by Kate L. Mary
“What is it?” Walker asks.
I run my fingers over the words. They’re shaky and written in white spray paint. They’re faded. This message wasn’t done recently.
“My sister.”
Tara scoots closer. “I thought she was dead.”
“They took her. The morning the camp was liberated, the creepers took her for one of their experiments. Afterwards, I tried to find her. The fence was torn down and the troops came in. People panicked. Then the creepers fled and I searched everywhere for her. Three days. That’s how long I stayed at our tent waiting for her to come back. She never did.
“By then almost everyone was gone. The few people left convinced me to go too. I didn’t want to, but when they were dragging her away, Lilly made me promise I wouldn’t give up. That even if she never came back, I would keep on living. So I went.”
My cheeks are wet, and a few tears have fallen on my bare legs. I didn’t even realize I was crying.
“I have to go to her.” I get to my feet and gather my things.
Tara and Walker scramble up after me.
“Where’s Valdosta?” Walker asks.
“South,” I say. “Almost at the Florida border.”
“That has to be three hundred miles from here,” Tara says.
I shove my arms through the straps on my pack. “A little over two hundred.”
When I start walking, Tara is right behind me. Walker hasn’t moved.
I stop and turn to face her. “You don’t have to come with me.”
Tara adjusts her pack. It looks huge on her small frame, and it registers for the first time that Walker said she was in college when all this started. She looks like she’s fifteen, but if she was in college four years ago, then she has to be twenty-two. Or older.
“Tara.” Walker steps forward and shakes his head. “That’s heading in the opposite direction from where we need to look for your family.”
Tara sighs, and the sound seems to rip its way out of her. Like all the hope she’s been holding on to for all these years is finally breaking free. “They’re gone, Walker. I should have accepted that years ago instead of dragging you all over the state with me. Chasing ghosts. That’s all we’re doing.” She stares at the ground for a few seconds, and when she looks up, her brown eyes sparkle. “I’ll help you, Eva, because if that message were from my mom or brothers, I would want someone to help me. And because Walker has spent the last year following me all over the place. How could I stay here and not follow you? We’ll go.”
I expect Walker to argue, but he just nods like it’s totally normal that Tara would speak for him. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s the kind of bond people develop now. Like they are one person instead of two.
“Thank you.” The words are out before I’ve even had a chance to consider what I’m saying, and I don’t regret it. Almost a year of being alone is too much, and these are the kind of people I hadn’t even dared to let myself dream still existed.
They are like me.
Walker heads over to join us. “We’re talking about a good eight or nine days of walking.”
I look up, trying to judge the time of day by the position of the sun. It’s almost right above us, so it’s still early afternoon. “We should have another six hours of daylight. That will give us time to find some water and maybe some food.”
“I’ll have to do some hunting.” Walker adjusts his hat. “I wish my dad had been more outdoorsy. Being a computer geek was handy before, but now everything he’s taught me is pretty useless.”
His face clouds over, and he takes a deep breath. He exhales slowly through his nose. Then he smiles. “Let’s go.”
Silence follows us like a shadow for the next hour. The store-bought cookies don’t sit well in my stomach, and every step that gets me closer to Valdosta brings back more memories of Lilly. The realization that she’s alive has turned me into a mute, and I keep a good distance behind Tara and Walker. Preferring to be alone with my thoughts.
I left her. That’s all I can really think about. She crawled out of whatever hole those slimy bastards had taken her to, and she was alone. I should have been waiting for her. I should have stayed right next to our tent until she came back or I died. There’s no excuse.
In front of me, Tara and Walker travel side by side. They don’t hold hands and they aren’t close enough for their arms to brush against each other, but the space between them doesn’t matter. Just like they’ve been all day, they seem to move as one, always aware of the other.
Their closeness makes me feel even worse about my abandonment of Lilly.
Walker and Tara’s conversation is quiet. Even though I’m too far back to make out their words, I can only assume they’re discussing Tara’s loss. As the miles pass though, the conversation lightens. Then Tara smiles up at Walker, making my insides clench. Seeing the expression on her face hurts, but I can’t really figure out why. I should be happy, shouldn’t I? They have something I thought I’d never see again. The world around us is nothing but a shell and humanity has all but disappeared, but they are happy with each other. That’s a huge accomplishment.
Then it hits me. Seeing them together makes me realize just how alone I’ve been over the last year. And it was all for nothing. Lilly is alive, and I could have been spending the last few months with her, learning to live rather than just trying to survive.
The pain of the realization almost takes my breath away.
We come across a stream a few hours in and stop for water. Even then I stay back.
Tara holds the canteen under, allowing it to fill, while Walker scoops up handfuls of the cool water. He splashes it on his face, scrubbing his scraggly beard, then goes back for more. By the time Tara twists the lid back on her canteen, Walker’s shirt is clinging to his back and chest. Their eyes meet and she smiles. Walker returns it as he sends a small wave of water her way.
The squeal Tara lets out sends my pulse soaring, but it isn’t out of fear. The sound doesn’t feel like it belongs in this world and doesn’t make sense after her earlier loss. It’s too free and light. It belongs in the past. Not now. Not in this empty world of pain.
I don’t understand the two people in front of me.
Tara passes the canteen to Walker, who unscrews the lid and takes a big swig. He stands and turns my way, meeting my gaze as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. My scalp prickles under his scrutiny. After he’s taken a second drink, he holds it out to me. I take it wordlessly, looking away from his penetrating blue eyes.
A couple sips is all I allow myself even though I’m hot and my mouth still feels parched. I don’t know why.
“Don’t you want to cool off?” Tara asks.
I turn to find her shirt just as wet as Walker’s and her stare just as uncomfortable. Her brown eyes rake over my sweaty skin and down my arms, right over the notches. I have the urge to cover them, but again the reason why is lost on me.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Truthfully, I feel like I’ve been walking through Mojave Desert all day, but enjoying myself feels wrong.
“I want to get moving.”
I head back out to the road without waiting for them to respond, and I can hear Walker sigh behind me. Tara says something but I’m not sure what, and then their footsteps crunch after me. Good. I’d go without them, but as much as their relationship makes me uncomfortable, I don’t want to be alone again. I’d forgotten how nice company is.
I lead the way and they keep their distance, and that’s the way we stay until the sun is kissing the horizon. Too bad the coming darkness does nothing to relieve the heat.
“Eva,” Walker finally calls out. “We should stop.”
I freeze, turning to face my travel companions. They are just as they were before, moving side by side without touching, and just like before, I’m struck by their utter closeness.
Walker points to the left but doesn’t say a word as he moves into the thin line of trees flanking the road. Tara follows, only glanci
ng at me once, and I’m right behind her. The setting sun creates shadows across the wooded area, giving it what would have been a spooky appearance years ago. Now I’m only worried that the shadows might mask a creeper. There’s no reason to be concerned about ghosts anymore. The invasion taught us that all our past fears were foundationless. Silly. Child’s play.
Walker drops his pack in a flat area and kneels in front of it. “Why don’t you two work on getting a fire going? I’m going to head out in a sec, see what I can hunt up.” He doesn’t even look up at us.
“Sounds good,” Tara says.
She turns to me then jerks her head to the right, almost as if she knows I’m not ready to talk. At the moment, I’m not sure I could. My insides are heavy and my lips feel fused together.
Tara begins gathering sticks, and I follow her lead. I keep my head down to avoid her gaze. Like I’m afraid if we do look at each other, I’ll be forced to talk. To tell her about all the fears and pain and hurt inside me.
It takes less than a minute, and once we each have a handful of sticks, Tara gets busy laying them out to get a fire started.
Walker heads into the forest, calling over his shoulder, “Be back in a bit. Hopefully, I can find something so we don’t starve.”
He doesn’t sound particularly confident in his abilities, but Tara wears a small smile on her face when he walks away. “He’ll come back with something,” she says. “He always does.”
“Why’s he act like he can’t do it then?” I ask, breaking my silence without really thinking about it. I want to know these people better so I can understand them. Right now, they’re Greek to me.
Tara’s eyebrows shoot up, but she shrugs it off. I stand with my arms crossed as she kneels in front of the flickering flame. She feeds a few small branches into it, then blows softly to get it going. It crackles and starts to dwindle, but Tara blows again and the flame catches.
She sits back and gives the fire a small, satisfied smile. “I think he just doesn’t like killing them, you know?” She pauses as she drops a few dried leaves onto the fire. “He doesn’t mind eating the meat, but being the one who actually has to do the killing is tough. He’s a pretty sensitive guy.”
The fire grows, and we have to scoot back. I’m already drenched in sweat and the flames only make my skin stickier. Tara and I sit in silence. There are a million questions I’d like to ask her, but they won’t come out. It’s as if I’ve lost the ability to carry on a conversation.
Less than an hour has gone by when the sound of footsteps crunching through the forest makes me reach for my knife. My fingers curl around the handle and I turn just in time to see Walker step through the trees. He holds up two squirrels, smiling shyly, and I allow my body to relax.
Tara smiles and throws her arms around Walker, giving him a quick squeeze before taking the animals. She lays them out, then pulls a knife, and when she starts to skin the poor creatures, my stomach contracts. The blood is red like ours, not the black, oily mess that flows through the creepers. I can see those monsters bleed without batting an eye, but squirrels are different.
It reminds me of all the death I’ve seen over the past four years.
Just like everything else they’ve done today, Tara and Walker have a routine down. She cleans the animals while he finds a few sticks, and once they’re ready he gets them set up over the fire. Their actions are fluid and done without much interaction, but when they look at each other, it makes my stomach tighten uncomfortably. I feel like an intruder. Like I’m interrupting a very intimate moment no one was ever meant to see.
Despite the oppressive heat, we settle around the fire while the animals cook. Walker takes off his hat for the first time all day, running his hand through his too-long hair and scratching at his beard. Tara giggles, and the foreignness of the sound makes me almost jump out of my skin.
She tickles Walker’s chin and he ducks away.
“Is it bothering you?” she teases.
Walker shrugs sheepishly. “A little. And I think I may have some bugs living in there.” He scratches in an exaggerated way, leaning closer to Tara like he’s trying to infect her.
“Keep your bugs away from me!” she squeals and swats at him. “I tried to talk you into shaving it when I did my hair.” She runs her hand over her bare scalp. “It’s sooo much cooler now that it’s all gone.”
I sit up and remove the scarf from my head. Until now I hadn’t thought about it, but cutting my tangled hair sounds like a great idea. It’s hot, and the knots are so bad I’ll never be able to get them out. Better to cut it off and start over.
“Could you help me with this?” I ask hesitantly.
Tara swats Walker one more time before turning my way. She’s still smiling, but it’s a little more guarded. Like she’s afraid she’ll scare me away if she isn’t careful. “You need a haircut?”
I hold up one tangled mass of brown hair. “I haven’t seen myself in a long time, but I’m thinking this isn’t a good look for me.”
Walker chuckles quietly, and for some reason my cheeks heat up.
Tara turns toward him, narrowing her eyes. After a second, her eyebrows shoot up and she says, “You have something to say?”
Walker presses his lips together and focuses on the fire. “Nope. Not a word.”
Tara rolls her eyes like she thinks he’s full of shit, then starts digging through her bag.
I don’t have a clue what’s going on. “Am I missing something?”
The firelight glints off the metal when Tara pulls the scissors from of her bag. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s get you presentable.”
Walker glances my way once before turning his eyes back to the fire. A shiver runs down my spine, but I’m still not sure what’s going on.
Tara moves behind me, brushing the tangled mass of hair on my head around like she’s trying to figure out where to start. A second later, the snip of the scissors breaks the silence. When the first dreadlock falls into my lap, I can’t resist the urge to pick it up. It’s a tangled mess of hair and dirt and who knows what else that reminds me of the hairballs my cat used to cough up, only not wet and slightly less disgusting.
It doesn’t take long for Tara to cut them all off, making me feel ten pounds lighter. But even when they’re all gone she keeps at it, trimming my dirty blonde hair like a pro. That’s something I didn’t expect, and it takes me back to a distant time I thought was long gone. A time when I would go to my stylist for a trim and get so relaxed I’d start to doze off.
After five minutes or so of trimming, Tara sits back and narrows her eyes on me, then smiles. “Done.”
I don’t know what it looks like, but for the first time in almost a year I’m able to run my fingers through my hair. It can’t be more than an inch long and it feels grimy to the touch, but it isn’t tangled. Which I call a win.
“Relax,” Tara says. “You look amazing. Stylish, even.” She shrugs and moves over to Walker, all ready to give him a trim now that she’s finished with me.
When she runs her fingers through his hair, he lets out a sigh. Tara starts cutting and Walker closes his eyes. He looks even more relaxed than usual, and I still don’t have a clue how he can be this laid back all the time.
I can’t stop touching my hair. I have serious doubts that it looks good, but for some reason, something that could almost be called a smile snakes its way through me and tugs at my lips. It’s like a living thing I have no control over. No matter how much I want to keep it at bay, it refuses to listen.
I shouldn’t be smiling. Not when Lilly is out there somewhere. Maybe alone or hurt. Probably hungry.
She was so little last time I saw her.
“You okay?” Walker asks.
I swear and jump so high that I feel like I’m six feet off the ground, and a little yelp pops out of my mouth.
Tara doesn’t look up from trimming his hair, but Walker is staring at me so intently that his blue eyes feel like a spotlight. Just a second ago he was relaxed
enough that I was sure he was going to fall asleep. When did he start paying attention to me?
“W-what?”
Walker doesn’t move, but his eyes zero in on mine. Tara looks up briefly, and the corner of her mouth twitches slightly.
“You kind of zoned out there,” Walker says.
“I’m not really sure I’ve been zoned in for years.”
Tara moves to stand in front of him, still cutting. Running her fingers through his locks as she does it. They’re so close that I have a hard time watching.
Walker closes his eyes. “We can still find good things in life.”
I laugh, only there’s nothing happy about it. It’s hard and bitter and it hurts my throat coming out. “Is that so?”
He doesn’t open his eyes and he doesn’t nod. Tara keeps her eyes on the hair she’s trimming. Snip, snip, snip. It drops to Walker’s chest like leaves in the fall. I focus on the wisps of hair because I can’t look him in the face. It’s too smooth and relaxed, and it doesn’t fit the way I feel. Because right now the only things inside me are bitterness at the way life has turned out and disappointment in myself for giving up on Lilly so quickly.
Then there’s the fear. It’s so heavy it feels like a 747 has landed on my chest.
“We’ve all lost,” Walker says. “But we can make new friends. New family. Create new lives. We can do it, Eva. Together.”
He’s delusional, but maybe that’s how he gets through the day. Only I can’t fool myself the way he can.
“If I make it to Valdosta and Lilly isn’t there, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get over it. Don’t you get it? I walked away from her. She was eleven years old and I just walked away.”
Walker opens his eyes, and when they meet mine, something in me coils into a tight ball. The firelight reflects in his pupils. and Tara stops just long enough for him to lean forward. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Eva, and you aren’t responsible for what happened. None of us are.”
He has no idea how wrong he is.
7
Three years ago…
