Ashe scrunched her face at the first bite of a preserved carrot, but she managed to keep it down. “Fuck that tastes horrible,” She said in a hushed tone.
I laughed under my breath, “They are fuckin’ disgusting, but the salt will help keep you hydrated,” I explained as I bit into a small pickled zucchini.
She shook her head before taking a small pickled onion, “Not much better!” She said before taking another sip of water. “Shouldn’t we get moving again soon?”
I nodded. “When the heat dies back a bit, give the salt a chance to work its magic. It’ll thicken your blood and help to keep you hydrated.” I gently reached out and put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her that I was not going to leave her, before standing up again to keep watch. A few zombies moved slowly along the shore of the river obliviously. I ducked out of sight to make sure that they remained so, kneeling up moments later, monitoring them as they continued of their northern route seeming to follow the river.
I gave Ashe several more hours to rest, and once the heat had subsided a little and the humidity relented, I gathered our belongings, and we got moving once again. Heading east away from the river and the ruined city. The outskirts of the city were still in sight, which kept me on edge before passing through an old aboriginal settlement and heading deeper into the arid bushland dotted with sporadically placed Acacia trees and small shrubs of various kinds. The shade of the trees provided relief from the sun as we moved through an endless procession of bushland. Visibility was limited and we had not passed a single structure as the sun began to approach the horizon. Eventually, we came across another old roadway heading north-east towards the Flinders mountain range, following it for several more hours.
We continued along the road well after the sun had set. Even though it had been a while since we last encountered any zombies, being exposed and sleeping under the stars did not seem wise. As we approached the ranges, a small creek bed intersected the roadway to the north, snaking its way through the assorted shrubs and acacia that dominated the region. The water had undoubtedly flowed off the ranges and was likely clean and provided a good opportunity to top up our water supplies. It would still need to be filtered, but if we got desperate, we would likely get away without distillation.
The road led us east as night settled on the landscape. But we had to find somewhere to stop soon, we were out of drinkable water, and our food reserves were not in much better shape either. We were around ten kilometres from the edge of the mountain range when we came across a dirt road intersecting the highway from the south, and it seemed we might have got lucky once again. There were a few farmhouses just south of the old highway, with one appearing to be mostly intact, offering us potential shelter for the night. “Over there!” I indicated to Ashe, gesturing towards the two-story house in the distance which had been lit up in the moonlight.
The sun had set by the time we reached it, and a cool breeze swept across the plains as if washing away the intense humidity. The first house we passed was an old weatherboard home that was probably beautiful in its time, but the wood had long decayed, and the back end of the house had collapsed under the weight of its roof. The second was held up by thick sandstone walls and seemed relatively well preserved with most of its windows still intact. The land had already become distinctly greener in just a few short kilometres south of the road. As we approached the house, Ashe and I searched for any signs that the house was unsafe. Finding none except for some minor cracking in parts of the sandstone. Once we moved up onto the porch that surrounded most of the house, I unsheathed my hunting knife and knocked on the hardwood door to get the attention of anyone that might be home. If there were zombies, they would likely come running when the sound echoed loudly through the house – if anyone was home, they would certainly have heard it. But there didn’t seem to be any sign of movement inside, even though one could never be too cautious when it came to people. “Wait here,” I whispered to Ashe, who nodded once and turned to survey our surroundings, holding her rifle up and searching for any signs that we were not alone.
The door was locked when I turned the handle, just as I went to smash a window Ashe turned and hissed, “Hey, wait!” then she pulled out the screwdriver she had used to start the truck. And with the aid of a piece of rusted wire she found on the ground proceeded to pick the lock. She was turning out to have some very valuable skills, as she turned to me and smiled with a sense of pride on her face.
I nodded appreciatively, impressed at this new skill. Moving into the house, I quickly glided across the hardwood floor, moving room to room checking for any sign of danger. The front door opening into a large lounge area on the right and a small office and library to the left with a huge open kitchen and dining area, clearing each room as I moved silently through the house. I doubled backing to the lounge area and silently ascended the beautiful hardwood staircase that was probably very old before the world ended. Upstairs was eerie, Moonlight had begun to filter in through the bedroom windows to the east, where the doors had been left open by the houses previous occupants. Moving cautiously and silently, I cleared each of the four bedrooms and bathroom, before finding the master bedroom, with a balcony attached. The house was huge, and it was like it had been abandoned for decades possible even before the outbreak. It did not seem to have been hit by scavengers at all and had seemingly been untouched until now. When I returned downstairs, Ashe was still holding her rifle at the ready, standing watch by the door. “All clear,” I announced without bothering to hush my voice. We were truly alone in this beautiful old farmhouse, and it seemed so well preserved that it barely showed signs of its true age. It was likely very old before the apocalypse.
She gave a grateful smile then turned to give me a hug in her usual way when she felt needy for contact. I most certainly did not object to her affections, but it was still something I was getting used to. The two of us went inside and proceeded to search the house for anything useful. There was a plentiful supply of preserved and tinned food in the cupboards, along with a cabinet in the lounge room with a very well-stocked supply of whiskey and wine. Neither of us bothered with the old refrigerator, not wanting to stink the place out. Once our search concluded, Ashe had found a second backpack that appeared to be in good condition, which she dutifully stocked with more food from the kitchen. It was a large hiking backpack shaded dark green, which was ideal for travelling. “Good choice!” I said, explaining, “Darker colours tended to be much harder for zombies to pick out in my experience, so that should work well.”
She smiled, teasing, “But a more important question Jack is this…” Her good humour seemed to have returned in force. “Does the colour go with my hair?”
All I could manage was a laugh as I playfully took a moment to enjoy her red hair which had been tied back into an untidy ponytail. I helped her get the bags restocked before checking that the house was secure for the night. We loaded up several weeks’ worth of food into the bag before setting up several condensation traps on the front porch of the house to distil the water we had gathered from the creek. Once everything was in place, we retired to the lounge area to rest for the evening. I poured a glass of single malt whiskey for us both before sitting down on the old leather couch next to Ashe who had prepared a meal in some Old-world bowls.
“This shit is horrible, Jack,” She coughed before swallowing the rest of the whiskey in a single gulp.
“It’s definitely an acquired taste, I’ll give you that,” I said warmly as I savoured my glass, returning to the cabinet and finding a bottle of Irish Mist my personal favourite. “It’s like I died and went to heaven,” I joked, quoting a line I had once read in a book.
She rolled her eyes, eating her meal in silence.
I changed the subject, asking, “How are your feet doing?”
“They are fine. I think I’m more dehydrated than anything.”
“Possibly, the water we gathered today is probably drinkable, but if you can wait until tomorrow for the sun, we s
hould be able to distil it fairly quickly.”
“Or just have some of the tinned soup in there,” She shrugged. “They probably taste horrible, but they have fluids in them.”
“Fair point!” I nodded in agreement.
There was a bookshelf across the room that caught my attention as I sipped the glass of whiskey and browsed the former owner's collection of classic literature. It didn’t take long to find something I had not read before, so I gathered the book and returned to the couch. “I wish I could read,” Ashe said as she rested her head on my shoulder.
I smiled warmly, putting an arm around her as I started reading the novel to her in the dull moonlight. She hung on to every word long into the night as we shared a few more glasses of whiskey – or rather, I drank the whiskey, and she a half bottle of wine. Once Ashe fell asleep, I left her on the lounge to rest and recover. I decided to leave the rest of that novel to read to her another night. I gathered a few more books from the collection and packed them into the backpacks. Most of which I knew were great stories before picking up one I had not read before. I continued reading as I drank nearly a full bottle of the delightful single malt whiskey relishing every moment of rest, peace, and calm that evening. This place gave the illusion of safety, and it meant neither of us was able to stay awake through the night. Sometime in the early morning, I drunkenly wrapped Ashe in my arms and fell into one of the best night’s sleep I had experienced in a very long time.
Chapter 5 – (The little things)
The next morning was a painful one, the hangover was brutal, and I suspect it had to do with our water conservation efforts throughout the last few days. My lips were very dry and probably slightly burnt from the road, and I could really use a decent drink of water. Ashe wasn’t in much better shape, but she had at least managed to get up at a reasonable hour, checking out our surroundings to make sure everything was okay. She had really begun to earn my trust, which put me at ease around her. That thought alone made me slightly anxious, it was a risk to rely on others. But Ashe felt different, she had done a great deal over the last few weeks, and she seemed to value my company and friendship. It was comforting, but it also meant guarding against complacency.
She was awake somewhere around dawn, searching the house with purpose, while I searched for the strength to get up and help her. But she insisted I rest and get some more sleep. “You have hardly slept in a week, Jack! It can’t be good for you. Please just rest,” she insisted. I just groaned something unintelligible before resting my eyes once again.
When they opened again, the sun was blaring through the living room window. My anxiety in overdrive when I could not see or hear Ashe. I had a moment of unusual panic as my mind began asking, did something happen? Did she run away? You’re an idiot for trusting Jack. She’s probably stolen the backpack and left you! I rubbed my forehead, pushing down the dark thoughts, reasoning with my darker thoughts, not likely, where would she go? I got up off the couch and gathered my rifle, stretching as I heard footsteps on the front porch. I internally sigh of relief; grateful she had not abandoned me. Ashe could be heard from inside, growling to herself under her breath. “You are a fucking idiot, Ashe!”
I found her on the front porch scrubbing her pants and wrapped in a towel, she was clutching her stomach which appeared slightly bloated as she worked vigorously to clean a small bloodstain from her pants. “Is everything okay?” I asked concerned.
“I’m fine!” she growled in a short tone. She stopped herself moments later and stood up, hanging the pants on the guard rail of the porch, before making a sigh and turning to me with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Jack!” She looked down, “You don’t deserve that! This whole thing is just frustrating,” she explained, trying to calm herself, before sitting down on the step crying.
I went inside and gathered the last bottle of distilled water, before returning to the step and sitting next to her. “It’s okay,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic.
She said nothing, offering only an apologetic look.
I drank from the water bottle and said, “I know what Rick is like with his slaves, and if he can make a few bucks ‘renting’ someone out, he will. So, I understand the relief you must feel knowing there is no lasting physical damage. But the internal wounds I imagine will take much longer to heal.” I took in a deep empathetic breath, feeling a sense of rage at the thought of someone hurting this sweet girl, “Anger and frustration and whatever else you feel is perfectly okay, and perfectly understandable.”
“How can you possibly understand Jack?” she cried.
I sighed. “I suppose I can’t really, I’m not even good at empathy or emotions honestly. I’m trying to understand and just be here for you. The very thought of someone hurting you is…” I hesitated, trying to describe the feeling, but words seemed to fall short. “It’s not something I can accept. If I can do anything to help, all you need to do is ask. I’m not going anywhere, that’s a promise.”
She stared for a long moment before I reached over to put my hand on hers. She looked down as if she was ashamed of something and sobbed as she spoke. “Thank you!” She looked up at me, adding, “Honestly, I was one of the very lucky ones. I was only rented a few times; I was never bought outright. Those girls rarely last more than a few months before they are discarded.”
I put an arm around her, trying to reassure her that none of what happened affected us now. “You can’t compare yourself to others, you can only react to the cards you have been dealt in life and no one else. Trying to imagine how you might have reacted to someone else’s plight and comparing their lot to your own is a fool’s errand. There will always be someone worse off than you, just as there will always be someone better off. Your life is yours alone, even as a slave.”
She starred for a moment before crawling up into my lap and throwing her arms around me, sobbing into my chest. Letting her internal storm of emotions floor out of her. All I could do was sit and listen and let her ride the storm and her breathing coming under control after several minutes her rational mind returning as she stared out into the surrounding green fields, still holding me tightly. “This really is a really nice place,” she said, changing the subject.
It was probably a wise move, I needed her functional, and while I would help her as best I could to deal with her demons, she would need to push through it herself in some way. “It’s really nice here, that’s for sure,” I replied calmly, kissing her on the head to comfort and reassure her. “I will never ask anything like that of you as long as we are together, that is a promise.” The sun was about a quarter of the way into the sky, indicating it was mid-morning and time to get on with the day.
She just shook her head. “I know you wouldn’t Jack. That’s why I’m very lucky. Most of those other girls that didn’t get picked are probably busy servicing the northern tribes as we speak trying to save themselves from an even more horrific fate. I can never repay you for that, not with all the sex or anything I can think of in the world.” She hesitated as if lost in her own thoughts for a moment. “Well maybe...”
“You don’t owe me anything, Ashe! Not a god damn thing!”
Ashe just shook her head, taking the bottle of water. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could!” She hesitated. “You’re lonely, that much I can see Jack. I can tell that you have probably never been touched or kept warm by the way you react to it.” She smiled sadly. “And of all the men in this world who simply take what they want, you are so different.” She just held me tightly for a long time. She shook her head as if pushing a stray thought aside.
I did not know how to respond to her comments. There was something fearful and anxious rearing up in the back of my mind as if begging me to run. But the beast was calmed when Ashe leant up unexpectedly and kissed me on the lips. At that moment, it was as though all walls had shattered in my mind for this girl, instinctively I returned the kiss, holding her tightly in my arms. We were in this together, come what may. The thought was both terrify
ing and invigorating as if there was a sudden drive spurring me to do more and be more for this girl.
“I assume zombies are still an issue around here?” she asked, changing to a lighter topic as she pointed to the bones of cattle and other livestock littering the landscape. Their skeletons littered the overgrown green paddocks decades after their death, but there was no sign of recent activity.
“It’s hard to say, they have definitely been here at some point, but I don’t know. Zombies tend to move on if there is no food around, and they tend to follow relatively predictable migration patterns. They herd and move together often following old roadways and routes until the road becomes harder to traverse, then they change direction. It’s unlikely we would find stragglers outside of the cities and towns, especially with the land this flat. But we should always be on alert for them. The slow ones sometimes get abandoned by the herds if they can’t keep up, so we will need to be careful.”
“It’s a good chance to rest up a bit, but I don’t know about getting shit-faced drunk every night while we are here!” she teased, punching me in the arm playfully.
My head was feeling like it was being hit repeatedly with a hammer. “Yeah fuck that, once was enough for me.” I sighed. “I love whiskey, but this headache is just brutal.”
Desolation (Book 1): Aftermath Page 8