by W. A. R.
“The marks.” George said simply, crouching down and examining the ground in front of the Biter. “How did they get here?” he asked, running a finger into the dirt trail, lightly following its path through an opening in the chain link fence and to the Biters finger. The Biter’s nails and fingers were covered in dirt and lying limply over the marks. “She was clawing at the ground.” He answered his own question, astonishment clear in his voice.
“No. Zeus…” Brian began, too astonished and in denial. He couldn’t accept the thought. That would mean that there was another monster that was different.
“Zeus didn’t make those marks, Brian.” Miles interceded, shoving his hands into his pockets. Brian swallowed thickly and bit his bottom lip. The Biter had dug up the dirt; there was no doubt of that…but the question still remained…how?
Brian looked at the Biter’s body. It wasn’t unusual for Biter with no legs or with broken legs to claw at the ground that way. He turned stubbornly to Amber. “Two legs, although they could be…”
“They aren’t.” Amber interrupted, crossing her arms across her chest. “I watched her walk on them. I was standing right here and she walked up to the gate, growled at me, and dropped her knees, digging away at the dirt. She only looked at me one time. Other than that she was worried about digging. She hardly worried herself with me.” Brian felt as if he were punched in the gut, and he felt the color leave his face.
Miles lowered his head. “That’s the first I have seen of it. How do we explain this?” he asked as Brian and George stood. They all looked to one another for answers. How could that have happened? Biters wanted food, and that was it. How could one claw at the ground, uncaring of the food source directly in front of it? “We very well can’t go in there and tell them, ‘Oh hey, this Biter was passive-aggressive.’”
“Biters don’t think, and are certainly not passive-aggressive.” Brian bit out at the three of them. He was in denial, and at a loss, unable to explain the strange happening. His powerlessness toyed with him, made him heated. Amber frowned at him before George placed a reassuring arm across her shoulders and turned her away from Brian and his angry glare. This only served to make Brian angrier. “Are you sure she was a Biter?”
Amber whipped around to face him, her blue eyes like fire. “Are you implying that I killed a human?” Brian opened his mouth to reply when Miles cut in.
“It’s a Biter, all right.” He told the both of them, and they turned to see his hands squeezed through the fence, holding the Biter’s eye lid open. The jaundiced, cat like eye that was a trademark characteristic of Biters stared off into oblivion. Brian sighed, rubbing a hand across his face as Miles struggled to bring his hands back in through the fence.
Amber gulped, twisting her fingers nervously. “Do you think that it’s like the other Biter?” and she asked the question that was resting on Brian’s mind. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and he stared at her, trying to read her mind.
“It’s possible.” Miles said solemnly. “But it didn’t run. Did you see it run?” he asked as a second thought for confirmation and Brian honed in on Amber’s answer. She shook her head.
“No, it walked like any other Biter.” She replied and though that thought should have reassured Brian, it didn’t. Instead it brought a sense of foreboding he wasn’t ready to accept. Brian scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling his breath become heavy and his chest tighten. Amber lowered her head into the palms of her hands. “What is going on here?” she asked hoarsely.
George sighed. “The other one was recent too, right?” he asked and the trio before him nodded. Brian was remembering everything that had occurred that day, and he could tell by the looks in Amber’s and Miles’s eyes they were as well. George stroked his chin before running and hand through his hair. “Maybe their weird behaviors are just attributes to their previous humanity. It is possible. I mean…we know they are stronger and faster when they are more recent and…intact.” He said, grimacing at his own choice of words. Amber glanced between Brian and Miles, uncertain. Some part of Brian could hear the truth in George’s words but then again Brian felt as if something bigger was happening, he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He wanted answers but he knew he wouldn’t get them. Amber sighed and Brian felt a weight settle on his shoulders. He simply wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
“So what do we do? Do we lump her in the category with the other one? Should we try to find a link between the two…somehow?” Amber asked quietly and Miles shifted on his feet, his eyes darting from one person to the next before looking at the house.
“Look,” George began, attempting to ease everyone’s worry, “It’s unusual yes, but what can we do about it right now?” Brian stared at him, and then glanced at Amber, who had now crossed her arms and was looking down at the Biter. He sighed, realizing what an ass he had been for accusing her of killing a human. Once again, he didn’t handle his emotions well. It was something he should work on. Mental note number three: recorded. “Besides, just because we haven’t seen one do that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. The world is a big place. We should just let it go and move on. There is nothing we can do about it now. You killed her, you killed the other one. We shouldn’t worry unless we find more or find some sort of link between the two.” He told them firmly. Brian glanced at the sun setting in the distance behind the house. He knew everyone in the house was waiting for some sort of answer.
“Fine.” He grumbled, slinging an arm over Amber’s shoulders in easy comradery. “We will just tell them that you were nervous because she was…recent.” He teased her, and she glared sideways up at him and he offered her a smirk. He wasn’t necessarily feeling as chipper as he sounded, but the only way to move past it was to push it from his mind. He would deal with it when he had to, if he had to again. He needed to protect his family and in the meantime, that is what he will be doing.
“You are such an ass.” Amber chuckled before turning to find where George and Miles were. She stopped walking, studying the two men curiously. Brian turned as well and watched them. They were both still crouched, looking at the body. “Y’all coming?” she asked, lifting a brow at them.
Miles looked up at her before pulling out Brian’s gate key from his pocket and standing. “This other key is the key to this one, right?” he asked and Amber widened her eyes at him before turning to Brian for a brief second. She crossed her arms and Brian knew she was getting cold, no longer having a jacket.
“Yeah.” Amber replied, and Brian turned to see him go to unlock the back gate. George stood and began helping him remove the chain. After a moment, Miles turned back to Amber and Brian, smiling, but the smile didn’t meet his eyes.
“I just want to check some stuff out. I’ll be in shortly.” He assured Amber. She studied him for a moment, as did Brian. Finally, she nodded, then looked at George expectantly.
“I’m gonna help him real quick. Y’all go run interference and relax. Like I said before, it is probably just an unusual case.” Brian, satisfied to an extent, entrusted the two men to their tasks and urged an almost unwilling Amber into the house. And, although they had agreed to let it go for the time being, the Biter simply wouldn’t leave his mind. Something was different; and different, at that time, meant dangerous.
Chapter Fourteen
Miles swung down firmly with the ax, the blade making contact with the log and splitting it. A loud crack echoed against the trees from the impact and he stepped around the stump, grabbing another log and setting it up straight. His mind simply would not stop running, so he had opted to force his body to work, compelling his mind to focus on something else. It wasn’t working. He swung back the ax and let it fly down, his muscles tightening and releasing with every swing he made. It felt good to move and work. Sweat beaded on his brow and rolled down his back, and he stepped back, surveying the sun. It was morning, right after sunrise; he hadn’t been able to sleep, as usual. His mind jumped from one tangent to the next and everything was begin
ning to become jumbled and blurred together. Guilt ate away at him as well; he had never been a good liar.
Upon observing the body of the Biter at the fence two days before, he and George had told Brian and Amber that they hadn’t found anything. They hadn’t really lied, as they simply omitted having found what they found. One of the two things they found was the bruises on the monsters arms. Some were from what seemed to be abuse, but others were track marks, found in the crook of the elbow. The bruises were nothing significant, so he and George had simply omitted their existence because…well, because they hadn’t wanted to disturb the group with such negligible information. Upon further observation, Miles noted the bite mark on her left shoulder blade. It had been eerily similar to the Biter from a month previous, he remembered, and he had even told George this almost shared link. George had spared him a glance and said it was a coincidence and to leave. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences.’ Amber’s words had filled his head then and he forced himself to shrug it off, willingly agreeing to keep the observations to himself unless it appeared that what they found was a definite link between the two. Besides, George had suggested, the female wasn’t aggressive in the least. She had posed no threat. It would all be ok.
Still, the omission was enough to drive him up the wall, making guilt his best friend. He sighed, reaching forward and grabbing another log and setting it up. He swung back quickly, the ax resting heavily over his head. He brought his sure hands down, the echo of the log cracking sounding once again. He looked around him, taking note of the substantial amount of logs that lay on the ground. He hadn’t realized he had done so much. Taking the ax to the side of the house and leaning it against the wall, he decided it was probably best if he quit. He briefly questioned the whereabouts of George, who had been on patrol and was surprised to realize that he hadn’t seen him since he had stepped outside to chop logs. He shook his head and turned to begin gathering logs when he saw Amber round the front corner of the house, heading towards a widely branched tree in the front yard. He froze mid-step and watched as she effortlessly pulled herself up the tree. She faced away from him, completely ignoring his presence and sat comfortably on a wide, sturdy limb, one leg dangling off of the side, one stretched on the limb before her. She leaned against the tree and stared at the sun steadily rising.
The sun hit her in glorious ways and he mentally kicked himself. He still hadn’t told her about his son, and he still hadn’t addressed the fact that she had known everything. He hadn’t said anything since he read her letter; countless times he had opened it in the month since he had it in his possession. If he were honest, he was still shocked from disbelief. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Honestly? He worried it would hurt too much. It wasn’t in his nature to let his guard down. His motto: rub some dirt on it and keep going. Hence, his chopping wood at sunrise. He wondered what was wrong with him. How could he worry about a woman when they were simply trying to survive? Hell, he realized, end of the world or not, he was still human, and he was still that small boy at heart; the same small boy that she had made feel important, special, all over some animal crackers. Damn animal crackers, he cursed.
Without wanting to, he often found himself wondering what was on her mind, and if she worried about the world the way he did. He wondered if she was scared of the future or if she accepted it. Was he even sure of what the future held? He smiled to himself, and folded his arms cross his chest, leaning a shoulder against the back corner of the house. He and George had shared some similar conversations. Was there a cure? If so, what kind? Would it cure Biters or keep humans from turning? How would the reconstruction of the world play out? All of the hypotheticals were enticing, and interesting, but they knew that none of it could ever happen. It did bring a sense of simplicity that he and George had struck up such a friendship, just as he had with Brian. It made things easier, everyone being close to one another in heart; it made things easier on the mind and conscience. Even Bobby-Jean, the kids, Jackson, and Shelly seemed to accept him. It was more than he had ever had before and at times he felt a little overwhelmed by the depth of emotion that ran through him for these people.
His mind then jumped from the future to the present, contemplating the fires that they had done a few days previous. Smoke swirled in the air for a little over a whole day, and he was grateful for having done it. Biters at the fences were far and few between since then, so they could relax a little. The kids had gone fishing with George a few days here and there, Brian and Miles either chopping wood or hunting game in the woods behind the house. Shelly, Bobby-Jean, Jackson, and Amber had helped with Elliot as well as cooking, keeping clean food and laundry, and gardening. They all chipped in with patrolling the perimeter. Amber went hunting as well, although she preferred to hunt deer, which ended up being a good thing when she walked out of the woods, breathless and drenched in sweat, dragging a small doe behind her. The meal that night was the best by far since the outbreak.
“You’re staring.” He heard a small voice say behind him. He jumped, taken by surprise, and turned to see the speaker. Cassie stood behind him as Kyle and Elliot round the far back corner of the house, wheelbarrow in hand. The two boys were talking animatedly, their destination the logs he had split that lay on the ground. Both children favored Amber, Cassie having Bobby-Jean’s face and Kyle had the male McDermott body structure, but both had a lot of their mother in them.
“I was going to get those logs. If ya’ll will just leave ‘em, I will take care of it.” Miles told her quickly, hoping she wouldn’t ask why he wanted to bury himself in the work. He looked at her curiously, then. “Why aren’t you still in bed? It is barely sunrise.” He asked her and she smiled, her hazel eyes inquisitive and challenging.
“Mom told us to come help the moron who felt like waking the world up by chopping logs before the sun was even up.” The girl said, and Miles stared hard at her, trying his best not to smile at her sentiment. She grinned. “Her words, not mine. Anyways,” she said, walking past him to pick up two logs, “we are here to help you pick up these logs. And you can’t change the subject that easily.”
Miles looked at the girl skeptically. He had indeed grown closer to the kids in the two months they had lived together. The problem however, was that Cassie could read him just as easily as her mother could and it unnerved him. “I’m not sure what you mean.” He feigned innocence. She tossed the logs into the wheelbarrow as Kyle and Elliot began loading up some logs as well.
“You were staring at my mom, and you really don’t need to. She sits in that tree every few days and …what word did she use...oh yeah…‘reflects’…on what life has turned out to be.” Cassie told him, and he nodded turning and stealing another glance at the woman leaning peacefully against the tree. Yes, he had witnessed her sitting in that tree plenty of mornings when she thought he wasn’t there; and every time he saw her he wanted nothing more than to go talk to her and discuss everything that raided his mind. He sighed, and then turned quickly back to Cassie, who gripped the ends of two more logs with her fingertips, watching him with a smug smile on her face.
“What do you mean I don’t need to?” he asked then, crouching down to help pick up logs. The boys began laughing at something Kyle had said. Cassie shook her head at them and turned her focus back to Miles, shrugging.
“I saw her this morning, watching you through the back door window, a sad look on her face. She was so deep in thought she hadn’t even heard me ask her what the racket was; which, by the way, was obviously you.” She groaned at him, rolling her eyes. “You should have seen how she looked at you when we saw you around town. Sheesh…it couldn’t be more obvious.” He felt relief cascade over his mind at the thought of her watching him, then a mind numbing melancholy when he read into what Cassie’s words meant. He had upset her, that was obvious, but what had he done to do so? He grumbled. If only he knew what was going through her mind, but she seemed to simply refuse any information on how she was feeling or what she was thinking…well,
when it concerned him. But, hadn’t he done the same to her?
He then chuckled at the sullenness in her tone, forcing his mind from the woman that was constantly invading his mind and had for years. “You aren’t bitter about me waking you up early, now, are you?” He teased her and she narrowed her eyes at him. Yep, that girl was her mother made over.
“Considering that you not only woke me up early, you also have me out here cleaning your mess, I’m going to have to agree with you; I’m bitter.” She said sternly, picking up another log and carrying it to the wheelbarrow. Damn, he thought. The McDermott women had a way of making him feel incredibly small.
“Well I am sincerely sorry. Would you like for me to go talk to her?” he asked her, grinning impishly. Cassie rolled her eyes, refusing to look at him.
“If you go talk to her, I suggest you do it for your own motives.” She told him and he widened his eyes and swallowed, picking up a few logs and carrying them over to the already half full wheelbarrow. He didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes at his reaction and he felt as if he were on display. “I’ve seen how you study that letter she gave you.” He swallowed and her grin grew bigger. “You have it on you right now, in your back pocket where you always keep it.”
He turned and narrowed his eyes at her playfully. How inquisitive was this girl? “You’ve been watching me.”
“You always read it.” She grinned, ignoring his accusation and turned from him, gathering two more chopped logs in her hands. “And before you ask how I know about it, you forget that she is my mother and that envelope and whatever is in it was hers before it was yours.” He didn’t say anything; he simply turned back to pick up logs. She was entirely right. There had been plenty of times when he was alone that he would pull out the envelope and study it, wondering why things hadn’t worked out how he wanted or intended. “I bet if you asked her to, she would explain it to you.” Cassie stated and with that she threw two more logs into the wheelbarrow. He felt eyes burning into his back, so he slowly turned, his anxiety now heightened because of the teenager’s observations. Kyle smiled up at him. Miles smiled back uncertainly.