She swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to look so… so…” she trailed off with another hard swallow.
“Normal?”
Her eyes met mine, her throat still bobbing. She merely nodded in answer.
“If we go any slower, we’ll be walking backward,” Doc said cheerfully as she passed us. “And it’ll be a damn shame to have to eat a cold breakfast.”
At the mention of food, Willow appeared to shake off her shock and resumed hobbling down the walkway. The dining hall loomed to our left, the single largest building in camp. Constructed in the shape of a rectangle, it boasted a wraparound porch with both steps and a ramp, and potted wildflowers lining the balustrade. Inside, there were sky-high ceilings, wall-to-wall windows and massive stone fireplaces built into either end. Sunlight poured in through the windows, illuminating the numerous tables and chairs filling the vast space. Up above, timber framework crisscrossed smartly along the ceiling. If it weren’t for the wire mesh reinforcing each window, or the several armed guards waiting in line for their breakfasts, it might have looked like we were walking into a casual reception.
“Now, Willow,” Doc said, holding the double doors open. “The dining hall is open all day, every day; however, there are only two sit-downs for food—breakfast and dinner—two hours each. We don’t have a formal lunch and there’re no snacks given out, just two carefully rationed meals, nutritionally balanced to give you everything you need. Of course, if we have a good crop or a great hunt, there’ll be more to go around.”
Meanwhile, the din of noise inside the hall had noticeably lowered; people had paused their morning conversations in favor of staring at us. They’d all seen me many times already, though only briefly. I ate all my meals with Willow and usually only left Doc’s to wash or sleep. However, very few of them had actually seen Willow, and it was obvious that the mystery surrounding her had become a source of excitement for them; new faces certainly weren’t a regular occurrence at Silver Lake.
“Hello!” a tiny voice exclaimed. A little boy, no more than four or five years old, jumped in front of Willow, enthusiastically waving his arms around. “My name is Béla! I was named after my grandpa who’s dead! He was from Hungary—but not the hungry kind of hungry—the country kind of hungry!”
While the dining hall tittered with laughter, Willow’s head had whipped around, her frantic gaze finding mine. “L-logan,” she stammered.
I glanced blankly between Willow and the boy, unsure what she wanted me to do—I couldn’t exactly kick a kid out of her pathway. I’d already had my introductory meeting with Béla, whose dead grandfather was from Hungary—which he seemed to enjoy conveying to each new person he encountered. I hadn’t known what to say to him either and had ended up only staring at him for several moments before turning around and walking off.
Luckily, a smiling young woman soon came rushing up beside the boy, slipping her hand into his. “We should let our new friends eat,” she whispered, tugging him away. “We’ll talk to them later, okay?”
“Okay, bye!” Béla called out, waving. “Bye!”
“Logan,” Doc said softly, watching Willow with concern. “Why don’t you two find us a table while I go make up some plates?” With a quick pat on my shoulder, Doc hurried off.
“I’m leaving,” Willow hissed through her teeth, as soon as Doc was out of earshot. Jerking her walker around, she limped noisily across the floor, banging through the double doors. The dining hall had fallen silent; all eyes were on me. Cursing beneath my breath, I took off after her.
“Willow?” I called, jogging down the steps. “Willow, where the fuck are you going?”
She slammed to a stop and spun around, her walker thumping loudly against the ground. She was pale, her eyes wet with tears and trembling from head to toe.
“I’m leaving!” she cried.
“Yeah, you said that already. But where are you going? Doc’s is that way,” I said, pointing.
“I’m not going to Doc’s—I’m leaving this… this… this fucking mirage!” She swung her walker around, on the move once again. I stared after her, unsure of what to do. On a good day, Willow was irrational at best, and today was definitely not a good day.
“Open the gate!” she began to scream, waving frantically at the guard tower as she hobbled in the direction of the wall. “Open the gate and let me out of here!”
“Willow!” I shouted, breaking into a run. “Willow!”
“Open the gate!” She screamed again, while the pair of people inside the tower stared down at her with bewildered expressions.
“Willow, stop this shit right fucking now!” I demanded, coming up quickly behind her.
Willow whipped around, chucking her walker in my direction. The flimsy piece of equipment went wide, missing me entirely. “Don’t come near me, Logan—don’t you dare come any closer!”
“Where the hell are you going to go? You can barely walk, you have no gear, no supplies, no weapons…” Glaring at her, I held my hands up in question.
“I can’t be here!” she cried. “This place—the people! There’s kids here, Logan! There’s little kids here—I can’t even remember the last time we saw a kid!”
I shook my head, confused. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? It means it’s safe.”
Willow’s teary-eyed gaze turned instantly hard. “Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s not safe here—it’s not safe anywhere!”
Above us, from inside the guard tower, I heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie. “We have a little bit of a situation at the gate—might want to send Leisel and Joshua down.”
“There’s a fucking wall, Willow,” I gritted out, gesturing. “The wall makes it safe.”
“It’s not a magic wall, Logan!” she screamed. “We both know how quickly things can change! Just because you can’t see the problem doesn’t mean it’s not still out there!” Her chest was heaving, her eyes and hair wild. I could see that she was spiraling into a full-blown panic attack, but I was suddenly too mad at her to care.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I exploded. “You don’t need to tell me what’s out there—it’s me who’s been leading the two of you all over the goddamn country trying to find a place just like this, remember?”
“How could I possibly forget when you never shut up about it! Saint fucking Logan, who risked it all for Luke and Willow.”
Jaw locked and nostrils flaring, I stepped closer. “You’re goddamn right, I risked it all! Did you forget that it was me who carried your ass out of that Creeper-infested ravine? And it was me who dragged you around in that fucking kayak until my hands busted open! And it was me who found this place, trying to find you help—remember?”
“No!” she screamed. “I actually don’t fucking remember! But now that I know, how does it feel knowing it was all for nothing—that everything you did was stupid and pointless? Because Luke is still gone, and I wish I was too!”
We were standing only about a foot apart—Willow somewhat lopsided, leaning most of her weight onto her uninjured side. Her eyes were wet and wide, tears streaking down her face; her expression was feral, her chest shuddering with every panicked, angry breath. Meanwhile, I stood in shock, shaking with fury. I’d dealt with her shit for years—too many goddamn years! I didn’t deserve this; I especially didn’t deserve this after risking everything to save her life.
“You know what?” I bit out, pain and anger punctuating each of my words. “Fuck it. You’re an ungrateful fucking bitch, and I’m done with you. You wanna walk out of here, you go right ahead. It wouldn’t be the first idiotic thing you’ve done, but it might be the last!”
Something ugly flashed in Willow’s eyes, her expression twisting with rage. “Fuck you, Logan!” she shrieked. “Fuck you straight to hell!”
“Thanks to you, I’m already fucking there!” I thundered in reply, spinning away.
As I stormed off, Willow continued to shriek; I could still hear her s
creaming as I rounded a corner, the intensity of her cries causing a pressure-like sensation in the center of my chest that made it difficult to take a full breath.
I headed to my cabin first, only to find that I couldn’t breathe any better inside the small, stifling space. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, the room was pulsing, the walls were closing in, inching closer and closer until I couldn’t take it anymore—I had to get the fuck out.
Bursting through the cabin door, I sprinted toward the south side of camp. This early, there wouldn’t be anyone around, but once breakfast had ended and work began, the entire camp would become a hub of activity.
There was no shortage of work to do in Silver Lake—there was daily food preparation and cleanup, maintenance chores, along with alternating fishing and hunting excursions. On top of the daily duties, Silver Lake was in the midst of a mass expansion—east side cabins had already had their additions built, providing the occupants more living space, though construction had only recently begun on the west side of camp, where my cabin was located.
Having reached the lake’s edge, I scooped up a handful of small rocks and tossed them, one by one, into the shimmering water. The air smelled good here, fresh and even a bit sweet. Throwing the last of my rocks, I shoved my hands into my pockets and gazed out over the lake, noting the fencing sticking far above the water’s surface. Looking in either direction, the fencing appeared to span the entire length of camp, attaching to the edge of both walls. They’d really thought of everything here—even the possibility of Creepers, or other undesirables, entering via the lakeside.
As the sun continued to rise and its reflection in the lake turned the water to liquid silver, I found my thoughts straying back to Willow. “Nope,” I muttered, shaking free. I wouldn’t be thinking about Willow; I was absolutely one hundred percent not at all going to think about Willow. And I definitely wouldn’t be going after her. She was on her own this time. Good fucking riddance.
“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing the heel of my palm over my chest. Of course I had to go after her. She was going to get herself killed if I didn’t. Sighing, I turned to leave.
“Logan!” On the beach, Leisel was fast approaching. “I need a word!”
“Jesus Christ.” I scrubbed my hands over my face; there was certainly no shortage of mothers in Silver Lake.
“I heard you and Willow had a fight.”
“Yeah, I’m guessing everyone heard,” I muttered. “Hope they enjoyed the fucking show.”
“Logan, fighting is normal; it’s human nature,” she continued. “It’s not the fighting that worries me. It’s the level of anger… Logan, I’ve been watching you these past weeks, the way you interact with others, the way you talk to Willow, especially. You’ve got a lot of pent-up anger inside of you.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not like that. Willow and I, we’ve just always been like this.”
“You’ve always been like what?” she asked.
I kept shaking my head, growing angrier with each passing second. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone Leisel, and I definitely didn’t want to have to explain myself or the complexities of Willow’s and my… relationship, for lack of a better word.
“Like what, Logan?” Leisel pressed. “Explain it to me.”
“Jesus Christ, okay. We’re just like… like… this!” I made an all-encompassing gesture. “We fight all the time and can’t fucking stand each other. We only put up with each other because of Luke.”
“And Luke is… your brother,” Leisel said slowly, “who’s gone.”
Gone—I fucking hated that goddamn word. It felt too final and yet inexplicably incomplete at the same time. “Yes,” I replied tightly.
Leisel sighed. “You and Willow have obviously been through a lot together, and from where I’m standing, it looks like you care a great deal about her. I don’t think very many people would go through what you did to save someone they didn’t care about.
“But look, you don’t need to like Willow. Like her, don’t like her, that doesn’t really matter. Certainly not to me. How you treat her though, now that speaks volumes about the sort of man you are.”
“What is this?” I demanded. “What exactly is happening here? Are you psychoanalyzing me or are you trying to tell me it’s time for me to go?”
“I might tell you it’s time to go,” she replied. “If I ever feel like you pose a threat to Silver Lake.”
“And what about Willow?” I snarled, “Will she be getting the same speech or was this just for me?”
“There it is again,” Leisel calmly replied. “Logan, why are you so angry? Do you even know?”
“I’ve got a better question—why aren’t you angry?”
Leisel smiled, looking genuinely amused. “Oh, I was,” she said, laughing a little. “I was more than angry even. I’d lost everyone I’d ever cared about, one by one, until I’d ended up completely alone, not knowing how I was going to survive. Not knowing if I wanted to survive.”
“Join the fucking club. There isn’t anyone alive today that hasn’t lost everything.”
“True,” she said. “But it’s how we deal with our losses that set us apart. And from what I can tell, and from what Doc has mentioned to me, you aren’t dealing with yours. And that makes you dangerous. I’ve told you before, that this place and these people are everything to me. If I’m to let you continue on here, then I need to know you’re not a UXO.”
I blinked at her. “I don’t know what the fuck that is.”
“It’s a bomb,” she said, still so infuriatingly calm. “It’s a bomb that hasn’t detonated yet, making it dangerous to everyone around it.”
“You think I’m a bomb?” I might have laughed if it wasn’t for her serious expression.
I wasn’t a bomb. I was the cautious one, the one who didn’t take risks and who kept everyone safe. Who always did the perimeter checks; who rationed our food and water, and who always remembered to set the water buckets out. Who reminded everyone to sharpen their blades and keep their socks dry and keep their voices down. I was always the careful one; it was Willow who was foolish, who was reckless and wild, careless and carefree, and selfish to a fault.
“Maybe,” Leisel replied. “You tell me.”
“Jesus Christ!” I spat. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. To admit that I’m maybe a bomb?” I threw my arms wide. “Sure, maybe I’m a fucking bomb—happy now? But as far as I can see, Willow is the one always holding the fuse, while I’m left to clean up her messes!”
Studying me, Leisel’s head canted to one side. “Is that really how you see yourself? Because the person you project to the world is very different from the man you just described.”
Running my hands through my hair, I fought for calm. I was really out of practice when it came to social etiquette, that much I’d realized right off the bat. But my problems in camp weren’t simply faulty social skills. I wasn’t used to not being in charge; neither was I accustomed to dealing with anyone other than Lucas or Willow. And I definitely wasn’t used to being scolded and treated as if I were a misbehaving child.
“I get it,” I ground out. “I’m angry. But I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. I can’t just not be angry anymore; it’s not a faucet I can just turn off.”
“You don’t need to turn it off. Being angry isn’t the enemy—it’s where that anger goes when it’s of no more use to you. Or in your case, where it doesn’t go.”
“So what then? What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
Leisel shrugged. “Talk to someone. Tell someone how you’re feeling and why. It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes, you know? It’s at least better than the alternative.”
“Which would be detonating,” I replied flatly.
“Precisely,” she replied, clasping her hands together. Turning to go, she paused. “Oh, and one more thing.
“There are no free rides here, Logan—everyone in camp has to contribute. It’s the only way
this place works. If you and Willow are going to continue on with us, then you’re both going to have to start pulling your weight. I know Willow is still on the mend, but I think you’re more than capable of working, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yeah, definitely.” My hands were mostly healed; I was well fed and well rested and feeling healthier and stronger than I had in years. If staying here meant I’d have to work then I damn sure would be getting to work.
“Great—I’ll talk with Joshua and see where he wants you. Are you any good with tools?”
“I’m a fast learner,” I said. “Did some electrical and plumbing work growing up, some roofing too.”
“A jack-of-all-trades.”
“Not me,” I told her, shaking my head. “My dad—only he was usually too drunk to finish the job.”
Again, Leisel tilted her head to one side, studying me in a way that was starting to become very unnerving. And very fucking annoying.
“How old are you?” she finally asked.
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to answer, only to close it when I realized I didn’t know the answer. “Do you know what year it is?”
Leisel told me the date and I quickly counted. “Twenty-five,” I replied slowly. “No, wait—I’m twenty-six. I turned twenty-six in… April.”
It felt strange to think about my age, and even stranger to think about the birthday that had passed by without any recognition, not even my own. Birthdays were among the long list of frivolous things I’d stopped concerning myself with many years ago.
“The beard makes you look older,” Leisel mused. “And what about Willow—how old is she?”
I sighed, “Twenty-three, almost twenty-four.”
“So you were just kids then.”
“When the world ended?” I snorted. “I guess so.”
She smiled faintly. “The world didn’t end.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I muttered, “You sure about that?”
Leisel turned to leave again, still smiling over her shoulder. “We’re still here, aren’t we?”
The Blood that Binds (Thicker than Blood Book 3) Page 12