had it since the moment he turned his back on her and headed into the woods. It could just be him not wanting to leave the first good thing he found.
As he started cutting open the buck and removing the organs that weren’t exactly edible, he thought about the few times he’d gone hunting with his father. They were the reason he even knew how to do this. His dad wanted Marius to be more of a “guy” and not the type of geeky kid who wanted to do science projects in the garage. Hunting hadn’t gotten rid of Marius’s desire to do things that didn’t involve killing an animal but instead made him appreciate what he wanted to do in life.
He was just about finished with cleaning out the buck when the sound of groaning and of twigs snapping slammed into Marius. He instantly stood and grabbed his gun, his hands bloody, his eyes focused on his surroundings.
There was another crack of a twig in the distance, and Marius tensed. He grabbed his knife with his other hand and held still, waiting and listening. He was ready, his entire body poised and prepared to attack. He backed away from where the sound had come from, closer to a tree, making sure at least his back wasn’t vulnerable. He listened again, harder this time, and held his breath. His heart beat steadily, and he kept alert.
More sounds of twigs breaking came closer, but the trees were thick, and it was hard to see around them. And then he spotted the infected moving out of the forest and toward him. The female’s steps were slow, languished, and she dragged one foot behind her. The closer she got, the louder her moaning became.
When she was just a few yards away, Marius saw that her foot was broken and bent to the side, the bone protruding from the darkened, crusted flesh. The female was hungry, softly groaning and raising its hands toward him.
The infected female lifted her head and parted her lips in a silent cry. Black blood oozed out of her mouth and nose, dripping down her chin and landing on her torn and tattered shirt. She’d been dead a while going by the amount of decay on her. The black blood covering her was old, congealed and dead, just like she was.
Her flesh was black and rotting in most areas. Her cheeks were gaunt and sunken, and her eyes were now cloudy. She wore what was once a dress, but all that now covered parts of her body was stained and torn material. Her breasts were visible, or what was left of them.
The female shuffled toward him, and the fluid and necrosis in her lungs made this wet, gurgling noise. She lifted her hands again at Marius, groaning, black blood spewing from her mouth.
She then turned and saw the buck. He pushed his thoughts away and just reacted. Moving those last few feet toward her, she didn’t even register him as the scent of the buck obviously had her enthralled. He put his gun away, knowing he didn’t want to waste a bullet when a knife would have the same efficiency. Knife raised high, he plunged it into her temple. She turned around, her lips parted, her gums receding, and the black blood continuing to spill out of her mouth.
She made one more gurgled sound before falling to the ground. His knife came free, but also with it a chunk of her flesh. For a second, all Marius did was stare at her, but then he snapped out of it. He grabbed a clean knife and finished field dressing the deer before slinging it over his shoulders and heading home.
Home. That’s where Maya was.
18
Maya finished off her tea and looked out at the property. It was an overcast day, and the look of it, and the scent in the air, told her winter was already here.
“Sherman, come on, boy!” she yelled out for the dog, who was busy over by the fence, whining and digging into the ground.
She set her cup on the banister and walked down the steps. Tightening her jacket around herself, she kept moving toward Sherman. The fact that he was whining had her on alert. Taking out the knife she had tucked at the small of her back, and feeling the knife she had strapped to her ankle, she felt safe with the knowledge she could protect herself. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of what