Page 45 of Resurrection
I moan my response to Cole’s question as he digs his thumbs even deeper into my arches, my toes curling at the delicious pressure he elicits on my foot.
“Don’t ever stop, Doc.” I was about to say the exact same thing, but Hawk beat me to it. “Fucking hell... Those sounds, sweetheart. You don’t even know,” he groans, taking a seat next to me. He moves his hand, aiming for... he’s right...Idon’teven know. My chest, my stomach, my face? It doesn’t matter, though. Not caring about a thing in the world, I melt into the cushions, my eyes drifting shut as, between the two of them, they work my muscles into pure relaxation.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jax
It’s been a week since the incident on the highway. We’ve seen more of the undead come and go every day, with hordes large and small passing by our safe house and somehow not realizing we’re hiding within its walls. We’ve taken the time to rest, recuperate, and refocus, working with Aly on her self-defense, recharging for the road ahead, and, thankfully, not needing to leave the house for anything. That is… until now.
It’s time.
After having to ditch the car and half our supplies on the highway, we’re running on scraps. Again. It’s mind boggling how much this short journey has cost us—almost cost us even more—but, in these times, no one can possibly predict the future, or know everything that’s going to happen and all you’re going to need. The timewe spent allowing Cole to heal was well worth it. He’s alive, and is doing well. But it’s like we’re starting off at zero, once again. Especially after the incident on the highway.
We no longer have a vehicle. Inevitably, our luck with the station wagon ran out, and we had to leave it behind on the highway with the rest of the boxed-in traffic. There’s no replacement, and, even if there was, after being involuntarily trapped in the march of the undead, it’s looking like the better route would be to walk. We knew, in the backs of our minds, that this would be a possibility, and, considering all the abandoned cars blocking our routes as well as the higher concentration of zombies in open spaces, it might be safer in the long run. On foot, we can head for the trees if we need to—force them to spread out, lower their congestion, and increase the probability of our survival. I don’t like it, being exposed to everything that hunts us, but we don’t exactly have a better option.
At least Aly has some sort of idea as to what to look out for. She’s already done this, backpacking alone down most of the east coast last year. It’s obviously changed since then—an increased zombie population, infrastructure deterioration, etc.— but the things we need to look out for, the things she’s had to endure already, we’ll be prepared for. Or at least as prepared as we can be.
“All set?” I ask as I walk down the steps to where Aly, Cole, and Hawk are gathered on the front lawn with Sadie sitting at Aly’s feet. They’re each loaded up with apack filled with identical gear, just in case we get separated, and enough ready-to-eat food to last us each at least a week. “Alright, we’ve been over this. It’s about a seven-to-ten-hour hike to Tryon Palace, give or take. We don’t know what’s between here and there, but whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together. We’ve made it this far, so let’s finish this.”
Falling into formation around Aly, we restart our journey north. I take point with Sadie at my side, while Aly takes her position directly behind me with Cole and Hawk flanking her.
We’ve checked and restocked our weapons. Each of us carries a knife, a handgun, and a long-range weapon of some type. Aly opted for the AR-15, same as Hawk, since she’s been previously trained in its use, while Cole decided on the shotgun. I chose my bow. Not only is it a good weapon for defense, but if we, for some reason, run out of ammunition, the bow has us covered.
Before long, Hawk is unable to keep quiet and starts to sing to himself. I roll my eyes but smile, regardless. This is how Hawk dissociates, how he keeps calm, plus it gives the rest of us the benefit of a cadence to help take our minds off the long walk ahead of us. I’m not sure what the tune is but it’s got Aly dance walking next to him, shaking her shoulders and swaying her hips as if it’s not the end of the world, and with absolutely no worries that we might need to fight for our lives in the next second.
We’re out in the open, no cover except the trees on either side of the road, but I don’t stop them. Whatdifference would it make? I’m not going to ruin what little fun they might happen to get out here, so I let them do their thing. Our days are numbered, and if this is our last one—which it better fucking not be—they might as well enjoy themselves.
A muffled groan emerges from the embankment next to the road, catching Sadie’s attention. Trotting over, she wags her tail back and forth, eager to seek out the noise. I follow her and immediately call her back at what I see. It’s too late, though. She jumps back up on the road with her newly acquired prize hanging out from both sides of her mouth.
It's an arm...
A fucking arm!
“Drop it, Sadie!” I command, sternly pointing my finger to the ground and instantly making her drop the appendage...only to have Hawk pick the damn thing back up.
“Eww! What are you doing?” Aly asks disgustedly, quirking her eyebrow at him and probably the ease at which he lifted the severed limb.
“Got an itch,” he says simply. As if this is an everyday occurrence and the fact that she’s even asking the question is absurd.
“What?!” she exclaims, looking to me and then back at Hawk again.
“An itch,” he repeats, and then proceeds to stick the bone in between his pack and his back, using it, of all things, as a scratching stick.
“Oooh yeah. Right there. That’s the stuff,” Hawk groans, sticking his tongue out as he continues maneuvering the bone around, chasing the itch.
“That’s fucking gross, man,” I say from the side of the road, laughing with Aly and Cole as Hawk’s eyes cross when he hits a particular spot.
“I think what you meant to say was,effective.” Undeterred by what he just did, Hawk chucks the decay ridden backscratcher in the direction of the woods and reaches around to his side pouch, pulling out a bottle of sanitizer. Upending the container, he generously douses his hands before returning it to his pack.
I do the same with my own bottle of sanitizer after quickly dispatching the trapped zombie. I mean, of course it was easily taken care of; it was onlyhalfa zombie—its right side was completely missing, as was its entire lower half, and now, without its one remaining limb, has graduated to full-fledged quadriplegia... Or, at least, itdiduntil I ended its meager existence. The poor guy had suffered enough. It was time to give his soul some peace. “Alright, children,” I give a pointed look towards Hawk but smile at his crazy ass all the same, “let’s stop playing with other people’s boners and get a move on. We’ve still got a long way to go.”
???
After about an hour into our journey, my steps slow as an ominous line of smoke drifts on the horizon. It’s not far away. Maybe a couple miles, if that. But, regardless, it doesn’t resemble any good omens from the look of it. People? Most definitely. Good or bad? Might as well play the lottery. The odds are about the same and I don’t really care to know, to be honest.
“What do you think?” Hawk asks me and, frankly, I don’t fucking know. We’ve been playing Russian Roulette with apocalypse survivors and, so far, the odds have not been in our favor. We’ve had two run-ins with extremely dangerous people, and I’m not exactly thrilled to possibly have a third. Then again, it might be nothing. Maybe just other survivors, like us, trying to make it to another day. Who the fuck knows?
“Let’s stop for a sec. I need to check out the map.” We stop right there in the middle of the road, surrounded by a handful of abandoned cars. I let my pack fall from my back and open the front zipper, pulling the map out and letting it unfold. It’s an older version, one I had from years ago, tucked away for no particular purpose, but one I’m grateful I kept for so long.
