No.
He staggered out of the room. Another body slouched in a rocking chair next to the kitchen fireplace. It was an adult female. At first glance, he was certain he saw long silver hair. His heart triphammered—the old woman! It wasn’t until he was peering right down on it that he realized his error. The corpse’s hair was palest blonde, not gray, and the wizened body of an infant was tucked into the crook of its arm.
He turned and bounded up the rough-hewn steps that led to the second story. Dead in their beds, two of them, and he knew already.
It’s not them.
But they were of an age, late teens, perhaps, and he felt compelled to look. To be certain.
No old woman. None of her group.
He fell on his knees to look under the fouled beds.
No sign of a fucking dog.
He strode back downstairs and out into the pale morning, his grip on the handle of his machete tightening until his whole fist vibrated. They watched him the way a group of men might watch a fighting dog—concerned but wary, keeping a safe distance in case it lunges.
Click.
“Boss?”
He pulled the walkie from his pocket, but didn’t respond, just stood breathing in big lungfuls of fresh, cold air.
Doyle stepped forward and gingerly took the walkie. With a cautious eye on Russell, he thumbed the unit. “You can come out,” he told Garrett. “It’s no good.”
“Copy that. No one inside?”
Doyle turned away. “They’re in there,” he said quietly. “They’re all dead.”
Something large whickered past his right ear, making him duck instinctively. Russell’s machete buried itself into the trunk of a nearby tree with a meaty thud, its duct-taped handle waving back and forth on the long blade.
Doyle whirled around, eyes wide.
“It isn’t them!” Russell yanked off the indigo and silver scarf. His scarred face was dark with rage, and he bellowed into new day, breath steaming, spittle flying.
It happened almost by accident. Before catching a little sleep after his late watch, Handy detoured downstairs.
Clicks. Curran’s voice kept repeating in his head. Clicks. Somebody was testing the waters.
He powered on the radio and was picking up the mess Curran had left, when a voice spoke. Quiet, but clear as a belclass="underline" “Boss?”
Handy froze, bottle of tequila in one hand, cork in the other.
“You can come out. It’s no good.”
“Copy that. No one inside?”
All the blood seemed to drain from his face and hands. He put the bottle down with exaggerated care, breathing shallowly, as if the voices on the other end of the radio might hear.
“They’re in there. They’re all dead.”
Fully loaded packs slowed their progress. Nevertheless, by the time the thin autumn sun had completely cleared the eastern treetops, they were well away from the Wallace cabin.
Other than Talus—ranging fore and aft in a continuous, vigilant cycle—they traveled single-file. Handy took the lead, followed by Kory, Renna, and Arie. Curran brought up the rear. They didn’t speak, only tramped headlong through the cold woods, putting Tom and Jaimee Wallace’s fine home at their backs and miles between themselves and the Webbs’ cabin.
They bore roughly west along the Mad River, backtracking to the coast and the highway north. Whatever the risk of exposure might be, it was time to get into the open.
Time to get out on the road.
-16-
THEY DROPPED, EXHAUSTED, at the far side of an open field, behind the remnants of an old billboard. The large expanse around them—once prime grazing land for local dairy farmers—was wildly overgrown. Even with winter approaching, grasses and seed-borne plant life were tall and lush. The massive face of the billboard had blown over and now leaned against the splintered upright posts. It was late twilight, and they couldn’t see more than a few yards in any direction.
“Here is good,” said Handy. “We’ll be out of sight from the highway.”
“A good windbreak, too,” said Curran. He shrugged out of his pack, which landed at his feet with a muffled thud. “Talus,” he said, and the dog appeared. Curran slipped off her saddlebags and she shook herself fiercely.
Everyone else followed suit, sighing with relief. Since breaking from the cabin some twelve hours ago, they’d not stopped for more than the briefest moments, just enough to lean against a tree, catch a breath, eat a handful of dried fruit.
“Let’s put out a ground cover,” said Arie. “I don’t relish rolling around in the mud all night.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. The many hours and the necessary pace they’d set had made her feel every bit her age, and then some.
Kory had shed his pack with the rest of them, but he stood off a little way, watching Renna and Handy spread a large plastic tarp. His head turned restlessly, scanning the field in one direction, then another. All that long day his stamina had outstripped the adults, until they had come out on the edge of the woods just at dusk. One moment they were in the trees, the next they were looking at acres of fields that ran west to the highway, and beyond that, the ocean. They couldn’t see the water from here, but they could hear it, a quiet but relentless ebb and flow.
Arie put her arm around the boy’s shoulder. “I think we can have a little fire,” she said. “Help me find dry wood.
He looked at her, a ghost of alarm on his features. “But they’ll see us, won’t they?” His eyes skimmed the surrounding area again.
“Listen to me,” Arie said. “The people who were following us before are not here. They were far from us when we heard them on the radio, and they had no idea where we were. By the time they find your cabin—if they do—we’ll be even farther away, and they won’t know where.” She and the boy were essentially the same height, so she looked at him eye-to-eye. “Right here, right now, you’re okay. We’re here with you. All of us are careful and all of us will have an eye peeled.” She pointed to Talus. “Look at your friend, there. Is she worried?”
Kory looked over at Talus, who had made herself comfortable on a corner of the ground cover and was luxuriously scratching behind one ear.
He shook his head.
“Believe me,” said Arie. “If anyone tries to get close to us out here, Talus will be the first to know. She has better sense than all of us. And,” she added, “she loves you like you’re her big, tow-headed puppy.”
Kory laughed a little at this, and Arie felt his rigid shoulders relax the smallest bit. He still had the rifle slung across his back. “Find a good dry place to stow your weapon,” she said, “and let’s get that wood. Chop chop.” Before he could ask, she flicked a little shooing gesture with one hand. “It means hurry up.”
Everything on the ground was damp or far too green to burn, and they ended up having to hack splinters and chunks off the broken posts of the billboard. Under the surface, it proved to be extremely dry, and made a hot fire that burned almost too quickly. They kept it small, needing to feed it constantly until they’d heated water and warmed themselves as best they could. Renna dug out some of the dehydrated meals they’d packed, and they fell ravenously to the luxury of processed beef stew and pasta Alfredo. Even Talus got a share. She finished it in four snaffling gulps, then proceeded to polish the inside of the mylar pouch with her extraordinary tongue.