They drop their packs under a tree, one on top of the other, then remove the crowbars, and place them on the opposite side. Karo suggests rotating three hour watch shifts, each of them getting three hours of sleep at a time. To Daisy it sounded more like an order, but it was punctuated as a question.
The following day of searching passes much the same. The duo find bits of cloth, Daisy speaks aloud to herself, occasionally involving Karo in her chatter, and he continues to respond with short phrases or snorts, peering at her with slanted eyes whenever she jabs at him.
With the sun beginning to lower in the sky they come upon a body. It was an infected, 'was' being the proper descriptor for the creature now. A large, ghastly hole, resides on the face of the beast, where its left eye should be. A block of blue cloth hangs from a branch on a tree next to the infected, larger than the other bits they'd been finding.
"Shit, hope they're alright."
"There's no fresh blood around, that's a good sign. Either they snuck up on it, or it snuck up on them and they handled it quickly. It doesn't appear that either of them were harmed. It's possible one of them was scratched, but let's hold off on the worst case for now."
"Right, clear heads, optimistic outlook."
Before his gaze is even fully fixed on her, the once lawyer is already waving her hand.
"I wasn't being facetious."
A stern and concentrated composure sets in on her. She keeps stride with Karo as they continue on, even finding the next bit of cloth and removing it, before Karo is aware of its presence. The following cut off piece of clothing is located in less than thirty minutes, and its procurement is accompanied by the slight, but distinct, sound of flowing water.
The searchers share a look of heightened excitement, before racing to the delightful sound. Clumped dirt and damp branches kick up off their heels as the tones of the flowing solution grow louder and closer.
A small incline is trudged up bringing the creek into view. It doesn't appear too deep. Rocks line the edges, the water rushes briskly, bubbling and cascading in parts to indicate objects nearly breaking to the surface. No more than thirty yards down stream sits an hold, weather worn, but still standing spring house, covered in moss and mold, the brick stained green and yellow.
With the attorney in tow, Karo crosses the creek, preferring to come up to the spring house from the side it sits on. As they draw nearer they're able to see that there is a small barred window on the side they're facing. Some greenery hangs down over the window, but it's not completely covered, giving the impression that some of the nature has been ripped away.
The spring house is no more than ten feet away, when suddenly a figure darts around the side and comes into view. A hand rests upon the side of the spring house, another hand lay across the chest of the person, and a beaming smile covers from ear to ear.
"I've never been more happy to see a lawyer in all my life!"
Daisy's stride morphs into a sprint, nearly a skip, elation exuding from her.
"And I've never been more happy to see a doctor!"
She leaps into Norman's outstretched arms and clutches him tight, as tears of relief trickle down both their faces. Karo reaches them, waits respectfully, then nods to Norman once their gazes meet.
"Norman, glad to see you."
"You too Karo."
Daisy loosens her grip and leans back, bringing Norman's full face into view.
"Where's Patrick?"
"He's inside the spring house with the cooler."
"We found a body, what happened?"
"It snuck up on us. We're fine though."
Norman's gaze sets upon Karo again.
"If you want to rest for a bit, there's a barn that looks to still be in good shape just past the spring house. Probably only a few hours of daylight left, might as well check it out and camp here tonight, then set off again at dawn."
Karo's head dips, the faintest glimpse of a smile flashing from him.
"Sounds like a plan."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
A lump in her throat catches her before she can speak. Her chest stalls then flutters. She brushes her hand over his forehead, wiping away sweat. Her tears drip onto his face, running down his cheeks, and dribbling over his lips. He can taste the salt. His hand is pressed upon her face, his thumb rubs her eyebrow. She can feel his strength dwindling away.
Luis Santana Ortiz is sixteen years old. He has lost his mother, his uncle, and his abuela during the course of his life. Abuela a few years before the community he was born in fell, and his mother and uncle when it fell. His family are proud Puerto Ricans, even though only his abuela has ever been to their ancestral country.
The elders in his family spoke Spanish to him and his sister as they grew up, ensuring that the language lived on through them, and that they understood how important carrying forth culture is. Luis and his sister, Adriana, watched their abuela die of old age, slowly becoming less and less herself as years passed by. She died peacefully, in her sleep, laying her head down one night, and never raising it up again.
The Latinx younglings did not see their mother and uncle meet the end of the line, but as the fire engulfed and overtook their community, and their continued search within it to find them proved fruitless, they had no choice but to accept the most probable outcome. Since that day Adriana has been even more overly protective of her younger brother, much in the way their mother was with both of them.
Adriana cradles the head of her sobbing brother in her arms, his neck resting in the bend of her
