At night, while Jacob sleeps, I sneak away. I don’t know why. Curiosity, boredom, or spite. The moon is full and the sky is clear, so it doesn’t take long for me to find their tracks. Jacob has been keeping us close, but not too close. After an hour or two, my ears catch voices.
Like us, Lily doesn’t light fires during the day, only after dark. It helps scare off predators and fights off the cold. I approach the camp in a crouched position, aware each time my boots crunch the snow. Something growls, its yells echoing through the trees. I freeze on the spot.
We haven’t seen an infected in so long, I almost forgot how awful their noises are. The growl came from the direction of the fire. I wait, expecting to hear shots and screams, but nothing happens. I crawl forward.
I see three people and four tents. Two have their backs to a tree, ropes around their bodies. A woman sits by the fire, warming her hands with the flames. I know she’s Lily because of her black ponytail. In Jacob’s photos, his daughter always had her dark hair in a ponytail.
Someone growls again. Their prisoners thrash around, kicking and moaning. Why are they keeping infected people around? Are they crazy? Does Jacob know about this?
I shake my head and leave before they notice me. When I reach our camp, Jacob’s wide awake and frowning. He sits on a fallen trunk beside our camping lantern. His face is bathed in shadow as the light below shines from the lantern. He looks like a psycho killer or something.
Crap. “You’re awake.”
“I’m a light sleeper. Where the hell did you go?” I wince. His harsh tone surprises me. I was expecting mild annoyance, not anger.
“They didn’t see me, okay? Don’t worry.” I pass by him to reach the tent. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.
“We’ll get there. First let’s discuss why you thought it was a good idea to go out in the middle of the night, alone and without a gun. Are you in a hurry to get killed?”
“No.” I cross my arms and look everywhere but at him. I wish I had a good reason to throw in his face, but I don’t. “Next time I’ll skulk around in the woods with a gun.”
He raises one of his bushy eyebrows. “This isn’t the time to give me cheek. Surviving isn’t a joke. You only get one life, so don’t waste it being stupid.”
“Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
There’s a long silence. I fidget and shift the weight of my legs.
“So, what you did see over there?”
I lift my gaze, eyes wide. He nods for me to speak. “She’s traveling with two infected. Why would she do that? Isn’t that stupid? They could bite her.”
Jacob throws a match box at me. I catch it. “Start a fire. It’s time we talked.”
We wait until the fire is high enough to last against the wind. I sit on the edge of my tent, feet on the snowy ground. Jacob feeds the flames with small twigs.
“My daughter is trying to save a friend. Cure him of this disease.”
“There’s a cure?”
He shrugs. “She thinks there is. She and the others she’s traveling with. They’re trying to take him to a CDC facility.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Jacob stares down at the flames. “I monitor the radio frequency the town council uses to communicate.”
“Oh.” What else can I say to that? He sounds like a conspiracy nut that wears a tinfoil hat, which is why I don’t question why he didn’t just ask his own daughter where she was going. “But I don’t think they would build a CDC facility in the middle of the woods, right? I think Mom mentioned they’re in Atlanta.”
“Not in the woods, no, but north. On an island. So that’s where we’re going.” Jacob throws more wood into our fire. I move my feet closer to the warmth and hug myself to stop shivering. “Is your curiosity satiated now? No more sneaking around?”
I nod, then lick my cracked lips. “So, maybe, if your daughter’s right, does that mean things will go back to normal? Like, people will stop being crazy? Looting and fighting?”
“Probably not. Even if there’s a cure at the CDC, it doesn’t mean it’ll reach the rest of the country. The way I see it, the damage is done. But who knows.”
After a long silence, I fidget, hiding my hands below my butt to keep them warm. “If things do go back to the way they were, do you think—do you think people will get arrested? For stealing and, you know, everything else?”
“They could try. I don’t think they’ll succeed. Seems to me that by the time there’s enough governmental power to enforce any law, there’ll be so much bad blood, they’ll just pardon everyone and move on. If they’re smart. Which they might not be.” He stares at me for a minute. “Why? Did you do something?”
My gaze races around the ground. “We killed those guys.”
“I killed them. Not you. No need to lose any sleep over it.”
I shift my position, feeling my hands go numb. I want to tell him about Mrs. Patterson, about Peter and the guy in the school. I want to hear him say it’s okay. If anyone could say that, it would be Jacob, right? He killed three people like it was nothing.
“You said to that man that you killed people before. Is it true?”
The fire crackles. Jacob stares at the flames for so long, I wonder if he didn’t hear me, but then he answers, “In war, you have to kill if you want to get back home alive.”
Maybe three months ago, I would’ve been afraid of Jacob, of the way he just doesn’t seem to care. I know for sure Dad would’ve tried to cross the street before meeting Jacob face to face. Mom would’ve said he’s dangerous and violent. They didn’t like guns or wars. Somehow, I think they wouldn’t like the person I became either.
I gulp and ask, “Do you regret it?”
“Surviving? Never.”
I rest my chin on my bended knees. He makes it sound so easy; just brush it off as surviving and that’s it.
Jacob sighs, throwing a small pebble in my direction. “Stop thinking so hard about it and just go to sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”
I am tired, so I crawl inside the tent, toss around for a while as everything I did so far flashes through my mind, but I finally fall asleep a few hours later. Weirdly, Jacob doesn’t wake me up for my turn to watch over the camp and I sleep for a full night for the first time in days.
The next day, I stay away from Jacob’s daughter. Their tracks lead us to the edge of the woods and onto a rocky, snow-covered plain with short, frozen grass. A wasteland, basically. Nowhere to hide, no animals to hunt, and no plants to eat. Jacob doesn’t talk, but he doesn’t need to. I know what this means: if we follow her, she’ll see us for sure. He sits down and throws one of our backpacks onto the ground, kicking a rock far, and scratching the back of his neck. He stays that way for hours, thinking. Afraid he’ll chastise me for getting too close to our prey and spooking his daughter, I stay quiet.
Finally he stands, hurls the backpack over his shoulder and turns back in the direction of the dense woodland. With a last glance at the path Lily took, I follow him.
We go back to our routine: walking, resting, more walking, and then mounting camp during the night. Everything is quiet.
Two days later, I wake up to the sound of ruffling and heavy breathing. Completely still, I look up, following a dark silhouette outside the tent. The person’s crouched, mumbling something while rummaging through our extinguished campfire.
Where’s Jacob?
As long as the person thinks I’m sleeping, it’ll be okay. I extend my hand and pat the tent for my gun. As I find it, I shut my eyes for a second. The clip is empty. I always empty the clip before going to sleep because I’m afraid of shooting myself while sleeping, safety or not.
Crap. I can’t load it without making noise. Jacob is going to be so mad at me.
But only if I survive this.
The person hops away from the extinguished fire, reaching for our backpacks instead. I take a deep breath and draw back the tent’s entrance a little, just enough to peek outside.<
br />
A small barefoot man searches my pack with bony fingers, throwing my clothes to the ground. He stops and holds a pair of Jacob’s socks, stroking them like a pet. He’s wearing a long gray coat and ripped khaki pants. A long fluffy beard hides half of his neck and leaves are stuck in his messy hair. I can’t see any lumps or bites. An infected wouldn’t act this way anyway. They don’t care about socks, just food.
So what’s the plan, Laurie? He’s going to steal your stuff. Think!
While he’s busy putting one of the socks on, I load the gun with trembling hands. I wince at the click of the magazine going in, but stand and rush in the direction of the thief.
“Stop! I have a gun!”
He drops the other sock on the ground. Almost hidden between the messy hair and beard, I spot the side of his nose and eye. He shakes his head, then turns it, revealing the rest of his face.
“Do not shoot, little girl. I want the socks. Just the socks, if you’ll please let me keep them.” He has a strange accent, maybe French. “I am a doctor, see?” He lifts one of his arms in a gesture of surrender and with the other raises a cord with an ID card hanging from it. “See?”
Jacob tackles him to the ground. I yelp, but keep my hand steady. The French doctor tries to crawl away but Jacob forces him to stay down, holding his right arm against his spine.
“I mean you no harm. I just want the socks. Please, the socks. My feet, please, my feet.”
His old socks are nothing but ripped fabric, exposing a bare sole, raw, bloody, and scraped. The skin is full of blisters and wrinkled from the damp. His nails are dark blue.
“Who are you?” I ask, gun still firmly pointed at him.
“I am Doctor Patrick Bouchard. Please, I’m alone. I’m just trying to stay alive.”
Jacob grabs him and forces the doctor to stand upright. This time Bouchard doesn’t try to escape, but Jacob keeps a hand on his shoulder and another holds his arm against his back.
“Why the hell are you out here? And alone?” Jacob asks.
The man cringes at the sharp tone. “I escaped from a CDC facility. They were killing us. I had no choice. Please, just let me go.”
Jacob and I trade looks. I lower my gun and Jacob releases Bouchard. The doctor falls down to his knees, whimpering.
“What did you just say?” Jacob yanks him back up. “A CDC facility?”
Bouchard raises his hands in defeat. “Yes. I escaped and got lost. I’m trying to reach civilization, but these woods, the weather—I’m barely surviving.” He turns to me, trembling hands outstretched like a beggar. “I haven’t eaten in days. Please, can’t you help me?”
Jacob shakes his head to me and rests a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You want to eat, you tell us about this CDC facility.”
Bouchard’s face lightens at the mention of food, but a second later he starts to wave his hands madly in all directions, managing to slip away from Jacob’s grasp. He almost falls down while trying to reach me. I take a step back as the smell of sweat and feces hits my nostrils. “A sip of water, little girl. Please?”
I move even further away. Jacob takes out one of our bottles, walks to the man, and shoves it against his chest. “Stay away from her.”
The doctor almost chokes on the water, laughing as it wets his frost-filled beard. From this close, I can see the ID card around his neck. The photo is of a young smiling man, clean-shaven, almost unrecognizable from the one drinking water. The name on the card is the same, but he might be lying. He could’ve stolen the card from someone.
Whoever he is, the CDC logo on the card at least proves he isn’t lying about that. He was there.
“Talk.” Jacob crosses his arms. “You were wandering aimlessly in the woods for how long?”
It takes a few seconds for Bouchard to register Jacob’s question. Water stops flowing from the bottle and he whimpers. “I don’t know. What day is it?”
“January twenty-second.” I raise an eyebrow at Jacob’s answer. I had no idea it was January already.
“Months, then. Months. Could it be?” Bouchard shakes his head and blinks. “Three months, yes. They invaded the base a-and killed everyone. Every single person.”
“Except you.” Jacob takes the bottle away from the man. “Why?”
“I hid. I pretended to be dead. I was so covered in blood and bodies they must’ve thought I was dead.” He freezes, eyes wandering around the camp. After a few seconds of this, Jacob shakes his shoulders. Bouchard winces, but finally continues talking. “When everything became quiet, I crawled into a vent and... just kept going and going.”
The doctor falls down onto his knees again. I stare at Jacob, searching his face for any sign of what he’s thinking. His usual frown is deeper, but that could mean anything. Does he believe this story?
“Who did this? Who killed everyone?”
Bouchard’s crying now, bony hands over his face. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Nobody’s supposed to know about us.”
“Where is this place?”
He grabs Jacob’s leg. “You mustn’t go there, sir. They’ll kill you.”
Jacob kicks him away, lowering himself to face the man directly. “Where is it?”
“They’ll kill you and your daughter.” He points at me with a trembling finger. “No, no, definitely not. You can’t take her there.”
I hug myself and avoid the man’s desperate stare.
“She’s already there,” Jacob whispers, then raises his voice. “Take me to this base, now.”
Bouchard cowers at the scream, but nods. “Yes, yes, but first give me food. I told you everything. I promise. Please.”
Without taking his eyes off the guy, Jacob finally relents and gives him a few crackers we still have left. The way Bouchard eats reminds me of a rat, skittish and dirty, stuffing himself with his hands near his thin lips as he licks every crumb from his fingers. After he finishes the snack, Jacob gives him a pair of socks for the trip. He laughs like a little kid who just got his Christmas present. I take a step back, kinda afraid of him.
We pack up camp and follow Bouchard as he jumps around the path to feel the texture of the socks. He constantly mumbles in French, laughing, then glancing toward us and clearing his throat as if trying to pretend he’s not completely crazy. I guess months alone in the woods gets to you. If I hadn’t found Jacob, I would’ve probably ended up like this guy.
After a few hours of going in circles, Jacob loses his patience and grabs Bouchard by the neck again. Whimpering, the crazy forest hobo begs for his life.
“Stop messing around and take me there. I have no fucking time to waste.”
“We’re just there. Just here. A little more, sir.” The guy points forward, nodding in the same direction. “Just a little more.”
“I don’t see the shore. I know the base is on an island. So stop stalling.”
“I swear. It’s close. Really close.”
Jacob releases Bouchard and it turns out he was telling the truth. One hour later, the woods end and the rocky beach appears. Bouchard takes us to a small dingy dock above the frozen sea, from where we can see a distant dark silhouette of what might be the island or maybe a really big whale carcass—which would be way cooler.
“See, sir? The island. There.”
Jacob, who so far has stayed behind Bouchard, takes a step forward on the creaking wood and narrows his eyes to see better. Beside him, I cover my mouth with my hands and blow air to feel my warm breath hitting my nose and cheeks. The island looks far away, way too far. Like, a whole day’s trip. That’s far. Camping on ice? I’m not looking forward to that. I miss our yellow toy car.
“The ice is thick enough for you to walk on,” Bouchard tells us, pointing down. “Just go north. Good luck.”
Jacob turns to the man and shakes his head. “No. You’re coming with us. I need you. She won’t believe me without proof.”
Bouchard’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth, lips trembling. “No. No. No. I cannot. No. Merde.” He moves awa
y from Jacob whispering in French, but the older man follows him. “Leave me alone. They kill people. They will kill you and your little girl!”
“I kill people too,” Jacob says to him in a calm, but threatening tone. He reaches for his rifle and that’s when Bouchard loses it completely. With a shriek, he lunges at Jacob, grabbing the rifle with both hands. Jacob’s strong, but Bouchard is mad, kicking and screaming like an animal. Heart racing, I reach for my own gun, only to stop at the sound of a gunshot. I raise my head as Jacob and Bouchard fall off the dock and into the frozen sea.
“Jacob! Jacob!” Tears blur my vision as I scream and run toward the edge. The ice breaks with the impact and they disappear into the black water.
Small pieces of ice float and hit the larger ones, making ripples. It feels like I stand there, waiting, for ages. With clenched fists I whisper, “Come on, please. Please.”
A figure rises from the hole, hands up in the air trying to grasp at anything. I sprint toward it and fall stomach down on the dock to grab them. They aren’t bony and smooth, but large and hairy. It’s Jacob.
I help him out of the ice, pulling his heavy body away from the sea and onto the dock. He coughs and shakes, drenched from head to toe, but alive. His pale face, bloodshot eyes, and bluish lips scare me, but he’s tough. He’s gonna be fine, right?
Jacob hollers in pain as we drag his body up, blood flowing freely below him. Out of breath, I let go of him to rest a bit. My arms burn from the effort. His leg is bleeding badly. Jacob tries to get up, but has no way to support himself. I rush to his side, offering my shoulders. We try again, but he’s too heavy and I can only help him sit while he swears between loud, painful grunts. His face is ashen and distorted in a grimace, eyes red.
“Check... Check Bouchard. See...” He takes a deep breath and curses. “See if he’s alive.”
“But—”
“Do it. We need...” He wheezes. “We need him.”
I untangle myself from him and he swears again. Slowly, I approach the edge of the dock again and crouch to watch the water. There’s nothing but ice floating. Not even ripples. I don’t think he’s alive.
Those Who Remain (Book 3) Page 19
