by Hakok, R. A.
‘So what do you mean to do?
He stretches his hands out to the fire.
‘I done what I came to, which is give you a warning. I don’t know how many of you there are, or where you’re hidin’ out, and I don’t care to. Garland Finch has taken an interest in you, and believe me that ain’t no good thing. If you’ve any sense you’ll clear out of here, quick as you can, and you won’t ever show yourself again, least not anywhere within a couple of days’ hike of Starkly, or Durham, or anywhere else he might send us looking for you.’
‘And you’ll just head back?’
He nods.
‘First light. I’ll say I followed your tracks south into the city, but then I lost you. Goldie and the others’ll tell the same story. You let me have that book he gave you it might go a little easier on me.’
I reach into my pocket for the copy of Watership Down, but as I pull it out I find myself hesitating, reluctant to hand it over.
‘Won’t he wonder how you came across it, if you couldn’t find me?’
He shakes his head, like he’s already thought about this.
‘I’ll tell him you tossed it, before your trail went cold.’
I stare at the cover a moment longer, then hand it over.
‘I appreciate it. Man sure loves his books. You find him one, your name don’t go in the lottery for a while. I’m surprised he let you leave with it.’
He looks over at the backpack lying against the wall. Most of its contents lie scattered on the floor from when I upended it looking for the bullets.
‘Maybe you could spare one of those food cartons, too? You know, for the journey back.’
I open my mouth to tell him I don’t have any extra to spare, but then I see how he’s staring at me. He has the look of a man who’s been on the wrong end of every deal going for longer than he can remember. I nod. He reaches for the closest one and it disappears inside his coat.
‘Much obliged.’
Outside the wind gusts against the front of the KwikPrint, harder this time. There’s a loud crack as it flexes the fractured pane. Mac spins around and takes to staring at the window. I remember how he had hurried in off the street when he first arrived, like he was more concerned about what might be out there than he was with the gun I had on him.
‘What you said over dinner last night, about the city not being safe after dark. What did you mean? Have you seen something?’
He stares at the window a little longer then turns back to the fire.
‘No, not exactly. It’s just sometimes, when I’m out…I dunno…I get this feeling. Like I’m being watched.’
I remember thinking the same thing, when we cut through the parking lot of the VA medical center, on our way down through Durham. I tell him what Marv told me; how he reckoned the furies weren’t gone for good; that one day they’d rise up again.
He studies me for a long moment without saying anything.
‘Your friend one of them scientists?’
I shake my head.
‘Then how could he know?’
But there’s no conviction in his words; it’s like he’s only saying them because he needs it to be so. I consider telling him about Gilbey. She is a scientist, probably the only one left whose opinion counts for a damn, and she thought the same as Marv. I don’t, though. Doesn’t seem like he’s trying to trick me into talking about stuff I’d do better to keep to myself, but if I’d been a little more suspicious of Hicks from the get-go things might have been different. Besides, I don’t need to mention what happened at The Greenbrier to convince him.
‘The fury Finch keeps, down in the basement.’
‘What of it?’
‘It’s awake.’
He looks up at me like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with that information.
‘When did that happen?’
‘Just last week, according to Finch. He doesn’t want anyone to find out about it. Says it might discourage those he sends out scavenging.’
‘Son of a bitch.’
His eyes shift back to the street. He looks like he might be about to say something, but then he just takes to staring at the ground between his boots.
‘Why are you going back to Starkly, Mac? I mean, why don’t you just stay away yourself?’
He shakes his head.
‘First thing Finch’d do is send Goldie and a few of the others out for me, then I’d wind up on the sharp end of Blatch’s knife, for sure. Besides, where would I go? That place is all I got; it’s all any of us got. Nuthin’ else left on the outside, not anymore.’
His voice drops and he glances around furtively, as though someone might be listening.
‘Besides, I reckon Garland Finch’s time’s getting short. There’s not many of us left now, so that lottery of his ain’t lookin’ like the deal it used to. I reckon it won’t be long before some of the brothers take it on themselves to bump titties with Knox and Tully. I figure I just gotta keep my head down, bide my time, pray my number don’t come up in the meantime.’
*
WHEN I WAKE THE FOLLOWING MORNING the fire’s died and the room’s bitter cold. I draw the sleeping bag tight around me and watch as my breath rolls out in fat, white plumes. It hangs above my head for a few seconds before vanishing into the frigid air. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and look around. There’s no sign of Mac. My gaze flits to the backpack, resting against the wall on the far side of the blackened remains of the fire. I climb out of the sleeping bag and hurry over to check the contents, but nothing’s missing beyond what I offered him.
I get dressed quick as I can, then pack up my things. I don’t bother with breakfast. I’m anxious to be on the road now, and besides, my appetite hasn’t yet recovered from what I learned about Starkly. I hoist the backpack over my shoulder and head outside. A single set of tracks leads away from the KwikPrint, the wind already softening their edges. I stare at them for a moment and then point my snowshoes around and set off in the opposite direction, picking my way between the abandoned wrecks that clutter the street, swinging around every few paces to check behind me. A few blocks south a sign points to the turn for 501, but I don’t take it. I plan to stay off the main roads, least till I’m well clear of Durham. It’s a fair bet Goldie and the other men Finch sent are already out there somewhere, looking for me. I have no intention of making it easy for them.
Listing high-rises give way to crumbling warehouses and then finally to darkened strip malls as I make my way out of the city. Little by little the roads start to clear. I pass a Kmart, squatting long and low on the far side of a vast parking lot. Mac said there was little left here; that the city had been picked clean. I don’t think he was lying to me about that, not with how thin he and most of the other inmates were, but I’d like to go in and check what’s on the shelves, all the same, to see for myself. Seems strange there wouldn’t be something worth scavenging, not in a place this size. There’ll be time for that later, though. Right now I need to get back to Mags and the others.
One by one the last of the malls drop away and the road snakes out into open country. I follow it as it curves this way then that, trudging up each incline, hurrying down into the shallows between. When at last I reckon I’m far enough from the city, I cut west and start heading back towards 501. An hour later I pick up the highway and turn south again. I keep checking behind me, but less often now. The road stays clear.
Morning stretches into afternoon, then evening. As dusk’s getting ready to settle I come to a large wooden yardarm, poking up through the snow just off the hard shoulder. The sign that hangs there shifts back and forth, creaking in the wind. Its paint is flaked, peeling, the timber underneath split, rotten black, but there’s just enough of the faded cursive left to tell me I’m entering Fearrington Village.
I hurry on by, following the highway into town. It doesn’t take me long to get the measure of the place. It’s little more than a wide spot in the road; not even a diner or a gas station, just a couple of store
s clustered around a stoplight, most of their windows broken, those that remain thickened with grime. I make my way quickly through. There’ll be time later to explore, but I can’t say as I hold high hopes for what I’ll find for us here.
I pass another sign on my way out, this one buried in a drift. I bend down and scrub snow from the metal until I can read what’s there.
Mount Gilead Church Road.
I recognize the name; according to Marv’s map the bunker waits somewhere down that way. I’m about to point my snowshoes around when I stop. Mags has the list of codes she took from my backpack, but without the map I’m carrying there’d be little hope of her finding the bunker. It’s more likely she’d have chosen a spot close, got the Juvies off the road, then settled in to wait for me.
I take another look along Mount Gilead. I can’t see anything that way that’d do for shelter, so I turn back to the road I’ve been following. A little further along, right on the edge of town, a single low brick building, set a little ways back from the highway, its roof heavy with snow. I stare at it a moment longer then start making my way towards it.
As I get closer I see a weather-faded sign: The Suntrust Bank. Out front a small parking lot, empty save for a lone sedan, sunk on its tires under a blanket of gray powder. The snow is smooth, undisturbed, but that doesn’t mean anything; if the Juvies got here more than a few hours ahead of me the wind would have taken care of their tracks. I scan the building again, more slowly this time. A narrow ATM lobby stretches the length of the front. To one side of the entrance the corner of something pokes from a drift. I don’t have to stare at it long to work out what it is: the container with the virus.
I start to make my way down off the highway then I stop, remembering how twitchy Eric had been with his weapon when I’d left them in Durham. I pull my mask down and call out, like I used to do with the Guardians when I was about to crawl back into Eden’s tunnel. There’s a pause, then movement from back in the shadows and a second later the kid scampers into the lobby. He drops to a crouch in front of one of the ATM machines and raises a hand like he means to wave but then he stops, the gesture interrupted. He tilts his head. It’s hard to tell on account of the goggles he wears, but it looks like he’s checking the road behind me.
Tyler shows next, cradling his weapon to his chest, followed by Eric. The rest of the Juvies crowd into the lobby after them, staring out as I make my way through the parking lot. I wait for Mags to appear, but there’s no sign of her. As I bend to snap off my snowshoes Lauren pushes her way to the front.
‘Gabe; thank God. I was…’ She stops herself. ‘I mean, we were all worried about you, of course. What happened? Did you find out where those men were coming from?’
I open my mouth to tell them about what happened at Starkly, but just then Jake appears at her shoulder. From the look on his face it’s clear not everyone’s as happy to see me as she was.
‘Where’s Mags?’
‘She’s not with you?’
He shakes his head.
‘She brought us down here last night. First thing this morning she went back out looking for you.’
‘Which way was she headed?’
It’s a stupid question; I know it before I’m done asking. Where else would she go? I’m already re-fastening the bindings on my snowshoes even as he points behind me, north, back towards the city.
Lauren hugs her arms to her sides.
‘What are you doing?’
‘There are men there, looking for me.’
The Juvies’ eyes shift as one, out to the parking lot, like I’ve just pointed to a horde of them, gathering behind the sedan. Jake mutters something under his breath I don’t catch.
Lauren takes a step closer.
‘Wait, Gabe; are you sure it makes sense to go back out? I mean, it’s already getting late. I’m sure Mags will be here soon.’
I stop for a second. What Lauren’s saying makes sense. Mags knew there were others out there; she would have been careful. When she doesn’t find me in the city she’ll go looking for shelter, somewhere to hole up for the night.
I look up to the darkening skies. That might be more than I’ll manage. I doubt I’ll even make it back to where I joined 501 before I lose the light, and there was little in the way of shelter along that stretch; I know because I’ve just hiked it. Marv certainly wouldn’t be taking us out again, not this close to nightfall.
But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s up there right now, while Goldie and whoever else Finch may have sent are looking for me. I finish tightening the straps on my snowshoes and point them in the direction of the highway, before I can think of any more reasons not to go. The kid’s still crouched in front of the ATM. He looks up at me through those outsize goggles he wears.
You should warn them.
I’m not sure how to do that, though, and right now I don’t have time to figure it out. I turn to the Juvies crammed into the narrow lobby.
‘Go back inside, all of you, and stay out of sight.’
They don’t need to be told twice. The ones closest the door are already tripping over themselves to get out of the lobby.
I wait till Eric’s gone back inside then I call Tyler over.
‘Can you stand watch while I’m gone?’
His brow furrows.
‘You really think they’ll find us, all the way out here?’
I let my gaze linger on the highway a moment longer than it needs to before I answer, like I’m giving serious consideration to his question.
‘I hope not. But there are men out there looking for me. I’ve left a trail, and if Mags is on her way back here she’ll be doing the same. That’s how the soldiers found us last time.’
He looks to the road, like he’s considering what I’ve just told him.
‘Alright.’
‘One more thing.’
I turn to the kid.
‘Johnny, will you stay out here and keep watch with Tyler?’
He hesitates for a moment, then turns his head in Tyler’s direction. It’s hard to tell behind those dark goggles, but it looks like he’s taking in the rifle held across his chest. Tyler glances down at him then looks back at me.
‘It’s okay, Gabe, really. I got it.’
I shake my head.
‘I need him out here as much as I need you, Tyler.’ I lower my voice, not wanting the others to hear. ‘The truth is he can see in the dark like you can’t.’
Tyler cuts another glance in the Johnny’s direction and I see his grip on the rifle tighten, like I’ve just disclosed the kid’s favorite food is Juvie-brain and he hasn’t been fed in an age. But then he nods, once, like he’s getting himself straight with it.
‘Alright.’
I pull my goggles down and set off across the parking lot. I can’t see how anyone’s coming down this road for us, not so late in the day, and if they are I’ll run into them first. But at least out here the kid’ll be away from the others. And Tyler will watch him close, without me having to tell them why.
As I pass the buried sedan I glance back towards the lobby. The kid’s settled himself underneath one of the ATMs. Tyler stands by the entrance, the rifle still clutched to his chest.
It’ll be fine. Tyler’s calm. He won’t freak easy, not like Eric, or one of the others. I tell myself that’s why I chose him, and there’s truth to that. The voice pipes up as I make my way up the embankment and rejoin the highway. It thinks there might be another part to it, too, whether or not I care to admit it.
It wonders whether I picked Tyler because he has a gun.
*
I CAN’T RIGHTLY SAY what my expectations might have been for the rest of that evening, only that they weren’t met.
Not even close.
I’ve barely gone a mile when a lone figure appears around a bend in the road, not twenty yards ahead of me. She stops when she sees me, shifts her goggles onto her forehead and pulls down her mask. For some reason spidey pings at that, but as usual there�
��s little explanation for it, so I put it down to the same surprise I’m feeling at finding her so soon. By the time I’ve shifted my brain back into gear she’s already closed the gap between us. She stands there for a moment, then throws her arms around me. I grunt as the air’s squeezed from my lungs.
‘Easy.’
She doesn’t let up.
‘Asshole. You had me worried.’
Eventually she releases her grip.
‘It’s getting late. We should head back.’
I shuffle my snowshoes around and we set off back towards The Suntrust Bank.
‘So what happened? Where were you?’
I tell her about getting surprised by Goldie and how he and Mac brought me to Starkly to meet Garland Finch. I describe how I took dinner with the inmates, but I don’t go into detail on what might have been in Blatch’s cookpot. I’m not sure I mean to tell anyone about that, ever, not even Mags. I describe the tour of the prison I got from Finch afterwards, including the library and the copy of Watership Down he gave me, but when the time comes I don’t mention what I saw in the basement there either. It’d not take her long to work out the significance of a fury being held behind metal bars, and I haven’t yet made up my mind how to tell her about that, or even if I mean to. I finish up with the warning Mac gave me about staying clear of Durham.
‘I didn’t see anyone there.’
‘How far’d you go?’
‘Just to the print store. When I saw your backpack was gone I figured you were on your way back down to us and somehow I’d missed you on the road.’
We walk for a while in silence. The KwikPrint was on the south side of Durham, but that’s still more miles than anyone should have been able to cover in a day.
A normal person, you mean.
I tell the voice to be quiet. Up ahead the sign for Fearrington shifts on its yardarm; beyond it the stoplight and the turn off for the Mount Gilead Church Road.
