Something catches my attention through the trees to the north. Meredith notices. "What is it?" she asks.
"Is that a house? Or just an outbuilding? I can't tell."
She comes closer so she can follow the path I've outlined with my finger. She smells nice. Not like perfume or deodorant; not the way girls used to smell before the world ended. No, this is a Meredith smell, and it reminds me of lavender and chocolate...and of simpler times when kissing a woman was something to look forward to rather than fear. I breathe in, allowing her smell to relax me...letting it remind me I'm still alive even if I'm living in a present very different from the past.
A moment later, she says, "Well, it looks like a house to me. Let's go check it out." And just like that, the spell is broken.
I wonder if she realizes I could have stood like that for hours, breathing her in? I shake my head to clear my thoughts. She starts walking, leaving me standing there like an idiot. When I don't immediately follow, she turns around and raises an eyebrow. "Coming?" she asks.
I swear, this woman may be the death of me before it's all over.
"Just taking a rest. Sorry," I say, closing the distance between us.
We continue walking toward the structure, going deeper into the woods, until we break through the trees to find a mid-sized brick home in a tiny clearing. It looks like a nice place, although it's hard to tell much about houses from the outside these days since no one has been worried about landscaping for months. The grass is high, and clusters of dandelions sway gently in the afternoon breeze. There are no vehicles under the detached carport, but there is a black motorcycle propped against the side of the house.
Meredith asks what I'm thinking. "You think it belongs to someone in the house, or was it left behind?"
"Hard to say."
"Well, I'm going to the door. I don't want to break a window if someone might be sitting in there with a gun."
I reach out to stop her, but she's already mounting the steps of the porch two at a time. She reaches out and knocks on the door. There's no answer. She knocks a second time, and calls out, "Hello? Anyone in there?"
Silence.
She knocks once more, louder this time. "Hello? We have a sick woman who needs shelter. If you're in there, please let us know."
I try the doorknob. It's unlocked. "What are the chances they didn't bother locking the door when they evacuated?" I ask.
"Better than someone sitting inside with it unlocked, I guess. We'll find out soon enough if anyone's home. Open it."
I ease the door open, bracing myself for an attack. Nothing happens. The open door reveals a small foyer. An old, wooden table sits against the left wall, with a mirror hanging just above it. A clay vase rests on top of the table, sporting a colorful bouquet of pink and teal silk flowers.
Meredith shuts the door softly, and says, "Nice and homey, anyway."
"Yeah. If it's empty, it'll be even nicer."
We quickly check each room, making sure there are no hidden surprises, but the house is empty. After we check the last bedroom, my heart rate finally begins to slow. We head back toward the living room.
"Lucky again," Meredith says.
I remove my backpack and lay it on the floor, against the wall. I don't respond to her comment; it feels foolish to brag about being lucky. Call me superstitious, but I worry if we grow cavalier, our luck will run out. Then what?
I look at her. "I don't know about luck, but at least we don't have to fight for a place to sleep tonight. Let's go get the others."
* * *
Chloe
I'm relieved when I see Daniel stepping out of the woods.
Finally.
I glance at the woman; her eyelids flutter softly, as if lost in a deep dream. I briefly wonder what she's dreaming about, and whether it's happy or sad. Although, considering her furrowed brow, it's most likely a nightmare. I sigh. There's not much happiness left to fill dreams with these days. There's only death and walking, and loving strangers enough to stand guard over them while they sleep.
"Where's Meredith?" I ask as he draws nearer.
"She stayed behind to make sure the empty house we found stays empty."
"I'm glad you're back."
Daniel crouches down beside me. "I'm sorry I left you."
I look at my brother; his pale cheeks are flushed and a pronounced guilt dulls his blue eyes. I know why he left me behind, and I guess I can't fault him for it...the heart wants what it wants. I give him a quick sideways hug. "No worries, okay?"
He takes a deep breath and nods. "Help me sit her up."
I pull myself up onto my knees, then reach for the woman's arms. Gently, I pull her toward me while Daniel squats beside her. Once she's sitting upright, Kelli and I help Daniel hoist her over his shoulder, so he's carrying her like a sack of potatoes.
Once standing, he grunts. "At least she's about your size. I don't think I could do this if she were any heavier."
One hour and five stops to rest later, we're standing in front of our new home for the night. Daniel is drenched in his own sweat, nearly to the point of fainting himself. His face is flushed and the skin around his lips and eyes are a pale white.
When Meredith sees him, a look of alarm flashes in her eyes. "Here," she says to him, reaching for the woman. "Hand her to Chloe and me. You need to lie down, immediately."
Her tone scares me. I look at Daniel, then back at her. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Yes, but he needs water and rest. Sooner rather than later." She pulls the woman from Daniel's shoulders, and together we half-carry-half-drag the woman into the house. Daniel teeters on the porch then collapses, too exhausted to walk into the house.
I turn, ready to drop the woman to go help my brother.
"Focus, Chloe," Meredith instructs. "I'll go back for Daniel in a minute. I need you to help me get her to a bedroom."
Reluctantly, I do as she asks. We inch our way to the first bedroom and lay the woman across the bed. Meredith turns to leave. "Keep an eye on her and make sure you wet her lips with a washcloth every few minutes," she says, handing me a wet rag.
"Where are you getting the water from?"
"Canteen," she says, then turns and leaves me alone with my patient while she goes to check on Daniel. I feel a tug of jealousy in my chest. It should be me out there, making sure Daniel is okay. I'm his family...his blood. But I can't deny that Meredith seems more knowledgeable and capable in this situation than I do. Which is strange, considering she was a waitress before we met her, but before I can think about it any further, the woman opens her eyes.
"Oh, hello," I say. I hold up the wet rag so she can see it. "I'm going to wet your lips with this, okay?"
She nods, but doesn't take her dark brown eyes off my hand as I lift the rag to her lips. I begin making conversation to put her at ease. I don't know why, but I feel like that's something a nurse would do to calm a nervous patient. I dab the cloth across her lips. "My name is Chloe. We found you wandering through town." Dab. Dab. Dab. "We think you're dehydrated." Dab. Dab. "But don't worry. You're safe with us. Okay?"
She nods again.
After a few minutes, I hold up my water bottle. "Do you feel like you could drink some of this?"
Another nod.
"Okay, take it slow," I say, holding a cup of water to the woman's mouth.
She chokes as she tries to swallow the liquid. I'm not sure how long it's been since her last drink, but if I had to guess, I would say at least a day, maybe more.
"Don't try to drink too much, too fast," Meredith cautions.
I jump, startled. "Gah! Do you always just pop up out of nowhere?"
Ignoring me, she leans down and touches the woman's forehead. "How long has it been since you drank anything?" she asks.
The woman shrugs.
Meredith reaches for the woman's hand and pinches a bit of skin between her fingers.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"See the way the skin stays raised when I pinch
it? She's dehydrated. But we already knew that, didn’t we?" she asks, patting the woman's hand. "Only small sips for a while, okay? Keep using the rag to wet her lips when she's resting," she adds, looking directly at me.
"How do you know so much about dehydration?"
She tenses briefly, then relaxes. "Oh, I took a first-aid course at the local community college one time." She shrugs. "Guess some of it stuck with me."
"Lucky for us."
"Yep. Lucky," she says, then leaves the room before I have a chance to say anything else.
I look back at the woman. She's asleep, snoring softly. I don't know as much about dehydration as Meredith does, but evidently it makes you tired enough to sleep while two strangers discuss the best way to care for your precarious condition.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chloe
The next morning I wake with a start. I sit up, massaging my lower back with my hand. Sleeping on the floor probably wasn't the best idea, but it was my only option if I wanted to stay close to my patient. Speaking of which, I turn to check on the woman. She's awake; her wide, brown eyes are staring back at me from the edge of the bed, confused.
"Wh...who...?"
I stand up and grab a cup of water from the night stand. "Shh. It's okay. Don't try to talk too much. Here, take a drink of this."
She watches me for a moment as if trying to detect trouble; sensing none, she takes a tentative sip from the cup.
I wait until she swallows before I ask, "What's your name?"
Her voice cracks when she answers, but I'm able to make out a soft "Alena" before she grows quiet again. She has a slight accent, as I suspected she might.
I smile and offer her another drink. "Nice to meet you, Alena. My name is Chloe. We found you yesterday afternoon."
She blinks a few times, but says nothing.
"Do you remember anything from yesterday?" I ask.
She shakes her head and looks around the room. I follow her gaze, realizing I haven't taken the time to look at the room I slept in last night. We're in a small bedroom. From what I can tell, it probably belonged to a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. Alena is laying on a white and yellow canopy bed, resting under sheets that were already rumpled when we moved in to the house yesterday. Stuffed animals are scattered across the floor, forgotten as soon as the dead came back to life.
I look back at Alena, and say, "Don't be afraid. We're safe here. We won't leave until you get your strength back."
"Where will we go...when...we leave?" she asks slowly.
"The plan is Asheville, but I guess it depends on what happens between here and there."
She closes her eyes. "Asheville? Why?"
"My parents are there....or, were...." I look down at my hands. "I don't know anymore."
"What if...you can't find them once you get there?"
I don't want to answer that question, so I just lift the cup back to her mouth. "Here, take another drink. There'll be plenty of time for talking later."
I slip into my own thoughts while she sips the water. Truthfully, I have serious doubts that Daniel and I will be able to find our parents once we get to Asheville. There's no guarantee we'll even make it to Asheville. It's a long shot....and that's being optimistic, but I guess it just feels good to have a destination...something to work toward. Anything is better than sitting around waiting to be killed or eaten.
Daniel sticks his head into the room, and asks, "How's our patient?"
Alena stops drinking, and stares at Daniel. I motion toward him. "Alena, this is my brother, Daniel. Daniel, meet Alena."
"Oh, she's awake," he says, stepping into the room. "How do you feel?" he asks, addressing Alena directly.
She thinks a moment before responding. "I feel better, thank you."
"No problem," Daniel says, then looks at me. "Meredith and Kelli are rationing out the food that was in the house, but there's not much. Do you think we'll be able to get back on the road soon?"
I look at Alena, trying to assess her condition, fully aware that I have no medical expertise to base it on. "I think she needs at least one more day of rest. Let's plan to leave out at first light tomorrow."
"Sounds like a plan."
After he leaves the room, I turn my attention back to Alena. "I want you to stay in bed as much as possible today and through the night. You need to be as strong as possible when we leave, okay?"
She nods, and I leave the room to get another cup of water...and to check on the rest of the family.
* * *
Daniel
I walk into the small kitchen. It's one of those 80's-style kitchens, with the dark-brown cabinet doors and bronze handles. Meredith peeks around the open pantry door when she hears me. "How is she?" she asks.
"Awake." I nod toward the pantry. "How's it looking?"
She sighs. "There's not much. Some old cans of corn, beans, spaghetti sauce. Everything else has been cleared out."
"Guess it's beans for supper again tonight."
"Beans again?"
I turn to find Chloe standing behind me, a scowl smeared across her pale face. She's doing that thing again...complaining about things she knows we can't control. I think it's a way for her to feel like she has some control over things happening in her life, but it's out of character. She was never like this before....even when things weren't going great. I'm not sure she even realizes she's doing it, so I try to ignore it.
"It's beans or nothing, sis," I say with a smile.
She rolls her eyes. "Wonderful," she says, and stalks out of the kitchen.
Once she's out of earshot, Meredith says, "I think Chloe is depressed."
I snort. "Show me someone who isn't."
She stops taking cans out of the pantry and looks at me. "No. I'm serious. She wasn't always like this, right?"
"No, she wasn't," I concede.
"I didn't think so."
"Suggestions, then?"
She turns back to the pantry. "We need to find a permanent place to stay. She needs a sense of normalcy."
I laugh. "Normal? In the middle of the Apocalypse?"
"You'd be surprised at how much stability can mean to someone," she says, ignoring my comment. "It can mean everything."
I stand there a moment longer, thinking about what she said. It makes sense...I can't argue that...but, we've committed to going to Asheville to find our parents. It feels wrong to give up on them. I just never thought it would take us so long to get there. Especially walking....and most of it through dense woods and large pastures. What if this fool's errand is hurting my sister, without any real guarantee it could help my parents?
I look back at Meredith, and say, "I just thought of my next question."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"What did you do for a job before the world ended? Therapist? Social Worker? Nurse? And don't tell me waitress, because I know that's not true."
She laughs, then shakes her head. "You're right, I wasn't a waitress. But I wasn't a therapist, either."
"Well, what then?"
"Hair stylist."
I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"
She shrugs and turns back to the pantry.
"Then how do you know so much about depression and dehydration?"
"One question a day, friend," she says without turning around.
* * *
Chloe
"How are you feeling?"
Alena turns to look at me. She wets her lips before answering, then says, "Better. Still tired...thirsty, but better."
I hand her a fresh cup of water. "Here, I brought you some more water. Thank goodness for well-water, right?"
She smiles and takes the cup. "Being out in the boondocks is good for something, anyway."
She lifts the cup to her mouth. Her hands tremble, and some of the water spills out onto the carpet.
"Here, let me help you."
I take the cup from her and help her drink. After she swallows, she lays back onto the bed and closes her eyes
again. She's still very weak. I'm starting to think one day of rest won't be nearly enough. I doubt she'll be in any condition to walk tomorrow, either.
Eyes still closed she asks, "Where are you from?"
"Everly."
"Everly," she repeats. I start to think she's fallen back asleep when she says, "I used to live in Everly. Before I moved here."
"Oh yeah?" I say, surprised. "Why did you move?"
"Got a new job. New boyfriend." She smiles to herself. "It all seems so long ago now."
"How long ago did you move here?"
She thinks for a minute. "Maybe fifteen years ago. Got married not long after." She laughs. "Got divorced in less time than it took to get hitched."
"Sometimes only the ring lasts forever, right?" I say, smiling.
"I guess so."
I sit down beside her. "So, fifteen years, huh? You must know your way around pretty good, then?"
She nods.
"Where were you heading when we found you?"
"I was looking for something I lost."
"Your house?"
"How do you lose a house?" she asks, looking at me like I'm an idiot.
"Well, you know....you were dehydrated. You seemed disoriented. I thought maybe you got lost."
"No, I know exactly where I live, and where I'm at now," she says softly. "And, by the way, the family who lived here before was notorious for having the cops called on them."
"Really? Why?"
"Domestic disputes, usually," she answers. "Sometimes drunk and disorderly."
"How do you know that?" I ask, intrigued.
She smiles. "My boyfriend was a cop. Man, he had some wild stories about this place," she says, looking around the room. "I used to try and picture it in my mind. It's weird actually being inside."
"It seems pretty peaceful now."
"Yes, everything seems peaceful when everyone is either dead or hiding," she says, sadly.
She takes another sip of water.
"What happened to him?" I ask.
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