by Jay, Jess
When he eventually looked up, she realized she had leaned too far forward as she watched him and their faces were now too close. She met his eyes and froze, her brain refusing to process thoughts as her body tensed with fear and anticipation. She had been so mad at him only minutes before, but somehow he managed to make her forget and forgive. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was feeling, what he wanted to do, if he wanted to do anything… She knew what she wanted him to do, not because of any particular feelings she had, but because she wanted to know what it felt like.
He stood and walked away, leaving Thea alone, confused, and unsatisfied.
Chapter Fifteen
You’re going to regret it. I’m going to make you regret it.
Long fingers gripped Thea’s arms. A face with sharp features and sharper eyes loomed over her. She tried to get away, but the woman was too strong. She should have listened to her mother, should have stayed in their rooms, but she had wanted to see him again… She had wanted to say goodbye.
It’s mine. It should be mine.
Thea shot up, gripping her blanket, mind shifting through dreams and waking. Moonlight slipped through a window, through cracks in the ceiling, but it wasn’t enough. The shadows of the unfamiliar room held terrors she didn’t want to face, memories she didn’t want to remember. The base of her spine tingled, the skin around the metal plate almost painful. The wounds on her arm were sore. Nothing moved under the skin, but that didn’t mean nothing was growing or that she was in the clear.
Fear from her dream compounded with fear of the future and she couldn’t breathe. Acting on instinct and the need to be free—to breathe, to live—she scrambled to her feet, unsteady as she trudged off the mattresses and stumbled through the rooms. Even when she tripped over something in front of the stairs, she didn’t falter, her ears unhearing and eyes unseeing as she clawed, crawled her way up the stairs and out the door.
The night air brushed against her bare arms and legs. The moon was full and bright, the stars infinite. She focused on them, clung to them, trying to put herself back together, but her pieces were everywhere.
Someone gripped her shoulder and she tore herself free, forcing herself forward, forcing herself away. She knew he wasn’t dangerous but couldn’t remember who he was, couldn’t remember where she was or what she was doing. She was in a dimly lit hallway, in a lab, in a room with her. She was gasping, a scream building inside her, but she couldn’t let it out—wouldn’t let it out.
Strong hands grabbed her, dragging her into a tight embrace and holding her close. She struggled, small sounds of fear escaping her mouth as she tried to break free from the arms that held her, but they didn’t let go.
“Breathe,” he said, his voice soft and low. “Focus on me. On my breathing.”
She wanted to listen, but her body didn’t want to cooperate, her mind didn’t want to concentrate. He continued, relentless, breathing slowly in and out, setting an even pace. The rhythm seeped through her skin and she eventually responded, moving with him as their chests expanded and contracted. She focused on him, on his breathing, on his strength. She relaxed into his warmth, her body molding into his as time slowed, allowing her to feel every inch of him pressed against her, allowing her to feel his breath on her neck. Clarity returned, bringing with it another kind of madness—one that stirred inside her and left her breathless for another reason.
“Jack,” she whispered, and he froze, the moment broken. She didn’t stop him when he stepped away, but her body tingled from the lack of connection. He ran his hand through his hair, refusing to look at her, his face shadowed by the night. It was over—the crisis, their closeness—and she felt raw, numb.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “Thank you.”
He shook his head, distracted. All at once, she realized they were both barely dressed, each only in a tank top and shorts. She felt exposed in more ways than one and darted down the stairs, away from the embarrassment of the situation.
As she crashed into her bed, she tried to still the racing of her heart, tried muddle through what she was feeling but she couldn’t sort her emotions into categories. A few minutes later she heard him walk down the steps.
Neither of them slept well that night.
* * *
The memory of the night before hung over Jack and Thea the next morning. It wasn’t unusual for Thea to stumble over words and avoid eye contact, but Jack was supposedly a functioning human being with social skills. The day before he had been amused with her inability to communicate, but after their accidental intimacy, not only could he not look her in the eye, but he could barely string two words together. Without him to pick up her slack, every interaction was doubly awkward. Thea was certain she was going to die of embarrassment before the green could destroy her from the inside out. If it was going to destroy her from the inside out.
As she transferred some items from her pack to his, redistributing things to even out what everyone carried, she snuck a glance in his direction. The skin of his neck caught the sunlight and she still couldn’t tell if it looked more like copper scales or cracked stone. He turned to her and noticed where she was looking, bringing a hand up to his neck, then realized what he was doing and took his hand away. She had meant to ask him about his condition the day before, but her brain shorted out before she could. She couldn’t forget again, though she reminded herself that she had to be delicate.
“What is that?” she asked indelicately and he flinched as if she hit him. “It’s not gross or anything. I’m not asking because of that. I mean, in a way, it’s kind of pretty. Well, pretty isn’t the word, more like unique or interesting. I’ve just never seen it before or heard of something like it. Not that I’ve seen or heard of everything in the world. I’m just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She realized she was babbling and closed her mouth to keep more words from escaping. He smirked and, this time, she was happy to see it.
“I’m not sure…” he said, spacing out his reply, giving his voice time to regroup before forcing more words out of his gravelly vocal cords, “…what it is.”
“Is it spreading?”
“Not that I…can tell.”
Thea relaxed a little. “That’s good.”
“Oh, really?” His tone and smile were teasing. The familiar feeling of heat blushed her cheeks and she finished with their packs to avoid looking at him. She was glad he had time and that his condition wasn’t getting worse, but there was more to it than that.
“If I don’t make it, you’ll have to take care of Jojo.”
In the corner of her vision, he stilled. She hadn’t meant to say something so dire. They had been talking, getting back to some kind of normal dynamic between them, so of course she said something stupid. Making herself turn to face him, she met his mischievous expression. The fact that it looked forced didn’t make it less irritating.
“Jojo?” He asked, amused.
“Yeah, it’s not like she could tell me her name.”
She hated that she felt defensive, but Jojo’s obvious dislike embarrassed her. She had tried to wake her up that morning, but the girl turned over and ignored her. When Jack tried not long after she hopped out of bed and did everything he asked. Later, Thea had tried to get her to help pack up their blankets, but Jojo just stuck her tongue out at her. When Jack asked, she listened, skipping down the steps. It made sense since they knew each other, but understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
“She has been quiet,” Jack said, confirming that Jojo hadn’t always been mute, but let the subject drop as he unhitched the wagon from Thea’s bike. Thea lurched into hyper-awareness and rushed over to him.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking the wagon?” He paused, confused.
“Why?” It was less of a question and more of an accusation.
“To be nice?”
She was overreacting. She knew she was overreacting, but him taking the wagon set off alarms in her mind.
The wagon held their pots, their stores of food, and when Jojo was finished, their blankets—all things they needed to survive. She didn’t like them being tied to someone who wasn’t her. She wanted to stop him, to keep him from doing as he pleased, but she didn’t. She told herself she needed to be a team player and that she needed to trust him. It made sense that he should take the extra weight of the wagon. He was stronger so it would be easier for him, but he was smart enough to keep that to himself.
“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to be polite despite feeling unsettled.
“No problem.”
Just then, Jojo burst through the doors, a pile of poorly folded blankets in her arms and her face beaming with pride until it shattered, replaced with anger. Jack and Thea realized how close they stood at the same time and took a step backwards.
They were too embarrassed to look at each other for the rest of the morning.
* * *
The day felt different traveling with Jack. She felt lighter and not just because he had taken the wagon. Knowing he was with her eased her mind and lifted part of the burden she had placed on herself. She didn’t want to relax or warm to him too quickly, but it was difficult keeping him at arms’ length. Whenever he rode next to her, matching her pace despite the heavy wagon, she found her eyes wandering over to him, remembering the night before. She had felt safe in his arms, something she hadn’t felt in years. It affected her reasoning despite her attempts to tell herself he was a stranger and that she shouldn’t trust him too easily.
That night he hadn’t felt like a stranger.
Thea glanced in his direction and frowned. His expression had become dark. She wondered what horrors were in his past and what shadows haunted his dreams. She wanted to know more about him, about where he came from and what happened there. She had impressions, ideas, but none of them were based in fact. He’d tell her when he was ready, or so she told herself. That would have to be good enough. She didn’t want to put her foot in her mouth like she had that morning.
Around noon they came across an intricate and confusing intersection. Any signs that might have told her which way to go were either covered in foliage or fallen to the ground and covered in foliage. No route was thicker than the others, each having two lanes and just as likely as the next to lead to the Pasture. She had been through crossroads before and had struggled with choosing which way to go but had always found something to help decide. With nothing to guide her, she felt lost.
Jack walked up beside her, his eyes dark and mouth grim. He no doubt wanted to say something but was holding back. She had told him she was in charge, and she had wanted to be in charge. The idea of putting her life willingly into someone else’s hands scared her, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to ask what he thought. Unfortunately, doing so would admit she didn’t know what to do. Which she didn’t. Refusing to ask for help to save her pride was foolish.
She took a breath to ask his opinion, but the words stuck in her throat. It was silly. If she asked what he thought she wasn’t giving away control, but if she didn’t like his answer it might cause problems.
Frustrated, she lifted the visor of her cap to see her options better. Jack noticed the movement and his eyes fixed on her forearm. The day was hot so she had rolled up her sleeves, revealing healed skin. He grabbed her arm, his grip rough but not painful as he twisted it, looking for where the shrieker left its mark.
“How?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he raised his eyebrows. “You’re healed.”
“And?” His confusion confused her. This was normal. Whenever she cut or hurt herself as a child, she woke up the next day healed. Her aunt and uncle weren’t as lucky, but she assumed that was because they were older. Judging from the way Jack reacted, from the way he looked at her, that wasn’t the case. Apprehensive shivers stuttered through her body as his eyes trailed away to some distant thought.
“What is it?”
“…Nothing.” He let go of her arm. “Do you feel infected?”
Thea trailed her fingers over where the wounds had been, trying to feel if anything was moving beneath the surface. Nothing. She felt normal. She shook her head and let out a breath. It had been almost a day and there were no signs of the green. She was going to be okay. Her small smile fell as she saw Jack’s expression.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, feeling a pit open in her stomach.
He shook his head, looking out at the intersection, eyes clouded as if he was lost in thought. She balled her hands into fists but kept her mouth shut. It was difficult for him to talk, having to pause after every three or four words, but that wasn’t what was keeping him quiet. He knew something—not about her specifically, but something about her ability to heal obviously worried him. She ran her hand across the unblemished skin of her arm, reassuring herself she was all right.
You’re going to regret it.
Thea’s eyes snapped to the intersection again, trying to purge all other thoughts from her mind. She needed to decide, needed to figure out which way to go. She searched through her memories of previous crossroads she had traveled through trying to find a pattern in her decisions. More often than not, the thickest route was the one closest to the center and that ended up being the one she picked. Jack shifted next to her and she thrust her finger at the center most path.
“We’ll go that way.”
Jack followed her finger and a tension she hadn’t noticed in his shoulders relaxed. He nodded and Thea felt that was the path he was about to suggest. The knowledge didn’t irritate her or set off her defenses. Quite the opposite—it made her feel at ease. The fact that he agreed with her gave her confidence, both in herself and in him. Every other time she made a decision in the past, she agonized over it for hours or days, wondering if she made the right choice or if she made a mistake that would cost her time, resources, or even her life. Since he agreed, it eased some of that burden and she was grateful, the feeling replacing any misgivings that arose from his earlier silence.
As she turned to walk back to her bike, she caught Jack watching her, his eyebrows drawn together and his eyes narrow, contemplating her as she contemplated him. She wondered what he was thinking and if he resented having to trust her to make the right decisions for them both. Her stomach fell—the very thing she didn’t want for herself she was forcing on him. It wasn’t fair for her to keep him out of the decision-making process and to force him to put his life in her hands if she wasn’t willing to do the same. She wasn’t any more qualified than him to lead.
True, he wasn’t being upfront with her, but she couldn’t expect him to bare his soul to her so soon after meeting. She resolved to be better and to include him in decisions to build trust. Eventually he’d tell her what he knew. She just hoped she’d be ready to hear it.
Chapter Sixteen
The sun seeped through clouds heavy with unshed rain, dappling across the hard plastic shell of a modern house. Its windows, walls, and doors stood the test of time, sturdy and unbreakable, covered in vegetation but solid. Thea leaned on the broken doorway of a shed in the backyard, waiting for Jack and Jojo to wake and dreading the conversation that would follow.
The week had been a good one. As she had promised herself, she made the effort to be more open with Jack. She consulted with him on decisions and leaned on him for support whenever she felt she could. Each time he proved himself capable and trustworthy. He helped her with her chores, made good points when she asked his advice, and his presence calmed her.
They developed a rhythm, a rapport, and with that understanding she learned he didn’t enjoy wasting time. Whenever he felt they were resting too long or weren’t leaving camp soon enough, he would get frustrated and irritable. He tried to hide it, but his brief answers and clipped actions telegraphed his displeasure.
He wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
Thea crossed her arms, trying to think of a way to convince him she was right, but every scenario she played in her mind ended
in complete failure. No matter how she prepared herself she still felt ill-equipped and unready. When Jack joined her in the entryway, she stiffened. She waited as he took in the clouds, clenching his jaw. He wasn’t looking forward to the impending conversation any more than she was, but that didn’t mean they could avoid it.
“Looks like rain,” she said, pointing out the obvious and lamenting the fact that her ability to communicate hadn’t improved with her understanding. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but he was too tense to let it fully manifest. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin before she continued. “Considering the weather, I think we should wait a few hours to leave. See if the storm will pass.”
He didn’t look at her, his attention fixed on the weather.
“It might take longer,” he said, and he had a point: the last time she waited out cloud cover it took two days. She didn’t like waiting and losing so much time, but she liked dying even less.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“You can’t either.”
She wished he would look at her but was glad he didn’t, feeling exposed and uncertain. She wanted to press forward and continue arguing, but she could tell it was taking a toll on him, each sentence more difficult than the last. He had a hard time speaking normally and in the morning it was worse. It wasn’t fair to him, but she couldn’t give up—what he wanted was reckless.
“I don’t think pushing forward right now is worth the risk.”
“Waiting is a risk.”
She knew that. Of course she knew that. They had two weeks of food left and had found no viable crops since the peas the day they met. In the long run, it wouldn’t matter if they died because they were careless. Leaving was too dangerous. He just didn’t want to see that.