“I know, Mac. I figured as much. Now, I know for sure.”
“Don’t cry, Amanda, c’mon. It’s not what I wanted, you know that, right?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just that…”
Trembling, Amanda spun around and ran out the back door. For a moment, Connor let her go and then followed. He found her near the small pond where they’d last made love. Leaning against a tree, she gently sobbed, refusing to turn at his approach. Connor stood a few feet away, at a loss for words. Softly, Amanda spoke. “We’ll find ’em for you Mac. For you. We’ll find out what happened.”
Connor approached, smiling gently. He wiped his eye before gently touching her cheek and brushing her tears aside.
“You know, Amanda, I dunno, times have changed since the Sickness. It’s a completely new messed up demographic. But, I’m making a promise right now that you can always stay with me if you want. No matter what.”
“Oh, Mac… we’ll find her. You and me.” Almost to herself, Amanda laughed. Deep down, she knew there had to be another woman in his life. “But, Mac… when I show up with you arm in arm, I imagine you might have some explaining to do.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”
CHAPTER 3.4-Liam Gets His Bear
“I got him, Mom! I got him!” exclaimed Liam. He ran toward the large, black bear and prodded it with his rifle, confirming death.
“Yeah, Liam, you got him,” she said, proud of her son. She took the weapon from his hands, confirming that the safety was engaged. Satisfied that the bear was dead, she spent the moment studying her son. He had grown quite a bit over the past few months. His slim shoulders were gaining width and his legs were increasing in muscle mass. He was definitely on the cusp of puberty and, while she was proud of the man he was becoming, she was sad about the loss of the child he once was. She missed his innocence.
“This bear’s mine, right?”
“Of course, he is,” she said. “You can do whatever you want with him.” She shouldered his rifle and squatted.
Liam pulled his knife and began skinning the bear—not an easy task for a twelve-year-old. Terry peered over his shoulder throughout the process, making sure he handled the knife comfortably.
Her son had made a good shot on the bear, one through the neck, and the bear had collapsed immediately, bleeding out in a matter of seconds. It was difficult to judge the shooting ability of anyone Liam’s age—they simply didn’t have the experience at handling a weapon. Ammunition was much too precious to waste with practice, so they had developed a system where the novice hunter was always accompanied by a seasoned veteran who flanked the beginner with gun ready in the not uncommon event of the new hunter’s shot missing its target.
Andy joined them around the dead bear, squatting by Liam and tapping him on the shoulder. “Nice shot, Liam. That bear never knew what hit him.”
Andy picked up the bear’s paw, studying the length and sharpness of the claws. “These bears can’t resist that honey.” He referred to the honey pot they had used to lure the bear.
“Can I have the hide, Mom?”
Terry stood and Andy did the same.
“Sure—it’s your kill, Liam. Your bear. You can do whatever you want with it.
“Okay. Good. I want to make a cold weather coat. For Daddy. He might need it when he comes home.”
Terry’s small steps toward Andy faltered at the comment.
CHAPTER 3.5-Jimmy’s got something
“Ma’am, Jimmy found something else on Connor MacMillen.”
“What’s that, major?”
“He might have a reason why he’s traveling back to Pittsburgh.”
“Well, spit it out, major.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
CHAPTER 3.6-Cody
Connor was running overwatch for Amanda and Marty when he heard the soft sound. It was a subtle sound, almost lost in the mid-morning forest, until he realized the noise was a human voice. By best guess, they’d progressed about twenty miles east of the collapsing farmhouse since yesterday afternoon. They were making good time. That is, after Amanda’s most recent revelation prompted Connor’s sudden need for some solitude. He did most of his best thinking alone.
“What the fuck?” whispered Connor. He heard the same sound once again.
The past four hours shadowing I-80 toward Toledo had gone without incident and Connor had settled into a contemplative mood. Stumbling over a small root, he admitted to himself that he was feeling rather strange, an uncommon experience. He felt unready, unsure about the prospects of bringing a new child into this sad, collapsed world.
“What the hell is that?” he said under his breath.
Tensing, he heard another small groan to his right, combat training overtaking all idle thoughts. Shifting to full stealth reconnaissance mode, he slipped ten feet behind a small man expertly hidden in the brush next to a large elm. From his vantage point, Connor studied the man who was pointing a scoped hunting rifle at a gray-blue house forty yards in the distance. At times, the man’s body twitched and there was another groan.
It was a shock to hear the frustration in the soft moan. It made for a surprising change in forest dynamics. He crept upon the man and wedged the deck sweeper against the back of his head, pushing him into the loamy soil.
“You move, you’re dead. Got it?”
“Huh? Yeah.”
The force of the shotgun lessened.
“What the hell? Crap! What the hell you doing, kid?”
Connor flipped the boy face up in position beneath him. The boy stared, wide-eyed, trying to move his mouth to speak.
“My mom… my dad. They took ’em… they got ’em.”
Connor considered the young boy. He was no older than eleven, maybe twelve, and he had been scoping the house that was visible across the fencing of an old pigsty. There was definitely activity within the house now. Something was happening. Shouting and obvious signs of elevated violence leaked through the front windows.
“How do you know I’m not with them in there?” asked Connor.
“’Cause, well ’cause you ain’t.”
“Explain, son… now.”
“They… they come on us. This morning. About two hours ago. There were three of them. They surprised my dad and hit him hard. He was bleeding—”
“How many?”
“Three, like I said, mister. You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?”
“What kinda weapons they have?”
“Umm… they all had guns. Two had rifles and one had a shotgun. They didn’t use ’em. The big guy used a knife.”
“Keep talking. Tell me.”
Connor assessed the boy. He was skinny, but tall. He was big-boned and well fed. The boy had wiry shoulders and sinewy arms that spoke of some hard time spent in the woods. His copper red hair was a long and leafy tangled mess. There were the beginning patches of beard growth. Continuing his assessment, Connor noticed the boy’s cheeks were smeared with dirt and tear streaks. But it was the intense blaze in his brown eyes that caused Connor to decide to help him. He released his grip and slipped comfortably down beside him. For a few seconds, they stared at the house. Connor pulled his binoculars into position.
“They got there about fifteen minutes ago. They said they were gonna… they were gonna… gonna make my daddy watch. They… um…”
“What’s your name?” asked Connor, turning toward the boy.
“Cody,” he answered, checking a sudden sob.
“Spit it out, kid. Tell me about it over there. We’re kinda pressed for time.”
“They… they called my mommy a whore.”
“Where the hell were you in all this, Cody? Why’d they let you live?”