I hate thinking like this. It’s the reality we live in and I hate it. I’ve given up the hope of ever finding a place where such worries are unnecessary. I’ve come to grips with it—or at least I’ve gotten used to it. Is there a point in life where all the cynicism just becomes too much to handle? At what point does this type of thinking finally tip someone over the edge?
Having been lost in my thoughts, the last hour went by quickly. I break from the thoughts when Gabe starts to slow the truck down. The red brake lights ahead of us shine brightly and the truck in front of us turns down a road. By the headlights, I can see that we are headed toward the compound where Gabe and I escaped just a month ago. My heart beats fast and I kind of want to throw up.
Scott turns his headlights off, and Gabe does the same. We do our best to watch the truck ahead of us, only using the moonlight. We drive for another five minutes. Sometimes I’ll see a random greyskin groping in the darkness and it sends a shiver up and down my spine. I reach for my pistol and grip it tightly, never knowing when something just might try to attack.
But no attack ever comes. We finally stop and Gabe kills the engine. My hands are starting to shake as we get out. Gabe and I grab our things and meet Scott and Derek at a door to one of the buildings.
“Come on,” Derek says, limping in as Scott holds the door open for us. I step in and it’s pitch black. I grip the gun even tighter, but finally Derek leads us to a stairwell and then down. We descend into the basement level. Here there are bright lights and more of a commotion.
At first, I don’t recognize anyone, but then I spot a familiar face. The surprise I have is delight until I see how drained and dreadfully tired he looks. Stephen sees Gabe and me, and his expression lightens a bit.
I’m about to walk over to him and say hello, but I’m stopped by a voice to my right.
“Hello, Remi,” the voice says. When I turn, I’m looking into the face of Jeremiah. He wears a thick, black coat that reaches to his ankles. His hair seems to grow in every direction, and his sunken eyes study me with intensity. “Welcome to my new network.”
Chapter 9 - Waverly
The way I went from becoming a stowaway aboard the search and rescue vehicle to being the driver of it feels like a blur. A distant memory perhaps. I had been lying down wet and cold in the back for over two hours before guards resorted to driving outside the compound to look for me. They must have been baffled that I had not been found yet. When the engine rumbled, I stayed still and silent. There were two of them. I could hear them approach the vehicle. Both men muttered curses about me and how I got away. One offered a theory, but I didn’t hear all of it before he closed the passenger door. The rest of their conversation was muffled noises for several long miles.
I looked around the back of the truck, making sure I kept low, hoping to find something I could use to kill them. But this was a search and rescue truck. Other than reserve gas cans, there was nothing more than a few syringes that wouldn’t do much against guys with guns. Panic began to set in when the driver finally pulled the truck over and stopped. I didn’t dare look up to see where we were. I feared that they were already finished looking and were now parked back inside the compound. That wouldn’t help me at all. But when the two men opened their doors to get out, I could hear what they were saying again.
“Just because there’s tracks doesn’t mean they’re hers,” the passenger said. “Could be a greyskin.”
“Stay sharp,” the driver answered as he started walking away from the truck.
“I’m going to take a leak.”
“Just be careful. I don’t like being out this late. It’s not safe.”
It was my chance to make a move. The passenger would be caught with his pants down, and the driver might not be anywhere near the truck. I looked toward the back at the tailgate, thinking I would try to go out that way, but I knew it would make too much noise. If the engine was running, I might have been able to get away with it, but the driver had killed it, probably to listen for footsteps nearby.
I then looked at the back window of the truck where I could peek into the cab. As expected, it was completely empty. When I brought my head up higher, I could see that the driver had left the headlights on as he checked some tracks up ahead. The passenger was still at the side of the road to the right, taking a leak as he had announced. I reached for the back window, knowing that it might be locked from the inside. A flood of relief washed over me when I saw that the plastic latch was broken off and the window slipped open silently. I opened it as wide as possible, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to slide through the opening.
First my head. That was fine. My shoulders were much harder. As I tried to squeeze through, I kept my eyes on the beams of light ahead. The driver was still walking in the opposite direction. When I craned my neck to the right, I couldn’t see the passenger anywhere. I felt a mix of claustrophobia and panic as I tried to squeeze my shoulders through. If the guards caught me like this, there wouldn’t even be a chance to fight back. It would just become a funny story to tell to their friends at lunch the next day.
Finally, my right shoulder squeezed through, followed by my left. I fell forward onto the seat and caught myself with my hands. Slowly and quietly I crawled like a toddler on all fours until my entire body was through the opening and onto the seat. My head jerked upward and I could see the driver coming back toward the truck, the lights blinding him. I looked in every direction for the passenger, but I couldn’t see him.
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I had the truck. I needed to get out of there. I sat squarely in the driver’s seat and reached for the ignition only to find it bare. I looked down to see if I had grabbed the wrong spot, but I hadn’t. The keys were gone. I swore under my breath, wondering how I could have been so dumb to not look in the first place.
“You see anything?” The voice made me freeze like a statue. The passenger stood only about a foot away from the driver’s door. I couldn’t fathom how he didn’t hear me struggling to get into the front seat, but apparently he hadn’t heard a single squeak.
But none of that mattered. In a few seconds they were going to find me and all of it would be over. I would be taken back to the compound in Anchorage.
My eyes scanned the darkness of the cab and then I spotted it—a handgun set in a holster on the floor, its metal reflecting the green light of the clock on the dash. I didn’t hesitate. I reached for it and pulled it out of the holster. The driver was almost back and the passenger remained standing next to the door, looking out into the field beyond. The gun in my hands felt heavy. I waited for them to begin talking before I cocked it.
“She could be anywhere,” the driver said. “Those tracks could be anything. I don’t know why we’re expected to look outside Anchorage at night. There’s no point.”
The click of the gun wasn’t loud enough for either of them to take notice. A cool calm took over me in that moment. I felt that my freedom was secure now that I gripped a handgun. I had never made it a habit of killing people…just greyskins. But like Scarecrow, these men only wanted to do me harm. For that, they would die.
I leaned my torso down into the seat, keeping my eyes staring at the driver’s side door, gun pointed in the air. My feet pressed against the door as I watched and I waited. My finger pressed tightly against the trigger. Any tighter and I would have shot prematurely, but I knew what I was doing.
The door opened, but the driver’s eyes remained on the passenger who was still standing next to him. They spoke of going back, telling their supervisors that there was nothing to be found outside the walls. Beyond that, I was sure they both had thoughts of going to bed and sleeping the night away comfortably. No doubt they would be out again searching for me in the morning.
The driver barely saw the outline of me before three bullets entered his chest, and finally one in his brain. The passenger froze with the deafening shots, and he barely had time to bring his rifle around before I fired a shot into his neck. A mi
st of blood sprayed into the air as both of them fell to the ground. My arms started shaking. I had to get out of there. I got out of the truck and grabbed all their weapons, and the driver’s keys. There was no point in trying to do anything with their bodies. Their death would be discovered or assumed later anyway.
Fully stocked with weapons, I slammed the truck door closed and started the ignition. At the time, I didn’t know where I was going, and it didn’t matter. I just had to get out of there. So, I blasted the heat inside the cab, needing to warm up and dry off, and headed south.
Several hours pass before I need to fill the truck with gas. I hate stopping in the middle of the road on the darkest of nights, but it is necessary. Leaving the warm cab of the truck makes me feel even colder than when I had been soaking wet, but I know I’ll be back soon. I feel tired, but not exhausted like I would have expected. I suppose the adrenaline from the escape is still with me. Though, being alone out in the middle of nowhere with no light will bring its own dose of adrenaline.
I open the tailgate and reach for one of the gas cans, glad to find that it is full. I set the nozzle into the tank opening and tip the can forward. The cold wind starts to blow. Moments like these are dangerous. I look in every direction, waiting to see the outlines of greyskins, or the shadowy movements of raiders. The urgency for the tank to fill up more quickly starts to take over me, but I do my best to remain calm. I take deep, long breaths, remaining focused. Finally, when I feel like it’s full enough, I set the gas back in the bed of the truck, close the tailgate and lock myself in the cab.
I search the glove box for a map of some kind, but I don’t find anything. I want to get to Elkhorn, and I know south is the right direction, but I don’t know what road to take. I drive a little bit longer, looking for roadsigns that can lead me to somewhere I’ve been before. A few more hours pass by before I finally see a sign that tells me I’m only a few miles away from Oakridge, my hometown. I hesitate to take the exit, but I know how to get to Elkhorn from there. I have to take a road on the other side of the city.
It’s been three years since I’ve walked these streets. I knew people here. For me, Oakridge is a place that brings happy memories, but also the worst memory of all: the day we learned of the outbreak. I drive the truck a little more slowly as I reach the residential area. It isn’t imperative that I drive this way, but I want to see my house. There’s no good reason for it. It will only make me sad—bringing up memories that are from a different lifetime, maybe even a different world.
The streets are dark and quiet. Within a few minutes, I find myself parking the truck in front of my house. It’s only a couple of hours before dawn, and part of me would like to sit here and wait for the sun to reveal the house in its true vibrant colors with a trimmed lawn and bees buzzing around the tulips in the flowerbed. But I know the sun will reveal none of that. I can already see that the grass would come up to my thigh. Most of the flowers are probably choked out by the weeds. The air all around is as cold as death.
I think of my mother. My father. Even more than them, I think of Hattie and all the conversations we had together. I remember how much I admired her for the way she stuck with us. It was her job to pretend that my parents were good parents, but to actually be the real parent in my life. When I sit here in the truck, I do miss my old life, but not in the way that I thought I would. I don’t yearn the be the same person that I was. I like who I’ve grown to be. If there is anything to be said about the sickening world we live in, it’s that it will show you who you truly are. Though I was merely fourteen years old when all of this started, I can’t help but think of the way life carried on before the greyskins. How much did I worry about what others thought of me at school? How often did I fret over things that didn’t matter? Since the greyskins came, it seems that every thought and effort is put into what will make me stay alive. The relationships that I find worth investing in, are truly worth it. Now there is no time for frivolity.
If I could have my way, I would have it where the outbreak never happened, but the person I am now would remain the same. I look back on the Waverly that was and I almost feel embarrassed by how little I knew. I look at myself now and wonder how little I know still.
Movement in front of my house distracts me from my thoughts and I squint my eyes to study it. A greyskin starts moving for the truck, enticed by the glowing headlights. There is a lot of decay and rot, but I’m glad to see that it isn’t anyone that I used to know. It’s a cold reminder that the world I used to be a part of is gone and never coming back. I sigh and put the truck in drive, making my way toward the highway that will take me back to Elkhorn.
I guess the only thing that keeps me going in that direction is someone from that world I used to be a part of. Remi. She’s now the only link I have left to that part of me. She’s a reminder of where I came from. I just hope she is still alive. More than that, I hope I can find her.
It seems the only constant in my life is that the sun always rises. I haven’t slept in a long time, and the night wore on as if it was never going to end. As I stare at the orange and purple sky, I can’t believe the month I’ve just had. It was the strangest, and in a way one of the worst experiences of my life. The mental terror of having to watch someone be tortured day after day was excruciating, though it can’t come close to being the one tortured. I feel sad for Amber. She had so much hope. She wanted nothing more than to get away from Shadowface forever and she was so close. I owe everything to her. I wish there was a way for me to thank her—to tell her that I’m sorry for being unable to change her future.
I drive forward numbly. I am warm and my clothes are dry, but I carry on like a greyskin. I feel like I move just because that is the only thing left to do. Elkhorn comes into view before I’m ready for it to, however. The last memory I have from this place is one of death and destruction. I don’t want to be here. I didn’t want to revisit the place where I shot the only friend I had left. More than a friend, really. But it wasn’t my fault. There was no way for me to know that Mitch was going to take over my mind and force me to shoot Ethan. Was there a way for me to stop it?
I wish I could remember what happened in those last moments. There was the explosion. Samuel got away. They took me away. Was Mitch still alive? Did they just leave him there? Perhaps they were so scared of his new power that they wanted to get away from him. But then, why wouldn’t they just kill him? I remember he said something about Shadowface being his mother. Did she order him not to be killed? The Olivia that I met yesterday seemed like the type to have compassion for her son, but I’m sure it was just an act. The way I’ve seen Shadowface operate, however, makes me think she would have had him killed immediately.
A thought enters my mind that came as a surprise to me. What if Mitch is still here? I had never even considered the prospect. If that is the case, then I’m putting myself in danger by coming here.
But the vision, I think. The vision of me and my sister. It has to come true. I know my ability works to the extent that if I keep moving forward, whatever I have seen will happen. Even if Mitch is here, I have to know that at some point there will come a time where only Gabe, Remi, Evie, a girl named Jenna, and I will meet at an unfamiliar location. If that is the path I am on then I need to stay the course.
As I drive further into the city, I come across a few greyskins, but I speed past them. But it isn’t the greyskins that I worry about once I make a right turn toward the place where we fought a month ago. Several vehicles are coming toward me, men hanging out the backs of trucks, huge guns in their hands. I grip the pistol firmly, though it won’t do me any good if there did happen to be a shootout.
I slow down and the other trucks speed up. I decide to ease my grip on the handgun so as not to be threatening. I stop in the middle of the road and let them circle around me, pointing their rifles at my head.
“Get out of the car!” one of them shouts. “Keep your hands in the air!”
I set the handgun in the seat and do
as he commands. I don’t recognize these men, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t friends.
It probably means they aren’t friends. When I step out, I see about twenty faces that look angry enough to pump me full of bullets, but I know they aren’t going to do anything to me yet.
“State your business in Elkhorn,” a man shouts.
“I’m looking for my sister,” I say. “I don’t want a fight.”
“What’s her name?”
“Remi,” I say.
The man shakes his head. “Never heard of her.”
That fact is a blow to my stomach. Has a new group already replaced the people that were here a month ago?
“Jeremiah?,” I say. “Stephen? Are any of these people familiar to you?”
Several of the men exchange glances. “How do you know these names?” the man asks.
“I was here a month ago,” I say. “There was a fight that took place and I was captured by Shadowface. I escaped last night. This is the only place I could think to go.”
Nothing more is said. Instead they tie my hands behind my back and sit me down in the back of one of their trucks like I’m a prisoner. I don’t know if these men were near when the fight went down last month. For all I know, they don’t even care. I could have just brought myself into a horrible situation.
We drive a few blocks until we reach the main office building where Stephen held his important meetings. The entire place is in shambles. Walls are broken down, windows shattered. It looks like the battle was just fought here yesterday, not a month ago.
They pull me out of the truck and lead me inside the office building. The inside isn’t a lot better than the outside, but there are people walking around, talking to each other. When I enter the room with the armed guards, it’s like someone ordered them all to stop talking. The sudden silence unnerves me, and their stares make me look down at my feet.
Into the Shadows Page 10
