Humanity Gone: Facade of Order (4 page)

             
I shut the door and look again into her brown eyes.

             
“I really missed you Paige.”

Chapter 4: Walter

              I keep it together the best I can, but sometimes, I'm afraid I will snap again. I've manage to suppress the yearnings and the voices, but they still bubble up sometimes. Right after the plague, I was barely able to keep myself under control. There was so much chaos. So much death. It all seemed to feed the part of my brain that had been trying to tear itself to the surface in the years before.

             
Now, it is mostly under control. I have her to thank.

             
Caitlyn is my rock in all of this by helping me keep my sanity; although I don't think she knows how much I need her. Withdrawal from the years of drugs my parents fed me was impossible to deal with after the plague, and then when the men in helicopters came I truly broke.

             
The child.

             
The execution.

             
It was too much. It took a week alone in the woods to bring myself around to what I considered “sanity.” I then returned and buried Caleb and Juliet's baby in the woods under a growing elm. I finally felt remorse as I dug their graves with my bare hands. I had wronged them all in our journey to the UN Station and should have tried to help them as those men took them away. It wasn't their fault. They didn't deserve that...

             
Yes they did; they should have been smart like you.

             
No.

             
I shake my head a bit and focus on the moment - on her. Caitlyn and I spent the whole morning investigating the new outpost that I had found. It seems penetrable if we wait for the precise moment. Not many people tried to get
into
these places. The building is an old fast food joint. The roof is a dark brown and a faded yellow and red paint job ran along the walls. Over many of the windows are pieces of plywood. There are plenty of guards, but we count only four guards in the past hour who actually walk around the building's rear. Several fool around on the trucks parked in the front. They may be dressed like soldiers, but few actually acted the part. I imagine Cait will take out a few in the rear with her arrows and that should give us a brief window to get inside and investigate. In and out is always the best protocol. Too bad there isn't a few more for her to put arrows through. Oh well.

             
The compassion I found in her did not extend to these men who I blamed for nearly everything.

             
“Walt, come on focus,” Cait whispers to me. We are both crouched behind a car in the parking lot adjacent to the outpost.  The cracks in the asphalt gave way to giant weeds as tall as us. This greenery provides a little cover as we make our way towards the new outpost. The tall windows around the restaurant provide a pretty good view of the valley and some other main roads in the area. If it wasn't for the weeds that had grown unchecked for five years, we never could get so close without them seeing us. Thank you, Mother Nature. At most of the outposts they were smart enough to burn it all down. This must have been new or they were just plain stupid. Most of these men are the same age as me, so they could not be too well trained. I turn to Cait.

             
“Okay, so if we go around to the kitchen door in the back by the drive-thru, I think we could sneak in. Like the last five hundred places we have searched, I doubt your sister is there, but maybe they will know where they took her. Maybe we can take another one of them hostage.” I feel the corner of my mouth point upward.

             
I enjoy a little enhanced interrogation.

             
My insides unexpectedly twist. Maybe it is because of my violent thought; maybe it is because I know how dangerous these excursions are. Despite all the miss-firings in my brain, I know how crazy finding anything about her sister is. Sara was taken over five years ago. What are the chances they even have a record? Cait still thinks she can find her, but I am pretty convinced that Sara is either dead or has moved on and is far away. However, I'm not even crazy enough to say that to Caitlyn. I may be bigger, but she wouldn't hesitate to cut off my head.

             
“Yea. Maybe we can take one of them alive like last time, or maybe one of them has some record of the workers,” Cait says, nearly repeating my same words. In a few of the outposts, we did come across incomplete documents of the movement of prisoners and workers across the territory from the past several years. One thing these men seem to be fairly competent in is paperwork. They knew the values of the workers and couldn't afford to lose many of them.

             
“Cait, have you ever given any thought to what these outposts are for?” These new posts kept popping up all over, and I really am not sure what they are up to.

             
“What do you mean?”

             
“Well, what’s the point of having all these posts with the military at them?”

             
“I don't know, Walter. I'm not one of them. Focus.”

             
“I am focused,” I say back with some agitation.

             
We move slowly to the rear of the old restaurant while keeping a safe distance from the patrolling soldiers. As we move along the high grass and weeds, I count exactly ten guards stationed all over. A pair is talking in a Jeep and a few others seem to be preoccupied with a card game on one of the wooden picnic tables in the front. Only a few on the roof seem to be paying any attention. I can't say I really blame them too much. Even if they saw us, are two scrawny seventeen year old kids really that threatening? I look over and see Cait holding her bow with an arrow at the ready.

             
Yea, I guess they should be worried.

             
We slowly move up the jungle parking lot and plant our backs against a dumpster close to the back door of the restaurant. I reach into my belt and pull out three knives and grip the handles between the fingers in my hands. Before Cait, I spent hours working on throwing knives – it is a skill that I am still trying to master. They were all I had managed to find when I found myself alone in the beginning. I became good enough that I could even take out a variety of animals from yards away.  Being hungry accelerates learning. We found a few guns in our ventures, but we always chose stealth. I kept a few pistols in my backpack, but they will stay there this time. It needs to be quiet.

             
Shhh.

             
Not too far from us there are two soldiers. One is smoking and the other one is looking at an old drive-thru sign. He seems focused on the old dollar selection of the menu. All the other soldiers are around the front of the building and the ones on the roof leave my field of vision. Just these two. Caitlyn and I return our backs against the dumpster and look at each other. We both nod and stand up.

             
I throw my first knife towards the man at the sign and Cait launches an arrow towards the smoker. My knife plunges into the neck of the military man and blood splashes all over the dollar menu sign. At the same time an arrow pierces the neck of the man beside him. I think he tries to scream, but all I hear is a slight gurgle of blood as I pull the knife out of my victim and Cait pries the arrow out of hers. She re-notches the bloodied arrow and goes beside the door. My eyes look her up and down briefly. She really is good at what she did. Not as good as me though.

             
No.

             
She is better than me. And maybe it was for that reason that she meant so much to me. I think I love her. I just never thought that would happen. I just know I could spend the rest of my life running through the woods with her. I always am excited for winter because that means I get to spend nearly every day with her. It's something I want to talk to her about. Maybe after this is all done.

             
I run up to the back door beside her. It is propped open by a gray cinder block along the ground. Cait pulls the metal door slightly open from the side and I peer into the dark kitchen. A musty smell greets my nose.

             
From the little bit of light that illuminates the dark room, it looks empty.

             
I move inside against a tile wall and Cait follows me. She gently closes the door behind us, and the room darkens again. We creep through the remains of a kitchen while moving behind steel commercial kitchen appliances. The little light that helps us comes from the windows in the front of the restaurant. I crouch behind the row of stoves and move closer to the edge. Each foot steps carefully and silently. I peak around the corner and see one of the guards with his back towards us. He sits about ten feet in front of me on the ledge of the counter with his arm propped up on the cash register beside him. His uniform is a little bit different than the rest. It isn't so generic. I assume that he is the one in charge. Perhaps we could try to take him alive. There isn't anyone else and maybe we can just grab him and quickly drag him out. He didn't seem to be paying the kitchen behind him any attention. If anyone here knew where we could get the information we wanted, he would be it.

             
“I think we are okay,” I whisper as Caitlyn moves up right behind me. My ear barely picks up the sound of her breathing. I peek around the corner of the stove and step towards the middle of the kitchen.

             
I look up.

             
The soldier is now joined by a few others, but they are all facing me.

             
They look right at me as their guns take aim.             

             
My mouth opens to yell to Cait who is still behind the stove, but there is not enough time.

             
I see the flashes of their guns. I never hear the shots.

Chapter 5: Caitlyn

            
 
Walt's body slumps to the floor in front of me. Continuous bursts of light illuminate the tile wall covered with dark red blood and pieces of his...

             
I feel vomit in my mouth, but their gunfire quickly suppresses it to my stomach. The taste in my mouth and the thunder of the gunshots makes me dizzy. I support my body against the side of the stove that also was keeping me safe from their bullets.

             
“Walter...” stumbles from my quivering lips. There was nothing I could do. The shots continue all around me and ricochet off the stainless steel ovens and porcelain walls. I take a final look at his remains as the muzzle flashes continually light up his body lying on the tiled floor. The back of his head rests against the concrete.  His eyes are still wide open, and above his nose is a savage hole where the bullet entered. In his fist that fell stretched out towards me, he clutches a knife. With little effort, I pry it from his dead fingers and slide the blade into my boot. As the gunshots continue, I pull myself to my feet and crouch backwards as pieces of tile continue to fly off the wall and bounce off my face and lodge in my hair. This isn't a fight I can win. Retreating back towards the exit is my only way to freedom. Luckily, there is nothing blocking it except for the dust building from the shattering tile.

             
I back out of the kitchen and then stand up to make a break for the door. Gunfire still echoes throughout the restaurant. My feet push against the floor until I slam my body into the exit door and it flies open. Please don't be waiting for me...

             
When the daylight blinds my vision, I slam the kitchen door behind me and sprint for the grass and weeds. My vision focuses in the bright sun as I escape from the asphalt and leaves and bushes begin to slap against my face and ankles. The gunfire ceases as I continue to run through the woods. Perhaps they are now running after me.

             
I won't let them catch me.

             
After what felt like hours of running, I dive behind a large maple tree. Every muscle in my body aches, and I can feel hot sweat gathering on my face and neck. On instinct, I grab the lowest branch of the tree and climb up it as fast as my arms allow. When I reach a few dozen feet up, the restaurant is no longer in view, but I hear the roar of the Jeep and a few random gun shots. I place my bow in my lap and set the arrow on top of it at the ready.

             
A tree-house flickers in my mind for a moment.

             
I should be safe amongst all the green leaves. It would be hard to see me up here. My breathing is heavy and erratic as I try to calm down but find little success. A few strands of hair have fallen in front of my face and I tuck them behind my ear. A few pieces of tile fall out of my hair as well.

             
I look out over the woods with my back against the trunk and my right leg up on the branch as the other hangs. It soon is silent except for a few birds chirping into the mild breeze coming in from the west. So many years I have been running through the woods. It has never felt like this. Walt's dead face flashes in front of me, and my body shudders. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lies in a pool of his blood. I lift my hand to wipe tears away, but there are none that come out. When I withdraw my hand, my fingertips are red. Immediately, I wipe again with the back of my hand – more red. In a near panic I grip my sleeve with my right hand and violently rub my entire face with it. It takes a moment to realize that it isn't my blood. Then I wipe the blood off my face even harder.

             
Walt was the only thing I had in the world, and he is gone. He's dead, and the only thought that remains is how much harder it will be to find my sister. Am I really this selfish?

             
Feel something. Feel anything damn it.

             
I punch with my left fist into the bark of the branch below me. Some blood oozes from a new cut on my knuckle, but the pain doesn't help. I slam the back of my head against the tree trunk behind me.

             
Feel human. Please.

             
I pound my skull a few more times, but nothing. I feel nothing. My mind clears, and I slowly calm down. I wrap my fist in my shirt at the waist. It's already red and has hidden the addition of blood many times before. My fist is not bleeding too severe this time. I lean back and close my eyes and take in a few deep breaths. Part of me is home out here with wild beasts, but another part of me wants everything to go back to normal - to live how Sara wanted to. Go back to normal. Yet, the longer I stay out here in the woods the less and less human I feel anymore. I haven't felt a thing since the cabin. Pain is merely a nuisance, and no one else really mattered aside from my sister. I never mourned for Jon or any of those I lost five years ago. I'm unable to mourn for Walter and I doubt I ever will. Even with Walter dead less than thirty minutes, I can only think about Sara.

             
And myself.

             
Yet, sometimes I have no idea why I need to find her so badly.

             
I haven't missed her. It's just some sort of obligation that I cannot shake.

             
What kind of beast have I become?

*   *   *

              Darkness falls and I climb down from my perch in the tree. In the black of night, I manage to find the same foot holes that brought me up so many hours ago. I look at the stars to quickly get a bearing. Our, rather my, campsite is a few hours walk from here. I doubt I will be able to sleep, so I decide to move through the night. As I push aside branches and grass in the darkness, I try to figure out what my next move is going to be.

             
That entire trip was a waste, and from what I can tell at the very least Sara is not there. No workers are. Maybe there is some paperwork, but that is the longest shot of them all. I have been up and down this territory, and have found none of the workers they have taken.

             
Where they took all the prisoners is still a mystery.

             
The trail is again cold, and now I am alone. It was nice to know that Walt was watching my back.

             
Oh well, it's easier to only feed one person.