Ophelia

by Rain, Briana

  “For Christ’s sake, James… just stop bleeding already.” Harrison told his brother, completely out of breath. James wheezed out a laugh and said some along the lines of, “and make this easy for you?”

  I couldn't tell.

  I couldn't believe the pain in my side. When we were running, I didn't have time to slow down. No breaks to check anything. Every time I did, someone would reach out and haul me forward with them. The same went for the others as well. I lost count how many times I grabbed someone, mostly my mother and my little brother. I think I might've grabbed James’s arm once.

  Who knew.

  I pushed my hands against my side, hopeful that the pressure would help the pain, but I immediately regretted that decision, as it only made the pain sharper, and more intense. I couldn't breath for a moment. With difficulty, I pushed myself back, scooching until I was against the wall and able to sit up. Then I pulled my shirt up.

  On the list of words that you shouldn't say in front of your mother, especially her, and your little siblings, I said a few that were in the top five bracket. In my side was a piece of a branch or a thorn or something. It wasn't very wide, and wasn't very deep, but it hurt.

  Before I could think about if it was a good idea or not, I yanked the thing out and threw it across the cabin, once again muttering words that were on my “Top Five Words Not To Say In Front of Mom” list.

  The sharp twig hit the tree a few yards away, and something from within the dead leaves. Half the group reacted, and pulled their guns out. They aimed them at whatever was scurrying around in here with us. James, who was closest to the doorway that was missing its door, reached over, and grabbed something outside. He chucked it at the middle of the dead brush, startling the critters, which forced them to flee through the roof.

  I allowed myself to breathe again, and turned my attention back to my side.

  The only moment that I could think of where that could've happened was when, at one point, Mom was running directly in front of me, and she fell, bringing me and Harrison down with her. It would make sense if it happened there, but honestly, who cared. It was done and over with.

  My hands were shaking as I slipped my pack off of my stiff shoulders and opened it up. Anything clean-ish to wipe up the blood and cover this would be great.

  The others were also tending to their own and each other's injuries. I wasn't the only one who fell. We all had scratches, scrapes, and bruises.

  I found a smaller version of a first aid kit in the pockets of my backpack, along with an extra pair of underwear, and a mini bottle of water. A Christmas miracle.

  I took a smidge of gauze out for me, and a few Band-aids for the twins next to me, and slid the rest of the kit down to the others.

  I was still mildly out of breath.

  The twins started unwrapping the Band-aids and sticking them onto each other, on the worst of their cuts. Mom put her first aid kit next to mine, as did Harrison.

  Clyde reaches forward to pick up a tube of something from my mom’s kit.

  “Clyde, you're bleeding.” Addeline said.

  The bandage I’d put on his back earlier today must’ve peeled up somewhere and his shirt was stained with red, coin-sized splotches.

  I didn't look up.

  “How much farther ‘til we get to this place, Juliet?” Clyde ignored his sister's concern.

  “We're close. We may be able to get there tomorrow, or the next day.” The inside of the lid of Harrison's first aid kit also acted as a mirror, and Mom was using it to patch up a cut that went across her left cheek.

  “Clyde—“

  “One more day Ads. It's not bad, and it don’t hurt much. We'll deal with it tomorrow.” He finished applying generous amounts of stuff from the tube to his hands, then gauzed them. After James helped Harrison put a new bandage on his head, the old one had flown off somewhere within the last hour, Clyde took the tape and wrapped his hands before passing it to his sister, who looked peeved, but didn’t say anything.

  Addeline took the tape, used it to fasten a cloth to her knee to cover a nasty scratch. Then, she was the first one of us to stand up.

  She limped her way over to me where I waited for the tape with my gauze, and offered me her hand. If it wasn't for her, there would’ve been zero chance of me standing up, and even then I was wobbly. She applied the tape like we’d been to James, and wrapped the stuff around my waist a few times. With anything less, the bandage would have come off.

  I grimaced a whole bunch, especially when she came back around to my side, but didn't make a sound.

  When she was done, she collapsed in front of the twins and pointed to Vi’s shoulder. She held it out for Addeline to examine. The bandage was secure, no need for more duct tape, so Addeline handed the tape off to my mom.

  I, however, remained standing. I literally feared that the next time I sat down, I wouldn't be able to get back up. I asked Lucky to hand me my bat, which was barely within reach of him, but still within reach.

  “You guys are tough cookies, aren't cha?” Addeline said to the twins.

  From the other side of the cabin, James groaned.

  “Please, for the love of God… don't mention food.” He said.

  My stomach rumbled, and I felt very sad. The others probably all got at least a bite of whatever Clyde was cooking over the fire yesterday.

  One more day.

  I started walking. Well, it was more of a waddle-shuffle type movement, but eventually, I got to the open doorway that led to some of the greenest trees that I'd ever seen.

  I looked around, and spotted no immediate dangers. There was no wind. The trees didn't move. Everything was still, but the noises in the distance were a reminder of the dangers that the world still held, even if they weren't held here.

  I looked up, and noticed that through the branches, dark rain clouds had formed, filtering the rays of the sun.

  Wait.

  Those clouds… they were too low to be clouds. They were weird. Almost as if they weren't clouds, but something else.

  Like… smoke. Something like smoke.

  My money was on the explosion. That was the first thing my mind went too. It was the only thing related to fire around here that I knew of.

  Please don't let it be anything else. Please let it just be that and not the whole forest.

  No, there would be more smoke if the trees were being consumed by the flames. There would be so much smoke that I wouldn't be able to see the hand at the end of my arm. My lungs wouldn't be able to find any air. There would be coughing. Screaming.

  “You think it's from the car?” I forced my breathing to even out at the sound of someone else's voice.

  “Huh?” I looked down at James, who was still on the floor, but had moved closer to the doorway and was leaning out of it and looking up at the sky.

  “The smoke. Do you think it's from that explosion?” He repeated for me.

  “Oh. Yeah, probably.” I answered, hearing him the first time he spoke, but not registering what he was saying.

  “Smoke?” Mom stood up, done with the cut on her cheek and curious, but also cautious.

  “Yeah.” James replied, “Hey, does that mean we can start a fire? Because last night was awful.”

  He was right. Last night in the train was cold. If I hadn’t been so tired and hurt, I probably would've had a much more difficulty falling asleep.

  All of the adults were now getting now, save for James, who didn't even attempt to stand. His brother would probably force him to sit back down if he did, but he was looking clammy and shaky, and most likely wouldn't be able to do it even if he had the choice. I took a few steps out to move out of the way, leaning against the outside wall of the cabin as the rest gathered in and outside of the doorway.

  “I mean…” I looked back in time to see Clyde glance at my mother before finishing his sentence, “I guess?” He shrugged and looked to her again.

  “Yeah. Let's go out. Find some firewood, maybe something to eat. Don't go t
oo far.” Mom gave us instructions, and, even though we were all hurt and limping, the group went to work. James would stay back (obviously) and guard what little we had left and the twins, who hid under the tree.

  Clyde and Addeline went towards the left, while Harrison and I went towards the right. Mom said that she’d catch up with one of us in a few minutes.

  Harrison gave off the vibe that he would rather the two groups be in a different combination, but didn't say anything. We were silent as we broke off from the group and disappeared into the trees.

  There was silence in between the two of us, but that didn't reflect the state of the forest. It was alive with both the living and the dead. Shrieks rang out with gunshots in the far distance while leaves rustled and animals called out to one another close by. Birds hopped from branch to branch above me, sending leaves and end of branches down. Something scurried to the right of Harrison, disturbed by our presence.

  I noticed that my hands were red with dried blood and wasn't sure if it was all mine.

  Every minute or so, I would bend down to pick up something, either a few twigs or something that looked like it could be used for kindling. More than fifty percent of the time, whatever I picked up felt damp to the touch, so I just threw it back. All logs and branches that were about firewood-sized proved to give the same problem for Harrison, so I just didn't bother with those.

  Harrison stopped. It was so sudden, that it was a miracle that I didn't run into the back of him, like earlier. His head was turned, like he was listening to something. I turned my head, straining with my good ear to hear whatever he heard.

  At the sound of rushing water, I rushed past Harrison.

  “Oph— no!”

  I think he might have tried to stop me, but, like, water, dude. Like, what if it was clean? What if it was cold?

  I stopped a few feet away from where the tree line ended. Beyond that, rocks prevented the growth of most plants and made up the bank to a small creek, as well as the bottom of the creek itself. Water poured over and around them, big and small, smoothing them out and rounding the stones perfectly.

  I heard Harrison come up behind me, grumbling to himself, most likely about me. I turned my head, and put my arm out to make sure that he knew where I was and stopped.

  I was stupid, no doubt about that, but I wasn't stupid enough to go running out into the open, armed with nothing but a purple softball bat and a limp. Even I have limits.

  After I’d clotheslined him, I went back to scanning the opposite shoreline, across the ten or fifteen feet wide body of water.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked Harrison after at least sixty seconds.

  “No. Do you?”

  I looked behind me, taking my time to make sure that nothing could sneak up on us while we were busy with this.

  “Nope.”

  I waited for him to be the first one to leave the cover of the forest. If he was waiting for me to lead the way, then he was sorely mistaken.

  “Addeline, no.”

  The two southerners came stomping out of the trees, a little ways downriver.

  “Addeline, yes. You're not Pa, Clyde.”

  Clyde groaned in frustration, raking one of his hands down his face. Still, he followed her upriver.

  “Ad—“

  “This is my decision!” She yelled, in spite of, you know, the Apocalypse. “You ca—“

  I, for one, would have been content with just eavesdropping, and pretending that I wasn't there at all, but Harrison took this moment to step out of the shadows. Addeline stopped mid-syllable when she saw him.

  “Hey, Harrison.” She said.

  I guessed that I had no other choice but to also step out into the open. No one acknowledged me, thank god.

  “Ad—“

  “So, have you guys been able to find anything that's not wet?” Addeline interrupted and addressed Harrison like she and her brother weren’t just fighting.

  Clyde pointed his face to the sky, closed his eyes, and slowly, and dramatically, let out a long, deep sigh.

  “No.” Harrison answered, “Everything's soaked to hell.”

  Oh, look. There goes a fish. I wonder if it's happy. Nothing's probably changed for that fish. No virus. No violence. Maybe a bit more pollution, but all in all, that fish probably has a pretty cool life.

  “Same thing for us too. Let's see if we can double back and find something dry.” Addeline said to Harrison, who glanced back at me, but I had nothing to say. I just shrugged and and averted my wide eyes back to the water.

  The two walked back the way that Addeline and Clyde had just come from. I frequently glanced at Clyde, wondering what he was going to do. When they passed him— nothing. When they disappeared into the trees: nothing. When their voices and the sounds of the foliage being disturbed by them were finally out of an earshot— something.

  He swore, and angrily kicked at the stones and water at the edge of the creek. The stones were slippery, and nature did not appreciate the abuse, and so Clyde slipped, and would've fallen if it wasn't for the shovel in his hand.

  I just pressed my lips together and bit down on them, my eyes still wide as I stared at the semi-clear water.

  “Shut up.”

  “I didn't say anything.”

  “You wanted to. Or you were thinking of it.”

  I didn't say anything, just crouched down, and busied myself with rinsing my hands off while Clyde had whatever meltdown he needed to have. I grabbed a small stone, and used it as “soap”.

  It wasn't very effective.

  “So… I was wondering…” I jumped up, not realizing that he had gotten so close. My eyebrows, which were already raised, raised.

  “Maybe… we could talk about…” He set his shovel against the nearest tree, and looked at me, unsure.

  I took a few steps away from him, the loose rocks not being my friend, and raised my eyebrows even more.

  “Maybe… we could… wait? Like, focus on survival and the Apocalypse and stuff until tomorrow?”

  His face fell, and he stepped back.

  “Like…” I continued, struggling for words, “I'd hate for us to be those stupid people in the horror movie that… that took too much focus away from the danger, you know? Just, one more day. All we have to do is make it one more day, and then we'll be safe. Then we can talk.” I was panicked, which resulted in my words coming out rushed and panicky.

  “Yeah. Of course.” He quickly reached over and grabbed his shovel from the tree, “I unders—“

  Clyde was interrupted by shrieks and screams, all of them nearby. The two immediately sprinted towards the sounds.

  “No, no, nononono.” Multiple no’s followed from a familiar, female southern voice.

  It took us about thirty seconds to arrive, but we were twenty-eight seconds too late.

  Both Harrison and Addeline laid on the ground. There was blood. A lot of it. It was on the ground, the trees, the leaves, and both Harrison and Addeline. A Crazy had pinned Addeline down, clawing at her, and leaving scratches on her arms as she screamed and held it back, barely.

  Clyde, still angry from his conversation with his sister earlier, yelled, and charged the infected, shovel raised.

  It was taken care of.

  He crouched next to his sister just as I heard something behind me. I spun, and swung my bat up, only to slip on something, and fall. It skittered across the ground, away from me, and towards my mother, who was emerging from the trees. I saw that the item that’d caused my fall, which Mom was picking up, was Harrison's handgun. I recognized it from when we first met, on the side of that hill in Wisconsin.

  On the ground, I realized that I had landed in a growing pool of blood. Harrison made an awful, strangled noise, and against my best judgement, I looked over to him.

  Most of the blood was his. Large claw marks went from the top of his left shoulder and raked down to the middle of his chest. This was not the problem, as Clyde had a scratch that was similar to the severity of this one.
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  No, the problem was his neck. A large piece of it was missing. Ripped away.

  Bit off.

  He gurgled, struggling for a breath that was never going to come. None of us moved. I, for one, had no idea what to do. Even if the knowledge of what exactly to do was somehow bestowed upon me, I probably wouldn't have been able physically to do it.

  I was shaking, and crying quietly. No one did anything. We didn't even know where to start.

  Addeline was the first one to move. She crawled over, and gently, with hesitation, held his hand in both of hers. I didn’t think he could move his head, but his eyes darted towards hers.

  “We’ll take care of him.” She whispered, barely audible. The only reason I heard was because I was on the ground and closer to her. She was crying twice as much as I was, and with good reason. I didn't really know him. I never had the chance, and if I did, I never took it.

  There was movement in the trees. I was up, blood dripping from my bat, and ready. Not as ready as I should've been, though.

  James burst out of the trees, giant gun in one hand, and a branch doubling as a cane in the other. Upon seeing what no one should ever see, he dropped both.

  He screamed his brother's name, and after that, he just kept screaming. He ran forward, not caring about the stitches in his side. Mom tried to catch him, to hold him back, but he ripped out of her hands.

  “What are you doing?! We have to help him!” His voice cracked as he screamed at us. No one told him to be quiet. No one moved.

  He dropped down next to his brother, and tried to put his hands on his neck, to slow the bleeding, but Addeline stopped him.

  “Don't touch him!” She grabbed his hands at the wrists, and prevented James from touching the wound. It could've been my imagination, but I could've sworn that I saw a glimpse of orange in the pool of red coming out of his neck. Even Harrison, with what little energy he had, reached up and pushed James’s hands away.

  “Please! Help me help him.” His first word was loud, and full of desperation, but by the time he got to his last, his voice, which was slightly above a whisper, squeaked and broke.

  “James…” I forced myself to say.

  He didn't take his eyes away from his brother, and vice versa, as he sobbed, completely breaking down.