“Let me eat with you,” she said. “I’ll go get myself a plate.”
“No need. You have a job to do, don’t you? What if you end up having to work overtime because you decided to eat with me?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Hailee will let me and she’ll still sign me off for the whole day. I’ll be back!”
She grabbed his empty plate and hobbled over to the stove as quickly as her leg would let her. Meanwhile, Lyra came back with her own plate, which was loaded with potatoes and rice. She sat across from Rowan and watched Lorena come back before she started on her meal.
“Hi,” said Lorena, passing one of the plates past the girl and over to Rowan. “I’m Lorena. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself to you yet.”
“I know who you are,” said Lyra. “People talk about you here. Both you and Rowan.”
“Talk about us?”
Rowan made room for Lorena to sit next to him. “We’ve only been here for a few days.”
“Doesn’t matter. Everyone talks about the new people—they did that to me, too. It’s full-on scrutiny until a new batch of people arrive, and then you’re suddenly considered a veteran here and everybody forgets about you unless they want something from you.”
“Do they say good things or bad things?” asked Lorena.
“A little bit of both. It depends on who you’re talking about.” Lyra wiped her mouth with a napkin and faced Rowan. “That’s why I’ve been telling you to watch your image. People are always watching, you know.”
Rowan looked over at the other end of the table and noticed Max staring at him. “Yeah. I took your advice yesterday, just so you know.”
“I figured.”
Lorena prodded Rowan to continue eating, as he barely touched his plate. “I’m almost better now, Rowan. We can leave soon—I promise.”
“Are you sure?” He forced a spoonful of rice into his mouth. “I don’t want you limping around when we leave.”
“I’m sure.”
Rowan took another bite, as Lorena was watching him. “I haven’t really been asking you how you’re doing. I’ve just been so focused on myself—and I’m sorry. Don’t feel pressured to leave here if you’re not doing well yet.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “Really, I don’t. You know how I’m doing, anyway. I don’t think you need to ask.”
Rowan wasn’t sure if he was eating because he felt guilty or because he was now actually hungry, but he was now taking bites without Lorena’s insistence. Lyra, meanwhile, finished her food rapidly and left, almost as if she had come here just to get Rowan at the table. She had done enough, and he was actually thankful for it. If he and Lorena were really going to leave soon, he was going to need to be healthy in order to push his way back to San Jose. He wouldn’t be able to do it otherwise.
“I have a night shift,” said Rowan, cleaning off the rest of his plate. “I won’t be back to our room until the morning.”
“So that means I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Let me get your plate for you,” said Lorena. “And I want to see you at breakfast tomorrow. I’m in need of some stories while I’m cooking.”
“I’ll bring a book or two.”
Rowan loitered around the front gate for the first hour of his shift, but he couldn’t see much out there in the darkness. He wasn’t expecting to see anything, though, as he was certain that the barricades would protect the entire place at least until the morning. Skipping out on work seemed to have been a blessing in disguise. Now, he didn’t have to do much except walk and stand around.
As he made his way around Hearst Castle, he began imagining what would have happened if the world never fell apart. If he had never gotten sent to a mental hospital hundreds of miles away from home. If he had only made the right choices.
He would’ve been at college a year from now, working on getting a career that would finally make him and his family happy. Caitlyn, after coming back from her classes, would’ve called him and eased the pain of their separation. She would’ve been in a different time zone, but Rowan would’ve stayed awake and waited for the call regardless. Caitlyn, as she always did, would’ve reassured him of his future success, and that is what would’ve gotten him to his graduation. His family would’ve been proud of him and he would’ve made them even more proud by landing a successful job right out of school. He would’ve moved them out of their dingy apartment and into a new home, where he and Allie and his parents would finally have their own rooms. Caitlyn would finish college, too, and they would’ve finally had the money to do whatever it was that they couldn’t do when they were in high school—go to concerts, travel the world, and eat at restaurants without feeling the guilt of not tipping. It would’ve been a happy time.
But he imagined the worst parts of this future, too. He imagined being lonely out there at Harvard, and going back to his room to study all day just so he could barely pass a class. He imagined his friendship with Caitlyn losing its luster, and by the time he came back home, they wouldn’t really hang out anymore. He imagined the office life, where he made so much money but so little else. He imagined his parents not even living long enough to taste the success that he would’ve brought them. Even worse, he imagined not even being successful at all—and that the rest of his life was nothing but monotony and melancholy.
Rowan’s fantasy was interrupted by the faint sound of yelling in the distance. He rested underneath a palm tree to listen as best as he could, but he couldn’t make out what the man was saying. He followed the commotion all the way over to the front gate, but he remained hidden behind a pair of flower bushes, where he saw Wayne frantically pacing about.
“Where the fuck is Pete?” he cried.
“He needs to sleep,” said Hailee. “Relax, Wayne—you’re going to wake everyone up. What the hell even happened?”
Darius arrived with Tobias and Anthony by his side. They were instantly petrified by the sight of the blood that dripped off of Wayne’s coat sleeves, as they weren’t sure whose it was. Wayne’s hands were stained red, and he couldn’t stop hitting the gate with the butt of his rifle.
“I won’t ask again,” he growled. “Where the fuck is Pete?”
“Are you hurt?” asked Anthony, slowly approaching him.
Wayne turned to Hailee and maintained his howling. “Pete failed at his fuckin’ job! Someone got my wife infected.”
Hailee’s eyes widened. “Did you—”
“I didn’t kill her. She killed herself.”
“How do you know she was infected?”
“She wouldn’t have done that!”
Anthony pulled his gun out of its holster—he was a plague doctor now. “We’ll go find whoever’s responsible.”
“Someone brought this here. Someone brought the infection in and they’re still here.”
“Who do you think it was?” asked Tobias.
“It was those fuckin’ kids,” said Wayne. “Margaret was just fine until they showed up. It was one of ‘em. Or both of ‘em—I wouldn’t be fuckin’ surprised. You see how they been actin’? The boy doesn’t even eat. He’s mopin’ all the damn time even when he’s surrounded by great things. There’s somethin’ wrong with him.”
Rowan backed away from the bushes he was hiding behind. Was everyone really going to believe that he and Lorena were infected?
“He’s on guard duty right now and we can figure it out,” said Darius. “I’ll go find him and bring him to Tobias’ office.”
“I’ll go get the girl, then,” said Wayne. “Anthony, get the rest of the doctors and go get Pete. We’ve got to talk to him.”
Rowan sprinted away before he could hear Hailee interject. He needed to get Lorena and leave before it was too late. Even if Pete came out and cleared both of them and proved that they weren’t sick, he didn’t trust Wayne. Wayne was full of rage, and he knew what rage was like.
The boy made it back to the room as fast
as he could. Nobody was around yet, but Rowan knew that Wayne was going to get here at any moment. He turned on the lights and shook Lorena awake, and before she was even able to process the chaos, Rowan was already packing their things.
“What’s going on?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“Get whatever you can in the next fifteen seconds,” said Rowan. “We’re leaving this place.”
Lorena jumped out of bed and grabbed her backpack. “Why right now? Is everything okay?”
Rowan turned off the lights and motioned Lorena out the door. “The plague doctors are looking for us. They think we’re infected.”
Lorena didn’t say another word. She followed Rowan through one of the lush gardens and past one of the many working fountains. The rush of the water masked their footsteps, but it didn’t matter, as there was no way they were even going to get out of this place without getting caught. The front gate was locked and they knew of no other exits. Still, they pressed onward. Where else could they go, anyway?
It was almost as if the universe could feel their desperation. As they turned the corner, Lyra came out of her room to investigate the growing commotion outside. Without thinking, Rowan pulled Lorena toward Lyra’s room and shut all three of them inside.
“What’s going on?” asked Lyra.
Rowan shushed her. The noise of loud stomping traveled cleanly through the door, and it was almost a full minute before it went away.
“Plague doctors are looking for us,” said Rowan, locking the windows.
“What? Why?”
“Wayne’s wife killed herself. Now, he thinks someone infected her and he doesn’t think it could be anyone else but us because we just got here.”
Lorena peered through the curtains, but she couldn’t see anything. “What are we gonna do? How do we get out of here?”
“I can’t do much for both of you,” said Lyra. “And you can’t hide here forever. They’re going to check all the rooms, you know.”
Rowan pulled out his crowbar. “But you can help us.”
“How are you going to get past the front gate?”
“Do you know anyone who has the key?”
“A few people do. Tobias, Darius, Pete, and all of the plague doctors have copies.”
“Pete,” said Rowan excitedly. “Okay, meeting up with Pete sounds like a good idea—but they’re going to get him too, if they haven’t done so already.”
Lyra grabbed a leather ottoman near her dresser. “Yeah, I wouldn’t do that. Just take this with you. It should give you enough of a boost to lift Lorena over the gate and climb over afterwards.”
“You want me to carry this all the way over to the front gate? We’re just going to get caught before we get there.”
“I’ll go find Wayne or whoever it is that’s out there looking for you. If I can’t find anyone, I can buy you a few minutes just by screaming in some corner or something.”
“That sounds like a plan, then,” said Rowan. “Are you okay with it?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to us.”
“I do, actually—and that’s why I’m helping you.”
Lyra led the way out of her room. She gave Rowan and Lorena a delicate wave goodbye before she dashed toward the kitchen. As they made their way toward the front gate, Rowan had Lorena check each corner while he lugged the ottoman with him as quietly as he could. It was heavy, but it wasn’t unmanageable.
Fortunately, the layout of Hearst Castle was so complex and expansive that it would be difficult for Darius and the plague doctors to find Rowan and Lorena unless there was a spotlight on them. Regardless, every rustled leaf sounded like a person sneaking up on them, and every breath they took felt uneven and dangerous. They crouched behind every hedge they could, but it still seemed as if someone was watching them.
Lorena stopped Rowan at the next corner. Darius had run by in a hurry, which meant that he likely knew that the two of them were either trying to hide or leave. He was gone in a mere moment, though, and the coast was clear for a few more meters. In the distance, there was a sudden gunshot and a scream.
“Rowan, was that Lyra?”
“I don’t know,” he said, dragging the ottoman even faster. “Either way, we need to hurry up. Help me carry this now.”
Lorena lifted the opposite end of the ottoman and helped Rowan as best as she could. Before long, the front gate was in their sights—but what they saw made Lorena lose grip of the leather. She screamed.
Pete’s twitching body was suspended to the top of the gate. He was held in place by a rope attached to his torso, constricting him tightly and turning his skin blue. Fresh blood dripped from his chest, soaking the stones beneath him with every beat of his desperate gasps. He began mumbling something to them, trying to grab their attention.
“They’re coming back,” he moaned. “Hurry!”
Rowan placed the ottoman firmly against the gate. “Lorena—get on. I’ll boost you up so you can climb over.”
“Pete—”
He choked up some blood. “Leave!”
Lorena grasped on to the top of the gate and dropped over to the other side. Rowan followed suit and climbed the gate with what little strength he had left. More deafening shots went off in the distance, causing Lorena to whimper and scream. Her sobs echoed amongst the dying trees around them.
Rowan steadied her and guided her down the road. She had quieted down as she knew that Wayne and the others must’ve heard her. Any minute now, the plague doctors would give them chase, so they went as fast as they could without aggravating Lorena’s leg too much. It was a long way down the mountain, and Wayne likely knew all of the shortcuts to get to the bottom.
Rowan hoped that Lyra had stalled him long enough. He just wanted to get back home.
16
Rowan and Lorena went on the run for a couple of days. There weren’t any signs of Wayne or the other plague doctors, nor were there very many signs of the infected. They figured that the plague doctors had done their job in the area, as what they did see all over the place were rotting corpses that had only barely been preserved by the winter cold.
The world was still as broken as it was when they first started their journey from Los Angeles. Yet it was as if they had grown used to it now, as it felt more familiar to them than the superficial purity of Hearst Castle. Death and destruction were natural—even for the infected. Those who were sick had been neglected and feared in most places, and as the weeks passed by, their emaciation took hold of them stronger than their minds did. Everywhere, there were limp bodies that clung on to some loose brick, some broken park bench, or some shattered window pane. Nobody could help these people—especially not themselves.
There was hope on these roads, however. Rowan, as down as he was, knew where he was going and what it might bring him. This was more than what most people had these days. He even accepted that he was sick in some sort of way—not infected, of course, but sick. He was battling something real yet intangible: the irresistible need to trudge home and be with the people he loved. Like the infected, he also understood a very real persecution for his behavior, as the plague doctors were out there trying to eradicate him for a pain that he only caused to himself.
Rowan felt something else, too. At times, he wanted to turn back and find Wayne and the others. He wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine for how they treated him—or, at the very least, for how they thought about him. They weren’t deserving of a life.
But Rowan continued on. He and Lorena arrived at a place called King City, the name reminding them too much of the royal undertones of Hearst Castle. Despite its imperial name, King City was nothing like a noble empire. It was small and quaint for sure, and though much of the agricultural land had become dead and yellow, the vast mountains and abundance of trees gave this place life. In a way, it was even more beautiful than Hearst Castle. It just seemed more real and welcoming.
Before the
sun had set, Rowan and Lorena caught sight of an empty apartment to rest in. They could have found something much nicer, but elegance had little value to them at this point. All that mattered was having a place to eat and sleep in.
“It’s too bad we can never go back to Hearst Castle,” said Lorena. Her eyes were downcast. “It would’ve been nice for your family there.”
“It’s okay,” said Rowan, opening a can of corn. “We can rebuild a better life at my home, which is what I wanted anyway. Hearst Castle was never the endgame.”
“We’re almost there, aren’t we?”
Rowan lit up the room with the first smile of the day. “We are, actually. It might only take us a week.”
“Maybe even faster than that.”
“I hope so.”
“Do you think your family would be okay with me around?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Lorena rubbed her bad leg. “And you won’t forget about me, right?”
“What? No way. You’ll be a part of our lives, too.”
“Sorry. I just—I don’t want to lose anyone else anymore.”
“You won’t,” said Rowan. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Lorena sat next to him and watched him finally tear the lid off the can. “I didn’t tell you earlier, but Pete reminded me of my dad. I’ve been trying to avoid the thought, but I can’t anymore. I just can’t.”
“What about him made you think about your father?”
“When we found him on that gate. When he screamed at us—when he told us to leave.”
“Are you thinking about when we left your dad?”
“Yeah. He said the same thing.”
Rowan pushed the can of corn to the side for a moment. “I haven’t forgotten, even if it sometimes seems like I do. I’m really sorry, Lorena. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just keep playing back what happened that day. I’m still not sure if we did the right thing by leaving him to face his sickness alone. Couldn’t we have done more? Can’t anyone do more about the people who are sick?”
Seasons After Fall Page 17
