Ben Bedard - The World Without Crows

“The other people, idiot,” he said, his eyebrows low in irritation. “We have to move fast and get out of here.”

In a hurry, the four of them broke camp. Brad kept in back of them now, always scanning for the others. As they moved east, they scattered the browsing deer, who leapt away and then, from a distance, stared at them with their cautious black eyes.

June was beautiful. The sun was out and shining brightly through clear blue skies. The trees were green and full and flowers were coming up everywhere. The air was brisk and clean. They saw deer and hawks, and once, a sly, red fox darted over a hill. Birds sang in the trees, as if celebrating a much wider and more welcoming world than the one they had left last fall. If it wasn’t for the group behind them and the likelihood of being chased down by the Snakes, it would have been a wonderful day.

They came across a few houses, but they were empty of supplies. Being close to the interstate, they had been raided first. The hunger was beginning to make an impact on them. Eric felt sick from it and Sarah had grown sullen. Birdie was even more quiet than usual and Brad, even more irritable.

“Goddamn it,” he said, his eyes to his binoculars. “I can’t see them.” The group behind them had become his obsession. “They were at that house last time I saw. Now they’re fucking hiding or something.”

Eric didn’t know what to feel about the group behind them. He had watched them in his binoculars. To him, they seemed much like themselves: alone, scared, trying to stay hidden. He did not find them as threatening as Brad did.

That night they went without food. Their stomachs twisted in their bodies and they rested fitfully. The stars were glorious above them, but no one noticed.

“We have to do something!” Sarah insisted. “We haven’t eaten in two days!”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Brad hissed. “We had breakfast yesterday morning.”

They were stopped at a golf course. In the distance, to the east, was the town of Warren, Ohio. Smoke rose from it lazily, peacefully. Eric knew that beneath the illusion of calm, Warren was full of Snakes and Zombies, perhaps some that had cracked and gone crazy. Sarah and Brad were arguing over whether or not to enter the town to search for supplies.

“What’re we going to do?” Sarah asked. “Start eating grass like deer?”

Brad scratched his head. “Warren is crawling with Snakes,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to be left.”

“We need to take a chance,” Eric spoke up. “We’re hungry. It has to be done.”

“We could fish for food,” Brad said, pointing at the river which ran by the golf course.

“I left my fishing gear at Cuyahoga!” cried Sarah. “I already told you that!”

“We can fish with spears!” exclaimed Brad.

“Now you’re being ridiculous!”

Eric stood up. “Quiet,” he said. The rest of them hushed instantly. In the distance, a sound gathered. At first it sounded like running water, but then it grew. It was a vehicle. They ducked down under some bushes and crawled to the edge where they could see the road. Brad fumbled out his binoculars and put them to his eyes. “Shit,” he swore. “Goddamn it.”

“What?” Eric took the binoculars to look. When the vehicle came into focus, his heart fell. It was the Land Rover.

“I thought that asshole was dead.” Brad rolled over on his back. “Just what we need!”

“Who is it?” Sarah snatched away the binoculars and focused them. “Oh no,” she breathed. “No, no.” She dropped her head into her arms.

“Okay,” Brad said. “You’re right. We need supplies. We need to go to Warren.”

They crawled out from under the bushes to find they were no longer alone.

The man’s name was John Martin and the two others, brother and sister, were Sergio and Lucia Perez Rivera. These were the people who had been following them. John Martin was a tall, black man. Although he was not bulky, his slight frame seemed powerful. His long face and powerful jaw gave him a solemn look, and his thoughtful eyes glowed with sympathy. The two others were brother and sister. Lucia, the oldest, was only slightly taller. She was beautiful and sleek, reminding Eric of a cat. Her eyes were intense and lit with intelligence. Her younger brother stood near her. His round face was unblemished and youthful and his eyes were nervous and uncertain. If his sister was a cat, Sergio was a rabbit, constantly searching the sky for any sign of hawk, the bushes for sign of wolf.

They too had been watching them. Since they looked harmless, they decided to make contact. It was strained at first, but when the new group offered to cook them rice and beans, the mood soon changed. Soon the four of them were spooning the food in their mouths with little regard for manners.

The new group were all from Cleveland. John Martin said that the city got steadily worse after the Vaca B struck. Toward the end, the military was shooting everyone on the streets. When the gangs rose, fighting soon broke out over quickly dwindling resources of food, cigarettes, and alcohol. John Martin had found the brother and sister, Sergio and Lucia, in a warehouse where they were being attacked by a gang called the 7-Outlaws.

“They wanted to punish us for burning down our house,” said Sergio.

“We burned down our house after our family died,” Lucia explained. She was wildly beautiful, and Eric could not look at her comfortably. “The fire got out of hand,” Lucia continued. “We didn’t mean to, but we burned down a few blocks. The 7-Outlaws were hanging people who started fires and carving the letter A in their foreheads.” She made a wry smile. “Justice,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for John, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“Well, maybe so,” said John Martin. His movements were measured, and his eyes, careful and probing. “Anyway, I got them away. They lived in my basement for the winter.”

“That’s when we made plans,” said Sergio. “We’re going to upstate New York. Our uncle lived there.”

“Maybe he still does,” added Lucia, her eyes flashing toward her brother.

Sergio shrugged. “My uncle told us the land is very good.”

“We’re going to start again,” added Lucia.

“That’s what we’re doing,” Brad said. Surprisingly, it was Brad who trusted them first. He outlined their plans as quickly as he could, how they would hop from state park to state park, avoiding gangs and cities as much as they could, and hike all the way to an island in Maine. “It’s his idea,” Brad said, pointing at Eric. “He planned it out. He’s the smart one.”

Eric blushed and couldn’t think of anything to say, except timidly, to Lucia, “I burned my house down too.” Lucia looked at him in the way most women looked at him, like a child who hadn’t been raised right and was now irrevocably damaged. Eric blushed even more hotly. “I think we can get to Maine by September,” he added.

“Why Maine?” asked John Martin.

Eric explained his idea about the island and winter. The three newcomers listened with growing interest. They glanced at each other. “It’s a good idea,” Sergio said, with some reluctance. John Martin nodded, but Lucia sat, back straight and severe, studying the four of them with glittering eyes.

Sarah, who had remained silent, spoke up. “We should tell them about Carl Doyle.” Without waiting, she told them the history. “So,” she finished, “he might come for us. He’s dangerous.” The others were silent for a second.

“I’ve seen him,” John Martin said. “Several times, driving back and forth in that Land Rover of his. I seen him get out once, shoot down a few Zombies, and then get back in the truck like it was nothing. I don’t like the looks of him.”