He held the match high and surveyed the room for one of the lanterns. There was one in the other corner, and soon he had it lit.
He packed the Kelty with all the supplies that had been taken from it, as well as the rest of the supplies Carl and Beth had that were worth taking: an extra blanket, extra ammunition, another book of matches, and a pocket knife. Now what?
He could stay here for the night. Close the hatch and lay in the corner and try not to think about all the other nomads who had lost their lives in this space, their limbs cut off one by one to feed two people who had once been innocent in their past lives.
He used the lantern to lead his way back through the tunnel. This time he had no trouble stepping over the dead abbies. He blew the lantern out at the base of the ladder, set it aside, climbed to the top, and closed the hatch.
He ended up in a pine tree nearly sixty feet tall. Slipped into his bivy sack, used a rope to tie himself to the trunk, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.
Despite his exhaustion, sleep did not come. He listened to the forest sounds around him and watched the stars. He thought about the satellites that once orbited the earth, all those hundreds of satellites, and wondered how long it took before they began falling out of the sky.
At one point he dug in his backpack for a strip of beef jerky and made himself eat it even though he wasn’t hungry. Nearly a whole day had passed since he had eaten, and he still wasn’t hungry.
He closed his eyes and saw Beth with the abbies and the slight nod she gave him. Then he opened his eyes and stared out at the stars and thought about the woman he loved. He thought it would make him feel better, bring some kind of warmth, but all he felt was cold.
It rained sometime during the night.
Tobias had dozed and woke completely soaked. How long he had been out was difficult to say, but the sun was already peeking up over the horizon and the sky was beginning to clear.
Again he had no appetite. He ate the rest of the beef jerky stick he hadn’t finished, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.
He pulled the journal from his backpack and opened to the first page.
When you come back—and you will come back—I’m gonna fuck you, soldier, like you just came home from war.
The words that usually created so much warmth in his heart this time left him cold. Christ, it had only been four days since he’d left. Had so much really changed since then?
Tobias knew exactly what Beth had meant when she said you became a different person outside of Wayward Pines. The reality of it had hit Tobias almost immediately after walking through the gate. No longer was he the man who shared a bed with the woman he loved. No longer could he remember his past and how he wanted to make every wrong right. He had done things in his past he wasn’t proud of, decisions he’d made that still haunted him, but what was done was done. Nothing could change it. The only thing now was the task he had been given, the mission Pilcher had sent him on.
He flipped past the first few pages until he came to a blank page. He put pen to paper and began to write. He told her everything. Every single detail. What it was like waking up in the shelter. The staleness and musk. What the man and woman planned to do with him. The stink of the dead abbies. The sound of their war cry.
He stopped writing when he got to the part of the abbies dragging Beth through the clearing. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Wasn’t what she needed to hear.
He tore the pages out, one by one, and was surprised to find the whole narrative had been condensed to three pages. He’d thought he could fill the entire journal.
Tobias balled the pages up and put them in his backpack. He would use them later for kindling. Make sure some good came out of his wasted time.
He started to put the journal away, decided no, he needed to write something, and again put the pen to paper.
Day 4
I did a lot of walking. Ended my day in a tree. It rained while I slept and now I’m wet. I miss you.
That would have to do. He closed the journal, put it and the pen away, collected the rest of his things, and descended the pine tree.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Tobias knew he wasn’t alone. He went completely still, listening to the noises around him, hearing the usual birds chirping and cicadas singing, his hand all the while moving toward the gun in his jacket pocket.
A twig snapped behind him, and he spun around pulling the gun and aiming it right at the abby.
The abby stood there, maybe forty yards away, small and frail and innocuous. Even its black eyes stared back at Tobias with no threat. Eyes that Tobias had seen before, if only briefly. Sad, desolate eyes that mourned the death of its parent.
Tobias kept the gun aimed at the abby. The abby didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. Didn’t do anything but stand there, staring back at Tobias.
Tobias lowered the Smith & Wesson to his side.
The abby took a hesitant step forward.
“Stop.”
The abby stopped. Cocked its head at Tobias, as if asking why.
“What do you want?”
The abby, of course, said nothing, though Tobias thought he could read it in the creature’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do for you.”
The abby just stared back at him.
“Get out of here before I shoot you.”
The abby didn’t move.
Tobias moved the gun from his right hand into his left, bent and grabbed a rock, threw it at the ground near the abby.
“I said, get!”
The abby backed away, startled, but made no sound.
It wasn’t until then Tobias realized his level of disappointment. He’d wanted the abby to charge at him. Anything that would be considered a threat so he could shoot the monster dead.
Throwing another rock, he knew, would not create the desired effect. Firing his weapon, however, was out of the question. A gunshot could bring other abbies to his location, and he’d had enough of abbies for the time being.
Instead of waiting for the abby to charge him, Tobias charged the abby.
Just like any animal, it retreated. But it didn’t retreat far. Only a few yards before stopping when Tobias stopped.
“Just go,” Tobias said.
The abby stared back at him.
“Go!”
He charged again, scooping up another rock and throwing it straight at the creature. The rock hit the abby in the chest.
The abby let loose a cry much like it had the other day when it found its parent and took off running into the trees.
Tobias stood there then, breathing heavily, waiting for it to return. After several minutes, he was convinced it wouldn’t. He reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew the compass, determined which way was west.
It was then, as he turned and looked out over the valley, that he saw the rainbow. It stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. A rainbow, his mother had once told him, was God’s promise that he would never destroy the world again, no matter how bad or evil man became.
Even as a boy Tobias had been skeptical, and here now, more than 1,800 years later, he saw the proof for himself that God didn’t give a shit about this world. After all, this was hell, and right now Tobias was the only man who had the chance to save them all.
Leaves rustled somewhere behind him. He turned his head slightly and caught movement through the trees from the corner of his eye. The tiny abby was back.
He wasn’t sure what it wanted, exactly, though he had a guess. It was lonely.
Okay, then. If it wanted to tag along for now, Tobias would allow that. He, too, was lonely.
Either the abby would eventually give up and go away, or it would finally attack Tobias, in which case Tobias would put it out of its misery.
For now, though, he needed to concentrate on the mission at hand. Taking a deep breath, he stared out over the valley and the rainbow that straddled it. Tobias started walking, focused on that
iridescent strip.
He wondered what he would find when he reached the other end.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
Robert Swartwood is the USA TODAY bestselling author of The Serial Killer’s Wife, The Calling, Man of Wax, and several other novels. His work has appeared in The Los Angeles Review, The Daily Beast, Chizine, Space and Time, Postscripts, and PANK. He created the term “hint fiction” and is the editor of Hint Fiction: An Anthology of Stories in 25 Words or Fewer. He lives with his wife in Pennsylvania.
Wayward Pines: Nomad (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4
