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Danika looked back over her shoulder. She hoped to catch a last glimpse of Ozzy, but he remained hidden behind the fence. Disappointed, she turned forward, gripping Snowflake's reins more tightly in her hand. The sharp scent of pine filled her nostrils as her horse's hooves crunched on the needle-littered dirt road. Even in September, the Sierra Nevada mountains were hot, dry, and prone to wildfires.
“Don't think I don't know what the two of you have been getting up to,” Hank said, speaking for the first time since leaving the compound. “Can't say I'm surprised by my son, but I'm disappointed in you, Danika. I'd always thought you'd choose a better man. Luckily for you, it's not too late.”
She scoffed, not wanting to discuss the topic further. She'd learned early in life that men's motivations were not always moral or even rational. In the six months since sickness took Mary's life, Danika had noticed Hank's gaze linger longer on her body than it should. The first time she'd noticed, it made her skin crawl so badly she'd had to excuse herself from the dinner table to wash her hands. There was a hard ride ahead, and they both needed to focus. But she couldn't shake her disgust as the heat of the sun glared down on her back.
At dusk, they made camp by a mountain stream. Danika filtered water with a charcoal pump while Hank started a fire. She prepared a meal of venison jerky and fried potatoes and sat across from him in the cooling air. She rested her bare feet by the flames and ripped a piece of jerky with her teeth. When she looked over at Hank in the growing darkness, his eyes swept up her legs and lingered on her chest. She glanced down, noticing a button on her shirt had come undone.
Trying to brush it off, she said, “I'm going to get some sleep. Wake me for the second watch.” She then climbed into her bedroll.
“Good night,” Hank replied.
Hank woke her in the middle of the night to take watch. For the remainder of the night, she sat with her crossbow on her lap, feeding the fire and waiting for sunrise. The sound of crickets chirping by the creek and the hooting of night owls mingled with the whistle of wind blowing down from the granite peaks surrounding them.
At dawn, she heated the kettle for peppermint tea, then nudged Hank's shoulder to wake him for the day. After a breakfast of corn hash, they put out the fire, saddled the horses, and started back down the road.
It was a fifty-mile trek to the nearest settlement. But each time she traveled this road, all she could think about was her mother's last moments. The memories were so vague and jumbled, Danika would never be sure what was real and what was her fevered ten-year-old imagination.
She and her mother had never been tethered to a settlement. As long as she could remember, the two of them traveled freely, taking shelter in abandoned houses, avoiding groups of men, and living off the land.
The day they'd been taken off guard by a swarm of undead, her mother had fallen asleep beside a creek much like the one they'd left that morning. Danika had been dangling her growing feet in the cool water. Her mother had promised to find her a new pair of shoes as soon as they made it to the next town. But that never happened.
Danika tried to shove the memory aside. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't erase the picture of her mother's eyes when she was bitten for the first time. There was a look on her face that Danika read as relief. Had she seen a smile? Heard a sigh of happiness? Had the undead moaned with pleasure when they'd taken her? What had her mother become when she’d turned?
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Danika shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed, attempting to suppress the memory. Her mother was an enigma. Nothing about the woman made sense. At least that's what Hank and Mary had told her. What kind of woman travels a zombie infested land alone with a young daughter?
She didn't have an answer for that question. And she couldn't suppress the memory of her mother rising above the horde, lifted by their hands, as if they worshipped her.
She'd never told the Chambers those memories, but she did ask Mary if people could remember things that weren't real. Mary told her that false memories were common, especially among children. Danika had decided that's all it was. She'd made it all up in her mind. She wanted to believe the zombies hadn't eaten her mother but loved her as much as she did.
It was ludicrous, but understandable for a child to concoct an imaginary reality to protect herself from the truth. Her mother was dead or turned. She was never coming back, and Danika had learned to live her life without her. Wind blew across the dry dirt road, kicking up dust. It made it hard to see or breathe in the morning haze. She pulled her red bandanna over her nose and mouth, squinting her eyes to protect them from grit.
The pale brown dirt swirled, and rocks crunched under Snowflake's hooves. The morning sun was still low in the eastern sky, just peeking out over the gray mountains. Soon, the snow would cover the rugged landscape. Everything was harder in winter. Obtaining a new solar battery was critical to their survival. If they returned empty handed, she wasn't sure they would make it another year outside a settlement.
The air cleared as they approached a wide vista that overlooked an expansive view of a pine-covered valley. Snowflake whinnied, sidestepping toward the cliff.
“Whoa,” she said, reigning in her spooked horse. “What's wrong, girl?”
Blackjack pranced forward, and Danika heard the tell-tell sound of a rattle. Coiled in the morning sun, she spotted a massive gray rattlesnake, ready to strike. Gasping, she leaned into Snowflake's sidestep, bringing her precariously close to the drop off. The snake struck, barely missing Snowflake's ankle.
Danika swore and drew her crossbow. With the bolt already loaded, she removed the safety, aimed, and shot. Snowflake’s hoof slid over the cliff as the horse screamed in panic. Hank whirled on Blackjack. Snowflake stumbled, gravity pulling them down. Hank charged forward, grabbing her horse's reigns. He yanked it out of her hands and tied it to his saddle. Her life flashed before her eyes as she felt her horse's back legs slipping out from under her. Hank jabbed his heels into Blackjack's flanks, forcing the horse to pull the stumbling mare back onto the road.
The reigns strained the bit between her horse's teeth. Snowflake screamed, her hooves scraping for purchase. In a moment of pure desperation, Danika threw herself to the ground. Without her added weight, her horse was able to scramble back onto the road.
Danika laid panting in the dusty morning light. She looked to her side, finding the rattlesnake shot through with her bolt. Her crossbow lay beside her on the ground. Hank looked down at her from horseback. His dark eyes penetrating, his mouth hard.
“Anything broken?” he asked, dismounting to check her horse.
“I'm good,” she grunted, rising gingerly on her wobbly feet.
“Horse bit her tongue. She's bleeding but should be alright.”
She limped over to Snowflake and brushed her gritty hand over the horse's sweaty neck. Her hip ached and her palms were bleeding, but she knew she'd be alright.
“Grab that rattler,” he said, continuing to check her horse for wounds. “Looks like we'll be having fresh meat for lunch.”
Danika's lips curved into a smile, and laughter bubbled up in her chest. She couldn't hold it back as she reached down to pick up the snake in question. Hoisting it into the air, she let its full length unfurl beside her. The horses huffed in fear, but Hank had them both under control.
“It's almost as tall as you,” he said, joining in her laughter.
She drew her hunting knife and cut off the creature's head before tossing it to the side of the road. “Should be good eating.”
They road another ten miles before stopping for lunch at midday. Hank started a fire and she skinned and roasted the snake. As she cut the first slice of white meat from the long body of the rattler, she heard a rifle cock behind her.