by Ryan Casey
Emma’s skin crawled. She felt like Matthew was staring into her thoughts. Like he knew exactly what she was planning.
She heard him stand. Heard footsteps approach. They stopped right in front of her.
“How can I possibly know you’ll be any different?”
She shook. Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest. She tried to stay quiet. Tried to keep her cool.
And then she felt cold fingers against the back of her neck.
“You remind me of someone else, you know?”
She smelled his sickly breath and she worried about what he was about to say. She’d heard about what men were like in this world. How sick they could be. And she felt herself tensing. Struggling again with this inner battle of displaying strength and also not wanting to go through hell.
And then he said something she didn’t expect.
“My daughter,” he said. “She was called Emma, too. She was a feisty little kid. Always a fighter, right from birth. She used to scream all night until I got up and rocked her. When she was old enough to stand, she’d climb out of her cot, every single night. Used to run away. And the more we told her she couldn’t do stuff, the more she did it.”
He paused a few seconds. Emma wanted to ask about her. She wanted to know more. At least this explained why he’d reacted so strangely to her when she’d revealed her name.
But at the same time, she didn’t want to ask about her. Because she didn’t want to sympathise with Matthew in any way. She wanted to believe he was a monster, and that there was nothing more to him than that—even if she’d already learned from Logan that wasn’t always the case. There was no such thing as monsters, not completely.
“She was diagnosed with leukaemia when she was nine,” Matthew said. “She was ill. Really ill. But she didn’t let it knock her spirits. She’d always be reading a book in the hospital or telling us what she was going to do when she got out. And I… I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe she could get better. That she could fight even the most awful of diseases. But… but the odds didn’t look good.”
Emma swallowed a lump in her throat. She knew where this was going.
“When she was eleven, she was discharged. She’d made a full recovery. Against all damned odds, our daughter had fought off this evil illness inside her. I’d go to her bedroom, every night. Check she was still breathing. Check her heart was still beating. And… and there was one night I didn’t. One night where things got normal enough to stop checking. I stayed up and watched some Netflix show way too late. Didn’t think anything of it. But she didn’t… she didn’t wake up the following morning. She’d had a heart attack. A rare condition that hadn’t even been picked up on. Just like that, after all that fighting, our little girl was gone.
“My marriage to Donna fell apart soon after. I started drinking. Went a little off the rails. But I swore something, that day. I made a promise. I’d never let myself attach myself to anyone weak again. Anyone not strong enough to survive. Because life’s too short for pain like that. Life’s too short to attach yourself to people who are going to go away. And that’s… that’s why we have to be strong. That’s why we have to make sure everyone is strong. Because nobody deserves that kind of loss.”
Emma listened to the silence and she couldn’t say a word. Matthew did awful things. He was vicious. He was sadistic. He was as close to evil as she’d ever encountered.
But he was human.
He was flawed.
And Emma could see how he had ended up the way he had.
She felt his hand on the back of her neck and realised something.
His fingers didn’t feel so cold anymore.
They felt warm.
He moved them away, just like that.
And then she heard him stand up and walk towards the door.
“You’ll keep waiting,” he said. “You’ll stay strong. You have to.”
She heard his footsteps reach the tent opening. Heard him unzip it, then hold it there just a few seconds.
And she opened her mouth. She went to speak. Went to say the words.
The footsteps disappeared.
Emma closed her mouth.
But the words still bounced around her mind.
The words that showed weakness.
The words she couldn’t afford to show.
Don’t go.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking when he started to grow truly concerned.
It had to be late afternoon. It felt like they’d been walking for hours. Jack was thirsty, his feet were blistered, and his stomach churned with hunger.
But he didn’t want to complain or make a scene. He looked at Susan a few times, and she seemed pretty confident about where they were heading. He even asked her once or twice, but again, she just reassured them they were “close.”
But something just didn’t feel right.
Something didn’t seem to add up.
He looked around. Saw Villain and Nymeria walking alongside one another. They kept stopping, sniffing at one another. They clearly liked each other. Obvious chemistry between them.
Jack smirked. It was about time Villain found himself a nice girl to settle down with. His bachelor days looks well behind him. Stud.
Mrs Fuzzles looked a little jealous, if anything. She approached Villain a few times, only to back off when Nymeria growled at her.
In a way, it was kind of funny seeing that creepy little cat put in her place.
Hazel put her hands on her knees and sighed. “We can’t have much further to walk, surely?”
Jack was appreciative that someone else echoed his concerns.
Susan stopped and turned around.
“Matthew’s group,” Jack cut in. “You said they were close about six hours ago. You said their camp was nearby.”
“I told you. They move around a lot. It pays to keep moving.”
“So you’re saying they’ve moved since the attack? Already?”
Susan shook her head. “Unlikely.”
“Susan,” Jack said. “I think you have to start being more straight with us. Where are you leading us?”
Susan looked away, then. “We’re taking a slight detour.”
“A slight detour? What—”
“If we’re going to Matthew’s place, we’re going to need more weapons than we have. And we’re… we’re going to need people, too. Help. I might know someone who can help.”
Jack could barely say a word. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“You told me you trusted me to lead the way,” Susan said, more assertive now. “Then trust me. You aren’t going to get Emma back if you walk blindly in there. I’m not going to walk blindly in there if I’m not certain I have a backup plan. We walk. We’re close.”
“And these people,” Jack said. “How do you know them?”
Susan looked at him again, just for a few seconds. “It’s a long story. But you can trust me. You have to.”
Jack didn’t like the way she spoke. He didn’t like the mysteriousness.
But he supposed she was right.
He had to trust her.
What else did any of them have?
“And these people,” Jack said. “How sure are you that we can trust them?”
Susan took in a long, deep inhalation.
Then for the first time in a long time, she smiled at Jack.
“You can trust them,” she said. “I promise.”
She turned and started walking before Jack could ask anything else.
He started walking. He didn’t like the change of plan or more specifically the way she’d gone behind his back.
But then he figured she was only doing what she thought was right.
And they could use some extra ammo and extra numbers.
“What do you think?”
Jack glanced to his side. It was Hazel who spoke, cradling Mrs Fuzzles in her arms.
He looked back at Sus
an as she walked ahead. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think we need to keep an eye on her. But for now… I guess we’re out of options.”
They walked further. Walked until the sun lowered; until the woods went cool. Visibility was tough. They’d definitely been walking far longer than Susan said. Three hours at least. And it still seemed like they were nowhere near anywhere remotely inhabited.
The blisters on Jack’s feet weren’t getting any less painful, either.
He saw Susan up ahead, quite a way in front now.
“Are we anywhere near this place?”
“We’re close.”
He gritted his teeth. “You said we were close about—”
“Here.”
She disappeared, just for a second.
Jack jogged forward.
The first thing he noticed was the little town.
It was right on the edge of the woods. The streets were barricaded. Windows were boarded up. Cars were rusting as rats scurried through the streets.
But one thing was for sure.
There was nobody here.
“Susan?” Jack called. “What is this place?”
There was no response.
He heard the others reach him.
“Is this it?” Candice asked.
“Where’s Susan?” Hazel said.
Jack looked at this empty, derelict town.
And then he looked over his shoulder, into the woods.
The hairs on his arms stood on end.
It was Hazel’s question that got to him.
Because he was thinking exactly the same thing.
“Where is she?” she repeated.
He looked off, into the woods.
His body tensing.
His chest tightening.
“Jack?” she asked. “Where is she?”
He looked into the woods and he wanted the ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole.
But in the end, he could only accept the truth.
“She’s gone,” he said. “She’s… she’s gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Matthew saw alone in his tent and thought about his daughter.
It was always this way at night. Alone with his thoughts, only the sounds of the night for company. He tried to suppress the memories. Tried to hold them back. Because they made him weak.
He needed to be strong.
Weakness was a poison.
Weakness was what’d got the world in this mess in the first place.
He couldn’t let it infect him.
He stood up. Stepped outside his tent. It was the only way he could really keep the memories at bay. Going for walks into the woods. Losing himself in the darkness.
As long as he was back to lead his people by sunrise, all was well.
Order was restored.
Power was restored.
But tonight, he found himself doing something different.
He stepped outside his tent and walked over to the tent where Emma was staying.
He thought about her sitting in there, all alone. He knew she was afraid. She was bound to be. People older and wiser than her had fallen way earlier.
And there was a level of forgiveness he’d allowed her because she was so young. She’d hesitated when it came to shooting her former friend, Harvey—a job that Matthew had been sure to finish off regardless. He’d heard her crying when he stepped outside her tent earlier, muttering under her breath.
But she was far stronger than anyone else.
She was just like his Emma.
And that’s what made things complicated.
He swallowed a lump in his throat when he thought back to his daughter lying there in bed. Fighting away, all the hair from her head gone, pasty pale.
But still smiling. So weak. So thin. But still smiling.
He pushed that thought away again and walked over to the tent.
He made sure he crept there slowly. Made sure he didn’t make a sound as he unzipped the opening, as he stepped inside it.
And then he stood there in the darkness and he watched her sleep.
It was now more than ever that she reminded him of his daughter. Crouching there in the night, scanning her every breath. She was asleep, that was for sure. Sitting upright, but asleep.
He wanted to uncuff her. He wanted to lay her down and let her get some proper rest.
But this was part of the initiation.
This was part of the trial.
This was part of strengthening her.
He couldn’t have her being weak.
He couldn’t lose her.
She needed to be strong.
He felt the tightness in his chest, then, and he knew he had to get out of here.
He staggered out of the tent and vomited all over the ground.
In the light of the moon, he saw the very thing he dreaded.
The very thing he knew he’d see, but the very thing he resisted, all along.
Blood in his vomit.
He’d felt this way for some time now. He knew he was sick. Really sick. His breathing didn’t come as easily. He was losing weight, something he masked with the white robes he wore.
But he couldn’t let anyone else see that weakness.
They couldn’t question his strength.
They couldn’t question his mortality.
He soldiered on because he had to. He didn’t have a choice. This was the world he lived in. He wasn’t going to let illness hold him back.
He turned back around and headed into the tent once more. He noticed something. Emma was moving. Looking around. Gasping. Afraid. Probably didn’t know where she was. Disoriented. Afraid.
He wanted to go over there and hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be okay.
But that was part of the problem.
Not only that he couldn’t.
But the very fact he was even entertaining the idea was problematic in itself.
She brought out a weakness in him.
And he couldn’t allow that.
Like a tumour, he had to cut it away.
He looked across the camp, over to where the rest of her friends were. The dead ones, anyway. The bodies that had been cut up. The meat that was hanging, some of it drying out.
He didn’t like what he did. He knew it was wrong by the standards of the old world.
But it kept them going.
It kept them living.
And it made the most of the most abundant resource—as well as the most gullible and easy resource to farm.
Humanity itself.
He shook his head, then looked back over at Emma’s tent, feeling that weakness inside all over again.
He’d deal with her.
He’d find out just how strong and just how loyal she was, truly.
And he’d deal with his own weakness.
Whether he liked it or not, it had to be done.
He walked away, off into the night, and disappeared until his thoughts went away and the sun started to rise…
He’d had his moment of weakness.
Now, he had to be strong again.
The Festival was approaching.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jack looked around for a trace of Susan, but already he feared the worst.
It was late afternoon. There was a rare chill to the air that made Jack feel uncomfortable. The clouds thickened above, teasing rain. It felt like the heavens were about to open, and a month’s worth of rain was about to come pouring down.
The town Susan had led them to was empty. There was no group there who looked like they could help Jack’s people. There was no sign of any arms or weapons or anything like that. She’d led them here and she’d left them.
“Why would she do this?”
It was Bella who spoke. She sounded distraught. Still caught up in the shock and grief of what’d happened to Harry. Exhausted after a day of travelling—a day that looked like it was ending in disappointment.
Jack tensed his fists
and looked around at that town. “I don’t know,” he said. “But we need to be careful. We need to watch our step. And we need to find her.”
He walked past Villain and Nymeria then, over towards the trees. He looked for a sign of footprints in the ground. He had no idea which direction she’d headed in. No idea where she’d gone to.
He just felt so stupid that he hadn’t picked up on the warning signs before this point.
“It might not be what it looks like,” Hazel said.
“She led us here,” Bella said. “She… she led us all the way out here and then she left us. I’d say it’s pretty frigging obvious what she’s doing here.”
“Hazel’s right,” Jack said. He wasn’t sure about speaking up. Wasn’t sure they’d want to hear what he had to say.
But he’d learned a thing or two about speaking up these last few days.
Everyone looked at him. Everyone waited for him to continue.
“Maybe… maybe this isn’t the trap we think it is.”
Bella frowned. “Then what is it?”
“Maybe Susan’s helping us.”
Everyone looked on, puzzled.
Jack spoke on before anyone could intervene. “Think about it. She was eager not to lead us to Matthew’s camp. She kept on telling us it was a recipe for disaster. She didn’t even sound keen going back there herself. Maybe… maybe she was just looking out for us. Trying to spare us. Maybe she just didn’t want to see us die.”
“And what about Emma?” Bella said.
Jack looked away. “We… we can’t say the same for Emma. But maybe Susan’s right. Maybe there really is no chance. No hope.”
Silence followed. Jack knew he’d said too much.
“You’re suggesting we leave Emma with the people who butchered Harry?” Bella asked.
Jack shook his head. “I’m not—”
“And here I was, starting to believe you were actually stepping up again. That you were actually starting to take responsibility again. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? We were all wrong.”
“Bella—”
“We don’t just give up on our people,” Bella said. “That’s not what we do. We never do that.”