Page 40 of A Wilderness Within

Caroline felt a sudden surge of panic bursting in her. They were alive. They were safe. Just like her. They had to be. She wasn’t going to think about anything else. She turned her gaze to the window, not wanting to look at Lincoln’s face or she might start to think he could be right.

“How much farther?” he asked when he turned onto the street that led to her childhood home.

“The last house on the right, before the street turns left.” She sat up, eager to see the redbrick house. The neighborhood looked nearly empty of life, but there weren’t any bodies visible anywhere, either. Was that good or bad? They parked in the driveway, and she started to get out, but Lincoln caught her arm.

“Wait. Let me go in. I’ll make sure no one else is there. We can’t have another incident like Omaha.”

It killed her to wait, but she did. He went up to the door, his gun half-raised as he tried the knob. She climbed out of the car and waited, her heart racing. Caroline scanned the street, but she saw no immediate threat, so she started toward the front door. She ran straight into Lincoln’s hard body. He caught her by the shoulders.

“Stop,” he commanded, his tone firm but soft. It frightened her. She lifted her gaze to his and saw the truth in his eyes. “Don’t go in there.”

“No…” The word escaped her in a pained moan. Agony tore through her, and she crumpled to the ground. Lincoln caught her in his arms and settled her on his lap as he sat on the steps just outside the front door. She turned to stare numbly at the door, the merry red paint, the Christmas wreath still up months longer than her mother ever would have allowed it.

“Lincoln, I never had the chance to say goodbye to them. I never got to tell them… I…” It felt as though her heart was bleeding out, and she couldn’t breathe or move. Lincoln banded his arms around her, holding her tight against him while she succumbed to a grief so overpowering it might have killed her if he hadn’t been there. She swallowed thickly, her throat so tight it burned like shards of glass.

They were gone. Her only ties left in this world, her reason for making it through each day. Without them it seemed like everything was at an end. It was as though she’d been climbing the stairs in the dark and miscounted the steps, thinking she had a step to take. Then she’d tripped, her heart leaping into her throat as instinct took over as she tried to catch her balance. The shock of it all slowly bled away, and all the while she clung to Lincoln, his heat keeping her body warm, his scent enveloping her. Only his arms around her kept the shock from fully setting in.

“Where are their bodies?”

“In the backyard. Three graves,” he said.

“Three… Wait, three? But my sister was here with her husband…and the baby!” She scrambled off his lap and rushed inside. It was quiet, dark, and musty as she searched every room. Each one was empty. She stared at the glass door leading to the backyard and saw the three graves. The earth was still fresh. How many days had they been dead?

Caroline put her hand on the knob, holding her breath as she prepared to go out and check the graves. A soft, keening whine broke through the darkness which crowded around her heart. She found Lincoln in the front doorway behind her, his gun up.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered.

He answered with a nod. They both waited, listening again for the cry. When it came, she realized it was more of a whine than a cry, and it wasn’t coming from upstairs, but the basement. She rushed for the door, but Lincoln blocked her path, shaking his head. He opened the basement door and headed down first, weapon raised, his flashlight in his other hand braced just above the gun. He descended into the darkness, and Caroline followed close behind.

The whining continued, and there was a scraping sound and a muffled groan. Caroline bit her lip to hold back a scream as Lincoln’s flashlight swept the room. When she saw what made the noises, she gasped.

“Rick! Oh my God!” She shoved past Lincoln and ran to the man lying on the ground. He was sunken-faced and pale, his clothes covered with sweat. Her nose wrinkled as she approached him and she could smell vomit nearby. Rick blinked against the light of the flashlight as Lincoln joined her and crouched down close to him.

“Caro,” Rick breathed her name and coughed weakly. “Knew you’d come. I told Nat you’d find a way.”

“Rick…” Caroline couldn’t stop the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. “What happened to them?”

“Dead, two weeks ago. Nat, Stephen, and Amelia.”

“Ellie?” Caroline asked, her voice breaking as her heart ripped apart with fresh pain.

“There.” He pointed to the corner of the basement. A baby carrier sat there, its shade pulled down so they couldn’t see clearly inside.

“Oh no…” Caroline couldn’t look. “Lincoln…”

“I’ll look,” he said. But as he moved toward the carrier, a dog lunged out of the shadows, growling. Lincoln raised his pistol.

“No, wait! It’s my parents’ dog!” she cried out. “Kirby,” she told Lincoln. She kept one hand on Rick as she whistled for the handsome Irish setter to come over.

“He won’t leave Ellie,” Rick whispered. “He’s guarding her.” He tried to roll his head in the direction of the dog. “Kirby boy… Come…”

The dog whined, and it was then that Caroline realized she must have heard Kirby’s whine from upstairs. If he hadn’t whined, they wouldn’t have found Rick.

Lincoln knelt in front of the setter and held out a closed fist to the dog. Kirby inched his face out, sniffing hesitantly at Lincoln’s hand. His tail wagged.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Lincoln said soothingly. “Protecting your human pup, aren’t you?”

Kirby’s tail wagged a little more quickly, but the dog was still uncertain. Lincoln opened his fist slightly and brushed the back of his knuckles along Kirby’s shoulder, and the dog calmed. Caroline’s heart raced as Lincoln then reached up to push the shade back from the carrier.

---