The Deepest Red by Miriam Bell Read Free Book Online Page B

“but you will need to cut the head off before incase the body is infected.”
    My heart clenches.
    “He isn’t only a dead body. He was my friend and teacher,” I say in response to Clover’s chilling tone.
    “Doesn’t matter. Those things won’t keep him from killing you if his body turns,” she replies.
    Poor Tom, he didn’t deserve to be buried out in the red zone far away from the people he loved.  What else can I do? The weight of what happened settles in over my mind but I block the thoughts out quickly.
    “I don’t want to be the one to cut his head off,” I say.
    “Well, I don’t want to do it either,” she counters, placing her hands on her hips.
    “Come on. We’ll decide that later,” I pause, “and after I bury him then we’ll discuss why you’re following me.”
    Clover nods her head in cautious agreement as my balance returns. I begin to gather up big rocks noticing the stain of Tom’s blood left behind in the shape of my handprint. The liquid hugs the side of the rough surfaces making each rock sinister. I drop the stones to the ground peering at my red stained hands. Racing to the water, I submerge them scrubbing away the blood. I can’t get my hands clean enough as I hurry through the process. Minutes pass as the cold water numbs my skin.
    “They’re clean, Millie.”
    I continue to scrub, ignoring Clover, not wanting to think about how much blood might be on my clothes. I strip off my shirt leaving only a thin bra and drown the material in the stream. A pinkness clouds around my fingers before rushing along the current. I ring out the shirt checking to make sure it’s clean. When I’m finished, I find my supply bag and point to the trench set up in the embankment.
    “We’ll bury him here,” I state, putting on fresh clothing.
    We begin to carry rocks to the large hole creating a pile of more than enough. I leave the blood stamped rocks behind.
    My exhausted body tenses at the shuffling of leaves. The sound grows louder as I reach for my knife. Clover stands nervously with her weapon in hand.  A gaunt figure of a man hobbles out from the neighboring woods. He bolts toward us in an instant snapping his leg on a jagged limb protruding from the woodline. He falls face first to the ground, his fingers digging through the dirt, reaching for us. With a hungry yell he crawls until he is able to stand and begins his slowly creep up the hill to where we are. Clover and I stand frozen watching his every move. His moans are loud and causes the tiny hairs of my neck to stand. My hand tightens on my knife’s hilt.
    Leaves rustle in the distance drawing the mutilated man’s attention. A knife flies through the air and strikes the creature in his decaying forehead with a loud pop. My eyes grow wide as Connor steps gracefully out of the woods. He reaches down and gives a tug on the knife protruding from the skull of our would-be assailant. On the second tug the knife slips free from the bone. With Connor’s second knife in hand, he carves it across the man’s neck in a smooth and steady motion separating the head from the body. Covered in the sickly blood, Connor leans down and cleans both his knives on the disfigured man’s shirt.
    “Well, I found him,” he says bluntly, turning to glance at Clover. “I told you there were two sets of tracks,” he shrugs at her narrowed expression.
    “What? I told you!” Clover exclaims.
    Connor’s sharp eyes survey the surrounding trees while ignoring his cousin.
    “Don’t lie. I told you.” She continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
    A hidden smile plays on his lips.
    “You said it. I said it. Does it matter?” Connor asks. His manner is calm and relax as he speaks. “The only question now is,” he takes a breath, “was he following the noise of the infected woman or were they both following all the racket you were making.”
    He points the edge of his now clean blade at me. I’m too exhausted for this. My heart betrays me