The man was younger than I. He looked like he was twenty or so. His clothing was in good shape, and his shoes weren’t polished, but they were clean except for the fresh mud caked around the soles.
Jack rose beside me, with Scott on my other side. The man looked from face to face, and I wondered how we appeared. He didn’t betray any emotion, but we had to be in bad shape. It was nearing dawn, and the breaking light of morning had revealed Jack to be a bloody mess. His face was red, and his clothing was covered in crimson. Scott wasn’t too bad off, but the days in the cage were rough, and his clothing was dirty and drenched in water. He stood shivering like the rest of us.
Haley peeked around my side. Her face was dirty, and her dark hair looked like it would make a good nest for a bird. Mud and small sticks caked it, making her look almost wild.
The man looked from face to face and settled on Haley. I motioned for her to stay behind me. I was judging our distance, considering how far I would have to move to close and get my hand on the gun. He stood about eight feet from me, and his legs were spread, so he had decent base from which to fire. If I made a grab, I doubted I would have a chance. Even if I could get close and knock the barrel aside, there was a chance the bullets would hit some of the others in my troop.
We stood in silence for a while longer, and I felt like, once again, my life hung in the balance. I wondered if it would be best to just give up here and now. A bullet to the head seemed more desirable that hanging out in the woods, being hunted, waiting for death every moment of the day. Despair was something I had faced before, and it was something I faced now.
I grinned at the kid, and he relaxed.
“You are one sorry group.”
“We just got our asses kicked, tossed in a cage, and then left to die. Been in that place for almost a week,” Scott said.
“We heard there was a ghoul camp around here. Let’s go talk to the old man. He’ll know what to do.” He lowered his gun, looked around the area, and motioned for us to go ahead of him. When we passed him, he didn’t level the rifle at us, but he did keep it at the ready.
“Old man?” I asked.
“Our leader. A lot of the men in our troop owe their lives to him,” the man recited this like a litany. His eyes lit up with something approaching religious reverence. “He even brings in some of the creepers. That’s what you guys remind me of, you know. Creepers. With any luck, he’ll be willing to help.”
I knew this kid’s sort. Didn’t have a plan until he joined the ‘corp’ or army and found a purpose in life—like killing other men in faraway places, or protecting the country from terrorists. That had been the ultimate slap in the face as far as I was concerned. It was bad enough that thousands of our guys died in the jungles of Vietnam to protect the world from communism. On more than one occasion, I had wondered if the war on terror was just another excuse to get young men killed.
I knew this firsthand, because I had joined up thinking I would make a difference. But the war dragged on, and I was lucky enough—although at the time extremely bitter—to get out while the getting was good.
Allison—it had been she who saved me.
“Is he close?” Scott looked around, as if the mysterious leader were about to pop out from behind a bush at any moment.
“Near enough. That way.” He pointed with the barrel of the rifle. “I’m Andrew, by the way.”
We did introductions.
“I don’t know if I can make it. I’m really tired, man,” Jack said.
He was in bad shape, probably the worst of us. All that blood, was it his? His eyes were bloodshot, and shone with an angry glint as he looked back at the man with the rifle. Not too long ago, he had been in a cage, expecting to be eaten. And before that, he watched his family being dragged away and slaughtered. I wondered if he were even sane.
“We have food and water,” the soldier said.
Jack looked between him and me, then nodded.
We marched into more misery.
The break in the woods came much sooner than I had thought it would, and I never would have found it had we proceeded on our prior path. Not even a quarter mile from our resting spot. As we stepped out of the close-grown trees, we stumbled into a small creek. It ran parallel to the nearby road, but it wasn’t the first thing I saw. That vision was reserved for the military-grade vehicles pulled up alongside it. I went down with a splash and had a vision of the bloody water we had seen a few hours ago, but some of the stuff splashed in my mouth and tasted like heaven. Instead of hauling myself to my feet, I drank my fill as I lay shivering in the water.
It was warming up, but the night and captivity had taken their toll. I still felt chilled to the bone, but at least I was out of the woods. The risk of hypothermia had gone down considerably. Now that I was in the stream, all I wanted to do was lie there and drink until I was sick. I wanted to throw up a gallon of water and then drink again.
My stomach clenched up as the cool water hit. Then I did feel like throwing up, but settled for a long, loud burp. As I sucked down water like a fish, I kept my eyes on the men and vehicles around us. A couple of guys had stepped out and trained their weapons on us. A nice mix of old and new barrels leveled in our direction, but the kid with whom we’d come out of the woods must have said something, or made some sort of motion, to assure them we were no threat.
Scott staggered beside me and dropped to his knees. He rinsed his hands as if he were at home getting ready to do dishes. Then he dipped his hands once more and scooped up some clear water to drink. He sipped slowly, something I should have done, since I was cramping up.
“Fuck me.” Jack sighed and leaned over to sip near me.
The line of military vehicles, minivans, and trailers roared to life. I even saw a Stryker. It was moving, but it had seen better days. Someone had taken spray paint and tried to camouflage the sides, but it looked more like a six-year-old’s finger painting than a military transport.
A couple of Hummers surged up the road with men poking their heads out the top as they manned the machine guns. Scouts.
Men jumped into their vehicles, which quickly roared to life. The smell of exhaust tore at the early morning air. I took another sip of water.
A man stepped out of one of the Humvees and strode toward me. I was still on my knees, so the first thing I saw were his boots. Diamond patterned snakeskin. I cursed under my breath. As soon as he saw me, it was over.
“You guys look like hell spit you out. Bunch of creepers I bet.” Lee spoke the word like it was poison.
My hair hung to the side and hopefully shaded my face, so I glanced toward him. Would he even recognize me with the week of beard and filth caked on? The only time he had seen my face was at the military checkpoint almost half a year ago, then again at the house they tried to trap us in. At that time I was clean-shaven.
Lee strolled toward us then stopped beside Jack. I kept my head down and tried to act like I was breathing hard, which wasn’t too far from the truth. I wanted the appearance of a man that was too tired to get up and shake hands.
A group of geese picked that moment to fly overhead, honking as they passed. A flight shaped like a V that swooped away from us. A couple of the men popped off a few rounds, which scattered the birds but didn’t hit any of them.
“How many of you are out there?” Lee asked.
“Not sure. They had us in a camp back in the woods. We just escaped a short while ago. Probably another twenty or thirty back there. But we need to get out of here. There are a shit load of dead in the woods,” Jack said.