May Dawney - Survival Instincts

Lynn sighed. All of this thinking was giving her a headache. Time to do something useful . She pushed up into a seated position and pulled the last of the three tins of blood porridge toward her. It was almost empty, just two more feedings left. That was another reason she would have to make a push soon: they were running out of food, and they were out of water entirely. Lynn had shared the bear meat with Skeever, so only two portions were left.

“Dani? Time for food.” She took up station by Dani’s head again.

A frown settled on Dani’s face. “No.” She shook her head. “No more.”

Lynn took a deep breath to steady herself and guided Dani’s head onto her ankles. Dani had started resisting the monotone meals three feedings ago, about the same time the fever had taken a more solid hold. Getting her to cooperate was becoming harder and harder. “Yes, more. You need it, remember? Your body needs to heal.” She kept her voice soft and friendly, but her patience was running a bit low.

“It’s not good. Not good.” Dani tried to bury her face against Lynn’s leg.

Lynn cupped her glowing cheek and guided her head back up. Her heart broke a little over Dani’s distress. “How about I make you a deal? You have your meal, and then you get some nice grilled meat to chase it down with? The taste will go away, and you get to chew.”

That got Dani’s attention. She opened her eyes to slits and tilted her head to look up at her with cloudy eyes. “Promise?”

Lynn smiled. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

Dani dropped her head again. A bead of sweat slid down her forehead. She licked her lips as she seemed to consider the proposal. “Okay. Last time.”

Just like the other three times she’d made the promise, Lynn nodded and said, “Definitely the last time.”

Lynn pulled the door to the bakery shut behind her and Skeever and sank against the outer wall. It was so good to be out of that smoky, foul-smelling room, even if it was just for a little while. She inhaled deeply and checked her surroundings. The street was deserted, sun-drenched, and in no way reflected the horrors that had taken place on it the evening before.

Skeever hobbled along on three limbs, eager to find the perfect car or pole or tree to relieve himself against.

Dani was sleeping again. She’d chewed and suckled a small cut of meat as if it was the most exquisite dish in the world and had promptly passed out from sheer exhaustion afterward.

Seeing how badly off Dani was—and knowing their supplies were running out—had made up Lynn’s mind. Lynn was going to be smart about this journey, though. For one, she was going to be taking all the pulling shifts from now on, and she needed to make that as easy on her body as possible. She was going to craft a harness for herself to wear that she could put the handlebars through. That way, she wouldn’t have to use her arms to hold the cart level and pull it forward; she could put that strain on her hips. That would save a lot of energy.

Her second improvement over yesterday’s grind was a judgment call: she was going to leave Richard’s body behind. She needed the cart for Dani, and she didn’t want to have Dani’s open wounds near a maggot-ridden corpse. Besides, the stench alone would make Dani even sicker than she already was. Getting rid of Richard lessened the load a lot too, which would make it easier on her painful body and leave room for Skeever and their backpacks in the cart. She just didn’t know how the Homesteaders would react if she returned without Richard’s body.

Before she left, she would also make a fire pouch—or in this case, a fire tin—so she wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of starting a fire from scratch once they arrived at the house. It was something she hadn’t done in a while, but she knew how to do it: take semi-dry grass, leaves, and other tinder material, roll it up in flexible bark, tie it as tightly as possible, and sink a hot coal into it so it smoldered but didn’t catch flame. Once she stuffed the whole bundle into a tin upside down and poked a few holes into the container to allow the barest bit of air in, the tinder would continue to simmer until it was time to make a fire.

Lynn hoisted herself off the ground. “Better get to it. Come on, Skeeve, we’re getting Dani home.”

Dani groaned when one of the wheels caught the edge of a pothole Lynn had tried to steer around. She’d packed the cart with layers of cushioning, but every bump and hole in the road was undoubtedly transmitted upward to Dani’s body.

“Sorry.”

Dani didn’t answer, but Lynn hadn’t expected her to. She’d passed out when Lynn had hoisted her up onto the cart. Since then, her condition had only gotten worse.

Lynn spared only a quick glance back. With her being strapped in, she’d be in trouble if she tripped while the cart was in motion.

Dani was still securely tied down.

Skeever lay limply by her side, resigned to the ropes holding him too.

She turned her head back just in time to avoid a crack in the asphalt that could have sent her sprawling. Dammit, focus! Lynn let the cart roll out and stopped; she needed a breather. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt dizzy from the rush. She could tell how much strength she’d lost by how labored her breathing was only an hour into the trudge. The fact that she’d apparently bruised all of her ribs under the weight of the bear wasn’t helping matters any.

She pinched the bridge of her nose until the worst of it had passed, then scanned the tree lines on both sides of the road. Even though everything was quiet, panic surged in her chest. Her attention was scattered among too many tasks: not falling, making sure Dani was settled, watching out for danger, staying on course, minding the weather, and trying not to overexert herself. It was a lot to be mindful of when she was at her peak, but doing it while feeling this tired and in so much pain seemed like an impossible feat.

The spear in her hand felt foreign, which only added to her nervousness. Breaking the fall of a four-hundred-pound bear had warped the shaft enough to jam whatever mechanism was inside to allow it to fold in on itself, but it had a reach advantage over her tomahawk that was crucial with her forced immobility.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should have stayed put. Anxiety clawed its way up her spine, but she fought its grip. She didn’t have time to panic, and she couldn’t look back; she was here now and would just have to make it work.

She took in her surroundings with renewed focus and stretched out to relieve her aching back. The style of the houses only just visible through a strip of green was familiar—very familiar. Realization slowly filtered through the haze of exhaustion. This can’t possibly be…? She pulled the cart forward until a familiar white house with steps leading up to an awning-covered landing came into view. No, it is. Is it? She stared at the house, turned around in the harness to check the road she’d come down on, then turned back to look at the house again. “Well, shit.”

Somehow she had gotten her travel distance totally wrong yesterday, probably because she’d spent most of her time looking at her feet. Now here she was, with hours of daylight left, at the only safe stop she could be sure would await them.

Skeever whimpered in the back of the cart.

Lynn checked her surroundings, just in case Skeever was reacting to something she overlooked, but the road was clear. The wind was the only thing upsetting the leaves. She turned in her harness.