Moonlit Retribution

Chapter Twenty-Six

I have no idea where we’re going, since most of my outings have never been done in daylight. Andy claims that there’s a myriad of abandoned hunting cabins in these woods, but hell if I know where those are, or if they’re safe. He’s probably got them all booby trapped, anyway.

After a couple hours of trekking through the barren woods, the equally empty landscape of an unnamed Montana town looms before us, slightly depressed in a low valley of sorts. Not really a valley, but it’s in a slight hole, surrounded by low hills on all sides. It would suck to try to defend it from giant hordes of zombies, which is why we never took up permanent settlement in it. Andy said that the last group who had taken up residence hadn’t lasted more than a few months. I was always a little reluctant to ask why that was; I feared it was because the complex had run them out. Or simply killed them all.

Ah, the mysteries of life.

“Well, it seems we have some choices. Broken down library, broken down church, broken down schoolhouse…” Mella trails off, scanning the area. Perking up, she exclaims, “Oh, and looky there; a broken down sewer treatment facility. How quaint.”

“Shut up, Mel,” I sigh. “Would you rather stay in the woods? It’s still an option, you know.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I was simply pointing out our alternatives, Vessa. No need to sass me.”

“Ladies,” Ríjez rumbles quietly in warning.

Mella turns to him, her arms crossed and her nose in the air. “You, sir, are a killjoy.”

“And you, ma’am, are a pain in my ass.”

I roll my eyes and step between them. “You two are incorrigible.”

“Careful there, Vess,” Mella warns sarcastically, eying Ríjez meaningfully. “Big words, you know.”

I stare at both of them with as caustic of an expression as I can muster. “Pretty soon, I’m just going to lock you two in a room and tell you to have at it.”

Mella snorts. “I’m fairly certain we already know who’d--Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

I whip around to see that Ríjez’s back is turned to us and is rapidly descending the low slope of the land. Slowly, he twists to face us. “I think I’m done having this conversation, and I’m going to find someplace safe to hole up in for the night.” He looks at me pointedly. “You coming?”

Pursing my lips, I look to see Mella’s gaze glazed over in deep thought. Or sudden fatigue.

“Mel?” I ask hesitantly.

No response, of course.

I look back to Ríjez and, pulling on Mella’s jacket sleeve, meet him and continue our descent into the mass of abandoned structures. We stumble our way downward and end up in the old “business” district. Yeah, right. I love how “business” in most of these smaller towns means a handful of bars and a whore house. Like I hadn’t lost enough hope for humanity as it is.

Dry, cracked tarmac, layered with unnamable debris and trash from years of vacancy and neglect, smothers our footsteps, the barely audible steps echoing slightly off of the bare, slate-gray vinyl walls of the bars and pubs. The moon’s silver glow tosses corners into deep, abysmal shadows and throws crevices in the road into high relief.

I remember when I used to hate living on the outskirts of a city. How the invasive illumination of the street lights completely drowned out the natural radiance and sparkle of the moon and stars. The light had always made me feel trapped, smothered and cocooned in the intrusive glow, while the dark was open and welcoming. Endless.