by Riley Flynn
“You would be responsible for them. For their lives. All in your hands. Every decision would be yours.”
“Good.”
“And what would you do with the people under my care? Would you have them die? Would you have them be infected? What risk would you expose them to, in order to help a dying man?”
A horrible question. A trap set by Krol. He’d marched Alex lockstep through the entire conversation, the whole thing a lesson he’d laid out. There was no answer Alex could give, not one which he liked. He could feel the gun in his hand and the rage in his heart. A lump in his throat and an ache in his head. He hated Krol. It felt right.
Alex could feel every inch of his skin. Every single hair on his body was standing to attention, waiting for an order. He could hear everything, could smell everything. The entire world throbbed with feeling. And he sat in the center with a gun in his hand.
Kill Krol or let him live.
He stared into the man’s eyes. There was nothing there. Just two black pinpricks, gateways to a whole other world. A world Alex didn’t understand. A world too interesting. A world he wasn’t ready to visit.
Alex lowered the gun.
Krol didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh. The action barely registered on his face. He just reached out, took the gun and laid it on the desk.
Slumping, Alex dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t do it. Even when it was all right there, he hadn’t been able to do it.
As Alex massaged his temples, he felt a hand laid across his shoulder.
“Everything is new here, Alex. Everything. You will learn. You’re a survivor.”
The words washed over Alex and trickled away. Meaningless.
The footsteps outside grew louder. Someone was shouting.
“Those people out there,” Krol croaked, “they believe in you. In your goodness. Don’t let them down.”
The footsteps were outside the corridor. Alex turned to Krol. He had no words.
A hand beat against the door.
“Alex! Krol!”
“We’re in here.” Krol didn’t need to raise his voice. “Come in.”
The door opened and Jenna burst in, her face flustered, all red and hysteric.
“It’s Joan.”
Alex reached down and grabbed the rifle. Even if he couldn’t kill Krol, nothing could stop him protecting his friends.
“What’s happened?”
“The baby.” She barely breathed, her voice a knot of nerves. “It’s coming.”
11
“Where?”
Alex shouted the word as he pushed past Jenna and out into the hallway.
“Bedroom. Upstairs.”
The words echoed behind Alex as he ran the length of the house. His skipped the stairs two at a time, launching himself upward, desperate to find his friend.
The baby was coming. Was it early? Alex had no idea. He had no idea what day it was, yet alone what day the child was due to be born. He’d never asked.
Stupid. Stupid.
The word thundered through Alex’s mind. He’d had a pregnant friend, dragged her across state after state, and he’d never thought to ask when the baby was coming.
Maybe Krol was right. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be a leader. He’d been so furious and ignorant for weeks, he’d driven his friends away. Even in the window bay, she’d been scared to tell him. Terrified of how he’d react. The realization hit harder than any of Krol’s words. It pained Alex, reached into his gut and wrung his organs into a wretched twist. He had to be better. He had to be.
Alex arrived in front of the room, sneakers skidding along the raw floorboards. It was dark; no windows in the corridor meant no natural light.
“Hey!” Alex knocked on the closed door. “What’s going on?”
He could hear sounds from inside. Shouting.
“Let me in!”
Footsteps coming up the stairs meant Alex wasn’t alone for long. Timmy’s face appeared over the top of the stairs.
“Hey, man. There you are. We were looking everywhere for you.”
“Timmy!” Alex jumped back from the door, relieved to see his friend. “Where’s Joan? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, man, everything happened so fast. There was that guy outside, then you came back in, and then – while we’re watching you run off – Joan turns to me and says ‘It’s coming’. I panicked. Called for help. Couldn’t find you, man.”
Standing in front of his friend, Alex drank in every word. New information. Data.
“Just tell me she’s okay.”
“I think so. It’s early. That’s what she said.”
“She talked to you?”
“She didn’t say much. I went and got Jamie. She took over.”
No wonder the door didn’t open. Jamie hated him, Alex knew. She didn’t care if he was breaking the door down. She’d let him suffer.
“What happened then?”
“Not sure, man. Bit of a blur. Me and Cam, we went to find you. Where were you? Then Jenna and Reni, they went in. Haven’t heard from you since.”
Alex didn’t feel like explaining his meeting with Krol. Too much had happened.
“Just tell me she’s going to be okay.”
“I think so. I hope so. Those guys seem to know what they’re doing.”
“They do?”
“Sure, man. How complicated can it get?”
Even as the words filled the empty hallway, both men realized exactly how complicated it could be to give birth. Alex turned to the door and gave it hell.
“Jamie! Jamie! Just come out and tell me. Just a second.”
He didn’t stop. Shouting and beating against the wood, Alex called for help. Finally, the door creaked open. He caught his fist mid-air as Reni’s face appeared.
“For God’s sake,” she hissed through her lips, “stop it. This is hard enough.”
Rubbing the tenderized edge of his hand, Alex stepped back.
“Sorry. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Reni. Please. She’s going to be okay?”
Reni shook her head and smiled.
“We’re doing our best. But you can’t come in here. Alex, please. Just go downstairs.”
“I want to help.”
“You’re not going to help in here.”
“Why not?”
“You really want to ask Joan that?”
Alex imagined how that conversation would play out. Joan, in the middle of giving birth, trying to explain to him exactly why he shouldn’t be here. Words wouldn’t work. She’d break his neck.
“Fine.” Alex conceded. “What can I do?”
“What can you do?” Reni, her voice normally so sweet and friendly, was stressed. “Nothing. You’ll just have to wait.”
“I can’t do anything?” Alex could feel his control on the situation slipping even further away. He was flailing, helpless. A useless cog in a machine which resented him.
“You can wait.”
Alex realized she was right. He laid a hand on her shoulder, tried to say something, and found his brain had deserted him. His mouth flapped but no words came out.
“Thanks,” he managed, finally, “I’ll go away.”
The door closed.
“Come on, man. Let’s leave them to it. Nothing we can do.”
Together, they walked down the stairs and through the house. Alex grilled Timmy as he went, demanding information. Due dates, time schedules, and anything else he could think to worry about.
“I don’t know any of that, man. Joan was pretty quiet about it.”
They walked into the kitchen. It was still day outside and the dull light poured in through the windows. Other people were there. Nelson and Krol were sitting around the big dinner table in the center of the room.
Cam stood beside the sink. He was soaking towels in a bucket of boiling water. There was no running water anymore, but everyone still found themselves drawn to familiar behaviors. Old habits die hard.
The drain gurgled and crowed. Alex had no idea where
the water went any more. Down a pipe and into the ground, probably. Did it even matter?
“They’re okay up there?” Cam turned around to ask. “I got plenty of these. This ain’t the first time I’ve had to do something like this.”
“A kid being born?” Alex asked, desperate for some insight into a situation he knew nothing about.
“I had big sisters growing up. Didn’t have health insurance, most of them. We managed.”
Cam’s voice was relaxed. Matter of fact. Like he was grilling hamburgers.
“What happened to them?” Alex realized it was the first time he’d asked Cam about his family. Another blind spot in his knowledge. So long spent trying to save everyone, he didn’t even know who he was saving.
Rather than respond, Cam just stared at the water as it bubbled away. He didn’t want to talk about it, Alex took that to mean. A silver lining to being the only child of parents who died too young, he thought, was that you didn’t have to watch them suffer when the world collapsed.
As his mind dwelled on this thinnest of silver linings, Alex shook his head, trying to banish his wandering mind. Stupid thoughts creeping in. Tired, angry and stressed. He wasn’t in charge of his own mind any more, it felt like. Time to change the subject.
“We should go and help them.” Alex was determined. But the words fell on deaf ears.
The steam rose up behind him and clung to the window. The room was cold and quiet.
“We’re not invited in, man.” Timmy took another seat at the table, lifting his voice to call to Cam. “Just keep ‘em hot, I think.”
The table was long with space enough for twelve people. Alex remembered it from his childhood, when a cloth had been draped over it every day for dinner. Now, it was just the plain wood. Everyone ate their meager rations off it all the same.
No one had much to say. Every time someone spoke, the others sat quietly and waited for them to finish, straining their ears to try and catch the sounds from up the stairs. They didn’t respond. With every passing second without anyone speaking, Alex felt like his control was slipping further and further away. No one seemed to be viewing the world the same was as he did. His anger had distanced him, blinded his sight to his friends and his foes alike.
But this only made Alex angrier. No one understood the rage which had been building inside him ever since he’d taken out Root and Byrne. Ever since he’d learned that there was something different about him on a cellular level. Ever since he’d arrived back at his childhood home and discovered that it was populated by strangers. There was no one who could understand his troubles and, if he tried to explain it, he’d only drive them further away.
Alex was lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like living inside his head like this. It hurt. It never helped. A strange and new sensation, but it felt right. Deep down inside, Alex was sure of himself. Certain that he was right. But now he was stuck inside the quiet of the kitchen and stuck inside the storm of his own thoughts.
Outside, they heard a shout. Footsteps. Movement. A welcome distraction.
Reni came down and took the towels from Cam, thanking him with a pat on the arm. He’d then head back to the fireplace and begin heating up the water all over again, even if he only had strips of cloth, old shirts, and ripped sheets to use. This happened over and over. A cycle that allowed Alex to distract himself from the unwanted thoughts.
In the kitchen, Alex could taste the tension on the air. Like being able to smell a gas leak, it lingered at the edge of the senses, slowly poisoning everyone inside.
At one point, Nelson had stood up from his seat, kneeled down, and begun to pray. Krol had hit him across the arm and shot him a stern look. It didn’t happen again.
Timmy would burst into random bouts of laughter and retreat into an embarrassed silence.
Krol held his gold lighter in his fingers, burnishing the metal with his thumb. He’d flick the lid open and closed. Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack.
“Stop that.”
The sound stopped. Everyone turned to look at Alex.
“Just… please. Stop it.”
Krol took the lighter between thumb and forefinger and placed it carefully on the surface of the table.
Alex was about to reach for the device, about to pick it up from the table and inspect it. He had only seen it from a distance, only in passing. The way Krol played with it, there had to be more to it than just a lighter.
Before he could snatch it from the table, a voice called out to him.
“Alex.” The voice came from the hallway. “Alex, are you in here?”
It was Jamie. She walked into the kitchen, a bucket filled with used towels in her one hand, balanced against her hip.
Dropping the bucket to the floor in front of Cam, she turned to the kitchen table.
“She’s asking after you.”
“What’s happening? Is the baby all right? Is Joan okay?”
“Poor thing.” Jamie shook her head. “Poor, poor little girl.”
“What do you mean?” Alex began to stand up, his knees knocking his chair backwards.
“Jamie.” Krol spoke quietly but quickly. “Find something to do.”
Before Alex could walk around the table, Jamie had nodded to Krol, smirked, and started to leave the room.
“Hey! You can’t just say stuff like that and leave. What’s happening?”
Jamie looked at Krol before she answered.
“Nothing. She’s doing well. Get us more towels. Go on.”
“Don’t look at him. If something’s happened, tell me.”
But she didn’t say another word. Jamie spun around and walked out, closing the kitchen door behind her.
“Weird.” Timmy was tapping his fingers on the table. He turned to Nelson. “She’s weird, man.”
Nelson just shrugged.
“Hey, Cam.” Timmy leaned back in his chair as he talked. “They said she was military. You ever met anyone like her?”
“Nope.” Cam had picked up the bucket and was taking it outside. “She’d have been shot by now in my unit.”
“What did she mean?” Alex wasn’t interested in Timmy’s tales. His words were aimed right at Krol.
“Ignore Jamie, Alex. She only wants to anger you.” Those slow, considered words.
“She’s doing a damn good job.” Alex shot back. “What did she mean?”
“Nothing. Ignore her.”
Alex sat and looked across the table. Krol’s hands had stopped exploring every atom of the lighter. Beside him, Nelson had laid both of his palms flat on the surface of the table, his legs jittering out of sight.
“Nelson. You okay, man?” Timmy was sitting opposite. “You don’t look so good.”
The sound of nails scraping against raw wood. Nelson looked up at the others with wide eyes. He pushed back his chair so fast it fell over. Before the clattering echo had died away, he had dropped to his knees and started to pray again.
Timmy and Alex stood up to see better. Even Cam turned around, abandoning his chores.
“Stop.” Krol’s voice raised half a decibel. “I warned you, Nelson.”
But the man kept praying. Eyes bunched up, lips moving wordlessly, his hands knotted so tightly together, the blood was draining out of his dark skin.
“I said stop.” Krol swung the back of his hand and knocked the praying man to the ground. “We do not do that anymore. Not here. Not now.”
Alex ran across to Nelson, helping him up off the floor.
“Hey, what the hell, man?” Timmy had stood up, too. He’d started to move towards Krol and stopped. In a fight, he wouldn’t stand a chance. “Why’d you hit him?”
Krol turned back to the table, gently nursing the hand he’d used to lash out.
“A mistake.”
“It didn’t look like a mistake, man. You hit him.”
“It wasn’t my mistake.”
“Is this what you mean by taking responsibility?” Alex asked Krol as Nelson swatted away his helping hand.
“Don’t.” Nelson dusted himself off. “He’s right. It was a moment of weakness.”
“He hit you,” Alex protested. “You can’t let him get away with this.”
Nelson shook his head and returned his seat to the table.
“We don’t do that here. I should have known.”
Alex stared around the room. Krol sat, hands on the table, and Nelson mimicked him. Cam occupied himself with the water and Timmy, tepidly, sat back down.
“Krol?” Alex was speaking in a quiet voice. “Does your offer still stand?”
“Any time, Alex. Any time.”
The sound of Cam’s pouring water couldn’t drown out another shout from upstairs. Alex walked around the table, standing beside Krol.
“Get up.”
“Sit down, Alex. This isn’t the time for games.”
“Stand up, Krol. Stand up and look at me when I ask you a question.”
As Krol rose to his feet, Nelson and Timmy followed.
“What question?”
“Tell me what Jamie meant. When Jamie said ‘poor girl’, you knew what she meant.”
“She was taunting you. You fell for it.”
Krol rose up to his whole height. Half a head taller than Alex, at least. There was no pistol this time. No chance of winning a fist fight.
But Alex stared up anyway, right into the tiny black eyes, trying to find an answer.
“If it’s about the food, then don’t worry.” Alex didn’t blink. “She can have my share.”
“Do not indulge in speculation, Alex. It will not benefit anyone.”
“Then tell me what she meant.”
“Hey, just tell him.” It was Nelson, standing behind Krol. “Just tell them.”
“What was that about food?” Timmy this time, leaning into Alex. “We’ve got food, right?”
“Krol here thinks different. He’s got secrets.” Alex still didn’t dare steer his eyes away. He stared down the black eyes, gazing deeper and deeper into the abyss.
“Alex.” Krol’s voice was still steady and flat. “You are allowing emotion to take control.”
“I just want answers.”
“You’re not asking the right questions.”
“Then tell me anyway. Tell me. Enough of this cryptic crap, Krol, just lay it all out.”