The Lucky Ones, Ashleigh Woolf ’19

Ashleigh Woolf ’19

The Lucky Ones

The sharp twig snagged the skin close to her left eye, jolting Cai Deluce sharply back to reality. She winced, rubbed at the stinging pain, and wiped her now bloody fingertips on her pants. The smudges added little impact to the Pollock-like pattern documenting who-knows-how-many scrapes and bruises this journey had inflicted. Cai had forgotten how, in a world that seemed so very distant now, her only injuries had been from falling off the play structure at the park where the cool green grass outlined the brightly painted wooden benches. That past was long gone, but not forgotten.

Cai shook her head, dazed, and her skull collided with a small tree that she was shocked to discover just beside her. Startled, she quickly surveyed the tumble-down village, attempting to make up for allowing her thoughts to take control. She was relieved to detect no lurking threats, which tended to make their unwelcome presence known in some unpredictable manner. She took stock though, in that moment, conscious of the odd note: she had noticed there was nothing. Not simply no immediate threats, but nothing. No sounds. No movement. No colors. Nothingness. Cai felt the jolt of sudden comprehension radiate electrically through her body. She stared back toward the beginning of the village; it had seemed moderately intact from the slight rise they had forged, but here, looking down, the eerily silent scene before them was anything but. Almost all the houses were blackened. Carcasses in the harsh sun, their roof beams charred, twisted, and exposed like the ribs on ancient, giant mammals caught in a sudden conflagration and too settled to be able to flee. Extinct.

“This was a village of Immunies,” Blake gasped in realization. His face had drained, life-color and emotion rushing out like a flash flood, leaving him looking like a little boy, bewildered, in its muddy destruction. His hand shook as he raked his matted, curly hair and knelt down to finger the charcoal dust. Cai and Morgan exchanged a look, eyebrows raised. At some point, he looked up at them. His eyes mirrored their pain. “They must have come through here and burnt it to a wasteland.” He left the obvious, unasked, unanswerable question that everyone had already buried floating in the still air between them like some untouchable, winged escapee of Pandora’s box.

What had happened to everyone who lived here? The Immunies who sheltered here, had anyone survived?

“Cai, what should we do?” Blake stammered, honing in on her. His voice wavered with uncertainty, just as his hands always shook.

Cai wasn’t certain of much about Blake’s past except that he had had a younger sister who was killed in a raid. She had conjured up stories in her mind to explain the matted tissue of burn scars on the back of his calves but had never broached it with him. But for once, her trembling fingers mirrored his. His earnestness spoke of a desperate need to prove that he was spared for something that would make a difference, something to counter the despair and the memories that shadowed him. An ache, like sucking in your breath too fast when you are crying, burned through Cai’s chest. Her parents might still be alive, although she knew it was more of a fantasy than anything else, but what had Blake witnessed? As far as she knew he had nothing left, but he was still clinging to it, to that thin line, dangling, dangling.

“Cai.” Morgan’s hand squeezed her shoulder urgently and drew Cai out of her morbid thoughts. “We should go. It looks like there’s nothing here, and standing out in the open like this . . . .”

Cai nodded in response, her lips pressed tight, holding back her tears. Her jumbled thoughts were like a climbing wall. Struggling to forge a way forward, her brain clamored for a secure toehold. She was vaguely aware that Morgan was staring at her, but her focus was shattered shards of consciousness, plans, memories. With tremendous effort, she suppressed the boiling turmoil that threatened her just below the surface. “You’re right,” she whispered in a slow, deliberately measured tone. “We do need to make a move, now, before someone makes it for us.”

Morgan dropped her hand. Her dark eyes drew Cai’s gaze to Blake, whose face was pale and sweaty. He was looking at her, but she immediately understood that he was actually looking through her, abandoned in his own private Hell. “We should leave right now.”

Cai took Blake’s arm, a touch to which he acceded numbly. They had been exposed for far too long, standing in the middle of an abandoned village, which once housed those who could have welcomed them. They were out of place here as living things. Cai realized that this close to him, their target, they were bound to have been followed.

Her thoughts were suddenly shredded, ambushed by an ominous growl that ripped through the village like an unwelcome chainsaw ready to destroy miles and miles of undisturbed forest trees.

Cai jerked, then froze, the blood roaring in her ears, her limbs flooded by sudden heat. She remained exceptionally still, though burning with fear, and inched her fingers unconsciously toward the dagger hidden in her boot. She already held a knife, forgotten in her other hand by habit, but she knew that if she threw it, it would be lost uselessly for the remainder of the fight. If there was even a fight. Two weapons were no match for whatever had produced that sound, but it was better to feel like she had a chance, right? Her chest felt like it would split down the center as a second shattering growl broke through the suffocating silence of the village.

“Wh-what was that?” Morgan whispered, her normally sure voice gone in an instant. Locking eyes, another shot of adrenaline coursed through Cai.

Morgan gripped her dagger, her knuckles pulled white. As she was about to step forward to investigate, an enormous cougar emerged from the tinder brush, stood stock-still, and stared at them. Its primal gaze scanned them, their eyes met, and, for a few seconds, they were hypnotized by pure terror. Its urgent, deep growl shattered the preternatural spell. Glistening vampire canines the size of Cai’s thumb would be indelibly etched on each of their memories forever. The cat’s ribs stretched under its ragged, tawny coat like a sagging tent, while calculating yellow slit-eyes regarded them intensely.

Somewhere inside her primeval core, Cai found the energy to act. Breathing raggedly, she prepared for the fight like a cornered champion knocked down in the first round, arms pushing against the canvas even as she went down. “Run,” Cai whispered urgently, her tongue suddenly no longer sluggish in her dry mouth.

Morgan and Blake didn’t argue.

They spun simultaneously and scrambled through the village; Cai kicked up dirt as she sprinted blindly. At the edge of the gnarled brush forest, they were confronted by a wall of thorns, the cougar in full pursuit. Cai’s gaze darted left, right. She hurled one of her daggers, but in her panic she missed, the blade glancing the cougar’s side. The cat yelped, more incensed now to pursue them. It was just as desperate for food as they were but driven by instinct, not rationality, and an unexpected lucky meal. The

sun seemed merciless as they ran frantically like an insignificant earthly experiment the gods wanted to torment to its very end. Cai fought herself as much as the animal, almost tempted just to give in. To allow the cougar to sate its hunger and devour the meager skin and bones of her body, put their souls out of their misery. They were starving, just like the savage animal hunting them; unlike the cougar, they could give weight to the hopelessness.

But Cai had a mission, after all. Something to survive for.

Cai weighed her other dagger in her grip. That was how they lived this life. They stumbled from disaster to catastrophe to even more dire circumstances. The time in between just blurred into non-existence, pure survival untainted by thought or enjoyment until Cai wasn’t sure she actually had a life outside of running.

Suddenly a rock flew past her ear, jolting her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Morgan and Blake heaving rocks at the cougar. It growled, cowered, and bared its terrible teeth but backed slowly away. One last rock struck its ribs, opening the bleeding knife-wound. The red slash on its tawny hide flashed at them as the animal turned and fled. They breathed in gratitude when the cougar was out of sight. But Cai was unable to take her eyes off its receding trail. Her whole body shook as she wiped sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Slowly she stood, willing her racing breath to slow down, and her thoughts tumbled out like baby babble: “It will be dark in a few hours. Dark. Who knows what’s out there? We should start a fire here for safety—for the dark—start to set up camp.” She knew they must be close to his camp, after months of travel and its dark companions. Her heart was still beating too fast in her chest, but this time not from fear. She sighed quietly. “Maybe we’ll find his camp tomorrow.”

Morgan and Blake nodded numbly in silent agreement. No one wanted to risk leaving the relative safety of the village now, even though it haunted them, and they wanted to wash the memories away, bury them and move on. They gingerly explored the remaining dwellings and eventually found a small intact hut on the edge of the village, one of the few not completely burnt. Tentatively, Morgan prodded the flimsy wooden door, afraid of unpleasant surprises inside. They were relieved to find only pots and pans scattered on the floor, dilapidated chairs knocked over, decayed bedding

mats damp from recent rain that had leaked through the roof. A child’s small wooden horse lay in the corner, its once pristine chestnut paint scratched and peeled, the only evidence of the vibrant family that had called this home. It’s true then, she realized. Immunies did inhabit this village until quite recently. Cai found herself pondering what happened to the people who had lived here just a few years ago. Where had they fled when the virus eventually reached them? Was that before or after the Raid? She felt guilt and regret spread, not unlike the feeling of shame, knowing that there was once a family that had loved this house, and they had disturbed its sanctity. They had nowhere else to rest, though; with everyone here gone, the village was all theirs.

They set up the few things they could call their own, along with sleeping bags taken from another village months ago. These had begun to disintegrate due to constant wear, and Cai felt her heart sink when she realized it was unlikely they would be lucky enough to find more. Blake started a fire in the hearth with dry kindling they collected. Cai pondered their objective in the relative safety of the fire and walls. They had known for days now that Dr. Piot’s camp was located somewhere nearby, but Cai had realized, without sharing her doubts, that its exact location was more difficult to find than she had anticipated. She chewed her lip out of habit, and Morgan caught the movement.

“What are you worried about now?” She insisted, her voice low.

“The camp—” Cai began.

Morgan nodded sharply. “I’ve asked myself the same thing.”

Cai slipped her dagger, which she had been clutching in a death grip until now, back into her boot. The cougar had run away, but they had lost more: they had not found food and they were down a weapon. And it was only sundown. What would the dark throw at them?

When she looked up again, she knew Morgan had been watching her.

“Don’t worry,” Cai mustered, and put a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. Cai drew herself up, as Morgan and Blake waited for her guidance. She spoke with a mock confidence, for all of them, but wondered who was fooled. “We really are close. I’m sure we’ll find it tomorrow.”

The bright light of the rising sun streamed in through a high window and yanked Cai out of an empty sleep that had provided no relief from the

constant throbbing of hunger low in her stomach. Her head ached as she struggled to orient herself. She sat for a while in the early morning chill, hugged her knees, and wondered how they were going to find the camp. Scavenging in the abandoned village the evening before had yielded nothing except a new appreciation for the havoc wreaked by desperate animals. Groggily, she shook off the calm amnesia of sleep. Cai realized they needed to get moving, again. Again. And again. As the chirping of birds entered the broken window, Cai filtered water for their herb tea— hardly a breakfast—and shook the others awake. They rose, resigned. It was a harsh routine, this life.

“How long can we go on like this?” Morgan questioned no one in particular as they left the village. This unnerved Cai; she knew, she had felt, that they were hanging on, one step from the precipice. Cai tried her best to ignore Morgan, who was irritated with her for her silence, but it was better than facing defeat. They cautiously approached the area where the camp was rumored to be. Cai motioned for Morgan and Blake to scout the area silently. Silently, desperately, they searched for signs that meant he was there. They searched until both their water and patience were running thin.

Cai finally turned to her companions in exasperation, just as an older man materialized, as if an apparition, near an outcrop, and signaled their group. Tense and drained, she gripped her remaining knife tighter, but he strode toward them, signaling with his deep-sea blue eyes that he was in charge before they even had a chance to indicate their status.

The strange man held up his arms, palms open. He smiled reassuringly. “I’ve been tracking your movements for days, Cai.”

Cai floundered as he directed his words toward her. “Who are you?” she hissed, her muscles locked in fear, resisting the urge to run. She knew she should but curiosity held her in place.

“Don’t you recognize me?” He seemed taken aback, a fleeting hurt in his eyes.

Unexpectedly, Cai had a flashback to a ViroMed unit, where a caring man in a white lab coat with the same unusual blue eyes had given her an urgent warning that she should leave her home, and quickly. “Gabriel?” she uttered in disbelief. Against every instinct in her body, she ran up and hugged him recklessly. Unexpected relief swept over the group. If Cai trusted him, he must be on their side.

“He is here,” Gabriel murmured in her ear, careful not to mention his name. He grasped the power of that name. He was the one who taught Cai, albeit briefly, to embrace this new identity, to forget her old life and move forward with assurance.

Because she would never get it back.

He pulled away and looked at her with grave eyes. “There was a recent attack by an incensed, dying victim.” Cai gasped; graphic images of past victims’ emaciated faces caused her knees to give out. She shook her head and pushed the images out of her mind.

“Is he alive?” she whispered and looked up at Gabriel with renewed fear.

Gabriel nodded his head. “One of the Immunies who was staying with us, he—” Gabriel’s soft voice faltered, and he swallowed hard, “—he sacrificed himself so we could use all his plasma, his white blood cells, to try to prolong the cure.”

Stunned gasps exposed their sudden comprehension: one of their own had sacrificed himself to save this great man. Cai ran a hand over her hair and pulled at her short strands. If that was why he wanted them, Cai would do it, but she hoped they were there for something more than a sacrifice that might not even work.

Gabriel’s face suddenly cleared, and he surveyed the rest of the group. “Of course we will give you all shelter.” Cai nodded. Guilt rushed through her as she realized she had forgotten to introduce Morgan and Blake in the intensity of the moment.

They followed Gabriel stealthily into the camp, carefully covering any trace of their path. A small group of camouflaged tents had been erected near an outcrop, netting carefully arched over the whole enclave. Cai noted the armed sentries posted around the camp on higher ground blended into the brush. They wouldn’t be found unless they wanted to be.

Gabriel led them into a tent. A technician washed them down with a solution, and they were given a change of clothes. They left their belongings in the quarantine area.

Morgan frowned, looking at Cai quizzically.

“It’s for their protection, not ours,” she explained under her breath.

If they unwittingly carried the virus, they would endanger everyone here, and none of them wanted to be responsible for that dreaded consequence. Ducking through a plastic-sheeted opening, they found themselves in a long underground passageway that led into a dimly lit shelter. Walking barefoot, they were shocked to find him reclining on a faded camp-bed. A plasmapheresis IV dripped steadily into his chest port. His thin, pale frame belied the passion and determination this icon had inspired in so many to save humanity from extinction. Cai was gripped by anxiety; bile, bitter and intolerable, flooded her throat. This is what the virus does; it makes no distinction. It takes great men, and it grinds them down.

Only fate had spared the chosen few: the Immunies.