The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide (23 page)

"Xander, you're bleeding," Mary Ellen said.

He frowned at her as she glanced at him and then down at his leg. A shiver slid down his spine, he took a deep breath as he braced himself to look down at the leg they had pulled out of the garage. His jeans had been torn to the knee and hung in frayed remains about his calf, some of the tatters clung to the blood seeping from the gash in his leg. A patch of skin about the length and width of a remote control had been stripped from his leg.

The gash was jagged and large but thankfully it wasn't deep and wasn't gushing blood like a fire hydrant. Even still he seized hold of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off. Crumpling it up he leaned down to wipe the blood away from the wound.

His blood ran cold; the shirt nearly tumbled from his fingers as his eyes locked on the marks that bordered the outside of the injury. He took a shuddery breath as he pressed the shirt against his leg and straightened back up. Grabbing the pipe he turned toward the backseat and handed it out to Bobby. "Here. You might need this."

Bobby frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

He unwaveringly met his friend's gaze as Bobby seized hold of the pipe. "They bit me."

CHAPTER 18

Al

Somewhere in Mass.

Al was fighting the urge to crumple the map and tear it to shreds. It seemed that every road they took ended in obstructions or canyons. He felt like a rat in a maze trying to find the cheese, but the cheese was outside of the walls, close enough to be a temptation but impossible to get to.

The car idled before them, stopped before yet another gorge that had been torn into the earth. A deep red glow danced across the hood and roof of the car as it crept back toward them. Riley parked beside him and sat with her hands on the wheel. She didn't bother to roll down the window and ask what was next. They'd been playing this game for the past three hours; none of them knew what was next.

Riley glanced at him before turning the car around and driving back down the rutted road. They had managed to stay mostly on side roads but now there was no choice but to head back into one of the towns. He took a deep breath as he waved his hand out the window, directing them into a town that appeared to have once been the typical, sleepy New England town. There wasn't much left of it.

He remained focused on the map in an attempt not to see the people that walked through the streets. He found his gaze drawn repeatedly toward them though. "This is insane," Rochelle muttered. "I keep waiting to wake up."

"You and me both," John told her.

Al knew how they felt, but he'd already accepted the fact that he was wide awake in this nightmare. He watched as Carl turned around in his seat and leaned over to look at Lee. He did the same thing every few minutes, but Al kept waiting for the time when Lee sat up and took a bite out of him. Apparently so was Rochelle as her shoulders slumped and her breath hissed out of her when Carl turned back around.

A loud thump brought his head up, but it was just another mindless person walking into the back of the truck.
Just another mindless person
… Al shook his head as he bit back a bitter laugh. Yesterday such a thing would have disturbed him deeply, now he was becoming as accustomed to it as yawning. It was at least the tenth person to hit the truck since they'd left the ice cream shop behind. More than a few had stumbled into the car too and even now Riley had to swerve out of the way to avoid one honing in on them.

The people reminded him of a deer he'd once hit with his car. The car had sustained substantial front end damage but the deer had staggered back to its feet, shook its head, and disappeared into the woods it had sprung from. These people were like that deer as most of them got back to their feet, shook themselves off, and traveled in a different direction.

He let out a low sigh as he turned his attention back to the squiggly roads on the map that were beginning to all blur together. There was a dull ache forming behind his eyes and though he felt a nagging worry that perhaps he was also getting sick, he thought this headache had more to do with exhaustion, and strain on his old eyes.

He lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before settling them back into place. "Want me to do it for awhile?" Rochelle asked. "I'm pretty good at it."

Al hesitated, but he didn't think she could do any worse than he was right now. Handing the map over, he lifted his glasses and rubbed his nose again. "They may not be zombies but they sure act like it," John muttered.

"Well at least they're not
all
trying to eat us," Rochelle said.

Al was well aware of the fact that they had gathered another following of loonies but they seemed to be staying back, stalking them, trying to figure them out before attacking again. And they would attack, Al was certain of it. They had to be prepared for when they did, and they most certainly couldn't be trapped somewhere.

He saw figures in some of the homes, curtains pulled back as faces appeared in a few of the windows. He wondered how many people were left that he couldn't see. How many had gotten away before the human population was decimated with the rest of the world? How many people would still be here tomorrow?

"Look," Rochelle breathed.

He tore his attention away from the remaining houses and people hiding within. He focused on the car, expecting to find Lee sitting up and trying to attack Carl and Riley. The car remained the same though. Al frowned and then finally spotted what it was that had caught Rochelle's attention.

Another car was coming at them, followed by two more cars and a pickup truck. They'd seen more than a few vehicles along the way, but this was the closest they had come to anyone since yesterday. Al's exhaustion vanished as he straightened in his seat and grabbed the gun from the dashboard.

The car crept past Riley and Carl before approaching the truck. The boy behind the wheel didn't look old enough to shave let alone drive, but the kid sitting next to him looked even younger. Each of the following vehicles held two or three kids that he guessed to be anywhere from ten to seventeen.

"Jesus," John said as he eased on the gas and rolled down the window.

"John," Al cautioned.

John waved his hand as the pickup approached. He braced his arm and leaned out the window a little bit. "Are you ok?" he called out to the truck.

The young woman behind the wheel turned to look at him but didn't roll down the window and didn't slow. "Good talking to you," John muttered as he rolled the window back up and shook his head.

"We should have done the same thing," Al said.

"Did you see how old they were?" John demanded.

"Old enough to pull a trigger."

John's brown eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Rochelle had turned to watch the vehicles in John's mirror; she turned back around and focused on John. "Can I drive?" she asked eagerly.

"We're still alive kid," John told her. "But when we're gone, feel free."

"Not funny," she muttered as she settled back in the seat. "Someone should probably teach me though."

John shot her a look but didn't argue with her. "Yeah, someone probably should. Maybe when we find somewhere to settle down for a little while."

A woman stepped into the back of the car and bounced off the rear passenger side. John had to swerve to keep from running her over. A flash of a puppet on its strings ran through Al's mind as the woman did a macabre dance toward the truck. "I hate this
crap
!" John spat as he drove onto someone's front yard.

They were at the far edges of the town when a large oak in the middle of the road blocked their progress again. Al thought John was going to lose it as he jerked on the wheel and released a low groan. Al knew exactly how he felt, but he was still glad when John managed to keep his temper restrained.

"We're never getting out of this
freaking
town!" John shouted.

Rochelle swallowed as she smoothed the map out on her lap. "There's another road we can try," she said. "If you turn around I'll get us there."

Al's hand clenched around the gun as he spotted the shadows moving through the woods toward them. "I would suggest doing it quickly," he said.

John's nostrils flared, his jaw was locked as he shifted into reverse and glanced in the mirrors. Al's stomach twisted sickly as Riley crept past in the car. Carl looked up at them and shook his head as they drove by. He was in the same position as the last time Al had seen him with his arm draped over his leg and the gun clenched in his hand.

"I don't want to go back through Franklin," Rochelle whispered.

"No one does," Al assured her.

He frowned as he realized that the day was steadily growing darker. It was far too early for dusk to be descending but the shadows were spreading over the land as they navigated into the more populated areas once again.
Great
, he thought.
Just what they needed, to be unable to see as they tried to get out of this unending maze.

He leaned forward and craned his neck to look at the sky. Threatening clouds had rolled in to obstruct the sun again, but thankfully the clouds were behind them. He hoped they didn't get a storm like they'd experienced yesterday. He didn't know what they would do or where they would go if they did.

He tugged on the collar of his shirt as he pulled it off of his skin. In front of them brake lights flashed as Riley drove onto the sidewalk and around the remains of a toppled home. The shadows lengthened and grew as they stretched across the land. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirrors; he had no desire to see what was behind them again.

Another hour passed before Al realized they had traveled beyond the town and hadn't come across any new barriers. There was a different town sign lying on the side of the road, but Al couldn't see what it said, and he didn't care enough to ask Rochelle where they were. His eyes drifted closed but his head snapped back up when his chin hit his chest. It was only a matter of time before they all crashed from exhaustion, and had to stop, but he was afraid to close his eyes right now.

He rubbed his eyes and popped his glasses back into place. He was so tired that at first he didn't realize that this town was different somehow. It took him a minute to comprehend what it was. "What the…"

They passed by houses and stores that had barbwire fencing around them. The wire had been hastily thrown up around some of the telephone poles and streetlights that had withstood the quakes. Cars and pieces of wood had been gathered as extra barriers for the small area of land a group of people had claimed for themselves. As he watched more boards and wire were being put into place by a group of men and women. The people stopped in their work to watch as they drove by. More people moved to the forefront of the barbwire, he spotted guns but no one aimed at them and Al didn't feel threatened.

He didn't feel welcome either though.

Fortunately, there didn't seem to be as many zombie-like humans in this area. He had a feeling these people had probably taken care of a good many of them.

After another couple of hours, and some more tortuous rerouting, Riley pulled into a small gas station and parked the car. "How are we looking for gas?" Al asked.

"We should still be able to get to Sturbridge on what we have. The one good thing about going slow is the better gas mileage," John answered.

Al threw his door open and nearly fell as he stepped onto his cramped legs and sleeping feet. He felt like he'd been riding a horse for too long as he moved uncomfortably around the small parking lot. There were stores and houses next to the gas station but he saw no movement amongst the buildings. Even so, he kept a firm hold on his gun.

"I don't know about you guys, but I could use a break," Riley told them as she emerged from the car and stretched her back.

He most certainly needed a break, as did his bladder, and his stomach would really appreciate some food. "It's probably time to check the supplies," Carl said as he strode past him toward the back of the truck.

"How's Lee?" Rochelle inquired.

Riley bit her lip as she shook her head. "He's the same, but I'm sure the antibiotics and some rest will have him feeling better soon." She didn't look as if she believed the words anymore than Al did.

"I have to find a bathroom, or a tree," John said.

Carl popped his head over the sideboard to look down at him. "Why don't you see if we can get into the store? I'm sure the girls would like a bathroom too and maybe we can replace some of the supplies we lost."

John frowned at him but nodded to Riley to follow him. "Bring your gun."

"I don't leave home without it," Riley informed him as she lifted her right hand to show him.

"Just remember a gun is more useful if you're holding it."

"I won't throw it again!" John shouted over his shoulder at Carl. John was muttering a string of curses as he stalked past Al toward the gas station.

Al bit back a laugh as he met Carl's amused gaze over top of the sideboards. "I
do
enjoy annoying him," Carl said before disappearing once more.

Rochelle went to follow them but he grasped hold of her shoulder. "Wait to see what they find first." She remained at his side, wringing her hands as she surveyed the town. Al placed his hand over top of hers when her skin began to turn red. "We're okay right now," he assured her.

"Those things were following us for awhile and they're smart. They're out there, I can feel it," she whispered.

The hair on the back of Al's neck stood on end. He was reminded of the times when he'd awoken in the middle of the night, certain that someone was standing at the end of his bed watching him, waiting for him to look at them. Even when he did look, and realized he was alone, he could never quite shake the certainty that they were there, breathing within the darkness, biding their time before attacking him. He could never get back to sleep on those nights, and though the frequency of it happening had lessened over the years, he still experienced the strange occurrence at least twice a year.