Still, I try, pumping my legs for all they’re worth even after he disappears from view again. I’m almost to the bank when I hear Felix shout, not from behind, but ahead. I burst through the brush and emerge at the entrance to the high school parking lot, our purser subdued by a panting Felix, his knee between the man’s shoulder blades and his pistol to the back of his head.
“I’m going to let you up,” Felix says as the rest of the group joins us. “Do as I say. Try anything stupid and I won’t hesitate to shoot.”
Felix stands. “Lace your fingers behind your head and get to your knees.” He does. “Now, on your feet.” He stands. “Turn and face me.” He turns. No, I realize. Not he, but she.
“Lylette?” Emily asks
The girl’s eyes fix on my sister. “Emily?”
“You know this girl?” I ask, turning to Emily.
She nods. “I tutored her my senior year. Algebra and biology.”
It’s then I notice just how young she is, her face youthful enough to have still walked the halls of the school behind her had the world not gone to shit. But I know looks can be deceiving. She’s out here on her own after all. That alone tells me she can take care of herself. I won’t make the mistake of underestimating her.
“You check her?” I ask Felix.
“Haven’t gone through the bag, but I found these.” From his coat, he withdraws a switchblade and a snub-nosed pistol. In the small sports bag, we find nothing but a protein bar, two water bottles, and some matches. No wonder she kept her distance. A confrontation was the last thing she wanted. Still, she followed us. She must have had a reason for doing so.
“What were you planning on doing with this, then?” I ask, holding the pistol.
“Wasn’t planning on doing anything,” she says. “It’s only for protection.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Leon asks.
She eyes him with distaste. “You would rather I have used it? Killed one of you perhaps?” That shuts him up
“Why didn’t you?” Felix asks. “You didn’t even know Emily was with us at the time.”
She shrugs. “Gunshots attract attention. I’d rather stay under the radar.” She pauses, looking over the wreckage filling the street. “Besides, this town has seen enough bloodshed.”
I hear the dejection in her voice, the bitterness of her words. Of course, she’s survived this long. We’ve all seen things, done things since the collapse. We’ve all suffered losses. Pain is the universal language in this new world. The price of survival.
“How long have you been following us?” I ask.
“Since last night,” she says. “You were crossing Main onto 17th St.” Just before the church, I think to myself.
“Why?” I ask, no elaboration needed on my part.
“To observe,” she says.
Her response is purposefully vague, testing my already thin patience. Lauren must feel the same. “Lylette, is it?” she asks. “How about you cut the shit and just answer the damn question?”
There’s a fire burning beneath this girl's cool exterior. Defiance that flashes in her eyes in moments such as this: first when Leon mocked her, and now with Lauren. She’s quick to tame it though, answering the question with a deep breath rather than push the issue.
“Let’s just say you caught my interest,” she says. “It’s clear you haven’t been in town long. You’re too armed, too well supplied. Nobody outside of a gang would have loadouts this nice, and there’s not a chance in hell you’re with any of them.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Felix asks.
“Because no gang would send soldiers out with that much supplies to search buildings that have been looted for months. Even if they did, you would have returned to your base last night instead of camping out in no man's land.”
She’s sharp, I’ll give her that. But that still doesn’t explain why she followed us.
“You’re right,” I admit. “We’ve been in town less than a week. What I don’t understand is how that’s of interest to you.”
She takes her time replying, her eyes looking us over as if appraising our worth. “It’s of interest because it means you know how to take care of yourselves—that you’re survivors.” She looks to the wreckage once more and shakes her head. “Look at what’s happened to this place. Sickness. Violence. People killing each other over scraps of food. Blame the blackout all you want, but we didn’t lose our ability to think, to reason. It’s our choices that led us here, just as it’s our choices that will determine where we go next.”
She’s getting close now, the real reason she would risk traveling these cold streets alone. And I must admit, I am curious.
“Somewhere along the line, we got it in our heads that this is what it takes to survive—to only look out for ourselves, damn everybody else. We flocked together in little bands and gangs, drew lines in the sand, made it so that it’s me against you, us against them. Don’t you see how foolish that is? Making enemies of one another instead of working together? Destroying what’s left of this town instead of building toward a future? Something needs to change. If it doesn’t there won’t be a future worth being a part of.”
Her words are an echo of my own thoughts, the future she speaks of the same future I’ve long dreamed of for my family. I meet her eyes and I see that same fire I saw earlier, burning with conviction now rather than defiance. I want to trust her, to believe she wants the same things as I do. But I’m hesitant. I’ve been duped into trusting others before. I can’t make that mistake again.
“And that’s why you followed us, is it?” Felix asks skeptically. “To recruit us to your cause?”
“What alternative was there?” she asks. “I couldn’t just approach you from the start, I had to see the kind of people you were first.”
“And what was your verdict?” I ask.
“Do you think I would have told you all this if I didn’t believe you were good people?” she asks.
I look to my friends, each of them struggling with the same uncertainty I feel. I catch Felix’s eye, that silent question passing between us. He nods his head, giving me his answer.
“We should talk more,” I say.
She nods, a small smile of satisfaction finding her face. “I have just the place.”
Half an hour later, we stand at the gate of what was once an upscale bed & breakfast, the feeling of being watched returning tenfold as we enter the enclosed yard. Three stories of blackened windows stare down at us, unseen eyes surely hidden in their depths. Halfway through the yard, Lylette withdraws a small flashlight, clicking it in on and off in a quick pattern. Our entry code, the front door swinging open as we approach.
The grip on my Glock tightens as I enter, my eyes scanning every detail I can make of the dark room. Movement ripples around me, the darkness shifting into shadows, the shadows solidifying into the forms of men. The clicking and clacking of chambered bullets and lifted safeties fill the air, the sound colder than the icy winds howling outside.
“Easy,” Lylette says. “They’re friends.’
A low hiss issues from the dark, quickly followed by a click and a sudden whoosh of light. A blade of a man holds the lantern aloft, face nearly as dark as the coal colored eyes that stare at each of us in turn. Three men and one woman are also revealed, their weapons lowered but not forgotten. I don’t spare any of them a second glance. It’s clear to me who the leader here is.
“That, we’ll find out,” the lantern bearer says. “Let us talk.” He gestures for us to enter the next room. I feel his eyes on me, looking for signs of hesitance, of fear. I show none, walking forward as if my heart does not beat so hard it hurts, and I don’t grip my Glock like a vice inside my coat pocket. My friends follow after, taking seats on either side of me at the wooden table. The man joins us, hanging the lantern above the table before sitting next to Lylette on the opposite side.
“So, friends, what exactly has Lylette told you about us?” he asks. He addresses the table
, but his eyes are quick to settle back on mine.
“Enough to catch our interest,” I say.
He nods once. “And what are your interests?”’
“My family. Keeping them safe, provided for. Doing everything I can to create a life of peace for us. From what Lylette’s told us, I believe we may have that in common.”
I watch him consider my words, face stoic as a stone, giving nothing away. “You certainly seem to be doing well in terms of providing for them,” he says, eyeing our packs and weapons. “Not many remain so well supplied. How have you managed it?”
“Sweat and blood. Scavenging. Defending what we have by any means necessary. How have you managed?”
His mouth twitches, more of the impression of a smirk than anything else. “In a similar fashion.” He pauses. “I am curious though, what are your reasons for entering town? Surely you had an idea of the state this place would be in. Why take that risk?”
I knew this question would be asked at some point. I look to Felix. It’s his story to tell. Slowly he reaches into an inner pocket of his coat, drawing sharp looks from the men who flank the table.
“This is why we’re here,” Felix says, passing him a picture of his uncle and cousins.
“Have you seen them?”
The man surveys the picture a moment before passing it to Lylette, who then passes it along to the rest of their people. One by one they shake their heads, giving us their answer. “I’m sorry,” he says. “How long have they been missing?”
“Since the start,” Felix says.
I can sense their pity. It flashes across their faces, the same look one might give a stranger in mourning. They don’t need to say they believe our mission is foolish. It’s obvious A fact that’s not lost on Felix.
“Think what you like, but for months I gave up hope of ever finding my family alive. I believed them dead just as you believe now. But two weeks ago I was reunited with my aunt and cousin, freed them from a man we thought a friend. So here we are. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
A brief silence follows as they absorb this information, Felix’s stare fierce, as if daring Lylette and her colleagues to contradict him. They don’t.
“So now you know our reasons for being here,” Emily says from Felix’s other side. She looks not to the man who’s acted as their speaker, but to her former pupil, Lylette. “What are yours?”
She shares a quick look with the man beside her before replying. “I meant what I said earlier. We have to stop seeing everyone we come across as enemies. All that does is alienate ourselves even further. If we don’t learn to give people a chance, to work together, we’re going to end up destroying ourselves.”
“You said something earlier about defending what you had by any means necessary,” the man beside her continues. “I understand—everyone who still has something worth protecting does. That’s why we’re here. The community we’re part of has a lot worth protecting.”
“And you need help protecting it,” I say, connecting the dots.
“Yes,” the man says.
Leon scoffs. “Not asking much are you?” he says. “I mean what would you have us do? Abandon our home, everything we’ve built just to join you?”
“No,” he answers. “I’m not suggesting anything at the moment. You must understand that you are a surprise to us. This is our third scouting trip, and we’ve yet to meet a group even half as equipped as you are. There’s a handful of gangs left, but we’ve stayed clear of them for obvious reasons. Filter out those too violent, too ill, too untrusting, and it doesn’t leave us with much in terms of prospects.”
I see their dilemma. To trust these people enough to abandon everything with only the prospect of joining their camp would take a huge leap of faith. One would have to be desperate indeed.
“So what are you suggesting exactly?” Felix asks.
“That you stay with us while we’re here,” he says. “We’re looking for people, the same as you. We can help one another. We’ll let you know more about us, about our operation, and you can do the same. Let’s see if we can’t figure out a way forward, together.”
It’s an intriguing offer. Since returning home, these are the first people I’ve met who’ve spoken of helping one another, of building a future. I want to believe him just as I wanted to believe Lylette. But trust is a precarious proposition these days, and I’m terrified of making the wrong call. I look to my friends, the same indecision I feel staring back at me. I find Felix’s eyes again, that silent question passing between us for the second time tonight. Only now he doesn’t nod, instead, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head slightly, deferring to my judgment. Of course. He’s said since the beginning that these calls would end up falling on me.
I look back now to the man sitting across from me, searching his face, his eyes for any signs of duplicity. I find none. He truly seems sincere.
“If we agree to stay, we’re going to need to know your name,” I say.
The man smiles, nothing like the ghost of a smirk he gave earlier. “Name’s Byron,’’ he says.
I stand and reach out my hand. “Morgan,” I say as he stands to shake. We both sit once again. “Now, tell us more about this community of yours.”
Chapter 23: (Lauren)
A frigid wind rattles the window pane, the sound of its cruel howl filling the kitchen where we sit. Even now, the feel of its icy breath lingers against my skin, the chill nothing compared to the cold dread coiled in the pit of my stomach. One way or another, things will change after tonight. We all knew that coming into this. The only question that remains is how.
Morgan’s fingers tap a quick rhythm against the tabletop, his nerves through the roof since our arrival. I take his hand and his eyes find mine, a wealth of emotion and unspoken words passing between us. He squeezes and I exhale a slow breath, this moment a brief respite from my rampant thoughts. But like all moments it isn’t meant to last.
“Tony’s back,” shouts a voice from the front of the house. Seconds later the door opens and closes, quickly followed by the sound of several people approaching from the hall. Leon and Emily enter the kitchen, their faces falling as they note our number.
“Nothing?” Leon asks, eyes on his best friend.
Morgan shakes his head slowly. “You?”
“Not a trace,” he says. He looks to Lylette and her companion. “Tony wanted to see you two. We picked up another couple people for your camp.”
Her companion is up and out with a curt nod, but Lylette is slow to follow. At the door, she pauses and looks back hesitantly, as if debating whether to say something. In the end, she chooses silence, leaving us alone in the semi-darkness. Leon and Emily take their seats and the waiting recommences, time even slower in its movement now that only one pair remains unaccounted for. Anxious faces fill the table, each of us lost in our own minds. It’s the curse of this waiting, of the uneasy silence filling the space between us. Too much time for our thoughts to eat away at us, to take us places we’d rather not go. Nothing to be done about it. All any of us can do is hope for the best.
Lylette does not return to the kitchen, nor do her companions or any of their new enlistees. They have the tact to give us space during this time, something I couldn’t be more grateful for. Because though they search this town as we do, our reasons couldn’t be more different. They’re recruiters, searching out those they think might help them build a better future. Our aims are less grandiose. We’re just searching for a miracle, our entire rational based on the fact that they can happen. Felix’s aunt and cousin are proof of that. But as the hour grows late, the window for miracles grows smaller.
“Dawn’s not far off,” Emily says. “Shouldn’t they have been back by now?”
Yes, they should have been back over an hour ago. Though it’s hardly surprising they have yet to return. With this being our final night here, Felix would want to be as thorough as possible.
“It’s his last search,” Leon says. “He won’t
come back until he has no other choice.”
“Or he’s found them,” Morgan says. Even as the words leave his mouth, it is with no real hope behind them. Whatever optimism he may have held when we arrived has left him, the state of this town stealing that hope away. It’s a feeling we all share but won’t admit aloud. Better to pretend. If not for our sakes, then for Felix’s.
The black of night slowly ebbs from the sky, a deep indigo taking its place as the sun prepares its rise. Shapes assert themselves out the kitchen window, trees, patio furniture, a tall wooden fence. Then there’s movement, the gate swinging open to reveal two figures enter the yard. I recognize one and my stomach flutters, my eyes instantly looking past them to see if others follow. They don’t. Just as quickly my stomach drops. The time for pretending has ended.
Lylette joins us once more as Felix and Byron enter from the back entrance, limbs frozen, faces somber. Felix quickly scans the table, our own solemn expressions enough to tell him what he needs to know. I want to say something, anything that might comfort him in this moment. But for the life of me, I can’t think of a single thing.
“Felix...” Morgan says, the name stretching long and thin until it dissolves back into the quiet of the room. He’s as lost for words as I am.
Felix shakes his head. “We did everything we could,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s not the outcome I wanted, but at least I know I tried.” He and Byron move forward, taking seats at either head of the table. “What we need to figure out now is how we move forward.”
He’s hurting more than he lets on. Later he will mourn, breakdown. But for now, he buries the pain, distracting himself with planning our next move. And we’ll let him because everyone grieves in their own way, on their own time. Who are we to deny him that? In any case, this conversation was always going to happen.
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