by Kate L. Mary
Tara looks down at the ground. The moon is full and bright, and every hair follicle on her scalp is visible. “I get it.” She exhales slowly, then looks up. “I held on to the hope of a fairy tale ending for years. Now that it’s finally gone, it hurts. I’ve never known disappointment like that.”
“I’m sorry, Tara. I really am.”
She glances back toward the fire. “I have Walker, though. That helps. He’s felt like family to me for so long now that at least it doesn’t feel like I’ve lost everything.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, but it hurts going down. If I find out Lilly is gone for good, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay as positive as Tara has. There’s so little of the old me left inside as it is. Most of what I have now is hurt and anger.
“You’re lucky to have him,” I say, even though I don’t really believe in luck.
Tara nods, and her eyes move to my arms. My fresh cuts are covered, but it doesn’t matter. I know she already saw them.
“Why did you do it again?” she asks.
I shift uncomfortably under her gaze. It feels like she has X-ray vision. “I need to. I can’t explain it.”
“Don’t waste what you have.”
“I’m not trying to kill myself,” I say defensively.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Tara says. “I meant Walker.”
I hug myself tighter and glance over her shoulder, back toward the fire. Even from here I can see where Walker sits with Ginger. “What about him?”
“Eva,” Tara says, her voice low and firm. I tear my eyes away from the fire and meet her steely gaze. “If he thinks you’re trying to waste your life, he’ll walk away.”
Everything in me tenses and tightens and aches until I feel like I want to scream. I don’t know if I can stop, but the idea of losing Walker scares me more than anything I’ve had to face in the last four years. In the short time I’ve known them, Walker and Tara have become something indescribably important to me.
I’m just not sure if I can stop cutting myself.
Our packs are full of food when we set out after breakfast. Peaches, tomatoes, and pecans, as well as a bit of leftover pork for us to eat at lunch. More food than I’ve seen in years, making the extra weight welcome despite the ache in my shoulders.
Tara seemed reluctant to leave but refused to stay even when I tried to convince her it wouldn’t hurt my feelings. Even though I meant it, I was also hoping she would come with me. It isn’t just about the company anymore. Just a few days on the road with Walker and Tara, and I feel like I have something I haven’t had in a long time. Family.
“We’re behind after the last few days,” Walker calls over his shoulder. He always seems to be in the lead, as if being up front will help him protect us from danger. “I want to get in a solid twelve hours of walking today.”
I focus on the throbbing of the cut I made this morning, because just thinking about the trip makes my feet hurt. It keeps my thoughts focused on Lilly as I put one foot in front of the other. She’s waiting for me. I have to believe it’s true.
Ten minutes or so after we leave town, we reach a fork in the road and veer right, just like Jed told us to. Miles and miles of cotton fields stretch out on both sides of the road, and in the distance, the red Georgia clay is blindingly bright. Just like the field we tried to cross before, the weeds outnumber the cotton by at least a hundred to one. And they’re tall enough that some of them come up to my chest. I had no idea weeds grew that tall or that they could take over the world so quickly.
Looking at all that desolation makes me want to cry. I grew up passing cotton fields. Imagining the little tufts of white poking from the plants would one day be a new shirt or dress for me to wear. It was always a marvel that someone could take that tiny bit of insignificance and create something beautiful.
But now the magic is lost. Along with everything else I once loved.
We’ve only been walking for about fifteen minutes when a creeper steps out in front of us. He’s smaller than most of them, and the weeds choking the cotton field were the perfect camouflage for his gray skin. Walker freezes and Tara gasps like we’ve just crossed paths with a deadly animal. I’m lost in my melancholy, musing over the loss of my magical cotton kingdom, and seeing the slimy beast’s face suddenly appear in front of us fills me with an almost uncontrollable rage.
Before anyone has a chance to react I charge at the creeper, ripping out my knife in the process. He lets out a wail that could shatter windows as he spins to leave, but as usual, I’m too fast. My body slams into his, and we fall to the ground. The creeper lands on his stomach with a powerful thud that vibrates through me. He flails, trying to escape, but I climb on top and straddle his back. Under me, his body slithers, but I just dig my knees in harder. Holding him down. Blood pounds in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of Walker calling my name. Nothing short of a lightning bolt could stop me now.
My blade slices across the back of the creeper’s head and his screams increase, growing in intensity until my entire body shakes from the sound. Seconds go by and the wails grow louder as I carve into his body like he’s a pumpkin on Halloween. Hands grip my arms, trying to pull me off the thrashing creature, but I growl like a wild animal and shrug them off. Walker won’t let up, but neither will I. Not while this thing is still moving.
Tara and Walker scream my name, and from somewhere deep inside, a voice of reason reaches my brain. My head snaps up, and I twist around to find Walker pointing toward the field in front of me.
“Eva!” he screams, stumbling back toward Tara, whose eyes are big and round. “We have to run!”
I slide off the bloody creeper just as dozens of the creatures pour out of the field. Coming for us. Screaming and howling as they do. Their glassy eyes wide and terrifying. Seeing them in a group like this sends shivers of fear through my body. Where did they come from?
I scramble back and Tara grabs my hand, jerking me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here!”
She pulls me with her as she rushes back the way we came. Walker is right behind us, and the blood beating in my ears is mingled with the sound of his footsteps pounding against the road. Beyond that is even more thumping. Loud and thunderous enough that I start to look up to see if there are storm clouds above but stop myself. Of course there aren’t. The pounding is the sound of the creepers chasing us down the road.
We’ve made it less than fifteen feet when Tara trips. Her hand slips out of mine as she falls, and I stumble forward. Trying to stop myself from face-planting on the road. My hands fly out in a defensive stance, slamming against the pavement. Pain radiates through my right hand and up my wrist. Behind me Walker grunts, and I roll onto my side and turn just as he hoists Tara up. Her knees are scraped and bleeding and her face is contorted in pain, and the creepers are right behind them.
“Get up!” Walker yells, charging toward me with Tara in his arms.
Ignoring my throbbing wrist, I jump to my feet and take off after him. Walker’s breathing is heavy and the muscles in his arms are strained under Tara’s weight, but he doesn’t slow down.
We’re faster than the creepers, even hurt. Before long we reach the fork in the road and turn back the way we came. By then my calves burn and my right ankle screams at me to slow down, but my heart is pounding too hard to be able to hear whether or not the creepers are still behind us, so I keep moving.
Thirty seconds later Walker finally slows, and I know we’re safe. He stops running and sets Tara on the ground, gasping for breath and making it impossible for him to speak. Blood is smeared up and down Tara’s legs, and her hands shake when she covers her scraped-up knee. Still panting, Walker kneels in front of her, examining her from head to toe. An expression of worry etched on his face. All I can do is stand awkwardly at their side, feeling for all intents and purposes like this is my fault.
“I’m okay, Walker. It’s just my ankle,” Tara manages to get out after a few seconds of gasping for breath.
<
br /> Walker won’t stop checking her over, and he doesn’t seem to comprehend anything she says. His eyes are wild. Flashing like he’s ready to rip his hair out and scream at the injustice of life.
When he won’t calm down, Tara grasps his face between her hands and forces him to look at her. “Listen to me. I said I’m okay.”
Walker blinks, then slowly his shoulders relax. “You’re okay?”
“I sprained my ankle. That’s all.”
He takes in a deep breath as he glances over his shoulder. I follow his gaze, but the road is still clear. The creepers gave up for some reason.
When Walker glances my way, I want to sink into the Earth. His jaw tightens and a sour expression comes over his face like he’s just taken a bite out of a rotten peach. I half expect him to spit.
“I-I’m sorry.” My voice shakes until I have no idea how they can understand me.
Walker grinds his teeth as he gets to his feet. “What the hell was that?” He throws his hands in the air and I take a step back, but he matches it. “You want to be self-destructive, fine. Go do it around someone else. You want to risk dying of infection by cutting yourself up or throwing away your life on some ridiculous vendetta, then be my guest. But don’t take us down with you.”
The guilt swirling around inside me transforms into rage so quickly it nearly gives me whiplash. “Just two days ago you were ready to hand me a medal for doing that exact thing. And now you want to act like you find it repulsive? Well, screw you!” My voice shakes when I yell at him. I’ve never screamed at another human being like this in my entire life, but his judgment makes my blood boil.
Walker’s face gets red, and he shakes his head. He looks like he wants to punch me, and I have the almost uncontrollable desire to kick him in the balls. He looks down, clenching his fists, and when his eyes land on my arm my stomach drops. He narrows his eyes on the fresh cuts before I have a chance to cover them. When his eyes snap up to mine, I shrink under his judgment.
“Stop it.” Tara gets to her feet before either one of us can make the situation worse, and when she limps over to stand between Walker and me, it’s like throwing a bucket of ice on our rage. “You two are being childish and you’re wasting time. Right now we need to head back to Hope so you can drop me off and get back on the road.”
Walker shakes his head, all the earlier anger suddenly forgotten. “No. I’m not leaving you, Tara.”
“You are. I can’t keep walking with my ankle like this, and you can’t wait for me. It could be days before I’m healed enough to cover that kind of distance. Maybe longer. You go with Eva. Help her find Lilly, then the three of you can come back.”
Walker keeps shaking his head, but Tara refuses to acknowledge it. She starts limping in the direction of Hope, and he trails after her like a lost puppy until he’s by her side. Tara leans on him for support.
I follow but keep my distance. It’s where I belong. Outside their little bubble of happiness, always looking for a way in.
15
The people of Hope are beside themselves with worry when we come straggling back into town. Tara is rushed off to receive medical attention, and Jed pulls Walker aside so he can learn what went down with the creepers. Once again, I find myself alone and covered in the black blood of my enemy.
Maybe Walker’s rant had a point.
Washing up in the pond gives me a chance to cool down and see things more clearly. I can’t let Walker leave Tara behind, but I also can’t wait a week or more to continue my journey. My self-inflicted illness put me too far behind already. The thought of doing it alone is both overwhelming and scary, but I can’t think of an alternative. Lilly needs me and Tara needs Walker. There’s no other way to look at it.
I find Walker poring over maps with Jed, but he won’t even glance my way. For a few minutes I stay put, trying to get a look at the map so I have some idea of where I am. But every inch of Walker’s body tenses when I step closer, and I’m forced to leave. I don’t want to be the source of more stress in his life.
What I really need to do is talk to Tara.
Rebekah’s house is a tiny square thing that used to be red, but after years of neglect, the paint has now faded so much that it’s now more magenta. When I climb the steps they creak under my feet, and the porch boards bow under my weight. The whole thing is crooked, making me wonder how the potted plants don’t slide off.
I step inside to find Tara resting on the couch in the living room. She looks up and smiles, and the second the door shuts behind me, Rebekah hurries to the kitchen like she has a roast in the oven. Maybe she’s just as angry with me as Walker is for attacking that creeper, or maybe she just wants to give us some privacy. Whatever it is, I’m thankful for the chance to speak to Tara alone.
“Walker won’t talk to me.” The recliner squeaks when I sit, and a spring pokes me in the rear.
“He’ll get over it.” Tara’s foot is propped up on a pillow and her ankle is swollen to twice its normal size. Just seeing it makes the guilt come back full force.
I shift to the right, trying to move so the spring isn’t poking me in the butt. It just ends up poking me in much more uncomfortable places, so I move back.
“He should stay with you.”
Tara shakes her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have a whole town full of people to help me here, but you only have Walker. He needs to go with you.”
“He doesn’t want to leave you and it isn’t fair of me to ask him to.”
Tara picks at the hem of her shirt like she’s thinking something over. “Walker and I will be okay.” She looks up, and her brown eyes hold mine. “You don’t need to feel bad for liking him.”
The temperature in the room shoots up ten degrees, and I start to sweat. How did she know? “What? I don’t like him. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She puts her hand up, and all my arguments die on my lips. I blush even more, feeling like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“Relax,” Tara says. “We aren’t together. Not like that. Walker is like a brother to me. You know what that’s like, right? The bond of a sibling?”
All the air leaves my lungs, and I nod slowly. Thinking of Lilly and Walker and Tara and all the feelings I’ve been trying to deal with and suppress the last few days. Brother? I can’t be hearing her right.
“You’re not in love with him?” I whisper.
Tara smiles and shakes her head. “I love him, but not in a romantic way.”
“And he knows?”
“He knows, and he feels the same way.”
“But—” I try to twist some hair around my finger, but it’s too short. None of this makes sense. “You guys acted like you were together. You knew I thought you were, but you never corrected me.”
Tara rolls her eyes and lets out a little laugh. “Walker said to let it go. I think he was trying to convince himself he doesn’t like you, but that clearly isn’t working out.”
He likes me?
I think back to the past few days, remembering the times when their relationship reminded me of brother and sister, and suddenly it all starts to make sense. Walker isn’t with Tara. I don’t have to feel guilty for liking him.
Except now he’s pissed at me not only for endangering Tara’s life but for cutting myself yet again. He’ll probably never forgive me.
Nice one, Eva.
A loud bang jerks me from my sleep, and I automatically reach for my knife. Walker sighs just as my fingers wrap around the handle, and my hand falls to my side.
I’m in a living room. Rebekah’s living room in Hope. I shift in my seat as Walker heads to the couch, and the loose spring digs into my right butt cheek until I’m positive that when I stand, the whole chair will come with me.
Walker’s eyes move my way, but only for a second. Then he focuses on Tara. He sits on the edge of the couch where she sleeps, her ankle still propped on the pillow, and I watch them silently. This time when he looks at her, it all ma
kes sense. The fierce protectiveness I mistook for love now looks so clearly like a big brother’s that I don’t know how I ever thought it was anything else.
I’m really out of habit when it comes to dealing with human emotions.
“Tara.” He caresses her cheek as he whispers her name.
I squirm, and the spring digs deeper. Walker’s expression is pained, and it’s all my fault. My impulsiveness hurt Tara when she was only trying to help me. No one has been willing to help me in such a long time, yet I put her in danger.
Tara’s eyes flutter open, and a small smile curls her lips. “Hey.”
Walker returns the smile, but it looks strained. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
His eyes move to her swollen ankle, and the corner of his mouth turns down. I cringe when he glances my way again. He looks like he’d love to hit me.
“Walker.” Tara takes his hand and moves to sit up, but he stops her. “Stop being so angry.”
He inhales slowly, and I get the feeling Tara is talking about more than just me and what happened with the creeper. I wonder what Walker was like when they met. Now he seems so carefree, but he’s always hiding behind that hat of his. There must be more pain inside than he’s willing to let out. I can’t help but admire his ability to smile through it all.
“It’s hard,” he finally says. The words sound like they’re difficult for him to get out.
Tara squeezes his hand but doesn’t say anything. They go back to doing that silent communication thing that always makes me feel like I’m intruding. Even now that I know they aren’t romantically involved, I feel like I’m watching something that was never meant to be seen by another person.
Envy, thick and green, clouds my vision.
Tara moves to sit up again, and this time she doesn’t let Walker stop her. “I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?” She pauses while she waits for him to nod. “Good. You go with Eva. Go to Valdosta and help her find Lilly. I’ll be here. There’s food and safety, and I will be right here waiting for you. I’ll rest up and once I’m healed, I’ll get our house ready.” She glances toward me. “Rebekah says there’s a cozy little three-bedroom with our names on it. Just at the end of town. It needs to be cleaned, but it’s ours. A place to live. A home.”