“I have no idea,” John replied.
“Does she have any family nearby? Maybe we could check there.”
John shook his head. If Buck had any idea that Morgan was a Loughlin, he would have never even suggested it. Then again, if Buck knew they were intentionally searching for a member of the Loughlin family, if he even knew who the Loughlins were, he might not have been so eager to help.
“Her family isn’t happy about her involvement with me,” John said, intentionally choosing not to give any more details. “She wouldn’t have gone back to them.”
“Is it possible she doesn’t want you to find her?”
“No,” John said shortly, not even entertaining the idea, desperately trying to ignore the words of his last conversation with Arthur Loughlin, words that still haunted him. “If she’s not here, it’s for a good reason. I’m pretty sure she knew about what happened at the asylum.”
“What makes you say that?” Buck asked.
“Because she thinks I’m dead,” John said, his thoughts going to the letter that was now folded in his pocket inside the front cover of the journal.
“If that’s the case, and she thinks something happened to you, then she would know the pregnancy is in danger,” Buck said. “She very well may have run away to keep the baby safe.”
Perhaps Buck was just humoring him, sensing how much John desperately needed those words to be true, but he couldn’t possibly have realized just how right he was. The only problem that remained was figuring out where to start looking.
John turned to the trees.
“She once mentioned something about living in the woods,” he whispered.
“Why in Haven would anyone want to do that?” Buck asked.
“Did you ever hear those stories as a child? The ones about the drifters and the exiled colonies?”
“Those were just ghost stories the Council told to scare people to keep anyone from trying to leave.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” John said, both hoping and completely terrified at the idea the stories were true. If John was going to push forward with this half-concocted theory, then finding one of those colonies would be their best chance at finding Morgan. And their best chance of survival.
“Is it safe out in the woods?” Buck asked.
“Can’t be any more dangerous out there than it is here,” replied John.
Buck took a deep breath. “Look, John, I don’t have much to lose either way, so I’ll do whatever you think is best and help you in whatever way I can,” Buck said. “But, if you’re wrong and we leave Haven, then that’s it. We might not ever be able to come back. We’ll be drifters for the rest of our lives. So you have to be absolutely sure.”
John shuddered. They had to take that chance. If they stayed in Haven, it would only be a matter of time before the keepers or Arthur Loughlin found them.
Of course, if John was wrong and Morgan was still somewhere in the city, they would have no way of ever finding each other again.
The sun was above the tree line now, and Southend was coming to life as citizens rose from their beds and began their day, oblivious to the events of the night before.
Whatever they were going to do, they had to decide fast.
John closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, steeling his nerves as he tried to convince his body of the decision his mind had already made.
They were going to leave Haven.
It took them most of the day to reach the breach, a journey that normally would have only taken a few hours. But, just as Buck had predicted, armed keepers patrolled the streets, searching for the last of the asylum escapees.
Buck and John ducked into a derelict building at the edge of the city near the breach to wait for nightfall. The walls were crumbling and most of the roof was gone, but at least it would shelter them from searching eyes.
“We should try and get some rest,” Buck said. Neither of them had slept since leaving the asylum.
“You sleep first,” John said. “I’ll stand watch.”
John sat near the door, staring off into the city as Buck slept in the corner behind him. Was he making the right choice? Haven was his home, everything he had ever known. It was where he was born, where his parents had raised him. It was where he had met his wife, fallen in love, and gotten married. It was where everything good in his life had happened.
Then again, it was also where his mother had died and where his father abandoned him. It was where he had been shoved, kicked, and spat on more times than he could remember. It was where he had been arrested on what was supposed to be one of the happiest mornings of his life. Where he had been beaten, stabbed, and shot at.
John turned his gaze to the woods on the other side of the wall. A soft breeze drifted in from the west, and the treetops rustled and swayed as if dancing in elation, completely untouchable by any worldly evil—the plague, the Genetic Fitness Evaluation, the asylum, any of it.
John unrolled his sleeve and pulled the fabric down until it completely covered the scar on his arm, feeling free for the first time in as long as he could remember. Because once they reached the forest, that’s what he would be. A free man. Out there, he wouldn’t have to be a prisoner or an unfit. He would simply be.
Buck woke, relieving John of his post so he could get some sleep before sunset.
John didn’t sleep for long, just long enough to dream. He dreamed of Morgan, of the two of them sitting side by side on the porch of a small cabin surrounded by lofty trees for as far as the eye could see. Her head on his shoulder, she softly sang to the infant in her arms. The baby looked up at John and smiled a wide, toothless smile. Her brown eyes seemed to catch on fire in the sunlight, her cheeks pink, round, and perfect. Her lips were the same color and shape as tiny rose petals. John took the baby’s small hand in his and gently squeezed it once, then twice.
Once it was dark, Buck and John silently made their way to the breach. Buck went first, placing one foot securely in the long crack fracturing the wall while John helped hoist up his other leg. It took some effort, but soon Buck was over the wall and waiting for John on the other side.
John took in his surroundings one last time, silently saying goodbye to the only life he had ever known. Then, as he had done countless times as a child, John pulled himself up and over the wall, finally resolute in his decision to leave Haven. Finally feeling as if he was headed towards something he had not had in a long time—something that had been slowly building within him since he left the asylum.
He had hope. And that was enough.
The greatest blessing in my life is my friends and family – the people who have cheered me on and pushed me to do better. I couldn’t have done this without you.
A huge thank you to the Immortal Works team, especially Holli Anderson, for being the first to celebrate Unfit and for holding a rookie author’s hand through the publishing process. And to Melissa Cox Meibos, a gem of an editor – the kind that appreciates every authors’ unique voice and polishes their story until it shines.
To my mom, who put me in reading camps every summer throughout elementary school in the hopes of improving my abysmal reading scores (because standardized tests are never wrong). Thank you for instilling a love of the written word that grew into the dream of someday writing a novel of my own.
Karma Chesnut is a writer, mother, anthropologist, and author of Unfit. Born and raised in Seattle, Washington, she spent her childhood writing short stories, dreaming up new worlds, and studying the more fascinating, and sometimes macabre, parts of human history.
Pursuing her love of history and human behavior, Karma earned her bachelor’s degree in Anthropology from Brigham Young University and went on to participate in a variety of academic studies, ranging from archaeological digs in the Utah desert to ethnographical research in New Zealand.
Karma lives in California with her husband and their three daughters: the snake-hunter, the princess, and the baby.
You can find Karma Chesnut on Facebook, Instagr
am, and Twitter.
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