by Miriam Bell
I throw my axe at the retreating blue cloak, leaving myself defenseless. The metal spins, end over end, in the air striking a tree trunk as the figure darts in avoidance. I curse and dash toward Daniel’s body grabbing one of his knives. I aim again but I’m not skilled enough to strike home. The blue cloak fades then disappears among the trees. Instead of following him, I search for the water pail I had seen earlier.
“Hold on!” I yell but when I reach it, I’m too late.
Flames devour Carter’s flesh, his gag now burned away can no longer muffle his screams. They’re loud and piercing- the vocalization of every paralyzing fear known but unspoken. An arrow pierces his brain silencing his suffering. Carter’s body sags on the ignited tree as the flames engulf his corpse. The only sound left is the popping of fresh branches burning. A horrible smell of copper and metallic fills the air and I lose what little food I’ve eaten in the last few hours. Heaving on my knees, I wait for death’s touch. Surely he wouldn’t pass me over after witnessing this kind of evil. Nothing makes sense anymore as I gape unbelievingly at Carter’s remains. I no longer hear the clashing of weapons or the birds’ songs- I don’t hear anything. I don’t feel anything.
A bloodied Jay comes to stand above me. His injured hand rest on my shoulder.
“I had to,” He says softly.
I sniff and try to hold onto my tears or my sanity.
“Bryan, get some water from the guy’s bucket,” Jay continues as I shake from my shock.
A barely bloody Bryan dips the bucket into the cool stream.
“No, let him burn,” I whisper. “We don’t have time bury him,” I pause “it’s not a luxury in the red zone anymore.”
I view his blackened body through the watery blur in my eyes.
“Let him burn,” I repeat.
Pressure encloses around my arm and I’m dragged to my feet.
“We’ll bury Carter and Daniel. Don’t let this place take away what is the right thing to do.”
I feel the pressure of a wet cloth on my face. Jay wipes a splatter of sticky blood off of my skin.
“We have to get home while we still can,” I say as he dips the dirty cloth into the water.
I think of my father and the childish way I left him as the blood dilutes inside the pale. Jay doesn’t say another word until my face is somewhat clean.
“You will get home, I promise and we’ll figure out a way to survive.”
He isn’t gentle when he pulls me into his arms. I embrace him and cry into the dampness of his shoulder. He doesn’t whisper anymore encouragements or his normal insults to me and I respect him more for it. When I freed myself from his silent strength, I kneel beside Daniel. He lies on the ground, blood slowly flowing from his head wound. Reaching down, I examine the damage. Daniel moans.
“Oh my God!” I franticly rip at his shirt exposing the slice where the sickle blade struck his chest. “He’s still alive!” I shout. Blood runs down his skin but the cut is shallow. “That’s not deep at all.”
I smile down at his now open eyes and laugh through my tears.
“Good to know,” Daniel mutters, squinting his eyes up at me.
“You are one lucky bastard,” Jay says from above us.
Daniel begins to sit up but I stop him, “No, don’t move. Let me bandage you up.”
I reach into my supply bag and pull out some of the bandages and gauze I’d taken from the plane.
“Bryan, let me have some of that water,” I say.
The bucket of cold water appears beside me and I hurry to wash away the blood from Daniel’s skin. He grunts in pain as I work.
“Carter’s dead,” I confirm, experiencing the need to say the words out loud.
I bandage his head and ask Jay to apply pressure to his chest. Daniel remains silent. Soon as I’m finished, he stands shakily and watches the remaining fire intake Carter’s body. Emotion stirs inside me like the winds of a bad storm. Sorrow, grief, anger and something so cold to name, stirs in the depths of my consciousness.
“You will be cleansed,” a weak voice moans from the meadow’s floor.
My head snaps in the direction of the injured cloaked man. His leg shifts as he lets out a low moan. The crimson handle of my tipped hammer protrudes from his neck. He’s bleeding out. Without a moment of hesitation, I march over to where he lays dying.
The leather mask no longer looks as frightening as before. I study the large stitching on the beak stained by blood. The heavy hood billows against the ground revealing a head of pure white hair. I think of Tom and instantly grind my teeth.
“Maybe you should be cleansed,” I say, infuriated.
I don’t wait for an answer. I straddle his chest restraining his arms by his side but there is no need. He’s too weak to harm me. In a gush of adrenaline I rip at the mask, hearing the snap of bands holding it in place. The leather form comes away easy enough, disclosing the old man underneath.
His skin has the appearance of wrinkled parchment, worn but yet still well maintained. Bushy eyebrows illustrate a confused expression on his face. His eyes follow an escaped strand of my hair as if transfixed.
“You’re just a man,” I grit out. “What right do you have to kill another person?” I punch him hard in the face and feel the skin of my knuckles split. “Who do you think you are to steal another’s life?”
My hand finds the hard handle of my hammer. The old man stares, baffled. He stutters on his words as his eyes widen.
“Red,” he finally whispers.
I remove my beret and let my hair fall past my shoulders in a thick braid. His eyes grow even larger.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re about to die at the hands of a girl,” I spit into his face and remove the hammer.
Blood gushes out from his neck soaking the ground. He won’t last long with so much blood lost. I lean down into his face.
“And just so you know, I won’t be taking your head. If there’s any chance you’d become infected, I want you to be what you hate or at least be whole when the infected fest on your flesh.”
He begins to murmur as his eyes roll back into his head. I lean in closer to hear.
“We came for you,” he whispers “and I found you.” He begins to quietly laugh, then chokes on his own blood.
I scurry across the ground away from his dying words. They repeat themselves in my head as he takes his last breath. I’m the reason Carter is dead? I refuse to believe. I’m not the one who attacked, captured and ignited the flames. Uncertain, I stare at the man’s body and crow mask.
“What did he say Millie?”
The words come again but I don’t respond. Instead, my confusion gives way to anger. The fury radiates off my skin, blinding me from rational thought. I embrace the madness that courses through me and hold on tightly to strength the fury lends. As I force my legs to straighten and remain steady, I realize that in my whole life I’ve never truly hated anyone or anything until now. The anger settles in my veins, fortifying my resolve to get home alive. I grab one of the cult members’ long knives and bury the jagged edge deep into the man’s chest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My shoes slam onto the hard dirt as we run through the tough terrain. Having decided to stay away from the main roads, we race among the trees. Branches and briars tear at my skin and clothing. Jay pushes a flimsy limb out of his path. I have to duck in order not to be slapped in the face.
“Watch it,” I say, breathing heavily and straightening my supply bag.
Normally, he would chuckle and give me some kind of smart retort but not right now, not when we can’t be sure if someone is tracking us.
An infected appears within our trail. It’s a child, maybe a teenager. The clothes are ragged and soaked in dry blood. Jay slices his knife through its neck as he runs by not even bothering to stop. The young boy falls into the pine needles, blocking my path. I jump over the body noticing that blood doesn’t seep from his separated head.
“We need to rest Lonnie,” I cal
l out trying to focus on my breathing, each step sends spikes of pain up my legs.
I don’t even understand how Daniel can keep up but he does, barely. Fear is the greatest motivator. My ribs hurt but not as much as my lungs.
I gasp out, “We’ve been running for too long.”
I wipe the sweat from my face, blinking rapidly to clear my spotted vision. I stop abruptly from running to lean against a dead tree. I’ve trained for months, jogging everyday, but this was different. I didn’t train to be jumping over dead bodies and swerving through trees.
“We can’t stop now.”
Lonnie grabs my arm and jerks me away from the tree’s trunk, pieces of bark fall to the ground.
“Do you want me to pass out?” I ask, resting my hands on my knees and giving him the best evil stare I can rally.
He looks at me with concern mixed with an edge of panic. Daniel catches up. His hand quickly reaches straight to his head as if he is wanting to keep it attached and breaths in raggedly. He’s pale and stumbles, righting himself with the help of a nearby tree.
“She’s right,” Jay says, his breathing matching mine. “We’ve got to stop. We’re far enough away now we should arrive home before nightfall.”
“What makes you so sure about that?” Lonnie replies. “We can stay ahead of the weather if we keep going.”
He glances at the sky nervously then to Daniel, calculating the risk. The aroma of rain floats heavy in the air, having chased away the sunshine from earlier. Jay’s eyes roam over the silent woods, as do mine.
“If we don’t rest we’ll be easier to kill.”
Jay focuses on Daniel and narrows his eyes on the bloody cloth wrapped around Daniel’s waist and chest.
“We won’t be able to put up much of a fight either way,” Lonnie remarks.
When I’m able to control my breathing, I retrieve a bottle of water from my supply bag. I take a few large gulps and pass the remaining continence to Bryan, who smiles thankfully.
“There isn’t any set rules on how to do this, brother,” Jay says as the twins stare at one another.
Lonnie’s face drops in defeat, “Fine, but we need to find a safe place first. Then we can rest for an hour.”
We walk along narrow paths stepping over dead tree trunks as we find our way. I break through the tree line first and step onto broken pavement. Cars litter the old road, stranded, their windows busted and steel bodies rusted. I breath a sigh of relief being out from under the shadows of the branches. Steadying my shaky walk, I’m surprised my aching legs still work and even more surprised the men behind follow without words.
Clouds darken the sky as a sharp wind rushes by.
“Looks like rain,” Bryan comments from behind me. “Won’t be long now.”
The wind picks up.
“It’s gonna get dark way before we thought,” Lonnie says, sighing.
I ignore all of them and walk behind a sixteen wheeler truck. It’s the largest vehicle I’ve ever seen.
“Just think,” Bryan says, knocking on the vessel’s hollow walls. “There could be a ton of stuff crammed into this container.”
I extend my arm, attempting to open the back compartment. The heavy doors make a clunking noise but do not release.
“Didn’t they used these things to carry scouting goods to other locations?” I ask, peering around the other side.
“Yeah. You could say that,” he replies, opening the cab door.
A strong odor of mildew and mold drifts from its interior. I watch him and take note of the lack of blood on his clothing.
“We can stay in here,” he suggest.
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to be somewhere I can’t defend myself, plus the upholstery stinks.”
I motion toward the dingy seats. Bryan takes a whiff and backs away.
“You might get used to the smell,” he says and closes the door.
“How did you hurt your head?” I ask.
He wipes the dry blood, crusted along his hairline.
“Fell out of the tree at the plane.”
I study him closely.
“And at the creek?” I question calmly, measuring his response.
“I had another set of clothes,” Bryan remarks blankly, his eyes turning cold for a brief moment.
Lonnie steps between us misinterpreting our awkward composure.
“Don’t worry, Millie. I’m sure Bryan won’t make you sleep separately from the guys in this situation.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to sleep inside,” I say warily.
“So you would rather be rained on?” Daniel asks as he leans against one of the truck’s large tires. He checks the bandage at his chest with a shaky hand.
“If it means I can better defend myself. Rain never hurt anybody,” I answer.
Without waiting for a response, I hoist myself on top of the large container. The last thing I want is to be trapped behind glass and steel with a group of blood covered guys.
“What are you doing, Millie?” Daniel asks from below.
“I’m going to rest before the bottom drops and this seems like the safest place.”
I collapse onto the hard metal and use my supply bag as a pillow.
It isn’t long before three of the men have joined me. I hear the door of the cab slamming as Daniel settles in.
“I’m not tired so I’ll keep watch.,” Bryan says, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the truck.
I decide against questioning Bryan further on his clothes. Now isn’t the time. Instead, I allow my weary eyes to stare up into the heavy gray clouds. My thoughts turn to the burned bodies and the men I killed. Tears threaten to drown me as I replace the horrible images with ones of Connor, his stern gaze and confident stance- the way his eyes soften when I smile. Would Carter be dead if he was here? Would we be somewhere safer? Would I feel safer?
I straighten my beret blocking out the “what if” questions my mind wandered off to. I was tired before but now with the promise of rest, my body refuses to give in- punishment for what I’ve witnessed. Why do I keep seeing such horrible things?
A tiny voice in my head answers back. Because you’re a horrible person. I shift my body disregarding the voice and reach for Tom’s pocket knife still clipped onto my belt. I trace my fingers along the rough red centipede design wishing I could have talked to Tom one last time.
A memory comes to mind instantly throwing my thoughts back into the past. I’m too tired to fight the reminiscence.
Tom stood at the edge of my library table. Annoyed, he leaned his weight onto the dull surface. The white of his long beard, reminding me of his age even though he never acted very old.
“You need to learn this Millie,” he chastised as he guided his wrinkled hand through his thinning hair. “Now what is an acronym to remember if you are lost in the red zone?”
I rolled my eyes as I leaned back into my chair. I had joined the scouts so I could put the past behind me, so that I could be closer to my mother’s memory, not bother with less than the basics. So trivial.
“This is stupid.” I said, striving not to look bored but failing.
“My job is to train you, not stand here and grow fond of your eye rolls.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“Well, you could sit down,” I countered.
He picked up a small book laying in front of him and threw the hardback at my head. I blocked it barely with my hand.
“Stop it,” I said irritated.
Tom quirked an eyebrow and asked, “What did you say?”
I make a face.
“I said Stop. S. T. O.P.”
He laughed, his deep hearty laugh.
“That’s right,” Tom replied with a self satisfying smile. “S, stands for Sit down, T stands for Think, O stands for Observe your surroundings and P stands for Prepare for survival by gathering materials.”
I smirked, “Really? That’s going to help me?”
Tom strai
ghtened.
“It’s the first step once you lose this attitude.”
I rolled my eyes again receiving an irritated growl.
“You wanted to be part of the scouts. I didn’t come to you begging for you to learn this. You volunteered and right now I’m going to give you some advice.” He coughed loudly into his hand then glared directly at me. “What ever bug crawled up your ass, you need to kill it and drag it out because your mother would want it that way. She would want her girl to be useful.”
The memory fades as fast as it came. His advice, ringing in my ears. I don’t know why I acted so horrible toward him when they first assigned us together. Sometimes, I think I was just angry because I knew he had trained my mother and she had died. Nothing he had taught her had saved her life. Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d taken better notes. I had so many questions for him that I was too afraid to ask. Why didn’t I ask?
In an attempt not to cry, I banish the pocket knife to the inside of my boot and sniff. My tears stay right on the edge of my eyes as I will myself to sleep and not focus on the knife’s weight inside my boot. After a few short breaths the sleepiness hazes my thoughts and my eyes close.
I enjoy one moment of peaceful darkness before startled awake by a large drop of water hitting my face. With a sigh, I realize the sky didn’t take long to decide to rain. I’m sure Lonnie will begin his “told you so” speech momentarily. Crap, I needed the rest.
Still laying down, I reach up to wipe the rain drop away from my cheek. The moisture is warm and thick between my fingers. Another drop lands on my forehead urging me to swipe at my skin in annoyance. I open my eyes to my hand. Blood covers the tips of my grubby fingers. Another drop lands on my arm and I watch the blood travel down my skin to the sleeve of my shirt. The dampness stains the edge of the material with a crimson red.