by Kate Myers
45
Max
I have no real idea of how much time has passed, but I know I was gone longer than I should have been when I see the reactions of those around me. Their engulfing relief tells a story of concern.
“Come here,” I murmur to Skylar while she sobs uncontrollably at my side.
She climbs onto my bed and into my arms, her small body pressing into mine.
“How do you feel?” Quinn asks with her doctor face on.
“Better than I did earlier, that’s for sure.” Don’t get me wrong, I still feel bad; heavy and weighted with a dense cloak of discomfort, but nothing like the impending doom of misery from before I fell asleep. To say I feel better than that is an understatement.
I wrap my arms tightly around Skylar.
“I was so worried.” She sniffles. “We all were.” Her cheeks are red, freckles showing that I didn’t know she had.
“How long was I out?” A night, a day, a week, a month?
“Longer than you should have been,” Quinn replies.
Wiley grabs on to my hand, squeezing it tightly. “About time you came back, buddy. You had us in a panic.”
I glance down at my sides and then touch my face; no feeding tube, no IVs—I couldn’t have been out that long.
Quinn begins to speak, and when I look at her, really look at her, her drooping eyes seem more tired than I’ve seen since I’ve known her. “Can’t exactly fake your death now.”
“W-what?” I say, startled. “Fake my death?”
“Speaking of that,” Wiley interrupts. “Keith TKO’d Alex, so I should probably help him with that.”
“TKO’d?” Quinn asks.
“Technical knockout. Don’t you watch wrestling?” Wiley jokes and makes his way toward the door.
I shift my face toward Skylar, and she sits up.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Alex gave your dad an ultimatum. Basically said he’s leaving and either your dad comes with him or he’s leaving alone. Wouldn’t be a big deal but, your dad doesn’t trust him.”
“Trust him with what?”
“You.”
“Me?” I say, clearly not understanding.
“Max,” she says, bright sapphire eyes meeting mine. “You saved my life. My very unsavable life. That’s dangerous information.”
That’s the moment it hits me—Dad is worried that Alex will tell the wrong people, and then my life will be put in danger. But what if I’m somehow the key to stopping whatever is happening to everyone? What kind of person would I be if I blindly disregarded that and went on with my life? Knowing that I could save someone, even if it was one person, isn’t something I can just let go.
“What’s Dad doing to Alex?” I push my free arm onto the bed and try to get up, but dizziness takes hold and settles me right back down.
“Not so quick,” Quinn orders. “Here, drink this.” She hands me a glass filled with a pink-ish drink.
I do what the doctor orders, taking sips of the berry-flavored drink.
Skylar moves herself to the edge of the bed, no longer pressed against my side. The absence of her warmth searing into me, making me ache for her closeness, the security of her comfort.
“Like Wiley said, he knocked him out. Alex had just told me about his family, and your dad managed to sneak up behind him and inject him with something.”
“Holy crap,” I manage to say between sips.
“Yeah.”
“What’s he planning on doing? He can’t keep him knocked out.”
“We sort of agreed to lock him up until we figure out another solution.” She avoids my eyes and looks across the room. “It was either that…or kill him.”
I nearly choke on my drink.
What the…?
I’m out for a short time and somehow wake to the people I love and trust considering murdering a man in cold blood?
“You’re not serious,” I ask, trailing my gaze to Skylar and up to Quinn.
She shrugs. “We didn’t know what else to do. Trust me, I’ve been the only one to come up with alternatives to murder.”
“Can’t we just talk to him?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Skylar offers. “Listen, he told me his family was killed by the people responsible for all of this.” She motions with her hands to the space around us, clearly meaning more than just what’s happening in this room. “I think he can be reasoned with.”
“Then let’s reason with him,” I suggest. “We can’t kill him. Plus, we need him.”
Quinn and Skylar both look at me, perplexed.
Quinn asks, “What do you mean?”
“The Resistance. It seems Dad is valuable to them, and if there’s any chance at saving the world, we probably need an ‘in’ with the people going against the man.”
I know what I’m saying must sound crazy to them. Putting our faith in this group of people we have no real knowledge of could be a risky move, but so is letting the world fall to shit when we could potentially do something about it.
There are only so many resources here at the cabin, only so much time my dad has bought us by being prepared. No matter how many renewable resources we have, eventually we will run out, and when that day comes, we’ll have wished we did more than let a good thing walk out the door.
Maybe it’s a stupid move, but maybe it’s just dumb enough to be a good idea, like transfusing my blood with Skylar’s. We had no real knowledge of whether or not it would work but look at us now—Skylar and I sitting side by side, both alive and decently well. We would have never known this would be the outcome if we hadn’t taken that leap of faith. The jump into the abyss with no parachute.
Great things are on the other side of fear, and no matter how much it scares me to put my faith in anyone other than the people in our tight little group, we have to consider the greater good. If we don’t think of those other than ourselves, what even is the point of living?
Selfishness gets you nothing but a cruel, unfulfilling and miserably lonely life.
46
Skylar
One problem being solved ends up with another problem arising.
Max is awake—something I wasn’t so sure I would see happen.
Alex is unconscious—something I didn’t expect to happen.
The tears decide to stop flowing, and Quinn, Max, and I decide we need to talk to Keith, and somehow convince him not to hurt Alex. He doesn’t trust him, and even though I absolutely understand why, I think he needs to take a step back before he makes another irrational decision.
Even though I would love to spend time with Max, talk about what the future holds for us, it will have to wait for later, when a man’s life isn’t on the line.
“But I think I should be the one to talk to him. It’s me he’s concerned about,” Max pleads.
“You need to rest.” Quinn nods in agreement.
“She’s right,” she confirms. “Your vitals aren’t great yet, and you’re still running a bit of a fever. You need to stay put.”
“I can’t just sit here,” he informs, on a mission to sit himself up again, but his muscles are too weak, and he slumps down, disappointment prevalent.
“You can, and it looks like you’re going to have to,” Quinn says with a smirk.
“Can you at least bring him in here? Let me talk to him, please.”
“Okay. I’ll try to get him,” I offer, even though leaving Max’s side is the furthest thing from what I want to be doing.
His lips turn upward, slightly showing the dimples in his cheeks, triggering my heart to do that weird pitter-patter thing you see in the cartoons. I’ve been so desperate for him to wake up that now I’m overflowing with love.
Without really meaning to, I return the smile.
He voices faintly, “God you’re pretty.”
My heart thuds again, and the blood rushes to my cheeks.
Quinn smirks and looks up from her clipboard. “You two are gross, get a room.”
“You know, this is my room.” Max grins from ear to ear.
I chuckle and leave, happiness settling comfortably into my body, a euphoric feeling I’m not so sure I’ve felt in my life.
One foot in front of the other, I make my way to the living room, only to find it empty, couch cushions lying on the floor. Proceeding toward the door, I catch a glimpse of the spilled tea on the counter—such a waste. I head straight to the only other place I assume they would have taken Alex, the cellar. The newly vacant, covered-in-death cellar.
Keith had built it with the intention of it only ever being meant for storms, and the occasional storing of things, but since we’ve arrived, it’s been home to infected people, beaten to death and murdered people, and now a hostage.
The large wooden cellar door is located outside of the cabin, a few feet from the back door, around the side. I lift the creaky, heavy door and gander inside to see Keith and Wiley positioning Alex’s body against the wall, a roll of duct tape lying on the floor.
At the same time, they both quickly glance over, eyes wide until they realize it’s only me.
I step inside, taking the stairs carefully, one at a time. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a bit under the weather, the recent events being all sorts of exhausting.
The air is thick and murky down here, and the lighting is grim. The place gives me the creeps, signaling my mind to make a mental note to not go down here alone.
“Hey,” I say awkwardly. “If you, ugh, have a minute. Max really wants to talk to you.”
I cross my hands and find myself holding on to my arms, cringing while I look around. Cobwebs line the homemade shelf on the wall, stacks of wood below. I trail the room, attention falling on a door on the far side.
“Root cellar,” Keith says, startling me.
“What?” I find myself saying in response.
He points to the door. “That’s where I store things, like fruits and vegetables.”
“Ohh.” With each moment passing, I understand more and more how this cabin is set up.
He wipes his hands on his pants and grabs the tape. “Is Max okay?”
“Yeah, I think. He just needs to talk to you.” Because he doesn’t show any signs of coming, I add, “It’s urgent.”
He sighs, holding the roll of tape out to Wiley. “Here, can you secure his hands and feet?”
Wiley reluctantly takes the tape and shrugs. “This is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
Keith turns abruptly to Wiley. “Our safety is extreme? Are you going to do it or not?”
“Sorry, yes. I’ll do it,” he answers sheepishly.
“Come on,” Keith urges. “Let’s make this quick.”
The walk to Max’s room is filled with awkward silence and massive amounts of tension. I’ve never seen Keith this shut off, this cold toward me, and to everyone around. I know he’s stressed out, but this is a whole new level of weird, even for him.
When we enter Max’s room, he’s in the sitting position, propped up with some pillows.
“Dad,” he begins in a rush. “Listen, you’re overreacting, okay? You don’t need to lock Alex up.”
Keith shakes his head. “Are you guys serious? This is what you want to talk to me about?” He turns to me. “Skylar, you came to get me for this?”
I avert my eyes to the floor, the stupidity for being called out scorching like a cattle brand.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Max insists, shifting his weight in the bed, another pointless attempt to get up.
Keith rubs his forehead, squeezing his fingers into his temple. “I don’t have time for this.” He turns in an attempt to make his leave.
Max cuts him off. “What is wrong with you? Why are you being like this? This isn’t you.”
Without turning around, Keith fumes, “Why am I the only one who cares about our safety?”
“If you care about our safety, then you’ll hear me out.”
Keith’s shoulders slump with another big sigh. “Fine, but please, can you make this quick? I left Wiley in charge and, well, that might not have been the best idea.”
47
Quinn
Like a fly on the wall, something I do well, I sit back and watch the drama unfold.
“We need him on our side, Dad,” Max stresses.
“Give me one good reason?”
“Other than the fact that he’s incredibly useful, a valuable asset to our team, what about the fact that he’s our ticket in with The Resistance?”
“We don’t need The Resistance.” Keith taps his foot impatiently.
“We don’t? Are you serious? Have you not thought long-term here?”
“Explain,” he counters, appearing a bit more interested in Max’s train of thought.
Keith leans against the wall, crossing his arms in anticipation. Skylar takes her seat next to Max, looking like she is a queen defending her king—or maybe in an attempt to get away from Keith and his unnecessary rudeness toward her.
“When the food is out, when we have gone as far as possible on supply runs, then what? We have to think long-term. Alex is our long-term. The Resistance is our long-term. Trust me, I’m not thrilled about the idea of putting our trust in a stranger, but if he is who he says he is, we need him. We need The Resistance. We can only make it on our own for so long, and then we need a backup plan. Clearly, you’re of some value to the cause, so maybe we can leverage that to secure our future in this godforsaken world.
“I know you’re worried, and I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but please consider the words I’m saying to you. Please consider the idea that maybe we shouldn’t burn that bridge just yet.”
Max’s words evaporate into the air as Keith processes the information.
“He knows too much, Max.” Keith shakes his head again. “What happens when he tells whoever he works for that your blood can cure a comatose? I know what happens, they take you, they use you as a guinea pig, and they’ll have no concern for your life and they’ll push it too far. I see it playing out in my head perfectly and I can’t allow that to happen. I won’t lose you.”
They have valid points, and I can entirely see where they’re both coming from, but at the end of the day, Keith calls the shots around here, and the fate of Alex isn’t looking so great. There are only so many options I can come up with—at least he hasn’t killed him yet.
“Then let’s talk to him. Can we at least try to reason with him?”
I mentally applaud Max’s determination.
“The thing is, he’ll tell you what you want to hear, especially now. He’s not stupid, he knows how to manipulate.”
Max grits his teeth, and Skylar’s hand finds its way on top of his in what I assume to be an attempt to calm him down.
“So, you’re saying this is a dictatorship then? We get no say in what happens around here?”
I clench my own jaw and study Keith in expectation of his response.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Care? How do you not? You’re telling me you’re prepared to kill a man because you’re afraid? You’re going to kill him without even trying to reason with him?”
“I never said I was going to kill him,” Keith verifies, straightening his posture against the wall.
“How else does this end? You’re clearly not going to just let him go. And if you won’t talk to him now, then what other alternatives are there?”
Keith’s attention falls to the floor like maybe he’s finally coming to his senses and realizing Max has a point. “I don’t want to kill him.”
“Then let’s at least exercise all possible options, please.” Perhaps finally remembering our existence, he moves somewhat and asks, “What do you girls think?”
Skylar looks to me, and I speak for the both of us. “I think Max could be right.” The words come out thick like tar, difficult to speak knowing it’s not what Keith wants to hear. Somehow, disappointing him is a harshness I wasn’t prepared for.
&
nbsp; “Okay,” he says defeatedly. “But we all do it together.”
When Max has finally rested enough to get out of bed, we collectively make our way to the small confines of the cellar. Wiley had informed us that Alex was now awake, and I think that was the final push Max needed to regain what bit of strength was necessary.
I imagine this silent walk to be similar to those experienced in prisons during the time a criminal is about to be executed. Although in this instance, the due diligence has yet to be completed, and death seems an imminent and unjust thing.
We enter the cellar one by one, fanning out and lining the wall opposite Alex. My eyes meet his, and I see a sense of calm I hadn’t expected. Perhaps being held hostage isn’t new territory to him, or maybe he isn’t worried about the outcome, his back against the wall, almost like he’s relaxing in his new quarters. An eerie wave flows through the room, and my stomach clenches, filling me full of fear of the unknown.
Alex’s mouth opens somewhat, and he begins to speak. “I can only imagine why I’m in here.” He holds his duct-taped hands out in front to signify to them. “But I do applaud your efforts, you definitely caught me a bit by surprise.”
“I had to seize the opportunity when it presented itself, I’m sure you understand,” Keith offers mockingly.
“That I do. It’s a great effort, really. I have to ask, though, why?” At this, Alex betrays only partial confusion.
Wiley speaks up. “You know too much.”
Like a lightbulb flickering on, Alex confirms, “And you’re afraid of what I’ll say, and who will find out.” He nods. “Understandable.”
48
Alex
“We’re at a loss on how to move forward,” Keith continues. “Obviously, we can’t allow you to leave, and you’ve made it rather clear you won’t be here much longer. And considering the circumstances, we can’t exactly go with you, let alone do we trust what our fate would find if we did.”