The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither

by Miles, Amy

  “Cable,” I call, cupping my hands over my mouth. I duck down and wait to see if there is a response. Being out in broad daylight bothers me. Despite the frigid cold that keeps us company at night, I feel safer.

  A noise from the street to my right captures my attention. I call his name as I head in that direction. The noise sounds like someone kicking a can, but I follow it. Three blocks to the south I discover four Withered Ones on the road. They stumble forward together, with only a couple of feet separating them. One tumbles over a mailbox while the others continue on, oblivious to their loss.

  I creep up toward a cottage style home with blue shutters and a peeling white wooden fence. Remnants of flowers lie buried and lifeless beneath the window sill as I peer into the house. No sign of movement.

  A loud crash sends me ducking low. I look all around for the sound. Slowly I rise, planting my hands on my hips as I chuckle. There, scampering through the gutter, is a small raccoon with its head stuck in a can. It runs straight ahead and bashes into the curb before scurrying off in another direction.

  “Scared of a household pest. Wow, this is a new low, even for you.” I turn to head back toward the church and freeze. A block down on my right I see Cable, perched atop the hood of a truck. He is bent over his knees, his head buried in his crossed arm. I run full out toward him, terrified of how exposed he is.

  “Cable,” I hiss, waving my arms to get his attention as he looks up. His face is ashen, his chin trembling. His eyes are watery but he doesn’t try to cover his tears. I stop beside him and place a hand on his leg. “What? What is it?”

  “I found it.”

  I glance all around. He has nothing in his hands. Nothing sitting beside him on the hood, and that’s when I see it. The faded red paint on the hood of an old beat up Ford truck, more rust than metal now. “Cable,” I whisper as he slides off. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him as he cries into my shoulder.

  Now that I’m close I detect bullet holes in the hood. The windshield is a mass of spider webs. Blood stains the driver’s side. The door hangs open but no one is inside.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Cable releases a shaky breath as he pulls away. “I checked inside. Eric and all of the supplies are gone.”

  Why did he have to go for this walk? What couldn’t he have just stayed in bed a little longer and left this town with the thought that Eric made it to wherever he was headed? That he would find peace and happiness?

  I glance at the neighborhood around us. Middle class homes. Manicured lawns. Basketball hoops standing at the end of long driveways. Even a birdbath or two decorating the lawns. Not the sort of area you would have expected a drive by in days past.

  “We should get back.”

  He nods and turns to follow though I can tell he is reluctant to leave. Losing Eric the first time was hard. This is far worse. I can only hope that his end came fast.

  As we walk back toward the church, I cast furtive glances toward Cable. He is sullen. I don’t want to push him so I remain quiet as we walk side by side down the street. I keep an eye on each intersection, each window curtain but nothing moves apart from the random Moaner.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask as the church appears one street ahead.

  “Well enough.” His response is flat.

  Movement on the church steps captures my attention. I wave toward Alex, signaling our return. I pick up the pace as he waves back and heads inside.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  I glance back at where Alex stood a moment before. The porch is empty now. “He’s harmless.”

  “You so sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  Cable turns slowly to look at me. The change in subject seems to have woken up him a bit. “Not all guys have good intentions all the time, Avery.”

  I bristle and pull to a stop. “Are you jealous?”

  “No.” He shakes his head and brushes his foot along the street. He tucks his hands deep into his pockets. I can tell by the way he holds his arms close to his sides that he’s still hurting. “I just see things.”

  “Well, so do I, and I think you’re jealous.”

  I wait for his reaction, knowing without a doubt that there will be one, but what I see surprises me. No humor. No laughter. No crinkling of laugh lines around his eyes. Instead, he grows all the more serious.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper and reach out to grab onto his arm.

  Though he speaks to me, he does not look away from vacant porch. “It’s been bugging me all night. Probably why I went for a walk this morning. Always did think better outside.”

  I wait for him to make his point. My patience is on a thin rope today. Must not have slept as well as I originally thought. Or my mad dash through town in search of him has left me frazzled. “Those men that followed Alex’s group onto our farm didn’t seem like they were giving chase.”

  I fall still. “You’re saying you think they followed closely behind Alex?”

  He slowly looks over at me and the anger I see darkening his gaze chills me far more than the blustery winds the night before. “I’m saying I think Alex led them to us.”

  I start to speak, to deny that Alex would do such a thing, but I stop myself. How well do I really know Alex? Devon? Whoever was calling the shots when they came to us.

  “Just be careful,” he whispers next to my ear. “Keep your eyes open. We don’t really know who we can trust.”

  I turn to look at him and realize that our lips are scant inches apart. I breathe him in, savoring the distinctly masculine scent that surrounds him. I lick my lips and pull back slightly, unnerved. “And I can trust you?”

  The hard lines of his face soften as he reaches out and cups my cheek. His palm feels rough but warm against my skin. “With your life.”

  I stare into his dark eyes, lost in the moment. A long time ago I trusted a guy. That had been a big mistake, one I swore I would never repeat.

  A throat clears nearby and I look up to find Alex staring down at us, his hands planted on the church railing. His shoes are laced, his jacket buttoned, and both packs rest on his back. “It’s time to move out.”

  I glance up at the sun and frown. “It’s daylight.”

  “Yes. It will help us get our bearings. Sal and Victoria are preparing to leave. Figured I’d give you a few extra minutes to gather your things.”

  “Thanks.” I watch as he walks away and sigh. “Here we go again.”

  I start to climb the steps but Cable tugs at my arm. “Remember what I said.”

  I do. And I will also remember everything that was left unsaid between us.

  When we reach the edge of town without further incident I breathe a sigh of relief. The hours pass by just as slowly as the night before but we don't stop when dusk falls. We keep walking, trying to stay ahead of whoever it is that might decide to come looking for us. That list seems to be getting a bit too long for my liking.

  Alex and his group remain well ahead of us. From time to time I spy their flickering lights. Cable and I move slowly, carefully picking our footing in the moonlight. Cable warned me against using flashlights. They are too easily seen from a distance, and who knows when we might be in desperate need of light in the days to come?

  Hours turn into days. They all feel the same, look the same. The cold is a constant, so much that at times I almost forget what being warm felt like. For several days we stick to the forest, pitching rustic campsites made with blankets and spare clothing for bedding. We huddle around small campfires at sundown, squashing them out before night hits and the light could be seen from a distance. We sleep back to back, Victoria and I in the middle, Cable behind me and Alex and Sal behind Victoria.

  The nights are long as we shiver together in silence. It feels wrong to rest when we should continue moving, but exhaustion weighs heavily on all of us. Victoria begins to show signs of struggle as the terrain becomes more unstable. My ankles are a constant ache as flat farm land give
s way to hills and rock.

  We spot stray Moaners from time to time. One of them was stuck in the mud of a river bank, sunk up to its knees. It clawed at the air in its relentless attempt to move forward. We found another caught in a hunter’s trap. The metal claws buried so deeply in the bone of its leg that it could not get free.

  The Withered Ones don’t bother us, well...not any more than can be expected. I awoke to one trampling through camp in the early morning hours two days ago. It tripped over Victoria as she slept, sending her into a full blown panic attack as the rotting woman flailed atop her. We got a late start that morning. It took hours for Victoria to calm down.

  Just outside a small town we found a landfill and spent a few hours digging through trash. Never in my life would I have imagined that I would do such a thing. At least not to this degree. As Alex and Sal sorted through a small pile of things I would consider to be questionably useful, I hunted down Cable, only to find him caking his body with mud. He said it was for the bugs. Even in the dead of winter the darn things seem to find a way of getting you.

  Yesterday we found an old shack to sleep in. It stank of animal feces and urine. We kicked most of the nests out of the corners before we bedded down. I slept with my sweater tied around my nose to help with the smell, but I slept better than I had in nearly a week. I was semi-warm.

  This morning I woke to find Cable feeling better than I’d seen him in days. Color has returned to his face. The flush in his cheeks has begun to fade. After a meager breakfast of cold beans out of a can, we all crowd around Alex’s map. We are still heading south, but not nearly fast enough. Even if we manage to avoid military or gang detection, the elements might take us in the end.

  The terrain continues to change. The gentle rises become hills with high enough cliffs that you could do some real damage if you fell. We skirt along hiking trails, realizing that we have entered a state park. We pass picnic benches and small wooden buildings hosting the first toilets we’ve seen in days. I won’t deny that I teared up a bit when I saw real toilet paper and made sure to stuff a few extra in my pack for safe keeping.

  The march through the night is hard. Although the hills block some of the winds, around a bend it funnels it straight at us. I huddle behind Cable, grateful for his height and the breadth of his chest. From time to time he reaches back to hold my hand in the dark. Though his fingers are cold, his grip is reassuring.

  Just before dawn we spot an old graffitied rail car on the far outskirts of a small town. Alex and I help ease Cable inside and close the door behind us. We spend the whole day in the box, warm and snug. As night falls I can feel Alex’s reluctance to leave. No one would look for us here. We are out of the way, off the main roads.

  Leaving Cable to his rest, I sneak over to Alex’s side. “You look lost.”

  He stuffs his fists into his pack, trying to shift the contents around to find a more comfortable position. “I’ve got a map.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “I know.” He stares up at the ceiling. Small cracks in the roof allow moonlight to filter in from above, creating trails on the floor. “Sal is acting a bit off.”

  “More than usual?”

  He nods and rolls his head to the side to stare at the snoring man. “He’s been complaining more than usual today. Small things. Like how his teeth ache or he can’t stand being too close to the fire because it’s too strong a smell. He’s irritable.”

  I frown and look over at his slumped figure. “That’s nothing new.”

  “But it is.” I turn to look at Alex, peering through the dark to see him. “Normally he’s just ticked about the cold, about being hungry or that his feet hurt. Now…” he sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being hyper sensitive about everything.”

  “No.” I rub my hands together to warm them. With the sun hiding for the night the cold has returned and what warmth the day brought has been stolen away. “That’s good. We need to be.”

  He rolls onto his side and looks past me. Victoria’s muttering rises and falls, even in sleep. She is speaking to someone, her mom by the sounds of it. She keeps talking about a puzzle but it makes little sense. “How’s your friend?”

  “He’s mending. Too stubborn to stop long enough to properly heal.”

  “Have you looked him over to make sure he doesn’t have any internal bleeding? Looks like that other guy roughed him up pretty good.”

  I swallow down my guilt. Alex still doesn’t know that Devon was the man who left Cable in this condition and I have no intention of ever revealing that, especially not if it could put Cable’s life in danger. “I haven’t had time.”

  Alex snorts.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He crosses his legs out before him and places his hands behind his head.

  “Tell me.”

  “What’s there to tell? It’s obvious you like the guy.”

  “I don’t...no. We’re friends.”

  He whistles low and soft. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard a girl say that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Sure it is. You tell yourself whatever it is that you need to get through the day, but I believe what I see.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, annoyed by his insinuation. “You’re wrong.”

  “Could be.” He rolls onto his side, placing his back facing me. “Guess you’re the only one who would know.”

  As the silence falls around us, I return to Cable’s side. His breathing is steady. His eyes shift back and forth, evidence of a deep, restful sleep. I lie down beside him and press my back against him for warmth. Cable stirs and shifts his arm. His hand falls along my upper thigh and I lie perfectly still. After that, sleep takes half the night to find me.

  When I wake, I discover I’m the last to rise. Cable and Alex stand beside the open train car door, looking out in the direction of the town. My stomach clenches as I see them motion toward it. I don’t trust towns. Not anymore. We’ve done just fine staying clear of them, but our supplies won’t last long. Sal is a bigger guy and eats more than his fair share. The rest of us try to compensate, but we can only do that so long. Cable needs proper nourishment to finish healing.

  I groan as I force myself to rise. My back aches and the muscles in my neck are stiff. I stretch out my arms overhead and then attempt to touch my toes.

  “Sure must be nice to be so limber.”

  I raise back up and find Sal openly staring at me, or rather straight down the drooping neckline of my shirt. “You’re an ass.”

  “Never claimed not to be.” He chucks me a stale crust of bread and moves away. I grab it off the ground and dust it off, irritated that life has become a subsistence of such meager rations.

  “He bothering you?” I look up to see Cable towering over me. His fingers loop over the bottom of his camo pants pockets, his stance portraying a casualness that I know he doesn’t feel. The planes of his face are too hard. His eyes narrowed and piercing.

  “I’ve handled worse than the likes of him.”

  Cable emits a throaty grunt. “I’d like to handle him a bit myself.”

  I laugh and stretch out my hand. “Help me up, will you?”

  The muscles in his arms flex as he easily pulls me up. “You must be feeling better,” I muse, standing awkwardly with my hand in his. I know I should step back, to draw my hand away and gather my pack, but I don’t. I spent all night thinking about him, wondering if Alex was right. Am I starting to like Cable too much? Is it noticeable to everyone except me?

  “I am, thanks to you. You’d have made quite the nurse, you know?”

  I finally pull away, making sure to shove that hand deep into my pocket so he can’t see how it trembles slightly. I brush my hair back from my face and tuck it behind my ear. “I never really liked blood, or math, science, or even school for that matter.”

  He leans in and bumps me with his shoulder. “Then it will be our little secret.”

  I watch as he w
alks away. Should I have secrets with him? I frown at the thought, knowing that I am heading for trouble. I need to space myself from him or risk giving him the wrong impression. Even though I like Cable, I can’t afford to feel anything more than general friendship for him. Not in the world we live in now. Too many people are lost. Too many go to an early grave. It’s best to not let yourself care. That’s how you survive.

  I turn and scowl at Sal, who appraises me openly again. “What are you looking at?”

  “The only show worth watching in this shithole. I think you’ll find I’m not the only one entertained.”

  I follow his gaze and find Alex and Victoria standing near the back end of the train car. Both watch me and then swiftly look away. I sigh and grab my pack off the ground. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Need some company?” Sal calls.

  “Not from a worm like you!”

  As I leap down through the door, I hear his laughter. It sounds wheezy in his chest.

  I tug hard on the straps of my pack and march away, head lowered against the winds. I need to be alone, to set my thoughts straight. Ever since this crap started I’ve been forced to be around people and I don’t like it. My mother always used to harp on at me about how unhealthy it was to be a loner. She never really got that it’s what I like, what I thrive off of. Not everyone can be a people person.

  With no conscious decision, I head for the backside of the town, hugging the woods for cover as I scope it out. Alex and Cable were planning to do the same, but if I can save them the trip while working through my frustrations, it’s a win-win in my eyes.

  As I near the first building, I duck low, my back pressed against the vinyl siding. Somewhere up ahead a screen door slams shut, only to be caught up by the wind and slammed again. The foundation of this home seems a bit off kilter, as if the whole right side has begun to sink into the dirt. The neighborhood looks a bit rough around the edges. Not really the most ideal place to live, but I guess someone had to do it.

  Craning my head, I peer through the window. The interior is dark. Sheets hang over the windows to block out the sunlight, or other things. Tables are overturned. A recliner sits upended. I turn to look back in toward the house and scream, rearing back from the window.