Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West) (10 page)

Red tucked the blankets around the sleeping children to make
sure they were warm enough. Rivers wrapped Fisher protectively in her arms, and
Lasso lay awake at their feet, watching over them. The dog had taken to the
boy, and Red knew wherever the children ended up, the dog would most likely
stay with them. The boy needed the dog more than the rest of them did. She
patted Lasso's head, tucked the blankets once more, and went back to sit near
the fire.

"They asleep?" Cowboy asked.

Red nodded. "They're finally out. Sleep will help—I
hope."

She eyed Wen across the crackling fire. He hunched over and
clasped his coffee cup without lifting it to his lips once. He'd been quiet all
day, not uttering more than a word or two at a time. She chalked it up to the
pain of his fractured skull, but as the day wore on, she wondered if something
more coaxed his silence.

She left Cowboy's side and sat next to Wen. He didn't
acknowledge her presence, which confirmed her fears. "Are you okay? You've
been real quiet today."

"I'm sorry. I just keep replaying the whole thing over
and over in my mind, wishing I had done something different. You know?"

"I do. But what's done is done. We're alive and that's
something to be thankful for."

"I let you down."

"You didn't let me down."

Wen shook his head. "I told you I'd protect you—do
everything I could to keep you safe—and I didn't. I failed you."

She scooted closer to him and slipped her hand through the
crook of his arm. "You didn't fail me.
I
failed me. I should have
been more alert. That woman fooled us all, Wen. Don't blame yourself for what
happened. I certainly don't."

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.
"Thank you. I promise to do better and keep you safe from now on."

"Wen, don't make promises you can't possibly keep.
Besides, it's not your responsibility to protect me. It's mine." She
shrugged. "I can't promise to keep any of you safe either. It's foolish to
think anyone could."

"Is that why you refuse to tell us your name? You think
that can somehow keep us from being concerned for one another? That if I don't
know your name, or Cowboy's, I won't feel the need to protect either of
you?"

She swallowed and removed her hand from his arm. "I
don't know." Such a simple thing, a name, yet that secret kept them at a
safe distance. The less they knew about her, the better.

"You don't have to tell me your name. I don't need to
know it." He turned his dark eyes to meet hers. "I already know
you—Cowboy, too. Hiding behind a false name doesn't change your true identity.
Hide if you must. I'll keep my promises."

Red stood, but then crouched to look Wen in the eye.
"All I know is that if you get yourself killed for my sake, I'll be
pissed. Save yourself first. I didn't ask for your promises and I don't want
them."

Wen smiled. "That's the beauty of a real promise.
They're freely given. It's my promise. I can do with it what I want. You don't
have to like it."

She stood and strode away, fuming. The fire gave off a small
amount of light as she walked into the darkness. She'd sworn to keep to
herself, yet the people around her continued to grow in numbers. First Cowboy,
then Wen, and now two dependent children and a dog, made up her traveling
posse.

"You okay?" Cowboy approached from behind.

She nodded.

"You shouldn't stand in the dark like this."

"I just need a moment."

"What's goin' on, Red?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You don't look so fine to me."

She leaned back against a tree, worn out by it all—the day,
the kids, Wen's promise, the fact she was falling for Cowboy. "I'm sorry.
I just feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders right
now."

He glanced back at the camp. "I'm worried about the
kids, too, but they'll be okay in time. We'll get them someplace safe and then
go search for your brother."

"What about you? Wen?"

Cowboy shrugged. "What about us?"

She just stood there looking at him.

"We're coming with you. That's all there is to
it."

"What if I told you not to?"

"I'd still come."

"Coming with me will probably get you killed."

He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on
the tree, trapping her between his arms. "Red, the world is dangerous with
or without zombies and madmen on the prowl. I might fall off my horse, or be
trampled by wild buffalo. I could get shot by drunken card players, or someone
who doesn't like the look of my face. My heart might just decide to stop
beating while I sleep. A woman may try to feed me to her baby." He smiled.
"We're all gonna die eventually, Red. No one's immune—not even you."
He touched his thumb to her cheek. "The one thing I know is that while I'm
alive, I'll do everything I can to protect you. We're in this together."

***

They'd traveled for hours and the sun was at its apex, so
Red suggested they take a break. The kids looked like they needed one.

"Here, boy!" Fisher yelled to Lasso and waved a
stick above his head. The poor dog needed a rest, too, but when the boy called,
he jumped up and began to play fetch.

"I thought he was my dog." Cowboy smiled as he
rummaged through the bags for something they could snack on.

"Looks like he found someone better." Red smiled.
"Smart dog."

Cowboy shook his head. When she started to walk away, he
caught her around the middle and pulled her close. "You're always the
funny one."

"I was being perfectly serious."

"Ah, there you go again."

"If you and Wen could keep an eye out, I'd like to go
down to the stream and clean up a little." She touched the back of her
head. "I'd like to wash my hair at least, get the blood out."

"Go on." He winked at her. "Use your lavender
soap. I like the way it smells."

She pushed him away, grabbed her towel, bucket, and soap,
and made her way down to the streambed.

Red looked around to make sure she was alone, and then
stripped off her pants and shirt. She waded into the middle of the stream and
searched for a foothold on the slippery, moss-covered rocks. She crouched to
allow the water to run over her bare shoulders and her breath caught in her
chest as she adjusted to the cold temperature. The knife wound on her arm
stung, but it was worth the discomfort to get it clean. Besides, the wound had
closed, healing quicker than she'd expected.

She dipped the bucket into the water and quickly poured it
over her head before she changed her mind. Even the cut and bruising at the
base of her skull seemed better, less bothersome. She washed her hair, taking
time to unravel her matted locks, caked with blood. When she finally got around
to cleaning her body, numbness had spread to her extremities. She quickly ran
the bar of soap over her limbs and got out of the water before losing all
feeling.

Back on the riverbank, the little girl stood nearby, her
eyes wide with shock. Red looked around in every direction, anticipating an
attack from zombies, or some wild animal. They were alone.

Red realized the girl was terrified of
her
. She'd
seen the bites and scars all over her body.

Red grabbed the towel and covered herself. "Rivers, I'm
sorry. I didn't know you were there."

Rivers didn't answer. She simply turned around and, with
trembling fingers, raised the back of her shirt.

Red stared in disbelief. Jagged pink scars lined the girl's
lower back. Not very many, but enough for her to recognize what they were—bites
and scars just like her own.

"Stay right there," Red said as she gathered her
clothes. "Don't move. Please."

Rivers stood with her arms wrapped around her waist and her
eyes still wide with surprise.

Red was certain her own expression matched that of the
little girl—disbelief. She pulled her clothes on, but fumbled with the
fasteners and it took her longer than usual to dress.

When she was decent, she walked over to Rivers. "Can I
see?"

The girl nodded and tentatively turned around. Red raised
her shirt just enough to see three bite marks; two had done little damage, but
the third had ripped a portion of the girl's flesh from her back. An ugly,
puckered scar remained.

"They're old scars. Are those the only ones you
have?"

Rivers nodded, lowered her eyes, and tucked her shirt back
into her skirt. "A few months ago, my momma took Fisher into town with her
and left me home with the baby. Brooke had the sniffles and she didn't want to
take her out, thinking her cold might get worse. So she left her with me."
Tears fell down the girl's cheeks. "The unfortunates came—three of
them—and I tried to protect Brooke. I really did. But they bit her even though
I had covered her with my body."

Red pulled the crying girl into her arms. "It's not
your fault, Rivers."

"I got real sick. It hurt bad, but when I woke up, I
was fine. Brooke wasn't. My ma thought she'd get better because I had. I wanted
her to get better too, but she never did."

Red squeezed the girl and held her while she sobbed.

"My ma thought I was a freak—a work of the devil. She
even said so." Rivers looked up to her in search of validation. "But
you're just like me. We're the same."

Red looked down at the child, baffled and amazed. If two of
them had the ability to outlive a zombie bite, perhaps there were others just
like them. The questions and possibilities were endless.

"I don't know what we are." She lifted the girl's
chin and looked her in the eye. "But I do know I'm not the work of the
devil. Neither are you. There's a reason we are this way. But for now, I don't
want you to tell anyone about your bites besides the three of us. Don't show
anyone—
not anyone
. Okay?"

Rivers nodded. "I only showed you because I saw
yours."

"I know. I'm glad you did. But no one else, okay? It's
not safe out there."

Rivers swallowed hard and avoided looking at Red. "How
come you have so many?"

"Because"—Red pulled the girl close, wanting to
protect her from the pain she'd experienced—"I made the mistake of telling
the wrong person."

***

Trace sat on the blanket next to Wen and watched the boy
play chase with the dog. "Energy is wasted on the young," he said,
and Wen nodded in agreement. "Imagine how much we could accomplish if we
had even half the energy that kid does."

"I know. You tell a kid to take a nap and they throw
themselves on the ground and have a fit about it. But I'll tell you, if you
told me to take a nap, I'd probably be so happy I'd kiss ya on the mouth."

"Hell, Wen." Cowboy slapped him on the back.
"Thanks for letting me know. No napping for you."

Fisher suddenly stopped moving. The knee-high grass rustled
in the wind around him, but the boy stood motionless as he stared down at the
grass. Trace sat up a little straighter, wondering what he'd found.

The boy dropped out of sight, and his panicked screams
brought both Wen and Trace to their feet, running. Lasso barked and pranced
around, lunging at something Trace couldn't see. He skipped over rocks and sagebrush
toward the sound of the boy's fearful cries.

The zombie held the boy's leg in its vice-like grasp,
wanting him, but unable to do anything about it. Its legs were missing from the
knees down and the lower portion of its decrepit face was gone. A gaping hole
occupied the place where its mouth had been—the boy's saving grace.

Trace took his pistol in hand and fired twice into the
zombie's skull, rendering it dead—well, deader. This didn't stop the boy from
screaming—he continued to wail and thrash about as Trace snapped each bony
digit that encircled Fisher's ankle and yanked the boy into his arms.

"You okay?" He looked him over. "Did it bite
you, scratch you?"

Fisher shook his head through his tears, but Trace lifted
the boy's pant legs one at a time to make sure.

"Fisher!" Rivers ran a few paces in front of Red.
She stumbled upon the dead zombie and began to scream, which set off Fisher all
over again.

Red pulled the girl into her arms in an attempt to calm her,
while the boy wrapped himself around Trace and cried into his shoulder. Trace
held him, unsure how to calm him. He'd never been good with kids, probably
because he'd never been much of a kid himself. He watched Red comfort the girl
and followed her example, rubbing the boy's back and telling him over and over
that everything was fine. The little boy must have believed him, because he
settled down.

"Take 'em away from here." Wen darted his eyes
back and forth between the zombie and the rest of them. "I've got this
covered."

Red led the girl away while Trace continued to carry Fisher,
who had wrapped his little arms so tightly around his neck, the kid just might
squeeze the life right out of him.

"You're okay, buddy." He patted the boy on the
back until Fisher's arms relaxed and he could breathe again.

"What the hell happened?" Red looked as though she
might tear him apart piece by piece. Trace didn't think he could feel any worse
than he already did, but Red's contempt succeeded in doing just that.

"We didn't see it. It must've been laying in the grass
before Fisher came up on it. I'm sorry."

She turned on him, her hands balled into fists.
"There's no room here for apologies."

"Damn it, Red! I didn't see the zombie! It was hidden—a
fluke circumstance. Fisher's fine. Nothing happened."

"Rivers, take your brother over by the horses for a
minute, please." Red took Fisher away from Trace and set him on his feet.

Rivers grabbed her brother's hand and led him away, but
stared over her shoulder at them the entire time.

With the kids a safe distance away, Red pushed against his
chest with enough force it nearly knocked the wind out of him. He'd expected as
much. "He could've been killed!"

"Don't you think I know that?"

Trace was ready for her now and steeled himself for a slap
in the face, a punch to the gut, a kick in the crotch—something. When her
shoulders sunk and she covered her face with her hands, he was dumbfounded. He
wasn't prepared for tears.

"This is too hard," she said. "We can't keep
them safe, can we?"

He put his arms around her. She tried to shrug him off, but
he held on tight and she eventually gave in. "We're doing okay. We could
be doing better, but right now, the kids are fine. I'll have to be more aware,
more in tune, so nothing like this ever happens again." He kissed the top of
her head. "We'll get them to the next town in a couple of days and find
people who are better equipped to take care of them. We can handle a couple of
days."

Red shook her head and buried her face in his chest.
"We can't leave them in town. We have to come up with a different
plan."

"What do you mean a different plan? I thought the plan
we had was a good one—get the kids to safety and then go after your
brother."

She shook her head once again. "My brother is gonna
have to wait."

"Red, what's going on?"

"It's Rivers. Down by the bank, she saw me bathing and
showed me her back."

Trace didn't follow.

"She's like me, Cowboy." Red looked up at him.
"She has three old bite wounds on her back.
She's just like me
."

His arms fell away from her and he glanced over at the children.
The girl? How was that possible? He glanced at the boy and then back to Red.
"Fisher?"

She shook her head. "He's never been bitten, and I
don't want to take the chance."

"But he could—"

"My brothers couldn't."

Trace took off his hat and ran a hand through his dark
locks. "You saw the bites?"

"Yeah, I did."

"You're sure?"

Red nodded. "I'm positive."

"If you and Rivers can both survive being bitten, then
there have to be others."

"My thoughts exactly, but it will be difficult to find
them." She slipped her arms around his waist. "I know what happened
to me when I told someone who I thought could help. He nearly killed me. You
can't tell me there aren't more people like that out there, eager to get their
hands on people with ability like ours"—she motioned to the girl and
herself—"even if they have to destroy us in the process." She stared
up at him. "I won't let that happen to her."

"Me neither." He hugged her once again—a perfect
fit. "I won't let anyone hurt either of you. We'll just have to go where
no one can find us."

She held him a little tighter. "That's what I was
thinking."