Allard

Something is wrong. Allard is sure of it as he wakes up. In fact, it is his first thought as he swims up to consciousness. Something is wrong.

I was bitten, he thinks after becoming sure of the wrongness of everything. I know I was. But this feels like a bed. He counts to twenty, ordering himself to open his eyes when he hits the end. But twenty comes and goes and he keeps counting, eyes still tightly shut. He has just gotten to two hundred and eighteen, still trying to convince himself that the afterlife can’t be as scary as others have made it sound when the sound of splashing water makes its way to his ears.

His eyes flick open with excitement. It seems like years since there was enough water to make those noises. The main town well is used daily to bring out water to purify everyone’s daily rations, but the shouting and crying always drown it out.

The splashing stops, a loud clunk replacing it. Allard looks around, his eyes quickly adjusting to the low light coming through the cracks around the shutters. Wait, he thinks with confusion, I know this place. But that means-

“Stop!” He shouts, throwing himself off of the bed he lays on in his haste to get to the door. However, something is tangled around him, and he lands on the floor with a bone-jarring thump. He can almost feel his teeth rattle in his head when his jaw smacks the ground. “Don’t drink that!”

He wiggles around, trying to free himself. His brain finally registers that it isn’t sheets wrapped around him. It is rope. He rolls onto his back and cranes his neck to look down at his body. Thick ropes are wrapped around his arms and legs, perfect knots holding them in place. Someone knocks on the door before opening it and letting in a slice of golden light.

“I don’t know if zombies can talk or not, but if I come in and you try to bite me I will clobber you,” a calm voice announces before the door swings the rest of the way open.

Allard blinks against the sudden illumination, instinctively trying to raise his hand over his eyes before realizing it is firmly caught. “Zombie?” He stumbles over the word, then connects with the rest of her sentence. “Biters? No biting, I promise! Just don’t untie me. I remember being bitten, and I could turn into one of them.”

The door shuts, but he can see her walk to the closest window and open it up. “It’s been about a week. In every movie I’ve watched it happens much quicker than that. But in case I’m wrong, or in case you are lying and you are a zombie, I am going to warn you that if you try and bite me while I move you up onto the bed again I will hit you and you won’t enjoy it.” She mutters something that sounds like ‘I hope’ and nudges him with the end of what looks like a freshly cut board before placing it to the side.

“I haven’t turned, I swear! They can’t talk, they’re dead even though they move around and try to eat people. You can leave me here-” His words cut off in a squeak as she lifts him with a grunt and places him on the edge of the bed before rolling him over. He watches her, his ears hot and his cheeks even hotter as she drops herself into a chair by the door with a sigh, her board leaning against her leg.

“I could have been more gentle with that, sorry,” she apologizes with an awkward smile. “You’re a bit taller than me, and these bones have gone too many miles and aren’t as strong as they used to be.”

Allard moves his lips to form an answer, but nothing comes out. She watches him patiently while he works through his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, you could have left me on the ground. I’m too big to be picked up by…by a…”

“An old woman?” She snorts, combing her fingers through short curls that he can’t quite make out the color of. “Maybe if you were healthier I would have had to leave you there. But you already looked like you were barely getting by when I dragged you in here after finding you, and you haven’t been easy to get fed in the week since then. Sorry to tell you, but you’ve likely lost quite a few pounds.”

Hearing that she had to drag him into the house cheered him up substantially, if only for a moment. “But how did you find me? I never made it to the village before that biter got me.”

“It was lucky for you, I guess. I was bringing a body out to bury when I found you. You begged me to kill you, don’t know if you remember that. But my instincts told me I could save you, so I dragged you back here.” She paused, shooting him a sheepish grin. “I banged your head getting you up on the bed that time. Sorry about that.”

Allard focuses on the pain he feels, but beyond the smarting chin, there isn’t anything noticeable. “I don’t feel it,” he says and tries to shrug but the ropes are too snug. “I don’t think I can complain seeing as you saved my life. I shouldn’t be alive. I don’t know why I didn’t turn, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

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The woman hums but doesn’t respond. They stare at each other in the cheerful light streaming into the room, Allard looking away first to gaze uncomfortably at the ceiling. “I need,” he starts, then presses his lips together for a moment before trying again, “I understand wanting me tied up, but I have to go.”

“Oh, I understand.” She stands up and walks to the edge of the bed. “Nobody came looking for you, but it makes sense if you have people waiting for you somewhere.” She leans her board against the bed frame and begins to undo the knots on the ropes around his legs.

“Not go go,” he says, his ears growing warm again. He curses his fair skin, knowing they are probably as bright red as possible. “I mean to go to relieve myself. To pee.”

The woman chuckles and moves on to the ropes holding his arms tight to his chest. “I see. Well, I’m going to undo this knot, then I’m going to leave before you get up. If I am wrong about you and you try to attack me, I can assure you that your head will be hurting a lot worse when you wake up again. Is that clear?”

Allard nods, then says 'yes' in case she doesn’t notice his nod. The rope is looped around his legs still, and he waits until she leaves through the front door before moving his body around to loosen the ropes enough that he can get up and pull them off completely. His bladder aches, and he knows he should go and look for the chamber pot, but he hesitates. His hands hang at his sides, fingers tapping out some secret rhythm against his thighs. Then, the fingers of his right hand wander over to his left arm and walk up to a hole in his sleeve.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Allard pushes his shirt sleeve up to his elbow quickly before he can convince himself not to look. He doesn’t pause to examine the strip of linen wrapped around and around his forearm. His fingers tug at it until an end comes loose and he unwinds it as quickly as he can, sucking air in through his teeth as soon as it falls free.

A neat semi-circle of teeth marks line the topside of his forearm, continuing onto the bottom with another grouping. He prods at the flesh around the edges of each tooth mark, but it is almost healed and all he feels is a faint pain. I should be one of them, he thinks as he picks at the edge of one of the scabs. How am I not?

Increasing pressure in his bladder reminds him of what he got up for, and he scrambles to find the chamber pot before he has an accident. Which brings more questions to his mind. He straightens his clothing, carefully dumps his bucket just outside the back door after checking nothing is standing right outside, and then heads back through the house and out the front. Where he immediately stumbles forward and knocks a small cup out of the woman’s hand as she lifts it from the well bucket to her lips.

“What in the world are you doing?” She exclaims, backing away from him and snatching her board from the side of the well. It isn’t raised toward him yet, and something in the hardness around her eyes makes him glad it isn’t.

Allard raises his hands and backs up quickly. “I’m sorry!” He exclaims, then calms his voice as well as he can. “You can’t drink that, the water is contaminated! You turn into a biter unless one of the mages purifies it for you!”

She studies him, and he is reminded of his mother whenever she would try and teach him sword techniques that were far beyond him. Her brown eyes stare into his as if she can see all of his thoughts and weaknesses. Allard does his best to look as nonthreatening as he knows that he is. “What’s your name?” She asks him without looking away.

“Allard.”

“Allard what?”

“I guess I am Allard of the Wood again. It was Allard of Spring Village, but…Spring Village is gone now.” His voice trails off as he looks around at the silent houses.

“Then I’m pleased to meet you, Allard of the Wood. I’m Momo Smith, but you can just call me Momo. Some call me Grandma, but having a man the same age as my daughter call me Grandma would make me feel older than I care to.” She bends over and picks her cup off the ground, then holds it against her front while eyeing him critically. “Allard, if you don’t mind me calling you that, I have a couple of skills. The same as most folks do, I am sure. Mine are little things, but one in particular I am going to use right now. If you knock my cup to the ground again, I am going to lay you out flat. I am thirsty. Do you understand me?”

Allard nods silently, straightening under her steely gaze.

“Good.” She balances the cup on the palm of her hand and shifts her stare to it. The air shimmers for a fraction of a second, so fast Allard is not sure if he saw the telltale sign of small magics. The cup sits on her palm, sparkling as though it is new. “I have some talent in cleaning things, but I don’t like to reclean the same thing I just cleaned a moment ago. It’s a waste of energy and my precious mana. I have a lot of things to do still today, and I need my energy.”

She looks at him closely after scooping some more water out of the bucket, and when he doesn’t make a move to knock it from her hands again she nods and drinks the whole thing in one go. Allard tenses, his fingers itching to stop her, but he is not ashamed to admit that the older woman is a little scary. Her hair, dark brown with liberal amounts of grey sprinkled through it, springs forward when she straightens her head again.

“You should drink some too,” she says, scooping out more and holding the cup out to him. “I can tell you have some fear connected to this, but we have both been drinking it for the last five days since I figured out I could clean the water too. Neither of us has bitten the other so I think we are fine.”

The water sparkles inside the metal cup, sloshing against the sides as his shaking hands take it from her. He looks at the shining surface, then down to his sloppily rebandaged forearm, then back at the strange woman waiting for the cup to come back.

“Go on. If you need more I can pull some more up, though I would recommend you take it slowly since your stomach hasn’t had much since I found you.” She smiles at him, then turns toward the Village Chief's house and carries the bucket away.

Allard looks down into the cup again, takes a deep breath, then takes a sip.