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by Denise Grover Swank


  This is going to be a long few days.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We need to go, Chipper. We can’t stay here and pretend everything is okay.”

  I shake my head, so furious at Jo I could scream. “I’m not pretending anything is okay. Of course, it’s not okay.”

  “It’s been five days. They aren’t coming back and we need to leave. The patrols are getting heavier. We’ll be lucky to get out as it is.” Jo’s been exploring for days, watching Deacon’s men move closer and closer to where we’re hiding.

  “Reece said it could be a week.” I turn her words around. “It’s only been five days.”

  She squats in front of me. “Julia, there’s no way either of those two would leave you here this long if they could help it. Something happened.”

  “Don’t you think I worry about that?” Every waking minute I worry about them. I’ve allowed my mind to wander in directions I refuse to discuss. What if Reece never made it to Evan? What if Evan got the antibiotic too late? What if they tried to find another truck and got caught?

  One thing is sure: Reece and Jo’s plan to stay hidden and lose Deacon’s men backfired.

  His men must have searched the area surrounding Kansas City, and when they found nothing, intensified their search efforts in the bombed city. I have no idea how we’ll escape now.

  If Jo feels remorse over their failed plan, she never lets on. But after living with her for five days, I suspect she rarely admits that she’s wrong.

  “Even if I agree to go, how do you plan on us getting out of here with my ankle?”

  “It’s too bad it’s not broken. It probably would have healed faster.”

  “Next time, I’ll try harder.”

  “Very funny.” She stands up and moves to the door. “You’ll have to walk. I’ll find something for you to use as a cane.” She pauses and waits until I look at her. “We’re leaving today if I have to drag you.” Then she walks out the front door, pulling her hood over her head.

  I wonder again why she doesn’t leave me behind. She spends most of her time irritated about something. Why would she stick around and wait for me? But to leave me means being alone. Perhaps being alone is worse than someone crawling under your skin.

  I search through my bag to take inventory of my food again. The tobacco is on top, and I question its value, especially when all I have left to eat are a few pieces of some kind of jerky, a small loaf of bread, and two small potatoes. Two days ago I used up the few government meal rations I had in my pack. Jo is less forthcoming with her stash, and I haven’t pressed the matter. We should have bought more provisions in the city. I take some comfort knowing that the boxes we took from the bandits still had food. At lease Evan and Reece have something to eat.

  My hollow stomach and my worry only add to my anxiety about what’s happening to my sanity. I’ve had five more memory slips since my kiss with Reece. All involving Reece. It’s as though kissing him cracked open the door for her memories. Thankfully, all of the occurrences were minor and easily resolved in my head, as well as hidden from Jo. I don’t know why, but I don’t want her to think I’m going crazy. Maybe I still want her around too. And while I’m eager to make sure Reece and Evan are okay, I’m terrified to see Reece again.

  What does he expect from me when he sees me? Does he think our kiss was a one-time moment, fueled by fear and pain, or does he think we’re a couple now? How will I explain what really happened?

  I’m convinced that the entire episode was spurred by the other Julia’s memories. I care about Reece, but as a friend. It’s Evan I want to be with.

  Jo shows up in the doorway, her mouth pressed tight in determination. “You’ve got no choice in the matter now, Chipper. Deacon’s men are on their way.”

  I sit up straighter. “What? Where?”

  “Four blocks away and headed this direction. They’re doing a house-by-house search so no hiding from them like when they drove down the street two days ago. We gotta go.”

  Stuffing the food items into to my bag, my mind scrambles for a plan. “I’ll never be fast enough.”

  “We just need a head start. The house searches are taking some time. They’re being very thorough. I think we can make it.”

  If I’ve learned nothing else about Jo this past week it’s that she doesn’t spew false hope. If she thinks we can make it then we probably can.

  Grabbing hold of the wainscot trim on the wall, I pull myself to a standing position, then grab my coat. When I take a mitten out of my pocket, Jo shakes her head.

  “You can’t wear those. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” She snorts. “Pun intended.”

  I shove my mitten back into my pocket, almost grateful. I don’t feel worthy to wear them.

  She picks up my bag and slings it over the opposite shoulder of her pack. “Time to roll.”

  Hopping along the wall, I make it to the door while Jo scans the room. We’ve practiced this drill before. We make sure we leave behind no evidence that we’ve been here. When she’s satisfied, she holds the door open for me.

  It’s two short steps down to the yard, but there’s no railing and hopping on one leg is impossible. I tentatively put weight on my injured leg and pain shoots through my ankle and up my calf.

  Jo clears her throat and starts to say something then stops. I know she’s about to tell me to keep my foot off the ground. She’s harped on me for five days, insisting my ankle heal as quickly as possible so we could run when we needed to. The time for running is now but some habits die hard.

  We head for the backyard and Jo jumps the short chain-link fence with little effort. She looks back at me with a look that’s the closest I’ve seen to anxiety. But it vanishes just as quickly as it appeared.

  Climbing is not an option. I hop up and land on my butt on the pointed metal tops, gritting my teeth at the pain, and swinging my legs around. I try to put most of my weight on my good leg and force a smile. “Easy.”

  We cut across the yard and over two streets, my ankle screaming in protest with every step. Jo starts heading south, hanging close to the houses.

  “Where are we going?” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “Right now I’m trying to get us out of their search perimeter. Then we’re heading west.”

  “I want to go to the house where we left Evan.”

  “But that’s six miles away.”

  “I know.”

  “I hadn’t planned on going that far south. We need to get out of Kansas City as soon as possible. As it is, you’ll be lucky to get out of town, let alone walk to their house first.”

  I stop walking and try to keep my tears at bay, my voice choking with the effort. “I have to know, Jo. I have to know.”

  Jo turns around, and we have a standoff, staring into each other’s eyes, neither of us backing down. I’m sure she’s going to insist on her choice, and I’m at her mercy, whether I admit it to her or not. I was under the tarp when we left the city. I have no idea where we are in relation to the house. But Jo does.

  To my relief, she turns away and scans the street. “Fine.” And without another word, she takes off, leaving me to hobble behind her.

  The pain is so intense it sucks my breath until I’m panting, but after what I guess to be a mile or so, my foot and lower leg become numb. I can’t walk normally, dragging my foot in a zombie-like gait, but I’m walking.

  We pass a park and Jo says she needs a break, but we both know it’s a ruse. She sits on a metal bench and pulls a water bottle out of her bag and hands it to me. I take a swig while I stand. If I sit I might never get back up again.

  “I want to see your ankle.” Jo’s done daily checks, poking and prodding and deciding it wasn’t broken, so I’m not surprised. She has a vested interest in my ability to get around.

  I swing my foot onto the bench, and she pulls up the hem to my upper calf.

  “It’s more swollen than ever.”

  I hear the worry in her voice. “It is what it is, Jo. In
a perfect world, I’d be in a cast with crutches, but we both know that’s never going to happen. Let’s go.”

  She stands and hesitates. “You should know you might permanently screw up your leg.”

  With a shrug, I start my step-slide. It’s not like I have a choice. “I figured.”

  The sky is darkening when the house comes into view, and my heart speeds up. The house looks deserted, but I would expect that. They wouldn’t put out a welcome sign to the men after us.

  Jo leads the way and heads to the shed instead of the house.

  I start to ask what she’s doing, but then I realize her purpose. She’s preparing me. If the truck is in the shed, what we find inside the house might be something I don’t want to see.

  The door slides open and she ducks her head inside, then swings around to face me. “Gone.”

  My eyes sink close as I release a hiccup of relief. But if they aren’t here, where are they?

  Jo leaves the door open and heads for the house. “I think we should stay here for the night and head out first thing in the morning.”

  “Where?” I choke on the word. How will I find them in this vast, screwed-up world?

  “West. We’ll head for the rebel compound. They’re bound to head that way too.”

  I nod. She’s right, but I feel utterly alone.

  Jo waits at the door, her face a carved mask of patience. And I realize that I’m not alone. I have Jo. I need her as much as she needs me.

  When she shuts us in the house, I throw an arm around her shoulders and give her a hug. “Thank you.”

  Her body stiffens at the contact, but I take consolation that she doesn’t shove me away. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You didn’t leave me behind. Thank you.”

  She pats my back, then breaks loose. “I’m going to go upstairs and see if they left any supplies behind. That should tell us if they plan to come back. You need to get off your ankle.” After she pulls a blanket from my bag, she lays it on the floor and bolts up the stairs.

  A heavy cloud cover darkens what little light escapes from the setting sun, casting dark shadows across the room. The house is warmer than outside, but barely. I drag my now-stiff leg to the blanket and try to find a graceful way to sit. Instead, I give up and flop to my side. My leg is so swollen that my jeans, which narrow at the ankles, are uncomfortably tight.

  A creak fills the space, and I freeze. I have a gun, but it’s in the bag six feet away. My ears strain to pick up the sound again, then I shake my head. My imagination has gotten carried away. Jo’s upstairs.

  I breathe a sigh of relief until I see a flashlight beam outside the window, only about six feet from the door. I’d shout up to Jo, but it would give us away. Rolling to my stomach, I crawl across the floor to my bag.

  The stairs outside the door creak, and my fingers fumble to pull the gun out of the bag. Jo taught me how to load it while we were holed up the last five days so I know it’s ready to use.

  The door flings open as I raise the gun and point it at the dark figure in the doorway. My finger trembles on the trigger as panic floods my head.

  It’s Evan.

  “Oh, God!” My gun clangs on the floor, and I collapse from the adrenaline rush and the horror of what almost happened.

  “Julia?” Evan’s voice rises in panic as he drops to his knees beside me.

  “I almost shot you.” My heart beats so fast I can’t catch my breath.

  “Reece! Julia’s here!” Evan shouts out the door then turns his attention back to me. “Why are you on the floor? Are you hurt?”

  “Just my leg.” I push up on my elbows and roll on my side, wincing.

  “Where’s Jo?” Evan’s head swivels as he searches the room.

  “Here.” She appears on the staircase. “We thought you were gone since the truck wasn’t in the shed.”

  “We traded it. It took us a few days.”

  “So what are you doing back here?”

  “We tried to get to you, but the patrols were too thick. We were coming on foot tomorrow. Why are you guys here?”

  Jo answers before I get a chance. “The patrols were going house to house in our neighborhood. We had to leave.”

  “How did you get this far with Julia’s leg?” Reece stands in the doorway, his face expressionless as he watches me.

  “I walked.” The sight of him catches my breath and my head swims. The need to hold him overrides all other thought. I shake my head and realize who these emotions belong to. But hers or mine, I feel them all the same.

  Reece’s eyes widen and he turns to Jo, his face contorted in anger. “How could you let that happen? She was in no condition to walk.”

  Jo leaps off the stairs and stands before him, hands clenched at her sides. “Would you rather I left her there? Because we didn’t have many options.”

  “You couldn’t have found—”

  “Reece, stop!” I shout. “She saved my life! She stayed with me—”

  He turns to me, his face contorted in agony. “You mean she didn’t leave you like I did?’

  I gasp. “What are you talking about?”

  “I left you there. I wasn’t there to save you today. I didn’t save you in the ventilation shaft either. Jo did.”

  Jo rolls her eyes and groans. “Oh, Lord. I’m outta here.” She heads upstairs before Reece can respond.

  All excitement at seeing him vanishes, and the resulting guilt floods in to replace the void. “Reece, don’t be an ass.”

  He spins around exits into the darkness, slamming the door behind him.

  Evan stares at the doorway. “What just happened there?”

  “I have no idea.” But I do. I wrap my arms around Evan’s neck and bury my face into his shoulder, breathing him in. This is what I’ve longed for.

  Evan pulls me close and jostles my leg. I cry out before I can clamp my mouth shut. He leans back, wide-eyed with worry. “I forgot that you’re hurt.”

  “Just my leg, from the ventilation shaft.”

  “Reece told me, let me look. The right one?”

  I nod, and he scoots back and lifts my pants leg.

  The movement sends new shards of pain through my ankle. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. “Jo already tried to look. It’s too swollen to get the pant leg up.”

  “Then I need to either cut the hem of your jeans or take them off. I need to get a look.”

  “Trying to pay me back for taking off yours?” I grunt while I wait for the wave to subside. “There’s nothing to see other than a swollen mess. Jo doesn’t think it’s broken, just bruised and sprained.”

  “Jules—”

  “Evan, enough. I just walked over four miles. Of course, it’s swollen. There’s nothing to be done. If you really want to help me, just hold me, okay?”

  He slides next to me and wraps an arm around my back. I rest my head on his chest and feel some of the tension leave my body. I pick up his hand and lace our fingers. “You’re up and walking. The medicine worked.”

  His fingers curl over the top of my hand. “Yeah, Reece saved my life.”

  “Reece and Jo. She was the one who got it.”

  “After you bargained for it.”

  I shrug. “I was so scared Reece wouldn’t get back to you in time.”

  “He did, but it took several days before I was well enough to leave the house. That’s why it was taking so long to get to you. Reece wanted to go check on you several times, especially after we noticed the patrols going through neighborhoods.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “We needed a new truck. So I sent him out searching for that instead. I convinced him we’d do you more good if we could get you out of there. Plus, we figured you couldn’t walk.”

  “So you found another vehicle?”

  “Yeah, we traded the truck for a jeep and some supplies. It’s hidden a few blocks away. If the patrols find it, we don’t want it in our backyard.”

  “Smart.”

 
We sit in silence for several minutes, and I listen to the sound of his breathing, surprised how something so simple can fill me with contentment. For the first time in nearly a week, I feel almost safe. “I was scared that I’d never see you again. Jo wanted to…” I stop, unsure I should confess Jo wanting to leave without the boys. While I understand her motivation, I worry they won’t. I feel a loyalty to her now, after everything we’ve been through. “Jo found the patrols several blocks from where we were hiding. They were going from house to house. I told her to go without me since I’d slow her down, but she refused. She stayed with me.” I squeeze his hand. “What Reece said was unfair.”

  “I know. And he knows it too. He just feels guilty leaving you there. He feels guilty that you got hurt.”

  “Neither of those things could have been helped.”

  “In his head, they could have been. You know Reece.”

  An awkward silence hangs between us. Do I know Reece? Evan’s comment suggests I’ve known him for ages. The Julia in the back of my head knows him. But I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks.

  I wrap my arm around the front of his stomach and hook a finger through his belt loop. “I almost shot you.” The horror of it still leaves the taste of bile on my tongue. I’m not sure I ever want to hold a gun again. Memories of shooting the general fill my head and I shudder. While the memories are unwelcome, at least they’re mine.

  “But you didn’t shoot.”

  “I almost pulled the trigger. If I had…I’ll have nightmares for weeks.”

  Evan leans back and turns my head to face him. “Jules, I’ll be here to make them go away.” His mouth lowers to mine, his kiss soft and gentle.

  I lift my hand, twisting my fingers in his hair. I’m scared I’ll lose this moment with him. I’m terrified of the presence inside my head, terrified that it will take over like it did with Reece. But her memories remain at bay and my own prevail. Relief and joy, along with my love for Evan, washes through me instead. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too,” he murmurs against my lips before he kisses me again.

 

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