Vial #127

Chapter 38: Vain Intentions

I drive along a river heading north. Aiden has been gone less than a full day, so we can find him. He couldn't have gotten far. Less than twenty miles, a fairly large sized stretch of line to track but then again, I'm no tracker.

I pull over on the side of the road, locking the military truck, taking the keys and handing out weapons to all. Will stays back with Sadie; someone needs to look after the truck and Will.

I make Jamie come, not letting him stay with the infected. In the back of the truck, I find a first aid kit and let Sadie look through it. Once they're set, we head out.

There's a thick forest bordering the mountains. I know that's where Aiden would go for cover; for food, maybe even a small stream. "Come on," I call to Jackson who is hesitating at the tree line. He's looking back one more time before coming on.

I look at the forest floor, scanning for footprints, any kind of sign that Aiden was here. We go on with no luck, the path is empty, scattered with fallen leaves or thick mud. We come to a tiny river, winding its way through the middle of the forest. Heavy rocks frame the sides, and then gradually grow smaller into the floor of the flow.

I step in, the water going just barely above my feet, soaking my socks with an uncomfortable, sickly slime. Once I ensure everyone has crossed, I start to tread back through the trees.

"Emma wait," Jamie is bent over a rock, "there's blood and it looks still wet." I rush over. On the stone is a splatter of blood but in the puddle is already a faint brush where someone else has touched the blood. Aiden is hurt, and someone is tracking him.

"We need to keep going." I sense terror in the air. Where ever he is, he is alone and scared.

"I'm sure that your friend is perfectly fine," I spin around at the unfamiliar voice of a middle- aged man. I freeze. "The name's Jeb." I look to the others who come beside me, "Come on, what's your name? If you tell it to me, I can help you find who you are looking for."

I nod my head but Jackson quickly spins me into a huddle, "are you kidding, he could be the one chasing Aiden. We just met him. He's unreliable, untrustworthy and don't' you remember what happened when we trusted Bill?" he reminds us and I shiver.

"What other choice have we got," I point out, knowing that this man could be our only hope.

Jackson's tone is worried, desperate to change my mind but knowing how stubborn I can get, "If he tries anything, at all..."

"...we'll be ready to take him down," I turn my attention back to Jeb, "fine, I'm Emma, lead the way, tracker."

Jeb smiles and then looks at the blood. He searches the ground, crouching down and blowing the leaves aside, revealing a set of footprints. "Now here is the track." He gets up, eyeing the ground for more prints but every now and then peering upwards to check for biters.

Jeb has a bushy grey beard and faint wrinkles framing his eyes and forehead. He's wearing an RCMP hat on his head and worn hunting boots on his feet. "Were you a Mountie?" I ask, hoping that the hat tells something about him and that he has the extensive experience.

"Me?" his face is in disbelief, "No, not me. Mooched it off of a dead biter," he laughs to himself and I go silent, not trusting him again. I eye his every move, each one seeming suspicious and yet I know I'm being sensitive.

"Then what were you?" I continue to question Jeb as he pulls a bandana over his face.

"A motorcycle mechanic, not really employed, just a home business, sometimes with my bro," this man couldn't have any real tracking experience.

"Where's your brother now? Is he dead?" I ask the words in a blunt manner, as I continue the interrogation.

"No, not at all, got split up three days ago. Buck is still alive; I know it. He's ten years younger than me, and he's a cop. He's strong enough to survive this." I get the feeling that this is a sensitive topic and I back off. "What about you, do ya have a camp or something?"

"We did, but we escaped, that old warehouse down the highway? It's a nut house," Jackson makes a point of not saying what our current plans are.

"Well, we've just been on the run, going place to place, getting by," Jeb shares. There's a slight hesitation in his story, hinting at a lie, "abandoned camps, picking up leftover supplies. Do you think we could join you?" he asks finally.

"I'd have to talk to everyone, we have a vehicle on the road with two in it but first we have some questions."

"Ask 'em, I'm up for it," he seems up for a challenge but he doesn't know the questions and how tough they'll be, how they'll pretty much just tell us who he is straight up, no lies.

"Like I said, I still need to talk to the others," I keep my tone neutral. If he's raided so call abandoned camps, then he isn't safe. Maybe he's killed innocent people. Has everyone in this world gone bad? Are there no good people except for our group?

"The track has changed," he points out how the steady footprints turn to a ragged dragging. Jeb goes onto one knee, dipping two fingers into the mud, "It's recent," he says, "come on."

He breaks into a sprint and we follow after him. Branches that flow downwards, nip at my face, occasionally marking the flesh with a fine scratch.

"What the hell?" Jeb speaks aloud, abruptly stopping, causing the rest of us to go crashing into the front person like dominos.

"Jeb, what is it?" I can't see through his frame and the thick bushes around us. It's like a tornado of leaves and thorns.

"You ain't gonna like this," he allows me to follow right behind him, cutting away at the bushes until we come to an opening. A thick branch hangs downwards, a light rope around it is connected to the pale, barely moving body of Aiden.