The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (22 page)

Watching
their endless walk brings two emotions now: sadness and wariness.
 Though I know no one else shares my ideas, I can't shake the
feeling that something isn’t right with them.

“Do
you even see them anymore?” I ask, without turning away from
the window.

“I’m
swerving around them, if that’s what you mean.”

“No.”
 I press my nose against the glass as Cable slows the truck.  We
inch through a herd of Moaners.  Several bump repeatedly against
the hood.  Cable slows to a near halt in an attempt to let them
veer off in a new direction. When they don't, he pushes the
accelerator. The truck rises and falls over the crushed bodies and we
continue on our way.  “I mean, as people. Or former
people, I guess.  Are they just things to you now?”

Cable
is silent long enough to draw my gaze back toward him.  His
fingers grip the steering wheel as we are forced to slow again.  We
went nearly all morning without seeing a Withered One and now they
flock to the one street we need to be on to get us back to our group.

Putting
the truck in park, Cable sighs and drops his hands from the wheel as
we wait for them to pass.  “I can’t think of them as
things.”

“Why
not?” I draw one leg up onto the seat and turn to face him.  I
note that the deep bruising along his cheek and temple have faded
into an ugly yellow now.  The cut on his lip has begun to heal
nicely.  He no longer holds his side when he breathes.  

“My
brother is out there.”  He speaks to the windshield
instead of me.  His gaze is fixated on the grotesque faces
before us.  I try to ignore the strips of flesh being torn from
the passing bodies by the sharp edge of the broken side mirrors, or
hear the raspy moans that make goosebumps rise on my arms.  

“You
never spoke of a brother before.”

“Lenny
and I never really got along too well.  I guess that comes with
the territory, though. Half-brothers tend to butt heads a lot.”

“Sounds
like you care about him, though.”

“He’s
family, even if my scumbag dad decided to mess around. I don't hold
that against him.”

I
pick at a scab on my arm where thorn bushes tore at my skin a few
days ago. By the time we figured out we’d marched straight into
a massive briar patch, there was no choice but to keep going.

“My
dad ran out on us when I was younger. I remember hurrying home each
day after school and waiting on the front step of our porch for him
to come back. He never did, of course.  My mother moved us to
St. Louis not long after. Never really forgave her for that. I was
sure one day my dad would walk up that path for me and wonder where
I’d gone.  When I got older I figured out the truth.”

“What
was that?”  Cable flicks on the windshield wipers and I
grimace at the smear of blood as he tries to clean away the carnage
left behind.

“That
sometimes no matter how hard you try, things don't work out. People
leave for their own reasons. You just gotta suck it up and move on.
Put them in the past so they can’t hurt you anymore.”

Cable
looks over at me.  The path before us is clear, if blurred by
the red haze predominate on the windshield now.  “Sounds
like that didn’t work out too well for you.”

I
blow out a weighted breath.  “I’m still working on
it.”

The
truck begins a slow roll forward. Cable ducks his chin to see through
a clear patch.  “You can’t keep the whole world out,
you know?”

“I
can try.”

“Sure.”
He yanks a bit of the fabric off the torn seat cover and leans out
the window to wipe the glass before him. It helps a little but we’ll
have to do a better job before we hit the road.  “Just
make sure you don’t include me in that, huh?”

I
turn away so he doesn’t see the tiny smile that betrays me. My
eyes widen and I grip his arm. “Cable!”

The
truck jerks as he slams his foot on the brake.  He follows my
gaze in silence.  There, standing between two houses is a
Moaner.  Most of his face has been torn away.  His shirt is
ragged, his scalp bald apart from a few stray tufts of hair.  

“Are
you seeing this?” I ask, unable to tear myself away from the
man.  His eyes are a milky blue.  He stands with an
unblinking stare into the distance.  

“He’s
not moving,” Cable whispers. His voice sounds hoarse.  

I
turn to look at him.  “I’ve never seen one do that
before.”

“Me
either.”  I can tell by the color leaching from his face
that he’s freaked out but trying hard not to show it.  “Let’s
get back.  The others will be waiting for us.”

I
nod in agreement but the truck is already moving at a faster pace
than before.  It only takes us five minutes to maneuver the
debris in the road and arrive back at the train car.  Victoria
paces near the steps, her hands tucked around her waist.  Her
lips move rapidly and I realize that she’s slipped into another
muttering phase. She’s been doing that a lot more lately.
 She’s taking to speaking with her deceased mother a lot,
sometimes about trivial things like the cold or how hungry she is. At
other times it seems as if she’s trying to puzzle through the
outbreak.  It’s scary that some of her mutterings are
beginning to make sense.

Alex
looks up as we roll to a stop near the overgrown track.  Sal
sits with one leg dangling from the car, appearing unconcerned and
indifferent to our arrival.

“You’re
late.”  Alex opens my side of the truck and helps me out.
 I feel a bit unsteady on my feet, still shaken by the Withered
Ones.  

“Got
trapped by a herd in town.”  The driver’s side door
squeals as Cable shoves it closed.  

Alex
glances back toward town.  A deep frown settles onto his
handsome features. “It’s been a while since we saw any of
those.”

“Well,”
I grunt as I toss a cloth grocery bag full of bottled water into the
truck bed, “we found one.”

“But
all together?”  Alex hefts two large black grocery sacks
of clothes, towels and medical supplies into the back.  “I
know you two told me you’d seen it before but I was kinda
hoping you were just yanking my chain.”

“There’s
something else.”  Cable grabs a cardboard box from beside
Alex.  I’m relieved to see it filled with boxed foods and
canned goods. The homes must not have been completely emptied.

Alex
pauses. He looks between us, but I let Cable tell him about the
Withered man that we saw.  Alex reacts similarly to how we did.
Visible disbelief that is quickly followed by a deep seated fear that
begins to spread with alarming speed. He looks hollow, his face
haggard.

“What
do you think it means?” He asks as he shoves the tailgate
closed. The supplies won't last long, but we should be good for a
week, maybe more if we are lucky.  That  means we can head
back into the woods where we can be safe.

“It
means we need to stop sleeping where we are exposed,” Cable
responds.  

“The
Moaners have never been a threat before.” Alex glances back at
Sal and Victoria, keeping his voice low enough that it doesn’t
carry.

Cable
looks to me. “Avery noticed they are starting to alter their
behaviors. Small things, but still enough to be concerned about.  I’d
rather play it safe. If we can’t find a house or abandoned
building to crash in we need to find a way to make this truck more
secure. Just in case.”

Alex
glances at the cab.  “It’s too small.”

“Then
we find a cover.”  I turn to look back into town, knowing
that I really don’t want to go back in.  I’m spooked
and not afraid to admit that.  “Maybe at the next town we
can find a truck cover, plywood, or something to give us some
shelter.”  

“Agreed.”
 Alex wipes his brow.  His cheeks are flushed. I wonder how
many houses they had to search through to find what few supplies they
brought back.  Or how much help Sal and Victoria actually were.
 “Do we tell them?”

“No.”
 Cable rests his arms over the side of the truck.  He looks
tired.  He hasn’t been sleeping well. At first I thought
it was nightmares but now I’ve begun to wonder if his time
clock is all out of sorts.  “There’s no sense
worrying them.”

He
looks to me and I nod in agreement, though not for the same reasons.
I don’t think Victoria could handle the stress and Sal…the
less he knows the better.  

Within
ten minutes we are prepped and ready to leave.  After a heated
debate of who would be sitting in the truck bed with me, Alex finally
wins and Cable takes the wheel with Victoria pressed in next to him
and Sal on the far right.  I huddle into my blankets as we turn
onto a dirt road leading away from the town.

I
don’t know its name or anything about the people who once lived
here, but I do know that I hope to never see it again.

Alex
remains unusually quiet over the next few hours.  We huddle
close for warmth.  With a blanket beneath us and one wrapped
around us, we savor the trapped body heat but little can protect us
from the winds that bite at our cheeks.  It’s slow going
even on the back roads.  Weaving around abandoned cars and back
tracking to avoid major pileups takes up precious daylight.

The
sun beats down on us from overhead, warming the top of my head.  I
lift my face to the light, enjoying this rare time of travel during
day.

“I’m
worried about Sal.”  Alex breaks the silence, glancing
back over his shoulder.

“More
than earlier?”

He
nods and tucks the blanket high under his chin.  “I
noticed something this morning.  Something I’ve seen
before.”

I
shift and knock knees with him. I start to apologize but realize he’s
too lost in thought to care.  “There are spots on his
mouth.  At first I thought they were blood, maybe he bit his lip
in his sleep or something, but there are more.  The idiot chews
with his mouth wide open so I noticed a few more on his gums.”

“Maybe
it was just food.  I saw him tucking into a candy bar before we
left.”  The fact that he never bothered to share with the
rest of us angered me but didn’t surprise me.  He’s
not the sharing type.  Sal is one of those guys who is in it for
himself and holds no pretense otherwise.

“No.”
 Alex glances over his shoulder at Sal.  I follow his gaze
and frown. There is a red patch of skin just below his left ear.  It
seems to be trailing up into his hair. As I follow the trail I see a
large patch peeking out near his ample bald spot near the crown of
his scalp.

“You
think he’s turning, don’t you?”

Alex
scrunches up his face then wipes his nose on the blanket. “Maybe
not, but I’ve seen the signs before.”

“In
who?”

“My
co-pilot, right before we were grounded in St. Louis.  At first
I thought it was just stress. We’d done two long hauls back to
back and that was against regulation.  We were bone tired.
Anyone would be.  I was almost relieved when they grounded us.”

“But
it wasn’t because of your work schedule, was it?”

He
shakes his head. His teeth clatter together and he shrinks further
under the blanket.  “Charles lost his wife and son while
we were in the air.  He never even knew they were sick.  That
was the excuse the airline gave us when we landed but I could see it
was more than that. There were soldiers everywhere toting guns big
enough to take down a jumbo jet.  We were put in some sort of
quarantine.  Never saw him again.”

“What
happened to him?”

He
shrugs.  His wind burned cheeks look dry and near cracking. I
duck my head under the blanket and feel around in my pack, searching
for the ointment.  I’d forgotten that I had it.

“Here,”
I hold out the bottle to him.  “It might help.”

Alex
offers me a smile and dabs the clear medicine on his cheeks then
slathers it over his burns.  His sigh of relief is audible over
the winds.  “Thanks.”

“Must
hurt like a bitch.”

He
laughs. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“A
survivor.”

He
nods.  “I’ve learned to do what has to be done.”

As
a new silence hangs in the air between us, broken only by the
chattering of teeth, I can’t help but wonder if that goes so
far as to betraying us back at the farm.  Though Alex has shown
no signs of wanting to harm us, I know that the doubts Cable put in
my mind about him will linger for quite some time.

We
moved steadily south over the next four days, but our progress was
stunted by a blown head gasket on the truck, leaving us stranded on
the side of the road less than thirty miles from town on that first
day.  We continued by foot, moving parallel to the highway to
stay on course.  On the fifth day we were hit by the mother of
all winter storms driving us back into the shelter of the forest.  It
crashed over us like a tidal wave, spilling arctic air from the
North.  By our best guess we have traveled nearly eighty miles
from St. Louis but it is not nearly far enough to outrun winter.

By
the time we stumbled across a hunting cabin deep in the forest, we
were all nearly frozen through.  Cable and Alex remained alert
for the first two days as the storm raged, but I found myself able to
relax for the first time in quite some time.  

The
Moaners seem to have vanished again, leaving us in peace.  Maybe
they don’t like the cold either.  If that’s true, I
may change directions and head to Canada!

Though
I have not seen a Moaner in nearly three days, they haunt my dreams,
chasing me with gnashing teeth and rabid eyes. Anger. Desperation.
Condemnation.  None of those emotions make any sense but waking
in the early hours before dawn, each one feels real to me.

The
winds that battered the cabin have fallen still, the loud howling
diminished to its normal gale.  The icicles dangling from the
pitched roof drip onto the wooden porch, making it a dangerous
skating rink at night.  The ice has receded greatly beneath the
heat of the sun, the first time we’ve spied its presence in
days.  It is a welcome sight, if for no other reason than to
bring a bit of cheer once more.