take
you, when you stumble awake after you bleed out. I’m taking your limbs and
leaving you here with the others.
“You going to shoot?”
Howard could barely believe what he’d
witnessed. He lowered the rifle.
“That’s what I thought,” the woman said,
turning to walk away.
What the hell was he going to do? The
question hung but a moment, and then he lifted the rifle again, sighted the
man’s sweat-drenched face, and fired. His anguished wails died with the crack
of the rifle.
Howard looked at the woman. “His screams
will draw the coyotes, and that’s not a good thing. They’ve been well-fed for a
long time.”
* * * * *
The bodies were not as light as his
father’s. Without a word, he dragged them down the street while the woman tied
off the now one-armed man’s wound. He wanted them as far away as he was able to
move them. The fire wouldn’t be enough to keep the coyotes at bay, but if they
had a meal to occupy their time they’d stay clear. He managed to heft them into
a deep hole in the street. Their bodies crashed fiercely into the dark below.
The coyotes would have to work to get them.
Howard adjusted the rifle as he walked
back to the fire. He watched the woman from afar. Her psychotic mask of rage
was gone. She smiled at the man as she dressed his wounds. She talked to him
softly, saying something Howard couldn’t make out.
“Where’s your spot, stranger?” she
asked, ripping a piece of her shirt in half with her mouth. She double knotted
it around the man’s bloody stump.
Howard leaned on a broken building,
always mindful of his positioning. Just like his father had taught him.
“Somewhere far away from here. I came from the south. Nearly got trapped in a
swarm.”
“You’re far too clean for that. Where’s
your spot? These assholes dared venture into the city. They should’ve known
better. They’ve been at this a very long time. And so have I. No one who wants
to live goes into the cities.”
“You did.”
“Yeah, no shit. I scouted it for a few
days first. And guess what I found?”
“Me.”
“Cute, but no. I didn’t find a fucking
thing.” She went back to the man’s wound briefly, whistling a jaunty tune.
“Pretty amazing for a city this size. Must’ve been millions of Creepers when
the shit hit the fan.”
“Maybe something drew them away.”
“Keep playing your games.”
“Howard.”
“What a precious name. Since we’re in
the way of manners, my name is Jennifer, and this here is—” She punched the man
in his wounded arm. He cried out in pain, sobbing and blubbering something
unintelligible.
“Ma-Manuel,” he gasped.
“Good, glad we could get that all out of
the way. Where are all the dead-dead? Where the fuck are the Creepers?” She
waved the machete at Howard.
“I killed them.” Howard scratched the
stubble on his cheeks. His only hope was misdirection. This woman had him on
edge. The men even more so. He’d been in the city nearly two decades and there
was little to no contact with the outside, even after he cleared the Creepers. People
simply avoided the cities as a precaution. It was the perfect defense for a
very long time, but now the outsiders changed that.
The woman laughed until she snorted.
“One by one, and it took years,” Howard
said, feeling the memories of all that carnage.
She kept laughing, smacking Manuel’s
leg.
Good, Howard thought, as long as he
kept her guessing he’d be okay. But her intelligence wasn’t lost on him. She
spoke clearly, but crudely, and her body spoke volumes of her nutritional
health. She looked to be no older than him. Which meant she’d been raised post
war. Which garnered its own series of questions, but Howard kept them to
himself. He needed to break the tension. Although the woman held a playful tone
with him, he watched the opposite truth about her character develop.
Every so often,
you, when you stumble awake after you bleed out. I’m taking your limbs and
leaving you here with the others.
“You going to shoot?”
Howard could barely believe what he’d
witnessed. He lowered the rifle.
“That’s what I thought,” the woman said,
turning to walk away.
What the hell was he going to do? The
question hung but a moment, and then he lifted the rifle again, sighted the
man’s sweat-drenched face, and fired. His anguished wails died with the crack
of the rifle.
Howard looked at the woman. “His screams
will draw the coyotes, and that’s not a good thing. They’ve been well-fed for a
long time.”
* * * * *
The bodies were not as light as his
father’s. Without a word, he dragged them down the street while the woman tied
off the now one-armed man’s wound. He wanted them as far away as he was able to
move them. The fire wouldn’t be enough to keep the coyotes at bay, but if they
had a meal to occupy their time they’d stay clear. He managed to heft them into
a deep hole in the street. Their bodies crashed fiercely into the dark below.
The coyotes would have to work to get them.
Howard adjusted the rifle as he walked
back to the fire. He watched the woman from afar. Her psychotic mask of rage
was gone. She smiled at the man as she dressed his wounds. She talked to him
softly, saying something Howard couldn’t make out.
“Where’s your spot, stranger?” she
asked, ripping a piece of her shirt in half with her mouth. She double knotted
it around the man’s bloody stump.
Howard leaned on a broken building,
always mindful of his positioning. Just like his father had taught him.
“Somewhere far away from here. I came from the south. Nearly got trapped in a
swarm.”
“You’re far too clean for that. Where’s
your spot? These assholes dared venture into the city. They should’ve known
better. They’ve been at this a very long time. And so have I. No one who wants
to live goes into the cities.”
“You did.”
“Yeah, no shit. I scouted it for a few
days first. And guess what I found?”
“Me.”
“Cute, but no. I didn’t find a fucking
thing.” She went back to the man’s wound briefly, whistling a jaunty tune.
“Pretty amazing for a city this size. Must’ve been millions of Creepers when
the shit hit the fan.”
“Maybe something drew them away.”
“Keep playing your games.”
“Howard.”
“What a precious name. Since we’re in
the way of manners, my name is Jennifer, and this here is—” She punched the man
in his wounded arm. He cried out in pain, sobbing and blubbering something
unintelligible.
“Ma-Manuel,” he gasped.
“Good, glad we could get that all out of
the way. Where are all the dead-dead? Where the fuck are the Creepers?” She
waved the machete at Howard.
“I killed them.” Howard scratched the
stubble on his cheeks. His only hope was misdirection. This woman had him on
edge. The men even more so. He’d been in the city nearly two decades and there
was little to no contact with the outside, even after he cleared the Creepers. People
simply avoided the cities as a precaution. It was the perfect defense for a
very long time, but now the outsiders changed that.
The woman laughed until she snorted.
“One by one, and it took years,” Howard
said, feeling the memories of all that carnage.
She kept laughing, smacking Manuel’s
leg.
Good, Howard thought, as long as he
kept her guessing he’d be okay. But her intelligence wasn’t lost on him. She
spoke clearly, but crudely, and her body spoke volumes of her nutritional
health. She looked to be no older than him. Which meant she’d been raised post
war. Which garnered its own series of questions, but Howard kept them to
himself. He needed to break the tension. Although the woman held a playful tone
with him, he watched the opposite truth about her character develop.
Every so often,
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