Elijah rubbed the side of his face. “I don’t know. If we get there and everything is perfect, your family is there and safe and happy to see you, that will be— wonderful. But what then? I’m not a farmer or anything. I’ll learn but what if—”
“I didn’t ask you to come because I wanted to use you as a workhorse. What you do once we get there is up to you. Retire. Go fishing. Paint something. Whatever you like. Be our scav team if you like. You did that with Shay once. Your value to me, Elijah, isn’t in what you do, it’s who you are.”
“That kind of thinking might have been true before, brother, but it’s different now. You don’t succeed, then you don’t eat. That’s how it works.”
Neil shook his head. “That’s how your city says it works. Look, if as many people died or were Infected in the past few years as you keep telling me, then there is enough stuff out there to support us for the rest of our lives. Even food. We might develop scurvy if we don’t find fresh stuff but there are hundreds of orchards and farms going to seed. We don’t have to do this anymore, this push to be productive at all costs. We gather more people or the places around us start running low, we can— we can figure it out.”
“It’s a risk every time you scavenge. There are still Infected out there. And Immunes who scavenge the same places and don’t look favorably on people in their territory. Some of them shoot before asking what you’re there for. Or if you’re sick.”
“So’s farming. So’s developing a settlement that has smoke and food smells and things that look easy to take. You heard Shay talking about how things were in the beginning. Whatever we do is going to be a risk. So let’s make it something that keeps us content. Come with me and stop worrying about what you’re good at. You’re good at being kind. You’re good at making people want to keep trying. The City’s not the only place you can do that, and I sure as hell won’t tell you that you can’t eat if you take a day off. There’s a whole dead world that tried doing it that way. We don’t have to listen to its rules anymore.”
“Jesus,” sighed Elijah, “I’m going to have to come with you just to keep you from starving or freezing, thinking like that. You’ll see. We all have to do things we don’t feel like doing these days.”
“Sure. But we don’t have to do as many of them as we did before things went wrong. I’m not saying this’ll be easy. But you don’t have to be a superhuman, either. You’re going to be fine, Elijah. And I hope, maybe someday, we’re all going to be happy. At least a little.” He put down his water bottle and stuck out a hand to Elijah. “So what do you say? Are you coming?”
Elijah grasped his hand. “I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on having me along, in particular, but the City is— they don’t particularly want me along. Just a warm body to them. Necessary, but not wanted. I’ll come with you, Neil. At least until you’re sick of me.”
Neil pulled him into a hug. “You’re going to be stuck with me a long time then.”
Shay arrived a few days later, three large trucks and a dozen ATVs in tow, their solar panels flashing as they bounced over the uneven field. The Cure camp erupted into activity when she arrived. The staff left the remaining Cured almost entirely alone and clustered around the trucks, shouting out greetings and bids for large crates of objects that Mateo hauled out of the back. Shay found Neil in the chaos.
“Elijah persuade you to come back to the City yet?” she asked him after a hard hug.
“I persuaded him to come with me instead.”
“Shit,” she said after a moment of shocked silence. And then she laughed. “I didn’t expect that, but if there was no way to convince you to stay, then having Elijah with you, of all people, is about the best I could ask for. He’s— I’ve met a lot of good people since we were in the hospital, Neil. But no one who reminds me so much of Cody as Elijah does. I know that probably doesn’t mean a lot to you, you only knew him for a few days, but you know what he was willing to do for his friends. Elijah’s the same. The two of you— I don’t have to worry if you’re watching each other’s backs. But…” She pulled a small, battered notebook from her back pocket. “It does complicate the supply situation. I packed for one. I’m going to need a few weeks to get enough for Elijah, too.” She flipped the notebook open and Neil could see a list of dates on it.
“Elijah said he didn’t have much to trade for supplies and you know that I’ve got— well, nothing. Didn’t even wake up with my clothing. We’ll scavenge what we need along the way.”
“No you won’t,” said Shay flatly, finding a pencil stub from behind her ear and scratching something into the notebook. “Your trades already happened. Both of you. I’ve owed Elijah for months. He paid good chips for three books and I haven’t been able to find a single copy of any of them. Plus some back pay when he was scavving with me. And you—” She glanced up at him. “Neil, I owe you my life. My kids’ life. At least a third of the people in the City do, too, because our group saved them from being overrun. You could come back with us. Live like a king. Well— as close to a king as it gets these days. Which, honestly, means a couple of extra bags of beef jerky and a new pair of shoes occasionally. But it’s not nothing.”
“I can’t Shay. They’re out there, somewhere. I promised Randi. You heard me promise I was coming to get her, no matter what. That I wouldn’t leave her in that place.”
“I know, I know you did. I know you can’t stay. So let me help you find her, okay? No more talk about trading. I know what we can spare. And who has got a debt. It doesn’t run in your direction, trust me. I’ll leave you and Elijah what I can now, but I won’t really have enough until the next run. That’s a week from now. When do you go?”
“When the camp breaks up.”
“Good, good. That gives me time.” She scribbled in another entry into the notebook. “Won’t be able to get back in this direction though. The wall’s scheduled to move soon and I’ve got to—”
“It’s okay, Shay. You saved my daughter, too. And helped Joan escape. You don’t owe me, either. We’ll be okay.”
She ignored him, still writing feverishly in the margin of the almost full page. “’S the bikes…” she muttered.
“You have enough to do already—” He pulled the pencil gently from her hand.
“If you can just meet me at the edge of the zone, it’s on your way—”
“You don’t need to take care of me, Shay.”
“Yes. I do,” she snapped.
“I’m not helpless!”
She sighed and shook her head. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. I know you’re capable. I know you’re clever and careful. A little too careful sometimes but… that’s not what I meant. I left you. In the hospital. I left you. Not just at the end. I let those idiots send you into that lounge like you were—”
“Like I was sick. Like I was dangerous. Because I was.”
“You weren’t. Not yet. And I let them send you away. And the others with you. Instead of— of being your friend for the last few hours. More than that. I lied to you, about you being sick. Because— because I didn’t see what good it would do to know. I stole those last hours from you—”
“You didn’t, I’m here. I’m here. If you’d fought to keep me in the cafe, they would have thrown you out, too. And then where’d we be? You wouldn’t have made it out of the hospital alone. Your kids, my daughter, Cody’s— they’d all have suffered because you weren’t there.”
“It didn’t matter. The disease was already out there. All over the place. You could have come. You could have seen Randi—”
Neil hugged her. “I wouldn’t have made it. There was nothing left of me. And if I hadn’t hit that poolside door, there’d have been no alarm. No distraction for those soldiers. I remember enough, Shay. I know what happened. You didn’t leave me any more than we left Cody. Or Debbie. I stayed. I stayed because I wanted my death to mean something. Same as Cody. I thought it was inevitable. So did you. You don’t need to feel guilt or— or debt. I made i
t. The kids made it. You made it.”
“Yes. So I have a chance to make up for abandoning you.”
“No, Sha—”
“Let me do it. For my own peace of mind, if you won’t let me do it for your sake. It’s a few bikes and some food, Neil. I can get you that much. Let me help you. Let me be your friend.”
“You are my friend.”
“Then meet me at the edge of the zone,” she said, abruptly taking the pencil back. “I’ll show you where.”
15
The camp had been reduced to a line of trucks and the neat piles of canvas that had been the tents lying beside them. The remaining Cured had climbed into two old school buses at dawn and left for the City. Only Neil and the staff remained.
“Time to go,” said Elijah, emerging from the side of one of the trucks. He adjusted his hiking pack to find a more comfortable position. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. We can go to the next camp and then hitch a ride back to the City with the scav teams in a week if you want.”
“No,” said Neil, staring at the large squares of trampled grass where the Cure camp had been. “Just strange to see it all— gone like that.”
Elijah glanced back. “It used to bother me,” he admitted. “Something about knowing that we were so easily— forgotten. That all that would be left in a month was the latrine covers and the soot from the fire pit. But after a while, it became kind of comforting. It’s good to know the world can heal from us. The trash and the crumbling buildings and the old fences and borders and barriers. Might take a while, but in the end, all the bad will just wash away.”
“And all the good with it,” said Neil.
“No, brother. That stays. We’re here. We remember. What’s good we can rebuild, if it needs rebuilding. And if we come back this way again, maybe we find more good things growing on the edge of the fire pit and the water clean and the birds come back. If the land can do that in just a few months, maybe the bad can wash away from us, too.”
Neil glanced at him, happy to see only a peaceful expression on Elijah’s face. “Nice morning for a walk, don’t you think?” he said and turned toward the dirt path.
“Going to be a nice afternoon for it, if we don’t start moving soon,” said Elijah with a laugh. “That pack too heavy? Don’t push it. Camp release just means you’re stable, not that you should be carrying your weight in supplies.”
Neil patted his stomach. He knew he was still too thin, but it wasn’t just skin stretched between his ribs and his hips anymore. He was more than a walking skeleton. “Going to take a lot more supplies to equal my weight these days. Don’t worry, I’m much stronger than I was a few weeks ago. But I’ll— I’ll take it easy when we can. You don’t take too much either, hmm? I’m okay. You don’t have to worry.”
Elijah nodded and they started off. The voices of the camp workers quickly faded the farther they got from the well-used camp areas. The dirt path they followed was choked with tall weeds and the remains of the camp were quickly hidden behind them. The trucks gradually became a glint and then disappeared. It was a pleasant day, the mild warmth of early September and an occasional breeze sweeping the mosquitoes away. Almost a normal hike, except for the untrimmed trail and a few fallen signs along the way. Even once they reached the road and began following it north, it seemed just a quiet day. Traffic had never been that heavy near the park. A few more sunken spots in the tar where frost heaves had erupted and then sagged in the spring were the only real evidence there’d been no plows, no repair crews, no cars to send the broken tar flying. Elijah glanced over at him as Neil stumbled in the soft shoulder.
“Easier to walk in the middle,” he said calmly. “You don’t have to worry about getting run over anymore. The camp trucks will be taking the west route and the scav teams have come and gone already.”
“I forgot,” Neil realized, climbing onto the sturdier roadbed.
“That’s normal. It’ll hit you when we get to town. You’ll still forget for a while. Try not to. We’ll be safe another day until we reach the end of the protected zone, but after that, forgetting can lead to a nasty bite.”
Neil glanced behind them, half expecting someone to be following. “We’re safe here, though?”
“From the Infected, sure. That’s why we put the camp here. Everything else… well, that’s why we’re doing this together, isn’t it?”
They made it about three miles before the day heated up to an uncomfortable baking buzz. They stopped under a gas station canopy to rest. It made Neil uneasy to see the broken glass of the door lying on the pavement. The interior was dim and silent.
“Might be cooler inside,” said Elijah.
Neil shook his head. “The door’s broken. Anything might be in there.”
“Nah. It was cleared months ago. There won’t be anything in there but some empty shelves and maybe some litter from survivors who camped there. Otherwise, I’d go looking for supplies myself. But we can stay out here. The sun’s not too hot if we just sit still a minute or two.” He sank down onto the small lip of concrete beside the gas pumps and eased the hiking pack from his shoulders. Neil sat beside him, glad they weren’t going into the dark store. He could see a church just across the street. Their nativity scene was still up, but two of the wise men leaned against the wooden posts of the rudimentary stable and the manger had become a burrow for some kind of animal, the straw mounded and matted into a dark hollow. It bothered Neil, but he wasn’t sure if it were because it was so decayed or because it was late summer and no one had taken it down and packed it away. He just knew that the flaking paint on the figures and the sagging roof of the stable creeped him out.
“You should eat something,” said Elijah, nudging his shoulder to give him a small packet. They had a few days’ worth of food from the camp. The same as every other Cured. After that, they’d be on their own, at least until they reached Shay’s camp.
“Maybe we should save it,” said Neil.
Elijah shook his head and waved the packet toward him again. “No. At least not you, Neil, you need the calories. We’ll find resources, it’s just— risky. And it might take us a little. You were right about that part. Outside the safe zone is— very empty. At least, empty of people that are still sane enough to scavenge. There’ll be a few, I’m sure, but there’s— so much out there. If we run into someone, there’s no real reason to fight each other. We’ll just leave, right? Find another place. It’s just the— it’s the space between places that are the biggest problem. That’s the part I’m worried about, whether we scavenge or build, it’s still going to be tough. Where we need to go, your cabin, things are far apart up there. Here, for the next week or so, we’re okay, even if we miss Shay or she can’t spare what she thinks. Walk a couple miles, find an old grocery store and raid the canned goods or the pastas. Walk another mile or less and find another one if the first one’s cleaned out for some reason or there are Infected. When we leave the suburbs, though, we might have to walk a couple of days to find a store. Sure, lots of houses between, but they’re a crapshoot. Water’s going to be especially hard to find. At least— water we don’t have to stop and boil. We need to pack heavy for that part, so I need you healthy and strong before we get there. Eat the damn sandwich, okay?”
Neil took the packet and they sat until the tar was hot enough to send heat shimmers up before setting off again. Neil was happy to leave the leaning wise men behind, resisting the urge to either straighten them or knock them over completely. That’s what it is, he realized, the in-betweenness of it all. If the scene was gone, toppled, covered in weeds, it’d be better. If the houses were all burned down or razed and the roads crumbled back to dirt or grass, it’d be— like starting over. But this— it’s just so empty. It’s just flat wrong, all this quiet and motionlessness where people should be.
As the afternoon wore on, Elijah needed breaks more often. They stopped just as the air began cooling and flocks of birds fluttered into the trees along the roads. He leaned against the side
of a pickup. The back tire was flat and the spare lay beside it. A few feet in front of the cab, Neil could see a tire iron and a broken flashlight.
“Hey,” he said as Elijah rubbed his ankle, “Someone’s in trouble. Looks like they got out to fix the flat and something happened. We should look around, see if we can find them.”
Elijah leaned over to look at what Neil was pointing at and then straightened again. “Long gone. Whatever happened, we’re way too late to help.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I do. Nobody’s driving a truck like this anymore. Not for at least a year. The only vehicles on the road anymore are the City’s and they wouldn’t use a pickup. Any gas in the tank’s gone sour or the scav teams drained it when they passed by. And the bed’s empty.” He thumped on the side of the truck. “We were just talking about how prepared you had to be to stay out here. Nobody goes anywhere without supplies anymore. If there were supplies, the scav teams took them long ago. More likely, this happened in the beginning. Someone trying to get away or going to help their friends or family. It was winter. Lots of snow, lots of ice, especially after the plows stopped. They had a flat, got out to fix it, and either someone who was with them was Infected and snapped or— I don’t know, someone stopped to help maybe and was Infected? Or maybe the truck owner themselves were, and the frustration at the flat was the thing that pushed them over the edge. I don’t think we’ll ever know, but whoever it was is long gone.”
“We don’t know that. Maybe whoever it is had some kind of way to make or find gas. Your city does. It’s only been a few years, all the gas can’t be bad yet. We should yell, see if anyone—”
Elijah stood up fully, opened the door of the truck, and flipped the headlight switch back and forth. “Nothing, Neil. Completely dead. Trust me. When I say ‘safe zone’ I mean safe. That’s why it’s still so small. People cleared every foot of it before the City declared it safe. And guard it until the wall moves up. Whoever was here is either in the City already or is sick outside the zone. You don’t need to worry about saving anyone. Not until tomorrow afternoon. And then— well, we’ll have decisions to make. And I’d rather think about my aching feet than start worrying about that yet.”
Before The Cure (Book 2): The Infected Page 14