by Jon Cronshaw
Sal shakes her head. “No, no. Stings can be deadly.”
“They’re just bugs. Don't worry about it. You just had a scare.”
“A few years ago, we had a woman who lived with us who got stung by the bees. It killed her.”
“They’re just bee stings, surely?”
“Jacob thinks there was an allergy of some kind. It’s rare, but it happens.”
“Well, we need to get to the Grid. We’ll get Jacob to have a look at everyone.”
“I’m burning up,” she says.
“Let's get moving then.”
“HOW FAR IS IT?” SAL asks, breathing hard, sweat soaking her face.
Abel tightens his jaw, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “About an hour, maybe two. The quicker people walk, the quicker we’ll get there.”
Sal stops. “We’re hungry and thirsty, Abel. How do we know there’s even going to be enough food when we get there?”
Abel shrugs and trudges forward, the stings around the back of his neck throbbing. “I don't know what you want me to say. If you keep stopping, it’s going to take longer.”
They continue along the highway, not speaking.
Sis runs up to Abel’s side and points to some wrecked cars in the distance. “Some people.”
Abel squints, placing a hand along his brow to shield his eyes from the sun. “You sure?”
“I'm sure. At least two.”
When he sees no signs of movement, he swallows and looks down at Sis. “You okay?”
“Thirsty. No bike.”
“I forgot about your bike.” Abel sighs. “Really sorry. I take it that it’s still at Trinity?”
Sis nods. “Not right. I should have shot king when I could.”
Sal lets out a snort. “She’s right. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t stopped her.”
A tense silence stretches between them.
“I just wanted to make sure we were doing the right thing, Sal. I figured when you do good things, good things happen. Guess I was wrong.”
“I guess you were.”
THREE MEN EMERGE FROM some trees to the highway’s right, standing tall behind a rusted car. The tallest holds a shotgun at his shoulder. A shorter blond man carries a gleaming pistol. The other man stands unarmed.
“You can't pass,” the tall man says, patting his shotgun. “Unless you can pay.”
“We’re heading to the Grid,” Sal says, gesturing behind them. “We need to get past.”
The taller man looks at his friends, grinning, his mouth a checkerboard of missing teeth. “We’re going to need your food, your boots, and anything else we can trade.”
Sal looks around, frowning. “Please, we’re hungry, we need to get to the Grid. Please, I’m appealing to your better natures. Let us pass.”
The tallest man lets out a deep laugh and turns to his accomplices. “She wants to pass,” he says. “She’s appealing to our better natures.” The other men laugh.
“Let me put it another way,” the tallest man begins, raising his shotgun, aiming it at Sal.
Abel starts when three gunshots ring out in quick succession to his right. He turns as Sis lowers her rifle and the three men drop to the ground, dead.
Sal walks behind the car and looks down at the men. She glances over to Sis, licks her lips then nods. She swallows and turns to the residents. “We need to keep going,” she says, raising her chin. “Abel says it's another hour or two from here.”
“What about their bodies?” a woman asks.
Sal narrows her eyes. “Screw them. They were going to kill us. Let them rot.” She spits on the ground and turns on her heels.
13. The Grid
The sun shines low in the sky by the time they reach the Grid. A dried ditch runs along to Abel's right—the remains of an open sewer. White curls of smoke drift into the sky, dispersing into nothing. Between the rows of wrecked cars and rusted trucks, ramshackle wooden huts stand among smaller buildings cobbled together with plastic sheets and corrugated iron nailed over misshapen frames.
Sal approaches and places a hand on Abel’s arm, a deep crease setting down the centre of her forehead. “Is this the place?”
“Yep. Looks different without the Family.”
They move forward, weaving through the cars. When they reach a clearing in the centre, they wander over to a group of people huddled around a cooking fire. Jacob glances up, makes a double-take, and gets to his feet. “Sal. Abel. What happened to your hair? You look...” His voice trails off when he sees the scores of people following behind them.
“A gang of raiders has taken Trinity,” Sal says.
Jacob looks at her, mouth agape. “What?” He shakes his head, blinking. “How?”
Sal opens her palms. “I—”
“How could you let this happen?”
Abel steps forward. “It's not Sal's fault. This guy calling himself a king came. They had guns. If people stayed, they would have been killed.”
“King? King Omar?” Jacob looks at the ground. “I’m really sorry, Sal. I should have been there. I’ve heard about him from the caravans. Brutal lot. Is everyone okay?”
“We lost of few. Mary’s gone. We fought them off a few times, but they overwhelmed us.”
“Right.” Jacob scratches his nose. “What can we do?”
“First and foremost, do you have water?”
Jacob nods. “Of course. We’ve got a couple of buckets with clean water in there.” He points to a small hut. “It’s not ideal, but I suppose we can pass them around. We’ll need to get some fresh water from the well. It will need to be boiled first.”
“You’ve got a well?”
“A few of us dug one last year. The water’s clean enough, but you can’t be too careful.”
Abel tilts his head when a grunting sound comes from behind. “What's that?”
Jacob gives a confused look. “What's what?”
“That grunting.”
Jacob smiles and looks behind him at some toilet sheds.
“Oh.” Abel shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound too healthy.”
A faint smile passes along Jacob’s lips. “No, no,” he says, waving a hand. “We’ve got some pigs living behind there. They keep the place clean.”
Abel shakes his head. “Well, I'll be damned. I never thought I'd see the day when you get animals living at the Grid.” He looks around, wide-eyed. “It’s amazing.”
“We've done a lot of work out here,” Jacob says, his voice filled with pride. “There’s still a lot to do. It's not quite Trinity—in fact, it's nowhere near—but we've got everyone off plez and having a purpose within the community. I’ve been working with Alf on building a communal hall, and we got the surgery finished over the summer.”
Abel looks around, taking everything in. “Where is everyone?”
“A few of them are out hunting. Some are scavenging in an old settlement to the north. Alf’s leading a group to meet up with one of the caravans.”
“You’ve got a surgery?”
Jacob nods. “It's getting there.”
Abel leans towards Jacob. “Will you take a look at Sal? She thinks she had a reaction to the bug swarm.”
“Bug swarm?”
“Don't ask.”
Jacob looks Sal up and down. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrible,” she says. “I’m itching. My legs are tired. I’m hungry. These bites really hurt.”
“Follow me.” Jacob goes over to a shack.
“I’ll just be out here,” Abel says.
Sal grabs his hand. “Please. Come with me. I want you by my side.” She pulls him along before he can protest.
Inside, a pile of books rests on the corner of a pine desk. A faded plastic chair stands next to a yellowed mattress.
Sal sits on the bed, her face crowded with hundreds of swollen black lumps. Jacob examines the bites for over a minute, checking over her arms and legs, rubbing his hands against her back and torso, listening to her heart, checking inside her throat
and ears, and around her eyes. “You’ve had a lot of bites,” he says, standing. “It doesn't look like there’s an allergic reaction, though.”
“What is it then?” asks Sal. “Why the sweating and the breathing?”
“That swarm must have been terrifying.”
“Yep,” Abel says. “That, and she had her home ripped from her this morning.”
“I...” Jacob sighs. “The body can do strange things when dealing with trauma.” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. “Leading people through that must have been a challenge.”
“What can I do?” Sal asks, her voice shaky.
“Make sure you’re well-fed and watered. You’ll get there. It’s going to take a bit of time and a bit of faith.”
ABEL AND SAL FOLLOW Jacob to a tall shed. Sheets of steel patch its sides and the oak door stands thick and solid as strips of wrought iron descend like prison bars along its surface.
Jacob pulls a stubby key from his jacket and slides it into the lock, wiggling it until it clicks. He looks around then nods at Abel, opening the door to reveal hundreds of glistening tins of food stacked from floor to ceiling. “We need to get these distributed to the people,” he says, his voice barely above a mumble. “This isn’t going to last.”
Abel shakes his head, eyebrows raised. “I've never seen so many tins. Where did you get them?”
“The caravans,” Jacob says, kicking a brick to wedge the door open.
“Where are they getting them?”
Jacob shrugs and hands Abel a tin, its surface clean and cold. He turns to Sal. “Can you get people lined-up so we can hand these out?”
Sal nods and leaves, her robes flapping behind her.
“What happened to Sal’s hair?” Jacob asks in a low voice.
“She cut it off,” Abel says, running a finger over the tins.
“I can see that. Why?”
“It was the bugs. They got everywhere. She was freaking out.”
Jacob nods. “I’ll have to keep an eye on her.” He gestures towards Sal as she leads the residents towards the shed. “You okay to keep people from rushing in?”
“Okay.” Abel stands next to the door, blocking the entrance with an arm.
Sal moves to the front of the queue and turns to face the residents. “Please be orderly,” she says, clapping her hands. “Jacob is going to hand out one tin each. I need you all to take your tin and move aside so we can all get fed.”
A few residents mutter and a couple of people shove each other near the back of the line. The Grid’s residents stand to one side, watching, their chin’s raised, expressions blank.
“I was going to suggest one tin between two,” whispers Jacob.
After a pause, Sal raises her hands. “I’ve just been informed it’s one tin between two.”
“You said one each,” a man calls out.
“That’s not fair,” another man shouts. “We’re hungry.”
The queue surges forward as Abel pushes the first few people to hold them back.
“What are you doing?” Jacob growls, turning to Sal.
“What you said.”
“No.” Jacob scrambles up the side of the shed and sweeps his gaze across the residents’ faces, raising his hands for attention. “Today, you can have one tin each,” he says. “But you need to step back, or there will be none. Do I make myself clear?”
The shouting stops and the residents exchange glances before filing back into a line. Jacob drops down from the roof and sidles up to Sal. “Tempers are high,” he mutters. “Think before you blurt out any more announcements.”
Sal steps back and nods, pulling her hood over her head before walking away.
Jacob sighs. “This isn’t going to end well.”
ABEL, DAVID AND SIS collect firewood around the Grid’s edge and make space on the ground in the shadow of a burnt-out truck. “I did this,” he says, gesturing to the truck’s blackened shell. “Used to be the Family’s.”
“You burned the trucks?” David asks.
“Yep.” Abel lights a match and holds it beneath the sticks and screwed-up balls of paper, until the fire takes. The wood spits and sparks, the wet log popping as hissing white smoke rises. “Let's see what’s in this,” he says, taking out his hunting knife, and reaching for a tin. He works the knife around the lid, flips it open, and looks inside. “Beans.” He shrugs to himself. “Food is food, I guess.”
David hands Abel his tin.
“Beans,” Abel says when the lid yawns open.
“Sis?”
She hands over her tin for Abel to open. He works the knife around its lip and looks inside. “You'll never guess?” he says in a flat voice.
“What is it? David asks, leaning forward, rubbing his hands.
“More beans.” Abel takes up the tins and rests them on the fire, watching as the flames flicker around their sides.
“What happened to Sal?” Sis asks.
Abel leans back, resting on his elbows, and looks up at the sky. “She’s with Jacob and a few of the others. She needs her people around her.”
Sis looks at her hands, the faint trace of a smile creeping across her lips. “You were good to her,” she says, looking up.
The side of Abel's mouth twitches when he meets her gaze. “What was I going to do? No one else was helping.” He shakes his head. “They don’t know how to deal with this sort of thing.”
“You think they’re going to be okay?” David asks.
Abel sits forward, crosses his legs, and rubs his beard, his gaze fixed to a point in the distance. “I don't know, kid. This place is a lot better than when I was here. But there's—what?—a hundred, hundred-and-fifty residents?”
“Two hundred and three,” says Sis. “Two hundred and six, counting us.”
Abel raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “It’s going to be hard finding food for another two-hundred people. There’s probably fifty people living here at most. Jacob’s got this place sorted, but it’s not set up for a community the size of Trinity.”
“What about all those tins?” David asks. “That room was piled with them.”
“But we’re talking two hundred people. Those tins will last no more than a week. Then what? Trinity had its farms and animals and trade network.” He shakes his head and pokes the fire with a stick. “The best thing we can do is get back on the road and leave them to it. It’s not going to make much difference, but it’s three less mouths to feed.”
“What’s going to happen?” David asks.
“With what?”
“I don't know. You’ve got all these people living here, and a load more suddenly turn up expecting to be fed and have somewhere to live. Jacob’s from Trinity, so they’re his people. But what about the ones who were here before?”
Abel shakes his head and sighs. “When I was here, it was all about plez—nothing else. I suppose people change...” His voice trails off. He shakes his head. “Who could say? Maybe they'll be fine.”
“How we getting back?” Sis asks.
“Walk,” Abel says, shrugging.
“We got no food, either. Or water. Sis is right.”
Abel looks up to see Sal approaching. “Hey, Sal. How are you doing?”
“I'm okay. I just thought I needed to say sorry and thank you for everything.”
Abel makes a dismissive wave. “Just wish you were still there.”
Sal doesn’t respond.
“We’re getting back on the road soon. We’ve got an hour or two of light left, so I want to get a good few miles behind us before it gets dark.”
“Please don't go yet,” Sal says, frowning. “Stay for the night, at least.”
Abel exchanges looks with David and Sis. They both nod. “Okay,” he says, leaning back on his elbows.
Sal takes a seat next to Abel and watches as the beans simmer. Abel takes a cloth from his jacket, removing the tins. When they cool, he twists off the lids and bends them to match the tins’ curve. They sit and eat in silence
, scooping the beans into their mouths as the sky grows dim.
Sal leans close to Abel and places an arm around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry about how I was earlier. I was...I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “People have so many questions and I don’t have the answers...it got to me. And then those bugs.” A shudder passes along her back and shoulders. She runs her fingers through her hair.
“You’re just not used to it out here, is all.”
“I cut off my hair,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve let it grow for years.”
Abel leans back, meeting Sal’s gaze. “If it’s any consolation, I can see more of your face now. It suits you.”
“Now I know you’re lying. I’m covered in a million bites.”
“I’m serious.”
Sal looks down and smiles. “Thank you.” She gets to her feet and sighs. “Must go to see some of the others.”
“Take care, Sal. You know where I am if you need me.”
She stops and turns to him, goes to say something, then stops herself. “Thanks again,” she says, finally. “For everything.”
14. The Kiss
Abel looks around, confused in the dark as an insistent tapping brings him from his sleep. Sal's face appears through the window. He leans forward and opens the door against the pitch-blackness. “Sorry to wake you up,” she says, her voice quivering.
“It's okay.” Abel yawns and slides across the back seat. The springs groan and crunch beneath him as he shifts uncomfortably. Sal slips next to him, closing the door behind her. She blows out a tallow candle, the smell of pig fat filling the air.
Placing the candle next to her, she leans over and hugs him, holding him, gripping him, her head pressed up against his chest.
“Hey,” he says, stroking her. He feels the backs of her ribs through her robe, her body’s warmth against his. “What's wrong?”
Sal looks up with watery eyes. “It's Jacob. He says we won’t be able to stay here. He said we need to go soon, that the residents don’t like it, and that there's not enough food to go around.”
