After Everything Else (Book 3): Creeper Revelation

by Brett D. Houser

  “We need to cross quickly,” Chase said. “Get back under cover, stay away from creepers. We need to go faster, at least until we get further away from the Collectors.”

  “The horses can do it for a short time,” Marilyn said. “They’re not in the best of shape. We can trot them, but you guys need to know how. Riding a trot is different than riding a walking horse. You have to make sure not to bounce. It’s hard on you, and hard on the horse. Only way to learn is to do it. You’ll get better. We’ll go at a slow jog this time. Just don’t bounce.”

  She took off across the road, and General followed her. Sonya concentrated on not bouncing, trying to find the rhythm of the horse. Sometimes she messed up. She was holding the front of the saddle. When Marilyn looked back at her, she told Sonya to let go, use her balance. She demonstrated how to hold the reins, how to hold her arms. Sonya tried it, and it was actually easier. They crossed the larger road, but they were still in the open. They crossed an open field, another small road, and they reached another patch of trees. Marilyn brought Cherokee to a halt, and General stopped, too. Behind her, Sonya heard Chase cursing under his breath. She turned to look and a creeper was staggering across the open field toward them.

  “Do we try to outrun it?” Marilyn asked.

  “No. I don’t think that will work. We might outrun it, but we need a more permanent solution,” Chase said as he dismounted. He had been carrying his staff across his back in a rope sling he had rigged and pulled it out as he stood waiting for the creeper. When it was close enough, he put it down. Then he knelt and began dragging it back into the cover of the trees. “We want to stop leaving a trail now,” he said. Marilyn nodded and grabbed a fallen branch, sweeping at the drag marks the creeper’s heels had made in the loose soil. When she finished, she threw the branch on the creeper’s body, then she and Chase arranged more over it.

  She and Chase remounted. They walked the horses through the forest. The trees were big, and there wasn’t much undergrowth. When they found a partially overgrown dirt track, they followed it. General moved up beside Cherokee. “Not too bad on the trot,” Marilyn said. “Couple of things. Keep the reins firm, but not too tight. Keep your elbows in. Keep your heels down, don’t point your toes in the stirrups. Sit up straight.”

  “Just those things?” Sonya asked.

  “Well, there’s more, but work on those,” Marilyn laughed. “You don’t have to be a great rider, but it will make the whole thing easier for you. You should have heard my uncle when he was showing me how to ride. He’d yell twenty things at me for me to do, and I could only remember two or three. But I got it eventually.”

  Sonya liked seeing Marilyn so happy. She seemed to have recovered from losing Jami, the woman she had bonded with at the church. It had only been a couple of weeks, but that seemed to be the way things worked now. People died sometimes. They talked a little bit more about riding, Marilyn telling her all the things she should do in different situations. Eventually, the conversations tailed off. Cherokee had a faster walk than General, and General dropped back until Sonya was riding alongside Chase.

  “Have you named her yet?” Sonya asked, indicating his horse.

  Chase shook his head. “No. Does she need one?”

  “Of course she does. How else will you call her?” Sonya asked.

  “I don’t plan on calling her. Once we get to the old farm, we turn them loose. We think, we plan, and then the Collectors come for us.” He was grim.

  “It hasn’t happened yet. Think and plan all you want, but this is fun for me. I never thought I would do this,” Sonya said.

  He softened. “I’m glad,” he said. “We should try to enjoy whatever we can. And…I have to tell you. I like you. I like talking to you. I know sometimes it might not seem like it.”

  She smiled at him. “I know you do. There’s a lot going on. Greta.”

  “What?” Chase asked, confusion on his face.

  “That’s your horse’s name. Greta.”

  Chase was doubtful. “Is that really a horse’s name? What’s your horse’s name?”

  “General.”

  “That’s a horse’s name. So’s Cherokee. But I’m not sure about Greta,” Chase said.

  “Then you come up with a name.”

  “What’s your middle name?” he asked.

  “I’m not telling you that,” Sonya replied.

  “I bet it’s…Nadine. Sonya Nadine. That’s my horse’s name.”

  Sonya couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “It’s not Nadine.”

  Chase looked shocked. “You giggled. You really did. I’ve never heard you come even close to laughing, and you giggled.”

  “I did not,” Sonya protested. “I might have laughed, but I didn’t giggle. Giggling is ridiculous.”

  “That was definitely a giggle. And my horse’s name is Nadine.” He started singing, “Nadine, honey is that you? Aw, Nadine…” He cut off singing, and Sonya became aware of the sound of the helicopter, low and near, growing nearer. She felt the smile still on her face but the immediate fear had robbed her of the emotion that had put it there. They moved under a tree with thicker branches and waited until the sound of the chopper faded. Sonya, so happy just a few moments before, felt fear settle in again.

  Chase apparently felt the change, too. He sighed as they waited.

  As much as Sonya enjoyed the ride, she was glad when they finally found the farmhouse. Several hours in the saddle were taking their toll. The muscles of her legs felt weak and sore at the same time from gripping the horse. They had been able to walk most of the way, and that was a blessing. The few times over the last hour when they had trotted across open areas had been agony. Marilyn swung from Cherokee with an ease that Sonya envied. For just a second, she hated Marilyn. Marilyn with her evenness of temper, her ability to do everything well, her faith. Then she shook her head. She watched Chase slide from Nadine and stumble a bit. When she started to dismount herself, she realized she needed help. “Uh, guys?” she called hesitantly, “Little help here. My legs don’t seem to want to work right.”

  They helped her down. Marilyn gave her an ibuprofen and a drink of water and told her to walk it off, and to stretch. Chase followed her advice immediately, but Sonya sat for a while stroking Honey’s side as the dog lay panting beside her before trying it out. After she did a few stretches, she did feel a little better. And somehow, she felt home. The ranch had been nicer, but Sonya felt that maybe things in this world weren’t supposed to be nice. Or easier. They pumped some water and dampened a torn t-shirt to clean their faces, arms, and hands. Marilyn stripped the gear from the horses and put it in the shed. The horses wandered into the pasture behind the house to graze. After stretching, Chase carried their gear into the house. Marilyn said she would gather some greens. When Sonya offered to help, Marilyn accepted, telling Sonya that exercise was the best way to loosen up her muscles.

  “Stay close to cover as much as you can,” Chase said. “We don’t know when the helicopter might be back.”

  “Will do,” Marilyn answered. “What are you going to do?”

  “Walk. Think. There’s a house straight back that way,” Chase said, pointing back across the pasture where the horses were grazing. “I’ll check it out for any extra food, supplies. We travelled light. But mostly just to stretch my muscles and think.”

  “Be careful,” Sonya said. She wanted to walk with him, but he acted like he wanted to be alone.

  “I’ve got my staff,” Chase said. “Shouldn’t be gone long. I’ll be back before you can have dinner ready.” He set off walking, and Sonya was glad to see Honey going with him. Then she felt Marilyn’s arm across her shoulders.

  “He’ll be okay,” Marilyn said.

  “I know. I just wish he could be okay with me around, too,” Sonya said.

  Chapter 19 – Chase

  Chase kept to the edges of the fields, jogging between trees. He looked back, and Honey was following him. Good. The trees didn’t offer much cover, and if
the helicopter had infrared would be no help at all, but he hadn’t heard the chopper since back in the forest on the way over. He felt they had done a good job on the getaway, so he wasn’t too worried about the Collectors showing up yet. He had time to think, and he thought as he walked. The container of dust he had collected back at the house bounced against his leg in the pocket of his cargo shorts. He had an idea how he could use it, but he didn’t think the girls would go for it. He wasn’t sure he could do it, either, but unless he could think of something else, he was stuck with it.

  The horses seemed to want to follow him and Honey at first, but he shooed them back toward the house. His arms were sore from holding the reins, sorer than he would have thought, so he slung his staff across his back. He stopped at the edge of pasture before it entered the forest and looked back at the farmhouse. He couldn’t see Sonya and Marilyn. He hoped they were staying under cover.

  He approached the house cautiously, watching for signs of creepers, watching Honey’s reaction. As they drew nearer, he could see down the length of a long graveled driveway to the blacktop. The house itself wouldn’t be visible from the road because of a stand of pines. After a quick tour of the outbuildings and surrounding lots, he was glad to find a truck. He didn’t know if they would need it or not, but he felt lost without at least having a vehicle nearby.

  When he finally entered the house, it was empty. No signs of creepers, but he wasn’t surprised. Honey would have let him know. He raided the pantry, which was well-stocked with home-canned goods: tomatoes, green beans, beets, relish, pickles, peppers, salsa. He grabbed the jar of salsa and some cans of stuff he was more sure about that come from a store and put them in a plastic sack which he tied to his belt. He walked through the rest of the house, Honey following, her toenails clicking on the hardwood floors. There were two kinds of pictures of kids on the walls. Some were older, showing kids in outdated clothes and hairstyles. They showed the same set of kids at all ages. Then there were newer pictures of smaller children. There seemed to be more of those, but all showed small children. Grandchildren, he guessed. Probably all dead. He found a picture of what had most likely been the people who lived there. It was in a frame that said “50th Wedding Anniversary.” There was nothing else of use that he could carry easily. But there was food here. It was also an alternate place to stay if they needed it. When he found the stash of the grandchildren’s toys and playthings, he found something else he needed. He just hoped he had the courage to use it.

  On the walk back to the abandoned farmhouse, the shadows were gone. The sky was still blue overhead, but to the west clouds lined the horizon. The sun lit them up from behind, outlining the tops in silver, but at the base they were black. He didn’t hear the helicopter, and he didn’t hear the motors of the Collectors’ vehicles. What he did hear was distant thunder. As he watched, a flash of lightning lit up the clouds from within. Another storm. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It would slow the Collectors down even more, give them time. The abandoned farmhouse was good shelter. His plan wasn’t complete, but he had done enough to give them some kind of leverage. They would be captured. He would be captured. He wasn’t sure if it was necessary that all of them be caught. If he could spare Sonya and Marilyn, he would. But he didn’t think it would work out that way.

  Back at the farmhouse, the horses had sheltered under a large tree. The wind was picking up and he could smell rain. At least it was cooling off a little. He entered through the kitchen door, holding it open for Honey to follow, and a pot of greens was simmering on the propane stove they had brought. Sonya and Marilyn were sprawled on the floor of what had probably been the living room, lying on their sleeping bags. They were sharing a bag of chips. He unslung his staff and sat down next to Sonya, reaching for a chip. He untied the bag from his belt and opened the salsa, trying it out as they watched. The chips were plain potato chips, so it wasn’t quite right, but the salsa was delicious. He invited the girls to try it.

  “Storm’s coming,” he said. Marilyn nodded. “Should we put the horses in one of the sheds?” he asked.

  “Probably not. There’s an open shed out there. If they want to go in, they can. But some horses panic in closed places in storms. They’ll be okay.” Marilyn grabbed another chip.

  “We couldn’t decide if we wanted to sleep down here or upstairs,” Sonya said. “It’s not too bad. We left the windows open upstairs last time when we left, and it’s not as hot as it was. We found some nails and put up a few more boards on the windows down here, too. Creepers won’t be able to get in.”

  “Good. Doesn’t really make me any difference,” Chase said. They sat quietly for a while. Sonya looked like she wanted to ask Chase a question, but she didn’t. Chase didn’t blame her. He knew he had been snapping at her lately. He awkwardly put his arm around her and she leaned into him. He glanced at Marilyn, but she didn’t react at all. He grew more comfortable. This felt good, this felt right, and he was glad. They should enjoy this time as much as they could. Sonya finally broke the comfortable silence.

  “Let’s just talk like normal people. We’ve spent so much time together, but we don’t do enough of that. I’ll start off. What’s your favorite movie, Marilyn?”

  Marilyn surprised Chase. “My favorite movie? The Little Mermaid. The Disney cartoon.”

  “Really?” Chase asked. “I’m not criticizing, but why that one? I would have thought you more Mulan or Pocahontas. Not Ariel.”

  “I identified with her. She was different. She was curious. She spent time alone. I was the same way growing up. I just never found my handsome prince.” She smiled. “But I didn’t really miss him. He kind of messed things up, you know?”

  “Do you know the original story?” Chase asked. Marilyn shook her head. “In the original story it’s even worse. He doesn’t even marry her.”

  “I don’t care about that. I just like the character at the beginning of the movie.” She shrugged. “She’s fun. That’s the best part of it.” She sniffed and stood. “Food’s probably ready. Let’s eat.”

  The storm broke outside, and as they ate, the thunder rumbled and the rain came down. Flashes of lightning occasionally lit up the room through the cracks between the boards on the windows. They shared one bowl, passing it around. When they finished, they continued to talk in the darkness. Eventually, Marilyn fell asleep.

  He and Sonya talked quietly a little longer about movies and books and unimportant stuff, but he knew just talking was important. They lay face to face, no more than a foot between them. He wanted to kiss her. Instead he reached for her hand and their fingers intertwined. They didn’t speak for a bit, and he heard when her breathing evened out, deepened, and knew she was asleep. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep as well, but every time he felt himself start to slip, a feeling of emptiness, a fear of the unknown to come caused his eyes to fly open. He was still awake when the wind quieted and the rain stopped falling. The sound of thunder receded and the lightning flashes grew dimmer and less regular. He untangled his fingers from Sonya’s, and quietly he stood, went into the kitchen. Honey raised her head to look at him, but didn’t follow. No one else stirred.

  This is good, he thought. But it’s not permanent. He thought he was close to ready to go to the Collectors. Very close. There was so much he didn’t know, couldn’t know, but all he could do was all he could do. Anything from here on out was a delaying game. He considered going to the Collectors alone, but he knew that if he did that, Sonya and Marilyn would follow. Maybe even put themselves in more danger than if they were with him. He didn’t think he could talk both of them into hanging back. Maybe Marilyn. If he and Sonya both were captured, and they left Marilyn here, she could help them in some way. She was good, and she could make it on her own for a while. He pulled up a chair to the kitchen table and rested his elbows on the table top, cradling his head in his hands. He thought for a long time. After he had run every possibility through his mind, he shrugged, knowing he had done all he could. He walked back
to the living room and lay back down next to Sonya, his face to her back, his arm thrown over her. At last, he slept.

  In the morning after they had eaten breakfast and made themselves ready for the day, he explained what he wanted to do. Some of it, anyway. He was glad they didn’t question him about how he was going to sneak the dust in. They didn’t question his plan, and he was glad of that, too. He knew there were a whole lot of what-ifs and problems with the plan, but he felt their trust, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it. Sonya seemed grimly happy to be doing something to get to her dad. Marilyn accepted the plan as she accepted so many things. Her role was the safest in some ways. If things went wrong, if he wasn’t able to get them out, Marilyn could find her way back to the camp alone. He wondered if she would. He hoped she would.

  “So do we just wait for the Collectors?” Sonya asked. “How long do we wait?”

  “Today we wait. Let’s do what we want to do today. We can be outside, but we should stay close. If they aren’t here by tonight, we get their attention. Tonight, we have a bonfire. How do s’mores sound?” Chase was surprised by how casual he could sound. Inside, he was conflicted. There was fear of the unknown, but he had lived with that since leaving home. The difference was now there was a weird feeling of resolution. They were going to do something to affect the outcome of the situation. They were going to choose what was going to happen next. And that allowed him to enjoy himself the rest of the day.