Paul wailed in pain.
Kevin leveled the pistol and pulled the trigger repeatedly until the slide locked back. The numerous shots hit the feral in the back. It howled but kept swiping at Paul.
“Get it off meeeee!” Paul cried.
Kevin dropped the magazine and reached for another.
The feral’s vicious attack slowed from the numerous gunshots it had received.
Paul shoved it off him and low crawled under the truck.
Kevin hit the slide release, leveled the pistol, and again pulled the trigger repeatedly.
The feral howled in pain.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Kevin screamed at it.
The feral kept up its attack on Paul. He reached and took a hold of Paul’s right leg and twisted.
Kevin heard a loud snap as Paul’s leg broke.
Paul screamed then went silent.
The feral was not giving up its assault. It dug its nails into Paul’s flesh and crawled up his leg towards his hips.
Kevin advanced, pointed the pistol at its head and hollered, “Die, motherfucker!” Then he pulled the trigger.
The shot was the last in the magazine and the one that finally put an end to the feral. With half its head gone, it went limp and toppled to the ground.
Not taking chances, Kevin reloaded and put one more bullet in its head for good measure.
***
Unable to travel until Paul’s injuries were attended to, Kevin took advantage of the house. He found a bedroom upstairs and began treating the multiple compound fractures and lacerations on Paul’s back, buttocks and legs.
Groggy, Paul opened his eyes. He blinked repeatedly until the blurriness subsided. He saw Kevin standing over him and asked, “Am I dead?”
“If I’m what you see in Heaven, you’re screwed, my friend,” Kevin joked. His shadow danced on the far wall as a large candle flickered.
“The pain, it’s so bad,” he mumbled.
“I know. I haven’t been able to give you anything. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. You’ve been unconscious for twelve-plus hours,” Kevin explained.
Paul looked to his right and watched the large flame. A tear streamed down the side of his face. “Am I going to die or, worse, turn into one of those things?”
“You’re fine, no bites, nothing like that. I won’t bullshit you though, your right leg is bad. I did my best to set it, but you have three compound fractures.”
“This is it. I’m going to die,” Paul cried, more tears flowing.
Kevin lowered his voice and said, “Calm down. I’ll do anything to make that not happen.”
“You promise?”
“Promise. Now if you can, I need you to take some ibuprofen. It’s the best thing I have for pain management. I thought these people would have some good stuff but nothing. These must have been the healthiest people on the planet. I only found a bottle of Advil, a tube of Preparation H and wart removal, oh, and a box of Band-Aids.”
Paul held out his hand. “Give me, like, ten Advil.”
“Let’s start with six,” Kevin said, pouring them into Paul’s hand.
Paul tossed them back and drank the water offered him next.
“Now get some rest,” Kevin said.
“The cuts and punctures, were you able to sew them up?” Paul asked.
“That I did accomplish. There was no shortage of thread and needles here,” Kevin answered.
“Did any more of those things come?”
“No, by the way, where did it come from?” Kevin asked.
“In the far back, there was a Conex container; I went scavenging. I knocked on it, you know, expecting to hear something if one of those things was in there, but nothing. It was like it remained quiet on purpose. Anyway, I opened it up and it jumped out. I managed to hit it a couple of times. I ran, and next thing I know, I ran into you,” Paul explained.
“Sneaky bastards, they’re cunning. You can’t treat them like simple dumb animals.”
Paul grimaced in pain as he adjusted in the bed. “Dude, the pain is unbearable. My leg, it hurts so bad.”
“I’ll go looking for meds tomorrow. What I need you to do is try to get some rest, that will be your best medicine,” Kevin said, exiting the room.
“Hey, Kev.”
Turning around, Kevin said, “Yeah.”
“Thank you for patching me up and for once more saving my life.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
“When you go looking for meds, look for another place too,” Paul said.
“Why?”
“The smell, if my wounds don’t kill me, that will,” Paul joked, referencing the putrid odor that permeated the entire house.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EAST OF TYHEE, IDAHO
JUNE 12, 2020
Kevin protested, but Paul insisted on going with him to find medicine. He was adamant that he wouldn’t stay in the stinking house.
After using the full morning to load everything of value, they headed out.
Several miles away they found the road blocked by a jackknifed semi. Luckily, a side road was close by and headed north. At least they were still heading in the right direction.
The small county road was straight and clear, a positive for them, but soon they’d need to find fuel and real medicine for Paul.
Lost in thought, Kevin didn’t notice Paul pointing.
“Food!” Paul cried out.
“Huh?” Kevin asked, looking around.
“Medicine, food, water!” Paul said, jabbing his finger in the air.
“What?” Kevin asked, looking around.
“Turn,” Paul said, pointing behind them.
Kevin slowed the truck and looked at Paul. “What are you talking about?”
“Sign, a sign,” Paul mumbled. Thick sweat was beaded on his ashen forehead and cheeks. Dark circles under his eyes added to his distressed look.
“What sign?”
“There,” Paul said, looking back.
Kevin put the truck in reverse.
“There!” Paul cried out.
Leaning against a post was a handwritten sign that read FOOD, WATER, MEDICINE, with an arrow pointing down the gravel road.
“How convenient is that,” Kevin mocked.
“Go,” Paul urged.
“You want me to follow a sign that probably leads to a trap?” Kevin asked suspiciously.
“GO!” Paul barked, pulling up his purple-colored swollen leg.
To Kevin, it appeared as if blood was pooling in the calf. If he didn’t get proper care and antibiotics soon, he’d get sepsis.
“GO!” Paul blared as he shoved Kevin in a rare moment of anger, no doubt generated from the intense pain and vertigo he was experiencing.
“Fine, we’ll go and check it out,” Kevin said. He turned the wheel hard and sped off down the dirt road.
***
They encountered more signs. After the third one, a large farmhouse appeared on a ridge.
Kevin slowed and scanned the area.
Paul was lying down but sat up when the truck stopped. “House, go!”
“I’m not going to just drive up without looking around. How do we know this isn’t some sort of trap?”
Without notice, Paul vomited.
“Shit,” Kevin muttered.
Paul was in bad shape and timing was everything.
Disregarding his normal procedures, he headed to the house.
As he approached, the house seemed abandoned like the last one.
Sitting behind the large two-story house with its wraparound covered porch was a large red barn and two smaller outbuildings. Stretching along the perimeter of the property was a white wooden fence.
Kevin didn’t see any vehicles parked, but they could be out of sight behind the house.
Like before, he stopped at the front. He waited a few and got out, his rifle in hand like always. This time, he was going to take a different approach. “Hello!” he called out.
&nbs
p; Paul opened his door and hollered, “Hello!”
No reply.
Kevin walked up the steps and onto the porch. With each footfall, his weight stressed the wooden deck, causing it to creak. He reached the front door and, as if he were a visitor, knocked.
“Hello!” Paul again hollered from the truck.
Kevin waited and knocked once more. With no answer, he tried the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open and again called out, “Hello!”
Silence.
“Paul, sit tight. I’m going to check it out,” Kevin said. He walked in and was instantly struck with the smell. This time it was pleasant; a sweet floral aroma filled the air. From the look of the furniture, the house was being maintained. He wiped his fingers on a small table in the foyer and looked at them. No dust. “Hello! My name is Kevin. I saw your signs along the road. I need medicine. Can you help me?”
Still no reply.
From room to room he went. No bodies, no carnage, no ferals, and no dust. The house was either perfectly preserved, which was impossible, or the occupants weren’t home right now.
He cleared the house and discovered the signs weren’t misleading. In the pantry, he found the shelves full of canned goods. Stacked on the back deck were rows of five-gallon jugs full of water, and in the mudroom, two tall cabinets were stocked with first aid supplies and bottle after bottle of prescription medication.
“Kevin!” Paul hollered.
Hearing Paul’s plea, Kevin raced from the house to find Paul lying on the ground. His face was pale and sweat poured off him.
“My leg, it hurts, it hurts so bad,” Paul cried.
Kevin picked him up off the ground and took him inside. He took him directly to the first bedroom he’d seen upstairs. “Here you go. I’ll be right back.” He hurried out of the room.
“Kevin, hurry.”
“I will,” Kevin said, not looking back. He bolted down the stairs, turned the corner to head towards the mudroom, and froze when he saw a young girl standing in the hallway. “Hi,” Kevin said, a look of shock on his face.
“Why, hello,” the girl said.
“I, um, I didn’t just barge in. I called out, but no one answered. I, um, my friend, he’s upstairs. He’s badly injured. I need to get him some meds.”
“Sure, you know where they are?” the girl said, stepping aside.
Kevin hesitated to move, as her demeanor seemed…odd. “Um, are your parents here?”
“Unfortunately, no. They’re not,” she replied, showing no emotion.
“Will they mind that we’re here? We saw the signs on the road,” Kevin said.
“Not at all, that’s why we put them there. We welcome all. Please, go get what you need,” she said, pointing towards the mudroom at the back of the house.
Paul’s groans could be heard downstairs.
“That’s your friend. Please, go get what you need,” she urged.
“Ah, thank you,” Kevin said, rushing by her. In the mudroom, he took what he needed: fresh bandages, suture kit, antiseptic, antibiotics, and some morphine in capsule form. He went to the kitchen, filled a large bowl with warm water, and nestled it in his arms.
Paul’s groans grew louder.
Kevin exited the kitchen but stopped abruptly so as not to walk into the girl. He looked at her and noticed something was different. Around her neck hung a small chalkboard and her black hair hung straight down, as opposed to being pulled back into the long ponytail she had been sporting moments before. “Excuse me.”
Not saying a word, she sheepishly stepped out of his way.
Kevin marched upstairs, not giving any more thought to his encounter.
“Kevin,” Paul moaned.
Rushing into the bedroom, Kevin said, “I’m here, buddy. Let’s get your wound cleaned up and I’ve got some better drugs.” He put everything on the nightstand and promptly popped the top of the morphine bottle open. Noticing he forgot a glass of drinking water, he jumped up and turned towards the door.
“I thought you might need this,” the girl said, holding a glass of water.
Surprised to see her, he replied, “Oh, great. Um, thanks.” He took the glass and gave it to Paul. “Drink and wash this down.” He handed Paul a single capsule.
Paul happily took the morphine.
“Now, let’s get your pants off so I can clean this wound,” Kevin said just before stopping. He looked back to see if the girl was there; she wasn’t, so he proceeded.
Paul was weak, barely able to put the glass on the nightstand. He winced in pain as he shifted in the bed. “Who was that?”
“She lives here,” Kevin answered. When he saw Paul’s swollen and deeply purple leg, he cleared his throat and said, “Blood is pooling. I’m going to have to open up the sutures and drain it.”
“Whatever, do whatever, just make it right.” Paul grimaced.
He shot Paul a look and said, “I’ll do my best. I’m not a doctor. I barely know first aid.”
Paul patted Kevin’s arm and said, “I trust you.”
***
Kevin closed the bedroom door and turned to find the girl standing near the top of the stairs. “Hi.”
“Hello. How is your friend doing?” she asked.
“He’s resting. We’ll see how the meds work now,” Kevin answered.
“Good. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Ah, yeah, sure,” Kevin answered. He was finding her welcoming demeanor a bit disarming, yet she seemed genuine.
“Good, ’cause I made lunch,” she said. She turned and proceeded down the stairs.
Kevin took a few steps. He stopped at the first step and listened. Is she talking to someone?
Down below, the girl was talking in a conversational tone.
Kevin came down the stairs, careful not to spill the bloody water in the bowl. At the landing he turned and saw the girl. Again her hair was down and the chalkboard was around her neck. “Hi. You startled me.”
She looked away and hurried towards the kitchen.
“Weird,” Kevin said under his breath.
The girl disappeared into the kitchen.
Kevin was right behind her. The first thing he saw was the girl at the small dinette table. He headed to the sink and poured the water down the drain. Seeing a bar of soap, he grabbed it and washed his hands.
Whispering came from behind him.
Unnerved, he did an about-face and saw two girls. The girl with the chalkboard was sitting and the one with her hair pulled back into a ponytail was standing next to her. They were identical twins.
“Sit down. I made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” the girl with the ponytail said, pointing to the head of the table. “I hope you don’t have peanut allergies.”
“Now it makes sense. There’s two of you.” He chuckled. “I thought I was losing my mind for a second and, no, I don’t have peanut allergies.”
“Please, sit down, eat. You must be hungry,” the girl standing said.
Kevin toweled his hands off and did as she suggested. Taking the sandwich in his hands, he marveled that the bread was moist. “I have to ask, where did you get the bread? It looks fresh.”
“We made it.”
“Your oven works?”
“Why, yes, everything works in this house. Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because some of the power has been going out, yours still works?”
She walked over to the light switch and flipped it up. The overhead lights turned on. “Our power did stop, but we have solar. Daddy installed solar panels out past the barn.”
“What will you do during the winter?” Kevin asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Powerwall,” she answered.
“What’s a powerwall?”
“Daddy was an engineer for Tesla. On the back of the house, we have one installed with enough batteries to power the entire farm,” she said.
Kevin sat back and cocked his head. How is this girl so smart and articulate?
“Do you want to
see it?” she asked.
“After I eat,” Kevin replied. He gave the sister a look. As she picked at her sandwich, she gave Kevin suspicious looks. “How old are you girls?”
“We’re twelve,” the girl standing said.
The other girl shook her head vigorously.
“Sorry, we’re twelve and a half.”
“I have to apologize. I’m sitting here eating your food and my friend is upstairs recuperating with medicine you provided, but I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Kevin and my friend upstairs is Paul.”
The girl standing smiled and said, “My name is Claire and my little sister here is Chloe.”
Chloe shook her head and gave Claire a bad look.
“She hates it when I call her my little sister, but she is three minutes younger than me,” Claire said with a devilish smile aimed at Chloe. “And that does technically make her my younger sister.”
Chloe reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of chalk and scribbled on the chalkboard.
Kevin watched curiously.
Finished, she held it up to Claire.
DON’T BE MEAN. I’LL TELL MOTHER , it read.
Kevin read it and immediately asked, “Where are your parents?”
“Daddy was killed and—” Claire said before being interrupted by Chloe grunting. “What? What am I supposed to say?”
“And your mother?” Kevin asked.
Claire leered at Chloe and replied, “She’s gone.”
“Gone like she’ll be back soon?” Kevin asked.
Chloe shot up from her seat. She cut her eyes at Claire and marched off, fists clenched.
“She’s upset. I’m sorry, the topic of your mother is a sensitive one?” Kevin asked.
Like flipping a switch, Claire brushed off the encounter with Chloe. She turned to Kevin and asked, “Are you thirsty? We have pop, or I can make some coffee.”
“You have coffee?” Kevin asked, his eyes widening with joy. He remembered his comments just yesterday about it. “Coffee would be great.”
Detour: A Post-Apocalyptic Horror Story Page 11