He knew he had to have faith, but still, somehow Cody just knew: things were about to get a lot worse.
They just had to.
After – 3
“And If There Were Six”
“Shit!” Jeremy yelled, crashing to the ground.
The group had made it to Massachusetts on their way back to the house, and stopped at some motel in Fitchburg. Jeremy, Chris, and Derrick had made their way into town to restock on supplies for the house, and they took the van.
They had been scavenging in a couple of small neighboring shops, and everything seemed to be going relatively well.They had even managed to find some good food– canned goods, a couple water bottles here and there– along with some extra clothes that were lying around.
They were parked nearby, and Derrick had the keys on him, so if they needed to make a quick exit they could, but they hadn’t expected anything would come up. They were, of course, wrong.
As Jeremy peered about the cabinets by the front entrance to an old antique shop, he had failed to notice the sound of rustling and mutters coming from the other end. And suddenly, a scrawny and wild-looking man appeared from a corner out of Jeremy’s view and ran at him in full-force, knife in hand.
He tackled Jeremy to the ground and rose his knife into the air, preparing to stab him, and Jeremy reacted appropriately.
“Shit!” he yelled. “Guys! Help!” Chris and Derrick were in the neighboring shop– an old book store– and were too far into the store to initially hear their friend’s cries.
Jeremy was in a much healthier and stable condition than this man, fortunately, and so he could hold back his wrist, stopping him from swinging down the knife. The man also tried to choke Jeremy though, and that he could not do much about, as this man was on top of him, and already making it hard to breathe.
“Man, what the hell!?” Jeremy struggled, trying to maneuver the stranger off of him. The man said nothing, and instead just glared into Jeremy’s eyes, a lustful drive leading him to try and continue his venture of taking out his prey.
Chris walked outside nonchalantly, not knowing there was any danger afoot, and quickly noticed the scene laid out before him.
“Shit!” he shouted, now close enough for Derrick to hear as well.
“What!?” Derrick asked, sprinting outside. He saw Jeremy and his eyes widened. “Shit!”
“Yeah… shit!” Jeremy gasped. “Now help me…!”
The man didn’t avert his gaze from Jeremy; it was almost as if he was transfixed on him and his insatiable need to kill, presumably for anything and everything Jeremy had on him.
Chris ran over and shoved the man off of Jeremy, and then pulled out a pistol. He cocked the weapon, and aimed down his sights right at the man’s head.
“I’m only going to tell you once, man: get the hell out of here, or you’re going to die,” Chris threatened.
The man paused for a moment, almost as if whatever shreds of sanity he had left in him came back for a few, blissful moments. He almost looked scared. His eyes twinkled a knowing, perhaps even apologetic glance, before the haze fell back over them.
He scowled at them, and scampered away, running down the street and eventually into an alley, constantly checking from behind him that the guys did not follow.
Derrick made his way over to Jeremy and helped him up, dusting off his shoulders as he did. Chris wiped his own hands down his pants in disgust over touching the man at all.
“Disgusting… I get there aren’t showers, but you can still give hygiene a shot, can’t you?” he muttered.
“You good?” Derrick asked. Jeremy shrugged.
“I’ve been better, oxygen-wise anyway,” Jeremy said. “But yeah, I’m good.”
“What was that all about?” Chris asked. “Did you just like, not see him coming or something?”
“My back was turned to him; he got me right out the door,” Jeremy explained. “Dude was a junkie by the look of it.”
“Or just starved and crazy,” Chris said.
“Maybe, but that’s a lot more depressing a thought to deal with,” Jeremy said. Chris nodded somberly.
“So anyway,” Derrick said, trying to pick up an earlier conversation, “Jer, Chris and I were talking about something a second ago.”
“A second ago? Like when you ignored my cries for help a second ago?” Jeremy asked. Derrick just nodded bluntly.
“Right, then,” Derrick agreed. Jeremy glared at him. Chris smirked. “So we were talking, and we’ve been thinking–”
“Talking, thinking, shit dude just get to the point,” Jeremy quipped.
“We’ve been thinking, if one of us did die, in the group, who do you think would go first?” Chris asked, as they began to all make their way back to the van and pack up their supply run.
“What?” Jeremy asked, taken aback. “That’s kind of dark, don’t you think?”
“Well, we’re just saying hypothetically,” Derrick insisted. “Obviously it’s not like we want that.”
“Obviously,” Chris said.
“Right…” Jeremy scoffed. “Well, hypothetically, I’d say that if one of us were to go… it’d probably be Luke.”
“Wow, the cripple? Really?” Derrick said.
“He’s not a cripple, dude, he’s just a little messed up in the head. And even still, he’s Luke. Time and time again he’s put us before him and puts himself in dangerous and sometimes honestly stupid scenarios to ‘protect us.’” Jeremy defended.
“And you think that’s gonna get him killed?” Chris said. “We’ve been there for him when we have to be too, you know.”
“Yeah, but like, we never go to the extremes that he goes to, you know?” Jeremy said. “We’re all there for each other, and we protect each other, but look at what just happened for example. If it was Luke instead of you that shook that guy off? At this point? He probably would’ve just killed him right then and there for even touching me.”
“Well I would’ve too, if he hadn’t run,” Chris said. Jeremy gave him a light pat on the shoulder. That was all that needed to be said on it, really.
“Yeah, but to be fair, Jer’s right; Luke probably wouldn’t have even taken the risk,” Derrick said. “Which– I mean, he wasn’t always like that, you know? A weirdo, sure, but not a cold blooded killer.”
“No, but with everything we’ve been through, I think he just feels like he can’t afford to let us get hurt, even a little bit,” Jeremy said.
“Why though?” Derrick questioned. “He’s not our god damn dad, we can handle ourselves.”
“I think it’s because of our trip home,” Chris said, the others turning to listen to him. “Sure, it was initially Cody’s idea, but Luke took charge and drove us from place to place. And every little thing that happened: Jack’s place, the bridge, the town, home… I think he blames himself for all of that, and putting us through it.”
“He didn’t though,” Derrick replied, somewhat annoyedly. “We all went through it, him included. None of that shit had anything to do with him.”
“But that’s not how he sees it,” Jeremy insisted. “And he’ll never see it that way, so he’ll always try to keep it from happening again. I think that if we come against something like that again, he’ll go too far, and it could get him killed.”
Everyone was quiet then for a few minutes, getting into the car and going back to the motel. Derrick drove, and Chris sat in the passenger seat, with Jeremy sat behind them.
“Well, I thought it would be Adam,” Derrick finally spoke up. “I think he’s too much of a big, dumb lug for his own good. And he can just be so pissy sometimes.”
“Coming from you?” Chris scoffed. “You’re the king of pissieness!” He and Jeremy laughed, and Derrick just hid a smirk.
“Yeah, maybe sometimes,” Derrick said, “but Adam’s more of a dive into action kind of guy nowadays. Remember the bridge? Or Jack’s? He was the one who shot Jack first, after he killed Tyke; that was a dangerous move if you ask me.”<
br />
“And what Luke did wasn’t?” Jeremy argued.
“No, of course it was,” Derrick said. “But still, I feel like it was Adam that really thrust that all forward. And even though ultimately it ended up good for us, that could’ve gotten us all killed. I just think he does stuff like that a lot: flies off the handle, acts impulsively.”
“Well, Luke and Adam are the only two of us who’ve ever killed anybody,” Jeremy said. “So I guess they make sense.”
“Nah, I figure it would be Cody if it was anybody,” Chris said. “He can get so erratic–”
“Well he’s got ADHD dude; off the damn charts, too,” Derrick said.
“Yeah, I know, but that’s my point. It can come in handy, like in New York, but at the same time it can be really hard to handle, and we’re his best friends,” Chris continued. “Like, Der, you say Adam’s impulsive, but Cody seems like he almost always acts on impulse– like, exclusively.”
“I don’t think so,” Jeremy said. “I think he thinks things through more often then you give him credit for.”
“Maybe; I’m just saying what I think,” Chris said.
They were quiet again for a few moments, taking in everyone’s choices of who they thought would die, if any of them were to. None of them wanted or expected that of course, but still, it was interesting to hear the rationale behind each of the guys’ choices.
After all, in a world like this, things were never certain. One might argue that the only certainty there was, was death. One way or another, at some point or another.
“But, like…” Jeremy spoke up, feeling the need to add a disclaimer. “You don’t really think any of us are going to die any time soon, do you?”
“No, no I don’t think so,” Chris said. “I feel like we’ve been on our adventure, and now hopefully we can just settle back into life.”
“Yeah, honestly I think the biggest problem is going to be dealing with Luke and all his issues, but he’d do it for us, so… we can’t complain,” Derrick added.
Jeremy nodded, and leant back into his seat. He’d never really considered the fact that one of them might die. It sounded foolish, especially with the world they lived in now, but Jeremy just believed in a very childish way like they couldn’t die, not after everything that they had been through. Like they had some kind of godly blessing or something. Though more likely, it was just pure luck.
And that made him uneasy, thinking about it, but he did also have to consider: they had made it this far, so why couldn’t they keep doing what they were doing and be just fine? So long as they didn’t grow soft to the world around them, Jeremy had to believe that they would be alright.
And even though alright meant that sometimes things wouldn’t be great, it was good enough. After all, they had to live, right? They just… had to.
Day 2007
“Nolan’s Demons/Abraham”
Four days since Nolan last slept; that's how long it'd been. Well, it had been a long time since he got any good sleep to begin with, but the past four nights, he hadn’t even tried closing his eyes.
Late the first night, hours after their talk on that group and what to do about them, Cody came bursting through the front door with Snow in his arms. He was frozen to all hell, and he could hardly stand to breathe, let alone speak.
Derrick helped him take off his boot, and about three feet of snow a bucket of water piled out with it; his left foot shared pale and purple shades from the toes to the ankle. He could bend a couple toes, but his big toe was easily the worst of the bunch.
Nolan said he’d help how he could, as would Derrick, but in all likelihood, with their equipment or lack thereof, he might lose the toe.
Eventually, everyone heard about what happened, and they all started panicking. Adam suggested that they would be able to find their way back and they needed to trust Luke and Jeremy; if they all went out there they would likely just make things worse. As much as Nolan hated to admit it, he knew Adam was right, so he stayed, and did nothing.
Then the next day came around, and they still weren’t back, after hours of waiting.
Cody’s foot reddened up in a few spots, which Nolan assured him was a good sign, all things considered. His big toe still looked bad, but they thought it best to just keep it elevated, keep it warm, and let it sit. All the while, Cody walked with a limp, and much slower than usual. Adam had to help him move up and down the staircase.
Night inevitably crept back over the skies, and Nolan went up to the watchtower to get a better view of them coming back… if they were coming back. For hours there was nothing, and eventually he saw a man holding Jeremy by his side, who very sloppily made his way to the gate. Nolan called for the others and shot at the feet of the man leading Jeremy. He to simply dropped Jeremy, and ran away. It wasn’t the smartest move on Nolan’s end, but he was on edge and was acting rather impulsively.
Jeremy was incredibly pale, and his arm was gone. His left arm was gone below the shoulder; there was nothing there now but a stub. It was bandaged, but clearly he hadn’t received enough hydration and nutrients to stay considerably healthy. Nolan was stunned, but almost more so because Luke wasn’t with him.
Jeremy could hardly speak when they brought him in, and was soon out for the night, not waking up until late into the third day; Chris stayed right by his side, refusing to leave unless it was to get him something.
Nolan stayed awake the entire time, still waiting on Luke in the watchtower, expecting him to follow the trail Jeremy had earlier made. The snow started to come in heavy though, and soon enough he couldn’t see very far past his own face, so he went back inside, and waited on the couch. Still, nothing came, and still, he did nothing.
Some time into the third day, Jeremy came to. He described what happened after Cody left, and how he’d woken to find that Luke was gone. What was left of his arm had been bandaged up, and a man said he was directed to bring Jeremy back home unharmed. That was all he knew.
Everyone else raised questions where they could have taken Luke, or if he somehow could have gotten away; surely, he had to be in Gilead otherwise.
Chris and Derrick grew angry with Snow, questioning her to no end about the camp and its people, and Cody and Adam had to calm everyone down and separate them from her; Nolan was too wrapped up in his own mind to do anything about it.
He did his best to help Jeremy out with whatever medical attention he could give, but it wasn’t much. Cody, having moved around too frequently, and heating the toe more than he ought to, ended up losing the toe. Derrick and Adam helped with the operation; it was painstaking, and despite the numbness, Cody couldn’t help but wail in pain from the basement floor, his cries echoing through the shattered household.
Adam put Snow to sleep as best he could, as he could tell Nolan was still in a funk, and eventually, everybody went off into their rooms after a day of arguments and discourse over what to do and who was at fault, and finally went to sleep. Everyone but Nolan, who still did nothing.
He stood in the kitchen. He stared blankly at the table while leant on the counter, his arms crossed, his mind deep in thought.
The stars look really nice tonight, huh?
Where could Luke have gone? He had to have made it out, right?
Please! Let us in! Open the door!
It was Luke! He always found someway out of a bad situation, didn’t he? Even before everything else, Luke always found the solution to whatever problem he had. Whatever problem any of them had. That’s what he did.
If they matter enough, they’re not going anywhere. I sure as hell don’t plan on letting it happen, anyway.
Nolan breathed heavy, and tried his best to stay composed. His best, of course, wasn’t nearly enough, as the thoughts rushed through his head like a hurricane ripping its way through a small town; everything torn up from its roots and thrown about haphazardly. He couldn’t for the life of him focus on anything, not anything good, and all he could stand to do was breathe heavier and heavier, more
and more strenuously, trying to do whatever he could to not throw up, or cry, or both.
“Fuck…” he cursed, trying to take a step forward, and having to quickly grab hold of one of the kitchen chairs for support. He used his free hand to grip at his forehead, trying to stop all the sounds and voices whirring in his head. He couldn’t.
Luke wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Not after all this. Not after everything. He had to be alive. Even if he was still taken, he just had to.
Nolan put…put down the gun!
“Fucking stop!” Nolan shrieked, dropping to his knees and gripping onto the top of the chair like his life depended on it. He heard footsteps coming from somewhere, but he was too disoriented to tell where from.
He let go of the chair and hit himself in the head, hard, trying to stop the memories from flinging around in his mind. It didn’t help all that much, but the pain was giving him something to focus on.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Nolan struggled to make his way to the kitchen counter again, where he flung open a drawer and reached for a knife. It was only a butter knife, but still, he believed he could use it in some fashion to inflict enough pain to get his mind on something else.
He grabbed it, and fell back to the floor, turning his arm so his palm faced him. He used his right hand to lift the knife into the air, and down toward his forearm. He pressed down on his pale, white skin, and slowly cut back and forth across it.
Nothing happened at first, so he pressed harder, and suddenly felt blood beginning to slip out from the slits he formed in his arm. The pain felt good; it felt real. The only real thing he could control anymore, good or bad or awful.
And the blood, it was evidence. Evidence he was still alive. Evidence he still had something to give. To pay for…for everything. To pay, and to feel, and…and to–
“Nolan!” Derrick yelled for the fifth time, sprinting over and swiping the knife out of his friend’s hand, tossing it across the room. “The fuck are you doing, dude!?”
The Way Back (Book 2): The Way Back, Part II Page 11
