Infected

Nothing More, Nothing Less

~Nicole

"You want me, to touch that." I repeated for probably the fourth time, dumbstruck.

Sage gave me a flat look as she rose from the small seat in front of the cow, placing a hand on its broad side.

"I think I answered that already, Nicole." Her tone was blank. "Come here, would you? The cow isn't going to bite you, I promise."

I came to stand by her side hesitantly, but I did not touch those pink... things, that hung underneath the cow like saggy pink tears. It had been fun to pet the cow, but in no way did I want to pet those. Didn't cows use the bathroom out of those? Did their milk and their excretions come out of the same hole?

I gagged at the thought.

I nudged the bucket underneath with the toe of my boot. It was fairly clean, and thankfully didn't tip over.

"Sweet baby Jesus," She sighed exasperatedly, scrubbing her hands over her face. "Come here."

She snagged my arm before I could get away, her fingers sliding down my skin until they reached my own. With her hand curled around mine, she lowered it to the cow's udders, closing it around the warm flesh. I squealed in surprise at the rough yet soft feel of it, earning a short moo from the cow herself. 

"Relax a bit, you'll startle the cow," Using her other hand, Sage pushed me down onto the seat, keeping the other in place just in case I bolted. "Now, extend your thumb like this. You're going to want to clamp it gently but firmly between your thumb and your index finger so the milk doesn't flow back in."

I seemed to freeze up as her fingers weaved in and out of mine to correct their position, no longer focused on the cow but on her touch. 

She was leaned over my shoulder as she worked, her hair brushing against my cheek. It felt velvety soft, and smelled faintly of some kind of ocean shampoo but more so of the outside breeze. Her hands felt rough against mine, but not as much as a man's would be. 

She's pretty, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

"There, was that so hard?" Pulling back, she smirked triumphantly as she gestured to both my hands, which were on the pink tears of the cow.

I stared at my own hands as if they were foreign objects, wide eyed, the moment forgotten. "W-what do I do now? What's going to happen?"

She shook her head. "That'll do, kid, that'll do. Since you seem like you'll actually faint if you see actual milk come out of those, so I'll come back later and milk them. I'll show you the chickens later as well, seeing as they don't require much attention at the moment. Follow me, I want to see how you are at archery. Maybe you'll be a natural and I won't have to work too hard on that aspect."

I got up from the stool and stumbled over a clump of hay before following, hoping she hadn't noticed my display of uncoordination. She lead me through the stalls of animals to a door that released out into the fields. Just before going out of it, she reached onto the back of one of the support beams of the barn, pulling off a bow from a nail.

It wasn't the same bow that she'd had when we'd first met; this one was a lot simpler, and looked like a regular bow made of faded but sturdy red wood. The one she'd been carrying then looked as if it had been infused with alien technology.

A cool breeze ruffled hair, cooling the sweat that was already collecting on my neck.

There were four targets posted onto small pads that were attached to wooden posts, multiple arrows sticking out of all of them. All of the arrows were stuck in either the center of each bulls eye, or extremely close to it.

My eyebrows furrowed in thought.

This woman had to be ex military or something. Maybe an assassin. 

I stood a reasonable distance away as she collected the arrows, yanking them out of the cushioned pads. 

"Do you know how to properly shoot this?" She asked upon returning, at least ten arrows grasped in her right hand.

I shook my head. 

"Watch me, then." 

Stopping a little further back than I was, she turned her body to the side before turning her head to face the targets. With her left hand she grasped the black grip on the bow, raising the arrow to sit it on the string.

"This is the correct stance. At the bottom of the arrow is a notch that you use to secure it onto the string. Don't rest both your fingers on it or you'll damage the bottom. When you pull back, make sure your fingers are aligned with your temples, obviously not touching."

Pulling the string taunt, she modeled the position and tweaked her aim momentarily before letting the arrow fly. There was a strange sound as the weapon cut through the air before puncturing the red spot of the bulls eye on the second target.

I gaped. "Wow."

"Your turn."

Moments later I struggled to mimic her position, the strength in my arm nearly giving out from how hard I had to pull the string to get it back. Annoyance swept into me as the arrow kept slipping; when I finally got it notched correctly, my strength gave out in the next second and I sent the arrow flying.

I stooped over and let my arms hang limp, not bothering to see where the arrow went; it had probably missed completely anyway.

"That's good for a first timer," Sage's voice, previously stoic, was twinged with surprise. I looked up to see that the arrow's head had pierced the cushion on the yellow ring just outside the bulls eye. "Shoot another, let's dispel if this is just beginner's luck."

Feeling my heart pound a little harder in my chest, I did the same thing, replanting my feet on the ground. The arrow soared and landed on the other side of the yellow ring, farther out but just on the edge.

She whistled. "You know, I was just joking when I said hopefully you'd be a natural, kid. That's impressive for a first timer. You just need to build up some upper arm strength to hold the string longer, revise your aim a bit, and then you'll be good to go with the archery. I'll test you later on moving targets."

I nodded, grinning a little at her approval, even if she didn't show it much. 

"Put that over your shoulder, across your chest and pick up some arrows. I'm going to show you how to tend to the fence, follow me."

We cut through the corn fields, and I didn't understand how she could navigate her way through the tall stalks that looked all the same. I was only 5"2, and she was at least two heads taller than me, but from what I could tell she still couldn't see over their height. Either way, I couldn't help the nervous glances I took every couple of seconds; corn fields were where the dumb people in those cheesy horror movies got caught, and I didn't want to be one of them.

After what seemed like hours but was probably significantly less, we emerged from the fields and less than a yard away, the fence began. 

It was about a foot taller than me, made of four levels of wood planks that were separated by a wood post every couple of feet. Stretched across the whole thing were two layers of wired fence, one on the inside and one on the outside. A rather large tool box sat beside it, closed.

"Down there," She pointed in the direction of the fence leading away from the house, "I've started putting barbed wire on the top to prevent anyone from climbing over. We don't just have the undead to worry about. I'm going to show you how to install it, make sure you know how to do so without cutting off your own paws, then leave you to it. You'll be given a certain amount to finish each day, got it?"

I nodded, internally groaning. I sucked at being handy; no doubt, I would make a mess of this.