by Claire Kent
I know it’s better that way. It means they can’t see us.
But I’m sick to my stomach with anxiety, and at one point I’m afraid that I’ll actually vomit.
I don’t.
I keep driving.
I’m aware of Travis walking beside my vehicle. I can’t see more than his silhouette, but his presence makes me feel better.
Occasionally my wheels will run over a branch, and the crack of sound makes me gasp in fear.
But it never alerts any of the perimeter guards. I’d be surprised if they can hear anything with all that music blaring.
It seems to take forever, but it’s probably just about twenty minutes. We’re on our ascent to the other side when I see a flicker of light ahead.
Light.
There shouldn’t be light.
Light can only mean danger.
It’s a beam of light moving ahead of us, and I realize it’s a flashlight.
It’s close. Way too close. Whoever it is will see us for sure.
Travis is already reacting. He moves silently—like a predator—and I hear a rustling of sound. A low grunt. Then something drops to the ground. Something big. Maybe a body. The beam of light goes out.
I’ve stopped, but I start moving again when Travis reappears beside my vehicle, motioning me to go on.
Whoever was in front of us, Travis took care of them.
We’re almost clear now.
We’re almost through.
I’m holding my breath as we scale the top of the hill and start down the other side. We’re out of sight of the camp now. We did it.
The pickup is still behind me.
And the loud ruffians in the valley had no idea we were ever there.
Travis climbs into the passenger seat beside me. “You can go a little faster now,” he murmurs. “But don’t turn on the headlights yet.”
“Okay. But if run smack into a lake or a rock, don’t blame me. I can’t see a thing.”
“I know. Just do your best.”
I accelerate to about twenty miles an hour, figuring it’s still slow enough that even an impact isn’t going to do much damage. When we’re down the hill, Travis tells me to stop. Mack is driving the pickup now, and he pulls up beside us.
He turns on a flashlight so we can see each other. “There’s an old church about a mile or two ahead,” Mack says. “We sometimes use it as shelter. I figure if the caravan got that far today, that’s where they’ll be. If not, we can spend the night there and try to find ’em tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Travis says. “You lead the way.”
“Do you mind driving now?” I ask Travis.
“Sure thing.”
We climb over each other to trade places, and I accidentally step on the dog’s paw, causing him to give a soft, indignant yelp. I collapse against the seat when I’m back where it feels like I belong. If I have a home anymore, it’s in this seat, in this Jeep. With Travis and the dog.
“You did real good, Layne.”
“Thanks. I might fall apart a little bit over here now.”
“Go right ahead.”
I don’t actually fall apart, but I can finally breathe easy. Mack doesn’t turn on his headlights, but he leaves the flashlight on. Anna must be holding it in the front seat. It casts a faint glow ahead of them, and it gives Travis a point of light to follow.
We reach the church in less than thirty minutes.
It’s down a long drive off a small country road. Before we get halfway down the road, we’re stopped by posted guards. The driveway is blocked by three pickup trucks, lined up side by side.
Mack calls out to them, and at least one of them must know him because someone greets him enthusiastically.
They move a pickup truck to let us through after checking both our vehicles to ensure they’re just holding what Mack told them.
We drive down to the church.
The first person I see, standing at the front door with a gun and a battery-operated lantern, is Bobby Fraser.
He lived down the street from me. He was our county prosecutor. He was one of the few men who always wore a suit to church.
We’ve found the survivors of Meadows.
Mack gets out first and explains who we are and why we’re there. Then the rest of us climb out of the vehicles, taking our bags and essential supplies.
When we come toward the door, Bobby looks at me through a pair of cracked glasses. “Layne? Is that little Layne Patterson?”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “It’s me.”
“My God, girl. I never thought I’d see you again.” He puts down his rifle and gives me a hug. Then he looks over his shoulder and jerks. “Travis? Is that you too? Son of a gun.”
He hugs Travis too.
The entryway leads into a large fellowship hall. It’s lit by candles and lanterns, so the flickering light isn’t bright. But I can see all the people crowded into the large room.
Maybe three hundred.
On my quick scan, I don’t recognize anyone but Bobby.
He’s calling out loudly, “Cheryl! Cheryl! Get over here! You’ll never believe it!”
My stomach clenches. Travis takes a step forward. Away from me.
I hear the squeal of joy.
And then I see the woman running.
She throws herself into Travis’s arms.
He hugs her tight.
He was married to her. They had a child together. He was with her in high school and in all the years that followed.
A divorce doesn’t matter that much when the world falls apart the way it did.
Of course he still loves her.
He belongs to her a lot more than he’ll ever belong to me.
My throat is hurting, but I’m trying to smile when Travis drops his arms and Cheryl steps back.
She’s pretty. I knew she would be. She’s tall and long-limbed with blondish hair. “I can’t believe you found us,” she’s saying to him, her voice breaking with emotion. “Did you come all this way by yourself?”
“Not by myself.” Travis turns and gestures me over. “I was with Layne. You ever meet her?”
I come closer since I don’t really have a choice. I feel like I’m intruding, but I smile at Cheryl and tell her it’s nice to meet her.
Cheryl gives me a long once-over. “Oh yeah,” she says with a smile. “I remember seein’ you around. I knew your grandma and grandpa. So you’ve been with Travis all this time?”
The question is perfectly friendly, but it hits me like an accusation. I clear my throat. “We ran into each other. We were both heading to Fort Knox. It was safer together. At least for me.”
Cheryl nods, not really paying attention to me, and turns back to Travis. Her face contorts. “I can’t believe you found me.” She hugs him again, crying against his chest.
He hugs her back.
I turn away, my throat aching like a wound.
He’s not mine.
He’s not mine.
Everything is different now.
I’m not going to act like a selfish child, clinging blindly to anything I want.
This is the way it is now.
I’ve finally found the remains of Meadows, but it doesn’t feel like my town anymore.
It’s not my place.
I’m not sure I want to stay with them.
Maybe I’ll leave with Mack and Anna.
There’s nothing left for me here.
Travis is still holding Cheryl tightly.
I feel a soft touch on my arm and turn to see Anna. She’s smiling, but her expression is sympathetic. I don’t know what she’s seeing on my face, but her eyes are very kind. “I see the other Meadows folks over in the far corner there. You want to say hello?”
I nod gratefully. “Yeah. That would be great.”
We walk away, leaving Cheryl in Travis’s arms.
There are only forty-seven people left from Meadows, and most of them are grouped together in the corner. A few are sleeping, but m
ost are sitting around, talking or eating soup.
I say hello to everyone. A lot of them I know, and a lot of the others look familiar. I try to be friendly, to chat with everyone, and I eat the bowl of soup that someone gives me. But after about half an hour, I really can’t stand it anymore.
I like a lot of these people, but none of them I love.
There’s Anna. I love her.
And Travis.
I love him too.
That’s it.
All the other people I knew and loved who left with the rest of the town must have died somewhere along the way.
I don’t even ask about them.
I know for sure they’re gone.
There were three thousand people in my town before the asteroid hit.
Now there are fifty, including me, Travis, and Anna.
This is the world I live in now.
People you love don’t remain.
I’m so emotional that I can’t make small talk anymore, and I finally plead exhaustion. I find an empty space next to the wall, spread out the sleeping bag, and use my bag as a pillow.
I turn onto my side, facing the wall. I hug myself tightly.
The sleeping bag smells like Travis. It belongs to Travis. I probably shouldn’t still be using it. He’ll need it tonight. But I don’t have anything else to sleep on.
Travis is still with Cheryl. I made a point of not looking around for them, but I know where he’ll be.
He has every right to be there.
They’ve shared a lot. They lost a child.
She probably assumed she’d never see him again.
I don’t have anyone in my life like that. Just my ninth grade English teacher.
All the other people I share a history with are dead and gone.
I don’t even have Travis anymore.
I thought we’d reach Fort Knox and I could finally let out my breath. I thought I could finally relax. Be safe.
But that was just a childish daydream. I should have known better.
Nothing good lasts in this world.
All of it gets taken away.
I jerk when I feel something wet against my cheek, and I realize it’s the dog snuffling at my face.
I thought he would stay with Travis. I shake with emotion as I make room for him in the space between my body and the wall. He gives my face a soft lick, as if he senses something’s wrong. Then he curls up and goes right to sleep.
I hug him against me, taking comfort in his warm, furry body. His soft snores.
At least the dog loves me.
Wants me.
Everything is different now.
Travis isn’t mine.
I’ve got to get used to being alone.
I try to be strong, but I’m not as strong as I want. A few tears leak out of my eyes.
“There you are.”
The voice surprises me so much I jerk dramatically, causing the dog to lift his head and give me a sleepy glare.
It’s Travis. He’s kneeling down beside me.
“I was lookin’ all over for you.”
“I’ve been right here.” I try to sound normal but fail miserably.
“Shoulda told me you were goin’ to bed.” His tone is light, natural, but then he must get a good look at me. He reaches down and swipes one of my tears with his thumb. “Oh darlin’.”
I can’t stop shaking now. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it will keep the tears from falling. I’m still lying with my back to the room, my back to Travis.
He unzips the sleeping bag and lifts up the top fold so that he can get under it. Since I won’t turn over, he fits himself against my back, wrapping his arm around me.
Because of the dog’s position in front of me, Travis has to hold on to both me and the dog.
I shake and sniff and try not to sob as he spoons me.
“I’m so sorry,” Travis murmurs after a minute. “I’m so sorry, Layne.”
I think he’s talking about Cheryl. He’s letting me know that he understands. That he can’t be with me like we used to be, and he’s sorry it hurts me.
I’m sure that’s what he’s talking about.
Then his soft, hoarse voice wafts against my ear. “I’m sorry it’s not what we hoped it’d be. I’m sorry Fort Knox couldn’t keep us safe. I’m sorry there’s so few of us left. I’m so sorry there’s no safe place left for you. I’m sorry so many of us died.”
I’m crying for real now. He sounds so tender.
“It’s not right. That you got everythin’ taken away from you. Even the hope of Fort Knox. It’s not right that you don’t have no one left.”
I sniff hard and wipe my cheek on the sleeping bag. “I have the dog.”
He gives a broken huff. “Yeah. Right. You got the dog.”
I shouldn’t let him hold me this way. I shouldn’t seek comfort from him the way I’m doing.
We’re in the middle of a very crowded church fellowship hall. We’re in a darkish corner, but there are still lights flickering. People will be able to see us. There are folks from Meadows all around us—people who only ever knew me as a teenager, as someone’s granddaughter. People who grew up with Travis.
They might think I’m a silly girl, attaching herself to a man I can never have.
Or, even worse, they might think Travis has been an asshole, taking advantage of a vulnerable girl.
I can’t let them think so.
Cheryl might see us, curled up together under the sleeping bag like this.
It’s not right. I shouldn’t let Travis do it just because I’m feeling needy.
But I can’t seem to push him away.
He’s always given me everything I need.
And he’s doing it again right now.
Maybe I’ll be stronger tomorrow.
THE NEXT MORNING I’M not feeling stronger.
I’m mostly feeling numb.
Travis slept with me under the sleeping bag all night. I know he did because he’s still there when I wake up. He rolled over onto his back sometime during the night, and I’m pressed up against his side in our normal position.
I pick up my head and see that Travis is awake. His eyes are heavy. His hair is a ridiculous mess.
I smile because he’s who I want to see every morning when I wake up.
He smiles back. “How y’feelin’?”
“I’m fine. I think. Better than last night.” I don’t feel like crying this morning, but I still feel that weight in my gut. I don’t think it’s going anywhere. It’s going to be my natural state from now on. “Thank you. For last night, I mean. You didn’t have to stay with me. I was okay.”
He gives me a quick look that’s maybe confused. Or maybe surprised. I don’t really understand it. But it shifts almost immediately to a casual shrug. “What else would I do?”
What else would be his spending the night with Cheryl, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud because it would reveal exactly how I’m feeling.
We’ve been having the conversation quietly since we’re not alone in the room. There are people all around us, and I’m intensely aware of them.
I don’t like it. Being crowded this way.
I’d much rather be alone with Travis like we were before.
But it would be wrong to suggest it to him. I know he still feels responsible for me even though he doesn’t need to anymore.
He was only with me because we had no choice.
He never would have touched me if I hadn’t asked him, begged him.
There’s no way—in any other world, at any other time—the two of us would have been together at all.
I can’t force something to happen between us just because I want it so much.
“Y’okay?” He moves a hand so he’s stroking some loose hair out of my face. He must have sensed my emotional turmoil.
I smile at him again. “I’m fine. What happened to the dog?”
“He jumped up a little while ago when someone opened the door. Probably had to go out.�
��
I sit up and look around. Some people are still sleeping, but others are starting to stand up and get dressed. A small group in one corner appears to be preparing food.
Maybe this will be my world now.
Surrounded by all these people.
Travis sits up too, and his features twist as he swings his head back over to face me. “I shoulda got up earlier.”
“Why?”
“People lookin’. Wonderin’ what I’m doin’ sleepin’ with you.”
I glance around and realize he’s right. Most people aren’t outright staring, but I catch quite a few covert observations.
It’s inevitable.
We’re new to the group.
And Travis and I are not supposed to be together.
Travis is clearly very uncomfortable about it. He mutters, “They’re all thinkin’ I’m some sort of perv.”
“I’m sure they’re not thinking that.” I think it’s more likely they’re judging me—some silly girl trying to take a good man away from a woman who needs him—but I don’t say so. I just give Travis a rueful smile as he stands up and stretches.
He doesn’t hang around talking to me, and I can hardly blame him. He doesn’t want everyone to think we’re a couple.
I’ve got to do better today.
I’m not going to be clingy or needy.
Travis isn’t mine, so I have to make sure not to act like he is.
PACKING UP AND GETTING ready to leave is slow going with so many people. I find the whole thing rather frustrating, but patience has never been my strongest virtue.
I pass the time by making sure I’m not in Travis’s vicinity so he won’t think I’m lurking around him, hoping for attention. It’s actually harder than I expected since he always seems to end up nearby me.
But I do my best, and I make a point of chatting with everyone I can except him.
I’m waiting outside with some of the others, trying not to make faces about how long it’s taking to get on the road, when Mack comes over to talk to me.
I smile and greet him pleasantly. He, Anna, and the others are going to be traveling with us for at least a day until our routes diverge. I haven’t yet made a decision on whether or not I should go with them when they part ways from the larger group.
Mack frowns at me. “What’s the deal with giving a man the cold shoulder?”