Chapter 1: Paula’s First
Spring arrived on the land. With haste in the ageless race against time, the woods bloomed with the promise of renewal. Birds chirped in the trees where tightly wound buds waited their time to burst into leaves.
I leaned against a maple tree, my walkie-talkie in hand. Here at the bend of the creek I could not see what came my way. I checked the arrow, my weapon of choice for moaner hunting, was secure in my boot. My sixteenth birthday present, it had a handle and a Vietnamese Buddhist good luck charm attached to the shaft.
I waited in a hollow on the creek bank created by a long gone tree. The signal was late. I fretted while I mulled over our latest rescue strategy. I’d lead the refugees out of harm’s way, past Chris and the herders. They’d then draw the moaners into a trap where we could end them with minimal risk.
My older brother Chris’s voice crackled over my radio. “They’re in place, Annabel. Good luck.”
“Roger. Meet you at the trap.” I pulled an arrow from my quiver and set it to my bow.
Klara stepped up next to me, her bow already strung. “Ready?” she asked.
I nodded. Klara and four hunters scrambled up the bank and disappeared from sight. I waited, tense. Five refugees rounded the escarpment. Three men and two women. The two youngest men dragged an older woman between them. That’s why they had taken so long. Shit, this was gonna be tight.
Dozens of undead ambled after them. Arrows flew into the herd as the hunters picked off the closest of the beasts. I released my bolt and dropped a moaner who was uncomfortably close to the refugees. I strung another arrow and leapt across the rivulet onto the rocky creek bed.
This rescue was going to balls right from the get go. I shot another moaner. We had a space of maybe twenty feet between us.
“Follow me,” I said to the startled group.
I grabbed the nearest, a tall, slender woman, I guessed to be a few years older than myself. Maybe twenty or so. Her long black hair hung matted and clumped around her shoulders and dirt smeared face. I pulled her forward and hoped like hell the rest followed.
She broke my grip, turned and cried out, “Ma!”
“Shut up,” I hissed. Last thing I needed was to draw more moaners. I turned and beckoned the rest to follow. “Come on.”
They stared at me as if I spoke a foreign language. Judging by their dress and dark olive skin, I had to consider that possibility.
The moaners closed in fast. I turned back to the woman, “You speak English?”
She stared at me while recognition dawned on her face. She nodded, worked her lips as if no longer sure to utter the word. “Yes.”
“Well get these fucking people moving. We gotta go. Now.” I grabbed her hand and we splashed through the creek, up the shallow bank and into the woods.
I thrust the radio to my lips. “Chris, I’m coming in hot. This is a bust.” I glanced back. The moaners were catching up to the men carrying the woman. I pressed the transmission button again. “Theo, I need an extraction. Trap three.”
Rogers crackled from the walkie-talkie. Plan B. Just frigging great. We jogged through the woods, toward the wire-fenced trap built to ensnare moaners. Confused and frightened yells erupted behind me. I skidded to a stop.
The young woman with me screamed, “Ma.” She broke my grip and raced back to her family.
The woman carried by the two men needed assistance no longer. It walked, as the dead tended to do these days. It lunged at one of the men and sank its teeth into his outstretched arm.
Idiots.
I tossed my bow aside, pulled the arrow from my boot and raced past the young woman. The men stood rooted in place. Their eyes filled with horror at this double tragedy visited upon them. Dead eyes stared at me while the newly undead woman chewed on flesh. I grabbed its hair and plunged my arrow thought the eye.
“Nooo,” screamed the young woman. Her shrieks of, “Ma, Ma,” echoed through the woods.
“Shut the --” was all I got out.
The oldest man lunged toward me, snarling in rage. Goddamnit. I left the arrow in place, spun away and pulled out my pistol.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I screamed. So much for a quiet rescue.
He stopped.
“You speak English?” I demanded.
The young woman whimpered and replied for him, “Not much. Please, do not hurt us.”
Hurt them? I’m trying to save them.
“I’m not going to hurt anyone who stays alive. Your Mom turned. Sorry. Now, come on. We gotta go.”
I pulled my arrow from the mother’s eye, closed both and whispered, “I grant you release.”
The two men huddled around the third, the one bitten. They wailed in a strange language. I caught the name Amir.
The moaners were closing in on us. I yelled over the radio, “A little help here, Chris.” I grabbed the young woman again. “Gotta go, gotta go.”
“We -- we cannot leave Amir to die.”
“Come on,” I yelled, frustrated and with no time to explain. “Bring him.”
The woman spoke in her tongue and the two men pulled Amir forward. He held his arm with not even a rag to stop the blood seeping from between his fingers. Admiration for his courage washed over me. His eyes gleamed with the knowledge of his imminent death, yet no fear showed on his face.
Without the dead weight of the mother to slow them, we put distance between the moaners and us. Chris and his herders came crashing through the trees, headed our way.
“Get them in the trap,” Chris said as we passed each other. “We’ll draw them off.”
We raced past each other and the fenced trap came into view. Another hundred feet and we’d be safe. Then, I’d deal with Amir. We reached the gate and I pushed everyone in before slamming it shut. Behind me, the herders yelled and made noise as they drew the moaners away. Safe at last.
Yanking a small vial from my neck, I pulled the cork off with my teeth.
I handed it to the woman and said, “Here. Give this to Amir.”
“I -- I cannot. My people do not commit suicide.”
Hmm, probably should have explained first. “It’s an antidote. It’ll save his life. Now listen, we don’t have much time. Ninety seconds after he drinks it, he’s going to be out cold.”
The woman frowned. “Cold? Like winter?”
I didn’t have time for this. “Asleep.” I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Listen! After he drinks, we have to reach the other end of this fence before he faints. Got that?”
She spoke to the others as she rushed to Amir. He took the vial and drank.
“Come on, people,” I yelled. Moaners were approaching.
Chris’s voice came over the walkie-talkie. “Look alive, Annabel. Some broke through.”
No frigging shit.
We raced toward the end of the trap. The moaners pushed the gate down like it was nothing. Just great. If Dad were here, this wouldn’t have happened. Nobody knew how to build anything around here.
What else could go wrong? I glanced ahead and groaned. I just had to ask.
Moaners stumbled toward us. I brought the radio to my mouth. “Uh, Susan? Did you fucking check the trap this morning?”
“Shit,” My younger sister replied over the radio. High up in her tree, I knew she was training her binoculars on the disaster unfolding.
“Theo, hon? I could really use that extraction.” I ran forward and thrust my arrow up through the chin of the closest moaner. “Like right now!”
Humvee’s drove down the logging road toward us. “Almost there,” Theo replied.
Because things weren’t going swimmingly enough, ninety seconds were up and Amir dropped to the ground, thrashing and choking in agony.
“Weapons out,” I yelled.
The oldest man put up his fists and assumed a fighting stance. You have -- got -- to be kidding me!
I pulled a knife from my boot and handed it to the young woman. There was no doubt she kn
ew how to handle the weapon as she took it from me. Good.
The remaining young man hefted a crow bar and we circled around Amir with our backs to him. Noise be dammed. I pulled out my pistol. We’d just have to live with the consequences.
The Humvee’s pulled along the fence. I had just enough time to see two men in firefighters garb jump from the roof of a moving vehicle and into the herd of moaners. Goddamnit. Dewey’s gonna get Theo killed.
I thrust my arrow through the eye of a moaner. Paula brought her knife down and ended another. Theo and Dewey hacked and slashed their way toward us. Arrows zipped past. Klara and the hunters had arrived. Chris and the herders came up the trap and soon it was all over. Two dozen moaners lay scattered about, second dead.
I stormed over to the two extractors in firemen’s gear and pulled up the faceplate of the one nearest me. “Oh, it’s just you.” I glared at Theo.
“Hey, babe. Nice to see --”
I stomped over to the next man. He ripped his helmet off and grinned while he backed away from me. His mop head blond hair and charming boyish looks weren’t going to help him this time.
“You asshole,” I screamed and punched him. “I warned you about this crap. You want to get yourself killed that’s fine. The sooner the better, too. But goddamnit, don’t be taking Theo down with you. No more heroics.”
He grinned. “Relax su --”
Theo slapped his hand over Dewey’s mouth and whispered, “Not now, idiot.”
Chris walked up and with his usual tension breaking smart mouth said, “Well, that went pretty well, I think.”
I put my radio to my lips and pressed the button so the watchers could hear what I had to say. “We gotta get this right, people. There’s too many close calls. Too many mistakes. We’re gonna double our training. Got that?”
“Yes, Madame Mayor,” everyone replied.
The woman sobbed behind me. “My brother, Amir. He is dead?”
I glanced past her to the body on the ground. All seemed well. Light, frothy spittle bubbled from his mouth.
I put my hand on her arm. “No, he’s fine. The medicine’s working.”
She sobbed and flung her arms around my neck. I stood for a moment at a lose what to do. Ragged breath and warm, moist tears tickled my neck. I patted her on the back and then gently pushed her away.
Dewey sniggered. “Oh man, that was sooo hot.”
Asshole.
I gazed at the woman. Beneath all the grime and filth, she was beautiful. Middle Eastern or Indian I guessed. She stood in front of me, eyes to the ground, sobbing and twisting her fingers. She needed a friend.
I placed my arm on her shoulder. “Hey, your brother is going to be okay.”
She sniveled even louder and wrapped her arms around her chest.
I held her chin and forced her to look at me. “I promise. Amir will be fine. Trust me.”
She shook her head from my grasp and gazed at her feet. She whimpered, “I cannot. Trust.”
My heart broke. Oh, man, what had this woman been through?
A stretcher team hurried past and soon Amir and the two other males were loaded into a Humvee. I led the woman toward Theo’s vehicle. He stepped in front of me.
“Um, why don’t you get a ride in the other Humvee? These people probably want to stay together.”
I was still pissed at Theo for risking his life for a thrill. “Get out of my way. You know there’s no room with the stretcher. Now drive me back to the quarry.”
Theo walked backward while he talked. “You sure about that? Maybe you want to walk home? You know, get some fresh air. Train the herders a little.”
I pushed him out of the way and opened the rear door of the vehicle. I closed it again, shutting off the clucking from inside. I pressed my forehead to the vehicle. “Why do you have chickens in your Humvee?”
“Gonna raise them. You have any idea what an egg’s worth these days?”
I shook my head, letting the cool metal calm me. I couldn’t even bring myself to ask Theo where the hell he’d found chickens.
I pushed away from the door and stared at the woman.
This time she returned my gaze. “You are Petræ? An old priest told us --” She frowned in concentration. “Told us, ‘find Petræ, she will help you’.”
I groaned. My past was catching up to me. “My name’s Annabel. Just plain ole Annabel Wallis. Welcome to Angel Hair.” I did the math, adding these four refugees to our numbers. “Population thirty-seven.”
She smiled through her tears. “I’m Paula.”