by Cross, Amy
“Does she see you?” she asks.
“I...” For a moment, I'm still not sure what to say. “Elizabeth's very busy,” I manage finally, figuring that I don't want to worry Polly. “I'm sure she'll come some time soon, when she has a chance.”
“I don't think she will.”
I open my mouth to reassure her, but somehow the words don't quite emerge. I don't want to lie to the kid, and deep down I can't shake the feeling that for some reason Elizabeth is deliberately disassociating herself from everyone who was with her on the journey back to New York.
“Can I go and play now?” Polly asks.
“Sure.”
She gets up to leave, but then she stops and turns to me.
“Will you come back to see me again?” she asks.
“Sure,” I reply, “but... I might not be back too soon. I have to go away for a while.”
“Where are you going?”
“California.”
“Why?”
“To look for my sister.”
“Oh. Okay.” She pauses. “I understand. Good luck. I hope you find her.”
“Me too,” I reply, as Polly turns and hurries away with her toy bear. “But I will be back. One day, if I can be. I promise.”
Thomas
“The train leaves at six in the morning,” the man at the desk explains, as he slides the documents toward me across the table. “If you want to take Oklahoma as your break point, you'll need to ask onboard and find out where to get off. I don't have that kind of information to hand.”
“Sure.”
“That's partly because no-one quite knows which lines are functional right now. There might be a lot of damage.”
I nod.
“When you get to California, you'll be given somewhere to live, and you'll be given rations. They're being very generous out there, they want people to go. From what I understand, conditions are better than they are here.”
“I understand.”
“It'll be hard work, though,” he continues. “Still, you'll be contributing to something important. The first phase of the government's reconstruction plan is -”
“Three centers,” I say, interrupting him. “I know. Here, California and Dallas. And then smaller hubs in different parts of the country.”
“Bingo. It's going to take a long time to get everything up and running.”
I pick up the papers and look through them.
“What about Boston?” I ask.
“What about it?”
“Is that going to be one of the new hubs?”
“Unlikely. My understanding is that Boston has basically been flattened. I don't think there's much there, other than mud and concrete and twisted metal. The whole city spiraled out of control.”
“It sure did,” I mutter, as I tuck the documents into my pocket. “I was there.”
“I heard that some horrible things happened out that way,” the man replies. “They're saying it was pretty much a disaster from the start. I heard there was a lot of fighting, and lots of zombies. I heard there was even some cannibalism.”
I open my mouth to reply, but at that moment I hear a crowd cheering nearby. Turning, I see that there are lots of people gathered in a nearby park.
“That guys gets on my nerves,” the man grumbles.
“Who does?” I ask.
“Kendricks. Jonathan Kendricks. He's setting himself up as some kind of savior, like he's gonna lead us all out of this mess. If you ask me, that's the last thing we need right now. We need stability and good governance, not some asshole with a messiah complex who thinks he's got all the answers. He's charismatic, I'll give him that, but I was sick of charlatans before this started and I'm doubly sick of them now.” He lets out a derisory sniff. “We need serious people. Not idiots like that.”
“I'll be back in the morning,” I reply, before turning and heading along the street.
After a moment, however, there's another cheer, and I stop. I can just about hear someone speaking to the crowd, and finally I cross over and head into the park. By the time I reach the back of the crowd, they're cheering again, and I feel like I'm at some kind of rally.
Quinn would really love something like this.
And Carter would hate it.
“Let me tell you something else!” a voice calls out at the front of the crowd. “Let me make something perfectly clear! We are not here by accident! Who survived and who didn't survive... It's not random. I don't mean that in a discourteous way, I would never disrespect all the people we lost. But look around, look at the faces of the other people here today. We were chosen to live through the greatest threat to human civilization, and that is because we have something to offer to the grand design.”
“Seriously?” I mutter, as a ripple of applause runs through the crowd.
“Is this your first time?”
Turning, I see a familiar face smiling at me from a few feet away. It takes a moment before I recognize her as Rose, the woman I spoke to earlier when I was trying to trace Martha.
“He's so wonderful, isn't he?” she continues, stepping closer. “I come to listen to him every single day, I haven't missed a day since he started. He just makes everything so clear, and he helps me understand my role in the new world.”
“Uh huh?” I say cautiously.
“I've been struggling a lot,” she says. “With, you know, the reason why I'm here and so many other people aren't. Because, let me tell you, in the old world I was a nobody. I was aware of it at the time, I was just sitting in an office all day and I did nothing to contribute to society. I had no family, I had no friends, I didn't even have pets. And I know what you're thinking, you're thinking that someone like me maybe shouldn't be one of the chosen ones. But here I am, and Mr. Kendricks is making me understand that I'm here for a reason.”
“Chosen ones?” I reply, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“It's not about religion,” she explains. “Well, it can be, if you want it to be. That's something Mr. Kendricks has made very clear. We're all free to believe whatever we want in that regard.”
“That's nice of him,” I mutter.
“What really matters,” she continues, “is that we do our absolute best in the roles that we've carved out for ourselves in the new world. We have to contribute to humanity's great rebuilding effort. There's no room for anyone who doesn't contribute, not anymore. We each have to take responsibility for our little corner of civilization.”
“Sounds... neat and tidy,” I reply.
“You're cynical. I understand that. After everything that's happened, it's natural to be cynical. But you have to realize that we need to look beyond ourselves. Every day, people come to my desk and ask me to help them find their family members, and every day I feel so sorry for them. Because the truth is, there's nothing to be gained from diving back into the past. We have to embrace the future.”
“I'm going to find my sister,” I tell her.
“No, you're not. The odds are incalculable. And you'll be far more useful if you stay here and help rebuild the city. That's what Mr. Kendricks is always trying to make us realize.” She puts a hand on my arm, in a kind of patronizing way. “We have to find ways to be useful.”
“I'll be useful once I've found Martha,” I reply, before slipping my arm away. “Enjoy your rally, I'm sure it's fine. But I have to go and pack. I'm leaving for California tomorrow.”
“I hope you find a way to be useful out there.”
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, as I turn and walk away. “Whatever.”
At that moment, a huge roar erupts from the crowd, accompanied by a wave of clapping. As I reach the gate, I stop and look over my shoulder. I can just about make out this Kendricks guy at the far end of the park, standing on some kind of raised platform. He must be really loving the sound of his own voice, because he's already shouting to be heard over the crowd. I feel a shudder pass through my chest, and I have to admit that the past few months have taught me to be very wary of large
groups.
I turn and walk away along the darkening street, just as the crowd roars again.
Thomas
“Thomas! Mr. Edgewater?”
Stopping as I reach the door to building 88, I turn and spot a man waving at me. He's hurrying across the plaza, and it takes a moment before I realize where I've seen him before.
“Wade,” he explains breathlessly as he reaches me. “Julius Wade. We met earlier, when you came looking for Elizabeth.”
“Where is she?” I ask, already looking past him in the hope that she's here.
“It's okay, she's fine,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “She sends her apologies and her best wishes, but she can't come here herself.”
“What do you mean?” I reply. “Why can't she come?”
“I...” He hesitates, and I can see a hint of discomfort in his expression. “Mr. Edgewater,” he continues finally, “the truth is, I think Elizabeth wants to move on with her life. She's very busy all day, working on various restoration projects, and at night she helps local children who have been orphaned. As you might understand, that leaves her with very little time for socializing.”
“Did you tell her that I need to see her?” I ask. “Did you give her my note?”
“I did.”
“Well? What did she say?”
He pauses, and then he holds the piece of paper out to me.
“What's this?” I ask as I take the paper.
“I believe it's a note,” he explains. “I haven't read it, of course. She gave it to me and asked if I could deliver it to you. I've been loitering here outside building 88 for the past hour. I know I could have given the note to someone else and asked them to pass it on to you, but I wanted to be absolutely certain that it reached you. I figured it was important.”
Confused, I turn away as I open the note, and then I immediately read Elizabeth's message:
Dear Thomas,
It's so good to hear from you, and I've glad you're going to California. I think that's a very good idea. Everything is fine with me, but I hope you understand that I have to stay here and help out. After all, New York is my home, and it always will be. There's so much going on here and I've already made a lot of new friends. Thank you for everything, good luck in California, and who knows? Maybe we'll meet again some day.
Your friend,
Elizabeth.
I read the note a second time, and then a third, not quite believing that this can be real. The message just seems so impersonal.
“Elizabeth wrote this?” I say finally. “Are you sure?”
“Well... Yes, of course I am. I was right there at the time. She read your note and then she immediately sat down and wrote this in response. There was no dawdling.”
“It's so... formal,” I whisper, as I read the note yet again. “It's so cold.”
“Is it not the response you were hoping for?”
I pause for a moment, before turning to him.
“I need to see her in person,” I say firmly.
“That's out of the question.”
“I have to see her!”
“It's not my decision,” he replies. “She was very clear, she told me that you're not to come back with me.”
“She doesn't get to decide that,” I tell him. “She's my friend and I want to see her.”
“I've done everything she asked,” he says, as he takes a step back and holds his hands up in defense. “The world moves quickly these days, Mr. Edgewater, and I appreciate that you might be feeling a little wounded. There are other people out there, however, and I'm sure that you'll forget about Elizabeth in no time. And, honestly, it's not as if you have a choice.”
“I...”
My voice trails off, and for a moment I have no idea what to say. I look back down at the note, and then – very slowly – I feel my blood beginning to boil.
“Do you have a pen?” I ask finally.
“I have this.”
He hands me a pencil.
“Fine,” I say, snatching the pencil from him and then turning the piece of paper over so that I can write on the reverse. “I didn't really need to see her, anyway. I just figured she might want to thank me for saving her life. That's all.”
I take a moment, hoping to set my thoughts straight, and then I write a note of my own:
Dear Elizabeth,
Thanks for your message. I was really just being polite, but it's no big deal. I'm off to California in the morning. Maybe I'll see you around some day, but I doubt it.
Good luck with the rest of your life,
Thomas.
P.S. I saw Polly today and she's fine too.
I read the letter back, and then I hand it to Julius.
“This is for Elizabeth?” he asks.
“Tell her not to bother replying. I'll be gone in the morning anyway, so I wouldn't get another letter even if she sent it. And I don't exactly have a contact address in California, so I guess... Tell her goodbye.”
“I certainly will,” he replies, before offering a slight bow. “I must say that you're brave, going out there. I admire your decision, Mr. Edgewater. We need fit young men such as yourself. I'm sure you'll make a great contribution out there. I'm sure you'll be very useful.”
“I have to pack,” I reply, as I turn and head to the door. Not that I've got a lot of things to take with me, but I need to get my head straight.
Stopping in the doorway, I hesitate for a moment and then I turn to see that Julius Wade is walking away.
“Hey,” I call after him, “tell Elizabeth that I...”
He glances back at me.
“Never mind,” I add, suddenly realizing that there's no point prolonging any of this. “Tell her I'll maybe see her around some day. That's all.”
He nods, and then he walks away. He quickly disappears into the crowd, leaving me standing all alone in the doorway. I still can't quite believe that Elizabeth didn't want to see me, especially after I told her that I'll be leaving, but I guess maybe that's just her way of doing things. I figure I don't know her as well as I thought I did, and to be fair we only spent a little over a week together. If I thought we developed some kind of friendship during that time, then I guess I'm an idiot.
“Goodbye, Elizabeth,” I mutter under my breath as I turn and head inside. “See you around.”
Day 196
Thomas
“You're going!” Victoria says excitedly, beaming at me as I hurry through the morning crowd and try to reach the station. “That's so amazingly brilliant!”
I smile and try to push past her, but she wraps her arms around me and gives me an unexpected hug that lasts for several seconds. I want to slip away and go straight to the train, but this girl seems to be full of joy. I guess I don't want to come across as some kind of grinch.
“I knew you'd do it,” she continues, as she finally pulls back. “I could see it in your eyes. You've got that spirit of adventure.”
“Sure,” I reply. “I guess I do. Now, if you don't mind, I -”
Before I can finish, she leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“What was that for?” I ask as she steps away again.
“It was for luck,” she replies. “And before you ask, no, I don't do it for everyone, I just...” She pauses, with tears in her eyes. “Ignore me,” she adds with a sudden, embarrassed laugh, “I just think it's so wonderful that you're going all the way out there in an attempt to find your sister. So many people give up on things like that, but you're literally traveling all the way across America because you care for her so much.”
“She's family,” I point out.
“She is, and that's the most important thing in the whole world. I wish you all the luck in the world, Thomas Edgewater. And I know this might crazy, but...” She puts a hand on her chest, right in front of her heart. “I have a really good feeling about your journey,” she adds. “I think you're going to find your sister. No, I know you're going to find her
.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, and then I turn and walk away, heading toward the station. Maybe I should have waited and said some more nice things to that Victoria girl, but I really couldn't think of anything and – besides – I'm starting to feel really nervous. I don't even know why that might be; I guess I've just been putting this journey off for so long, and it's hard to believe that it's finally about to happen.
My backpack is heavy as I reach the booth at the start of the platform. I brought as many cans of food as I could get my hands on and, as I hand my papers to the guard, I feel a faint twinge of pain in my lower back. I adjust the backpack, hoping to avoid any actual damage to my spine, and then I take the papers as the guard indicates for me to make my way to the train. He wishes me good luck, I thank him, and then I start walking along the platform.
I can't help glancing over my shoulder, but there's no sign of Elizabeth.
Why should there be?
All of that is over now.
Still, as I reach an empty-looking carriage and climb up the steps, I have to admit that Elizabeth's message is gnawing at me. It's as if I just can't get Elizabeth Marter out of my head, which is ridiculous since we barely even know one another. I didn't see her much after we got to New York, since she was assigned to a different crew. Besides, she seemed to want to fade away into the crowd. At first, I figured I just had to give her space and wait for her to come back, but now I realize that I was wrong. Clearly she didn't care.
“Is this train going anywhere near Oklahoma?” I ask, as a man in a dark uniform pushes past me.
“No idea.”
“Great,” I mutter, as I realize that I'll have to figure my route out along the way.
Heading toward the far end of the carriage, I find several empty seats, so I set my backpack down. My stomach is rumbling, but I know I need to ration my food carefully if I'm to make it all the way out to California. I filled my backpack with as many cans as I could find, but I could still end up hungry if the journey takes longer than it should. Plus, I'm not sure I'll be able to scavenge much food on the road, since most of those opportunities have begun to dry up. Long gone are the days when it was possible to find an abandoned gas station still filled with stock.
