Break Free (Book 3): Through The Frozen Dawn

by E. M. Fitch

  "No, we're not cousins," Emma interrupted. She smiled quickly before it melted from her face. The mask was hanging around her neck. Even with the cold air smacking into her sweat-damp skin, she felt confined by it. She pulled it up and over her hand, tossing it in the ever growing burn pile. "We're married. It's just... I thought he was dead."

  She didn't have to say any more. Marco stopped her with a look, a mix of pity and resignation. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself. It's just, I thought you were young, too young for... Well, obviously I was wrong."

  He walked her to lunch with forced smiles and polite talk. Andrew joined them a few minutes later and Marco invented some excuse to leave.

  "Excuse me," Marco murmured.

  "It's fine," Andrew returned, ignoring the accidental shouldering he got as Marco got up to clear his lunch tray. Andrew glanced at Emma out of the corner of his eye, already his lips were twitching. He didn't speak until Marco was safely out of hearing range. "It seems I'm not the only one."

  "You're being absurd," Emma muttered, pushing her food around her tin plate with her utensil pocketknife.

  "I better get a ring on you fast," he continued, smirking over at her.

  "Don't you dare!"

  ~

  It was just as Emma had feared.

  Andrew was everywhere. That, in and of itself, was a relief. He was alive, gloriously alive, whole and unhurt.

  But she wasn't. She was infected, tainted. And he refused to respect that.

  He brushed up against her often. Every accidental touch had her joints locked, her very skin stiffening. She tried not to mind. It was so unreal, having him and Kaylee and Anna back. At first, the strangest thing was all the conversation. It had been so quiet with Jack. And they still had their moments, moments when Jack would say something completely random and Emma would pick it right up, responding as though they were mid conversation. She caught the perplexed looks the rest of their group shot at the two of them but they had both shrugged in tandem.

  It really wasn't so weird. She and Jack were more alike than she had realized.

  So, at first, it was just strange to be dragged into conversation so often. She and Jack had caught each other's eye at one point, a private smile blooming as Kaylee and Anna spoke in a constant stream about the group from which they had escaped. Andrew was close to her then, his arm brushing hers, and it did feel so wonderful to be touched, after so many weeks with Jack, that she didn't back away.

  Kaylee held her hand often, put her arm around her, but kept it brief and innocent, no where near Emma's mouth. Andrew however, he pushed it. Pushed it to a point that frightened Emma.

  Because she knew he wanted more. And she knew he could never have it.

  It was a cold morning. It had snowed again overnight. The drifts weren't high, less than a foot, but they blanketed the ground without break, a constant sea of white. Emma was taking a day off from her normal work detail to run a few errands for the medical team. Well, for Anna really. And mostly just to get away from the looks she was receiving from both Andrew and Marco. She felt like she was under glass. Which would have been better, because at least then she'd have something protecting the outside world from her.

  Anna had given her a list of plants to look for. Most were edible, some were medicinal. She knew a lot of them from her time in the forest, both with Jack and with the whole group. She also knew that most of them would be dead by now, or shriveled. She was sure Anna was asking for her help not because she needed it, but because she knew how much Emma needed the time away. Anna was good like that.

  Emma didn't want to come back empty handed though. She had hope that she would be able to find willow bark at least. The trickiest part would be identifying the varied plant. There were so many species and they all looked different.

  Still, looking for it would get her away from the tension, away from the constant brush of people.

  The woods were silent and still, the air hushed. There was the occasional call of songbirds who had not yet left for the winter to seek warmer climates. Emma found her eyes following them through the gray sky, watching as they lit from the branches, scattering the settled snow in clumps as they did.

  She had taken a short cut through a small wooded patch. She could see the corner of the men's dorm just ahead. It appeared similar to the women's dorms, as most of the buildings in the camp did, a long cabin with rows of beds. Emma assumed this just from the shape of the building to her left. She had never been inside, never even been this far from the town square before. It was centrally located in the camp, far enough away from the perimeter that Emma would have had no need to stroll passed, but not near to any of the facilities she would use either.

  She thought that maybe the men had a better situation, farther away from the main square as they were. It was always loud outside the women's dorms, meals being started and people milling around. Out here, tucked into a patch of woods, it would be quiet and restful.

  Though, at the moment, there was one noise that Emma couldn't place. In the stillness of the snow covered trees, the noise was distinct, though under the shuffle of people, Emma felt it would have been soft. It sounded wet and sloppy, like a child chewing with their mouth open. Emma wasn't sure she should even bother checking. Whoever it was, whatever they were doing, it was quiet, if gross.

  It was the blood that caught her eye.

  The red was bright on the white snow. It drew her eye through the trees. It was confusing though, not just that there was blood at all, but the matted, black feathers that surrounded it.

  A bird, something small, had been killed. It was strange because really, who would kill a single bird? They were small, not much meat, it was hard to justify killing just the one bird. It wasn't a random animal, even from where she stood she could see the scuffled but undoubtedly human footprints that surrounded the tiny bird remains. That was undoubtably what it was, the blood and mangled remains of a single songbird. It was sad, the lonely sight of the feathers surrounding the small blotch of blood.

  Was that what our world had come to? Emma thought sadly. Killing songbirds one by one for food?

  They weren't that bad off. She frowned. The slurping noise shifted, accompanied by a low growl. Every muscle in Emma's body tensed and she dropped the cloth sack she had been bringing for bark clippings. She knew what the noise was.

  Instinctively, she stepped back. The crunch of her boots through the crust of snow sounded unnaturally loud now.

  The growling picked up again and Emma recognized it for what it was, the ripping of air through an infected chest. The slurping sound she knew too, flesh being chewed, whatever body, human or animal, it found being ingested. Her stomach roiled and she sucked in a deep breath. The air was saturated with a cold tint of coppery blood. She turned to run.

  There was a man behind her. She didn't know his name. Blood coat his lips and dripped from his chin, landing in splotches on the clean snow. The whites of his eyes were already jaundicing, only pales streaks of white still visible. He was newly turned. His hands shook as he lunged forward. A snarl ripped through his chest and Emma tensed.

  There was growling from behind her too, from the infected person by the dorm. She had a moment, just a breath in time, to decide. Should she run for help? Back to the camp? Or lead them away and risk them catching her? In that moment, it was Andrew's face she saw, his disapproving expression, and she dodged out of the way just in time for the two infected men to collide.

  She raced back over the path she had taken that morning. She hadn't passed anyone on her way into the woods, she could only hope to be so lucky on her way back out. The men stumbled behind her, a shambled gait that was clumsy but fast. As she ran, she reached into her jacket for the knife she had with her. It wasn't large, nothing more than her small pocketknife for shearing tender bark from the willow trees.

  It would have to be enough.

  As she got closer to the square, she started yelling. Most of the people would out of the
square by now. Breakfast was over. But someone would hear her. Someone had to hear her.

  The air was cold as she sucked it into her lungs, her chest burning from her short burst of exertion. Sweat dampened her forehead and she forced her screams louder, half formed hopes that Marco or Andrew, even Harris would appear out of nowhere to put down the infected behind her. What she was not prepared for was her sister.

  Kaylee appeared like a beacon in the center of the square, a gun held in her lowered hand.

  "Get down!" she shouted, raising the pistol. Emma listened instantly, flinging her body face first into the snow. The sound of the shot rang in her ears and a body hit the ground behind her, the thud sending a tremble over the earth and through the fallen snow. Emma flipped over in time to see the second man stumbling over the body of his dead fellow. He tripped, falling head first into her prone form.

  Emma got her hands up, conscious of the shrieks that were rising around her. The knife was slippery in her grip and she pressed the blade wherever she could against the raging man on top of her. His blood covered teeth flashed and snapped as his mouth surged forward, oblivious to the knife sinking through his flesh.

  Don't bite me. Don't bite me. Desperate prayers flashed through her mind. She would survive the bite, she knew that. But she might not survive if any of the townspeople saw her bit and then not turn afterwards.

  With a cry of desperation, she pushed the man up, keeping his teeth from her skin. She drew one hand away, the knife poised, when the body fell limply back on top of her. Something warm was leaking from him, coating her neck and dribbling down her chest.

  She was panting as the body was rolled off her. Kaylee stood over her, a large hunting knife firmly in her grip. The blade was russet with blood.

  "Are you okay?" she asked urgently, her eyes raking over Emma's blood-soaked form. Emma nodded, sitting up. She brought her hands to her face, noting the shaking. She cleared her throat and clench her fists, peeling her fingers open only when she saw the hand reaching out.

  She let Kaylee pull her to a stand and into her arms, her sister completely ignoring the blood now drying on both of their clothes.

  "Where did you come from?" Emma asked in wonder, her eyes searching her sister's face. She didn't just mean Kaylee showing up in the square; it was a side of her sister she had never seen before. The girl who just saved her was strong, she didn't hesitate for a moment to kill the infected chasing Emma. The younger girl blinked, realizing for the first time that she had been underestimating her sister. Kaylee seemed to understand the sentiment. She offered a sad smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

  "We were out of soap," she answered, pointing to a small container that was leaking detergent into the snow. "Come on, we'll go get cleaned up."

  They left through a gathering throng of people, Emma quietly telling Carla to have a group go check the men's dorm.

  "By the way," Kaylee said as they got out of earshot. "I've been meaning to give this back to you."

  She handed Emma the handgun that used to belong to Quinton. Emma tucked it in her waistband.

  "Borrow it anytime," she murmured back, a slight tremble still weaving through her words. Kaylee offered a wry smile.

  ~

  A dim lantern lit the corner of the cabin in which Andrew was curled up. Emma peeked from her own dark corner to watch him. He was the only one, besides her, awake.

  All in all, there were five dead from the outbreak at the men's dorms. Three were eaten immediately, only the two turned. Besides the one lone bird, there was a scattering of other dead animals, small corpses freezing in the snow. Once infected, the men must have caught them. The town was panicking but Emma felt a sick form of relief.

  It wasn't her this time.

  Anna had drifted to sleep early, a medical textbook she had been perusing falling with a thud to the ground from her drooping fingertips. She had startled awake initially, mumbling under her breath, before abandoning the book and tucking herself under the flap of her down sleeping bag. She was in the armchair, her corner of the cabin the furthest from the door. Emma and she shared a wall. Andrew took the other corner across from Emma. The last available corner was filled with the wood stove. Even from across the room, the heat would seep over the wooden floorboards, the pops and hisses of burning sap piercing the silence in the darkened room.

  The two bodies that shared the one bed shifted together, Jack rolling over to face Emma's wall and Kaylee following right along. Like spoons held together by magnets, they moved in tandem. Heat that had nothing to do with the stove flushed Emma's cheeks. She was looking forward to all the dorms finally being cleared for use again, if only because it would free up additional married cabins and she wouldn't be forced to play the voyeur every night to the restraints placed on Kaylee and Jack. She was sure they would be happy to see the extra company gone, too. Though Kaylee would never say that.

  Her crazy, brave, unexpected sister.

  Of course, in Emma's case, opening the dorms presented some terrifying possibilities for her. Her eyes sought out Andrew once more. She couldn't see his face, just the lean outline of his body, the shape of his legs under his blankets as he repositioned himself, crossing one ankle over the other. He held a book that hid his expressions from Emma, though he didn't seem to realize she was awake anyway. Every couple of minutes, his fingers would toy with a page, bending the corner almost to the point of folding it before he would finally turn it. She found it adorable and annoying at the same time. If she had been sitting next to him, she would have considered smacking his hand, teasing his weird little ticks.

  She imagined his face, how he looked when he concentrated on something. She had no idea what he was reading, the spine was too worn for her to tell, but it wasn't a comedy, he didn't find it amusing. There was this breathy little huff he did when he was amused and she hadn't heard it.

  It occurred to her that she might just be pathetic for even noticing those things about him. But, she reasoned, she had known them already before she was ever bit, before the idea of him and her together had become a physical impossibility.

  Physically impossible, but maybe not completely impossible. Kaylee's lecture had been spinning around in her mind, her words haunting her. She had called her selfish. Was she? She was trying to do what was best for Andrew. Wasn't that the kind of thing a person would do for someone they loved?

  Kaylee was right about that part. Emma did love him. She always had, in a way. He was always around when she was a kid and she always liked him. He included her even when Kaylee used to whine about it. But it was more than that. It was a schoolyard crush and then, when the world ended, it was slowly more. It grew over the years of watching him pine over Kaylee, of seeing how gentle and patient and kind he was, of not understanding how her sister couldn't see that. Though, admittedly, she didn't understand any of the ways Kaylee viewed the world. Not then. The lines were more blurred now. Now that Kaylee had taken lives, the living and the infected, now that Emma was infected herself. Everything blurred. There was no black and white. Maybe there never had been.

  Andrew turned the page, the sound of the paper rubbing at the binding loud in their tiny, enclosed space. The book dipped and she saw just a fraction of his face, the corner of his mouth pulled down in concentration, his brow furrowed. She wondered again what he was reading and shifted a bit, squinting to try and read the title.

  He peeked over the book at the noise of her rustling and she froze, caught.

  "Am I keeping you up?" he whispered, tucking his book below his covers and reaching for the lantern. "I'm sorry."

  "No, leave it," she whispered back. "I can't sleep."

  His mouth bobbed open but the words didn't come. He swallowed and looked away from her, tentatively reaching for his book again. He brought it back up, thumbing through the pages until he found his spot. A gentle squirming took root in Emma's stomach. She hated that they couldn't be normal together.

  It was all fine in public. He had raced to find
her after the attack, hugged her and spoke platitudes. She spent the days playing the doting wife, laughing too hard at his jokes, smiling at him with an intensity that made her cheeks hurt. He did the same. It was wrong, too playful, even for them. Or maybe it was right, maybe it was exactly how they would have been if they didn't have to worry every second that she might infect him. Somehow, the not knowing, the thought that maybe they could have been like this; the anxiety that no, this was him faking too; made it so much worse.

  What if he saw through it? If he could tell somehow, that this was how Emma wanted things to be. That, if there was some possibility of a cure, she would want to lace her cold fingers with his, love to playfully tease that warmth into his eyes, look at him in that way that caused his cheeks to flush and mean every innuendo that she whispered. She would feel so pathetic, if he knew, knew that she yearned for things she could never have.

  Which is why now, in private, they barely spoke. The strain of the daily show, the playfulness and love that seeped into their everyday conversation, it burst like a soap bubble as soon as the cabin door shut for the night. They retreated to separate corners, like boxers between exhausting rounds, settling down for peace and quiet and two minutes without the strain of acting. Not acting just for the sake of everyone else, but for each other.

  "What are you reading?" she said softly into the quiet cabin. He looked over to her in surprise. She couldn't stand it, the strained formality. And she couldn't stand the constant restraint. He blinked and put the book down again, spine up this time so he wouldn't lose his place.

  "A book," he answered impishly, grinning over at her. She rolled her eyes. It was teasing, playful, but there was no one there to act for. Everyone else in the cabin was blissfully asleep, and maybe that's what made the difference. "Why are you awake? Are you okay? Is it the attack?"

  Emma froze, unable to answer truthfully and annoyed that she couldn't. She was awake because he was, because she enjoyed watching him, even just the little bits she could see, without the judgmental gaze of everyone else. Her mouth popped open and she closed it again, shrugging and settling for a lesser truth. "No, I was just cold."