by Angel Lawson
Tiny buds appear on the tips of branches. Green shoots from the dark earth and for once I can step outside without my cheeks cracking from the dry wind blowing off the river.
I’m at a crossroads. I know this. My paranoia has waned over time. I no longer sleep with a gun under my pillow. The fences around the town remain strong and my body grows firm and efficient. The more I prepare, the less I think it’s necessary. Maybe, like Avi has drilled into my head, I really am safe here. The idea leads me to consider beyond the next moment. The next mission.
Before college, I had a laser-like focus on valedictorian and pre-med at Duke. From there I would pick a specialty in science. Maybe epidemiology like my father or sister.
Then all that ended and college evaporated into nothing more than a dream. I became a foot soldier. First in my sister’s army. Then in someone else’s. Sure I had my Resistance, but I was never anything more than a pawn in someone else’s game.
But now, up here in this place of snow and peace, this place where I no longer feel like I have to fight for every breath I take, I feel the urge to declare myself. Find something I want to do. Today will be a test of that future. We’re headed out on a new mission outside the gates of Catlettsburg. I’m eager to see what the future holds.
I pick up my pack from where I keep it by the door and move to my spying spot in the stairwell, although it’s unnecessary. Jane and Avi have been fighting loudly for hours. Weeks, really. Ever since he announced casually over dinner that he’d shared the vaccine with a small community outside the fence line.
“When did you do this?” she asked that night over dinner. Her tone was sharper than it had been in months. “How long ago?”
“Months before you arrived. We had extra and this is a farming community we often trade with. It seemed like a good idea.”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have.”
He frowns, his forehead creasing. “You don’t think I should have helped people in need, if I had the opportunity?”
“It was a risk. A stupid one.” Walker and I sat on opposite sides of the table, watching their exchange like a tennis match. It was obvious from my sister’s tone of her voice she was worried about something. “It’s dangerous to tell anyone that there’s a vaccine. In this world it’s more valuable than gold. Second, all inoculations of the EVI-1 vaccine should be monitored.”
Avi pushed his glasses up his nose and stabbed his fork into the cured ham we shared for dinner. He ate a bite and chewed slowly. Jane waited for his response, eyes growing wider with each passing second.
“They’re an outlier community. Fringe even before all of this. It’s why I befriended them. They’re Mennonites and keep to themselves and we last traded with them before Christmas. The weather since then has made it impossible to visit or monitor for any vaccination problems.” He points to the pork on our plate. “You’re eating their food right now.”
Jane placed her silverware on the table and folded her napkin into a square. “I’d like to visit the community as soon as possible. I should check up on them.”
“I thought your days in epidemiology were over.”
“I have an obligation to those people.” She gave him a hard look. “As do you. To this town, as well. It’s been months since you’ve seen or heard from them. Anything could have happened during that time.”
Jane’s behavior seemed paranoid at the time, at least to me, but when I spoke to Walker after dinner she had a theory. Jane was worried other groups would find out about the vaccine and demand it for themselves. Larger groups—even some of the military Erwin said were active up here.
Because of Jane’s arrangement with Avi, there was no more vaccine and the town was completely unprepared for any sort of attack.
“When do we go?” I asked Walker that night.
“When the snow melts a little more. The water will be high in the rivers and I’m not sure how the bridges and other infrastructure will have fared over the last few months. It’s likely there are down trees and I would expect some fires like the one we had at the water plant in January.” Walker was originally from Michigan and had a better handle on the cold weather than the rest of us southerners. She asks, “So you’re in?”
“Of course.” I tilt my head. “On one condition.”
Her eyes narrow, curious. “What’s that?”
“That Jane trains with us before we go. I can’t go through what we experienced traveling up here. She’s a liability and frankly, just too damn exhausting.”
Walker agreed and met with Jane and told her our conditions. Together, along with Jackson and Green we decided to wait for the melt, praying spring would come early, all of us itchy to get outside. That gave Jane at least a few weeks to train intensively. She cried the first three days, hoping we’d cave and agree to just protect her. By the time the buds in the trees showed a hint of green and flocks of Canadian geese flew overhead signaling the switch in seasons, my sister could finally take a punch. Twice, even.
After all the weeks of preparation, we leave today. Well, that’s the plan, if Avi and Jane can stop fighting about the mission altogether.
“We made a deal when you got here, Jane. You promised you’d stay away from the research.”
“I’ve spent the last three months doing little but sleeping, reading, and cleaning. I even joined the library committee and also learned how to can food. I’m doing my part but there’s unfinished business, that you,” she says, “didn’t tell me about. You violated our agreement when you gave that vaccine to people outside of the community.”
I sigh and step into the kitchen. Jane’s bag is near her feet. She’s dressed in warm clothing and waterproof boots. She looks relieved to see me.
“Ready?” I ask. “Walker is meeting us at the gate.”
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“Jane,” Avi tries, reaching for her. It’s affectionate. They’re affectionate. Their relationship goes far beyond science. I wonder if he’s seen the bruises on her shoulder and ribs during this last week of training and how she explained it. “Don’t do this.”
“I don’t have a choice. It’s my vaccine. I’m responsible for what happens with it.”
I grip the strap of my pack and say, “I’ll be outside.” The sun feels a little warmer on my face today and I put on a pair of sunglasses I found in the antique shop down the road. I bartered for them with an hour of my time sorting buttons in the back room, which I later traded to the seamstress. I breathe in the fresh air and watch as a pack of kids runs down the road, headed for the school house. They wave, oblivious to the dangers outside the gates. I wave back.
The little world Avi has created works. I hope it survives.
13
“Let me see that map,” I say to Green.
He hands it over and I bounce on the hard, wooden seat next to him. Two reddish-brown horses pull the small wagon Avi gave us for the trip. It’s a modernized version some of Avi’s men put together over the winter. The wheels are rubber and better for navigating pot holes and muddy terrain but a wagon is not a car and I miss the leather, heated seats my mother had in her Honda.
“We’re looking to turn at the next intersection.”
“I knew that,” he says.
“I was just double checking.” I fold the map back into a small square and shove it in my pocket. We go over another hole in the pavement and the wagon lurches. I wince, feeling every hard jostle in my aching butt.
Don’t let the quaintness fool you—wagons suck.
“It was nice of Avi to offer us the horses though, right?” Jane asks from the back. She bit her tongue on a particularly rocky patch of road earlier and has been pretty quiet. Walker and Jackson both sit in the back with her, alert and on guard. Green and I in the front. “Otherwise it would have taken a couple days to get there.”
“Very generous,” I agree. It was generous, especially when he really didn’t want us to go in the first place. It’s just been a long day and I really hope we can get to the little
Mennonite town before dark. They live off the beaten path and although we’ve passed more than a few of the triangle signs directing us to be careful of other wagons and buggies, finding their exact location may prove difficult.
“Avi said we need to turn at the red barn but not the first red barn, the second red barn. The one with the brown door.” I remind him. Green gives me a hard look. I return it, but only briefly because he’s been giving me a lot of looks lately and I’m not sure how to handle that. “But you knew that because you were standing there when he said it.”
He leans in, pressing his shoulder to mine. “Are you okay? You seem a little jumpy.”
“I guess it’s just being out here. It’s been a long time since we’ve been out in the open, you know? The last time, I ended up in a cage.”
“True. But we got out of that one didn’t we?” It’s my turn to give him a hard look and he laughs. “Okay, you guys got us out. We were useless.”
Green navigates the turn and a short while later we spot the first barn. In a car, the second one would have come up quick, but in the wagon it takes a full ten minutes for the horses to trot that far. Even then it doesn’t exactly match Avi’s description. A massive tree has fallen across the road we’re supposed to turn down, and crashed through the black-shingled barn roof.
“Yikes,” Green says. “Hope no one was living there.”
The men hop out of the wagon and go check on the building. Walker and I assess the tree. Besides the fact it’s blocking the road, the uprooted base has created a hole that’s impossible for the vehicle to get around.
“We’ll have to leave the wagon here,” Walker says.
“Yeah, I was just thinking that, too,” I say. “But we can take the horses, they can carry the supplies.”
I look back over my shoulder. Jane is sitting in the back of the wagon with the goods Avi packed for the Mennonites. She has her own small black case she carried with her from The Fort.
I’m impressed to see that she’s got her gun out for once and seems alert. Walker stares at her for a minute and says quietly, “She’s changed a lot.”
“Since the training?” I have to admit she did better than I expected, quickly picking up the skills we shared. She’s fast, and her accuracy in shooting and throwing is better than expected.
“Well, yes, but since we left Augusta, too. She and Avi are so…” she grapples for a word.
“In love?”
Walker flashes me a smile. “Yeah, I guess so. It changes people I guess.”
“It does have a way of making you a little less self-absorbed. She definitely needed that. What about you and Jackson. What’s going on with that?” I know she spends the night out sometimes and she’s not on any kind of guard or patrol duty. I know, but I haven’t mentioned it.
She shrugs. “He’s nice to hang around with. It gets lonely out here. As scary as it is to connect with someone, I think it’s necessary.”
Her words ring true and once upon a time I agreed, but my heart can’t take another loss like the one with Cole. I know for certain that my brain can’t handle another complicated man like Wyatt. I gave romance in the apocalypse a shot. It didn’t turn out well.
I tell her, “I’m happy for you. You both deserve a little joy out here.”
She smiles and looks at her shoes, “I’m not sure I’d call it joy but it’s definitely a release.”
I wrinkle my nose. “TMI, dude. TMI.”
Jackson and Green emerge from the vine-covered barn and I feel a sharp jab in my side. Walker nods at them men. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Have you thought about it?”
“He’s a cool guy.”
“A cool guy?” She stares at me like I have three heads.
I look at this woman who has become a friend. Her face is innocent but the whole conversation is making my stomach hurt. I’ve spent months pushing the men from my past out of my mind. The odds of seeing either of them again are slim. I don’t want to see Cole, that’s for sure. Even though I have a million questions I can’t handle seeing him like that. Inhuman.
And Wyatt? Just thinking about him makes my body do strange things. My brain screams run while everything else prickles with excitement and extremely complex feelings. Most of all I never want to see him again because I hope he’s safe and happy somewhere. That he took the kids and disappeared into the woods and built a life away from the violence of the Hybrid war I know must be raging down south.
Walker taps me on the arm, eyes flashing toward Green. “You didn’t answer my question.”
As though he senses us talking about him, Green catches my eye and gives me a small smile. He’s genuine and easy. So easy. There’s no dangerous past or lies holding him together.
“Maybe one day,” I tell her.
Understanding and concern flickers in her eyes. “They’re gone, you know. It’s okay to move on. I mean, it’s almost like we have to learn how to do relationships differently now.”
“I know,” I reply, returning Green’s smile. “That’s what makes it harder.”
14
We strap the supplies that will fit to the backs of the horses. The rest we cover in the back of the wagon and stash it in the ramshackle barn. Hopefully some members of the community will be able to return with us to collect it before we go back to Catlettsburg.
None of us are that familiar or comfortable with horses, so the entire process takes longer than it should and daylight is waning.
“I really don’t want to sleep outside,” I complain to the others after we’ve walked for about twenty minutes. The temperature has already dropped and a chilly spring breeze blows against our backs. The road is clear of snow but the grass and shady areas still have thick clumps.
“We’ll get somewhere warm and safe for the night,” Green says. “Promise.”
“Avi said to follow this road all the way into town,” Jane says. “We’ll pass farms and other buildings that may or may not be occupied. Many people moved closer in when the crisis started.”
“They don’t have up any fencing,” Jackson notes.
“They live life differently,” she says with a shrug. “They trust their neighbors and God to take care of them.”
I snort and everyone gives me a look. “What? I barely trust you guys.” They act offended. I shrug. “Sorry.”
“Anyway,” Jane continues, “We’re looking for the church and community center.”
The road is long and desolate and we grow quiet. The only sound is the clomp of the horses’ hooves echoing off the road. It’s beautiful country, and the sun begins to set behind the trees, setting them on fire with an orange and pink glow.
“Do you smell smoke?” Walker asks, sniffing the air.
I inhale and look to the sky. A small tendril of smoke wisps into the trees. “Yes. Look, over there.”
We round a corner and find a large, white farmhouse sitting in the curve of the road. A wisp of smoke curls from the chimney and I feel a warm hand wrap around mine.
“Told you,” Green says, squeezing my fingers.
I stop abruptly in the road. “Look, I have no interest in getting locked up in a cage again. We need to go in there with a plan.”
Walker nods. “We’ll cover the outside from a distance.” She points to me and Green. “You two check the house. We’ll stay hidden until you give the all clear. Is that good?”
I agree and check my weapons, carrying the hatchet in my hand. A small gun rests in the small of my back and I have two knives tucked in my boots. I’m not going down again.
Green and I leave the others hidden in the trees surrounding the house. Jackson shimmied up a tree, perched high for visuals. He has no desire to get captured by crazy people again, either.
As we get closer, the house looks a little more run down than from on the street. A weathered wagon is pushed near the house, as well as some rusted farming equipment. That’s the trend now. Even if people are living in a building or home there’s no time, energy, or people
left to maintain the structure. And even if they do it’s too risky to stay outside long. One day everything will get swallowed back by nature. Like the barn down the road.
No sound comes from the house but when we reach the porch I do see the flickering of firelight through a space in the dirty windows. Green grabs me by the arm.
“Knock on the door,” he says. “I’ll wait back here. Just, you know, act like a civilized person.”
“Huh,” I say, frowning at him. “Interesting concept.” But he’s right. According to Avi, we’re on friendly terms with these people. We come bearing supplies and medical assistance. We gave them the freaking vaccine. They should welcome us with open arms. “I guess it can’t hurt to behave in a non-threatening manner.”
“I’ve got your back. The others are watching.” He glances down and holds out his hand. “I’ll take that.”
I squeeze the hatchet.
“Alex.” With a heavy sigh, I hand it over. “Thank you. Be careful.”
I walk up the steps and stand before the door. I feel for the gun at my back and glance over my shoulder, spotting the others tucked in their hiding places.
With a fist I knock on the wooden, windowless door. Paint chips fall from the pressure, scattering at my feet. I step back and wait. And wait.
“Hello?” I call. “Is anyone home?”
My greeting is met by silence and I look back at Green, shrugging. I’m about to give up when I hear a sound behind the door. “Hello?” I call again. “Avi, from Catlettsburg, sent us. Do you know him? We risked the travel now that the snow has melted.”
His name must have done the trick because the dull bronze door knob rattles before opening slow and creaky. A pale face appears in the small crack. A boy, a teenager, asks, “Avi sent you?”
I smile. “Yes. We’ve got some food and other items to trade. Our wagon got stuck behind a felled tree but I left my friends and the horses back by the road.”
“The roads are passable?” he asks. “There’s been so much snow.”
