“What’re we going to do about this guy?” asked Sergio. Eric could see on his face that he wanted to set up an ambush, and rid themselves of Carl Doyle forever. A part of him felt that way too. It felt like something that had to be done, that he would have to do eventually. But he also remembered John Martin word’s: “I’m not going to shoot anyone unless I have to.”
“We’re going to keep away from him,” Lucia said. “That’s what we’re going to do.” She shot her brother an angry look, and Eric knew they had talked about this before, that Sergio was trying to pull him on to his side.
“We can’t outrun a guy in a truck!” Sergio exclaimed.
“We’re not trying to outrun him,” Eric said to him. “We’re trying to avoid him.” He stood up and motioned behind them. “We go over the mountain. He can’t follow us there.”
There were no real trails where they hiked now. They struggled up steep hillsides, rocks and leaves slipping under their feet. At times, they had to circle, looking for a way around a rock outcropping. At other times, they scrambled up as best they could. When they reached the summit, the green carpet of forest beneath them, they collapsed, breathing hard as the sun set, red and orange in the west.
Eric and Birdie built a fire in a pit, under a tree, to keep the light from Doyle’s eyes. After a scant meal of rice, the four of them sat, fatigued and sore, around the crackling fire.
“We can’t keep running from this guy,” said Sergio. “He knows where we’re going. We’re going to have to face him sometime.”
“He’s sick,” said Lucia. “He’s got the Vaca B. He can’t survive forever. Every time we see him, he’s worse than he was.” It was an argument they had before. They were having it again, this time for Eric’s benefit.
“He might not die,” argued Sergio. “You heard what Prince Billy said. Some of them survive. He’s dangerous! Look at what he did to those guards! He killed them just to get across a bridge. We should set a trap and kill him.”
“Why are you so sure we can do that?” asked Eric. “Doyle seems to survive everything. He’s fought Zombie bears, for crying out loud. What makes you think he’s afraid of a couple of pistols?”
“We could get something stronger. A shotgun,” Sergio suggested.
Eric shook his head. “He’s too dangerous for us to handle. If he can fight off the Minutemen, what chance do we have?” Eric poked at the fire. Sparks burst up from the fire. “Besides,” he added after a pause. “He’s trying to help us.”
“Help us?” Sergio asked incredulously. “Help us? You’ve got to be kidding me! Have you forgotten John Martin already?”
“No,” Eric said quickly. He blushed. “Of course not.”
“How can you say that bastard is helping us?” Sergio was red with anger.
“If it wasn’t for Doyle, we’d either be dead or in some jail in Boston by now,” Eric reminded him. “You’re right, he’s dangerous, he’s a murderer, but we need to avoid him, not kill him. John Martin wouldn’t murder him either, remember?”
“It’s not murder,” Sergio spat.
“It is.”
“It is,” Lucia agreed.
Sergio kicked a stump and crossed his arms in irritation. They said nothing for a long while. They watched the water boil and listened to the fire. Eric turned his attention to the stars. There were no clouds and the sky was awash with starlight. Eric could only pick out one constellation for certain. The Big Dipper. He was somewhat sure he could find the North Star too, but not sure enough to guide them if he had to.
“We need to learn some astronomy,” said Lucia suddenly.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Eric said, keeping his head up.
“You two,” Sergio said venomously. “The stars aren’t our problem now. Our problem is down here, but you just keep looking up. Look away.” He hissed and stood up, striding away, kicking up dirt into the fire.
Eric turned back to the stars. Birdie, who had been sleeping next to him, suddenly sat up, and then lay back down, this time with her head in his lap.
“He’s just scared,” Lucia said, apologizing for her brother.
“I know,” Eric said.
They were too tired to say anything more, but they watched the stars silently for a long while.
In the morning, as they hiked down the mountain, Lucia told Eric about a dream she had the night before.
She was flying over a lake. It was night and the dark water reflected the sky. Stars shivered from the disturbance of her passage over the water. She came to an island of tall pine trees, so tall they seemed to pin their tops to the sky. She circled the island again and again, feeling the wind through her hair and smelling the pine trees. Then she saw Birdie and Sergio down at the shore of the island, waving at her. Eric wasn’t there. She flew through the trees and searched the entire island, but he wasn’t there. He never made it.
When she finished telling him, she gazed at him with deep, serious eyes. “Please be careful, Eric. I don’t want to lose you.” She put her hand on his arm.
Eric smiled awkwardly. “I’ll be careful,” he said.
But all that morning, he thought of it. The island without him. It seemed right to him, somehow. He would be their guide, but he would not reach it with them. The feeling was strong and painful inside him. The island was for a new beginning, and he was old, with most of his life still back before the Vaca B, a world of movies and junk food and schools crowded with clean, well-dressed children and expansive malls.
Maybe the island was not for him. Maybe the things he would have to do to get there would make him unsuitable for it. Maybe it was reserved for new fresh beginnings with pure hearts, for people like Birdie and Lucia. Not him. He would be forced to do things.
He would have to kill Carl Doyle before the end.
Across the Pemigewasset River was a town full of block-shaped clapboard houses. Each house had a large, overgrown lawn. Sergio scanned the town and the bridge leading to it with the binoculars, but he saw nothing. No Zombies, no gangs, nothing. But the empty town made Eric nervous. He drew out his .22 and checked to see if it was loaded. A second later he checked again.
They had little choice but take the bridge. Swimming across was too dangerous, especially because the water could be infected with the Vaca B. All it took was a single gulp of water to kill them. They had survived that danger once, but it was no guarantee they would survive again.
As they moved down toward the bridge, Eric up front with Lucia, and Sergio and Birdie hanging back, Eric felt the same sense of doom he had earlier. He felt that all the time now. Walking across the bridge, Eric’s heart thumped in his chest, but all he heard was the wind over the river. The bridge was a simple, short overpass, but it seemed to take forever to pass over the bridge. Eric felt he could see them moving over the bridge from some great height. Four specks in a haunted world. From that height, it seemed ridiculous and dangerous to be so exposed. For a moment, his heart pattered in him dangerously fast. His face flushed. He had the urge to run, but he didn’t. Somehow he kept himself together until they reached the other side. His heart calmed from its furious pace.
While he stood there, with some portion of relief, he watched as a cat with bright yellow fur walked lazily to the middle of the road and sit down. The cat watched them with false indifference, licking its paws. When they approached, the cat rolled over on its back and Birdie stroked it, laughing. When Sergio approached, the cat rolled to its feet and dashed away.