by Maira Dawn
Skye‘s fist lay against Dylan’s side. His ragged breaths raised and lowered his stomach, straining his tight muscles as the tension flowed through his body.
Another snap grabbed their attention. A shuffling sound. The Sick were being less quiet now, becoming confident.
Dylan stilled and listened for a moment. One hand rested on his knife, and the other held his crossbow.
Dylan started their careful trek again, picking up their pace. Skye wasn't sure if the Sick knew they were here or not, but it seemed Dylan thought they did. A few more quiet steps, then more stirring from the Sick again.
Skye swung her head to a rustling of branches to her left. Are they searching for us? The Sick wouldn’t do that. They’d attack us if they ran into us, but actively hunt us, no. She shuddered. These ones are aware.
Sweat trickled down Skye’s body. Her trembling hands clutched Dylan's shirt harder as if it would to be the source of her salvation.
Dylan gave his head a little shake as if refusing to acknowledge this was happening. Scowling, he turned back to Skye. His palm laid against the side of her face and neck as he pulled her ear to his mouth so he could whisper as quietly as possible. "Be ready. I think they are comin for us."
It was Skye's turn to deny the situation. She groaned and shook her head as well as she could between Dylan’s head and the hand he had firmly planted on her cheek.
He said, “When I say run, you run for the truck like hell-fire and brimstone is chasin ya. If anyone comes after you, go to the paved road. If I'm not there in five minutes, drive for the cabin.” He pulled back and stared at her.
Skye scowled and mouthed, "No, no, no!" Is he crazy? I'm not just leaving him here!
He stopped her midway through the third "no" by tightening his grip and bringing her ear close to his lips again.
Skye’s fear made her senses more acute. She felt the outline of his every finger against her cheek and jaw, his other hand gripped her arm, her hair stirred from his breath as he spoke.
“Yes! You listen, ya hear? If you have to go, I'll make my way back to the cabin. We're not that far away.” He drew back again and stared into her eyes. “You go.”
Sadness covered her face as she mouthed, "No, I don't want to."
Dylan’s hands became gentle on her even as he tugged her tighter. "It'll be okay,” he whispered close against Skye’s ear. “You need to get back to Wade and the boy to tell them about these Sick. They're closer to the cabin than we'd like. We gotta keep them safe," Dylan drew back just enough he could scan her face.
Skye searched Dylan’s face from his hairline to his hard jaw, then settled on his dark-blue eyes. His gaze didn’t leave her, and she returned it. Tears welled up and spilled when she looked down. Skye wiped them away and pulled in a deep breath, giving him a determined nod.
Relief showed in Dylan’s gaze. “We will go on together until we can’t anymore. Get ready to run.”
Pain had long since settled in from the awkward, slow crouch Skye had been forced into, but she was quick to forget about it every time there was a noise from their pursuers.
For every step that Dylan and Skye took, it seemed those chasing them took two, continuing to get closer with each passing moment.
Skye shuddered when their whispering and muttering grew louder. Whether they whispered to one another, or each was lost in themselves, Skye didn't know. She didn't want to be close enough to find out.
Chapter Eleven
Run
One thing Skye did know, these were not the gentle fall to sleep Sick. These were hostile, confrontational ones.
She trembled with realization. AgFlu. Aggressive Flu. I thought that stupid nickname had only meant that the flu was a fast advancing disease. What it means, what they've been trying to tell us, is that the people become aggressive. It was right there in that stupid name all along.
We had been warned.
Dylan stopped and held Skye back. They both dropped into a crouch. Frantic to move, Skye breathlessly waited for direction. The Sick were coming. She and Dylan had to get out of there, or they were going to die.
Skye swallowed a scream as the thorny brush to their left thrashed. One of the sick pushed its way through the thick undergrowth. Thistles grabbed at its clothes and skin leaving blood-red welts before they let go. When he broke through, a second one followed.
Both were men. Both in the advanced stages of the disease. Their chests heaved with every breath, their fingers, lips and even their arms no longer a normal color. They were dark blue.
From the open fear on their faces, they seemed long past simple delirium and had entered into a stage of genuine terror. Their bulging wide eyes darted from here to there, seeing imagined shadows. Before they locked onto Dylan and Skye.
The leader dragged his leg as he walked. He turned and lumbered toward them. The other one followed. His muttering caused the red foam dripping from his mouth to fly out in front of him.
Skye’s heart raced. For a moment, she closed her eyes against what came toward her, but she needed to be tough. At least some of them were Sick and not only Infected. That would increase their chances of getting out of here.
Skye patted Dylan and pointed. He nodded that he saw them, then tipped his head to the right. Skye, following his gaze, could make out the bodies of two more.
Dylan examined the Sick and became more confident on seeing their lumbering gaits. Skye took assurance in that. The scream she restrained behind clamped lips lowered to silent frantic moans.
Any second now, Dylan would tell her to run. Skye rose slightly, her thighs burning from the position as she waited for his orders.
Skye felt Dylan's stomach tighten. He rose to his full height, breaking the connection between them.
"Run!" His voice rasped out the word. Skye darted one last questioning look to him. He nodded.
Given the go-ahead, Skye flew down the small dirt path they had come up. She threw a glance over her shoulder. Dylan stood tall, concentrating on his target.
The thawp of a bolt as it left the bow, and the scream that echoed through the forest when it hit its mark told Skye his aim hit true.
Skye ran. No one pursued her, the only sound was her own ragged breath.
She glanced back down the trail. They surrounded Dylan. She slowed for a second before speeding on.
Do what he said.
Another bolt, another shrill scream, another body hitting the ground.
He has this under control.
Skye’s heart sunk when the heavy thud of more than one body pounded against the dirt. Dylan yelled every curse known to man as he went down.
He's in trouble.
Behind her, Skye could see the thick undergrowth thrashing as Dylan fought. Her foot hit something, it skittered away.
She stopped a moment, listening. Low, angry grunts and the bash of a fist hitting skin came to her.
Skye's fingers traced the word etched in her bracelet. Strength.
Dylan gritted his teeth. This was a situation he’d hoped never to be in.
It ain't their fault. They're not in their right mind.
But he had no choice, not if he would get out of here.
At least I sent Skye runnin. If I don’t make it, she’ll get word to Wade.
Dylan had never intentionally shot anyone before, but squeamish stomach or no, now wasn’t the time to back down. He aimed and let his arrow fly. Still, he could not bring himself to end them, no matter their miserable existence.
One bolt, then a second, into the legs of a man and woman. They fell to the ground and huddled there holding their injuries.
That left three. Dylan stared them down as he readied himself to take them on.
Dylan swung his bow. It collided with the head of the nearest man. The Sick dropped to the ground.
Dylan felt hot breath on the back of his neck and shoved an elbow up at the mouth it came from. A wild glance to his right and a push at that one held him off for a moment.
In an instant, they grabbed at him again. Dylan threw a couple of punches but together they overpowered him. The Sick men were alert enough Dylan detected a gleeful look in their eyes. Dylan turned from one to the other, backing up as he went.
With no time to load his bow, Dylan tried to swing it in the small space left to him but it was only an irritation to the men.
Dylan’s hand reached for his knife. This just became a brawl. Before Dylan wrapped his fingers around the grip, the last two jumped him.
Skye squinted down the trail, struggling to make out what was going on behind her as she rubbed the ankle she had bumped. She glanced down to see the same small log she had fallen over earlier laying on the path.
It’s long enough to be a weapon.
She picked the branch up.
Do as he says.
And weighed it in her hand.
He’s trying to protect me. I get that. And yes, he has skills I don’t have, but I can bash someone over the head. At least hard enough to stop them.
Dylan’s throaty, ever-increasingly loud curses reached her ears, and Skye shuddered at what she was talking herself into doing.
I have to. There’s only me here to help him.
She straightened as an unexplored aspect of her nature became clear to her.
I leave no one behind. Not like this. Her grip on the log tightened. If we live, he can be mad at me!
Skye ran straight back to Dylan.
The first two Sick Dylan had taken down, rolled on the forest floor, each with a bolt in their legs. They were more ill than the rest and didn’t have the wherewithal to know what to do.
One woman lay unconscious on the ground.
Dylan fought like a wildcat with the last two. After taking Dylan down, the two Sick enjoyed pummeling him, neither cared where their fists landed. They seemed to just take joy in the feel of their fists slamming against his body. Each time Dylan made a move toward his knife, another punch would fly at him causing him to turn or curl to protect himself.
One of the Sick men tired of the game, and instead came at Dylan with an open, dripping mouth. Disgust flared in Dylan as he rolled away from him only have his claw-like hands drag him back.
His attackers’ jaw moved from side to side as if anticipating the bite. Red saliva hung from his lips. His breath smelled putrid, like rotten carcasses.
Dylan’s strong arms strained to keep the man at bay. Muscles, tendons and veins outlined against Dylan’s skin as he fought against the Sick man intending to rip into his flesh.
He was losing the battle. A punch to the side of Dylan’s head had left him dazed. Teeth snapped by his ear, and he jerked.
Dylan shook his head. His vision cleared, and he spotted Skye holding her branch. No!
Another snap, another punch to his gut. Dylan glanced at Skye as she geared herself up for her attack. She held her lip between her teeth but released it as she inhaled deeply preparing herself.
Whether he liked it or not, Skye headed his way. Relief for himself went through him as he fended off a punch with one hand and the snapping Sick with the other. His stomach swirled in apprehension for her. But she was clear of any attack, so he prepared for hers.
Dylan pushed the man trying to gnaw on him as far away from himself as possible and nodded to Skye. That one should be her target. The diseased man wailed in frustration and redoubled his efforts to get to Dylan, and Dylan’s arm strained to hold him at bay.
He grabbed Dylan's arm in both hands and lowered his jaw. Skye hurried to stand over him and raised the thick branch high over her head. She brought it down with enough force to knock him out.
When the man slumped to the ground, Dylan pushed out from under him. He grabbed the punching man's head and joyfully thumped it on the ground.
"Enough already!" Dylan said with a kick at the sick man’s side.
After a quick scan of the area to make sure they were safe, Dylan let out a long sigh.
Chapter Twelve
Over
Skye gave Dylan a once-over as he hauled himself up and shook himself. He studied her as she stood on the other side of the fallen body, her arms wrapped around herself.
“You okay?”
Skye nodded. "I am. Are you?"
Dylan patted himself. “Yeah, I think I am.” He blew out a long breath. “Too close.”
Skye dropped her arms and spun her bracelets. "Look, I know what you’re going to say. That I didn't listen, but I did. I listened to you, and I ran. I listened and realized they were not coming for me." She frowned up at his stern face. "I listened to you go down. And I listened to myself to go back for you. I helped you!"
“There's that.” Dylan looked down and kicked at the trail. “I can’t be mad at you for saving my hide.”
One of the Sick moaned. Dylan walked over to it and grabbed hold of the bolt, pulling it out of his leg. Skye grimaced and shivered, but the sound didn't seem to bother Dylan one bit. She turned away when he pulled on a second arrow.
With the used bolts in his hand, Dylan waved her up the path. “Come on, we have to go. They’re waking up.”
"No, we have to help them... don't we?" Skye moved to walk to the nearest one, and Dylan put a hand on her arm to stop her.
"It's dangerous to be that close to them."
"But we're immune," Skye said.
"You sure about that?"
Skye hesitated, "I'm not 100% sure. I don't know that anyone is."
"And if we're immune to the airborne part, are we immune to a bite or the spit?"
Skye shook her head at the leaf-covered ground and shrugged.
Dylan took a step toward Skye. “Come on. You ain't gonna be able to help them and keep the boy safe. Even if we're immune, maybe we could carry it back to him."
Skye winced as she peered down at the man she had hit over the head. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered the last person who had needed her help. She had walked away from her.
Skye gestured to the Sick that scattered the ground. “What about them? I'm not... I don't know what we're supposed to do here. But just... leave them? I don't know.”
Dylan rubbed at his scruffy jaw. “I’ve been callin the Doc to send someone out to gather them up, but he hasn't been answering lately.”
“Yes,” Skye said, “he’s gone to Fenton. What about Bill from Riley's? The funeral home? He may be aware someone. I heard him on the radio just before I left my house.”
"Sure." Dylan looked over the damage they'd done. "Til then they'll be okay. Ain't too worse for wear, a coupla headaches and a coupla holes. They'll do all right."
Another moan and Dylan put his hand to Skye's shoulder giving it a slight push. Skye gave them one last lingering glance, still unsure about this decision, but what else could they do?
The path to the truck seemed so much shorter now their lives were no longer in danger, and Skye grinned in relief for a moment as she settled herself inside the vehicle. But as they drove down the road, the adrenaline and emotions over what she and Dylan were forced to do became to show. Skye’s hands shook so much the only way to slow them was to clasp them together.
Dylan’s eyes were on the road and his hands gripped the wheel. He glanced at Skye. “Your running skills are impressive.”
Skye gave him a little smile. "Thank you. I'm sure it had something to do with sheer terror." She raised her trembling hands to study them.
"It'll pass," Dylan said as a twitch shook him. He wasn’t as shaken as her, but his occasional jerk showed the run-in had affected him too. Dylan might be tough, but he wasn’t so hardened that the chaos of this new world and the decisions it demanded he make left him unaffected.
He glanced over at her and ran a hand over his chin. “I can tell that was hard for you.”
Skye hung her head and nodded.
“It should be, for both of us. I hope we never get used to all that.” Dylan glanced at her again. “That’s why I wanted you up that trail.”
Skye opened her mouth to protest
.
“Look, Skye, I'm real glad you took care of that guy. But most times,” Dylan frowned, “most times, I'll need you to be where I tell you to be. I can’t fight and search for you. I need to trust you to do that.”
Skye reached out and touched his forearm. “You can trust me. You can trust me to have your back.” Her voice was firm. “I can help. I understand what you are saying, there needs to be a leader, but I need to be able to use some judgment."
Dylan looked out the window and back at her again. “You have no judgment to use.” Skye didn't answer as she turned away from him. "It's just you don't have the know-how to be out here with all this goin on. I shouldn't've brought you.”
“Then where would you be right now?” Skye asked.
Dylan huffed out a sigh and shrugged a shoulder.
Unsure of his response, Skye’s first words were tentative. "Your right. Teach me. Show me how, so I can be of help. This is the world now. I need your knowledge. I need it for me, and I need it for Jesse."
Dylan’s eyes opened wider, then narrowed. “Okay. Ain’t gonna be easy though.”
“I didn’t figure it would be.” Skye shot him a little smile and laid her head back against the seat, taking a few slow, deep breaths to steady herself, then she looked over at Dylan. “Did you get any of their saliva or blood on you? They didn't bite you, right?”
“No, don't think so. Couldn’t have gotten through my jeans or boots.” Dylan looked over his arms. “Arms look good.”
Skye averted her eyes and held back a chuckle. Yes, they do.
Dylan looked down the top of his t-shirt, then raised the bottom up over his chest and ran his hand over his abs. “All good.”
Skye’s eyes widened. Two long lines of old scaring ran down the side of his body from his upper back down to the top of his abs. Something had happened to Dylan when he was a child.
"I better check your back." Skye tucked her legs up on the seat of the truck and steadied herself in the moving car by holding his headrest. She pulled out the neck of his shirt and peered down his back. It was laced with burn and strap scars.