Chapter 17: Chapter 17
@CDC: We know people are concerned about the spread of virus Hydra-1. It is important to remember to work with each other. If cooperation among nations and peoples fails, pandemics occur. When we think only of ourselves and not of others, we provide contagions with the opportunity to transmit and spread. Save each other and we save the world.
In the weeks that followed, Caroline kept Lincoln in bed as much as possible. It was like trying to soothe an angry bear whenever she insisted he stay in bed. She took over making the meals and tending to the chickens, whom she had named Narcissa and Persephone. Not that Lincoln had found her naming them all that amusing.
"When we eat Narcissa someday, you will regret naming her," he grumbled.
"Actually, we should focus on finding a rooster so we can breed more chickens." She had to admit she would have loved some grilled chicken, but she couldn't look at the two chickens in their nests when that thought strayed across her mind.
"That's a good idea. Once we settle down again, I'll find us one."
Caroline spent her days exploring the house, looking at old photos and papers tucked away in drawers, trying to piece together the lives of the people who had built and lived in the home that now felt like hers. But by the end of the third week, she couldn't keep Lincoln resting any longer.
"We need to move," he said over breakfast. "It's time we headed to Joplin."
"But your arm" She nodded at the sling she had found after running to a nearby drugstore.
"Food is running low, and I don't want to spend any more time here. The longer we wait, the longer it is until we find your family."
The need to see her parents and her sister was overwhelming, and she nodded as her throat tightened. How were they surviving? Were they able to find food? Did they have running water or gas-powered hot water tanks? How was her sister's baby? Caroline couldn't wait to see them. It felt like a lifetime since that phone call from the airport. And in that time, small doubts had started to creep in. It was entirely possible they were gone, that they weren't immune like her, but as na?ve as she knew it was, she needed to believe they were still alive.
"Then let's go." She collected the dishes and washed them before putting them back in the cupboards.
"What are you doing?" Lincoln asked. He leaned back against the unusable dishwasher, studying her. His lean form was so close, and it always made her body heat with desire. But in the weeks since his injury, he had kept his distance, hadn't teased her or reminded her that someday she would sleep with him. He had become different, more distant and removed than usual, if that were possible.
In turn, she had become even more lonely. He had chosen to sleep in the guest room, blaming it on his bad arm, and it had wounded Caroline deeply. Their habit of sleeping beside one another, feeling each other close together, had given her a sense of safety, a sense of belonging. But with him sleeping in the guestroom now, she'd felt more alone than she ever had in her life.
So whenever he was near, whenever he was talking to her, her heart beat faster and her body ached for him, but she didn't trust him not to withdraw back into his shell.
"I just want to leave the house the way we found it." She didn't mention the bloodstains and bullet holes. "This place was home to us for a time. People lived here, and they made a place that was safe. Maybe someone else will use it someday after we're gone." She closed the cabinet with the dishes and glanced away from him and toward the window.
A tall tree, bare-branched, swayed in the breeze as goldfinches and chickadees bustled around the full birdfeeder. Caroline had done her best to keep the feeder stocked with seeds. The finches chattered wildly, chasing a poaching squirrel back down the tree limb that the feeder hung off. Her lips tugged up into a smile. Brave little birds. Seeing the cheerful gaiety of the birds despite the harsh winter gave her joy and hope. Like a tiny spark catching on tinder, she hoped to stoke it back into a burning fire of confidence.
Lincoln placed a hand on her hip, pulling her against him so her back pressed into his chest. They stayed like that for a moment, watching the birds, before she turned in his arms and searched his face, for what she wasn't entirely sure.
"We are going to find your family," he promised.
His focus moved down to her lips, and she closed her eyes, praying he would kiss her, but she felt only the briefest touch of their lips and his breath upon her cheeks before he let go of her. Her heart sank and her bottom lip trembled, but she dared not cry. She wouldn't let his rejection hurt her, at least not now where he would see.
"It's time to pack," he said.
The two of them moved their bags and supplies into the back of the SUV. They had to get on the road before nightfall to avoid driving in the dark. It was too much of a risk to move about at night without headlights, and headlights could be seen for miles on the flat Nebraska roads. Any scavengers out there could track them far more easily at night.
"Here." Lincoln tossed her a roll of duct tape.
"What's this for?"
"The tail lights. You can't turn off like the tail lights like you can the front lights. We don't want anyone seeing us when we drive, even at dusk, and tail lights are too visible. Cover them up with the tape. Not like we need them anymore."
She did as instructed, covering up the lights while he rolled suitcases and duffel bags out to the back of the vehicle. Then she propped open the back, and they started loading the dog carriers with the hens inside.
When they were finished, she stood by the driver's side and looked back once more at the house that been her home for almost a month. She felt torn about leaving, and far from safe doing so. But it was time to move on. This was the first place that felt like she could stay and grow roots, and here she was abandoning it. Her lip quivered, but she bit it hard enough to draw blood as she turned her back on the lovely, empty house.
"Come on, honey. Time to go," Lincoln's gentle voice reminded her. She wiped a tear away and pressed herself against him, not waiting for an invitation. He wrapped his good arm around her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair. It took a moment before she felt strong enough to pull away.
"I'm driving," she reminded him when he reached for the driver's side door.
"No, I should," he argued.
She waved the keys at him. "Not until you're totally healed you're not."
"Offensive driving might be required," he countered. "You haven't driven in combat. I have."
"You really expect the wastelands to be full of cars with spikes and drivers wearing hockey masks like in a Mad Max movie, aren't you?" said Caroline. "You got a name picked out? Loony Lincoln?"
"When my arm is better," he growled.
"When your arm is better, then you can drive," she said with a laugh. "Now get in," she ordered. Despite his beard hiding his expression, she did catch him fighting off a smile.
Caroline got in, and they were soon headed onto the highway south. The chickens in the back clucked incessantly for the first hour before they quieted down. She tried not to look at the cities they passed, but it was hard not to see what was left behind. Just about every store they passed had its windows broken, from bakeries to sewing shops and hardware stores. Some were just burnt-out shells. And the bodieseverywherebodies were both piled like cordwood and scattered where they had fallen, all in various stages of the disease. Stray dogs roamed the streets, their eyes wild as they raced away from any sounds, especially those of cars. If there were any survivors in these places, they kept themselves well hidden.
Hydra-1 had wiped out entire cities, and no one had been able to stop it. Early on the dead had been dumped into mass graves and burned, the smoke of the fires rising for miles into the sky. There wasn't time for ceremony or respect; there was only the need to remove the bodies to try to kill the infection. But Caroline understood Hydra-1 now. It was a microscopic predator that lurked everywhere, preying on all susceptible to it. It spared no one, no one except a fortunateor perhaps unfortunatefew who were left.
"Lincolnwhat do you think is going to happen? To people, I mean. Will future children born from survivors be immune to Hydra if they are?"
"I don't know. It's possible that any immune survivors will have formed sufficient antibodies that might be passed down to their offspring. There's no guarantee that Hydra won't somehow mutate eventually, though. It is a virus, after all, and mutations are easy to achieve if they run across another virus and copy part of their RNA strand."
Caroline was silent a long while after that. She tried to imagine a world where she felt safe enough to have a child, or to trust a man to help her raise it. She glanced at Lincoln and then back to the road. She and Lincoln? Not likely. Yes, the man was fucking hot and kissed like out of some X-rated fantasy, but he didn't seem like he wanted to be a father. There was a shadow around him, a tragedy he didn't speak of that seemed to bleed over into his life. She wasn't sure she could ever banish whatever demon had created that shadow.
"What happened when you were at the airport?" Lincoln asked. "When you realized they weren't going to let you go?"
Caroline went white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she tried not to let the past create a fresh sense of doom within her.
"Only if you tell me something first."
"Shoot."
"Why don't you want to check on your parents?"
Lincoln growled. "Truth? My father was an abusive son of a bitch. I promised myself when I joined the army that he would never hit me again. If he did, I'd kill him. I have a feeling that if I went to visit and they were still aliveI'd end up doing what I promised."
"I'm sorry." Caroline wished now that she hadn't asked him anything about his family.
"Your turn. What happened at the airport?" he urged.
She drew in a deep breath and began to speak about the horror she had endured.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone