Chapter 20
Stella
To break the monotony, we sang as we walked.
It also helped to distract Fae from crying, as she had been doing since she realized that we left the cabin without her friend Juniper.
I had tried to explain that Juniper and her family were going somewhere else, but I don’t know how much she could understand except that someone she loved wasn’t there anymore.
Leandro started first, singing something low and mournful.
I didn’t know it, but Ryder, Edie, and Boden joined in, explaining that it was a song by Tracy Chapman.
Boden crooned Stone Temple Pilots, and Edie belted out a Cher song.
But Alphie sang one that none of the rest of us knew.
A melodic folk song about living with the dead, and while she hadn’t exactly needed to explain it, she said she’d learned it from the Revvers.
We hiked longer than we usually would without a break. Part of it was that we didn’t need to slow to accommodate Juniper’s tiny legs, but the other part of it, I think, was because we wanted to put what had happened in the cabin behind us. So we sang, and we walked.
It had been less than a week since we left the Barbarabelle, and we’d already lost three people, including a child.
And it happened because of me.
By midday, the forest opened up to a patch of sun-warmed clearing, and we stopped for a break. As I took a seat on a fallen log, my mind spun with guilt and questions. When Boden left to fill the canteens with water, I jumped at the chance to talk with him alone.
“Can I tag along and lend a hand?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, sounding a little taken aback by my eagerness.
I looked over at where Fergus was helping Fae chase a yellow Canadian Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio canadensis). “Can you keep an eye on Fae for me? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, no bother at all,” Fergus said with an easy grin.
When we were far enough away from the others that no one could hear us, Boden asked, “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“It was my fault,” I blurted out.
“You mean because you weren’t at the cabin to still the zombies?” he asked.
“No.” I stopped and looked up at him. “I was dreaming of Max, and I didn’t realize it, but I did it again.
Like back at the shed next to the mine.” I glanced around, in case others were nearby, and tears stung my eyes.
“I summoned them. With my stupid pheromones. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and it’s all my fault what happened to Oakley and Juniper and Sienna. ”
“Oh, no, kiddo.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me to him, letting me cry into his chest. “It’s not your fault. It’s chaos and it’s the virus, and none of it is your fault.”
“No, but it is,” I insisted through my tears. “I’m a danger to everyone here every time I fall asleep! I can’t control it.”
Boden held me a moment longer. “You’re not alone with this,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe we adjust things to keep you safe, keep everyone safe.”
“Adjust what?” I asked after he released me.
“The only time you can’t control what you communicate to the zombies is when you’re sleeping, so let’s change that up,” he elaborated.
“We’ll have you sleep earlier in the day, when it’s light and everyone else is awake, so you’re never alone with your dreams. We’ll all be able to watch out for anything, and I can wake you up right away.
And at night, someone will always be awake with you, keeping watch, too. ”
“What if that doesn’t work?” I asked. “What if the zombies come again and someone gets hurt?”
“I’m not saying it’s fair, but that is generally the risk of being alive right now,” Boden reasoned, and he put a strong hand on my shoulder. “Zombies will always be a threat, no matter what you do or don’t do.”
“Was that meant to be comforting?” I asked.
He gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, it was.” He put an arm around my shoulders, and we started walking to the creek to refill our canteens. “Come on. We should get the water, so you can get to bed early tonight.”
Once we’d collected the water, we headed back, Boden walking a half-step ahead. When we broke through the trees, the others were scattered about resting and murmuring in small knots of conversation.
“Are we about ready then?” Boden asked as we arrived.
Fergus was crouched down in the grass, with Fae attempting to climb him like a tree, and he motioned behind him toward the thicket. “Dougal is out making a donation to the undergrowth,” he said, speaking euphemistically of his brother’s stomach issues.
“I could use a few more minutes,” Ryder said. He was lying on his back in the grass, his fingers laced behind his head, and his jaw was working as if he were chewing on hard jerky.
“We can take all the time you need,” Boden said. “I know it’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Honestly, I think that Fae could use the time to stretch her little limbs,” Edie remarked with a laugh as she watched my daughter scramble all over Fergus.
Unlike the rest of us, Fae spent most of her day being carried around on my back.
The trek through the woods gave her plenty to see and hear to keep her mind busy, but her body was left without much to do.
I let her walk as much as I could, but we simply couldn’t let our pace be dictated by the capabilities of a 22-month-old child toddling through the forest.
So on our breaks, when I set her free, she would run around and dance and wiggle as much as she could. Fae had apparently grown bored of climbing Fergus, and she darted over to Boden, handing him a flower she’d picked.
Dougal came out of the woods, walking slowly with a grimace on his face. “Sweet suffering, I’m weak at the knees after that.”
“Feeling it now, are you?” Fergus asked with a teasing smirk. “Is that raccoon you scarfed last night now chewing its way back out?”
Dougal scowled and laid down on the grass. “You don’t have to gloat over your poor brother’s misery.”
“Sure, that’s what family’s for,” Fergus countered with a wry laugh. “I’d be failing in my duties if I didn’t say I told you so.”
“Aye, but you’re also the same lad that decided to eat mud,” Dougal argued.
“What? Back when I was only five, and you egged me on?” Fergus asked dubiously.
“What about you, Stella girl?” Dougal asked, squinting over at me in the bright sun. “Is that raccoon sitting well with you at all?”
I shook my head. I felt terrible about what had happened with the zombies this morning, but physically, my stomach seemed indestructible since my pregnancy and the zombie bite.
No matter what I ate, or how undercooked or rotten it might be, I never fell ill.
Everyone around me still did, including Remy when she’d been here, and sometimes even Fae, so it must be because I was infected with the lyssavirus and started to turn, not because of the immunity.
“You’d land on your feet in a bog, you would,” Dougal said, warmly teasing.
“We’re all lucky if we’re still here, aren’t we?” Edie asked.
Fae gave chase to a clouded sulphur moth, darting toward the forest around us.
“Fae!” I called for her, but she only picked up her pace, hurrying as fast as her little legs could carry her. I got up and jogged after her, and this time, I used her full name so she’d know she was in trouble: “Rafaella Avalyn King!”
She froze for a split second, her arms outstretched toward the flitting pale yellow blur. I reached her before she could disappear beneath the low branches of the ponderosa pines, and I grabbed her and scooped her up in my arms.
“Rafaella,” I said again, firmer this time, and she stared up at me with her wide eyes. “You have to listen to me when I say your name. It’s a dangerous world out here.”
“Mama,” Fae replied before her words were lost in happy babbling, and she flapped her hands, as if mimicking the butterflies.
“We’ll find more that you can chase,” I promised her as I carried her back to where the others were resting.
“What did you call her?” Ryder asked.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“What did you call your daughter when you were chasing her?” he clarified, more forceful this time.
My cheeks burned when I realized what he was getting at. “Her full name is Rafaella Avalyn King.”
“Avalyn,” he repeated, like he hated the taste of the word.
“I named her after your sister,” I admitted. “I thought it was a pretty name, and I wanted to do something to honor her.”
“Why would you do that?” Ryder asked. “You didn’t even know her.”
“I-I-I- ” I floundered and lowered my eyes.
“Lay off, would ya?” Fergus said. “It’s a lovely name, and she meant well.”
“Still seems strange to me,” Ryder muttered, and he got to his feet. “That’s probably enough rest for now, if you all are ready to get moving again.”
It didn’t take long for us to gather up our things and set off. The somber determination lingered like a bruise, but our pace rapidly declined because Dougal needed frequent breaks.
Eventually, as dusk crept across the sky, we found shelter in the skeletal remains of an old barn.
The second story loft had a retractable ladder, making it near impossible for a zombie to reach.
The musty loft was filled with straw and an abundance of animal droppings littered on the floor, but after the day’s relentless marching, even that felt like a luxury.
Ryder and Dougal collapsed on their makeshift beds, while I curled up in a quiet corner.
This was our first attempt at my adjusted sleep schedule, so I napped until sundown, and then I traded off, sitting up awake until sunrise, when Boden would wake so I could sleep for another hour or two before starting the day.
Thankfully, the eerie state of the barn made it easy to stay alert. Shadows flickered over the rafters as pigeons rustled overhead and the scurry of tiny feet betrayed the presence of mice. I did my best to keep myself occupied, working on my scrapbook by dim lantern light.
Most everyone else slept without problem, but that made sense given our collective exhaustion. The lone exceptions were Dougal and Ryder, restless silhouettes in the night gloom, waking again and again, slipping outside to the far end of the barn with a quiet urgency.
When the faintest hint of morning seeped through the warped boards, I nudged Boden awake and slipped gratefully back into the cocoon of sleep. He woke me up for the day an hour later, and while I was tired deep down into my bones, at least I hadn’t summoned any zombies.