When All is Lost

Chapter 33

I never wanted to move a dead body again. Ray had tried moving them on his own so I could be on lookout, but deadweight had taken on a literal meaning. The two of us had to work together to get the bodies outside and placed in noticeable positions.

It reminded me of playing with dolls, propping them up in odd positions where rigor mortis would hold them for a while. It was grotesque – abhorrent – and yet, I felt nothing but determination.

I'd already used Paula. Using the strangers' bodies was easy in comparison. What concerned me wasn't that we were using the dead poorly, it was whether or not it was enough.

As though reading my mind, Ray asked, "Think this will work?"

We'd moved the last of the three bodies to the front yard and propped the figure up against the house in a semi-sitting position. The body could have been mistaken for a resting man – had half of his head not been dented in.

"Don't know," I said with a sigh, wiping sweat from my forehead. "But if it's not, anyone who tries anything can end up here too."

Ray's expression matched mine as his eyes glared out onto the empty street. We were both at our limit, already covered in the blood that the bodies had leaked as we'd carried them.

An icy breeze tickled the hairs on the back of my neck, making me miss my scarf as a shiver ran through my sore limbs. All I wanted was to experience warmth from the fire that was so brutally earned.

Earned too late.

I knew we'd never go without a fire again. No one else would die so needlessly.

"There are stones." Ray had moved to stand next me to and I'd been so deep in thought that I hadn't even seen noticed.

Some lookout I make.

"What?" I had no idea what he was referring to, but my gaze followed to where he pointed down the road. There was a house with a short stone fence lining its front yard. "The fence?"

"Yeah. For Paula."

It took me a moment to understand what Ray was referring to, but then it clicked. We couldn't bury Paula – not with the snow and the frozen earth underneath. But, we could entomb her.

I could almost see the ideas dancing behind Ray's eyes, thinking of a way to cast a little beauty where it was most needed. Putting Paula to rest with some dignity and grace was the least we could do.

And Carlos will need it.

I could only pray he wouldn't break down. We all had to find our own reasons to go on. Carlos would have to find his.

---

It wasn't a night of breakdowns or mourning. It wasn't even a night of relief or revelations. Rather, it was a night of cleaning.

After going inside, I didn't rest by the fire. I took the first bucket of melted snow and used it to scrub up the blood in the house until my knuckles ached and my fingers had gone numb.

But that was only the start.

No one could rest. No one wanted to rest. We cleaned the dusty bones of the abandoned home until it no longer felt as though the ghosts of its former owners still haunted its halls.

Once we had enough water, we cleaned ourselves of all the built-up grime and filth that clung to our bodies and hair and that had embedded itself deep under our fingernails. We washed and brushed and examined our cuts and bruises. We finally got to poke and prod at our discolored toes and dry, cracked skin.

The windows in the dining room had to be cracked as we washed and hung up the worst of our filthy, damp clothing, causing the smell of mildew to permeate the air. The owners of the house had left some clothing behind for us to change into, but we kept warm wrapped in blankets by the fire.