road. I spun in a circle, but even my tracks became distorted by the rain. There was no turning back. Everything looked exactly the same.
Panic clawed its way up my spine.
“Pull yourself together,” I said out loud. But I was acutely aware of each passing second. I had to make it to Winchester soon. To catch a bus and find the carrier. I didn’t have time for this.
I could feel my mother slipping away.
Spooked, I began to run, needing to escape from the prison walls that reached two feet above my head. I thrashed my arms to clear the way in front of me, but the plants had sharp edges, which sliced into my exposed skin. Every time I knocked down a stalk, another sprang up in its place.
But my body didn’t listen. I couldn’t see the highway back to Winchester. I couldn’t even find the truck. The fear stabbed deeper into my chest. I ran on, feeling the sweat mingle with the mocking rain from the sky above. Where was the road?
I fell once, slapping into a puddle of mud that splashed onto my face and into my mouth. I spit out what I could, choking, and ran again.
Finally, I spotted a clearing ahead. Without pause I steered toward it. I didn’t even care if I’d backtracked to the truck, just so long as I figured out where I was. As I drew closer, I could see more clearly and grasped my knees, gasping for breath but exalted that I was no longer alone.
Ahead was a double-wide trailer, the same dull yellow as Rick and Stan’s skin and eyes. It was covered on one corner by a strip of aluminum where the weather had worn down the siding. Below huddled three large plastic drums, transparent enough for me to see the liquid that sloshed within
On the square cement step, a woman sat in a rocking chair watching the storm. The sweatpants she wore bagged around her calves, and a knit shawl the color of plums was wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She looked like she’d been heavyset at one time but had grown suddenly thin and been left with too much extra skin. I could see such a pouch hanging from her chin, and more on the exposed areas of her forearms. A big yellow Lab lay on the ground beneath her feet.
Behind the house was a car, and behind the car was a gravel driveway.
My spirits lifted. The woman looked friendly enough. She could have been any one of my peers’ mothers, sitting on the porch, waiting for her children to come home from school. Maybe she could give me a ride into town.
Maybe she could give me a ride all the way to the checkpoint.
The butterflies began beating in my stomach. I heard Chase’s voice cautioning me that nowhere was safe. Well, there was only one way to find out.
I emerged from the cornfield into the clearing, fifteen feet away from where the woman sat. She jumped up so quickly she nearly knocked the chair off the step.
“Hello!” I called, walking slowly toward her. I tried to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I’m sorry, I’m a little lost. I was hoping you’d be able to help me.”
She had widely spaced eyes and flattened cheeks, which drained of all color as I approached. Her mouth fell open, and she absently went to smooth down her salt-and-pepper hair.
“Oh!” she said suddenly, then motioned for me to come closer. “The rain! You’re getting soaked! Come up here!”
I moved cautiously forward toward the front steps. She was smaller than I’d expected, several inches shorter than me. When I was under the awning, she placed a tentative hand on my shoulder and then patted me gently, as though to assure I was real. I became aware of how I must have looked, covered in mud, soaked to the bone. I swiped the back of my hand over my face, hoping I wasn’t too dirty.
I could hear the wind chimes now; they were nearly deafening. I jumped at a particularly loud clang that she seemed not to notice.
“You look like you’ve had a hell of a day,” she said.
I laughed, or sobbed, one of the two. At the end of it, we were both smiling.
“Sorry, sorry! Come in. I’ll make you some tea.”
I hung by the door as she pushed through. The dog, which had ignored my presence up until now, sniffed my hand lethargically with his whitened muzzle, then padded inside.
I tilted my head in, looking from one end of the compartment to the other—and was blasted with a pungent odor that was so strong it made my eyes water. A cloud of flies swarmed through the tepid room, and the buzzing, combined with the clanging of the chimes and the downpour, made my head hurt.
It was a mess. Dirty dishes were stacked in the tiny metal sink and spilled over the countertop. Tissues and cloths of all colors and sizes were strewn across the compact table. On the bed at the far right end there was barely enough room cleared for one person to sleep.
The woman sorted through the dishes, probably searching for a clean cup. Finally she gave up and shrugged, her cheeks glowing with embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her over the noise. “I’m really not that thirsty. I was wondering if you might be able to give me a ride. I’ve got family in Harrisonburg,” I added. The smell was so strong I had to take a step back.
The woman shuffled over to me and reached for my hand. It was warm and soft against mine, but I started at the contact. I was glad that she didn’t appear to sense my unease. I didn’t want to appear rude while asking for a favor.
“You can’t go now, sweetie. Not with this weather. Please come in.”
“Actually, they’re expecting me,” I tried to smile. “I’m sure they’re worried.”
Against my better judgment I took one step inside, suddenly aware of all four walls. The room was too small for both of us, the dog, and all this clutter. I could feel the stifling air sticking to my throat as I tried to swallow. Unconsciously, I began to tug my hand back.
“I’m sorry about the mess. Things have been so hard since Dad’s been gone.” Her lower lip quivered, sending rippling waves through the loose skin connecting her chin to her collarbone.
I couldn’t picture this woman living with a full-grown man in such a crowded compartment. I wondered where her father had slept. Hopefully not in bed with her.
“I’m sorry about your loss….” I stopped, eyes growing wide.
What had been hidden behind a coatrack when I’d stood outside was now visible. An animal carcass, maybe three feet long, hanging from a hook in the ceiling. The source of the sickening stench. It had been dripping blood onto the floor, which the dog was now slowly licking at. The thing
“They shut off the water you know. Power, too. I get some supplies from old John’s place, but, well…” She batted a hand in front of her face, not sensing my discomfort in the least. “None of that matters now that you’re here.”
“I… um…” I turned to look at the door, feeling her hand tighten around mine.
“I like your hair that way,” the woman said. She moved closer to me, and I automatically stepped back.
“You… like…” I began, still too distressed by the dead animal hanging in what appeared to be her living room to finish. The dog continued to lick at the spot that had stained the patch of linoleum peeking through the dust.
“Oh, yes. I always told you it would look better short, didn’t I?”
Of all the things that had sent alarm bells ringing through my head since my arrival, this was the comment that scared me the most. It took everything I had not to push her down and run out the door.
“Miss… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” I started, jerking my hand away and bumping into the coatrack.
