Ash: Book One in the Rising Ash Saga

by R. G. Westerman

  “I think they are gone,” I whisper. They both let out audible breaths. It would be another hour before it would be safe to leave the mansion. I turn away from the window and sit down with them.

  Two

  “Were the two of you headed into town also?” I ask as I turn back towards the window. The sky had become a dull slate blue, but clear as far as I could see, excellent weather for a supply run.

  “Yes,” she begins. “I'm afraid we lost our food with the car also. We've been on the open road for a couple of hours before you found us. I didn't think we would have survived for very much longer if you had not shown up when you did.”

  “I didn't do much of anything,” I say as I stand, brushing the dust off my jeans. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  “Would you come with us?” Rachel asks. “Safety in numbers, and all that?”

  I glance at the two of them, taking stock. Survival depends on having a group, even a small one can make all the difference. I see no visible weapons between them, nothing showing any particular speed or skills in a fight situation. I already know they would slow me down to some degree. If we did join up, it would be to their benefit. I would have to be careful.

  Marcus' eyes dart around the room, his shoulders momentarily relaxed now that the excitement had passed. Rachel is right. They would not have survived much longer.

  “Okay, sure,” I say. “I think we can watch out for each other.”

  They both nod.

  “First thing's first. We need to find a vehicle. Yours is out of commission?”

  “We lost it a few miles back to the West.”

  “Do you have any belongings there? Anything you need to go back for?”

  “No.” A flicker of emotion passes over her face, but just as suddenly it is gone.

  “Just as well,” I say. “I want us to keep moving. I was in the process of circling the outskirts of town, but after than horde, I think we should follow the path they took.”

  “Do you think that's safe?” she asks. “What if one of them circles back?”

  “They don't travel that way. When there are that many together, they keep moving forward. They go over or around anything that blocks their way. But never back. If they do veer away, it's off to the side. I've learned it is safer to follow a horde as long as we keep our distance. They actually did us a favor.”

  “I don't know, I still think the road would be a better option,” Rachel says.

  “This way is clear. We can't know the same about the road.”

  “I see.” She swallows hard, making a thick clicking sound in the back of her throat before she nods.

  “Marcus,” I say as I crouch down to his eye level. “I'm going to need some help from you.”

  “Me?” he replies scrunching his nose up at me. This is the first time I have heard him speak.

  “Yes, you. Can you tell me what is your favorite color?”

  “Um...” He scrunches up his nose as if considering the importance of the question. “Blue?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” I add a small grin to attempt to ease his discomfort.

  “Um... I'm telling you.” He stands a bit straighter, firming up his shoulders. “I like blue.”

  “Okay great, Marcus. You know what we are going to do once we get into town?”

  “What?”

  “We have to find a car. There's going to be a whole lot of cars and other vehicles there. All different colors. What about we keep an eye out for the shiniest blue car we can find. Sound like a plan?”

  He nods vigorously with a grin his face.

  “Okay,” I whisper. “It's go time.”

  We step out the front door. I keep the crossbow at my side in case we run into any trouble. After scanning the horizon and taking account of the small breeze, I motion for them to follow. I stay in front, tracking the path after we leave the mansion. Marcus walks behind me and Rachel bringing up the rear. I reach into my back pocket and give her my other switchblade, but this is mostly a gesture on my part. I do not have much faith in her abilities as a fighter, even if she would put in a good effort. The sun is bright. Now and then a bird chirps, alerting me that we are traveling the right direction. The time to worry is when the birds go silent.

  “When is the last time the two of you have eaten?” I ask.

  “Not since the car broke down. About an hour before maybe. We had found our way into an abandoned grocery store.”

  “That's good. We'll keep an eye out for something quick for you guys.”

  The next place we come to is an old diner, surrounded by trees and vines already making their way towards pulling the walls down, snaking through the windows like bony fingers. Eventually, the whole world will look like this, I know. That is what I have learned by growing up in a dead world.

  Nothing lasts.

  Everything falls.

  Everything.

  I wonder sometimes what life will be like for that boy. He must have been born around the same time that everything went to hell. A child of the fall. They are rare, as there are not many of us left, but there is something remarkable about the children who have only known this world, some kind of steeliness, absent in those who remember.

  “Where did you come from, Rachel?” I ask. “Before, I mean. Before... you know.”

  “Cincinnati,” she answers. “I was in insurance sales.”

  “Insurance sales?”

  “It's not even worth explaining,” she says with a small laugh.

  A skittering of branches catches my attention off to the left. Immediately I raise my hand for them to stop. They freeze instantly and I reach for my bow swinging it around into position like I had done a thousand times before. The trees surrounding us block out the view. We stand in the center of a small grove, grown up with briars, flattened a bit by the passing horde, but tangled and thick regardless.

  Marcus backs into Rachel, and I see her fingers tighten around the handle of the knife tucked into her belt clutching to his shoulder with her other hand. Her eyes dart from me to the origin of the sound.

  A mare horse steps into view, lining up perfectly with the cross hairs of the eyepiece. A sense of relief washes over me, but I cannot relax yet.

  I take aim.

  Seconds later, the leaves behind her come alive as her tiny foal trots out next to her. I exhale and lower my bow casting a glance towards the other two. We needed the food of course, and I could have easily taken both of animals. But we have no place to field strip them, and seeing the wonder light up on Marcus' face at the sight of the baby horse, let me know I had made the right decision. If either of the animals had been injured or if the foal had been alone things would have been different. This time, I would pass.

  We watch them in silence until they skitter off into the surrounding thicket.

  We arrive at a small square building a short while later.

  The first thing I notice is the open door.

  “Wait here,” I say. “It could be infected. I'll need to clear the building to be certain.”

  “Are you sure?” Rachel asks. “You can't go in there alone. At least, let me follow you.”

  That is the last thing I want. “I've done this many times. It will only take a few minutes. Keep your back to the wall and stay here until I get back.”

  Her eyes dart around the surrounding landscape before finally landing back on me.

  I nod, hoping to give her a sense of ease, something I was not good at most of the time. I pulled the knife from my ankle strap and stepped into the darkened building.

  I hear no sound except myself pounding on the walls and skittering my knife blade along the walls in an attempt to draw them out if there are any. I make my way through the main room with the blade held up ready to strike when necessary. Slowly pushing open the metal swinging doors to the kitchen. With the amount of dissonant noise I am making, they would have shown themselves by now.

  Finally, I stand in the center of
the room satisfied that the property is secure.

  “Come on in,” I call, sticking my head out to the two of them standing side by side against the wall of the building.

  I lock the door behind me, noticing both of their faces relax at the relief of not having to be on guard for a few moments. Marcus navigates over to one of the padded plastic booth seats and sits down, taking off his shoes and rubbing his feet.

  “It's clear,” I assure her.

  Rachel walks with me as I began to double check the perimeter. Now that the place was secure of anyone, or anything, besides us, we need to make sure no one could get in either. We check the windows one at a time running our hands along the panes of glass, testing the edges. Nothing appears broken or loose so far.

  We come to the swinging doors leading into the kitchen. Before we push through, she glances back at the boy who stares open-mouthed at the bright logo hanging above the long dead video game.

  “He'll be fine,” I say.

  She nods as we push into the darkened kitchen.

  Our only hope was to find something canned. If the old stoves had worked, this place would have been an ideal place to set up camp. It may yet be, even without the power. I step forward and start opening doors, pulling out bowls and any kitchen tools I find. The gadgets look foreign and awkward in my hands, and I can only guess what their purpose might be. The first thing that comes to mind is how I could use each one as a weapon. At the end of the cabinets, I see an open door leading into a pantry area.

  “Rachel,” I say only loud enough to catch her attention across the large kitchen. She steps over and her mouth drops open at the sight before us.

  The small room is full of shelves, stocked full of large cans. A variety of soups, dry potato flakes, a collection of salad dressings, cornmeal, beans, canned chicken, fish and more. The amount of food is enough to feed us for a good long while.

  “Too bad none of it is fresh,” Rachel says in jest, her voice tinged with wonder.

  “I have an idea,” I say. “I know the two of you are heading East, but what if we stayed here for a few days?”

  “Stayed here? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I know it isn't wise to stay in one place for too long, but this food is just sitting here. We can easily secure the building. It wouldn't take much more. All we would need is just a source of heat. Marcus has already discovered the booths are more comfortable than the bare ground. Maybe even just until we get our strength back. What do you think? We work on this stash here until it is manageable for us to carry the rest.”

  “Hmm.” She considers the idea for a moment. “We have been on the road for a while now.”

  “Just a few days time,” I say. “Then we will move on once we feel rested.”

  “Okay, yeah. I think it would be good for him. He's been through more than enough. It's a great idea the more I think about it. When are we ever going to see this much food in one place again?”

  We start to pull things down from the shelves. Just a few cans at first. I reach for a cardboard box of apple juice and cradle it in my left arm, piling smaller cans on top of it.

  “Marcus,” she calls through the door, keeping her voice muted.

  He appears a moment later with curiosity etched on his face. Seeing the stash, his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open.

  “Come here,” I say as I beckon him to the kitchen.

  I take the juice to the main counter grabbing a knife on the way. After I slice open the top of the box, I reach over to the dish area and grab a glass. He watches as I pour the amber liquid into the glass and hand it to him.

  He drinks it with a kind of enthusiasm that I have not seen in a while. He empties the glass, leaving a few droplets on his lips which he wipes away with the back of his hand. I fill it again and he repeats the whole process happily.

  The reasons I have given Rachel about staying here are only partially true. I want to make the run into town without them, and keeping then in a secure location would make that easier.

  I do not believe they would hinder me. I need to find us a car, of course, but I needed something else as well. I had to find what I was looking for, and that I had to do alone. It gave me some small inkling of peace that the child should not be out in the open. This was no world for a child. I would do what I could to get them a secure vehicle and get them headed on their way.

  There is plenty of stuff everywhere which aids to survival. It just takes getting out in the risky world to find it. When humanity disappeared they left behind all of their things for us survivors to pilfer. Of course, the abundance of stuff did not always make for the benefits of survival. Though we have plenty of things surrounding us, cars, houses, clothes, weapons, what we have a shortage of is food, the one thing we need the most. I already know the key to long-term survival is to find a way to live. To hunt, to live off the land.

  The problem is, our world is poisoned.

  Everything is poisoned.

  I roll the words around in my mind, trying to find a way to explain all of this to Rachel. She had asked me how I knew about the creatures, about their behavior. Truth is I have no idea how I know. Everything has always just been there. My childhood was nothing more than fragmented bits and pieces, flashes of memory that held little to no meaning for me.

  The taste of hot oatmeal.

  A smiling woman holding my hand in a moving elevator.

  The flash of the sun reflecting off a moving vehicle.

  I know something is there. I just need to find a way to unlock it.

  “There is still plenty of daylight left,” I say. “I'm going to go out and collect some wood. I think we can create a small fire pit in one of the stoves for cooking.”

  “Yeah,” she replies. “I'll take stock of the food. I'm sure I can make something out of the ingredients here. Once upon a time, I was quite talented in the kitchen.”

  “He could probably use some rest.” I nudge my head towards Marcus, merrily pouring himself another glass of apple juice.

  “Perhaps you're right.” She considers the boy, turning back to me with a look of concern on her face. “A fire. Inside?”

  “This place is made from tile and metal. As long as we keep a barrier around it, we'll be fine. We can all use a hot meal. I think we are good for today, but tomorrow I'll go out and find us some fresh meat.”

  “That sounds good.” She stretches her arms overhead, stifling a yawn. “I can't remember the last time we were in a safe place like this. Not having to keep watch for a cluster or a horde. Not to mention having an actual kitchen. You may be the crack shot hunter, but when it comes to the kitchen this is my domain. You worry about getting us a heat source and I'll put together some food for all of us.”

  “Okay then.” I cannot help but smile at her enthusiasm.

  I step back out to the restaurant area. The windows still have glass in them, which is rare. Buildings anymore either have them broken out, or the vines are taking over. Most places along the edge of town were already starting to grow over.

  I have heard rumors of places that had more security, walls around towns, protected communities, larger groups of people taking care of each other. Until such time as I can find such a place, I have to take extra steps to secure my location down to one entrance. If the creatures do breach the security, it forces them into a bottleneck. I can manage them that way.

  I find the long bench and pull it with some effort to the side door. The glass walls of the restaurant are not a secure perimeter, but I know if I can patch it up a little we can use the kitchen as our main hideout. Also, despite its fragility I have never seen one of them walk through a pane of glass, as of yet.

  I step back into the kitchen where Marcus helps his mother collect ingredients and take inventory of the supplies.

  “I've got this area secure for now,” I say. “I'm going out for firewood.”

  Rachel raises her eyebrow. “Will you be okay?” she asks.

  “Oh, yes. I've done it many ti
mes. I can handle it.”

  “Okay,” she replies.

  I find it remarkable that we have developed such as easy camaraderie in such a short time. Then again we have known each other for nearly a day already. For some, that is already a lifetime in this world.

  Carefully, I exit the front door, making sure the landscape is clear before moving forward. I spy the old iron bench tipped over on its side, which I pull in front of the doorway behind me as a makeshift blockade. It is large enough to fit over the edges of the two front doors, enough to keep the creatures out. Rachel and Marcus can still escape if need be. I dust the remnants of rust off my palms as I glance over the setup. I feel pretty good about the security. I still have my crossbow and my knife. Rachel still has the other knife if they should need it.

  Collecting wood does not take long at all, and I return with an armload. I step gingerly back over the bench to get back inside. We would have to build the fire inside the stove in order to cook the food, but the metal walls would keep it contained, easily managed.

  I arrive in the kitchen to find Rachel had produced a collection of wraps waiting to roast once we got the fire going. She and Marcus stand over the counter covering each in foil to tuck them into the coals for roasting.

  Marcus helps build the base, carefully placing the small branches underneath the larger logs. His eyes light up when I produce a lighter out of my pocket. I always carry several as these are one of the items incredibly easy to find. Within minutes, the fire blazes inside the confines of the large industrial sized oven.

  Rachel uses a pair of large tongs to place the wraps into the heat. They turn out pretty good though we have to be careful not to burn our fingertips when opening them. She had managed to find, among the stash some cans of refried beans, some tomato sauce and a collection of starchy vegetables, corn, mashed potato flakes, mixed and wrapped into the soft tortillas. It makes for a filling, high protein meal.

  “These taste good,” I say between mouthfuls.

  “Don't sound so surprised,” she replies.