When We Were Human

by Kate L. Mary

  My chest constricts when hope seeps in with Tara’s words. Home. I’m not sure there’s a sweeter word in the entire human language. It’s something I never thought I’d have again, that’s for sure.

  Tara smiles like she can see the optimism in my eyes. “A bedroom for each of us, as long as you don’t mind sharing with Lilly.”

  My throat tightens and it feels like the hope is choking me, and all I manage to get out is a nod.

  They were right to call this town Hope.

  I know Walker doesn’t want to leave Tara. I expect him to argue, but all he does is squeeze her hand and nod. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he jerks his dirty red hat down lower. He’s just as choked up as I am.

  “When do we leave?” I ask once I manage to find my voice.

  Walker clears his throat. “Soon. Now. Five minutes.” He exhales and gets to his feet.

  He and Tara hold one another’s gaze, and when I squirm, the spring practically slices me in two. I get to my feet.

  “I’ll wait outside.” I start to walk to the door but stop, turning to face the couch. “Tara…” She smiles, and I force myself to return it. It’s so hard to get out that it feels like my face is caked with dry mud. “Thank you.”

  It’s amazing how much those two little words can convey.

  “Be careful, Eva. You’re close to getting your sister back.” Tara’s bottom lip quivers.

  My eyes fill with tears, and everything inside me tightens. I can’t stay here any longer. This is all too real.

  I turn and rush out the front door.

  The humidity is like a slap in the face. Warm and welcome. Within seconds, sweat has beaded on my forehead and upper lip. My skin sizzles. It brings me back to me. To the independent person I’ve been this past year. The one who is okay being alone.

  Rebekah clears her throat, and I nearly jump out of my skin. She cackles as she snaps a green bean in half. A silver bowl full of beans rests on her lap and two more sit at her feet. One for the scraps and the other for the ready-to-cook beans.

  “We’ll take good care of her, don’t you worry.”

  “I’m sure that will make Walker feel better.”

  Rebekah narrows her eyes, and I squirm. Why does it feel like everyone can see through me these days?

  “I hear you folks are fixing on coming back this way?”

  I gnaw on my lip until it aches. “That’s the plan.”

  “Good.” Rebekah snaps another bean, and I stare at the door to her house, waiting for Walker. I want to get moving.

  A few seconds later he steps out, and even though his hat is so low that it completely covers his blue eyes, my stomach jerks uncomfortably. I’m in real trouble. Days on the road with him, just the two of us. It isn’t going to be easy to ignore this attraction. Fortunately, he’s so pissed at me that we’ll probably barely talk.

  He nods toward Rebekah, then clears his throat. He never looks my way. “Let’s get moving.”

  Walker is halfway down the porch stairs when Rebekah says, “You be careful out there, you hear?”

  Walker’s shoulders tense, and he walks faster. Yeah. He’s thinking of me. Probably wishing he could hit a girl and no one would bat an eye. Dammit.

  “Thanks, Rebekah,” I say as I hurry after him.

  He’s all the way to the middle of the town before I catch up. My army green pack lays next to one of the grills, and on my way by I scoop it up and throw it over my shoulder. Everyone must be in their homes or off working, because the street is deserted. It feels like Walker and I are the only two people in the world, and it makes my stomach constrict. This is how things are going to be for the next few days. Me and Walker. Alone. Traveling across an empty country with nothing to keep us occupied but the sun and each other.

  There’s a part of me that’s really looking forward to it, which scares the shit out of me.

  Walker moves so fast that I stumble when I try to keep up. Every step he takes makes my heart pound harder. I can’t go back to traveling in silence. Not when I have someone with me I can actually talk to. I need to clear the air, but I’m not sure how. The further we go without saying a word makes the loneliness around me gets heavier until a feeling of desperation comes over me.

  We’ve almost reached the edge of the town when I finally blurt out, “I’m sorry.”

  Walker freezes but doesn’t turn. I slow until I’m standing a foot behind him, waiting for him to respond in some way. I really want him to tell me that he forgives me. I want him to tease me and joke around. To stare at me with his deep blue eyes until I squirm uncomfortably. Anything to make this loneliness go away.

  He doesn’t respond, so I say, “I mean it. I didn’t want Tara to get hurt.”

  “She’s everything to me.”

  My stomach twists with jealousy even though I know he doesn’t mean it like that. “I know. Walker, I—” The words stick in my throat, and I feel even more pathetic than ever. I’m like a mute sometimes.

  Walker starts moving again. “Let’s just go.”

  I trail after him with my head down. I really screwed things up this time.

  We head out of town with the sun and the silence pressing down on us. The further we go, the tenser Walker’s shoulders get. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

  He keeps a steady pace three feet in front of me. Fifteen minutes into our walk and I’m ready to turn back. What’s the point of him being here if he’s this angry? It’s not like he’s going to be any help if we run into trouble.

  “Are you going to be pissed at me forever, Walker? We have a few days of travel ahead of us. Are you going to give me the silent treatment the entire time?”

  He doesn’t even slow. “I don’t know, Eva. Are you going to keep trying to toss your life away?” The words are more venomous than a cobra.

  “What’s it to you?” I spit at him, suddenly angry. “I said I was sorry about Tara. Why do you care so much about a few cuts on my arm?”

  Walker stops and spins to face me, and I skid to a halt less than a foot from him.

  “Are you serious? Why do I care?” His blue eyes flash. “Because I’ve lost everyone, Eva, and you’re trying to throw your life away just when you find out that you may actually still have someone! Because you’re smart and strong but you refuse to look ahead.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t just forget my family the way you can! I’m thrilled Lilly lived through the prison camp, but you and I both know she may not be in Valdosta. There’s a very good chance we’re crossing hundreds of miles just so I can find out that everything is exactly the way I thought it was a few days ago. That I’m alone.”

  Walker rips the hat off his head and wipes a few beads of sweat from his brow. “You have to be kidding. You aren’t alone, Eva. You haven’t been since the day Tara and I found you skinning that invader. You just don’t want to accept it.”

  He’s panting, and fire flashes in his blue eyes, taking my breath away. The hot sun is like hell reigning down on us, bathing me in sweat, but I can’t move. Not when my heart is pounding like a bass drum and my legs have turned to lead. All I can do is force my lungs to take in air while Walker covers me with his intense gaze.

  “Okay,” I finally whisper.

  He jerks back. “Okay?”

  “I won’t cut myself anymore.” Just saying the words sets off warning bells in my head. Like I’m relinquishing control of my life. But I mean it.

  Walker’s body relaxes, and he lets out a deep breath. When he shoves his hat back on his head, he smiles. A slow, easy smile that lights up his face and brings out his dimples. It’s so Walker.

  “Long as we understand each other.”

  A laugh shakes my lungs in an unfamiliar way, but I swallow it down. Laughing just feels wrong now. Like stealing happiness when there isn’t enough to go around. I don’t deserve to be happy. Not after I abandoned Lilly the way I did. I never should have given up on her.

  Walker must see the hesitation in my eyes because his nose scrunches
up and he starts to say something, but he stops himself. Then he gives a little shrug and a crooked smile and starts walking.

  After that, silence is our traveling companion. But it’s a comfortable silence. We walk for miles with the hot sun pouring over our bodies and the nothingness of this new world stretching out before us. It’s something I still haven’t gotten used to, even after almost a year. Before the invasion there was always something to keep us company. The quiet hum of engines purring in the distance. The whirl of a tractor’s motor as it cut across a cotton field. The buzz of a plane or the whine of a siren. Technology was always there.

  Then the creepers came and everything got louder. Some nights in the refugee camp were so loud that we could hardly sleep. The world shook with gunfire and bombs and the constant metallic pounding of tanks and other military vehicles, always off to some not-so-faraway battle. For over a year it went on and on until I thought my brain would explode from the noise.

  Then it stopped, and the silence was even more terrifying.

  When the creepers rounded us up, the noises were different. Not quite as loud, but a thousand times more terrifying. Their ships made a low hum that was barely audible and their weapons didn’t boom like ours, but it was the constant buzz of electricity in the camp that sent fear coursing through my body. It never stopped.

  Thinking about it puts a heaviness on my shoulders that weighs me down and makes it difficult to walk. My feet are like bricks, but I can’t stop. I can’t give up on Lilly again.

  We don’t need to stop for lunch or dinner, thanks to the food we got in Hope. So we walk. Walker is lighter now that we’ve talked about our issues. From time to time I catch him looking at me like he’s trying to read my mind the way he does with Tara, but he doesn’t try to get me to talk.

  When the sun is gone and there’s nothing but a slight glow on the horizon, we finally stop. We settle down just inside a bank of trees. The night is too sticky to build a fire, and within minutes, we’re blanketed in a darkness so dense I can barely make out Walker’s outline. The air is thick, making it difficult to breathe. Even the ground is damp from the humidity. Moist leaves stick to the backs of my legs and the occasional bug crawls over my bare skin, but I leave them alone. I gave up trying to keep them off me long ago. Better to embrace the way things are now than try and fight it.

  Walker shifts, and the ground crunches underneath him. “When was the last time you were home?”

  “The day they evacuated us. Never saw the point in going back.”

  Walker sighs, and I hold my breath while I wait for yet another lecture about how life will get better. The hope I buried deep inside me slithers around like a snake, ready to make its escape, but I’m too scared to let it out.

  “I went back,” he says instead. “Before Tara and I left Ohio, we stopped by my house. I just wanted a picture of my family, you know? I didn’t want to forget what they looked like.”

  I swallow when a ball of tears works its way up my throat. “Makes sense.”

  “It was the worst thing I ever had to do. It was like a funeral.”

  We sit in silence for a few seconds before I scoot down and curl into a ball. My body aches from sadness and loss, and I have the sudden urge to give in to the tears that have been trapped inside me for much too long.

  “I can’t picture them sometimes,” I whisper into the darkness. “When I close my eyes and try to remember their faces, it takes me a while. They’re fading away, and it’s so scary that sometimes I don’t want to go on.”

  Walker scoots closer. His warm hand wraps around mine, which is damp more from fear than heat. When he laces his fingers through mine, I almost lose it. Lilly was the last person to comfort me when I was hurting. I forgot how wonderful it felt to be cared for.

  “You don’t have to picture their faces to remember them. Just think about the good times. That’s all it takes.”

  He stretches out on the ground next to me, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. I close my eyes and focus on my warm hand in his. On his steady breathing and the presence of another person in my life. Someone who’s caring and good, and who doesn’t want to exploit me. Someone who just wants to be here for me.

  My body grows heavy and the world starts to drift away, and I’m floating somewhere between consciousness and sleep when Walker’s hand runs down the side of my face. My eyelids flutter when I try to open them, but they don’t cooperate.

  16

  Something warm and soft trails up my arm, and my eyes flutter open. Walker’s blue eyes meet mine, and my heart stutters in a way that I’ve never felt before. He moves his fingertips back down my arm, over the notches I made, stopping on the newest one. The one I made yesterday before I promised to stop. The last one I’ll ever make. It’s red and swollen. Scabbed over. It throbs under his touch like it has a heartbeat of its own.

  “Does it hurt?” he whispers.

  I have to force air into my lungs so I can talk. He’s close enough that it makes my body hum. “I’m used to it.”

  He traces the red line. “Why?”

  I tear my eyes away from his so I can think, and instead watch him brush his fingertips along my most recent cut.

  “I’m not sure, really. Lilly and I used to make notches in the bedframe when we were in the refugee camp. One for every day we were there. Then the creepers took us to the prison camp and we found a tree.” I squeeze my eyes shut and do my best not to think about the mangled stump I saw the last time we were there. “Then the camp was gone and there was nowhere to make a notch. I’m not even sure what compelled me to start doing it. I’d been on the road with this group for a couple weeks, and I was keeping track of the days mentally. I was afraid I’d forget, you know? That one day I’d wake up and not be able to remember how long it had been since I last saw Lilly. So I made these cuts.” I run my hand over the ones at the top of my arm. The first fifteen I’d made in one day.

  Walker sits up, but he doesn’t make a move to leave. The sun is so low in the sky it has barely penetrated the trees above us. It’s still dark, but the air is just as sticky as before. My skin feels like it’s covered in about ten layers of dirt and sweat. I’d love a bath.

  Walker doesn’t look away from me. He studies me silently like he’s trying to figure me out or he wants to say something and doesn’t know how I’m going to react.

  My scalp prickles and I want to look away, but I can’t. “What?”

  “Are you doing it to punish yourself?”

  I inhale slowly, then blow it out. It’s something I’ve thought about a few times. “Maybe.”

  “Because you lived and you thought she didn’t.”

  “It’s possible. Anything’s possible.” I run my hand over the notches. “But it isn’t just that. Seeing the cuts on my arm put people on edge. It intimidated them a little. They saw me as tough. A survivor. Not just a little girl out on her own.” I shrug and look up. “I guess I had a lot of reasons for doing it.”

  “I get it now,” Walker says, inhaling slowly.

  My eyebrows shoot up. “You do?”

  “Yeah. I still don’t want you to keep doing it, but I get it.”

  A smile pulls at my lips, and once again I feel like I have mud caked on my face, only it starts to crack and fall away, making my smile feel more natural. Maybe one day I’ll be able to smile and it won’t hurt. Maybe.

  “What was it like for you?” I ask.

  Walker and I travel side by side today. The morning air is stifling, and the pecans I had for breakfast are like rocks in my stomach. Every time he smiles in my direction, they churn around like they’re trying to escape.

  “What?” he asks.

  “All of it. When they evacuated your town, living in the refugee camp. When the creepers took over.”

  Walker exhales slowly through his nose like he needs to gather strength before he can talk about it. “I’ll never forget the day they invaded, that’s for sure. I was at the bowling alley in my hometown when the news re
port came on. For a split second, I thought it was a movie preview. It was unreal. But it didn’t take long to realize it was all really happening. Then they showed what was left of New York and DC and LA, and they named the other cities that had been hit. All I wanted to do was get home. I lived near Dayton, not too far from Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, so we had front-row seats to the second wave of attacks. It was like being stuck in a nightmare.”

  My throat tightens just thinking about the things he must have witnessed. The creepers wiped out all the major military bases in the second wave. I never saw it up close and personal the way he did. Only on TV.

  “There was an Air Force base in Valdosta, too,” I say. “That’s why they evacuated us so early. By then, Atlanta was gone.”

  I don’t even know if Valdosta is still standing, but I can’t say it out loud. In my mind, it’s nothing but a crater. I hope that’s not true, though.

  “The refugee center was overcrowded and filthy, and there was never enough food,” Walker says, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “We shared this tiny seven-person tent with another family, and all I could think about was what it was going to be like when winter hit. Then it did, and we were so cold that we’d huddle together every night for warmth. By then there was almost nothing.” His voice thickens, and he pulls the brim of his hat down. “Then my dad got sick, but there was no help.”

  I take his hand and give it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No,” he says, clutching my hand like it’s a lifeline. “It’s okay.”

  We move forward silently, and he never releases my hand. Then out of nowhere he starts talking again. “When the invaders moved into the refugee camp, we were taken completely by surprise. The few people left who had any kind of authority told us we were winning. We thought it would be over soon and we could go home. But they lied.