Chapter title is from song by Blind Faith.

16

Can't Find My Way Home – Blind Faith

They made it through the MegaMart without anyone calling the cops on them, which was a minor miracle as far as Zee was concerned. The elderly checker had given them and their purchases a hard stare; because nothing said kidnapping like buying everything the kid needed in one go—new shirts, new socks, new shoes, new toothbrush, new backpack—yeah, there was nothing suspicious about that at all. It didn't help that Toby was dwarfed by his oversized maroon overcoat still smelling faintly of dumpster, looking like his face could be on milk cartons everywhere. She could see the cashier's hand itching towards the phone, when the kid caught the checker's eye with an angelically sunny smile and moved a step closer to Zee in the process, lying without so many words. The checker's face relaxed as she smiled back involuntarily.

Oh yeah, the kid had the bait thing down.

Ten steps they had made it out of the store when he pulled up abruptly by the store's outdoor trash bin. What now? She stopped when he stopped, automatically tensing and sweeping the parking lot with a wary glance, but the kid simply shucked out of the grody overcoat and flung it violently into the trash. She watched the minor tantrum without a word. Searching through their shopping bags, she fished out the flock-lined denim jacket he had chosen for himself and waited as he put it on over the flamingo pink sweatshirt.

His stomach growled loudly enough for her to hear. It was nearly two in the afternoon. The store had taken longer than she'd anticipated. She opened her mouth to ask if he was hungry, aside from the obvious, and found him staring off and away from her, lips clamped resolutely shut, determined not to complain, silently holding his breath as if that would make his stomach growl less.

So now they sat in a Biggerson's, working their way through the kid's menu. Toby was scarfing down his second cheeseburger in the hour, with a side of fries, and a side of mac n'cheese, and he didn't look like he was stopping anytime soon. She stared at the top of his head, wondering what she was going to do with him.

Looking up at her prolonged scrutiny, he frowned at the look on her face. Awareness too keen for his years haunted his eyes. He put the cheeseburger down and set his face stubbornly.

"You can't take me back."

Zee blinked, startled at the way he read her mind. "Back where?"

Toby clamped his mouth shut again, as if he'd already given away too much.

Zee narrowed her eyes as the kid returned his full attention to his meal, avoiding the question. She got the feeling he wasn't talking about either the vampires or the zombies, which meant there was someplace else he didn't want to go. Great. As if this situation needed more complications.

She rotated her left shoulder cautiously, wincing when pain shot down her arm. She supposed it could have been worse. He could have freaked the hell out this morning, watching her check her weapons. Instead he did nothing but stare with intense interest when she swapped out the useless bullets in the Glock for silver ones. Silver was normally a werewolf thing, but who knew?

His curiosity had gotten better of his caution when she checked her swords.

"Why do you need two?"

She had paused in the act of cleaning the blades, the familiar ritual of the morning interrupted. She held up the shorter of the two swords.

"When you're not sure you need a sword, this one's easier to hide."

She set it down, and picked up the katana with both hands.

"This is better if you know you're going into a fight, and you need a sword for sure."

She slid the steel blade from the sheath and held it between them so he could get a good look.

"They're very sharp. Don't mess with them."

He had nodded solemnly.

She had the shorter blade with her now, tucked unobtrusively against her side. Toby had watched her slip it into her jacket earlier without comment. He should have been too young to understand the value of being always armed, but there it was.

Finally he sat back, having cleaned his plate of burger and sides. The waitress materialized by their table.

"Dessert?"

He stole a look in her direction, eyes straying to the ice cream on the menu. Resolutely his lips tightened, and he shook his head, the hard edge of discipline settling on his features, reluctant to push the boundaries of her unknown tolerance.

She paid for their meal and stood. He stood when she stood, staying close, as if now that she'd fed him and clothed him, she might pin a note to his jacket and ditch him. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it, but where the hell could she leave him, not knowing if this Mother zombie was going to come looking for him?

"Come on." She said.

The kid stared at her, suspiciously.

"I'm not taking you 'back'." She said impatiently, putting air quotes around the word, because she had no friggin' idea where 'back' was. She flicked a look out the windows at the sunshine beating down on the day. They were probably safe enough from vamps during the day, but zombies? Not so much. She redirected her attention to the kid, and said meaningfully. "But we've got to keep moving."

The kid wasn't slow. He shot her one last careful look before he shrugged deeper into his jacket and took a step forward. She made sure he was following before she turned towards the door, and headed out of the restaurant. The hum of traffic on the adjacent thruway broke up the silence of the peaceful afternoon. She had parked a little ways away from the entrance, out of sight of the restaurant's windows and away from prying eyes, just in case.

They spotted the shaggy figure lurking at the edge of the parking lot at the same time.

Her hand came down on Toby's shoulder at the exact moment he tried to run, ready to high tail it to the other side of the parking lot. It was a good plan, except for the other figure loitering at the far end, sniffing at the parked cars.

Toby's eyes were wide with fright when he looked up into her grim face.

The bulk of a truck and rig taking up four parking spaces hid the zombie from view of the restaurant's windows. How it had found them was a good question. Why they were so keen on getting the kid back was another good question.

She measured the distance between the two ragtag figures and the big rig, slipping her sword free at the same time. She knew from the night before that there was no easy way to kill them, so the logical answer was simple.

Run.

She took Toby's hand in hers and tugged him in the direction of the car. He resisted. There wasn't time for this. She gave him a speaking look.

Trust me or not. Now.

Baby blue eyes searched hers.

Hesitantly, he gripped her hand back.

She quickly tapped the cell phone in his jacket pocket, and said soundlessly, "Remember."

She bundled him into the passenger seat of the car and was coming around to the driver's side door when she was spun abruptly around. A choking hand seized her by her neck, cutting off air. Her sword draw went straight through the zombie's outstretched arm, severing it at the shoulder. It should have been enough. Instead, the fingers around her neck tightened with bruising force, and the breath she was trying to draw turned into a futile gasp. The zombie didn't so much as blink as it leaned forward, used its other hand to hold the loose arm steady, and reattached itself. White-eyes slammed her hard against the vehicle, the hand locked around her neck crushing her windpipe.

Blackness flickered around the sunlight as air went away, the desperate pulling of her lungs useless against the constriction around her neck. She twisted against the choking hold futilely.

Don't flail. Flailing is pointless.

Focus.

She brought her sword back down way too close to herself, re-severing the zombie's arm just above the wrist. The cold whistle of her blade passed by her face as a breeze, and she forced herself to yield to the stranglehold and use it as leverage to get both feet up and kick the momentarily separated body, sending it stumbling back as she pulled up on the sword just before cutting into her own leg. She yanked the car door open, repeat of the night before, sword in, slide in, shooting the lock behind her by feel, only blind now because the hand was still attached and tightening mercilessly around her throat. She couldn't breathe couldn't see and everything was bright bright starry panic and queasy. The hand vibrated with impacts as Toby leaned forward and beat on it with the nearest thing that came to hand, a bottle of water.

Focus.

Her fingers found the lighter in her pocket, the shape of it familiar and the next action automatic. She brought the tiny flame shakily up, holding it to the severed hand under her chin. The smell of charred flesh filled the car. The dead fingers flinched and loosened, falling onto the gear console limply with the thumb still twitching.

She started the car by feel and had them moving at speed before she chucked the thing out.

Focus.

She was still trying to heave air in gulps, but the blurs of color resolved themselves into cars and the gray resolved into asphalt.

"Toby?"

"I'm okay." His voice was high and shaky with adrenaline.

She nodded. In the rearview she could see the one-handed zombie lumbering to its feet. She couldn't see the other one anymore. She stepped on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot with a squeal.

Never run in a straight line. It was too easy to track.

She crossed back on their path, put the car through two car washes on the way, and pulled into the outskirts of Schenectady in the mid-afternoon. They needed time. She needed time. To heal, to adjust, to sort out what the hell was going on.

Without question those things were after the kid with a vengeance, hot on his trail like hounds on a fox hunt. How? It was possible they were scenting their own—she hadn't been shy about using the car as a weapon. The musty stench of decay was strong and clinging. They had to leave the windows cracked despite the biting cold for the better part of an hour after chucking the hand, the smell of the rotting black ooze that passed for zombie blood mixed with singed flesh pervasive and foul in the confines of the vehicle. To be on the safe side, they bought an eyebrow-raising number of air fresheners at the first car wash and lived with overpowering piney chemically fresh for the rest of the drive.

And why? What was so special about this kid that they would go miles out of their normal hunting grounds to track him down? It was a harsh truth, but easier bait could be had, one that could be caught with less effort than trying to retrieve this one.

Toby stayed close to her during the check-in process, holding onto her hand on the way up to the motel room. She moved him from her right hand to her left, leaving her sword/gun arm free, watching as he noted the change and grasped the reason for it too quickly. Silently she flagged the exits closest to their room, the alternate escape routes, and pointed them out to him, one by one. In case of emergency, because emergency was a yap dog, nipping at their heels.

It was a crap way to grow up.

She locked and bolted the door behind them, do-not-disturb sign out front, and dumped a thick salt line across the doors and windows. She had no idea if that did any good against the undead, but any barrier was better than none. At the very least, it would cut down on the list of things they were dealing with at any one time.

That done, she turned back to Toby, still standing in the middle of the room with his new backpack, not having moved an inch from where she left him. His face was pale and his fingers cold.

Shock?

"Hey."

She eased his backpack off and picked him up, sitting him on the short couch like he was a much younger child. She was unprepared when he suddenly wrapped both arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder, and broke into heaving sobs. She froze awkwardly at the sudden outburst, like a dam had burst and the stoic little hunter was suddenly a kid again, only seven or eight or nine or whatever he was, with a kid's fears and a kid's responses.

She let him cry it out, staying as still as a statue, afraid to disrupt the process.

It wasn't long. Too much had happened to him to allow him to self-indulge in emotion for any length of time. With a last long snurfle he pulled back, rubbing at the tear tracks on his face awkwardly with his sleeve, not meeting her eyes, embarrassed by the breakdown.

She walked him over to the door, showing him the salt line.

"That keeps out the ghosts and the demons."

He looked at her, hiccupped, and asked, "And the zombies?"

"I don't know. But now we know fire hurts them, yeah?"

His eyes widened on a slow nod.

"You know how to use a lighter?"

He shook his head.

"Right. I'll show you."

They practiced until he got it to catch on the first try, and she handed him the spare out of her duffel. It wasn't much, but unless she could find a child-sized flamethrower, it was going to have to do.

The words came haltingly as he stowed the precious tiny weapon safely in his pocket opposite the cell phone.

"She caused the accident."

Slowly Zee put the consecrated iron bullets back in her duffel and sat down. Toby was looking at a spot on the floor, but he kept talking.

"We were driving home. Then she was there, in the middle of the road. Floating."

Mother.

"Mom tried to avoid her. Then…"

His voice cracked with tears. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything and they told me I had to go live with Father Laughlin for a while and Mom was in a coffin and they wouldn't let me touch her and I don't remember the last thing Mom said to me or what she wanted me to do or…"

She didn't know what she was doing, but her arms went around him and gathered him close, the hug unfamiliar and awkward. Huge sobs wracked his tiny frame again, gulps against her shoulder, tears wetting her jacket. In great gulps he cried out everything he had held in, his ever-present wariness cracking at last.

She sat him on the couch again, leaning against her side as the next part of the story came tumbling out.

"She came. She talked to Father Laughlin. He said I had to go with my Aunt Deirdre. She was walking like a normal person. She was acting like a normal person. He wouldn't believe me when I told him she was a monster. That she killed my mom."

He was shaking with fury at this point, but his look was pleading. You believe me, don't you?

She didn't even need to nod. Been there, done that.

"She kept calling me Elias. Making me wear his old coat."

Ah.

Toby fell silent, exhausted. They sat there in silence for a long time until Toby's eyelids started to drift shut. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Without a word, Zee picked him up and tucked him into bed.