by Cross, Amy
"Do you really believe that?" I ask.
"Yes," he says firmly, "and there's something else I believe. I believe you untied that girl and helped her get out of here. I believe you decided you know better than Bob, and you thought he was being too harsh with her."
"He was torturing her!" I reply, exasperated by the way Henry seems determined to defend Bob at every opportunity.
"He was questioning her," he says, "and he was getting somewhere. He had a plan, but you went and decided you knew better. So now she's out there, and now Bob doesn't trust us, and now you have to accept that if something bad happens, Elizabeth, it's your fault. You don't know that the girl isn't off telling her friends about us right now, and then they'll get all their weapons together and they'll come down here, and they'll kill us, and then they'll take all our stuff and that'll be the end of everything."
"You're paranoid," I say.
"No, you're naive!"
"The world isn't like that -" I start to say.
"It is now!" he shouts. "It's exactly like that, and the only person who knows how to deal with it is..." He pauses. "I get that you have your own ideas," he continues eventually, "but you can't go around interfering with things other people are doing. You can't go around undoing Bob's work. If you'd captured that girl, then maybe you could have been the one to decide what to do with her, but Bob captured her, so it was his choice. You basically stole her from him -"
"You can't steal a person," I reply, although I immediately realize that Bob seems to have 'stolen' Henry from me. I feel as if I can't win this argument without admitting that I helped Mallory to get away, but at the same time I don't feel as if I trust Henry enough to let him know the truth. Given that he probably feels the need to prove himself to his master right now, he'd probably go straight to Bob and tell him what happened. I hate the feeling of not being able to trust my own brother, especially now that he might be the only family I've got left.
"You still won't admit it, will you?" he continues. "You helped that girl to get away from us, but you won't admit it because you know, deep down, that you made a mistake. You know that you let your sympathy for her take over and force you to make a bad choice."
I shake my head.
"Face it," he says, turning to go back through to the rest of the apartment, "you couldn't leave Bob to make the decision. You had to jump in and assume you knew best. I just hope you know that if this all goes wrong... if it turns out that the girl comes back with some other people and we end up losing our supplies, I'm gonna blame you. I'm gonna blame you for everything. You're arrogant. You're self-absorbed. You'd make a really fucking bad solider, Elizabeth."
I sit on the bed and listen to him walking away. Did he really just tell me I'm a bad soldier? Did he just call me arrogant? Bob has clearly got right inside his head, filling him with ideas that make little sense. It's as if he's bought completely into Bob's view of the situation as being some kind of military operation. Taking a deep breath, I realize that I'm totally alone now, with no-one to talk to and no-one who can listen to what I have to say. Even worse, I think I've finally started to give up hope that my parents are ever coming back. For the past few days, I've had this constant belief that eventually they're going to walk back through the door, having made their way here from the airport. But now that belief is gone, and I realize it's just me and Henry. And Bob.
And Mallory. I need to go and talk to Mallory.
Chapter Four
Oklahoma
When I wake up, I realize the truck has stopped moving. Looking over at the driver's side, I see an empty seat, and I spot a familiar sight outside. I sit up and realize that we're back at the gas station where we first picked up Lydia a few days ago. For a moment, I wonder whether I'm dreaming, but then I remember that it's perfectly natural for us to come this route on our way into town. I guess I just don't like being reminded of what happened after we were here before.
"Joe!" I shout as I climb out of the truck. Walking over to Lydia's car, I see that it's exactly how she left it. There's even a small suitcase in the back seat. When we left the other day, the plan was for her to come back and get her stuff the next day, but she never made it. Within twenty-four hours, she was sick; within forty-eight hours, she was dead.
"In here!" Joe calls back from inside the building.
Taking a deep breath, I turn and look out across the valley. The whole world seems so still right now, as if a million distant noises have stopped. It's the kind of thing you don't normally notice; it's the background hum of the world, but suddenly it's gone and I'm left with this feeling of being completely alone. What if this is it? What if everyone else is dead, and all that's left is Joe and me?
"What are you doing?" I ask as I walk through the door of the gas station. The place is exactly how it was when we were here the other day, as if no-one's been here since. With no lights, it's gloomy and kind of creepy, and there's a pretty nasty smell coming from some of the rotting food that was left in various cabinets.
"There's still no gas," Joe says, as he wanders the aisles and drops various items into a shopping basket. "I just figured we should stock up. You never know what we'll be able to get in town."
"We've got food," I say. "What we need to do is get to Scottsville."
"I'll only be a couple of minutes," he replies, grabbing some chocolate bars. "Before you get all preachy on me again, the fresh food is off. Go take a look for yourself. All the sandwiches are covered in fucking mold, so I figure chocolate's better than nothing, right?" He grabs some more bars. "Mom would've fucking freaked out if she could see this, right?"
Heading over to the drinks cabinet, I grab a bottle of water and take a drink. It's kind of warm, since there's no power to the cabinet, but at least it's something. When we left the farm, water was my biggest worry.
Sighing, I grab a basket and fill it with as many bottles of water as possible, and then I follow Joe back out to the truck. From here, it should only take us a few more hours to reach Scottsville, and I can't shake this dark feeling in my gut that maybe we won't like what we find. Lydia said that the place was deserted, but whatever's going on there, it seems to have already swallowed up my father. Climbing into the truck, I realize that Joe has fallen uncharacteristically silent in the past few minutes. I guess he's thinking the same kind of things that I'm thinking, and while we both know that we have to keep going, we're both scared about what we might find when we reach our destination.
Chapter Five
Manhattan
Making my way quietly across the delivery yard, I glance over my shoulder to make absolutely certain that no-one's following me, and then I slip into the maintenance shed at the rear of the adjacent building. It's completely quiet down here, with not even the sound of air-conditioning units to disturb the air; all I can hear are my own footsteps as I carry a small bag of food along a deserted corridor, eventually arriving in what used to be the kitchen for a hotel restaurant. All around me, there are bare silver work-spaces, waiting for cooks and chefs who are never going to come back to work. The place looks completely empty and abandoned.
"Mallory," I hiss. To be honest, there's a part of me that thinks she won't be here. After all, although she accepted my offer of help when I untied her during the night, I wouldn't blame her if she bolted as soon as I left her alone. Her experience with Bob must have made her extremely wary of strangers, and I'm certain that I'd have run if I was in her position. Still, I've got this lingering fear that if she has run, it might mean that Henry and Bob were right; perhaps she's gone to tell someone about us, and perhaps they'll be coming for our supplies.
Just as I'm about to call her name out again, I hear a noise nearby. Turning, I see Mallory emerging from being a doorway. She hurries over to the end of the corridor, as if she's checking that I've come alone.
"I brought you some food," I tell her. "Just like I promised. I'm sorry it took a while, but I had to make sure no-one followed me. It's all a big tense in there right n
ow, but I think it's gonna be okay."
She stares at me, clearly not convinced that she can trust me. She looks to be about my age, although her white-blonde hair makes her seem a little older. There are still some cuts and bruises on her face, which I assume are left over from her encounters with Bob.
"I'll just put this here," I say, placing the bag on the counter. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," she says, hurrying over and opening the bag. Without saying anything else, she eats the two sandwiches I brought, before washing them down with a small bottle of orange juice. It's like seeing a starved animal devouring its first meal for days, but then I guess Mallory probably didn't get much, if anything, from Bob.
"We don't really have much food," I say. "I don't even know if they'll notice that this stuff's gone, but it should be okay."
Once she's finished eating, Mallory wipes her mouth and takes a few steps back.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," I say. "I just brought you some food 'cause you seemed so hungry. I don't even think I can bring you much more, maybe not until tomorrow. They've noticed you're missing, so you can't come anywhere near the building. They think you're gonna run off and tell some gang all about us. Bob's convinced you're part of some heavily-armed group that wants to come storming into the building and take all our stuff." I pause for a moment. "You're not, are you?"
"That guy's insane," she replies, staring at me wildly.
"I know," I say. "He's got some serious issues. Whatever he did to you -"
"He hasn't got 'serious issues'. He's a fucking psychopath. He's completely off the deep end. You know that, right?"
I nod. "He thinks he's a -"
"Look at my hands," she continues, showing me the crusty, bloodied ends of her fingers. "He told me he'd rip off my fucking fingernails if I didn't tell him about my friends. He kept saying I must have friends; he kept going on and on about it, like he thought the three of you living in that building are the most important people in the whole fucking city. He wanted to know where they were hiding, and how many there were." She pauses for a moment. "At first, he said he wanted to offer them help, but later he said he was going to kill them and take their food. He said that's the kind of world we live in now. He kept telling me over and over again that life isn't fair and that I shouldn't expect it to be. One time, he even tried to come onto me, telling me I should give him things if I wanted him to let me go. I swear to God, if I had the spare energy right now, I'd go right back in there and stick a knife in his gut."
"He's dangerous," I tell her, "but I'm not."
"Yeah, well..." Her voice trails off for a moment. "Forgive me for being suspicious, but someone who hangs out with a psychopath clearly has some problems of her own."
"It's not like that," I reply. "We were kind of thrown together. This is just how things are right now."
"And that little helper of his," she says. "He's just as bad. Beady-eyed little shit."
"Helper?" I pause, realizing she must mean Henry. "That's my brother."
"Well, he's evil," she continues. "He just stood there, watching what the bigger guy was doing to me."
"But he didn't join in, did he?" I ask. "Please. Tell me he didn't join in."
"He helped," she says. "The big guy asked him to fetch stuff, like pliers and things, and the kid went and got them like an obedient little fucker. The big guy took my fingernails off, one by one, and dropped them into this little cup that the kid was holding. I was fucking trying to scream, but I had this gag over my mouth. I kept hoping the kid might come and help me, but he didn't. He just watched and followed orders. So, no, the kid didn't actually do anything, he didn't actually touch me, but he sure fucking helped."
"He's not like that," I reply. "He's a good person, he just -"
"You're his sister," she says, interrupting me. "You don't see it, but he's bad." She pauses. "Thanks for your help," she says after a moment, "but I can't stay around here. I have to go."
"Where to?" I ask.
"None of your business."
"Are there other people?"
"That depends on your definition of people," she replies. "There's a few people on the other side of town. They're working together. They're gonna head out of the city soon, find somewhere safer. I'm gonna go with them, if it's not too late. I can't stay here. I'll die."
"Where are they gonna go?" I ask.
"They're gonna head west," she says. "That's all they've decided so far. They figure going west is their best chance of finding decent land. I guess the plan is to try growing food, that kind of thing. There's only five or six of us, but we've seen enough of this place to know we can't stay. Not with those things around all the time."
"What things?"
"The things. You must have seen them. Dead people, but they're not quite dead. There's this guy named Kendricks, he's got all kinds of theories. At first, people were saying there were zombies, but Kendricks thinks it's more to do with a virus. I don't really know, but he sounds like he knows what he's talking about. He's the one who thinks we should abandon the city and head out west." She pauses for a moment. "You know, you might be able to come with us, if you want. Kendricks says that anyone who's fit and healthy can be useful."
"I can't leave my brother," I tell her. "And I can't leave New York, not while there's a chance that my parents might show up."
"You're making a mistake," she says. "No-one's coming back. There's not gonna be this big 'on' switch that magically makes everything okay again. That's what I thought for the first couple of days, but eventually I realized there's no chance. The best thing to do is to get into a group and then come up with a plan. Staying in this place is definitely not a plan. It's suicide."
"What about your parents?" I ask. "Don't you have family here?"
"They're dead," she replies.
"What happened to them?"
"They got sick, like everyone else got sick. Probably, anyway. I never really..." She pauses. "There's something wrong with this place. We all need to get out."
"I haven't got a choice," I point out.
"You've always got a choice." She sighs. "I have to get going, but thanks for helping me get away. That guy was insane. I'm pretty sure he was gonna kill me." She turns and heads toward the door, before looking back at me. "Do you know the bridge on the north side of Central Park?" she asks suddenly. "The little white one with the old-fashioned lights at each side?"
"Yeah," I say.
"If you change your mind about staying here," she continues, "that's where I'm probably gonna be for a couple more nights, while we get ready to move on."
"I won't change my mind," I tell her.
"I know, but if you do, that's where we'll be. Like I said, the original plan was to move out of the city in a couple of days. Until then, we're gonna be gathering stuff together, ready for the journey. It's not much, but it's a start. Just..." She pauses, as if she's not sure whether she can say the next thing. "Just don't bring your brother," she adds finally. "After the stuff that happened here, I don't ever wanna see him again. If you come to the park and you bring him, I won't let him join our group. You understand that, right?"
I nod.
"Seeya around, then," she says. "Or not, most likely." Turning, she heads out the door and I'm left standing alone in the kitchen, listening to the sound of her footsteps as she walks away.
Once she's gone, I turn and look across the kitchen. While I'm here, I figure I might as well check that there's nothing that might be useful. I spend a few minutes going through various cupboards, but the only thing I find is a bunch of cooking pots and some utensils. Eventually, just as I'm about to give up, I spot a door over in the corner, and I find a small pantry. There's not much left in here, but there are a few sachets of powdered soup and some blocks of noodles. I figure I can take this stuff back with me, and at least I'll be able to make Henry and Bob think that I came out scavenging today. Henry, at least, is probably already suspicious of my actions, and I need to make sure I don't do anyt
hing to heighten those suspicions. By bringing food to Mallory, I've already taken a huge risk. Now I just need to find a way to make Henry realize that Bob's a bad influence, and then I need to work out what the hell we're going to do next.
Chapter Six
Oklahoma
"I don't see anything," Joe says, staring out the windshield of the parked truck. "Do you?"
"Looks dead to me," I reply.
We sit in silence for a moment. Ahead of us, the first few buildings of Scottsville sit in ominous silence. There's no sign of life, no sign of movement. There's nothing. It's like the whole place is abandoned, although we haven't actually dared to make our way into the center of town. Scottsville's a small place with just a couple of hundred residents, so it's not like it should be a hive of activity. Still, there's something about the place, even when viewed from outside, that seems strangely subdued.
"I don't hear anything, either," I say, rolling down my squeaky window. "Listen. There's no sound of anything."
"What do you think?" Joe asks. "Do we carry on, or do we go around?"
I take a deep breath, trying to work out what we should do next. For the past few days, the answer has always been easy: go to Scottsville. Although I could tell that something serious had happened, I was always able to fool myself into believing that going to Scottsville would somehow make things okay. I lied to myself and imagined there being people here; people who'd know what had happened, people who could explain everything, people who could tell us what to do next. If I'm honest, I guess I was relying on there being someone in Scottsville who could wave a magic wand and make it seem like everything would be okay again.
I was wrong.
"I mean, we can just carry on," Joe says after a moment. "We can head on to Dudley. How far's that? Another fifty, sixty miles? It's not so much more. Maybe there are people in Dudley who -"
