Allard

A cool breeze ruffles the curls dangling over Momo’s forehead. The hairs are more silver than black. Or maybe they’re dark brown. He can’t quite tell. Her eyes are clear, though. Warm and a deep brown and comforting like the soil around the plants she tends every day. They don’t look strong, per se, more they exude a steadiness as she gazes ahead toward the group of people in the distance. “I guess I’m not as scared as I should be since you’re here. I can think about things like apples even though I shouldn’t be. Are you going to try and grow apples this fall?”

She laughs, shaking her head as she glances back at him. “How about we don’t get eaten before then, and I’ll consider it?”

“I think I can take that deal.” Allard turns his attention outward and tries to guess the distance between the two groups heading toward town. The farthest is closer now, and the weird uneven gait tells him immediately that they are biters. They move as a group, their shape undulating across the barren earth beyond the village. He slowly moves his eyes forward, guessing the distance as he goes, until he lands on the group of survivors and gasps.

“What’s wrong?”

From the corner of his eye, he can see her hands tense, one moving toward her quiver again. “No, nothing, I think I know them?”

“Why does it sound like you’re asking me? Wouldn’t you be the one to know?”

“Yes, yes,” he chuckles, “I see someone I recognize. No, wait.” He squints and leans forward, drawing his belly over the roof peak. Momo lets go of the feathers at the end of the arrow she is fiddling with and rests her hand on the roof between them, ready to grab him if he goes too far. “That’s…that looks like almost every that made it to Yanniston with me. Everybody except Sam And Lasli.”

The wind shifts, blowing into their faces and bringing with it the smell of sweaty bodies and a faint aroma of decay. “Do you think they came looking for you?”

“No.” He shakes his head confidently, his jaw clenched so tight that his words barely scrape through. “There is no good reason for them to be coming back here. I can see Fauna’s two children being carried by her and her husband. They wouldn’t risk those kids for any reason. Something is wrong.”

Momo sighs and spins around to face the center of the village. “I think we better go help them.”

They make it off the roof in half the time it took to get up it. Allard rushes toward the space between his house and the next but stops when Momo rests her hand on his elbow. “Allard, I need you to help them to your house and lock all of you inside. No,” she pats his elbow and steps away, backing toward her front door. “Don’t argue with me. I’ll grab my water bucket and put it inside your door so they can all have some while you wait. Don’t let them drink too much or they will no doubt throw it right back up. Do you understand?”

“Momo, you can’t go take on a biter group that size-”

“If I can’t, I’ll run back here, don’t you worry. Now go help them, I’ll be right behind you.”

He frowns as she turns and jogs to her door, disappearing inside. The pause is only a moment, and then he takes off, running at full speed toward his friends before common sense kicks in and he slows down. I would never hear the end of it if I tripped and got eaten. He chuckles and steadies his breathing, legs pumping lightly beneath him.

More than one set of eyes widen as they see him, feet slowing in hesitation. Allard raises his hand partly in greeting, partly to show them he isn’t a biter. He reaches the group and pulls Fauna’s daughter from her arms, hugging the little body to his chest while he helps support her mother. “Keep going, everyone. You’re almost there. Don’t try to run, keep moving and we’ll all get there in plenty of time.”

Fauna whispers “Thank you” and Allard nods. Ahead, he can see Momo passing the corner of the fence surrounding his backyard. Her bow is held loosely at her side as she breaks into a jog, catching up to them easily.

“Momo-” He begins, but she cuts him off immediately.

“What did I say about worrying? I have a plan, but I need to get up to our perimeter before they get there.” She breezes past, each movement full of an easy grace. “I promise, I’ll meet you back at your house in a bit! Take care of them, Allard!”

Several faces turn to watch her. Allard readjusts the little girl in his arms, and projects as much confidence into his voice as he can. “Don’t worry about her, we’ll hold her back. Just a few more steps, don’t stop now.”

Allard hands Fauna her daughter back as they reach his backyard and rushes to the front. Peeking his head out around the front corner, he waits for a second to make sure nothing moves, then rushes to his door and waves everyone in. As soon as the last person is through he follows them in, closes the door, and locks it.

Normally, the room feels quite spacious. For a single man he doesn’t need much, and most of the floor sits empty and unused. Now, with twelve bodies not counting his own, it feels very crowded. Someone is crying softly, but it is too dark to see who. “Alright, the windows are barred and the doors are locked securely. I don’t want to light anything for us to be able to see better right now, I am sure you can understand why. I think the best thing to do right now is for everyone to sit. Preferably against a wall that doesn’t have a window. It doesn’t matter how many of them there are, they can’t get through these walls.”

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Nobody answers, but he can hear the quiet shuffling of feet. Soon, the shuffling stops, and beyond a few quiet groans as aching, weary bodies settle onto the floor, and the quiet sobs, it is quiet. Allard balls his fists at his side and leans against the door, counting to ten slowly. His feet want to take him outside to check on Momo, but if she isn’t fine there is nothing he can do, and if she is fine she will just smack him for coming out early. When he reaches ten, he takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

“I need everyone to listen to me carefully. This will be hard to believe, but you can trust me. Momo has been able to make some of our water safe to drink. We both drink it every day. I have a bucket here. I am going to bring it around to everyone and give you half a cup of water to drink. If you don’t feel comfortable drinking it right now I will understand and I will move on to the next person.”

He feels by the door until the cold metal of the bucket handle meets his seeking fingers. His cup balances on the lip of it. One sliding step at a time, so he doesn’t trip over anyone, he moves around the edge of the room, giving each person half a glass. Surprisingly, none of them turn it down. He doesn't bother to guess whether that is because they trust him or because they are beyond hope and willing to take the chance.

The ground trembles beneath his feet, and he throws a hand out toward the wall to keep from falling over. Someone whimpers. A young voice, one of Fauna and Peren’s kids most likely. Then again, he chides himself as he stands upright once more, sometimes I sound like a child when I’m scared too. He looks toward the back of the house and the sliver of light that outlines the back window. More than anything he wants to look out and make sure Momo is okay. But if she isn’t, I could be making an opening for a biter to get in. The only thing I can do to protect everyone is to keep the house locked up.

So useless.

The thought twists its way down to his guts, just as it always does when it pops into his head. But the idea of charging out the door waving a cooking pan sends a frigid river of fear through his veins.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, either to himself or to the others, he can’t be sure. “She’ll be back soon.”

Soon turns out to be a relative concept. Minutes pass, each second dragging out to seem like an hour. Allard shakes himself free from his fear and goes back to see if anyone wants to try some more water. There is only half of a bucket left in the house, and he knows he should ration it but if it needs to be rationed then that means Momo might not come back and the tiny amount of water currently purified won’t be able to save any of them. He hefts up the bucket and scoops his cup into it before taking a drink. Defying fate, believing in the tall aging woman with a plank of wood facing off against the group of drooling biters, it soothes his soul.

He is just making his way around the group a second time, making sure he hasn’t missed anyone when someone knocks on the front door.

“Allard,” Momo’s voice calls through the wood, exhaustion thick in each syllable. “I need help, right away.”

Allard dashes to the door, stumbling over someone’s legs then quickly righting himself and jumping forward. “Lock the door as soon as I’m out,” he calls, wrenching the lock back and yanking the door open just enough to slide through.

Momo stands an arm’s length away, her weight leaning heavily on her trusty board that has seen fewer bloody days. No sooner does he hear the door shut behind him than a towering form bursts out from the side of his house and plods straight toward Momo. She tries to raise her board, but her arms are shaking and she drops to a knee to steady herself.

Allard freezes, his eyes wide and his breaths short. The dead orc reaches its arms out, mouth open wide, and Allard feels his body moving even though he hasn’t told it to. He rushes forward, grabs the orc’s leather vest from behind, and twists, using his body weight to swing it around and away from Momo. The much larger body is yanked free thanks to its momentum and they both fall. Allard lands with a thump on his butt, and the biter careens toward the well, head cracking against the stone. It slumps to the ground unmoving.

“There might be another. They started falling out of the tree and I killed them as quickly as I could, but I had to run. There are alarms blaring. Apparently, mana can go negative?” She tilts to the side and Allard hurries forward to help her sit. “I need you to check, Allard. Take the board, it’s plenty long, and swing it as hard as you can at their heads if you see any.”

He nods and takes her board, his hands sinking under its weight. He looks at her once more, then turns toward the gap between the houses. “Don’t be useless,” he whispers as he dashes to the right side of the house and checks that lane, then back to the one the big biter came through. Far out, along the line of barely visible pickets that he placed so they would remember which area was purified, an enormous tree stretches up to the sky. At least fifty feet tall, maybe more. He can’t tell. His jaw drops, and for just a second his brain goes blank. Then he hears his own words bouncing around in his head.

Don’t be useless.

His eyes scan from the tree forward, and he picks out two slowly moving figures a few minutes out from his backyard. They are both moving slowly, something is wrong with their legs, he guesses. He glances back at Momo, but she is lying on the ground, mouth open and a soft snore coming out. Allard knocks on his door, props the board against the front of the house, and dashes back to pick her up. He carries her through the barely opened door and lays her on his bed, then strides back out into the sun.

The door closes instantly behind him without him needing to ask. He doesn’t pause, though. He picks up the board and heads out toward the creeping figures. Fear freezes him from the inside, but he lets his determination keep his muscles from seizing. Sweaty hands slip on the smooth wood, and he wraps both hands around it to keep it from falling.

Holding his breath, he steps toward the closest figure, a human biter with a leg that is obviously broken, and swings the board as hard as he can at the side of its head. It falls and doesn’t move. It isn’t until after the second joins it that his lungs begin to burn and he realizes he is still holding his breath. He stops and rests his hands against his knees, board bridging the two legs.

Ahead, several more dark shapes are moving across the ground, pulling themselves forward with mangled arms. Allard takes a moment and looks back toward his house wistfully. The walls are thick, the locks strong. It isn’t safe, but it is safer than being outside where things bite and tear. To the left, the towering fence that surrounds Momo’s backyard catches his eye. He nods at some unspoken statement and marches forward to take care of the things that want to eat him, his friends, and perhaps more importantly his precious tomatoes.