Tooth and Nail (Draft In Progress - Book One)

Chapter 12 - A River Runs Through It

Another day in paradise.

Looking to his left, Jameson sees Andy, still sound asleep, cocooned by the blankets that had been the pallet on the floor last night. Light broke through the cheap white tin blinds of the class room in beams, casting shadows and illuminating brown plastic-fiberfill desks with gold circles. A whiteboard on the wall has been almost entirely covered by words that he put there, creating an enormous collage of song lyrics, the way he used to on notebook paper, back before the Catastrophe rendered his word art superfluous and wasteful.

Another day in artless paradise.

He rolled away from Andy only to find that his arm was stuck beneath the boy's head as a pillow. He smiled, and rolled back into the shared space. With his free hand, he tickled Andy's side, making his companion curl into a ball, and moving his head off of Jameson's arm. Jameson sat up, stretched his arms now free above his head, cracked his neck by tilting it side to side, and popped each knuckle individually. He knew it was bad for him, but so what? The world was ending, it didn't matter.

Another day in decaying paradise.

Jameson stood up and took a moment to stiffen his legs, a still warmup of the major muscles. He heard his knees click when they locked and unlocked. The tennis shoes he wore were soft and well-worn. They couldn't hold their shape if it weren't for his feet inside them. Short brown hairs flopped in front of his face and eyes. He could feel the rest of his hair sticking up in haphazard flips and chunks. The mirror on the wall confirmed his appearance. Disheveled. Homeless. Hopeless.

Another day in messy paradise.

His hoodie hung loosely off his shoulders. It had been stretched out during the night, he had forgotten to take it off before laying down with Andy to do anything but sleep. And they had done pretty much everything but. It had been one of their best nights. In the few it had been since Andy arrived at Hutto Elementary on the Red River Island. On the south and east sides, the school was divided from the rest of Hutto by a Fritz Creek. On the north side, the former Highway 136, now a bloody stretch of road littered with bodies and torn plastic bags, a gruesome graveyard. To the west was a heavily guarded sidewalk hiking trail from Fritz. A highly strategic and successful triangle of doom and gloom in a small Texas town on the side of Route 79. This building was once crawling with kids who should have appreciated their surroundings a little more. They should have loved this space a little more. They should have played a little harder in the baseball fields outback their elementary school, and said thank you to their teachers who cared so much for them. And now it's too late to go back and give those old ladies the apples they saw in the aisles at HEB down the road, or in Mayor Debby's garden. Now their beloved Hutto Elementary was the kingdom of the Red River Gang.

Another day in regretful paradise.

It was Jameson's home, and Andy's. But it was Cornwallis's castle - they were merely residents in his palace of dusty books. Jameson walked from the room - Miss Hayes' room - and into the hall. His shoes didn't squeak as he walked on the linoleum floor, he could barely hear his footsteps echo off the walls painted white and orange, Hutto Nation colors. If the walls had words to share, they would look shamefully on Jameson, walking alone to breakfast. They would scold him for his immaturity, for his inappropriate actions the previous night. He would shrug, and remind those judgmental walls that he did love Andy, and if anything, he deserved a night off from guarding the sidewalk. No one had come near the Red Zone in days. No Walker nor human would venture near the northeast corner of the park, none would pass the pavilion. They would stand at that outer marker, looking hungrily towards the school and the loyal boys walking the line between their little world and the great big one outside their territory.

Another day in war-torn paradise.

His stomach turned. He knew it was still early in the morning, the lights in the hall hadn't come on yet, and the other doors on the third grade hall remained closed, each housing another guard boy. No one was awake yet to see he had skipped duty to play with Andy. He turned onto the main hall and walked towards the cafeteria. He could feel Cornwallis's whip hitting his back again and again, punishment for leaving the doors unprotected. He would have to answer for his actions - but only if he got caught. He opened the doors to the cafeteria quietly and shut them slowly behind him to limit the echo that would bounce down the hall toward the office where Cornwallis slept comfortably on a library couch piled high with pillows from various classrooms, gym mats, and beanbags from the counselor's office, a proper blanket fort. Jameson snorted, loudly, at the thought of Cornwallis in his bed like a king when he was no more than a soldier, a general. He crossed the cafeteria to the backdoor and let himself out into the early morning, the first rays of light coming through the trees and speckling the ground like fairy dust. It was magical, it was sadistic.