Road of Stars

by Ariel Bonin

  "S-she bit you?"

  Lindsey pulled back her jacket and the collar of her shirt to reveal a purple bruise from the pressure of Mina's jaws. The area was clean, though—no sign of any penetration or threat of infection. Andrew ran his fingers over the unbroken skin in bewilderment. Evidently the heavy material of her jacket had provided just enough of a barrier to protect her. He heaved her into his arms, appreciating the fact that he could still do so. He held her for what felt like forever, then, with reluctance, let go.

  "What happened to her?" Lindsey asked Robert as he crouched down in the truck bed.

  He pulled back Mina's bandage and shook his head. "It's got to be some kind of sepsis."

  Lindsey frowned. "Sepsis? Like blood poisoning?"

  "Yeah, and an aggressive one at that."

  "But I thought you said it was a clean cut?"

  Robert glanced up at her. "The cut itself? Yeah. The tools they used? Probably not."

  Caren regarded the rest of the group with visible unease. "So, now what?"

  "We bury her," Charlie answered. "We owe her that much." He levered himself up into the truck after Nicholas dropped the tailgate.

  "I'll give you and Robert a hand," Nicholas offered.

  Charlie wrenched Lindsey's knife out of Mina's head, causing dark blood to spurt from the wound. Pulling a rag from his pocket, he wiped the blade clean and offered it back to her. With an uncomfortable gulp, she took it from him. He and Robert lifted Mina onto a tarp that Nicholas had laid next to them. They wrapped the blue material around her whole body, secured it with rope and carried her to the wood's edge.

  The next morning, they buried Mina, held a moment of silence, and then hit the road. Around noontime, they stopped at a small neighborhood, which appeared mostly untouched. Andrew parked the car and studied the sleeping woman next to him. The tear in her jacket stood out like a sore thumb. Such a close call. They'd tried to do something good by helping Mina, and Lindsey had almost paid for it with her life. It wasn't Mina's fault, but still, he probably wouldn't be offering his assistance to strangers anymore—his family was much more important.

  Zoey exited the car and Lindsey awoke when the girl shut her door. Lindsey's groggy eyes settled on Andrew and they exchanged a smile.

  "What are we doing here?" she asked, sitting up in her seat to peer out the window. Ranch-style houses lined both sides of the street, along with a random car or two.

  Andrew sighed. "We're already getting low on food. We have a lot of mouths to feed and Jake needs formula. These houses look promising."

  "I'll stay here with him if you want to go ahead," Lindsey responded, gesturing to the napping infant in the backseat.

  "Thanks. I'll be with Zoey. Just honk the horn if you need us out here in a hurry." Andrew tilted his head and fleetingly pressed his lips to Lindsey's. He opened his door and they watched each other through the windshield as he met his daughter on the other side of the car.

  "Ready?" Zoey asked.

  Andrew chuckled. "Isn't that usually my question?"

  They entered the first house and found it to be clear. Unfortunately, the cabinets were almost empty—someone had already been there. The next house was the same, and the one after. Andrew saw Charlie leave the house across the street and the other man shook his head. Disappointment coursed through Andrew, but he didn't want to give up yet.

  He chose one more house at the end of the street, a three-story Victorian, which seemed out of place in this neighborhood. Andrew figured it was probably there before all the other houses and the developers just built around it. The entrance was off to one side on a decrepit wrap-around porch. Andrew pushed open the door and shone his flashlight over the foyer. Moving further into the first floor, he suddenly heard a creak on the stairs. He rushed back to the staircase in the foyer and saw Zoey ascending the squeaky steps.

  "What are you doin'?"

  "I'm gonna clear the upstairs," Zoey replied. Her voice was hushed but still packed with attitude. "I've seen you do this before. You don't need me to follow you around."

  Exasperated with his daughter's moodiness, Andrew said, "Fine…just don't drop your guard."

  After he finished clearing the bottom floor, Andrew went back to the kitchen. All he could find was a mystery jar filled with some kind of greenish-white vegetable—he wasn't that hungry. Feeling extremely frustrated by the whole afternoon, Andrew went to find Zoey. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard her strangled shout and three suppressed shots from her gun. Andrew flew up the remaining steps, his heart lodged so tightly in his throat, he could hardly breathe.

  "Zoey? Where are you?"

  From a room at the end of the hall, he heard his daughter's terrified voice. "I-in here…"

  Andrew charged down the dark corridor, his Beretta poised and ready to destroy any threat to his child, but a part of him knew he was too late. He attempted to brace himself for what he was about to find. Zoey stood in the middle of the room. Her discarded gun and a dead turner lay on the floor in front of her. She held a hand over her forearm and looked up at her dad in despair. Blood seeped between her fingers and dripped onto the floorboards.

  "I- I'm sorry, Dad…I stopped to look at s-something, and…and," Zoey stammered as tears tracked down her dirty cheeks.

  Andrew's heart pounded in his chest and felt dizzy from it. "What happened?" he managed to say, but it came out incredibly strained.

  Zoey pulled back her hand just enough to reveal an open wound on her forearm. "It bit me."

  Chapter 8

  It was like the floor dropped out from under Andrew's feet. He listed to one side and caught himself on the dresser top. His breaths rushed in and out and he felt like he was going to be sick as he started to hyperventilate.

  Not my girl. Please, God, not her. I can't lose her. Is this because you spared Lindsey last night…?

  "Andrew! Zoey! Where you at?" Charlie yelled from downstairs.

  Andrew looked blindly around the room. Bile burned the back of his throat and he struggled to push it down as he rasped out, "We're upstairs!"

  Charlie's heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs and in the hall. "I heard a shout from outside," the man was saying as he appeared in the doorway and froze at the sight before him. His shocked gaze crossed over the turner, Zoey's gun, and then settled on the girl's arm. Glancing at a dazed Andrew, he moved toward Zoey and pulled a clean rag from his pocket. Swiftly, he wrapped the cloth around her forearm to cover the gaping bite wound. She flinched when Charlie tied it in place and then held it protectively to her middle.

  Immediately after, Charlie rushed over to Andrew and held him by his shoulders. "Keep it together, man. We'll figure somethin' out!"

  Andrew nodded, but had no idea what Charlie said to him. His world was crashing down around him. He'd survived the loss of his wife, but his daughter? No. There was no way he'd come back from this.

  Charlie moved away from him and bent over to pick up Zoey's gun. It lay in a large pool of bright red, sticky blood. Perplexed by the size of the puddle, he paused to examine it.

  "Zoey, is all this yours?"

  The girl knelt down and furrowed her brow. Eventually, she shook her head. "I don't think so. It looks like it's from the turner."

  "Yeah, well, it can't be. This blood is fresh. And if you lost this much blood—you'd be dead," Charlie said.

  "I am dead!" Zoey spat as she bolted to her feet. "Not yet, but soon!"

  "Zoey!" Andrew barked, unable to comprehend such a blunt statement right now.

  "It's true, Dad! I—"

  "Hold up, guys," Charlie interrupted. "This ain't a turner…"

  Andrew blinked. His mind cleared considerably and he looked at the body on the floor. "What are you talking about?"

  Charlie used his thumb to hold up one of the eyelids, revealing a clear blue iris. "It's a human…or was."

  Andrew scowled in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that this was a living, breathing person five minutes ago?"

/>   Right as Charlie nodded, they heard the front door open downstairs.

  "What's with all the ruckus in here?" Nicholas's familiar voice bellowed.

  It suddenly dawned on Andrew that the other group members might not believe what Charlie was saying. They could be convinced that Zoey was bitten by a turner and consider her a liability. Quickly, he replied, "Everything's fine! We'll be down in a sec!"

  "It don't sound fine," Nicholas said as the sound of heavy boots echoed on the staircase. He and Tyler came into view, their sharp eyes scanning the scene in the bedroom. "What the deuce happened in here? Was she bit?"

  He started toward Zoey, but Andrew stepped in front of him.

  "It's not a turner bite," Andrew said in defense, his hand subtly resting on his holster.

  "That sure looks like a turner!" Nicholas retorted as he pointed to the dead body.

  "It's an Iscariot," Tyler stated from next to Charlie.

  "A what?" All the men questioned, their heads swiveling.

  Tyler inhaled a breath and launched into a detailed explanation, per usual. "An Iscariot is a reference to Judas and his betrayal of Jesus. While the whole matter has been heavily debated, he was generally referred to as 'The Son of Destruction' or 'The False One.'"

  "Skip the Sunday School lesson," Charlie griped. "How does it apply to us?"

  "I've heard of these people since the beginning, but I've never actually seen one. They will attack any human, like a turner does, especially if they feel threatened."

  "Sounds pretty fuckin' stupid to me," Charlie said, shoving the Iscariot with the tip of his boot.

  "It's the result of a religious breakdown. They question why God has betrayed them. So they fight back against Him in the only way they know how—by killing His people. The good news is that they don't carry the infection. Bad news, you can still get an infection. Their mouths are just as filthy. I recommend you clean that wound and get on a round of antibiotics as soon as possible," he said to Zoey.

  Bowled over with relief, Andrew threw his arms around Zoey and hugged the girl with every ounce of strength in his weary body.

  _____

  Lindsey and Caren leaned against the car as they waited for the rest of the group to finish up. Jacob was still sleeping, so the two women simply talked to pass the time.

  "Your announcement went well," Lindsey said, referring to Caren's pregnancy.

  "Yeah, better than expected. Andrew congratulated us, but, to be honest, he looked pretty angry. Did he say anything to you?"

  Lindsey recalled her conversation with Andrew, but not once did he seem upset with Caren. The topic of babies did come up, which surprised the heck out of her, as she never thought they would find a place safe enough to take things to that level. She'd been against the trip to New Canaan since the start, but now she was all for it. She only hoped that they didn't have too much riding on this safe haven.

  "No, he didn't say anything. He's known you and Robert since practically the beginning. I'm sure he's happy for you," Lindsey said sincerely.

  "Speaking of happy," Caren began, "I don't think I'd ever really seen Andrew happy until he met you. Granted, there've been some low points, but you two have been there for each other and remained strong through it all."

  A rosy blush crept onto Lindsey's cheeks. "But what about Kelly? Surely she made him happy at some point…"

  Caren shrugged. "Not since I've known him. I mean, I know they loved each other very much, but leading a group and preparing for a baby made things especially difficult for him. Kelly put a lot of pressure on him to keep them safe and to find a good place for the birth—pressure he'd already put on himself. It made things tense between them. When she died, there was just so much guilt—that he hadn't done enough, provided enough. That was when my dad stepped in to help lead the group. Andrew was basically a shell of a person after that. He did what was needed for everyone else, but never anything for himself… When I see him with you, I see glimpses of the old Andrew—the one from before all this. I didn't know him back then, but it doesn't take much to see that he's changed, and for the better."

  Lindsey smiled and glanced at the ground, thinking of her own journey. "I can relate."

  Caren's smile dissolved. "How did you do it?"

  "Do what?" Lindsey's gut clenched in apprehension.

  "I'm sorry—I shouldn't be asking you this."

  "No really, it's okay. You're my friend—you can ask me anything."

  Caren hesitated, before asking, "How did you keep going, after…?"

  "After Jared died?"

  She nodded.

  "I turned off my emotions. I didn't allow myself to feel anything. If you think about the worst things that could possibly happen to you, and then they do, it's really not that difficult. Life isn't so scary anymore when you have nothing to lose and nothing to be afraid of. I simply…existed. I took it on as my unofficial mission to kill as many turners as I could. One less of the dead might mean one more day for the living."

  "Did you ever think about giving up?" Caren whispered.

  "Every day."

  A moment later, Ana approached them and glanced over her shoulder.

  "Andrew and Zoey have been in that last house for quite a while," she said. Her observation kindled a spark of fear in Lindsey's stomach. "I saw Charlie go in, too, but they haven't come out."

  Just then, Nicholas and Tyler hurried into the same house. Lindsey frowned. "Caren, do you mind staying here with Jacob? We'll go check it out."

  Lindsey and Ana walked swiftly down the street and right as they reached the bottom of the steps, the front door opened. Charlie emerged, followed by Zoey, who was cradling an injured arm. Andrew was next, and then Nicholas and Tyler.

  "Zoey, what happened?" Lindsey asked as the men descended the steps.

  "She was bitten by an Iscariot," Andrew answered, his tone lighter than Lindsey thought it should be.

  She rushed to Zoey and held the girl's face in her hands. "Are you okay?"

  Zoey's face reddened at her concern. "It hurts, but I'm okay. Just happy it wasn't a turner."

  Lindsey took a deep breath and smiled. Leaning forward, she dipped her head under the brim of Zoey's beanie and dropped a quick kiss onto the girl's cheek. As Zoey passed her, she waited for Andrew so they could walk together.

  "I thought Iscariots were a rumor, a myth," she thought aloud.

  "So you've heard of them?" he asked.

  "Yeah. The first time was probably about three or four months in. There was this guy in my group—Omar. He would tell us all these stories about the beginning. He claimed to have seen one turner attack another. We thought he was crazy. Turns out he wasn't—or not entirely. Another person brought up the topic a while later and called them 'Iscariots.' I still didn't really believe it without ever having seen one, but here we are."

  "The idea of it just seems so strange, but there are cannibals and there are turners, so I guess they fall somewhere in there," Andrew said, a perplexed look on his face.

  _____

  Having made very little progress, they stopped for the night at an abandoned motel in Fayette, Alabama. Between the individual rooms and real beds, the accommodations were the best they'd had so far, besides Bear Creek. From then on they figured that would be the way to go. They came across motels all the time—why not utilize them?

  Nadie and Ana offered to take watch, so Lindsey grabbed her bag and started for Andrew's room. The motel was one story with the traditional parking spots outside each door. Andrew had chosen a room all the way at the end. Charlie would have been right next door, but the room was already occupied—so to speak. They'd left the decaying bodies in their final resting place and Charlie moved to the following room.

  Lindsey knocked twice on the lackluster navy blue door. A dull face-plate screwed to the surface read: 14, indicating the room number. Andrew opened the door dressed in a clean white t-shirt and his usual jeans. His face lit up at the sight of her on his doorstep.

 
; "Want an extra person for your pajama party?" she asked with a flirtatious grin.

  Andrew stepped back to let her in and said, "We're just about to start the pillow fight."

  Lindsey snorted when she saw how sarcastic his statement was. Fast asleep in his basket, Jacob looked almost angelic. Zoey was passed out on one of the two double beds, her injured arm propped up on a pillow.

  "The painkillers knocked her out," Andrew said as he shut the door.

  "That's good. She'll need a lot of rest to keep it from getting infected," she replied, dropping her bag on the floor.

  As she unzipped it and withdrew her shorts, Andrew leaned close to whisper, "Pajamas are optional you know…"

  Looking up at him, Lindsey's eyes twinkled. She peeled off her long-sleeve shirt, revealing a simple tank-top. With the usual wizardry that women possessed, she reached one hand under the thin material and unsnapped her bra. After removing the undergarment, she unzipped her boots and shucked off her jeans.

  Only a moment after she'd dragged on her shorts, Andrew took Lindsey's hand and pulled her into the bathroom. An oil lantern hung from the ceiling, splashing the small space with warm light. Quickly she shut and locked the door. When she turned around, Andrew slammed her against it. His kisses were rough, urgent. She felt his hand go up her tank-top and massage her breast. Breathing heavy with need, Andrew grabbed her hips and tugged her away from the door. He pushed her up against the counter, her bottom nestling into his groin. He slid his hand over her shoulder and down the front of her tank. Lindsey moaned and thrust her hips against his. He pulled down a strap to bare her shoulder and right breast as he nipped at the newly exposed skin with his teeth.

  Lindsey heard the familiar clink and rasp as he undid his belt and fly. He tugged down her shorts just enough to expose her bare backside and she felt him run the tips of his fingers over the source of her desire. She assumed he must have already taken the right precautions, because, without warning, he plunged into her. A loud moan escaped her throat. He grabbed her hips and continued to drive into her roughly. Lindsey gripped the counter-top and let out another cry of pleasure. Pressing one hand against her back, he bent her over the counter-top a little more. She felt him drive deeper, wonderful waves of pleasure rippling through her body.