by W. A. R.
He grit his teeth tightly together, so tightly it hurt. “Yes. This is some kind of game to you. You think you can just get away with anything as long as you play your cards right. You think that just because you may be a little ‘different’ you can play these mind games and get whatever you want. Throw a big enough fit and you might just get the solitude you fucking beg for! You have always been alone, you are alone, and you will always fucking be alone! When you die, no one will fucking care!” his chest was heaving and he realized that the nail had long since been in the wood and he was hammering at just the board. He looked at Amber, who had the good grace to simply stare at the board before her. He wasn’t talking about her and she knew it; he was talking about himself. He reached a trembling hand to his dwindling pile of nails and grabbed one. He set the point of the nail against the board and just stared at it. He stared at the damn nail for a long moment before he heard her shift her feet. The board dropped lower on her side and before he realized what was happening, she had her arms around him in a comforting embrace. It should have bothered him, but instead he fell into her and let it happen. It felt healing, powerful. He slowly came to the realization that he had never told anyone hardly anything about himself; not a soul. He had never approached the subject of what had happened to him in his past or in the cruel world he was currently in. He had simply shoved it into a small box never to be thought about and anytime it threatened to come up he shoved it back again, and again, and again. And as she held him, comforting him, he felt a friendship akin to something he thought he had long lost and he didn’t want to let it go. He understood then why he had wanted to fight with her. She had reminded him of what he had lost and he wanted to fight it, to rid himself of the guilt he carried.
After a moment, Amber shifted again and moved back and he released his hold on her. She turned swiftly, taking her place at her end of the board, lifting it up and holding it steady. She didn’t say a word, or even look at him for that matter. She simply stared at the board, waiting for him to finish his task, and she did so patiently. He sighed and readied a nail, his trembling gone by then. He brought the hammer down against the head of the nail, wondering what she was thinking then. He wanted to ask her, and yet, he wouldn’t. He already had a feeling of what was on her mind.
“I’m not telling you my story.” He told her sternly and she never wavered.
“Never expected you to.” She admitted and they worked in silence for a few moments, his mind delving deep into his thoughts. It had surprised him to say the least, that she didn’t want him to cave in and reveal his past, but he was grateful for her understanding. He needed conversation. He wanted to know her and dammit, it was what he was going to do.
“So how did you make it?” he asked without looking at her, and she gave him a sad little smile before responding. He felt like a hypocrite for asking, especially considering that he refused to tell her his own story, and yet he felt it needed to be asked.
“You know, after the things that I have had to deal with, I wish I were the one alone.” She said and she began her tale; the heart wrenching story of a woman trying to protect her family and friends. It was a story of devastating loss that reached into the double digits when including the rest of her family. They had lost so much when he had only lost one thing, one person that mattered to him. He could understand why she would consider herself lucky if she were indeed in his shoes. They worked through this narrative, Buddy never once asking questions because she seemed to answer them before he could get them out. He hung onto every word. She told him of her encounter with George and his wife Regina. She told him of the man at Jenson’s Farm Supply and how Miles had saved her. She even told him of the countless times that she and Brian had to endure when ending the life of their loved ones, loved ones that witnessed firsthand the brutality of Biters. He felt humbled and shamed all at once, and he wasn’t sure how to handle that feeling. Before the window was finished, she had told him of George’s pain, Miles’s pain; she had told him the story of Brian and Shelly, the losses that Bobby-Jean and Jackson suffered, and finally, that of her children. Within a time span of twenty minutes they had finished the windows, packed up whatever they had needed to pack, and he had received the run-down of everyone he really didn’t know. “So you see, although you were alone, you were lucky. And even so, at least now you are around people that actually care about you, you just don’t know it. We are a team. We would care if you died.” She told him and he bit his tongue from explaining that being a team had nothing to do with whether they cared if he died or not. He did this because; well…because she expressed to him that if he gave them a chance, maybe they would attempt to understand him. She had forgiven him…and then he paused for just a moment. No, it was much more than that. She was his friend, and he actually cared about her.
He slung his now near empty bag over his shoulders and looked at her as she scanned the flashlight once again across the room, only this time he noticed the family portraits, the little trinkets of what once was. “What do you hate most about…this?” he asked, addressing the way the world was. The flashlight settled on a crooked collage of many different people: Brian, Shelly, Bobby-Jean and Jackson, Kyle and Cassie, and many other people that he didn’t recognize. He felt his heart tug a little in response to the picture, and was yet amazed that most of the people in those photographs had actually made it.
“The change I see in everyone that I know, including myself. What about you?” she asked, clicking the flashlight off and reaching for the door knob. She adjusted the pack on her shoulders.
He thought hard about this. “I guess I would have to say witnessing how weak the human race was. One sign of…this…and everyone panicked, went around the problem the wrong way.” He said and she chuckled to herself, opening the door and readying her knife. He did the same, unsure if any Biters heard their banging on the walls. Once out in the light, however, he saw that a few had. There were at least four, their lifeless eyes wondering as their ears sent them in the direction of Amber and Buddy. Buddy rushed ahead, quickly eliminating three of them in record time, leaving the last one for Amber. He stopped his movements long enough to remove his knife from the skull of a Biter and watch as Amber drove hers in. She jerked back quickly, watching as the Biter fell to the ground.
“Show off.” She muttered on a smile, and he laughed out loud.
“Oh, don’t be jealous of my skills.” He teased her and he felt renewed warmth wash through him. They were friends, and it had happened so easily after what had happened. No, he didn’t have her trust, but he had her respect and her sincere caring and that was enough for him. And then it hit him again; the strange feeling as before. His eyes widened, and his heart began racing. He glanced at Amber and he could tell that she had felt it as well. They gazed around them, the feeling never leaving, and they searched for whatever the cause could possibly be for it. There was nothing. There was nothing out of the ordinary; no Biters, no other people, and most of all, there was absolutely no sound. None at all.
“You felt it again didn’t you?” she asked and all he could do was nod because the feeling still ran through him. And then it was there, the rustling of the leaves near the tree line again. They jerked quickly to the thicket where the sound had come and without a word the pair began easing towards it, searching all around them for anything out of place. His heart pounded in his ears and he wondered why this situation bothered him so much. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t witnessed crazy things or vile brutal things in the past months; but this seemed different, this seemed….desperate. Something was calling to them. It was an experience that he had never felt before and his nerves were on edge because of it.
The thicket crept up on him, and he realized that instead of paying attention to what was going on around him he was instead thinking, allowing his mind free reign. The rustle sounded again and he watched as Amber slowly pushed aside some branches, providing better visibility. And he saw it. It was a man, his beard and hair long and dark. Blo
od was everywhere, old and new. His leg was broken it seemed, the swell of his femur obvious. Two of his fingers on his left hand were also broken, the shiny white of bone protruding through the muscle and skin from one of them. There were deep scratches littered across his limp body, and blood streaked across the leaves. His eyes were closed, and his face flushed and red from the sun. His lips were dry and cracked, bleeding and swollen. His skin was sallow and sickly, and sweat covered the front of what was left of his shirt. Buddy swallowed and looked at Amber who had gone pale, standing stock still and staring at the lifeless body before her. She had tears in her eyes, as well as shock at the sight.
“Amber? Did you know him?” he asked, and very slowly she nodded, inhaling deeply.
“Yes..uh…yeah, he is…he was our cousin Rick.” She sighed, sadly shaking her head. He watched as she swallowed back tears. “Rick Taylor.” She said disbelievingly, her voice dropping an octave. He shivered and began to replace his knife when he saw it. The leaves moved…they moved under his hand. It took him a moment to realize that the man himself had moved his hand. Dammit all…the man was barely conscious and still very much alive.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amber struggled with Buddy against the weight of Rick’s limp, blood soaked body. His tattered clothes offered no grip, and the blood that painted his skin was slick. Her fingers kept sliding off of him and she had to grip his body tighter to avoid that from happening. She and Buddy continued to struggle, adjusting and alternating the weight to one another in order to keep him upright and between them. His head hung forward lifelessly and his feet drug the ground below them. A thin layer of sweat covered Amber’s brow and she inhaled sharply, her breathing shallow and thin. They were nearing the truck by then and there were two Biters that had appeared from the woods ahead of them. She questioned how he long he had lain out in the woods, and much less without getting bitten. Rick began slipping forward from her grasp and she had to quickly jerk him back against Buddy’s hold to achieve a better grip under his opposite arm. Buddy stepped forward as Amber stopped, her chest heaving with the effort. She held Rick tightly against her, grunting as Buddy opened the door. They easily slid him into the backseat of the truck, Buddy climbing in to take the brunt of the effort it took to pull him in. After, they searched for any bite wounds, fever, lifeless eyes; they found none of these things, which relieved Amber only slightly. The man was in horrible condition, barely alive. Amber made a mental list of his ailments, her mind overwhelming with everything they needed to do; but it was better than breaking down at the sight of her cousin. The man had been Brian’s best friend, and even though Brian tried to search for him, it had seemed an impossible task given the circumstances. The man was nowhere to be found and Brian had no choice but to get out. And so, Rick was never discussed. It was one of those situations, the kind that hardened a person forever, and reliving those moments were nothing short of torture for Brian.
Amber rounded the front of the truck as Buddy climbed out of the back. Buddy closed the door and attacked the two Biters that were coming for them. Her heart was racing as she watched him accomplish his task, retrieving her radio from its place on her pocket as he did so. She felt as if she were on edge, her body running on adrenaline. She had to save him, or try to at least, and they needed to get to safety. First things first; she pressed the button on the walkie-talkie and breathed heavily into the receiver as it beeped.
“Katie, get on the radio. I need you.” She said opening the passenger’s side door and hurriedly climbing in, Buddy running to the truck and doing the same. They quickly shut the doors and he turned the engine. She couldn’t drive; Rick was her priority and Buddy seemed to realize that as he gripped the steering wheel.
“What’s going on?” Miles’s voice resounded through the silence of the truck, bouncing off of the seats and burning her ears. She couldn’t talk to him; no, she needed Katie.
“I need Katie, now.” She urged him as Buddy shifted the truck into reverse and pressed on the gas. She hoped he would pass the radio to Katie without further question, regardless of his worry, or anyone else’s. She hoped that he would hear the desperation in her voice and give in.
“Right here. What’s wrong?” Katie chimed in, her voice stoic and balanced. Amber breathed a sigh of relief at having her there. Buddy hit the brakes and shifted the truck into drive, once again pressing on the gas. She took a deep breath before diving in.
“Listen, we have a broken leg, some broken fingers, dehydration, severe gashes and possible blood loss. What do we need to fix these things?” she asked, short and simple. And even while she asked she did a mental calculation. It was going to be a miracle if he made it.
Katie responded quickly and to the point, but her voice still wavered with concern. “Um…with everything that is limited I am not sure. Is he awake?” she asked, and she caught the look in Buddy’s eye as he tried to go slowly and easily over the bumps in the driveway. Katie assumed they were discussing Buddy, but then, who else had they expected? Amber didn’t have time to explain, at least not right in that moment. She turned and looked over the back of the front seat, seeing his closed eyelids and shallow breathing.
“No, unconscious.” She replied quickly. There was silence for a moment and Amber sat waiting on pins and needles.
“Okay,” Katie began, giving Amber the rundown of the items needed to attend the ailments. “Since things are limited we can make do with bandages and maybe a little plaster for the leg and the fingers, depending on the extent of damage. It may be irreparable. Since we can’t get an IV for fluids, we will just have to force fluids into him and hope for the best. The gashes will have to be stitched and the blood loss…well, we simply don’t have the equipment for that. We would have to perform a blood transfusion and that will take time and equipment we simply will not and do not have.” The radio beeped as Katie’s voice went off and Amber placed a hand on the steering wheel, asking Buddy to stop the truck at the end of the driveway without the use of words. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she ran through the list of things needed and comparing them with things they already had at the house. Bandages? Check. Plaster? Would need to find some. Water? Check. Stitching needle and wire? They would have to make do with what they had as they had gotten all of the stitching wire they could from the small (and only) doctor’s office in Thurston when the outbreak began. Okay, one thing. But then, where would they find plaster for a cast in Thurston? She opened her eyes and looked at Buddy who was eyeing her curiously.
“What do we need that we don’t already have?” he asked her, letting her know he knew where her mind had gone. She turned her eyes up to him, grateful for his understanding.
“Plaster.” She answered him and he nodded, beginning to turn the wheel towards the left, the way to the house. She could see his mind racing, searching for any possibility that might help them save Rick.
“Where do we find plaster?” he asked and she quickly stopped his turning, shaking her head.
“We have to get it before we go back. More trips means more attention from Biters at the house. We can’t risk it.” She told him and she watched understanding and apprehension wash over his face. He ran a hand through his cornflower hair.
Buddy nodded in agreement before looking over his shoulder at the bloodied man in the back. “You’re right; especially considering most of our attention will be on him.” He shook his head.
Amber sighed. “And I’m not sure about the plaster. The doctor here never set broken bones. They did all of that in El Dorado. We need to figure something out quick. He doesn’t seem to have much longer.” She told him and he thought quietly for a moment. She racked her mind for any substitutes for plaster, drawing blanks. Panic gripped at her heart and she winced, feeling as if they were simply going to be unable to help him. It would be another death on her hands, even as it was one that she had come to accept.
“Paper Mache.” Buddy’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts and she jerked her gaze to his, s
eeing his eyes light at the epiphany. It dawned on her what he meant and her eyes widened. Her blood roared in her ears in response to him. “Where is the school?”
She leaned forward in her seat and gripped the dashboard excitedly. “Turn right. We can go in through the back road of the school to the art room. It’s pretty much at the very end of the school, away from the main buildings. I’ll tell you when to turn.” She said and he pressed the gas hard, turning right. The engine roared with the acceleration. Amber felt her stomach tighten and glanced at Buddy. He knew as well as she did that the town was overrun with Biters, but he never even flinched, he simply asked where to go. She shuddered, realizing simply how much they were going to be risking their lives. It hadn’t occurred to her until then and the realization surprised her. She knew that the thought hadn’t bothered her; it was who she was…willing to risk her life for someone…however, Buddy’s silent acceptance of his possible fate for a complete stranger tugged at her heart. Glancing at the unconscious man in the back quickly, she turned back to the winding dirt road before them. “Thank you.” She told him, sincerely meaning every word. He had been a stranger, and yet he was risking his life to save a man that he didn’t even know.
“For what?” he asked, as if he had no idea to what she was referring. Was he really so blind, so selfless? And she inhaled sharply seeing that he reminded her so much of herself, of Miles and her parents, her brother. He was a part of them, regardless of what had occurred between them. He was indeed her friend, a part of their small family and it had taken her until then to accept it for everything that it was.
“Having my back. I must say, you are crudely misjudged.” She told him and she saw the briefest of smiles flash across his face. It seemed unusual, the occurrence of his smiling very rare, but Amber thought that it suited him.