Jason Morrow - Anywhere but Here

“It’s my fault,” he said, wiping away a tear.

“No it isn’t.”

“It is. You know why she got bit.”

“She was bitten because she was overwhelmed,” I said.

“She was bitten because I complained, Waverly. Don’t you remember? I complained that it was cold and that we didn’t have any blankets. Then she…she…” His tears turned into sobs as he crouched to the ground, holding his belly. His stomach tightened so hard that he threw up on the ground in front of him.

I rubbed his back, not really knowing what to say but, “It’s not your fault…it’s not your fault,” over and over.

It was just like Hattie. She heard the simple complaint that her son was cold, and she felt guilty about it. There was an outlet mall not far from us at the time and while we were asleep, she went out to find some blankets. She came back with a bite and scratches instead.

“We can’t let her wake up,” he said.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I know.” He wanted me to do it, but I wasn’t certain that I could either. He knew that Hattie was close to me too, but she wasn’t my mother — despite the fact that she was more of a mother to me than my own. I rubbed his back one more time and stood up and walked away from him, back into the restaurant.

I knelt beside Hattie again and watched her face. Even though she was dead, she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I reached for her hand again, this time finding the small diamond and gold ring that was once a symbol of her devotion and love, recently serving as a symbol of love lost and torn away. But Hattie wouldn’t have seen it that way. She would have seen it as a reminder that love still exists as long as we exist.

I slipped it from her finger and held it out in my palm. Almost every girl thought about the day when a man would kneel down and offer her a ring such as this, declaring his undying love for her in a way that no other could. I thought about how such a thing would probably never happen to me. It wasn’t a thought of self-pity, rather, a thought of finality. I didn’t have the same hope that Hattie had in her last moments. I didn’t see a future where all would be made right and a cure would be found. Even if someone did cure the greyskin virus, they would never be able to fix the broken hearts of all those that lost someone to it. They would never be able to replace the people long gone. The effect of the outbreak would be a mark on the world forever. The future had been altered for everyone because of it. Generations upon generations would feel our pain in some way or another.

I tucked the ring away in my pocket and set Hattie’s hand down when I felt a slight twinge at her knuckle — a movement. There was a long, metal pipe that Lucas had used as a weapon lying on the floor a few feet away. I stepped over to it and picked it up off the ground. I didn’t want to make any noise. I didn’t want Lucas to hear the act take place.

Several fingers on Hattie’s left hand were beginning to tremble. This was the first time I had ever seen what it was like for someone to wake as one of those things. But I would not fully see it yet. I never wanted to see it. I knew that if I waited much longer, I would see her dark eyes pop open. Her jaws would try to clench around my skin. She would no longer be Hattie. She would be just another greyskin.

Both of her hands were shaking now. I gripped the pipe with both my hands and held it back like a bat. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

This isn’t Hattie, I thought to myself. Hattie is gone. This is just another greyskin. Hattie is gone. Hattie is gone.

I opened my eyes and swung down as hard as I could and the pipe landed against the side of her head. Her fingers still twitched so I had to do it again. Sobs escaped my lips as I raised the pipe. Again. Her blood splattered, black flecks hitting my face as I swung again. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but I couldn’t.

Finally, Hattie’s body was completely still and I dropped the pipe to the floor. I just about threw up like Lucas had outside, but I was able to hold it in. I turned away from her body and made my way out of the restaurant. Lucas was still sitting in the parking lot. I knelt down next to him and handed him his mother’s ring.

“She won’t become one of them,” I said softly.

He didn’t say anything, but he let me hold him as he stared at the ring. Neither of us slept that night. We just sat in silence until the morning came.

Lucas and I were resolved to a life as travelers. We had tried to stay in one place for long periods of time but it never seemed to work out. Supplies would run short. A herd of greyskins would run us out. Any number of things would happen to keep us on the move at all times. Once or twice we tried to become part of a group or village. We made promises to pull our weight. We swore up and down that we would be worth the food it would cost to make us a part of their community, but we always got the boot. Groups had already decided upon their members. Villages were too careful about who they let in. So, we moved around for the next two years in no particular direction. For some reason, it worked for us. Sure, if we had come up on a town or group that was willing to have us, we would have gladly joined with them, but by this point, we were no longer looking.

On the road, we had become more skilled at avoiding the greyskins. We became better killers, better hunters. Lucas taught me everything he knew about stalking a prey for food. We would set traps and if we ever came across a rifle, we would hunt deer. Guns were few and far between and on a couple of occasions, the sound of the blasts got us in trouble, so we usually preferred not to travel with them. We made slingshots to kill squirrels and birds, and we carried sharp weapons to fend off the greyskins. We avoided the cities and towns so we wouldn’t come across raiders. That’s not to say we didn’t have some close calls.

This particular night was storming wildly. The winds howled and the lightening flashed, shooting out booms of thunder so loud that I had to cover my ears. It was imperative that we find shelter, but when we came across a shady cabin in the middle of the woods, it almost seemed safer to brave the storm. Lucas looked at me with rain dripping off his face, our clothes soaked to the skin.

“It looks small enough,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too many greyskins in there if any.”

I was more worried about the fact that it might have someone in it. The thought of greyskins didn’t scare me. We stalked toward the front of the cabin, the rain concealing our steps. Lucas held a crowbar in his hands and I had a long dagger I had found on a dead body.

At the front door there was a sign that said Frank Miller. I didn’t really like that I knew the identity of the cabin’s owner.

Lucas pressed his face against the window and peered in. “It’s just one room,” he said. “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while.”

“Okay,” I nodded at him.

He stepped forward and tried the doorknob and found that it was unlocked. He stepped in quietly and I followed behind him. The room was dank and smelled awful. To our right was a small fireplace with wood chopped and stacked neatly next to the hearth. To our left was a bed with a dead, bloody corpse in it. It might have turned to a greyskin if it were not for the self-inflicted bullet hole in its forehead. A handgun was resting in the man’s limp hand.

Then I knew I didn’t want to know the name of the owner.

“I’ll start a fire,” Lucas said.

As he worked at the fireplace, I looked through each cabinet and closet in the cabin. I found plenty of food that had gone bad and rotten, but there were some nonperishable foods as well. In a closet, I found a bunch of blankets. I grabbed one and covered the corpse.