by J. M. Snyder
With Bree on the other bike, they drove back up the steep hill to the interstate. Adam helped Court limp up after them—the ATVs weren’t really designed for two riders, and the combined weight of two adults on one machine might have burned out the motor as it tried to navigate the hill. Court thought he could handle the walk, but by the time they reached the interstate, he was sweaty and shaking, and his injured leg twitched. It didn’t really hurt—at least, not yet—but it sure didn’t feel all that great, either. He sank onto the ATV behind Ronnie with relief, and took a moment to lean against his friend’s back to catch his breath.
“Let’s pitch the tents here and rest,” he joked, wrapping an arm around Ronnie’s waist. “We’ll get a fresh start tomorrow morning.”
“Just hold on,” Ronnie told him.
The motor revved, and the ATV jerked ahead. Despite his grip on Ronnie, Court almost fell off—he dug his fingers into Ronnie’s shirt, and quickly brought his other arm around his friend to hold on. “Fuck!” he cried, his voice lost in the roar of the engine. The bike shook beneath him, energizing him, teasing his libido and vibrating his dick awake. It was bad enough his crotch was pressed up against Ronnie’s narrow ass; Court thought he might come from the motion of the bike between his legs alone. No wonder these things are so damn popular.
A glance over his shoulder showed Bree keeping pace with them. Adam sat behind her, eyes shut behind his glasses, face pale as if he were going to be sick. She leaned low over the handlebars, edging them forward, and Adam seemed to tower over her, almost too large for the small bike. Court had an image of a trained bear perched on a unicycle at the circus and laughed. The wind whipped the sound from his throat, tossing it away as the tarmac disappeared beneath their wheels.
They weren’t moving very fast—maybe thirty miles an hour, forty tops—but it was faster than Court had traveled in a long time. The wind in his face began to sting after a few minutes, and his teeth grew cold because he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. His eyes watered, his hair blew back from his face, and between the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind, he could hear nothing but white noise. The sweat chilled on his body, and he wished he had thought to put on a heavier shirt before they started. Maybe he could change if they stopped.
When they stopped. How far had they traveled already? Wasn’t it time for a break yet?
The barrier of cars strung out across the interstate up ahead drew closer with each minute, until Court thought they were going to crash into the already wrecked vehicles. Ronnie steered for the shoulder, though, avoiding the gap they had entered over a week ago. As they passed the prisoners’ barricade, Court saw a splash of dark maroon still staining the asphalt, but the bodies were gone, picked apart and taken away by scavengers. Ronnie slowed to survey the scene, but he didn’t stop.
Court couldn’t see any weapons or supplies, nothing they might salvage from the camp. Raising his voice over the motor, he hollered into Ronnie’s ear, “I bet the others took whatever they could when they came through here a few days back.”
Ronnie nodded and goosed the ATV forward. Moments later, Bree followed. The road stretched out ahead like a promise, and Court could almost believe the horizon was within reach.
Travel was faster this time, and it wasn’t simply because they had the ATVs to ride. There were still plenty of wrecked vehicles on the roads, which slowed them down, but they didn’t stop and check each one for supplies. They couldn’t carry anything else, for one thing, and for another, they figured everything must have been picked clean earlier in the week, when the group of travelers who’d broken away from their quartet had come through.
From time to time, Court noticed evidence that the others had recently passed along their route. He saw torn wrappers and empty water bottles tossed or blown into the road, and once they passed a burnt, circular spot that looked as if a fire had been lit there not too long ago. Court wondered how long it would take to catch up with the other group. Would Ronnie stop when he saw them? Or maybe veer off into the woods and go around them without announcing their presence?
No, that wouldn’t work. The ATVs had to be the only running engines in all of Virginia—maybe even the whole world. Their sound carried for miles, and Court thought anyone who heard it would also be able to feel the earth rumble as they approached. He didn’t know if they had that much power or not, but it sure felt like it to him. His world vibrated relentlessly, and there was no escaping it. Even when he shut his eyes, he felt as if his whole body would jostle apart. How could no one else feel that, too?
They drove all morning, and the sun had already crested above the tree line by the time Ronnie slowed to a stop on the side of the road. The motor grew choppy, then cut off. Court still felt the bike shuddering beneath him, though, and when he stood, his legs wobbled. As Bree pulled to a stop beside them, Ronnie dismounted and caught Court’s elbow before he could fall. “You all right?” Ronnie asked.
Court shrugged, but when he took a step, his knees buckled and he fell hard against Ronnie. “I’m fine,” he assured everyone. Ronnie helped him stand, and this time his legs supported his weight. “My legs just feel numb, that’s all. My ass, too.”
Ronnie gave Court’s ass a playful smack. “Then let’s take a break. Y’all hungry for a bite to eat?”
Bree dismounted easily, then had to help Adam off the bike. He looked as queasy as Court felt. “I don’t think I can keep anything down,” Adam moaned. “How much longer do we have to ride these things?”
“They’ll get us there sooner rather than later,” Bree pointed out. She left Adam leaning heavily against the bike and skirted around behind it to unstrap the cooler. As she looked inside, she asked, “What are you guys thinking?”
Ronnie’s arm tightened around Court’s waist. In a low voice, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Court said again, speaking just as softly.
With a long, silent look, Ronnie assessed him. Whatever he saw must have been all right because he nodded and released Court to head over towards Bree.
This time, Court’s knees held. He wobbled on his feet, a little unsteady still, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he leaned both hands on the warm seat of the ATV and grinned at Adam. “Where do you think we are?”
“Just over the border.” Adam nodded back the way they had come—on the other side of the interstate was a large white sign that read, Virginia Welcomes You. It had a red cardinal sitting on a dogwood tree branch, and the words Virginia: Open for Business underneath.
Court grunted. “Talk about false advertising. It should say Closed Until Further Notice.” Raising his voice, he joked, “Hey, if you guys are taking orders, I’d like a Big Mac and a large order of fries.”
He heard the cooler slam shut, then Ronnie appeared from behind Adam. “Sorry, they were all out.”
Ronnie had three cans cradled in his arms—Court couldn’t see what kind—and an almost-empty bag of rice. Bree carried a large pot, a hand-held can opener, spoons, bowls, and an oven mitt. She followed Ronnie to an empty spot on the sandy shoulder of the road, and Court fell into step behind them. “What about firewood?” he asked.
“We’ll find some,” Ronnie replied, dumping his armload to the ground. “Come with me. Adam, you stay here with Bree.”
Adam started to protest. “It isn’t safe—”
“I’ve got the other gun,” Bree reminded him. “I’ll protect you, you big baby. Now get over here and open up these cans for me, will you?”
“I don’t think…” Adam tried again.
But Bree gave him a coquettish look over her shoulder—sultry eyes, seductive grin, windblown hair tossed back. “Please? Come sit by me.”
Court smirked as Adam’s words dried up. He took a few steps forward, gaze locked on Bree, and banged his knee on the rear panel of Ronnie’s ATV. That snapped him out of his daze in a hurry. “Damn it!” he muttered, limping around the bike.
“Whipped,” Court said, snicke
ring.
Behind him, Ronnie called out, “You coming or what?”
Court almost stumbled over his feet to comply. “Wait for me.”
Bree’s laughter followed them into the woods, and he knew just what she was thinking. Adam isn’t the only one.
The hard-packed shoulder led into low shrubs and green undergrowth, but beyond that, into the trees, the ground turned mushy with layers of old leaves moldering into mulch. Ronnie picked his way through, pushing aside low-hanging branches and holding them for Court, who walked as close behind him as possible. There was a fetid, overripe smell in the air, something coppery almost. It reminded Court of rotting, smashed pumpkins tossed out after Halloween.
The trees were close around them, the brush underfoot thick as quicksand. Court leaned closer to Ronnie and didn’t raise his voice as he whispered, “Do you smell that?”
“Just the woods,” Ronnie assured him.
Court wasn’t so sure. There was a sickly sweet smell beneath the overripe scent, something that caught in the back of his throat and made him almost want to gag. Almost. Instead he slipped his hand into Ronnie’s.
His friend’s fingers closed tightly around his.
A little further into the woods, Ronnie found a sort of trail leading deeper in. It looked fresh, as if something heavy had been dragged off the road into the trees. Probably someone traveling ahead of them who had gotten off the road for the evening, dragging a heavy backpack behind them as they searched for a place to sleep. The tamped down undergrowth was easier to walk on, and Court fell into step behind Ronnie as they ventured deeper.
He knew what Ronnie was looking for—fallen, dead, dried out trees they could scavenge branches from whose wood would burn fast and hot. Fresh limbs broken off trees were too wet to burn cleanly; they had learned that early on in their travels. New wood smoked with an acrid smell that would get into their clothes and hair and noses and linger for days. If it burned at all. But deadfalls and old felled trees would catch fire in a flash, heating their food quickly. Also, dried branches were easier to break away from their trunks, and though Ronnie kept a heavy knife in his pack, Court didn’t think it would cut through wood.
A few more feet, and suddenly Ronnie’s hand tightened in Court’s. He pushed his arm back, stopping Court in mid-step.
“Find something?” Court asked.
Ronnie shook his head. “Nothing good.”
Peering around Ronnie’s shoulder, Court saw a small clearing off to their left. A tent stood in the clearing, the remains of a fire in front of it. A couple of sleeping bags were scattered beyond the tent, and from one Court could see a thick head of hair peeking from out of the bedroll. His first thought was they must have snuck up on another band of travelers, and before Ronnie could stop him, he called out, “Hello?”
Ronnie’s hand squeezed his so hard, Court’s fingertips went numb. “Hush.”
But Court wasn’t one to keep quiet. “Hey!” he said, raising his voice as he stepped around Ronnie. “Isn’t it a little late to be sleeping in?”
Ronnie pulled him back. “I don’t think they’re sleeping.”
Now Court saw the blood. It was dried almost black, but completely soaked both sleeping bags. The wind turned, and that overripe, spoiled smell wafted over Court—stronger now, tickling the back of his throat, making his gorge rise. He swallowed thickly and tasted vomit.
In a weak voice that didn’t really sound like his at all, he asked, “What?”
Ronnie edged into the clearing, keeping his hand tight in Court’s. Together they peered into the open tent flap. Inside lay the naked body of a young woman, thrown on her stomach, her head twisted almost completely around. One eye stared blindly in shock. Bruises darkened her neck and back and buttocks. Blood was caked between her thighs. A pair of panties were tugged down around her knees.
Court looked away. “God.”
“He had nothing to do with this.” Ronnie let go of Court’s hand and drifted over to the sleeping bags, but he didn’t touch them. He didn’t even nudge them with his foot to see if the occupants were still alive. He didn’t have to. One look told the whole story.
All that blood.
Court covered his mouth with his hand and tried to breathe thinly through his fingers. “You think whatever got those prisoners got these girls, too?”
But Ronnie shook his head. “This wasn’t an animal attack. This was rape.”
“What?” Court asked, unable—or maybe unwilling—to understand. “Who’d do such a thing? I mean, now. There aren’t that many of us left. I don’t—”
“Some people are just bad,” Ronnie told him. “The virus might have killed a lot of them, but I’m sure it skipped over quite a few.”
Court shook his head. “We need to get to Sumter. We all need to. Then maybe we can…I don’t know, set up a police force or something, keep this sort of shit from starting up all over again. Keep people safe.”
“You really think that’ll work?” Ronnie asked.
With a shrug, Court said, “It did before.”
But Ronnie didn’t look convinced. “Did it? I mean, did it really?”
Over lunch, Court told Bree and Adam what they had found. He didn’t go into detail, but Bree grimaced in disgust. “Who’d do such a thing?” she asked.
Adam’s face paled, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “You don’t think he’s still around here somewhere, do you?”
Court hadn’t considered that. He looked over his shoulder at the dense woods. When they first stopped, the trees hadn’t seemed different from any of the hundreds of others they passed during their travels. But after discovering the victims hidden deep within these trees, Court thought they looked…menacing, maybe. When the wind blew through their leaves, the rustling sounded like conspiratorial whispers behind his back. He scooted around a little so he could keep the woods in the corner of his vision. Was whoever killed those campers still lingering nearby?
Ronnie didn’t seem too concerned. “Doubt it,” he muttered around a mouthful of rice and beans. “Those girls’ve been dead a while.”
“How do you know?” Court countered.
Ronnie glanced at Adam. “A body doesn’t smell that bad right away, does it?”
With a start, Adam wanted to know, “Why are you asking me?”
“You’ve seen dead bodies, right?” Ronnie asked. “You’re a doctor.”
“I’m a vet,” Adam corrected. “I’ve never seen a dead person before. Just dogs and cats and hamsters, and a horse, one time. That’s it.”
Ronnie shrugged. “So did they smell?”
Setting aside his bowl, his lunch only half-eaten, Adam stuttered, “I-I-I don’t know. Do we have to talk about this while we’re eating?”
“I saw a dead skunk once,” Bree offered. “Now that smelled bad.”
“Please?” Adam pled.
Court smirked. “How did you ever get through surgery and shit? You’re like the most squeamish person I’ve ever met. Even Bree’s got a stronger stomach than you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bree asked in a huff. “Because I’m a girl, I shouldn’t want to talk about dead things? How sexist is that?”
“I’m just saying—”
Ronnie cut him off. “Well, don’t. Let’s drop the subject, okay? Finish eating and get back on the road. I don’t know about any of you, but I don’t want to stay the night here if I can help it.”
“Christ, no,” Adam muttered.
Court shoveled another spoonful of rice and beans into his mouth and chewed slowly. He tried not to remember what he’d seen in the woods, but the more he tried to think of something else, the less anything came to mind. Ronnie, he tried, glancing over at his friend, but instantly he remembered the way Ronnie’s hand had felt in his, the slick palm damp against his own, and the strength he’d felt in Ronnie’s fingers when he was held back from the tents. Bree, maybe, he thought, but the way she had her hair pulled back in a ponytail was eerily similar to t
he hairstyle of one of the girls lying dead in the woods behind them. How about Adam? But no, just looking at Adam made Court remember what he’d seen, because Adam’s pallor reminded him what they’d been talking about a minute ago.
Sumter, then. The word held almost mythical proportions in Court’s mind, though he’d never been farther south than Durham, North Carolina, and that had been to see a professional hockey game once with Ronnie. He bought tickets as a present for his friend’s birthday, and Jeanie had laughed because he only bought two. “They’re expensive,” he argued at the time. “Besides, you and Missy don’t like hockey.”
His wife’s knowing smirk had irritated him at the time—she knew him so well, knew what he was thinking even when he refused to admit it himself. “Hm-mm, right,” she’d said. “Let me guess, you’re sharing a hotel room, too.”
Her comment had confused him. “Well, yeah. It’s cheaper.”
They were in the kitchen, she filling glasses at the sink and he grabbing a beer from the fridge. Two beers, actually—Ronnie was out on the back porch with Melissa, relaxing after grilling out for dinner. Court had never thought he’d ever grow tired of grilled food, but months of eating food from over an open flame had dulled the novelty. What he wouldn’t give for a frozen Lean Cuisine entree cooked in the microwave, or a frozen pizza warmed in the oven, or even just a cold cup of thick pudding. Something from the fridge, at any rate. Something heated quickly, without having to bother finding wood to light a fire, and potentially finding a few dead bodies along the way.
And we’re back to that again, he thought wearily.
To no one in particular, he announced, “Hopefully when we get to Sumter, things will be different.”
“How?” Bree asked.
Court shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they have electricity and medicine and shit like that, hopefully they have some sort of police force set up to prevent things like…you know.” He waved his fork in the direction of the woods so they’d know what he meant.