The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither

by Miles, Amy

  “A friend.”

  “Yeah? I had a guy tell me that earlier today. Didn’t believe him either.” My lungs feel on fire as I turn toward a light glowing bright a few feet away. As my nostrils flare I detect the scent of gas.

  A delicate hand presses against my cheek. “You’ve been ill for several days. It’s lucky that Alex found you when he did.”

  “He didn’t find me,” I grunt, shoving the girl’s hand away from my face. I try to peer through the light to match a face with her voice but it is too brilliant and my eyes are sensitive. “He kidnapped me.”

  I spy a pursing of her lips just beneath the glow of lamplight. Water splashes nearby as she wrings the cloth out that was on my forehead. “He wouldn’t do that. Alex is a decent man.”

  “Sure. Any girl would be lucky to be snatched off the street by a complete stranger.” My side feels unnaturally tight. I place a hand on my right side and feel bandages wrapping my bruised ribs. Thoughts of another healer strike me as I try to steady my breathing. Cable.

  I’m not well, but I’m a far sight better than I was when he found me. I guess I have that to be thankful for. “Where am I?”

  “Our Haven. At least that’s what I like to call it.” I can almost see the girl smile as she turns away. The wistfulness in her tone surprises me though. She sounds young, naïve. “Alex went to fetch you another blanket. I think your fever is starting to break finally. You should have heard Sal and Devon getting into it with Alex over you.”

  “Why?” I cough and wince as I grip my side.

  The girl grabs the gas lantern and moves it away. I blink several times to clear away the lingering effects and finally spy the girl beside me. She is young, perhaps no older than sixteen or seventeen. Her eyes seem kind. I noticed that her fingers are slender as she presses the back of her palm to my forehead.

  I raise a hand to push her away and realize the tip of my finger is sore. “I don’t remember hurting myself,” I mutter as I inspect the slit.

  The girl’s lips purse as she looks away from me. Her hair falls in greasy white blond strands over her face, hiding light dots of freckles along her nose, a much smaller patch than my own. I notice that she sits sideways beside me and roll my head to see a swollen belly pressing against her tight shirt.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  She laughs and nods. “And you’re observant.”

  I smirk at her whiplash response. I roll my head away to look up at the ceiling, noticing uneven ceiling tiles held aloft by silver strips. I must be in some sort of office. Surely the ceiling of a factory would be far more vast and littered with exposed piping or sheets of metal roofing. Rain pings off of it from the space beyond the closed door to my right. One glance at it tells me that the door is locked. Figures.

  The room I lie in is small, not much larger than the studio apartment I shared with my mother. A couch lines the far wall. Something lumpy and decidedly human in shape is curled up on the cushion. Soft snores rise and fall from the shape.

  A darkened window looks out of the room. I can just make out a hint of light and remember being lifted up a flight of metal steps. I’ve been brought to a room that overlooks the factory below. The fluorescent lights overhead are dead. The only heat in the room comes from a small metal canister with plumes of smoke rising from within.

  “Is this your home?” I shift, trying to roll onto my side but the girl holds me down. She places a pillow beneath my head and lowers a cup of water to my lips. I drink greedily. The cold fluid spills over my lips and down my chin but I don’t care. I feel as if it’s the first drink I’ve had in weeks.

  “For now. Alex and Devon have been talking about moving across the river, away from the city. I overheard them talking about the dangers if we stay, but they never say anything openly to me. They all think I’m too young.”

  Her lip tugs into a pout. I start to speak but a door across the room opens and a man steps through. Even though it was dark when the stranger snatched me off the street, I recognize him from right before I passed out.

  “Well,” his smile is oddly genuine for a kidnapper, “look who’s decided to rejoin the land of the living.”

  A woman follows behind him. She turns just this side of the door and closes it. “She’s awake?”

  Her voice sounds clipped and breathy. I shield my eyes from the lantern light to make her out. She stands off to the man’s side, her arms wrapped tightly around her ample bosom. Wavy hair sits on top of her head in a bun, curling at her temples. Large red-rimmed glasses sit askew on her nose, magnifying the crow’s feet around her aged eyes.

  “Finally.” The girl offers me a small smile, grabs her cloth and bowl and rises unsteadily to her feet. My captor rushes forward and grabs her arm.

  “I’m fine.” She reassures him with a smile. He steadies her a moment longer then releases her arm. When she walks toward a cherry wood desk I notice that she waddles.

  The older woman squints at me from behind her bottle cap lenses. “I still don’t like it. It’s not safe to invite strangers.” The woman’s chiding voice is one of those nasally tones that remind you of nails on a chalkboard, but a smidgen less annoying. Only just.

  “Invite?” My snort turns into a hacking cough that leaves me with a splitting pain in my side. I grimace and hold my bruised ribs. “You’re off your rocker if you think I want to be here, lady.”

  “Lady?” She bristles and adjusts her glasses upon her nose. A chain dangles down from either ear piece. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to spy a hearing aid or two as well. “My name is Victoria, and I’ll thank you kindly if you will address me as such from now on.”

  My captor dips down before me and smiles. “Don’t mind Vicky. She’s a prickly one, even on a good day.” He offers me his hand in formal greeting but I don’t accept. Finally he lets it drop. “The name’s Alex Thornton. Pilot extraordinaire...well, at least I was until all of this crap hit the fan!”

  I stare at him. He stares back, appearing unfazed by my obvious lack of caring. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “You’re sick.” I turn to look at the pregnant girl as she lowers herself onto a chair against the wall. As she sinks back I can’t help but notice she looks as if she’s about to pop.

  “So?”

  She refocuses on her stomach. “So you needed help. We all need a little help at times.”

  “I didn’t ask for help. I’m just fine on my own.” I press on the ground in an attempt to rise. My arms quake and give out on me a second time, spilling me back onto the thin mattress I’m laid out on.

  “You were saying?” Alex helps me rise to a seated position against the wall. He presses the back of his hand against my forehead and his smile fades away. “She’s still a bit feverish.”

  “It’s better than it was though,” the girl speaks up. At a vicious glare from Victoria, she draws inward and falls silent. I stare at her. No girl this timid will survive in this fallen world. She needs someone to protect her from people far worse than the likes of this old bat.

  “I told you time and again that she shouldn't be here.” A cold voice calls from the couch. I glance over to spy a man in his mid-forties emerging from the blankets. His hair is receded at the temples and splattered with gray. “She’s turning into one of them.”

  Victoria paces back and forth in a stunted line. Two steps left then shuffles back again. She fumbles with her hands before her, almost like she longs for knitting needles to busy her hands. “I knew this was bad,” she moans and pats at the wild strands falling from her poorly constructed bun. “Bad, bad, bad.”

  “Quiet,” Alex commands. He places his hand upon my chest and I smack at him. He ignores me as he presses against my side, splaying his fingers over my bandaged ribs. When he lowers his head to press it against my breast, I whack him hard enough to get his attention.

  “I am not one of them.”

  Alex’s shrugs and draws back, leaving me in peace. “I think she’s right.”

  �
��How can you be sure?” the surly man over his shoulder presses. I don’t like the look of him. He seems shifty. A real loser that would give me the creeps any day of the week. I glower back at him as he gives me a once over. “Then again, she could be good for something.”

  “She’s not coughing,” Alex interrupts as I ball my fists against my lap. “No phlegm in her throat. I don’t see any rash or blisters, and she’s obviously aware enough to be preparing to smash your nose in, Sal. And for good reason.”

  He turns to look at me. “We aren’t like that.”

  “Sure you’re not.” I scowl as Sal rolls his eyes. “You’re just a bunch of good Christian men looking out for an old lady and a teenage girl. Nothing wrong with that.”

  Color seeps from Alex’s face. His gaze narrows but he says nothing in response to my biting remark.

  “The signs could be hidden,” Victoria speaks up as I start to slide to my right. I notice she has inched closer, her fretting mounting with each step. She reminds me of a squirrel, pulsing her bushy tail to show her nervousness. Her beady little eyes don’t help her case any.

  I push against the floor and right myself fully. “If you think I’m going to sit here and let you people strip search me, you’re nuts! Toss me back out on the street if you want. That’s where I’d rather be anyways.”

  “It’s too late for that.” I turn to see a man enter the room from the door Alex and Victoria emerged from a few moments before. I try to see beyond him, to make a mental map of my location. When the opportune moment strikes I am out of here and I need to make sure I run in the right direction.

  At best guess I would say the new guy is probably hanging out around his mid-thirties. His skin is dark as night and the top of his head gives evidence to recent hair growth on what I assume was once a shaved scalp. Two rolls of fat appear along the back of his head when he sinks down beside Alex to look at me. “Too much risk now that you know where we are.”

  “You’re worried that I’m going to tell...who, exactly? My best friends out there blowing shit up?” I laugh and shake my head. “I’ve got no one left to tell, dude.”

  The young pregnant girl in the corner finds my gaze. “Don’t you have anyone out there worried about you?”

  “Do you?” I counter.

  She looks stricken and for a moment I almost feel sorry for my jab, but the moment passes as she turns inward again. I meet the new guy’s direct gaze. “Look, I didn’t ask to come here. Your boy over there dragged me down the street against my will. All I’m trying to do is get a ride out of here.”

  “A ride to where?” I turn to look at Alex. I can almost picture him as a pilot, sitting behind the wheel in some jumbo plane, jetting off to Hong Kong or Australia. He has the look and the swagger. Albeit probably a lot less pronounced now. I bet he even rocked the aviators every chance he got. “Anywhere but here.”

  Alex shakes his head and pushes up to his feet. He runs his hands through his hair and blows out a deep sigh. “There’s nothing out there anymore. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

  “You don’t know that. There will always be pockets of survivors.”

  “That’s a kid talking for you.” The man before me laughs. The whites of his eyes seem brilliant against his dark skin. “This isn’t a movie, girl. This is real life and contrary to what you might like to think, this shit is real. People are dying beyond these walls. Some in ways I don’t even want to speak about. You hit the road in your condition and you won't last the night.”

  “And I will here?”

  He smiles. “There’s a better chance of it.”

  “Wow.” I turn my head to spit to the side. Blood tints the glob of saliva that lands a few inches from Alex’s shoe. “That’s real reassuring.”

  The man rises and walks away, heading toward the door. With his hand upon the handle he turns back. “You’re gonna have to grow up fast, kid. This world is no place for fairy dust and happy thoughts.”

  When the door closes behind him I bark out a laugh. Alex glances down at me. “Sorry,” I smother my laugh as I rely on the wall to hold me upright. “I just think it’s funny that he totally referenced Peter Pan when he was trying to be all macho.”

  There is a twinkle in Alex’s eye. “Devon has his moments. They are few and far between, mind you. You just gotta learn how to roll with his moods.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  He grins and dips low, grabbing my arm to help me stand. I follow his lead, only because I don’t have the energy left to fight. “All I can promise you for tonight is a place to sleep and a little food in your belly. Tomorrow everyone will decide if you can stay.”

  “And if I don’t want to?”

  He eases me down onto a thin sheetless mattress spread out on the floor not too far from the pregnant girl. She casts a furtive glance in my direction but says nothing as I lay my head back. Alex bends low over me. His hair looks wind tousled and I wonder if he’s been outside again. Maybe to round up his next victim. “You sure you don’t have someone out there looking for you, missy?”

  I start to speak, to give him a definitive mind you own business response but I pause. Cable is out there. Will he come looking for me? Has he already given up and skipped town with his team?

  Alex chuckles. “I thought so. Pretty girl like you must have someone that still cares.”

  I roll my head to the side to watch him walk away, knowing that my hesitation just gave him the upper hand: knowledge.

  Annoyed with myself, I roll onto my side and stare at the wall. I hear footsteps from time to time, whispers in a distant space. At one point I’m sure I hear a cry of pain, but it vanishes the instant it arrives.

  Victoria’s mutterings drive me up the wall but no one else seems to pay her any mind. They must be used to it. After an hour I begin to wonder if she’s a little bit off. Maybe her dementia is legit or maybe she’s starting to change.

  At some point I doze off, despite my efforts to remain alert. I don't trust Devon or Sal. I’m still on the fence about Alex and Victoria. The only one who seems halfway normal is the teenage girl nearby, but she isn’t saying anything. Doesn’t make a sound. Her silence is a bit unnerving since she was so chatty before. Maybe I really did hurt her feelings.

  Remorse floods in as I watch her smooth her hand over her belly. Her smile is filled with expectant love and it makes me ache for that connection. I don’t think my mother ever looked at me like that.

  “I had a kid once,” I say to the ceiling. Startled, she turns to look at me. When she doesn’t say anything, I breathe out a sigh and roll onto my side to meet her expectant gaze. “The guy was a real loser, but for a while he made me feel special. Took me to a movie. Bought me ice cream. Won this ridiculously large teddy bear when the fair came to town. Small stuff that no other guy had done for me before. Guess you could say I fell pretty hard. Stupid really, but it happened.”

  She shifts to cross her legs before her, draping a blanket over her to ward off the chill on the air. The fire has died down with no one to tend to it. Sal fell back asleep a while ago on the couch, ignoring his fire tending duties. His snores were a welcome change only so that I didn’t have to listen to Victoria’s rambling.

  “His name was Tommy Wainright. Had a mop of the blondest hair you’ve ever seen and more freckles than a spotted owl.” I smile at the moment. “My little boy had his coloring but he had my eyes and nose.”

  The girl leans forward and props her elbows on her knees. “What happened to him?”

  My smile falters and I glance down at the floor, wondering why I allowed myself to open that door again after so many years. “Found a better home and never looked back.”

  Her eyes widen. “You gave him up?”

  I snort and shake my head, curling my knees in toward my chest. My back curves, allowing me to hug myself into a ball. The stretch in my muscles feels good now that my fever broke. “I didn’t give anything up. My mother stepped in and took him from me.”

  “How cou
ld she do that?”

  Anger, set on a low simmering these past few years, begins to bubble up within me. “I was fourteen. An unwed and unfit mother. My own mother said she wouldn’t lift a finger to take care of someone else’s offspring. Can you believe that? She couldn’t even call him a child.”

  My back teeth grind. I take three slow breaths, as familiar as they are necessary. A trick I’ve learned over the years of living with my mother. “I only got to hold him for a moment,” I glance over at her and smile, “but it was the best moment of my life.”

  She looks sad as she places a protective hand over her belly. “Did you ever look for him?”

  “No. I never did. I couldn’t. What sort of mother doesn’t fight for her child?” The words catch in my throat as I shake my head. “Maybe I was too young. Maybe I would have done a crap job of taking care of him, but I deserved the chance to find out. I deserved a mother who would at least have a little faith in me.”

  She lowers her head. Her eyes cast downward, her lips purse. I can tell that I’ve made her sad.

  “You never told me your name.” I draw her back.

  “Oh! How silly of me. I’m Evangeline.” Her smile pushes aside her sorrow. This sweet girl’s sympathy touches me and I’m reminded of the girl I once was, before life became a battleground. Maybe she and I share more in common that I first through. A snap judgment gone awry. “My friends called me Eva for short.”

  “Nice name. I’m Avery.” My returning smile is tentative but genuine enough. I wish that I could offer more. She seems like a nice girl, but nice girls always end up getting hurt. For her sake, I hope I’m not the one who does it. “When are you due?”

  “I don’t really know any more. I’ve lost count of the days.”

  “Are you excited?”

  She falls silent for several moments, long enough to make me think that she will refuse to answer, but finally she responds. “I’ve always wanted a boy. Ever since I was a little girl and the neighborhood girls would torment me. They would dip my hair in honey and laugh when the bees would come for me. Boys aren’t cruel like girls are…” she trails off and places her hand over her swollen belly button, “but I know they will come take him away from me.”