Two Alive, стр. 8

They looked out the windows of the treehouse three times each and watched for any movement out in the distance. They made sure to look for anything or anyone that might be wandering through the woods, but most people still out after dark without a good enough shelter didn’t make it through the night. The boys saw it time and time again where people would make camp in the woods and by the next day they’d be gone. They’d either be killed off or fled the campsite and whatever was left, the old man would take Miles and Antonio to scavenge. The infected never lingered in one place for long, especially if they were idle, so by morning they’d usually clear out with nothing to do.

Miles’ checked his perch for a third time then the two brothers went to pull up the heavy boulder to the top of the tree, this time both of them wearing thick construction gloves. They used the shuttle to lower themselves to the ground, notch by notch with the lift’s rope. They jumped out the lift then pulled it back up, holding the rope taut as they anchored it and lassoed the line around the tree trunk. They covered the cable with mud and dirt to hide it.

Miles knelt in the small grass under the tree, pulled a rosary from under his shirt and closed his eyes as he started a soft prayer. Antonio sighed and after enough time standing alone and feeling awkward, he took a knee; kneeling beside Miles as he often did. It was something the old man had them do, every time before they left the hideaway. But since he’d been gone, they now only did it out of ritual and repetition. Miles never really prayed in the conventional way but each time he felt the need to say something to try and mimic what the old man would say. It was just random statements asking about what they needed to find or asking for protection.

“God. Watch over us. Umm… cuz we need food. So we need to find some food,” Miles whispered and chattered incoherently in the quiet of the morning woods. The only sounds besides Miles’ soft voice was the rolling wind that was sweeping up leaves around the two brothers. “And we have to do laundry later when we come back. Also the sun came up and we still breathing so that’s good.” Miles paused and started to rock, “And we want to stay alive for the rest of the day. Help us through one more day.”

Antonio repeated the last line to himself. It was something the old man said often to end his prayers. He usually led the prayer and he would do a lot better than Miles. But that didn’t stop the boy from trying to say something. Antonio never felt the need to say anything. But he seemed to repeat the old man’s line when Miles finished. The two brothers stood up and Miles brushed off his knees before putting the brown rosary necklace back inside his shirt.

“Aite, let’s get outta here.” Antonio started walking away from the tree with a pep in his step.

Miles followed soon after, feeling the weight of his pack and tightened his straps. Then he pulled out his phone, looked at the cracked black screen and put it back in his pocket. A short walk later and the two boys dug up their bikes that they buried under leaves, tucked behind bushes. After the brothers cleared them off, Miles took the mountain bike and Antonio took the cruiser. They both hopped on and started to pedal and Miles went in front to take the lead.

The woods were still, they usually were in the early morning. Lurkers and normal people never came out when the brothers started their day. The sun had barely reached the full of the forest and some areas still had fog lingering. It was an eerie quiet that might have bothered the average person, but Miles actually enjoyed these quiet mornings, whereas Antonio was hitting a wheelie and making car noises as he zipped back and forth. They made their way up a hill and over some rocks before coming on a river hidden in a glade.

Miles took a plastic water bottle from the small pouch on his backpack and filled the container in the rushing stream. Antonio did the same, drinking from his bottle twice when he filled it halfway. He was laughing and carelessly spilling all over the place. Water wasn’t as much a necessity as food, with this small brook that the old man found when they stumbled onto the tree house. The biggest issue was having to keep the waterway hidden from travelers. The last people to come around this way, got their water and moved on. But two times before, the old man had to run people off who were trying to hoard the canal. It was ironic really. The old man didn’t want people trying to keep the river to themselves, but that was exactly what he had been doing. Miles took a sip from his bottle and the brothers went back to their bikes, starting on their way again.

They rode their bikes for five miles and then hid them under a mound of leaves behind a fallen street sign. While looking over the map they had, a few lurkers started to creep out into the street. Antonio went to meet them, eager to start his count for the day. He pulled his knife free from his waistband, and lifted the bandana around his mouth and nose. One stab and then another took out two freaks with small effort. A simple knife to the temple or enough blunt force trauma to the brain could take out a stalled lurker easy enough. But the brothers made it look easy from years of practice. Antonio was calling