Where Do We Go from Here

Fluffy142

A/N: Well, here we are again. I hope that you enjoy this chapter of WDWGFH! You don't have any idea of how hard, fun, aggravating and anxious this story has been for me. It's really inspired me to be the best that I can be, and I hope you all have felt that way. This novel had started just to prove a point, and I think that it was proven a year ago. I'm sorry I couldn't have done better, but it is what it is. Looking back I feel like it's just some cheap piece of crap with cheap feels and a really overdone storyline. I basically killed off one of my friends every chapter, and I'm sorry that it couldn't have been better; you all deserve so much for sticking with me through to the end. I now introduce to you…

Chapter 18: Never the Same

Rebecca was looking down the shaft of the arrow knocked and drawn on the longbow. She carefully set her sight picture below and just behind the shoulder of the doe standing about 50 yards away. A twig snapped just behind it, the deer lifted its head and swiveled it slowly, scanning for the cause of the noise. Rebecca slowly let out the breath she was holding in, and simultaneously let the arrow fly from her grasp. The large broad-head projectile plunged deep into the lower chest of the doe. It stumbled on the spot, and just fell over, a clean kill. She smiled to herself as she waited a few minutes to see if anything else would pop-up from the surrounding bushes. Almost immediately, a large stag poked its head out of the green briar patch it was resting in, and Rebecca had knocked and fired another arrow into the unsuspecting animal. Sheathing the bow and extracting the 12-guage shotgun from her backpack, just in case.

"You two should hold us off for a long while." She crooned softly to the inanimate corpses, as she signaled to the man just behind her to give some help. I picked my way carefully toward the briar patch, and easily sweep it aside with the sturdy hunting pants I had found in the cabin an hour's walk from the small hallow they not stood in. After skillfully expelling the deer of its "contents" and tying the heavy rope around his neck, and fashioning the other end into a make-shift harness, I drag him through the briar with a grimace as it tears and snags at the precious meat.

"You ready?" I call across the hollow, and she gives a nod of confirmation, and we both set out of the woods, deer in tow. It took a little over 2 hours to navigate the unused path we took in, and our cargo wasn't helping.

~W~D~W~G~F~H~

The aging SUV was the first greeting to the long abandoned cabin, and oh, how it was a wonderful sight. A smile touched my lips as the corner of the building came into view. Perfectly sheltered among the trees, even the smartest Infected couldn't find it. Being back in Pennsylvania was a great feeling, and it's almost humbling to see the Alleghany's surrounding me once more. This is my home; my life will always lead me back to my roots. And I sure as hell am glad of it. We barely made it out alive, and I'm surprised by the speedy recovery of my companion. I've gone through all 7 circles and back, but there will always be this border between us. She still doesn't know the full story of what happened those few weeks ago.

I deposited my load in the cellar, and carefully made sure the windows and vents were sealed so nothing became too curious of the scent of raw meat. I walked back up the steps, and immediately a hand closes over my mouth. A slight hissing noise tells me to be quiet, and Rebecca motions with her head to the front door of the small cabin. Something is walking through the woods. It can't be human… the steps are too sure-footed. And listening closer, it's a four legged animal, so that rules out Infected. I easily pull the revolver from my holster (newly acquired from the cabin), and stalk slowly to the door. I burst it open, checking the corners of the long porch. I instantly scan the surrounding trees, and I lower the gun. Shrugging to myself, I walk to the corner of the porch, and check both sides of the building.

"What in the hell was that," I inquire to her, "it wasn't Infected, but it wasn't human." Then the tracks seem to appear in the mud before my eyes. They were too small to be wolves, so that left dogs and coyotes.

"Can dogs get infected?" Rebecca stiffens behind me, as the words leave my mouth. That's when we heard the thud of something solid and raw hit the ground below us. I snapped my head to Rebecca and race to the cellar. I flick on the light, and the revolver appears in my hand. We burst into the room, and immediately, I'm pinned to the ground. I wait for the pain, but I'm surprised to find a tongue lapping my face. I try to lift my head, but I'm playfully pushed back down. Finally, I sit up to find a large dog in my lap. My immediate reaction is to shoo it away, but there was something… almost comforting in the smart brown eyes and stocky build. I lift it off my lap and stand up. Looking around the room, I make out the scene. She hid behind the door, and stalked inside when Rebecca and I checked the sides of the house, and opened the pull latch to the cellar. His once black and white coat is matted and muddy.

"Looks like you need a bath, girl." I smile to myself for the third time today. I've always wanted a dog

~W~D~W~G~F~H~

It took roughly an hour to clean and brush our new friend. Her black and white fur now shone in the faded light of the cellar. Checking the time on my watch, I notice it's stopped.

"Ten year battery my ass." I take it off and walk up the stairs, Rebecca following, and the dog leading the way. Stepping outside, I check the sun's position, and it's about 1:30-ish.

"Ugh! Is it lunchtime yet?! Where's the damn food!?" Rebecca yells from the kitchen.

"It's downstairs, we killed it this morning."

"Oh yeah, I'll be back, I guess." She slowly walks to the cellar door, dog in tow, and disappears into the depths. I sit in one of the overlarge armchairs surrounding the fireplace. The glowing embers of the once blazing fire still crackled under the mantle. I place a log on top and examine the pictures on the small ledge. A man and his son squatting behind a large deer, the same man and what would be his wife sitting at the fireplace, and I shivered for a second. The last picture showed 5 things: the father, the mother, the son, and now a teenage daughter, but what surprised me was the black and white figure of the dog. I carefully take the aging picture off the wall, and brush it clean just to be sure. The small puppy was definitely a match. The piercing brown eyes playfully chasing the tennis ball through the small clearing our back.

"Well, looks like I'm not the only one who's gone through hell…" Thinking about it, I remember that my mother would write on the backs of photos to describe the scenes. I turn it over, and sure enough, the back of the frame easily succumbs to the blade of the hunting knife (also courtesy of our new living residence). Removing the picture, I read:

"Albert, Janice, Ben, and I enjoy an afternoon in the sun with Susan!"

So that's what her name is… her tags had long since faded, and the name was incoherent. Susan, that's a fitting name. She really must have had a hard life to have survived this long. My eyes wander from the picture in my hands, to the small mirror just above the mantle. Wiping it with my sleeve, I finally see my reflection for the first time in months. I almost jump at the sight of the unknown man before me. The gruff stubble is starting to gray, my hair is a right mess, my clothes are bloody and stained, and my face should've belonged to someone else. I wander through the house, trying to find the room I'm looking for. Just beyond the kitchen, I find it. The dusty bathroom greeted me with running water, a working shower, and the most heavenly sight in the world… soap.

I retreat from the bathroom 15 minutes later… clean shaven, revolver in the towel, and… just feeling so clean. I sneak across to the bedroom, and clothe myself. Fitting the somewhat baggy shirt over my head, I decide to check in on Rebecca. Walking towards the steps, I stop. Something's not right. It's been about half an hour since she went down, and I haven't seen hide or hair of here since. I start to descend.

"Becca… is everything alright?" No answer. I reach the bottom, and there she is. She's sitting on an upturned bucket, Susan's head in her lap, slowly fingering the bite on her arm from all those years ago.

"Hey… what's up?" She doesn't look up at me, but the dog pads over obediently to my side, her eyes pleading with me to help her. Sighing, I pull up a chair (another bucket). She doesn't seem to notice me, but still traces the bumpy scar tissue.

"Why am I still here?" She asks with pain in her voice. I'm dumbfounded by the unexpected question, but try to lift the mood.

"Well, you see… when a mommy and a daddy really love each other-"

"No, I know about that, but why – am – I – here? Why am I sitting in the basement of some cabin in Pennsylvania? What happened in Wyoming?" She sounds angry, but I just don't know how to say it.

"I can't say it…."

"Why not, it's a simple answer!"

"I just can't."

"Oh don't you try and pull that shit on me! I might not be the sharpest shiv on the counter, but I sure as hell am not that thick!" I stay quiet for a while. I can feel her pounding gaze burning a hole in my head, but I still look away.

"Fucking answer me, damn it!" She lands a blow to the side of my head, but I force myself to show no emotion.

"I did it." It comes out in barely a whisper.

"Did what, what did you do!" Another blow to the head follows the sentence.

"They're gone, all of them. I killed 'em all." The guilt slowly seeps into me, like the tide towards land. She stops, with her fist raised. I guess that'll never change about her. The horror in her eyes, fueled with the passing rage make her expression unreadable, but the anger slowly leaves, revealing the sudden fear and realization in its wake.

"What have you done… did we go through all of that shit last year for nothing?" The anger sweeps in again. It takes me a minute to gather courage, the guilt has come, and yet I can't find the strength to tell her.

"Yes." The word escapes my throat before I can catch it. Guilt slams into my body like a freight train. Before I know what's happening, she begins raining blow after blow upon me. She's determined to harm me in any possible way, and I let her. It doesn't hurt me. After a while, I grab her wrists. She struggles to break free, but my grip is iron, but gentle. She tries futilely to kick me, but I block them easily. She begins to rant, but I don't hear her. The weight of what I've done has taken me prisoner. I let her go, and I start to walk away. She then picks up the bucket and hurls it at my head. The plastic makes contact, and in the slight cringe of my shoulders, a few words reach me through the haze:

"I wish you were dead!"

I stop halfway up the steps, and slowly remove the 357 from my new jeans. I turn slowly toward my attacker.

"Be careful what you wish for." I leave.

~W~D~W~G~F~H~

The grass and fallen leaves cushion my feet as I walk away. The dog follows me as I amble in a random direction. After a bit of walking, I stop. A rather large clearing has opened up before me. In the middle of the opening stands a large tree. White pine… I had one of these in my back yard when I grew up… A fitting place for me to stay. I begin to carve on the tree. After about 10 minutes, I step back to admire my handy work. Taking off my backpack, I set down all of the gear. A brief image flashes across my mind. The only thing keeping me here, but I toss it aside, it would never happen, but this must. Susan looks at me with her intelligent eyes. I scratch her ears for a moment.

"Home." I gesture to the way I came. She starts, and looks back. I gesture for her to keep moving. She slowly leaves.

A single tear slides from my eye. The 9mm comes and I feel its cool barrel press into my head. I squeeze my hand.

The End

Fluffy142