sure.”
“There it is. Now how far you think Kentucky is from lower Arkansas? In miles, I mean.”
Riggs shook his head. “Dunno, Sarge. Couple hundred miles, maybe.”
“Four days a hundred, Riggs. That’s eight days humping, and that’s on flat ground with supplies. You just said we have a day or two at most, maybe a week if we’re some of the harder ones to kill off. So how do you figure you can get home in time? You ain’t even got a map or food.” Sarge swept a finger around at the rest of them. “Ain’t none of us from Arkansas, or Oklahoma, or anywhere near here. And we’re in the goddamned mountains, boys. Ain’t like you’re humping flat ground.”
“What if I ain’t infected?”
“Then we’ll find out in a couple of days, and we can move out in orderly fashion. They’ll have the roadblocks lowered in a week or two. Hell, they may have a vaccine by then. We just need to blend for a couple of weeks, see what’s what, and we can head down. Boys, we’re deserters. We’re liable to be shot on sight, or executed when caught, and we’ll damned sure be in quarantine. You’d best think about that.”
“We’re fucked, ain’t we, Sarge?”
“Now you got it, Riggs. Uncle Sam put the bone up us soon as that boy snuck into our tent. We’re in better shape than our buddies back in camp because they’re on their way to the nearest Q-Zone. We got freedom on our side. Just depends on how you want to spend it.”
They fell quiet again, and finally Billings spoke. “Hey guys. Duck crosses the road to reach to a pond. But why does the chicken cross the road?”
He stood, shucked his backpack onto his shoulders, and pointed his rifle up the mountain. “Because he’s fucking the duck. Come on, bros, embrace the suck. Got to be something up here because there’s a road. Let’s find shelter and nest up for a bit.”
Chapter 12
Shots Fired
(Edwin)
T he squirrel tumbled from the limb as the shot echoed through the forest. Edwin shucked another round into the chamber and listened. After a few minutes, the chirping returned to the trees, but he located no more moving limbs.
He found the squirrel, gutted it, and roped its tail through his belt. He traced the same trail he and Perry had used, and found Amalie and the children in the back of the cabin. The children were throwing a rubber ball against the side of the cabin and catching it. Amalie sat on the porch with her feet on the railing, staring into the treetops.
When Perry saw his father, the boy lowered his head, ambled up the steps, and disappeared into the cabin. Shelly Lynn glanced at him and went back to throwing the ball. Amalie did not appear to notice him at all.
“Shot a squirrel,” Edwin said. He unhooked it from his belt as he neared the porch. “Amy. Amy.”
His wife puckered out her lower lip and wiggled her toes. Her eyes remained fixed on the trees.
“Amy,” Edwin said. “Baby. You need—”
“Just leave it on the rail,” Amalie said. She sniffed, wiped her nose, stood, and called to their daughter. “Shelly Lynn, come on inside.”
“I want to play outside, Mommy.”
“We’ll do something inside, baby. Come on.” As she ushered Shelly Lynn through the back door, she said to Edwin. “Stay away from my children.” She closed the door and locked it behind her.
Edwin marched up the porch steps and splayed the gutted squirrel on the railing. Amalie could skin it herself. He leaned his shotgun against the arm and sat in her chair. It was still warm from Amalie. The air felt charged from that last glare she gave him. Either the ground or his nerves shook the porch. He forced himself to lean back and unclench his teeth. He had been grinding them all morning, and his back molars were beginning to ache. He rubbed his jaw and searched the trees where she had been staring. He spied a hawk in the distance at the top of a dead pine standing like an obelisk amid the living forest.
“Oh, you bitch,” Edwin said.
“There it is. Now how far you think Kentucky is from lower Arkansas? In miles, I mean.”
Riggs shook his head. “Dunno, Sarge. Couple hundred miles, maybe.”
“Four days a hundred, Riggs. That’s eight days humping, and that’s on flat ground with supplies. You just said we have a day or two at most, maybe a week if we’re some of the harder ones to kill off. So how do you figure you can get home in time? You ain’t even got a map or food.” Sarge swept a finger around at the rest of them. “Ain’t none of us from Arkansas, or Oklahoma, or anywhere near here. And we’re in the goddamned mountains, boys. Ain’t like you’re humping flat ground.”
“What if I ain’t infected?”
“Then we’ll find out in a couple of days, and we can move out in orderly fashion. They’ll have the roadblocks lowered in a week or two. Hell, they may have a vaccine by then. We just need to blend for a couple of weeks, see what’s what, and we can head down. Boys, we’re deserters. We’re liable to be shot on sight, or executed when caught, and we’ll damned sure be in quarantine. You’d best think about that.”
“We’re fucked, ain’t we, Sarge?”
“Now you got it, Riggs. Uncle Sam put the bone up us soon as that boy snuck into our tent. We’re in better shape than our buddies back in camp because they’re on their way to the nearest Q-Zone. We got freedom on our side. Just depends on how you want to spend it.”
They fell quiet again, and finally Billings spoke. “Hey guys. Duck crosses the road to reach to a pond. But why does the chicken cross the road?”
He stood, shucked his backpack onto his shoulders, and pointed his rifle up the mountain. “Because he’s fucking the duck. Come on, bros, embrace the suck. Got to be something up here because there’s a road. Let’s find shelter and nest up for a bit.”
Chapter 12
Shots Fired
(Edwin)
T he squirrel tumbled from the limb as the shot echoed through the forest. Edwin shucked another round into the chamber and listened. After a few minutes, the chirping returned to the trees, but he located no more moving limbs.
He found the squirrel, gutted it, and roped its tail through his belt. He traced the same trail he and Perry had used, and found Amalie and the children in the back of the cabin. The children were throwing a rubber ball against the side of the cabin and catching it. Amalie sat on the porch with her feet on the railing, staring into the treetops.
When Perry saw his father, the boy lowered his head, ambled up the steps, and disappeared into the cabin. Shelly Lynn glanced at him and went back to throwing the ball. Amalie did not appear to notice him at all.
“Shot a squirrel,” Edwin said. He unhooked it from his belt as he neared the porch. “Amy. Amy.”
His wife puckered out her lower lip and wiggled her toes. Her eyes remained fixed on the trees.
“Amy,” Edwin said. “Baby. You need—”
“Just leave it on the rail,” Amalie said. She sniffed, wiped her nose, stood, and called to their daughter. “Shelly Lynn, come on inside.”
“I want to play outside, Mommy.”
“We’ll do something inside, baby. Come on.” As she ushered Shelly Lynn through the back door, she said to Edwin. “Stay away from my children.” She closed the door and locked it behind her.
Edwin marched up the porch steps and splayed the gutted squirrel on the railing. Amalie could skin it herself. He leaned his shotgun against the arm and sat in her chair. It was still warm from Amalie. The air felt charged from that last glare she gave him. Either the ground or his nerves shook the porch. He forced himself to lean back and unclench his teeth. He had been grinding them all morning, and his back molars were beginning to ache. He rubbed his jaw and searched the trees where she had been staring. He spied a hawk in the distance at the top of a dead pine standing like an obelisk amid the living forest.
“Oh, you bitch,” Edwin said.
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