“I am not sure that’s a good idea either.” Finlay voiced his opinion in a significantly less hostile tone and with an apologeticsmile cast in my direction. “Sorry, lass, not until we know ye a bit better.”
“It would be unfair to take her out unarmed. Or to expect her to defend herself with only a knife,” Einar pointed out reasonably while looming close enough to emphasise the diminutiveness of my stature with the intimidating solidity of his own. “No offence, love, but you don’t strike me as particularly equipped for close combat.”
I shrugged with a grimace, indicating plainly that none was taken.
“But if we give you a bow, you will be able to defend all of us, won’t you?”
“Unless she decides to shoot us all instead ...”
“Why would she? She has nothing to gain by doing that. Well, what do you say, darling, can I trust you to behave yourself?”
A slight change in Einar’s posture brought his face imperceptibly closer to mine, as if he had just started leaning in for a kiss.
Despite the glacial quality of his eyes, something blazed in them like a furnace.
Brave darling ...
“Yes,please.” The corners of my mouth twitched more with excitement than humour. “I’ll be very,verygood.”
We set off in the early afternoon. Jean-Luc drove, and Einar sat next to him in the front, while I was in the back seat with Albert, who reeked of cigarette smoke. He seemed as pleased about that particular arrangement as I was, looking sourly out the window on his side for the most part but occasionally casting displeased glances towards the bow and quiver perched next to my legs. The motor roared loudly to life, and the wheels screamed in proteston the gravel path. Not a word could be heard over the noise, and we were all silent until we rejoined an asphalt road.
The passage over the nearby mountains was uneventful. The stark rocky terrain was cut through with low-growing shrubbery, forming patterns vaguely reminiscent of blue cheese. We drove by a small lake, its surface impossibly azure and gleaming in the midday sun.
Then we descended into the neighbouring valley, and the scenery changed drastically. The surrounding nature became lush and green, lined with trees and grasses. But everywhere we looked, the idyll was marred by desolation. We passed a crashed car with its passengers’ rotting bodies scattered on the road around it. We quickly rolled up our windows, pieces of clothing pressed against our mouths, gagging. As we went on, we came across burnt-down houses, more corpses, more wrecked vehicles.
Like over waves, we sailed across the mountains, up and down, and soon we could see the coastline in the distance, the sea sparkling brilliantly in the sun. It got warmer in the cabin as we exited the higher regions, and I took my sweatshirt off, perspiration erupting underneath my arms and breasts.
We drove through a village overrun by cannibals. We saw them lurking between houses, trudging on dried-up begonias that had plummeted from windows above. A lifeless body of a teenage boy hung out of a window, his flannel shirt dark with blood. The nearest furies stirred when we passed them by, their tortured growling audible over the engine’s roar.
Right past the village, there was a crashed bus, which must have rolled over several times upon being catapulted from the road. Lying there on the scorched grass, it looked like an empty cigarette packet that had been crushed and discarded. There were corpses on the ground in its path, some intact and some broken apart by the impact. The couple of infected stalkingbetween them looked almost like corpses, too. One of them had a piece of metal stuck in his abdomen, and the other’s torn clothes were caked with dry blood. Their shoulders stooped, and they looked drunk, swaying on their feet as if about to pass out. They appeared sad to me, almost as if deep inside there was a part of their soul untouched by their contagious madness, imprisoned in a body that was no longer its own.
As our bizarre road trip through the Armageddon-like landscape continued, the jeep’s trunk kept filling up with tanks of petrol, cans and packets of food, clothes, medical supplies and hygiene products salvaged from petrol stations on the way.
We reached the l’Ostriconi campsite just as the sun began to set, but we didn’t even come to a full stop before two infected males came running towards us from between the wooden huts and greenery.
“Bonsoir mesdames et messieurs,” Jean-Luc grated and stomped on the gas pedal.
The engine roared angrily. We tore away from the spot and ran over the roamers, the vehicle jumping up and down violently, the wild movement accompanied by loud bangs and nasty crunching sounds.
“One way to do it, I suppose,” I muttered.
Jean-Luc parked the car without turning the engine off. We sat waiting, collectively holding our breaths. But no more infected came our way.
“There were definitely more before.”
“Good, I’m itching for some action.” Einar rubbed his hands together, and I snorted. “Jean-Luc, stay here and keep the motor running.”
The rest of us got out of the car. Olive trees and hawthorns beckoned us with their trembling leaves. The air was heavy withthe smell of burnt rubber and blood of the massacred bodies that lay on the road further away from us, but underneath all that there was a flowery fragrance and the dewy smell of wet dust. A finch sat on a branch nearby, singing its enchanting melody like the ringing of a small bell.
As we walked closer to the huts, we heard growling. I nocked an arrow and lengthened my step.
“Will you dance for me again, trouble?” Einar asked me quietly, and I turned around briefly to register the flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows.
He wore black hiking trousers and a fitted shirt of the same colour, its seams stretching attractively around his broad chest and shoulders. The contrast between his fair hair and the dark fabric was enough to make my heart skip a beat. A large hunting knife and an axe were fastened to his belt.
“Depends. What do I get out of it this time?” I quipped.
“If you two are quite finished, could we please concentrate?” Albert hissed from behind me.
