Read Online The In-Betweener (Between Life and Death) (S) by Ann Christy - Free Book Online

fortifying himself, and says, “Zam. Ya.”
    “Do you remember where the children are? Where Veronica is?”
    He jerks at that name, his face twisting into something like pain. Then he bounces on his knees again. I’m growing more certain that’s his way of nodding yes.
    “Is it far?” I ask, and then realize how difficult it will be for him to answer that question. I amend it, asking, “Did you walk from there today?”
    He bounces again, but I can clearly see the confusion on his face. I don’t think he really understands the question. Time and distance are fairly advanced concepts.
    “Which way to Veronica, Sam?”
    One fist leaves the fence and, with great effort, he extends his fingers and moves his arm until the direction is as he wants it before grunting, “Da.”
    It’s no more than I expected really and not nearly enough. I was sort of hoping—okay, really hoping—that he would point the other direction. Back that way lies the rest of the industrial park and some businesses. I’ve traveled that direction and there are no houses, hotels, or anywhere else where people might congregate after the end of the world. There’s a big animal hospital down there, the one I went to in search of medicine for my mom, but that’s about it for interesting destinations.
    The direction he indicated leads into the city and the suburbs beyond. Basically, everything lies in that direction. Which doesn’t narrow things down for me much. But, if I really think about it, he knew I was here, which means wherever he's from—wherever those kids still are—probably isn't too far away. I guess it's possible he came here because he was aware of the trucking hub and food distribution warehouse, and so has traveled some great distance, but I can’t imagine many people knowing about this place. If that were the case, I would have been overrun at some point, and I haven’t.
    “Could we get back there today?” I ask him, not hoping for much because, you know, time is hard.
    Sam shakes his legs in a sort of half-bounce, half-shuffle that is neither a yes or a no but says, “Ya. Kahm.”
    I may be a little too eager for company, but I’ve not lost all my senses. I can’t just run off and follow an in-betweener who could turn on me at any time. He has bloodstains on him and those aren’t from his wound. That means he’s been eating. Maybe those kids are feeding him birds or something, but I don’t know that and I doubt he’ll be able to communicate that in a way I’d believe anyway. So, no, that’s not going to happen right now.
    “Are they safe? In a building? With food and water?”
    “Ya,” he answers. “Pardnad.” Then his face twists again and I can see an agony of some deep sort in that twisted expression.
    What a pardnad is I have no idea, so I think about his other words, the way he puts them together. Clearly, he meant that word to describe the situation the kids are in or the place they’re at. That narrows it down some, but not enough.
    “Is that where they are? Pardnad?” I ask.
    He bangs his head against the rails of the fence again. The movement is so sudden and sharp that I almost stand, which would be a mistake. He grips the fence hard, his bloody and dirt-encrusted fingers paling with the force of it, and says, “Ah-pard-nad.” He draws the word out, clearly trying to make it as intelligible as possible. It’s amazing to me that a three-minutes-dead person can get out that much. But it works, because I understand him.
    “They’re in an apartment!” I call out.
    He bounces, seeming to want me to go on. And I do want more information. An apartment rules out most of the suburbs, except perhaps at their edges. Downtown and the older parts of town are covered with them. And, of course, near the university there are endless blocks of them.
    “Apartment complex or just a building?” I’m not sure he’ll be able to get that one, so I try something different and say, “Wait. I’m going to say