Aaron glared at me from underneath his hood, silent until emitting a rough 'Mrah' sound. Probably saying 'I don't care, I'm hungry' or maybe 'But people are food too' or 'But what if they betray us?' or something like 'I can't understand you, idiot'.
Oh right, I forgot about that.
Sighing, I realized that I was gonna need ways to make him have a good impression. But what could I do at this point? He was a special infected known for singling out survivors and ripping them into pieces to pieces and then feeding on the entrails.
Not exactly a clean record. In fact, even if I dress him up in a suit and bow tie and taught him to do a jig he would still be frightening as hell. My last thought had me vision him in that exact situation. Heh, dancing Leapers.
Voices could be heard from inside the house and I could make out a male, most likely Doug's, and a female's, which I'm guessing would have to be his wife. They didn't sound like they were arguing, just like they were unsure, worried or something. All the more reason to be worried about how I was going to present him.
Taking off the period pads off his leg would be a start. I reached for the padding and Aaron looked from the door to my moving hands, growling in surprise. I grabbed hold of the wrapping and pulled them off in a swift motion, almost expecting claws to be driven across my face.
There was a loud rip sound, then that was it. I threw the padding to the side in a bush and left them to be forgotten there. After wards, I took full observation of his wound, and needless to say, I wasn't sure to be baffled, surprised, or impressed. Maybe all three.
The wound healed up better than I thought it would, hardly leaving a scar. The flesh that was once slashed and bloody was now just a sketch in the skin. It seemed as if he was attacked by a rabid raccoon more than a blood thirsty Siren.
Satisfied with how his leg had healed up, I made grab for his hoodie, lifting it up enough to see the bandages on his midsection. Aaron yelped in surprise, and forcefully pushed me away to the other end other end of the stairs, growling softly in warning.
I leaned back, hands raised up and feeling slightly hurt. "Geez, sorry." He just glared in which I responded with crossed arms and a 'whatever' look. "I just wanted to know if you were ok…"
The wooden door creaked open and Doug peaked his head and his ash filled beard outside. "I let Olive know that he ain't gon be a problem, as long as ya help keep them in check." I nodded, understanding that if in any way or form did Aaron go nuts; I'd have to handle him.
The inside of the house was warm and cozy, and smelled like home cooking. The wave of aroma hit me like a tidal wave the way in. Olive was standing in the middle of the room, holding a tray of what I hoped would be the 'dinner' that I've been thinking non-stop about.
"I assume you're Sara," She smiled, old age clearly showing on her features. From what I could tell, she must have been absolutely gorgeous when she was younger. "And this is…." Her gaze traveled to Aaron, who crept from behind me, curious to the new company. He let out a soft, but clear growl.
Doug and I stiffened, and Olive took a step back, her smile faltering. "He's not usually this way!" I defended him, quickly trying to think of things to say to make the situation slightly less hostile.
"His name is Aaron, or at least that's what we call him. We don't really know his real name-" "He's a good kid, Olive, let em grow on ya." Doug interrupted, taking a seat on worn sofa. At this point I noted how everything in their home was…woody.
Olive took a small gasp at our words. She glanced at Doug and me, before staring at Aaron, and in return he glared back. The room was silent. Inside my head, I prayed my stomach didn't rumble from being this close to a fine meal, it would be broadcasted to everybody.
She put the tray down on the coffee table, and smiled again, but instead of a polite smile, it was a sad, but heartfelt one. Something about her look told me that she reacted to the fact that we had given him the name Aaron.
"May I ask how you chose his name?" She asked, the fear that she had displayed before had disappeared. Nervously, I fumbled with the straps of my backpack, wondering how foolish I look walking around with such a childish thing.
"Uh, Doug actually helped me choose the name." I directed the attention to Doug. He shrugged. "What? It's a good name for him." His wife sat down on the sofa beside him, sighing. He grinned, putting arm around her frail shoulders. Standing awkwardly, I tried to think of something to say.
Aaron, feeling ignored behind me, crouched and crawled closer to the coffee table, nearer to Doug and Olive. He didn't seem to mind the approach, but Olive sat there observing him, more out of curiosity of what he might do then out of fear.
The Leaper was about to make a move for the food, I could tell. Dropping the backpack on the floor, I strutted over and prodded him away from the food. He replied with an annoyed snarl. "That's not yours, and it's rude to get food without asking anyway."
Shockingly, Olive laughed. She had a pleasing voice, I noted. "As long as he washes his hands he can have his own plate." I chuckled. This was going better than expected; all I had to do was show that I was in control. "You and the boys go wash up, I'll get us some plates."
She got up, patted down her shirt and disappeared into another room. Doug got up too, and gestured to the door. "We ain't got no plumbing, but there a well out back. Know how to use it?" I shrugged. It couldn't be that hard, right? I've seen tons of movies with wells in them, that's good enough, right?
"You go ahead and wash up then, and take em with ya." I picked my backpack up off the floor, tossing it beside the door where Doug's shotgun lay. "You're not coming?" He shook his head. "Nah, I got something to do, Bub. Don't worry I'll wash up before dinner. Now get."
I giggled, walking outside. "C'mon Aaron, you need a bath anyway." He followed the sound of my voice, but I bet if he could have understood my statement, he wouldn't have. Around the house was the well, right where they said it was. It looked old but operational. There was a bucket and a pump, our makeshift 'sink'.
Placing the bucket underneath the pump, I tried to get as much water as I could. My hands started hurting and I decided that half a bucket of water was good enough. Aaron watched from a distance as water seemed to appear from nowhere. It watched as if he was watching magic happen.
I grinned at his fascination. Crouching down, I rolled up my sleeves and placed my hands in the water, scrubbing as much dirt as I could off. The cold weather along with water made my hands freeze, and I wanted to get then clean as fast as possible. Then I remembered that I still had to do Aaron's.
Said Leaper was watching my moving hands. At this point I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Disgust? Amazement? Boredom? His hood downwards shielded his face, and left it a mystery. Ah, oh well. We're still hungry.
I took his clawed hands in mine, ignoring his dislike of skin contact, and immediately took them back when I realized that his claws were still caked with dried blood. He needed much more of a cleaning then I did. Taking his fingers gently, I pushed them slowly into the water.
Aaron snarled at the sudden contact and tugged away his wrist, but I kept them in my grasp, quickly trying to scrape off whatever I could before he decided to run. The water inside the bucket began to turn a strange, brown-red color, and skin began to show beneath the filth.
His hands wasn't a didn't have green tint to it, like the other infected, but more of a blue one. His hands looked almost human, if not for the black razor sharp, flesh tearing claws at the ends of his fingers.
I was so distracted by his hands; I was unprepared when he jerked them away from the bucket, nicking me in the process. From how to was curling his hands into his hoodie, he had gotten fed up with the cold. So was I, but now I had to clean my hands again!
Dumping out the contaminated water, I pumped some more, just enough for me. Washing again, I dumped the rest out, and made my way back inside. Aaron followed without sound or command.
Doug was coming out as I was going in, and
I smelt something on him as he passed. It smelt suspiciously like gun powder and something sweet. I didn't say anything of it, gun powder was not an unfamiliar smell by now, and I couldn't think of anything of anything dangerous that smelled sweet.
"In here, dear!" Olive called me from the other room when she heard the door shut. I entered their kitchen, admiring all the stich work paintings hung up on the walls. The tray from before had its contents separated into pieces, with leftovers still in the tray. We heard the front door open and shut and Doug walked in behind me.
"That didn't take long" I teased, and he only chuckled. "Bout slipped on the mud you left over, Bub. Nasty." I punched his arm, and he punched back, lighter. Olive took notice. "Now, no rough housing in my house either sits down and eat like people or go outside and eat like dogs." She said playfully, placing forks and knives by each plate.
I took a seat at their four chaired table, Doug beside me and Olive beside him. Aaron crouched at my side, reminding me of a begging dog. "Can he sit at the table too?" I almost expected her to say no. "Well, only if he wants to…" She sounded unsure, wondering if he if had enough humanity in him to act human. Or was that something that I was wondering?
But instead of having to come up with some scheme to get him in a chair, he figured it out on his own, and with a light scowl, crawled over and sat in the remaining chair. Still crouching.
"…That's as close as we'll get, honey." Doug grabbed a fork, tearing into the meat. Olive sighed. "I hope you like Barbeque, I never expected to have any guest today, not like there is a problem with that." She added in.
Shrugging, I grabbed my own fork, and stuck it in the meat. The temptation to throw the fork aside and chow down was strong, but I wanted to keep my manners. "Don't worry about it, I was really worried about what you might think of us, actually-"
I was interrupted by the sound of something tearing. We all turned our attention to Aaron, whom was happily ripping the meat apart and swallowing it in large proportions. After every bite he would emit a small snarl, like a feral beast feasting on a successful kill.
Turning to the other humans, I expected them to be disgusted. But Doug was just calmly eating, not effected by Aaron's lack of manners. Olive seemed to be blissfully ignoring it, cutting her food and eating it delicately. There was silence, as fumbled with my fork, once again in an awkward position. How did it become so hard to communicate these last couple of hours?
"So Sara, tell me how you two met, hmm?" Olive spoke up. In my head cheered for a conversation topic, even if it included something sad. "Doug didn't' tell you? It's a bit of a long story." Olive smiled, and I could see Doug grinning himself in my peripheral vision. "We got time; we're not that old, ya know." We laughed, and Aaron stopped his eating momentarily to listen to our merriment.
I caught my breath, almost choking on my food. "Well, it all began when I and my former group came upon a house in the woods."
Chapter 12
At this moment, I was very; very grateful I decided to keep the soap and perfume. And so was Olive. They shared a meal with me, showing that they trusted me and I thought I would do the same by pooling out what I had stashed in my pack. When I dumped it over, I completely forgot about the pink bottles until they came tumbling out.
Currently, we ladies took advantage of this. Having no plumbing meant we would have to bring in and heat up enough bath water for the both of us, not like we minded. We were content with the idea of having the privilege of bathing.
I shivered, cursing the sudden chill wind. The weather seriously needed to make up its mind. A few days ago it was as hot as the summer, now I worried about my own snot freezing mid-air if I happen to sneeze.
Olive handed me another bucket and I smiled to her before taking it back inside. I passed a snoring Doug, snoozing away on the couch and rolled my eyes. I shoved more wood into the old fashion oven, replacing the bucket that was already there with the second one.
I took it to the back, where the bathroom was. The bathtub was almost full, and with just one more bucket it would be ready. Walking outside, I took the last remaining bucket from Olive's hands.
"It's ready, you can take the first one, and I've got to deal with Aaron anyway."
Olive raised her brows. "You sure honey? I haven't even seen that boy since dinner…" I nodded "Yeah, go ahead, I can get mine later." She smiled warmly at me, patting mw on the shoulder. "Don't get sick. Now" I nodded and ushered her inside before refilling the water.
She had a point. No one has seen or heard of Aaron when dinner was through with. After he had his fill, he lept up and bounded out of the room and no one has seen him since. He could still be inside for all I know. I just hoped he was ok.
My hands became stiff and rigid and I put the bucket on the ground, breathing on my fingers to warm them. Which reminds me, when was the last time I popped my fingers?
I rolled my wrist around and pressed hard on each of my knuckles, pulling my fingers. Each one made a slight crackle sound and my hand went limp. Maybe I should have waited until I took the water inside to crack them. Shaking my hands, I picked back up the bucket and brought it inside.
Doug was still snoring, though I can't say I'm surprised. I didn't see Olive so I assumed she already jumped into bath. Sauntering into the kitchen, I put the oven on low and let the water simmer.
Inside my head, I secretly hoped that Olive would leave me some sort of perfume or shampoo. Though I wouldn't blame her if she ended up using all of it. The smell of Spitter and decay were so prominent on us, we couldn't have smelt anything different until we sniffed the bottles.
I looked down at my shoes. They were filthy, no longer the black and white they were before, and now mostly brown with specks of yellow. If I was going to get clean, my clothes needed to be clean too. What's the point of bathing and then jumping right back into nasty clothes?
As for my tops and jeans, I would have to ask Olive if there was a way I could clean them later. But for now I can get to work on my shoes. I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows and grabbed a rag out of one of the drawers. I'm sure they wouldn't mind.
Outside, I wet the rag and sat myself on the front steps of the cabin. I took off my left converse and started scrubbing away at it. Bits of dried mud and even blood flaked off onto the ground and I could start to see the white of the sides again.
Once that shoe was finished, I began on the other. The cold felt like needles to my toes, but it wasn't unbearable. It didn't take long to finish and I put them both back on before I got frostbite. They weren't as good as new, but they were better than before. I felt a bit proud of myself.
An annoyed grumble caused me to look up.
Aaron was sitting on a low branch of a nearby tree, one that I could climb up to if I tried. It's not like I was startled. He has been with me too long to scare me anymore, appearing out of nowhere anyway. In fact, I almost expect it of him now.
What surprised me, however, was the fact that he was dripping wet.
From his hood to his sneakers, he was soaked. I could see that some blood and dirt that he had accumulated on his hoodie was now washing away with the dripping water. I got up and walked underneath the branch he was sitting on, hands on my hips. He just stared.
"What did you get yourself into now?" As expected, no answer. I just really hope that Doug or Olive didn't walk outside for some fresh air or something. "Did you see your reflection in a puddle and attack it? You're completely soaked." Aaron sniffed, which either meant he was freezing, or just bored with me. I'll assume the latter.
"Well, you not going inside as wet as you are. You'll track mud and gunk all over their floor!" I nagged, with no reply. I sighed, and held up my hand as if to tell him to 'stay put', like one would a dog. "I'll be right back"
I ran inside, passed a still snoozing Doug and into a bedroom and snatched a blanket. On my way out the door, I heard Olive call from the back. "I'm done, dear. You can go ahead now." I smiled. "Yeah, ok, just a mi
nute."
He wasn't in the tree anymore, and for a second I thought he had run off again. Then I heard a snarl and turned around. The Leaper was crouched on the roof, watching. "Come here, you cold right?" Whether or not he understood me, he hopped down beside me. Without another thought, I threw it over his shoulders.
Annnnnnnnnnnd no reaction.
What was is problem? Just a little while ago, he couldn't sit still. Now a statue could be jealous of him. Whatever. I held the front door out and ushered him inside. Doug was just beginning to awaken. "Well, now" He yawned "I thought he had ran off somewhere
He stopped for a moment, rubbing his eyes before asking. "Why that boy wet?" I shrugged, amused. "I wish I knew" Immediately after shutting the door behind us, Aaron crawled over to the fireplace, sat on his behind and just stared into the flames. Doug and I shared a confused shrug before he snuggled back into the cushions.
I rolled my eyes at their behaviors, walking past a sweet smelling Olive, and into the bathroom. She had done me the kindness of already pouring in the fresh bathwater. I would have to remember to thank her later.
I undressed and dipped into the bath water. The sudden warmth made me feel refreshed. Using the last of the pink bottle's substance. With bubbles all around I felt like royalty, or it will be closest I will ever come to in a world like this.
Rinsing out my hair, I cursed myself for forgetting to ask about getting my clothes washed. I put them back on anyway, wiping some grime off of each one and spraying perfume so it would at least have some sort of improvement.
I was in the middle of towel drying my hair when I heard the familiar sound of a gunshot echo outside.
Throwing my hair back up in a ponytail, I rushed out, still struggling to put my sweater on. Doug wasn't in the living room, and the shotgun by the door was missing. So was Aaron. The door stood ajar, and Olive stood beside the fireplace, both hands clutched and with a fearful look on her face.
Walking Bodies Page 9