by M. D. Massey
By mid-morning, we were back at the camp. The boys were conspicuously silent as we jogged up, and Matthew averted his gaze. “Matthew, where’s Gabby?”
Without looking at me, he pointed inside the shed. Curious, I walked up behind him and gently turned him around to face me. One eye was almost completely swollen shut, and he sported the beginnings of a shiner to end all shiners.
Bobby whistled, shaking his head. Matthew just looked at the ground and blushed, making the black and blue mess of his right eye stand out even worse. Christopher made a funny face and smirked, but with one look from me, he waddled off to find something to busy himself with on the other side of camp.
“What happened?”
Matthew tried to hang his head even lower, if that were possible. “I deserved it. We were shooting at butts, attempting to redeem ourselves after the sound thrashing the lady provided us at archery yesterday. She proceeded to beat us again, and I accused her of cheating. She struck me.” I began to speak, but he held up his hands. “I am aware that it was poorly done. I have tried to apologize, but she will not speak to either of us.”
Christopher spoke up from across the camp. “And I didn’t even do anything!”
I stifled a chuckle, then did my best to look serious before Matthew looked up at me. “Um, maybe you should just avoid her for a day or two until she gets over it.”
He nodded. “I suppose you’re right. But how shall I redeem myself in the lady’s eyes? It seems I’ve besmirched her estimation of me beyond repair.”
Oh, woe is me, I thought. “Trust me, Matthew, she’ll get over it.” I paused to think about how I wanted to phrase my next few words and leaned closer to whisper so they wouldn’t carry. “Gabby—she’s going through a tough phase right now. Just leave her alone, and this will have blown over before long.”
He looked up at me with renewed hope. “You’re sure of this?”
“I’m sure. Let’s break camp and see if we can’t make some time today before I have to send you boys back to Colin.”
He gave me a funny salute that somehow reminded me of something from Men In Tights and then dashed off to help Bobby and Christopher break camp. I had to fight to avoid releasing a chuckle that would crush the poor kid’s confidence. I understood why Anna, Colin, and Tuck had raised these boys as they did, but damn it if they weren’t both annoying and amusing to be around. I could only imagine how they’d react to seeing The Princess Bride or Monty Python’s The Holy Grail. It might break their psyches entirely.
I walked over to the little cinder block hut and knocked on the doorframe. “Mind if I come in?” I felt like a sitcom dad, walking in to soothe my T.V. daughter’s wounded heart. It felt a bit ridiculous, but I couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. And guilty, too, for letting her get involved with my shit. But, what’s done was done.
Silence. Then, a small voice echoed from inside. “Sure, why not.”
I walked in and sat on a cot across from her. The little shed still had all the pipes and apparatus it had come with, but someone from Colin’s group had equipped it with the barest amenities to make it more livable. I wondered how many other safe houses and way stations they had like this in the Corridor; that knowledge might be useful in days to come.
It was common for caravaneers and scavs to have dozens of hideouts and safe houses like this one peppered all over the map. Often, they’d keep the best ones to themselves. It was only when you got to know someone well, like I knew Sam Tucker, that they’d let you in on their sweetest hiding places. I reflected that I wouldn’t mind adding a few choice spots like this to my own map, if only to have a backup plan should things go south with the wolves. I made a mental note to ask the boys if they could share some intel with me before we parted ways.
Gabby was playing with her knife, flipping it up in the air and catching it using a variety of grips. Between her finger and thumb, between her middle and index fingers by the blade, by the butt balanced on her palm, snatching it mid-air and flipping it between her fingers; she had a seemingly endless number of permutations of this game. I watched her for a few seconds, then spoke up.
“Matthew sure has a heck of a shiner.” She nodded. “Did you have to hit him that hard?”
She snatched the knife from the air and did a half-shrug. “He asked for it.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said. He feels really bad about it, you know.”
She frowned and looked at me like I was nuts. “Seriously? I mean, I laid him out with that punch. I figured he’d be pissed that not only did I beat him twice at archery, but that I also kicked his ass for real.”
I tilted my head and smiled. “Well, boys have a way of forgiving the faults of girls they’re interested in, and I’m pretty sure Matthew has a thing for you.”
“He’s almost as old as Bobby. Aren’t I too young for him?” She stated it sarcastically.
I grunted. “Bobby’s older than he looks, remember?”
She looked down at her knife, staring as she flipped it between her fingers. “Yeah, I forget sometimes. He just seems so young, you know?” I had the feeling she was hinting around at something, and then it clicked.
“Gabby, how old are you, really?”
She bobbed her head. “I dunno, fifteen or sixteen, maybe. It’s easy to lose track of time, living underground.”
Secrets and lies, I thought, and I was always the last to figure it out. “The serum, it slowed down your growth, didn’t it?”
She nodded. “The Doc and my Uncle Tony told me that I had to act the age I looked and that no one could know. Otherwise, they might think I was a ‘thrope, or something else. It would make people suspicious. So, I had to act younger.”
“And Captain Perez, she told you to hide this from me?”
“It was my choice. I didn’t want you to think I was a freak.”
I let out a small gasp of exasperation. “Gabby, c’mon. You’re traveling with a werewolf and a guy who’s just one bad day away from becoming a full-on deader. You have nothing to worry about.”
She smiled, slightly. “Yeah, you guys are kind of weird.”
“We are at that.” I sucked on my lip and squinted at her. “But Gabs, this keeping secrets thing, it has to stop. Half the time, I feel like everyone is holding out on me, and that you and the Doc are just leading me around by the nose.”
She turned to look at me, curiosity and maybe a little shame written across her delicate features. “Scratch, I’d never hide anything from you that could hurt you. I swear it.”
I tilted my head. “And I believe you. But I don’t have the same opinion of Captain Perez. And, I’m a little suspicious of your story about who your uncle is and what he did before the War. A lot of it just doesn’t add up.”
When we’d first met, Gabby had told me that her uncle had disappeared under mysterious circumstances right before I found her. Yeah, I wasn’t buying that story anymore. Too much of what the Doc and Gabby had first told me had turned out to be half-truths or lies. I figured there was a story behind this “uncle” of hers as well. My money was on him being a spook, but time would tell.
Gabby started to protest, but I raised my hands, and she stopped. “Now, I’m not judging you—I mean, in this world, this age, we all have to keep some secrets. All I’m saying is, when you’re ready to tell me your whole story, I’ll be here to listen.”
She stopped twirling her knife, then spun it one last time through her fingers and slammed it into the sheath at her waist. “Deal. But if that cabrón tells me I cheated again, I’m going to break his jaw.”
I looked out the doorway at Matthew’s mangled face, just as he winced while covering the last coals of the small campfire they’d built. “Yeah, I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
FIFTEEN
VOUCHSAFE
That morning, the boys led us back on the same route I’d taken the day before. We snuck across the highway at the same point and ended up at the cemetery near the safe hous
e where I’d left Pancho. I had them wait for me as I snuck inside the safe house, but there was no sign of him. Cursing myself for not killing him, I hoped to hell that he’d slunk off somewhere to die and that the Pack hadn’t rescued him.
After I had arrived back at the cemetery, we cut across some empty fields and a wooded area to a creek bed hidden by dense trees and vegetation. In the past, the trees and bushes were likely more sparsely grown, but now nature had taken its course and provided us with ample cover along what I assumed to be our route north.
We silently entered the ravine, and Matthew gestured for everyone to crouch down and take cover. Then, he motioned me over to where he and Christopher squatted next to the small stream. Christopher grabbed a stick and drew in the sand. “We’re here.” He stabbed at the sand. “Here’s the creek.” He drew a squiggly line north. “And here’s Kill Valley.” He drew a line about twelve inches above our position that intersected the creek at a right angle. “And here’s where the Corridor pack resides.” He drew a rectangle about six inches further north of where the squiggly line ended.
“We can take you as far as here, but no further.” He gestured to the end of the creek. “Honestly, we’d leave you here, but you’re never going to get past Kill Valley before dusk. So, we’re going to take you to an emergency safe house we’ve set up not far from there.”
I held up a hand in protest. “Wait a minute—I thought this,” I gestured around us, “was ‘Kill Valley’?”
The boys looked at each other, and Matthew responded with a wry grin. “Surely you jest? This area is child’s play compared to Kill Valley.” He adjusted the quiver at his waist and fingered his bow nervously. Apparently, this would be no cake walk. “Now, from here on out, I must ask you all to be silent. We’ll be killing the dead as we go with our longbows, hopefully without attracting attention from any of the rest of their kind who roam this area. You won’t see many ghouls or revenants in this area, because there is a vampire who roams Kill Valley who keeps most of them at bay. However, the large numbers of dead are trouble enough. Because there are so many, this is the only safe route through this area.”
I nodded. “Lead the way.”
The boys exchanged a glance before standing, each nocking an arrow. As they took off at a careful pace, we silently followed after them.
As promised, it was slow going the whole way. We’d run into two or three deaders at a time, and often Gabby would have to pull duty taking them out with headshots in tandem with the boys. Once or twice, we drew the attention of shamblers up on the ridges above the creek, so we’d have to kill them and wait while the boys retrieved their arrows. It was well into the late afternoon before the boys signaled for us to pull up and gather round.
Matthew drew close enough to whisper in my ear. “We’re almost at the safe house, but it’s best if we wait until nightfall to head over. Too risky right now. We’d almost surely be seen by a herd, and with the number of dead around here we’d be surrounded within minutes.”
I looked around to make sure that Gabby and Bobby had heard. “Understood. While we wait, I want to see what we’re facing tomorrow,” I whispered back. He nodded once and tilted his head to signal me to follow him.
He led me up the creek several hundred feet further. By this point, the water had dried up to barely a trickle. We crawled up a low rise next to a bridge that loomed overhead, then belly-crawled through some undergrowth and low-hanging juniper trees. Here he stopped and I paused next to him. I could feel the trembling in the ground long before I saw them, but when he parted a branch I still nearly shit my pants.
The street ahead was wall-to-wall with deaders. Thousands of them. It had to have been the largest herd I’d seen since the bombs had dropped. I shook my head in disbelief; Matthew slowly released the branch until it concealed us completely again. I took much greater care in moving back down into the creek bed than I had previously in crawling out of it and snuck back to rejoin the others.
After that, we hid under a rocky overhang until well after dusk, listening to the footsteps and little moans and growls of deaders that seemed to be all around us beyond the ledges above the creek. Once it was good and dark, Matthew gestured that we should follow, and slipped off into the night. How he and Christopher were moving so confidently in the dark was beyond me. I chalked it up to the moonlight and being intimately familiar with the area.
We followed them up the ravine, to a wooden fence that bordered what had once been someone’s backyard. Matthew held up a hand and motioned for us to wait, then pulled up a section of the fence and slipped underneath. A few moments later, he returned and gestured for us to follow.
We went through the backyard, out a gate, and along the side of the house. There were deaders in the streets, small pockets of them here and there. I looked ahead and saw several cars blocking the street in a mini pile-up. We followed Matthew and Chris while moving rapidly in a crouch, tailing close behind them as they disappeared into a small, almost unnoticeable pathway that went between the cars. We followed them out the other side, then backed between the cars again at his silent command, pausing to wait as a lone shambler shuffled past.
Once it was gone, we moved silently and quickly to the other side of the street, ducking through another backyard and into a third, where we stopped and listened to determine if any deaders had spotted us. After being certain that we weren’t followed or noticed, Matthew and Christopher led us along the side of the house to a small window that revealed a rarity among Austin homes: a basement. Matthew fiddled with the window for a moment, then held it open as he motioned for us to go inside.
I went through first, concerned that there might be something lurking in the dark. But my nifty new night-vision revealed nothing more than a standard suburban family room. The rest of the group followed me in, and Christopher paused to shut the window and lock it from the inside. They gestured for silence, which was unnecessary, and motioned once more for us to follow them.
Matthew led us into a bedroom, and then to what appeared to be a closet door in the corner of the room. He opened it, revealing a wall of clothing hung neatly on hangers across a closet pole. Matthew turned and smiled, then slipped through the clothing and disappeared with Christopher on his heels. Freaking Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe, I thought to myself. I ducked through the hanging jackets and coats after them, only to find a false panel open at the back of the closet.
Behind the panel was a small space the size of another closet, and on the other side of that a metal door that opened outwards. The door was ajar, and Matthew and Christopher were already inside the room behind it. I entered after them to find a small, windowless safe room stocked with bunks, blankets, and shelves of canned goods. Matthew lit an oil lamp, then stood and shut the closet door, the false panel, and the metal door to the safe room once we were all inside.
Matthew unslung his bow and quiver, laying it on one of the bunks. “Now we can speak. So long as we do not raise our voices, no one can hear us outside this room—not even one of the wolves.”
I looked around and shook my head enthusiastically. “Impressive. How’d you guys find this place?”
“Scavenging. One of the squires was searching the closet and just happened to lean on the false panel. We rarely come here since it’s so close to the Valley, but it has served us well during times that we’ve come here to spy on the Pack.” He gestured around. “Please, make yourselves at home.”
Gabby and Bobby wasted no time in picking bunks and starting to stow their gear. The only downside to the room was that it was cramped and had little ventilation; soon we were smelling each other’s funk. But otherwise, it was a perfect little hideaway, safe from the hordes of undead presumably roaming just a few feet from our heads.
Matthew caught my attention, and I knelt down near where he sat. “We won’t be able to get much sleep tonight,” he said. “We’ll need to leave before first light.”
I nodded. “Got it. Who’ll take first watch?”
He tilted his head. “I will, then Christopher. We’re familiar with the house and the area. If something happens, we’ll signal you by tapping on the floor or wall three times.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to sack out. Wake me when you think it’s time to go.” I picked an unused bunk and crashed, wasting no time in making up for the sleep I’d missed the night previous.
SIXTEEN
VULTURES
A few hours later, Matthew woke me up with a hand clamped over my mouth. “Christopher is on watch, and he gave the warning signal several minutes ago. I haven’t heard from him since, and he has not returned.”
I removed his hand from my mouth. “Shit. Wake the others and have everyone ready to go ASAP.”
He looked at me and frowned with confusion, so I elaborated. “That means double-time, pronto, fast as possible.” He nodded and went about waking the others. I got my gear together, laced up my mocs, and loosened the sword in its scabbard. Something told me I was going to need it soon.
We stacked up and exited the safe room with me in the lead, sword drawn. Bobby was at my back with claws out, still in human form but looking less like a surfer and more like Wolverine’s little brother at the moment. Gabby and Matthew backed us up, longbow and crossbow pistol at the ready. Matthew was a bit freaked at Bobby’s claws, but he cowboyed up and took his position before I led us out and into the house.
We headed upstairs, and Bobby, Gabby, and I each scanned our sectors, looking for signs of trouble. The place was empty as a bird’s nest in December, but I caught a whiff of a familiar smell when we hit the front of the house. It was a combination of clotted blood, graveyard dirt, and desiccated flesh.