No Shelter Trilogy (Omnibus, Books 1-3) Page 2

  “I miss this,” I whisper.

  “Me, too,” he says then plants a soft kiss on my forehead.

  My stomach flutters with nerves and I hope the usual growls of hunger don’t kick in again and ruin this moment. As this thought enters my mind, Isaac’s stomach gives a loud rumble. We chuckle and sit in silence for a while.

  I wake to find myself in Isaac’s arms as we lay near the edge of the cliff. A peach sun is rising behind us. I want to wake him up but I don’t want to startle him and send him careening off the cliff. I latch onto his arm with one hand and softly brush the hair out of his face with my other hand.

  His eyes flutter open and he smiles. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  “Be careful getting up. You’re pretty close to the edge.”

  He stands with ease and I immediately start back toward the cave. He grabs my hand to stop me.

  “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go it alone again.”

  This is the second time this week Isaac has suggested we ditch Eve and Mary.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” he says. “They got along fine before us.”

  “You call being nearly beaten to death by grave robbers getting along fine?” I say, referring to the state we found Eve in. Her mother died two months ago and she had been sleeping on top of her mother’s grave for a week before grave robbers assaulted her.

  “Come on, she knows how to take care of herself now. And she has Mary. Together they’re lethal.”

  Isaac is right, but I can’t leave them. We’re a team. We need them as much as they need us.

  Isaac can see the doubt in my eyes and he pulls me closer wrapping his arms around me. I bury my face in the collar of his jacket and breathe the scent of pine and wood smoke.

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  He sighs with frustration and kisses my forehead before he lets me go. “I know, but I had to try.”

  This time my stomach rumbles as we trek back to the cave. The loud crunch of a twig cracking behind us stops us in our tracks. It can only be one of three things in these woods: a bear, a cougar, or a Guardian.

  Isaac glances at me from the corner of his eye. He wants me to run. We’re only a hundred yards from the cave. I shake my head ever so slightly. I can ward off large predators better than Isaac. There is no way I’m leaving him to fight alone.

  I try to steady my breathing and stand as straight as possible. I’m not tall, I’m almost half Isaac’s size, but my only chance of surviving an attack is to make myself appear as large as possible. Before I can even turn around to face our predator, Isaac shoves me sideways.

  For a brief moment, I fear Isaac has just offered me up as bait to the animal to save himself. But as my foot slips and I tumble backward I realize he’s pushed me into a hole.

  My fingers slash the air trying to grasp onto a branch as I fall. My back crashes into the floor of the ditch and knocks the air out of my lungs. I cough as I scramble to my feet and attempt to climb out of the hole, which I now see is at least six feet taller than me. This must be one of Eve’s traps. Isaac helped her dig them weeks ago.

  I can hear the guttural snarls of a cougar above me as leaves and pine needles continue to rain on my head. I want to shout and curse at Isaac for what he’s done, but I don’t want to anger the cougar or distract Isaac. I’m trapped and helpless; two things I haven’t felt since Whitmore.

  The image of my mother’s charred body flashes in my mind. I curl up at the bottom of the ditch and close my eyes as I try to block out the pictures. My body is floating as the Earth sways beneath me.

  I stick my head between my knees and try to block all thoughts of my mother. I try to focus on what needs to be done.

  What needs to be done?

  I’m stuck in a ditch with no way out and my best friend is about to be killed. The roaring in my ears revs angrily. I clench my jaw and my hands start to go numb. I’m not breathing.

  I suck in a deep breath and the sound of Isaac’s screams pierce my consciousness. I open my eyes and my chest hurts from the frantic pounding of my heart. I get to my feet and search the rough earthen walls of this animal trap. There has to be a tree root I can use to boost myself up.

  My fingers claw at the soft dirt searching and digging. The screaming stops.

  Everything stops. My breath, my heartbeat, my world. Gone again.

  CHAPTER 3

  I sink down and bury my head in my knees. I should have listened to Isaac. I should have gone with him. Now I’m back where I was two years ago, but without Isaac to pull me out of the hopelessness.

  My hands and feet are going numb, but I don’t bother fighting it. I can feel the darkness closing in on me. All my memories are rushing by like rocketing time capsules.

  The night I slipped out of bed and watched my father’s car drive away. I traced the pattern on the velvety sofa with my seven-year-old fingers for hours wondering if he hated the tie I made for him out of construction paper… The day my mother bought her favorite blue scarf from the old woman at the farmers’ market. She told the woman it was her husband’s favorite color… The first time I saw Isaac in the cafeteria at Whitmore. Dirty and emaciated, but he laughed louder than all the others…

  “Whatcha doing down there?”

  I look up and see the vague outline of a face peeking over the edge of the hole.

  “Isaac?”

  I wipe the tears from my eyes and the face comes into focus. It’s not Isaac. His blonde hair is dangling from the bottom of a red baseball cap with a B on the front. He reaches down to offer his hand. I allow him to pull me up.

  “I’m Daedric,” he says, holding out his hand.

  I don’t shake his hand. My eyes skim the surroundings and find a dead cougar lying ten feet from the hole. A few feet beyond I glimpse a piece of Isaac’s head peeking out from beneath a pile of pine needles.

  I rush to his side and scatter the pine needles. His neck is slashed open, but the cut isn’t too deep. It’s the gushing wound on his thigh that makes my stomach clench.

  “He’s not dead,” Daedric calls out to me, as if this makes it better.

  “He’s right,” Isaac whispers. “I’m not dead.”

  “Shut up,” I say as I rip off his pant-leg and tie it around the top of his thigh.

  “Hey, watch where you’re putting your hands, beautiful.”

  “I told you to shut up. Just close your eyes,” I bark at him as I attempt to prop his leg up on a tree trunk.

  Isaac screams with pain as Daedric kneels next to me.

  “You need help?” he asks, but he seems too eager, almost cheerful.

  I need to get Isaac back to the cave. We have first-aid supplies and some antibiotics. But I don’t know if I can trust this stranger.

  “Are you stupid or something?” I say.

  Daedric appears confused. “What?”

  “Why are you wearing that stupid Red Sox cap? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  Daedric smiles. “I found it hidden in some bushes back theh with a bunch of uddah supplies. I put it on ‘cause it reminds me of home. I didn’t think it would mattah out hee-ah, ya know, in da forest.”

  Great. He’s from the Eastern Sector.

  “Take it off and help me carry him,” I say, grabbing Isaac’s feet.

  “I can walk,” Isaac insists as he attempts to sit up, but a wave of nausea overcomes him and he heaves bright-yellow bile onto the forest floor.

  “Grab his arms,” I command.

  Daedric and I half carry half drag Isaac to the cave. When we enter, Eve is awake and sharpening her blade. She sees Isaac and tosses the knife aside to help us set him down next to the burned out fire.

  “What happened?” she asks in her small voice.

  “Cougah,” Daedric replies and the shock on Eve’s face at the sound of his accent is unmistakable.

  I shake my head at her. “Get the medical kit.”

  She scrambles to the back of the cave and returns with a small
first-aid kit. I throw it open and pull out a roll of bandages and some iodine. I squeeze the iodine over the gushing wound. Isaac’s eyes roll back and the first thing I think of doing is rubbing his cheeks.

  “Wake up!” I yell at him.

  “It’s shack,” Daedric says.

  “What does a shack have to do with this?” Mary says as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

  “Not a shack… shack. S-H-O-C-K,” he replies.

  Mary glares at me as if I’ve just invited the Guardians into our secret lair.

  “He’s helping me,” I say to her. “Bring me that blanket.”

  I wrap the blanket around Isaac’s upper body and continue working on his leg. We have a surgical needle and surgical thread to stitch up large cuts, but Isaac’s the only one who’s ever used them when he stitched a gash on Mary’s hand last month.

  I thread the needle quickly and ask Eve to sop up the blood with gauze as I work. The first time I try to pierce his skin with the needle I nearly pass out. It won’t go through. It’s dull and his leg twitches with pain. I suck it up and push it through his skin. He moans and I sigh with relief. He’s still conscious.

  I finish stitching and cleaning the wound before I bandage his leg. Immediately, blood seeps through the bandages. I didn’t do a good job.

  I move to take off the bandages but Daedric puts his hand on mine to stop me.

  “It’s gonna keep oozin’ for a while,” he says. “Don’t mess wit it.”

  I can’t help but gawk at him as if he’s from another planet. “Are you crazy? Why do you keep talking like that?”

  Daedric appears startled. “I figgahd it didn’t mattah hee-ah.”

  “You figured it didn’t matter here?” I say, trying to correct him and clarify his words at the same time. “Why would you think it doesn’t matter? We have a right to kill you on the spot, you know? You’re way outside your sector.”

  Daedric glances at Mary then back at me. “Ain’t she from the South?”

  Mary narrows her eyes at him as she pulls her knife from the sheath on her waist. “You want trouble, boy?” she asks, with no trace of her former accent.

  “I don’t want trouble,” he says, pulling his hat off and hanging his head. “I just thought you all could help me find my sistah.”

  “You thought wrong, buddy. Now go,” Mary says, pointing at the cave entrance with her blade.

  Daedric rises and exits the cave looking like a lost child. I watch as he tosses the Red Sox cap into a bush and walks off toward the forest.

  What am I doing? He saved Isaac’s life.

  “Wait!” I yell. “We’ll help you find your sister.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “You’re not helping him,” Isaac whispers.

  Daedric bounds toward the cave with a spring in his step.

  “Isaac’s right,” Eve whispers. “He could be a spy.”

  Daedric enters the cave and kneels next to Isaac. “He needs watuh.”

  “Throw me the canteen,” I say and Mary tosses it to me. I lift Isaac’s head and place the canteen on his lips. This is the third time in two years we’ve had to nurse each other back to health. “We’ll help you find your sister, but not until he’s better. We need him.”

  “But, my sis is locked up—”

  “It’s my terms or we don’t help you. It’s as simple as that.”

  Daedric nods and sits back at the mouth of the cave.

  “And get rid of the accent, or we’ll turn you in to the Guardians so fast you won’t even see their boots before they stomp your head in.”

  It wasn’t the first time I went against my better instincts, and Isaac’s advice. The last time I defied Isaac we feasted on cougar jerky for weeks. I can only hope this act of defiance proves as positive.

  Isaac opens his eyes for the fourth time in thirteen hours. “Nada.”

  I bring the canteen to his lips and he takes a few sips. “How are you feeling?” I ask, as I wipe water from the corner of his mouth.

  “I had a bad dream,” he whispers hoarsely. “You left me for a blonde dude.”

  I shoot a look at Daedric that knocks the stupid grin off his face. “Go back to sleep,” I tell Isaac.

  I stroke his hair until his mouth falls open. Dead with sleep.

  “We need more firewood,” I tell Mary. “You and Daedric go gather some.”

  Mary glares at me as if I’ve asked her to single-handedly stop the next world war. After a short staring contest, she relents and follows Daedric outside. I lay my hand on Isaac’s forehead. He has a fever again. We only have four penicillin tablets left.

  He wakes at my touch. “Hey, beautiful.”

  A wave of anger rolls through me. Why does he keep calling me that? He stopped calling me beautiful months ago, right after Mary showed up. He’s probably trying to make sure I don’t let him die.

  “Go back to sleep,” I tell him, but I don’t stroke his hair this time. The helplessness of the situation is starting to set in. Isaac needs more than I can give him. If he doesn’t get a full course of antibiotics soon, he could die.

  This is all too familiar.

  A few minutes pass and Daedric enters the cave with a bundle of small branches for the fire. He sets them on the ground and slides in next to me. “I know where you can get him some medicine,” he says, his accent much less detectable after three days of lessons from Mary.

  “So do I, but I can’t go without Isaac.”

  Isaac is the talker. He always knows what to say to the dealers whenever we go to the trading post. He can talk a person into trading a gallon of water for a bunch of herbs we picked along the way. It’s what he does best.

  I blot the sweat from Isaac’s brow and hand the damp cloth to Eve. “Daedric and I are going to the marketplace. Take care of him while I’m gone.”

  The straps on my backpack cut into my shoulders. I’m holding three gallons of water and Daedric has the other two. The path to the marketplace is a four-mile trek through three miles of thick forest and one overgrown valley of parched pine trees. The trading posts are hidden between two cliff-sides; a shady crevasse for shady transactions.

  The scent of roasted sausage hits my nose from half a mile away. The sausage vendor lures everyone in with his deer sausage. It’s a simple mixture of venison, mostly organs, with some wild onions and herbs, but it smells like heaven. He asks two gallons of water for one sausage. A sucker’s bargain.

  “What’s that smell?” Daedric asks, lifting his nose to the air and sucking in a deep breath.

  “Forget the smells and don’t talk to anyone. We’re here for one thing and nothing more.”

  The marketplace is bustling with traders today. Women and children peddling handmade blankets and scarves squeezed in next to creepy thugs trading solar-powered radios and lighter fluid. No matter what they are hawking, they only accept one form of payment: water.

  Water is the new currency in the ravaged parts of the world. Isaac and I used to own a solar-powered radio. That’s how we know some segments of modern society survived the storms. There are areas of Australia and Brazil where modern society remains mostly intact. But those areas are cordoned off and the space inside those communities was auctioned off to the highest bidders. They’re locked down tighter than a maximum-security prison.

  Then, of course, there’s the underground city of Umbra in Washington D.C. where those who won the survival lottery and a few privileged Americans were welcomed before the deadliest wave of flooding and freezing hit. Umbra is run by a group of scientists and humanitarians who hope to preserve the human race. Years before the storms, they began converting the miles of underground structures beneath Washington D.C. into housing. All the entrances to these underground structures were sealed and the only people who know how to get into Umbra now are those who already live there.

  Isaac and I got rid of our solar-powered radio after we realized we didn’t need an announcer to tell us how little hope we had. We’re aware our chances of making i
t past the age of twenty-one are slim. Even if twenty-one is only two years away for Isaac, at this rate he’ll be lucky to survive another two weeks.

  My eyes scan the marketplace looking for the longest line. The medicine man always has the longest line of patrons. He also has the most bodyguards. The black bandannas tied over their mouths and their black combat boots are standard Guardian uniforms. They stand on either side of Dr. Henry as he dispenses medicine and medical advice.

  We slip into the back of the line behind more than a dozen people desperate for medication and guidance on how to care for this ailment and that injury. A young blonde woman in front of me has a festering sore on the corner of her eye oozing a thick yellowish-brown liquid. She keeps blotting it with a dirty scarf. The old man in front of her has long wiry hair, but he appears healthy. He must be here for someone else, like me.

  Daedric’s accent and mannerisms are a liability in the marketplace, but his ability to kill a cougar and save Isaac’s life also makes him an asset in case the Guardians recognize me. He opens his mouth to say something and I shake my head to silence him.

  More than an hour later, we reach the front of the line and Dr. Henry appears exhausted.

  “What do you want?” he says, brushing his long brown hair out of his face. He looks more like a hippie than a doctor. Of course, most people look more like hippies than doctors these days.

  I try to keep my chin tucked into my chest as I approach the doctor’s table. I don’t recognize the Guardians on either side of him, but there’s no telling when they’ll recognize me.

  “I need a full course of antibiotics,” I mutter, trying to force my voice deeper to disguise myself.

  “Who is it for? Height, weight, age, and sex?” Dr. Henry replies.

  “It’s for a male, nineteen—I mean—twenty years old. He’s about six-foot and 170 pounds,” I say.

  I’m not sure if changing Isaac’s age from nineteen to twenty and taking an inch off his height will make a difference or if it will just raise their suspicions. If Isaac were here he would know what to say.