by Isla Jones
Castle took me to the town in the morning. Vicki watched Cleo for me.
Castle had said that to practise shooting, it had to be a distance from the meet-up point. If rotters heard the gunfire, we wouldn’t be swarmed that way.
In the town, we’d climbed up a fire escape to the roof of the pharmacy. Castle showed me how to dismantle the guns, tell the difference between an AK and an M4, how to load them and—the part I’d been waiting for—how to shoot confidently.
At first, our targets had been windows on the shops opposite the road. Then, Castle cranked up the difficulty. He told me to aim for mannequins inside of the shops, or cash registers and chairs; little things that were obscured by distance. And then came the best part—the rotters.
One by one, half a dozen rotters had closed in on the sound of the gunfire. I’d never imagined how difficult aiming at a moving target would be. I’d gotten a few of them—Castle took cared of the ones who got too close.
By the time the sun—hidden by thick blankets of clouds—slid to the middle of the sky, Castle called it a day. We’d spent hours practicing. My aim was better, but I still fired with my eyes closed. He wasn’t pleased about that.
As we drove back to the auto-shop, Castle carried on about it; “You have to maintain your focus. Each second you don’t have the target in your line of sight, is a second you put yourself and everyone around you at risk. What happened back at the cabin—the bullet could’ve hit me. Your aim is decent, but your technique is lacking.”
“You know,” I cut in, “I didn’t have sex with you so you could lecture me all day. I’m almost certain the opposite is supposed to happen.”
Castle arched his brow and side-glanced at me.
I shrugged and pressed my feet against the dashboard. “You’re supposed to tell me how good I’m getting with guns and how excellent I am at everything I do.”
Castle scoffed and looked back at the road. “And jeopardise your promise for talent in favour of appeasing your ego?” He shook his head. “I’d rather piss you off and perfect your survival skills than have you running around with a machine gun and your eyes closed.”
“And I would rather be lied to about how I’m the best shooter,” I said.
Castle’s lips dared to quirk at the side. It was a smirk.
My goal that day had been getting Castle to smile; a real one. It hadn’t happened yet. I doubt that it will ever happen. He wasn’t the type.
“Besides,” I added, “it’s new to me. I’m trying.”
With one hand on the steering wheel, he turned his face to me. The emerald shines of his eyes studied me for a moment. “You did well,” he said, “for a beginner.”
It was the closest to a compliment I would get from him. My lips curved at the corners with pride and I wiggled my brows. “Damn right,” I said.
The road raced towards us through the windshield, bringing the shop nearer. We were only a few minutes away now, and with it came something I was avoiding—or someone.
“Have you talked to Zoe yet?” I asked. “About us?”
Castle reclined in the driver’s seat. “Am I expected to?”
My finger hooked around the lace of my boot and fiddled with the frayed edges. “There seems to be something still between the two of you.”
“I told you there isn’t. Not from my end.”
“From hers, then.”
“I can’t be held accountable for another’s interests or intentions.” The pad of his thumb ran over the leather on the steering wheel. “Is this how it’s going to be now?”
I released the lace and slouched in the passenger seat. “I’m only suggesting you talk to her, is all.”
“What you’re suggesting,” he said, “is that I tell her I’m with you.”
Castle had seen right through me.
I was threatened by Zoe. How could I not be? She was everything I would never be, everything I’m not. Where I’m clumsy and accident-prone, she’s agile and free of trouble. Zoe is like them; the deltas. A warrior, a fighter. And I’m a stray the deltas picked up on the way.
“And if it is?” I said, picking at the dirt under my nails. I couldn’t look at him. The flush that swept over my freckled face gave away the shame washing over me—If Castle and I had anything in common it was admitting to vulnerable feelings.
“If it’s what you want, I’ll talk to her.” His stiff tone told of his reluctance. Caslte loathed those sorts of conversations.
I imagined Castle marching over to Zoe, telling her ‘I’m with Winter’, then walking away. Awkward, stiff and robotic. At the thought, a snort caught at the back of my nose.
Castle glanced at me, a question in the apple-green sheets he wore as eyes. I just smiled and tilted towards him. My head rested on his shoulder.
Castle didn’t welcome the affection. He didn’t return it. He never did.
We drove back to the shop, my head perched on his shoulder for the rest of the journey.
Castle pulled into the lot.
As we rolled over the dirt to the garage, I dropped my feet from the dashboard and squirmed on the chair.
“I need to pee,” I said. “Stop here.”
Castle stopped the Jeep and idled. “Are you armed?”
I patted the fully-loaded gun tucked into my holster. “Got a knife, too.”
Castle inclined his head. I snatched my bag—with the needed toilet roll inside—and hopped out of the car. The trees were the prime spot for relieving ourselves.
As I hiked up to the thin woods, I slung my bag over my shoulder and focused on my ankle. The pain had faded massively—the swelling had gone down and the discoloured skin had vanished. It was only my shoulder that still stung me now. Castle said that it would always be that way; ache in the cold, tight in the heat. It was a bullet-wound and those never really healed.
At the thought, I rolled my shoulder as if kinking out any knots. My boots crunched against the crisp grass that had frozen over from the chill of the air. Snow would come soon, I imagined. And the further east we travelled, the harsher the weather would become. First, we had to wait for the others. I was certain that our time at the auto-shop was almost up. We would have to move onto the next meet-up soon and wait—but for who?
What if the six of us were all that were left? Were we waiting on ghosts?
I’d like to think not.
A few minutes into the woods, I stopped and turned around. The outline of the auto-shop was faint through the white-tinted air and thin spread of trees. It was close enough to reassure me, but far enough that I would have privacy.
As I slid the bag-strap from my shoulder, the trees rustled from a cold breeze. I shivered and dropped my bag to the dirt. The breeze stopped—but the trees still whispered.
My brows furrowed as I strained to hear the faint noise. It wasn’t the trees, I realised; it sounded like someone speaking. It came from ahead, not far away.
Listening to the murmurs, I crept through the trees and scanned the woods—someone was out there with me. I reached a thin tree at the edge of a slope. Someone moved behind it; someone with coiled black hair and faded edges. I’d recognise that hair anywhere.
It was Zoe.
She hadn’t seen me. She paced beside the tree, keeping out of my sight, and she talked to herself in low whispers.
I ducked behind a tree trunk and listened.
“Right at the broken tree,” she mumbled. “It’s not here. I—I tried. Two days. Yes.”
Zoe was nuts, I realised. Who knew how long she’d been alone? But I’d spent five months alone—during the outbreak too!—and I didn’t talk to myself. Well, I’d talked to Cleo a lot, but it’s not the same … is it?
I stepped around the tree to draw nearer. Her words were muffled by the distance. As my boot touched down on the ground, a twig snapped beneath it. A sharp breath sucked in between my teeth. I stilled. My back pressed against the tree trunk.
Zoe had stopped mumbling.
A silence pressed down on th
e woods. Even the trees had stopped whispering. Then, footsteps crunched against the crisp grass—I snuck out from behind the tree and edged back to my bag. Just as I ducked down beside it, Zoe appeared ahead.
“Hey,” she said.
I faked surprise. I gave a squeaky cry and my head jerked up.
“Sorry,” said Zoe. Her lips swiftly spread into a half-assed smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you—I thought I heard someone up here.”
“Just me,” I said and unzipped my bag. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
A satchel was slung over Zoe’s shoulder. She patted it as she leaned against a tree. “I was tending to a visitor.”
I frowned and ran my gaze around the woods. Zoe laughed. “Not that type of visitor.”
“Oh.” The points of my eyebrows arched. “I have pads—do you need any?”
Zoe waved away my offer. “I’m always prepared.”
And crazy, I thought, but of course I didn’t say that to her.
A tight smile tugged at my lips and I dove my hands into my bag. After a moment of rummaging around, I pulled out a roll of toilet paper wrapped in tin-foil. Before you judge me for it, you should know that it stops the toilet roll from getting dirty.
“Was Castle a good teacher?” asked Zoe. She still leaned against the tree, despite that I held toilet roll in my hand. It was damn obvious what I needed to do. Why was she still standing there? “Can’t imagine he’d have much patience,” she added.
A hum was my response. I stood up and hid behind a tree. Zoe didn’t take the hint—she stayed where she was and talked to me as I did my business.
“Castle never liked the other survivors—the ones like you.” Zoe’s tone wasn’t insulting; it was amused, as if she found the entire situation hilarious. I don’t believe for a second that any of it amused her. “He saw them as expendable. You can imagine my surprise when I learned of his relationship with you.”
I finished up and buttoned my jeans. As I emerged from the tree, Zoe’s dark eyes followed me to my bag.
“But he wasn’t the first, was he?” she said. The lightness of her tone vanished. All pretence was gone—Zoe was starting the conversation she needed to have, but with me. Castle was supposed to be the one she spoke to, not me. “If there’s anything I can say about Leo and Castle, it’s that they have the same tastes.”
Zoe ran her eyes up and down my body, and I knew she wasn’t impressed.
“I wouldn’t say we’re the same.” I dropped to my knees beside my bag and stuffed the toilet roll back inside. As I zipped it up, I added, “And it wasn’t like that.”
“Can I give you some advice?” said Zoe. “Woman to woman?”
With a sigh, I looked up at her and waited.
“An apocalyptic world is no place for a love triangle.”
“Thanks,” I said, and got to my feet. “But I think I’m the wrong person for you to talk to about this.”
“You’re the exact person who I need to speak to,” she said. Her arms crossed over her chest; the sleeve of her leather jacket caught onto a button and pulled back. From the gap, the dark lines of a tattoo were revealed. It looked like the head of a snake.
“And why’s that?”
Zoe stared at me; her chocolate eyes had hardened into brown stones. A pause passed between us in which we just looked at each other. Then, her lips thinned into a pitying smile.
“I was with Leo at first too,” she said.
My stomach churned at the thought of Leo touching her—of touching anyone.
“But Rose came along with her smiles and open legs,” said Zoe. “And she jumped into bed with him. Leo didn’t care—he tricks you with his charm, makes you feel safe with him, but it isn’t real.”
I’d once asked Leo if he’d been with Rose. Now that I thought about it, he’d told me ‘Rose has never been a priority of mine’, but he hadn’t denied it.
I shifted on the spot. The pang in my chest demanded my attention, but I focused on Zoe.
“How did that lead you to Castle?” Curiosity and hesitation laced together in my voice—it came out in hitched whispers, as if afraid to hear the answer.
“Naturally, I confronted Leo about what he did,” said Zoe. “He laughed in my face—and it broke my heart. I never meant anything to him, but he’d meant everything to me. I wanted to hurt him, in any way that I could.”
“Castle’s his best-friend,” I said, understanding. “You thought that by sleeping with Castle, it would hurt Leo.”
“That was the original intention, yes. Though, Castle had more attention for me than I’d expected. We fucked on the regular.”
I flinched as if she’d slapped me. Her words didn’t strike out, but her tone did. Zoe was laying claim, marking a territory that she believed had once been hers. She might as well have saved us the time and just said it; ‘He was mine first.’
“The group was mainly government officials back then,” she said. “There were some survivors with us—not many, but enough for the dynamics to shift. I’m not one of the survivors,” she added. “I’m one of the original group—a part of the mission.”
I swallowed. My mouth was parched.
“Some of us began to argue amongst ourselves,” she said. “The mission caused tension in the ranks. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wanted Castle to come away with me—just the two of us against the world. Story-book shit, you know?”
I shrugged. But I did know—I’d had that experience with him. Suddenly, I felt as though I had one up on her. Not that it was a competition.
“Castle chose the mission. The way he dismissed me—It was so much like Leo, without the laughter. A total indifference to how I felt. And that was it,” she said with a shrug. “I cared for them, and neither of them cared for me—yet they’d convinced me otherwise.”
Zoe pushed herself from the tree and dropped her arms to her sides. As she stepped towards me, I fixed my bag strap over my shoulder.
“No matter how much you think Castle or Leo care about you—the reality is, they will kill you save their own mission. You, to them, are worth nothing but sex. They don’t care about anyone. Not me, and not you.”
Zoe brushed past me and trudged away. Before she disappeared through the trees, she called back to me, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he breaks your heart.”
I watched her go. The fun I’d had that morning had been stomped on by Zoe.
I suddenly needed to find Castle. As I made to follow her, a crack came from behind me.
My feet almost tripped me over as I spun around. The trees encircled me, dead leaves and broken twigs littered the frosty ground. But there was nothing there.
It must’ve been an animal, I thought. And that’s the last thought I gave it as I hiked back to the shop, lost in my doubts of Castle and Leo.
“You were gone a while. I was about to go find you.”
Castle strode towards me.
I sprawled out on the grass, Cleo chasing her tail at my feet. I’d been watching her; enchanted by the innocent contentment of the Chihuahua. She had been my source of company and entertainment for months, and when I’d thought she was gone, I had wanted to join her on the other side.
Castle stopped at my feet, beside Cleo. His hard eyes studied my face.
“Were you?” I said, meeting his gaze. “Were you going to look for me?”
Castle considered me. After a moment, he crouched down beside me, knees pressing into the grass. “That’s what I said.”
“But was it the truth?”
Castle said nothing. His elbows rested on his knees; his fingers met in the middle, tangling together. That was his tell—his fingers fidgeting. But what it told me, I didn’t know.
“I talked to Zoe,” I said. “She told me what happened.”
“You’re not Zoe,” he said firmly. “And my relationship with her is not the one I have with you. Whatever Zoe said shouldn’t concern you—If you trust me, we won’t have an issue.” Castle followed my distant
gaze to the trees ahead. As he watched them with me, he added, “If this is going to become the foundation of our relationship, let me know now.”
“Why? So you can walk away before the drama hits?”
With a sigh, he turned his eyes on me. The expression struck me. It wrenched the memory of the first time I met him to the forefront of my mind—the iciness of his glacier eyes, the tightness of his set jaw; the dangerous demeanour that clenched his muscles and smoothed any crease of emotion from himself.
I couldn’t look at the stoniness of his face any longer. I turned my gaze on the trees again, watching the branches sway and touch for seconds in time.
“I made a decision,” said Castle. His voice matched his aura; simmering with caged danger. “I would prefer not to regret it, Winter.”
Castle-Translation: Don’t be a bigger distraction than you already are.
My gaze stayed on the trees. If I stared at them long and hard enough, it almost looked as though shadows moved between them.
“Zoe is smart,” he said. “She’s trying to get into your head—and it’s working. Don’t let her manipulate you like that.”
A shadow whizzed through the trees ahead. It resembled Zoe. My eyes were playing tricks on me. I rubbed them with my fists. When I dropped my hands to my lap, my eyes followed them. “How much longer will we stay here?” I asked.
Castle scratched his jawline. Stubble had grown; pale and short. He hadn’t shaved that morning. “Not long, now,” he said. “Another couple of days at most. The others should be here by now.”
“Unless they all died,” I said, picking at blades of grass. They reminded me of his eyes, green yet frosty.
“You’re morbid today,” he said. His hand reached out and hovered near my cheek. He made to touch me, but drew his hand back. “Didn’t release enough steam this morning with all the target practice?”
“Guess not,” I said, smirking. “Wanna release more steam?”
I looked at him from beneath my lashes; I was going for a seductive gaze. I probably looked cross-eyed. Not that it mattered—it worked.
