37 – Vendetta

When Andy and Lucy reached the road leading into the neighborhood where they’d first met Sandy and the Whistler, they chose to stay in the desert, using dried brush, mesquites, greasewood, and other scrub to stay hidden from the houses. Instead of slipping past the first couple of homes like before, they moved stealthily toward the rear of the first one, hurrying to the block wall that enclosed its backyard.

Once there, they hunkered in the shade, catching their breath and letting the sweat cool on their brows. The desert wasn’t as hot as usual, but it was still warm, especially when the sky was clear and the sun shone down. Andy stood and cautiously peered over the wall. “No pool. I don’t see a dog or anything. The house is dark.”

“Wanna go over the wall or try a window? There’s one there.” Lucy pointed to what was likely a bedroom window on the side of the house.

“Let’s check it.”

She nodded, skulking forward, keeping her head below the top of the wall. Andy was right behind her, and when she got to the window, she turned, scanning the desert while he lifted his face to the glass and, shielding the glare with one hand, peered inside. It was a kid’s bedroom—racecar bed, bookshelf full of large, colorful books, and lots of toys on the carpet. Andy pushed on the window, but it didn’t budge.

“Latched,” he whispered. He scanned the rest of that side of the house and saw a much smaller window that was slightly ajar. “I think that’s a bathroom. I wonder if I can fit—"

“Hah! I can.” Lucy hurried along the wall, and Andy followed, frowning.

“I’m not sure that’s smart…”

“I’ll be careful, and besides, I don’t think anyone’s home.” She leaned her bow against the house and slipped out of her quiver and backpack. “Can you carry these to the front door?”

“You don’t have a weapon…” He trailed off as she lifted her t-shirt, showing him a good-sized hunting knife in a sideways sheath on her belt.

“Steve’s.”

Andy nodded. “All right, hang on.” He stood, peering through the gap in the window. It was a bathroom, all right, empty and dark. “This window is over the tub, so be careful.” He jammed his finger through the screen and yanked, pulling it off, then slowly pushed the window open the rest of the way.

“Gimme a boost.”

“Yep.” Andy cupped his hands, and Lucy put her foot—surprisingly small despite her hiking boots—into them and clambered up into the open window. She slid forward, grunting softly, and Andy caught her foot, holding some of her weight to help her descend more slowly. Some thumps and soft grunts sounded from inside, and then Lucy’s face appeared in the window.

“Meet me by the front door.”

“All right. Be careful!”

She nodded, then ducked out of sight, and Andy picked up her things, quietly padding around the house, scanning the street as he rounded the corner. He didn’t see any people or monsters, but that didn’t make him feel any less exposed as he hurried to the front porch, hugging the wall by the front door, willing the shadows to embrace him. It was almost enough to make him wish he’d kept his Umbral Warden class active, even though they were out in the middle of the day.

On a whim, he tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He waited there, straining to hear if anything was happening inside, picturing what he’d do if Lucy were discovered. He was pretty sure he could kick the door in if he had to. His plans didn’t get further than that; the bolt lock clicked, then the knob rattled and turned. Lucy pulled the door open, smiling happily. “I don’t think anyone’s here.”

Andy nodded and slipped inside, eager to be out of the sunlight and the possible scrutiny of secretive neighbors. “Let’s have a look around.”

The entry hall and living room looked relatively undisturbed, but when they got to the kitchen, it was apparent that someone had been there. Cupboard doors were open, and the fridge, too. Andy smelled the tell-tale odor of decay in the air, but when he pulled the refrigerator the rest of the way open, all he saw were a lot of condiments and a tub of moldering cottage cheese. He pushed it shut and checked the freezer, but the smell of decaying meat almost triggered his gag reflex. Hastily, he closed it.

“That’s a shame,” Lucy said, watching from a few feet away. “I wonder if there’s a spell to keep meat from spoiling.”

“I bet there is. I wonder if any people back at the trailer park have picked up a class like, oh, I don’t know, cook, gardener, or… You get the idea—something with some utility.”

“I’m sure there are. Have you looked at Eduardo’s list?”

“Nah. Always running off to do something.” He looked at her and winked, and she laughed.

“I guess that’s true. I’ll only take partial credit for that, though.” She opened a pantry door and whistled. “Still lots of stuff here!”

“Yeah? Cool! I guess whoever raided these cupboards was in a hurry…”

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“Or they could only carry so much. We’re going to have the same problem.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Sure would be nice to have an SUV or a pickup truck, huh?” Andy opened the garage door, noting the absence of any cars. “No wheelbarrow or anything.”

“Go check the bedrooms for a duffel bag or backpack. I’ll fill my bag.”

“Right.” Andy left her there and cautiously explored the hallway, bedrooms, and bathrooms. He found a set of luggage in what appeared to be a spare bedroom, and he wheeled two large suitcases out to the kitchen before returning to search through the medicine cabinets. He figured if he could find some antibiotics or painkillers, they might end up being just as valuable as food in the days ahead.

He found a first aid kit, a big bottle of ibuprofen, and some allergy meds, but that was it—no lucky stash of hydrocodone left over from someone’s surgery. He went back to the kitchen to help Lucy with the pantry. There were a variety of canned goods, as well as some dry foods like oatmeal and rice, and a few boxes of crackers and bags of chips. They still had lots of room in the suitcases when they finished, so, wheeling their haul behind them, they headed outside.

The next two houses were Sandy’s and another that looked empty. All of them looked empty, though, with no power on and people likely hunkering down, so they decided to go to Sandy’s first. Andy figured they could ask her for information on who lived where, and see if she wanted to come with them. They wheeled their suitcases on the road, generally just hoping that nobody was watching, because they were a little large and awkward to try to pull through the desert as they skulked along.

When they got to Sandy’s house, Andy’s demeanor changed instantly, and he dropped the suitcase and readied his spear—her front door was open, and he could see the evidence of a broken latch. “Somebody kicked it open,” he hissed. Lucy let go of her suitcase and pulled her bow off her shoulder. As she readied an arrow, Andy darted toward the house, keeping his ears open for any hint that someone had seen them coming.

The air was still and silent, though, and when he nudged the door open, he didn’t see or hear any movement. He hurried through the foyer, past the living room, and into the kitchen, where he and Lucy had once taken shelter from the rampaging wolf pack. “The ones the Whistler called,” Andy whispered, suddenly feeling like he had a good idea what might have happened to Sandy.

“What?” Lucy whispered.

“See any signs of a struggle?” As he asked the question, he saw the answer—blood was smeared on the tiles near the fridge, and the toaster, dented and forlorn, lay on the ground near the stove. A blood smear led toward the garage door, so Andy hurried forward, but paused to listen at the door. When no sound came, he gently depressed the lever-style doorknob and pulled it open. To his relief, the garage door was halfway open, and there wasn’t any sign of what he’d feared to find: a body.

“They came in the front door, subdued her, then took her out through the garage?” Lucy speculated.

“I guess. Whoever they are. Can you track ’em?”

“Let me try.” Lucy pushed past him to the open garage door and stared at the ground. Andy watched her and saw a weird, flickering amber glow emanate from her eyes, and then she turned to him. “I got ’em! Two people! One of them was stumbling all over the place!”

“Which way?”

Lucy pointed, and Andy wasn’t surprised to see her finger going straight down the driveway to the road and, a little ways down the street, to the Whistlers’ house. He was assuming the tracks went in a straight line, of course, but Lucy would be able to determine that. “You ready for this?” he asked, pointing toward the distant house.

“If he has Sandy, it’ll make it easier for me.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, I’m not happy Sandy’s in danger or hurt or… worse.”

Andy nodded. “I know what you meant. C’mon, this asshole’s been on my list long enough.” He started down the driveway, then turned and added, “We can come back for our suitcases and stuff.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Better to keep our hands free.” She held up her bow, arrow still nocked, in illustration. When they reached the end of the driveway, she gestured with her arrow. “The tracks continue toward his house.”

“If he comes out, Lucy, and if he puts his fingers toward his lips like he’s gonna whistle, please put an arrow in him.”

“I will.” Her voice was small, but determined, and Andy gave her a long look, noting the severe angle of her brows. She was pissed. He imagined she was thinking about what might have happened to Sandy.

“Stop staring at me. I’m okay. Keep an eye out for an ambush!”

“Right. Sorry.” Andy reset his grip on his spear and stretched his legs into more confident strides, scanning the desert to either side of the road as they went. When they were just fifty yards or so from the Whistler’s driveway, something rustled in the overgrown arroyo that ran through a culvert on the far side of the house. Andy paused, fixing his stance and staring toward the movement. A second later, a huge, red-eyed, black-bristled boar burst out of the brush, squealing and pawing at the dirt as it charged, jerking its enormous tusks left and right in anticipation of a fight.

“Was that thing standing guard?” Andy asked, incredulous.

Lucy answered by loosing an arrow. It sprouted from the beast’s broad chest, but it wasn’t slowed in the least. Andy set himself, readying his spear, his days and days of System-generated fighting memories taking over his muscles as he prepared to use the boar’s momentum against it. His spear’s steel-bladed tip punched through the overgrown animal’s thick hide just at the base of its broad throat, and then his Kindlebrand rune flared, bursting with fire that coursed in smoldering veins through the boar’s flesh.

The creature squealed its agony and rage, and Andy learned firsthand that the thing weighed a lot more than he’d anticipated. It drove him back, and he had to stutter-step to keep from getting tripped up by how fast it plowed into him. All the while, his spear drove deeper and deeper, and the fire burned more of the boar’s bristling hide.

Lucy flanked Andy and the boar, jogging off to the left, then she turned and began to pump arrow after arrow into the monstrous beast’s side. Andy fought to keep his hands on his spear; he fought to keep it straight so the haft didn’t snap, and the boar, mindlessly, red-eyed with animalistic fury, continued to plow toward him. By the time its front legs finally gave out and it fell to the ground, coughing gouts of foamy pink blood, Andy’s spear was four feet inside it, and Lucy had put seven arrows into its side.

Standing there, gasping for breath, watching the light fade from the creature’s red-streaked black eyes, Andy almost didn’t notice the door to the Whistler’s house swing shut, but he did, and he wondered if the bastard had been watching them fight. He wondered if the boar was another one of his pets.

“He saw us,” Lucy said, drawing her sharp knife. She’d have to cut her arrows out of the boar, but he figured she’d wait for it to die first.

“I know.” Andy reached down, gripped his spear haft, braced a foot on the big animal’s quivering chest, and yanked with all his might. The spear ripped free, unleashing a torrent of hot, steaming blood, and the boar finished dying.