by Cross, Amy
“There's no right or wrong way to do this,” Mark whispers, standing next to me. “I just thought you'd like to say a few words so that the others might get a better idea of who she was.”
“But I don't know who she was,” I reply, glancing over at the handful of people who have come to attend this makeshift funeral, and who are waiting patiently for me to give some kind of speech.
“You knew her better than anyone else here,” he replies.
“Yeah, but that's not saying much.” I turn to him. “We're wasting time. We should be out there, tracking Quinn down and bringing her back so she can pay for what she did.”
“There'll be time for that soon enough,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “She's not going to get far, not without food or water. Just take a moment to mourn your friend.”
“I don't even know if she was my friend,” I tell him.
“I saw the way she looked at you,” he continues. “Whatever you thought of her, she considered you to be a friend. I only knew her for a day, but I noticed that she always seemed happier when you were around. I'm sure that has to mean something.”
As he takes a step back, I'm left alone by the side of the grave. Part of me is annoyed that everyone seems to want me to somehow take charge of this event, but another part of me feels that there might be some way I can make myself feel a little better. There's been so much death and misery over the past month, first with that Lydia woman, then my parents and Joe, but for some reason Kaylee's death has hit me the hardest. She seemed so sweet and kind, and she seemed to genuinely like me, and then she was cut down not by one of the creatures but by a fellow human being. I can feel a kernel of anger in my soul, and I know there's only one way to deal with it.
First, though, I have to try to say something nice.
“I didn't know her,” I say finally, staring at the body but aware that everyone's watching me. “The first time I met her was only, I don't know, less than a week ago. Then she came with us when we left Chicago, and I sorta got talking to her a bit more, which was pretty good. She seemed friendly, but she was in shock 'cause of what had happened to her parents. When we arrived here, though, something changed in her. She was more talkative, and she seemed to want to get to work. I guess we were the same like that.”
I pause, wondering if I've said enough. Damn it, I'm not good at this sort of thing.
“I'm gonna kill Quinn,” I add finally.
I stand in complete silence for a moment. I know that was probably the wrong thing to say, but it's the truth, and it's the only thought in my head right now.
“I mean it,” I say, turning to the others. There are tears in my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “There's no reason why anyone could have ever wanted to hurt Kaylee. She was so kind and so good, and she never did anything bad to anyone, and I figure that when someone kills someone who's so innocent, there's only one way to deal with them. I know people talk about mercy and justice, but sometimes you just have to say that something isn't right, and you have to -”
“Maybe this isn't the time,” Mark says quietly, stepping toward me.
“Hell, it's absolutely the time,” I reply, refusing to let him shut me up. “I'm angry. Kaylee shouldn't be down there in that hole. She should be up here with us, helping out and getting to work. I know a lot of stuff has happened lately, but good people should still have a place in the world, and if monsters like Quinn are around, we have to get rid of them, right?” I turn to Mark, and then back to the others. “If we're gonna survive, we have to get rid of people who do things like this. I'm not just talking about Quinn, either. There might be other people here who saw what happened, and who are gonna get the idea that somehow it's acceptable. We need to catch Quinn and kill her so that everyone else can see that we've got some kind of justice around this place. We're not savages!”
“You're right,” Mark says, “but this isn't the time for -”
“It's always the time,” I reply, interrupting him as I hurry past him. Grabbing a shovel, I start pushing soil back into the grave. Glancing down into the hole, I watch as Kaylee's body is completely covered, and then I keep going, shoveling more and more soil down there until, after a few minutes, the grave has been filled. Breathless now, I take a step back and drop the shovel, and that's when I realize that the small crowd has been watching me this whole time. I guess maybe they think I've gone a little crazy, but I don't care about their opinions. Right now, all I can think about is Quinn, and the fact that she's out there somewhere, probably thinking she got away with this.
“One of the others is going to make a small marker for the grave,” Mark says after a moment. “It'll just be something simple, probably a small stone with a few details carved into the face, but it'll withstand the elements. First, he'll need you to provide some information about her. Her date of birth -”
“I don't know it,” I reply, wiping sweat from my brow.
“Then at least her last name.”
“I don't know that either.”
He pauses, clearly a little surprised.
“I don't have time to stand around talking, either,” I continue. “I know there's a lot of work to do, but I need to take one day off so I can go and find Quinn. Just one day, that's all it'll take.”
“We need to go and collect the wood we chopped yesterday,” Mark replies calmly.
“Someone else can do that.”
“We can't let this incident affect the work of the entire community,” he continues. “We don't have enough resources to allow a group to head off on some kind of revenge mission.”
“I don't need a group,” I tell him. “I'm not asking for anyone else to come with me. I'll go find her, and I don't even need to bother bringing her back. I'll just go out there, track her down, finish her off and come back. It won't even take me 'til sundown. No-one else has to worry about it. This is my job and mine alone.”
As the small crowd starts to dissipate, Mark remains on the other side of the grave, watching me. I can tell that he doesn't approve of my plans, but right now I don't care. The only way I can deal with this knot of anger in my chest is to track Quinn down and make sure she pays for what she did.
“You think it's wrong, don't you?” I ask eventually. “You think I should be all Christian and stuff like that, and forgive and forget. I know that's what a good person would do, and maybe I oughta find it in my heart, but I can't. All the other people who've died, I can kinda see why it happened, but not Kaylee. I'm angry and there's only one thing that's ever gonna set me right. The thought of her getting away with this... I can't handle it.”
“No,” he replies. “I don't think you should forgive and forget. Actually, I think you're right. That little speech you gave, Thomas, was awfully close to being the speech a leader gives to his people. It was an impressive moment, and I think you've got great potential to really take a powerful role here within the community.” He pauses, and it's clear that I've genuinely shocked him. “I was going to say that we should let Quinn go,” he continues, “but you've changed my mind. I think you're right, and we have to make sure that not only is justice done, but it's seen to be done. And that means bringing Quinn back here for a proper trial.”
“I'll bring her,” I tell him. “I can't promise she'll be alive, though.”
“I'm going to come with you,” he replies. “This can't be seen to be the work of one person. We need to establish a system. I'll get someone else to take my place on the work duty this morning, and I'll join you to hunt Quinn down. Two of us have a better chance of capturing her than one. We'll leave immediately.”
“Good,” I reply, even though there's a part of me that would have preferred to have done the job myself. “Just don't think you can hold me back,” I add, before turning and walking around the grave. “I want her dead. You can have a little trial first if you want, but one way or another, Quinn has to die for what she did here, and there's one other thing.” I pause for a moment. “I want to be the one who does it. Whether it's out there in a fi
eld or back here after a trial, I want to kill her myself.”
Elizabeth
“This is a total mess,” Toad says as he fiddles with the radio. “It's as if the old fool took a bunch of different systems, grabbed bits of each, and then tried to fit them together like some kind of Frankenstein's monster.”
“So it doesn't work?” I ask as I hobble over to the table and set down two plates of disgusting-looking tinned meat.
“Actually, that's the surprising part,” he continues, flicking a couple of switches. “I think it does work. I never had Dan Hodge down as an engineering genius, but somehow he managed to rig it up pretty well. I mean, I can't check it right now, 'cause I need to find a way to fit the battery to the main unit, but there seems to be some kind of a charge in there. I figure I can work on it later and maybe get it up and running, and then we can give it a try.”
“Do you think we can make contact with other people?” I ask.
“Maybe. If there's anyone out there. He's got a booster unit linked in to the system and it looks to be running through to some kind of antenna, so I think the range could be pretty long, maybe as much as a few hundred miles. I've got to admit, I don't really understand all the work he did here, but there's definitely a chance.” Getting to his feet, he comes over to the table and takes a seat. “Don't get your hopes up, though,” he continues. “Even if I get it working, there still might not be anyone else out there with a similar system. We might get nothing back but static.”
“I know,” I reply, easing myself into the opposite seat. “I'm not getting my hopes up. I just figure it'd be good if we can try. You never know.”
I pause for a moment, watching as he uses his knife to examine the meat.
“So did you find anything we can use?” I ask eventually.
“I found the chicken coop,” he replies, “but something had been in and got at them all. Probably a fox. There were a few signs of rabbits, though, so I'm gonna set traps today and see what we can get hold of. Hopefully we can keep ourselves well-fed for the next few days, until we're ready to move on.”
“Do we really have to move on at all?” I ask.
He stares at me.
“If we don't have anywhere to go,” I continue, “then maybe we should just accept that we need to stay somewhere. Anywhere.” I pause for a moment. “Here.”
“Here?” he asks incredulously.
“We can fix it up a little,” I reply. “We can't be picky, can we? We left your farm because the land was spoiled, but if things are better here, then I don't see why we shouldn't hold out for a bit.” I wait for him to say something, but it's clear that he's not very enthusiastic. “I'm tired of always traveling,” I tell him. “These constant journeys aren't really getting us anywhere, and I feel like we're slowly slipping further and further until...”
My voice trails off, and I wait for him to say something.
“Just the two of us?” he asks eventually.
“Three of us, counting Rachel.”
Again, he seems distinctly unimpressed by the idea.
“It wouldn't necessarily be forever,” I continue. “But it wouldn't be that bad, would it? I mean, looking after Rachel is hard enough, but doing it on the road, especially when I'm kinda impaired, is going to be almost impossible. At least for a little while, wouldn't the smartest thing be to just stop and try to get ourselves sorted?”
“And act like some happy little family?” he replies, as if the idea is crazy.
“I didn't say that,” I mutter, cutting off a slice of meat and slipping it into my mouth, and then having to force myself not to gag as I eventually manage to swallow it. It's quite possibly the foulest thing I've ever eaten in my life.
“I'll think about it,” he says, before taking a mouthful from his own plate. I can see from the look in his eyes that he hates the meat too, but he forces himself to swallow.
“It's horrible, huh?” I say with a faint smile.
“It's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted,” he replies.
“There's a lot of it,” I continue. “The guy who used to live here, he seems to have stockpiled the stuff. I'm pretty sure it's not gonna go off, either. And if it does, maybe it'll even taste better.”
“So this is what you want to do?” he asks. “You want to sit around here, eating this crap, and hoping that things get better?”
“Unless you've got a better idea, I think it's our best option.”
He stares at me for a moment, and I can tell that although he doesn't necessarily like my suggestion, he doesn't really have anything to counter it with.
“I'll think about it,” he says finally, before cutting off another piece of the foul meat.
As we sit in silence and continue to eat, I can't help thinking that I might have won him around to my way of thinking. The truth is, I feel as if I need to rest, at least for a little while, and it wouldn't be so bad to spend some time here. All I want, for a short period of time, is some stability, at least while my leg starts to heal. If we have to set off again and carry on with our journey right away, I think I might end up collapsing.
A few minutes later, as Toad prepares to head out for another hunting trip, I find myself wanting to ask him what he's thinking, even though I'm too nervous about the answer I might get. I keep myself busy with the dishes, which take a lot longer to clean since I have to balance carefully, and Toad is busy getting his supplies ready. Glancing out the window, I see that the clouds are starting to turn darker, and a cold wind is blowing between the trees. If I didn't know better, I'd say that there's a huge storm coming.
“I'll only be a few hours,” Toad says eventually, heading to the door.
“Wait,” I reply, hurrying over to him as fast as I can manage. “What I said about us staying here, it was just -”
“I know,” he says, looking a little awkward.
“Do you think there's going to be a storm?”
“Looks like it. I'm planning to get enough food for two days, so hopefully I won't need to go out again until it's blown over.”
He pauses, as if he wants to say something else, and then to my surprise he leans closer and kisses the side of my face. When he pulls back, there seems to be a hint of tension between us, and almost involuntarily I move toward him and press my lips against his. My heart is racing and I know I should stop, but slowly we start to kiss, and this time neither of us moves away. I can't put my arms around him, since I have to keep hold of the crutches, but I feel a shiver pass through my body as he places his hands on my waist and moves closer, and the kiss becomes more passionate and more intense. Finally, after a few minutes, he pulls back.
“I should get going,” he says.
“Do you -”
“I'll be back soon,” he adds, before turning and heading out the door.
As I watch him head off through the forest, I realize that I have no idea what that kiss meant. There's a part of me that wants to believe we might actually have a connection, although I'm also worried that we're just doing this because neither of us has anyone else. I wish he'd stayed and told me what he was thinking, but I guess he's a private kind of person and it might be harder to tease out his feelings. Hearing Rachel start to cry in the next room, I turn and start making my way through to comfort her, but all I can think about is Toad and that kiss. Despite all my misgivings, I want to believe that it meant something to him. At the same time, I honestly don't know how he sees me.
“It's okay,” I tell Rachel as I pick her up. I feel as if I spend half my life telling her not to worry, but I guess there's not much else I can say to her. “Don't cry. Everything's going to be fine.”
Thomas
“She's been here,” I say as we reach the truck, a little way off from the lake. The door's hanging open, and I'm damn certain it was shut when we left a couple of days ago. “The bitch probably came to take whatever she could get her hands on.”
As soon as I put my hand on the door, I have to pull it away again. It's a cloudl
ess day, and the metal is already hot enough to sear the skin.
Climbing into the driver's seat, I start checking to see if anything's missing. Sure enough, the glove box has been left open, and it's clear that Quinn went rifling through it for anything that might be useful. There wasn't much in there, but I guess she was panicking. As I turn to get back out of the truck, I spot a folded piece of paper on the passenger seat. Reaching down to grab it, I find that it's the stupid drawing she showed me back in Chicago, the one that supposedly came from a dream and convinced her that the three of us should make this journey. Just as I'm about to toss it aside, however, I realize that there's something written on the other side, and I turn it around to reveal a short note:
Thomas, I know what they're saying, but I didn't kill her. I'd never do that. It was one of the others. They turned on Kaylee and killed her, and then they blamed me. I'm sorry I ran, but I knew you wouldn't believe me. I've gone to find the signal. Please don't think that I killed her. I'm sure you know in your heart that I could never do that. You have to get out of there. Don't trust them.
I stare at the note, reading it a couple more times as I try to make sense of the bullshit she expects me to believe. There were fifteen witnesses who all saw her kill Kaylee, and yet she seriously expects me to believe that it's all some kind of big conspiracy against her. I actually feel genuinely insulted that she thinks I'm so goddamn gullible. I'm starting to think that Quinn is seriously wrong in the head, to the extent that she maybe doesn't even recognize reality.
“Lying bitch,” I mutter, tossing the note onto the seat before shuffling back out.
“You have a lot of gas here,” Mark says as he climbs up onto the back of the truck. “Food, too. I'm impressed, Thomas. You've really got this thing stocked up pretty well.”
“I passed a lot of abandoned gas stations,” I tell him. “I stopped at them and grabbed what I could. At first I felt like a thief, but then I figured it was just gonna go to waste. I mean, every road was just totally abandoned. My brother taught me that it was okay, and eventually I kinda saw things from his point of view.”