“But Harry turned around and his face was dark like I never seen a face before. He took out a knife and walked back to Willie. Willie tried to move away, but Harry stuck his knee into his back and just sawed at Willie’s neck with that knife. Sawed at it like Willie was a piece of wood. I heard him gurgle and die. ‘Now what you going to do?’ That’s what Harry said to poor Willie.
“Then Paul made a grab at me. I forgot I was even there. It was like a nightmare, I couldn’t hardly believe what I saw. I knew I had to run. The King Cobra didn’t like Snakes hurting each other. He had people thrown down into this narrow pit called the Pipe for it. They stayed down there until they died. Harry and Paul wouldn’t want no witnesses. I was lucky to get away. I was lighter on my feet than those fuckers. Hope they rot in hell.”
Eric swallowed through a dry throat. He’d come close to getting caught by the Snakes.
It was a long silence. The fire crackling. Brad staring into it. Sarah looking at her hands. Eric imagined Willie and seemed to feel Harry’s knee hard on his back and the cold knife pressing into his neck. They all seemed to feel the touch of death, just at the edge of the light, just where the darkness began, out there among the lakes and forests where the shadows waited.
“Fuck it,” Brad said, throwing some grass into the fire. “I’m going to sleep.” He stood up and put out his hand to Eric. Eric blinked at it for a second before he realized that Brad wanted to shake hands. Then he took it quickly. Brad’s handshake was firm and painful, but Eric hid the pain. “Don’t mind me if I mouth off once in a while,” he said. “That’s how I am.” Eric watched him leave, out into the forest where he had set his tent, away from everyone.
“It’s true,” Sarah said after the sound of Brad’s walking through the forest had subsided. “He just can’t control his mouth.”
Eric thought about it. It was strange to think they had only known each other for a day. It seemed much longer. “How about you?” Eric asked to Sarah.
Sarah shrugged, looking into the fire. “I was a girl in high school with a mother and father and two little brothers.” She didn’t look at him, but at the fire where all her memories seemed to kindle and burn in the fire. “Now I’m a woman and I’m alone.”
“We’re not alone,” Eric said after a while.
Sarah didn’t answer. She continued to look into the fire, the red flickering light reflecting in her eyes as if all her past burned there, to cinders.
Moving north again, the four of them trekked through bushes and forest. Brad and Sarah kept a much faster pace than Eric had. He puffed and stumbled after them as best he could. Birdie, her feet still sore, did her best as well, and though her face was pinched in pain, she never cried or whined.
They agreed to move around the east of Wooster. Brad said he knew how to avoid the Snakes. They would be able to get to Cuyahoga Valley very soon. But at the pace they were moving, Eric, sweating and breathing hard, wasn’t sure he would make it without collapsing in exhaustion, but he would not ask Brad to slow or to stop. He didn’t care how much it hurt.
Brad scouted ahead. He had broken off a branch and used it as a walking stick. He would stop at the crest of a hill and listen while the rest of them caught up with him. Eric kept having a distant memory. When he was very young, he had visited his aunt’s farm in Indiana. He had many cousins there, and, though he was very young at the time, they had led him through the fields, playing war. Brad reminded him of that, how his cousins held guns that were branches and would crouch in the soil, tracking down the enemy. It was no game now, but Brad was not much older than his cousins had been.
They were still children, he kept thinking. The thought made his heart beat and skin crawl. They were so young.
“When I get to the island,” said Brad, “I’m going to build a house.” They had stopped for a lunch of leftover chowder. “And I’m going to build a little dock for our boats. We’ll have boats, won’t we?”
“Yes,” said Eric. “We’ll have boats. And we’ll have animals too.”
“Puppies?” Birdie looked up from her meal. Her eyes sparkled.
“If we can find one,” laughed Sarah. “I’m going to design the kitchen. A great big fireplace. Unless we can find an old cookstove.”
“Too heavy,” Brad said. “There’s no way me and Fats can move a cast iron cook stove alone.”
“Well then,” Sarah said, “a very big fireplace then. It’ll keep us warm and I can cook with it. We’ll have to dig a root cellar.”
“Yes,” Eric said. “My aunt had one of those. She said they used to store food in it all year long.”
“I guess we’ll have to learn to grow food,” said Brad. “Anyone know a damn thing about that?”
Sarah and Eric looked at each other. Eric turned back to Brad. “I don’t know, put seeds in the ground and give them water, I guess.”
“Fucking A,” Brad said. “There’s more to it than that!”
“We’ll just have to learn,” said Eric. “Trial and error.”
“Yeah, great idea,” Brad huffed. “Only one problem with that bit of fucking genius. One error and we’re dead.”
They ate quietly after that.
The woods thinned. They began moving through fields, the green grass already up to their shins. They felt exposed and vulnerable. Sticking to creeks as best they could, keeping low, they moved slowly, but as quick as they could. The warm wind blew in earth-scented gusts about them. Little yellow flowers bloomed about them. Eric reached down, picked a few, and then tucked them into Birdie’s hair. She waited patiently while he did it.
It wasn’t long before they realized they needed more supplies. Unhappy about it, Brad nonetheless relented. They could see a town up ahead, sprawled out and menacing. It seemed a life time ago when such places seemed small and boring to Eric. Brad said the town was Orrville.
The four of them snuck down into the outskirts and began scavenging while Brad kept watch. “This is Snakes territory,” he told them. He positioned himself so he could see the road while they busily searched the abandoned houses.
The Snakes had cleaned up the Zombies, it seemed. The town was deserted of humans. Raccoons, mice, and dogs had moved into the houses. Cats watched them with baleful eyes. Listening for Brad’s whistle, they scavenged quickly, taking what little they could find.
In an hour, as planned, they met in the main street. They found a bag of rice, a box of instant potatoes, a large canister of oats, a jar of applesauce, and three cans of spinach. Sarah had grabbed several plastic containers of spices and a cardboard cylinder of salt. They were looking over their spoils when they heard the voice.
“Hey!”
They whirled around, both Brad and Eric pulling guns from their belt.
The man only laughed when he saw the guns. He was a tall, husky man, who loomed large over them. Under a bushy yellow mustache was a thin, red mouth. His eyes were large and seemed to take in every one of them at once, like he had no need to focus on anything. He was dressed in camouflage pants and shiny black boots. The sweater he wore over a slightly bulging stomach had leather patches at the shoulders and elbows. He had the look of a bear to Eric. In his arms, carelessly held, was an assault rifle.
“Stop pointing those at me,” he said, but his voice was not afraid. It rolled across the stillness like distant thunder.
Even Brad lowered his weapon.
He walked toward them, smiling. “Good day,” he said, holding out a beefy hand. When Eric shook it, he felt hair upon the man’s knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said to each of them. He shook all their hands but for Birdie’s, who he seemed to ignore. When he was done shaking hands, he said, “I am Carl,” he said. “Mister Carl Doyle. Follow me.”