After The Virus (10 page)

More eruptions of white water rose ahead of them, which could indicate drops or pools or rocks. After those, the river veered around a wicked bend.

She stayed as close to the left as the river would allow. Though it was the wrong side, it was closest, and Snickers had to get out of the cold. Will was on the opposite side, if he even thought to try to find them. He might assume them dead. She hoped not; for Snickers’ sake, of course.

∞

Unable to actually feel her numb legs as they scrambled against the smooth river rock, Rhiannon finally managed to pull them partly up on shore. She collapsed, half in the water, and took an involuntary nap. She woke with frozen legs, but her body, curled around Snickers, was warm.

Some of the hair on her forehead lifted in the breeze; so she’d been out long enough for it to partially dry. Thankfully it wasn’t winter.

She tried to sit, but Snickers was way heavy out of the water. Careful of the girl’s arm, she shifted her off and crawled farther onto shore.

Snickers, curled into a fetal position with her eyes squeezed shut, started to violently shiver, yet her forehead was oddly warm. Hot, even. Trying to not freak about hypothermia and/or strange fevers, Rhiannon simply gathered the girl into her arms and held on until the shaking eased. As she rocked Snickers, she kept her eye on the northern clifftop. If Will was coming for them, and he’d be hours behind, he’d appear there.

∞

Later, when Snickers seemed a little more stable, she gathered dry leaves and some wood. Thankful for the waterproof matches Snickers had tucked into a jacket pocket from her backpack, she lit a fire.

Using the scarf as a bandage, Rhiannon splinted Snickers’ arm. She contemplated humming a soothing lullaby, and discovered she didn’t know any. She made an effort to talk; it was too easy to fall silent around Snickers.

“That hurts, hey, love?” she asked. “We’ll get you painkillers.”

She found she was staring at the cliff again. Snickers followed her gaze.

“Maybe Will saw us in the river; he and B.B. might be coming.”

The girl softly stroked the back of her hand as if to comfort her, and she felt so incompetent. Wasn’t she supposed to be the adult here?

“We’ll wait here for a bit more. The fire almost has your clothing dry, but we’re going to get hungry. I… I… dumped the pack,” she rambled. “I’m going to look for some berries or —”

Snickers grabbed her arm, tighter than Rhiannon would’ve imagined her capable, as she tried to stand.

“Okay. No berry hunting. Here, turn your back to the fire now. I don’t know how we’re going to get your jacket back on over that splint. Maybe we’ll have to switch; let’s see if yours fits me.”

Snickers actually smiled when she couldn’t get the sleeve halfway up her arm.

Then she tried to fit her foot into Snickers’ still soggy shoe and almost got a silent laugh for her clowning. She’d never been funny before.

All that joy drained away from the girl’s face as a hard metal point was pressed against Rhiannon’s neck. Snickers' eyes flicked to multiple points behind her back. She couldn’t tell if it was a rifle or gun, but it didn’t much matter, as both would certainly blow her head off, especially at this range.

They seemed to have come out of nowhere, but probably drawn by her voice, had just stepped a couple of feet out from the forest border.
 

She could tell they knew who she’d been in her previous life, and that they’d been looking for her, just by the exchanged glances and congratulatory smiles.

She looked across at the cliff again: still empty. Then she looked upriver, both sides, as far as she could, to reconfirm that there was no rescue coming this time.

A man with glasses stepped out from behind two others, both of whom had their clumped hair streaked bright red, but with paint, not dye. Even the man who hunkered by Snickers and reached for her broken arm had wide streaks of red paint slashed across his jacket and bag.

Snickers shied away.

“I’m a doctor,” he offered. First to Snickers, then getting no response, he turned to Rhiannon to repeat, “I’m a doctor.”

“The medical bag kind of gave you away. A backpack would be more suitable, what with the forest hiking and then random patching of people.”

He thought about this, too seriously, for a bit, and then replied, ”Yes, but appearances still matter in this world, as you will soon learn.”

She didn’t get what he meant, but never did like asking for clarification. She always preferred to interpret, and in this instance, she was still gathering facts.

“I’m here. Would you let the doctor look at your arm?” she asked Snickers.

Snickers acquiesced, but kept her eyes glued to Rhiannon’s own. The gun stopped pressing against the junction between her skull and her spine.

“They’re wet,” a voice directed, and clothing was piled nearby.

“Musta come out of the river,” someone shrilled. “That’s why we missed ‘em on the way. Odd, ain’t it, for someone like her to be in a river?”

No one replied.

She could almost feel tension leap through the group. She counted seven — no nine — of them, all variously streaked with red and carrying an assortment of weapons. Mostly they were outfitted with hunting rifles. She wondered why no one other than the Doctor had spoken to her, but as she didn’t want to be the instigator, she chose to just listen.

The Doctor wrapped Snickers' arm with a tensor and fashioned a sling. He offered painkillers, which the girl refused. He didn’t seem to care.

“Just ‘cause she ain’t all painted and pretty, don’t mean I don’t recognize her properly. She’s the one he wants,” the shriller continued.

When he, the one who’d ordered the dry clothing, stepped closer, she saw he wore his red paint in eleven bands on each upper sleeve. And, now that she’d noticed, others had bands as well, but no one else had as many.
Were they for identification or hierarchy within the group?

He actually tilted her chin up to look at her face. He squinted as if trying to see differently, and then grunted in approval and moved away.

“So you’re not him then? Him with the billboards, the monster pets, and baby mills?” she guessed. “And you have a group name, red something?”

A quiver that could have been laughter reverberated through the group, but he ignored her questions with another grunt. She shifted closer to Snickers.

The cliff was still empty.

”Get her on her feet. I want to be in the city before dawn, and ready for our reward,” Grunt ordered with a grin.

This time the group did laugh, but not like he’d told a joke. More like in anticipation of a hard-won victory; the backslapping helped sell it.

“And the girl?” the Doctor, who wasn’t overtly amused, asked.

“I don’t care. Bring her. Leave her.” Grunt squatted to dig through a bag.

She wrapped an arm around Snickers and started looking for nearby weapons and escape routes.

“She might be useful later,” the Doctor suggested.

Grunt found what he was looking for in the bag, a couple of power bars, and he whipped them at her. She snatched them both in one hand. He was pleased.
 

She, wanting to wipe the smug off, said, “We’re not going anywhere with you,” but this only seemed to make his grin wider.

“You think you got a choice? Nine of us and you with no gun? Even the Doctor’s killed for our cause.” He didn’t grunt when he threatened.

She hated when they used words like “choice,” “cause,” and “kill” in one breath. They might as well wear “I’m 100% Pure Psychopath” t-shirts.
 

“You’re the golden goose, lady,” he said. “You’re our vehicle to freedom, our Trojan horse. So you’re going to get on your feet, quickly. You’re going to walk, not run. You’re not going to talk or ask questions, because nobody here gives a shit what you think or feel or want. And you’re going to do this by the count of three, otherwise I’ll tear the girl’s head right off her scrawny little useless shoulders. One.”

She stood, with no argument or fight, because she’d just figured out that their red paint was like a gang tag, and the armbands denoted kills. And according to his red paint armbands, Grunt had killed twenty-two people. Whether that was before or after the virus had devastated humanity, she didn’t care. She wasn’t about to add Snickers to his list.

She reached down to bring Snickers to her feet, wincing when her rib made friendly with her lung again. Twisting to the right wasn’t a good idea.

Grunt nodded to the Doctor, which propelled him to step in for an examination.

“Don’t want your hands anywhere near me,” she growled.

”You don’t have a choice.” He pitched his voice low. “If you’re hurt, he’ll want you fixed. You won’t be allowed to be less than perfect.”
 

“Great, just like surviving my teens with my mother,” she muttered back, but he didn’t smile. Her charm had no traction with these people. He cut off her t-shirt when she wouldn’t raise her arms. No one ogled her, which was oddly discomforting.

As the Doctor slid hands over her ribs and torso, the others, not even remotely interested in her or Snickers, broke up into small groups to talk quietly.

“I don’t understand,” she asked, “why a child isn’t more valuable to them. A female.” But the Doctor just turned away to speak with Grunt.
 

The sun was definitely setting now, and Rhiannon knew that Will would never be able to track them across the river and through the woods in the dark. Nevertheless, she still glanced back, once more, at the cliff. Her heart skipped to see people, multiple people, looking down at them. She wanted to raise her hand, but was worried that waving would draw attention. She shouldn’t have worried; the bad guys had already seen the new arrivals.

Guns were quickly raised and aimed, not to shoot with, but for the scopes. Attempting to hit targets across the expanse of the river with the sun setting behind them would just be a waste of ammo.

The Doctor hastily crossed back with a large tensor bandage to wrap tightly around her ribs. “Cracked or broken, this’ll help,” he offered. She pulled on one of the donated sweatshirts. Its logo declared her to be a student the University of British Columbia.

Then Grunt was by her side.

“They with you?” he asked, and she shrugged. He then grabbed her chin and cranked it in the direction of the cliff.

“They looking for you?” he menaced.

“No,” she spat, “there’s too many of them to be —” But then she saw B.B., so that must be Will up there.

Grunt watched her closely, seeing what she knew the moment she thought it. He dropped her chin and heaved Snickers up over his shoulder.

She shrieked and tried to throw herself on him, to tear Snickers away, but the others surrounded and contained her before she got near.

Grunt strode off into the trees with Snickers just looking back.

“Move, lady. Follow the man; he won’t hurt the girl,” Shriller explained.

The remainder of the group, including the Doctor, gathered their gear and followed the leader.

She paused to take a last look at the cliff.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Will!” He was far enough away that she couldn’t really identify him, but he raised his hand.

Then she turned to follow the others into the dense forest. A quick jog placed her behind Grunt. She touched Snickers' forehead. Grunt didn’t glance back or slow.

CHAPTER TWENTY

WILL

Rhiannon turned to run off after the group that had snatched Snickers. There was no way to follow; Will was pinned on this side of the river. They’d only made it this far, this fast, because Big had vehicles parked near by where Snickers and Rhiannon had gone in the river. The river was a far more direct, and quicker, route to the city than the roads.

“All right then.” He turned to rally the group of eight, including One Ear and Buddy, who had followed him here. “We keep on moving upriver.”

Big stepped up beside him and patted B.B.’s head. She was still staring alertly after Rhiannon and Snickers. Stupid stood a ways back.

“They ain’t going to kill them,” Big said.

“There’s worse things than dying,” Will retorted as he lowered the binoculars to side-glance at Big.

“Yup, I figure they both been through worse things already. But now they got you,” Big continued. ”You can’t sneak in to the city, Tex.”

“If… if the city is where they’re going.”
 

“Clarence and I know ‘em,” Big said. “That red paint shit is hard to miss. They see themselves as sort of freedom fighters, ‘cept they ain’t actually on our side.”
 

“Doesn’t concern me,” Will replied. He couldn’t stand more yammering. Rhiannon, Snickers, danger: end of discussion. “I'll go alone,” he said. ”You have no obligation, Big.”

Big snorted and pointed westward, deep into the valley. “You ain’t going to easily find her in there without help or without major guns.” As dusk deepened, clusters of lights glowed in derelict skyscrapers that punctuated the cityscape. They, whoever they were, had electricity. “First, it’s a big place. Second, I hear they got some sort of a civil war going on,” Big persisted.

“Where‘d you hear that, Big?” Will sighed.

“People just have a way of talking around me, Tex,” Big grinned and glanced back at Stupid, who now held One Ear and Buddy on their knees. Both hostages looked very roughed up. Stupid prompted One Ear with an ass kick.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s them with the red paint,” One Ear spat. “Worse than us by far. They got no reason. We’re rebuilding humanity. We got rules. The girl means nothing to them.”

“Then why take Rhiannon and Snickers?” Will’s voice actually shook with anger. One Ear didn’t answer, until Stupid’s kick prompted him again.

“It don’t get more famous than Rhiannon Wells, unless the Queen of England was immune, and who’d want to fuck her?” One Ear blurted.

Will turned his back and felt anger burn through to his clenched fists.
She was just a damn prize!

Then Big, real quiet, laid it out for him. “This is them I talked about, Tex. Them who take our women in raids. All women — hell, any person — has a right to decide who, where, and when.”