by E. M. Fitch
"I'm really glad you're alive," Emma whispered, surprising herself. Andrew's eyebrows rose.
"Em-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Emma continued following a deep breath, "we're supposed to be acting like we're in love, aren't we?"
"I know it's been a while," Andrew said softly. "I know it makes you uncomfortable to be close to anyone. But we have to act as though we like each other, at least."
"Says who?" Emma said, lifting her chin. "I thought married people were supposed to fight all the time?"
"After not seeing each other for weeks?" Andrew said, his voice harder now. "After thinking the other was dead? That's how you imagine people who love each other would act?"
"Well, I care about you and just look how you're acting," Emma said with a shrug.
"I'm not the one running away here, Emma," Andrew said, cutting straight to the point. He stepped forward and instinctively, she backed away. "Maybe I've never said the words, but I think I've been pretty clear with how I feel about you."
"Andrew, stop it," she breathed. He froze on the spot, though it wasn't just his physical advance she meant. "This is insane, you know we can't-"
"Can't what?" he challenged. "I haven't asked you for anything at all, expect maybe to stop hiding from me. I'm not pushing-"
"You are pushing."
"All right, maybe I am. But not for anything you can't give me," he insisted. "It's always there though, isn't it, in the back of that stubborn head of yours?"
"What is?"
"Leaving me," he said. "You're planning it, always."
Emma swallowed roughly. Her tongue dart out in a nervous gesture to run along her lower lip, the warmth lasting only a moment before the cold air stung. She couldn't deny it.
"Don't," he continued, the words strangled. "I lost Dad, don't you leave me, too."
"That's not fair," she whispered. Her eyes had that annoying burning feeling again and she tilted her head back, white flakes swirled down passed the trees from a dull sky. The leaves crunched underfoot as he moved forward.
Warm fingers reached for her and she tensed as his skin brushed hers. She let him take her hand, hoping that would be enough, that he wouldn't push for more. Already her chest ached, the intensity of the simple contact almost too much after weeks of nothing.
"I'm here now, like it or not," he said gently, ignoring her as she huffed. "And you can't go back to living in the dorms. Stay with me, please. If you're right, if you're infected and it's dangerous to others, I'll leave with you."
"The point is to be alone," she muttered, unable to meet his eye.
"We've been with you since it happened and none of us have gotten infected," he argued. "I think I can handle myself. Besides, I've said all along, I don't think you are infected, just immune."
"If you had seen those women-"
"Immune, not infected," Andrew interrupted firmly. "Someday, I may even test it out for you."
She ripped her hand out of his grasp and strongly considered slapping him in the face. But the warmth in his eyes deterred her.
"That's not funny," she muttered, stepping passed him.
"Ah, well," he answered, falling into step with her. "We're married now, you're stuck with me. 'Til death do us part."
"I never agreed to that," Emma said, tensing as he grabbed for her hand again. "Besides, that's what I'm worried about."
"Don't be," he said smoothly, giving a small, encouraging squeeze of his fingers.
"Don't be afraid I'm going to kill you? Too late. Though at this point it may not be the infection. I may just strangle you to death."
"Don't be afraid of death at all," he clarified, ignoring her jibes. He ducked under a low hanging branch and she did the same. "It's pointless, like being afraid of aging or your hair growing longer. It's going to happen, it happens to everyone."
"I would say being afraid of death is very much the point. Isn't that what we're doing? Avoiding it at all costs?"
"I guess," he allowed with a shrug. "But it's still going to get us, in the end. I think that's the problem with the world, then and now, people are so afraid of dying that they forget the most important part."
"Which is?"
"Living well," he answered simply. "Being kind, and trying your absolute best to be a good person. What good is life if the only thing you care about is making it last as long as possible? Live a good life, and when it ends, you won't be sorry. At least, I won't be. And I doubt my Dad is either."
"He might not be dead."
"I might never know."
Emma had no answer to this and Andrew wouldn't release the pressure on her hand. She tolerated it for the short walk to the square, allowing him to take her hand again after each fence they jumped. When they got to the outside of the square, the rest of the group joined them. Anna sidled up close to Emma and rest her head on her shoulder as they moved forward.
It was a dangerous, intoxicating feeling, the feeling of warmth and connection. It wouldn't last forever, she accepted that. Andrew's firm grip on her hand, the love that shone from her sister's face as she caught her eye. Even as Anna squeezed her around the middle and told her how much she missed her, even as she said the words back and meant them with all her heart, Emma knew, this couldn't be hers forever.
Chapter 15
The New North America adopted Kaylee and the rest without hesitation, just as they had with Emma and Jack. They met with the Council, were given a brief introduction to the camp. Emma and Jack were given the day off of work detail to orient the newcomers. They spent most of the day walking by the lake, watching women ring steaming clothes out of giant heated pots. Kaylee felt their eyes on her more than once, probably trying to assess her arm strength through her bulky jacket.
She did wonder what job she would be offered, if she'd have a choice. She didn't really care, though she thought fleetingly she would like to work with someone she knew. As quickly as it had come, she tried to dismiss the thought. Anna would work with the medical staff, that was obvious. Jack and Emma were already set up building fences. Knowing Andrew, he would probably join them. But it didn't really matter if Kaylee were right alongside them or not. It was different here. They wanted it to be different, like it used to be. In that past world, that distant memory, people didn't work together because they knew each other. They worked together because they shared a passion, or knowledge, or skill. It was time for Kaylee to find something like that of her own.
She kept Jack's hand in hers throughout the day. In some ways, it seemed as though no time had passed at all. Jack gazed down at her with the adorable look, a mix of love and longing. He pulled her close, still smelling of pine and rain and honey, though it had shifted now, tasting sharper in the cold, winter air. Every time his lips brushed hers, it was as though they had never been separated. But when he'd pull back and another story of him and Emma would emerge, when Andrew told them about the ambush at the Walmart, or Anna recounted their time with the Squatters, she was reminded forcefully that they had been apart.
It was Emma who finally asked what had taken them so long, why it was longer than a week after the explosion that Kaylee and the rest finally found them. Kaylee felt her chest seize when her little sister asked, looking at her with a crease between her eyebrows. It was Anna who explained. In a low voice, she told the rest about stealing the jeep, about the man Kaylee killed. When Anna said it, she softened it, made it seem not as bad. But it was bad. Every joint in Kaylee's body felt stiff, her shoulders hunching involuntarily. She could barely make eye contact with anyone, least of all Emma and Jack, both of whom she loved more than anything and both of whom were hearing what she was truly capable of for the first time.
Neither flinched. Emma sucked in a small breath but seemed more interested in what happened afterwards. Jack's pressure on her fingers never lessened.
They hadn't counted on being followed. Which was, Kaylee had realized quickly, stupid. They had thought the Circle would be too busy moving out, too focused on the next
phase of their survival, to miss a few people and the jeep they stole.
Of course, they hadn't counted on murdering someone to get away.
It was bad enough that they beat Jim into submission, but hitting that man (Kaylee didn't even know his name and still felt sick for it) had been the final nail in their coffin. The Circle wouldn't give them up for lost now.
And especially, it seemed, because they were heading North. Patricia and Michael seemed most afraid someone would run to a large group, just as Kaylee and the rest had.
Even now, in the relative safety of the New North America, Kaylee's mind kept circling back to the conversation she had overheard between Patricia and Michael, that and the van filled with homemade grenades and explosives. She had thought and thought on that, and the more she pictured the cans with fuses hanging from the duct taped lips, the more she realized that that was what they were. Homemade bombs that could be lit and thrown. But against whom? The infected? Not likely. They could only be put down with a shot to the head and grenades were deadly but imprecise weapons. But humans? Grenades would still work against non-infected humans.
They were starting a war, it was the only explanation Kaylee could come up with. They were afraid that Kaylee, Andrew, and Anna would deliver intel. Though what intel they could deliver, Kaylee didn't know. And what kind of war they could wage against this giant colony with its massive wall, Kaylee wasn't sure either. But Rebecca's last words rang in her consciousness. Not just the warnings, the propaganda Michael spread about the leaders being insane, the rules being too strict (though in truth, they might be); but the declaration that Michael wanted them to take it, overthrow the New North America and claim it as their own. A disturbing thought flashed through Kaylee's mind. The discomfort, the fend-for-yourself attitude of the Circle, maybe it really was all perpetuated on purpose. Maybe they kept their group in the slums so the people would have no choice but to want for more, even if that meant war to get it.
The van had followed them into the night. They had to ditch the jeep pretty early on, only avoiding being found by luck and coincidence. Anna had needed a private minute, so Kaylee and Andrew decided to do the same. They each spread out along a nearby river, using the privacy to wash and relieve themselves. Had they been closer to each other, they may have been talking, making the noise that would lead to their discovery.
As it was, they were three separate and silent observers as the van pulled along side the jeep and lit it up with bullets before any of the men of the Circle realized it was empty.
It turned into a game of cat and mouse. They'd find a house to sleep the day in and the van would creep along the streets, constantly searching, seeming to know their next move before even they did. The further away they got, the worse it became.
"But you got away?" Emma breathed. Kaylee nodded in affirmation. They had gotten away, or at least, the van had stopped following them once they made it to the smoking city. As though an invisible barrier had been erected, once Kaylee and the rest passed that first block of rubble, the van disappeared back to the rest of the Circle. Though, Kaylee still had the suspicion, they were planning on coming North eventually, armed with a van full of explosives.
She didn't tell the Council. Not yet. After her time with the Squatters, she was more hesitant to give up information, not when she couldn't be sure she trusted the people she was telling. Jack agreed with her. The Circle wasn't coming up soon, none of the people had known about Michael and Patricia's plan. They would need to rally them before they could arrange an attack. And there was still something, something irking her about the new place she landed.
The camp was definitely more cohesive than it had been with the Squatters. It was a collective here, everyone pitched in, everyone worked. Meals were served in much the same way as Kaylee remembered school lunches, everyone being scooped equal amounts of food that had been cooked by people who worked in the kitchen. Everyone in the camp had earned their meal by the work they did all day long. It seemed fair. People seemed, if not happy, at least content.
Something seemed off though, or not quite like how she imagined it would be. It was hard to pinpoint what was causing that feeling though.
It may have been the rules. They were strict, the main laws written in bold, black letters on a white board in the mess hall. She pointed it out to her sister when they lined up for lunch and Emma had squinted that way and then shrugged. Emma was never one for memorizing the rules. It had always been second nature to Kaylee. In school, when they were handed their codes of conduct, tucked neatly into the front half of their school's yearly agenda book, Kaylee spent her first free period reading it in its entirety. Andrew had always teased her about it. She didn't think her sister even glanced at it once.
But it was hard to ignore the presence of the rules in the New North America. They roared above the crowd, the only written word in any of the common buildings.
The top laws were common sense. No murder, no theft, no assault. But there was no differentiation between those and the lesser rules: mandatory curfew, do not question direct orders, timeliness enforced on work details. That seemed very odd to Kaylee. What was worse, there was no punishment listed for individual crimes. Would you be punished in the same way for murder as you would be if you missed a curfew? Laws cannot be enforced without consequences. No one mentioned what happened if a law was broken. They were just told, quite plainly, to follow the rules. No exceptions.
Something was niggling in the pit of Kaylee's stomach. She couldn't pinpoint it exactly. Not yet.
She wasn't alone with Jack until after dinner. He hadn't left her side and they found ways, throughout the day, to touch each other. It was as though they both needed the confirmation that yes, they were together again. His hand would find its way to her hip, lingering just long enough to make an impression of warmth. She'd sit close enough to press the length of her leg against his. He caught her eye frequently, silently asking permission, asking that it was okay, both his proximity and the declaration he had made for them.
It was okay. She had been glowing since he said those words, told her that he had said she was his wife. The look in his eye, half apology, half humor, wouldn't leave her mind. She kept picturing that sheepish grin every time her eyelids closed.
When the rest had turned towards the cabin after dinner, Jack had asked her to walk the perimeter with him. It was something he had been doing since he arrived. It was, he explained, mostly for her, watching the fence for any sign that she was coming. Tonight, it was for the privacy the cold air and setting sun could provide.
He didn't speak until the rest of the group was out of sight and Kaylee took her cue from him. Once the square and the last of the cabins were behind them, he started softly.
"What Emma said to Andrew, that's true for you, too," he murmured. Kaylee frowned, keeping pace with him as she tried to decipher his meaning.
"I don't-"
"There's people here," he said, "For you too, if you wanted them."
"You mean wanted them, instead of you?" she asked. A low laugh escaped before she could stop herself. "No, Jack. Not for me. But if you were only saying it to protect me, if being married to me is not what you-"
"No," he said in a rush, "I didn't want to speak for you though."
"Oh, I don't mind too much," Kaylee answered breezily. "I enjoy listening to you speak."
She grinned at him and nudged him with her elbow. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"So that's it then?" he asked, turning her gently to face him. He stared down at her. His brow was drawn and his eyes bore into hers. "Shouldn't it be bigger? Don't you want something more elaborate? Or are we just married now?"
"I'll tell you what," she whispered, leaning up to him and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Next time you're passing by a jewelry store, grab me a big diamond. I think I'd like that."
He chuckled and turned to capture her lips, drawing her closer and tucking his hands under her jacket. His finger
tips were cold on her back but were steadily warming. She shivered as she moved into him.
"Are you sure?" he whispered into her hair. She could hear the tension, the nerves in his tone. She thought suddenly of her father. Nick in a tuxedo; her in a white dress holding a bouquet of wild flowers; Emma in a bright red dress, flirting with the groomsmen; a future that never could be, never would happen. But the man at the altar, that was Jack. Even in her bizarro, impossible future. And so what did it matter if she were in snow boots and a winter jacket, if she didn't have a ring and Emma wasn't wearing a ridiculous puffed-up dress? Jack was here, Jack wanted her. She wanted him. They didn't need a piece of paper, just the commitment, the promise of forever.
"Do you promise you'll love me, stay with me, until the day that I die?" she whispered into his neck. He nodded before pulling back.
"I do," he said. He kissed her fiercely, with an urgency that stole her breath. She didn't get the chance to say the words back, not yet, so she put it in her kiss, promising him today, tomorrow, and every day after.
~
Emma wasn't in the cabin when they finally got back. Anna and Andrew were awake, playing a game with a deck of worn cards they had found on a shelf.
"Looks like we're about to have the most chaste wedding night in human history," Jack whispered in her ear. Kaylee could feel the heat in her face as Anna smirked over at her.
"I'll go check on Emma," she said to the room at large. She couldn't help but notice the tension in Andrew's back.
Emma wasn't far. Kaylee could see the outline of her from the stoop of the cabin. She looked small, hunched up and hugging her knees on top of a large flat rock by the lake. The snow from the morning was still there, lighter, just a dusting, the flakes crystalizing in the cold, winter sun. The light was gone from the sky. The stars shone brightly, as they always did now. Huge sprays of light blanketed the sky.