Giana closes her eyes, and a crease forms in her forehead. “No, I don’t know exactly what Toby has. It is a deadly virus, eradicated in the later 1900s.” She opens her eyes. They are brimmed with tears. “I wish I could remove it from him…give him relief and protection. I suspect this isn’t the first of these previously eliminated diseases that will resurface. Would you like some towels? Looks as if you and Toby enjoyed the rain shower.”
“No, I’m not staying. I will go find the vase and bring it back.” My words come fast and resolute.
She grabs Ernesto’s hand and grips it. “Thank you. It’s a huge request. But I promise once it is in my possession, Toby will be healthy again…never infected with any illness or disease again.”
“I trust you.” Saying those words communicates to my mind what my heart already knows. “When do I leave?”
“Spend the morning with Toby. You and Ernesto can leave midday.”
Ernesto? Her comment has him lifting his head and grunting at me. I don’t move, and I don’t speak. I just let the realization that she expects me to take Ernesto seep in.
“Yes. I trust him with my life. I trust him with yours. I don’t know what you may encounter, or endure, but you won’t be doing it alone,” Giana declares.
I don’t care who goes. All I know is that I’m going. Protetta is a blessing, a miracle, and I will do whatever I can to ensure its survival.
After clearing her throat, her voice cracks when she speaks. “Put Toby down and come here, please.” Tears are streaming down her face, happy tears. Tears of hope. I place him in an armchair since I know he’s too exhausted to move, and I go to Giana’s bedside. “Step up on the stool and lean over to me,” she instructs.
I push the stool over with my foot and step up. She pushes herself upright, and leans toward me with her arms open. I meet her and we embrace. She holds me tight. This is the first hug I’ve received since my dad left with my mom over a year ago. Besides Toby hugs. I’ve missed it. It feels good and reinvigorates me. “I won’t let you down.”
Pulling her head back, she gazes into my face. “I know you won’t. It’s been foretold.”
I smile at her. It’s an honor to have met her, to know her, and to assist her.
“Go now. Go rest with Toby. Enjoy your morning, and I’ll see you when you return.” She gives me another squeeze before releasing me.
The morning passes too fast. I knew it would. I have spent every moment I’ve had loving and enjoying Toby. I can’t allow myself to consider anything other than success on this mission. I can’t take time to dwell on the negative. The desires to get out, get it done, and get back are my driving force. Leaving Toby behind is going to break me, but I must.
Ernesto knocks on the door as I’m putting away our lunch dishes. He appears ready for business wearing black pants and a black shirt. He has a shotgun slung on his right arm, and a black backpack rests against his back. He looks every bit the part of a special agent on assignment, and he has the good looks to boot. If he smiled or looked happy on occasion, he would be more attractive.
Carmine stopped by earlier, and he and I worked out the details of Toby’s care while I’m away. “Let me run Toby next door. I’ll be right back,” I tell Ernesto.
His response is the grunt I’m accustomed to receiving from him. I packed a bag with some things for Toby, so I sling that on my shoulder and grab him. I need to make this quick. My throat constricts and my jaw tightens. I will not let Toby know I’m upset. If I upset him, I don’t know if I will leave him, at least until much later. Carmine and I decided I would bring him over here to play with all of Carmine’s siblings. He will have a great time.
Taking a deep breath, I knock at his door. He opens it and gives me a reassuring smile. I nod and hug Toby tight to my chest, kissing his cheek. I hand off the bag first to Carmine, faltering on releasing Toby. I can’t do it. I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t have to. No one can make me. Spinning out of the doorway, I start toward the steps. Ernesto stands at the bottom, glaring at me.
Expecting him to grunt or speak harshly to me, I’m shocked when his words and tone are gentle, persuasive. “He’s sick, Charlotte. I know you will do anything for him.”
Resting my cheek on the top of his head, I let the tears fall. Fighting them will make it obvious, so I relent. Ernesto’s eyes never leave mine, and it provides me with a comfort I can’t explain. When I feel stronger, I go back to Carmine and hand him Toby. My stronger moment is brief, and I run down the stairs and back in my home. I’m sobbing. I can’t catch my breath. Bending forward, I hold on to my knees, sucking in as much air as I can into my uncooperative lungs.
The touch of his hand on my back irritates me. I dart upright and scurry away from him. I don’t want to imagine what he thinks of me now. He has never hidden his disdain for me. Opening an upper kitchen cabinet, I pull out my 9mm and stuff it in my waistband. I walk past him, grabbing my backpack from next to the door, and walk outside.
Lucky for me, he follows. He doesn’t speak or try to catch up. He maintains a good distance behind me, allowing me to feel what I can’t suppress. I lead us out of the village but must stop and engage him for his opinion. Sniffling, I wipe my eyes and ask, “What are your thoughts on where to get through?” Before me, along the invisible barrier to the outside world, hundreds of the frenzied have gathered. They bump into one another, but no fighting breaks out. I’ve never seen this many accumulated in one area before, and it’s unsettling to say the least.
He scans the hillside. “Have you ever seen this many before…in a group?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I guess he hasn’t either. “No.”
Moving in front of me, he waves me along. “Let’s walk the perimeter. Hopefully we will find a less infested space.”
In the months I spent on the outside, traveling through the countryside, I never encountered any infected together. They didn’t wander in a group or pack. Fighting amongst them transpired if they came too close to one another. I never had to draw my weapon. I’ve never killed anyone or anything.
“Charlotte…how about through there?” Ernesto points to a section not nearly as threatening as the rest but still frightening. I know we can’t keep walking around the outskirts of Protetta as we’ve done for the last few hours. Night will be upon us soon.
“Better than anything else we’ve seen today. What are your thoughts on how to proceed?” I am daunted by fear and uncertainty. Pulling out my gun, I remember the M16 I left in the neighboring village Toby and I originally stayed in before we found Protetta.
Dropping his backpack, he pulls out a metal pipe. “I’ll go through first and keep it clear for you.” He looks at me and then back to his chosen spot. “I’m relieved to see you have shoes on. I’ll run through, then you.”
His comment irritates me. Yes, I am wearing tennis shoes. And jeans and a T-shirt. I know I am no comparison to the glamorous Giana, but he doesn’t need to remind me.
He moves fast down the hillside, and I stay right with him. Looking back at me, he lifts the pipe and runs, swinging as he goes. I run behind him, and we don’t stop until Protetta is far behind us. I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear him take a deep breath as well.
“Ernesto, I left an M16 in the town over the next hill,” I inform him.
He mumbles a series of words in Italian. I assume they aren’t nice ones. “Let’s go get it. That will be nice to have.”
It irks me, but I feel as if I owe him an explanation. “I forgot about it. I haven’t even thought about what I left there since finding Protetta.”
He grunts but doesn’t slow his pace. I leave it alone and keep my mouth shut.
We travel quickly and arrive on the street in record time. He stops and looks back at me. Walking past him, I enter the place Toby and I stayed. Everything is as I left it. I retrieve the weapon, but he snatches it from me. “Give it here. I don’t need you and your tiny arms slowing us down.”
Tiny arms? I don’t understand
why he is so rude to me. “Tiny arms? I lived out here on my own for months. Have you?”
He shoves the gun at me. “Here. Take it. Since you are so experienced in the art of killing, by all means, you should carry it.”
That stings. That makes this real for me. I may have to kill. I leave him and go outside. I wait until he joins me, and I follow him.
We walk for hours. The sun set long ago and I’m tired. I’ll collapse before I let him know. I want to know what his plan is but not bad enough to ask him. I rely on the hope he will inform me when I need to know.
“We’ll stop here and take a rest,” he says when I begin to wonder if we might walk all night. There’s a small slope, and he makes his way there and lies down.
I haven’t seen any farmhouses or any other structures, and no frenzied either, so I join him. I am exhausted, and I must fall asleep the second my eyes close, because the next thing I hear is Ernesto telling me to get up. I grab my pack and go. It’s still dark. I have no idea how long I slept, but I feel better and believe I can manage a good distance.
After walking for several hours, we see what looks to be a town up the road. The first indication of a sunrise peeks over the horizon. It’s a beautiful sight. Everything is silent and offers you the misleading image of a harmonious world.
Ernesto’s voice interrupts my musings. “We will stop up here and eat a little.”
My stomach growls when I hear that. “How do you know where we’re going? What are we going to do when we get there?”
He doesn’t slow or look back. We just keep walking. I’m thankful I chose to wear tennis shoes instead of the pair of hiking boots in the closet. My legs feel heavy as I trudge along behind him. At last we make it to the town. My ankles ache, and I can’t wait to get off my feet for a bit.
My thoughts are lost in the anticipation of taking a break, and I let my guard down. Big mistake. Two frenzied burst out from between two buildings and crash into me. I hit the road hard, landing on my right side. They scramble on me, scratching and yanking. I scream as much from terror as pain. Warm blood oozes from wounds they’re inflicting. I lift my arms to shield my face and head. Ernesto swings his pipe, and gross stuff splatters all over me and around me. I hear the familiar grunt of Ernesto and the sound of colliding forces. I’m afraid to open my eyes. The stench is foul, and I dry heave.
“Get up! Get up!” Ernesto screams at me, snatching my arm and pulling me to my shaking legs. My eyes fall upon one of the frenzied with his head and face smashed and torn apart.
Bending forward, I empty the contents of my stomach. It splashes up around my legs. Howls erupt from my throat. I don’t sound human. I’m wailing and trembling. What words I’m able to form don’t make any sense. “Infected. I-I-I’m infected. C-can’t. Toby.”
Ernesto wraps his arms around me and pulls me back against him. I fight him, kicking and flailing my arms, but he is strong. His mouth is against my ear, and once I relent and stop fighting, I hear his whispers. “You aren’t infected. You’re okay, Charlotte. You’re protected…remember. Giana gave you immunity.”
Whimpering, I slump in his arms. The trembling won’t stop, but he too lowers to the ground and doesn’t let me go. He pulls my head into his chest and rubs my hair. I concentrate on the strong beat of his heart. I don’t know what I thought coming out here like some kind of superhero, all because of some ancient drawings on a tomb’s wall. The figure on the wall was alone. Someone else could come along and be the right one. This is all wrong.
Ernesto must see that I’m not the one they were waiting for. I’m just a girl wanting to protect her brother. His arms loosen around me a little, and I take a deep breath. The trembling and crying has subsided.
Stroking my cheek, he talks to me more than he ever has. “You are a survivor, Charlotte. Pure of heart, just as we believed. You’ve never killed, and it’s all right. I will kill for you.” Do I dare trust his words? He rocks me back and forth. I let my eyes close. He stands with me in his arms and carries me inside a building. He sits on a couch and stretches out with me against him. This is a side of him I thought he reserved for just Giana, and I know I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but I can’t help it. I feel safe.
Sunlight shines on my face and warms it. I jerk awake and look around. I don’t see Ernesto. There’s some bread and cheese on the floor nearby I assume he left for me. Running for the door, I pause. I decide to look out the window first and make certain there are no frenzied roaming the street.
Sliding the curtain over, I remain out of view but look out. I see Ernesto coming up to the door. Turning the knob, he walks in. Seeing me, he says, “Good morning.”
My cheeks grow warm, and I know I’m blushing. What a doofus I am. Because he saved me and comforted me, I’m all gaga over him now? Moving away from him, hoping he didn’t notice, I sit on the floor and pick up the cheese. Unwrapping it, I reply, “Good morning. Where did you go?”
Heading for the couch, he takes a seat. “First things first. How do you feel today? Better, I hope?”
I nod as my mouth is full of cheese and bread.
He smiles at me, and he has perfect teeth and an incredible smile. I thought maybe he had underdeveloped muscles in his face making it impossible for him to smile. I was wrong. “This almost reminds me of the days Giana, Fritjof, and I used to pack a few things and run away to an abandoned barn. Giana always ate her portions as soon as we got there. That girl always has liked to eat.”
The mention of Giana fills me with guilt. She sent her boyfriend with me to protect me—not for me to develop a giant crush on or attach some romantic hero emotion to him.
“Fritjof was the first to give her his food. She never did listen and behaved like such a brat, I didn’t want to share. I always did, but I made her wait. Which is what she should have done to begin with.” He opens a bottle of water he took out of his pack and hands it to me.
He is so different from what I perceived. Jealousy surfaces hearing his childhood stories involving Giana, and I hate it. “When did you see Giana different than the brat you thought of her as a child?” I wish I didn’t ask that.
He laughs. “I still see her as a brat. She is. She didn’t ask to be endowed with the power, but she got it. Many times she’s labeled it a curse and not a blessing. I’ve watched her suffer with her decisions and learn to live with them. Her father was an honorable man…removing himself from any healing consideration was the most compassionate dictate ever. So many younger would have been sacrificed, and quite possibly even Giana.” He takes the water from me and takes a big swig. “Our mothers were childhood best friends. Her mother caught the perishing illness first. It devastated us all. Then Giana’s father got sick and besieged her with his crazy tales of a buried prophecy under the basilica. He wished to save Giana and as many others as she could if there was any truth to the prophecy. My mother made me promise to take care of and protect Giana, always.”
“It looks like you have. It’s obvious how much you care for her.” As hard as it was watching my parents leave Toby and me, it would have been more difficult to watch them suffer and transform into someone I didn’t recognize or no longer knew. “My dad left Toby and I once my mom knew she was sick.”
Placing his elbows on his knees, he leans forward. “Yes. Giana is like a pesty little sister I’m stuck with. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I went with her and searched for the Potente vase. Neither of us believed there to be any truth to it. But I saw what it did to her when she touched it, and I’ve seen everything since.”
Scooting closer to me, he touches my face and pushes it gently to the side. Lifting my arms, he turns them and assesses my injuries from last night. Most have already healed. I have dried blood all over my clothes, and I remember I had packed a couple of extra T-shirts. I pick up my backpack and stand. “I’m going to change shirts.”
He looks toward the window. “Okay. Then we will go. I found where Fritjof is. I will give you my plan on the walk.”
A lump forms in my throat and I can’t swallow. Sitting here talking with him made it easy to forget what we came here for. At least he has a plan. Probably the sooner we get this done, the better. I’m afraid I might back out if I spend too much time imagining how awful it will be and what can go wrong.
I see myself in the mirror and I gag. Covered in blood and other gore, I look the part of a warrior, but it doesn’t make me one. I’m petrified. Using some of the water I bottled, I attempt to wash myself the best I can. After changing shirts, I return to the front room. Ernesto is waiting at the door. “Your handgun is loaded? Keep it easily accessible,” he says.
The gun is in the condition my dad gave it to me, fully loaded and ready for use. “How did you find him?” I ask.
Opening the door, he waits for me to exit. “I always had an idea of where to find him. It’s his aunt’s place.”
4
Today we walk side by side. Things are different between him and me. For me anyway, but his actions toward me have me thinking for him as well. It is just him and I. We need to be a united force. “Did you see him? What is your plan?”
Taking a deep breath, I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. I need to hear his words, not cloud them with any ridiculous emotions that found me since last night. “It’s not good, Charlotte. Many are gathering outside a barn, but it’s not just the infected. It looks to be healthy adults as well.”
My mind fixates on hearing there are healthy adults. I haven’t seen a healthy adult since my dad. “They are all together? In one space? Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Standing. Almost as if they are waiting. I figure we will just join them. Watch and find out what we can. When we find the Potente vase, you take it.”
He makes it sound so easy. I stop walking. “What if I’m not the right one? What if I can’t touch it and bring it back?”
I hear him grunt. Typical. Grabbing my shoulders, he twists me to face him. “Charlotte, you are the one. I didn’t believe it…or want to believe it when you arrived at Protetta, but I know now that it is you.”
Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances Page 92