Jason D. Morrow

ANYWHERE BUT HERE

Note to the Reader

The Starborn Ascension is a new series set fifty-seven years before the events of The Starborn Uprising, which features the character of Mora and her fight for survival. This series can be read independently but the two are linked considerably.

Chapter 1 – Waverly

My body stiffens at the silence after the rumbling truck engines shut off. Doors squeak open and firm footsteps grind against the broken asphalt. I sit next to Lucas, frozen in place behind an abandoned car long ago stripped of tires and dried of gasoline. I try to keep my breath shallow so the cold, autumn air won’t reveal our hiding place through puffs of smoky vapor. I grip my hatchet tightly as the sound of footsteps comes closer. The weapon was once meant for splitting wood, but the sharpened blade and reconstructed grip on the handle have made it much more useful for killing greyskins, or in this case, raiders. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. They will most likely have guns, and no matter how good I might be with this little hatchet, a bullet will always win.

Lucas turns his head to the other two in our party, Ethan and Gilbert, who are crouched behind a rusted dumpster. The rubble and debris throughout this ghost town is good for taking cover, but I fear the raiders have already seen us. Why else would they be getting out of their vehicles? They would never take the risk of greyskins detecting them unless, that is, this is their territory. Then they would know if the area was clear of the undead human-eaters.

I don’t know why I close my eyes so tightly. In some way it makes me feel invisible. I try to listen to their chatter, hoping that their conversations will tell us that they don’t see anything. But I’m not so lucky.

“I think I saw some movement,” a high-pitched voice says. “Behind that dumpster over there.”

“Then do something about it,” a gravelly voice snaps.

I jump slightly when I feel a hand squeeze my arm. “Waverly,” Lucas whispers to me.

I open my eyes at the sound of my name and I meet his stare. His blue eyes seem as though he can see right through me. The three years of traveling together through these desolate lands that were once our home has taught us a lot about each other. In this new world, fear is the most common emotion, and the best way to cope is to have someone you love next to you. We live in fear together day-by-day.

“They have guns,” Lucas says to me. “And they’ve seen us.”

“We’ve got to try and run,” I say.

He shakes his head slowly and peeks just above the broken window at the back of the car. I can see from his softly moving lips that he’s counting. My heart sinks when he mouths the word eleven and then ducks back down.

It’s too many, I think.

He rakes his fingers through his shaggy, blonde hair and takes a deep breath. “They would catch up to us within seconds,” he says, pulling his makeshift spear next to him. It’s not much more than a long, wooden stick with a sharp knife tied to it by thin rope. “They don’t seem too friendly — not really the type to just let us go.”

“Raiders usually don’t,” I say. I look past Lucas at Gilbert and Ethan who seem equally nervous.

“Come out, rats!” the gravelly voice yells. His words echo off the buildings around us.

With my back against the car, I look straight ahead, hoping to find an escape route that will allow us to lose the raiders, but all I see are a couple of alleys and the main road. It wouldn’t take long for them to catch us, especially if this truly is their territory.

I look past Lucas again and see Gilbert mouthing something to us. “What is he saying?” I whisper to Lucas.

Lucas shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

I despise Gilbert. His slick, dark hair and pale, gaunt face has always given him a devious look. The moment Lucas and I met him and Ethan two days ago, I knew he would be trouble. He is one of those people that is all about self-reliance and cares less about helping others survive in the process. He is exactly the type who would lead a band of raiders but is probably too young to gain a following.

We had met Gilbert and Ethan in a standoff just about like this one, before we all realized that none of us had guns and that none of us were raiders. Gilbert seemed to know this area better than any of us, and we soon found out that they had learned of a place called Crestwood. Incidentally, that was where Lucas and I were headed too. We had learned of it from an old man whom we met on the road. He had said Crestwood was a large town, led by a good man who wanted only to provide a safe place free from greyskins and raiders.

“Likely there is limited space,” the old man said. “And good luck getting there. You’ll have to cross hundreds of miles of greyskin-infested lands, and if they don’t get you, the raiders certainly will.”

Now, one week out, I wish Lucas and I would have listened to him and tried to form a different plan. Because of Gilbert’s poor leadership, we now sit hunkered behind thin cover, just waiting for the raiders to either kill us or move on. We are nothing but a bunch of teenagers hoping to survive, facing grown men bent not only on survival, but ruling over every traveler they come across.

I crane my neck to look through the front car window. The man standing in front of the other raiders is tall and dirty. He looks thin. Too thin. But this is not uncommon to see. I think all of us are too thin these days. Food is scarce, so it’s a good day if any of us have had one decent meal. He carries a large rifle in both hands, ready to take aim and fire at anything that moves. He wears suspenders to hold up pants that are too big for him, and a straw hat shades his face from the sun above us. From here, he looks just like a scarecrow.

I duck back down before he sees me, and I look over at Gilbert. He’s still moving his mouth, trying to communicate something to us. I squint my eyes and stare at his lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” he seems to say.

I shake my head and rest it against the car door. “He doesn’t want us to move,” I tell Lucas.

“I don’t know what he’s expecting us to do,” he answers.

“Rats!” Scarecrow calls out. “Show yourselves now, and I might let you live.”

I look at Lucas and he stares back at me. We both know there isn’t a chance these guys will let us live. That’s not how they work. It didn’t take long for groups of marauders to form all over the place when the greyskin virus showed up three years ago. It first started when looters began tearing through abandoned buildings in the cities. Those looters soon found out that large televisions and computers weren’t going to make them any money in the future. The smart ones hoarded the food and weapons. They formed into groups and quickly became known as raiders. The idea was that you either joined their lawless exploitation of people in need or you died. I suppose that most of us chose death instead.

People like Scarecrow rarely let their victims live. Anyone that is alive and not a part of their little clan is just another person taking up food and supplies that the raiders might need. I can only see this standoff ending in two ways: we try to fight them off and die in the process, or we try to run away and they mow us down with their guns. I feel sick at the thought, but I’m not surprised that we’re here right now. I’m only seventeen years old, and I’ve learned to hate this world that I live in because it comes as no surprise that my end will be at the barrel of a gun. I’m just glad it’s not by the teeth of a greyskin.

“I’m going to try and negotiate,” Lucas whispers to me.

“No!” I say. “You know they won’t listen.”

“I have an idea, Waverly,” he says.

“Lucas, please don’t! If we stay hidden, maybe they’ll turn back.”

“Maybe they won’t,” he says, his eyes sullen and serious.

He starts to raise his hand in the air and I reach out and grab it with mine. Instantly a bright light flashes before my eyes and I feel like I’m floating in the air.

Has an explosion gone off? No. That’s not it. What is this? What am I seeing? I have heard of out-of-body experiences before, but this is very strange. I can almost feel my physical self standing apart from the group, yet I can’t wave a hand in front of my face. It’s as though I am a spirit hovering around the scene unfolding before me, taking it in from a safe distance. No one can touch me. No one can hear me. In a way, I don’t even exist, yet I also see myself crouched behind the car as though there are two of me: the one hiding from Scarecrow and his men, and this one that feels no fear and cannot be seen.

When I look at her, the version of me that is hiding behind the car, I see Lucas pull his hand away.

“It’ll be okay, Waverly,” he says to her.

I watch her from the short distance, a look of shock and confusion is spread across her face. It’s hard to watch myself, seeing the pain of fear.

Lucas holds his hands up in the air and slowly stands. Scarecrow and his men point their guns at him instantly, and Lucas winces as if he almost expects a flurry of bullets to rip through him. When no gun goes off, he raises his head to look at the raiders standing in front of their trucks and SUVs.

When I look at her…Waverly…me. I hate what I see. Her brown falls around her face and shoulders in tangles as she whispers frantically to Lucas. Her thin, pale arms shake in fear. These last three years have not been kind to her. She’s not very tall, add malnourishment to the mix and she looks sick. As I watch, it seems that her whispers to Lucas go unheard.

Gilbert shakes his head, muttering curses toward Lucas while Ethan sits quietly frozen with white-knuckled fingers holding tightly to his weapon.

“There are more of you rats,” Scarecrow says with a scowl. He holds his gun a little higher, taking aim at Lucas. “Have them show themselves or I’ll split your head open like a rotten fruit.”

Lucas holds out his weaponless hands, trying to calm the lead bandit. “We don’t mean any harm,” he says. “We’re just trying to pass through.”

“I don’t care what you’re passing,” Scarecrow says. “Have your men show themselves or I’ll blow your head off.”

“I assure you,” Lucas says, “we don’t want a fight, but we have you outgunned two-to-one.”

Scarecrow’s eyes narrow at Lucas’ words.

“Now, you can take my word for it and drive away, or you can take your chances and blow my head off.” Lucas starts to lower his hands. “So, why don’t you just play it safe and drive out of here and let us pass through?”

Scarecrow seems to ponder his words for a few seconds. “If your men are so heavily armed, then why are they afraid to show themselves?” He looks back at his men for affirmation, and gets a few nods in response.

“Doesn’t matter to you,” Lucas says. “You’ve got a choice to make. For you and your men’s sake, I think you should turn around and let us pass.”

Scarecrow smiles at this. His teeth are yellow and crooked, many of them are even missing. He doesn’t look much different from a greyskin. “How old are you, boy? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“Eighteen,” Lucas says confidently.

“Barely a man.” He turns to his men behind him and one or two of them laugh nervously. “I’m going to give you a counter offer. Your men show yourselves, and we might let the rest of them live. Course, we’re going to kill you either way. There are too many rats like you as it is.”

“This is your last chance,” Lucas says.

Scarecrow shakes his head. “No. It was yours.” With barely a squeeze of the trigger, he lets off a round. The bullet goes through Lucas’ forehead and out the back before he can even respond. I try to scream out as his body falls to the ground, but like a spirit, my screams are silent and go unheard.

Another bright, white flash and I find myself sitting next to Lucas again as he is about to raise his hands into the air.

I feel like the air has been sucked out of my lungs. I look up at Lucas and try to tell him to stop, but words barely escape my lips. What did I just see? My legs feel weak, but I want to stand. I want to reach out and grab Lucas by the shirt and pull him down, but gravity holds me with the weight of a boulder.

“It’ll be okay, Waverly,” he says to me as he reaches out into the air.

I feel shock…confusion. What is happening to me? What just happened to me?

Scarecrow and his men point their guns at Lucas as soon as he makes himself known. He ducks his head as if expecting to be shot, but the raiders let him be.

“Lucas,” I say barely above a breath. “Please, just get back down here! We can run. Lucas!”

He doesn’t seem to hear my soft cries. I know in my heart what is about to happen, but something inside of me says that’s impossible.

“There are more of you rats,” I hear Scarecrow say. I can’t see him where I’m sitting, but I know that he raises his gun at Lucas. “Have them show themselves or I’ll split your head open like a rotten fruit.”

“We don’t mean any harm,” Lucas says. “We’re just trying to pass through.”

I know the response from Scarecrow before he even says it…I don’t care what you’re passing. Have your men show themselves or I’ll blow your head off.

Almost as an answer to my thoughts, Scarecrow speaks. “I don’t care what you’re passing,” he says. “Have your men show themselves or I’ll blow your head off.”

The pit in my stomach is growing and it’s all I can do to keep down what little food I have inside me. I look at the other two across from me. Ethan holds to his weapon tightly as Gilbert mutters to himself in anger.

“I assure you,” Lucas says, “we don’t want a fight, but we have you outgunned two-to-one.”

The words hit me like a lightening bolt. What is he thinking? None of us have any guns. All we have are little sharp weapons in hopes that they will help us get away from rogue greyskins. We couldn’t possibly take on the raiders. We’d be dead before the fight even started.

“Now, you can take my word for it and drive away,” Lucas says, “or you can take your chances and blow my head off.” He starts to lower his hands, probably to show Scarecrow his confidence. “So, why don’t you just play it safe and drive out of here and let us pass through?”

No, no, no, I think to myself. I want to reach out to Lucas and pull him down, but won’t the bullets just tear through the both of us? I reach for the silver chain around my neck and feel for the diamond ring at the end.

There is a brief silence before Scarecrow answers Lucas. “If your men are so heavily armed, then why are they afraid to show themselves?”

“Doesn’t matter to you,” Lucas says. “You’ve got a choice to make. For you and your men’s sake, I think you should turn around and let us pass.”

“How old are you, boy? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Eighteen.

“Eighteen,” Lucas says.

“Barely a man,” Scarecrow answers. “I’m going to give you a counter offer. Your men show yourselves, and we might let the rest of them live. Course, we’re going to kill you either way. There are too many rats like you as it is.”

When Scarecrow says these words, I know I’ve got to do something, but I can’t. For some reason, I can’t make my legs move. And what would it accomplish? Had I not just witnessed the future?

The future… How could I have seen this before it happened? The vision felt like it took minutes, but apparently happened in less than a second. I drop the ring and let it fall to my chest. My hands are shaking.

“This is your last chance,” Lucas says.

His words are ice in my veins because I know there is only one more response before Scarecrow pulls the trigger and ends Lucas’ life. I have to get up. I have to do something.

I don’t know what it is that keeps me hidden behind the car. I can’t tell if it’s fear, or bewilderment that what I just saw in some kind of vision is actually taking place before my very eyes. I’m tied to the ground with invisible ropes as though a tree’s roots are growing all around my arms and legs. I want, with every fiber of my being, to reach up and pull Lucas down, but Scarecrow’s words slither out like a judge pronouncing a death sentence.

“No. It was yours,” Scarecrow says.

It’s too late. I try to reach up, but the gun blast has already echoed off the walls and blood has sprayed all over my face and the front of my shirt. I can’t even scream as Lucas’ dead body falls to the ground beside me, his eyes wide, staring into the open blue sky. Tears streak down my face as I stare at him. We had been through so much together.

I know it’s a dumb thing to do, but we’re dead anyway, so I reach out to him and lean over his body in full view of Scarecrow and the others. I shake him by the shirt as if it will somehow wake him up, but I know that it won’t. Blood has already trickled out the back of his head, forming a small puddle beside him.

Your promises to me are now pronounced lies. Did they mean nothing? You said we would survive this catastrophe together.

As I sit here, weeping over my love, my companion, I can hear the slow chuckle of Scarecrow behind me.

“I see it now,” he says. “He’s trying to protect you. Probably trying to save your honor. We raiders have a reputation of taking whatever we want from young girls like you.”

I stare straight ahead with my back to Scarecrow as his words crawl into my ears. No doubt their guns are pointed at me. No doubt I am about to die.

I turn my head to glare at him. His long, hooked nose and crooked smile add to the evil aura he carries about him. “We were just trying to pass through,” I say through sobs. “He did nothing to you.”

“There’s probably a couple o’ more,” Scarecrow says to his men. “Go check it out.” He looks up at me. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you. Why don’t you just come over here? I’ll let you pass.” He and his men snicker at his words.

My hands are shaking as the two men approach. The hatchet is by my side, but I doubt Scarecrow or any of his men have seen it. Regardless, I doubt I have the strength to swing at them. Somehow I manage to look over at Gilbert and Ethan. Gilbert is red-faced and ready to fight and Ethan just stares at me. I hold his gaze for a long moment. It’s as though he’s trying to keep me focused on him so I don’t look down at Lucas’ body on the ground.

I could have stopped it, I think to myself. I saw it before it happened. I could have saved him!

I turn my head away from Ethan and stare up at the sky. I don’t want to look at the ground. I can’t look at the ground. I reach up to wipe a tear from my cheek only to see that it’s a red, thick liquid. Lucas’ blood.

“She’s a pretty one, boss,” one of the raiders says as they come closer. “Might want to keep her around!” The other raiders laugh stupidly.

I watch as Gilbert tightens his grip on his club. Just as the first one steps next to the dumpster, he jumps up and slams his club into the man’s stomach. The raider doubles over and Gilbert brings the club down on his head, no doubt killing him instantly. The other raider points his gun at Gilbert, but instinct takes over me as I grab my hatchet, let out a scream and swing it into the side of his knee. He falls back, shooting his gun in the air as he yells out in pain. Gilbert rushes toward him and swings his club down on his throat with a loud crunch, grabbing the man’s rifle in the process.

Bullets whiz past my head and I duck back behind the car as Gilbert scoots in close to me. He lifts the rifle over the trunk of the car and blind-fires three or four rounds. The raiders shout out for the others to take cover. I look at Ethan, and he already has the other dead raider’s gun in his hands. He dares to lift his head above the dumpster and take aim as Scarecrow and his men find cover behind the doors of their vehicles.

The bullets slam into the sides of the dumpster and car louder than if they were sledgehammers. I drop the hatchet and cover my ears. My eyes are magnetized to Lucas’ body on the ground and I can’t look away. The bullet hole in his forehead drools blood and I know it is my fault. I could have done something. I saw that this was going to happen.

For a moment, the firing ceases. We can hear the hurried voices of the raiders, but can’t understand a word they are saying. All of them start to scamper back into their vehicles. Each of us stands and looks over our cover to see them all in a rush. I hear one of them yell out something about greyskins.

Gilbert must have heard it too because he slams his fist against the car and swears loudly. “First the raiders, and now greyskins.”

“They must have been drawn in by the gunshots,” Ethan answers.

“Well, we’re not going to be running away on foot,” Gilbert says. He leans onto the trunk of the car and takes aim at one of the SUVs riding away. The first shot takes out the back window. I duck for cover as one of the raiders turns around and fires at us through the shards of broken glass. I know Gilbert’s next shot is true when I see the driver’s head split open. Blood covers the windshield and the SUV comes to a slow stop as the remaining raider tries to shove the dead driver out the door to take his spot. “Ethan,” Gilbert yells. “Follow me.”

Ethan doesn’t argue as he carries the rifle and follows closely behind Gilbert. The raider is struggling to get the driver out of the seat and take off. He fires a few random rounds at the two guys, but they don’t even come close to the mark. Gilbert and Ethan raise their guns and fire almost everything they have into the front cab until the man is lifeless.

Gilbert yells for me to follow them and get into the SUV. I can hear the grunts of the greyskins getting louder. Soon they will be filling the streets, eating whatever fresh blood they can get to. My knees are planted firmly on the ground as I kneel in front of Lucas’ body. Tears mixed with blood stream down my face and I’m not certain I have the strength to follow the others.

I hear them call out my name. I can hear the greyskins closing in around us. The hissing, the lust for flesh, the smell of death. Lucas had promised me that we would survive this catastrophe together. He told me that we would be a couple of the few that made it to their old age, and that someone would someday make a cure for this disease that plagued mankind. He promised that I would survive and that he would be by my side the entire way.

Lucas has broken his promises.

As the others call out my name, I can’t help but wonder if I should go along with Lucas. What would be the point in living without him? He was all that I had left. My family and all my friends from before the time of the greyskins are gone. What’s the point of living? Is there any purpose in merely existing in this rotten world?

I feel like the infected, once-human greyskins are on top of me. When a pair of hands grab my shoulders, I expect a set of teeth to sink into my neck and end my life where I sit.

But when I turn my head, it’s Ethan.

“Waverly!” he says. “I know what he meant to you, but we’ve got to go now!”

“I can’t leave him,” I say. “I could have saved him. I knew this was going to happen!”

“Waverly! Come on!”

Despite my resistance, Ethan reaches down and pulls my legs off the dirt, and carries me toward the SUV. Gilbert revs the engine, warning us to get in the vehicle or get eaten. The greyskins are closing in.

I should have saved Lucas. The warning was there. I saw his future.

Ethan shoves me into the back seat and yells for Gilbert to drive. If we had been seconds later, the greyskins would have torn us apart. I look out the back of the shattered window and see a herd of greyskins chasing the SUV, and all the others chasing the smell of blood.

After today, there will be nothing left of Lucas. In the same way, I feel there is nothing left of me.

Chapter 2 – Remi

“Remi,” Gabe calls out to me as I walk toward my apartment. The sound of his voice makes me grin, but I quickly make my lips fall into a straight line before I turn to look at him. I hate that my heart skips a beat when I see his face. It’s a feeling I don’t want or need, but it’s there regardless. He has shaggy, brown hair that falls down the sides of his cheeks. His strong jaws are covered by several days of stubble and it suits him. His blue eyes never leave mine as he walks toward me carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“You aren’t here to arrest me, are you?” I ask as he walks toward me. The sound of my voice comes across as flirtatious, but I don’t mean for it to. He is very handsome, but I decided a while ago that love was out of the question for me — at least until someone finds a cure for this greyskin problem.

“I don’t really have that power,” Gabe says.

“You have a gun,” I answer back to him as I start walking again. He keeps the slow pace next to me. “That’s already a lot more power than I have.”

“I guess,” he says. “But I’m not too sure Paxton would approve of me arresting people. He might take my gun away.”

“Just like he took mine,” I say. This time my tone is whatever the opposite of flirtatious is…angry? Turned off? It is still a sore subject with me even though I have been without a weapon for nearly three months.

I’ll never forget the feeling I had that day. The mixed emotions were like being on a roller coaster. First, the elation I felt at finding Crestwood nearly overwhelmed me. I had been through so much crap it was ridiculous. I know my story can’t be much different from a lot of people’s, and there are plenty of others with a worse history than mine, but it didn’t matter. Seeing the town felt like the best thing that had ever happened to me.

The guards let me in, but then they took my gun and knife away from me, and then frisked me. Gabe had been part of the welcoming committee and I remember hating him for it, but now I know he was just following the rules of Crestwood. Then there was the meeting with Paxton, Crestwood’s leader. You talk about a guy with an authority complex. I had already been questioned by the guards, but Paxton came in with some questions of his own.

I had been in some holding cell for the better part of the day. I didn’t complain, though. I was safe. Or at least I felt safe. There was a mirror on the wall across from me. My long, dark hair was in tangles, and my skin looked dark from being out in the sun so much. My green eyes looked paler than they had three years ago. Maybe that was because of the endless nights where I did nothing but cry for the first year. I used to think that my nose was too long and pointy, but such a dumb observation didn’t matter to me anymore. What struck me the most was how skinny I looked. My skin clung to my bones so tightly a small cut might have split me wide open. Just from seeing my reflection, I couldn’t imagine going back out into the world. My biggest fear was that someone was going to tell me that I couldn’t stay, and when Paxton finally came into the room, I just knew this would be the news.

He sat across from me with a folder and pen in his hands. He had a nicely trimmed, black beard and dark hair. I remember thinking he was so tall that he had probably not encountered too many people that were bigger than him. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans, so I hoped this meant he wouldn’t be a complete jerk.

He sat back and crossed one of his legs over the other, ignoring the folder and pen on the table in front of him. My eyes went to Gabe who stood next to the door, and then back to Paxton when he spoke to me.

“Your name is Remi?” Paxton asked me.

I nodded. His voice was deep and gravelly. I couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell of cologne. It must have been the first time I had smelled anything like it in three years.

“I’m guessing you don’t know much about Crestwood,” he said.

I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about it, but it looks safe.”

Paxton smiled.

“Is it?” I asked.

“Is it what?”

“Safe?”

“Of course it’s safe,” he said as his eyebrows lowered. It seemed like my question had somehow offended him, that it was preposterous to even ask such a thing. I already didn’t like this guy.

“Why are you alone?” he asked me.

“Just like I told him,” I said, nodding to Gabe, “I’ve been alone for the past year now. The group I was with is gone.”

“And you haven’t been looking to join with anyone else?” he asked.

“I’ve already answered these questions,” I said.

“Well, I’m asking you again.”

“I mean, I’ve come across a few people here and there, but most people are dangerous.”

“How old are you?”

“Your boy didn’t write it down in the file?” I said, again nodding toward Gabe.

“How old are you?” Paxton repeated. I was quickly losing any chance I might have had of getting to stay in the town. Paxton’s cheeks started to turn red, and I could tell he was getting agitated. But I was agitated too. I hadn’t eaten much in the past couple of days and I had just encountered a large group of greyskins only hours before. I was tired.

“Twenty-two,” I answered.

“Where are you originally from?”

I sighed. “Oakridge.”

Paxton shook his head. “But that’s only a two-hour drive north of here. How is it you just now learned about us?”

“A two-hour drive is a lot of space to cover on foot,” I said. “Besides, any town I’ve come across has been overridden with greyskins. And I wasn’t in Oakridge when the outbreak happened. I was at Elkhorn.”

Paxton’s face went from a uneasy look to an almost excited look. “Elkhorn?” he repeated. “The Epicenter.”

I lifted an eyebrow and nodded. I hated the fact that he was so interested. I usually kept that bit of information to myself when I came across someone because it always just brought up unwanted questions.

“That must have been interesting,” Paxton said.

“It was hell,” I said. “Imagine waking up in the morning, ready to go to class only to find that they’ve all been cancelled because people were eating other people.”

Paxton cleared his throat and looked down at the table. I remember noticing his eyes starting to water only briefly. “My daughter was in Elkhorn,” he said.

“Then I’m sure she’s told you all about it,” I said callously.

Paxton shook his head and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I haven’t seen my daughter in four years.”

I looked away from him, feeling uncomfortable. I hated it, but I didn’t care. All of us had been through crap, and from the looks of it, I had been through more crap than any of these people who sat comfortably behind their thick barricades.

“I just want a safe place to stay,” I said. “I’m able-bodied, so I can do my part here. And I’m tired of running.”

“Where did you go when you left Elkhorn?” he asked, ignoring my words.

I swallowed hard. “I tried to get back to Oakridge.” I could feel the lump in my throat forming. I hadn’t cried in such a long time, it would be stupid to start now. I clenched my jaw tightly and stared straight ahead. “Oakridge was just too overrun. There couldn’t have been anyone left. So, I met a group and started traveling to find a safe haven. But all we found were greyskins.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Everywhere,” I said. “To find a place like this seems…” I couldn’t find the words as I started to choke. I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t do it. I had been strong for so long, now was not the time to give in to my emotions. “I just…I’m just happy I’ve found this place. If you will have me, I will pull my weight and do whatever it is you need me to do.”

Paxton sat for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. Sure, I didn’t like the guy. I felt like he had come in trying to bully me, but I didn’t care. There were far worse bullies outside these walls, and most of them were rotting as they walked.

“I have one more question for you,” he said. He sighed and cupped his hands together, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. His chin sat on his hands as his eyes bore deep into me. “Do you have any special abilities?”

I was too stunned to answer. There was no way he could know about that. I have only told one person about it. I could feel my breathing getting heavier and my pulse quickening. “What…what do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question that requires a simple answer,” he said. “Do you have special abilities? Powers? Supernatural?”

Asking me this question couldn’t have been a coincidence. My special ability, as he called it, is something only I know about. I could hear things that no one else in the world could. Someone could be talking on the other side of town, and with determined focus, I would be able to hear every word. It’s not something I was born with, but it started happening to me about a year ago. Did Paxton have some way to detect it in me or something?

“Of course not,” I lied. And to try and add authenticity to the lie, I added, “What in the world kind of question is that?”

I wasn’t sure he was convinced that I was telling the truth, but I sat and stared at him with my mouth hanging open like I was an idiot. His eyes studied me for a few more moments, but then he dropped his hands and sat up straight.

“I’m going to let you in,” he said. “We have a room available for you and plenty of work we could use you for.” He stood from his seat and I did the same. He towered over me, but I wasn’t intimidated. Just thankful. He reached out his large right hand and nearly covered mine as we shook.

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“Don’t make me regret letting you stay here,” he said.

“Oh, I won’t,” I said. I felt like a beggar then, but thinking back on it now, I suppose that is what I was. “In fact, I will make you wish you had more people like me.” It sounded stupid when the words came out, but he nodded and smiled at me anyway.

I never got my weapons back, but Gabe told me that if I were ever to leave Crestwood for any reason, all my possessions would be returned to me. All my possessions. A gun, a knife, and a folded up, torn page from an atlas. Though I felt naked without those things during my first days in Crestwood, I quickly got used to it.

The idea of Gabe walking next to me as a friend is baffling when I think back on that day. He had initially scared me and made me think I might not be allowed to stay, but ever since I joined the town he has been a saint.

“You still liking it here?” he asks me as I near my apartment building.

I stop for a second to think about his question, and then I look out into the street. There are buildings all around us, each of them serving a purpose. There are people walking the streets without guns, without fear that a greyskin or a raider will come in and kill them. The walls can be seen from just about any part of the town, and on top of them walk competent sharp-shooters. But even more than those things, there are small gardens lining the sidewalks with fall flowers. There is a large community garden that the townspeople share in the spring and summer. And there are children, laughing and playing. Before the outbreak, I never even liked kids, but now I understand their innocence. I look back at Gabe’s eyes and nod. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong to something.”

He nods at me, but he almost seems disappointed by my answer.

“Why?” I ask. “You aren’t?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been in Crestwood since Paxton organized the town and I’ve sat through a lot of the elders’ meetings. Things just seem to be getting weird.”

“In what way?” I lean against the building and he comes in closer and lowers his voice, not knowing I would be able to hear him even if he were on the other side of Crestwood.

“How long have you been here now?” he asks.

“About three months. A little bit more.”

He shakes his head and snickers. “You must have a spell over me. I can get in a lot of trouble talking to you about this kind of stuff.”

I feel my forehead creasing. “What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know…they are just acting weird. They asked me to sit in on one of their meetings the other day so I could give a report of the soldiers and all.” He turns his head to look behind him to make sure no one else is listening. “One of the elders, Lillian, started to say something about a person called Shadowface.”

“Shadowface?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Paxton hushed her real quick and reminded her that I was in the room.”

“But that’s all you heard?” I ask.

“Sort of. I mean the way she said it was weird. Paxton had asked me about weapon supplies and when I told them we were running a little low on ammunition, Lillian told Paxton to put in a request with Shadowface. Things got real awkward, real quick.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” he shrugs. “I guess if I’m not supposed to know, I’m not supposed to know.”

“I could find out,” I say, pulling myself from the side of the building and walking a bit closer to the street. My eyes squint a little and my mouth curls into a grin. I’m back to the flirtation that I hate so much, but Gabe smiles back at me.

“How? What do you mean?” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Clearly I’ve been out on the road much longer than you have,” I say. I step up onto one of the raised flowerbeds next to the street, balancing myself on the narrow strip of wood. At this height, I’m only barely taller than Gabe.

“I’m lead scout,” he says. “My job is being out on the road.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t had to sleep out there much, have you?”

His silence answers my question.

“Your job is to lead the soldiers, and make sure we are all safe, and that herds aren’t moving too close to the town, right? But you’re always given the right equipment: a clean gun, food to eat, a vehicle.”

He starts to clench his jaw and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “Are you going to make your point soon?”

I reach the end of the raised flowerbed, spin on my toes, and begin walking the way I had come. “My point is that I’ve had a lot of practice breaking into places. That includes breaking open doors, picking locks, sneaking through rooms, all while being as quiet as a mouse.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I can find out who this Shadowface is for you,” I say. “I don’t even need you to help me.”

He squints his eyes at me and shakes his head. “Remi, I was just confiding in a friend. I’m not trying to get you to find anything out for me.”

I jump from the flowerbed and land inches from Gabe. “How old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-five, you know that already.”

“Be a man!” I nearly yell. One or two heads in the distance turn to look in our direction, but no one stays interested for very long. Gabe is stone faced as I stare into him. “As lead scout it’s important to know who you’re working for,” I say, whispering now. “If Paxton and the elders are answering to someone else, don’t you think you should know about it?”

His silence is my answer.

“I’m just letting you know that I’m willing to go in and find out for you.”

“Why?” he asks. “What’s in it for you?”

“You’ll let me be a soldier,” I say. “You could use a person like me. I bet I can shoot better than any person here.” I take one step closer to him, my face only inches from his. I can feel his nervousness, or perhaps it’s my own heartbeat pounding away. “Including you.”

I turn away sharply and walk to the entrance of my apartment building, placing my hand on the door handle. Before I open it, I look back at him.

“If you’re caught, you could get into serious trouble,” he says. “I could get into serious trouble.”

“I’m not a rat,” I say. “If I get caught, I will deal with the consequences myself. Do you want me to find out more or not?”

He looks from side-to-side before finally placing his eyes on me. He nods. “Paxton keeps a journal in a desk on the second floor of the headquarters building. I’m pretty sure he keeps record of everything in it. You find out who this guy is, and I’ll give you a shot.”

“Good,” I say, opening the door. “I’m tired of babysitting kids at the town nursery. I swear you people are so sexist.”

Gabe grins at me and turns to walk away while I go into the apartment building. I let out a sigh as I think about my luck to have been given an apartment on the top floor. The several climbs up and down per day weren’t annoying at all. I shake my head once I reach the fifth floor. I bet they only give new citizens the top floor apartments to test their perseverance. When I had first walked into this building I had been happy to see an elevator, but my brief lapse of thought caused me to forget that it probably hadn’t been working for the past three years since the outbreak. When groups of people started banding together in towns, they began to strictly conserve energy. It costs a lot more to run electricity now — not money, but fuel. Finding a place with electricity is golden. It might only mean a lamp in your room, but never something so luxurious as an elevator.

Crestwood may be nice by standards of living in this greyskin-infested world, but it obviously had its problems in the early days. The stairs are dirty, splattered with sticky remains of who-knows what. Even when I walk into my apartment, I can’t help but notice the scratches and dried, dark stains on the walls and floors that someone had obviously failed to remove prior to my coming. I can only imagine what might have happened here. Nothing I haven’t seen before, I’m sure. And I have stayed in worse places. At least this studio apartment has a bed and couch, running water, and a place to sit and eat. The living space is tiny, but it is perfect for me.

I walk into the bathroom and turn on the faucet. The mirror in front of me is foggy and crusted with grime. I look healthier than I have in a long time. My eyes are regaining a little bit of their brightness again, and I’m not as skinny as I was. This would have been of some concern about three years ago, but I’m just happy to eat now. I splash some water on my face and turn off the faucet.

I walk out of the bathroom and into the living area to the only window in the room. One advantage to living on the fifth floor is getting a good view of the town. I bet I can see further over the wall from here than any of the soldiers who patrol it.

I think about what I proposed to Gabe. I know he wasn’t asking me to do anything for him. I’m sure what I said took him off guard, but three years on the road have given me an itch that I can’t get rid of just yet. I’ve only been here for three months and the thought of walking anywhere without my gun and knife makes me feel exposed and defenseless. I suppose that’s the main reason I want to be a soldier. I don’t care about scouting beyond the wall. I don’t even care about standing at the wall, waiting for something to show up. I just want my weapons back. In this world, when someone strips you of your weapons, he strips you of all you have.

I look down at the wall and see Gabe talking to one of his soldiers. To this day, I still can’t figure why Paxton had asked me about special abilities. How could he have known that for the past year I’ve been able to hear things better than any other person? I know exactly when it happened, but I don’t know why. All I know is that it has stayed with me since.

I stare down at Gabe and turn my head slightly. His voice enters my head almost as if I’m standing right next to him.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he says. “Just make sure you let me know if it comes down to that, okay?”

“Okay,” the soldier on the wall says to him.

I turn my head away, and I can hear him no longer. I have no idea what he was talking about, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t plan to tell him why I know I won’t be caught. I can hear someone coming long before they get to me. If I wanted, I would be able to hear the conversation of anyone in the town so long as I knew where to listen. I won’t get caught snooping through the elder’s secret documents because when I sneak into Headquarters and steal the journal, I will be able to hear every snore, every sleep-talker, every person that gets up to pee. And if anyone hears me, I’ll be gone before they even take a step.

Chapter 3 – Waverly

It is well past midnight before Gilbert turns the SUV down a side road to make camp for the night. Ethan questions his decision, but Gilbert tells us that we will run out of gas in the next 100 miles or so and we need to figure out the best place to find fuel so we can actually get to the town of Crestwood .

The road winds through a forest and he eventually stops when he sees a small clearing surrounded by large trees. I open the door and step out onto the grass as the cold wind nearly knocks the breath out of me.

“It’s going to be cold tonight,” Ethan says to no one in particular. “The nights are getting colder the farther north we travel. We might want to sleep in the car.”

“You can sleep in there all you want,” Gilbert says, “but you can’t have the heat on. Uses too much gas. Besides, the back window is shot out. I say we build a fire.”

“Build a fire so raiders and greyskins can see us for miles?” Ethan says.

Gilbert holds out his hands and turns. “Why do you think I drove us back here? No one is going to see a fire out here. We’ve driven long enough to know the raiders didn’t follow us, and we’ll take turns staying up to watch for greyskins.”

Ethan doesn’t respond, but I care nothing about raiders or the greyskins. All I care about is getting warm.

“Fire sounds good to me,” I say quietly.

“You see?” Gilbert says. “She agrees with me.”

I don’t know how I feel about Gilbert being happy that I agree with him, but I don’t even acknowledge his words.

“You guys want to see what’s in the back of the SUV?” Gilbert asks.

Neither Ethan nor I answer him, but we gather around. He opens a satchel he found in the front seat and pulls out a flashlight as the hatchback of the SUV opens. He flips up a small compartment and what we see makes Ethan light up. Gilbert reaches down and pulls out a shiny rifle that looks as if it has never been fired. This hidden compartment is full of guns and ammunition. No doubt it will help the group and all, but I don’t want any part of it. We aren’t used to carrying weapons like these. At least I’m not.

Lucas and I had always avoided using guns. Firing one only meant drawing in more greyskins. Sure, they were good for blowing away a few at a time, but the sound carries so far, there is no way a greyskin wouldn’t hear it and come running.

When Gilbert is done gawking at the firearms, we finally start gathering wood for the fire and within an hour, the front of me toasts warmly while my back is nearly frozen.

The three of us sit in silence as the fire eats away at the wood, falling into smoldering coals that give off a heat warm enough to make my brow sweat. The moon illuminates the cold fog that lingers throughout the trees in the forest and the flickering flames cast our shadowed forms along the trunks. I try not to look into the trees at all. Despite the security they bring, shielding us from curious eyes, I hate how little I can see into the distance. I hate the trees because I never know what might be lurking behind them. That’s why I keep my eyes on the fire.

As we sit, all I can think about is Lucas. It pains me to know it, but I doubt there is anything left of him now. The greyskins devour every bit of a fresh body. I often wonder how there can be so many greyskins in the world when they eat so many of their victims. I suppose there are so many people that escape the fate of being completely eaten, only to be scratched or bitten, the poisonous saliva or blood mixing with theirs.

How could all of this have happened? How could humanity be reduced to an existence of mere survival within a span of three years? How had this disease spread so rapidly?

I have feared the greyskins more than anything. And even after our run-in with Scarecrow and his men, I still fear the greyskins more. There is just something disturbing about a creature that used to be a person like me but is now walking about mindlessly. Any time I see greyskins, I know that they were once average people like me who were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. They had been scratched or bitten. Then, within twenty-four hours, they were dead, only to wake back up, their skin an ashy, grey color, their eyes almost black and dripping with mucus. And over time their skin just rotted, but their body kept moving, motivated only by the desire to eat human flesh, to taste blood. It has been a never-ending nightmare for the past three years.

I look up from the fire and my eyes fall on the other two. Gilbert sits and studies his new weapons from the SUV, and Ethan…he seems different than Gilbert. I guess we are all different, but for him, it’s something I can’t place. He doesn’t carry any of the guns from the SUV. Instead he has a baseball bat that was probably once a light-colored wood but is now stained brown and black from so many greyskin head-bashings.

Lucas and I had only been with these two for a couple of days, but from what I understand, they have not known each other for very long at all. I suppose that is why the silence persists. Neither of them really knows the other that well.

Ethan stokes the fire with a long stick, maneuvering branches so the flames burn brighter and hotter. I watch him as he swallows, and moves his mouth like he wants to say something. He clears his throat and looks at me. I dart my eyes away, but they find Ethan’s again. He smiles at me for a second before setting his stick down and standing.

“I uh…I think we ought to recognize Lucas’ bravery tonight,” he says, his eyes lowering to meet mine again. “I didn’t know him very well, but he did a good thing today.”

“That’s debatable,” Gilbert says out of the side of his mouth.

I can feel myself scowl, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I stare directly into the flames as tears come to my eyes. I reach for the chain around my neck and pull out the small diamond ring. My finger rubs at the precious stone and tears start to form in my eyes.

“Be respectful,” Ethan chides Gilbert. “None of us could have known what was going to happen. If the raiders hadn’t shot, the greyskins might not have come. The raiders might have killed all of us.” He takes a deep breath and bends down to pick his stick back up. He pushes a few of the coals around, trying to rouse the heat as he sits back down.

“We’ve all lost someone,” I say. I don’t expect my voice to sound so thick, but I know they notice.

“Some of us have lost everyone,” Ethan says as he continues to stoke the fire. The end of the stick is charred and a flame clings to it.

“What else do you expect?” Gilbert asks. He looks at me. “I’m sorry, but it was only a matter of time for your dear Lucas.” He shakes his head. “It’s only a matter of time for any of us.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Ethan says.

“Believe what you want,” Gilbert comes back. “The greyskins are growing in number every single day. Raiders are patrolling, making these roads more and more dangerous. It’s only a matter of time before any of us face a shot to the head or the bite of a greyskin.”

“Then why are you traveling to Crestwood?” Ethan says, suddenly looking up at Gilbert. His face is red with anger. “Why do you get excited about finding a stash of guns in the back of the SUV? Why not just give up if you’re just going to take that attitude?”

Gilbert chuckles, tossing a pebble into the coals. “I’m not suicidal. Of course I’m going to try and survive for as long as I can. I just know my chances of growing old are next to nothing.” He points at me now. “I don’t get upset when someone like Lucas dies because I know it’s just a matter of time before it’s me. It’s just a matter of time before it’s either of you.”

I don’t know what it is…anger…sadness…but I can’t keep myself from speaking up. “Then why don’t you just take that gun of yours, point it at your own head and pull the trigger? Wouldn’t that be a better death than if a greyskin rips you to shreds? Isn’t it better than dying just so a raider can see what you might have in your pocket? Don’t sit there and pretend that you don’t have a hope for your future. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here by the fire. You wouldn’t be giddy at the sight of rifles. If you had no hope you would already be dead.”

Gilbert’s eyes glint through the fiery haze like he is a demon from the underworld. It almost looks like he wants to kill me, but a sudden change in his expression keeps that fear at bay, yet is no less haunting. He smiles at me.

“There is a difference between surviving for as long as you can and having hope,” he says as he picks up his pile of guns and stands. “I lost hope a long time ago.” He looks across the fire at Ethan. “You’ve got first watch tonight. I’m sleeping in the SUV.”

Gilbert storms away and closes the SUV door a little too loud for comfort. Ethan stares into the flames, still looking angry.

“I’m actually relieved he’s gone,” I say.

“I don’t know why I stick with him,” Ethan says. He looks up at me with a serious face. “You can’t listen to Gilbert. I believe you can have hope.”

“After today I’m not so sure,” I say. “Part of me thinks Gilbert is right, though I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then don’t hear it,” Ethan says. “What good would it do to believe there is no hope?”

I shake my head, thinking of Lucas, thinking of my parents…my older sister. Anyone and everyone that has ever been a part of my life is gone.

“Gilbert would say the opposite,” I say numbly. “What good would it do to believe there is hope?”

Ethan doesn’t answer.

“I want to believe it,” I say. “Hours ago I did believe it. I’m not so sure anymore. What if this town, Crestwood, isn’t everything we hope it is? Aren’t we all just going on a stranger’s word that it’s a safe place for people like us? We don’t really know.”

“If it’s not then we find someplace else,” Ethan answers. “That, or we build our own safe haven.”

“Dreams,” I say.

“Perseverance,” Ethan comes back. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “The moment you start to think you aren’t going to make it is the moment the enemy starts winning.”

“Lucas said something similar to me once. Look what happened to him.” I feel empty as the words pour out of my mouth. I hate talking about him in this way. It’s almost as if we’ve just been separated for a short time and that we will meet again soon. It’s so hard to think of him as gone.

“You can’t stop bad things from happening,” Ethan says. “All you can do is try to survive and have hope that you will survive. Why not have hope? It’s not like you can see the future.”

My eyes dart to meet his when he speaks, almost as if he knew something about me that I haven’t shared with anyone. But he just shakes his head and stares back into the fire.

The future…

I did see the future. At least, I saw a brief glimpse of it just before it happened. What sickens me the most about all of this was that I could have done something to prevent Lucas’ death. Well, I think I could have anyway. I’m not certain how it works. I saw the scene unfold in front of my eyes almost as if it were a warning of some kind. I had reached out and grabbed Lucas’ hand to stop him, and then a bright light flashed in front of me. But no one else seemed to have seen it at all. It was as if it happened in my head.

So, having seen the future, could I have altered it? In only a split second, everything played out just as I had seen it in the vision, but could I have reached out and pulled Lucas to safety before Scarecrow pulled the trigger? I suppose I will never know.

I watch Ethan as he continues to stoke the fire. Part of me wants to tell him what I saw, but I can’t really trust him, though he has been nicer to me than Gilbert.

I decide that I might as well try to learn something about him. I am now left with no one to trust but myself. I have no desire to place trust in anyone else, but an ally might be useful. I reach out and warm my palms above the flames. “So, how did you come across Gilbert?” I ask.

“Little more than a week ago, I was traveling alone and saw him in the distance,” he answers. “He had mistaken me for a greyskin, and was going to kill me, but when he got closer he saw I wasn’t going to harm him.” He pats the baseball bat at his side. “Carrying this thing let him know I wasn’t a raider. He let me team up with him because he was lost in a town down south. I had been there for a couple of weeks and knew the area well. I promised to help him find some supplies and find a safe route through if he would let me tag along with him. Took some convincing, but he eventually agreed.” He shrugs. “Now I’m here.”

I shake my head at this. “Why stay with him? He’s such a pig.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he says, grinning. “Looks like you and I agree on one thing, at least.”

“I don’t disagree with you about having hope for the future,” I say to him. The firelight dances on his slender cheeks. His short, dark hair blends with the shadows behind him. I notice for the first time that he is actually handsome when he smiles at me, which he is doing right now.

“I know you don’t,” he says. “You said it to Gilbert yourself. If you had no hope, you would already be dead.”

“I was mostly just saying that to get under Gilbert’s skin,” I say. “Every time he opens his mouth I want to shut it for him.”

“I know what you mean,” Ethan says. “I was actually going to leave him before you and Lucas came around.”

“Really?”

He nods. “When you two showed up, I decided to stay. I hoped you two would bring a fresh perspective. You know, help with decisions and all.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I say.

He grins slightly. “You haven’t disappointed anyone. At least you have a head on your shoulders.” He lifts the stick and points to the SUV. “Gilbert doesn’t listen to anybody, and he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” He clears his throat. “Not like you, though. At least you seem to care about others.”

“Lucas and I were a good team,” I say. The words are hard to say and they catch in my throat. To speak of Lucas in the past tense seems wrong. It feels like a lie. My fingers tug at the ring.

“Did Lucas give that to you?” Ethan asks.

My eyes don’t leave the fire. I want to answer Ethan and tell him where the ring came from, but I can’t. That moment in my past is particularly hard to think about it.

“How long had you two been traveling together?” Ethan pretends that he never asked the previous question and I am grateful.

A tear slips down my cheek. It’s not the first. It won’t be the last. To think that we made it through so much for three years made his death even more painful. The promises he made me rang true every day. Every attack we encountered, we survived. Until now. “Three years,” I manage to say.

Ethan nods. I know he feels awkward with me sitting here crying in front of him. He doesn’t know me enough to know that a strong arm around my shoulders would go a long way. But in truth, it’s not Ethan’s arms I want around me.

He’s about to say something when we both hear a snap behind us. Without hesitation, we drop to the ground onto our bellies. He shimmies up next to me, his bat held firmly in his left hand. My hand balls into a fist and I bite my lip when I realize that I must have left my hatchet next to Lucas and I’m completely weaponless.

With the fire behind us, the light shines toward the woods beyond and we can both see a lone greyskin stumbling along the edge of the trees. I try to keep my hands firm against the ground so Ethan doesn’t notice them shaking. I’ve killed my share of greyskins, but never without shaking hands. Is it fear? Yes. When I see the dead walking, I always feel fear. I never developed the callous sense of security that comes from years of practicing various ways of attacking greyskins. This one is no different. We have no indication that it has seen us or sensed us in any way, but it would only take a small sound. If it really is just one greyskin, it would be nothing for Ethan to charge after it and bash its head in with his bat. But something I’ve learned over the past three years is that once you’ve seen a greyskin it usually means a lot more aren’t too far behind.

We wait a few moments as it continues to stagger forward. My heart beats so fast I almost fear the undead creature is able to hear it, and when it stops for a moment to look around, gnawing, chomping at something invisible, I think it has heard me, but then it continues to walk. I turn my head slightly to look at Gilbert in the SUV, but he doesn’t seem to have heard it. I am thankful for that. Sometimes fear and a sudden realization that a greyskin is near will cause a person to yell out or do something rash. Sometimes the best thing is to sit and be patient as the creature moves along in search of flesh.

I almost feel sick by the sight of it. It’s missing an arm, and part of its chest has a gaping hole in the side of it. I still can’t fathom what keeps these things moving.

I jump slightly when Ethan touches my shoulder. “I don’t see any others,” he says. “I’m going to take it out.”

My mind races back to the moment when Lucas had whispered something similar to me just hours ago. Would it work again? Just as Ethan starts to get up, I reach out and grab his hand.

Again, just as before, a bright light flashes before my eyes.

I feel myself floating above, able to witness what happens below me. I watch down at myself and at Ethan who looks at the other me and smiles curiously as she holds his hand, but she lets go of it and nods to him. Ethan then jumps up from the ground as she stays behind. He brings his bat above his head and just as the greyskin turns to face him, he smashes the side of its head. Like a watermelon, the greyskin’s head crunches open and it falls to the ground lifelessly. I wait to see the tragedy unfold, for Ethan to realize too late that the greyskin wasn’t truly dead. I expect it to reach out to grab his leg and bite into it, ripping away tendons and arteries, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he looks around the edge of the woods, searching for more greyskins only to turn his head back at her and smile.

“Coast is clear,” he says. “Lonely, nasty greyskin.”

The bright light flashes again and I’m back beside Ethan. To me, the vision lasted about thirty seconds, but to Ethan, I think it took no time at all. But I know what I’ve seen is the future, only this time it doesn’t look grim. I’m holding his hand and he looks at me with a smile on his face, but his eyebrows are jutted forward as though he is curious as to why I’m holding on to him. The last time I had seen the future, I foresaw the person dying, but this time, I foresee him succeeding. Why would I try to stop him?

I let go of his hand and nod to him. Everything happens as I saw. He lifts his bat above his head and the greyskin turns the second it hears Ethan, but Ethan smashes its head with the bat, splitting it wide open. The greyskin doesn’t move after it lands on the ground. Ethan’s swing was true. I watch as Ethan walks along the edge of the woods, searching for any trace of more greyskins, but I already know he won’t find any.

“Coast is clear,” I mutter to myself where he can’t hear me.

“Coast is clear,” Ethan says, turning to me.

“Lonely, nasty greyskin,” I whisper.

“Lonely, nasty greyskin,” he says with a smile.

I know there is a look of shock on my face as I sit up straight, but Ethan just thinks it’s because there was a greyskin.

“Aw, you can’t be afraid of that,” Ethan says, walking back to his seat at the fire. “I mean, those things are creepy, no doubt, but surely you’ve seen worse than that.”

You have no idea, I think to myself.

“Of course,” I say, not knowing what to think about what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I know you must have. It’s just the look you’re giving me. It almost looks like you’ve never seen a greyskin before.”

I try to shake my head, but I’m frozen. “I don’t know,” is all I can mutter.

“I have to admit,” he says, “I get pretty shaken up even after three years of this crap.”

But I barely hear him. As I stare into the fire, I wonder what I would have done this time if I had seen Ethan getting devoured in my vision. Would I have been able to stop him? Or is the future I see already set? Could I have stopped Ethan? Could I have stopped Lucas?

Ethan lowers his head to try and meet my eyes, but I stare straight ahead. “You can go to sleep,” I tell him. “Just leave me your bat.” I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight, so I might as well let the other two get some rest. My thoughts are racing. I can’t help but watch the images of the day play over in my head again and again. I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. The feeling drains me, but I cannot sleep. Slumber will have to take me another night.

Lucas is dead, and flashes of the future make me feel confused. Through all this, I can’t help but think about the past and how this all started. When Ethan finally agrees to go to sleep and let me keep watch through the night, my thoughts drift to the time I first heard about the greyskins. What a terrible day it was.

Chapter 4 – Waverly

Three Years Ago

Hattie sat across from me, holding her cards spread out in a perfect row in front of her face. I looked down at my hand and shook my head. “Got any eights?” I asked.

Hattie shook her head and smiled. “Go fish.”

I let out a short sigh and drew another card.

“Got any sevens?” Hattie asked me.

This time I shook my head. “Go fish.”

As she reached down, I couldn’t help but look at her wedding band and engagement ring. The diamond was small, and the yellow gold, slender. The jewelry was nothing like what my mom wore. My mom’s ears and fingers were usually weighed down with stones of different shapes, colors, and carats, and each day she wore a different set depending on her clothes. But not Hattie. Hattie wore her simple ring proudly, and on her hand, it seemed much bigger and more precious than any jewelry my mom could ever afford.

My eyes went from her hand to her pale, white face. She wore very little makeup, but she didn’t need any to look pretty. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. Her long, brown hair was pulled back into a bun, and starting to grey at her temples. Her eyes were an almond brown and they always seemed to be smiling even if her mouth was not.

She was our housekeeper, though she was so much more than that. She had become more of a nanny than anything, though she was still responsible for cleaning our gigantic house. I always hated how big it was. There was definitely too much room for just me and my parents. Of course, my sister had lived with us before going away to college, but even then the house was too large. Sometimes, when my parents were on business trips, or taking a vacation without me, Hattie would have to stay the night to watch me. I thought that was a little much since I was fourteen and could take care of myself well enough, but I never complained. Hattie was always fun to be around, even if we were simply playing “Go Fish” in the parlor.

I glanced from her face and back to her ring one more time before looking back at my cards. “Hattie,” I asked, “How did you know when you were first in love? Got any fours?”

She pulled a card from her hand and gave it to me. “Oh,” she said letting out a chuckle. “Charles and I have been in love for twenty years. You think I remember when I first fell in love with him?”

“I know you do,” I answered with a grin.

Her white teeth showed in her wide smile. “Yes I do.” She looked away from her cards and past me as if she were daydreaming for a moment. “I was probably your sister’s age when a group of my friends asked me to go swimming in the pond out near Ridge Point, you know where I’m talking about?”

I nodded, having been there a few times myself.

“I didn’t know they were going to invite boys along,” she continued. She shook her head and laughed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew I wouldn’t be swimming because I had never learned how. I just wanted to be with my friends. But the boys were there and they had a rope hanging from a branch that swung out over the pond. My friends wanted to impress them by showing them they weren’t afraid to swing on it. All of them did it except me. I wasn’t about to risk my life to impress some boy. That is…until Charles said I should try it.” She set her cards down on the table and took a sip of water from her glass. “Oh, I blushed when he talked to me. I think I actually swung on the rope just so he wouldn’t see my red face.”

“But you couldn’t swim,” I said.

“No, I couldn’t, but I just thought that maybe I would figure it out once I hit the water. Anyway…I didn’t. I remember my head going under and my arms flailing in every which way. I panicked, and I just knew I was going to die. But that’s when I felt a strong set of arms around me and I instantly stopped moving. It was Charles. He brought me to shore and wiped the hair away from my face.” Hattie sighed. “I didn’t even think about being embarrassed. I was just awestruck by him. He kept asking me if I was okay, but I couldn’t answer. He stood there bare-chested and muscly.” She glanced at me and pursed her lips. “Well, needless to say, I was taken by him. Next thing you know, we were married and had a baby.”

The story made me feel warm. I had never seen someone talk that way about another. Sure I had read stories and seen movies, but this was real. “I hope I can find someone like that someday,” I said.

Hattie took another sip of water and grabbed her cards from the table. “Oh, you will, Waverly. You will. You just have to remember that love has nothing to do with money or power or anything you see around you here. Your soul mate might be a poor man, but when you meet him that won’t matter. Your love for each other is all that will matter.”

I took a deep breath and was about to ask her if she had any twos when the phone rang. Hattie started to get up, but I was closer so I told her I would answer it. It rang three times before I picked it up.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Sweetie, you and Hattie need to lock all of the doors in the house and get into the basement, do you understand?” It was my dad.

“What?” I asked. Hattie immediately noticed the look of concern on my face, and she walked near me. I shook my head at her and shrugged. It almost sounded like a joke, but my dad never joked like this. He was always so serious. “What are you talking about? What’s happening? Where are you?”

“I’m in my office,” he said. I could hear loud popping noises in the background. Someone very near him screamed loudly.

“Dad, what’s happening?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he said. “When you get down to the basement you can turn on the television, I’m sure this has to be on the news.”

“What’s on the news?” I asked.

“Sweetheart, just do as I say! When you get to the basement, call me back.” Then there was a click and we were disconnected.

Hattie stared at me with wide eyes. “Was that your father?”

“He said to lock all the doors and get into the basement. I… I… don’t understand.”

“Not much to understand,” Hattie said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly. “Let’s just do what your father says and I’m sure everything will be all right.”

I felt frantic as we scurried through the house, locking every door to the outside. So many thoughts crossed my mind. I couldn’t help but think that it might have been terrorists, or a crazy storm coming our way, though popping noises and the screaming in the background didn’t sound like a storm.

I went to the front door and opened it, hoping to see a clue as to why my dad would sound so scared. I looked up and down our street only to see a few of the neighbors were closing their garage doors and running from house to house. It was as if the whole world knew something that I didn’t. I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned and saw Hattie. She looked from me to the street. It seemed as though she was planning to tell me to come inside, but she paused as well.

More of the popping noises echoed in the distance but I didn’t hear any screams this time. To our right, I could see more people running, this time sprinting away from something. I took a step forward. There were three people near the stop sign at the end of our road. Two of them were women, and one was a man. One of the women fell to the ground, perhaps twisting her ankle. The man bent down to help her, but he wasn’t getting up. I stepped out onto the porch even further and I saw that the man wasn’t helping her at all. The woman on the ground screamed out in pain as the man bit her ankle. The woman left standing just turned, crying her eyes out as the man ripped away tendons and flesh from her friend’s leg. I gasped loudly as I took it all in and Hattie’s arms wrapped around me as she saw it unfold.

“Get inside, Waverly,” she said slowly, pulling me away from the porch.

I didn’t protest. When we got inside, I slammed the door shut and locked the doorknob and deadbolt. I rested my back against the door and slid to the ground as hot tears rolled down the side of my face. “What was that? What did he do?” All I could see was a blurry, dark room with a form standing in front of me, shaking my shoulders, almost yelling for me to get to the basement.

Finally, I got up from the ground and Hattie led me to the basement door. There was no lock, but the house was secure, wasn’t it? We ran down the stairs and into the basement living room. With all the windows and a door to the outside, there were several exits down there and Hattie ran to each of them, making sure to lock them. I immediately walked toward the television and turned it on. Every channel displayed different versions of what I had just seen out in the street. The news anchors all seemed as spooked as I was.

“The question I have,” one of the anchors said, “is what are these things? They are people… but they aren’t! They are acting like vicious animals.”

“That’s right, and there have been multiple incidents,” a reporter said. “We had been tallying the reports from throughout the city, but now we’re into the hundreds, and we can clearly see that there is some unknown sickness that has taken over these people. Another thing to note is that we aren’t the only city experiencing this catastrophe. There have also been sightings in Conway, Elkhorn, and even Dawson Springs.”

“What are they saying?” Hattie asked as she walked up behind me.

I didn’t answer as the images of these disgusting people eating others filled the screen. All of them seemed so evil… and almost dead. One of the news stations showed a freeze-frame of one of them to show that his skin had turned an ashy, grey color and that his eyes were almost completely black. But no station offered an explanation.

The ringing phone in my hand made me jump. I cursed, remembering I should have called my dad. “Hello?”

“Sweetie, are you in the basement?”

“Dad, what are those things? Why are they doing that?”

“Are you in the basement?”

“Yes.”

“Is Hattie with you?”

My eyes flit to her. “Yes.”

“Good, put me on speakerphone.”

I pressed the button. “Okay.”

“Hattie,” my dad said.

“I’m here,” she said. “We are both safe and in the basement.”

“Hattie, in the basement sitting room there is a large, black safe, do you know it?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Go there.”

I followed Hattie into the sitting room until she made it to the safe. It was taller than I and could probably fit a person or two in it. I hoped he wasn’t about to ask us to hide in there. “Okay,” she said.

“I want you punch in the code. It’s 0-9-0-2-1-9-8-8.”

Hattie punched in the code on the keypad in the middle of the safe and the sliding lock slipped free allowing Hattie to swing open the heavy door. The first thing I saw was a row of guns — a mix of metal and wood — ready to kill. On the other side was a row of pistols, all shined and polished as though they had never been used before.

“Do you know how to fire a gun?”  he asked.

“Yes, I do,” Hattie said, reaching for one of the large hunting rifles.

“Good,”  he said. “Waverly, I want you to take one too.”

I felt sickness overtake my stomach. “I don’t want to use a gun,” I said.

“Sweetie, I’ve taught you how to shoot, now it’s time to put that into good practice. I want you to shoot whoever comes into the house that you don’t recognize.”

I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing. Dad wanted me to shoot an intruder? Were those monsters coming here? “Dad, are you coming home?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, I heard him yelling out. “No!” He screamed. “No, no, no! Get out!”

“Daddy!”

Glass shattered from his end of the phone. My dad’s voice was drowned out by grunts and moans.

“You can’t! You can’t! Oh no! Please!” His cries ended in a gargling noise and the phone fell from my hands as I dropped to my knees.

“Daddy,” I whimpered.

Hattie wrapped one of her arms around me and grabbed the phone with the other, ending the call.

“Those things just killed my dad,” I said as I buried my face into Hattie’s chest. She had no words for me. There was nothing she could have said that would have changed anything or made me feel better. She just held me close and rubbed my back.

Were those things coming to the house? Were they coming for us? Where was my mom? I finally pulled away from Hattie, wiping my eyes. I took a handgun from the safe, unsure of myself. I checked to see if it was loaded. Neither of us knew what kind of enemy we faced, but we knew we had to fight it, no matter what it was.

We went back into the living area and my eyes were glued to the television. I stood there numbly, unable to comprehend that I had just finished the last conversation with my dad that I would ever have. The reports kept coming in about these mindless grey people going around biting, scratching, and eating human flesh. That was all anyone knew. Had my father just been eaten by one of these things? A few of these things? Were these just normal people with a sickness like rabies or something?

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry more. I wanted my parents to be home. As I stared at the screen, just as clueless as the reporters at the station, I couldn’t help but wonder how big this must be.

I was lost in my thoughts until my heart jolted at the sound of the someone banging on the front door upstairs. “Mom?” I said as I stood up sharply. I headed straight for the stairs, but Hattie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. She raised a finger to her lips and motioned for me to stay quiet. The thought then hit me that it might not have been mom at all. I froze when I realized that it could have been those creatures. The banging got louder and louder. I could hear the wood start to crack underneath the weight of the intruders. Finally, there was a crash and the door sounded like it was flung open.

I held the handgun close to me. I hoped beyond all hope that my mother wasn’t on her way home. As we sat at the bottom of the stairs, I could see shadows move under the doorstep. Something, a hand maybe, grabbed for the doorknob, but never turned it. Next, it started scratching, then hitting its fists hard against the wood. As the pounding became louder, I nearly screamed. Hattie pointed her rifle at the door, ready for anything to come through.

The noise, I thought. I instantly stood and ran for the television and shut it off. I then walked quickly to the light switches and shut off all the lights in the basement.

They sounded like ravenous animals determined to find meat before they died. Fear had replaced my grief, and I sat staring at the door, my hands shaking so badly that I had to set the gun down in front of me for fear of letting off a round by accident. Hattie took no notice of me as her remained fixed on the door above us. It took a minute or two, but the pounding became less severe and it seemed they had finally lost interest in us.

Then, I heard a noise that sent icicles through my chest. I could hear my mom’s voice from the front of the house.

“Waverly? Hattie? Are you home?” she yelled out. Her voice was frantic with worry.

I wanted to yell for her, to tell her to get out of the house, but Hattie reached out and covered my mouth, shaking her head vigorously.

“We’ve got to get out of the city,” she said, coming nearer to the basement door.

Hattie let go of my mouth, and it was everything I could do not to yell out, but if I did, I knew that the scratchers would be down here in a second. Mom would see them and run, surely.

Her steps came closer to the basement. “Waverly? Are you down…” Her words stopped short and were replaced by a scream that sent chills up and down my spine.

“No!” I scream out.

Something slammed against the door and the horrific grunts mingled with her screams flooded into my ears. I started running up the stairs, but Hattie grabbed me by my pants and pulled me down. “Waverly, no!” she said harshly. She dragged me to her and pulled me close. I tried to fight her for only a second before the screaming stopped and blood started oozing between the crack from under the door and onto the steps ahead of us.

My sobs were silent, but not because I tried to quiet them. I cried so hard I thought my ribs might crack. I had no way to gasp for air. It was as though my windpipe had closed off and would allow no breath to come in or out, yet the tears flowed freely from my eyes. I could hear the sounds of chomping jaws closing around soft tissue, lubricated by my mother’s blood that I could see dripping just above. Hattie pulled me away from the stairs and let me lie on the floor.

She lay next to me, holding me tightly. “Just breathe,” she whispered into my ear. “There’s no time for crying yet, just breathe.”

Just breathe, I thought. Just breathe. Finally, air entered my lungs and the result was a loud gasp. The chomping from upstairs stopped and the scratchers suddenly seemed interested in the door again. The moaning grew louder as the house became populated with more and more of these creatures.

“Why are they coming in here?” I asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hattie said. She reached down and clutched her gun and handed me the pistol I had set on the steps. “We’ve got to get out of here. Whatever those things are, they know we’re down here.”

“Where are we going?”

Hattie nodded at the television. “They say it’s all over the city. We’ve got to get out of Oakridge. My house will be safer.”

“My parents…”

“Are gone,” Hattie said bluntly. She set the gun down and grabbed my shoulders with her sturdy hands. “Waverly, listen to me. If we don’t get out of here, those things are going to tear that door down and we’ll meet the same fate as your father and mother.”

“How do we know they are dead?” I asked.

“Waverly, stop it!” Hattie yelled. As a result, the scratchers started pounding against the door even harder. Both of us turned our heads toward the stairs. When the sound of cracking wood reached our ears, I jumped to my feet, gun in hand. Hattie turned back to me. “My car is in the driveway. If we run out the back we can get out of here fast enough.”

“Your keys?”

She reached for her pocket and nodded. “I’ve got them.”

The grunting and breaking of the wood became louder and then the door hinges snapped. I let out a scream as the creatures came tumbling down the stairs. The first few fell face first, but that didn’t deter them from getting back up to their feet, bones jutting out of their skin. I was frozen in place as about ten of them started toward me. The pictures I had seen on the news were not nearly as terrifying as seeing one of them up close. Their eyes were black, their skin was grey, yes, but their teeth chattered at me, biting the air as if they could already taste my flesh. They smelled like a dead animal, rotting on the side of the road. I lifted my pistol into the air and let off five shots into the chest of the first one coming after me, but he only gained in speed. Then, he was running toward me.

A hand grabbed my wrist. “Waverly, run!” Hattie’s voice screamed out. There was no time to fight them. I followed her through the basement living room and to the mudroom at the other end. She unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open. I ran out first and she tried to slam the door shut just as arms snaked through the opening. Hattie pulled on the knob, smashing the arms over and over, expecting their pain to make them recoil, but it was as if they felt no pain. I lifted my handgun again and shot twice into the crack. Even though their dark, black blood flew, they were undaunted. Hattie gave up on the door as two more arms crashed through the glass at the top. She yelled for me to run. Hoping she was close behind me, I bolted up the stairs and into the driveway. I stopped when I got to Hattie’s car, a sudden realization overtaking me. Looking up and down the street, the grey people were everywhere. Some had claimed victims; a group of them was devouring a man on the ground. I looked at the street in front of my yard and saw my mom’s SUV parked, but emotions of sadness would come later. Shock had taken over me. How could this have happened? Where had they all come from?

“Get in the car, Waverly!” came the voice of Hattie. The grey people were right behind her as she swung open the driver’s side door. She lifted her gun into the air and shot one of the grey people in the head and it dropped to the ground, lifeless. There was no time to think about it, however. I jumped in the front seat as the monsters crowded around the car, smashing through windows. One of them grabbed my shirtsleeve and was coming in to bite me, but Hattie revved the car into reverse and its fingers were unable to maintain its grip. We were in the street and Hattie slammed on the gas pedal, screaming past more of the grey people.

The tears began to flow again. “I shot five bullets into one of those things!” I yelled. “It didn’t even flinch! What are they, Hattie? What are they?”

Hattie simply stared straight ahead and shook her head, too focused to cry. Too shocked to answer.

My parents were dead. There was no way to know if my sister was still alive. It felt like my world had ended in a matter of minutes. Perhaps there was still time to save Hattie’s.

Chapter 5 – Remi

Sneaking through Crestwood in the middle of the night feels like walking through any old town at dark before the outbreak, minus the armed guards on the wall…and, of course, the wall itself. I’ve got to be careful, though. One of the first rules Gabe made sure to tell me when I got here was that curfew was always at eleven. Anyone caught outside their homes any later might be put in a holding cell, because anyone outside after eleven was probably up to no good.

It’s midnight, and I’m up to no good.

There is a roundabout on Main Street in the middle of the town across from my apartment building. When I reach it and crouch behind some bushes, I look all around me. Crestwood isn’t huge by any means. In fact, it seems like it might have been the most boring town in the world before the greyskins. I would have hated living here. Its size also means that I have to be extra careful. Guards will usually keep their eyes fixed outside of the walls, but occasionally one or two will do a sweep of Crestwood to make sure everything is quiet and under control.

I look at the front wall and can see two guards holding their rifles at their hips, chattering quietly with each other. If I wanted to, I could listen to what they were saying, but I’ve done it before, and unless I want to hear how much liquor one could hold or how many women another has had, I’ll keep my ears focused on where it matters.

I look up at the red brick building to my right. It’s a three-story structure that used to have a café on the first floor. The sign has faded and boards have been nailed into the outside wall below it with writing that says: Headquarters. The first floor is usually reserved for Paxton to meet with people like Gabe or the food and ration committee, or the medical staff, but the second floor is where Paxton and the other four elders meet, and that’s where I want to be. The third floor is where Paxton sleeps, and I don’t want to be there. According to Gabe, Paxton doesn’t have a bodyguard, so I shouldn’t be running into anything unexpected. But he did warn me that the town leader is notorious for his insomnia and often spends much of his nights on the second floor, going over meeting notes or plans that may have been discussed.

All it will take for me to know if he’s there is a slight tilt of my head and my ears will be able to tell me. I have no idea why I gained this ability. I know when it happened, and it saved my life, but ever since then I’ve been able to turn it on and off as I need it. I haven’t told a soul about it, and I don’t plan to. That’s why I was so startled when Paxton had asked me about special abilities. I just knew he had me figured out, but he hasn’t asked me about it since. Of course, I don’t exactly make a habit of hanging around Paxton. Mostly I just try to avoid him whenever I can. He seems nice enough now, but I’m not going to take any chances. Then again, I’m crouched outside Headquarters ready to break into the floor just below him. I suppose my skills of avoiding him will be truly tested in a few minutes. I feel nervous, but confident. There is no reason I should get caught. I’ve got an advantage over anyone that might try to catch me. I suppose that the nervousness that creeps into me comes from knowing that I can’t be completely sure I won’t get caught.

I turn my head toward the second story of the headquarters building and try to focus my hearing. The sound of a few hundred or more people breathing heavily, snoring loudly, and some of them arguing in bed come into my head all at once, but the key is to tune all that out. The voices, the breaths, all fade away as I focus on the second floor. If Paxton is awake, I will hear him breathing, I will hear the sound of movement, the turning of pages, the creak of a chair.

My eyebrows crease when I hear a short squeak and the sound of tiny nails scratching against a wall. My lips curl up into a smile as I pull my head away and turn to look up at Headquarters. The second floor is quiet as a mouse.

I glance to my left toward the wall and see the guards still chatting away. To my right, the street is clear. No patrols yet. This is going to be too easy. I stand with my back still hunched over as though I’m ducking for cover from bullets. It feels stupid since there isn’t anyone around — almost like I’m pretending to run from bad guys. Within three seconds I’m standing in front of the Headquarters door. The faded words above read The Crestwood Café, and I suddenly remember that most cafés answered each new customer with the sound of a happy bell. Though I’m sure the cute welcoming jingle used to put a smile on someone’s face, it’s a quick way for me to get caught.

I bite my lower lip and look from side-to-side. Would anyone actually hear it? At midnight, most people in Crestwood would have been asleep for at least a couple of hours. Of course, who knows how deeply Paxton sleeps when he’s actually out.

I decide against going through the front door and make my way to the left of the building. There is a narrow alley that leads to the next street over, but it’s the door next to the dumpster that catches my attention. I walk swiftly but softly to the door and feel the doorknob. It is locked, but I had expected as much. I reach for my back pocket and pull out a tiny flathead screwdriver — the kind people used to have for repairing glasses. I would have never thought about carrying one of these things around before I had been on the road for a few months. A guy named Jerome taught me its wonderful uses and I’ve always made sure to keep one on me. Luckily, Gabe hadn’t seen it as a threat when they took my knife and gun away. I remember half-heartedly smiling at him and saying that if I ever live to be forty, I might need reading glasses.

I insert the screwdriver into the lock and wiggle it softly until the blade is between the tumblers. With a gentle push and a soft twist, the knob turns as easily as if Paxton had made me a copy of the key. Before opening the door all the way, I hold my breath for a moment, listening for movement ahead of me. The worst part of sneaking around is being caught by surprise. I would rather know my doom was ahead of me than be blindsided by it. There is nothing but silence ahead. Quietly, I pull the screwdriver from the doorknob and slip it back into my pocket.

I pull the door open all the way, relieved there is no squeak from the hinges. I hold onto the side of it until it closes silently behind me. I let out a sigh of relief and turn to find myself in the café’s old kitchen, though it isn’t much of a kitchen anymore. Sinks sit dirty and bare, and refrigerators stand open and unplugged. Dirt and a sticky slime is pasted against the walls. A roach narrowly escapes the destructive power of my boot as I take a step forward.

This place isn’t quite up to code, I think to myself. Of course, the kitchen has probably never been used by Paxton or anyone else here for that matter. I just hope it isn’t completely closed off to the main seating area where I will gain access to the stairs. I walk to the end of the kitchen and stand in front of a set of double doors that are meant to swing in or out. I take a deep breath and push against the right one softly but it doesn’t move. I try the left one, same story. Next, I try to slip my fingers into the small crack between the doors, and once I finally get a good hold on the left one, I pull it toward me. I’m relieved to see that only a table has been pushed up against the doors, and I will be able to sneak past it. I’m not taking my chances by crawling on top of it, so I hold the door open with my left and crouch to my knees. There is plenty of room for me to crawl underneath and to the other side, so I start to move slowly and I ease the door shut against the table.

The aged carpet beneath my palms and knees leave a grimy residue on my hands. The feeling makes my lip curl into snarl. When I get out from under the table, I wipe my fingers on my pants and scan the room as best as I can. The only light I have to work with is the moonlight, so all I can see are a few tables set up with three rows of chairs nearest the entrance. Closer to me, there is a single chair, probably where Paxton sits to address the committee.

My eyes go to the top of the front door and I feel relieved that I chose to go through the back. A single bell hangs over it, announcing to anyone in the building that a customer has arrived.

The stairs are to my left, and when I get to the bottom, I look up. The dark shadows loom over me as a warning for me to stay where I am and not to go snooping, but I ignore them and take each step with caution. The first stair gives off a short groan as it settles under my weight, but it’s the fourth step that makes my heart stop for a beat. It creaks loudly and slowly, and I know if I recoil, it will only sound louder. My teeth mash together as I look up, but I don’t hear any movement ahead. As long as Paxton remains sound asleep, I will be safe. I lift my foot; the step lets off a short squeak, but it’s not nearly as loud as before. The rest of the steps are silent.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I can see that the layout is much like the diner below, but has substantially more clutter. It’s an open room without walls in the middle or any doors but for a small bathroom in the back corner. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books line the spaces between the windows. There is a round, wooden table with five chairs around it, probably where the elders meet together. To the right of the table is the large desk that Gabe told me about. Jackpot.

I wait by the stairs for a minute and look up, listening for any sound or movement, but there’s nothing. I don’t really like nothing because that means there isn’t heavy breathing or snoring. But I suppose right now, nothing is better than something. As I walk slowly toward the desk, I keep my head up, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on any noise from above. To the left… to the right… silence, so I continue to walk forward. Finally, when I’m only a foot or so away from the desk, I can hear the faintest sound of breathing. In and out, in and out — I must be standing directly below Paxton’s bed.

I go around to the other side of the desk and slowly pull out the middle drawer. Gabe said that Lillian had mentioned putting in a request with someone called Shadowface. I shake my head at the thought. Someone that calls himself Shadowface couldn’t have had too many friends growing up. I smile at my own thoughts, but can’t help but wonder why someone would need to disguise himself… or herself. I haven’t been a part of this town for very long, but having secret dealings with someone that keeps his own identity a secret seems… shady. Part of me doesn’t care what these people do so long as I have a roof over my head, and food in my stomach. I’ve long given up on caring about the corruption of leaders and people that go on power trips. It seems to always lead to death.

I catch myself staring at the open drawer, forgetting to look through its contents. This happens sometimes. My thoughts take over my mind and I forget where I am. It can happen to me anywhere, at any time. I think about the last group I was with before I lost them. Two had been bitten. Another was eaten completely. Then I was separated from the last one in our group. I bite my lip and shake my head sharply.

How can I be so stupid? I can’t keep going into a daze like this. Those people are gone. I’ve got walls now. The greyskins are a memory. Now I can spend the rest of my days in Crestwood in peace.

I stare down at the desk and my heart beats like a drum in my chest. What am I doing? Why am I risking my future in Crestwood just so I can work as a soldier? Why do I even want to be a soldier? Shouldn’t I just be happy watching after those snot-nosed kids where I’ll be safe? What do I care if Gabe feels uneasy about some loser that calls himself Shadowface? It means nothing to me.

But I’m here now. The desk is right in front of me. I push aside papers and pens, looking for the journal Gabe told me about. I reach for the drawer to the left when my eyes see the drawer on the far right. It has a lock. I reach for my small screwdriver and insert it. I’ve always found that doors tend to have easier locks to pick than safes and drawers because of the size difference, but the drawer pops open after a few attempts.

I feel my eyes widen when I see a pistol lying on top of a stack of papers. I let my fingers clasp around the metal handle and admire the silver glint in the moonlight. I pull the magazine from the bottom and find it fully loaded. I shouldn’t take it. I know I shouldn’t, but my instincts force me to tuck it safely under my belt at my back. I feel like I’m too loud as I shuffle through the papers. It’s too dark to really see what all of them are, but I freeze when I see a small, leather-bound book at the bottom. I drop the papers to the floor and grab it. This must be the journal. It has to be. I flip open the pages, but there is no way I can read it here.

I stand and walk slowly to the window where the moon shines the brightest. I turn page after page, knowing I won’t find anything about Shadowface while trying to read here. The print is tiny and the book is thick, but I know this has to be what Gabe was talking about.

The creak of springs in a mattress snaps my head to attention and I look up at the ceiling. Paxton’s awake. The sound of feet hitting the floor above me starts a tempo in my heart that couldn’t be healthy. I try to keep my breathing slow, but it feels impossible. His feet are moving now toward the door…the stairs.

I tiptoe to the stairs as the third floor door opens. Each step down I take is a potential alarm system to Paxton. Which board creaked when I came up? My foot lands on the fourth one from the bottom floor and it seems to let out a much louder sound than the first time.

Paxton is near the second floor.

“Is someone there?” he calls out. He flips a switch in the stairwell and the light flickers on, blinding me for a moment.

I decide to make a run for it, skipping the last steps completely, jumping onto the landing at the bottom.

“Hey!” Paxton yells out, probably following closely behind. I run through the middle of the café and slide under the table. I crawl as quickly as I can and push the swinging door open. I look behind me as I run into the kitchen and catch a short glimpse of Paxton following. I run through the back door and scan both directions of the alley.

The dumpster.

I open the top lid and the smell of trash engulfs me. I try to hold my breath as I climb to the top and slide in, allowing the lid to fall slowly over me. It’s not even seconds before I hear the back door crashing open. All Paxton has to do is open the lid to the dumpster and I’m done for.

Was this a bad idea? Wouldn’t this be the first place he looked? I suppose not since I hear him shuffling up and down the alley before finally cursing and running back into the kitchen, probably to get a radio and a gun.

I wait a moment before daring to open the lid. I know I only have a minute or so before he calls someone and alerts the guards to be on the lookout. That gives me little time to run back to my apartment building.

I’m sure he didn’t see who I was. At least, I hope he didn’t. I close my eyes and focus my hearing toward the top of the building. The echoes on the walls indicate he’s running up the stairs. This is my chance.

I hop out of the dumpster and make my way to Main Street. I stay crouched as I run to the roundabout, and when I get there, I watch the guards on the wall to make sure they aren’t looking in my direction. Satisfied, I take a deep breath and sprint for my apartment building and don’t stop until I reach my home.

I’m almost wheezing by the time I close my apartment door and lock it behind me — as if doing so will keep me safe. I hurry to the window on the other side of the room and stare out at the guards on the wall. They are talking on their radios now.

“I don’t know who it was,” the voice of Paxton says over the radio. “I want you to do a sweep of the entire town.”

“Can you give a description?” one of the guards ask, but he is met with silence.

I smile, thinking Paxton probably only saw a shadow of me, never getting a good enough look to even tell that I am a woman.

“I know it was a woman, but I didn’t see her face,” Paxton says.

So much for that thought. But it doesn’t matter. There are plenty of women here in Crestwood. Sure, I might be one of the first people he questions because I’m newer, but that doesn’t mean he’ll find his precious journal.

I hold the book in my hands and sigh, hoping that I’ll find out something good enough for Gabe. But more than that I hope I don’t find anything too damning. I would like to stay here, after all. It would be a shame to find out Paxton was planning to kill everyone in Crestwood or something. Then I would feel obligated to leave.

My hand feels for the slick, grey metal of the pistol at my back and I pull it out in front of me. Nothing in this world, not the safety of walls, not the promise of protection, not the roof over my head, nor the food in my stomach, can give me peace of mind like a loaded gun in my grip.

Chapter 6 – Remi

Spending the entire next morning holed up in my dirty apartment going through Paxton’s journal feels like I’m in school again. I hate it.

The entries date back to the first meeting of the elders, and for the first hundred pages it makes no mention of any Shadowface. But then, things start to change. Dating back to just under a year ago, Paxton writes about a meeting where the elders talked about a supplier. He didn’t make mention of any name until a few pages later when an elder named Kenneth suggests requesting a truck from Shadowface. As I turn through the pages I see this more and more. Everything ranging from food, to weapons, to clothing. There seems to be no mention of him unless the elders want or need something. I flip through every page until I reach the most recent entry.

Shadowface, I think to myself. He’s just a supplier. I stick out my lower lip and nod, happy that I didn’t find out that Paxton is some axe murderer with a twisted plan to turn all his citizens into greyskins. I slip the journal under my mattress and I see the silver glint of the pistol I stole last night. I hesitate for a moment, wanting nothing more than to keep it by my side but I know I can’t. First, there’s the rule that no ordinary citizen is allowed to be armed. Second, it’s a nice pistol. It’s not the kind you just steal and show off to all your friends. It’s the kind an owner would recognize which is why it was doubly stupid for me to take it in the first place. I panicked last night. I saw it, so I took it — just like they took my gun.

My ears perk up at the sound of the building’s front door crashing open. “We’ll start at the top floor,” comes the voice of Gabe.

I sit up straight on the bed as the pounding of footsteps rush up to the top floor. The pit in my stomach is growing and I know they will come barging in here, looking for the journal. But it’s Gabe, right? He wouldn’t set me up like this. Would he?

I look down at the mattress and wonder if I should find a better spot to hide the gun and the journal. What if they find it on me? They’ll kick me out. I shake my head. The old rules of law don’t apply in this situation. For this offense, the rules will be different. I don’t know what kind of man Paxton is. For all I know he could have me executed for something like this. I curse and smash my hand against the mattress as the footsteps come closer to my door.

“You two get these rooms, I’ll get the one at the end,” Gabe says.

A few seconds later, he raps his knuckles on my door.

“Open up!” he shouts. I stand up and walk to the door. I unlock it and Gabe pushes through the entrance. I can’t help but jump back as he comes in. “Paxton’s furious,” he whispers to me.

“Does he know anything?” I ask.

“Where is it?” he says.

“I can’t give it to you, because he’ll know I took it!”

“Where is it?” he repeats.

“Under the mattress,” I say, looking down at the floor.

Two sets of footsteps come walking toward the door, and when I look up I see two large men who I recognize as patrolmen on the outer wall. One of them wears a sleeveless shirt like a moron, even though it’s cold outside, no doubt to show off his giant muscles. The other doesn’t seem quite as dumb, but still big and burly, with his beard falling to the top of his chest.

“Those two rooms are empty, boss,” beardy says. “No one is living there.”

“Boss?” I ask Gabe, unable to contain my grin.

He shakes his head and looks at the two guards. “You,” he points to beardy, “check in the bathroom. You check the couch, I’ll check the bed.”

“You got it,” sleeveless answers.

Gabe sighs and walks to the side of my bed. His hair is pulled back today and the bags under his eyes make it seem like he didn’t get much sleep last night. I wonder if I look the same. I didn’t sleep much at all: listening to Paxton bark out orders, listening to the guards talk about their theories of what might be going on. It actually made for quite an entertaining experience. The conversations ranged from Paxton seeing a ghost to the possibility of there being greyskins inside the town. But the most popular theory was that Paxton had slept so little that he had only thought he saw something. Of course, I’m sure by now they all know that a journal and gun were stolen, so those theories went out the window.

Gabe tousles the sheets and pulls up the mattress to look as though he’s trying to find something. When it seems messy enough, he stands and looks at me, clearly displeased. It didn’t occur to me until now that he had probably already known about the gun. I bite my lower lip and raise an eyebrow at him as the other two guards come near us.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” I ask.

“No,” Gabe says, not taking his eyes away from mine. “Looks like we’ll have to search all of the other apartments until we do.” He finally turns to the other guards and instructs them to move on to the next apartment. When they leave the room, Gabe walks up close to me and whispers in my ear. “I want to talk to you this evening.”

“It’s a date,” I say.

He steps back from me and shakes his head, clearly not wanting to joke, but I just bite my lip again and smile. After what I did, I doubt he’s going to want me in with the soldiers, but at least he gave me some time to get rid of the journal. He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, and I stand here in the quiet for a few moments.

I shouldn’t have taken the gun. The look of disappointment in Gabe’s eyes was enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. I know I haven’t known him for a long time, but people get closer faster in this new life, and what Gabe thinks of me is kind of important. But I needed the gun. Having it under my mattress last night gave me such a sense of comfort and protection. I’m sure if I hadn’t been busy listening in on soldier conversations the whole night I might have slept well. And I know I will sleep well with it under my mattress tonight. And why shouldn’t I have a gun? How could the citizens here be okay with a law that strips from them their only means of protection? I was never okay with it, but I was forced to accept it.

No longer.

I listen for the next few minutes as Gabe and his two cronies search the other apartments below me. As I turn my ear across the town to other apartment buildings, I can hear some guards searching the rooms frantically, while others explain courteously why they have to barge into the home and look for something that someone stole. I’m sure Gabe doesn’t think all this fuss is worth it.

I meet him later in the evening when the search has stalled. I sit on a bench next to one of the gardens a couple of streets down from Main Street as he stands next to a wall nearby. There are hardly ever people in this part of the town, so it’s a good place for a private conversation. The entire town seems to be on edge after having their homes searched and raided. Some are complaining to the guards publicly, others demanding to see Paxton. I think Gabe is just happy to be sitting away from the commotion.

“Before all this crap started, I used to smoke,” he says, rubbing the stubble on his face.

“The greyskin crap?” I ask.

He nods and turns his head to me. “Cigarettes became pretty scarce in the months after.”

“I bet,” I say. “I’ve never tried cigarettes, but I believe I’ve needed one a time or two.”

He laughs as he leans against the wall. His face then becomes very serious. “What did you find out?”

I shrug at him. “What’s it worth to you?” I ask playfully, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Remi,” he says, looking up and down the street. “I’m really uncomfortable with all this. Do you know how much trouble we can get in?”

“It’s just a stupid journal,” I say.

“And a gun!” he says in a harsh whisper. “I can’t begin to tell you how mad Paxton was last night.”

I know, I heard, I wanted to say.

“Why’d you take the gun, Remi, why?”

I look away from him, my knees leaving my chest, and I bend my head to stare at the ground. I sit for a moment, not wanting to say anything, not really knowing what to say. Should I tell him that having a gun helps me sleep? Do I tell him that three months ago I had been on the road where almost everywhere I went there were greyskins? Should I talk about all the times I was awoken by the gargling noises of the dead chasing after me, wanting nothing but to rip the muscle from my bones? What about all the nights for the past three months since I’ve been safe where all I can do is dream about greyskins coming after me, and of all the people that I’ve lost?

My eyes go from the ground to Gabe. “Why did you take my gun?” I ask, standing to my feet. I take a few steps closer to him. “Answer me that.”

“Those are the rules,” he says.

I take another step forward and shove his chest. He reaches out to try and stop me, but I just shove him again until he’s standing upright, no longer leaning against the wall. His eyebrows dart downward as he stares at me.

“Your rules leave these people defenseless. They leave me defenseless.”

“They aren’t my rules,” Gabe says. “I can no more change them than you can.”

I turn away from him and walk back to the bench, but I don’t sit.

“That’s why you want to be a soldier, isn’t it?” he asks.

I don’t answer him. The answer is obvious.

“I had no idea, Remi, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” I say. I turn back to face him, but I don’t look up. “The gun was there, so I took it. I can’t explain it to you, but it’s just instinct now. And instinct tells me to keep it.”

“If you’re caught with that thing, Paxton will kick you out,” Gabe says.

“I know.”

“Your best bet is to get rid of it.”

“You clearly don’t understand,” I say.

“I do,” he says. “Get rid of it and be a soldier here.”

My eyes light up at his words. “Do you mean that?”

“Well, you have to hold up your end of the bargain,” he says with a smile. “But yeah.”

“You’re going to be disappointed with my end of the bargain,” I say. “Or relieved, I’m not sure what you’re looking for exactly.”

Gabe shrugs and moves closer to me. I hate it that my heart beats harder when he is near me.

“Shadowface is just a supplier,” I tell him. “The journal says nothing about who he is or where he comes from. It’s nothing more than a book of minutes that Paxton keeps locked in the desk. Anyway, Shadowface came up less than a year ago, and throughout the journal he is only mentioned when the elders need something.”

Gabe nods as he takes the words in.

“It doesn’t sound that strange to me,” I say. “In fact, it sounds like a good idea. Though, I’m a little surprised that you don’t know about it, being the lead scout and all. Don’t you go for supply runs? Don’t you see shipments that Shadowface brings in?”

“I go for supply runs, but I rarely bring anything good back,” he says. “In fact, the only times we’ve ever scored decent supplies is when Paxton and an elder go out themselves.”

“They go on supply runs?” I ask.

“They go every so often,” Gabe says. “Apparently their runs aren’t like ours. Looks like they’re meeting with their buddy, Shadowface.”

“What does Paxton have to trade Shadowface for all the ammo and extra supplies?”

Gabe shakes his head. “No idea. It’s odd to tell you the truth.”

“You going to do more digging?” I ask.

“Not now,” Gabe says. “Maybe not for a little while. Paxton is hell-bent on finding out who stole the journal and gun. Best not to be doing anymore snooping around for a bit.” He stares at me for a few moments and squints his eyes. “Couldn’t you have stolen the stuff in a more unnoticeable fashion?”

I lower my head and smile.

“You left papers on the floor,” Gabe says, “the drawer was left open, the gun was gone. If you would have just taken the journal and tidied everything up a bit, Paxton might have thought he just misplaced it or something.”

“What can I say? I’m used to chaos.”

Gabe let out a huff and started walking back toward Main Street as I walked slowly behind him. “I really do need a cigarette,” he says under his breath.

I don’t really know what time it is when I find my way back to the apartment. When I pull up the mattress, I’m glad to see that the journal and gun are still there. I don’t know why, but I felt that for some reason my apartment might have been given an extra search while I was out. As vehement as Paxton seemed, I wouldn’t be surprised. I grab the journal and tuck it under my shirt. I then reach for the gun, but my hand stops. Am I really just going to dump this somewhere? I sit for a moment, staring at it, thinking. I sigh and cover it back up with the mattress and walk out of the apartment.

I don’t stop until I’ve reached the other side of Main Street. It’s probably a really bad idea to go toward Headquarters to leave the journal, but I also know it will be the least expected move. I walk nonchalantly past the front of the building and into the alley on the left side. When I stand in front of the dumpster, I look from side to side to make sure no one is watching. Satisfied, I pull the journal from my shirt and toss it in and immediately start walking back toward Main Street. No one sees me.

When I startle awake the next morning, I feel the coolness of metal at my palms. My groggy eyes widen when I see the pistol clutched in my right hand with the hammer pulled back. I let go of it and it rests safely on the sheets. I swallow hard, unable to take my eyes away from it. I try to think about the night, but I have no memory of waking up and getting the pistol out from under the mattress. Knowing that I did that makes me sick to my stomach. I reach for it and pull the magazine out, and snap the remaining bullet from the chamber. I then let the gun drop to the ground.

My hands are shaking. I don’t even remember dreaming last night. I must have been in a deep sleep. I pull my hands close to me and warm them under my armpits.  I should have just dumped the pistol in the trash with the journal. What is wrong with me, thinking I need a gun? The rule for taking guns away from the common citizen is probably because of people like me in the first place. Crestwood probably started with a bunch of crazies waking up in the middle of the night, shooting neighbors they thought were greyskins.

I pull my hands away from my armpits and rub them through my hair. I can feel the grease from going a couple of days without a shower. Before I had come to Crestwood, a shower was something that could get me killed. Sure, there were plenty of them around, just pick a house. But greyskins love to hang out in abandoned houses.

I turn on the water as hot as it will go, but the lack of steam tells me there will be no hot water this morning. I let out a sigh and pull off my clothes and step in, letting the cold water take my breath away. Sometimes the water’s cold, sometimes it’s hot. Today it’s freezing. At least I’ll be alert.

I’m not expecting Gabe to meet me when I walk out of the apartment building, but he’s a pleasant sight. Smiling, he walks up next to me. “Your coming out today,” he says.

“What?” I stop in the middle of the road and stare at him.

“I got it cleared. You’re coming out with us. The soldiers.”

“Just like that? I’m a soldier?”

Gabe holds out a hand as if to steady me. “Oh, well, I didn’t say that. I said you’re coming out with us. In order to be a soldier, you have to show us how you can handle yourself.”

“Oh, well that’s not a problem,” I say. “Is there like a shooting range you use or something?”

Gabe shakes his head. “No. We’re going outside the walls. A supply run. And you’re coming with us.”

My eyebrows turn downward. “What if we don’t encounter any greyskins?” I ask.

His words turn my insides to ice. “We will,” he says. “Where we’re going is a hot territory.” My heart pounds as he reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. “But you already know that’s where the best stuff is. Be ready. We leave in a few hours.”

Chapter 7 – Waverly

“Yeah, looks like you got it good,” Gilbert says as he stands over the dead greyskin. He turns to face Ethan. “And you said it was right after I got in the SUV?”

Ethan nods.

Gilbert spits on the ground and shakes his head. “I must have been more tired than I realized. Good thing you guys were awake.”

I had planned to stay up the entire night, but a few hours in my eyes started to become heavy, and getting up to add branches to the fire did little to relieve my sleepiness. Ethan had noticed this and let me sleep the rest of the night as he sat watch, keeping the fire going until the sun came up.

“I wonder if that raider guy is looking for us,” Gilbert says as he sits next to the coals and begins rummaging through a bag, no doubt hoping to find a can of beans, soup, or something.

“Scarecrow is what I call him,” I say. When I’m met with a strange look, I shrug. “That’s what he looked like to me.”

“Scarecrow,” Ethan says as he sits next to me, palms up to the heat of the coals. “He did kind of look like one.”

Gilbert tosses the bag to the ground. “We’ve got no food,” he says. “But I was looking at a map earlier and there is a town not too far from here. About fifty miles. It’s a place called Foley. Either of you know it?” He is answered with silence. “Well, that’s where I think we should go. It’s our best bet at getting more food and hopefully some fuel. If we can’t get gas there, we’ll only be good for another fifty miles then we’ll have to go on foot.”

“How far is Crestwood from here?” Ethan asks.

“About 350 miles,” he answers. “If we can get a full tank in Foley,” he holds up a finger, “we might be able to make it to Crestwood on one tank. Either way we should be able to get pretty close. If this works out right, we could be there by tonight.”

I didn’t expect it, but Gilbert’s words make me perk up. Yesterday, I hadn’t cared about finding a place that was safe and warm, but today is different. I feel the loss of Lucas no less than I did last night, but I know that the only way to survive is to move forward — to think forward. If we can be in Crestwood by tonight, it will be a large victory, but it breaks my heart to know that Lucas was only two days away from protection.

“Sounds good to me,” Ethan says. “I just hope they take us in.”

“They will,” Gilbert says. “That’s their reputation.”

I know what Ethan and Gilbert mean. It’s hard being a traveler on the road all the time. Generally there are three types of people. First, there are those that are part of a group, village, or town, holed up in a secure or at least semi-secure location. Everything they do is done from their home base. Second, there are people like us — travelers who are looking for groups or villages to join, but rarely find success. People are wary of travelers because they often believe they are part of the third type of people — raiders. Raiders loot, murder and take over small groups, relying on people’s weaknesses in order to survive. Instead of going out and making runs at a hospital or deserted town, they take from those that have done so themselves. Raiders are the reason why it’s so hard to find a group to be a part of. Lucas and I had been traveling for three years and we had only recently heard that the town Crestwood opened its doors to people. Up until now, the two of us sought out temporary shelters in small villages for a month or two at a time. But those were often attacked and plundered so we were forced to keep moving. I just hope Crestwood isn’t too good to be true.

Ethan and I cover the fire pit with dirt while Gilbert shuffles through the back of the SUV again.

“If this works out,” Ethan says, “it will be the start of a new life. Just think what it will be like to not have to worry about things like sleeping.” He shakes his head. “I can’t wait.”

“We still have a long way to go,” I say.

“Hey guys,” Gilbert calls out to us, “come check this out.”

I kick dirt over the last bit of coals and the two of us walk to the back of the SUV.

“I didn’t think to check under the seat last night, but I found this,” he says, holding up a black briefcase.

“Is it locked?” Ethan asks.

Gilbert sets the briefcase down and fiddles with the latches until they pop up. He looks up at us. “Nope.” When he opens the briefcase, there is nothing but a little box at the bottom of it. He pulls out the box and takes off the top revealing a short, metal cylinder. “It screws open in the middle,” he says. When it’s open, he finds a smaller glass cylinder within it.

“What is it?” I ask.

Gilbert holds the glass into the light. “It’s filled with liquid,” he says.

As the light hits it, there is a crimson tint to it.

“Is that blood?” Ethan asks.

“Looks like it,” Gilbert says.

“But why would it be so well preserved?” I ask.

Gilbert shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “But if those raiders took the time to protect this stuff like they did, then it must be worth something to them.” He slips the glass into the metal cylinder and screws it tightly, and then puts it in his pocket.

“You’re keeping it?” Ethan asks.

“Leverage,” Gilbert says. “If they do track us down, maybe it’s something we can use. Seems valuable to them, whatever it is.”

Ethan and I both nod at him. It is sound logic. If they come up on us and we threaten to smash the cylinder into the ground then perhaps they won’t be so quick to shoot us. But it also means that if they want this thing so badly, then they most certainly will be tracking us. I keep my thoughts to myself on the matter as I get into the back seat. Ethan takes the wheel and Gilbert sits in the front passenger seat with a map unfolded in front of him. He lets out a laugh and shows the map to Ethan.

“Check this out,” he says. “Mr. Scarecrow has marked all the spots his little group has hit.”

I lean forward and look at the map. There are certain areas that are circled with red ink. I look north and find Foley, thankful that it is not circled. “It might mean something else,” I say. “Could be the places he controls. His territories.”

Gilbert shrugs and sits back in his seat. “Maybe. I bet it’s the places he’s finished with though.”

“Where were we yesterday?” Ethan asks.

“Cadiz,” Gilbert answers. “It’s circled.”

“Then it probably wouldn’t be a place his group has looted, nor would it be his territory,” Ethan says. “Look.” He points far north of Foley. “Crestwood is circled too.”

“His targets then?” I suggest.

“Who knows what these psychos do,” Gilbert says, frustrated. “It doesn’t matter, let’s just get to Foley.”

Despite how tired I feel as we drive, I keep my eyes open. The towns we pass are empty and the landscapes are bleak. Occasionally we’ll pass a greyskin or two, but nothing worth worrying about. I try not to think about yesterday. I try not to think at all. The very act of trying not to think about something is, in its own way, dwelling on it. The more I try not to think, the more I see the image of Lucas falling to the ground, a fresh bullet wound in his head. I see the crooked, yellow grin of Scarecrow when he knows that he has us. I see the greyskins piling on top of us. I see how I might have been able to stop it all. Fate had provided a way for me to save Lucas, but my body was paralyzed in unbelief.

We drive for about forty-five minutes before Gilbert announces that we are almost there. He gives me one of the handguns and asks if I know how to use it. I don’t answer as I pull out the magazine and check the chamber for ammunition.

“I guess that means yes,” Gilbert says, an eyebrow raised.

I’m not used to traveling with a gun. Lucas had refused to do it because of the attention it could draw, but I see the use in them occasionally. A gun is far better than nothing at all.

When we come across the sign that welcomes us to Foley, Ethan begins to slow the SUV down. We drive for about five more minutes until we come to a gas station. Everything seems empty. There are no greyskins roaming the streets but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t around. I know what my job is here. As we get out, Ethan goes to the pumps to see if any of them will work while I stand behind the SUV, watching for any trace of movement.

I hear Gilbert and Ethan talking behind me. Gilbert lets out a curse when he sees that the pumps don’t work.

“What did you expect?” Ethan says. “They’ve probably been dry for a couple of years now.”

“Then we need to look in the station to see if there’s any tubing and a gas can,” Gilbert answers. “There are plenty of cars around that could probably be siphoned.”

“I’ll stay back with Waverly,” Ethan says.

Gilbert walks into the station with his handgun ready while Ethan comes up beside me. “I hope these cars have something in them,” he says.

“I doubt it,” I say. “Gas is just about the first thing to go, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Perseverance. Keep trying until we find some.”

The side of my mouth curls up and it’s the first time I’ve smiled in a long time. Ethan’s talk of perseverance last night got me thinking. It’s all we can do in this world. The moment you start to think you aren’t going to make it is the moment the enemy starts to win.

And if the enemy starts to win, I think, then all could be lost.

I look behind me and I no longer see Gilbert. He’s probably shuffling around in the station, being as quiet as possible. “Can he be trusted?” I ask.

Ethan shrugs. “He hasn’t done anything to make me think otherwise. Just his attitude, really. He’s a survivor. One to look out for.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I think if it came down to saving his own skin or risking his life for another, he’d save himself every time.”

“Wouldn’t most people?” I ask.

Ethan shrugs. “I suppose so. I’d like to think that there’s someone out there that would stick his or her neck out for me. I’d like to think that there’s someone I’d risk my neck for.” His eyes linger on me for a moment before he looks away.

“Problem with those people,” I say, “is that when they do stick their neck out for you, they die.”

“Like Lucas,” Ethan says below his breath.

“Yeah,” I say. But there have been others. And I’m sure that Ethan has lost plenty of people too.

A hint of movement, a shadow maybe, passes by a wall down an alley like a whisper. “Look,” I say. “Did you see that? Across the street.”

“What was it?” Ethan asks.

“I thought I saw something move.”

Ethan grips his baseball bat tightly, his eyes fixed on the buildings across from us. I hold the handgun in front of me and I switch the safety off. I don’t have an extra magazine, and it’s been a while since I’ve practiced. As I’ve said, Lucas didn’t like to travel with guns, but on occasion we would find ourselves with one. I take a few steps forward and Ethan follows behind.

“If it’s a lone greyskin…” Ethan begins.

“I’ll let you take it out,” I interrupt. I know the procedure of fighting greyskins. Use a gun as a last resort — a quiet kill is a quiet escape.

As we scan the street in front of us, I see nothing and I start to wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me. But if I did see something then it wouldn’t have been a greyskin, because a greyskin never hides. They are too dumb to hide. I take a couple of more steps forward when I hear a clicking noise to my left. I point my gun toward the noise and what I see makes my stomach drop.

Two men stand in front of us, rifles pointed at our heads.

“Put it down,” one of them says.

“We don’t want any trouble,” I say. “We’re just looking for some fuel.”

“There’s no fuel here,” the other says.

“You raiders?” Ethan asks.

The two men are silent.

That’s when I hear more movement to my right where I first thought I saw a shadow. There are three more people standing with guns pointed at us. For a brief second I think that these people are the same raiders from yesterday, but they aren’t. And there’s no Scarecrow.

“There was a third,” one of them says.

“He’s looking for a tube to siphon gas,” I say. My hands are shaking, leaving me little confidence for a clear shot at any of them.

“Just set the gun on the ground. And you, the bat.”

I hear the bat fall to the asphalt behind me and I know Ethan has given up. “Just do it,” Ethan whispers to me.

“They’re going to kill us,” I say.

“Not if you drop your gun,” one of the men says.

I bend down and set the gun on the ground, my hands still shaking. “What do you want with us?” I ask.

“Foley is our territory,” says one of the men to my right. He has white, pale skin and red hair and he seems about as nervous as I do.

“We are travelers,” Ethan says. “We’re trying to get to a town far north of here but we’re almost out of gas.”

“We’ve got all the gas,” the redhead says. “Best you just move on.” His eyes instantly light up as he sees Gilbert behind us. I turn just in time to see him take cover behind the SUV, his rifle trained on the redhead.

“Put your weapons down!” Gilbert yells out. “I swear I’m not afraid to go down fighting.”

“There is no need for bloodshed,” the redhead says. “Just put down your gun and drive away from here.”

They clearly aren’t raiders. If they were, they would have already tried to kill us to see what supplies we might have. If they were looking for food, they would be out of luck. But if they were looking for…weapons! Everyone wants weapons.

“We’re willing to make a trade!” I blurt out.

“We aren’t doing anything until your friend here puts down his gun,” the redhead says.

I turn and glare at Gilbert. His jaw is clenched and he looks back at me like I’m one of the enemies, but he knows we will all die if he doesn’t give up. He stands from his crouch and tosses the rifle to the ground, glaring at me the whole time.

But I ignore him and turn back to the redhead. “Now will you be willing to talk?”

“I don’t know what you might have to offer,” he answers, gun still pointed at Gilbert. “We are a fairly small group with few resources.”

“But you have fuel,” I say. “And we have weapons.”

He swallows and looks at me, but he says nothing.

“We need the weapons far less than we need fuel,” I say.

“What are you doing?” Gilbert says through grinding teeth.

“We have rifles, handguns, and plenty of ammunition,” I continue. “All we ask is for a full tank of gas and a bit of food for the road.”

I am met with a long silence. Redhead and a few of his men whisper at each other so we can’t hear them.

“We need those weapons,” Gilbert says to me.

I turn my head to see Gilbert’s face twisted into a mix of anger and fear. “Not more than we need to get to Crestwood. You said it yourself, we could get there by the end of the day if we had a full tank. We won’t need the weapons there.”

The redhead calls out to me. “Is your group in full agreement?” he asks.

My eyes are fixed on Gilbert but doesn’t look at me so I turn to the redhead. “Yes.”

“We want to see the weapons.”

“How do we know you won’t just shoot us and take them?” Gilbert asks.

“Because we aren’t animals,” the redhead says. “We aren’t raiders. We’re just trying to protect our people here.”

Gilbert grits his teeth a couple of more times then walks to the back of the SUV and opens the back hatch. He steps away from it, his eyes angry as if he’s almost about to burst. “Take a look for yourself.”

The redhead motions for a couple of his men to follow while the others keep their guns pointed on us. They rummage through the back of the SUV, talking excitedly about the prospect.

“You would trade all this for a tank of gas?” the redhead asks, walking away from the SUV.

“And some food,” I say.

The redhead stands there for a moment. The others around us shift from side-to-side, and, for the moment, all is quiet until he finally looks up and nods. “I want you three to stay close together and keep your hands where we can see them. Leave the keys in the SUV.”

We stand in the middle of the street, twenty feet away from a school with three men pointing a gun at each of us. The redhead, whose name we learned is Walter, left us behind to go into the school to talk to someone about us.

“This is just great,” Gilbert mutters. “We came in for gas, and now we’re held hostage, forced to give up our weapons. We should have never let you and your boyfriend join us.”

“Shut up,” Ethan says. “We might not have gotten any fuel without Waverly.” He looks my way and I give him the slightest, thankful smile.

Gilbert doesn’t say anything else as we wait a few more minutes for Walter to return with a couple of new faces beside him. The man on his left has dark hair and a gaunt face, and he’s looking at us with suspicious eyes. The man on Walter’s right is fat and bald, but for the chops along the sides of his face, forming into a thick mat of hair at his chin. Walter introduces the man on the left as Barry, and the man on the right as Hank.

Walter tells his men to stop pointing their guns at us and smiles apologetically. “Barry’s going to put fuel in your vehicle while Hank here will take you to get some food for your journey,” he says. “I will call for you as soon as everything is in order.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“It’s a business transaction,” Walter says.

“Shady business,” Gilbert says. “We’re getting ripped off.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Hank belts out with a laugh. “I’ve got some mighty fine food in my storeroom. You all follow me.”

Walter nods at us and Hank leads us up the steps and through the front of the school. As we walk through the hallways, we see lockers lining the walls with classrooms in between. Occasionally we will see people look up at us as we walk by, some of them more concerned than others. All the while, Hank carries on about their location.

“This school was the best thing that could have happened to any of us,” Hanks says as he leads us down another hallway. “The gymnasium we use for assemblies if we need to, and the classrooms have been converted into apartments. It’s like a little town within these walls.”

“And you only have the doors to protect you?” Ethan asks. “Do you have barricades or anything?”

“Ah,” Hank says, “that’s a good question, and the answer is no. We don’t need them.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll show you when we get to Chemistry class,” he says with a cackle.

We take a set of stairs to the second floor and finally reach Hank’s storeroom. The sign above the door says Room 203 — Chemistry. I expect the room to be your average science classroom with desks neatly sitting in a row and tables littered with lab equipment, but when we enter, I find nothing of the sort. To the left is a dusty old chalkboard, wiped clean of homework assignments or classroom rules. There are no desks; instead there are shelves and boxes full of canned goods and other nonperishable foods. There is a short wall dividing the room in the middle where I assume labs used to take place. This is where the tables and chairs are, but there are few pieces of lab equipment. Instead, there is a long counter with a sink and a pile of pots, pans, and dishes next to it. Along the counter there are burners, and at the very end, a large refrigerator.

Hank walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a bag of something. “I was instructed to get you a few items of food to take with you, but I don’t think you would turn away a hot meal right now, would you?”

“Of course not,” I say.

“Why don’t you store the food in the cafeteria?” Gabe asks.

Hank smiles at him. “We do. But this is more of an immediate access for those of us that live on the second and third floor of the school.”

He motions for us to sit at one of the tables as he pulls out frozen vegetables and spaghetti noodles. “I hope you don’t mind the cheap store-bought sauce,” Hank says. “I usually like to make my own, but ever since the dead started walking, tomatoes have been scarce.”

I look at Ethan and he smiles at me.

“Uh, weren’t you going to tell us why you don’t need walls?” Ethan says.

“Oh, I forgot,” Hank says. He stops what he’s doing and points to the other end of the room. “You see that box over the door?”

My eyes go to where he’s pointing and I see it. It’s a clear plexiglas box with a red lightbulb inside it.

“All of the rooms in the school have them installed,” Hank says. “I helped make it myself.” He stares at the box with a smile on his face. “It’s pretty incredible really. We have sensors all across Foley, making an invisible perimeter around the school. Anytime someone or something crosses the perimeter, that red light blinks silently, alerting everyone in the school to the presence. About twenty minutes ago, it started blinking red, so the guards on duty went and found you guys.”

“Do you ever get a false alarm?” Ethan asks. “Like the wind blowing something around?”

Hank laughs at this as he begins frying the vegetables in a skillet over one of the burners. “All the time. When we first had it installed, everyone was in a panic just about every time a bird or a squirrel moved in front of the sensors, but we’ve all gotten used to it by now.”

The smell of the vegetables cooking makes my stomach rumble with hunger. Hank hums to himself as he sets a pot full of water on a second burner. It has been years since I have seen someone this cheerful. It’s refreshing.

“You know that’s still going to get you eaten one day,” Gilbert says, killing the mood. “Having no wall means you’re exposed.”

“The point is having enough warning so that the greyskins have no reason to try to get into the school,” Hank says, keeping his smile.

“Yeah, but one mistake, one baby crying out, one sneeze could get your entire compound destroyed,” Gilbert presses. I wish I knew him well enough to kick his foot or to just tell him to can it, but it would only make him angry.

“Every breath we take is a risk,” Hank says. He smiles even wider now. “Every risk we take is a reminder that we are still alive.”

“Every wall you don’t put up is a path for a greyskin to take,” Gilbert says grimly, but Hank just shrugs and breaks the noodles into the pot of water.

A voice from somewhere unseen calls out for Hank. He jumps a little and laughs at his own reaction, then reaches at the back of his belt and pulls out a small radio. “I’m here,” Hank says.

“Our new friends are fueled up and ready to go,” Walter says from the other end. “Are you through with them?”

“I’m feeding them,” Hank says. “No reason they shouldn’t get a hot meal. They look like they haven’t eaten in a week!” Hank looks at us and winks. There is a long pause from the other end until finally, Walter decides to talk again.

“Just hurry so we can get them out,” he says.

Hank shakes his head and snickers when he clips the radio back to his belt. “These guys are so uptight. Here I am trying to bring back a little civilization to the world and they just want you out of here.”

“I suppose I can understand,” I say. “There are a lot of bad people out there. Raiders, you know.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” Hank says. “People get selfish. They get to a point where only their own survival matters. I don’t see it that way. I think it’s important that we all try to survive. That we all try to help others survive. For example, I would love to ask you three to stay with us indefinitely, but the others here wouldn’t have it. They would say that supplies are low enough as it is. I, however, look at it differently. I would say that three recruits like you would heighten our chances of finding more supplies. It would be a mutual benefit.”

“I wouldn’t stay here if it were the last group of people on earth,” Gilbert says under his breath.

Hank doesn’t miss a beat. “I just think this whole thing would be over a lot more quickly if people just banded together. Make super-towns with giant walls so no greyskin could ever get in. I tell you what, if someone had the resources and manpower, people would flock in droves to a place like that.”

“I would,” I say.

“So would I,” Hank says, winking again, a couple of dry noodles sticking out of his mouth.

He finally sets a plate full of spaghetti in front of each of us and decides to have a plate himself. We spend most of the meal listening to Hank tell stories. Mostly funny ones. Ethan laughs the hardest, and I try to, and Gilbert sits with a straight face, eating his food quickly. Hank takes bites like he has all the time in the world.

He is in the middle of a story when he stops talking and the smile fades from his face. I follow his eyes to the box above the door and it is blinking red.

According to Walter, the herd of greyskins walking through the middle of Foley is gigantic. Hank stands next to us as Walter and Barry look at us like we betrayed their trust.

“We didn’t see anything,” Ethan says.

“We didn’t lead greyskins here,” Gilbert adds. “Sensors don’t do much more than tell you when something is coming do they?” He looks at Hank when he says this.

“We’re just going to have to wait them out,” Barry says. “If we stay quiet, they won’t come into the school.”

“We have everyone on lockdown?” Walter asks.

Barry nods.

Walter lets out a sigh. “We aren’t blaming you three for bringing them. Just weird timing is all.”

“We hate it worse than you,” I say, but it sounded better in my mind before it came out.

Walter looks at me sideways and shakes his head. “Hank, you got a place for them to stay?”

“Of course!” he says a little too loudly. “I’ve got plenty of more stories to tell. Some good, some sad, all of them with a purpose.”

“I’d almost rather take my chances with the greyskins,” Gilbert says.

Barry looks at him with an eyebrow raised. “We don’t know you, pal. Don’t tempt us to make you try.”

We sit for hours, waiting for the herd to pass like a slow moving storm and I feel like a child that can’t go outside because of the rain. The morning turns into afternoon, and the afternoon, evening.

“Oh, these herds can last for days,” Hank tells us. “It’s madness. Every step we take has to be taken with care. We aren’t even allowed to flush the toilets for fear that one of those creatures will hear.”

Gilbert makes another snide comment about having a wall, but he is ignored. By sunset we know there will be no traveling for the night and Hank helps us set up cots in his apartment that used to be Room 204 — Biology. He explains to us that in the morning, a few of the guys will try to go out and make noises away from the school to point the herd in a different direction. It is a dangerous job that sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t.

Late into the night, despite my lack of sleep the night before, I’m wide awake, thinking about Lucas. Hank snores away at the other end of the room. Gilbert’s cot is near the door, and Ethan’s cot is only a few feet away from mine, which is next to the window. I try to look out into the streets. Occasionally, I will spot a greyskin lurking around in the moonlight and every time I do, I get a sick feeling in my stomach.

A tear slides down my nose and onto my pillow as I stare into the night. The moon is full and foreboding. I think not only of Lucas, but others that I have lost. My sister. My parents. Hattie.

Hattie… what would I have done without you?

I bury my face into my pillow so my cries will not be heard. I try to think of the future, but I feel like there is no future. All I can do is think about the past and those that brought me to where I am.

Chapter 8 – Waverly

Three Years Ago

I never found out why there was smoke in the distance, hovering over the city like some menacing cloud that promised an imminent storm that would soon destroy us all. Perhaps it was an explosion? Maybe someone tried to set a building full of those grey people on fire? It didn’t matter. Hattie was driving us as far away from the city as possible. She tried calling her husband, Charles, but there was no answer. She stared straight ahead, her eyes wide as we moved forward, but I knew she was worried that something might have happened to her family.

I felt sick about my own family. My mom… my dad. I used Hattie’s phone to try and call my sister, but I got no answer. For a couple of minutes, we listened to the radio as she drove, but it was all the same. No one knew what was happening, and all the reports said that it seemed to be a virus that had affected people. Hattie switched it off and we rode in silence the rest of the way to her house.

I never knew that she lived almost forty-five minutes away, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I had always just assumed that she had a house somewhere within Oakridge. It was small, but comfortable. A giant oak tree in the front yard shaded most of the property, and Charles’ truck was parked in the driveway. We looked in every direction to make sure none of those grey things were lurking around before we got out.

Hattie ran toward the front porch, but before she reached it, Charles and their son came out to meet her. Both of them held a rifle in their hands.

“Are you all right?” Charles asked her, hugging her tightly. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour.”

“So have I,” she said, “but I haven’t been able to get through.”

“Who’s this?” Charles asked as I walk toward the porch.

“This is Waverly,” Hattie said.

Charles nodded at me and then looked at Hattie.

She shook her head. “She doesn’t have any place to go,” she whispered, though I could still hear her.

Charles nodded again and smiled at me, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It seemed like pity as he motioned for me to come toward the porch. “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need to.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Let’s get inside,” he said.

I looked at Hattie’s son and did my best to smile at him, but my heart wasn’t in it. I had met him a couple of years before when he had been with his mom and she had to drop something off at our house. He was about my age, maybe a year older. He had a dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. The gun he carried seemed too big for him, but he carried it like he knew how to use it.

“Have you seen one of those things in person?” he asked as we walked through the door.

“Yeah,” I said. “They are scary.” I didn’t want to talk about it, but I had to accept that this would be talked about non-stop for a long time, wouldn’t it? This was the kind of thing that would be the top new story on every station for months. They would be debating over and over. Was this a terrorist attack? Was it a virus? Would there ever be a way to fix this problem? Someone would find a fix or a cure eventually, but it would be too late for my family.

Charles locked the door behind us and stood for a moment, looking at each of us in turn. “We don’t open the door for anyone,” he said. “We keep the blinds drawn and keep the noise minimal. Nobody should be interested in our place.” He took a deep breath and looked at me. “We will be safe here tonight.”

I swallow and look at the floor, avoiding his stare. I don’t want to be around anyone, but I have no choice. To be alone is to be in danger.

I nearly jump when I hear my name.

“Waverly,” Charles said. “In case Hattie hasn’t ever told you, I’m Charles.” He motioned to his son. “And this is Lucas.”

I didn’t want to watch the news but it seemed there was nothing else to do. Hattie sat on one couch next to Charles while I sat on another with Lucas, a cushion between us. The television screen glowed with images of these grey people and I found myself having to turn away more often than not. Hattie looked at me a few times, but I just pretended not to notice. She tried to ask Charles to turn it off but he shushed her and said important information might come up.

The world was becoming chaotic and they were calling it an outbreak of a new, unknown virus. The news anchors weren’t certain how to explain it, but they interviewed all kinds of scientists to try. One of the interviews was particularly interesting in which they spoke with a professor who lived in the epicenter of this outbreak.

“We have with us Professor Jeremiah Adams, from the University of Elkhorn on the phone with us,” one of the news anchors said. “First we want to ask, are you in a safe place?”

“Yes I am,” the professor said.

“Now, from what we understand, it has been determined that this sickness, this virus, originated around the university at one of your labs, is that correct?”

“I have several high-tech labs with a lot of people using them,” the professor explained.

“Is it not true that there was a shooting at one of your labs and that many infected rats escaped more than a week ago?”

“The shooting is still under investigation, and I don’t know enough about the rats to comment,” the professor said.

“Is it not true that the officers investigating your labs were killed as a result of the virus?”

“This has been a tragic situation,” the professor explained. “The sickness has caused the death of many people already and the problem is that it is spreading. I don’t know enough about the officers, and no one has contacted me directly about it. I am here and ready to help in any way that I can.”

“Can you confirm that it is a virus?”

“I cannot, but it would seem that it is,” Professor Adams said. “I have not been able to take a look at any of the rats or people that seemed to have contracted the sickness, but I have been able to make the same observations that you have. It seems that the sickness is not airborne, but passed by saliva or blood. Once someone or something has the sickness, they seemingly die and reanimate. That’s when they desire to eat living flesh and their skin turns grey. When these greyskins see someone or something living, they attack.”

“Greyskins,” the news anchor said. “Why do you call them greyskins?”

There is a slight pause before the professor answers. “It’s a crude term to describe what they look like.”

“In your professional opinion, do you think we will find a cure for these sick people? The greyskins?”

“I fear that the greyskins are already dead,” the professor said. “But I think that one day soon we will be able to find a way to eradicate the problem. But for now, people need to gather supplies and rely on each other to stay alive. The most important thing is that you have a safe place to stay.”

I didn’t care about some scientist who was near the start of it all. The news people were just looking for some answers, someone to blame maybe. I knew there was no one to blame. Looking for answers felt meaningless. Hearing this Professor Abrams, or Adams… whichever he was… did nothing more than add to the endless questions people might have had.

I got up and walked into the kitchen to get some water. When I filled the glass and brought it to my mouth, I could see that my hands were shaking. I didn’t feel fear. I didn’t even feel loss — that would come later. I guess in that moment all I felt was shock. It was as if I didn’t believe any of it was actually happening. I couldn’t believe that I heard my father die over the phone. I couldn’t believe that I saw my own mother’s blood seeping through the crack of the door. I couldn’t believe that I had been chased by the… what did that scientist call them? Greyskins?

It was a name that fit. I had been calling them grey people, but greyskins seemed right. They were less than people. They were sick animals. To call those monsters people gave them too much credit.

“Are you all right?”

Lucas’ voice startled me and I turned quickly, spilling water on the floor at the same time. “Yeah,” I said, grabbing a rag from the counter to wipe up the mess. “I just…I don’t know.”

“The greyskins,” Lucas said, staring past me as though he were deep in thought. “I suppose the news stations like the name. That’s what they’re calling them now.”

“Have you seen them?” I asked Lucas.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t really want to though.” He pulled a chair out at the table. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“I don’t think I’m very hungry,” I said as I sat.

“Dad seems to believe that this thing will last longer than people think,” he said, pulling down a jar of peanut butter from a cabinet.

“Why does he think that?” I asked.

“They say it has been going on for a week and has just spread like a forest fire. It’s hard to contain something like that.” He pulled out the bread and started to spread the peanut butter thickly onto one of the slices. He then walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a jar of jelly and applied it to the other slice of bread. “Dad thinks we should be safe out here, though I’m not so sure. We’re so close to everything. If as many people out there are infected as they say, we aren’t safe.” He put the jelly back in the refrigerator then grabbed the milk and poured a glass. When he finally set the sandwich and milk in front of me, he sat at the table and looked deep into my eyes. “But I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”

I wanted to tell him that no one was safe no matter what, but instead I just took a bite of the sandwich. I remember it being strange not being able to taste it. It was as if my mind was so preoccupied with the events of the day that I didn’t even know I was eating.

“They crashed into my house,” I said. “Doors and windows won’t keep them out if they are determined to get in.” I could feel my eyes sting with water, but I just took another bite of the sandwich to distract myself.

“Are you scared?” he asked. At first I thought he was taunting me cruelly, but then I saw the sincerity in his face. His light-colored eyebrows crinkled and his blue eyes stared into me as though he were trying to read my thoughts.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Me too,” he said. “But there is nothing wrong with that.”

I took a bite of the sandwich, but it wasn’t enough of a distraction to stop the tears that began down my cheeks. One after the other, the water flowed like a fountain. I set the sandwich on the table in front of me and let my head fall into my hands. My body shook as I sobbed there in the kitchen, but it was only a second or two before I felt Lucas’ strong arms wrap around my shoulders.

“It’s okay to cry,” he said. “It’s okay to cry.”

I didn’t know how long he held me. I couldn’t remember much after that until I woke up on the living room couch with a pillow under my head and blankets tucked around me. It was night time and everyone seemed to be gone. I jerked upward and looked around the living room and that’s when I saw Lucas on the floor just a few feet away. He slept soundly on top of some blankets, his breath going in and out slowly. Hattie and Charles must have been asleep in their bedroom.

I was happy that the television wasn’t still on. I was tired of seeing the images of the greyskins eating people. I was weary of hearing about all the death. I wiped away the crusted tears around my eyes and sat up on the couch for a moment. My stomach rumbled and I realized that I was very hungry. The few bites of sandwich that I had eaten must not have been enough for me.

I got up and walked into the kitchen, being mindful not to turn on any of the lights for fear of being noticed. I saw that Lucas or someone must have wrapped my sandwich in plastic wrap and left it sitting neatly on the counter. I took it and sat at the table. As I unwrapped it, I noticed that some of the jelly had bled through the white of the bread. Something resembling the feeling of a grin formed at the corner of my mouth. That was my favorite way to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When I was little, my sister and I would make them and add extra jelly. We would then wrap them up only to eat them hours later when the bread was completely soaked on one side. It was always best when it was so wet with jelly that we couldn’t even taste the bread.

The sandwich felt like sweet memories, but the memories only made me feel sick inside. I took another bite and started to get up to make another glass of milk when something made me freeze in my tracks. A shadow moved slowly behind the blinds of the window above the sink. I licked some jelly off my thumb as I tiptoed to the window and peeked through the blinds. It was all I could do to stifle a gasp.

One… two… three… I counted eight greyskins in the front yard alone. My hands began to shake again. I dropped my hand from the blinds and snuck back into the living room. I knelt over Lucas carefully and shook him.

He sat up suddenly and wiped his eyes. “What is it?” he whispered.

“The greyskins are here,” I said.

He stared at me for a long moment before the information seemed to register. Then he threw the covers off of him and quietly went to wake his parents. Within a minute we were all in the living room holding a gun. I held the pistol close to my chest, though I felt that my hands shook too much for me to be very effective.

Lucas and his parents stared through cracks in the blinds as I sat on the couch, trying to calm my nerves.

“Incredible,” I heard Charles whisper. “They barely seem alive at all, but they are moving around.”

“That’s just it,” Hattie said. “They aren’t alive.” She left the window and sat on the couch across from me. “Waverly and I shot them in the chest enough to kill any normal person. These things didn’t even notice that we hit them.”

Charles stared at her with creased eyebrows. “You mean, they can’t die?”

“They can,” she said. “You just have to shoot them in the head. Destroy whatever brain function they might have that keeps them going. Waverly and I finally managed to kill one today.”

Charles nodded thoughtfully and turned back to the window, but this time he let out a gasp.

“Don’t move!” Hattie whispered a little too loudly.

Charles stood like a statue as he found himself face-to-face with a greyskin at the window. The creature stared into the glass, tilting its head from side to side almost as if to study what it was looking at. I could see Charles holding his breath, but he couldn’t hold it forever. With each little breath, the window began to fog.

I don’t know what it was — a twitch, a noise — but the greyskin went ballistic, letting out a loud groan as it smashed its hand through the glass and reached for Charles’ shirt. The greyskin had taken him by surprise and it latched on to him, pulling him forward against the glass. Hattie brought up her gun, but hesitated because she feared she might hit her husband. Charles tried to wrench free and Lucas jumped forward to grab his father, but the greyskin had a good hold on him. It pulled Charles forward until his torso was pressed against the broken glass, the edges cutting into his skin.

“Shoot it!” he yelled, “shoot it!”

I jumped forward, standing next to Charles as I brought the handgun in front of the greyskin and shot it through the forehead. Charles instantly fell back onto Lucas as the creature’s arms and fingers went limp. Blood covered Charles’ chest, stomach and arms.

“We have to get to the truck,” he said as he pulled himself up.

“Charles, you’re bleeding everywhere!” Hattie said.

“It’s nothing too deep,” he said reaching down for his rifle. “And it didn’t bite me, so I can’t be infected.”

A crash at another window jolted us to attention. Hattie lifted her gun and shot the greyskin through the brain, but it was only replaced by more. They were starting to surround the house.

It felt like earlier when I was at my own house: a reserved panic. Hattie had thought that her house had been isolated enough to escape this virus, this sickness that plagued mankind. But this only confirmed that there never had been an escape and to think so was foolish.

The four of us rushed to the front of the house. Hattie looked through the kitchen window at the driveway only to report that there were at least five between us and the truck. A glance down the short hallway showed us that there was no other way out as the greyskins tore into the living room through the windows. Their moaning and hissing reached my ears and their stench violated my nostrils. Lucas held his gun ready and swung the front door open. He stopped for just a moment to take aim at a greyskin that noticed him and shot it in the head. I shot two down, and Hattie shot the other two as Charles fumbled for his keys and got into the front of the truck. Hattie yelled for Lucas and me to hop into the back as she got into the passenger side. The greyskins from the other side of the house were coming after us, but Charles was already tearing out of the driveway.

Without food, without shelter, and with limited ammunition, we hurried away from another home.

It was afternoon of the next day when we realized that Charles needed more than stitches. He needed a cure for the greyskin virus.

“But I don’t know how it happened,” he said through labored breaths as he sat in the bed of the truck. Sweat poured from his brow and cheeks. His eyes that had been watering were now discharging thick mucous and turning a darker shade. He was turning into one of them.

“Don’t try to talk sweetie,” Hattie said as she squeezed his hand.

“Don’t try to stop me,” he said through clenched teeth.

I looked at Lucas who sat on the edge of the bed, looking down and showing little emotion. He stared with wide eyes and an open mouth as if what he saw before him wasn’t real. I wished that it wasn’t. I wished that all of this was just some horrible nightmare.

“Could the scratches have done it?” Charles asked. He held up his arms and revealed several long, deep cuts running from his elbows to his wrists. “I thought they had to bite you.”

Hattie shook her head as she stroked Charles’ hair.

“You three have to get out of here,” Charles said, dropping his hands. He pushed himself upward so he could sit up straighter. “Somebody give me a gun.”

“What?”

“I’m not about to turn into one of those things, Hattie,” he said. “You’ve seen the news. There’s no cure. If I wait it out I’ll be one of those things by tonight. Give me a gun.”

Hattie’s hands were shaking and Lucas was still staring, but Charles knew what needed to be done, and so did I. I walked to the side of the truck and gave him my handgun. He looked at me through his filmy eyes and nodded, taking the gun from me. He started to scoot out of the bed of the truck, but Hattie tried to keep him back. She wanted him to lie down, to rest. I had never seen Hattie in such despair. She had always seemed so strong. Now she looked broken. Charles shoved her away as he got to his feet out of the truck. He looked at me first.

“You need to drive,” he said. “I don’t know if these two will be in any shape to do it.”

The instruction took me by surprise. I had never legally driven before. I was still two years from getting a license, but I nodded anyway. It was probably safer for me to drive than it was for a crying Hattie, or shocked Lucas.

“Hattie, Lucas, come with me,” he said.

I stepped away from the truck out of respect. The oddest feeling came over me in that moment. For a brief second, I felt jealous of Hattie and Lucas. What they were going through was horrendous, of course, but at least they got to say goodbye to the person they loved. The only goodbye I got from my loved ones was a scream from the other end of the phone and blood seeping through the basement door. But how much worse would it be to see them still alive and having to say goodbye? Perhaps it was easier for me. Maybe if I were in their shoes, I would be jealous of the person that didn’t have to say goodbye to anyone.

I never want to say goodbye to anyone ever again, I thought. I just want this all to be over soon.

Chapter 9 – Remi

It’s early in the afternoon when I get to the Crestwood entrance, a mostly empty bag strapped to my shoulders weighed down by a full water bottle, a bit of food for the journey ahead, and the pistol I stole from Paxton. I don’t know what came over me when I packed it, but when Gabe told me we were going out of the city, I had to take my chances. I knew that Gabe would probably give me my own gun back when we went out, but a little extra protection is never a bad thing. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be frisked when we come back. I am a citizen here and my apartment has already been searched.

I stand next to a silver SUV and shake hands with the two soldiers that helped Gabe search my apartment. Beardy, I find out, is actually known as Skip, which I think to be quite a lighthearted name for such a hairy man. His facial hair is dark, long, and thick, kind of like the rest of him. He’s a big man that I won’t mind having around when the greyskins attack. For one, they would surely see him first. But I’m sure he can hold his own against the undead.

Sleeveless is simply called Mendez. He has a shaved head and is, of course, still wearing a sleeveless shirt despite the frigid air that turns our breath into puffs of white smoke. Both of them are loaded with weapons, a rifle slung over their shoulders coupled with long daggers at their sides.

“So you’re the one that’s going out with us?” Skip asks with a big smile. He looks me up and down, but I’m not sure if he’s sizing me up or undressing me with his eyes.

“Got a problem with that?” I ask, giving him my best tough-guy impression. I stand as straight as possible, trying to keep my shoulders wide. My nose tilts upward just a little so I can gain a bit of height but they both have half a foot on me at least. No doubt these guys don’t want a lightweight out there. When greyskins are involved, you want only the most experienced fighters. Lucky for them I’m more experienced than I could ever wish to be.

Skip shakes his head, his beard flapping in the wind. He looks past me as Gabe comes walking up.

“I see you’ve already met the team,” he says as he walks past me and opens the back of the SUV. He’s wearing a dark, cloth jacket that reaches down to his thighs. Slung over his shoulder is a pump shotgun. On one side of his belt is a pistol and on the other side is a knife.

“How long you been here?” Mendez asks me.

“Three months,” I say.

Mendez and Skip look at each other and then at Gabe sharply, but Gabe pays them no mind. He unzips a duffle bag in the back seat and moves it to the rear storage. He sets his shotgun across the back seat and pulls out a rifle, looking straight into my eyes.

My heart jumps when I see that he’s holding my gun in one hand and in the other, my sheathed knife. “This is just for today,” he says, handing them to me slowly. “Once you’ve proven yourself and I can recommend you to be a soldier, then you will be able to keep them on you at all times.”

I can’t help but smile. Somehow I just knew he would give these back to me. “Thank you,” I say, trying not to show my excitement. As the rifle is placed into my left hand, and my knife into my right, I feel as though I’m being reacquainted with old friends. The solid wood stock of the rifle feels perfect in my grip. Grasping the smooth knife handle brings a sense of protection, but also foreboding as I know it will more than likely meet the rotting skull of a greyskin like it has so many times before.

“The gun has been properly cleaned and the knife has been sharpened,” he says with a grin. The dimple on the right side of his cheek shows as he starts to look away and shuffle through more empty-looking bags in the back seat.

The moment is too good to be true, it seems, when a familiar, low voice cuts through the air behind me, turning my insides to ice. “I’m sure it feels nice to have your weapons back, doesn’t it?” Paxton says as he walks up to the group. Skip and Mendez stand a little straighter though Gabe barely notices the town leader. I spin on my heel, my heart beating faster.

Paxton has a tight smile on his face, one that seems forced. His dark hair is interrupted by grey near his temples, and a few days of salt and pepper stubble cover his chin and cheeks. I wish there was something I could do about the tempo of my heart. This isn’t like the throbbing heartbeat I get when Gabe comes near me. When Paxton comes close it feels like fear. Shouldn’t I feel safe when he is near? Although I must admit, the loaded silver gun in my pack does add to the tension. All he would have to do is ask, and my bag would be searched. I would be exposed as the culprit who ransacked a desk, stole minutes from boring meetings, and snatched a gun. I would never be able to explain myself to him or anyone else. But he had stolen from me. In some way, it was like taking back my things. Now, I have my weapons back, plus Paxton’s. I feel no guilt…just nervousness.

Paxton stands in front of us with his hands on his hips. “Gabe, do you have a weapon for me?”

Gabe jerks his head toward Paxton, forgetting the duffle bags in the back seat. “Pardon?”

“A gun,” he says, still smiling. “It would do me some good to get outside of these walls for a few hours,” he turns his eyes to me, “get my hands dirty.”

I look away from him, unable to shake the feeling that he knows or at least suspects me of breaking into Headquarters. Gabe catches my eye before he reaches into the SUV and pulls out a rifle and knife and hands them to Paxton. He accepts them with a smile and looks back at me.

“I suppose we’re getting a new soldier?” he asks. His smiling eyes turn to Gabe and his eyebrows turn upward almost as if to ask, why didn’t you clear it with me first?

Gabe’s eyes flick away quickly as he busies himself with the duffle bags. I’m not even sure he’s doing anything other than avoiding Paxton’s stare. Perhaps he’s even trying to think of a way to persuade Paxton to stay behind.

“We’ll see how she does,” Mendez says.

I squint my eyes at him as Mendez moves around to the other side of the SUV. Paxton stands next to me as Gabe places extra weapons in the storage space.

“How is Crestwood treating you?” Paxton asks me.

I shuffle in my feet for a moment, still standing at Paxton’s side, but refusing to let my eyes meet his. “Everyone has been very kind to me.”

“Good,” he says. “I didn’t know you had any interest in being a soldier.”

I have to look at him. It would be so weird of me to keep looking away like I have been. My eyes pull up to meet his and my pulse pounds. I shut my eyes for a brief second as if my thoughts of the gun in my bag are revealed in my eyes, playing like two tiny movie screens for Paxton to watch. He looks at me as I bite my lower lip and glance at Skip, Mendez, and Gabe getting the SUV ready. How long does it take for a vehicle to be ready to drive?

“Yep,” I say. “I’m like you, I like to get my hands dirty.” I hate the words as they pour out of my mouth like drool as though I’m brain dead. I shake my head once and try again. “I just like to kill greyskins.” It’s a lie. I mean, I would rather kill greyskins than be killed by them, but I never really want to be outside the walls. It’s not like I can just tell him that I want nothing more than to hold a gun so I don’t go insane. I might as well tell him that I was the one that stole his gun. If my blubbering hasn’t told him already, that is.

“Good,” he says again. “We need people like you out there clearing towns and villages, making room for expansion.”

“Expansion?” I ask.

Paxton nods. “Always a possibility. Always something we look forward to. The more we can expand, the more we can help others. The more we can help others, the more this world can heal.”

“You really think the world can come back from all this?” I ask, suddenly feeling a surge of confidence, though I have no good reason for it. Don’t get too comfortable. He surely suspects me, the most recent addition to the citizens of Crestwood.

“We will come back from it,” Paxton says. “It’s only a matter of time. I just want to keep as many people safe and happy until that day finally comes.”

I decide to keep my mouth shut and not tell him what I think — that the entire world was dying and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy to have a place of refuge like Crestwood. It took blood, sweat, and tears to finally get here, but that doesn’t make me an optimist. It has been three grueling years since the outbreak first happened, and it has only gone downhill from there. Most people (myself included) didn’t get much of a warning. Though the greyskins had been growing in number over the course of a week or so, many people saw their world end in a matter of one day. It was all about getting to a safe place at first. I think we that are still alive today are those that quickly realized that safe did not mean being in the company of large groups of people. Sure, it’s fine now because we understand what we’re up against, but back then…back then we were so ignorant. It was three days before I realized I had to shoot a greyskin in the head before it stopped moving…chomping…scratching.

I knew from the beginning that greyskins were once people, so the more people I was around, the better chance I had at becoming one of them. I hate thinking about those days — and they weren’t even my worst. It’s weird to think that those days aren’t over yet. Sometimes I can’t think of what is worse: the beginning where no one knew what was happening, or when we all realized what was happening — the destruction of the human race. There are always the hopeful ones like Paxton. These people still cling to the idea that someone will come up with a cure to the greyskin disease and that humanity will one day live in peace and harmony. Then there are people like me who just want to figure out a way to live and die, without ever feeling the teeth or nails of the rotting greyskins.

We stand in silence for a few moments before Gabe comes around to the other side of the SUV and hands me the keys. “You’re driving,” he says. I hold the keys in my hands as though he just handed me a report card and I already know that I’ve failed all my classes. My heart sinks into my stomach as I walk dazed toward the front of the vehicle. I don’t argue with him, I don’t say a word. I just get into the front of the SUV and start it up. Gabe sits in the front next to me while Paxton, Skip, and Mendez share the back seat.

“Want me to take your bag?” Gabe asks, noticing the backpack in my lap.

I shake my head no and tuck it under my legs, but safely away from the pedals. Although I trust Gabe, I’m not letting anyone take my bag with Paxton so near me.

I start to drive toward the front gate and the guards open it for us to pass through. Before I press the gas, I turn my head to Gabe. “Where are we going?”

He takes in a deep breath and says, “Just drive, I’ll tell you where to go.”

It feels like one of those old crime movies where the taxi driver is being told where to go while the passenger holds a gun to the back of his head. As if Paxton’s presence doesn’t already make me feel uncomfortable, the overwhelming notion that they might be taking me out to kill me, or worse, leave me somewhere, takes over my brain. Surely breaking into Headquarters isn’t enough to warrant a quiet execution is it? But it all seems so odd the way Paxton came up to us…the way Gabe avoided his stare. My fingers squeeze around the wheel tightly as I drive down the road, sweat beading at the top of my brow.

Not only am I nervous being with these four men, but this is the first time I’ve been out of Crestwood’s wall of safety since I arrived here three months ago. I’m not even sure I’m ready to face more greyskins, but I asked for this. I told Gabe I wanted be a soldier, now here I am driving an SUV full of them, charging into battle.

As we drive down the road, I can’t help but take note of all the abandoned cars. Dust has settled on each, and some of them are beginning to rust. No doubt gas was siphoned from them ages ago, and anything useful has probably been taken by Gabe and his soldiers. I’ve made plenty of car raids over the past three years. Most of the time when you come across an abandoned vehicle, it’s pointless to look. If you’ve happened to come by it, so has someone else. That thought never stopped me when I was desperate, however. When pangs of hunger are replaced by the need to vomit, though nothing will come up; when exhaustion hangs on your shoulders as though you’re carrying a backpack full of dumbbells; when all you want is reprieve, something to boost you…you’ll look.

We go by the cars as silently as if we just passed a cemetery. At some point Gabe tells me we’re going to a place called Sturgis and tells me how to get there. It’s about twenty miles west of Crestwood and he says that we’re going to try and clear the town. I think it sounds like a pretty big job for just four, no, five people, but he assures me that Sturgis is even smaller than Crestwood so it shouldn’t be a problem. I’m not so sure. I’ve been in places smaller than Crestwood that felt as dangerous as the greyskin-infested New York City. I shudder to think about being in such a giant metropolitan area then and now. Regardless, it doesn’t take much for greyskins to overwhelm a small group such as ours.

I try to keep my eyes straight ahead as we ride in an awkward silence. I would have thought that Paxton would be quite a conversationalist given that he was the leader of the town, but he is as silent as the rest of us, lost in his own thoughts. The quiet only adds to the feeling of betrayal that won’t let go of my mind. Betrayal is the word for it. If Paxton is here to get to me or punish me somehow; if he knows what I did, then the only way would be because Gabe told him. But if they were just going to kill me, why would Gabe have handed me my weapons back? I suppose they could be just dropping me off, but if that was the case, why would they have me drive? If neither of these scenarios are even true, then why would Paxton be tagging along acting as though Gabe should have been expecting him? I think about the moment when he asked Gabe for a weapon like it had been talked about beforehand.

I try not to shake my head as the thoughts race through my mind. I’m probably being paranoid. Come to think of it, with Crestwood being so small (only a few hundred people), would it be so odd for its leader to go out on a clearing mission with his people?

I’ve thought several times that breaking into Headquarters was a stupid thing to do. I risked everything to do it and now I live in fear when I should only fear what is outside the walls of Crestwood, not the people within. I had my reasons. I hated that they had taken my gun from me, and I can just see it now — me begging Gabe or Paxton to let me join the soldiers and one of them just smiling at me, telling me that I needed to stay behind and look after the children like so many of the other women do. So, I took a proactive approach and offered an exchange with Gabe. Now I’m living to regret it, dread washing over me every time I think about the gun in my backpack which is nestled safely behind my legs.

We finally reach the edge of Sturgis and it’s everything I can do to keep myself from shaking. I haven’t felt like this in months. I’m the last one out of the SUV. Gabe goes around back, handing out duffle bags to everyone in case they come across supplies. I pull on my backpack and tighten the straps so it hugs me closely. It’s a small relief to see Gabe divvying out the bags. It means they aren’t planning to kill me just yet.

It’s difficult for me to think that Gabe would be so willing to give me up to Paxton, especially since I had broken into Headquarters because of his curiosity. Gabe and I had become friends. It had been a slow transition from him being the guy that frisked me and stole my gun, to being the only person I felt comfortable talking to. Even though it wasn’t his job, he was the one that made sure I was comfortable. He was the one that made sure I understood how Crestwood worked — where to get food, who to talk to about work, the general rules of everything. I started to see him every day. Eventually, we started eating meals together. It felt like a truly blossoming friendship. But neither of us talked about each other’s past. These days, talking to someone about their past is touchy at best. You already know it’s going to be a sad conversation. You already know it will involve death, tears, and regret. A year after the outbreak, sure, people talked. Two years in, people talked less. Three years in, you don’t tend to ask unless you are that person’s best friend. Of course, it’s different with other people. There are some who still ask, but I only ignore their questions. I never ask anymore. I find that the more I know about somebody, the more I don’t want to lose them…the more it hurts when I do lose them. Shallow cuts hurt a lot less than deep ones. The more I learn about someone, the deeper the pain I feel when I lose them.

I never ask anymore.

My knife is securely fastened to my belt, and I hold my rifle with both hands, my right nearest the trigger. Gabe makes sure I have plenty of extra ammo and I stuff the bullets into an easy-access, side pocket of my backpack. He also hands me a duffel bag and I pull the strap over my head and let it hang across my back over the backpack.

“We splitting up this time?” Mendez asks as he checks his gun’s ammo.

Gabe shakes his head. “This time we’re staying close together. Skip and I have the longer blades, so we’ll walk in front.” He nods at me. “The rest of you can follow behind and be ready for my orders.” His eyes look sharply at Paxton. “If that’s all right with you,” he adds.

Paxton holds up a hand and shakes his head. “I’m following your orders out here,” he says with a grin.

I walk to the other side of the SUV and survey the town ahead of us. It is a tiny place with probably about five buildings. There is a Post Office on the other end of the street directly across from City Hall, which seems like a joke. The buildings are squat and empty-looking, though that’s how all greyskin-infested buildings look until they notice someone has come near.

“Now,” Gabe says, “I want us to clear all of the buildings, but our main target is the one on the far left.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to see the words on the window front. It’s the sheriff’s office. “Weapons?” I ask.

Gabe nods. “I want to get there first, so if we don’t get a chance to clear out the other buildings at least we’ll have some extra guns.”

“Unless someone got here before us, right?” I ask.

Gabe looks at me and shrugs. “Let’s go,” he says.

Skip and Gabe begin walking down the street toward the sheriff’s office while Paxton, Mendez, and I follow a few paces behind. All of us keep our eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Though we clutch tightly to our guns, we will only use them if necessary. A lone greyskin? Someone distracts it while someone else drives a knife into its brain. Two greyskins? Same story. Three or more? It might be time to use the guns.

I look at the first building to our left and try to focus on the sounds within. The shuffling of feet. Something light, maybe paper, falls to the ground. Something moves about quietly. My heightened hearing ability can’t always make out the exact type of creature lurking in the shadows, but a greyskin has a distinct sound. It is clumsy, and when it gets excited, it begins to gurgle and almost growl like a phlegmy cat hissing at a stranger — only it’s not out of fear, but hunger.

The way the feet move, I can tell its a greyskin. The footsteps are heavy, so it’s not an animal, and it’s not so self aware that it’s careful. We pass the building, and the creature doesn’t seem to notice us through the windows.

I look at the Post Office and hear one or two of them shuffling around. Then, the sheriff’s office. Again, I can barely hear any movement at all, but there is definitely something in there. My grip tightens on my gun as we move forward, now only a hundred feet away. I catch Paxton staring at me, his eyebrows furrowed. It looks as though he can tell that I have a determined focus — unnatural perhaps. I want to tell him that he should stop staring at me and get on with his own determined focus, but I hold my tongue and keep my eyes forward.

Once at the sheriff’s office, Gabe crouches in front of the front door and feels the handle. It’s not locked, so all we have to do is go in and take it over. There will surely be keys to a gun closet or something in there. Gabe looks at each of us and we nod to him, letting him know we are ready, though I’m not so sure that I am. It’s been too long since I’ve killed a greyskin. I’m not sure I’ve still got my edge. Living in the comfort of Crestwood could do that to a person, I’m sure.

Gabe tugs on the door handle too loudly. I wince as the sound of creaking hinges echoes through the hallways of the sheriff’s office. I immediately hear a few greyskins come out of a stupor as they begin moving toward the entrance. They are out of sight and earshot for the others but I can hear them clearly. Their throaty moans escape their mouths as they stumble forward. Gabe and Skip stay low as they tiptoe down the hallway. The greyskins are coming closer. Gabe pulls out a knife and gets it ready for whatever might be coming around the corner. What he doesn’t know is that it will be more than one. Maybe four? Five?

“Gabe,” I whisper.

He holds up a hand to me, able to hear at least one of them now.

“Gabe,” I repeat.

He turns his head to me, his face turning red. “What?” he says harshly.

“There’s more than one. Maybe five,” I say.

“How do you know?”

I don’t have time to answer as the first of them appears around the corner and Gabe’s back is turned. Skip is ready, however, and he jabs his knife up under the greyskin’s chin, piercing its brain. Darkened blood spurts out as it falls to the ground harmlessly. Gabe jets out into the open beyond the corner and is immediately met by two more greyskins. He’s able to stab the first one through the head, but the second one lands on top of him, doing it’s best to take a bite from his forearm.

He can’t help but yell out. Skip would help him but there are two more greyskins closing in on him. A knife is useless to us in here. I lift up my gun and take aim at the greyskin on top of Gabe. With a pull of the trigger, it’s brains splatter against the wall across from him. He throws the body off and jumps to one that’s on top of Skip. Paxton lets off a round and so does Mendez, but neither of the greyskins go down.

Finally, Skip is able to stab one of them through the temple but not before the other one takes a deep bite into his shoulder. He lets out a bellowing scream as his own blood pours down his side. Gabe reaches out and stabs the greyskin in the head but it is too late. With five greyskins on the floor around us, Skip bleeds heavily, destined to become one himself.

Gabe spits on the ground and lets out a curse as Skip whimpers.

“I’m dead,” Skip says over and over. “I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.”

“We need to get what we came for and get out of here,” Mendez says “Others will have heard the shots.”

Paxton remains nervously silent as if he’s waiting for Gabe to give the orders.

My ears perk at the sound of more greyskins shuffling through the sheriff’s office. I step past all of them, trying to let the cries of Skip fall to the background, but when I walk around the corner, I don’t need super hearing to know that at least ten more greyskins are coming straight for us.

“More!” I yell out, letting off round after round. I’m usually a good shot, but I miss twice in my killing spree, though I send three of them to the ground. “Go back! Get out!” I shoot two more to the ground.

“Go on without me!” Skip yells out. “I’ll hold them off.” He stands, holds up his gun and unloads on the others, infected blood still dripping down his shoulder.

Paxton is the first one out of the sheriff’s office with Mendez close behind him. I make for the door and turn back to see Gabe standing next to Skip, firing away.

“Gabe,” I call out, “we have to get back to the car!”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” he says over his shoulder, a greyskin coming at him too close for comfort.

I hate leaving them in there, but I can hear more greyskins outside. I burst through the door only to hear Paxton yell out “that way!” with a subsequent gunshot from Mendez. Glass shatters as greyskins break through the windows, charging after the gun blasts as though they are a call for dinner.

I take aim at one and pull the trigger, but all that comes is a click. I curse as I throw my backpack and duffel bag to the ground. I reach into the side pocket and start loading the gun. I’m distracted by the number of greyskins all around us, scraping to exit the five buildings. I can’t imagine why there were so many in each of these.

The greyskins start pouring into the streets. One of them sets its eyes on me as I fumble to load my gun. Bullets clank to the ground as I drop them nervously. I can hear its guttural moan. Its grayish skin seems to be falling off its face, its clothes in tatters, its teeth chomping at me as though it can already taste my blood. The bullets are finally in and the greyskin is almost on top of me. I fire it once and the bullet shoots through its neck. No good. I shoot again and this time the bullet goes through the middle of its forehead and it falls to the ground only a foot in front of me. There have to be at least thirty greyskins in the street and now more have trained their eyes on me.

I look ahead to see Paxton and Mendez sprinting for the SUV. They aren’t about to take it and run, are they? I fire a round, a greyskin falls. I shoot again, another falls. But I know I don’t have thirty bullets left. Like an answer to a prayer, Gabe crashes through the door of the sheriff’s office, helping Skip walk with him. When they get near me, Gabe fires into the crowd of greyskins and Skip falls to his knees next to me.

I get a sick feeling in my stomach at the sight of Skip’s injury. No, not injury. More like death sentence. To be bitten is to be killed in a slow and painful way. He seems to be weaponless, and Gabe complains that he’s already down to the last of his bullets.

“There shouldn’t have been that many greyskins in there,” he says as he takes aim at another greyskin.

I don’t know what to think. All I do is keep firing. Firing, firing, firing until I’m completely out of bullets. I’m thankful to see that Paxton and Mendez didn’t completely abandon us, rather they take aim from the safety of the SUV in clear view of us, but then their guns are silent.

“We’re out!” comes the voice of Mendez. A few of the greyskins turn toward him as he yells.

Six are coming toward us, four are going after Paxton and Mendez. Gabe takes down two more greyskins and declares he’s out of ammo too.

“Some planning,” I say to him. “Why didn’t you pack more ammo?”

“There weren’t supposed to be this many!”

I roll my eyes at him. As the greyskins move closer, I know what I’ve got to do. I reach down for my backpack and unzip the top. My hand clasps around the silver handle of the pistol I stole from Paxton.

Nine bullets, eight greyskins. Little room for error.

A sudden surge of confidence washes over me as I stand, proudly declaring that I was the one to break into Headquarters as I lift the gun into the air.

Boom! A greyskin’s head splits open. Boom! Boom! Boom! The shots are so loud, and the recoil is hard, but I don’t miss a single shot. I start walking forward as the greyskins that were headed for Paxton and Mendez suddenly turn toward me. I walk within two feet of them and their heads explode like fruit as I let off two shots.

One bullet left.

I’m left standing in the middle of the street with the others staring at me. Paxton gets out of the SUV, his eyes squinting as he moves forward. I think about it for only a brief second. I’m not sure what his intentions are, but if they are bad, I can end him. All I need is one bullet. He knows the sound, the feel, the weight of this gun. He knows I still have one bullet left. I try not to look him in the eyes as he approaches me, but he doesn’t acknowledge me at all. He watches my eyes until he walks past me, and he ends his walk when he stops in front of Skip.

Gabe looks up at Paxton. “It’s a bite,” he says.

“You know I can’t let you into Crestwood,” Paxton tells Skip.

Skip doesn’t look at him, but nods. “I understand.”

Paxton cracks his neck, looking away from him as though he is contagious simply by looking at him. His eyes fall back on me and he walks to me this time. He reaches out his hand and asks for the gun even though he never opens his mouth. I look down at the ground and hand it to him. I don’t know if he wants to shoot me with it or if he will take me back to Crestwood. There is no way for me to tell. Gun in hand, he walks over to Skip.

“You’ve got about twenty-four hours until the infection kills you,” he says coldly. He hands Skip the gun and Skip takes it, looking at it as though it is the end of him. It is the end of him. “Miss Remi here has stolen this gun from me and left you a bullet. Do with it as you wish. You were a good soldier, Skip.” Paxton turns from him and begins walking back to the SUV. He stops when he nears me and looks deep into my eyes. “I’m not surprised, you know.”

“I know you aren’t,” I say. “I will be on my way. I don’t have to come back with you.”

“You’re coming back,” Paxton says as he walks away from me. I look back at Gabe who is sitting on the ground next to Skip. He shrugs at me and shakes his head.

“What about Skip?” Gabe calls out.

Skip shakes his head. “Leave me here,” he says. “I know what I got to do, I’d rather none of you be here to see it.”

I feel sick on the inside. It’s hard for me to see Paxton act so cold, but I feel just as cold. I don’t want Skip to die, but to me, he’s dead already. Once bitten, you’re gone. There is nothing to be done.

Gabe does his best to console Skip, but Skip actually shoves him away and screams for us to leave. With our heads down, Gabe and I get into the back of the SUV as Mendez drives and Paxton sits up front. I try not to look at Skip as we drive away. I try not to think about what Paxton is going to say to me when we get back — the punishment that I’m going to face. It’s a couple of miles down the road before I hear the noise. It’s too far away for anyone else in the silent car to hear, but I can hear it as clearly as if I am standing right next to him.

Skip pulls the trigger, ending his life before the virus does it to him. It’s the same story I’ve seen too many times. Do I think this world will ever heal?

No.

Healing comes in death alone.

Chapter 10 – Remi

What Paxton calls a holding cell is more like a room with a large, thick door and a padlock on the other side of it to keep in prisoners. Gabe leads me to the room without saying a word. I don’t blame him for not talking. I don’t say anything either. There is nothing to say.

At least I’m not cuffed. The almost empty, windowless room is lit by harsh, white incandescent lights. An ominous single chair waits for me at the other end. I walk to it without having to be told. Gabe stands at the door, his eyes hanging on me.

“You don’t have to say anything, Gabe.”

He lets out a sigh. “Why did you bring the gun?”

“Same reason you didn’t bring enough ammunition,” I come back. “Poor judgement.”

His eyes are fixed on me firmly now, but I’m the one to turn away.

“I don’t want you to take the fall,” I say. “There’s no reason for both of us to be punished.”

“I never asked you to do it,” he says.

My head jerks to him and I can feel my neck and cheeks getting hot. He had basically asked me to break into Headquarters for him. “You didn’t exactly protest my offer when I made it.”

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he says. “I just didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to bring the gun.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting Paxton to come along, was I?”

Gabe shakes his head. “I wasn’t either.”

“What’s going to happen next?”

Gabe shrugs. “I’m sure the elders are going to talk it over. You might be sent away. I don’t know. Paxton isn’t a terrible man, he’s just untrusting. If he thinks he can’t trust you, he’s not going to want you here at all.”

“Will they at least let me tell my side of the story?” I ask.

His face seems to lose color for a minute.

“I’m not talking about mentioning Shadowface,” I say. “Just that I really want my weapons back.”

“I don’t know if they will let you talk. You’ve already incriminated yourself. You did break into Headquarters and steal the gun. Regardless of your reasons, you are guilty in their eyes.”

Gabe was right. They were going to throw me to the dogs and there was nothing I could do about it. He stands in the doorway for a few more moments. I want to tell him to go away, that our friendship isn’t so deep that he should feel as guilty as he does. I’ll find my way. I’ll take whatever Paxton and his elders give me. Finally, Gabe says that he will keep me updated, and turns to leave.

“I’m sorry about Skip,” I say. It sounds half-hearted but I mean it. No one deserves to end like that.

Gabe stalls for a moment as if he wants to say more, then he closes the door behind him, locking it securely.

The room is silent but for my steady breathing. I’m not scared. There is no reason to be now. Being locked away in a room keeps me safe from the greyskins. I’m safer in here than on the outside — at least, for now I am.

It’s just like me to do something stupid like this. It’s just like me to feel the need to take a stolen gun and then use it. It’s been three months since I killed a greyskin. Seeing them surrounding us like they did…I just couldn’t handle it. When I ran out of ammo, I had no other choice but to pull out the gun. In fact, wasn’t it smart that I brought the gun? Didn’t I save my life? Our lives?

Throughout the next few hours I try to focus my hearing in every direction possible. I close my eyes in deep concentration, doing my best to locate the second floor of the headquarters building. I’ve found that the longer I’ve stayed at a place, the better I am at locating sounds. If I’m unfamiliar, I can’t determine the direction of the noise nearly as well. The only problem is that now I hear nothing. Paxton’s meeting with the elders hasn’t started, or it’s taking place somewhere else.

I let my senses dull and stare down at the cold, blank floor in front of me, unsure of how I came to this. Immediately, I know… I stole from Paxton, but in a way, I also stole from Crestwood. How had I gone from a fun-loving, college party girl to a rifle-wielding, greyskin-stabbing, cold girl? But I know I’m not unique. There are a million like me. Unless they’re dead.

I had been well-liked in my former life. I had many friends, but none of them close. I guess even before all this greyskin stuff started, I kept people at a distance. I never had much of a relationship with my family, especially my parents. It’s something that I feel like I should regret, but knowing that they are all dead, I don’t see the point in it. Part of me knows I should have been closer to them all, but another part of me feels relieved that I had been distant for so long. It made it easier to swallow the fact that all of them were probably eaten and gone. I try not to think about the possibility that they still roam the world, turning more of their victims into mindless creatures just like themselves.

I’ve been truly close to only two people in my life…both of them are probably gone forever. I can feel the tears start to sting my eyes so I shake my head as though to fling the thoughts away.

I focus my hearing again, doing my best to erase all the extra noise throughout Crestwood. This time, I can hear noises on the second floor of Headquarters. I think I hear four distinct voices, Paxton not among them. I haven’t been around many of the elders much, but I have heard each of them speak before and I know what they look like. There’s Lillian, the only woman out of the five elders. Then there’s Gavin. He’s a small man who wears glasses and sniffs a lot when he talks as though he has an allergy. Kenneth is the country type that likes to wear flannel and boots. He has a deeper voice than all the others. Avery used to be a medical doctor. I can picture him now as he talks, his white beard moving up and down with every word. Then there’s Paxton, but he doesn’t seem to be present with the others yet.

“But we ain’t scheduled to be here ’til tomorrow,” Kenneth says.

“Robert called us here,” Lillian chides.

“Did we find out who broke in then?” Gavin says in his mousy voice. Sniff.

“Robert will tell us when he gets here,” Lillian says. I haven’t talked to her much, but I can see her looking down her pointed nose at the others sitting at the table on the second floor. To me she always seemed like the type to be very proud to be an elder, thus taking a non-official leadership role, second only to Robert himself. I had never heard anyone call Paxton Robert before Lillian. It seems too personal.

There are footsteps coming down the stairs from the third floor. The door opens, and Avery is the first to speak.

“You mind telling us what this is about, Paxton?”

I hear Paxton move to the table and finally take his seat before answering anyone. I can imagine they are staring at him with confused looks on their faces, wondering what could be so dire that they would need to interrupt their day for an elder meeting.

“We lost a man today,” Paxton says. A couple of gasps float up in the air, most notably from Lillian, who I’m sure is sitting right next to him.

“Who?” I think Kenneth asks.

“Skip,” Paxton answers. “I was out there with the team going to Sturgis.”

“I’m assuming then that we didn’t get the town cleared?” someone asks.

There is no audible reply, but Paxton probably shakes his head. “We’ll do the normal ceremony bull crap that we usually do, but that’s not why I called the meeting.” A beat. “I’ve found the culprit. Some of you might know her. She calls herself Remi.”

“I know her,” Lillian says. “I thought she was the one. Ever since I laid eyes on her I knew she would be trouble.”

My jaw clenches when she talks. Lillian has barely even said hello to me, how could she have pegged me as a lawbreaker?

“How did you find out?” Gavin asks.

“I found the gun on her,” Paxton says.

“Have you questioned her about it?”

“Didn’t need to. She offered no explanation. She didn’t try to deny anything. She’s the one. I’m bringing this up because we have to figure out what to do about it.”

“This is the first time we’ve caught someone stealing,” Avery says.

“It cannot be taken lightly,” Lillian agrees.

“So,” Paxton says, “what do we do? It’s not like we have written laws about what we do with thieves. We have no judges, juries, or lawyers.”

“This is why I’ve been urging us to come up with laws,” Avery says, obviously irritated. “How many times have I mentioned this? If we have set laws, we don’t even have to meet. We will know what needs to be done.”

“But you open up a whole can of worms along with it, Avery,” Kenneth says. “Do we let the people decide the laws? Do we decide the laws for them? How bad do we punish somebody? What about the different degrees of theft? Killing? It’s not as simple as saying, anyone who steals must have their hand cut off. What if they were taking something they thought was theirs? What Paxton says is right, it’s not like what it used to be.”

“So, we just let these things go unpunished?” Avery says.

“Of course not,” Paxton says. “Why do you think I’ve called all of you in? We are here to decide what to do with Remi. This isn’t a meeting about writing new laws.”

There is a hush in the room. It’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it. I wish I could see in there, though I know I don’t have to. My imagination shows that Avery is stroking his white beard, while Kenneth’s knees move up and down rapidly. Gavin probably stares at the table, too afraid to voice his own opinion. Lillian stares dutifully at Paxton, waiting for him to ask her what her opinion is, but Paxton ignores her, staring straight ahead until someone else talks first.

Finally, Kenneth speaks. “Well, what I said about cutting off her hand ain’t a bad idea.”

“This isn’t the Middle Ages, Kenneth,” Gavin says, finding the courage to confront the large man. Sniff. “Don’t be ignorant. The people won’t like it. It’s barbaric.”

“Maybe,” Paxton says, “but I’m not ruling out anything. Sometimes even the smallest crime should warrant a big consequence. The bigger the consequence, the less likely one is to repeat one’s actions.”

“What are you saying?” Avery asks.

“Killing her,” Kenneth says. I can almost hear the smile in his tone.

“I’m just saying it’s on the table,” Paxton says.

I feel my gut lurch. I expected the talk of banishment. I even accepted Kenneth’s ridiculous notion of chopping off my hand, but killing me? Has our world changed so much that people would kill someone for stealing such a simple thing as a gun? It’s not like I took the gun and killed someone with it. Arguably, I even saved Paxton’s life with the gun. He should be thanking me, not suggesting that I die for my crimes.

“You people are absurd,” Gavin says, echoing my thoughts. “How can you be thinking of killing her?”

“Robert just explained it to us,” Lillian says. I wonder how she would be in a fight. I would love to see.

“So, what, you want to drag her out to the street and shoot her in front of everybody?” Avery asks. “You don’t want to do that, Paxton. These people have been through enough already. We don’t need death.”

“Then we need something as good as a death sentence,” Lillian says, “but not gruesome.”

“What do you suggest?” Paxton asks.

“Send her on her way,” Lillian says. “No weapons. No food. Just the clothes on her back. And make a spectacle of it, too. Let the whole town show how you deal out judgement to her. Let everyone know that if you are caught stealing, you must suffer the consequences — death by banishment.”

It would be better just to shoot me, I think to myself. The pit in my stomach is growing. I had truly thought they might think of something a bit more simple… hard labor for a few months… locked up for a year… something else. Something different than banishment, because Lillian is exactly right. To be banished from these walls is to declare the death penalty.

“Have any of you considered imprisonment?” Gavin asks, echoing my thoughts. “What about giving her a job that no one wants — like cleaning septic tanks or something like that?” Sniff.

“We don’t have the manpower for imprisonment,” Paxton says. “Once people start to see that they can get away with petty crimes, they’ll start testing the limits. They will not be afraid of being guarded. Soon we’ll have more prisoners than guards.”

“You lack faith in your own people,” Gavin says. I suddenly feel guilty for thinking less of the man. He seems to be the only one on my side.

“The point remains,” Paxton says, “the more heavy the punishment, the less likely we will have to deal with this again. I’m not running a prison here, it’s a community. A community stands together in mutual benefit. Once a person sees that there is no benefit in working toward the betterment of her neighbor, the community falls.” I hear a rap on the table in front of Paxton. “I’m not going to keep prisoners here. People can abide by the rules, or they can leave.”

“It would be better if they had a written set of rules to follow,” Avery says quietly.

“Fine!” Paxton belts out. His voice sounds furious. “If you steal, you’re banished. If you murder, you are banished. If you do anything to purposefully disrupt this community that I have created, you are banished. Write it down, pass it around.”

“No!” Gavin shouts. Sniff. “This isn’t right! Let’s lock her up. Put her in jail until she has paid for what she has done.”

“I think I agree with Gavin on this one,” Avery says. “She hasn’t done enough to be banished.”

I don’t know how long the conversation goes back and forth like an unending tennis match. Finally, a chair scoots out from the table, and Paxton stands. “We all obviously disagree about all this.” He takes a deep breath and sighs. “But I’m afraid you all might be right, despite what I want to do. We’ll imprison her. We’ll discuss how long later tonight.”

I don’t want to hear any more. The pit in my stomach has grown so large that I feel like it has swallowed me from within. I can’t think about banishment, imprisonment, or any other possibilities. Regardless, I’ll be weaponless for all of it.

It’s an hour before Gabe comes to the room and unlocks the door. He’s here to tell me about the decision I already know. I want to wave him off before he comes in, but even now I don’t want him to know about my ability. I haven’t told anyone except one person in my life. He’s gone now, so I’m the only one that even knows and it’s going to stay that way.

“They’re going to imprison you,” Gabe says.

“I figured as much.” My eyes stay on the floor.

“Remi, I’m going to tell them it was my idea,” he says.

My eyes go from the floor to his. “No!” I say, teeth clenched. “All that will do is get you tossed in jail with me. There’s no point.”

“But I should have never said anything to you about Shadowface or anything. Now you’re being punished for it.”

“Better than both of us,” I say.

“I just can’t let it happen this way,” he says.

“If you say anything to Paxton about your involvement, once we’re both in jail, I’ll bash your head in with a chair.”

He looks at me with confused eyes.

“This is the best, safest place around,” I continue. “I’m not going to let you screw up your life for me. I don’t even know you. I don’t even like you.” I know the words sting him. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes leave mine and he looks from one side of the room to the other.

“You care about me enough to make sure I don’t get involved in this,” he says. His voice sounds thick.

“I don’t want you around me,” I say. It’s a lie for the most part. I would welcome his company, but who is to say we would even see each other while imprisoned? “If you say anything to Paxton, I will deny it and tell him you are crazy-in-love with me and would say anything to keep me from punishment.”

“He wouldn’t believe you,” Gabe says.

“Just… don’t,” I say. “Let it be.”

“I’m going to figure something out,” Gabe says.

“Don’t.”

He starts to walk out of the room.

“If we both get in trouble, I swear I’ll kill you!”

The door shuts behind him and he locks it.

If I’m going to be locked up, I’d rather it be alone. No one else should have to face this.

Especially Gabe.

Chapter 11 – Waverly

The herd was still roaming about Foley the next day, and by noon, Walter, Barry, and a few others decided it would be a good idea to go out into the city to distract the herd and attempt to move the greyskins out of the city.

“Oh, it’s a very dangerous operation,” Hank whispers as we walk the school halls. “They sneak out into the cars or trucks and drive out of the sensor area and make as much noise as possible. Usually it’s enough for most of the herd to follow it while the rest of us go out and kill the stragglers. The key is to be certain that none of the greyskins are attracted to the school.”

It is interesting to see how this group operates together and I can’t help but envy their sense of unity. With Walter and Barry outside, Hank is left to lead the other members of the community within the school. He sends men and women alike to patrol the halls, check all the exits to guarantee they are secure, and to keep everyone’s noise level down. He also instructs them to keep the volume low on their radios to avoid unwanted echoes through the halls.

Gilbert, Ethan, and I sit with Hank near the front lobby of the school listening to the radio reports coming in after the brief walk through the silent hallways. Most of them are from the school patrols, but the ones we wait for are the reports from the outside.

“The hardest part,” Hank tells us, “is making sure they don’t get surrounded or trapped when trying to draw in the greyskins. It has happened before.”

“Were you able to save them?” Ethan asks.

Hank lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Sadly, no. We have had very hard days here. Many losses. We started with over a hundred people and are now down to seventy-three. Most of the ones we lost were in a single incident.”

Gilbert shakes his head and is about to say something when Ethan gives him a sharp look that warns him not to mention anything about building a wall. Gilbert rolls his eyes and looks away instead. Ethan catches me looking at him and nods at me, and I give him a pleased smile.

“Hank, the north hallway is clear and quiet,”  a voice says over the radio. “I’ll do another round in five.”

“Ten-four,” Hanks says, then smiles at us.

The next voice over the radio wipes the smile from Hank’s face. “Hank, there’s something moving in the gym, I’m going to check it out.”

Hank’s face crinkles into a look of concern as he raises the radio to his mouth. “Ten-four,” he says. “If it’s one of ours I want you to bring them to me. We are on lockdown, people should know what that means.”

The person on the other end responds, but all we hear is static.

Hank shakes his head, his jaws clenched together. “It’s just this kind of mix-up that will get us all killed.”

“Hank,” the voice calls out, this time in a much lower whisper.

“What is it?”

“It’s not one of ours. I repeat, not one of ours. It’s a greyskin.”

Hank’s face turns white. “Did you say what I think you said?”

There is a long silence form the other end. “We need weapons down here. Blunts and blades.”

“How many are there?”

“I don’t know. I only saw one at first, but now there are like twenty. I’m not sure where they are coming from.”

Hank swears and stands from his seat. “Somebody was careless.”

“We can help,” Ethan says.

Hank holds up a hand. “I’m not certain what we’re going to do yet. Wait here just a minute.” He walks away, I assume to talk with someone.

Nothing can match the look that Gilbert gives Ethan. “What are you thinking?”

“What?”

“Offering to help these people. They aren’t with us. They aren’t our responsibility.”

“But aren’t we all in this together?” Ethan says. “They are people just like us.”

“I don’t care if they are starving orphans,” Gilbert snaps. “We’re just here until those things go away. I’m not risking my neck for these people.”

“Would you risk your neck for anyone?” Ethan says, his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t do anything but save your own skin.”

“You know a lot less about me than you think,” Gilbert says. “But if you want my opinion, I’d say there would be little pay off.”

“Since when are we looking for a payoff?” I chime in.

Gilbert looks at me as if he’s disgusted. “What do you know about it? The only reason you’re with us is because of Ethan. I would have left you and your pitiful boyfriend behind.”

I don’t even think before I rear back and punch him in the jaw, and I’m not ready for the pain that shoots through my hand as a result. Gilbert falls to the floor and grabs for his face, but he pulls himself up quickly. At first, it looks like he’s going to hit me back, and I’m ready for it, but Ethan stands between us.

“Let it go,” he says.

Gilbert glares at me with fire in his eyes. I know if he wanted to he could tear me apart. He is probably twice my weight and with a quick-to-snap mouth like his, no doubt he has been in some fights before.

“Don’t talk about Lucas like that,” I say. My jaw is trembling and its everything I can do to keep the tears from forming in my eyes.

Don’t cry. You can’t let him see you cry. If you cry, he wins. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Gilbert shoves Ethan away from him and turns his back to us, muttering something to himself. I rub my hand and when I look at it I can see that two of my knuckles are already starting to bruise.

“Are you okay?” Ethan whispers to me. He reaches out for my hand gently.

I pull it away from him. “I’m fine.” I turn from him coldly and pace the lobby to try and cool my emotions. I am grateful for Ethan because I’m not entirely certain what might have transpired had he not been there to get between us, but I don’t want him to touch me. I fear touching anyone.

In a few seconds, we hear heavy footsteps coming toward us. Hank leads a group of people that I’ve never seen before. Each of them carries a bladed weapon or club with him. They are ready for battle. For a brief moment, I can’t help but echo Gilbert’s scolding to Ethan in my mind. I didn’t come here to help these people fight greyskins, but the other part of me feels what Ethan said too. Don’t we all need to just work together?

“Reports are coming in from the gymnasium that more are pouring in,” Hank says. “One must have gotten a door open somehow.”

“Why don’t you just lock them in there until the others get back?” I ask.

Hank smiles at me and shrugs. “I would rather they not have to deal with this. I can handle it. Besides, we need to contain the situation with as little noise as possible before it gets worse.” He holds up a hand in the air. “We are prepared to get rid of them, so we aren’t asking you to help us. You are guests here. This is not your fight.”

“Hadn’t planned on it,” Gilbert says under his breath.

Hank ignores him and begins to lead his people down the hallway.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Ethan asks.

Their backs are to us as they continue into the darkness and I know that this might be an opportunity to test my new ability. Perhaps if I see something bad happen in the future, this time I will be able to prevent it.

“Hank wait!” I say. He stops and all eyes fall on me. I run ahead and reach out for his hand before he can object.

The familiar white light flashes in my eyes and I see Hank leading the charge into the gymnasium. The fight only lasts a few minutes, but Hank somehow gets cornered. He smashes the head of a greyskin but doesn’t realize that there is another greyskin lurking behind him. It reaches out and grabs his arm and, before he can move, it sinks its rotten teeth into his wrist.

I let go of his hand. An icy chill settles inside me as I stare at Hank’s face. He looks at me with a smile as usual, but he also seems confused.

“You can’t go,” I blurt out.

“I’m sorry, Waverly, but it is my duty,” he answers.

“But you can’t!”

“Waverly,” Ethan says, standing next to me. “What’s going on?”

“Why are you so worried?” Hank asks.

I want to tell him that I’ve seen the future. I want to say that I have this ability, but I know Hank won’t believe me, Ethan will think I’m crazy, and Gilbert will never let me live it down.

“I just…” I can’t get the words out. “What if you get bitten on the wrist or something?”

“It is certainly a possibility,” Hanks says. He smiles and pats me on the shoulder and then starts walking away from me.

“It’s not only a possibility,” I say. I can feel my voice shaking. “If you go down there, that will happen.”

He stops and turns to look at me, his eyebrows lowered, but he only shakes his head and continues to walk away.

“Give us weapons,” I say in desperation. “We want to help you.”

“No we don’t,” Gilbert says.

My head snaps at him. “You don’t have to.” I look at Ethan. “You don’t either.”

“I’m ready to help,” Ethan says.

Hank nods and we are each handed a sharpened broom handle. “Just try to keep your kills as quiet as possible,” he says.

Ethan and I follow the group, leaving Gilbert fuming behind us. The broom handles aren’t much, but I’ve killed greyskins with less. It will at least keep a few feet between me and the dead.

“What was that all about?” Ethan whispers to me as we trail the others. “Telling him he will get bitten?”

“It’s just a feeling is all,” I say, but this time I think having a feeling will pay off. This time, I’m going to stay close to Hank so nothing bad happens to him. It’s up to me to keep him from dying. “Just keep your eyes on Hank.”

Ethan shakes his head. I know he thinks I’m crazy, but what else can I do? Hank won’t heed my warning so I have to do what I can to stop the future I saw. I know if I would have done something to stop it for Lucas, he would be walking next to us.

The man that had given Hank the report about the greyskins meets us at the first doors of the gymnasium.

“How did they get in there?” Hank asks.

The man shrugs as sweat drips down the side of his face. His arms seem to be shaking from nervousness. “I have no idea. They must have gotten one of the doors open.”

“How did we not see this coming?” Hank speaks with a harshness that I have yet to see until now.

The man shrugs again and Hank walks past him and cracks open the door. He lets out a sigh. “It’s manageable,” he whispers, “but we’ve got to get in there and stop it now before their numbers grow.”

He instructs part of the group to go around to the other side of the gym and the rest of us to follow him. We slip into the gymnasium without notice and I can see that we are at the top of the bleachers in front of stairs descending all the way down to the basketball court. I nearly gasp at the sight of the greyskins congregated at the bottom, some of them climbing the stairs.

“Spread out,”  Hank says to us.

The others move around the bleachers with steady holds on their weapons. Ethan stays close to me and I stay within feet of Hank, watching for any greyskins that might approach. Thinking back, I remember that Hank had been standing on the court in my vision. If I can just keep him from going onto the court, then perhaps he can avoid the bite altogether.

But what consequences would there be for altering the future I saw? What if, for some reason, removing Hank from the situation would cause me to get bitten instead? Or Ethan? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if my actions caused his death. I look at him as he creeps down the stairs a few feet behind me. I should have reached out and touched him to see what his future holds.

I look at Hank. For all I know, the greyskins could have us all in a minute, but that’s not what I saw. It was Hank I saw.

“Hank,” I whisper.

He turns to me slowly.

“Don’t go onto the court,” I say.

“That’s where the greyskins are, sweetheart,” he says with a smile. “It’s my job to clear them out.”

“Just listen to me!”

But Hank just continues to smile and he turns away, descending the stairs toward his doom.

I don’t know who makes the first kill, but it isn’t silent and it sets all of the greyskins on us. Three come toward Hank on the stairs but Ethan and I jump next to him and we take out one each. My broom handle proves to be sharp enough as it stabs through the top of the greyskin’s head.

Hank clambers ahead as if he is fueled to move forward because I told him not to, and now he is on the court. It is more difficult than I thought to defend myself from the onslaught of the greyskins and try to keep an eye on Hank at the same time. They come in from all directions. Having only a sharp spear’s end means I’ve got to have good aim and I have to be quick. The handle is next to useless against greyskins using a sweeping motion. It’s stab or nothing.

A thought suddenly hits me that I wasn’t in my vision like I had been in my others. Before, I was able to see myself next to Lucas or Ethan before the event took place, but this time I didn’t. Did that mean that I was going to die too? Was I already dead by the time Hank got bitten? I did have the vision before I had planned to go with them. Perhaps changing my mind and telling Hank that I had seen his future had somehow altered it. Perhaps my actions made him more cautious, therefore the greyskin that would have killed him would already be dead.

Black blood drips off the sharp end of the broom handle and streams snake toward my fingers as I stab over and over. There are more bodies lying on the ground now than there are standing, but it isn’t over. I look at Hank and he seems to be fine. He shouts for some of the others to get to the unlocked door and secure it. Then I hear Ethan yell for help. When I look to my right, there are at least five greyskins almost on top of him and he is pushed into a corner. I look back at Hank and see that there is nothing around him, so I run to help Ethan.

I stab two of them through the back of the head before the others turn on me. Ethan wrestles with one, but is able to shake it off and stab it through the skull. All five are dead in just a few seconds.

“Thanks,” Ethan says breathless. “You just saved my life.”

I can’t help but blush, but I don’t think he notices. But the blood leaves my face when I hear a scream behind me. I turn sharply and see a greyskin on top of Hank, teeth sunken into his wrist. Ethan and I run toward him, but it is too late. Others have already taken out the greyskin by the time I reach Hank. He sits up, blood flowing from his mangled wrist, dripping off the tips of his fingers. His eyes search through the group, seeking me out.

He has only one question: “How did you know?”

There isn’t much time before the virus sets in and it’s too late. All of us decide to keep Hank in the gymnasium since his screams would likely carry through to the halls when they cut off his arm. One of the men returns with a clean hatchet and Hank’s eyes go wide. Others come in at the top of the gym, no doubt hearing about Hank’s injury. Gilbert is one of the spectators.

A shirt is tied securely around Hank’s arm at his elbow. The man with the hatchet apologizes to his friend, but Hank just shakes his head. “It’s the only way to save my life.”

“It might not work,” the man says.

“Well, try it!” Hank says, lying flat on his back and extending his bitten arm.

The man swallows hard and kneels next to Hank. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Would you rather I die then?” Hank says. His face goes from a grimace to a smile as he looks at his friend. “You’re doing me a favor. It’s my left hand anyway. I don’t need it.”

The man attempts to laugh at Hank’s joke, but his face turns very serious as he looks away from Hank’s face and at his arm.

I don’t want to watch as the man grips the hatchet tightly and raises it into the air, but I can’t look away. He brings the hatchet down as hard as he can and the snapping bone is almost as loud as Hank’s screams. It isn’t a clean cut.

I feel sick. I want to turn away.

Hack! Another scream, but the tendons and muscles are so thick.

Hack! This time there is no scream, and I’m only slightly relieved to know that Hank doesn’t feel the pain of the fourth and final Hack! that cuts off the infected part of his arm.

Blood pools out onto the gym floor all around Hank. Someone wraps a shirt around his stump to try and stop the bleeding. It takes four men to carry him up the stairs and out of the gymnasium. Gilbert meets us in the hallway.

“Okay,” Gilbert says, “what was that all about?”

“Leave her alone,” Ethan says. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Back off, Ethan. I think we deserve an explanation as to why someone so close to us can predict the future. That’s a pretty convenient gift. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Lucky guess,” I say.

“Sounds pretty unlucky to me,” Gilbert says. “That’s pretty specific. The wrist? The fact that you said it would happen.” He looks at Ethan who wasn’t stopping his questions.

I’m cornered.

“It started just the other day. When Lucas died. I grabbed his hand and I saw what was about to happen before it actually did. I don’t know why, but it just happened.” I look at Ethan. “And you remember when you killed that greyskin last night? Remember that I touched your hand? I was able to see that you would be okay. So, then I just saw that Hank would be bitten by a greyskin on the wrist. This time I tried to stop it, but I wasn’t able to.”

Both of them look at me as though I just grew a tree out of the side of my head.

“I can’t explain it,” I say.

“So, you can’t change what you see?” Ethan asks.

“I haven’t been able to,” I say. “But to my regret, this was only my first time to try.”

He nods at me and looks away as if he’s deep in thought.

“Seems like a pretty useless ability if you can’t change what you see,” Gilbert says. “If you’re telling the truth, that is.”

“What?” I say. “First you’re grilling me about how I might have known it was going to happen, and then you act like you don’t believe me when I tell you? What is wrong with you?”

“Just sounds a little far-fetched is all,” Gilbert says. “I don’t know what I believe.”

I don’t have to argue with anyone, but now it’s out in the open. If they want to believe me, fine. If not, fine. I don’t care. Despite my feelings, what Gilbert says rings true in my mind. If I can’t change it, then why does it happen? Or maybe I can change it, but I just didn’t do it right this time.

I hadn’t seen myself in the vision, and I know now it is because I wasn’t anywhere near Hank. I went to try and rescue Ethan. Because of that, Hank was left alone and he was bitten. But if I had just decided to stay behind altogether, then Hank might not have been bitten, right? Did I actually cause him to be bitten? Was all this my fault somehow? If I hadn’t said anything to Hank, then maybe he would still have his left arm.

A pit in my stomach grows as I think more about it. Cutting off a limb that has been bitten is not a certain way to save a life. The virus can spread quickly so it might already be too late for Hank. And it would be my fault.

Chapter 12 – Remi

I feel like I’m in one of those old movies where the townspeople are about to burn the witch at the stake. All that these townspeople lack, however, are the pitchforks and…oh yeah… anger. I swear the people here don’t even know why they’ve been assembled, much less why there’s a woman standing in the middle of the street with Paxton and the other elders on a platform, perched taller than everyone. I’m surprised that the two guards at my side decided to tie my wrists together. Do they really think I’m such a risk that I need to be restrained? I stole a gun, it’s not like I killed someone.

Everyone seems confused, especially when they look at me. I try not to look into their eyes, but it just seems to happen. I know the more I look at the ground, the more I will seem guilty. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I am guilty. I’m just not so sure that the punishment fits the crime. As I stand here, I’m suddenly aware that our old judicial system would be nice about now. I might get community service…a record. But I’m pretty sure the judge wouldn’t send me out into the wilderness full of once-human, flesh-eating greyskins, or lock me up for very long.

I see Gabe standing to the side of the platform, his rifle slung over his shoulder as usual. I stare at him long enough that he should have looked at me by now, but it seems that his eyes are avoiding me. I haven’t spoken to him since last night when he came in and told me that the elders had decided to throw me in jail. I know he couldn’t have told Paxton of his involvement, otherwise he would be standing here next to me. I wonder what he did say, or if he simply took my advice and said nothing. Maybe that’s why he’s not looking at me. Maybe he feels guilty that he’s letting me take the fall completely.

I’m surprised that I don’t feel any sort of resentment toward him. I think it’s because I know that finding a place like Crestwood is special for anyone. Getting caught was my fault. Besides, being locked up for a few months isn’t so bad. It’s better than being sent away like they had talked about doing to me. At least while I’m locked up I’ll be safe. Later, we might all look back on this and laugh.

Remember when you were new here? someone will say. You know, when you stole that gun because you were too scared to sleep at night?

Hey Remi, you’ve come a long way since your imprisonment here. I can’t believe you are lead scout now.

The leader of Crestwood did what when she was just twenty-two? Wow. I would have never thought… It just goes to show that people really can accomplish so much, even in this horrible world.

I watch as the elders stand together, Paxton looking out over the crowd, waiting for everyone to assemble as commanded. Lillian stands close to his side, no doubt hoping to look like an equal in the eyes of Crestwood. Kenneth stands to the right, talking to Avery about something, his hands moving from side to side as if it’s a very animated story. Avery grins a couple of times, glancing around nervously, too self-aware to be interested in what Kenneth has to say. I catch Gavin staring at me and when he notices that I see him, he turns his head quickly, pretending that we hadn’t connected. He doesn’t know that I heard him trying to defend me — or at least lessen my punishment. Gavin must have gained some confidence to speak up in the meeting, powered by some feeling of true justice, no doubt.

Finally, Paxton raises his hands up in the air to quiet the crowd. My stomach lurches, but my hands are remarkably steady. I already know what is going to happen to me. I know what Paxton is going to say. The townspeople are standing around, perking their ears, thinking Paxton is about to tell them some new information, but I know that the only purpose for this little show is to drive fear into anyone that might ever try to steal again. I’m standing in the middle of the street with two armed guards next to me so people will see me and remember what happened to that wretch, Remi, who stole a gun. I wonder what they will say when today is over.

I heard she was going to use it to kill Paxton.

Oh, I heard she planned to kill herself with it.

Well, you know she was planning to go on a shooting spree… she had been on the outside for a long time. That can mess with your head.

Most of them would probably think I’m crazy. And I guess I was crazy enough to break into Headquarters and steal a gun just so I could feel safe. Just so I could sleep. It’s almost as if having a gun next to me keeps the nightmares away. Without a weapon, not only do I have no physical defense, but I have no mental defense. You take away my weapons, you take away my ability to function. That’s just the reality we live in now. Crestwood is a fairytale that Paxton has created. Sure, he keeps guards around the walls, but only because he knows the truth. He would rather his people wallow in ignorance, thinking they didn’t need weapons, than arm them in case a giant herd ever does come by.

He wants complete control, I think.

I suppose, thinking back on it, that stealing the gun wasn’t worth it. There’s no chance I will have a weapon while I’m locked up, but I’m trying to look on the bright side. Maybe I need this. Maybe it’s the best thing for me to be locked away for a long time so I finally lose my dependence on a firearm. I’m sure I will have many sleepless nights, but a person has to fall asleep sometime, right?

Paxton lowers his arms as the townspeople do as he beckons and quiet themselves. He looks down at me for only a brief second before starting.

“Crestwood was here long before any of us got here,” Paxton begins. “It was founded 200 years ago by people who saw a vision of a peaceful and enriched life. It was meant to be a place of safety where people could go about their lives as normal. There was no such fear of infection, murder, or thievery. Since that time, the world has changed. Humanity has changed. However, human nature has not changed. We still want and need a place like Crestwood to offer us protection from those things. We have erected walls to keep out the infection, but the walls cannot keep out thievery and murder.

Murder? My heart jumps into my throat. Why is he talking about murder? My once-steady hands begin to tremble slightly. I glance in Gabe’s direction but he only stares at the ground in front of him. Why won’t you look at me?

“I don’t know how many of you have met Remi here,” Paxton says, pointing to me. “But she is the first of our town to be caught stealing. She broke into the headquarters building and stole a journal from us — one that kept record of all of our decisions as elders. And she stole a gun.”

I can feel the eyes of every person fall on me. I try to keep my hands from shaking but no amount of fist balling or tensing up keeps it from happening. I thought I had nerves of steel, but I guess I was wrong.

“Such an act cannot go unpunished,” Paxton says. “We cannot tolerate thievery within our town. All of us have enough to worry about without having to deal with thieves among us.”

There are a few snorts of agreement. I think I even hear someone say amen to Paxton. People will play Simon Says to the end of their days so long as they don’t have to think for themselves.

“But even worse than these crimes,” Paxton says, “is the crime of murder.”

This time, I’m the one that gasps.

“Yesterday, Remi used the gun she stole to kill one of our own soldiers,” Paxton says, his eyes on everyone but me.

“Liar!” I yell out, taking a step forward. I immediately feel two sets of strong hands grasp my arms, pulling me back to my spot. The crowd behind me starts talking, some yelling indistinguishable words to each other. I don’t care. My eyes go from Paxton to Gabe, neither of them looking at me. “I didn’t kill Skip!” Saying his name makes me sound even more guilty, I’m sure. “You were there. You. Mendez. Gabe. All of you were there. You know I didn’t kill anyone. I saved you!” My words are lost in the angry mob behind me.

“That’s why the other elders and I have decided that she should be banished from Crestwood,” Paxton says, ignoring my cries. His eyes are wide as though he truly believes this lie that he has made up.

The citizens seem so angry that I’m not sure there will be time for me to be banished.

Kill her! one man shouts out.

Who did she kill? another asks.

I stand in shock. This is a complete betrayal. Paxton must have wanted me gone so he figured out a way to do it.

The 300 or more people start to become so heated that four more guards move to surround me so no one will try to do something stupid (like grabbing me and strangling me in the middle of the street). Clearly my blood should be spilled, according to some of the people in the crowd.

My eyes find Gabe again as two of the guards start pulling me away from the street, but he’s walking away from me. I’m led to the headquarters building and dragged up the stairs to the second floor. I try to ask the guards — plead with them to let me go because it was all a lie. I knew it would do no good, but I’m in shock. I can’t believe Paxton would just lie like that.

I sit in front of the same desk that I had ransacked a couple of nights before, my wrists beginning to throb from the tight bindings around them. The guards that had pushed me in here are now gone but for one standing at the door. My back is to him as I sit in the chair. I try to turn to him and ask him what is happening, but he only stares straight ahead like one of those royal guards from Buckingham Palace. I try to find the thought funny — a soldier with one of those towering hats, no longer standing at attention, but instead greyish and rotting with the desire to eat anything that moves — but I can find nothing funny about it. I can’t even force myself to smile. Banishment is the worst thing that could have happened. I would almost rather be set in front of a firing squad and shot than to be thrown out into the wild, weaponless and scared.

I wait for at least ten minutes before the door behind me opens and Paxton walks through alone. I feel my jaw clench and blood rush to my neck and cheeks. I have never felt so angry.

“What was all that about?” I ask, trying to remain civil. He won’t listen to me if I’m yelling at him.

He makes his way to the other side of the desk and sits in his comfortable chair across from me. He looks at the guard at the door and waves him off. When the door closes, his eyes meet mine for the first time today. “I did what has to be done.”

“You know I didn’t murder anyone,” I say. “I never denied stealing from you, but I didn’t kill Skip. You, Gabe, Mendez…you all know this.”

“It is for the best,” Paxton says.

“How?” I ask, clearly confused.

“I’m not running a prison here,” he says, repeating the same slogan he fed to the elders when discussing my punishment. “None of the elders thought stealing was enough to send you away, but none of us wanted to keep prisoners either.”

You didn’t want to keep prisoners, not the other elders, is what I want to say. I wish I could tell him that I heard the entire deliberation and how he took control over the elders…how he refused to listen to anyone else’s opinion.

“Was this Shadowface’s idea?” I ask.

Paxton’s eyebrows lower as I say these words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you answer to him,” I say. “I know he’s a supplier, and apparently he’s the one actually running things around here. Not the elders.”

“Just because you read the word Shadowface in some record journal doesn’t mean you have any idea what you are talking about,” he says, but he looks away when he says it. He starts tapping his fingers on the desk in front of him — not with his fingernails, but his fingertips which gives an offbeat flat tempo in the much too silent room.

“I will do anything it takes to stay,” I tell him. My wrists are really beginning to hurt now. My fingers are starting to go numb. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Why did you break in?” he asks. “That’s what puzzles me the most.”

I shrug. “I was actually looking for records. I wanted to know what kind of people you were. The gun was secondary. I saw it and I took it. It was stupid.”

“Foolish,” he says. “Not necessarily stupid. You saved our lives with it.”

The fact that he is commending me for saving his life with the gun he claimed I killed Skip with makes me livid. “So, why are you banishing me? I didn’t do what you said. You don’t have to imprison me. You don’t have to banish me. Think of another punishment.”

“The punishment must be well-remembered,” he says. “I want you gone for the stealing, but it’s not enough to banish you, so, you’re a murderer.”

“Don’t you see that it’s not right?” I ask.

“Don’t you see that I don’t care?” he comes back. “I’m trying to create a perfectly safe environment here at Crestwood.”

“And you’ve done a great job with that,” I say. “But you can’t just banish everyone that steals something.”

“Until now we have never had the problem with people stealing things,” he says.

“So, that’s it then,” I say. “You’re going to open the gates and send me walking. You might as well put me to death.”

“That’s much too drastic for what you have really done,” he says. “But I’m willing to give you a chance.”

My heart begins to beat a little heavier. A chance? Was all this constructed so Paxton might send me on some mission of his?

“I’m willing to let you back into Crestwood,” he says. “I’m willing to stand in front of everyone here and tell them that it was all a big mistake — that you didn’t kill anyone and that you didn’t even steal anything…that’s all it will take. One tiny speech and all is forgiven.”

“But you want me to do something,” I say.

“There is always a catch, isn’t there?” he says with a smile. I want to smack it off of him. He leans forward in his chair, elbows on the desk, his hands cupped together. His face turns suddenly serious. “I have a daughter. I haven’t seen or heard from her in four years.”

“You mean a year before the outbreak?” I ask.

He nods. “She and I were never on good terms after she went to college. She started dating this boy I didn’t care for and…” he waves a hand in the air, “well, there was a big fight and we didn’t speak to each other again. Then the greyskin virus broke out and I tried to find her. I spent the better part of a year looking for her before I decided to quit. I built a safe haven here in Crestwood hoping she would find it someday and that I would come across her again. But…I still haven’t seen her.”

“What do you want me to do, find her?”

“Yes,” he says, his face very serious.

“You haven’t seen your daughter in four years and you want me to find her? You know she’s probably…”

“Dead, yes I’m aware of the possibility,” he says, cutting me off sharply. “But I’m not really asking that you find her and bring her to me, I’m just asking that you find out as much information as you can about her — what may have happened to her…something. You bring me any information that’s useful and I’ll reinstate your citizenship here at Crestwood. It will be like this never happened.”

It will never be like that, I think. People will always remember the one accused of murder.

What was her name? they will ask. Remi?

Oh yeah, the murderer.

“I will be the murderer no matter what you tell them now,” I say.

Paxton shakes his head and sits back in his chair, crossing his legs. “They will believe whatever I tell them. Once I declare you innocent, they will forget in time. People thinking you’re a murderer for a short time is a pretty good punishment for stealing from me.”

“What if I find out she’s dead?” I ask. “You won’t want me here after that.”

He shakes his head again. “Just bring the proof.”

“In other words, it’s impossible,” I say. “Sorry to be so blunt but there is no proof left if she became some greyskin’s meal.”

Paxton blinks at my words and I can tell he’s trying not to let my forward speaking get to him. “It’s on you,” he says. “I don’t really expect to see you again. I’m just giving you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and the eyes of others here. If you can bring me proof of my daughter’s fate then you will be welcome here and I will even make you a soldier if that’s what you want.”

I sit and stare at his desk in front of me. It’s an impossible task, a stupid one. How could he ask this of me? Trying to find out what happened to someone in a greyskin-infested world is like asking how a cancer patient died. Well, she died because of cancer…Well, she died because of the greyskin virus. This was Paxton’s way of giving me hope (maybe some hope for himself as well), but I want to tell him that there is none and I will just say goodbye and be on my way.

“Where would I even start looking?” I ask.

“Elkhorn,” he says immediately. “You went to school there, right?”

Elkhorn carries with it another name: The Epicenter. It’s where this whole mess started. “I was going to college there when the outbreak happened, yes.”

“That was the last place I saw her,” he says. “She was a student at the university.”

“Four years ago?”

“Four years ago.”

“I’m sorry to say that she’s probably graduated by now, that is unless she couldn’t figure out a major first.” I can tell Paxton doesn’t care for my jokes. He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t smile. He simply stares. “So,” I continue, “she might not have even been there when this whole thing started?”

“It’s possible that she wasn’t but I don’t imagine she had dropped out.”

“What’s her name?” I ask with a deep sigh.

Paxton looks at his desk and swallows hard as if saying her name would make her truly gone. Finally he says, “Her name is Jessi.”

Chapter 13 – Waverly

Walter and Barry didn’t let us leave after Hank was bitten. Their mission to pull the greyskins away from the school had worked, but they wanted to be certain that the undead were still moving far away before they let us drive through Foley again. We couldn’t risk leading the greyskins back to the school. The night seemed to go on forever and I drifted in and out of sleep, never getting the rest I desired. Thoughts of seeing the future plagued my mind and no one knew if Hank was going to make it through the night.

Now, the sun shines on my tired eyes as I sit next to Hank’s cot. There are others in the room watching over him. Walter stands behind me and Ethan and Gilbert sit separately on their own cots.

“He’s not showing any symptoms of the virus,” Walter says. “I think he’s going to make it just fine.”

There is more relief within me than there should be, I think. I have only known Hank for a day, but I feel the need to check on him.

Eventually, his eyes flutter awake and his smile beams at me. “You look very pretty,” he says. “When the sun hits your eyes it looks like the Pacific Ocean.

“Have you been there?” I ask.

Hank nods. “I used to live on the West Coast. My heart is there. I moved out here to pursue a career, leaving my family behind.” He lets out a long breath. “I just didn’t know I was going to be leaving them behind forever. Heh, it’s not like I can hop on a plane and go look for them either.”

“They’re probably still alive,” I say.

“Can you see that too?” he asks. “Can you touch my hand and see a future that I will be arm and arm with my little girls again? Will their mother be with them?”

I say nothing.

“I didn’t think so,” he says. “Strange business what you told me yesterday.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “I don’t know what it is. It comes and goes.” As I want it to, anyway.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a person like you, Waverly.”

“I hope to meet more like you,” I tell him.

“Likely we won’t be seeing each other again, but if we do, perhaps I will be used to fighting greyskins with just one arm.”

“I think it would be better if you kept at your cooking with just one arm,” I say. “Because that’s what I’ll be looking for when we meet again.”

He smiles at me and closes his eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Waverly.”

Walter leads us to our SUV and leaves us with blunt weapons, food, and a full tank of gas. He says his goodbyes and advises us not to take the interstate if we don’t want to get stuck twenty miles down the road. He also asks us not to mention the town of Foley to anyone. They don’t mind trades, but if raiders get wind of their stash, Foley would be in danger.

This time, I ask to drive and Ethan and Gilbert let me. Ethan sits in the back while Gilbert sits in the front passenger side staring at the map. I don’t look forward to spending hours in a vehicle with Gilbert right next to me, but it’s good to be on the road again. If all goes to plan, we should be at Crestwood in about five hours.

The first couple of hours are long and silent. When I look in the rearview mirror, I can see Ethan nodding off, fighting sleep for some reason. I imagine he doesn’t like the idea of being out in the open and dozing. Occasionally, Gilbert pulls the small canister from his pocket and examines the clear glass cylinder. He is certain that the red liquid is blood.

“Wouldn’t there be a way to open it?” Ethan asks.

Gilbert shakes his head. “Looks like something you’re supposed to break in the middle. Once you break it, you have to use it.”

“But for what?” I ask.

Gilbert shakes his head as he holds it up in the light. “I don’t know. Why don’t you lay hands on it and see what its future is?” He lets out a short laugh as I roll my eyes at him. I knew that once he found out I could see into the future he would find some way to give me grief about it. “Tell me, Waverly, what’s it like being a fortune-teller? I’ve always wanted someone to tell me the future.”

“Leave her alone,” Ethan says from the back.

Gilbert ignores him. I chew on my bottom lip, clearly not wanting to talk about it. He slouches in his seat and yawns. “You don’t need a crystal ball or cards or anything. You’re a palm reader is what you are.” He taps his fingers against the window like he’s playing scales on the piano. “Nah. I don’t believe it. Anybody could have guessed that. The fat oaf was lucky it was only his wrist and not his neck.”

I slam on the brakes and Gilbert lets out a curse as he smacks the front dash, steadying himself with his palms. “I don’t think we’re there yet,” he says.

“Get out,” I say.

“Waverly, what are you doing?” Ethan asks.

Gilbert stares at me and it’s the first time I’ve seen him look afraid.

“Get out!”

I unsnap my seatbelt and open the door, walking to the other side of the SUV until I open Gilbert’s side.

“What are you doing?” he says.

Ethan is out of the car now. “Waverly, we don’t have time for this.”

“Are you really trying to throw down right now?” Gilbert says.

“I’m going to prove to you that I can see the future,” I say.

He rolls his eyes.

“Give me your hand,” I say. “Now, I can only see a few moments ahead, but maybe I can predict something you’ll do or say.”

“Impossible,” Gilbert says. “If you tell me what I’m going to say, then maybe that will be why I say it.”

“Then I’ll tell Ethan, and we’ll both watch for you to do what I see.”

Gilbert looks at Ethan and shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever.” He holds out his hand to me. “Please tell me my immediate future,” he says sarcastically.

I hesitate, but I don’t know why. This is my first time to try this without fear of imminent danger, and I don’t know if it will work. I can’t bear the thought of having to listen to Gilbert the entire way to Crestwood, babbling about how I’m a fake. I shouldn’t let him bother me so much, but everything he says just gets under my skin.

I reach out and grab his hand and the bright light flashes.

I expect to see the three of us riding in the SUV together. I thought that maybe I would see him cough, or sneeze, or maybe he would tell an off-color joke to Ethan, but what I actually see terrifies me.

There is the other me, standing next to Ethan in what looks to be a giant warehouse. She’s cold and shivering, and there is another man there. He looks like he’s in his twenties, but I can’t see him that well in the darkness. The sound of greyskins all around them grows louder.

“There needs to be a distraction,” the man says. “or we’re all going to die.”

There is a long pause. It’s storming outside. The rain falls heavy and the lightning flashes every couple of seconds. They are all cold and full of fear. Each of them looks tired.

As I watch my other self, I see her fingers clutch to Ethan’s clothing. He leans his forehead into her cheek and whispers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she says.

His hand reaches for hers and he holds it tenderly, and a blank stare falls on the other Waverly’s face.

I watch from my out-of-body distance as Gilbert stares at the group. I expect him to be angry, but instead, I see him wipe away a tear.

“Give me the gun,” Ethan says. “I’ll distract them. You all run.”

The man hands Ethan the rifle.

“No,” Waverly says.

Gilbert steps forward and snatches the rifle from Ethan. “I can’t let you do that.” He looks from Ethan to Waverly. “I’ve been here before. Last time, I didn’t make this choice, now I have to. I’m already dead. That’s why I’m so cold and bitter.” Another tear falls down his face. “I loved her so much. Now, I can be with her.”

“Who?” Ethan asks.

“No time,” Gilbert answers. He pulls the cylinder from his pocket and tosses it to Ethan. “Use this to your advantage somehow.”

Waverly clutches Ethan and tries not to make eye contact with Gilbert. It’s too painful to watch. But he lowers his head to force it. Through tears, she looks at him.

“This is what you saw, isn’t it? When you stopped the SUV?”

She swallows and nods.

“I don’t know if you can change what you see,” he says, “but I don’t want you to, regardless.” He looks at the others. “Sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you all,” he says. “It’s not who I really am.” He takes a deep breath. “This is who I really am.”

He steps away from them and runs to the other side of the warehouse, screaming and shooting the gun in the air all the way. The greyskins sense him and converge on him. The rest seems like a white blur. I don’t know if they get out. All I hear is the screams of Gilbert and the groaning of the greyskins.

The white light flashes and I find myself standing in front of Gilbert and Ethan with my mouth hanging open. I can feel wet cheeks as the tears begin to flow down them. I quickly turn away and try to wipe them, but Gilbert is already berating me with questions.

“What in the world did you just see?” he asks. “What would make you start crying? I didn’t even think you liked me that much. What could seriously happen to me in the next few minutes?”

But I know that none of what I just saw will happen in the next few minutes. It seems to be the first time for this, but what I just saw could be tonight, the next day, the next week. I look up at the sky and see a perfectly clear, cold day with the sun shining bright and high. There are no storm clouds. There is no lightening.

I look at Ethan. In the scene before me I had seen myself holding his hand — a blank stare across my face. Was I seeing another vision. How far ahead did I see in this one? Months? Years? Who was that man that was with us?

“Waverly,” Gilbert says softly. “Tell me what you saw.”

I rest my head against the side of the SUV, trying to hold back tears. I don’t like this ability that has surfaced. I don’t like knowing what is supposed to happen. There is no good coming from it if I can’t change anything. Or can I change something but I just don’t know how?

“I just have a headache,” I lie. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Then why are you crying?” he presses.

“I miss Lucas,” I say. I do miss Lucas, but I’m afraid I’m more transparent than a clean window.

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

“Gilbert,” Ethan says. “If she doesn’t want to answer you, then let her be. Come on, we should get into the car before someone or something sees us out here.”

“Can you drive?” I ask Gilbert.

He steps away from me slowly. “Sure,” he says under his breath.

I pull open the back door of the SUV and get in. Ethan hesitates, but he makes his way to the front seat. Before Gilbert gets in, he turns to me. “Hey. You all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. I don’t look at him. I know it sounds dumb, but I don’t want to see his sympathetic blue eyes. I don’t want to hold his hand later. I don’t want these visions anymore.

Gilbert glances at me in the rearview mirror and shakes his head. I know he won’t leave it alone. I know he won’t forget that I saw something. I just can’t bring myself to tell him what it was.

The vehicle ran out of gas only a few miles away from Crestwood. Several long, silent hours have passed since I saw what will happen to Gilbert in the future. He hasn’t asked me again, and I haven’t told him. But at dusk we are in sight of the walls and our hearts feel light, and whatever happened earlier is old news. Perhaps what I saw wasn’t what I think I saw. Or maybe it is just one of many random possibilities. In my heart, I know this isn’t true, though, but I have to focus on the present instead.

Right now is the defining moment of our lives. If the people of Crestwood allow us to stay, then we might just get to live out the rest of our days in peace. Though, I can’t say that for Gilbert.

The guards at the wall stop us with guns pointed. Gilbert is the one to do the talking. He tells them that we are travelers and we were told that Crestwood was friendly to people who wish to be a part of a community.

As we wait for someone to come out and meet us, I look at Ethan and Gilbert and ask them not to say anything about what I claim I can do. I didn’t even want to tell them about it, but it just came out. They agree, though not without a snide comment from Gilbert that I don’t fully hear.

We wait for about ten minutes before a man comes out and meets us.

The man from my vision!

I try not to let my face betray my feeling of shock as the man comes near us. He has shaggy hair and a few days of stubble on his face. He carries a rifle over his shoulder. He greets us with a curt smile. He almost seems upset by something.

“Hope you will forgive the delay,” he says. “Today has been quite eventful. My name is Gabe. I’m here to take you inside for questioning.”

After Gabe asks me a few questions about myself, I sit in a small room alone for several long hours. There is no clock, but I would guess that it’s at least nine. I am tired and I wish they would just let us in already.

I reflect on what I saw earlier and I can’t get the images out of my mind. Everywhere I look, every place I go, I search for the surroundings that somewhat resemble the warehouse where all of us will soon be huddled together. The presence of Gabe makes me feel uneasy. It is a confirmation that I am not ready for, but it’s not like I can just blurt out that I’ve seen him in a vision. Everything in me wants to get away from him. I think that if I can keep him away, then I won’t find myself in that situation. But it seems impossible. I feel that if I try to push him away, then me trying to push him away might, in fact, bring me to that situation. But I also feel that if I do nothing then events will inexorably take me down the road to Gilbert’s doom.

After what seems like forever, Gabe finally opens the door to my room and leads me to another where there is a chair and table waiting for me. I expect to see Ethan and Gilbert, but they are not here. Gabe tells me to have a seat and that a man named Paxton will be with me shortly. He leaves the room and I sit here alone.

I hate the feeling of being alone. I hate being in this room. I don’t know why, but part of me would rather be on the outside, taking my chances with the greyskins. But I tell myself that if they let me in, everything will be better. I will be able to start something that resembles a life.

After a few minutes, Gabe and another man, who I assume is Paxton, walk into the room. Gabe stands on the other side of the room waiting and the man sits across from me. The dark, short beard on his face only tells me that the people here have no hardships. Whenever I see a man with a neatly trimmed beard, I know he must have a good life somehow because if he has access to razors or clippers, then he has access to other things. Trimming a beard is one of the last things a man would think about if he were trying to survive day-to-day. Yes, it seems Crestwood will be very nice indeed.

With one hand he holds a manila folder and a pen, and with the other he reaches out for me to shake. I look at his hand and bow my head low instead.

“Pardon me,” I say, “but I haven’t had a chance to wash my hands. I would like to do that before shaking your hand.”

He looks at me strangely as he pulls his hand back, but I don’t care. I don’t want to accidentally see his future too. I don’t want to know. All I can do is hope that he accepts my feeble attempt of respect.

“You’re name is Waverly?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“What do you know about Crestwood?” he asks.

I clear my throat. “I know that you are a town that has reportedly accepted many people within your walls. I came here in hopes that I can be one of your citizens.”

He nods at me and stares at the table with his cheek resting in his palm. “Tell me about the other two you are with. Ethan and Gilbert. How do you know them?”

“I met them only a few days ago,” I say. “I don’t know much about either of them, but they have been very helpful. Ethan tends to watch out for me. Gilbert can act a little brash, but he only wants to survive like the rest of us.”

“How old are you?”

“I am seventeen.”

“Where are you originally from?”

“Oakridge,” I say.

Paxton’s face turns suddenly serious and he stares at me for a long moment. After a while, the moment starts to become uncomfortable.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

“No,” Paxton says. “It’s just… Nothing. Never mind. Uh…” He looks down at his manila folder and opens it then closes it, dropping it to the table. “I’ll just move along. Do you have any special abilities?”

I can feel the blood drain from my face. Gilbert must have said something to him about it. I’m taking too long to answer, I know it, but I don’t know what to say. If I tell him yes, who knows what he will do with me. If I lie and tell him no, he might count me and Gilbert as liars and throw us out into the street.

My heart beats faster. I can feel sweat drops beading at my brow. Finally, I blurt out, “You mean other than tap dancing?” I ask. I feel so dumb. I’ve never tap danced in my life, but this seems to make Paxton happy. He lets out a snort and picks up the folder from the table as he stands.

“We have room for you and your friends, though we are steadily running out.”

Paxton and Gabe lead me to the next room where Ethan and Gilbert wait for me. Gilbert looks annoyed but Ethan smiles widely.

“You made it through,” he says.

“We made it through,” I answer.

And then he does something that makes my heart flutter, yet sends a wave of terror to my spine. He puts his arm around me and holds me close. It feels…secure.

Gabe leads us through the dark city streets of Crestwood. It looks bleak and empty, but I’m positive it is more lively during the day. He takes us to an apartment building where we must share a room for the night.

“It’s only for the night,” he says. “I’m sure that tomorrow there will be some other living arrangements made, but you have plenty of blankets and room to sleep for now.”

“Thank you so much,” I say. “This is wonderful.”

Gabe looks at me and takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he says. “I’m sure it is.”

Gabe starts to leave the room when Ethan asks him another question. “Do you enjoy it here?”

“It’s safe,” Gabe says. “For some of us, anyway.” He looks away and scratches his head when he says this. “It’s hardly a city. There are only a few things for people to enjoy, but at least you are safe. Do any of you have any more questions?” When none of us say anything else, he gives us another curt smile and walks out of the room.

There is only one bed in the room and a couch. Gilbert claimed the couch the moment he saw it and Ethan gave up the bed for me.

“There’s room for us both,” I say. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the dirty floor.”

Ethan smiles at me as he looks over at Gilbert, his snores echoing off the empty walls. “This world may have gone to hell, Waverly,” he says as he lays out a blanket on the floor, “but my principles haven’t.”

“Your principles?” I ask.

“That’s right,” he says.

“Chivalry has no place in a world where the dead walk,” I say. “This bed is large and the floor is disgusting.”

“I’m not being chivalrous,” he says. “I just feel weird about sharing a bed is all.”

“In this world, you take what you can get, and I’m offering a spot next to me. That’s all.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Goodnight, Waverly.”

I try to sleep, but nightmares consume my mind. All I see is Lucas’ head shattering from the bullet impact, his body falling to the ground next to me. I wake up crying out in my sleep, but I calm down when I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me.

“Lucas,” I whisper.

“I know, I know,” a voice says to me. “It’s hard. I know it is.”

It’s Ethan.

“Cry as much as you need to,” he says as he rocks me, my head resting against his chest.

He sets his cheek on the top of my head. I don’t know if he kisses my hair or not, but his embrace is enough to make me feel safe. He somehow makes the pain lessen.

I feel for the chain at my neck and follow it down to the diamond ring at the end. I fall asleep in his arms, but even his warm embrace cannot keep me from the nightmares that fill my mind.

Chapter 14 – Waverly

Three Years Ago

It was a month or two after Charles’ death when Hattie was infected by a greyskin. There was a deep bite in her shoulder and scratches all along her back. The hour was late and the three of us sat in an abandoned fast food restaurant, not knowing what to do.

She was beyond coherency and probably only a few minutes from dying. Her skin had already turned ashy, and her eyes looked like pieces of wet coal. I didn’t know what was more difficult to watch: the pain on Lucas’ face, or Hattie struggling to stay alive. We both knew she was suffering, but while she was still able to talk to us, she told us not to kill her. She told us just to leave her there in the building and run as far away as possible. But we had not been able to do the second part. It was easy for neither of us to kill her, but there was no way we could just leave her there. Neither one of us said it, but we knew we would never let her turn into a greyskin. She would die, and that would be it.

Lucas was confronting what I had already faced from the very beginning of the outbreak. Lucas was facing the death of his family.

The three of us had been traveling through the country for as long as we could. It was no small wonder that any of us were still alive. We had faced greyskins, bandits, murderers… this was the beginning of survival and people were nasty about it. No one trusted anyone else. Everyone held onto his or her possessions as if they were the only things that would keep a person alive. It was a struggle just to come across a canned good, much less shelter. Lucas had been somewhat of a good hunter but ammunition was hard to come by. He had once shot a deer only to have it stolen from him as he was bringing it to us. It seemed that ever since the outbreak, fate was dealing us blow after blow with no end in sight until we simply died. And then, with Hattie bitten and scratched as she was, there was only the two of us left.

“What are we going to do, Waverly? She’s my mother.” He bit at his fingernails incessantly, the occasional tear finding its way to the bottom of his cheeks before sliding off to his shirt.

“I know she’s your mother,” I said, but I didn’t know how to comfort him. I couldn’t tell him this, but I wanted to say that it affected me just as much. I loved Hattie more than my own mother. It was harder to see her suffer than it was to hear my father get ripped to pieces over the phone.

The worst part about it was knowing that she was going to die, and not being able to do anything about it. For a long while, she had just sat there and mumbled words that neither of us could understand, but for the last hour she had been asleep. Her breaths were shallow and the virus was quickly taking over her completely.

None of us had seen the news since the day we left their home when Charles died, so we didn’t know much more than we did the day it started. All we knew was what we had learned from others. One thing we knew was that the virus would kill within twenty-four hours, and Hattie was in her last hour.

I reached out and touched her forehead. She was burning hot. When she reached up and grabbed my arm, I nearly screamed because I thought she might have turned without us realizing it, but her touch was gentle.

“Waverly,” she said. “Lucas.”

Lucas jumped to the floor and was by her side in an instant. “What do you need, Mom?”

“Why are you two still here?” Her voice barely came out as a whisper.

“We’re scared,” I said. “We want to be with you.”

“It’s dangerous to be near me.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” I said, gripping her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gone out. I’m sorry.” Her foggy, blackened eyes turned toward Lucas and then to me. “Neither of you deserve this. You were meant to grow up in a different life.” Her breaths became more labored with each word. “I wanted to see you grow up to be like your father.”

“He is still with me,” Lucas said. His lips were quivering and I knew he was trying to hold back the tears to seem strong for his dying mother. I felt so proud of him. “And so are you, Mom.”

A faint hint of a smile formed at the side of her mouth. “That’s good to hear.”

Her eyes turned to me and it was almost too much to look back at her. Those eyes didn’t belong to Hattie. “You two can never let go of each other,” she says. “You have to rely on each other. Watch over each other.”

“We will,” Lucas said, looking up at me.

“Always,” I said. “I will never leave his side.”

This made her smile again. “It does me good to hear that. Neither of you have family, but now you are family. Don’t give up. They will find a cure. The world will get better. You just have to survive to the end.”

Hattie closed her eyes with these words. No matter how hard we tried, Lucas and I could not stop weeping.

“Hattie,” I said, “do you feel pain? Are you suffering?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes still closed. “Go fish.”

A short laugh escaped my lips and Hattie’s grip on my hand squeezed tighter. We sat next to her for another twenty minutes before she finally took her last breath and her grip on my hand eased.

We were then faced with the grim reality that Hattie could wake as a greyskin at any moment and someone had to do something about it. Lucas got up from her side and walked out of the little restaurant and into the parking lot while I sat still holding Hattie’s hand. I pulled her fingers from mine and followed him out there.

He was shivering and the wind blew at his thick blonde hair. “I can’t be in there,” he said.

I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my cheek against his shoulder. I wanted to tell him that I knew how he felt, but he already knew that. He didn’t need me to comfort him with words. He needed his mother to hold him and to tell him that everything would be all right.

“It’s my fault,” he said, wiping away a tear.

“No it isn’t.”

“It is. You know why she got bit.”

“She was bitten because she was overwhelmed,” I said.

“She was bitten because I complained, Waverly. Don’t you remember? I complained that it was cold and that we didn’t have any blankets. Then she…she…” His tears turned into sobs as he crouched to the ground, holding his belly. His stomach tightened so hard that he threw up on the ground in front of him.

I rubbed his back, not really knowing what to say but, “It’s not your fault…it’s not your fault,” over and over.

It was just like Hattie. She heard the simple complaint that her son was cold, and she felt guilty about it. There was an outlet mall not far from us at the time and while we were asleep, she went out to find some blankets. She came back with a bite and scratches instead.

“We can’t let her wake up,” he said.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I know.” He wanted me to do it, but I wasn’t certain that I could either. He knew that Hattie was close to me too, but she wasn’t my mother — despite the fact that she was more of a mother to me than my own. I rubbed his back one more time and stood up and walked away from him, back into the restaurant.

I knelt beside Hattie again and watched her face. Even though she was dead, she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I reached for her hand again, this time finding the small diamond and gold ring that was once a symbol of her devotion and love, recently serving as a symbol of love lost and torn away. But Hattie wouldn’t have seen it that way. She would have seen it as a reminder that love still exists as long as we exist.

I slipped it from her finger and held it out in my palm. Almost every girl thought about the day when a man would kneel down and offer her a ring such as this, declaring his undying love for her in a way that no other could. I thought about how such a thing would probably never happen to me. It wasn’t a thought of self-pity, rather, a thought of finality. I didn’t have the same hope that Hattie had in her last moments. I didn’t see a future where all would be made right and a cure would be found. Even if someone did cure the greyskin virus, they would never be able to fix the broken hearts of all those that lost someone to it. They would never be able to replace the people long gone. The effect of the outbreak would be a mark on the world forever. The future had been altered for everyone because of it. Generations upon generations would feel our pain in some way or another.

I tucked the ring away in my pocket and set Hattie’s hand down when I felt a slight twinge at her knuckle — a movement. There was a long, metal pipe that Lucas had used as a weapon lying on the floor a few feet away. I stepped over to it and picked it up off the ground. I didn’t want to make any noise. I didn’t want Lucas to hear the act take place.

Several fingers on Hattie’s left hand were beginning to tremble. This was the first time I had ever seen what it was like for someone to wake as one of those things. But I would not fully see it yet. I never wanted to see it. I knew that if I waited much longer, I would see her dark eyes pop open. Her jaws would try to clench around my skin. She would no longer be Hattie. She would be just another greyskin.

Both of her hands were shaking now. I gripped the pipe with both my hands and held it back like a bat. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

This isn’t Hattie, I thought to myself. Hattie is gone. This is just another greyskin. Hattie is gone. Hattie is gone.

I opened my eyes and swung down as hard as I could and the pipe landed against the side of her head. Her fingers still twitched so I had to do it again. Sobs escaped my lips as I raised the pipe. Again. Her blood splattered, black flecks hitting my face as I swung again. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but I couldn’t.

Finally, Hattie’s body was completely still and I dropped the pipe to the floor. I just about threw up like Lucas had outside, but I was able to hold it in. I turned away from her body and made my way out of the restaurant. Lucas was still sitting in the parking lot. I knelt down next to him and handed him his mother’s ring.

“She won’t become one of them,” I said softly.

He didn’t say anything, but he let me hold him as he stared at the ring. Neither of us slept that night. We just sat in silence until the morning came.

One Year Ago

Lucas and I were resolved to a life as travelers. We had tried to stay in one place for long periods of time but it never seemed to work out. Supplies would run short. A herd of greyskins would run us out. Any number of things would happen to keep us on the move at all times. Once or twice we tried to become part of a group or village. We made promises to pull our weight. We swore up and down that we would be worth the food it would cost to make us a part of their community, but we always got the boot. Groups had already decided upon their members. Villages were too careful about who they let in. So, we moved around for the next two years in no particular direction. For some reason, it worked for us. Sure, if we had come up on a town or group that was willing to have us, we would have gladly joined with them, but by this point, we were no longer looking.

On the road, we had become more skilled at avoiding the greyskins. We became better killers, better hunters. Lucas taught me everything he knew about stalking a prey for food. We would set traps and if we ever came across a rifle, we would hunt deer. Guns were few and far between and on a couple of occasions, the sound of the blasts got us in trouble, so we usually preferred not to travel with them. We made slingshots to kill squirrels and birds, and we carried sharp weapons to fend off the greyskins. We avoided the cities and towns so we wouldn’t come across raiders. That’s not to say we didn’t have some close calls.

This particular night was storming wildly. The winds howled and the lightening flashed, shooting out booms of thunder so loud that I had to cover my ears. It was imperative that we find shelter, but when we came across a shady cabin in the middle of the woods, it almost seemed safer to brave the storm. Lucas looked at me with rain dripping off his face, our clothes soaked to the skin.

“It looks small enough,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too many greyskins in there if any.”

I was more worried about the fact that it might have someone in it. The thought of greyskins didn’t scare me. We stalked toward the front of the cabin, the rain concealing our steps. Lucas held a crowbar in his hands and I had a long dagger I had found on a dead body.

At the front door there was a sign that said Frank Miller. I didn’t really like that I knew the identity of the cabin’s owner.

Lucas pressed his face against the window and peered in. “It’s just one room,” he said. “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while.”

“Okay,” I nodded at him.

He stepped forward and tried the doorknob and found that it was unlocked. He stepped in quietly and I followed behind him. The room was dank and smelled awful. To our right was a small fireplace with wood chopped and stacked neatly next to the hearth. To our left was a bed with a dead, bloody corpse in it. It might have turned to a greyskin if it were not for the self-inflicted bullet hole in its forehead. A handgun was resting in the man’s limp hand.

Then I knew I didn’t want to know the name of the owner.

“I’ll start a fire,” Lucas said.

As he worked at the fireplace, I looked through each cabinet and closet in the cabin. I found plenty of food that had gone bad and rotten, but there were some nonperishable foods as well. In a closet, I found a bunch of blankets. I grabbed one and covered the corpse.

Out of sight, out of mind, I thought.

Once the fire was started, I poured a can of beans into a pot and cooked it over the flames. I sat in a chair next to Lucas and smiled.

“What?” he asked, smiling back.

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just… I’m really happy to be in here right now.”

“Even with Mr. Miller behind us?”

“Mr. Miller isn’t here,” I said. “He’s out of town.”

“You grab the gun from his hand?”

“Nope. We don’t need it.”

Lucas looked back at the fire and raised his hands to warm his palms, but I continued to stare at him.

“I’m really glad to be with you,” I said.

He looked at me, this time his face much more serious. “The roads have been long, but I would choose to travel them with no one else.” He leaned his head in and kissed my lips tenderly. “I have something for you,” he whispered. He stood and pulled out a silver chain from his pocket. On the end, glittering in the firelight, was Hattie’s ring. “I got this chain off a… from someone,” he said with a smile. “I thought it could be a symbol of our connection together. You and me.”

I could feel the sting in my eyes as they began to water. “But it’s your mother’s ring.”

“And who would she want to have it more than you?” he said.

“It’s an engagement ring.”

He reached out for my hand and pressed the ring in my palm, the chain dangling off the side of my hand. “With it, I want to make you a vow.” His hands were still clutching mine. “I vow to protect you. To put your needs before my own. I promise to survive this whole disaster with you.”

“But how can you promise that?” I asked, looking down at the ring.

He took it from my hand and undid the chain. I leaned my head forward as he hooked it around my neck. “I just can,” he said. “We love each other. What greater force is there in the world?”

Chapter 15 – Remi

It has been two days and I have yet to be taken away from Crestwood. So far, I’ve been locked in a room with no windows and only a bed, and a tiny closet-of-a-nook with a toilet and sink… basically a prison cell. I can’t help but wonder why they haven’t sent me on my way yet. Even Gabe hasn’t come around, though I’m sure it’s because he’s afraid to face me after Paxton’s declaration of my murderous actions.

I spend my hours listening throughout the city. I really have been able to hone my sense of hearing. I map out the town in my mind and it feels like I can almost walk through the streets, listening to whatever I wish. I eavesdrop here and there, but I have yet to find any information about why I haven’t been taken away. I did hear about a new group coming in, though I’m not sure how many of them there are. It makes me think of my first time coming in. I wish I could have heard their entrance questioning, but by the time I found out they were here, they had already been inside a full day. I can picture Paxton now.

What’s your name? Why are you here? Why are you alone? Why are you in a group? How did you hear about Crestwood? Do you have any special abilities? Seriously what kind of question is the last one? Even to this day I can’t guess how he might have pegged me or if it’s just something he asks everyone.

Then there is this whole Elkhorn thing. What if he set me up just so I would go on some wild goose chase to find his daughter because he already knew I was from The Epicenter? Perhaps I had known her during my time there? Truth was, I did know her…or at least knew someone named Jessi Paxton. The girl I knew had been pregnant at the time. I asked Paxton if Jessi was pregnant when he last saw her and he said no, and he sure hoped she wasn’t. I was confused by this but quickly remembered that the reason he hadn’t seen her a year prior to the outbreak was because of the fight over her boyfriend.

Paxton explained that her boyfriend was no good for her and that he would leave her the moment things got serious. She was convinced they were in love — they were high school sweethearts after all. They had been so much at odds that Jessi told him that she hated him, and he told her that he didn’t want anything to do with her. He even told her that if she ever got pregnant, not to ever bring the child to him. She said she wouldn’t think of it.

As I sat there listening to Paxton explain the situation with tears in his eyes, he seemed like a much different person than the one that had just banished me. I don’t know what it was. He seemed…human. I didn’t like the fact that I was interested in his story. I don’t like the fact that his story makes me want to go search for her even more. There is a part of me that finds the idea intriguing that he would condemn a woman (me) to death, only to use said woman to go out and bring his baby girl back to him. Only, his baby girl and his baby girl’s baby were probably greyskin food by now.

Of course he didn’t have a photo of her. I would have been able to confirm if she were the same Jessi that I had met in college. The pregnant girl. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that Paxton has given me an impossible task. I already know that it will be a dead end probably leading to my untimely deadly end.

This situation sucks, there’s no doubt about it, but for once I’m trying to look on the bright side of things. Since the outbreak, I’ve never had a goal outside of my own survival. It is kind of exciting to have a mission even though it means traveling outside the safety of walls again. If they are going to banish me, better to give me a purpose than to say, good luck, hope you don’t die!

I close my eyes and scan Crestwood again with my advanced hearing ability. I check my apartment and hear nothing. I listen in on conversations of families or groups that might be eating together. I get bored with that quickly. I listen at the front wall for about the twentieth time today, but this time it sounds different. There seems to be a big commotion. I hear a lot of shouting, a lot of reasoning. Eventually, I hear Paxton at the wall asking questions.

“What do you want?” he asks over the wall.

A gruff voice answers him. “You have something of mine,” he says. “People that are staying here.”

“You’re nothing but bandits,” Paxton says. “You have exactly ten seconds to get out of here before I order my men to open fire.”

I hear the sound of twenty or more guns clicking into readiness, probably all pointed at the raider (or raiders) below them. Then, the raider says something that sends a jolt to my heart. “I don’t think Shadowface would find that appealing, do you? Why don’t you let me in and we can discuss what you have of mine.”

There is a long silence. I can picture Paxton just standing on the wall thinking to himself. I know he doesn’t want all his men to start asking questions about Shadowface and I know this raider’s words are enough to gain him entrance for as long as he wants. It would seem that the next little while will give me some entertainment as I listen to their conversation.

I follow Paxton until he reaches the second floor of the headquarters building. A few of the guards accompany him, and only one of the raiders is allowed an audience. Once they are settled at Paxton’s desk, he tells his guards to leave.

“Mighty fine of you to speak to me in private,” the bandit says.

“The only reason you aren’t dead right now is because you mentioned Shadowface,” Paxton fumes. “Which, I might add, is not a name I like thrown around Crestwood. Most of my men had never heard of such a person, and now it’s present in their minds.”

“Many apologies,” the raider says. “I didn’t know you were keeping our mutual leader… in the shadows.” He laughs at his own stupid joke. Paxton does not return the laugh.

“What do you want?” Paxton asks.

“Straight to the point. I like that. You have three people I want. They just got here a few days ago. I don’t know their names…I don’t care to know their names. Two boys and a young girl.”

“How young are we talking?”

“Oh come on now, Mayor,” the raider says, “we don’t have time for games. You and I both know this establishment is too small for the entrance of new people to go unnoticed. I’ll even bet you interview them all yourself, don’t you?”

He does.

“First of all,” Paxton says, “don’t call me Mayor. I don’t run this town alone. We have a group of elders.”

“Sure thing,” the raider says. “Whatever you want.”

“Second of all, how do you know if your prey has made their way here?”

“Found their SUV a little ways from here,” the raider says. “Abandoned.”

“What do you want with them?”

“That’s between me and Shadowface,” the raider says.

There is a long pause. I can tell Paxton is thinking about what he wants to say next, trying to be careful with his words. “Why were you tracking them in the first place?”

“They shot a few of my men. Killed them. Then they stole my SUV. Lucky for me, I left a tracker under the hood for such an occasion.”

“Did you provoke them?” Paxton asks.

“What’s it to you? They have something that’s mine.”

“You said they abandoned the SUV,” Paxton says. “Take it. It’s yours.”

“There was something very important in that SUV and it’s gone now,” the raider says. “That particular item is very important to our mutual benefactor.”

“Shadowface pays you?”

“Of course. Why else would I drop the name?”

“Why would Shadowface be working with marauders…thieves?”

“Oh, we’re much more than that. Think of me as more of a henchman. A person that likes to get his hands dirty. Sure I used to be a common raider — one of the best. But I graduated when I met Shadowface.”

“In person?”

“In the flesh.” I can almost hear the boastful smile come across the raider’s face, which, I’m sure makes Paxton look down at his desk in frustration as he plays this game of twenty-million questions.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Paxton says. “Before I do anything, I will have to get the okay from Shadowface.”

I can hear the raider shuffle and finally set something down on the desk in front of Paxton. “You recognize that number?”

Paxton says nothing, but I assume he nods.

“The phone is all yours, Mayor. Call Shadowface if you want. I don’t personally think it would be worth getting anyone angry, though. Such petty things like this are not meant for Shadowface’s approval. I’ve been instructed to get this item from those three punks you let in here by any way possible. If you don’t believe me, call. Go ahead, call…call!”

“That won’t be necessary.” Paxton lets out a deep sigh. “How much time do I have? I’m not going to do this publicly. I want them to get out of Crestwood first.”

“That’s fine,” the raider says. “There’s an old railway factory about ten miles north of here, you know it?”

“Yes. Secure Transportation.”

“That’s it.”

“You want us to drop them off there?”

“That’ll be fine,” the raider says.

“That’s a hot area,” Paxton says. “Lots of greyskins.”

“It will be all right.”

There is a long pause.

“You aren’t going to kill them are you?” Paxton asks.

“You don’t worry your little mayor head about that,” the raider says. “We’ll get what we need and be done with them. I’m sure they didn’t even know what they took.” The raider’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, his footsteps are heavy as they make their way to the door.

“Two days,” Paxton says. “Give me two days.”

“Two days,” the raider says. “In the evening.”

Paxton says nothing and the raider walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The light shines on my tired eyes and I’m forced to blink them shut to shield them from the pain.

“Get up,” a familiar voice says to me. It’s Gabe.

“What do you want?” I say in the groggiest voice I can manage.

“It’s time for you to leave,” he says.

“I thought I was supposed to leave two days ago,” I reply, rolling over onto my side with my back to him. “You know, for a moment there I thought I would like imprisonment better than banishment, but I never knew I could get so bored.”

“I think that was the point in waiting,” Gabe says. “Come on. I’m supposed to take you out before the sunrise.”

It takes me a minute, but I finally turn and sit up. He leaves the room long enough for me to put on my shoes and splash water on my face. The cold wind hits me when we get outside. It’s dark and no one but a few guards seems to be awake. “What time is it?” I ask him. He lets me know it’s a quarter until six. I follow him near the gate and I half-expect the guards to open it and tell me good luck, but I’m surprised to see Gabe opening the passenger door of a truck for me. I get in and he walks around to the other side and sits in the driver’s seat. “Are you taking me somewhere?” I ask.

“I’m taking you out of here,” he answers.

Great. “Did you sign up for this job?”

He lets out a sigh and stares down at the steering wheel for a long moment. “I didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they did. I had no idea Paxton was going to claim you murdered Skip.”

“It didn’t come to your mind to say something when he mentioned it?”

“I didn’t know he was going to say that until just before the assembly,” Gabe says, looking up at me. He seems tired as if he hadn’t slept in days. Dark circles have formed under his eyes. He looks pale like he might be coming down with something.

Good, I think.

“So, you didn’t think it was a good idea to say something to the contrary?” I ask.

“What would you have done?”

“I would have been brave about it,” I tell him. “I would have manned up and let other people know that what Paxton said wasn’t how it happened.” I feel more anger toward Gabe than anyone right now…even more so than toward Paxton. I had thought the two of us were becoming friends but that must have gone out the window when he decided not to stand up for me.

“You don’t understand,” Gabe says.

“Enlighten me,” I say.

He puts the truck in gear and we start rolling forward. Soon, we’re driving past dead cars again, trees all around us, Crestwood a distant memory behind us. I can’t help but feel scared. I can feel myself getting into survival mode. It’s not a situation that I’m fond of.

I don’t like to admit when I’m scared. I never have. When I was little, sometimes there would be a big storm coming through and everyone in the school would have to go out into the hallways or under the concrete stairwells away from the windows. I could remember so many of my friends crying like it was the end of the world. Ironic that the end of the world was only a few years away. Now most of them are probably dead and it would have been better if a storm would have just washed them away forever. It makes me sick to think of how many of my classmates might still be out there, their skin rotting to an ash-grey color, with black, soulless eyes, and the lust for flesh.

I want to throw up.

Gabe doesn’t say much as we drive. I want to know what he’s thinking but I’m too proud to ask. I’m not going to show my weakness; I’m going out strong. I’m as good as dead the moment he drops me off, but he will not see fear in my eyes — the reflection of what I feel inside.

I have no weapon. I barely have enough clothes to keep me warm. I have no shelter. I have no food. I’m starting from scratch. The worst of all those? — no weapon. I’m going to have to make do with a sharp stick or a rock, but if I come across three or more, I’ll be walking alongside the greyskins as one of their new members. That is, unless they consume me completely.

The sun rises over the horizon and blinds me until I pull down the visor in front of me. I close my eyes as we travel down the road and I try to listen to someone, anyone, at Crestwood, but the place is already too far gone.

Too far gone. That’s what I am.

We’ve been in the truck for at least an hour before Gabe pulls it over and sets it in park. We sit in silence for almost a full minute. As I look out the windows I see so many different colors. The reds, yellows, and browns mix with some of the more stubborn leaves that still hold onto their green from the summer. I don’t know which is more stubborn, the green leaf that refuses to change color or the brown leaf that refuses to let go of the branch. Eventually, they will all fall to the ground.

“I was going to tell Paxton everything, Remi,” Gabe says. “Even after you told me not to, I marched to his office to let him know that it was my idea.”

“What stopped you?” I ask, my forehead pressed against the cold glass.

“Well, I went to his office, but I overheard him talking to someone. I think it was Shadowface.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Just the way he was talking,” Gabe said. “Paxton just seemed so polite, speaking as though he were stepping around land mines. He was talking about you and how everything went.” He takes a deep breath and rakes his finger through his shaggy hair. “I think this Shadowface person has a hand in a lot more than just goods. I can’t know for sure, but I have a feeling that it was his idea to get rid of you. I didn’t say anything because if I did, I know I won’t get a chance to figure out who this Shadowface character is. If Paxton is dealing with someone that is dangerous, I think it should be exposed. I just need more time to figure everything out. I just hate that it’s at your expense.”

I believe him, though I don’t really want to. I almost feel like it would be easier just to write Gabe off as a coward and try to forget about him, but I can’t. He’s not that person. He truly is the kind of person that loves Crestwood and its people. He truly does believe in what they are doing and he wants to keep it safe. I wish I could tell him about the conversation I overheard with Paxton and the raider, but I can’t. I don’t want to tell anybody, but I know that it will help Gabe if I do.

“I’m sorry it has turned out this way,” he says.

“Paxton said I could come back if I find out any information about his daughter,” I say to Gabe.

He looks at me and nods. “He usually tells people that leave Crestwood about her, hoping for something. No one ever comes back with information.”

“So, I’m just a shot in the dark?” I ask.

Gabe doesn’t answer.

“Well, I’m one that might actually know her,” I say. “At least, I think I have met her before. I don’t know if it’s the same girl.”

“Good luck finding her now,” he says. “Three years is an eternity in this world.” He looks at me, his eyes looking sad. “I hope you find her. I hope you find her and can come back to Crestwood.”

“Do you think they would actually let me back in?” I ask.

Gabe nods. “I do. Paxton would find a way to make things better.”

“Well, I doubt I will be able to even get to Elkhorn without a weapon.”

Gabe finally smiles and motions for me to get out of the truck. I follow him to the back and he reaches for a bag in the bed that I hadn’t previously noticed. “I’m not about to send you on your way without some protection.”

He starts handing me all sorts of items. He gives me a thick coat, a backpack full of food, a first aid kit, and a water bottle. He then pulls out my rifle, a pistol, and several extra magazines of ammunition, along with a sheathed machete. Apart from living within Crestwood, I’ve never felt so safe.

“I tried to make sure that you have enough supplies to at least make it a few days,” he says.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “It’s more than I could have hoped for.”

He zips the empty bag back up and rests his arms on the side of the truck. I stand next to him feeling like a walking surplus store, but that’s a good thing.

“Gabe, I feel like I ought to tell you something,” I say. Even as the words come out, my stomach churns. I’m about to tell the man that is carrying out my banishment the truth about my abilities — a betrayal of myself, but I feel like he needs to know.

He looks at me without saying a word, his eyebrows raised.

“I overheard something, a meeting. There was a group of raiders that came to Crestwood yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, Paxton gave them the boot.”

“Not before he met with them. They want something. They are looking for something.”

“How do you know about this?”

“I said I overheard it.”

“You couldn’t have,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “You were in the cell.”

“I know,” I say. I look away from him, biting my lower lip. “Do you remember when I first came here, Paxton asked me if I had any special abilities?”

“He asks everyone that for some reason,” Gabe says.

“Yeah, well, I lied to him when I told him no. I can actually hear things better than anyone.”

“What do you mean?” He turns his whole body toward me and stares deep into my eyes.

“I mean that if I know a place very well, I can listen to just about anything. If I’m up in my apartment, I can listen at the front gate and hear the conversations of the guards. If I want, I can listen to any of the elders’ meetings. I can hear conversations that Paxton has at Headquarters.”

As he looks at me, I can’t tell if he believes what I’m saying.

“Well, yesterday I overheard his conversation with the raider. He’s after the group of people that came into Crestwood.”

“What do you mean after them?”

“I mean, they have something he wants…but it’s not really just something he wants. It’s something Shadowface wants.”

Gabe’s eyes widen at my words as though he just had a new idea and I nod at him.

“Yep. Paxton and the raider guy both answer to this Shadowface. Anyway, expect Paxton to have you exile your newcomers soon. He’s going to want you to take them to a place called Secure Transportation, you know of it?”

Gabe nods, staring now into the bed of the truck.

“Now, I don’t know about these people that came into Crestwood, but I know that I would already trust them better than I would that bandit scum. He’s probably going to kill them out there.”

Gabe looks at me, a serious look on his face. “How long have you been able to…”

“A long while now,” I say. “It just sort of happened one day. It’s weird, but it comes in handy.” I reach out and grab Gabe’s hand. “If I can find out something about Paxton’s daughter, then I will be back in Crestwood and we can figure all this out together. Otherwise…” I lean in and kiss him on the cheek — one that says our friendship has been great, but I probably won’t ever see you again. When I pull away, I can’t tell if Gabe has a bit of water in his eyes, but I don’t linger on the stare.

“Be careful,” I say, taking a step away from him. “This seems like the kind of thing where you could get way in over your head. It doesn’t seem safe.”

“I’ll be okay,” he says. “Paxton trusts me. It’s you that needs to be careful.”

I grin at him and look all around me with a shrug. “This is the life I’m used to. The past three months have been nice, but probably too good to be true.”

“There are other places, I’m sure,” he says.

“You just take care of Crestwood,” I say.

I turn my back to him and begin walking down the winding road. When I’m about a hundred paces away, I listen for Gabe.

Can you hear me speak to you now? he asks.

I keep walking, my head down as the wind hits me.

We will meet again, Remi, he says. Paxton may have placed a wedge between us now, but not forever. I have loved getting to know you. I love being around you. I love you.

I try not to let my head turn, but I give myself away only slightly. Then I keep walking — just as I always do. There’s no place for love, no time to get involved, to become close. More than likely, I’ll be dead soon. Love is just too painful. I should know this better than anyone. I’m not going to let it happen again.

My feet carry me forward as I get lost in my thoughts. I’m long out of sight before I hear the turning over of the engine and Gabe driving in the opposite direction.

I am alone.

Chapter 16 – Waverly

I sit in one of the courtyards of Crestwood alone, without a weapon, and I feel at peace. It is the first time in a long while that I have felt so at ease. The wind blows softly through the streets and the voices of people and children pass through the alleys and lanes without a care. But the clouds that fill the sky make me think only of the storm to come. I think of that moment when Gilbert commits a final heroic act. I just can’t see how it is all supposed to happen. I want to try and stop it, but I don’t know how. And I’m beginning to think that I won’t be able to.

I see someone to my right and I smile when I notice that it’s Ethan. He looks nice after a fresh shower. He has shaved and his dark hair is combed to the side.

“You look like a real gentleman,” I say.

He grins at me. “And you, Miss Waverly, look stunning as usual.”

“How are you liking your new place?” I ask.

“It’s not bad. Has everything I need. I’ve stayed in much worse, I can tell you that.” He sits next to me on the bench and I scoot over a few inches.

“Have you gotten to know anyone yet?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I’ve only talked to the supply lady. She seemed real nice. Other than that I’ve just been keeping to myself. Enjoying my freedom a bit.”

“I hear you.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve talked to a few people,” he says. “There was a couple that has been here about a year now. They seem to like it okay. The word around town is that someone was banished from here not too long ago. Maybe a couple of days.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I didn’t ask really.”

“Keep to ourselves and stay out of trouble,” I say. “That’s the best way to be allowed to stick around.”

“I just think it’s kind of weird,” he says. “I can’t really explain it.”

“The banishing?”

“No, just being here,” he says. “I really hope we can be a part of something. I don’t want to just survive. I’ve been surviving for the past three years. Now I want to help.”

“I’m certain that time will come,” I say. “For now, just enjoy the new freedom.”

He nods at me and smiles. “You holding up okay?”

“It’s been five days since Lucas died,” I say. “I hate it. He would have liked it here.”

“Lucas died doing a brave thing,” Ethan says. “I firmly believe that if he hadn’t done what he did, we would all be dead in that crummy little town.”

“Maybe so. I just… I don’t know. I thought things were going to be different. I thought we would survive this. I thought he and I were untouchable. He…he promised.”

“What did he promise?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I feel dumb for letting the words come out.

“You can tell me,” he says. “I’m not Gilbert.”

“How is he liking it?” I ask.

Ethan shrugs. “I haven’t really talked to him since we got here. I’m sure he’s glad to have his own place. That’s where he is all the time.” He clears his throat. “You uh…you were going to say…”

“Lucas promised me that we would survive this thing together. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Ethan says.

“Those raiders made a liar out of him.”

“No they didn’t. He didn’t lie to you. In a way, he still survives…with you. You still love him. Use that love to help you carry on. Just because he passed, doesn’t mean you have to forget him. But most of all don’t be angry with him. And don’t let him die in vain by thinking of him as a liar or that he broke promises. He died to protect you. That is the highest honor he could give you.”

I don’t know what it is — his words, his look of sincerity — but for a brief second I see Ethan in a different light. More than a friend. I like the picture, but I’m having trouble believing it could be real. He is much like Lucas in the way that he seems to care for me without even knowing me that well, but he is a different person entirely.

“Thank you,” I say.

He shakes his head. “We’re a team. I don’t really know if Gilbert is on it, but with the town of Crestwood, our team just got a bit bigger.”

“I think Gilbert is on team Gilbert,” I say.

“He hasn’t left his apartment since he got here,” Ethan says. “I think you really spooked him the other day with your little vision thing.”

I was afraid the conversation would come to that.

“I know you probably don’t want to tell me about it,” he says. “I can respect that. But you have to admit, it seemed a little crazy.”

“What I saw was crazy.”

Ethan looks at me, his face still and his voice, quiet.

“I saw him die,” I say. “I had only expected to see a few minutes into the future, but I saw days apparently.”

“Were you and I there?”

“We were,” I say. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“But if you see it,” Ethan presses, “can’t you change it?”

“That’s what I tried with Hank,” I say. “But it didn’t work. I don’t know how it works. The only way I control it is by touching someone. That’s it. I can’t tell what I’m going to see. I can’t pick where in someone’s future. It just happens. Truth is, I don’t know if changing it is possible. I don’t know why this has happened to me. I wish it would go away.”

Ethan looks at me as though he is scared. “Are we at Crestwood when it happens?”

“No, but like I said, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know any more than that. It’s as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. I’m still trying to figure out a way to keep Gilbert alive.”

“Sorry I pressed you,” Ethan says sincerely. “It’s just crazy to me is all.”

“You and me both,” I say. “I didn’t ask for this. I’d like to know why it is happening at all. It makes me feel strange. Like an outsider.”

“Well, that’s why we have to keep it a secret,” Ethan says. “You’re no outsider to me, but this is the kind of thing that if word got out, people would flock to you to see what their future is. People used to pay for this kind of stuff.”

“I suppose I could get pretty rich off of it,” I say.

“Well, I don’t know about that. You might not make a good living giving people bad news all the time.”

I don’t know why, but this makes me laugh. It feels nice.

“I don’t know much about you,” I say.

The smile fades from his face and he looks away. “There’s not much to know,” he says. “I’ve lost the same as everyone else. Family. Friends. I’m all that’s left.”

I nod, knowing that going into details isn’t necessary. We all really have the same story, don’t we?

“But Crestwood will give us a bright future,” he says.

I just have to figure out how to keep Gilbert from dying.

My eyes feel so groggy when I hear a knock at my apartment door in the middle of the night. Actually it’s more like a pounding than a knock. At first, I think that it might be Ethan coming to tell me something is wrong, but when I unlock the door, it’s Gabe. My heart begins to pound at the sight of him. Every time I see his face, I can’t help but think of the vision I had before. His coming in the middle of the night can only be bad news.

“Paxton has ordered me to bring you to him,” he says. “I don’t know what it’s about, but he says it’s urgent.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?” I start to shut the door, but Gabe plants his foot at the bottom.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “He’s ordered it.”

I take my time getting my shoes and coat, all the while my mind reeling about what this could mean. I look at the clock above the kitchen stove and see that it’s still a couple of hours before dawn.

The cold night air bites at any exposed skin as I follow Gabe across the street to the building labeled Headquarters. The bell jingles at the front door as we walk into a room filled with chairs. It looks like it used to be one of those old-fashioned diners. He leads me up a flight of stairs to the second floor where I see Ethan and Gilbert sitting in front of a large desk. The two of them look as disheveled as I feel. There is an empty chair next to Ethan, and Gabe instructs me to take a seat and wait for Paxton to come down. Once I sit, I turn my head and look at the back of the room. Gabe stands with four other armed guards who never let their eyes leave us.

“What’s going on?” I ask, turning to Ethan and Gilbert.

Gilbert shrugs and Ethan shakes his head. “We know about as much as you. They came and got us a few minutes ago.”

The sound of slow footsteps echoes in the stairwell. I turn back to look through the door and see Paxton staring at the ground as he approaches us.

“What’s this about?” Gilbert says, as Paxton rounds the desk and sits across from us.

“Why don’t you tell me, Gilbert?” Paxton says, staring at the desk. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to give us eye contact.

“What do you mean? I’ve barely left my apartment the past couple of days.”

“Well, I know that isn’t true,” he says. “For any of you.”

“Some things have gone missing from our storerooms,” Paxton says. His voice is barely above a whisper. “Guns. Food. General supplies.”

“And you think we took them?” Ethan asks. “We don’t even know where your storerooms are.”

A clap of thunder erupts outside.

It’s beginning!

I didn’t think I could possibly conceive of how the vision of Gilbert could come true, but now I start to see it. I sit in silence as my heart slowly pounds. I feel calm but scared. I’ve got to change this somehow.

“It was me,” I blurt out. I don’t know if this is the best way but it’s something.

Paxton finally looks up at me and he looks puzzled. Ethan and Gilbert also look at me with wide eyes.

“I was the one that took all the stuff,”  I say. “Survival instinct.”

Paxton looks to be at a loss for words, but he just shakes his head and shrugs. “Well, if one of you is responsible, then all of you are, and I can’t have you in my town.”

“You’re throwing us out?” Gilbert snaps.

“Gabe will take the three of you away from here just before dawn,” he says.

It didn’t work. What can I do to make him just take me away instead of the three of us? “Why would you punish them for something that I did?” I ask.

“Because for all I know, you’re covering for them,” Paxton answers back. “Better safe than sorry.” He waves for his guards to come in.

I look back at them as they approach and Gabe stands near the door. He seems angry. I suppose he doesn’t like it when people steal from his town. A firm hand grabs my arm and I snatch it away. “I can walk without you holding me,” I say.

Ethan walks behind me and when I look at his face, I can tell his mind is racing. This all seems so abrupt. Setting my vision aside, it makes no sense. Why would they think that we broke into their storerooms? There is no proof. It isn’t fair. But I have already confessed to no avail. I don’t know what to do now.

“Wait!” Gilbert yells out. “I have valuable information. I will tell you if you let me go.”

I grit my teeth when he says me instead of us. Here I am trying to save his life and he only thinks of himself.

Paxton tells the guards to hold off for a moment. “What is it then?”

“You asked me if I had any special abilities.” My stomach lurches when he says this.

“Yes?” Paxton says.

Gilbert points at me. “She’s got them,” he says.

“Shut up!” Ethan yells. He grabs Gilbert by the shirt and tries to shove him but the guards are already wedged between them.

“She can see the future,” Gilbert continues. “I don’t know how she did it, but she somehow used that to break into your storerooms.”

Paxton stares at me for a long moment. My eyes go to Ethan who is glaring at Gilbert.

“Is it true?” Paxton asks. “That you can see into the future?”

If I say yes, he might keep me here. If I say no, he’ll make me leave. “Yes,” I say.

He continues to stare at me until he sits back down and rakes his fingers through his hair. He seems conflicted, and I wish I could tell what he is thinking. This whole situation feels so random to me. We barely got into Crestwood before they decided to kick us out for something we didn’t do.

Finally, Paxton looks up at the guards and nods. “Take them away.”

“What was that about?” Ethan snaps at Gilbert.

We have all been brought to the same room where we were questioned a couple of days ago. We sit, waiting for Gabe to take us away. Ethan seems like he wants to tear out Gilbert’s throat. I’m not as angry as I should be, mostly because I’m still trying to figure everything out.

“I was just trying to buy us some time,” he says and looks at me. “Besides, you admitted to it.”

“I didn’t actually steal anything,” I say. “I was just trying to…” I let out a deep breath and look away from him, “to fix the situation. I thought that if I could take the blame then we wouldn’t all get kicked out.”

“Fine idea that was,” Gilbert says.

“It’s more than what you did,” Ethan says. “At least she was thinking about someone other than herself.”

“And what did you do, Ethan? You just sat there, quiet as usual. I didn’t see you try to do anything about it.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” I say, though I didn’t know I said it out loud until both of them are looking at me, waiting for an explanation. “Just that, maybe we were trying too hard. He saw the desperation and wanted us out regardless.”

“Nah,” Gilbert says. “He seemed pretty set on getting us out of here. Something’s fishy if you ask me. Wakes us up in the middle of the night, gets us out of here before dawn — before anyone in the town might think to question the reasoning.” A door opens on the other end of the room and Gabe stands ready to take us out. “Isn’t that right, Gabe?” Gilbert sneers.

“What?” he says. He looks like he hasn’t gotten any sleep in days.

“Something weird is happening,” Gilbert says. “You know we didn’t steal anything, don’t you?”

“Not right now,” Gabe says. “You can say what you want to when we’re in the car, but for now, keep quiet.”

The rain pelts us hard as Gabe leads us to a large SUV parked just inside the town gates. Streams flow into the storm drains next to the sidewalks and I have to sidestep a few puddles before we’re inside. Gabe drives, Gilbert sits up front, and Ethan and I sit in the back seat. Even though the heat is on in the vehicle, I can still see vapor every time one of us breathes.

“I’m not going to need to cuff any of you, am I?” Gabe asks. He gets no argument from us.

The gate opens in front of us and Gabe eases on the gas until we’re on the road. As we pass through the gate, I can’t help but feel sick at the thought of leaving already. The vision of Gilbert had seemed like an impossibility, but it was becoming a reality now, and so far I have failed at altering it.

I never see the sun come up because of the grey clouds above us, but the light still manages to illuminate the road ahead of us. We drive in silence for almost ten minutes before Gabe finally pulls the SUV over and stops on the side.

“What, you’re just going to drop us off here?” Gilbert says.

“Yes,” Gabe answers. “You were correct earlier when you said something wasn’t right.” He turns in his seat to look at each of us. “I don’t know what’s happening in Crestwood, but it’s not good. I’ve been trying to investigate it, but things have gotten a little dangerous.”

“With Paxton?” I ask.

He nods. “Not just him though. He answers to someone else. Goes by the name Shadowface. I’m trying to figure it all out.”

“Sounds dark,” Gilbert says, rolling his eyes.

Gabe ignores him. “Anyway, I think this Shadowface might have something to do with you leaving. I don’t know what it’s about, but I have it on good authority that you’ve got some raiders on your trail.”

“Scarecrow,” I whisper. I can feel my hands begin to tremble.

“Yeah, well, I’m supposed to drop you off at a warehouse just a few miles from here so this guy can capture you. He says you all have something of his.”

Ethan and I both look at Gilbert immediately and we can see the blood drain from his face.

“Do you still have the cylinder?” Ethan asks.

Gilbert reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. His lips move like he wants to say something, but the words can’t seem to form.

“Well,” Gabe says, “whatever that thing is, you took it from the wrong guy, and it’s my job to deliver you to him.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask. “Did Paxton tell you these things?”

“Did any of you hear about a banishment from a couple of days ago?” Gabe asks.

“Yeah,” Ethan says. “But we didn’t want to ask too many questions.”

“I didn’t hear about it,” Gilbert says.

“She has a special ability like you, Waverly,” Gabe says. “Or was that just something this jerk came up with?” He points a thumb at Gilbert.

“No,” I say. “It’s real.”

“Yeah, well,” Gabe says. “This girl overheard Paxton talking with the raider. She has some crazy ability to hear things from far away or something, I don’t know. I’m looking to get to the bottom of it all.”

“So what about us?” Ethan asks. “Won’t they find out when you haven’t dropped us off at the warehouse?”

“I’m giving you the SUV,” he says. “There are weapons and supplies in the trunk space. I’ll tell them you three jumped me and took it so I had to walk back. They won’t be able to argue with that.”

“And where do you suggest we go from here?” Gilbert asks.

A bullet smashing through the windshield is his answer. The four of us duck down as more bullets slam into the SUV, ripping holes through the metal. I throw open my door and duck down. I can see Gabe running toward the woods to our left and I follow him. Bullets whiz by my head and I’m almost to the edge of the woods when my foot catches a rock and I fall hard to the ground. I’m about to pull myself from the ground when I look up and see that Scarecrow and his men are right on top of me.

Chapter 17 – Remi

It’s weird being back in Elkhorn after three years and it pains me to see everything that used to be beautiful and welcoming look like crap. The streets are littered with trash and abandoned cars. Many of the columns in front of the buildings are stained with blood which are remnants of when the military came in, trying to stop the chaos. The once-bustling buildings are now silent and empty. Well, I know they aren’t empty. I suppose I mean that they are empty of life. I can smell the decay in the air, the three years of rotting greyskins. People have another name for this place: the Epicenter. Most believe that this is where it all began. I guess it’s true. As a student here I didn’t think much about where the madness came from. None of us really had time to think. One day students were going to class, the next we were being attacked by these monsters that used to be people.

I will never forget the first greyskin I encountered. His name was Andy. I sat next to him in English class before the outbreak. He was a smart guy, but he didn’t talk much. That day, so many of us were running in a panic. I couldn’t find my friends. I remember seeing Andy and calling out to him. When he turned his head I could see that he had changed into one of them…one of those creatures. At that time, the greyskins were nameless. I’m not exactly sure where the word greyskin came from, probably the news, but the name described Andy well. His skin looked like ash and his eyes had darkened. I remember trying to call out to him, but when he came toward me I knew he wasn’t coming to my aid. He was coming to bite me, to scratch me, eat me. I remember seeing a police officer shoot him down right in front of me. I was in shock. The police officer was telling me to get somewhere safe, but before he could finish his sentence, two more greyskins were on top of him, ripping his skin from his bones.

Elkhorn is one of the last places I want to be right now. I’d rather be anywhere but here, but if I’m going to be allowed back into Crestwood, I need to find something out about Jessi Paxton. I know it’s probably a stupid idea. I know Paxton has probably sent me on a death mission, but what else can I do? It’s not like I know of any other safe haven. But if I can, I would like to be back at Crestwood, even if that means helping Gabe uncover whatever this plot is about Shadowface.

The grey clouds roll in through the distance, casting a dark shadow across the university. It’s going to rain, I think to myself. Rain is good for disguising steps, but it’s bad for keeping warm. As a gust of wind hits me from behind, I become more thankful of the coat Gabe gave me.

My enhanced hearing can sense the shuffling of greyskins all around me, though none of them have noticed my presence. I can see one or two in the street up ahead, but I won’t be going that way. I cut through an alley (something I hate to do with the limited space) because on the other side I will come to the road directly across from the university hospital.

It’s one of the last places that I want to go, but if Robert Paxton’s daughter is the same Jessi Paxton that I knew in college, then she was pregnant. If she was pregnant then she would have more than likely gone to the Elkhorn University Hospital to have the baby. If that was true, then they would have a medical record on her at the maternity ward. I know it’s a shot in the dark. There are so many factors that could go against me.

What if it’s not the same girl? What if she went home to have the baby? What if she never even had the baby? What if her name was actually Jessi Roberts and not Jessi Paxton and you’re just confused? What if you’re wrong? Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Don’t go into the hospital, stupid! Do you know how many greyskins will be in there? Go on, take a listen.

I try to ignore my inner voice as I approach the hospital parking lot. I duck behind a car when I see a greyskin in an EMT uniform walking through the forever-stuck sliding glass doors of the ER. I try to remember the inside of the hospital, but I’ve only been here once. When I was a freshmen, I had been playing intramural flag football and some jock decided to play tackle. Well, his tackle broke my ankle and he ended up taking me to the emergency room to get it fixed. I remember he tried to turn it into a silly, romantic moment that would send us spiraling into a life-long love affair like some cheesy chick-flick, but I quickly told him off, using language that would make a sailor blush. Needless to say, we didn’t go on any dates afterword.

I close my eyes trying to remember the layout of the ER, but all I can remember is the waiting room and having to sit there for two hours before someone would see me. I will have to go in and follow the signs like everyone else, I suppose. I’m glad Gabe thought to give me a machete along with the guns. Guns are great, but there is no way I would survive this hospital with them. One shot would be enough to bring about thirty greyskins down on me. Then I would be forced to shoot more. Then more greyskins would come. Here, there would be no end in sight.

I pull the newly sharpened blade from the sheath and hold it by the short handle. It’s a good weight in my hands and I like that the blade is longer than my forearm. The farther away from the greyskins, the better off I am. I stand up from behind the car and begin walking toward the entrance of the ER. The noise from inside tells me that there are many greyskins, but none within the immediate vicinity besides Mr. EMT. When the greyskin notices me, it lets out a short groan and starts making its way toward me. This one is slow; a foot drags as some bone protrudes through the middle of his pant leg. This one must have fallen down some steps.

I feel a rush of confidence as I swing forward and imbed the machete into the greyskin’s skull. Black blood splatters over my hands and the creature stops moving and falls to the cement with ease. I think about wiping off the blade for only a second before I realize that it’s pointless. The shuffling of feet within the hospital seems to be everywhere. I take a deep breath, knowing I’m going to have to face whatever is inside.

I crouch when I get to the front door. Peering around the corner, I see a dead body hunched over the side of the front desk. The halls beyond are dark and there are very few windows to light the way. There probably hasn’t been electricity in this building for two and a half years or more. At the front desk, the dead body’s head pulls up to look at me. Its aged decrepit chest, sticky with dried blood, is glued to the desktop. I can’t take a chance of this thing finding the strength to rip free and come after me so I lift my blade and stab it through the temple and it falls back down to its previous sleeping position.

I walk past the front desk and into the hallway beyond. On one of the walls there is a directory with all of the departments. My stomach drops when I see that the maternity ward is on the fourth floor. Why would they make pregnant ladies have to go up so many floors? Why would they make me go up so many floors?

I walk past the elevators and to the stairwell but I pause when I get to the door. I hate stairs. Ever since the outbreak, stairs have been my biggest fear. It’s the worst part of any building. First of all, when there are greyskins above you, it’s nearly impossible to get a good head stab in without getting too close. Then, when multiple greyskins are after you, running up makes you exhausted while the dead feel no tiredness. Running down, the greyskins just fall over each other without regard to their own safety, whereas you must take every step with caution, for a sprained ankle in a stairwell means becoming a greyskin’s dinner.

I hold my breath and try to listen beyond the door. I hear two, maybe three greyskins walking down the stairs toward the basement level and at least four greyskins on the landing just above me. I need to go to a different stairwell. Going up four flights just might prove too much. I turn my ear toward the hallway beyond, but I can’t even count the number of feet I hear walking slowly. It won’t do. Going down the hall will only bring more than I can handle while I’m fairly certain I can handle the four above me.

I open the door and step into the stairwell. I’m lucky because the greyskins seem to be walking up which means I should be able to take out at least two of them from behind before the others turn on me. I pause before going up. I can feel the jitters creeping into my limbs, but I know I can’t let it get to me.

I take each step as quietly as I can. The greyskins don’t even see me until I’ve got my blade stuck inside the skull of the first one. I pull it out and swipe at the next, clipping it at the jaw. The other two are screaming toward me. I slide the machete up under the chin of the one in front, but I’m forced to let go of the handle as the next greyskin grabs at my coat. I try not to let out a scream, but it’s almost impossible. The greyskins are not known for their sure footing so I reach out and grab it by the shoulders, and at the same time kick my foot at its ankles. It starts to fall down the flight of stairs but hangs upright only because of its death grip on my coat. I try to hit its grubby hands away from me, but it feels no pain. Its jaws chomp at me as it pulls itself back toward me to take a chunk of my flesh. Finally, I pull my arms from the sleeves and slip out of the coat and the greyskin tumbles down the stairs. Bones crack all the way down, its fingers still clutching my coat and taking my backpack and rifle with it. As I reach down and pull out the machete, I notice the greyskin that had been moving toward the basement must have sensed the commotion. Now it is running up the stairs toward me. It stumbles over the crumpled form of the greyskin clutching my coat and falls to its knees, crawling like an injured animal desperate to catch its dinner. I take one or two steps down and swing my machete into what’s left of its brain and it stops moving.

Despite the cold, I have to wipe the sweat from my forehead. I try not to let my hands shake, but there is no way to calm my nerves. My fingers tremble as I grip the machete and my knees quiver as I take the steps back down to the first floor. I can leave my coat, I can leave my backpack full of supplies, but I can’t leave my rifle even though the pistol is attached to my hip. I lean down and pry open the fingers of the greyskin, releasing my coat from its grip. I pull it on and sling the backpack over my shoulders. I then sling my rifle over my head where the strap crosses over my chest. Machete in hand, I tiptoe up the stairs quietly.

My ears tell me there’s nothing else between me and the fourth floor so I hurry my steps until I reach the door. When I put my ear up to the door, I don’t hear anything. I open it and step into the hallway. My heart pounds in my ears and I’m afraid it might keep me from hearing what’s ahead. One after the other my feet carry me forward. A glance at a sign hanging from the ceiling tells me that the maternity ward is on the other side of the wing. It’s probably only a few hundred feet away, but it looks like miles. The walk there is quiet enough, however. I try to listen for any movement ahead, but there is still nothing. I feel a sense of relief once I stand in front of the door of the maternity ward because I can see the registration desk only a few feet in front of me, a wall of filing cabinets lined behind the desk chair.

I open the door and sneak through quietly and search the filing cabinets. P…P…I can’t see a thing. I pull off my backpack and unzip the top. Maybe Gabe provided me with a flashlight. I sort through the bag, a can of beans… tuna… Swiss Army Knife…flashlight! I pull it out and switch it on, scanning the filing cabinets for P. Once I find it, I open it as slowly as possible and I see about a million files. It’s a good thing Elkhorn University Hospital’s Maternity Ward still used a paper system. When I had come to the ER, I found it annoying to fill out all that paperwork, but I’m glad now.

I flip through the first ones until I finally come to the name Paxton. Paxton… Paxton… Paxton… There are eight Paxtons, total. I thumb through the first file and I hear a noise down the hall. I let a curse pass my lips in a whisper and I switch off the light. I listen for more movement, but it sounds like it’s just one greyskin at the other end moving about aimlessly. I flip on the flashlight again and pick up the next file. Not her. The next file isn’t her. Then the next. On the fifth file, I start to lose hope that Jessi had her baby at Elkhorn University Hospital. Maybe she didn’t have the baby at all.

But then I get to the sixth file. My heart bangs against my chest when I see the name. Jessi M. Paxton. It’s her! I look for a birthdate and she’s as old as I am. The baby was born three years ago. It’s her! Apparently her baby was named Evelyn. Poor Evelyn and Jessi are probably dead now.

I hear another noise, this time a crash from the other side of the ward. I flick off the flashlight and stuff it and the file into my backpack and sling it over my shoulders. I pick up the machete from the floor and creep back to the registration desk. I try as hard as I can to listen for the source of the crash, but I can’t hear anything except for a tiny groan behind me. My stomach leaps into my throat as I turn. All I can see is a shadow as a greyskin wearing the scrubs of a nurse stumbles forward. I accidentally let out a yelp as a fall backwards onto the chair next to me. As I pull myself up, I swing for the greyskin’s head but I miss.

I never miss!

The blade slams into the side of the filling cabinet and the handle breaks off in my hand. The greyskin is on top of me now and it’s all I can do to roll away as it grabs onto my foot. I pull the pistol from my belt, knowing that if I don’t I’ll be dead, even though the noise will bring every greyskin in the hospital to me. I let off a single shot into the nurses’ (greyskin’s) head and it slumps to the floor. I can still hear the ringing in my ears a moment later as I drag myself into the hallway. On my belly, gun in hand, I look both ways: once toward the door and then toward the rest of the maternity ward. I can’t help but freeze when I see what comes out of the room beyond. Doctors…nurses…patients. My stomach wrenches when I see a greyskin walking out in a large gown, her stomach protruding.

I pull myself up to my feet and charge out through the doors but I stop in my tracks when at least eight greyskins make their way toward me, walking as though they have all the time in the world. But I don’t. Either I go the familiar way I came and face more greyskins, or I go back through the maternity ward and hope I don’t run into more than three. I shake my head. It’s always better to know where you’re going.

With the machete broken and gone, I walk forward and lift my pistol in front of me, taking careful aim at the first greyskin’s head. It drops to the floor. The others start to come at me a little more quickly. I’ve got to be quick. I let off three more rounds, three more greyskins fall.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Three more fall on top of the pile. The shots make the ringing in my ears worse and I know its only a matter of seconds before more come out to investigate. I shoot the next two, but hit the last one at the neck. No good. I pull the trigger but this time there is only the sound of an empty magazine. I curse and let the magazine drop as I reach into the side pocket of the backpack. The doors behind me crash open and the greyskin in front of me is getting closer. My fingers fumble with the loaded magazine and I almost drop it. I jam it up into the gun and pull back on the chamber. I fire at the greyskin in front of me, hitting it in the chest. Another shot finds its mark right in the forehead.

The greyskins behind me are moving fast. I jump over the pile of bodies and sprint to the stairwell. I take the steps four at a time, knowing that it’s never a good idea to be so careless. I could run into a greyskin, sprain an ankle…either one could be the end of me. I finally make it to the first floor and I can feel my heart beating quickly, my escape now within reach.

I open the door, rush into the hallway, and I instantly wish that I didn’t. I have no idea how many greyskins I see to my left rushing toward me. There have to be at least twenty or thirty, and there are even more blocking my exit. I run back through the door onto the stairwell and slam the door shut. I immediately feel the push of greyskins against it. I can see the rotting faces of them through the narrow window in the middle. Their black eyes are lifeless, but their teeth are black, yellow, and sharp. Their hands beat against the door and I know that soon I won’t be able to hold them back.

A hand breaks through the window, not flinching from the glass that slices its skin with drooling black blood. With my shoulder pressed firmly against the door, I pull up the pistol and begin firing through the opening. I feel some relief from the pushing for a few seconds, but it has bought me no time and there is no chance I will be able to hold the door for much longer. As I lean against the door and survey the stairwell in front of me, I try to think of where I could go, another exit I could take out of here.

Another thump against the door and the shoving begins again. I sit my butt on the ground and try to stay as firm as a rock, but my weight won’t be enough to hold the door closed for very long. I’m too distracted to listen to my surroundings, but the crashing door up above me is loud enough for anyone to hear. The sound of hurried footsteps and hungry groans echo off the walls as the greyskins begin their descent down the stairs toward me.

This is it, I think. I took a chance and I lost. I’m fulfilling my death sentence from Crestwood.

My pistol is empty so I swing my rifle in front of me and hold it as steady as I can with my back shoved against the door. As I try to listen, I think I can hear five or more coming for me, but does it matter? I’ll waste my bullets on these and then I will be empty-handed. With no weapon, I have no defense, and every greyskin in the building senses my presence. I hold a firm grip on the rifle and fire a shot at the first greyskin I see. It falls to the bottom of the steps only a foot in front of me, but it is followed by six more.

I take a deep breath as a tear slides down the side of my cheek — the first time I’ve cried since…

I fire all but one of my bullets into the six and they all crumple to the floor. More will come down or up the stairs, it won’t matter. Anywhere I try to go, I will only find more greyskins, and one bullet means I might as well have nothing. The pushing against the door is getting heavier. I can’t imagine the death they will give me. I can’t think of what it feels like to have their teeth and nails sink into my skin, ripping away muscles and crunching on my bones.

I look down at my rifle, knowing that a single bullet remains. I know it will only take a slight movement. I won’t feel any pain. Sure, the greyskins will have my body, but I won’t know it. I won’t turn into one of them. I no longer have a giant pit in my stomach consuming me. Now, I feel a wave of relief, knowing that I don’t have to be one of them, that I don’t have to feel fear anymore.

The final bullet will take me away from here. Here is hell on earth. Here is pain and suffering.

Anywhere but here.

I turn the gun around and hold the barrel, the end resting under my chin. It feels hot, but I don’t have time to worry about such a trivial problem. I rest the stock on the floor and extend my arm so my thumb can slide over the trigger.

Another tear streaks down the side of my face as a hold the door closed, my thumb beginning to press down.

Anywhere but here. This life is too much anyway. This world is hopeless. My last bullet… It can take me anywhere but here.

The door swings in a few inches and the rifle falls to the floor. I’m forced to use my hands and feet to push as hard as I can.

I just need a second!

I hold myself against the door as I reach down and pull up the rifle again. The barrel is cooler this time when the skin under my jaw presses against the metal. My thumb finds the trigger again.

Can I do this to myself? I didn’t come here ready to die.

I close my eyes to embrace the bullet. Anywhere but here.

Boom!

The shot is deafening, but I feel no heat, no pain, just as I expected. However, I am still very conscious. How?

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The door becomes still as the greyskins stop pushing against it. My eyes travel to the trigger and I realize that I haven’t even attempted to pull it. I set the gun on the ground and sit on my knees, staring through the broken glass in the door. There are at least five men, raiders probably. No doubt they heard my shots and came running in here to see what I’ve looted.

They will be sorely disappointed.

My heart is pounding as I watch them take out the entire first floor of greyskins with such grace as though they did this every day. I suddenly realize that they are going to find me, so I might as well let them know I am here without them mistaking me as a greyskin.

“Help!” I yell out. I set my gun on the ground and raise my hands in the air. I can hear the footsteps of greyskins both coming up and down the stairs. “Help!” I yell out again.

The door in front of me swings open and two men burst through. “Get on the floor!” the first one yells. I lie flat and press my cheek against the cold floor as more shots ring out and they blow the heads off the greyskins coming up and down the stairs.

I was about to kill myself. I wonder if I should have done it anyway. I don’t know who these men are. Would it have been better to kill myself than to be raped and then killed by these strangers? I took a chance, and now I’m going to have to live with the consequences. I just hope I don’t live to regret my decision.

The two men pull me up by my coat and force me into the hallway. The bodies of greyskins lie everywhere and I quickly remember what it used to be like to travel with a group. In a group, I could have gotten to the medical records more easily.

They pull me to the front of the hospital until they set me on my knees just in front of the sliding doors. I count all the people around me. There are five men and two women. One of the men stands at the center. He only carries a pistol in a holster on his belt. He has a thick, black beard and olive skin. His brown eyes stare into me like he’s never come across another person before.

“What’s your name?” he asks me as one of his men takes off my backpack and begins to rummage through it. Another gives the leader my rifle and pistol.

“None of your business.”

“What are you doing here?” the leader asks.

“Looking for supplies.”

The leader looks at his man that’s searching my backpack and the man hands it to him.

“Beans,” the leader says, fumbling through the bag, “pocket knife, fish…” He pulls out Jessi’s medical file. “These aren’t really the supplies I thought one would go into a hospital to find.”

“I’m looking for someone,” I say this time.

“New story, eh?”

“Why do you care?” I can feel my cheeks beginning to turn red. “Just do what you want with me and let me go.”

The leader shakes his head and motions for one of his men to grab me. “I don’t think so,” he says. “We’re going to take you in, question you.”

“What, are you pretending to be cops?”

“I do police this territory, yes,” the leader says. He thumbs through the file. “I don’t know you so I’m taking you in.”

My stomach sinks at his words. This could mean a lot of things. Long hours of questioning. Maybe there won’t be questions at all and they will do nothing but have their way with me until I’m withered away — this being the more likely scenario.

I should have pulled the trigger. I should have ended it myself. I wish I was anywhere but here.

The leader looks at the man who’s got a hold of me and nods. I’m about to say something when I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head and all I see is black.

Chapter 18 – Remi

I’m not surprised when I wake up in a dark room with my hands tied to the back of my chair. My coat, backpack, and guns are all gone, of course. I’ve been stripped to just my t-shirt and jeans and they even took my shoes and socks. My bare feet feel so cold against the concrete floor.

My head is screaming with pain and I’m sure there’s a giant lump under my hair. I’m almost glad there isn’t a bright light in here since I know it would just add to my headache. There is, however, a faint light shining around the cracks of the door on the other side of the room. Occasionally I will see the shadows of someone moving past the door, but no more than that.

I didn’t see anything on my way here. All I remember was being hit in the head and then waking up here. I have no sense of the layout of whatever building I might be in, so using my special hearing ability is difficult. I’m not sure where the bearded leader might be, so finding him will be next to impossible. Instead, I try to find any nearby conversations.

I close my eyes and listen as intently as possible. I’m pretty sure that beyond the door is a hallway, so I project my hearing through the door and I turn left. I hear a conversation.

How long do you think the rain will continue?

I don’t know, you idiot, it’s not like we have weathermen anymore.

I move forward and pause after a few feet. I hear a door open at the other end of the hall, so I know there is something ahead. I move forward and push through the next door. I can hear the sound of the wind, so I know I’m outside now. I can hear voices to my right, so I try to move there.

You’re it!

No, you’re it! I was in the safe zone!

Stop cheating, Marshal!

Yeah, stop being such a baby.

These are the voices of children playing outside in the rain. That means that I wasn’t captured by raiders at all. Is this another town or village? I have never heard of there being such a place so near the Epicenter. But there is no way that the bearded leader could guess that I know that. He’s going to try and make me think that I’m in danger, though there is still a possibility of that. But if there are children, then that means these people are just trying to stay safe. Once they see that I’m not a threat, they aren’t going to kill me.

The thoughts leave my mind instantly as I open my eyes. It isn’t true. Townspeople kill outsiders all the time if they think it will better serve them. Regardless, it makes me feel more at ease.

The door opens wide and beardy flips on the light, blinding me and sending a surge of pain through my head. Through squints I can see two men at his side, both carrying guns. Beardy seems unarmed but he undoubtedly has a knife or something.

The light shows me that there is a table in front of me with a chair on the other side. Beardy scoots the chair out and sits across from me, a large stupid smile spread across his face.

“I’m glad to see that you’re awake,” he says. “Would you like some water?”

“I’d like you to explain why you knocked me out and tied me to a chair. Then I would like you to kill yourself and burn for eternity,” I say with as much callousness as I can muster.

Beardy turns to his men and waves them away. They close the door behind them leaving only the two of us in the room.

“My name is Stephen,” he says.

“I don’t care.”

“What is your name?”

“Bill,” I say.

Stephen is stoned-faced. He stares into my eyes for a long moment before turning his face down to look at the table. His fingers tap the smooth surface and his knee moves up and down as if he’s already getting frustrated.

“You know if you don’t tell me the truth, I can make your life very miserable,” he says. “You know what we raiders are capable of.”

I have to keep myself from smiling. Stephen is no more a raider than I am, but I know he’s got to try and keep his edge. Next, he’s going to threaten to kill me or torture me.

“What were you doing in the hospital, Bill?” He says Bill very slowly as if to tell me that he will play my little game for a beat.

“I already told you,” I say.

He nods. “Yes, well, you told me two things. First, you were going in for supplies, then you told me that you were looking for someone.”

“Can’t it be both?” I ask.

“Why are you looking for Jessi Paxton?” he asks.

“Why? You know her?”

“I’m asking the questions,” he says.

“So am I.”

“You don’t have the right.”

“Neither do you.”

“You were trespassing on our territory.”

“There are no more territories.”

Stephen’s face is turning red beneath his beard. “I didn’t come in here to play games.”

“No, you came in here to intimidate me, but you won’t get that chance. I’m not afraid of you.”

He stares at me for a moment, his eyebrows lowered as if he’s studying what I just said. “No,” he says. “You aren’t afraid of me. I see that clearly.”

“Why don’t you just let me go?” I ask. “I didn’t do anything to disrupt your livelihood. All I did was take a file.”

“Yes, and that’s what I am curious about,” he says. “Had you come out with syringes or medicine, I might have let you go, but the file intrigues me.”

“Lies, Stephen,” I say with a clenched jaw. “Raiders never let someone go. If you are true to what you claim then you would have just killed me and taken my stuff. Truth is, you or someone above you runs the village or town where we now sit. You’re trying to scare me to get some truth out of me because you saw that I was alone. And if I’m a woman and alone, I must be scared already, so why not tie me to a chair, take my shoes, and tell me you’re a raider?”

“You speak as if you know everything, yet you woke up in a drafty, cold room, tied to a chair,” he says. “You’re not in a position to dictate to me.”

“Neither are you,” I say. “So let’s be through with this. Either be the raider and shoot me, rape me, whatever you want to do, or be the regular surviving townsperson and let me go, or kill me to make you and your people feel safer.”

“Why were you looking for Jessi Paxton?” he asks.

“I wasn’t…just pulled a random file from the maternity ward, hoping for a good read.”

“If you want to be released, you’re going to talk,” he says. “So, maybe I’m not a bandit, maybe I’m not going to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t leave you in this room until you’re ready to talk.”

“Good,” I say, barely above a whisper. “At least I will be safe.”

Stephen leans forward and rests his hands on the table. He’s wearing a gold wedding band, so he’s either still married or can’t let go of the fact that his wife has long since died. “You will talk to us eventually,” he says. “Why not save yourself the trouble?”

“What would your wife think about you tying me up and leaving me in here?” I ask. “What if it was her sitting in this chair?”

He looks slightly confused.

“You wouldn’t want her sitting here with rope so tight against her wrists that she’s lost feeling in her fingers, would you? Wouldn’t you want to kill the man that did that to her? The man that hit her in the head, tied her up and stole her shoes? The man that left her in the dark until she told him something useful?”

Stephen sat back in his chair, studying me. “You make a good point, Bill. I would want to kill whoever did that to her. I would probably tie him down and cut off each of his fingers and toes. I would cut him open and make him bleed for hours. I would rip his scalp, cut out his tongue.” He speaks with such calm ferocity as though he has planned this out long before he met me.

For the first time, I have no reply.

“What is your name?” he asks again but with the same calm voice that just described a man’s torture.

“Remi,” I say.

“Now that’s more believable. Why do you have a file on Jessi Paxton?”

“She is someone that I met in college,” I say.

“Sure, but what good does this file do for you? I highly doubt you would go into a hospital full of greyskins alone because you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.”

“I’m from a place called Crestwood,” I tell him.

“I’ve heard of Crestwood.”

“The leader there is Robert Paxton. His daughter’s name is Jessi. He sent me to look for her.” Of course, I purposefully leave out the fact that I was banished from Crestwood and that the only way I could come back is to give him some information about his missing daughter.

“Alone?”

I nod. “He hasn’t seen her in four years. I knew she was pregnant because I knew her in college. The hospital was a shot in the dark, but it’s a lead. And apparently you know her.”

“I’ve never met her,” he says. I don’t expect it, but I feel disappointed that he doesn’t know her. How much more would have Paxton welcomed me if I were to bring him his daughter in the flesh rather than just some paper that said she had a baby?

“Then why are you so curious about what I’m doing?” I ask.

Stephen scoots his chair back and stands, walking around the table and behind me. I hear him pull out a knife and I close my eyes. Maybe he is psycho enough to do something to me. He doesn’t cut me; rather he cuts the ropes at my wrist and I feel an instant relief in my hands. I pull them up and rub at them, trying to get blood flowing to my fingers again. Stephen then walks to the door on the other side of the room and whispers to one of the guards.

“Get her shoes and coat,” he says, thinking that he speaks softly enough that I can’t hear him.

He closes the door and sits back down in the chair across from me. “You were right about us being in a town. Elkhorn, to be specific. However, we have isolated ourselves to a much smaller part of the city away from the University.”

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have a town or village in the Epicenter?”

Stephen smiles at me. “Some might think so, but we have our ways of coping. The danger may have started here, but there are much more dangerous places to be. And since so many people think the way you do, many don’t even think to loot for supplies around here, so we get, or got, most of the supplies for ourselves.”

“I see you haven’t cleared the hospital yet,” I say.

“We go in as needed,” he says. “We are a small group. We are tactical…smart.”

“How many people?” I ask.

“Just over fifty.”

“Are you their leader?”

“We don’t really have a leader.”

“Do they look to you for leadership?”

A pause. “Yes.”

The door opens and the man that hit me in the head comes in with my coat and shoes. He places them on the table in front me and then leaves the room without a word.

“Are we going somewhere?”

Stephen nods. “We’re taking a walk.”

“I want my guns,” I say.

“You mean the ones without any bullets?”

“There was one left.”

He lets out a laugh and stands. “And why do you think I’m going to let you have that?”

I don’t say anything as I pull on my shoes and coat. He leads me out of the room and into a hallway with brown wood paneling, cracked and water-damaged. The place looks to be an old office building. I glance into one of the rooms and see a bunch of old computers in their cubicles. I shake my head as I think about the people that might have worked here long ago — how everything used to be about work. It was a fight for survival, just not in the same way we face it today.

We reach the end of the hallway and walk out a door that leads into a wide open parking lot. It’s not raining as I expected, but the clouds are dark and heavy. To my left are barriers of trucks, tires and wooden pallets that make up the perimeter wall. To my right I see a group of children playing some version of tag. I can’t help but smile, not because of the children, but because my unique ability had given me the upper hand once again.

Stephen leads me through an alley, past another building until we come to another parking lot. This one has a protective wall at the other end and people are spread all about, talking with each other, laughing. Some are playing games, others have made fires and they sit hunched over a warm cup of coffee.

“These are my people,” Stephen says. A few of them look up at me and when they notice that I’m a newcomer, they stop what they are doing and stare.

I try not to look at them, and instead, I turn to Stephen. “What do you want with me?” I ask. “Why are you showing me these people?”

There is someone I would like you to meet,” he says.

We walk across the parking lot, with all eyes seemingly on me as we cross. He leads me to another building and opens the door for me. We walk down a hallway until we reach a room. Inside there is a woman sitting at a desk. She wears a headset connected to a radio transceiver. Every couple of seconds she relays a call.

“Red Falcon this is Home Base, do you copy? Red Falcon, please respond.” She looks up at us and smiles, but then her face turns suddenly serious.

“Still unable to reach them?” Stephen asks.

She nods. “I don’t know what could have happened.” I can sense the fear in her voice.

“I want you to keep trying,” Stephen says.

“I didn’t plan on stopping,” she says. She looks at me for a moment. “Who is this?”

“I wanted to introduce to you our newest friend,” Stephen says looking at me, his eyes warning me not to contradict him.

“Her name is Remi.” He turns to me. “Remi, this is Lydia.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I say slowly. I start to reach out my hand but think better of it.

“We found her at the hospital,” he continues. “She was looking for an old friend named Jessi Paxton.”

Lydia’s face goes from narrowed eyes to wide eyes, her mouth gaping open. Then without warning, her mouth closes and she seems to be snarling at me. “You aren’t going to take her. I won’t let you!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Stephen says, holding up his hands. “She’s not taking anybody. I just wanted her to meet you.”

“Why are you looking for Jessi Paxton?” she asks.

I look at Stephen and he just nods for me to tell her. “Her father sent me to look for her. That’s when I came across Stephen and some of your friends. One of them’s a real jerk,” I say, rubbing the back of my head.

“So, you’re wanting to take her from me?” Lydia asks, tears filling her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “Jessi is here? She’s alive?”

“Auntie!” The voice behind me is so sweet sounding, so innocent, like something that could have never been born of this world. “Can I go outside?” I turn to see a tiny little girl, barely reaching a height above my knee. She’s wearing a ruffled dress and her bright, blonde hair is pinned back into little pigtails.

“Not right now, Evie,” Lydia says.

“Evie?” I say. I squat down to look at the little girl in front of me.

Her blue eyes study mine and she smiles. “Who are you?” she asks.

“I’m Remi,” I tell her. “Your name is Evie?”

She nods emphatically like she is proud of nothing more.

“Short for Evelyn?” I ask, turning my head toward Stephen and then to Lydia.

“You can’t take her,” Lydia says, now standing. “She’s been my baby since…since the day it all started.”

I hadn’t planned on taking anyone, but what better opportunity for me than to bring Paxton his granddaughter? He would welcome me in without question. All would be made right. All would be forgiven. I would demand to be a soldier. Not just a soldier, but a commander. Paxton might even ask me to be an elder. This little girl is all the security I need.

“But her grandfather is still alive,” I say. “He runs a town not too far from here.”

“You can’t take her anywhere,” Stephen says.

“If you didn’t want me to take her, then why did you show her to me?” I ask. “Why did you bring me here instead of just sending me on my way?”

“Because you made it to the maternity ward all by yourself and back to the entrance without a scratch,” he says. “That takes talent.”

“I’ve been on the road a lot,” I say.

“We could use a person like you here,” he says. “I want to be open and honest with you. No, Jessi is not here, but her daughter is.”

“Then I should tell Robert Paxton about her,” I say.

“I don’t know who this man is, or what Crestwood is like, but I can promise you that we offer protection,” Stephen says. “I brought you to Lydia and Evie because I want you to know that I’m not lying to you. You’ve got an honest bunch here that really cares about one another. You can offer us your skills and we can offer you protection.”

“But you don’t even know me,” I say. “You don’t know what kind of person I am.”

“I know you are skilled,” he says. “I know that you’re willing and able to go on missions.”

I look down at Evelyn and she smiles back at me. What if this is the new start that I need? What if I don’t take Evelyn back to Paxton? What if I stay with these people? It seems secure enough, though not nearly as comfortable and nice as Crestwood.

“Am I allowed to have a gun?” I ask.

Stephen laughs at me with an eyebrow raised. “Everyone carries a gun if they are old enough. Of course you will be allowed to carry a gun.”

Elkhorn is not the ideal location. There are so many things that can go wrong. It seems that most of their protection consists of a flimsy wall and the hope that most raiders won’t come near the Epicenter because of its past. These are weaknesses that will be their undoing someday.

But not today.

I look into Evelyn’s smiling eyes. Her true grandfather is waiting for her even though he doesn’t know of her existence.

My thoughts are broken when we hear a crackling from the radio headset. “Unplug the headset,” Stephen says. Lydia does as he commands and a muffled voice says something unintelligible.

“Can… hear…? …is…, ov…”

“Red Falcon, this is Home Base, do you read?” Stephen says over the radio.

There is a long static noise before a voice calls out from the other end. It’s such a low tone, I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman.

“Is this Home Base?” the voice asks clearly.

“Yes,” Stephen says, seemingly not recognizing the voice.

Lydia stands next to Evelyn and holds her close to her side, staring me in the eyes as if to dare me to try and take her away. Evelyn still stares up at me, smiling brightly.

“Home Base,” the voice says, “Red Falcon has been compromised. They are my prisoners, but I am willing to make a deal.”

Stephen swears loudly, raising his hand to throw the radio in frustration, but thinks better of it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Where are my scouts? What kind of deal are you talking about? Who is this?”

There is a long silence from the other side of the radio, but finally it crackles to life.

“There will be plenty of time for discussion. For now, keep the transmission open.”

“Who is this?” Stephen repeats.

Another pause.

“You can call me Shadowface.”

Chapter 19 – Waverly

I sit on the floor against the wall while Scarecrow stares at me down his sharp nose and reveals his crooked, yellow teeth as he smiles. I want to kill him. He took the one I loved away from me forever. I want him to suffer. I want him to feel fear. I want him to die.

He and the other raiders got to me before I could get up. I don’t know what happened to the others, but I hope that they got away in time. I guess, I know that they did because what happened in the vision hasn’t happened yet. But this is the warehouse. I recognized it on the way in before Scarecrow’s men threw me into this small room. I can hear the storm raging outside, a sign of things to come.

I stare up at Scarecrow as he paces the floor in front of me.

“You have something I want,” he says. “You stole it from the SUV.”

“I don’t have it,” I say. “Your men already searched me.”

Left to right, right to left he paces. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and lights it, puffs of smoke clouding up the room. “Which means one of your people has it then. Isn’t that right, Waverly?”

Hearing him say my name sends shivers down my spine. How does he know it?

“Sorry about killing your boyfriend,” he says with a grin. The ashy glow of his cigarette illuminates his eyes like a demon as he sucks in the poisonous air. “He should’ve kept his mouth shut.”

“You didn’t have to kill him,” I say, feeling for the chain and diamond ring under my shirt. “All we wanted was to pass through.”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he says. “We wouldn’t be in this situation right now if we hadn’t met that day. Personally, I’d rather not have to chase you all over the country just for a dinky little thing.”

“How do you know my name?” I ask.

“Heh. I was wondering when you were going to ask. I got a call from my good friend Mr. Paxton. Told me you were on the way. He also told me something very interesting about you.” He sucks in more smoke and blows it toward me. “He told me that you can see the future. Just by a simple touch.”

My insides turn to ice and I look away, cursing Gilbert in my mind.

He laughs a greedy, sinful laugh that gives me cold chills. “So, it’s true then. You can see the future. I’ve heard of things like this. My boss…Paxton’s boss…told us to keep a watch out for people like you. Calls you the Starborn or some craziness like that.”

My face contorts into a confused stare, but I don’t look up at him. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction that I acknowledge him any longer.

“I’ll figure out a way to get that cylinder from your friends soon enough,” he says. “Right now, I want to test something out with you.” He opens the door and shouts. “Joe, get in here!” He lets it close as he walks closer to me, laughing. He sucks on the cigarette one last time before tossing it to the floor. In a second, Joe opens the door.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Get on your knees, and give your hand to Waverly here,” he says. “I’m trying to test something out.”

I think I’m getting sick. I don’t need the ability of foresight to know what Scarecrow is about to do. Joe looks at him with a confused look, but does as he says. He reaches his hand out to me but I keep my hands to myself, looking up at Scarecrow.

“Touch his hand,” Scarecrow says.

“No.”

He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. “Touch his hand, or I’ll make you.” He slowly reaches behind his belt and pulls out a handgun. “I don’t have to threaten your life to make you. A kneecap. A shoulder. It doesn’t matter. Touch his hand.”

Joe seems to look as nervous as I feel, but he holds his hand out steadily. I swallow hard and press my hand against his palm. A white light flashes before my eyes.

I see myself, the Waverly of the future, crying, holding her sides she’s sobbing so hard. There is Scarecrow, and then there is Joe.

“What did you see?” Scarecrow shouts.

“You’re going to shoot him,” she whispers.

Boom!

Joe falls to the floor, blood oozing from his head wound.

The white light flashes again and I feel the tears form in my eyes.

“What did you see?” Scarecrow whispers.

I can’t stop the tears. I don’t know Joe from anyone, but I don’t want to see him murdered right in front of me. The tears flow quickly and I start to heave. The heaves turn into sobs and I start to hold my sides. I know this is what I just saw, and I want to change something but I can’t.

“What did you see?” Scarecrow shouts.

“You’re going to shoot him,” I say softly.

Boom!

I close my eyes tightly, having already seen what Joe looks like with a bullet hole in his head.

“So it works,” Scarecrow says. “Do it to me. I want you to tell me my future.”

“No,” I say.

“You will do it,” he says. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” He holds out his hand to me, waiting for me to grab it.

“What if it’s bad?” I say. “You will be angry with me if I give you bad news.”

“You are giving me the power to know what I need to change,” he says. “If I can know the future, I am the master of it.”

If only that were true, I think to myself.

I bite the bullet and reach out to touch Scarecrow’s hand. He pulls back briefly. “The truth, now. You hear me?”

“I understand.”

I think it’s the vilest thing to touch Scarecrow’s hand. I want to bite off his finger or grab his gun away and start shooting, but I know such an act would just get me killed.

My hand touches his and the light returns.

I see my future self standing on a metal walkway on the second floor of the warehouse, a railing on both sides of her to keep her from falling into the crowd of hungry greyskins below. She’s holding a crowbar, walking toward Scarecrow at the end of the walkway.

He smiles at her bitterly. He holds up his gun, points it at her and pulls the trigger. The click tells her that it’s empty. Scarecrow holds the gun in the air and shrugs. “I guess you have me cornered.”

He runs at Waverly and tackles her to the floor. The greyskins seem to be screaming for their blood. She tries to shove him off with the crowbar but he hits her, grabs at her. Somehow, he snaps her chain off her neck and he jumps back laughing.

“Did your pitiful boyfriend give you this?” Scarecrow shouts, the ring dangling in front of his face.

“Give it back,” Waverly says.

He now holds the chain over the side of the walkway, threatening to let the ring fall into the mass of greyskins. She stands for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Give me the crowbar,” he says.

She drops it to the floor and charges after him. In a fury, she reaches for the chained ring. She claws at his face, neck, and eyes until they both fall to the floor. She rips the chain from his hands and clutches it tightly. Scarecrow gives her a swift kick in the gut and she goes tumbling over the side. In the last second, she’s able to grab onto the side of the walkway. One hand holds her above the greyskins below and the other clasps the ring in her palm. When he grabbed the ring, Scarecrow was trying to take Lucas away from her again, but she didn’t let him.

Scarecrow pushes himself up from the walkway and starts hitting her fingers.

“No!” she shouts out.

“Waverly!” the voice is Ethan’s. He runs toward Scarecrow from the other side of the walkway and tackles him. He lifts a knife into the air and stabs Scarecrow through the neck and chest, over and over.

And just as Ethan is about to pull her up, she feels something grab onto her ankle. She looks down and sees a greyskin pull on her and sink its teeth into her leg, ripping away muscle and flesh. She screams out in horror.

I can’t become one of them.

The light flashes and I feel too stunned to say anything as Scarecrow stares at me. I can’t help but feel for the chain around my neck. Am I really going to be so stupid? Am I going to let him affect me like that? I think back to the vision of Gilbert’s future and remember that I was in it. He talked to me. I was alive! Unless…unless the vision of Gilbert was to happen before what I just saw with Scarecrow. Or, perhaps in Gilbert’s vision, I’m dying and that’s why I’m standing so close to Ethan. He’s supporting me.

Either way, I have so far been unable to change the future and that thought sobers me. Perhaps I am about to join with Lucas in the afterlife. If today is the end, then so be it. At least Scarecrow is going down with me.

“What did you see?” he asks.

“I can’t control what I see,” I say.

“I don’t care. What did you see?”

“I saw you as an old man,” I lie. “You were on your deathbed. People surrounded you.” I looked at the cigarette butt on the floor. “You were coughing. Wheezing. Cancer, I think.”

“Heh,” Scarecrow seems amused by this. “Better cancer than one of those greyskins, I guess. How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“You don’t.”

He chews the inside of his lip as if he’s thinking about something. I can’t tell if he wants to try to kill me or keep me around, but a frantic knock at the door interrupts his thoughts.

“Sir,” a man says, “we’ve got greyskins getting into the warehouse.”

“Greyskins, how?”

“We think it’s the others that got away,” he says. “They’re opening doors and making all kinds of noise to draw them in.”

“Why didn’t you stop it?” Scarecrow says angrily.

“There’s only a few of us, sir,” the man says. “But they’re coming in fast. We’ve got to get to higher ground.”

Scarecrow lets out a curse and grabs my arm, dragging me to my feet. We run out of the room and into a narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway we go up a flight of metal stairs to a door. On the other side of the door I see a giant open room. I look at the metal walkways that spread out all over the room, wondering which one I will dangle from. As the greyskins crawl in like bugs, I wonder which one will sink its teeth into my leg, setting me up for an illness that will destroy me in the next twenty-four hours. I feel numb at the thought. In this world, there was always a possibility that my life would end like this. I just never wanted it to be this way.

The sound of the undead grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. I wish there was enough firepower to just kill them all right now, but I know there isn’t. I wish I could just shove Scarecrow and all his men over the side to be eaten. His men spread out as Scarecrow shouts orders to kill any of my friends on sight. He pulls me by the wrist and leads me to a railing so he can watch his men. Shots fire with loud bangs as they try to set up barricades at the stairs, the greyskins crawling at them like mad dogs.

I search the first floor, looking for any sign of Ethan, Gabe, or Gilbert, but I see none of them. Scarecrow shoves me against a wall and tells me to wait there.

“Like that’ll happen,” I say.

My snide talk earns me a slap across the face. “Brandon,” Scarecrow calls out.

An ugly man with spiked hair comes out from the group of raiders forming the barricade. He’s holding a crowbar.

“Watch her,” Scarecrow says. “I’m going over there to see if I can get a better look. If she moves, break her legs.”

“Yes sir.”

Scarecrow runs out onto the walkway, shooting greyskins on the first floor every couple of seconds while Brandon stands next to me. He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw muscles sliding back and forth. I can tell he’s nervous. But since I know I will soon have the crowbar in my hands anyway, I’m filled with confidence. He only looks away once, and when he does, my knuckles meet the side of his face. He falls to the floor hard and he struggles to get up, but I’ve already got the crowbar in my hands. Before he even gets a chance to realize what just happened, I slam the heavy bar into his face. The sound of cheekbones snapping makes my stomach feel queasy.

I look up at Scarecrow who is none the wiser, and then I look back at the door we just came through. I could run. I could get out of this warehouse right now if I wanted to, but I feel like I have a destiny to end this. I grip the metal firmly and march forward.

I stand on the walkway and I look through the holes in the metal to see the ravenous greyskins calling for me, begging to get a chunk of meat.  I slowly start walking toward Scarecrow and he turns to see me.

He smiles at me bitterly. He holds up his gun and points it at me. I have already watched him shoot at the greyskins. I already know that it’s going to be empty. He pulls the trigger and it clicks. He holds the gun in the air and shrugs. “I guess you have me cornered.”

Even though I’m already expecting it, when he runs at me, I feel surprised. His shoulder rams into me and knocks the wind out of me as we tumble to the floor. The greyskins scream for our blood. I try to shove Scarecrow off with the crowbar but he hits me, grabs at me. I feel his hand around my neck. Perhaps he’s thinking about strangling me, but when his hands grasp my chain, he yanks it off and stands away from me, a look of triumph on his face.

“Did your pitiful boyfriend give you this?” he shouts.

I pull myself up to my feet, crowbar in hand. Anger fills me more than fear. I’m angry at the fact that someone as vile as Scarecrow would hold Hattie’s ring — the same ring that represents Lucas’ undying love for me. “Give it back,” I say.

He holds the chain over the side of the walkway, threatening to let the ring fall into the mass of greyskins. I stand for a moment, breathing heavily. Thoughts flow in and out of my mind uncontrollably. I’ve never felt more rage. I’ve never wanted to kill someone like this before, but more than wanting to kill him, I want to get the ring back. It means everything to me. Lucas means everything to me. I can feel my limbs begin to shake under the weight of my weapon.

“Give me the crowbar,” he says.

I’m about to drop it to the floor. I know he won’t drop the ring. If I just lunge for the chain, I’ll get it and Ethan will swoop in and kill Scarecrow. I feel the crowbar begin to slip from my fingers, but in the last moment, I grip it tightly again.

No.

Lucas was more than a ring to me. Though it symbolized the love we shared, he is gone and it’s time to let him go.

I have seen the future, and I don’t like it.

Change it.

“Drop the ring for all I care,” I say. I can barely believe the words coming out of my mouth.

Scarecrow lifts and eyebrow. “Have it your way.” His fingers release the chain and ring into the crowd of greyskins.

My heart sinks as it falls into the swarm below, but I see that Scarecrow has turned his head to watch it fall. This is my chance. I charge forward, rearing back with the crowbar. Just before I hit him square in the chest, he turns to look at me and the shock on his face shows he isn’t ready. The next blow is to his jaw and it drops him to the floor. I hit him again and again, screaming out as each swing presses deeper into his flesh.

“Waverly!” comes a voice from behind me. It’s Ethan. “Finish it!”

Scarecrow looks up at me, teeth missing, an eye swollen shut. I hit him with the crowbar in the shoulder and he rolls flat on his belly. With a heave, I shove him over the side with my leg, into the crowd of famished greyskins below.

My mind reels as I run with Ethan through the door and down the stairs. I can hear the screams of the raiders behind us, the greyskins overwhelming them. I hear the greyskins all around. It’s awful.

“What did you do?” I ask through labored breaths.

“There was a herd,” Ethan said. “We just let them in. Come on, this way.” He leads me down hall after hall. By the time we reach the others, I’m out of breath. The thunder outside booms loudly with a flash of bright lightening. When I see Gabe and Gilbert waiting for us, I want to cry. This is the moment I have dreaded for days.

“We might have messed ourselves up,” Gabe says as we approach.

“Why?” Ethan demands.

“There’s more than we thought,” Gabe says, gripping the strap to his rifle a bit tighter. “They are blocking every exit. We’re trapped in here.”

Ethan swears.

I feel a draft of wind blow around me and I start to shiver.

“We might be able to get out,” Gabe says. “But…”

“But what?” Ethan asks.

There needs to be a distraction, I think to myself. A tear passes down my cheek. I know how to change this. Gilbert is willing to sacrifice himself for the rest of us; shouldn’t I feel the same way?

“There needs to be a distraction,” Gabe continues, “or we’re all going to die.”

There is a long pause. The rain and thunder is almost as loud as the greyskins that are pounding on the doors and walls, but not quite. The lightening flashes are almost constant.

More tears streak down as I reach out and clutch Ethan’s shirt. I don’t know why, but it comforts me.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

“I’m okay.”

His hand reaches for mine and our fingers interlock. My heart jolts because I don’t expect the white light to flash in front of me again.

I see Ethan walking through a street, holding a rifle in his hands. He is alone, possibly scouting the area ahead. He seems determined, walking with a purpose with the sun on his back. A loud boom echoes through the air and a bullet passes through his chest. A look of shock spreads across his face as he falls to his knees, blood drooling from his wound. There is no one around him when he falls onto his back and closes his eyes. I can’t see the shooter. I don’t recognize the area…

When the flash of light brings me back to the present, I have a new future for my life. I look at Gilbert and I see him wipe a tear from his eye. I wish I could help him. I clutch Ethan tightly as my vision of Gilbert’s future comes true before my very eyes.

I hate this feeling.

“Give me the gun,” Ethan tells Gabe. “I’ll distract them. You all run.”

Gabe hands him the rifle.

“No,” I say.

Gilbert steps forward and snatches the rifle from Ethan. “I can’t let you do that.  Last time, I didn’t make this choice, now I have to. I’m already dead. That’s why I’m so cold and bitter.” A tear falls down his face. “I loved her so much. Now, I can be with her.”

“Who?” Ethan asks.

“No time,” Gilbert says. He pulls the cylinder from his pocket and tosses it to Ethan. “Use this to your advantage somehow.”

I look away from Gilbert, unable to face the fact that he is going to die. But he knows. He knows what this moment is, and he knows that I have already seen it. He looks at me and lowers his head until I’m forced to meet his gaze.

“This is what you saw, isn’t it? When you stopped the SUV?”

I swallow hard and nod.

“I don’t know if you can change what you see,” he says, “but I don’t want you to regardless.”

I want to tell him that I can change it…but Ethan. I have to save Ethan now.

“Sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you all,” Gilbert says. “It’s not who I really am.” He takes a deep breath. “This is who I really am.”

He takes a step back and starts running toward the other side of the warehouse. His screams echo off the walls and the gun blasts are deafening. The groans of the greyskins sound like a thousand wolves growling and howling at the same time.

Gabe runs to a nearby window and looks out. “Wait for them to clear at the south entrance.”

I feel numb as Gilbert’s screams change from a simple distraction to cries of pain. Then…silence.

Gabe leads us through the exit and toward the SUV. Some greyskins give chase, but they never make it to us before we tear out of the warehouse parking lot. As we ride down the road, we are silent. No doubt, Gabe and Ethan are thinking about Gilbert. Though I had seen it happen days ago, I would have never expected it of him.

I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know the plan ahead. I’m just glad that Scarecrow is gone. I feel for the chain and ring at my chest, and I quickly remember that it is gone forever.

Just as well, I think, though I feel empty. It’s like saying goodbye all over again. I will miss Lucas forever, but I cannot hold on to him. I lean my head against Ethan’s shoulder as we ride in the back of the SUV. Silent tears crawl down my cheek and neck. I have seen how Ethan is supposed to die, but now I know that I can change it. Yet it’s a puzzle that will not be easily solved. I didn’t see a shooter. I didn’t even see where he was. But I will figure it out. I must figure it out.

“Where are we going?” I ask Gabe.

“I think we need to find the girl that was banished from Crestwood before you were,” he says. “This Shadowface person seems to be a bigger deal than I originally thought.”

“What’s the girl’s name?” Ethan asks.

“Remi,” Gabe says. He looks at me through the rearview mirror. “She’s from Oakridge like you.”

I sit up straight as my heart pounds faster at the sound of her name.

“What is it?” Ethan asks.

I look at him with tears in my eyes, the feeling of happiness returning to my heart like an arrow.

“Remi… She’s my sister.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jason D. Morrow is the author of The Starborn Uprising series, The Starborn Ascension series, and The Marenon Chronicles. He enjoys playing guitar, making fun videos, and spending time with his lovely wife, Emily, and their dog, Winnie.

Books by Jason D. Morrow

The Starborn Ascension

Anywhere but Here

The Starborn Uprising

Out of Darkness

If It Kills Me

Even In Death

The Marenon Chronicles

The Deliverer

The Gatekeeper

The Reckoning

Links

Be sure to ‘Like’ Jason D. Morrow on Facebook: www.facebook.com/jasondmorrow

Follow Jason on Twitter: www.twitter.com/jasondmorrow

For more from Jason D. Morrow, and to sign up for his mailing list, visit www.jasondmorrow.com.

Copyright

Edited by Beth Morrow & Emily Simpson Morrow

Cover art by Melchelle Designs

Copyright © 2014 Jason D. Morrow

All rights reserved.

Content

Jason D. Morrow
ANYWHERE BUT HERE

Note to the Reader

Chapter 1 – Waverly

Chapter 2 – Remi

Chapter 3 – Waverly

Chapter 4 – Waverly

Chapter 5 – Remi

Chapter 6 – Remi

Chapter 7 – Waverly

Chapter 8 – Waverly

Chapter 9 – Remi

Chapter 10 – Remi

Chapter 11 – Waverly

Chapter 12 – Remi

Chapter 13 – Waverly

Chapter 14 – Waverly

Chapter 15 – Remi

Chapter 16 – Waverly

Chapter 17 – Remi

Chapter 18 – Remi

Chapter 19 – Waverly

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Books by Jason D. Morrow

Links

Copyright