Thicker than Blood Page 15

  • • •

  Hours later, when the sun was beginning its downward descent, the trees starting to thin out some, we happened on a narrow dirt path. Alex bent down on one knee, inspecting the man-made trail. “It’s not overgrown,” he mused aloud. Standing up, he looked left and then right, his expression quizzical.

  “Do you smell that?” Evelyn asked, lifting her chin and sniffing the air. I gave her a questioning glance, and sniffed as well.

  “Like…something’s burning?” Alex suggested. “Or was burning.”

  At first I couldn’t smell anything out of place; the forest smelled like you’d expect—damp, cool and crisp, hints of moss and pine and the bitter woodsy scent of leaves beginning to decay. I inhaled harder, sucking in air through my nostrils and down my throat until I began to sort out the intermingling smells, finding the one scent that was out of place. It was something like the aroma of a doused campfire, when the fire had been put out but the embers were still steaming.

  “I can’t be sure,” Alex said, peering down the path. “But I think it’s traveling with the breeze. We could head west and check it out, or east and see if this path leads us to a road.”

  He turned to face Evelyn and me, waiting for our response. How did he know which way was west, I wondered, without a compass?

  “The sun rises in the east,” he said, answering my unspoken question with a wink. “And sets in the west. And moss,” he continued, pointing to a large oak. “Supposedly it only grows on the north side, but I’m not exactly sure how accurate that is.”

  “What did you do before?” I asked, intrigued and suddenly wanting to know more about him. “Before the infection?”

  He lifted one broad shoulder, then let it drop nonchalantly. “Nothing really. I was only nineteen when the infection hit the States. I was in community college, played football every weekend with my friends, hunted with my dad, still didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself.” He shrugged again, more so with his face than his body. “Still don’t.”

  “What do you miss the most, Alex?” Evelyn asked abruptly. “From before?”

  He didn’t answer right away, his eyes taking on a sort of far-off, glazed-over quality. I watched him, wondering if that was how I looked when I thought about the past.

  “Music,” he finally said, refocusing on me.

  Still watching him, I felt my heart thump painfully inside my chest, my good mood quickly deflating. It wasn’t what he said, but the way he’d said it. Quiet and full of longing, but at the same time, sounding resigned. As if he truly believed that music, along with cold beers and pink fuzzy slipper boots, had all become extinct, and only in our memories would we ever have those things again.

  Evelyn cleared her throat. “How about we head west?” she asked. “And see what’s causing that smell? Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a pair of pink slippers.”

  • • •

  Ever the protector, Alex was insistent that Evelyn and I stay behind him as we made our way down the dirt path. We stayed to the side of the trail, mostly, Alex wanting quick access into the forest if we happened to need a quick getaway. I kept my hammer tightly in my grip, though I had no idea that if it came down to actually using it on an infected, if I would be able to muster up enough courage.

  For at least a half an hour, it didn’t seem to me that the path was leading us anywhere. I began feeling like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, on a long road to nowhere good, with the possible threat of monsters waiting to jump out at me at every twist and turn. But for Dorothy, it had all just been a dream.

  If only it were really that simple, I thought, feeling suddenly sullen. To click our heels together and chant, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” And then, poof, we would wake from this nightmare, safe and sound in our own warm beds, the monsters gone.

  “Dorothy was a lucky bitch,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What did you say? Did you just curse?” Evelyn asked, watching me curiously. “Who’s a bitch?”

  “No one,” I mumbled, feeling silly.

  “The smell is getting stronger,” Alex announced, slowing his pace to a mere crawl. “Look.” He pointed up ahead and around a small bend. “A driveway.”

  I squinted, trying to see better, and found a gravel-covered path hidden among the trees and up a small incline.

  We continued walking, the three of us on constant alert for any hint of movement or sound that seemed out of place, Alex with his rifle held in front of him, and Evelyn clutching her blade while I kept a firm grip on my hammer. Slowly and silently, we approached the driveway, and Alex held out an arm, signaling that Evelyn and I were to stay put while he checked it out.

  I reached out, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. As our eyes met, I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say, just that I felt I should say something. Every other second, it seemed, we were walking into some form of danger or another, and just in case we weren’t able to walk away from what we were about to walk into this time, I just wanted Alex to know…

  Actually, I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted Alex to know, maybe only that I did care about what happened to him. Yes, I wanted him to know that I cared, so I tried to convey that emotion by standing up on my tiptoes, lifting my face to his, and pressing a soft and quick kiss on his lips. Alex’s hand found my waist, pulling me tightly against him as he deepened what had only been meant as a small gesture, turning it quickly into something so much more.

  “Be careful,” I murmured, then pulled away. Déjà vu washed over me, dizzying and powerful, and suddenly it wasn’t Alex standing in front of me, but Thomas. Together with Shawn, ready to scour the neighborhood for food and water, standing in front of me, kissing me good-bye, and me whispering to him, “Be careful.”

  Four hours later he’d returned covered in bite marks, Shawn half carrying him into the house. The very next day he’d succumbed to the fever.

  I stepped away from Alex, feeling nauseated and a little breathless, and searched out Evelyn’s comforting hand. She was there, she was always there, slipping her hand into mine and gently squeezing.

  “I’ll whistle,” Alex said, looking between the two of us. “Once to come up, and two to run.”

  Hand in hand, Evelyn and I stood at the bottom of the small hill, watching as Alex made his way up it and out of sight. We waited there for what seemed like an eternity, not speaking, barely breathing, until we finally heard it—a single whistle.

  Together, Evelyn and I jogged up the driveway. Alex came into view, first his dark hair, then his broad back. There were more trees, then a large clearing, and was that a truck? Yes, it was a truck! And then, as the rest of the scene revealed itself, we stopped dead in our tracks.

  Off to the far left of the clearing sat the shell of what was once a home. Thick splintered beams reached toward the sky, blackened and charred, towering eerily over a foundation of ruins—piles of broken glass, black dust, and burned, twisted wood.

  “Oh my God,” Evelyn breathed. “There are so many bones…”

  My eyes widened, my mouth falling open. What I had thought were twisted pieces of burned wood were actually bones. And now that I knew exactly what I was looking at, I could make out what appeared to be a rib cage, and beside it, a skull.

  “We have company,” Alex said, his voice low as he gestured toward the truck.

  What had once been a man, but was now a monster, was pressed up against the blood-splattered driver’s side window. His face was twisted into an unholy snarl, his teeth bared and chomping on air while his hands pawed at the glass, drawing dark smears up and down as he struggled.

  “He’s newly turned,” Evelyn said, swallowing hard. “He’ll be faster than the others. Stronger too.”

  “That truck looks like it might still work,” Alex said quietly. “This fire was recent. And look.” He pointed to the bed of the truck where three gas cans were neatly stacked inside, and a dark outline of liquid could be seen in all three. “Fuel.”
>
  The entire scene was devastating. Something obviously horrible had happened here, and to people just like us, hidden away and simply trying to survive. There was no way to know what had actually occurred, but I envisioned a family, maybe some friends, who’d secreted themselves in a house in the woods only for one of them to somehow become infected. That one had probably infected everyone else, even the sole survivor who’d tried unsuccessfully to escape in his vehicle.

  Tearing my eyes away from the ruins, I looked at Alex. “What should we do?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion.

  It was Evelyn who answered, her sentiment starkly different from how I was feeling. “We kill it,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “And we take the truck.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Evelyn

  We kill it, and we take the truck.

  Of course we do, that was the humane thing to do, right? And we needed a truck. So why did I feel so guilty? I’d said it so candidly that I’d even shocked myself. Yes, this new Evelyn was a much more manic version of me than any other version I could remember. My violent ups and downs, my unraveling emotions with oddly thrown-in periods of indifference, it was the part of me that I’d always been able to keep hidden in the past. But here, in the great wide open, it seemed as if everything was spilling out of me, all my secret pain. It made me feel useless, and in turn, vulnerable. My typical escape from my emotions was gone, impossible without Jami here to distract me, and now I found myself questioning every thought I had, and every single action.

  Scrubbing his hand across his chin, Alex scratched thoughtfully at the scruff that covered his once clean-shaven jaw. “Eve, you go to the passenger side and distract it. I’ll take the other side and open the door, and when it comes out, I’ll kill it.”

  “What about me?” Leisel asked as she clutched her hammer a little tighter.

  “Stay here,” Alex and I answered together.

  Leisel’s lips flattened, and her gaze fell to the gravel beneath her feet. I felt a pang of guilt for brushing her off so carelessly, but the truth was she had no real experience killing these things, aside from the one at the church. She’d always been protected from them, and I wouldn’t risk losing her at the hands of one lone infected. And Alex apparently shared my feelings.

  Watching as she’d looked on in horror at the smoldering pile of bones had only solidified my fears for her. She hadn’t cried, but she had been clearly horrified, telling me she wasn’t ready to take on the world outside the walls on her own, not just yet.

  Nodding at Alex, I stalked toward the passenger side, my knife raised just in case. You could never trust these things to do what you wanted or expected; they lived by their own set of rules, hunger the only thing on their mind.

  “You ready?”

  Alex stood across from me with the truck between us. Squaring my shoulders, I brought my blade forward and nodded.

  “Of course,” I said, ensuring that my tone reflected confidence and strength.

  The infected thrashed, throwing its body against the window in its eagerness to get to Alex, so much so that I couldn’t imagine him paying me any mind no matter how much noise I made. Only when I tapped my blade against the passenger window did its cloudy eyes jerk toward the sound, and it launched across the bench seat, its obsession with Alex officially over.

  When it plastered itself against the window, the glass audibly bent with its weight, and a slight crack began to fissure downward. Again, it slammed its face into the window, its teeth gnashing, its tongue—a dried-up and putrid slab of meat—glided across the glass, causing my stomach to turn over.

  While I had its undivided attention, Alex produced another blade and opened the door, then took a step back and lifted the knife. As the scent of fresh human meat wafted into the cab of the truck, the infected seemed to pause in its thrashing, its head whipping in the other direction. All at once it growled and groaned, launching itself in Alex’s direction.

  Unaware of the drop between the cab and the ground, it tumbled headfirst out of the door and promptly fell out of my sight. His knife still raised, Alex dropped to his knees and a sickly crunch echoed through the air, followed by a wet slapping sound.

  As I rounded the truck, still holding my knife in front of me, ready to use it if needed, I found Alex getting to his feet, his blade in one hand, dripping with red and black sludge, and in the other a set of keys. The infected lay facedown in the dirt at his feet, utterly still.

  Glancing inside the cab, I looked over the seat, the entirety of the bench covered in dried blood and unidentifiable gore. And the smell, the smell was wretched, like a combination of sewage that had sat out in the sweltering sun, along with the sickly bitter stench of death all the infected carried with them. Similar to rotting flesh, but indescribably worse.

  “That’s disgusting,” Leisel said, coming to stand by my side. “I call dibs on the backseat.”

  With a snort, I started to laugh. “Be my guest,” I said, gesturing to the small backseat where what was left of a human carcass lay in an abnormally contorted heap. It was only a skeleton, having been picked clean of most of its organs and entrails, though the slimy gunk that remained was smeared and dried all over the seat and floor.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, taking a step backward. “Never mind.”

  Grunting in irritation, Alex stepped between us and shook his head. He pulled open the half door to the backseat, then grabbed the feet of the skeleton and dragged it out. There was a loud sucking sound and then an audible crack, and suddenly Alex went staggering backward, tripping over the body still lying on the ground, and promptly landed flat on his backside.

  Leisel clapped a hand over her mouth, while I burst out laughing at the sight of him flat on his ass, holding a skeletal foot in each hand. Raising his eyes toward us, he scowled, which only made me laugh harder.

  “Oh my God!” Leisel exclaimed, wiping away tears from underneath her eyes. “Do you need a hand up?” she asked, offering him her hand.

  “Are you being funny, Leisel?” Alex retorted, one eyebrow raised. Before she could answer, Alex had tossed away the feet and grabbed hold of her hand, yanking her down. Pulling her over top of him, he rolled them, reversing their positions and covering Leisel’s body with his. And then he kissed her.

  Left standing there, entirely forgotten, I stared openmouthed at them as my face grew warm. This was so unlike Leisel, the way she kissed him with such wild abandon, full of passion, and right beside the body of a recently deceased infected, no less. Even with Thomas, a man she’d been so very much in love with, she’d never been one for public displays of affection, and this…

  Feeling awkward, I coughed and backed away just as they pulled apart. Alex jumped to his feet, pulling Leisel up with him. Although her cheeks were red and flushed with embarrassment, she smiled at him, a genuinely happy smile, the kind I hadn’t seen grace her pretty face in far too long. Alex wasn’t smiling—not that he ever did—though he was staring down at her, his usually hard features relaxed with a sort of contentment I found myself jealous of.

  I’d known how Alex felt about her, but Leisel, despite her proximity to him all these years, barely knew him. And yet, here she was, allowing herself to live in the moment for the first time in her life. Which left me feeling confused, my thoughts and emotions running amok, but worst of all, feeling alone and entirely without the luxury to live in the moment with anyone.

  I should have been happy for her, and for the most part I was glad for her. Glad that she was finally experiencing the sort of freedom she’d been long deprived of, but at the same time I was left wondering where I fit in. Who I had become in this equation, and was I even needed any longer?

  “If you two are done playing footsie,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light, “we need to see if this thing still runs.”

  They both looked up and over at me. Alex looked surprised and Leisel somewhat embarrassed, as if they only now remembered that I was still there. Jerking my thumb towar
d the truck, I quirked a brow.

  With his hard exterior back in place, Alex rubbed a hand across the back of his neck while sighing heavily, then headed for the truck. Ignoring the gore covering the seat, he slid inside. His first attempt at starting it produced nothing, only a desperate-sounding whirring noise on the truck’s part as it attempted to turn over. He tried again, pumping the gas pedal several times until eventually the truck roared to life, an expulsion of black smoke pouring from the exhaust.

  Cutting his eyes toward us, he jerked his chin. “Get in.”

  Leisel and I exchanged a look, neither of us wanting to make a move toward the truck. Pointing to the body still in the backseat, I shook my head. “No way, not until that’s gone.”

  “What?” he asked. “You expect me to clean it? Take it to a car wash? Maybe get it detailed while I’m at it?”

  “Maybe just take the body out of the back?” Leisel suggested softly, her nose wrinkled with disgust.

  Sighing angrily, Alex jumped out of the cab and flipped forward the front seat. Leaning into the back, showcasing the fact that the bottom and back of his pants were smeared with gore, he forcefully pried the remaining skeleton off the seat and swung it out of the truck. It broke apart in midair, bones scattering about as it came crashing to the ground.

  “All good now?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

  • • •

  The roads were bumpy and uncomfortable, and obviously hadn’t been driven on for some time. Debris covered them—everything from trees to broken-down cars. As we passed through the outskirts of another town, a trail of dust flew up in our wake, the only movement we’d seen for hours.

  The day was scorching. Sweat trickled down between my breasts, making me even more uncomfortable in my pink nightshirt, leaving me hot and sticky, hungry and thirsty, and with the urge to pee all at the same time.

  Seated behind me, Leisel had taken to staring out of her open window in a daze. She’d wound up her long brown hair into somewhat of a ponytail, reminding me of the time she’d cut it all off into a sharp chin-length bob and had cried for weeks. It had grown out since then, taking the four long years since the start of this nightmare to get back to the length she’d always loved.