Traumatized after witnessing the sudden death of his loving wife, emergency responder Travis Pates watches his life take a downward turn when he is suspended for drinking on the job. With no family, no job, and unable to sleep due to vivid and terri...
"We circle around the island from shore. Headquarters should know by now that something was wrong. We'll be easier to spot if we're out in the open along the beach."
"Maybe." Travis's reply stunned her.
It was a good idea and he wanted off the island just as bad as the rest of them, but what would happen if they were rescued by a passing boat and the infection spread. Even worse, what if they reached the mainland? Travis felt nauseated. No, he would not let that happen, even if that meant making sure no one got off the island. There was nothing left for him at home anyway. Just a dark and grim empty cave of a house. "How's Jonah doing back there?"
"His rash is spreading. He needs water and food. We all do. Travis, stop. Look at me." Zahra grabbed his arm.
Behind them, Jonah and Santiago stopped too. Santiago's backpack slipped off his shoulders and Jonah eased himself to the ground and leaned against a boulder where he rested with his eyes closed. He appeared to be trying to sleep, but his fingers still scratched and picked at the goo stuck to his skin. Even at a distance, Travis could see the goo thick like a shimmering black Silly Putty, but with more viscosity as if it had been left in the sun too long and melted. "We're on an island. There must be wildlife."
"Then let's go hunting," Travis said. "We'll just have to be certain whatever we catch isn't infected. Nothing that exhibits strange behavior, nothing covered in that gunk."
"I will need a gun. Give me Santiago's. Do you have ammo?"
"A few backup rounds in my bag. Enough to bag us some breakfast." He handed her the gun. "Let's split up. You take thirty paces east and then head north. Don't go much farther, I need you in my sight. Don't want to mistake you for an animal or . ."
He felt a pit of revulsion form in his gut from even thinking of something so pointless and tragic, but the message was received and a brief paleness swept across her face.
Travis continued, "Any loud noises will attract more of those things. So if you shoot, make it count."
Zahra slipped the gun into her holster, and with a voice barely above a whisper she said, "Take care."
Travis watched as she went to Santiago and Jonah to inform them of their hunting plan. As she relayed the information Travis kept watch through the trees, looking for movement, whether it'd be an animal or one of those other things. He hated to say the word. Such a ridiculous word zombie, but by definition, that's exactly what they were. They had died, come back to life, and they were hungry.
Zahra finished explaining their hunting plan to Jonah and Santiago. Jonah stood up at Zahra's side and Santiago met with Travis. It made sense to hunt in pairs. Two guns, one for each team, though he didn't entirely trust leaving Jonah alone with Zahra. He was erratic in his behavior and violent. Nothing like the man who confidently had Travis's back during the forest fires of '97 which had swooped changed directions suddenly due to high winds and burned down the houses they were helping evacuate.
When the forest fires changed direction, the fire department in nearly every county on the northeast end of Washington and all of Oregon had sent firemen and trucks, planes and volunteers to do battle at the north end, where the fires raged up the mountainsides. A spontaneous microburst had surprised everyone when the seventy mile an hour winds pushed the fire back and to the east, threatening over one hundred rural homes. In less than an hour, the residences in Oak Creek went from being in the safety of green zones to dangerous red zones and were forced to evacuate within the hour. Travis and the other C.E.R.T. members had been called to assist the homeowners and their families by packing up their most critical possessions like medications, and their pets and farm animals. Travis, Jonah, Santiago, and Nathan Andrews from the Charlie team were evacuating the last house in the critical zone when he felt the immense heat penetrating the walls. The bedrooms had filled with smoke that cast the home in an eerie blue and orange haze that burned Travis's eyes. When the rest of them had fled to the emergency vehicle in the driveway where an upset family of five waited, fearing for their lives and about to watch everything personal to them burn, Travis stayed behind, digging under the bed, for Cosmo, the youngest daughter's pet rabbit.
"It's time to go!" Jonah had screamed from the doorway as more smoke filled the room.
A cardboard box, slightly bigger than a shoe box, jostled below the head of the bed. Inside Cosmo had stayed hidden, and Travis snatched up the box with the pet inside, just as Jonah entered the house ready to drag him out by the ears if he had to. They had all stuck together that day, and even in the midst of the chaos, the fear, and the sadness, Jonah had not once forgiven his calm tone for excitement.
Jonah was a different man then. The island had changed him. The island had changed them all. The man Jonah was becoming now was a vicious beast that had previously been tamed by meditation and double dosages of St. John's wart and Ginkgo biloba. The tattoos from his neck to his toes hinted a wicked history that was slowing beginning to reveal itself. Would this new Jonah be a threat to Zahra? Travis remembered the way she defended herself from Alexander's attacks, her precise strikes with her fists and the jutting of her knee. Her skills at Krav Maga were impressive. Jonah had no gun. If he came at her from behind with a rock or a branch, Travis would just have to trust that her training had taught her to be alert, that the dangers didn't come only from bad guys, or zombies, or wild animals, but from teammates too. But why would he attack her in the first place? Unless he became one of them. . .
Santiago came within three steps of Travis and he could see the exhaustion on his face. None of them had slept well it seemed, and they had eaten hardly a salad plucked from island foraging. That was about to change, though. Did any of them know how to cook loon?
Travis wasn't sure what he had hoped to find hunting. This was not like his usual hunting trips in Montana where he and Danko hunted buck with bows and arrows. None of them had any knowledge of a predator or prey on the island, except for themselves and the walking dead. Armed with a gun, and Santiago vigilant of the dead, they hunted the woods for meat.
There are many strategies when hunting and various aspects to consider, such as the direction of the wind and the scent of the human body. After hiking nearly all night, and cold sweats as they slept, Travis could only imagine how rank their scent was, attractive only to flies and other insects. Maybe even the undead. Each animal required a different strategy, but without knowing what they were precisely looking for, Travis was at a loss. His only idea was to stay low, quiet, and ease through the bushes while trying not to shoot his teammates by mistake.
The bushes about twenty feet ahead rustled. Water droplets shook from the soft, velvety petals. Something was hidden in the shadows of undergrowth and the decaying tree trunks covered with moss and pine needles and the gray mist that clung to the damp earth. A rabbit maybe? No, it had to be bigger by the shape of its shadow. A fox?
Whatever it was, it was meat and Travis's stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself. He noticed when he raised the gun his hands were trembling and the gun felt heavier than it should have. He was weak and needed food. Santiago stood just behind his right shoulder as still as a museum statue. He steadied the gun in his shaky hand and took aim just as a scream erupted through the silence.
—
Thank you for reading chapter 22 of my novel Evilution!
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-L.K. Scott
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