The Survivors (Book 2): Autumn

by Dreyer, V. L.

  Eventually, she figured out that we weren’t going to take her bread away from her. She sniffed it, licked at it, and then took an enormous bite. The texture of the food enticed her in, and soon the small hunk was devoured. Once it was all gone she licked the crumbs off her dirty fingers, and looked around anxiously for more.

  That was the last of our bread so there was none to be had, but Michael followed my lead and gave her an apple from his pack instead. She only hesitated for a moment this time before snatching that from his hand, and devouring it with glee. She wasted nothing, and even ate the core. When she was done she flopped back on the grass with a satisfied sigh.

  “Thanks you, thanks you,” she whispered, just about breaking my heart all over again with her sweet expression of gratitude. Whoever had been the ‘mama’ and ‘baba’ of this young lady, they had done a good job teaching their little one manners.

  “You’re welcome, Priyanka,” I said gently.

  “Would you like a drink? Water?” Michael spoke up for the first time, holding up one of our smaller water bottles for her to see. His deep voice seemed to startle her, and it took her a moment to translate his words in her head. When she made sense of them, her expression brightened and she nodded vigorously. He took the lid off the bottle and handed it to her. She drank gratefully.

  Michael and I exchanged glances as the girl drank. On his face, I saw the same concern I felt mirrored back at me. We both knew we had to take the girl with us, if she was willing to go. The doctor would scold us for collecting more strays, but we had no choice. No decent human being could leave another in a situation like that and not feel guilty.

  “Priyanka.” I leaned forward to catch her eye. She stopped drinking, and stared up at me. “Michael and I have to go soon. We have a very long trip to go on, to meet with some friends. If you would like to, you can come as well. Would you like to come with us?”

  That may have been the stupidest question of all time. She had no intention of letting either of us out of her sight any time soon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Despite her fragile build, Priyanka didn’t slow us down at all. Since she had no belongings besides her teddy bear, we were back on the road within minutes of her decision to join us. She skipped along beside us as we walked, singing happily to herself in Hindi. Or at least, I presumed it was Hindi. For once, Michael had no insight to offer despite his usual adeptness as a translator.

  A couple of times, Priya’s dancing took her so far ahead of us that we almost lost sight of her. Each time, she suddenly panicked when she realised that we weren’t close by, spun around, and came tearing back to us as though afraid we would leave her behind.

  We wouldn’t, of course, but I understood that desperate, irrational fear; I had felt it myself on more than one occasion since I joined Michael’s group. Sometimes she latched onto my arm and clung to me like a limpet, but even then I couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed with her. Human beings are innately social creatures, and the fear of rejection is almost as strong as the fear of death. Sometimes, it’s even stronger.

  Each time she attached herself to me, I stroked her hair and spoke softly to her until she calmed down again, like you would with a frightened puppy. Her fits of clinginess never lasted for long. Once the latest one had passed and she’d scampered off about her play, I glanced at Michael and found him watching me with amusement.

  “What?” I asked, shooting him a smile in return. His expression turned into a grin.

  “I think that girl likes you,” he replied, slipping an arm casually around my waist. “I have the sneaking suspicion we won’t be able to have any more romantic interludes on this trip.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” I replied, reaching up to pat his cheek affectionately. He leaned down to plant a tender kiss on my lips. I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the closeness. When I opened them again, I found that Priya had returned, and was watching us closely with her head canted at a curious angle.

  Well, this was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. How to you explain the birds and the bees to someone with the social experience of a three-year-old?

  “You kissies,” she commented in her childlike manner, looking fascinated by the discovery.

  “Sandy is my girlfriend,” Michael explained, heroically leaping to the rescue. “Like your mama and baba.”

  “Oh.” The young girl bobbed her head in understanding and smiled broadly. “You have baby?”

  “No, not yet. It’s not safe for babies,” Michael answered, shaking his head. “Maybe one day, when it’s safer.”

  Priyanka seemed satisfied with that and contentedly skipped off to resume her play. I, on the other hand, found myself all a’fluster. Ever observant, Michael was quick to notice my expression.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, gently drawing me closer against his side as we walked. “You’re blushing.”

  “You called me your girlfriend,” I answered, stunned and incredulous.

  “Aren’t you my girlfriend?” He frowned at me, an uncertain look in his eye.

  I felt a stab of panic and rushed to reassure him. “No! I mean, yes– I mean, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, you’ve never called me that before. It just took me by surprise.” I was even more flustered now; my emotions darted all over the place, but as always Michael seemed to understand.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, but this time a smile danced across his lips instead of a frown.

  “Nah.” I resorted to humour to cover my embarrassment. “I think it’s okay. Hell, you can do it more often, if you want. That might be awesome. I’m not so sure about the babies thing, though.”

  “I am,” he answered, his expression softening as he looked down at me. “I mean, not right now – but one day, I definitely want to have a child of my own. I think I could be a good father. Don’t you?”

  “God yes, you’d be the best father in the world,” I blurted with all the elegance of a rhinoceros in a tutu. “It’s me that I’m worried about. I’ve just, you know, never even thought about it. Two months ago, I couldn’t imagine letting anyone touch me, let alone starting a family with someone.”

  “I know, sweetheart – and there’s the worry about the immunity. But one day, when it’s safe, then we can think about it.” He grinned suddenly and gave me a playful nudge. “You have to admit, we’d make some pretty cute babies together.”

  I had to laugh at that, and nodded my agreement. “Yeah, so long as they look like you. Chinese babies are the cutest things since kittens in tuxedos.”

  “Well, if I remember my high school biology right, the eyelid thing is a dominant trait, so there’s a good chance they would.” His grin turned impish, and he reached over to grab my plaited hair, giving it a playful tug. “It’s a shame blonde is recessive. Could you imagine a little girl with your hair and my eyes?”

  “Now that’s a frightening thought.” I laughed even harder at the mental image he conjured up; throw in a big frilly dress, and Maddy would have some competition for the cutest kid on the block. “It could happen, though. Your dad might have passed on a recessive gene to you.”

  “That’s true. Granddad was a Kiwi mutt, like you,” he teased. I knew it was all in fun, so I took no offense and teased him right back.

  “Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m only half Kiwi mutt. My daddy was pure Scottish stock, but he moved here when he was two.” I flicked back a strand of hair loosened by his playfulness, and gave him a smile. “I’m an actual McDermott. We have a plaid and everything.”

  “I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather see you in than a kilt,” he gave me a flirtatious wink, but with curious young eyes intensely interested in everything we did, our flirting stayed firmly in the realm of decency for once.

  ***

  The landscape we passed through gradually changed over the course of the afternoon. Wide, flat expanses of pastoral land that had once grazed farm animals gave way to fields that had
been used to grow crops. As we moved further eastwards, we began to pass by enormous cornfields, gone wild over the years. They stretched as far to the south as the eye could see, their tall stalks swaying gracefully in the breeze.

  Michael and I watched the cornfields warily, our weapons at the ready; the perpetual movement and incessant rustling made us nervous, because it could hide the approach of any number of enemies. Priyanka showed no such concern, though. She darted away from us and vanished into the long stalks with a squeal of delight.

  I glanced at Michael and shrugged. “I guess now we know how she’s survived all these years on her own.”

  “I guess we do,” he agreed.

  “We should bring some corn back with us; we could make our own bread out of it. Maybe we could even grow it.” I glanced over at him to see what he thought. He nodded slowly, turning the idea over in his head.

  Whatever his answer may have been, it was interrupted by Priyanka’s return. She scampered back to us at full tilt, her bare feet flashing across the grass. With a prodigious leap to clear the long grass on the verge, she darted back across the tarmac and proudly presented each of us with an ear of corn.

  We thanked her, then resumed walking eastwards. Priya and I stripped the husks off our corn, so that we could nibble on it as we travelled. Just as I was about to tuck in to mine, I cast a glance sideways and caught Michael staring at his cob, looking totally perplexed.

  “What’s the matter?” I queried, amused by the look on his face.

  He shot me a helpless look, and shrugged. “I’m a city boy. I’ve never… opened one of these before.”

  “Give it here.” I chuckled, shoved my cob into my pocket, then reached over to take his. With practiced expertise, I showed him how to snap off the stem and peel back the leaves, revealing the golden sweetness within. “I’ve eaten a lot of this stuff over the years. It just takes a bit of practice. And... there you go, just like that.”

  “Huh. Just like that. That was easier than I thought.” Michael took the cob, sniffed at it, and then took a bite. He nodded thoughtfully as he chewed, considering the texture.

  “Tastes a lot better than the canned stuff, doesn’t it?” I asked jovially, pulling my cob back out of my pocket.

  “Definitely,” he agreed. “Better than cooked, as well. I believe we may be obligated to bring back as much as we can carry.”

  “Shame it’s so far away, or we could just come back here and pick as much as we need at our leisure,” I commented thoughtfully.

  “If only the roads were functional.” He sighed and nodded.

  “Where’s a bureaucrat when you need one?” I joked, drawing a chuckle from my companion.

  Priyanka laughed too, but not because she understood the joke. She laughed because she was happy to hear the sound of people around her after so long alone.

  ***

  Eventually, the fields gave way to long, rolling hills; the further east we travelled, the steeper they became. The forest grew denser as we walked, and the road began a long, slow climb towards the heavens.

  My hamstrings protested as we ascended the hill, but none of us said anything out loud. Priyanka seemed less bothered than Michael and me, but her energetic bouncing did slow to a plodding walk. I worried about her bare feet on the uneven roadway, but she didn’t seem concerned at all. I could only guess that after ten years without shoes, her feet were probably a lot tougher than mine.

  “Have you walked this way before?” I asked her, breathless but curious. The girl looked around herself a bit, then she looked up at me and shook her head.

  “Is new place to me. Has you walked?” she asked me in return, equally curious.

  I shook my head as well and pointed behind us, to the west. “No. We come from very far in that direction.”

  “Why we go this way?” she enquired with child-like inquisitiveness. I could tell at a glance that she wasn’t complaining, she was just interested in knowing our reasoning. Curiosity was a trait I encouraged in everyone, so I answered her as best I could.

  “There are some people that live over there, far on the other side of these hills,” I explained. “They called to us for help. We’re going to help them.”

  She made a noise of understanding, but further conversation was interrupted as we crested the hill. Directly ahead of us, the roadway vanished over the edge of a ragged cliff. Once, years ago, a rest area beside the road had commanded a magnificent view of the valleys all around, but sometime in the past the cliff face had collapsed. Now, only jagged edges remained.

  The three of us inched closer to the end of the road to peer over the edge; beneath us, a small truck lay smashed upon the rocks. My guess was that its weight had caused the collapse, but that knowledge didn’t help us at all.

  “We’ll need to go around.” I pointed to the right of the road, where the verge climbed sharply into a shoulder-height cliff. Beyond the verge, the hill top was dense with forest, but the only other choice was to climb down and up the other side of the break in the road. Although the cliff was only a few metres high, it was starting to get dark, and climbing at dusk seemed like a very bad idea.

  Michael nodded without a word and went to the verge, where he cupped his hands to boost me up. I placed my foot in his hands and a hand on his shoulder, and then I was up and over the ledge easily. The two of us helped Priyanka up, and then Michael vaulted up after us.

  The bush on the hilltop was dense, dark and threatening; I felt a sense of foreboding just looking at it. Instinctively, I brought my shotgun around in front of me and slipped off the safety.

  “Priya, you stay between me and Michael, okay?” I glanced at her as I gave the order. She tilted her head curiously, not quite seeming to understand, but she did as she was told as we moved off.

  I led the way, scanning the woodlands around us as we walked. I could hear the faint rustle of small wild things all around us, but in the shadows beneath the canopy I could see very little. Keeping the verge within sight to our left, I picked my way carefully amongst the trees. Leaves brushed at my cheeks and tugged at my hair, forcing me to shove them away impatiently. Although we were far more exposed out on the road, at least I could see any threats coming; in the dense undergrowth, things could sneak up on us much more easily.

  The impending twilight was another concern. We were in the middle of nowhere, and the last building we’d seen was several kilometres behind us. Finding a place to stop for the night was becoming more urgent. Although we both carried torches, it was unsafe to keep travelling after dark. The batteries wouldn’t last forever, and this far from anywhere, the only other light we had was starlight.

  “I think I see the road,” Michael whispered; I understood that he felt the need for stealth, like I did. I looked where he pointed, and spotted the flash of grey through the trees.

  I nodded and led the way forward. A dozen metres further on, I stepped around a particularly dense bush – and almost fell over the edge of a low cliff. Michael grabbed me and pulled me back, then he held me reassuringly for a moment while I recovered my wits. Two metres below us, the roadway resumed its course.

  “Over there,” I gasped, my heart racing from my brief encounter with potential injury or even death. A little further to the east, the cliff between the forest’s edge and the road was lower and more manageable.

  The three of us hurried to the lower spot and scrambled down the bank, back to the roadway. By the time we were able to resume our eastward march, the sun had drifted lower and sunset was beginning in earnest. I glanced back over my shoulder and shielded my eyes from the sun’s glare. I estimated that we had about an hour left before we’d be walking in total darkness.

  “We should hurry,” I told the others. They both nodded in agreement. Even little Priyanka seemed to understand the dangers of being out after dark. For most of the day we’d wandered along at a leisurely pace, but now we all felt a sense of urgency. None of us wanted to be left exposed at night.

  ***


  I had always found it kind of amazing how much ground a human being could cover on foot when he or she put her mind to it. As a child and a teenager, I would never have imagined that I’d be out walking the roads instead of driving, and as such I never stopped to think how long it would take to travel those routes without the benefit of a car.

  Dusk cast long shadows all around us as we descended the eastern side of the hill into the valley beyond. The low angle of the sun rendered the landscape in shades of grey and made it harder and harder to see. The trees around us were tall, making the world beneath their boughs seem darker and more threatening.

  “I think I see something.” Michael was the first of us to speak up. At first I worried, but the tone of his voice was one of relief, not fear. My shotgun held at the ready, I stepped forward to try and locate what he’d seen. There it was, nestled amongst the trees – an old white mailbox. I couldn’t see the house though, because the trees were too thick.

  “I think we’re going to have to risk it,” I said. Michael nodded in agreement. He took the lead this time, and we sandwiched Priyanka between us as we picked our way in the direction a driveway had once gone.

  With the sun almost down and darkness descending across our wild little world, we could hardly see beneath the trees. We clicked on our torches to light the way, but the tiny beams of light they produced barely penetrated the gloom. I strained my ears but I couldn’t hear any threats, just the sound of the birds chattering as they went to sleep, and the sound of our own footfalls.

  Between one step and the next, Michael’s tread changed in timbre. I recognised the sound of gravel crunching beneath his boots. Ten years ago, I would never have noticed the difference in the sound, but now it sounded like a clarion call to me.

  “I see a house.” Michael’s voice was soft as a whisper, but I heard it clearly in the relative quiet around us. It was so dark that I couldn’t see his broad back in front of me anymore, only the sweep of his torch as it swung back and forth.