The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide (36 page)

John didn't possess Riley's stalwart determination to forge on no matter how awful things became or Al's ability to do what had to be done no matter how unpleasant or disturbing it was, nor did he possess the ability to compartmentalize the whole awful situation and continue onward no matter what the cost. John had grown over the past few days, he was more of a man than Carl had ever expected him to become, but Carl didn't know how long the three of them would make it on their own if he and Riley became sick, and neither did John. Talk of scratches and werewolves was the last thing John wanted to discuss right now.

Riley placed the medical supplies down as she knelt at his side. "At least it wasn't your favorite shirt," she muttered.

"Take that back, I loved this shirt," he retorted as a bead of sweat dropped from his forehead to the ground.

She released a low chuckle as she gingerly pulled back the tattered remains from where they were stuck to his skin. He flinched away from her a few times but for the most part remained unmoving as she worked to clean up the wounds on his back. "If it makes you feel any better," she said as she taped the last of the bandages to his back. "I still feel fine. I think if scratches spread whatever it is I'd be sick already. Lee became sick pretty quickly."

Carl turned his head to meet her eyes. They were clear and direct as she smiled at him and leaned back to rest her hands on her knees. "It does actually."

"But then Lee might not have been infected by a werewolf."

Carl laughed as he took hold of her hand and let her help him to his feet. "You two are freaking hilarious," John muttered as he walked away.

Carl glanced at the body of the young girl beside him and took a step away. Al may not have had any other option, but the sight of the dead child was still disturbing and not something that he wanted to see. He stepped back in front of Rochelle in order to break her intense focus upon the small child's remains. She blinked and quickly looked away from the body.

Riley draped her arm around Rochelle's shoulders and turned her toward the truck. "Why don't you get back inside for a little while?" she suggested.

For the first time Rochelle looked her age as tears filled her eyes and she glanced around the building. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered tremulously.

Carl had to look at anything except her in that moment and took a few steps away to retrieve the gun he'd dropped when the girl fell onto his back. He fought the urge to stomp the doll head into the ground as he kicked the hideous thing into the shadows.

A shudder slid down his spine as he turned back to the remains. A child, not much younger than Rochelle, but a child that had been trying to flay him like a fish. He took a deep breath and released it slowly as he fought to restrain the anger and frustration that wanted to erupt. He slipped the gun into his waistband and turned to John.

"Help me move her?"

John's mouth dropped as his eyes flew to the broken body. Carl wasn't exactly thrilled by the prospect of touching her either, but it was going to be awful enough staying in here without staring at her for the rest of the night. John closed his mouth and shook his head, "Yeah sure, sure."

It felt like someone was taking a torch to his back, but even so Carl bent to grab hold of the tiny arms and heft her up. John's eyes were locked on the small red shoes the girl was wearing as he stood over her feet. Riley opened her mouth but Al shook his head at her to silence her words. She frowned at him but he just turned away to retrieve the flashlight.

John took a deep breath and finally bent down to grab the legs. Carl hated doing this to him but as he looked over at Riley and Al again he knew that it had to be done. John had killed, he would kill again to stay alive, but there were even worse things that John may have to do in the coming days and weeks, things that he may not be around to help him do.

They moved the remains past that of the other woman and into the corner. Carl wasn't going to bother with the other bodies; he saw no need to as he didn't think anyone was going to wander far from the vehicles until morning. He intended to be out of here as soon as the first rays of the sun hit the horizon.

Carl laid her down on the ground and turned away. "Carl."

He turned back to John but he could barely see him in the shadows. "Yeah?"

"I'm not an idiot; I know why you asked me to carry her."

"John…"

"I didn't hesitate to kill that other woman."

"I know."

John was silent and then he stepped out of the shadows. "I hesitated to shoot the child though," he admitted. "I should have shot her instead of watching Al do it."

"She wasn't a sweet, innocent child anymore."

John's gaze slid to the girl's body. "How do we know that? How do we know there isn't some way to save them even if we don't know what it is? How do we know that some bigwig super brainiac isn't already brewing up a cure?"

Carl had to shake the image of people huddled around a cauldron from his mind. "Let's hope that somewhere someone is brewing up some miracle cure that will help to save each and
every
one of these poor bastards. They will still kill us first though, so until we know that there is someone out there that can save them we're going to have to do what has to be done."

"Do we live with ourselves after that?"

"That's the key John we have to live in order to find out if we can, but I think that I can. I understand if you feel that you can't…"

"I never said that. I can do what needs to be done. I
will
do what needs to be done. Maybe not with the same certainty as you or Al, but I'll do it." Though the shadows hid half of his face, Carl saw a new resolve in John. "When the time comes that I have to look at myself in a mirror I may not like what I see, but I'll do it. Just don't test me again."

Carl wouldn't like to look at himself in a mirror right now as shame slid through him. He'd underestimated John, but then he thought John had probably underestimated
himself
before all of this, and possibly during it, too. "I won't," he promised.

John's smile was grim as he stepped forward. "Riley really seems to be feeling fine."

"She does," Carl agreed.

"That's a good sign, for all of us."

Carl wanted to roll his shoulders but he was hesitant to move the wounds on his back. "I still don't want to be attacked again or bitten by one of those things. I feel like a mountain lion got a hold of me."

John glanced back at the shadows but the small body was no longer visible. Though Carl didn't think there was anyone still hidden within the barn he tilted his head back to explore the rafters. A small shiver slid down his spine at the reminder of everything that had just unfolded. He was lucky to be alive, but he felt like he was going to be saying that every day for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short that may be.

"Your back kind of looks like a mountain lion got a hold of it, or one crazy woman."

"Har har," Carl said.

"You should probably get that shirt off."

"Yeah," he muttered, not at all looking forward to the more orange and pink shirt.

He followed John out of the shadows and tugged the other shirt from behind the seat in the truck. John helped him to pull his ruined shirt off and put the new one on when Carl discovered he couldn't move his arms behind him enough to complete the simple action.

Carl tried to ignore the bright orange flowers as he began to button it. "Thanks."

"No problem," John assured him.

Al came around the front of the truck and stopped beside them. "The sun should be coming up soon."

"It's past time to abandon this place," Carl said.

"I have to agree. Riley's gathered some food for us."

Carl slid the last button in and lifted his head to meet Al's gaze. "Sounds good."

They followed Al to the front of the truck where Riley and Rochelle were sitting on the bumper munching on potato chips and gummy orange slices. "Nice breakfast," he commented dryly.

Riley shrugged as she popped a chip in her mouth. "Breakfast of survivors," she retorted. "Who hasn't always wanted to eat straight sugar and salt for breakfast?"

He had to admit she was right, and he really didn't see diabetes or high blood pressure as tops on his list of concerns right now. Besides, the orange slices were nearly impossible to resist as he dug his hand into the bag to grab some. He studied the people around him as they ate in companionable silence. He wouldn't have thought that each one of them, aside from Rochelle, had killed someone over the course of the past few days. He never would have thought that any of them would've been capable of doing and carrying out the things that they had done.

He'd always known that there was far more to any human than met the eye, but as he studied them he wondered how much more each of them would be capable of. How much more each of them would be willing to do to continue to survive and to make sure that the others survived as well.

How much would it change them, what would they eventually become
? The changes were already occurring; each one of them was already different than they had been on Monday morning.

A beaten dog could eventually turn on its abuser or some other unsuspecting person. A desensitized, broken human with nothing left to lose and little connections to their old life, was far more dangerous than any dog.

They still had connections to each other
, he reminded himself. If those connections were lost though, or threatened, he had a feeling the results would be the same as backing a wounded coyote into a corner. Eventually they were going to lash out; eventually they were going to snap. Even if they weren't backed into a corner there was still only so much a human being could take, only so much they could do before the lines between right and wrong became irrevocably blurred, or erased.

They were all good people, he was certain of it, but even a good person could become bad. He couldn't think of any better circumstances than the ones they were facing for such a thing to happen either. For the first time he feared that he wouldn't lose them to the forces of nature or ravenous humans, but to the darkness that resided within all of them.

Carl popped another orange slice into his mouth as his attention turned toward the door. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to show around the frame, but he knew there was nothing bright about this day. It was simply another battle to be waged.

"We'll make it to Sturbridge today." Riley tossed the last of her breakfast into her mouth, slapped her hands on her knees and rose from the bumper. "I know we will."

"I hope so," John told her.

"We will," she said again. "How are you feeling? Do you want something stronger than aspirin?"

Carl finished his doctor and dentist disapproved breakfast and shook his head. "I'll be fine."

It still felt like someone was trying to set his flesh on fire, but he agreed with Al and didn't want to fall asleep or become slowed down by painkillers. "I'll open the door," Al offered.

Carl stiffly slid into the passenger seat of the car and braced his hand against the dash as he worked to keep his back off of the seat. Al was right, he was going to despise being in a car for the next few days, but it was better than the alternative.

Riley drove the car forward as Al slid the door open. Carl hadn't known what to expect after the events of the night but the calm day beyond the barn seemed out of place after all of the chaos that took place inside. Some tree limbs had broken off due to the wind that continued to blow at a much calmer rate now. That was the only difference he could see though.

"We'll find some answers today," he said softly.

Riley glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Answers to what?"

"To what we'll find in Sturbridge."

"So you think we'll make it?"

He wasn't sure what they would be able to accomplish today, but he sensed they would make it into the town. He also sensed that what they would discover there would be the thing that either pushed some of them over the edge, or saved them all. "I think we have too."

"Yes," she whispered fervently. "Yes we do."

CHAPTER 29

Xander,

Sturbridge Mass.

He didn't think he'd ever been so hot in his life. He'd once stepped on a nest of fire ants while visiting Florida. The mass of them had run up his leg, into his shorts and was almost to his groin by them time he'd realized what was going on and bolted into a nearby pool. His leg had looked like he'd been stung by a mass of bees and had felt as if he'd stepped into a fire pit, but the water had offered relief and rid him of the annoying little creatures.

There was no relief now as his leg was continuously bitten by the ants and there was no pool to retreat to. Though he was desperate to make them stop they only bit harder when he moved, even if it was only an inch or two.

Maybe they weren't ants though maybe he'd stepped into a fire pit and had passed out from the pain. How could he step into a fire though, the only time he was ever around fires was when he was camping with his family, but they hadn't gone since he was in middle school. No, he'd also gone camping a few times with some of his friends from college. They'd gone to New Hampshire for a week over the summer and a couple of weekends during the fall and spring semesters.

Am I camping
?

He tried to think of the answer to that question, tried to sort through the muddled mess that had become his mind but he was having a difficult time wading through the confusion that mired him.

Bobby and Lee, he remembered them being someplace nearby, but that didn't make any sense if he was at college. They'd all originally planned to go away to school together. However life had intervened to ruin those plans, but as he'd learned life always had a way of intervening. Bobby hadn't been able to get the financial aid he'd needed and had decided to stay at home and work to save money for college. Xander had opted to stay closer to home and his family, while Lee had been determined to see the west coast and live the California life.