by Ariel Bonin
"I think it's a woman. Stay back, Linds…she might've turned." He held up his knife and rolled over the stranger. In place of her left arm was a stump, the raw skin covered by a ratty bandage. Long black hair tangled around her neck and he pushed it back to feel for a pulse. "She's alive…"
Suddenly, they were startled by a muffled grunt from the shadowy corner nearby. Andrew squinted against the harsh light and moved toward the sound. A man sat against the wall, his dirty face glistening with sweat.
"Charlie," Andrew whispered, breathing a sigh of relief.
Lindsey stood up and snatched bloody bolt-cutters from the table. She passed them to Andrew and he snapped off Charlie's cuffs. Charlie pulled down the gag in his mouth.
"You okay?" Andrew asked.
Charlie panted as he said, "I'm fine, but they cut off her fuckin' arm! I watched 'em do it, those sick brats! They said they're gonna come back for more before lunch."
Suddenly, it all clicked. The niggling thought in the back of Andrew's head at Pete's comment about good hunting went all the way back to a conversation at the school—with Dean Mason. When they'd first met, Dean said that he'd met a group in Alabama who liked barbecued meat, booze and weed. When Andrew asked about hunting, Dean had insinuated that the group's food source wasn't from any animal. Now he was positive that Dean hadn't been pulling his leg.
They'd stumbled across the same group—a group of cannibals.
"We've gotta help her, man," Charlie said, rubbing his wrists as he approached the unconscious woman.
"She might not make it back to camp. It's a long way on foot," Lindsey said.
"I'll carry her if I have to. Then we gotta blow this fuckin' Popsicle stand," he said and lifted the woman to cradle her in his arms. "Where're the others?"
Andrew cursed. "Nicholas and Kat went back to camp to find you, and Zoey's out front with Pete."
"He's the little fucker who locked me up!" Charlie muttered.
Andrew knew they were about to walk into a whole new shitstorm and his daughter would be caught right in the middle of it. No matter what, though, she was leaving with him.
Chapter 7
They left the basement and rushed into the wooded area next to the lodge. Andrew instructed Charlie to stay back with the injured woman, who was starting to come around. He wanted to be sure he had the upper-hand and complete control before Pete knew what was happening. That control needed to be in the form of their weapons.
Andrew took Lindsey's hand and they walked behind the cabins, trying to appear casual once again, as if they were still taking in the place. When they got to the gate, Andrew didn't waste any time in removing his handgun from the wall.
"Hey, woah, woah! What are you doin'?" one of the kids asked as he jumped down from his perch overlooking the wall.
Lindsey moved in to take her own gun, ignoring the kid's continued protests. Andrew stepped in front of him when he tried to reach for her. "We're heading out. You guys have a nice place here, but it's time we get back on the road."
"You need to clear that with Pete first. Now hand it over." The boy held out his hand.
Andrew stepped back, keeping the Beretta by his side. "I'd like to hold onto this…"
The commotion had drawn a small crowd. Pete pushed his way to the front of it.
"Just the person I wanted to see," Andrew said.
"What's goin' on?" he asked.
"I think we've seen enough. We'd like to go now. Thanks, uh, for your hospitality."
Surprise, and perhaps panic, flickered in Pete's eyes, but he didn't let on. He pasted on a smile and said, "Of course… We hate to see you go. So, you're good with Zoey staying?"
At that moment, the mentioned girl appeared to Andrew's left, halfway between him and Pete.
"Zoey, it's time to go."
She looked at him like he was crazy. "What? No! You said we could stay longer!"
"I never said that—"
"But Pete said—"
"Zoey, enough!" Andrew shouted. "Pete doesn't have any say over you. I'm your father and, as long as I'm alive, you'll listen to me."
The girl stared at him, her nostrils flaring. She began to shift toward Pete.
Andrew tilted his head and begged, "Zoey, baby, you don't know what you're doing. Pete isn't the guy you think he is…"
She didn't falter in her steps, until something behind Andrew caught her eye.
"Charlie?"
Pete reached for the gun tucked into the back of his pants. Andrew and Lindsey held up their own, and the wall guards put the couple in their sights. Andrew glanced over his shoulder as Charlie and the disoriented woman moved closer to the gate.
"What's going on?" Zoey asked, obviously confused by her surroundings.
Pete ignored her and stared, unblinking, at Andrew.
"I just want to know why," Andrew demanded, his voice low and deep.
The young man stretched out his arm and said loudly, "We're the children of the apocalypse, a world ruined by adults who thought they knew what was best. Those douche bags at TurnerCorp were the stupidest of them all, creating some kind of chemical that wasn't made for human contact—ya know, because that always ends well! We've proven that we don't need adults to survive. We thrive without them. Well, actually, that's not entirely true…"
"Yeah, we know that. You eat them," Andrew said.
"Wait," Zoey chimed in, "what are you talking about?"
Charlie spoke up when Pete hesitated. "We didn't eat wild boar for dinner last night, Zo—it was a person."
The girl paled and inhaled a short breath. "You're lying…"
Andrew shook his head. "It's the truth, honey."
As Zoey gagged, Pete asked, "But what's wrong with that? You liked it! You said it was 'delicious!' Aren't you tired of being hungry—tired of struggling to survive? I know I was!"
Tears tracked down Zoey's cheeks and she clutched her stomach. "But I don't want to eat someone! I'd rather starve!"
"That's not true, Zoey," Pete said, his eyes blazing. "Just look us. We're doing better for ourselves than our own parents could."
Andrew glowered at him. "Jesus…did you eat your parents?"
"Hell no! I didn't lie about that. We don't kill our own. We only take in orphans, siblings—" He stopped to look at Zoey. "Kids who want a new start—to be treated as equals. We found a way to survive. Yeah, it's not ideal, but it works."
Andrew scoffed. "You eat people! Torture them! The amount of pain you put them through is inexcusable. You're no better than the turners outside of these walls."
"It's the only way they stay fresh, eating a little bit at a time…" Pete explained.
Andrew's stomach rolled. "I've heard enough," he said, keeping his gun trained on the young man. "Come over here, Zoey. It's time to put an end to this."
As she inched toward him, Lindsey put her hand on his arm. "Think about what you're proposing. Look around, Andy…"
All of Bear Creek surrounded them now. It was the first time he'd gotten a good look at its residents since finding out about their "aversion" to adults, so to speak. They were all children—every last one of them. And while a few had weapons, most did not. Daisy stood behind her big brother, her eyes filled with fear and confusion.
Andrew couldn't take her life. Not when she reminded him so much of his own daughter.
"We should go. We don't belong here," Lindsey said to him.
"I can't leave this alone. They were going to kill Charlie and that woman... Christ. We ate her, Lindsey! We fucking ate part of her arm for breakfast!"
Lindsey grimaced. "Please, don't remind me—"
At that same moment, Zoey retched onto the dirt.
Andrew swore and reached out to pull Zoey away from the vomit—and Pete.
"So what're you gonna do about it?" Pete demanded, his gun still aimed at Andrew. "You'll have to kill all of us. We're never gonna stop. This is how we survive."
Andrew cocked his weapon and muttered, "I can't do that, but mayb
e I can settle with you."
When Pete mirrored his actions, Lindsey said to the boy, "Just let us go. We'll take our weapons and then you'll never have to see us again. There's enough room on this earth for both groups to exist and do…whatever we see fit."
"Lindsey—" Andrew said.
"No, Andrew," she interrupted, "we are not doing this your way. If we do, we won't walk away from it. Do you want these kids' blood on your hands? Your own kid's?"
"Of course not—"
"Then let's just go! Okay? Pete?" she asked, stepping between the two and holstering her gun. "Do we have a deal? Give Charlie his rifle and Zoey her gun. I promise you that once you close those gates behind us, we won't even think about looking back. You'll be safe here—at least from us."
She glanced at Andrew and he gritted his teeth. With a sigh, he lowered his own weapon. She looked at Pete now, her dark eyes pleading with him.
"Fine," Pete said, and signaled to the female guard. "Give them their guns."
After doing so, the gate doors opened and the five survivors walked outside. Pete stood in the archway, his face etched into a wounded scowl.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Zoey. You're a special girl. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise," he said with a sad smile.
She stared at him and wiped her mouth. Finally, she turned away and walked down the trail, not once looking back.
_____
Lindsey hiked behind Andrew, occasionally directing a glance at the back of his head. She knew he was upset with her. No words had been exchanged between them, but his silence was telling. It didn't matter what he thought, though. They'd made the right decision to leave Bear Creek without bloodshed. If he'd fired off a single round, it'd have been a slaughter.
She was tired of things ending that way.
Zoey walked next to Andrew, and Lindsey heard her say to him, "I'm sorry I left. I didn't know it would cause so much trouble."
"I understand why you did it. I'm sorry, too," he murmured.
Zoey paused, and then said in a hushed voice, "I liked him, Daddy…"
"I know you did."
They traded a melancholy smile and he put an arm around her shoulders.
"Next supply run, it's you and me."
She smirked. "What, so you can keep an eye on me?"
Andrew chuckled. "Actually, no. It's usually a responsibility the adults carry out. I'm trusting you to help me."
"You mean it?"
"Absolutely."
Blushing, she said, "Thanks."
Lindsey had tried not to eavesdrop, but was pleased to hear the much-needed conversation between father and daughter. This whole thing had started because of a disagreement between them. Fortunately, they'd been able to move past it.
She looked back to check on Charlie and noticed the injured woman was struggling to keep up—every few seconds her feet would drag and he would have to haul her upright.
"Hey, let's stop for a minute," Lindsey said.
Charlie nodded—probably in relief—and guided the woman to sit on a mossy rock.
"Thank you. I'm sorry…" she said, gasping for breath. "I'm slowing everyone down."
Andrew held up his hand. "Don't worry about it. We decided to take you, remember?"
"And I thank you for that."
"What's yer name?" Charlie asked.
"Mina."
Andrew introduced everyone and said, "It's good to meet you, Mina. We have some cars parked a little ways from here. Should take us another hour or so. You hanging in there?"
She nodded. "I feel cold and sort of dizzy, but I should be okay."
"Here. Put my jacket on," Lindsey said, beginning to shed the canvas fabric.
"No, really, I'm okay. You don't have to do that."
"Are you sure?"
"Nonsense," Charlie interjected, and took off his own jacket. He helped Mina put one arm through and rested the other side on her shoulder. He was gentle, but she still flinched.
After taking a few minutes to rest, they started to walk again. Lindsey kept pace with Andrew and he threw her a sideways glance.
"I know you're mad at me," she said quietly.
"I'm not mad."
"Well you're something."
He looked at her now and said, "You know they're just going to keep killing people, right?"
"I do."
Two hard lines appeared between his brows. "And you can live with that?"
"There are a lot of things I'm learning to live with—doesn't mean I like it. One thing I can't live with? Killing kids."
Andrew's nostrils flared, his expression conflicted. She knew, deep down, that he agreed with her, but before he could answer, a rustling sound alerted them of something up ahead. He withdrew his handgun and moved in front of Lindsey and Zoey. Mumbling voices drifted up the path and Lindsey saw his shoulders tense. He raised his weapon a little higher, aiming down the sight.
When Nicholas and Kat emerged in front of them, Andrew sighed and put away his gun. The other two jumped at his sudden presence.
"Oh, thank God," Nicholas said, throwing up his hands. "Charlie with you?"
Andrew stepped aside and Charlie, who was helping support Mina, gave him a two-fingered salute. Nicholas flailed his arms again.
"Man, we were thinkin' the worst. When we got back and found out that he'd never made it there, we knew we needed to turn right around. Glad to see you guys made it out of there okay." He gestured to the injured woman. "Who's she?"
Andrew began walking again and said, "It's a long story."
"Well, we've got time," Nicholas replied. "Enlighten me."
_____
As the evening sky turned to amber, they arrived back at their vehicles. Andrew appeared happy to be reunited with Jacob as he held his son in a snug embrace and kissed the boy's temple. Charlie hugged Caren, then Robert, the couple expressing relief over his return. Afterward, Charlie gave Nadie a brief kiss and avoided the smiling, watchful faces around him.
Meanwhile, Ana and Darius got Mina comfortable in the truck bed, laying some fleece blankets beneath her. Robert climbed up to check on her wound. He pulled back Charlie's jacket and winced when she did.
"It looks like a pretty clean cut, but the stump is singed. Did they cauterize it?"
"I don't remember," she whispered. "I passed out after they took my arm."
Charlie stood next to the truck and said, "Yeah, they used some kind of hot iron. The bastards…" He turned around and said to Lindsey in passing, "You should have let Andrew shoot that kid in the face."
She clenched her teeth and ignored his comment. No doubt, Mina deserved justice for everything she'd been through. Someday Pete's actions would catch up with him—Lindsey was sure of it—but she didn't want all of those deaths on her conscience.
"Someone will need to stay with her tonight," Robert said as he covered the wound with gauze.
"I don't mind," Lindsey said, and offered the woman a pleasant smile.
Mina returned it, confirming Lindsey's suspicions that she would probably be more comfortable with another female nearby. "Thank you," she said.
Lindsey shrugged. "It's the least I can do."
The night progressed without event and Lindsey evaded sleep as the peepers chirped happily. At one point she started to nod off, but a creak caused her eyes to flutter open. She sat forward and glanced around the outside of the truck, watching for the wandering form of a stray turner. It was quite dark, but her eyes adjusted, seeing no threat. She heard the sound again and directed her gaze to the truck bed.
Mina rose up and knelt in front of Lindsey, her silhouette frail even in the shadowy night.
"Mina? Are you okay?"
Before Lindsey could think about putting up her guard, the woman lunged at her. One thing that never ceased to surprise her was how much strength a person developed when they became a turner. All their human inhibitions turned off, making it much harder to fight off even the smallest of attackers. She tried to hold the woman at ba
y, but was thrown against the truck cab, the breath knocked from her body. Disoriented, she moved for her knife, only to find that her hand was stuck between their struggling forms. Mina's teeth drew closer to her face and she pushed back with every ounce of her strength.
Finally, she got her hand wrapped around the handle of her knife, but it caught on her belt. That moment of distraction was just enough for her to lose focus, and Mina surged forward, sinking her mouth into Lindsey's shoulder. The blonde let out a raw cry as she yanked her knife free and jammed it under Mina's chin.
With shaking hands, Lindsey pushed the woman aside. She tried to scramble backward but was already as far back as she could possibly go. She frantically grabbed at her shoulder, checking for a wound. To her disbelief, all she felt was a tear in her jacket—no bite. Her choked sobs floated into the still night as relief flooded her body. If she had given Mina her jacket, she would be dead.
Someone touched her arm and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Are you all right?" Robert asked, having just left the truck at the sound of her cries.
Lindsey checked her jacket again and huffed, "I think so."
He held out a hand and she reached for it. Her hand shook so much that she missed it the first time, but she managed to grab it on the second try. He hauled her over the side of the truck and she struggled to find her footing. Leaning over, she placed her hands on her knees and tried to quell her racing heart.
More of the group began to surround her as Charlie pointed his flashlight at Mina's dead body. Before he could ask anything, Andrew rushed over to Lindsey.
_____
Andrew had been in and out of his restless sleep for hours. He thought he heard a muffled shout outside the car, but no movement registered in the darkness. Suddenly, a beam of light cut through and he jerked upright. Throwing the car door open, he ran to where Lindsey stood, hunched over.
"Lindsey?" he asked in confusion, taking in the sight of her knife lodged in Mina's head. "What the hell happened?"
His frenzied hands swept over her, checking for bites or scratches. Gut-wrenching fear clawed at him to the point where it made his head spin. When his eyes fell upon the rip in her jacket, he froze.