Palimpsest (Book 2): Of One Skein, Page 5

  “Sounds serious,” Cam says.

  I don’t know if we have time or not, but I’m not sure Sam will ever understand the name thing. “Cam, you’re an asshole, you interrupted Samantha’s story. So, Samantha, do you end up with the killer of your dreams?” I ask.

  That sly twinkle in her eye is back. “You’ll have to come back to me to find out.”

  I never want to forget the way she looks right now — happy.

  My heart does a flip and I lose control again.

  “I can’t wait that long,” I say, and slide one hand behind her neck, pulling her to me, our mouths near, lips waiting, wanting, and then I caress her lips with mine, and she falls into me. I feel my body fill with warmth, tingling all the way to my toes — she’s so soft.

  Her mouth is warm, eager; our tongues find one another, intertwining as our kisses become more passionate.

  She tastes like home, like high school, like dreams fulfilled, like meaning, like acceptance, like atonement and forgiveness, like everything worth living for and everything worth dying for.

  I feel myself falling even as her hands find the back of my neck, pulling so fiercely that it feels like she’ll never let go; my guilt, doubts, regrets — all of it — fades, each layer slipping away like the autumnal leaves before a cleansing breeze.

  I remember her burns and pull back, suddenly worried I’ll hurt her.

  We rest our foreheads against one another, staring into each other’s eyes.

  She licks her lips. “I’ll always be here for you,” she says.

  “I love you back,” I whisper.

  She smiles, so wide that she winces at her burns. But her eyes light up anyway and it looks like she’s going to cry again, but maybe this time it wouldn’t be so bad.

  I kiss her again briefly and step back.

  “Really, guys? I’d say get a room, but…apocalypse, right? Anyway, we’re losing daylight.” Cam shakes his head.

  I glare at him, but he’s smiling at us. I think he really is a friend — I can trust him.

  And then, for a moment; this isn’t the end of the world, we aren’t trying to rescue kidnapped kids, we aren’t trying to escape the savagery of the Cart People or their zombie troopers, Samantha’s dimples are smooth and scar free, none of us have regrets or guilt that no kid should ever have to deal with, everyone’s parents are back home and this is a high school parking lot, it’s Friday night, everyone is getting ready for homecoming and the football game, we’re playing our rivals, Nyack, and my only worry is how long I have to wait before kissing Sam again.

  Sam doesn’t let go of my hand — she squeezes tighter.

  “Come back to me,” she says seriously, and then, my hand slips from hers.

  For the briefest of moments, it’s like a chasm opens up between us, a new darkness cuts through my soul — I’m falling again, through the high school fantasy and into an abyss — away from her, and a cold fear settles over me, penetrating me — will I ever touch her again?

  Samantha steps close, a shadow of worry passing over her face. “What’s wrong?”

  I smile and stare at her, taking her face in one more time, Christ, she’s beautiful…and just like that, the darkness is gone — but I have a nagging feeling that it hasn’t gone far.

  “You need to go,” she says and stands tall, not like a teenager in love but like that other girl, the tough one — the other one I love. Her black leather coat is flapping around her legs, caught by the sudden breeze of an approaching storm. She pulls up her scarf and retrieves her goggles from one of her coat pockets and slides them over her head.

  “You are so fucking hot, you know that, right?” I say like a teenager in love — because I am one.

  She laughs through her scarf, her eyes lighting up again. She pulls out a beanie from her other pocket. “For your noggin’.” And then she points down the highway.

  “Time to go,” Cam says softly.

  I don’t want to go, not now.

  I have so much to lose, so much responsibility right here.

  But that’s how the new me was born, like an evil superhero emerging from a chrysalis of panic and fear — staying would be going backward.

  I’ll never be that kid again.

  We walk together and meet Emily a few wagons up, hanging out with the other kids her age, the one’s too young to be on cemetery duty. She’s older than most of them, not in years, but in experience.

  “Do you have to go?’ she asks.

  “Yeah, those kids need help. If you were this much older, you’d be coming with me.” I hold my thumb and index finger close. “I’m going to need you when I get back.”

  Her face lights up as she smiles.

  “Keep practicing with your knife and Sam’s going to start teaching you to shoot.”

  “Certainly not!” A woman’s voice shouts at me from the far said of the road, behind a nineteen dollars a day U-haul rental trailer. “Have you lost your mind, young man? We confiscated her knife; she could have most assuredly injured herself, seriously in fact, and then what would we do, what if…” She storms over and pulls Emily back with a protective arm.

  I know she means well — and I’m grateful that she does, but she’s still not accepting our new reality. I can’t let her endanger Emily.

  “Be nice,” Sam says and Cam grimaces, but doesn’t stop me.

  “What if what? Ma’am, thanks for taking care of Emily. I truly appreciate it. I know your heart is in a good place, but here’s the deal. Find her knife, and give it back to her and let her practice. Sam here is going to teach her how to shoot, fight, eat raw meat if necessary.

  “See, I gave Emily my vow that she would make it through this God-forsaken shit-hole of a world — and I keep my promises. With all due respect, stay the fuck out of my way — got it?”

  Emily slips away and rushes over to hug me. I lean down and kiss the top of her head.

  The woman’s face goes blank as the blood drains away, and then a cloud of dread settles over her features. “You’re him…” she says and takes a step back.

  I nod.

  Him, Ghost, what the fuck ever.

  Sam and Cam laugh, but it sounds like a nervous laugh.

  “Promise to come back?” Emily asks me.

  I kneel down and hug her. “I promise, but I have to get going, be ready when we get back, and be good. Stay with Sam.”

  She looks up at Sam. “I will, promise.”

  I stand up and pause long enough to kiss Sam one more time.

  How can a simple touch be so powerful that nothing else seems to matter when she’s this close?

  “No, you hang up first,” I say.

  She pushes me away.

  She’s still the stronger one.

  I smile and turn to leave. “And no more smoking, Emily.”

  The woman nearly faints.

  It’s a brave new world. Time to get in the game, lady.

  “Hey,” Sam calls.

  I stop and turn. “What?”

  “Remember, you can’t save everyone, okay — just who you can. Promise?” she asks expectantly.

  I nod.

  “Say it,” Sam insists.

  “I promise. I’ll come back to you.” I say, and turn away while I still have the strength to do so.

  “Send a postcard,” she shouts after me.

  I wave a hand and keep walking, rather than turn around.

  I hear Emily ask what a postcard is, and then Sam’s starts to talk about that Head Shop we stayed in a few days ago…her voice is so comforting…it’s all I want to think about, her voice, her face, those lips — and that I’d rather be kicked in the head as leave her now. Not to mention Emily.

  After a few minutes, I glance over at Cam and he’s looking at me with concern.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I can see it in your eyes, the way you two look at each other. I’m older than you.”

  “Older, my ass, not by much.”

  “By enough. You and her, Sam�
�it’s messed up. You two aren’t in a good place, I’m worried for you. She’s fragile.”

  “I know, but she loves me, I love her — she’s, we…Christ, this feels fucking awesome. They should have figured out a way to bottle and sell it, someone would’ve gotten rich.”

  “They did, it’s called crack. You’re suicidal, dude. I‘m worried.”

  “No, I’m good now, really good I think.”

  “And if she breaks your heart?”

  “You’re a ray of goddamned sunshine.”

  “You don’t deserve to end up on a pile of bodies. You’re my friend. I want you to make it. And Sam deserves to be happy too.”

  I know exactly what that feels like, that need to see your friends tomorrow, for me to see Sam and Emily, and even Cam, but… “Thanks, Gandhi, I’m good. Tell you what, if Sam dumps me, and I get suicidal — I’ll shoot you instead. How’s that?”

  Cam laughs, but not for long.

  “I’m joking,” I say, but he doesn’t look convinced.

  We walk to the front of the caravan. Horseshoes begin to clop off the asphalt as the horses lurch against their harnesses, the creaking and groaning wagons and trailers finally get back on their way. The carcasses of the burned and damaged wagons and trailers have been shoved off the road and into the ditch alongside the forest. Some are laying on their sides, others in charred pieces. Pictures of smiling kids and happy-ass cartoon characters watch us from the melted packaging of non-dairy yogurt substitute and other environmentally sensitive, yet no less spoiled, lunch foods. The remains of the dead draft horses, legs, organs and singed manes hanging over big sad eyes, top the cold pyres. It’s already beginning to stink.

  “And if you break her heart?” he asks me.

  I know they’ve become friends, even close friends in the last couple of days, but I can’t imagine hurting Sam, and the insinuation kind of pisses me off. “Cam?”

  “Yeah?”

  I take another look back, but I can’t see Samantha or Emily and a sense of panic hits me.

  “Take care of Samantha. Take care of Emily.”

  “I will.”

  “No, I’m fucking serious. I need them to be safe.” I glare at him. This new fear is changing me, and my heart’s beginning to burn with something more than the need to survive, it’s burning with rage. “Can I depend on you?”

  He rests one hand on my shoulder and squeezes like a father might — to reassure?

  “I’ll protect them with my last dying breath. That’s all I can promise.”

  I look him dead in the eye. “When you say it like that, it sounds like too much to ask — but I’m asking anyway.”

  §§§§§

  Her name is Jess and I’m guessing I should consider myself lucky that Jen was the brave one this morning. Jess would have shot me in a heartbeat. I can taste her hatred, but she’s the only one who knows where their kids might be. We need her as a guide, so that’s pretty much that.

  But there’s something off about her, she looks normal, but then not — like she’s hiding something and, at the end of the day, I’m not sure she’s any less crazy than I am. We decided to untie her, but we did stop short of giving her a gun, she’s way up front and I’m...I’m guarding the rear.

  Paco is on point with her. He’s afraid. I don’t trust him any more than I trust Jess, but Cam does, so that’s going to have to be good enough for now too.

  Behind them is the sentry from our first night. He’s about my age and has a shaved head covered with new tribal tattoos. His name is Tristan.

  No wonder he’s trying to toughen up. Under the grit of the apocalypse, he looks like a Tristan, I’m guessing second string flag-football and debate team captain.

  He’s got a pretty cold stare, though. He’s been through some shit.

  Good.

  Dante is walking in front of me with Tammy, from-the-video-store-parking-lot Tammy. I have my doubts, but she ran track or something — her dad says she was a lock for winning State. Held a record or some shit.

  She’s our shit’s-gone-wrong-get-out-of-jail-not-so-free card. If things go south, she high-tails it back to Cam and the group, if she can find them. We’re supposed to meet at the Dunkin Donuts in Freemont in five days. Turns out we’re in West Virginia. Everyone memorized the basic route from the State Highway. We couldn’t risk getting killed and having the Cart People pull a map out of our pockets. Paco and Dante took some convincing.

  It’s not like the caravan is a secret or anything, but telling them exactly where Samantha and Emily are going to be is just fucking stupid.

  We all have on jeans, boots or heavy sneakers, long coats, parkas and backpacks with food and ammunition. We all have two pistols each. Dante and Tristan both have rifles.

  I have my backpack, supplies and my .45, but I miss Sam.

  I miss Emily.

  I’m afraid I’m never going to see them again.

  I’m afraid Paco or Jess or Tammy or one of these assholes is going to get me killed.

  I’m down to my last few cigarettes too.

  I’m cranky.

  I asked Cam why he was sending a bunch of kids on a rescue mission, I mean I got why he was sending me, but where are the adults, the cops and the ex-marines, shit like that?

  “They won’t leave their families, not for kids they don’t know — not for the kids of the people that attacked us, killed our own — not for their kids,” that’s what he says.

  “So this crew volunteered?” I ask.

  “Not really, but we all have shit we’d rather not do. For now, this is their shit.”

  “Tammy’s going to forget about those abs and stop fawning all over you and then you’ll be sorry. No apocalyptic nookie for you.”

  “I’m already sorry,” he says, trying to force a smile. He looks five years older already.

  Me and my fellow heroes follow Jess through the forest in silence, the smell of pinecones and mold is overpowering. I have no idea how she’s finding her way, maybe she was a Scout or a Brownie or something. Everything looks the same to me, tall leafy trees holding out against autumn and even taller pine trees, lots of thorny underbrush and a golden carpet of leaves covering the ground, fallen branches, stumps and pretty much everything.

  The scene should be beautiful, but the leaves just remind me of a fungus.

  I assume we’re heading back to where Jess’ group first ran into the Cart People, but I don’t really know. Cam put Paco in charge; I think I’m here to bat cleanup.

  We didn’t get out of Dodge until late afternoon, which means we don’t have much daylight left. Cam gave up a secret stash of flashlights and batteries.

  I haven’t seen a battery since this whole thing started. They were the first things to disappear from stores. I didn’t even know they worked.

  They’re like gold.

  After an hour or so, Jess motions for us to stop and slows down, like she’s looking for something. She stops and starts in fits, turning this way and that like she’s testing her footing, or like she’s hopelessly lost.

  And then she pushes through a thicket and I hear her stifle a scream.

  Paco follows her through the bushes and then Dante.

  I hear Tammy scream when she gets through.

  Tristan looks at me, maybe for reassurance. He looks scared.

  I just shrug and push past him. I’m afraid it’s time for the first string.

  The forest canopy opens up, revealing a clearing spread out under a dull and darkening gray sky. Standing in the center is the corpse of a large tree. The top was probably broken off decades ago, maybe from rot or a lightning strike, leaving a weathered stump slightly taller than me and almost as fat as a dinner table. It’s split open and eroded along one side, leaving a debris-filled hollow.

  It’s the kind of tree that’s always showing up in horror books and movies.

  I’m guessing Ronny is the kid stretched across the crevice, what’s left of him anyway.

  The Cart People made a mess.<
br />
  I’m not sure how his mom is even functioning, but then, I guess she’s not, not really. She’s become something else too — something not quite human.

  The dogs we surprised have the same look in their eyes.

  They stopped feeding, but none of them are barking.

  They’re growling at us, like a warning, while they size up the situation. They don’t look rabid, but then what does rabies look like in a wild animal, one that’s eating a kid?

  The fashion-accessory puppies and lap dogs must not have made it, these guys are all big, and hungry and feral as shit. A Rottweiler, a Doberman, two mixed-breeds that look like German Shepherds and two more sandy-gray ones with long legs and blue-white eyes that look like fucking wolves.

  The first drops of rain finally begin to fall as everyone slowly pulls out their pistols.

  It reminds me of the Mexican stand-off from the day we met Tammy. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.

  The sky suddenly cracks with a blinding flash and explosive thunder shakes the ground.

  No one moves as the sky opens up, releasing a torrent of heavy rain.

  One of the wolf-dogs steps closer to Jess. She doesn’t have a gun.

  She’s screwed.

  I run along the edge of the clearing, around everyone and then scream and fire a few shots into the air as I leap in front of the pack. I empty the rest of my magazine into the ground.

  The dogs howl, pounce and paw at the dirt and leaves with confusion and fear before tucking their tails and running away, disappearing into the woods — except the wolf-dogs. They just stare at me, almost as if they’re bored and then casually turn and follow the pack.

  “What the hell?” Paco shouts at me.

  “What?” I respond.

  “You didn’t have to scare the piss out of everyone!”

  “Not now, Paco. Jess was screwed, wake the fuck up. Besides, I didn’t want them to get hurt.”

  “Ghost didn’t want to hurt a bunch of dogs?”

  Jess stares at me with bewilderment. “They were…”

  “I know, Jess, but they’re just doing what they do, it would’ve been cruel to hurt them.” I don’t know if she’s rational enough to understand what I’m saying.