Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2)

by Kirk Withrow

  When they reached the wall, they clambered up the rock face despite their mud-slicked shoes. Wanting to ensure that no unseen dangers lurked above, Lydia scaled the remainder of the wall using roots and saplings to help her along the way. She stood on the edge of the ravine, looking down past the girls at the seething mass of infected piling up below. Although she did not know if it was due to the height or the combined sensory experience of so many infected in such a narrow space, Lydia felt woozy.

  “Your turn, Ava. I’ll be right behind you. You can do it,” Annalee said. When Ava neared the top, Lydia reached down and pulled her up the rest of the way. Annalee was halfway up the muddy wall when her foot slipped, and she began to slide back to the bottom of the ravine. The moans of the infected intensified in anticipation of the flesh falling toward them like a gift from the heavens.

  Panicked, Annalee screamed as she desperately grabbed for anything that might slow her descent. At the last moment, she snagged a woefully small sapling just before plunging over the edge of the rock face. Inches away from the reaching hands of the infected, Annalee pulled her legs up to her chest.

  Lydia was elated to see Annalee stop sliding, but her heart sank when she saw what the girl’s hand had found. She doubted the insubstantial twig would support the Annalee’s weight for long. Crestfallen, Lydia stared into the growing sea of reaching arms below, certain she was looking at Annalee’s final resting place. When the small tree managed to keep the girl suspended on the sloped wall, the slightest glimmer of hope reignited within Lydia. I have to help her!

  As the mass of infected scrambled over one another to get to the girl dangling tauntingly out of reach, something akin to a human scaffold began to form. Lydia’s newfound hope was dashed when she saw the reaching hands drawing ever closer, rising like tide waters toward the helpless girl. The damp earth vibrated beneath Annalee with every thud of their outstretched hands. Her strength waning, she felt the sapling slipping from her tenuous grasp. “Lydia! Help me! I’m losing my grip. Please, help me,” she whimpered.

  Lydia felt powerless to intervene as she watched the girl slipping closer to the waiting mouths below. She knew Annalee would die without help, and she knew they would likely both die if she tried to help her. Seeing no alternative, Lydia turned to Ava and said, “If I don’t come back up—if we don’t make it—get out of here!”

  Ava was scared; she wanted to scream for her not to go even though she knew it was the only chance to save Annalee. Even though she wanted to beg Lydia to stay, no words left her mouth. Instead, tears streamed down her face as she silently nodded.

  “Ava, I’m going back down to help Annalee. Do you understand what I just said? If we… Don’t wait—run,” Lydia said.

  Face pale, Ava’s head bobbed up and down wordlessly.

  Having been stirred up by their climb, the dirt on the steep bank proved to be even slicker as Lydia began her descent. Cautiously, she eased herself down the embankment, but she, too, lost her footing on the muddy surface. She dug her heels in hard and managed to recover before sliding too far. Despite her effort to help the little girl, she now found herself in an equally precarious situation in which any movement threatened to send her sliding into Annalee. If that happened, she had no doubt that her momentum, as well as their combined weight, would push both of them right into the clawing hands of the horde below.

  “Lydia, help me! I’m slipping! I can’t hold on much longer! Please, Lydia!” Annalee screamed.

  The panic in her voice made Lydia’s heart break, and she struggled to keep the fear out of her own voice. “Hold on just a little longer, honey. You can do it! Keep your legs pulled up! I’m almost there,” Lydia said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. Every movement put her a little closer to losing her footing altogether. Mud caked her boots, covering the tread, and leaving nothing to provide any traction. Feeling helpless, Lydia looked down to where Annalee lay sprawled against the side of the ravine. She could not help thinking that she was going to be the second course, after the girl she had tried—and failed—to protect.

  Willing herself not to give up, Lydia glanced around frantically, trying to think of a way to reach Annalee safely. As she did, a faint rumbling sound, like that of a lawn mower, came from somewhere in the forest above. Perplexed, she listened as the sound grew louder and louder, and then suddenly vanished. Her mind shifted to Ava all alone at the top, and she did not think she could bear it if she knew something happened to both of the girls. Tell me you’ve gone to hide, Ava.

  “Ava! Are you okay? What’s going on? What was that sound?” Lydia cried. Panic swelled in her chest when she heard no reply. “Ava! Talk to me! Are you okay?”

  Lydia waited for a reply, but again, none came. She lowered her forehead to the mud as the tears began to flow. Although she was powerless to hold back the tears, she fought like hell to hold back her sobs. She knew if Annalee heard her cries they would be contagious, and she did not want the girl to see that her hope was dwindling. Something soft but firm struck Lydia on the back of her head, causing her to wonder if the infected had grown impatient and started hurling things at them in hopes of dislodging the meals that remained stubbornly out of reach.

  Despite her despondency, curiosity got the best of her and Lydia raised her head. At first her mind was unable to process what she saw, and she wondered if her tears were affecting her vision. Is this another cruel trick like ‘Lonnie’? Blinking several times, she looked again and was relieved to see it was still there.

  “Well, grab it already!” an unfamiliar voice called from atop the ravine.

  Although Lydia had no idea who was speaking, she wasted no more time as she grabbed the rope. Looking down, she saw that it was not quite long enough to reach Annalee, who remained plastered against the side of the ravine with the closest infected hand a mere six inches away from her unmoving foot. Lydia worried the girl might have passed out, though she imagined she would have plunged into the infected throng below were that the case. She stared in abject horror as the infected continued pressing into the side of the ravine like rioting sports fans, trampling those closest to the wall. Using their fallen brethren like stepladders, the infected tide was still rising, and she could see it would not be long before Annalee was pulled under.

  “Annalee! Hold on! I’m coming for you,” Lydia yelled, as she carefully lowered herself farther down the slope. When she reached the end of the rope, she stretched out and tapped Annalee on the head with the toe of her muddy boot.

  “Eeeeww! You got mud in my hair!” Annalee cried, as she looked up at Lydia, with a frightened smile on her face.

  The terrified girl’s weak smile was like wind in Lydia’s sails. “Grab my boot and climb up! Hurry!” she commanded.

  Annalee squashed the fear that had nearly overtaken her mind, and lunged for the boot with both hands. Her right hand closed around its toe but came away with a handful of slimy mud as it slid off. Her left hand fared slightly better, managing to hook two fingers around the laces of the slippery boot. Lydia strained against the additional weight, praying she could muster enough strength to hold on. The young girl kicked and flailed until she managed to bring her right hand back up to the boot.

  Slowly, Annalee climbed onto her back, while Lydia thought of nothing but holding on to the rope. As long as she felt her movement, Lydia found all the strength she needed, because it meant Annalee was on her way to safety. She fought through the agonizing burn inside her muscles as well as the intensely painful sensation that her elbow and shoulder joints were uncoupling under the strain. When the movement that had been her source of strength ceased, Lydia panicked and felt both her mind’s grip on the situation, as well as her hand’s grip on the rope, slacken. Where is Annalee? Where did she go? Did she fall? Oh my God!

  “Annalee! Where are you? Annalee!” Lydia screamed. Her arms were so extended that she could barely turn her head to look for her. When Annalee did not reply, Lydia felt like letting go of the rope. If the girl
had fallen, then she wanted to join her in the midst of the wretched horde below.

  At once, the noise of the lawnmower returned, sounding as though it was right on top of her. Lydia’s exhausted mind could not make sense of it. She was startled and nearly lost her grip when the rope began to pull. Holding on for dear life, her face and belly scraped over the rocks and sticks embedded in the mud as she was slowly dragged up the muddy slope of the ravine. Suddenly, the vector of pull changed and all the tension in the rope dissipated. Did I fall? She imagined the painful stinging sensations coming from her face and abdomen were the result of the infected finally getting what they so desperately desired. Hands fell upon her and she wanted to scream and lash out, but she found herself unable to do so. Instead, she merely resigned herself to her fate. I’m sorry, Annalee. I tried. I tried so hard, and I’m so sorry.

  Lydia’s eye remained closed as her body was rolled over roughly. She thought of how strong and brave Lonnie had been when he died, and she hoped she could find that strength for Ava’s sake. After all, Ava had already seen and endured so much. Lydia tried not to think of Annalee at all; the thought that she had failed her was just too painful.

  A voice like an angel came from above her. “You did it, Mr. C.J.! You did it!”

  “Well, I reckon we did,” the unfamiliar voice said, sounding anything but angelic.

  Feeling no increase in pain, and genuinely intrigued by the voices she heard, Lydia allowed her eyes to flutter open. At once, panic rose in her chest at the sight of the figure hovering above her. He was dirty, wearing a sleeveless flannel shirt and tattered camouflage baseball hat. His eyes were not on her but rather directed toward something down by his legs. Shifting her gaze, Lydia saw the source of the beautiful voice she had heard moments ago—Ava. The sight of the little girl made her heart swell, but it quickly shattered into pieces when thoughts of Annalee flooded into her mind. Through the sobs racking her body, Lydia choked out, “Annalee! Oh, God, no! Why?”

  “Why what?”

  Upon hearing those words, Lydia felt her entire life come to a screeching halt. Through her blinding tears, she feared she was seeing yet another mirage, called up by an addled brain simply showing her what she wanted to see once again. Lydia glanced between the man and Ava, and then finally back to Annalee. Lydia reached out as though she expected the girl was an apparition. When she touched Annalee’s hand, the overwhelming relief forced her back to the muddy ground.

  For the first time since the rescue, the man spoke directly to Lydia, “Ma’am, are you sure you’re okay?”

  Staring straight ahead as if speaking to the man, to God, and to the entire universe, she said, “Thank you.”

  “We better think about gettin’ a move on. Those Packers down there are pretty well stuck, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that there are always more of ’em out there. And this mud is damn near asshole deep to a ten-foot Indian so it’s likely to slow us down a bit,” the man said.

  * * *

  When Lydia’s shock waned, she learned that Ava had seen a man riding through the woods and called for help. Ava knew she was taking a big risk since she did not know the man, but she also knew what would happen if she did nothing to help the two people who had saved her life. Her gamble paid off, as he turned out to be a good and decent person, rather than an immoral sociopath that seemed as rampant as the virus in this new world.

  His name was C.J., and he was riding a motorcycle through the woods when Ava spotted him. The motorcycle looked strange even to Ava, who knew nothing of the machines. A chain ran to the wheels of both of its wide, knobby tires, and it crawled over everything in its path. C.J. later informed them that the bike, which indeed sounded like a loud lawnmower, was a Rokon. “This baby is two-wheel drive, and will go places no other bike or ATV could even dream of,” C.J. said beaming with pride.

  After Ava solicited his help, he secured a length of rope to the back of the Rokon and tossed the other end down to Lydia. Ava waited for Annalee to climb onto the woman’s back before signaling C.J. to drive forward. Being two-wheel drive, the bike had little trouble pulling them to safety despite the thick mud that made walking atop the ravine difficult.

  Before the rope hit her, Lydia had lost hope and essentially given up. She knew death was imminent. As such, it took her a while to really accept that she was alive after the rescue.

  The four of them walked several miles beyond the ravine before finally stopping to rest. They travelled as quietly as possible, with minimal talking and C.J. pushing the Rokon, in order to avoid attracting the attention of any infected that might be in the area. Thankfully, they encountered none.

  When they were over a mile away from the ravine, Lydia broke the silence. “Thank you, C.J. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to those girls,” Lydia said, nodding toward, Annalee who walked behind them next to Ava.

  “Glad I could help, ma’am,” C.J. replied

  “What’s with all the ma’am stuff, anyway?” Lydia asked.

  “Just a habit, I guess—the way I was raised,” C.J said.

  “I’m not much older than you, you know,” she said.

  He merely chuckled in reply.

  “Back at the ravine, you said something like, ‘those Packers are pretty well stuck.’ What did you mean by Packers?” Lydia asked.

  “The sick people? That’s just what I call them. I don’t really know what they are. Most folks say it’s some kind of infection. I figured I needed to call them something, so I started calling them Packers—after Alfred Packer, the cannibal, you know?” C.J. said.

  Not having a clue what he was talking about, Lydia simply nodded her head, and said, “You are a strange guy, C.J.”

  * * *

  They happened upon a small cabin, and after ensuring it was free of the infected, they settled in for the night. Lydia knew just how depraved people could be, and accordingly, she remained wary of C.J. despite the fact he had saved her and Annalee. Even so, it was clear that Ava accepted him completely—almost as if she had known him her entire life. Lydia could not explain why, but that fact went a long way toward alleviating her own fears and concerns about the stranger.

  As she prepared a spot for the girls to sleep, Lydia paused to watch C.J. as he sat talking with Ava. Despite being covered in mud and dirt, she thought his features seemed gentle, and she did not sense any malice. His sandy blonde hair curled out from under the baseball hat that he had not removed since they met earlier that day. He appeared to be in his late thirties, and his dirt mask cracked around the corners of his eyes and mouth when he smiled, which he did often. His arms looked strong where they protruded from his sleeveless flannel shirt, as though accustomed to hard work.

  Lydia watched as he and Ava played a game that involved trying to slap the other’s hands before he or she could pull them away. The way the little girl smiled and even laughed made her want to cry. When she thought about it, she could not recall that last time she had heard real laughter. Having not been certain it still existed in the world, its discovery filled her heart with unimaginable warmth. There was still sadness behind her tears, but for the briefest of moments, Lydia felt as though it was almost eclipsed by a stronger, more foreign emotion—joy.

  Lydia stepped into the room and walked over to them. She sat down, and with a genuine look of confusion, asked, “Who are you?”

  “Me? I’m C.J. I already told you, ma’am.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “No, I mean who are you really? Where did you come from? You seem so different than anyone else I’ve encountered since the outbreak, C.J.”

  Blushing and clearly uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny, it was C.J.’s turn to look confused. “I came from just outside of Birmingham, but I live over in Georgia,” C.J. said, pointing in an eastward direction. “I went to find my brother but things were pretty bad there. The Packers were as thick as the hair on a dog’s back, and there was no way to get past them all. He lives on the south side of Birmingham,
or at least he did, but every road I tried was chocked full of them—there had to be thousands. I managed to get close enough to see that they were all around his house. I assumed either he didn’t make it or he wasn’t there; either way, it was impossible to get to the house. Anyhow, I was heading back to Georgia when I saw little Ava here,” he said with a gentle glance toward the girl.

  “We are on our way to Atlanta,” Lydia said. The words were out of her mouth before she considered the wisdom of sharing such information with the stranger. Not knowing what else to say, she added, “I never much liked Atlanta even before the world fell apart.”

  C.J. nodded, and said, “I reckon I never thought much about the end of the world before all of this. I’se always too busy just doing what I needed to do to make it to the next day to worry too much about that day not coming. That seems kind of like when folk’s is scared of dying, you know? I never really understood that either. I mean, once you’re dead, you’re dead. Well, at least that’s how I’ve always thought of it. And dead folks got nothing left to worry about. It’s not like being dead is worse than what we got in this life. It probably ain’t no better either. It just is what it is, know what I mean?”

  Lydia nodded, though she wondered if she truly understood what he was trying to say. She wondered if his simple logic was truly that simple, or if there was much more to it than meets the eye.

  When she did not speak, C.J. continued as if glad to finally have someone to listen to everything he kept bottled up inside his head. “But once it did come around, I knew there was going to be a lot of folks that wouldn’t fare too well. Most people could barely handle even the slightest inconvenience before all this,” C.J. said, waving his hand around to indicate everything the world had become.