“Great idea to set the house alight, Luke,” said Ben. “I think maybe it worked as a decoy. I’m pretty sure if we’d only left the chimney burning, they would have landed and searched the area. We’d have been toast.”
“Yeah, good thinking on your feet, Luke,” I said, and patted his shoulder awkwardly.
“Well, it wasn’t really about creating a decoy. I just didn’t want to leave Sarah like that,” he said.
Ben and I nodded somberly, but Brooke, still upset at the loss of the little girl, went to Luke and kissed him on the cheek. I heard her whisper, “Thank you.”
Luke’s eyes widened and I’m sure I saw a tinge of pink in his cheeks that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.
“Shame about the supplies,” he said awkwardly, bending over and picking up a backpack to distract us (or himself) from the moment.
We’d been forced to leave most of the supplies that we’d brought from Walmart; basically, all we had now was what we were wearing and what we had in our backpacks. I had gathered what I could from the baskets that the dogs had scattered, but it amounted to no more than some canned food and two sleeping bags.
“We should keep moving,” I said, when the sound of the choppers had faded completely.
“Should we go back and gather up more supplies?” Ben asked.
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “They’ve scanned the area from the air but we have to assume they might send a patrol to search the area.”
“I’ll bet they do,” Luke said. “And they’ll probably be here sooner rather than later.”
“Onward it is, then,” Brooke said, looking sadly back in the direction of the house.
“We should stay off the road for a while,” I said. “Luke, do you think you can guide us with the atlas and the compass you grabbed from Walmart?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”
His smile faded as his attempt to be light-hearted tanked; the death of Sarah was still too raw for all of us.
“Let’s go, maybe we can find someplace closer to Worcester to hole up,” I said quickly to cover the awkward silence.
After consulting his compass, Luke pointed us in a direction and we started our hike. The terrain rose slightly in that direction and the forest got thicker as we went on, despite the bare trees providing less cover than we would have liked.
The going was slow, and not just because of the terrain.
Both Ben and I were somewhat hobbled by our recent injuries, he the dog bite to the buttock, and me the pulled muscle in my groin from my dismount in the slushy snow.
It had been okay while I was warm, but this morning it was quite tender and the snow on the ground certainly didn’t help. Nor the unevenness of the forest floor. As a result, we travelled much slower through the woods than we would have been along the road.
We’d been walking about twenty minutes when Luke stopped and looked worriedly behind us.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The snow,” he said. “If somebody finds our trail in it leading away from the house, they can follow it right to us.”
“Crap,” I got a sinking feeling in my belly. “Well, let’s push on, maybe we’ll find a way ahead that’ll confuse the trail. Besides we don’t know that they actually will send a ground team. We just couldn’t take the risk by hanging around.”
“There should be a road on the top of this ridge, it runs the same direction as the one we were on,” Luke said. “Maybe we can walk on it for a while before heading off into the woods again. At least it might slow them down if they’re searching for our trail.”
We walked on in silence for a good twenty more minutes before we came to the edge of the trees. We found ourselves looking into the backyard of a large house with a small barn-like building off to one side. We scoped it for a few minutes but detected no signs of movement.
“Should we risk a quick pop inside to check for supplies, do you think?” Ben asked.
“If they do find our trail, I think it’s too soon to stop, even for a short time,” Luke said.
“Luke’s right, we keep moving for now,” I said, massaging my inner thigh as I crouched in the snow. “There’ll be other houses to search once we’re further away.”
It started snowing again as we crossed the home’s backyard, aiming for the gap between it and the barn. The snow was heavier than it had been before and if we still had them, riding the bicycles would have been a nightmare, or impossible.
On foot though, it wouldn’t slow us down much more than what was already on the ground. This time, I was glad to see the snow falling – it was a light fall, but if it fell long enough, it would cover our tracks.
At the corner of the house, we found a large paved driveway that stretched off between the trees. A snow-covered SUV sat on the icy tarmac with its driver’s side door open. I approached it warily. It was abandoned, and snow had begun to collect on the driver’s seat.
“Follow the driveway,” Luke said. “It’ll be harder for somebody to follow our trail there because it’s more slush and ice than snow.”
The driveway was a couple hundred feet long and we followed it until it came out on another road at the rear of the property. Standing in the shadow of a large evergreen tree, we looked left and right. In both directions driveways led back to houses on either side of the street, most of them closer to the road than the one we had negotiated.
“I say we hang a left,” Luke said. “It’ll confuse followers because it sort of cuts back against the direction we’ve been going and, if I remember the map right, not too much further on there’s a road we can take to put us back on course for Worcester.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this road,” I said.
I’m not sure what it was. The quiet seclusion of it, maybe? I was probably just spooked, but either way it just felt wrong.
Whether I was right or not, I had no intention of testing the theory.
“I think we should head straight across, through the backyard of the house across the way and back into the trees. It looks like there might be more evergreens over that way, so maybe that will make us harder to track if there is more snow in the branches and less on the ground.”
“I agree with Isaac,” Brooke said. “I don’t like the idea of cutting back. I know it sounds clever, but it might just be too clever, if you take my meaning.”
“In any case, let’s do something,” Ben said. “It’s colder just standing around than it is walking.”
“I guess I’m overruled,” Luke said, with a smile. “Across and back into the woods it is.”
We jogged across the road as best we could and then up a driveway on the far side. The snow was really starting to come down in thick, wet flakes and we hurried past the house and through the backyard, veering slightly to put the house between us and the road.
We came to a halt in front of a six-foot-high chain link fence that separated the backyard from the woods beyond.
“Up and over?” Luke asked.
“I’m not sure I can make it,” I said with a wince as I thought of my aching inner thigh.
“Don’t be a wuss, man,” he said. “We’ll help you.”
Scrambling over the fence turned out to be far easier than I had feared it would be, no doubt because I had two other guys to help lift me, and we were soon back under the trees. There were more evergreens in this section of forest, which meant the ground was clearer and that less snow was falling on us from above. Luke used his compass to keep our course running north east, the direction he figured that we needed to go. The going was still slow, but we were making steady progress and I was even beginning to lose my fear that we might be tracked.
Twenty minutes later, we reached a road running roughly east to west and stopped so Luke could check his atlas. I checked my watch; it was a quarter after one, which meant that sunset would be in just over three hours.
“I know you want to avoid the roads,” Luke said. “But we’d really make better time by follo
wing them.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied. “We can follow this road for a while if you want, but we have to keep a good lookout. Last thing we want is a patrol catching us unaware.”
“Thank the Almighty,” Ben muttered.
In reality, I was nearly as relieved as him. The uneven ground of the forest floor, not to mention scrambling to step over fallen logs and forcing my way through bushes and brambles, had really upped the pain level in the muscle I had pulled.
“I think this road is this one here,” Luke said, pointing at his map. “It goes from Northbridge back to the Worcester-Providence Turnpike. If we follow it to the left a bit, we should come to a road that branches off north east. Following that is a straight shot, well straight-ish at least, up to Millbury, which is just outside of Worcester, here.” His finger traced a line on the map.
“How far are we from Millbury?” I asked.
“About two miles, as the crow flies, but probably closer to four following the roads with their twists and turns.”
“About two hours hard walking then,” said Brooke, tossing a glance at both her brother and I. “Assuming that you two don’t collapse on us.”
“I think I got another couple of hours in me,” Ben said.
“Me too,” I said, with much more conviction than I felt.
The snow was still falling, but at least there wasn’t much wind as we began our trek to Millbury. Following the roads, we saw no signs of others, no adult survivors, no kids trying to survive on their own, no Chinese patrols looking for anybody, nothing. The world seemed so empty and peaceful. No planes in the sky, no cars on the roads, no sounds of construction or television. I could almost imagine what it must have been like for the pilgrims when they first landed on this vast, new continent.
Mr. Dresden in American History had told us that just a short while before Europeans arrived, there had been a large and thriving native culture, not only on the East coast of North America, but stretching nearly to the Rocky Mountains. The only reason that the continent had seemed so empty to the Europeans and that they’d encountered so few Native Americans was because a plague had swept through, killing off the majority.
While nature had conspired to give the Europeans a continent ripe for conquering and colonization, it seemed that the Chinese had taken matters into their own hands.
“Where do you suppose all of the kids are?” asked Luke quietly. “I mean, we’ve seen hardly any ... there’s no way the Chinese could have rounded up more than a fraction.”
I shrugged. I had been wondering that myself but hadn’t liked the answers that had sprung to mind.
“Well, it’s winter, there’s no power or water, no adult supervision, no fresh food,” I lowered my voice, so Brooke wouldn’t hear. “I think a lot would be dead already. In this region, at least. It might be different in some of the warmer states, but then there are probably more Chinese there for that reason. They had to know that the cold would kill a lot of us.”
“Maybe the dead are the lucky ones,” Luke muttered, kicking at the snow.
16
The snow, coupled with Ben’s injury and my own, meant that we still hadn’t made it to Millbury when the sun started to descend beneath the horizon.
“We’re about to pass by a town named Wilkersonville,” Luke informed us, as we walked past a cemetery with the name ‘St. Johns’ above the gate. “We’re still at least a mile from Millbury though.”
“We should find someplace for the night,” I said. “There is no way we’ll be able to make Millbury before it gets dark.”
“Yes, I agree,” Ben said. His limp had grown more pronounced in the last half-hour or so.
Five minutes after we passed the cemetery, we approached a house sitting well back from the road on a half-acre of land. It was big and well-kept, and, I have to say, looked inviting in the bright twilight.
“That looks as good a place as any, don’t you think?” asked Ben.
We all agreed it would be a good place to bed down for the night, so we turned to trudge up the long driveway.
We were about thirty feet from the front porch when the door opened, revealing a warm, yellow light within. Shocked, we all froze in place. My hand crept toward my pocket, and I only relaxed slightly when I saw it was a blonde-haired boy about our age or possibly a year or two younger. He looked around quickly and urgently gestured for us to come inside.
Whether it was the cold or the pain or the fatigue, I’m not sure, but we rushed as one toward the door without thinking about it.
The boy stepped aside quickly, allowing us to pile in and slammed the door behind us, shooting three large bolts home to secure the heavy door. We came to a standstill, panting and catching our breath as we found ourselves face to face with three more teenagers. These ones armed.
I felt my heart sink as Luke and the others put their hands up. I nearly pulled my .38 but thought better of it when I saw one of them was pointing a crossbow at Brooke’s chest. The other two had a baseball bat and a machete, respectively.
I took my hand out of my pocket and raised my hands, praying that none of the others would do anything rash.
“Hey, sorry to rush you in like that, but we couldn’t take the chance of you drawing attention to us,” said the boy who had beckoned us into the house … or trap.
The blonde boy came around and gestured to his mates who lowered their weapons. He looked surer of himself now, and I reevaluated my first impression of him. Close up, I could see that he was probably my age; not only that, he appeared self-confident and was clearly the leader of their group.
“I’m Will; this is Beau, Ryan, and Rodney. Who’s in charge of your little group?”
Luke gestured toward me.
“Isaac is. I’m Luke, and this is Ben and Brooke.”
The twins nodded, still looking wary. Will smiled at them almost dismissively, his stare honing in on me. He appeared to be sizing me up. I stared back, not dropping my own gaze. I don’t quite know what it was about him, the blonde good looks or his crooked smile, but I felt an instant mistrust.
Finally, he nodded and held out his hand and after a moment I shook it.
“Hey.”
Formalities over, he pointed to a corner of the room.
“Please, make yourselves at home. You can put your stuff in that corner if you want. And you must be hungry? We were just about to eat.”
“I could eat a horse and chase the jockey,” said Luke, drawing a laugh from everyone except me.
Ben and Brooke also seemed to relax and joined Luke offloading their gear in the corner, Ben’s backpack with the handle of the shotgun protruding in plain sight. If William and his friends noticed, they didn’t let on.
Luke took his crossbow from his shoulder and placed it with his pack. Not quite convinced we were in no danger, I kept my jacket on and placed my backpack in the corner on top of Luke’s weapon.
Now I had time to look around. We stood in a richly furnished parlor. The yellow light was coming from gas lanterns located at various points around the room and the toasty warmth immediately evident when we had come in was coming from a gas radiator.
The windows were blacked out by black plastic that hung behind the white lace curtains, effectively hiding the light of the lanterns to the outside. Ben and Brooke followed Will out of the room and Luke looked at me. I half expected him to tell me he was also wary of the occupants of the house, but instead he clapped me on the shoulder.
“Cheer up, Isaac! It smells like hot food!”
He was smiling ear to ear as he propelled me toward the door of what I could see was a dining room. I didn’t like the way the other three boys hung back and waited us to go through.
I especially didn’t like that they hadn’t put their weapons down.
I looked back at them and saw the stockiest of the boys, the one carrying the crossbow, Beau, I think, stay behind and settle into a chair by the window. He pulled the dark plastic that was over the window to the side and pe
ered out into the rapidly darkening afternoon.
“Beau’s our lookout for tonight,” said William, from directly behind me.
The large dining room opened into a kitchen that was also well-lit and invitingly warm. My mouth dropped open. All the available floor and bench space in the kitchen was taken up by canned and packaged food, and against one wall stood a stack of gallon containers of fresh water. On the gas stove, a large, probably industrial, kitchen-sized stock pot steamed happily.
I knew instantly it was the source of the wonderful meaty smell that made my stomach rumble despite my uneasiness. Will informed us it was beef stew and invited us to sit at the huge table that dominated the space.
“Ryan, set our guests a place please. Rodney, you can start to serve.”
Rodney and Ryan put their weapons on the kitchen counter and got busy.
Within a few minutes we were at the table, as Rodney, a big sullen boy, went from place to place ladling stew into our bowls. I took in the empty chair next to Brooke and an image of Sarah flashed across my mind. It was hard to believe that just 24 hours before we had been laughing and enjoying our game of Monopoly with her.
She should have been here too.
Rodney was just serving Ben, the last of us to have his bowl filled with the delicious smelling stew, when Will clapped his hands suddenly. Entranced by the aroma and ready to dig in as we were, we all jumped.
“I almost forgot!”
We watched him scoot around the counter to the oven. A second later he returned carrying a wooden board with two huge loaves of freshly baked bread. Luke and the twins greeted this unexpected sight with shouts of pleasure.
I was silent, but my mouth watered in anticipation. After surviving so long on canned, mostly cold food, the feast laid before us seemed to be Heaven sent. As excited at the prospect of a warm meal as I was, the oddness of these boys picked at the edges of my consciousness.
William seemed content, almost happy, for us to make pigs of ourselves. There was plenty to go around and they clearly weren’t wanting. We broke the bread off in chunks and dipped it into the generous bowls of the tasty stew.
Hell Week Page 9