The Deadly Nightshade

by Justine Ashford

  “Actually,” he says after some hesitation, turning to look at Savannah, “we were planning on getting dinner together in a little while.” Then, noticing my irritation, he adds, “I really appreciate the offer, though. And I’m sorry about last night. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Right,” I say through gritted teeth, hoping he can feel my scathing glare on his skin. “We’ll talk later.”

  I wave goodbye to Savannah, wish her a good night, and make my way out. So that’s it then—he has made his choice, and he has not chosen me. Well screw him. If he wants to stay in this miserable place for the rest of his life, then that’s perfectly fine with me.

  I storm off to the cafeteria, grab a tray, and scarf down my food before reporting to my post at the west wall. I climb up the sentry ladder until I reach the top, which is just wide enough to walk along. As the sunlight wanes and night swoops in like a raven, I pace back and forth along my section of the wall, more intent on what is going on inside than out. A few Sweetbriarans wander down the street back to their homes after a long day of work, with only the moon and stars to light their path. By now the daytime hum of the busy townspeople has lulled to a whisper, which, in a few hours, will fade to complete silence as they settle down to sleep.

  A young woman’s laughter sounds from somewhere below me—a light, musical laughter like wind chimes. A boy’s chuckle joins it—a familiar chuckle—and their symphony of giggling lasts for a minute or so. From where I stand, I spot two figures exiting the cafeteria, walking so close together that their shoulders brush. Although I can’t make out their faces in the dark, the crutches the boy uses to walk give away their identities.

  “So when did Dr. Lam say you’d be off of those?” Savannah asks.

  “Should be any day now. I can’t wait to be able to walk without them. They’re such a pain in the ass, you know?”

  There is a small pause, then Savannah slows her walking pace until she is nearly at a standstill. Connor turns to face her.

  “So, I guess that means you’ll be leaving soon, then . . .” she says.

  “Oh, right . . . I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  They are silent for a moment, both of them just standing there facing each other, wordless. Then, Savannah blurts out, “I don’t want you to go. The children will miss you. I’ll miss you. I just— I don’t think you belong out there. You’re not like her, Connor. She’s dangerous and powerful and self-sufficient—she was born to be out there. But you? You’re gentle and sweet, and you belong here in Sweetbriar with the rest of us where you can be safe. I know she’s your friend and you love her, but you need to think about what’s best for you, and in all honesty I think you know leaving isn’t it. I care about you, Connor, and to think what could happen if you go . . .” She trails off, and I can practically hear the oncoming tears in her voice.

  Connor hobbles toward her, and in the dark their bodies morph into one. “I know, Savannah,” he says. “I know you’re right.”

  My eyes follow the couple as they continue walking, shoulder to shoulder, until the night envelops them whole. When they are completely gone from my sight, I sink down into a sitting position, throwing my legs over the side of the wall. For a while I’m not quite sure how to even process what I just heard, but when I finally do I come to a realization.

  Maybe Savannah is right. Sure, I made Connor into more of a survivor than he would ever have been without me, but can he really last out there? To force him to leave with me might be to sentence him to death. Maybe he is better off surrounded by people, by the children he teaches, by the girl he loves. Maybe this is where his road ends. Maybe this is where he belongs.

  He doesn’t need me, not anymore. I can’t force him to leave if he doesn’t want to go, and I know how badly he wants to stay. Maybe it’s better this way. I’ve grown too attached too quickly, something I told myself I would never do, but against all odds he made me care about him, and now I must suffer the consequences. I’m better off on my own—I always have been. This is how it’s supposed to be.

  I stare down at the forest floor, estimating that it would be about a twenty-foot drop from here to there. There would be less risk of injury if I were to climb down. I take a long look around to determine if I am visible to any of the other sentries, but it is far too dark for anyone to catch me. All of my belongings are with me—my knife belt, my katanas, my rucksack, the machete—the only things I’m missing are my guns, but I suppose I can leave those behind if I have to. Although I will miss them terribly, they are a small price to pay for liberty.

  My mind is made up to descend down the wall when it hits me—Roman is still coming for us, which means Connor is still in danger if he stays. It’s only a matter of time before he finds Sweetbriar; even with all the dense foliage that camouflages the town and the loud noise and bright light restrictions, it’s impossible to hide it completely. If Roman tracks us here there’s no telling the havoc he could wreak, and I would be leaving Connor right in the middle of the fray.

  But, then again, it’s me Roman is after. I was the one who took the black machete as a trophy, I was the one who killed The Leader—not Connor—and he must know that. And if his tracking skills are any good, which I’m inclined to believe they are considering recent events, he will pick up my trail again and hopefully bypass Sweetbriar entirely. Besides, even if he were to find the camp, how many men can he possibly have? At this point I have killed eleven or so of his people, so unless he has an entire army at his disposal surely the Sweetbriarans, with their gate and walls, will outmatch him and his people by a long shot, won’t they? Not that it should matter to me what happens to them anyway. I need to focus on what’s best for me, what will ensure my own survival, and climbing over this wall is the first step in doing that.

  Filled with determination and the sheer desire to leave this place behind forever, I mentally pick a path down the wall that will offer me the least chance of slipping and injuring myself. Although the ivy is thick, it is unlikely it will be able to support my weight for long, which means I’ll have to move quickly or I could come crashing down and not only break something, but wake up the whole town as well.

  Just as I have positioned myself to begin my descent, the sound of movement nearby startles me nearly enough to send me flying over the wall. Realizing someone is climbing the sentry ladder, I scramble back to the top. Nate pokes his head over the wall, flashing me a grin. Without a word, he climbs up and takes a seat beside me.

  Shit. Now the whole damn thing is ruined—unless of course I were to kill him—but no, no, I can’t do that. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have so many stupid morals.

  Frustrated beyond belief at his impeccable timing, I hiss, “Here to babysit me?”

  “What?” he asks, appearing caught off guard by my sudden hostility.

  Remembering he has no idea that I overheard his conversation with Reina, I say, “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “I just thought you might want some company. I know it can get pretty lonely up here, especially at night.”

  Although I know Reina most likely put him up to this, the grin he wears on his face suggests he genuinely wants to be here, and considering Nate is a pretty see-through guy I decide he isn’t so bad. After all, he’s just following orders. I can’t really blame him for that.

  Noticing the scarf wrapped around my neck, he touches it and says, “That’s pretty. I don’t think I’ve seen you wearing it before. Where’d you get it?”

  “Oh, it was a gift Mrs. Sharma gave me for doing her a favor earlier.”

  He smiles. “That was nice of you, helping her out in your free time. You can make a lot of friends around here by doing little things for people. It’s amazing how such small acts can mean the world to—”

  “I know what you’re doing,” I interrupt.

  His eyes meet mine evenly. “And what’s that?”

  “I’m not staying, Nate. You can try to convince me all you want, but I’m not staying.”

  �
��I know,” he whispers. “Reina thinks we can persuade you, make you love it here enough so you never want to leave, but I know better.”

  I narrow my eyes, feeling a wave of suspicion creep over me. He just revealed all of his cards, but why? Maybe he and Reina spotted me eavesdropping after all. Maybe this is some new tactic, some good cop/bad cop crap they are employing to try to win my trust. The only way to find out for sure is to keep pushing.

  “Why does she want to keep me here so badly?”

  “I honestly couldn’t tell you. She’s a mystery sometimes, she really is. Over the years I’ve learned not to question the way she works. But if you’re asking me, I think it’s because she likes you.”

  “Because she likes me” isn’t exactly the answer I’m looking for, but I decide it’s not worth pressing and settle for it; if I push too hard, he might clam up.

  “What’s her story, anyway?” I ask, feeling it is about time I get a little background on the Sweetbriar leader.

  “Who, Reina? Well, I’ll tell you what, that woman was born to be a leader. Before all of this, she was a politician—first a town councilwoman for a number of years, then a county judge. After everything went downhill, a group of survivors banded together for safety, me included. There were about thirteen of us in total. That’s when I first met Reina. She was the clear choice for our leader from the start—everything the woman said just made sense. Listening to her talk, it gave you hope. It really did.

  “Of course, there was dispute at first about who should be in charge, as there always is. Some of the people were hesitant about letting this woman they hardly knew take control of things, but she proved herself. She was a real badass with a gun, and she wasn’t shy about using it either. People began to respect her, admire her, even love her for the way she defended the rest of us.”

  “Really?” I ask, somewhat incredulous. I try to picture Reina wielding an assault rifle, but the image is almost laughable.

  “Oh, yeah, you’ve got no idea.” Then, continuing the story, he says, “Soon more and more people joined our group—ten, twenty—until we had an entire miniature colony of survivors with us. Reina promised them a sanctuary, a place where we could settle down and restore civilization to what it once was and never have to live in fear of the gangs again. She rallied them behind the idea that she would deliver them to some safe haven where they could live in peace, away from the violence of the outside world. It took over a year—a lot of good people were lost in the meantime, including her own wife—but Reina eventually came through. I’ll never forget the look on her face when we found Sweetbriar—it was like she had arrived at the golden gates of Heaven itself.”

  The thought of Reina collapsing onto her knees in front of the iron gate of the Sweetbriar Housing Community brings a smile to my face. Despite my distrust toward her, I can’t deny that she is a remarkable woman. If it wasn’t her intention to trap me here forever, I might actually like her.

  Nate and I sit in silence for a while, swinging our legs as they dangle over the wall and staring out into the dark woods. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him shift his position an inch closer to me in the most discreet manner possible, as if pretending he was uncomfortable and needed to readjust. Suddenly his fingers touch my scarf again, and I have to restrain myself from letting my defensive instincts take hold and launching him over the wall. He doesn’t seem to notice my alarm, however, and delicately rubs the gray fabric between his gloved fingers, admiring it.

  Part of me wants to laugh. Is this actually happening right now? Is Nate really trying to make a move on me? I mean, I have to give the guy props—if there was ever a time and place for a romantic gesture, it’s here and now. With a slight smile to let him know there is no harm done, I gently remove his hand from my scarf. Although appearing a bit humbled, he doesn’t seem too disappointed.

  “Careful,” I say. “You don’t want to lose those fingers.”

  He smirks. “You’re right. Those are important.”

  “Don’t you think you should stop distracting me from my post?” I ask, the tone of my voice a little more flirtatious than I had originally intended. But I decide to go with it. After all, it can’t hurt if I don’t mean anything by it. Not that I even know what I’m doing anyway, considering the last attempt I made at flirting with anyone was when I seductively asked my crush to pass me a box of crayons in the fourth grade.

  “You’ve only got a few more minutes left until you’re relieved. I could keep you company until then, maybe walk you to your door. When’s the last time you had a guy walk you home, huh, Nightshade?”

  Never, I want to say, but I hold my tongue. The lieutenant is venturing into uncharted territory. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.

  “Nate—”

  “Alright, alright,” he laughs, standing up and making his way toward the ladder. “Goodnight, Nightshade,” he says before climbing down.

  “Goodnight, Nate,” I call after him.

  I turn my head to watch him go, reflecting upon what just occurred. He really isn’t so bad—Reina could have sent worse to keep surveillance on me. And the flirting, well, that was unprecedented . . .

  As I stare off into the black forest, it occurs to me that I am alone again and the opportunity to escape is still present. But it’s too risky now—with the changing of the guard approaching at any moment, there is too great a chance I will be seen before I can make it over the wall, and who knows what the consequences would be if Reina caught her prisoner making a break for it . . . No, I decide it is safer to save my plan for another day, perhaps even tomorrow, if possible.

  I am relieved of my post less than a minute later.

  Chapter 40

  I don’t sleep a wink the entire night, but I don’t remain wide awake, either. Instead, I fall into some sort of half-consciousness, a dull haze of remote wakefulness that prevents me from obtaining any real rest. As the hours pass and dark turns to light, I toss and turn, my mind racing as I try to figure out my next course of action. Beside me, Connor snores like a chainsaw. I find myself replaying our three months together before Sweetbriar in my head—meeting him, trying to get rid of him, tolerating him, and finally somewhat enjoying his presence. To think that could all be erased tomorrow night. Should I even bother to say goodbye, or will he try to stop me? Either way, it doesn’t matter. I am leaving Sweetbriar regardless.

  I get up earlier than usual that morning, unable to lie in bed idly any longer. I need to clear my head, to get away from everybody, to get away from that obtrusive snoring. I yearn to be alone in the forest again, to walk freely, to hunt my way, to be independent. I could do just that, too, if it weren’t for these damn walls that insist on keeping me caged like I’m some sort of criminal.

  As daylight breaks, I find myself slipping quietly out of the house and walking down the cobblestone street toward the iron gate. The air is a bit warmer today than usual—a sign of the seasons changing—and I actually begin to sweat as I practically jog toward the camp’s exit. Noticing me approaching, the two guards bar my path.

  “I need to go out,” I insist. “Just— Just a few minutes. Please.”

  They exchange a glance. “I don’t think so,” says one of them. “Not unless the rest of your group is coming too.”

  “Look, I’ll be right outside, alright? I’ll come straight back, I promise.”

  But the two of them must either be reading my mind or following Reina’s orders to keep me on lockdown, because they refuse to open the gate. I argue with them for a few minutes, determined to get the hell out of here, but they stand their ground. Then Nate, who notices the commotion as he happens to be passing by, joins us to find out what is going on.

  “Nightshade, we’re not leaving for another couple of hours. What are you doing?”

  “She wants to go out,” one of the guards answers for me. “We told her no, but she won’t listen.”

  “I just want five damn minutes to myself outside, is that too much to ask?” I
snap at them.

  “Nightshade, you know you can’t go out alone. It’s too dangerous, especially with everything that’s been going on recently,” says Nate. I look up at him, willing him to see the desperation in my eyes, hoping to play on his compassion. I don’t have to say a single word; he falls for it immediately. His eyes soften and he sighs, adding, “Which is why I’ll come with you.”

  I shake my head, annoyed that this is his solution. “Do you really think I can’t handle myself?”

  “Of course I do, but the only way they’re going to let you through this gate is if I’m next to you, alright? We don’t even have to talk to each other if you don’t want to. How does that sound?”

  I agree somewhat reluctantly, frustrated by the idea that I must be constantly watched like a damn delinquent. Now my chances of escaping are slim to none, unless, again, I were to kill him, but I won’t do that. If Nate is my only ticket out of here for the time being, my only chance for even the slightest bit of freedom, then I will take him.

  After he checks with Reina to make sure it is okay that we leave, Nate orders the guards to let us through, and then the gate is open. Seeing those iron doors part fills me with adrenaline, and I am overwhelmed with the urge to run, but I know what will happen if I do. No more going out for you, Nightshade. Not a chance. So I contain myself and settle for the steady, even walking pace that Nate sets. Soon, though, he falls behind and allows me to lead, giving me the freedom to choose wherever I want to go, which I am grateful for. As we traverse the forest, stepping over vines and dead leaves and plants preparing for the oncoming spring, Nate remains silent as promised. It is a wonderful thing, silence between two people when words aren’t necessary. But it only lasts a little while—he ruins it by opening his mouth.