Chapter 25
I awake with the sunrise at the top of the levee, safe and sound. My muscles burn and my skin feels tight as I sit up, but at least I feel well rested. I expect to see Keisha sleeping soundly next to me, but instead, I find she’s already awake, staring off toward the farm we spotted yesterday.
“Morning,” I say groggily.
“You’re right. The farm is close. I haven’t seen a single carrier in hours.
And better yet, the farm is completely isolated.
We can get there on foot in an hour or so, raid the place, and be back in the canoe before noon.
If it’s empty, we might even be able to stay there for a few days and get some rest,” Keisha says.
“Wow, right down to business. Can I pee first?” I say, rubbing my eyes.
“Be fast,” she says, flashing me a wicked smile.
The sight of her smile is a relief, and I can’t help but grin back. Just like that, the Ramsey situation feels like it happened a lifetime ago. This is the Keisha I’ve always known. I feel excited. Like we’re on one of our secret missions back at the Pegasus Center.
Keisha shakes Lucia awake to tell her the plan. She looks limp and lifeless but doesn’t argue. Soon, we’re packed up, but before we go, Lucia finds a sturdy branch near the river and begins carrying it up the levee.
“What’s with the stick?” Keisha asks.
“We need to mark the spot where our canoe is. Everything looks the same out here, and if we need to make a quick getaway, we need to be able to find the canoe fast.”
“Smart,” I say, giving her a playful shove. She doesn’t respond, just hands the branch over to me.
At the top of the levee, I dig the branch into the dirt as deep as I can. To the untrained eye it looks like a little tree. To us, it marks our exit. With that, we head toward the farm.
“We should review the list of things we need and make those our first priority. We might not have time for a room-to-room search if the farm isn’t empty. What’s on your list? Other than food, of course,” I ask.
“If I’m being totally selfish? I’m still wishing for lip balm. Definitely cherry flavored. Sunglasses. A seat cushion for the boat!” Keisha says with a laugh.
“Seat cushions! Brilliant. I’d die for a hat and some sunscreen. We need binoculars too. We need to be able to see farther downriver. And while we’re in the kitchen looking for food, we really need another cooking pot or two. And some more water bottles,” I add. “Lucia, what’s on your list?”
“Chocolate. Anything chocolate,” she says, almost smiling.
We keep chattering about what we might find, and soon we come to a weedy dirt road that looks like it will lead us right to the farm.
In less than an hour, we’re there. Three buildings sit along a gravel path, and my hope grows when I realize there’s no one in sight.
The building closest to us is a big rusting shed built from slabs of painted sheet metal.
Beyond that is a small, white barnlike structure.
Then, next to the barn sits a modest gray single-story house with a wide front porch and a brick sidewalk surrounded by an old white picket fence.
It looks like something out of a storybook.
Parked outside is a red pickup truck that’s just starting to rust. So far, the truck is the only sign we might have company.
It’s broad daylight, so hiding is a challenge, but a tall line of thick pine trees helps keep us concealed.
We try to move swiftly from tree to tree, creeping closer and closer.
We peek between branches and watch for movement, trying to get a closer look.
When we’re only a few feet away from the house, we pause.
“Search the house first?” I ask Keisha.
“Yeah. The sooner we know if anyone’s here, the better,” she agrees.
“I think we should knock on the front door. If there are people in there and we surprise them, they might get hostile. If we knock like we’re looking for help, they’ll be more likely to open the door.
And if no one answers the door, we waltz right in and take what we want. ”
“Nice,” I say with a nod. “Here goes nothing.”
I take a step forward, but Keisha reaches out her hand to stop me. “If we find someone, let me take the lead, okay?”
“Please,” I say. I know my forced smiles and copied expressions will only fool the most naive. Keisha, on the other hand, will put on a Broadway-worthy performance with barely any effort.
With our plan in place, I shove my machete back into its holster. The three of us step out from the shelter of the tree.
Excitement builds in my chest as we walk slowly up the brick sidewalk toward the front porch. From the large front window, I see the curtains flutter.
“Someone’s inside,” I say.
“Dead or alive?”
“I can’t tell. I guess we’re about to find out.”
We step up onto the front porch and knock three times on the weathered front door.
Immediately, my eardrums are assaulted with the sound of insane barking from behind the door.
There’s a dog inside. I wait for its human to answer the door.
Wait. More barking. More waiting. My nerve endings are on fire.
But still, no one comes to answer the door.
I look over at Keisha, and she shrugs her shoulders, so I reach for the doorknob and turn it.
Unlocked. Keisha gives me a nod, so I push the door a few inches.
A long brown snout peeks out from the gap in the door, sniffing furiously.
It gives another short, sharp bark, but when it doesn’t snarl and attack, I push the door open a bit farther.
A wagging blur bounces out the front door and nearly knocks me over onto the porch.
Keisha practically has hearts coming out of her eyes.
If squealing in a whisper is possible, she accomplishes it.
The dog melts into her, and she lavishes it with pets and snuggles.
Even Lucia smiles and reaches out to pet her.
I look the dog over. She looks well fed. She hasn’t been starving alone in there. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, telling me I should keep my guard up. I take a single step forward to poke my head into the doorway and peer into the house.
There. In the darkest corner of the living room, in an ancient, worn-out La-Z-Boy, sits an old man in a cloud of cigarette smoke with a shotgun in his lap.
He cocks the shotgun, leaving it lying across his lap, and smiles. Hearing the sound, Keisha freezes next to me, leaving the dog to entertain itself.
“I see you’ve met Penny,” the man says in a gravelly voice. “’Bout the worst guard dog I ever had, as you can see.”
“She’s so sweet, sir. And awfully cute. We were just out looking for food. We don’t mean any harm,” Keisha says in her sweetest voice.
“Come inside. All of you,” he demands. I try to read him, but it’s tough. He doesn’t seem angry or hostile, but the clear threat of the shotgun in his lap and the way he doesn’t even budge from his chair give him an intimidating confidence that has me on edge.
We do as he says and step inside. His cloud of cigarette smoke hangs heavily in the air. The old man doesn’t say a word, just waits as if daring us to make a move.
Keisha breaks the silence first. “We’re a little lost out here. Can you tell us where we are? Is there a town nearby?”
“You don’t know where you are?” he asks, annoyingly answering a question with a question.
“Well, it’s been tough to keep track. There aren’t many signs out here, and we’re trying to stay off the roads.”
“Kids these days can’t read a map, I guess,” he says with a guffaw, his cigarette bobbing between his lips.
I tap my toe impatiently. “So what’s the closest town?” I ask, trying to hide my annoyance.
“Depends on which direction you’re headed. Do you even know that much, little girl?”
I open my mouth to respond, but Keisha answers before I can snap back at him. “South, sir.”
“Well, there’s not much directly south of here until you hit St. Louis. If you’re heading southwest though, I reckon the nearest small town will be Winchester or Hillview.”
I commit the names of the small towns to memory and cringe at the thought of being so close to St. Louis.
“Have you had many carriers come through here?” Keisha asks, still trying to ease the tension.
“Carriers? You mean the dead ones? We’re getting them. Probably rolling in from Jacksonville. Just a few at a time though. Nothing me and Penny can’t handle,” he says, nodding at the patient dog sniffing Keisha’s hand.
“We heard there are shelters. Why haven’t you gone yet? Doesn’t it get lonely out here by yourself?” Keisha asks.
“And who says I’m by myself, little girl?
I’ve got no need for one of those deathtraps they call shelters.
Anybody who’s been paying attention to history knows the worst thing to do in a situation like this is gather in large groups.
Which reminds me. The three of you should be going now.
” His hands casually grip the shotgun in his lap, the subtle warning crystal clear.
Keisha moves protectively in front of Lucia.
I’m ready to go back to our canoe, but something on the side table next to him catches my eye.
Next to a dirty ashtray and a TV remote control, a pair of heavy-duty binoculars sits next to a book on birds of the Midwest. The same book I had checked out of the school library back at the Pegasus Center, except my copy is hundreds of miles away.
I want those binoculars, and I want that book.
“You heard the man, Keisha. Let’s go,” I say.
“Now that’s a wise choice, young lady. Be careful out there now,” he says, the threat in his voice thinly veiled.
Keisha pauses to give Penny a kiss on top of her head. “It was nice meeting you, sweet girl,” she says in her most sugary-sweet voice.
The farmer clears his throat impatiently.
We let ourselves out, leaving through the front door and closing it tight behind us.
I’m surprised he let us just walk out. Was he unwilling to fire a shot and attract carriers?
Did he have a soft spot for us? Or did we convince him we were scared enough to leave and never come back?
It wasn’t a very smart move, but whatever his reason for letting us go, I’m grateful for it.
We follow the gravel road past the house in silence.
I can feel his eyes watching us walk away and make my steps a little quicker.
I imagine him picking up the binoculars as we get farther and farther down the road.
I already know we have to go back. There’s too much valuable stuff in there.
When we’re finally out of earshot, I open my mouth to tell Keisha, but she beats me to the punch.
“See that bend in the road up ahead? We’ll be out of sight there. That’s where we wait. When it gets dark, we go back,” Keisha says.
I have to admit I’m a little shocked. Since this whole thing started, Keisha has been pretty passive.
Very live and let live and all that. She advocated for Ginger and January.
She wanted to partner with Ramsey instead of killing him.
She even cringed when I killed the men at the gas station and when Ramsey finished off the Bowen brothers back in Naples.
She’s been soft. I expected her to call this a loss and suggest we move on.
Something has changed, though. All day she’s been sharper, she’s calculating, and she’s not waiting for me to tell her what comes next.
And there’s a slow-burning fire in her eyes.
I look at her curiously, trying to imagine what’s changed.
“You read my mind,” I say. “Did you see the binoculars on the table?”
“I did. Did you get a look at the kitchen when we walked in?”
“No, I was more focused on the shotgun,” I say with a dull laugh.
“You had to look at just the right angle to see in, but it was full of food in jars. Not like from the grocery store, though. Remember how we used to go on those summer day trips to the farmers’ market on Saturdays back at the Pegasus Center?
They were like those jars. He must have a garden somewhere,” Keisha says.
My mouth waters at the thought of eating something that didn’t come from a box.
“He’s not going to give all that up easily,” I say, wondering if she’s really willing to do what it takes to get what we want. In all likelihood we’re going to have to kill this man to take what he has.
“He has what we need to survive,” she says coldly.
I steady my face, working hard not to let my shock show through my neutral mask. That sounds like something I would say. What the hell happened? I don’t argue with her, though, because I completely agree. It’s how I’ve felt all along.
“Okay then. We’re taking the farm,” I say. For a moment, I think I see a flash of regret cross her face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
The three of us walk to the curve in the road; then, when we’re certain we can’t be seen from the farmhouse, we sit under a few shady trees and wait for dark.