Page 36 of Surviving Her

God, it’s good to be back.

Every step through the undergrowth stirred memories of better times. She felt the weight of the last few days lift slightly, her senses remembering a part of her life that had been pushed aside.

As she bent to collect the first plant, a rustling sound caught her attention. Startled, she looked up to see a familiar face emerging from the trees: Kara Wilson.

No way.

“Kara!” River exclaimed, her voice coming out high-pitched with surprise. It had been ages since she’d last seen Kara, buthere she was, carrying a basket filled with mushrooms and roots, just like the old days.

I must be hallucinating from the stress.

“River!” Kara’s smile was wide, her eyes reflecting the same joy. “Look at you—still out scouting, I see.” She raised her basket. “I’m just out gathering for Fort Haven. We’re still standing, you know.”

“Fort Haven? I can’t believe it!” River’s heart lifted. She hadn’t heard anything about them for so long. “I should’ve known there’d be people up there, but I haven’t given it much thought. How many of you are there?”

“Plenty! More people are arriving by the day. By the hour, in fact,” Kara said, her words tinged with pride. “It’s been tough over the last week or so. There aren’t a lot of undead around in the woods. We’ve been picking them off and burning the bodies. We still don’t have a clue what’s going on. I guess none of us do, but we’re holding on, canning whatever we can find—just like the good old days, right? Your dad taught us so much. Can you believe all this shit, Riv?”

River couldn’t get her words out fast enough as she told her old friend all about her father and what she’d been through to get him help. “Once he’s better, maybe we’ll head your way,” River said, feeling lighter with the knowledge that the world outside hadn’t completely collapsed. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but my…girlfriend knows what she’s doing.”

Kara squeezed her arm. “Look at you, Riv! Finding time for romance even though the world’s come to an end. You’ll get through it. And when you’re ready, come find us. You know we’d love to see you guys.”

The encounter left River with a sense of purpose. As she made her way back to the cabin, her bag full of plants, she finally felt hope again.

Inside the cabin, Thomas’s condition had worsened. Eliza had laid out her makeshift surgical tools, her face set in a mask of concentration. River handed her the plants, and without a word, Eliza began grinding them into a paste. She sterilized the knife. River felt the atmosphere in the room grow tense.

“I remembered we have some honey in the pantry. We got it a few years ago. It’ll still be okay, right?”

“It’s better than nothing, yes. You were gone a while, Riv. You didn’t meet any walkers, did you?”

“No, no. Not at all. You won’t believe this, but I met this woman I used to go on scouting hikes with years ago. She volunteers up at this Fort Haven place. It’s about twenty, twenty-five miles south of here. It’s a great place. Dad and I used to love it there. It’s a big, outdoorsy camping site. She said a good amount of people are holed up there. They seem to be making a go of it, sticking together and helping each other out. They’re in good hands with her.”

“It sounds amazing, but…listen up. The infection has spread deeper than I feared. There’s no other choice. I have to do this now.”

The wooden walls of the cabin seemed to close in tighter around them. Thomas’s ragged groans cut through the otherwise still air. Eliza’s hands worked steadily, but River noted the concern in her eyes every time she glanced at Thomas. Eliza moved with practiced precision, her focus unwavering. The cabin, once a sanctuary for River and her father, now felt like a trap.

River stood by her father’s side, her heart pounding with a rhythm that seemed too loud in the quiet space. She watched as Eliza prepared for the surgery, her movements efficient but tinged with the strain of what was at stake. Each sound from Thomas—his restless murmurs and the occasional pained sigh—made River’s stomach clench tighter. The severity of hisinfection was evident, the wound on his leg swollen and dark, a menacing sight that spelled the need for drastic intervention.

Eliza turned to River, her expression firm yet sympathetic. “River, I need you to stay calm,” she said, her voice steady. “But I’m going to need your help. We don’t have much time.”

River nodded, though her hands trembled slightly as she reached out to steady her father. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” she promised, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She glanced at her father, who lay motionless except for the occasional shallow twitch. His face was so pale that her heart ached.

River moved to her father’s side, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. “Dad,” she said softly, though her voice was tinged with desperation. “I need you to hang on. We’re going to get you through this. Eliza’s the best. Just stay with us.”

Thomas’s body tensed at her touch, his murmurs growing more intense. River felt her resolve falter, but she clenched her teeth and squared her shoulders. Her internal monologue sounded so loud against the backdrop of the cabin’s silence. Failure was not an option—losing her father would leave her broken. Life would be pointless without him.

As Eliza worked, River could see just how fiercely determined she was. Her hands, though steady, moved with urgency as she made the necessary incisions. River’s role seemed simple enough—she just had to hold her father down as he writhed in pain. The sounds around her were raw and visceral. The knife made a dull, repetitive sound as it sliced through flesh, and Thomas’s cries of agony filled the cabin, mingling with the echoes of River’s own anxiety.

“Can’t we do something to help him deal with the pain? He can’t handle this!” she screamed as she tried to catch Eliza’s eye.

Eliza’s brow was furrowed with concentration, her face close to the wound as she worked to remove the infection. The air wasthick with the smell of antiseptic and the earthy aroma of blood, a reminder of the harsh reality they faced.

“We don’t have anything except some vodka. I gave him half a bottle while you were out. That’s why he’s bleeding so much,” Eliza explained without breaking her focus. “He’ll need the rest later.”

River’s voice wavered as she spoke to her unconscious father. “Fight, Dad. Please. We need you. I need you.” Her words were a desperate plea in the midst of the chaotic scene.

The minutes dragged on, each one stretching out as Eliza worked tirelessly. The tension in the cabin was palpable, an oppressive force that pressed down on them. River’s hands were wet with sweat, her grip on her father firm yet gentle.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eliza straightened her back, wiping her brow with a forearm smeared with blood.

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