It started to rain, torrential sheets that whipped at faces and exposed skin, drenching everything. The humans pressed forward at a crawl, heads bowed and shoulders hunched against the wind. I hung back, watching for stragglers, not wanting anyone to see that the rain didn’t bother me, the cold didn’t make my skin prickle with gooseflesh, and the wind didn’t make me shiver. The ground quickly became a swamp, and I watched as Zeke pulled Caleb and Bethany through the worst parts of the mud, sometimes hefting them onto his back when it got too deep. The kids were shivering, and Bethany started to cry when she fell into a puddle that nearly swallowed her whole, but Jeb didn’t even slow down.
The rain continued. A few hours before dawn, a new sound began to penetrate the constant hiss of falling water. A low roar, faint at first, but growing louder and stronger, until the ground sloped away, and we stood at the banks of a dark, rushing river.
Jebbadiah stood at the edge, arms crossed, lips pressed tight as he glared at the river in annoyance. Turning, he motioned to Zeke, and I edged forward, listening to their voices over the roar of the water.
“Get the rope,” Jeb ordered, gesturing to Zeke’s pack.
“Sir?”
Jeb frowned and turned away, observing the river again. “Get everyone ready to move. We’re crossing now.”
I edged closer. Zeke hesitated, gazing at the water in concern. “You don’t think we should stop for the night?” he asked. “Wait for the water to go down a little? The current is probably too strong for the kids.”
“Then have someone help them.” Jeb’s voice was ruthlessly calm. “We need to be on the other side, tonight.”
“Sir—”
“Ezekiel,” Jeb interrupted, turning to stare at him. “Do not make me repeat myself.” Zeke held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.
“Make sure everyone is ready soon,” Jebbadiah said in a perfectly civil voice that made me want to slug him in the jaw. “Once we’re on the other side of the river, we can rest. But I want us safely across before we relax.”
Zeke nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”
He backed away, shrugging off his pack, as Jeb turned and stared out over the water again. His gaze lingered on something I couldn’t see, something down by the water’s edge, and his thin mouth tightened.
I waited until he had walked back toward the group, where Zeke and Darren were unraveling coils of rope, before I hurried to the riverbank and looked down.
The water rushed by at breakneck speed, dark and angry. I wondered what Jeb was thinking; was he really that stubborn and heartless to push on through that? Especially when there were kids in the group?
Lightning flickered, and the glare reflected the sudden gleam of dead white eyes.
Jerking around, I gazed downstream, at a boulder lying near the water’s edge. Only I could see it wasn’t a rock now, but one of those massive horned creatures that roamed the plains in huge herds. This one, bloated and obviously dead, was lying on its side facing me, but its lips were pulled back in an eerie snarl, and its huge white eyes bulged out of their sockets. The wind shifted, and I caught the unmistakable stink of decay and wrongness over the water.
My gut twisted, and I hurried over to help Darren and Zeke, unknotting ropes. So, Jeb wasn’t being an evil bastard, after all. Good to know. Though I wondered why he didn’t at least tell Zeke there could be rabids in the area. That might’ve been important for the second-in-command to know. Maybe he didn’t want word to spread and panic the rest of the group. Or maybe the prickly human just didn’t feel like his orders needed to be explained. But at least his reasoning to get to the other side of the river made sense now.
Rabids are afraid of deep or fast-moving water, Kanin had told me in the hospital. No one knows why—it’s not like they could drown. Maybe they don’t understand why the ground won’t hold them up any longer. Or maybe they fear something that is more powerful than they are. But ever since they were created, rabids will not approach deep water. Remember this, for it might save your life one day.
I watched Zeke, carrying the rope, stride through the mud to a thick tree near the riverbank, and hurried over.
“How are we getting across?” I asked Zeke, who was busy winding one end of the rope around the trunk before knotting it tight. He gave me a rueful smile and held up the rest of the coil.
“We hang on for dear life.”
“How?” I asked, glancing at the trunk. “The rope is on this side of the river. It won’t help us unless it crosses to the other bank.”
“Exactly.” Zeke sighed and started tying the other end around his waist. I stared at him, alarmed, and he grimaced. “At least I’m already wet this time.”
I looked at the foaming, rushing water and shook my head. “Isn’t that a little…dangerous?”
“Exactly.” Zeke looked up, meeting my eyes. “Jake can’t swim, and I won’t ask Darren to take the risk. Or anyone, for that matter. It has to be me.”