by Maira Dawn
“They‘re from the north part of the West Virginia. Moved to the mountains a few years ago for a job. They say they love it up here.”
“I’m sure they do. It’s beautiful.”
Dylan grunted his agreement.
The next house was Dylan‘s friend, Joe, whom Dylan had earlier said he wanted to holler at. Joe appeared at the door before the truck pulled in the driveway, he seemed as alert as Dylan to his surroundings. Dylan had let out a long, low breath on seeing Joe, his lips curving into a slow smile. He threw the vehicle into park and jumped out. It was obvious the two men were close friends, and under normal circumstances, they would never have had an entire front yard separating them. Skye grinned.
Joe was just as tall as Dylan but with a thinner frame, still he was built strong enough it was noticeable as he folded his arms and leaned against the side of his house.
Skye looked around the property. His modest, fixer-upper cabin seemed in the process of renovations. Joe confirmed that when he told Dylan he was taking advantage of the time to get things done. There were several small outbuildings similar to Dylan and Wade’s house. From what Skye could see of Joe and his home, he had the same love of the outdoors as the Coles.
And apparently, a penchant for pretty, dark-haired women. After getting a nod from Dylan, Skye jumped out of the truck and came around to stand beside him.
Dylan didn’t blink an eye when Joe gave a soft whistle and said, "So, who's the good-lookin gal ya got there, D?"
Skye gave Joe a quick smile then looked at the ground and scuffed her foot.
"This is Skye. She got stranded along the road. Wade and me brought her home. Helpin her out for a while is all," Dylan said glancing at Skye.
"Well, that's real nice of ya," Joe drew out, "real nice indeed." Skye took a small step backward hoping the truck would hide her pink face.
"Stop it," Dylan said, "Ya know it ain't like that. There's a boy too."
"Oh, yeah, that changes everything," Joe laughed.
"Stop," Dylan said again, with a low chuckle.
Skye turned to go back to her side of the car. Why do some men have to act like they are fifteen-year-old hormonal messes no matter what their age?
Dylan grabbed her hand. A shock went through her, and she looked at their entwined hands. She warmed to the feel of his rough one against hers.
“Sorry,” Dylan said,” Joe’s not a bad guy, he just likes to tease.”
Skye raised her head, sure that her thoughts were written all over her face. “I can tell.” She uttered a small, nervous laugh.
When Joe changed the subject, Skye was relieved. She stood quietly beside Dylan. When would he let go of her hand? She should pull away, but she didn’t want to.
Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t! You are leaving, going home. Let go. Let go right now.
Dylan gave her hand a light squeeze and let it go without looking at her. Skye folded her fingers over her palm. She could still feel the warmth he’d left there.
This is just a reaction to the chaos around me. I’m grasping for safety. Literally, it seems.
The men’s conversation drifted to her, and Skye joined in. “How are things going in Colton? I left there a couple of days ago as the Infected were coming through.”
“Wow,” Joe said, “that must have been crazy.”
“It was.”
Joe shifted to lean against the doorjamb of his house. "Well, I talked to my granddad yesterday. Some people did get sick from them infected, but most got away, so that is something. The infected haven't been back through again. Heard the sheriff and his men ran 'em off."
"Tom Jackson? He's my cousin," Skye said.
"Tom Jackson is your cousin?" Joe asked. Surprise covered his face. He stared at Dylan. "You know that?"
Dylan gave a slight nod.
Joe let out a low whistle. "Well, the plot do thicken, don't it, D?"
Dylan looked out at the trees instead of responding.
Joe raised an eyebrow and turned to Skye. "Yes ma'am, that's the very one. Heard he did a real good job of shooing them outta there."
Skye remembered the first time Tom had been brought up with the Coles. What went on between Tom and them?
Dylan wrapped up the visit though he clearly dreaded doing it. Skye offered her phone number to Joe so he could call Dylan if he needed.
Once the truck was on the road again, Skye glanced at Dylan and asked, "So what happened between you and--"
Dylan stopped her. "Don't ask," he warned.
"But Dylan—“ she started again.
"Don't ask," he said. "You said you didn't need to know, so just drop it."
Skye shot him a sidelong glance. The muscle in his jaw twitched more than once. He was being as patient as he could.
She put a hand on his forearm. “Okay, sorry. I’m just too curious, but it’s between you and Tom.”
Dylan nodded. “Thanks.”
Skye turned to watch the landscape as it blurred by and tried to ignore her imagination as it filled in the blanks.
I’m aching to know what this is about. But, I won’t push for his secrets when I have my own I don't want to share.
Nine
Need Something
Dylan changed the subject from secrets to the task at hand and informed Skye they had one more stop up yonder. "We have to get out and walk in there,” he said. “It's just an old man and woman. Last time I was there, they worried they were gettin sick. They might need somethin."
It was heartwarming this rough guy cared so much about others he made these neighborly trips. If someone had ever accused Dylan of caring for people, Skye was sure he would deny it up, down, and sideways. But he did.
Dylan stopped the truck near a small path alongside the road and began his detailed instructions on what to do or not to do in case of trouble.
Skye agreed to everything, nodding and repeating whatever instruction he felt necessary.
He ended with, "No matter what else, listen to me if something comes up. Things can happen quick."
That I believe, but since we have seen no sick other than Debbie, who had passed away beside the tree, it shouldn't be an issue.
Dylan gave her a hard stare. Skye smiled back at him.
“I hope,” he said, “you’re takin this serious.”
“I am!”
Dylan waved her out of the truck, and they began their hike to the house.
Finally, that was longer than cruise ship safety procedures. I'm surprised we didn't have a drill. Skye chuckled to herself.
The beauty of the area captured her attention. Rays of sunlight shone through the tall trees lighting up little pockets of greenery below. A creek bubbled somewhere to the right but try as she might Skye couldn't see it. Two chipmunks scurried across Dylan and Skye's path as they chased after each other.
Every so often, Dylan paused and held up his hand for Skye to stop. They'd stand quietly as he examined the trees until he said it was safe to move on.
And I hear nothing except what is right in front of me. He must have amazing hearing.
A small flock of silent birds landed in the canopy above their heads, and Skye looked up and let her gaze follow them. Too late, she saw Dylan stopped in front of her.
Skye’s foot twisted as she stumbled over a small log and slammed into the back of Dylan.
Dylan turned and grabbed her upper arms to stop her from falling.
"You okay?" He whispered.
"Yes, I tripped over this piece of wood." Skye tapped the log with her foot.
"Your ankle okay?" Dylan crouched down and slid his fingers around it.
His hands felt warm and solid as he ran them along her foot and ankle. "I'm fine, I am. I should have been looking at the ground instead of the birds."
Which is what I’m sure I promised in the truck during the 101 Things Dylan Wants You To Do If You Dare To Travel In The Woods With Him List. Now I have already failed.
Skye squirmed under his hard gaze. Dylan’s eyebrow rose. �
��You were lookin at the birds?”
Skye looked at the patchy, thin bit of grass beneath her feet. I’m sure that wasn’t the first rule I broke. She imagined his wince every time a twig snapped beneath her shoes.
After his reminder to keep her eyes on the path and several other things she wasn't doing right, they continued on. This time she would do better.
Skye kept her gaze glued to his back or the trail at all times. Not even the cutest grey squirrel scurrying up a tree beside her could take her eyes from Dylan.
Soon, they arrived at the edge of a small, colorful glen with a cozy, old-fashioned log cabin in the middle. A little wood barn sat to the right of the house with a cow and a few chickens peacefully gazing beside it.
Dylan crouched down and indicated that Skye should too. She studied the home along with him but saw little else.
Skye glanced at Dylan and followed his gaze. Nothing. She looked at him again. He looked worried.
She tapped his arm. When he looked at her, she mouthed, “What?”
“They ain’t here,” Dylan whispered.
“How do you know?”
He pointed to the windows. “No lights. Even during the day, old people leave lights on.”
His finger moved to the door. “The door is shut tight, which is odd for them.”
Then to a fallen branch across the walkway. “They wouldn’t leave that be for ten minutes let alone for long enough for the leaves to be dyin.”
Dylan tipped his head to the barn and the animals surrounding it. “The barn doors are open so the animals can get more food.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Only if you’re not going to be around, animals have feeding times. Also, the gates are open. They don’t want them trapped in there.” Dylan whirled his hand around them. “And it’s quiet. Mostly.”
Skye listened. Besides the occasional creak or wind in the trees, Skye heard nothing.
Dylan continued to study the area.
You can't say he isn't thorough. Something he said— “Mostly?”
“There’s somethin.” Dylan put a finger to his lips.
A sliver of unease slide through Skye, but Dylan didn’t seem worried, only cautious.
Something small tickled Skye's neck. It seemed insignificant, but what if it moved down her shirt? She didn't remember bugs being covered in her instructions from Dylan. It stopped crawling, and she waited.
It moved again. No. Stop. Just fly away or whatever! You will get me into trouble.
It continued deeper under Skye's collar. Oh, my goodness, how big is this thing! Okay, what are my options? I’m quite sure I can’t slap anything, but can I brush or flick? That may have been in the small print.
The bug wiggled again. Before she could stop herself, her hand jerked to sweep it off. Skye caught herself and slowed.
Dylan's head whipped around. Skye sagged and closed her eyes, preparing herself for another talking to. Busted! I thought I was so quiet too!
Skye opened her eyes. Dylan wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her.
Skye turned to search the woods behind her. I don’t hear anything.
Dylan tapped her shoulder and put his finger to his mouth.
He does. Skye nodded and watched him scan the area to her left.
Dylan’s eyes darted to a new area. He peered earnestly in that direction, then to a third spot on their right.
A bead of sweat formed and rolled down the side of Dylan's taut face, sliding over a pulse in his jaw. His hand gripped his bow, his body tight. Skye’s unease grew as the tension radiated off him.
His eyes bore into the forest, searching for the answers he sought.
Dylan’s gaze returned to Skye, and he signed that there were two Infected on their left and one, maybe two, on their right.
Skye’s heart stopped, and her eyes widened. One would have been bad enough. One they could handle.
Her stomach lurched, and the blood rushed from her face as Dylan eyed her. He laid a gentle hand on her arm before signing that together they would slip back to the truck.
Lastly, he pointed a finger at her, then his ear, then him. She needed to listen to him.
Dylan need not have worried. Following his orders was her only purpose now.
Ten
I Don’t Want To
With caution, Dylan rose and took a step. He looked back at Skye and indicated she should place her foot exactly where he did and keep herself low to the ground.
Dylan noticed Skye's lack of weaponry and scolded himself for not giving her at least a knife. It hadn't occurred to him she would need one. Though he'd ran into a lone Sick person occasionally, he had never come up on them in packs.
Dylan glanced back at Skye, making sure she was keeping up.
Her face was so pale. If she passed out, he wasn't certain how he would get them out of this. Hopefully, these were all Sick ones, not Infected.
The Sick would be easier to escape with their stiff limbs and awkward gait. The Infected were able outrun Dylan if he needed to carry Skye.
Skye was careful, painstakingly so. She imitated Dylan's every move to the smallest detail. As the Infected came closer, Skye caught what Dylan had already heard.
A snap of a twig here, a stir of a tree branch there.
It spurred her on. She wanted out of here, safe in the truck and headed to the cabin.
She flinched at their slight noises, and tried to control her breathing, but her gasps wouldn't be controlled. Air struggled to burst out of her lungs. Instead of sustaining Skye, it seemed to suffocate her.
Other than the noise of the Sick, the woods were quiet now. Even though the small creatures were not in any danger from the infected, it was as if they were aware something deadly walked among them. They huddled, silent.
Skye's desire to flee combined with her dread and lack of air caused her feet to tangle. She stumbled. Once, then twice, falling against Dylan.
He looked back and saw the naked fear in her wide-eyed gaze.
Taking her hand, he brought it to his waist and curled her fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt to help steady her. He tapped her hand a couple times with his fingers, telling her to keep it there. She nodded.
Skye‘s fist lay against Dylan’s side. His ragged breaths raised and lowered his stomach, straining his tight muscles as the tension flowed through his body.
Another snap grabbed their attention. A shuffling sound. The Sick were being less quiet now, becoming confident.
Dylan stilled and listened for a moment. One hand rested on his knife, and the other held his crossbow.
Dylan started their careful trek again, picking up their pace. Skye wasn't sure if the Sick knew they were here or not, but it seemed Dylan thought they did. A few more quiet steps, then more stirring from the Sick again.
Skye swung her head to a rustling of branches to her left. Are they searching for us? The Sick wouldn’t do that. They’d attack us if they ran into us, but actively hunt us, no. She shuddered. These ones are aware.
Sweat trickled down Skye’s body. Her trembling hands clutched Dylan's shirt harder as if it would to be the source of her salvation.
Dylan gave his head a little shake as if refusing to acknowledge this was happening. Scowling, he turned back to Skye. His palm laid against the side of her face and neck as he pulled her ear to his mouth so he could whisper as quietly as possible. "Be ready. I think they are comin for us."
It was Skye's turn to deny the situation. She groaned and shook her head as well as she could between Dylan’s head and the hand he had firmly planted on her cheek.
He said, “When I say run, you run for the truck like hell-fire and brimstone is chasin ya. If anyone comes after you, go to the paved road. If I'm not there in five minutes, drive for the cabin.” He pulled back and stared at her.
Skye scowled and mouthed, "No, no, no!" Is he crazy? I'm not just leaving him here!
He stopped her midway through the third "no" by tightening his grip
and bringing her ear close to his lips again.
Skye’s fear made her senses more acute. She felt the outline of his every finger against her cheek and jaw, his other hand gripped her arm, her hair stirred from his breath as he spoke.
“Yes! You listen, ya hear? If you have to go, I'll make my way back to the cabin. We're not that far away.” He drew back again and stared into her eyes. “You go.”
Sadness covered her face as she mouthed, "No, I don't want to."
Dylan’s hands became gentle on her even as he tugged her tighter. "It'll be okay,” he whispered close against Skye’s ear. “You need to get back to Wade and the boy to tell them about these Sick. They're closer to the cabin than we'd like. We gotta keep them safe," Dylan drew back just enough he could scan her face.
Skye searched Dylan’s face from his hairline to his hard jaw, then settled on his dark-blue eyes. His gaze didn’t leave her, and she returned it. Tears welled up and spilled when she looked down. Skye wiped them away and pulled in a deep breath, giving him a determined nod.
Relief showed in Dylan’s gaze. “We will go on together until we can’t anymore. Get ready to run.”
Pain had long since settled in from the awkward, slow crouch Skye had been forced into, but she was quick to forget about it every time there was a noise from their pursuers.
For every step that Dylan and Skye took, it seemed those chasing them took two, continuing to get closer with each passing moment.
Skye shuddered when their whispering and muttering grew louder. Whether they whispered to one another, or each was lost in themselves, Skye didn't know. She didn't want to be close enough to find out.
Eleven
Run
One thing Skye did know, these were not the gentle fall to sleep Sick. These were hostile, confrontational ones.
She trembled with realization. AgFlu. Aggressive Flu. I thought that stupid nickname had only meant that the flu was a fast advancing disease. What it means, what they've been trying to tell us, is that the people become aggressive. It was right there in that stupid name all along.