by Fitch, E. M.
"I wanted to talk to you about that actually," Jack said softly, turning in his chair and locking eyes with her. Emma nodded for him to continue, swathing herself in the comforter. "When they get here, I want you to consider saying Andrew is your husband.”
Emma stiffened, shock at his suggestion rapidly being replaced with anger.
"I am not doing that," she said.
"I know," Jack placated. "But listen, if you have to live in the dorms, how much harder is it going to be to conceal that you've been bitten? Won't anyone notice when you're weirdly obsessed with having your own utensils, never sharing a glass? And what if you're not careful, what if you infect someone-“
"You think I don't take this seriously?" Emma spat, firing up even as her eyes drifted to the glass she had just used, to the way she had placed it alone, on a shelf all by itself.
"No, I know you do," he said softly. "But wouldn't it be safer?”
Emma drew a deep breath. "Not for Andrew," she replied. She lay back down, cocooning herself in the blankets, before Jack could reply.
~
Life in the New North America was busy and distracting. Which was good. Every passing day without sign of her sister and friends was a blow.
Emma had spent every night after dinner wandering around the front gate while Jack paced the perimeter. The infected in the moat would still be awake when she got there, the moaning and growling audible even from beyond the massive gate. She would stay there until the sun went down and the infected fell silent, watching for her sister. Emma caught the attention of the man who sat guard. He was older, past sixty, and had completely given up on all hair trimming. His face and head were covered in wiry, uneven gray bristles. His name was Willy, and he was probably insane. Though how anyone sane could sit there for hours listening to the moaning of the infected, she wasn't sure.
"Can I tell you a poem?" he'd croak every night, waiting for Emma to nod before he'd begin.
As I was going up the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
I wish, I wish he'd stay away.
Willy recited the same poem, nightly, until Emma asked if he didn't know another. She tried to teach him The Owl and the Pussycat, thinking he was strange enough to find it amusing. It didn't stick. He just repeated his crazy poem again and cackled, actually slapping his knee in amusement. His laugh was wheezy and a little scary, like something you'd hear in an old horror film.
Other than the bizarre poem, he didn't speak to her at all. Once she let him finish it, he fell silent, humming discordantly as he leant back in an old folding chair. She paced, a little distance away, but always in sight of the main road leading into the New North America, the road that would lead you directly over the moat.
If Kaylee and the rest were alive, anywhere in the area they were last seen, they would have seen the explosions. That city lit the sky. And how long would it take them to get into the territory of the New North America? If they had taken a car, not that long at all, a couple days tops.
So they must not have a car. Because it had been a week now.
~
"Hand me that there, will you?" Jack grunted. Emma reached for the hammer and passed it up, Jack pounding nails into the tree he was leaning against. She braced her body against the ladder he was up on. Though no matter how much she pushed, it still seemed wobbly to her.
"Almost lunchtime, you two!" Marco called from down the line. Jack grunted again, nails hanging from his lips.
Emma had been made to move to the girl's dorms. But she and Jack had insisted they work together, both choosing to work on erecting the new, temporary external fences. It kept Emma away from the cleaning and food prep, both areas in which she was initially asked to help. It wasn't because she didn't want to help in that way; (although, if she was honest with herself, she really didn't) it was that it was unsafe for her to be so close to the food and clean water that everyone else would consume. She didn't trust herself enough to not infect the population. She hated even being in the dorms, the constant paranoia of keeping track of her toothbrush and water bottle, the fear that another girl might accidentally, or innocently, borrow something of hers and kill herself in the process.
She kept herself separate from the rest, terrified of getting too close and hurting them. Terrified that they might discover her secret, the reason her leg was so mangled.
Only Marco had asked about it. He had come to walk her to their work detail, giving up scavenging for the week to erect fencing with her, and had caught her as she was still getting dressed. They may have separated the males and the females, but that still didn't allow a maximum amount of privacy. Either that or Emma was seriously running late, most of the building had been cleared out by that time.
Regardless, he had seen her leg as she hastily pulled her jeans up and didn't say anything at first, only asking about it later when they were seated next to each other at dinner. He often sat with her and Jack at the picnic tables lined up outside the mess hall.
Emma had lied, backed up by Jack, and Marco had let it drop. Still, his attention made her uneasy. He was friendly and warm and open, though a little too old for her. But all in all, if she hadn't been infected, here at the end of the world, she could see herself being flattered, or maybe even a little interested, in him.
But even then, there was Andrew. Andrew, who she couldn't forget, even though he was still, inexcusably, missing.
"Pick your poison," Marco said, strolling up towards Emma with a handful of cans. "No, I know, stew, right?”
Emma smiled at him, before averting her eyes. She had a terrible feeling that she was leading him on, though she couldn't seem to help it. She took the can that he offered, trying to avoid any brush of his fingers. He didn't seem to notice her stiffening when his thumb stroked hers.
"Baked beans for you, Jack?" he called up. Emma placed her can on the ground to help steady the ladder again, Marco helping. "Or maybe stew, too?”
"Whichever you want, Marco, thanks," Jack said. He tossed the hammer towards the paper bag full of nails and peeled his gloves off. Jack blew warm air onto his fingers as Marco handed over the beans.
"They've got a fire going a hundred yards or so that way," Marco pointed. He started in that direction with a jerk of his head towards Emma. "C'mon. It's much better warmed-“
A scream followed by a pop of gunfire interrupted him. Three cans hit the ground and rolled together as Emma, Jack, and Marco took off towards the center of town. They tore passed a group of confused women, arms full of wild herbs, the last of the season. People were running from the center square, a patch of bare and beaten down earth that served as a main gathering point. The long cabin that served as the girl's dorm was directly across from the dusty square. The mess hall was to the side. The building itself was too small to fit the entire population of the town at once so canopy tents had been erected outside, rows of picnic benches underneath. One of these was flipped over as a man crouched behind with a shotgun. The blast from his barrel could be felt from across the square, Emma's teeth shook.
From the girl's dorm, a creature staggered out. Her name had been Nicole, Emma recognized her. She slept not far from her in the dorms last night. Her toothbrush was also red.
She had been scattered and disorganized, a decade or so older than Emma. She had had children once, and a husband, but she was alone when she found the New North America. She was a cook, but had talked just last night of trying to start up a reading group.
She was now infected.
The shotgun blasted a hole through her chest, though of course this didn't stop her. Her entrails dragged from behind her, leaving vivid red streaks in the dust as she staggered forward. Someone put a bullet through her temple and she fell, a heap of seeping, dirty infection.
There were two other bodies already bleeding out in the square, three dead altogether.
"What happened?" Marco murmured in horror, walking forward to help in the clean
up.
Emma turned to Jack, tears sparking in her eyes. His teeth were grit and he didn't speak.
"I have to go," she whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
"I can't stay here, Jack," Emma hissed. The sun had set and Emma and Jack were back in the cabin they had used that first night. The dorm was sealed. No one was allowed in there. "You know I can’t!"
"It might not have been you-“
He cut off at her look of wild exasperation. There were hundreds of people living in health and harmony behind a giant concrete wall and this was the first time, the first, that someone behind the wall had gotten infected. It wasn't a coincidence. She was sure. She hadn't been careful enough and now three people were dead.
He had calmed her down enough to agree to spend the night, though she couldn't promise to stay longer than that.
The rest of the women were all given cabins and small homes as well, bunking together on floors and spare sleeping bags. There was a gathering in the square that night, torches burned in the corner, the light flickering in bright reflections off the pane glass windows of the abandoned dorm.
Harris sat silently in the back as the rest of the Council tried to calm the population.
"We're not sure how it got in," Miranda said gently. Of all the Council, she was the most soft-spoken, the most compassionate looking. She was rounder than the others, not overweight, just softer looking. Her hair was dark auburn and she locked eyes when she spoke to someone. Overall, Emma thought she looked most like a mom, and somehow this made her seem knowledgeable and trustworthy. It made sense for her to take the lead tonight. "We shut the building down and we'll go over it carefully.”
"Is the infection dormant for that long? Could we get it from touching something that was bled on?”
"No one is sure-“
"Was someone bit? Has everyone been checked?”
Miranda calmly addressed each outburst, the rest of the Council, even Harris, chiming in to back her up when it seemed necessary. It took a long time for people to settle down. On the fringes of the crowd, Emma, Jack, and Marco rested back against a fence. The rest of the Scroungers had come back just in time for the meeting; they stood patiently nearby, none asking questions. They all blended well into the tree line, leaning against and crouching under massive oak trees that stretched bare branches into the night. Emma was too frightened someone would be able to see the infection in her somehow, that she would speak and suddenly long dormant tremors would take over her body and her eyes would stain dramatically yellow. The rest just didn't seem concerned, though that made sense. As Scroungers, they would be the most used to seeing infection run rampant.
"Those poor girls," Marco kept muttering, his eyes cast over the worried crowd. It was hard to tell if he meant the survivors in the crowd, or the girls who had been infected and were now corpses.
"Everyone has to be careful," Corey said from his crouched position. He tossed the twig he had been breaking into pieces at the base of the tree, shifting his weight from one leg to another. He remained as aloof as ever, catching Emma's eye on occasion but almost immediately looking away. "That's the way it is now. We build some big, fancy wall and think we're safe. It's stupid to let your guard down.”
The rest of the men murmured their agreement. Patrick, standing close to the fence behind them, moved forward. The chain link rattled when he pushed off. The firelight from the nearest torch cut his features in half, the right side of his face in shadow, the left a brilliant orange. It caught in the stubble of his sandy beard and sent jagged shadows down his neck.
"Let the Council calm them," Patrick said softly, dismissively. "What else are they good for?”
"Making dumb rules?" one huffed. The men all chuckled low in agreement. Patrick, too. He jerked his head at them a moment later and they all stood, following him as he headed back through the shadows towards the men's dorms. Marco was the only one to linger.
"You okay?" he asked, peering at Emma through the darkness. She nodded stiffly and he smiled, waving goodnight.
He was too friendly. This place was too nice. She was too dangerous.
I have to leave. The thought, the urge, pounded through her. She was shaking with the impulse, envisioning open trees and the whispered rush of the forest. Empty lands, quiet spaces, peace from the ever tormenting thought that she was about to kill everyone she knew.
~
Jack followed her as she snuck out of the cabin early the next morning. They wouldn't be expected to their work detail until after breakfast, and breakfast wouldn't even start for another two hours. Emma realized he was behind her almost immediately but she didn't stop. She could still hear the faint sounds of sleeping, the lazy feel of a camp not yet roused. Slow drifts of smoke were curling from the chimney of the mess hall, white twists in the purple sky, the start of a new day in camp.
But not for her.
Jack didn't speak until they were at the first fence. She tossed her bag over the chain link fence and started to climb. When they did their work detail, they exited from a gate located nearer to the square. It wasn't Willy's gate, the one surrounded by the infected bodies roaming through their moat to the tune of Willy's only poem. This one was smaller, used to let work details out into the less secure areas.
The entire camp was set up like a giant target, the center protected by a secure ring of fences that rippled outward, like water that had a rock dropped in the center. Emma would need to jump four more fences before she came to the last. And that she could walk to the end and skirt around, letting the wilderness claim her.
Jack was silent for the first two fences.
"Where are you going to go?" he asked as she paused at the base of the third. She didn't turn back, didn't acknowledge him, as she threw her bag over and started to climb. He let her go, following along after she had landed.
"It's going to snow any day," he said softly, walking just behind her. He was right, that crisp coldness of the air, she could taste the impending snow. "You have no food, no car. Don't be stupid.”
She wasn't being stupid. She was being safe. She was trying to keep others from getting infected, trying to let Jack live a normal life, as normal as possible, without having to lie and cover up and pretend like it wasn't her fault they were all in danger all the time. She had wanted to wait for Kaylee and Andrew, Bill and Anna, but yesterday proved that she couldn't any longer. She wasn't going to get the chance to say goodbye to her sister. But maybe it would be better that way, easier for everyone.
Jack could say goodbye for her. He could tell them all, yes, Andrew too, that she loved them. He could say it straightforwardly and honestly, she'd seen him do that before. He was strong enough to do that, in a way she never would be. But she could walk away now. She was strong enough for that.
At the fourth fence, Emma paused. She turned to Jack. He stood there silently, his hands forced in his pockets, his jacket open even though the sun hadn't had the chance to warm the earth yet. Every footstep landed on frozen earth, no give in the mud to cushion her boots. He caught her eye and held it as she took a deep breath.
"Tell Anna she was like a mom to me, thank her for that, please," she started.
"Should I run back and get a notepad?" Jack asked, frowning at her. She threw him a look and continued without pause.
"And tell Bill thanks, he was always honest with me. Hug Kaylee for me, she'll need it. Tell her I love her and that this wasn't your fault, tell them I gave you no choice." Jack snorted and shook his head but Emma plowed on. "And tell Andrew, tell him I love him, too. Tell him I'm sorry I wasn't able to show him.”
"You do not have to do this," Jack murmured.
"You know that I do.”
She tossed her bag over, gritting her teeth. Her eyes had that awful, hot itchy feeling they got whenever she was about to cry. It was too cold and she didn't have time for that.
"And what about me?" Jack said, the nerves sounding in his voice.
"Tell yourself thanks," she mu
ttered. "And take care of my sister.”
"That's what she-" Jack cut off suddenly, so quickly that Emma turned to look at him in confusion. His lips were parted and his face was glowing. He was up and over the fence in a moment. Emma didn't even have time to wonder why. He landed with a soft thud, dust scattering as his feet hit the ground. With a shout of joy, something collided with him.
A hollow chasm settled in the pit of Emma's stomach as she saw who was standing next to Jack and the girl entangled with him.
A machete fell from Andrew's hand as he stepped forward, his eyes locked on Emma's. Jack and Kaylee fell to the ground, breathless laughter and roaming hands, a pair squirming to be as physically connected as possible on the leaf strewn ground.
Emma's name fell from his lips, a whispered prayer and an oath. Her hand stretched out, forgetting for a moment the fence between them. Her fingers collided with the cold chain link, rattling it. His face was different. It held the shadows of healing bruises and she could see a pale scar on his lip. He was breathing funny, or so she thought, his chest rising differently than it used to. But he was here, alive and in front of her. His lips quirked in an amused grin.
"You're here," she whispered just as Anna came into view behind him.
