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She didn’t try to comfort me. Instead she acted as if we’d never been apart, and started talking tactics. It worked, pulling me from my sorrow. I wiped my tears and listened to her strong, able voice.
After being alone for so long, it’s nice to have someone close to me, someone who isn’t trying to hurt me. I’d forgotten how good that can feel.
The green monster crosses the hundred-yard line, creeping menacingly, its yellow teeth bared. Looking up, it knows exactly where I am. And I look curiously into its horrible eyes.
You used to be a human.
What are you now?
“That’s why,” I say quietly, “I can’t promise that I’ll stay here. But I can promise that I won’t abandon you. If I leave, I’ll tell you first.”
He stares at me, as if wanting more, but that’s all I have to give.
After I decided not to go there, I started to feel the loneliness. It was small at first, just an itch that I knew I couldn’t scratch. But now it’s an ever-present sadness.
Pam takes a key from her pocket and throws it to me. This time I don’t catch it, and it skitters across the concrete walkway and over the side, falling two floors down.
Once I snap the lock on them, there’ll be no turning back. My resolve breaks. “Pam, please.” I try one last time. “You don’t need to die.”
“If Mike dies, I don’t want to live.” She gazes at his face, stroking his head, pulling away the last, wispy brown hair as she does so.
I place the padlock between the two bars of the door and the cell. “Last chance,” I tell her.
“Do it.” She doesn’t look up. I close the padlock with a click that echoes through the cellblock. I have sentenced her to death.
“How are you feeling?” I ask when I notice her eyes are open.
Brenna sits up woozily from the shabby couch and looks at her bandaged hand, blood seeping through the dressing. “Like crap.”
“Well, hopefully this worked.”
“Yeah. I’ll be pretty pissed if you cut off my fingers and I still turn into a green flesh-eating freak.”
It’s impossible to avoid the loneliness that has haunted me since leaving New Hope, so I let it wash over me. I nearly give in to it, and sit under the tree, waiting until something hostile finds me. In the end I fight the despair, pushing it down inside wh
I try not to feel sorry for myself, instead passing the time by working out to stay fast, or by reading or scavenging for supplies. But the memories come back.
I think of our last moments together, Jacks covered in Tank’s blood. Is he still the Jacks I knew? He defeated Tank and then had to turn around and kill his own father. I hope he knows it was a necessity. I hope he’s safe.
I collapse onto the bed.
I want to fight, but all I can do is wait.
Night is what worries me now, when I hear the occasional voice nearby or a gunshot in the distance. There are people out here. Not many, but enough. They are alive in the After, which means they were either smart and figured out the Floraes’ behavior, or they are just mean enough to survive. I don’t want to find out which.
“Jacks is a good man. You’ve got quite a catch there.”
I laugh uncomfortably. The idea of me “belonging” to man is weird enough, but me “catching” one is just ridiculous.
“Does the knife make you feel better?” he asks through the mattress between us.
“A little bit,” I admit.
“Just don’t kill me in my sleep.”
“I’ll try not to,” I say. “No promises.”
In the bottom of my belly I feel a familiar quivering.
Fear.
I’ll be fine, I tell myself sternly. I lived for years in the shadows. I’m not afraid of the dark. It will make it easier to avoid the Floraes and get back inside.
I long for the comfort of night.
The sun feels warm on my face. Before, sunshine was a good thing. But this is the After, and outside of New Hope, the light means only one thing if you’re not armed: death.