Wisteria (Wisteria Series) (12 page)

Uncomfortable as she was parting with the sword again, she complied because of Bach’s condition and the fact they’d nowhere else to go.

The pair was separated and inspected for bites, but were reunited about an hour later.

“You two can stay in the Hansen’s room.” Garfield led them by candlelight into an apartment. “There isn’t much here, but we’ve haven’t had an infestation yet.”

From the looks of it, several families were already cramped into the small space.

She estimated seven people were living in the two-bedroom apartment. “Thanks,” Wisteria said to him, but she’d heard such claims before.

Bach stumbled forward, but she managed to stop his fall.

“You should save your energy,” she whispered to him.

“Is he okay?” Garfield frowned.

“It’s dark in here and he tripped,” Wisteria called out as they got to the dirty door with the word
Hansen
written across it as if by a child using finger paint.

“You might be lucky and find a few things you can use in there.” Garfield unlocked the door to reveal a room. He wasn’t joking when he told them there wasn’t much there.

All she saw was a worn mattress on the floor along with some old notebooks. Wisteria noticed an old guitar propped against a wall.

“I’ll see if I can get some food and water for you.” Garfield lingered by the doorway. “Do you need anything?”

“Thank you.” Wisteria smiled at the archer. “I think we just need to be alone right now. It’s been a tough few days for us.”

“Right, and your boyfriend looks worse for the wear.” Garfield’s smile faded from his face.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just…”
What was he?
“We just need to rest. Things are…”

“Sure, whatever.” Giving her his candle, he left.

CHAPTER NINE

Days later, Wisteria sat on the mattress next to Bach in the dark room. Although it was only two o’clock in the afternoon, she felt like it was midnight. Placing her hand on his forehead, she found his skin was very cold. In a way, she was relieved, since he had no fever it meant that he wasn’t infected.

He was also less chatty, which was a treat since that meant no more offhand remarks. However, he still didn’t seem to be getting any better. Getting help from anyone in the dungeon was out of the question

“How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“Like I am dying.”

If there was something to say to that, she didn’t know what. So she just watched him as he lay there, almost lifeless and pale. Even the cute spots on his arms seemed to have faded. “Maybe you should eat something.”

“No.”

Touching his forehead again to check his temperature, he gripped her wrist. The grasp was firm at first, but then it weakened. “Please stop,” he said breathlessly. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Bach, don’t you remember? You found this place?”

“I would have never brought us to this hole. You are doing this to punish me for the fire. I told you I did not mean to burn you. You agreed that the fire would terrify Lluc, but you were not able to run fast enough,” the sick boy rambled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lluc was so angry. He beat me so hard, he almost broke my arm.” Bach continued to talk, seemingly delirious. “He hates fire. He beat me so badly, but I laughed so much.”

His delirium seemed to fade, but whether this was a good thing or bad was another story.

Grabbing one of the old notebooks that were lying around, she fanned him until he fell asleep. Once he was out, she went over to examine the books that were scattered along the floor. They were full of drawings, done by either a child or a really bad artist. Bored, she flipped through the pages of the book, hoping to find something to take her mind off the events of the day, but she failed. Sitting in the poorly lit room, she tried to listen for the shuffle of the feet of the infected above, but only heard the sounds of the other dungeon dwellers.

How did she survive all of this for these last years?
Her gaze fell on the guitar she’d seen earlier. She hadn’t played in years. Picking it up, she ran her hands across the weathered instrument and thought back to her father, who taught her how to play. Two strings were missing, but she could still play it a little. After plucking the first string, she paused because she didn’t want to awaken Bach. She listened to see if he was disturbed; all she heard was his heavy breathing. It sounded like he was fast asleep. She whispered his name, but he didn’t answer.

Leaving the room, she decided to see if she could find some food and water for them. Outside, she met a girl with long, black hair who looked to be about twelve, sitting at what must have been a kitchen table at one time in the past, smoking a cigarette.

“Hi, you’re the chick Garfield brought in, right?” the girl asked. “You’re Wisteria?”

“Yeah, what’s your name?”

“Mel.” She took a puff of her cigarette and then offered Wisteria the pack. “Do you want one?”

“Aren’t you too young to be smoking?”

“Aren’t you too young to be shacking up with a bloke?”

“I’m not shacking up with him.”

“Then I’m not smoking,” the younger girl quipped with an impish smile.

“Leave her alone, Mel.” Garfield walked in and took the cigarette out of the girl’s mouth. “Don’t mind Mel, she’s our resident wiseass.” He tapped her playfully on the top of her head.

Wisteria laughed and this surprised her because she hadn’t laughed since before that damned freedom run. “Your sister’s sweet.”

“He isn’t my brother,” Mel protested. “He’s just a loser who thinks he’s somebody.”

All three of them laughed at the joke.

“Garfield, I was wondering if it was possible to get any food.”

“Food?” Mel sneered, before Garfield could answer. “Who do you think you are, the queen of Norway?”

“Mel!” A woman old enough to be the girl’s mother came into the room, carrying a candle. “Don’t speak about them like that.”

“Come on, I’ll see what I can do.” Garfield signaled for her come with him. “She wasn’t talking about you,” said Garfield as they left the kitchen. “The Hansens, they were Norwegian and had the room before you and Nun. What is your boyfriend’s name?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right,” Garfield agreed sarcastically.

“He’s my friend.” So what, if he didn’t believe her, she was more concerned about getting food than what anyone thought of them.

“And what’s his name?” He repeated the question as he took her to a room down another corridor.

If Bach didn’t want to tell people what his name was, then she wasn’t going to. “Just call him Nun,” she insisted.

“I’m not sure whether or not we can get you food, but I’ll give you some of mine. If any more food is brought in, I’ll make sure you get some. But you’ll have to eat it in here. We don’t want people knowing I’ve got a stash.”

“It’s not…” She wanted to say the food was for Bach, but she couldn’t risk Garfield suspecting anything. “I’ve got to share some with my friend.”

Arriving at his destination, Garfield knocked once on the door.

An elderly woman opened the door and scowled at the pair. “Who are you?”

“Come on, Owena,” Garfield cajoled her. “You know that she was one of the kids that came in the day before yesterday.”

“No, she’s not.” Owena started to close the door. “We don’t want any flesh eaters in here.”

“Owena let me in.” Garfield leaned on the door. “I live here, too.”

Reluctantly, the older woman eyed the pair before letting them inside and then returned to the watery soup she was cooking in the middle of the living room. The apartment was just as dank and dark as where she and Bach were staying. Following Garfield through the apartment, she stopped the moment she could no longer see where she was going. Someone grabbed her hand, but she jerked it away.

“You’ll get used to the dark in no time.” Garfield took her by the wrist and led her through the darkness until they reached a room full of glow-in-the-dark toys. In the green glow, she saw two bunk beds and a lot of suitcases. There was garbage scattered around the room. “Home sweet home. Sorry about the mess; we don’t get a lot of visitors.”

“How many of you live here?”

“In this room?” Dragging an old suitcase from under the bed, he began rummaging through it. “We were five until last month. Now we’re three.”

“What happened to the others?”

“Tony shacked up with Kathy, and Harry…? Harry shot himself.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Oh.”

“Were you two close?”

“Harry and I came down from Bolton three years ago. He snuck down here for a party and since he was like my big brother, I followed him, and then we could never get back home.”

“Was it a good party?”

“We couldn’t find it. We ended up wandering the streets until three in the morning.” He chuckled, but then sank his face into his hands. “Harry got bitten five weeks ago and didn’t want to become a biter. He lived a long life at nineteen.”

The room fell quiet.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s not your fault.” Pulling out a large, thin book, he seemed to notice that she was still standing in the doorway. “You can come in, you know. There’s nothing you can do if I try to kill you.”

Not moving, she just smiled as he came over and she noticed the book he was holding was an atlas.

“I know your friend is sick,” Garfield revealed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “Wisteria, if he had Nero virus he would’ve turned by now. So I believe he doesn’t have the crazy sickness.”

She didn’t say a word.

“Listen, I won’t tell anyone. I promise your secret is safe with me.”

“Hmm.” She wasn’t sure what to believe. Although she doubted he would tell anyone at that moment, if he needed something, he might betray them.

“On one condition.”

And here it was.
She crossed her arms and stared at him. “What do you want from me?”

“I need to know where the safe haven is.”

“You’re blackmailing me?” Resisting the urge to bite her lip and show her anxiety, she dropped her arms.

“A few of the people who passed through here were heading to a survivor community on one of the Channel Islands. I don’t know if they made it, but you’re the first person I know who actually came from there,” he explained quietly. “And it’s not blackmail.”

“I see.”

“Wisteria, I can’t stay here for the rest of my life. I figure I’ll take my chances with the crazies and since you found a way to get here, you must have a way back. Anything’s got to be better than this.”

“Ask Mackenzie to form a convoy and leave together.”

“Shh.” He shushed her. “I have my reasons.” He flipped through the pages of the old atlas until he reached the Channel Islands page. “Which one is it?”

Glancing at the page briefly, she wasn’t sure if she should tell him then or at all. “The light is really bad in here. I can’t really make out what’s there.” She wasn’t sure he was convinced by her reason. It sounded very transparent, but it was true. There was no way she could tell him exactly where the Isle of Smythe was in the semi-darkness.

“I’ll get a candle or something.” Returning to his suitcase, he hunted for a candle.

“When do you plan to go?”

“I don’t know. The winter maybe, the infected are less mobile then. The ones who haven’t fed in months finally freeze to death.”

“True, but the nights are longer.”

Even biters were drawn to light, they were more effective hunters at night. This was because they didn’t track just by sight they used scent and above all, sound. During the early days, biters had sometimes followed their scent for days when they had no other food source. In the dark, flesh eaters had the clear advantage.

She also wondered what Garfield’s plan might be in order to fight the armed robbers and opportunists. “And you’re going to do this by yourself?”

“Before you came, yes.” He struck a match and lit a candle. “Since you’re going back, having one more ally out there is going to be an advantage. You do plan to return, right?”

“You make it sound easy.” Once she knew what to do about Bach, she would leave with or without him. Unlike Garfield, Wisteria knew her way back, she only needed transportation and some form of defense. While she waited out the swarm, she’d think up something.
She hoped.

“You don’t want to stick around here. Trust me.”

“Why?”

Owena burst in the room.

“Mrs. Mackenzie’s asking for you,” she barked at Garfield. “What are you reading?”

He shut the book. “Nothing, Owena. I’m on my way.” He made his way out.

* * * * *

Bach opened his eyes and scanned the pitch-black room.
There is no one else here.
It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and whom he was with. By the time he sat up, he recalled the attack on his den.