We became a family rather than a group of survivors.

  I found myself concerned for not just Hunter’s health, but for all of us. There were moments that I struggled through. Sometimes I wanted to run out the front door into the woods again and beg the fort to let me in. Surviving in the house was hard. The fort would be much easier. As far as we know, the government is sending supplies there.

  Going into the town around the fort has become a war zone. The supermarket I went to back when Aisley and Hayley were with me has been completely overrun. A group of survivors have holed up inside. They will trade, but at an extremely high price—weapons or ammunition only. Wendigos haven’t been able to take it back because of the sheer number of survivors there. It’s been a common theme these past few months—join up with a gang and don’t let anyone in.

  “When do we leave,” Two says after the silence becomes unbearable.

  “Let’s give it until tomorrow,” Nikia says. “Let those kids rest up.”

  We file out of the closet in silence. Georgia sits in the main hall next to Zachariah. They both make eye contact with us—he takes off to his room underneath the stairs.

  “George, can I talk to you?” Nikia says. Georgia nods her head and scoots over on the bench. “I’ll let them know. Can you take watch tonight in the tower facing the front?”

  “Sure,” I respond. I stick my head out the back door and whistle for Hunter. His paws thud against the dry ground before he appears in the doorway. I shut the back door and make my way up to the watchtower.

  “This is going to be a long watch tonight, Hunter. I’ve got a lot of doubts on my mind.”

  He lets out half a bark and then wags his tail faster.

  “I wish I could be as optimistic as you.”

  Stalker

  Georgia rides shotgun with Hunter sitting in b
etween us. She grips her rifle with two hands, her skin pulsing with each strangled beat of her heart.

  “Relax.”

  She looks over at me with wide eyes and then down at her hands. One of them falls to her lap as she lets her head rest against the back of the seat. “I gave myself this huge pep-talk before coming out of my room,” she says. “I told myself that I was more than ready for this. That I had the best shot in the group and there was nothing to worry about. That’s why I was picked for a hunting trip—” She laughs and shakes her head.

  “Georgia—”

  “George—there’s too many memories attached to my full name.”

  “I’m sorry,” I respond. “George, you are a great shooter and smart. It’s why you’re here now. Both myself and Nikia know you’re ready. She’s in the truck behind us with Two and Zachariah, who I’m sure is just as nervous as you—”

  “Is it safe for us to be doing this?”

  “With the precautions we’ve taken, it’s as safe as it’s going to get.”

  “But what about One?”

  I swallow and tighten my grip on the steering wheel.One killed himself with my gun. I left him in the woods and went back to the house. I told Two, Nikia and Doc what happened. They did not go look for his body. I take in a deep breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” Georgia says. “I shouldn’t have brought that up Xavier.”

  “It’s ok. One and I made the very dangerous and stupid decision to go to the hospital on our own. We should’ve waited. But we were worried about our medical stock.”

  “I heard it was because you wanted to go for Nikia,” she whispers. I shoot her a look out of the corner of my eye. The youngin’s had ears everywhere in the house. Nine times out of ten, what she knew was the latest rumor.

  “Who said that?”

  “No one in particular,” she responds. “It’s just the general say-so. You do what she says.”

  “No, I don’t,” I respond. “I think before blindly doing what she says. I’m not like Two. In regards to the hospital situation, One and I knew we were low on antibiotics. Nikia got sick, and she recommended we look in the hospital.”

  “Oh, ok,” Georgia says gripping her rifle again.

  “We knew it was stupid to go alone, we knew it would be risky,” I continue feeling my anger subside. “But we did it anyway. We did it because we didn’t want anyone dying at the house because Nikia got sick—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she responds. “I completely understand your motives. I’m just worried about the wendigos out in the woods. I don’t want to die. That was the whole point of me choosing to stay at the house and letting my parents go.”

  I take another deep breath in and nod my head. A couple weeks ago, Two, Nikia and I went on a supply run. At a supermarket close by, we found her parents—or what was left of them. Georgia didn’t cry. She was angry. And she had every right to be.

  The white noise from the radio fills the cabin in our silence. Some days, I think I’m going to hear a broadcast from the fort saying a cure has been made for people bitten by the wendigos. It’s clear to us all now that they are a direct result from some type of disease. I don’t know much about medical jargon, but Doc is convinced.

  He thinks that One was right for killing himself. The disease somehow affects the brain. It gives people a bunch of dementia-type symptoms, but it comes and goes in pieces, much like the girl who I killed. If One hadn’t killed himself, he could’ve forgotten he was bit. I could’ve brought him back to the house. The disease would’ve gotten all of us I’m sure. But without the proper equipment, Doc isn’t able to make much more headway with his theory.

  “Is that it?” Georgia says, pointing at the barren hunting grounds.

  “Yes.”

  “So, how are we doing this?”

  “You and I are going together with Hunter,” I respond. “I’ve seen the way you shoot, and I know that you’re light on your feet. Your paintballing past is definitely gonna help you out.”

  “I ran too,” she responds turning her gaze away from me. “My whole family was into it. I ran my first 5k when I was twelve.”

  “I wasn’t that active, but my dad was ex-military, a huge hunter and beat me if I was too loud and scared off any game,” I say. “The ass-whooping stuck, I guess.”

  Georgia chuckles. She goes rigid and looks over at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That really wasn’t a laughing matter—”

  “Relax, George,” I say. “It was said in a joking manner. I’m not serious all the time anymore.”

  We climb out of the car into the winter air. Right now, it feels like life is all right. I feel like I won’t have to continue reciting my past when we get back to the house. Sometimes I regret moving into the house with the others because I feel so natural here in the woods. I feel safe.

  But then I think back to when I lived in the woods with Hunter. I was barely human. I can recognize that now because I lived with humanity for two years. Nikia got to me before the woods would completely consume my soul, and that’s why I don’t try to leave anymore.

  Sure, I’ve killed multiple times out in these woods. Some of the times I didn’t even think twice afterwards. Living like that would surely be easier than feeling all the guilt I do now, but a shell can’t love and care about anyone. I need to be human if I ever hope to see Hayley and Aisley again.

  “Earth to Xavier,” Georgia says waving a hand in front of my face. “Nikia radioed you.”

  “Oh,” I say unclipping my radio from my belt. “Nikia, can you repeat that?”

  “Two, Zachariah and I are heading south from hunting grounds number two,” she says. “We’ll reconvene back at the house. Call if you’re heading back early or run into any trouble.”

  “Copy that,” I respond and click my radio back on my belt loop.

  “So, what’s step one?” Georgia says holding her rifle like a walking stick.

  “First off,” I say, swiping her rifle and aiming it at her.

  “Woah! What the fuck—”

  “Don’t hold your damn weapon like it’s a cane. Tight against your body, safety on, finger alongside the trigger, barrel facing down and away from anyone or anything you don’t want to kill.” I hand the rifle back to her.

  “You’re intense,” she whispers.

  “You have no idea.” She positions the rifle against herself like I explained and looks up at me. I nod and mirror her. “Next, perimeter checks. Complete three hundred and sixty degrees when you’re out on foot. We do these because we don’t know what’s out here.”

  “Kinda like back at the house?” she says looking around the forest. “When we scan?”

  “Yes,” I respond. “But this time, there is no fence. What’s lying between you and the wendigos is this.” I press my finger into my temple.

  She nods her head, and her eyes go a little wider.

  I scan the forest around me. There’s a lot chatter from the birds today. That usually means the wendigos aren’t out. Georgia’s breathing quickens until it sounds like the wings of a pterodactyl.

  “Breathe normally.” I demonstrate taking deep breaths in and out. Georgia nods and tries to copy me. “These things can smell fear a mile away. The more nervous you are, the louder you get. Wendigos definitely pick up on that.”

  “Ok.”

  “Are we clear?”

  “Clear,” she responds. “I think.”

  “Good. Never think you’re one hundred percent safe,” I say. “It might keep you on edge, but it’s better to be waking up in the middle of the night than sleeping through someone murdering your roommate.”

  She looks down at her shoes. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” she mumbles. “I’m scared that I’m going to end up like One and that girl who you—”

  I bite down on my lip.You shot and killed a girl because she was sick. She tried to kill you. Tried to bite you. So you did what Nikia and the others couldn’t. I let out another long bre
ath of air and nod. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to do this,” I say. “But we can’t survive off of just me, Nikia and Two hunting. We’re the most experienced, yes, but we could die at any given time and the rest of you all would be out of luck.”

  She wipes the back of her hand on her face and sniffles. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying—”

  “It’s ok,” I respond. I grip my rifle tighter and look around while she gains her composure back. Something feels off. I don’t see movement, but the forest is quiet. So quiet that I can hear it mocking the three of us.

  “George,” I whisper. “Get in the tree stand.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the truck is too far.”

  Sinking Ships

  “Hunter, hide!”

  He takes off towards the truck and hops in the bed. I help Georgia up the ladder when I feel a brute force tackle me from the side. I fly across the grass from the hit while gripping my rifle tight enough to make my joints throb.

  “Xavier!” I hear Georgia’s voice yell. A gunshot rattles my eardrums.

  The wendigo who tackled me drops in a heap about five feet to my right. Georgia looks around her iron sights at me and smiles with eyes filled with nothing but fear.

  They never attack during daylight. That’s what we’ve all been banking on these years. It’s the only way we’ve been able to do these runs. Unless—they’re adapting. A dull vibration starts in my chest. I know that all too well. “We need to go,” I say. Georgia climbs down the ladder and jumps to the ground. I whistle for Hunter, and he jumps from the truck bed and waits by the driver’s side door.

  “Nikia,” I say.

  “Go.”

  “Wendigos are coming. We need to head back.”

  “We ran into trouble—” There’s a quiet clicking noise on the speaker of the radio and then silence.

  “Nikia?” I say into the mic.

  “Are they ok?” Georgia says standing next to me. The growls are closing on us.

  “I don’t know,” I respond marching towards the truck.

  “What’s that noise—”