Jon told her that that happened sometimes. It was good that she had checked, but it could have just been her subconscious producing imaginary danger. He told her to go back to sleep.
After turning out the light, there was no difference between Claire’s eyes being open and when they were shut.
I don’t think you should change, Danny’s words echoed in her head. Claire thought it was too late for that.
***
When Claire next awoke around dawn, Jon wasn’t in his sleeping bag. She spotted him already dressed and standing by the window, peering through a crack in the curtains. When she whispered his name, he turned and smiled, but it was the false kind. His eyes had dark pouches under them. Had he gone back to sleep after Claire had accidentally woken him? Or had he stayed up all night, maintaining a guard position all on his own?
The others mumbled and groaned as they woke up. Everyone had stiff legs, Claire included.
“We’ll probably be able to get home today,” Jon told them as he divvied up their morning meal. “So long as nothing holds us up. Also, it stopped raining.”
Larson and Bryce cheered weakly at this news, both of them still groggy with sleep. It had been dark when Claire had taken off her clothes the previous night, and now she felt a little embarrassed as she sat bundled in her sleeping bag. Most of the boys couldn’t care less as they walked around in their boxers, leisurely gathering up their clothes. Rose was even less inhibited as she lounged in her undies on top of her sleeping bag. Only Bryce seemed remotely modest, grabbing his pants and shirt and putting them on as quickly as he could.
“Here.” After pulling on his cargo pants, Danny had gathered Claire’s clothes and handed them to her.
“Thanks.” She wriggled around inside her sleeping bag as she pulled on her jeans, the fabric still damp and clingy in places. Her shirt was only a little drier. No one wanted to put their socks on, choosing to hang around barefoot until they were ready to go. Rose was the last to get dressed, not bothering to put on a scrap until after she had eaten and taken a piss. This place had no balcony, and so they had just used the bathtub.
“We have enough water to make it back, right?” Bryce thought out loud as they were rolling up their bedding and wrapping it in plastic once more.
“Our containers are pretty much all full, so I should think so,” Danny said.
The previous day, they had simply opened their mouths and looked up when they were thirsty, drinking the rain.
Once the bedding was all packed, everyone grudgingly pulled on their socks and boots.
“It’s squishy,” Rose complained as she waited for Danny and Larson to move the furniture away from the door.
“Pretty sure there are still puddles in mine,” Bryce added.
“Just think about getting home before nightfall. Then you can put on fresh socks and a dry pair of shoes or something,” Jon advised, forgetting that most people had given up their extra footwear to the people who came from the Black Box. Claire couldn’t forget, having walked with all those barefoot individuals. She had been one of the lucky ones, able to put on her boots before leaving.
As they left the apartment, Claire couldn’t help but study the door, and the walls, and the stairs, wondering if there was anything different from when they had entered. As they crossed the restaurant, she argued with herself as to whether the tables and chairs were in the same positions or not. Even outside, she kept expecting to come across something strange. She kept expecting a message from the mannequin man.
The water was only ankle deep in the worst spots, often trapped in large puddles. There were areas where they got to walk on what was just wet pavement, no splashing at all. Still, they formed the same line as the day before, only now they didn’t need to change who was leading. Nothing needed to be pushed out of the way; they just walked around anything too big to easily step over.
Claire checked for signs of the mannequin man as they walked, but what could be considered a sign? Unless it was an obviously written message, there was no way to know if that couch in the middle of the street was deposited there by the storm or not. Or that cracked and half broken bust against the tree branches. Anything that might be even remotely connected to their time in the apartment building, Claire was suspicious of. None of it was ever definitive. She found herself wishing that if Jon had to kill the mannequin man, he had done it in such a way that produced a body. It would certainly have put her mind at ease knowing for certain that he was dead. Even knowing he was still alive would be better than this uncertain dread. She felt like there was a ghost among them, a real one. She wondered if the mannequin man’s body had become a zombie.
They trudged forward all day. Conversations were most often started with someone complaining about their feet or legs. They didn’t talk about anything important. They told stories from their past, humorous anecdotes that might not have always been completely true. No one talked about home. No one voiced what the first thing they would do when they got there would be. The more destruction they came across outside, the more they feared what had happened back there. No one wanted to get their hopes too high, only to have them smashed to pieces.
Claire wondered what they would do if they found that home didn’t exist anymore. She couldn’t say what the others might do, but she knew that she would sit down and cry and probably never stop. If the container yard was gone, then that would just be too much. It would break her in the way that she had seen others broken, in the way that repairs weren’t possible. She remembered living in the motel after the Day and before they made their way to the Diana. She remembered that there were people who had stayed in their rooms the entire time, refusing to come out. Others had done their best to feed them, to coax them back to life. Had they been saved? Claire didn’t know. She didn’t know if any of them had eventually been lured out, or if they had all made it onto the convoy vehicles. Had some of them stayed behind? Were they still there, curled up on the beds, hollowed out husks like that mother and child in the apartment? Claire didn’t know, and she was never going to ask someone who might.
At lunch, they stopped only long enough to eat. Claire’s shoulders hurt from the weight of her bag, especially the bruised one, but all she could do was resettle the weight when they got back up to keep moving. She kept trying to shift the messenger bag to her bruised shoulder only to have to move it back a minute later.
As the afternoon dragged on, Claire’s whole body hurt. Her back got stiff, her head thumped from an imbalance of food versus work, and her guts cramped up. Still, she walked. Everyone kept walking, not once recommending they stop. If someone had to go to the bathroom, they stepped aside and went, then caught up again once finished. It was easier to keep moving, to allow momentum to carry them forward, step after step. Despite them not discussing it, Claire kept thinking of home. She kept picturing the container she had been given to share with Abby and Lauren and Peter before she left, once the rats were officially cleared out. Most of all, she thought of the bunk bed she would be sharing with Peter. She imagined collapsing down on the mattress, her head hitting the pillow.
“Hey.” Danny shook her backpack, startling her eyes back open. “You started to drift sideways there.”
“Sorry.”
Neither of them acknowledged how tired they both were.
They finally broke their single file rank in order to buddy up at Danny’s suggestion: Jon and Rose, Danny and Claire, and Bryce and Larson. They were to keep one another engaged, and make sure no one fell behind. Claire held Danny’s hand in case she started to drift again. He didn’t seem to mind, and would squeeze her hand whenever her eyes were shut for too long.
Sometimes they saw animals, not many, but mostly what they spotted were birds. No one tried to hit them with sling stones. The birds were far more alert than the humans were as they picked through the trash for morsels. A couple of times someone spotted a mammal, but then it was gone in a flash, too quick to be identified. Small lizards were occasionally spott
ed clinging to the sides of buildings. So far, none of the animals tried to kill them as they trudged on.
Their next break should have been for dinner, but Jon thought that if anyone sat down, he wouldn’t be able to get them back up again. Instead, he passed around the food while they walked, and they ate while moving.
Claire had begun to see familiar buildings. At least, she thought they were familiar. She hadn’t seen all that much of what was around the container yard, and couldn’t be certain they were backtracking their original route.
“Are we getting close?” Claire asked Danny, the first time someone acknowledged the distance.
“Yes, we’re getting close,” he answered.
“The sun has nearly set,” Claire noticed.
Danny nodded. “We’ll have to walk through the dark for a bit, but we’ll get home. We won’t have to find somewhere else to sleep.”
“Good. I don’t want to sleep anywhere else.”
“Neither do I.”
Jon grunted what sounded like an agreement, but no one else even acknowledged their brief conversation.
When it became dark, the containers still weren’t in sight, but Claire was certain that she knew where they were. They clicked on their lights and kept them pointed at the ground. It made a somewhat obvious puddle of light as they walked, but they couldn’t navigate the storm-smashed streets without them. Besides, they were close enough to home that no one minded.
When the container maze at last came into view, Claire’s legs nearly gave up right there. She was more than ready for this trip to end.
It didn’t take them long to find that a path had been cleared through the glop in the container maze. They immediately took to following it.
“First the zombie slush, and now this,” Rose commented.
“I prefer this,” Bryce spoke up.
The atmosphere had become lighter once they entered the maze. Everyone was walking a little more upright, with a little more energy. They were almost there.
Once they exited the maze and began to cross the open space to the wall, Claire almost felt like she could run. Instead, she had to come to an abrupt halt.
“Stop right there!” someone shouted from the wall.
The fear and anger in the voice had all six travellers shooting their hands up into the air, deliberately pointing their lights down onto their own faces.
“We’re returning scavengers!” Jon shouted. “It’s Jon, Rose, Danny, Claire, Bryce, and Larson!”
“Walk slowly toward the wall!”
They obeyed, spreading out to walk side by side, making sure they were all visible. Claire felt a lump in her throat. Was it always like this when a scavenger team returned after dark?
“Thank fuck,” someone said as they approached. “All right, you can put your arms down. Get up here.”
They found a ladder waiting for them and scrambled up. As Claire hauled herself over the top, she saw someone climbing up from the inside. Once a light reached him, she recognized Bronislav. Crichton followed right behind him.
“Did you see anyone else out there?” Bronislav immediately questioned them.
“What do you mean?” Danny asked.
“Out there, in or near the maze. Did you see anyone?”
“No,” Jon shook his head. Claire could see the same concern in his eyes that was no doubt inhabiting hers. “Why? What’s happened?”
“Two teenagers have been kidnapped,” Crichton informed them. “Dakota and Elijah.”
Claire didn’t recognize the second name, but she certainly knew the first. Dakota had lived in the motel with her, and was friends with Peter. Claire had played with or teased her countless times as they grew up.
“What do you mean, kidnapped?” Danny’s voice had gone cold. “When? How?”
“A couple of hours ago,” Crichton informed him. “They were part of a team that was clearing the path through the container maze. The other five heard the commotion, saw what was happening, and managed to make it back here safely. There were at least two men, disguised as zombies. There could be more, for all we know.”
Jon’s pack thumped down onto the wall. He was turning around to go back out there, to start searching.
“We already have a team looking for them,” Bronislav stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’ll only get in their way, and perhaps even get killed.”
“Besides, you’re all clearly exhausted,” Crichton added. “We should get your supplies to the community centre, and then you should all rest.”
“What were they even doing out there?” Bryce was actually angry. Dakota was also friends with his little sister, Becky.
“I sent them out,” Bronislav admitted. “I had been training the younger ones, especially the teenagers, ever since the exodus. I was going to have them begin digging up those rocks alongside the container yard, have them start preparing the soil for farming. But clearing a path through the maze needed to be done, and they were capable.”
“I saw them not long before the kidnapping happened,” Crichton added. “They knew what they were doing, but unfortunately, so did the kidnappers. This could have happened to anyone.”
Jon’s hands were trembling, his rage keeping him upright. He clearly wanted to start searching for himself right away.
“You’re no good to them right now,” Danny spoke to his friend in a quiet tone. “In the morning I’ll come with you.”
“As soon as the sun rises.” Jon didn’t state it as a question.
“As soon as the sun rises,” Danny agreed.
Crichton picked up Jon’s pack and they headed down off the wall. As Claire made her way with the others to the community centre, she felt hollowed out. The elation of finally being home had evaporated in an instant.
Too tired to empty her pack of even her personal items, Claire left it with the messenger bag for others to manage, then turned and went to find her container. Lauren found her first.
“Claire!” She ran over, her arms wide. “I heard that someone had come back, and I prayed that it was you.”
Claire allowed herself to be swept up in a crushing hug, her face becoming buried in the woman’s wild red hair.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Lauren asked, completely overflowing with concern. “You’re shaking. It’s not Jon is it?”
“Jon’s fine. I’m just so tired.” Claire began to cry. She let the tears flow as Lauren held her, making soothing sounds as she stroked her adopted daughter’s much straighter hair.
“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. The lower mattresses got soaked so you’ll have to share the top bunk with Peter, is that okay?”
Claire nodded as she clung to Lauren’s side. “I heard about what happened to Dakota.”
“People are out looking for her. She’ll be found and returned home safely, don’t you worry.”
Claire desperately wanted to believe that.
When they reached their container, Abby squeaked with delight at seeing Claire, who was then passed from one set of loving arms to the next. She was fussed over and allowed it, letting them help her get off her wet gear, especially her boots and socks.
“Sorry about the smell,” Lauren said as she located a dry pair of pyjamas for Claire to wear. “Turns out this box wasn’t completely waterproof.”
“Doesn’t smell much different from where I’ve been,” Claire pointed out. Everything carried a damp scent to the point where she no longer noticed it.
When Claire finally climbed up to the top bunk, Peter was there, squished up against the wall to give her room.
“Hey, buddy,” Claire said as she wriggled herself in under the blankets beside him. “I’ve missed you.”
Apparently he had missed her as well, because the moment she got comfortable he latched himself onto her side. She had been wrong. Not everything smelled damp. Peter’s hair was clean and good.
Abby and Lauren performed some last minute tasks before getting ready for bed. They planned to sleep on a tarp o
n top of their double bed. They kept peeking up at Claire as they moved around, worried about what she may have gone through or that they might be keeping her up. But Claire wasn’t bothered at all. She was in a bed with her arms around her little brother and had fallen deeply asleep.
32: Dakota
11 Days After the Bombing
Dakota had planned to run and fight like hell the moment the knife blade was removed from her throat, but she didn’t get the chance. The man who held her was very fast. The blade left her neck, but the butt of the dagger was then immediately crashed into her skull. She wasn’t knocked completely unconscious like Elijah had been, but she was stunned. Her body went limp on her, long enough for the man to gag and hog tie her on the ground. A clump of wet stuffing beneath her oozed water into her clothes, soaking her body underneath.
As the man who had grabbed her moved away, she could see that he was dressed like a zombie, just like the other man. She knew she should be watching them, but it was hard to tear her eyes away from Elijah. He wasn’t moving.
“The others ran off,” one of the men grunted to the other. “Probably heard this one shouting.” He nudged Elijah with the toe of his boot.
“They’re going to get reinforcements. Pick him up; we should get out of here and back to the others.”
Dakota was hauled off the ground and slung over a man’s shoulder like she was a pack. Her joints screamed as they were pulled, and her breathing turned rapid. She wriggled around, trying to do something, anything.
“I’d stop that if I were you,” the man carrying her spoke. “All that will get you is a pair of popped shoulders.”
He probably wasn’t lying, so Dakota went still. She would need her arms in their sockets if she was going to fight her way free later. Instead, she focused on where they were going. Dakota had never been out here before, so she needed to pay attention if she hoped to find her way back. The container maze glowed orange in the sunset, the alleyways within it deepening their shadows. As the containers faded from sight around the corner of a building, Dakota could hear the alarm. The others had already made it back to the wall, and Freya was hammering on the container, warning everybody. They wouldn’t just let Elijah and Dakota be taken. She knew this. They would send people after them. She would fight until they found her.
Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct Page 53
