Tooth and Nail (Draft In Progress - Book One)

Chapter 14 - Its The Little Things

The trees were still green, and the grass was still emerald where it wasn't painted by casualties of Zarth. The sun was still warm and soft and water in sidewalk puddles was still clear. But the air was stale. No amount of Febreez or flowers could have sucked the smell of disease out of that air. It wasn't foggy or cloudy or misty or hazy or thick or dry, just so so still, as if the wind had given up on blowing now that so few were left to have their hair blown back by its gentle waves. Allen led the group with Jezebel's father's shotgun. He walked like a soldier. Drew followed Allen, making it a little too obvious how desperately he was trying to be just as formal and strong. Avery and Tamerlyn linked arms behind the boys, following them up the slight hill to the corner of her block and the higher traffic street. Jezebel was in the back, paying close attention to every surrounding. She did, after all, have the best vision of the group, being the only one without glasses or contacts.

The lane was quiet and empty. No cats running across the road, no birds singing. The homes Jezebel had become so used to seemed foreign. Where were the bees she knew stayed huddled around the Welsh's rose garden? Where was the soft ticking sound of the Johannes' backyard pond pump? No squeaks from the Carl's porch swing? Allen strutted up to the corner and raised his hand in a fist. Everyone knew to stop, and once realizing what their feet had done, smiled at the silliness of moving like an army squadron. It was almost like a game, and they were young adventurers rolling dice and drawing cards for every move. As a unit, they again began moving forward through the maze of houses and abandoned cars until they reached the top of the hill at the intersection of the two main roads and the amenity center. It looked like World War III had happened all in this one square of cement and asphalt. They did not speak. They dare not breathe too loudly or too roughly. They didn't even think other than inhale, step left, exhale, step right. Each took careful and calculated strides through the chaotically silent scene.

Jezebel could hear every single one of those slain ones' thoughts much louder than she could handle, and they were saying nothing. Shouting, shouting, shouting nothing.

They crossed Kennemer, the road that Teed-in to the other main road, and continued towards Canterwood with the hopes of finding it empty and still livable. Avery didn't know how the new residents had treated her dear home in her absence, but she knew every way in and out and still had a key. She felt it in her jeans pocket, a cold metal shape against her sweating skin. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could have sworn it started to burn, and she could feel every little crook and notch and ridge on the shaft. She could feel the holes in the head and the sharp corners of the shoulders. If she had been a poet, or at least a Lord of the Rings fan, she could have even said that her key knew it was going home, and had even reminded her to pack it before her visit to Texas that summer.

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Eucalyptis and cinnamon cookies. We woke up to the marvelous smell of flowers and fresh baked spicy sweet cookies on the floor of the post office. A woman was standing behind the counter in a graying apron holding a bowl of the wonderful scented discs, and it took only a moment of consciousness to realize there were more things to smell in the room. Pancakes, fruit. The city had made the circulation desk into a buffet.

We stepped out into the light of the day and onto Ranch Road 187. The sun was rising across the narrow street behind the short tin and stone building of Mazurek Service and Repair. Shining, brilliant pink. I didn't squint. To my right, the north, I could see straight down the lane past the insurance office, a realtor's, and senior citizen's center that looked as if it had no wear on it, despite the town's population. To the south, the Shamrock we'd pulled into the previous night, a First State Bank, and an abandoned car wash station. Under the sunrise light, the road was pearly and soft. The bushy trees and abundant leaves seemed to glow, and the street lamps that hadn't yet cut off gave those already milling around on the street a heavenly haloed look. I could see a green sign for a library, but God knows what's to read in a town like this. How many copies of the Bible? How many rows and rows of children's books and classic novels? I probably wouldn't find any Rick Riordan, but I would go anyway.