Hey guys, I'm up here this time! When you see the *, play this: watch?v=31McEF7lNLk. Enjoy!
Chapter 11
When he awoke, the fire had faded from his whole body, and instead manifested itself in his ribs and right shoulder. Groaning, he opened his eyes to see where he was. He saw the stone of a cement roof, and light streaming in from windows to his right. He was laying on a mattress, with his arm bundled in a sling and his chest bandaged. He turned his head, and saw that the mattress was actually a gurney. He was in a small room of what he could only assume was a hospital, with curtains blocking the door way, shades over the windows, and sheets and paint as close to sterile white as he had ever seen. He noticed his left arm had a needle stuck into it, connecting to a plastic tube. His eyes followed the tube as it snaked its way through the air until it met a plastic bag half filled with water. Reaching over, his shoulder screaming, he pulled out the needle. Blood instantly started to come out of the now open puncture, but he quickly covered it with his hand, putting pressure on it until it stopped.
Pulling back the covers, he swung his legs over the gurney, making sure he could still move them. He then slid off, hitting the ground. He swooned for a moment, his blood rushing, causing him to lean against the wall for support. As he looked down, he realized that, apart from the bandages, he was totally nude. Once he recovered, he looked through the cupboards of the room with agonizing slowness until he found a pair of what must have been hospital pants. Though they were probably a size too big, he slid them on and pulled the strings on the waist band until they were almost painfully tight. As he looked around, he saw a knife sitting on the counter. It was small, obviously meant for precision, delicate cuts. He palmed it in his left hand, ready to slash.
He slowly opened the heavy oak door, peering out into the dark. The hall was empty aside from a chair that had been put outside his room, and he moved as quickly as he could. He was sore, however, and all his muscles felt exhausted. He realized that he must have been unconscious for at least a few days, and was now worried that he might not be in Nebraska any more.
He went right, seeing a fire exit sign over a door. Moving quickly, he opened the heavy metal door to the stairs behind it. He stumbled down them, getting a small amount of vertigo from the blood still rushing to his head. Three floors down, however, he had to stop. The stairs were blocked off with fallen cement and debris, stopping any way he had of going forward. He moved towards the door that let out to the rest of the floor, which, according to the sign next to the door, was level three. Opening the door, he was met with a hallway similar to the first. Proceeding down it, he saw a sign with a plate and a fork hanging over a double door way. He was about to move past it when he heard something it the room next to him. He bolted to the doors and burst through them, closing them quickly. Turning around, he was about to try and find another way out but stopped.
There, in front of him, was a campsite with a fire, tents, and three people. All sitting down and staring at him. The fire had a steaming pot over it, and each person had a bowl in their hands. The people made no moves against him, while he studied them quickly. An older man with grey in his beard and brown skin, likely Hispanic. A girl his age, likely the man's daughter, slim with very dark hair. Finally, a boy a little older than him, probably sixteen or so, with red hair, freckles, and almost as slim as the girl, but much taller.
His mind raced, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't kill them all, and if he ran, he wouldn't get far.
As he watched, the Hispanic man put his bowl down slowly and removed another from a bag to his left. Taking the bowl, he carefully poured a measure of soup inside. He whispered something, and the girl immediately got up from her seat, went behind the tent, and returned with a metal folding chair. She placed it on the ground away from the other people, and gestured for him to sit down. The Hispanic man, moments later, put the bowl down on the chair, along with a spoon.
Normally the boy would have run. But three things stopped him this time. 1; these people had saved him, and he wanted to know why. 2; he likely could not escape anyway, as there were probably more of them elsewhere in the hospital. And 3; and most important, he knew he hadn't eaten in days, and was painfully hungry.
He moved slowly, keeping watch for anything amiss. Both the father and daughter watched him with curiosity and concern, while the boy watched him with mostly fear. He reached the chair, and immediately pulled it farther from the others, moving towards the dark of the room. He then picked up the bowl and sat down, staring into the soup. It had noodles and chunks of white meat in it, and it smelled heavenly. He picked up the spoon and started eating, watching the group the entire time.
He was hungrier than he had realized.
The taste was exquisite to him. A sort of sweet broth with long noodles, what he had identified as chicken, and some vegetables. He ate until it was gone, and then scraped the bowl with his spoon to get the last of the chicken before he drank the broth. His stomach felt almost in pain from the sudden food, and he knew that he could not have any more.
The Hispanic man stood and walked over to him, giving no indication of hostile intent. He squatted down in front of Jericho, and lightly took the bowl away, replacing it with a canteen of water. The boy opened it quickly and took a sip, enjoying the feeling as the cool liquid snaked down his throat to his stomach.
"Just sip it for now, child." The Hispanic man said, causing the boy's eyes to immediately snap to him, and for him to grip the knife a little tighter. "If you get cold, there is plenty of space by the fire."
Finished, the man moved back to his seat, with the boy's eyes burrowing holes into his back.
It was ten minutes later when the boy became chilled.
Five minutes after, he caved and moved his chair next to the fire, watching each of the others fiercely. Each watched him, in turn, with curiosity. He realized he must look a sight; hair unkempt, emaciated, dirty, bandaged, bruised. He was definitely worse for ware, and they all knew it. So why waste time and resources to help him.
He suddenly felt cloth touch his shoulders, and he reacted quickly, spinning with the knife raised in his left hand. A man, bald, scarred, and angry looking, grabbed his arm, stopping the blade dead, before slowly letting go. He realized a moment later that the man had put a blanket around him to keep him warm. He was somewhat disappointed in himself for not noticing the man, who must have been leaning against a wall.
"Sorry." He mumbled to the man, who nodded in return. He turned to the fire, and the Hispanic man started to speak to the girl quietly. She got up and left the room in a hurry, obviously with an objective in mind.
"Where am I?" The boy asked, curiosity overwhelming him.
"Bryan medical center. We couldn't move you out of the city with your injuries, so we found the closest hospital that hadn't been ransacked to oblivion and back. We've been holed up here a week with you."
"A week?" The boy questioned quietly, surprised. He then realized that these people had taken care of him for a week. "Why did you help me?"
"'Cause you're just a friggen kid!" The redhead yelled, opening his mouth for the first time. His voice was loud and annoying, and was instantly disliked by the boy. He was amused, however, when the Hispanic man slapped the redhead on the back of his head, and then spoke in a language that the boy didn't understand.
Glancing at the boy, the Hispanic man said, "What Shaun here meant to say was that we weren't going to leave a wounded boy to bleed out in the street."
"Maybe you should have." The boy mumbled just loud enough for them to hear, ending that conversation track.
Thinking quickly, the Hispanic man decided to introduce the group.
"We got off on the wrong foot." He said genuinely. "Here, this is Shaun…"
"Sup." Shaun said, arrogance radiating off of him. He was then slapped by the Hispanic man, who continued past the interruption.
"As I was saying, my name is Bernard, but just call me B. And this," He gestured to the man, who had taken a position on the wall and was staring at them with a scowl, "Is our esteemed leader, Deric."
"Hello." Deric more barked than said, his voice gruff and hard. He was tall and wide, and looked like a linebacker that the boy had seen in a magazine. His face was scared, he was bald, and he had a large goatee. Also, he was black, something the boy hadn't seen in a while.
"Are there others?"
"Yes." Bernard nodded, then looked towards the door as if expecting something. The door then opened, and the Hispanic girl came in, with another in tow.
"This is my daughter Rachel, and my adopted daughter, Lita." Rachel blushed from the attention, and moved back to her seat.
It was Lita that caught his attention, however. He immediately recognized her from the alley. The blond hair, beautiful face, and the green eyes were instantly recognizable, as they were burned into his memory. She looked at him in turn, smiling and studying him. He again thought of what he must looked like, and felt embarrassed despite himself.
"Well hello there." She said with a slightly southern drawl, the tone kind and friendly. "Now that you know everybody, can you tell us your name?"
The boy nodded, before mumbling, "Gideon."
"Well, hello Gideon." Bernard said this time. There was a moment of awkward silence, no one really knowing where to go from there.
"Bernard, can't you give him some more food?" Lita said, noticing Gideon's empty bowl. "Poor boy hasn't eaten anything in a week."
"Ten days, actually." Gideon said under his breath, not realizing that they had all heard. This caused Lita to give a scalding look to Bernard, who shrugged his shoulders in an 'I didn't know' gesture. She immediately took Gideon's bowl and refilled it, placing the now steaming bowl in his hands.
They ate in silence, no one knowing what to say. Finally, curiosity got the best of Gideon, whom was a naturally inquisitive person.
"Why are you here?" He asked blandly between bites.
"Our quarantine zone fell apart." Bernard said, staring into his bowl. "We managed to escape with about twenty others, with nowhere to go. That was a couple years ago. After a while, it was just us and a couple others. We were just passing through Lincoln, on our way to Texas for the winter, when we got attacked. They killed one of us, and kidnapped another. We were looking for her, and found you instead."
Gideon's head shot up, remembering something. Looking at Bernard, he quickly asked, "Was the person a woman, Hispanic? Middle aged, with dark brown eyes and hair?"
Everyone had stopped eating now, looking at Gideon with fascination. Bernard had leapt to his feet and ran to Gideon, taking his hands into his own.
"You've seen her?" Bernard asked, hope in his eyes. When Gideon nodded and looked away, it answered the other part of the question without doubt. Bernard let go of his hands, stumbling backwards with fear and loss replacing the hope in his eyes.
"No." Bernard whispered, shocked. It was then he became aware of the sobbing in the background, and turned to see his daughter in tears. He quickly ran to her and wrapped her in a tight embrace, muttering things in a different language that were obviously meant to calm the girl. The entire tone of the group seemed to have switched to somber.
Feeling a hand close on his shoulder, Gideon looked up to see Deric looking at him hard.
"Can you take us to her?" He asked, his voice, though quiet, still carrying a hard edge that turned it into more of a command than a question. He seemed to be taking the news in stride, putting on a strong face for the group. However, there was a noticeable sag in the man's large shoulders, giving away his inner sadness.
Gideon nodded in return, wondering if he had made a mistake in telling them about the woman.
…..
After the meal, Gideon moved to a different room on the same floor of the cafeteria. He told the group it was because he didn't like the first one, as it was too secluded. In all honesty, he preferred the seclusion, and would have stayed in that room if he were able. But, after a week of no movement, and multiple weeks of malnourishment, he knew that he would not be able to get up the stairs again.
And so he sat in his room, the light fading as the sun started to set. He felt incredibly tired, even though he had slept for a week. Once he had locked the door and placed his scalpel underneath his pillow, he drew what was left of the curtains and laid down and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.
It was five minutes before he heard a knock on his door.
Grabbing the scalpel, he slipped quietly onto the tiled floor and crept to the door. Taking a breath, he cracked it open to find Deric outside his door. After some initial doubt, Gideon slowly opened the door, letting the large man in and immediately closing the door after him.
Deric quickly sat down on the spare gurney, looking tired. Gideon stayed next to the window, watching the man cautiously.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, nervous about the sudden intrusion. He fiddled with the scalpel in his hand, knowing full well that Deric saw it.
"Put the scalpel down kid." He said tiredly. He seemed older than he did a few hours before, causing Gideon to soften a little. "Besides, you couldn't kill me with that thing anyway."
"True." He acknowledged, placing the scalpel on the counter near his hands. "I would have gone for your eyes."
Deric nodded and smiled, letting a dry bark that might have been a laugh escape his lips. "Smart boy, always go for the soft bits. Who taught you to think like that?"
"Wolves." This earned him a look, causing him to elaborate. "I was once crossing through a town when I saw a pack of wolves fighting a bear. I thought he bear was going to win, but the dogs were smart enough to go for the hind legs, grounding it. Then they all jumped on the neck and legs and tore into it. A few of the dogs died, but a few managed to rip the bear's stomach open. Fed the rest of the pack."
"Huh." Deric said, accepting the story. He still hadn't explained why he was there, causing Gideon to become nervous again.
"So, what are you doing here?"
"A couple of things, boy. For one, wanted to thank you for letting us know what happened to poor Lisa. She was a good woman." His eyes were still distant, causing Gideon to wonder if there was more there than was being let on.
"Of course. And?"
"I wanted to extend an offer to join us." Deric still stared at the wall, mulling something over.
"Wait, what?" Gideon said, shocked and confused. "You don't even know me. You have no reason to trust me, and I can't offer you anything."
"I have enough reason. Your just a kid, alone and malnourished. You're brave, otherwise you would never have ran across those rooftops like you did. You're smart, keeping the scalpel and putting your back against walls, always watching everything. But, the main reason is that I do have reason to trust you. You told us about Lisa when you had no reason to. Could have just kept quiet and slipped away when you were strong enough, left us wondering." He spoke in a casual tone, his dry voice never changing.
Gideon did not know what to say. He didn't know whether or not to take the offer, and didn't know if he even wanted to. He didn't like relying on people, or being relied upon. At the same time, he wasn't blind to the merits of being in a group, either.
"I'll think on it." Was all he could say, still surprised at the offer.
"Alright kid. No pressure." Deric said in his same dry voice before getting up and moving to the door.
"Oh, and by the way," He said as he reached the door, turning to face Gideon, his face unreadable. "You did the right thing telling them. Nothing is worse than not knowing if someone is alive or dead. That kind of fear, and the slim hope you hang on to, it will rip you apart."
He left then, leaving Gideon slightly more at ease with himself.
…..
The field was quiet, the only sound being the rustling of the dead grass from the slight breeze that was coming over the western hills. They all were gathered there, looking at the grave and makeshift cross.
They had gone out the next day, Gideon leading them to the hunter camp quickly. Once there, he pointed out the storage shed, but refused to go in. Bernard was about to when he was stopped by Deric, who went in with a blanket. He emerged with the woman, the blanket covering her from head to toe. Gideon was about to ask what to do next when Rachel suggested the field, saying through tears that Lisa had remarked how pretty it was in the sunset when they had first entered the town.
So, after another check by the group to make sure that they hadn't missed anything, they proceeded to walk for three hours out of the city to a field that had used to be corn field. The field itself was covered in dead, waste high grass. They buried her on a slight rise, beneath the soul tree for miles. Bernard dug the hole, refusing any help. Rachel kneeled over her mother, weeping, with Lita holding her, trying to give some support even though it was obvious that her own heart was breaking. Shaun was near the girls, wanting to help but not knowing what to say. Deric watched from above, moving between the girls and Bernard, offering helping hands and kind, soft words.
Gideon stood apart, sitting by the tree, watching the entire scene. He felt a strange sense of sorrow, even though he knew none of these people, or the woman that they were burying. And yet, seeing Rachel sobbing, and Bernard in obvious shock, numb with sadness, and how the others came together to grieve and comfort them, it touched him. They were a family that had lost a member, and that he could relate to. It made him remember, to back when he was part of a family. However, he immediately got off that train of thought, not wanting to think about them.
Scanning the vast field, Gideon thought about how empty it seemed. With no landmarks for miles aside from the one tree, it almost seemed desolate and barren. It just seemed like a lonely place to be buried, at least in his mind. He wondered if that is what the woman would have wanted, to be buried beneath this peaceful but empty place. Then again, she didn't really have a say in the matter. It was about the peace of mind of the group at this point.
It took two hours for Bernard to finish the hole, leaving him sweaty, his hands ripped open and bleeding. It was six feet deep, deep enough to stop any scavengers from getting to Lisa. Deric then picked Lisa up, wrapped in a blanket, and placed her gently into Bernard's arms. He then placed her down slowly, not wanting to let go. After a few moments, he was finally able to put her down and climb out of the hole, immediately grabbing the shovel. However, Deric ripped it from his hands. When Bernard started to protest, Deric pointed to Rachel, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. Bernard immediately ran to her, cradling her and cooing in her ear, trying to ease her suffering. They watched and cried as dirt was shoveled onto Lisa, slowly covering her until the hole mounded over, never to be seen by her family again.
After a time, they all rose, each saying a farewell before going back to the hospital. Eventually, only Gideon remained. He didn't really know what to say, but then remembered something he had read once, long ago before his life turned.
Kneeling in front of the grave, he quietly spoke. "When I am laid in earth, may my wrongs create no trouble in thy heart. Remember me, but please forget my fate." He started to rise, and, looking at the cross, he whispered, "Goodbye, Lisa."
Ready, he turned to walk back to the group when he saw Lita standing at the edge of the tree's shade, staring at him.
Suddenly embarrassed, Gideon tried to walk past her, but she grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.
"That was very nice." She said quietly. "Where did you learn that?"
"I read it." He said simply, trying to pull past her. He broke free, but was followed close behind by her.
"I think she would have liked that." She said, moving faster to walk by his side.
"Good."
"Are you staying with us?"
Now he stopped, not knowing what to say.
"I'm not sure."
"Why?"
"I don't like relying on people." He said, sighing. "And I don't like having people rely on me. Plus, why would you guys want me?"
"I think we would want you because you seem like a good guy. What you did just now proves it. And, I think we need some good news right now."
"Do you want me here?" He asked, tired of the run around.
"I do. I think you can help us, and I think that you need our help." She said matter of factly, staring at him.
Gideon nodded, making up his mind.
"I'll stay. For a while, at least."
He knew that he was making a mistake, but, as he studied the field one last time, he thought that maybe it would be worth it.
As the setting sun lit up the dry field, burning the tree orange and painting the sky, he had to agree with Lisa. It really was beautiful.
Short, I know, but I think it works. Don't put fluff where it isnt needed, i suppose. So, as always, thank to leider hosen, check out his stuff, it is fantastic. Also, for everyone who reviews, favorites, or follows, thank you. Seriously, i appreciate it so much, and it makes this thing i am doing so much more fun.
Song for this chapter is called Dido's lament, by Henry Purcell. the link is for an acoustic version that i think really fits the chapter, however the original is excellent too.
watch?v=31McEF7lNLk
See ya next chapter. As always, reviews are all welcome.
