Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Twenty-Nine

Angel

“Angel.”

His voice was barely audible, but it, and a hard shake, pulled me out of sleep.

I started but then stilled when he pressed a finger against my lips.

“Quiet,” he said, his voice lower than it had been when he had said my name.

I stayed quiet but risked turning my head to spot him.

He looked fully alert, like he almost always was, and I could see that he was intently focused.

“Something’s out there,” he said, voice even quieter still.

I listened then and at first didn’t hear anything.

The silence was so thick, it almost felt tangible, but then, I heard it.

Shuffling at first, so low I almost missed it.

Then the shift again, sounded like something moving through the trees.

And then it got louder, became clearer, footsteps.

But not regular ones.

I had known that this time would come, that we couldn’t live here, pretend like what was happening wasn’t happening.

But still, the shock of it hit me afresh.

I thought of myself as a realist, but with him, I could block everything out.

No more.

He moved, silent, and dressed, equally silent.

I did the same, and though I wasn’t as quiet as him, I was proud of myself.

This time had changed me, and I was using skills I didn’t think I had, ones I had probably never wanted to learn.

When we were dressed, I met his gaze and then followed him to the back of the house.

We went slowly, not risking turning on flashlights, not wanting to make enough noise to attract attention.

He peered out of the door, and I desperately wanted to look over his shoulder.

But his body was an impenetrable wall, and besides, it was so dark, I wouldn’t have been able to see anyway.

So I stood still, my heart beating so fast and so loud I thought it might give us away.

It felt like an eternity, but it was really less than a minute, and he looked at me.

“They’re out there,” he whispered.

He had a knife tucked in one of the pockets of his pants, and he pulled it out, then he quietly slid on the holster for his handgun.

“I’m gonna try to be quiet and quick.”

“I should come with you.”

He shook his head immediately.

“No. I don’t want you getting in the way. Lock the door. You hear shooting, get to your truck. Drive. Don’t look back.”

He didn’t linger, and the swiftness with which he moved didn’t give me the opportunity to say anything.

But what was there to say?

So many things, and nothing at all, really.

So I stood there, peeked out the window, though he was right that I couldn’t see anything.

Eventually, I pressed my ear against the door and listened.

Prayed that I didn’t hear a shot.

I heard more rustling, what sounded like something falling to the ground.

Then, maybe ten minutes after he had left, I heard something creak on the back porch.

“Angel.”

I was so relieved, I thought I might faint, or pee myself, with the intensity of it.

I quickly unlocked the door and let him in. Watched as he shrugged off his dirty clothes, dropped the knife, and went to the water basin to clean his hands.

I followed, wanting to speak, still not daring to do so.

“There were about twelve of them out there.”

“Twelve?”

“Yeah,” he said, furiously scrubbing his hands and then washing his face.

Since we had gone to the bait and tackle shop, we hadn’t seen any of those things.

For twelve to show up in one day was troubling.

“I’m going,” he said. He finished washing his hands, and then looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable.

He didn’t wait for me to speak.

Instead, he went toward my parents’ room, and I heard the plumbing kick in.

He was showering, and I decided to follow his lead.

I went to the back bathroom, lingered as long as I dared, which was less than ten minutes.

I washed my hair but didn’t use shampoo or soap, not sure if the smells would attract more attention.

Then, I quickly dressed, choosing heavy canvas pants, socks, a T-shirt, and a long-sleeved shirt over it.

When I made it back to the living room, he was there, the supplies that he was so meticulous about laid out.

“I’m going to load the SUV come first light. Don’t want to do it in the dark, though I hate waiting around,” he said.

“It will be light in less than an hour,” I said, looking at the watch I had put on and swore I would never take off again.

“Yeah,” he said.

He seemed almost…restless. Not a thing I would ever associate with him.

Still, there was an energy about him. Not nerves, because I don’t think the man had it in him to be nervous, but something had him on edge.

And I understood.

It was foolish, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead, knew that I couldn’t stay here, but hadn’t thought about where I would go once the government shelter was off the table.

But I didn’t know what to say, so we stayed silent, the minutes ticking by.

I let them pass, didn’t allow myself to think, to worry.

I just waited, for what I wasn’t sure.

When the first rays of sun started to peek over the horizon, he looked at me.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

His question was so plainly stated, but I didn’t have a response.

“I…what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I have a place. Well, it’s not mine. It was my mother’s. I’m going to go there.”

“Where is it?”

“Wyoming, near the South Dakota border,” he said.

“That’s…”

“A little under two thousand miles away.”

“You think you can make?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t stay here. Not anymore.”

“What makes you think it’ll be different in Wyoming?”

“Fewer people. I imagine that whatever has gone down in the cities has pushed those things out here. Or maybe it’s just spreading. But fewer people, fewer problems,” he said.

Which made sense.

“But that’s still a lot of a space between here and there.”

“Yeah. Maybe I won’t make it, but I’m not just going to sit here and wait to die,” he said.

“And there?”

“Maybe there I can ride this out. If not, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Not a bad place to go if it comes to that.”

He seemed certain, like his mind was made up. It shouldn’t have surprised me.

After all, the man was nothing if not decisive, something I had learned firsthand. It was a part of everything he did, so his certainty about this shouldn’t have been shocked.

“So that’s what I’m gonna do. What are you gonna do?” he asked.

I still didn’t have an answer.

“I guess I could go try to find someplace…”

It sounded stupid, feeble, even to my own ears.

“Or…”

Only moments ago I had been thinking about how decisive he was, but now he sounded anything but.

“Or what?”

“Or, if you want, you could come with me,” he said.

Letting those last words out seemed to be hard for him, and though I wanted to immediately accept, something held me back.

“Look, Lucas, don’t feel like you have to. Because I’m not going to turn you down. But if you don’t want me to come…”

“If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have asked,” he said.

I smiled, this time his decisiveness working in my favor.

“Then we should get ready,” I said.

I felt relieved, more relieved than I could say.

Because as terrifying as facing what was out there was, the thought of doing it alone…

I couldn’t even consider it, didn’t want to, and instead was happy that at least, for now, I wouldn’t have to.

“Take everything you think you want or need,” he said.

He didn’t have to say the rest.

I wouldn’t be back here.

Not ever.

I felt tears well but pushed them back.

I loved this house, had been raised here, had countless memories, happy, sad, and everything in between here.

But my mother had always said that things didn’t matter.

People mattered.

And the people who had made this place important were gone, but they would always live in my heart.

So I wouldn’t grieve over this place, but I did grab a picture of the three of us together, and my mother’s wedding ring. The one she almost never wore, not after my father had died.

After that, I looked over all we had gathered and tried to think of anything I might have left behind.

Once satisfied, I went to the guestroom and returned with all the socks I could find.

Lucas paused and looked at me, a smile playing on his lips.

“You really got a thing for socks, don’t you, Doc?”

“I’m telling you. Foot hygiene is a highly underestimated thing. You have to take care of them,” I said.

And then I finished filling the bag that I had specifically set aside for socks and sat it next to the socks that I had placed in a smaller bag that I could grab if we needed to move quickly.

By the time we finished, my home, which my mother had taken so much pride in, looked like a disaster area.

We had loaded the SUV and now stood on front porch.

I looked inside one last time.

“You ready?” he asked after a long moment.

I looked at the house again and then closed the door.

Met his eyes.

“Let’s go.”