1
Stella
In the morning sunlight, it seemed so peaceful here, even with the distant howling of zombies. The warmer weather and longer days that arrived with May also brought the spring thaw of the zombies. We were far enough north in the Canadian wilderness, nestled in the rain shadow of the Coast Mountains, that we had lengthy winters with little more than a groan from the undead.
I’d been an early riser since my daughter Rafaella was born, although I didn’t usually get up early enough to watch the sunrise. But today, I was going to leave my daughter for the first time in twenty months, and I wanted to memorize the weight of her in my arms.
We were on the narrow balcony outside my room on the S. S. Barbarabelle, the steamboat hotel that has been our floating home for nearly two years. I sat on an old Muskoka chair with Fae curled up on my chest, and the comforter from my bed draped over us both to ward off the chill in the air.
Fae wasn’t even really awake this early, her eyes closed as she nestled against me. In the morning sunlight, her downy brown curls looked more auburn like my own, but her face was a chubbier version of her father’s, complete with the faintest smattering of freckles.
I smiled down at the wonderful perfection of her, because I knew she would change so much while I was gone. I breathed the sweet scent of the top of her head, and I sang to her the old lullaby that I had learned from Max, “À la claire Fontaine.”
Behind me, the balcony door slid open, and I looked back to see Boden. He leaned against the frame and squinted at me in the morning sun.
Boden turned thirty-one this year, although the past decade had aged him more than that. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but he’d gotten a little soft in the middle during our time on the Barbarabelle. I had, too, because the food was fairly plentiful, and in the long dark days of winter, there wasn’t much to do except eat and think too much on the past. So we ate.
His hair looked dark when it was cropped short, but the stubbly beard and temples had gone silver. His eyes were dark and expressive, and he never hesitated to smile if he could find a reason for it.
He was handsome, I think, although it was hard for me to tell because he was basically my older brother. Out of the past nine years, when everyone else has died or left, he had been the only constant.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asked.
“No, not at all,” I assured him. “Fae is sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake her yet.”
“You don’t have to go, you know,” he reminded me. He reached over, gently tousling Fae’s soft hair with his big hands.
“No, I do,” I replied firmly. “I want to find her.”
“So do I.” He looked away, his eyes cast down at the dark water of the river surrounding us. “But maybe it’s not worth it to risk yourself or being apart from Fae for so long. It’ll take nearly two weeks to get out to the Lakehouse, so it’ll be at least a month for the full roundtrip.”
“Boden, we have gone over this.” I stared up at him from my chair, waiting until he met my gaze before continuing, “Max would go after her if he were here.”
“She wouldn’t have left if Max were here,” Boden muttered in exasperation, and by the grimace on his face, he instantly regretted saying it.
But he wasn’t wrong. There was no way that Remy would’ve left if her brother were still alive. And yet she had left Boden and her wedding band behind, along with me and her niece Fae, her only living blood relative.
After Max died and Serg died and the town of Emberwood burned, none of us had been doing well. What remained of the former safe haven had been left covered in soot and blood. The winter that followed was lost to grief.
But slowly, in the following spring and summer, we all seemed to find ourselves again. Things couldn’t return to normal, because there was no normal, not after that much devastation, not when zombies still roam the earth. But we could find peace and purpose in taking care of ourselves and our friends and neighbors.
I truly thought we were all on the mend.
Until six months ago in early December, we woke to find Remy gone. She’d left a note for Boden, the ring he gave her, and taken Lazlo’s mule. Then she vanished into the cold with her lioness, Ripley, at her side.
It had been as the first snow was falling, and I couldn’t follow her in that with a baby so young. Boden almost went after her despite the hardships and dangers of a subarctic winter, but he stayed with me and Fae, because we needed him.
With the winter behind us, and Fae a bit older, it was finally safe for us to travel. It was best to do it now, before the zombies thawed out in full force.
Since Remy had left in the snow, she couldn’t get too far. She’d likely want to go somewhere safe to hole up for the winter, somewhere she knew had provisions. That left the Lakehouse – our old home where we had lived until I fell pregnant with Rafaella – as the most logical place for her to go.
“I want to make sure she’s okay,” Boden said after a long silence. “I want to understand why she left. But I worry that we might need to accept that she doesn’t want to be found.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I argued. “Max would find her, and she would find Max. That’s what families do. She’s like an injured rabbit sneaking off to die. She’s hurting, and she needs our help. And besides all that, you will be safer with me than you would be without me.”
He cleared his throat and straightened up. “Well, if you still insist on going, we should head out soon. I wanna get there and back as quickly and safely as possible.” As he was turning away, he added, “Edie and Harlow are already down in the nursery, waiting to say goodbye.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.” I got to my feet as hurriedly as I could, because I really didn’t want to leave them waiting, especially not since they were doing me a favor.
Edie was Eden, a transgender woman I had met when we first moved to Emberwood, and she had become very close to me and Fae ever since. In fact, we’d spent so much time together that she had become Edie when Fae started talking. Her black hair was kept in a shoulder-length bob, and her dark eyes were wide and compassionate.
Harlow was also part of my extended family, although not as close as others. The first winter on the boat, we’d all been here, and she had helped out with Fae, babysitting, playing with her, making her clothes.
Last summer, after Lazlo and Nova had begun rebuilding Emberwood, Harlow and her girlfriend Kimber had followed suit. Most of the time, the S. S. Barbarabelle was anchored near the waterfall to the south of Emberwood, making it only a two-day hike back to town. That meant it wasn’t so hard for Harlow to come visit, but quick drop-ins were an impossibility.
Despite the relative proximity, I hadn’t been back to Emberwood. Not since the night the town had burned, and I had led the zombies away.
In fact, I hardly even stepped foot on land. Sometimes I went to the shore to work the gardens. We managed a few greenhouses on the limited outdoor space on the boat, and some small gardens on balconies. But outside of fishing, most food still came from the land, and people rowed out every day to tend to nearby fields and livestock as well as going on hunting trips.
Mostly, I stayed on the boat, taking care of Fae and minding the chores here. There was plenty that needed to be done on a steamboat that housed over fifty people, including multiple children. Others would have to step up and fill in for me while I was gone looking for Remy, which was why Harlow had come down from New Emberwood yesterday. She’d be staying here for the weeks that I would be gone, helping Edie with Fae and picking up the slack that I was leaving behind.
In the nursery, Edie was crouched down in front of the dresser, folding cloth diapers for Fae, and Harlow was sitting in the rocking chair, looking out the window at the same sunrise I’d been watching. Her wavy blond hair was in a long braid, and she was wearing a robe she’d made from floral quilts with fur trim. She was twenty-three with an easy smile, and a dark pink burn scar that ran from her cheek down her jawline onto her neck.
“I was starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind,” Harlow remarked as I brought Fae into the room, and Boden was following right behind me.
“No, no, I was enjoying my last few minutes with Fae.” I kissed the top of her head, hugging her close to me for another moment longer until she started squirming.
“I don’t blame you, but Fae will have a fantastic time with her Auntie Harlow,” she assured me as I passed my daughter to her.
“We’ll take great care of her and make sure she’s safe, so you don’t have to worry about anything except finding Remy and getting back here,” Edie promised.
Harlow snort laughed at that. “Do you really think she’s going to come back with you, assuming you do find her?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But even if she doesn’t, I want to make sure she’s safe and find out why she left.”
“She left because that’s what she does when she’s scared or overwhelmed,” Harlow answered.
Boden spoke for the first time since we entered the nursery, definitively saying, “That’s all the more reason that we should find her.”
2
Stella
The months on the boat made the soft ground feel unusually steady under my boots. Boden watched me with an amused smirk as I took my first steps down the well-worn trail from where the shuttle boats went ashore. He was half-a-meter in front of me, his backpack slung over his shoulders, and his machete sheathed on his hip. The sun had already warmed the day enough that he’d rolled up the sleeves on his flannel shirt.
“It might take you a minute to get yer land legs back,” he said with an exaggerated pirate drawl. “Maybe you ought to get off the river more often.”
“My sea legs suit me fine, since I don’t really want to accompany you on any hunts,” I reasoned.
That was one of Boden’s main roles in Barbarabelle’s society. He hunted animals for food, he made repairs around the boat, and he would go on land to dispatch the zombies if they got too close to our livestock or the gardens.
The virus that caused the zombie infection gave them hydrophobia, so they rarely came close to the river in any situation. Not that zombies had been too much of a problem for me since I gave birth to Fae.
“Besides, with all the walking we have to do, I’ll get over it fast,” I assured him.
Boden smiled at me over his shoulder as we walked. “If you say so, Hopalong Cassidy.”
“Hopalong Cassidy? Who is that?” I asked.
He paused, thinking for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know actually. It was something that my dad used to say when I was a kid after I broke my leg. I think it might’ve been an old cowboy with a limp or something.”
By the time we stopped for lunch, I felt completely back to normal, albeit tired and hungry. While I kept very active on the boat with all the chores and raising a toddler, I wasn’t used to hiking so many kilometers on overgrown, broken asphalt. And I was always hungry.
“We can campout whenever you want,” Boden said in the late afternoon, when my pace had started to slow.
I brushed him off with, “I wanted to wait until dark.”
“That’s not for another four hours. And we have another long day of walking tomorrow,” he said as if I didn’t know that already.
“Yeah, my feet might hurt, but I’ve still got plenty of energy to keep me going for the day,” I insisted.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him studying me, as if he didn’t quite believe me. “That’s fair, but I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard in the early days and ending up with an injury or exhaustion.”
“I will be careful,” I promised him. “But for now, let’s keep to the plan we made. Campout from dusk until dawn, and walk as much as we can the rest of the time.”
He waited a beat before reluctantly acquiescing with a heavy sigh. “Okay.”
So, for the first few days, we walked on, from just after first light until twilight, minus breaks scattered throughout. I didn’t complain about the ache in my shoulders from my pack or the throbbing of my feet. The sun was hot overhead, and my cheeks were sunburnt. When it started dipping toward the horizon, with the tall pine trees casting long shadows over us, there was some relief in the heat, and that was nice.
“Okay, now we really ought to start looking for someplace to sleep,” Boden said one night as dusk rapidly approached, and I was about to agree with him when I saw the sign at the side of the road.
It was splattered in the brick red color of either rust or blood, or most likely a little of both. But the words were still legible underneath: Tarik Copper Mine: A Weiland-Uylee Corp with the word Next Exit written underneath.
“Let’s wait until the mine,” I suggested. “There are plenty of buildings there to shelter in.”
“You really want to go to the mine again?” Boden asked, likely remembering what we’d found the last time we had been there two years ago.
I nodded fervently. “Yeah. There’s something I need to check out.”
It didn’t take long for us to reach the entrance, which was a dilapidated gravel driveway between chain link fences, but the sky had dimmed to dark orange. Beyond that were rows of buildings and abandoned machinery, almost entirely consumed by vegetation and rust.
The first time I had been here, I had been heavily pregnant, and Remy and Boden had discovered the open pit mines were filled to the brim with zombies.
The second time I had been here, I had been two months post-partum, and I had been leading hundreds and hundreds of zombies back into the open pit mines.
A mad woman bent on revenge called Mercy Loth had set the zombies free, unleashing them on the town of Emberwood. Remy had killed her, but Mercy had also left behind her unusual son, born out of a union with a zombie. His name was Chosen, and he could think and reason.
But there was no place in the world for a zombie-human offspring, and so I had trapped him with the other zombies in the open pit mine. I had hoped he could find happiness and peace with them, but I wasn’t sure if I even believed that was possible for anyone, let alone such an unusual hybrid.
“It doesn’t sound the same,” Boden commented as we walked down the long driveway toward the mine. “All the zombies together in the pit, they made this awful humming noise that made the ground vibrate. But this time I can’t hear them at all.”
He was right. Usually, when I was this close to the zombies, I could hear them. With their wheezing, groaning, and clumsy stumbling, they were audible to most people from a distance, but for me, it was something more than that.
In truth, it wasn’t so much hearing them as smelling them. The pheromones they left in the air were how they communicated with each other, not unlike ants or bees. None of the uninfected people around me could notice the scent, but to me, it was clear and distinct.
It hadn’t always been like that. Not until after I was pregnant with Fae and bitten by a zombie. Max and Remy were biological siblings and both immune to the lyssavirus. Since Max was Fae’s father, he had apparently given that same immunity to her. Because after I was bitten by a zombie, I fell ill, but the baby’s resistance passed through me.
My midwife had explained it as something called microchimerism that can occur in pregnancy, albeit very rarely. Fetal cells cross the placenta, entering the mother’s body, and they can affect her immune system and fight infections.
I survived, and now I had a connection to the zombies that I didn’t fully understand. Parts of it were definitely positive, like my ability to command them via pheromones, but there had been strange changes to me since then.
I craved meat, especially raw or undercooked, in a way that could never be fully satiated. The hunger was with me when I awoke and invaded my dreams when I slept, like an angry little gremlin that lived in the pit of my stomach, demanding more, more, more.
Mostly, I’d learned to ignore it, because that was all I could do. I ate my fill when I had the chance, making my belly and thighs thick and soft even on our relatively rationed diet.
The zombies were a part of me now, the way I was a part of Rafaella.
As we grew closer to the open-pit mine, I could see the vast stepped crater a hundred times the size of the Barbarabelle. I inhaled deeply, and I caught a faint scent. Even faded, it was acrid and smoky, with something musky and rotten underneath.
But as soon as I breathed in, my heart began racing, and panic crackled through my brain like a lightning bolt across the sky. I stopped short, and Boden looked back at me, his eyes darkening with concern.
“What is it?” he asked, because he knew about my connection to the zombies. “What are they telling you?”
“It’s fear and pain,” I replied.
My legs wanted to run. An indescribable urge hit as soon as I’d inhaled. It was as if the sensation of pins and needles somehow had the ability to control my movement, and it took effort for me to hold myself back.
But then, I didn’t really want to anymore. The panic and urge were so much, and the pit was so close, and I had to see if it was as it had been when I left it.
I ran forward, the aches of my feet and legs suddenly forgotten, and I could hear Boden jogging after me.
Before we even reached the edge of the open pit, I could see the blackened piles of ash and bone. The pheromones were still hazy, but there was an overpowering odor that anyone could smell. Smoky ash, putrid sulfur, and an undeniable sweetness all mixed together in a sickening stench. When we reached the edge, it was enough that Boden had put his arm over his nose to block it.
Last time I’d been here, all the stepped levels had been filled with zombies. They still covered every square of dirt, but instead of fleshy and animated, they were unmoving black soot and charred bones.
None made a sound, but their final thoughts lingered in the ashes that clung to their remains: Fear. Pain. Run.
I shuddered and swallowed the guilt that threatened to rise up my throat in the form of bile.
“Somebody finally took care of them all,” Boden said, sounding rather relieved.
“They didn’t all need to be taken care of,” I replied thickly.
He gave me an apologetic look, then put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re thinking about that kid again?”
I blinked and turned away. I had made my choice a long time ago when I left Chosen here and went back to my family. I couldn’t risk my newborn daughter around a zombie hybrid, and I couldn’t abandon her for a child I didn’t know. No one would have allowed him onto the Barbarabelle anyway. He might have been contagious, and he could certainly summon and command zombies.
Even today, even if I’d known this is how the hybrid child’s story would end, I wouldn’t have made a different choice. I chose to protect my family first – as I always had, as I always would – and now all I could do was live with those choices.
“I bet that’s what all that smoke was about last year,” Boden commented. “Remember all those dark clouds in mid-April? It went on for a few days, and Remy was planning to investigate when it finally went out.”
“Who did it?” I asked. My back was to the pit, because I didn’t want to look anymore, and that awful prickling urge made my hands tremble.
“I don’t know. Someone with a match and a hatred of zombies,” he replied simply. Then he looked back over at me. “Come on. We need to find somewhere to camp, and I think it would be good for you to get away from this place.”
“It’s too late for us to go far.” I glanced up at the darkening sky. “Let’s just find a building.”
3
Stella
Out of the horrors that existed in this world, I was ashamed to admit that the thing I struggled to stomach the most was the scent. Decay and death that vacillated between nauseatingly sweet and overpoweringly rancid, and underneath all of that was the musty odor of abandonment. Sometimes, if I ventured into the wrong areas, the stench became nearly palpable, like a dense fog hanging over everything.
Even with the pit of burnt corpses, the Tarik Copper Mine wasn’t anywhere near the worst as far as apocalyptic nightmare scents went, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant.
We chose a shed down the driveway to camp out. Back when the mine had been working, it had likely been storage for tools and equipment, but most of that had been picked clean by the time we found it. Boden liked it because it was relatively small and empty, with only a few dusty shelves and random tools strewn about, so it was easy to secure.
There was enough space for us to lay out our bedrolls, and we left the door cracked so we could set up our travel stove. The travel stove was basically a metal box that we fed twigs into, but it was easy enough to heat up our food and provide some light and warmth for the nights.
After we ate and settled in, I worked on the scrapbook I had been making for Rafaella. I wanted to show her as much of the world as I could, so I collected things as we walked and pressed them between pages of a blank journal I’d found.
The pink blossoms of the Nootka Rose (Rosa nutkana) and the vibrant Scarlet Paintbrush (Castilleja miniata) next to a wing from a lemon-yellow Swallowtail Butterfly (Papilio canadensis) and an iridescent indigo feather dropped from a Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor).
Back at the Lakehouse, I’d been fortunate enough to have access to a rather substantial library that included a full set of encyclopedias and books covering topics from fishing and kayaking to foraging and hiking. Because books weighed so much, we weren’t able to take nearly as many as I would’ve liked, but we’d made room for a Farmer’s Almanac and an atlas as well as a few other of my favorites, including a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit for Fae.
Still, I hated that she would be growing up with so much less information than I had, and I was trying to recreate as much as I could for her while I still remembered it.
Sleeping on the road never came easy, despite the exhaustion of walking as much as my body would allow. Laying down on the hard ground, my arms propped under my thin pillow with the days’ dirt and the ashy stench of death clinging to me, for once it wasn’t the hunger but the longing in my chest that got to me. It was a genuine pain, a twisted knot right in the center of my very being, so I couldn’t get comfortable no matter how I lay.
“Are you doing okay?” Boden asked after I’d been tossing and turning.
“Yeah. Sorry. Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No, it’s hard to sleep on the road. I get it.”
“I haven’t been away from Fae like this before, not since she was a baby.” My words came out thick, as if the sadness had filled my mouth with cotton, and tears welled in my eyes.
“We can go back, if you’re not up for it,” he offered gently. “There’s no shame in staying back to take care of your family.”
“No, I’ll be okay. I know she’s safe with Edie and Harlow on the boat,” I insisted despite the desperate urge inside me to do the contrary. “I can’t … I don’t understand how Remy could just… leave… us all.”
Boden was quiet for a long minute, breathing heavily as he stared up at the shadows of the cobwebbed ceiling above us. “I suppose it’s the same as it is for you. She knew that we’d be safe without her, and she thought… she must’ve thought her reasons were worth it.”
“Do you think she’s at the Lakehouse?” I asked.
“I don’t know where else she would go. If she were running off to die, she wouldn’t have brought Ripley or the mule along to die with her.”
When I finally managed to drift off, my sleep wasn’t exactly restful. Most nights, I dreamt of Max and of my hunger, but tonight they were filled with zombies. In my nightmares, I stood at the edge of the pit, watching the burnt corpses reanimate and climb up the edges. Their fingers of blackened bones outstretched toward me.
And in the center of it all, unharmed and unmoving, was the child Chosen, but he wasn’t alone. Beside him, Fae stood and held his hand. They both stared at me with wide eyes glowing in the flames. I screamed for them, promising that I would save them, but even as I did, the zombies escaped the pit and grabbed onto me.
“Stella!” Boden’s frantic yelling woke me.
I sat up, half-asleep and disoriented as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. The shed we camped in was completely dark, other than the very early morning dull blue glow that came in through the cracked door.
Shelves clattered to the floor behind me, and Boden let out a frustrated grunt. The death rattle of the zombie – their wheezing breath and ravenous groans – was silenced by the sound of a machete blade slicing through rotten flesh and gelatinous bone.
I scrambled to my feet and threw open the door, letting in as much of the dim light as I could. It also gave the zombies an obvious way to escape.
“Alright, time to go!” I shouted and clapped my hands together. In my mind, I focused all my thoughts on simple directives: Go. Get away. Leave.
“I think it’s just me now,” Boden replied, sounding winded. He stepped over the fresh bodies on the floor, and he came into the light, so I could see the blood splattered across his shirt and arms. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. None of this is my blood.”
“You didn’t have to kill them. I could’ve taken care of them,” I said, meaning I could’ve sent them away.
“Then they would’ve been somebody else’s problem later on,” he reasoned and turned his back to me. He crouched down over his bedroll and got his lantern going, dousing the room in an amber glow, then he pulled out an old towel to clean himself off as best as he could.
“Besides, there wasn’t any time,” he went on. “I woke up to the two of them creeping in through the door, and I took care of them before anybody else got hurt.”
Whenever possible, I tried to repel the zombies instead of killing them. If I was on land, I kept the thoughts “Stay away, stay back, keep moving” running in the back of my head. I don’t know how it worked exactly, but as the command coursed through my body, a powerful scent would emanate from me.
Well, it seemed powerful to me and the zombies, anyway, but no one else around ever noticed it. The scent would vary based on the command or the intensity of my thoughts, but the one that always stilled nearby zombies was a musty, earthy cloud. It smelled of dirt under my fingernails and burnt garlic, and it tasted like cotton in my mouth.
I took a slow breath, trying to shake off the adrenaline and fear. The amber glow from the lantern cast long, wavering shadows across the shed’s battered walls, making everything feel fragile.
Despite everything, we’d survived another night, and dawn would come soon enough. Boden and I started packing up, so we would move on, leaving behind the mine and its haunted shadows.
4
Stella
As the days went on, our journey somehow became both easier and harder. My body ached most of the time, which served as a decent distraction, but I incessantly worried about Fae, about what was happening back on the Barbarabelle, about whether we’d ever even find Remy.
We hadn’t seen any sign of her, but I don’t know that we’d really expected to, either. If she’d gone to the Lakehouse, she likely took the same path we did – following the Staulo River south until it curved around the canyon of spires, and then head slightly west through the forest.
But Remy would’ve been through here at the beginning of winter, and now we were already in May, with spring fully underway. Everything was lush and green, growing fast to make the most of the relatively short growing season, and so much of the former civilization had been reclaimed by nature.
“How overgrown do you think the Lakehouse will be?” I asked Boden as we passed an abandoned house that had nearly been consumed by fireweed, thimbleberry, and a particularly thorny climbing wild rose, or Chamaenerion angustifolium, Rubus parviflorus, and Rosa nutkana respectively.
“Nowhere near that bad,” he answered, sounding a little defensive. He’d always taken pride in the care of our home. “We did our best to keep it up while we were there. Shoring the roof, patching up holes, keeping the plants from growing into the cracks and crevices. But nothing we did was perfect, either. Plus, it’s not like roofs and siding were made to last forever. It’ll definitely have some damage, but hopefully we boarded it up enough to keep the worst of the elements out.”
“I wonder if my room is the way I left it,” I said, then something occurred to me. “Is it still my room? I mean, since we left?”
“I suppose it depends on how you look at it,” Boden replied thoughtfully. “The last people who had their names on the title of the house – ”
“The Tremblays,” I interjected, reminding him of the names we’d seen on all the things they’d left behind.
As far as we’d been able to deduce, the Lakehouse had been a vacation home for a family called the Tremblays. The father Mitchell, a dentist and outdoorsman, the mother Erin, a nurse and avid reader, the son Ryder, and the daughter Avalyn. Their spacious, well-stocked home on a private lake, and the multitude of smiling family photos showed an affluent, healthy, happy family.
When we – Boden, Remy, Serg, Max, Ripley, and myself – moved into the Lakehouse, I had taken Avalyn’s pink pastel bedroom, and Max had taken Ryder’s hunter green bedroom. And just like that, we moved into their lives. We played with their toys, wore their clothes, read their books, fished in their lake. For seven years, we had lived as they did, and we had been happy.
“Right, the Tremblays,” he agreed. “Well, we don’t know what happened to them, but they never came back. So we lived there and took care of it, and I do think that made it our house. We even had to defend it a few times.”
Mostly, we had to secure it from weather or zombies, but there had been a few times where other survivors would stumble onto us. Generally, if they were kind and respectful, we had helped them out, but sometimes, they tried to take what we had. When things turned violent, we had always made sure to protect our home.
“But once we left it, it wasn’t really ours anymore,” Boden reasoned. “In this world, you only have what you can defend, and we haven’t been there.”
“Until Remy went back,” I said.
“Right,” he replied noncommittally.
For days on end, Boden and I trekked through the wild woods. Sometimes, the birdsongs and buzz of insects were disrupted by the distant howls of wolves or the death groans of zombies, but both groups stayed far enough away from us that we never actually saw them.
We travelled cautiously, steering clear of calving elk and moose. Once we’d spotted a grizzly bear (Ursus arctos horribilis) still thin from the long hibernation, but nonetheless with far more meat than the two of us could handle on our own. Boden left it be, and we moved on.
On the afternoon of the thirteenth day of our travels, I finally began to see things that were familiar to me. Forests and fields where I had ventured out, foraging with Serg, checking traps with Remy, or playing with Max.
We’re almost home, I realized, and a wistful longing washed over me.
So many beautiful, rose-colored memories returned. Of Max and Serg and Remy and Boden and Ripley. Nine years ago, we had moved into the house as a beleaguered family of six (counting the lion), and in the years that followed, we had healed, we had grown up and grown together.
And now, we were returning fractured with only the two of us.
“I wish Fae were here,” I said as Boden and I made our way along the winding trail through the woods. “I would’ve liked to show her where Max and I grew up.”
“Maybe when she’s older, we can bring her back here,” Boden suggested. “Assuming that here is somewhere we still want to visit.”
The trail led us right by the cloudberry bushes (where Serg and I would harvest berries for jam every year) before meeting up with the long gravel driveway. Though the driveway was far more grass than stones these days. Boden had always tried to keep it somewhat maintained with an old scythe, but now it grew up to my knees.
Finally, the Lakehouse came into view. It had faded some over time, but the majesty of the chalet-style house was hard to diminish. It sat on the top of a hill, overlooking a lake surrounded by forests with the mountains in the distance.
Other than the overgrown lawn, it looked exactly as we had left it. But when we drew closer, I realized that wasn’t quite true. We’d boarded the windows and doors before we departed, but now, most of the planks were gone.
Someone had been here.
In the window nearest to the front door, the curtains rustled.
Someone was still here.
“Remy?” I called out, and Boden immediately put a hand on my arm, silencing me and stopping me in my tracks.
“We don’t know for sure if she’s here, so we need to be cautious,” he said firmly, and his other hand hovered above the machete sheathed on his hip.
“They’ve already seen us.” I motioned to the window with the rustling drapes. “There is no element of surprise. So we might as well knock and introduce ourselves.”
Boden frowned like he meant to argue, but our attention was immediately diverted by the sound of the front door opening. A crossbow greeted us first, pointed out through the open gap of the door, and a young man’s face hovered behind it.
“Well, that’s not Remy,” Boden muttered under his breath.
5
Stella
“What are you doing on my property?” the young man demanded.
The door had opened wider, and he’d moved out into the sunlight to take better aim at us with the crossbow. Boden stepped in front of me right away, shielding my body with his own, and he held his hands palm out.
“We’re only looking for a friend of ours,” Boden answered calmly and clearly. “We lived in this house up until a couple years ago, and we thought she might’ve come back here.”
“You’re the ones that boarded it up and raided the pantries and made a mess of things?” he asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t say we made a mess of things, but we were living there,” Boden replied. “We tried to take care of the house the best we could. But if our friend’s not here, we’ll just be on our way. We didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”
I peered around Boden at the young man in the doorway to our former home. He had lowered the crossbow slightly, enough that I could get a look at him.
His eyes were narrowed at us, and his sandy brown hair was tousled across his forehead. He was lean with fair skin and appeared to be about twenty years old. While I could tell that he was handsome, that wasn’t really what caught me about him. His face was so… familiar.
“If you don’t want any trouble, you ought to turn around and get out of here,” the young man directed.
“No problem,” Boden said, and he took a step backward, almost bumping into me. “Come on, Stella.”
“But did you see her?” I asked, not wanting to give up and turn around when we’d come this far. I stepped out from behind Boden so the young man would know I was talking to him. “Has she been through here?”
“In the past nine months I’ve been here, we haven’t had a single uninfected visitor,” he answered unequivocally. “I don’t know where your friend went, but she hasn’t been here.”
A disappointed lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“Where is she then?” I asked, but I don’t know if I was asking the man with the crossbow, or Boden, or the universe.
“We’ll figure it out somewhere else,” Boden said, and he was trying to usher me back down the driveway.
I relented because there was apparently nothing for us here anymore. As we started to go, the man in the doorway lowered his crossbow completely, and when I looked back over my shoulder at him, I finally realized why he looked so familiar.
“Ryder?” I asked in surprise and dismay. “Ryder Tremblay?”
Now it was his turn to look at me with confusion and disbelief. “How… how do you know my name?”
“We lived in your house!” I was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling I couldn’t quite place. It felt almost as if a character from a book had come to life – someone I had only known from pictures and stories standing right before me in flesh and blood.
My disappointment about Remy’s absence was quickly overcome by my newfound giddy excitement. One of the Tremblays was right here in front of me.
I had spent so much time wondering and imagining about what their life had been like, about who they had been. I pictured sun drenched summers on the lake, and cozy winters by the fireplace. It wasn’t so different from my life at the Lakehouse. Except they didn’t live with the threat of zombies, starvation, or lack of medical care.
And then, as my excitement grew, I started toward the house. “Is Avalyn here? Are your parents? I’d love to meet them.”
“Stella.” Boden grabbed my arm to keep me from rushing at Ryder – who was, by all accounts, an armed stranger.
“No,” Ryder said, sounding flat, but his weapon remained lowered.
Another voice came from in the house, asking, “What is going on out there?”
A moment later, a stocky brunette appeared beside him. Her hair was chin length, and her black tank top revealed muscular, scarred arms. She was shorter than Ryder, and unarmed, but she was more intimidating somehow.
“Who are these people and what do they want?” she demanded to know, keeping her serious eyes locked on me and Boden.
“We used to live here,” I repeated.
“Oh, were you the ones that left all the jars of cloudberry jam behind in the cabinets?” the woman asked.
I nodded vigorously. “Yeah, we used to can it every summer. It was the best way to stretch the harvest.”
“Well, you abandoned them, so we ate them all,” she replied. “But I suppose it’s even since you helped yourself to Ryder’s things.”
“That sounds more than fair,” Boden agreed. His hand remained on my arm, as if he was afraid I would bolt into the house if he let go of me. “We didn’t realize that anyone would be coming back, since the house had been abandoned for so long.”
“We were at our house in Vancouver when the virus broke out, and we ended up in a quarantine zone for a long time,” Ryder explained. “And then it took me even longer to get here and find the place again. It’s a lot harder doing it on foot, especially when I hadn’t been here since I was ten.”
“Your parents aren’t with you?” I asked.
Ryder’s expression darkened. “No. I’m the only one left of my family.”
“What is going on? Why are you all standing out there talking?” Another voice in the background, and another young woman appeared. She looked to be my age, and her black hair nearly reached the knees of her long legs. She was wearing a t-shirt of Max’s paired with a skirt I had made from old curtains – both things we’d left behind when we left the Lakehouse because there had only been so much that we could carry.
“Bianka, I told you to stay back until we cleared it,” the shorter brunette chastised her.
“Well, I figured since you’re chatting it up that it was cleared,” the taller woman – Bianka, apparently – replied. Then she looked over to us. “Are you gonna kill us or rob us?”
“No, we don’t mean you any harm,” Boden said quickly.
The short brunette rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.
“What are you doing here then? Do you need help or something?” Bianka asked.
“They said they’re looking for someone,” Ryder answered for us.
“You been walking a lot? You look tired and dirty.” Bianka eyed us up with her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you come in and rest up? You could tell us about your missing person.”
“That would be great,” I replied before Boden had a chance to decline the offer. These people seemed nice enough, especially Ryder, and I wanted to find out if maybe they’d seen Remy.
“Bianka,” the brunette said in her low husky voice. “We’ve talked about this. We can’t invite strangers into our house.”
“Oh, come on, babe,” Bianka retorted, shrugging off the brunette’s concerns. “We haven’t talked to anyone in a while. I wanna find out what else is out there, and these two might know. Besides, we oughtta help people when we can. Pay it forward, that kinda thing.”
Ryder stepped to the side and opened the door wider, ignoring the brunette’s protests. “Come on in, meet the rest of us, and we can have a chat.”
By Boden’s hesitant expression, I knew that he didn’t want to, likely because he didn’t trust the situation. But Bianka was welcoming us in, and I didn’t want to leave here without anything. We’d come so far. So I went inside the home that had once been mine.
6
Stella
There were five of them in total living together in Ryder’s house. Three we had met – Ryder Tremblay, the tall Bianka Novak, and the stocky Murphy Parsons. The others were waiting for us in the living room.
They were two young men, looking to be about Ryder and Bianka’s age. Murphy appeared a bit older, but that could’ve just been her serious expression.
The first to greet us was Leandro Reyes. He got up from the couch, extending a hand and a crooked smile. His eyes were a dark russet, and his skin was a warm umber brown. He wore his hair in chin-length twist locs, and a bear claw hung on a leather strap around his neck.
The other was Cole Wagner. He was pale and lanky, with a pronounced overbite and nervous eyes. As he stood, he kept his distance and stayed at the far side of the room in front of the wall of windows. Other than a diffident nod of the head after Ryder made the introductions, Cole hadn’t really acknowledged us at all.
“So you used to live here?” Bianka asked. She sat in the plush sitting chair near the fireplace, her legs and long skirt draped over the arm of it, and she watched Boden and I with curious blue eyes.
“Yeah, we did,” I said. “For about seven years.”
“That’s so wild!” she exclaimed.
Murphy sat down on the other arm of the chair, putting a protective hand on Bianka’s shoulder. “Why did you leave? This place has everything.”
“We needed medical care,” Boden answered so I wouldn’t have to. “That’s the one thing that’s missing from way out here.”
“Well, that’s missing everywhere, isn’t it?” Murphy asked.
“We’d heard about medicine and a helpful community out in Emberwood, so that’s where we went,” Boden elaborated. “And it worked out for us, so we stayed on.”
“It worked out for you?” Murphy scowled and let out a skeptical laugh. “I heard that place burned to the ground.”
“We arrived before the fire, and they’re rebuilding now,” Boden clarified. “Calling it New Emberwood with Nova Boone Durante working as mayor. “
“We’ve been living on a riverboat,” I added, since Murphy didn’t seem to believe us.
“A riverboat?” Bianka sounded impressed. “That sounds mighty quaint.”
“It used to be a hotel, so it has lots of rooms, and it’s been really nice for us,” I went on. It wasn’t until Boden gave me a look from the corner of his eye that I realized I had maybe divulged too much to these strangers.
He cleared his throat and corrected course with, “We have a community of over fifty people with a decent size armory, and it is nice and secure floating in the middle of the river.” He’d slightly exaggerated our resources and security to make the Barbarabelle seem like less of an easy target.
“Wow. A floating hotel sounds way more glamorous than how we lived back in the quarantine in Vancouver,” Leandro said, and he looked over to Ryder, as if to commiserate. “Remember when we were living in that boys’ wing? We didn’t even have a window. They had this concrete quad in the center, and there was a chain link fence over the top, so nothing could get in, and we only got to spend two hours a day out there.” He paused then to hold up two fingers to accentuate his point. “The only view was the bricks around us and the gray sky overhead through that chain link filter. I swear, that sky was gray for the whole year.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Ryder replied, sounding much less inclined for a trip down memory lane than Leandro was.
Other than Cole, Ryder was the only one still standing, though he was leaning against the fireplace. It was so hard for me to keep from staring at him, but I knew it would be rude and weird so I did my best to look away.
It wasn’t that Ryder was good-looking, although he was also very good-looking. His silken hair was the color of maple sugar, and his mouth was pouty enough to seem brooding. His eyes weren’t quite smoldering (though I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, because I had only read about it in books) but there was an intensity in the silvery hazel.
Mostly, it was so surreal to see him, standing here in the house that still held the pictures –
– and at that very moment I noticed none of the family pictures were displayed anymore.
When we’d been living here, we had moved some of them, taking them off the mantle and storing them away in closets. But we’d left the ones hanging on the wall, in large part because we had nothing to replace them with and the walls would look barren without them.
Now they were all gone. Every single photo that had contained a member of the Tremblay family appeared to be removed, with only blank walls and rectangles in the dust left behind.
“Why’d you take all the pictures down?” I blurted out, and when Ryder looked sharply at me, shame washed over me, and I sunk lower in the couch.
“Nobody needs reminders about what isn’t here anymore,” he replied simply.
Leandro cleared his throat, and in a much lighter tone asked, “If you were all living the dream on a riverboat, why’d you come back here?”
“They claim they’re looking for someone,” Murphy answered for us.
“We are looking for someone,” I corrected her. “She’s part of our family. Her name is Remy King. She’s about five and a half feet tall, long dark hair, and she’s in her late twenties. She’s travelling with a mule and a lion.”
“Whoa, she travels with a lion?” Leandro asked with a laugh. “Why didn’t you lead with that? How did she end up with a lion?”
“She found her on the side of the road,” Boden relayed the story that Remy had given to him. “She was chained to the back of the truck, so her best guess was that someone had a lion as a pet.”
“Wow. A pet lion.” Leandro let out a low whistle. “How does she do with zombies?”
“She eats them,” I said, and Leandro laughed, seemingly thrilled by that answer.
“Rye, can you believe this?” Leandro asked, grinning over at Ryder.
“That does explain all the claw marks in the garage and the bannisters.” Murphy motioned to where the wooden railing up the second floor had been clawed and chewed on by Ripley over the years.
“We thought maybe a super strong zombie must’ve done it,” Bianka explained. “My guess was that gorilla zombie we heard rumors about.”
“Told you that was crazy,” Cole said, speaking for the first time since we’d been introduced.
I glanced over at Boden, but neither of us said anything. We’d both seen the zombie gorilla. The lyssavirus genotype-8 infected all the great apes, from humans through gorillas and chimpanzees. Apparently, someone had gotten the bright idea to take one of the hundreds of captive gorillas from a zoo or other institution, and they had infected it with the virus, turning it into a hulking monster of a zombie.
Fortunately, the gorilla zombie hadn’t survived the fall of Emberwood, so there was no need to prove its existence to the strangers in the room with us. Especially since we couldn’t prove it, and they already seemed dubious of us. We needed to give them reasons to trust us, not doubt us even more.
“What about you all?” Boden asked. “Where do you come from?”
“You mean before the zombies went and mucked everything up?” Bianka asked. “I was born in Bushwick, not that I remember much of it since I was only nine when we went into the first quarantine zone. My mom knew that the whole NYC area would be bonkers, so she took us up to Canada, and we actually ended up in the Quebec QZ for a while. Parler de l’apocalypse et des zombies sonne mieux en français, je dois l’admettre.”
I gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, the only French I know is from an old lullaby.”
“And I only know some Spanish,” Boden added.
“Anyway, things in the quarantine got bad after a while,” Bianka went on. “Not enough food, violent guards, too many people. You know the drill, I’m sure.” She gave me a knowing weary smile, and I nodded like I did understand, but I didn’t really.
I had no real memory of my time before the Lakehouse, of life before Max, but I didn’t want to mention that now. I’d rather us bond over our shared histories than raise suspicion over our differences.
“A few of us travelled west, looking for something better,” Bianka continued. “And along the way, I lost everyone. Including my mom.” Her expression darkened for a moment, but she forced a smile. “Then Murphy found me wandering around the derelict streets of Vancouver, and xe’s been taken care of me ever since.”
“Xe?” I echoed, confused by her word choice.
“Oh, yeah, Murphy’s an enby,” Bianka explained. “Like nonbinary instead of male or female. And instead of he/him or she/her, Murph uses xe/xer.”
“Thank you for the gender lesson,” Murphy said dryly.
“Well, I wanna make sure they understand, babe.” Bianka put her hand on top of Murphy’s. “And I know you don’t like explaining it, so I thought I’d get it out of the way.”
“Thanks for letting us know,” Boden said. “I don’t know if I’ve met someone like that before, but we have folks of all types living on the Barbarabelle.”
Our friend Edie was a transwoman, and she had been open about sharing her experiences with me. I’d also read some things about sexuality and gender in the books in the Lakehouse (but honestly, not enough since I’d accidentally ended up pregnant at fourteen). Nonbinary and other gender identities were something I was aware of, even if I hadn’t encountered much of it myself. But then again, that could also be because I hadn’t encountered that many people at all.
“Ryder and I came up together in the boys’ wing,” Leandro said, continuing the conversation. “They kept the kids separate there, and it was all binary. Boys in one wing, girls in another. And all the adults were kept away from all of us, parents included. We only got to see them for a few hours a week through these mesh windows, like we were prisoners. Make no mistake, that was not a fun place to grow up.”
“They tried to keep everyone as segregated as possible to stop the spread of the virus, but in too many of the safe zones, they took it too far,” Murphy said, xer tone both apologetic and justifying.
“Murph was in the reserve forces when the lockdowns started,” Bianka explained. “Xe helped set up some of the first quarantines and safe zones.”
“I was in the infantry, fresh out of boot camp when the virus reared its ugly head,” Boden said. “With the U.S. Army, I was a soldier, and I had to set up a few of those myself.”
“Later on, because I wanted to help, I ended up volunteering for the Cold Shore project,” Murphy said.
The name Cold Shore sounded an alarm in my head and brought me back to the fall of Emberwood. All of that death and destruction came directly at the hands of a vengeful woman named Mercy Loth. In the chaos of her attack, she’d accidentally left a book behind, and it ended up in my hands
One part manifesto and one part memoir, it was simply titled The Book of Mercy. Mostly it contained the grandiose ramblings and depraved confessions of a delusional young woman, including how she came to conceive and birth multiple children with zombies. But tucked into the pages were several folded-up letters and papers.
The letters were written by a man called Pyotr Popov, a scientist working for the Cold Shore Global Contingency. He didn’t define it explicitly, but it was clearly somewhere meant to survive the end of the world.
“You’re talking about the Cold Shore Global Contingency?” I asked.
“Yeah, they were supposed to save the world, and I wanted to help,” Murphy said with a wry smile. “But then it turned out to be more bullshit, just like everything else has been since the virus.”
Ryder scoffed. “It’s all been bullshit since long before the virus.”
7
Pyotr
To: Michael Haugen, Director-General
Cold Shore Global Contingency
I will introduce myself first, so you will understand my expertise. I hold a PhD equivalent in Genetics – what we call Candidate of Sciences in Russia – and a Doctor of Sciences degree specializing in Biotechnology. Before the virus, I was a lead geneticist at the Centre of Genetics and Biotechnology in Novosibirsk, Siberia.
I first learned of the Cold Shore Contingency while working with them, though I must admit that I never believed it would be something humanity would need to rely on during my lifetime. Then, I thought such an event was far from possible – perhaps it was wishful thinking, perhaps denial.
The zombibeshenstvo – the virus we would eventually know as the lyssavirus genotype-8 – spread rapidly as soon as it was discovered. Fortunately, the cold slowed the infected, and the vastness of my homeland meant that we had more time than most.
The infected are driven to bite and claw, spreading the disease easily. The incubation period is horrifyingly short – just 24 to 72 hours from exposure to complete loss of reason. They seem to feel no pain, fueled by relentless surges of adrenaline and an insatiable hunger.
Looking back now, I realize that we were doomed from the moment the virus emerged. I stayed too long in the laboratory, desperate to find solutions. By the time I fled with my wife, Irena, and our two children, the city had fallen to the zombies. My wife and younger son did not make it out.
Traveling across the countryside, the scale of the devastation became clear. Millions were dead, and those who survived faced terror not only from the infected but from each other. Resources were scarce, and humanity fell back into their most violent, desperate urges. It took six months to reach the sea and another month to secure passage to Cold Shore.
The events of those months confirmed what I now know: Cold Shore is humanity’s only hope. This is the very catastrophe that the initiative was designed to address. As one of the leading experts in genetics and biotechnology, I am uniquely qualified to assist in this mission. I have devoted my life to these studies, and I am prepared to devote the rest of my life to the contingency.
All I ask for in return is that my surviving son, Dmitry, be allowed to stay with me at Cold Shore. I understand space and resources are limited, but I cannot work if it means abandoning my son.
Especially now, I cannot make that sacrifice.
It may seem bold to make such a request, given that I am not currently a part of your organization. We are not colleagues, and I am just another survivor. But I know that in a world starved of intelligence and expertise, I have the skills and knowledge to justify my presence. I ask you to weigh my words carefully.
I will await your reply at the base camp beyond the compound gates.
With the utmost respect,
Pyotr V. Popov, PhD, DSc
8
Stella
“This is so fucking strange,” Boden muttered, giving voice to my own feelings about the situation.
He was standing at the windows, watching night fall on Tremblay Lake. Above us, we could hear the footsteps of the others, settling into the rooms that had long ago been ours. Leandro had brought down extra blankets and pillows, and he’d left them on the couch so Boden and I could sleep out in the living room.
“It was nice of them to offer for us to stay for the night,” I said, trying to look on the bright side of things.
“No, I know it is,” he agreed. “It’s not them that’s making it strange.” He let out a rough breath and ran his hand through his short hair before turning to look back at me. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, I guess.” I shrugged and turned my attention to making a bed on the couch. “Excited to sleep inside. I’m not looking forward to making the long trek back without any news on Remy, but I’ll see Fae soon, so that helps. I don’t know how I feel about being back here or meeting Ryder or even what to think of the others…”
I trailed off. Honestly, I was feeling everything – from relief and dread to happiness and despair – but when it was added up all together, it all felt like exhaustion and confusion.
“I think I’ll feel better after I eat and sleep, and then I’ll feel even better when we’re on the way back to the boat again,” I said, and I hoped it was true.
With my bed complete, I sat down and grabbed my backpack. Once I had my venison jerky and water canteen, I settled back onto the couch and tried to relax.
Quietly, in case anyone might be listening, I asked, “What do you make of them?”
“They seem decent enough,” he replied at length. “But it’s hard trusting anyone.”
He rolled out his bedroll on the floor near the couch, and he used the extra blankets and pillows to fluff it up. Once he finished, he lay back down, folding his arms under his head as he stared up at the cathedral ceilings above us.
“So Remy’s obviously not here,” I said, as the silence settled in. “Where’d she go?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “We’ll have to go back to the Barbarabelle and regroup. Maybe look at some maps.”
“Do you think Lazlo knows?” I asked. “I mean, since he gave her the mule.”
“He claims he doesn’t,” Boden replied, his voice hard and low.
Lazlo and Remy were old friends, from before Boden and I even met her. He, his wife Nova, and their daughter had moved back to the ruins of Emberwood and were spearheading the movement behind building up New Emberwood. Before Remy left, she had gone to him, and he’d given her a mule.
This had led to tension between Boden and Lazlo after the fact. Lazlo was the only person that Remy had told she was leaving, and he hadn’t tried to stop her.
“Maybe I’ll have a talk with him again when we get back,” Boden said at length.
“Good idea,” I said, suppressing a yawn.
The safety and the comfort of the Lakehouse was too much, and I fell asleep the moment I lay back on the couch. My dreams were filled with gossamer memories of Max, brightly colored but ephemeral if I tried to hang on.
Abruptly, they were interrupted by Boden stating, “Who’s there?”
I sat up, disoriented in a dark living room that felt so familiar and so foreign. Boden was on the floor beside me on high alert, and I could make out the silhouette of someone tall and lanky standing near my feet.
“Sorry, it’s only me, Cole!” the silhouette answered nervously. There was a clatter of something on the end table, and a moment later, a small lantern began to glow, illuminating the living room.
“Do you need something?” Boden asked, and he had only relaxed a little since Cole had announced himself.
For his part, Cole was alone, unarmed, and looked especially sinewy in an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.
“Can I ask you guys a question?” he asked.
“Um, sure, go ahead,” Boden replied uncertainly.
“Are there doctors or medicine or whatever where you come from?” Cole inquired. “I mean, you said there were all kinds of people on the boat and you’ve got friends who are rebuilding New Emberwood. So is there anyone there that helps sick people?”
“Yeah, there’s a few people with different skillsets,” I said. “On the boat, Mika Dumont is a nurse, Joseph Worrell was a farm veterinarian but he treats people now too, and Edie is a midwife.”
“Oh, cool,” Cole said, but he looked more confused and uncertain. “Wh-what is a midwife?”
“Someone who helps women have babies,” I simplified.
“Oh.” A smile quirked nervously on his lips. “I don’t think that I need that one.”
“But you think you need a doctor or medicine?” Boden clarified.
“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded. “I haven’t been feeling right for a while. I’m tired and weak a lot, and I can’t seem to gain weight no matter what I do. I eat as much as I can, as much as we can spare, but as you can see…” He motioned to himself with his bony arms. “…it isn’t sticking to me.
“And, honestly, we’ve been trying everything we can think of,” he went on. “Bianka gave me herbal remedies, and Murphy gave me these antibiotics and old Benadryl she found when she raided an abandoned school.”
“Other than some First Aid, I don’t have any medical training, and neither of us have any meds with us,” Boden explained.
“No, no, I know that,” Cole said, then quickly amended, “I mean, I guess, I assumed. I wanted to know if, uh, if I could go with you. To your boat.”
“Well, we’re planning to leave in the morning,” Boden replied carefully.
“Yeah, I know.” Cole nodded agreeably. “And I know I said I’m tired a lot, but I can walk. I can push through it for a while. I won’t slow you down, and I’m not too much trouble.”
I looked to Boden, waiting for him to respond. Taking on another stranger was always unpredictable, but the people in this house had shown us hospitality. We didn’t have a good reason to say no, especially to a teenager who did seem to be struggling.
“Yeah, of course,” Boden said finally. “As long as you’re ready to go tomorrow, you can head out with us.”
9
Stella
Over breakfast of warm oats with jam, the amount of people tagging along with Boden and I ballooned from one to five.
Cole was actually the last one up that morning, and I was wondering if maybe he’d changed his mind about leaving. Boden and I were sitting around the dining table with the others, and the conversation involved light banter about fishing in Tremblay Lake.
And then Cole came in, carrying an overstuffed duffle bag and backpack, and he announced, “I’m leaving with Stella and Boden. I’m going to the Barbarabelle to see if I can get medical treatment.”
“What? You’re just leaving?” Leandro asked.
“But we have everything here!” Murphy protested.
Bianka slammed her spoon on the table and demanded, “Were you even going to say goodbye?”
“I’m saying goodbye right now,” Cole pointed out as he fidgeted with the straps of his backpack. “And you all know I’ve been sick for a while. We’ve tried everything we can out here, but… I’m not getting any better.”
“How do you know they’ll be able to help you anywhere else?” Murphy asked.
“They have actual medical professionals,” Cole said, then looked to Boden and me. “Right?”
“Well, we’ve got a nurse and a doctor,” Boden answered carefully. “A small infirmary with some medicine and equipment. I won’t guarantee anything, but they might be able to help you.”
“Okay. But why so fast?” Bianka stared intensely up at him, and her lip trembled as if she were holding back tears. “You just found out about this place yesterday, and now you’re leaving?”
“Come on, Bianka. You know I’ve been sick.” Cole lifted up his shirt to reveal protruding ribs, and all along his side were deep purple welts. “I got these bruises from sleeping, and my body aches all the time. What’s the point in waiting? So you can watch me get sicker?”
Bianka lowered her eyes instead of arguing that, and Murphy reached over and squeezed her hand.
Ryder was the one who broke the tense silence with, “I know you all have people to get back to, but if you wait a few hours, I could pack up and go with you.”
“Ryder, what are you talking about?” Murphy asked, looking over at him in dismay. “You were the one who wanted to come to the Lakehouse, and you kept talking it up. We haven’t even been here a year yet.”
“You can stay if you want, but Cole’s right.” Ryder stared down at the table as he spoke. “He needs help. And I think I’ve been here long enough.”
Leandro leaned on the table, looking at his friend emphatically. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“I suggested the Lakehouse because we didn’t have anywhere better to go.” Ryder lifted his head and met Leandro’s gaze. “A floating hotel with medicine sounds a hell of a lot better than another winter here.”
“So you’re all going then?” Bianka asked, sounding increasingly distressed.
“Fuck it, fine,” Murphy said with a sigh and leaned back in xer chair. “If this is what’s best for Cole, and we’re all going, then let’s all go.” And then xe looked to Boden. “If that’s okay with you.”
“I mean, it’s not really up to me, but yeah,” Boden equivocated. “The Barbarabelle is a pretty welcoming place, and we have newcomers join from time to time.”
The population on the boat wasn’t static. Most of us came as refugees from Emberwood, but over the past two years, other survivors had found us and taken home on the boat. Sometimes, people only stayed for a few days before moving on, and sometimes people never left. Of those who did emigrate, most went back to New Emberwood, but others headed out to find somewhere that suited them better.
And then, of course, there were those we lost. A grizzly attack had left one of our best hunters dead last summer. In February, a bad bout of pneumonia had taken three of our residents, including a beloved gardener, Florin Walsh. Last fall, little seven-year-old Clementine Dumont had wandered away from the stables while her mother was tending to livestock and she had been eaten by zombies.
I suppose, like all things in life, the boat was a place of subtraction and addition.
Even though there were far more people hiking back through the woods, it was somehow quieter. Bianka would occasionally point things out, like a round Northern Pygmy-Owl (Glaucidium gnoma) nearly invisible against the tree bark, or to complain about the constant buzz of the annual cicadas (Okanagana occidentalis). Sometimes Cole would grunt or cough, and Leandro or Bianka would ask if he was okay. He would always insist he was, so we kept going.
As the sun began to set, we made camp in the forest. Underneath the canopy of trees, I lay on my back on my bedroll. Because we’d gotten a late start, we’d pushed ourselves walking, trying to cover as much ground as possible. The good part about that was that I was tired enough to fall asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow.
My sleep was wonderfully dreamless, but I was pulled from the darkness by the sound of huffing and heavy footsteps crunching around campsite. Something was here, and it wasn’t human.
10
Stella
The firepit in the center of our campsite was smoldering embers, so there was very little light. The others appeared to be sleeping, unmindful of the ragged breathing mere feet from where they slumbered.
I sat up, and in my mind, as forcefully as I could, I thought, Get away. I emanated the pheromonal scent of repellent musk, but it had no apparent effect. The rummaging in our bags went on undisturbed.
“What’s going on?” Leandro asked groggily, the first one to wake up after me. “Is there something here?”
In response, the something let out a chuffing growl, and I realized that it wasn’t a zombie.
“Shit, there’s a bear!” Boden shouted, instantly alert and on the move.
“He’s going after the food in our bags!” Murphy yelled, and by then everyone was scrambling.
Someone lit a lantern, and I finally got a glimpse of the big black bear digging into our provisions. Boden, Murphy, and Ryder shrieked and clapped their hands and charged at the bear. That was enough to scare the bruin into running off in the dark forest around us.
“Ryder, what the fuck man?” Murphy yelled at him, and xe shoved him hard in the chest. “You were supposed to be keeping watch!”
“I’m sorry!” Ryder shouted plaintively, but his head hung low. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just more tired than I thought.”
“Well, what matters the most was that nobody was hurt,” Boden said, as he grabbed the lantern to survey the carnage of our belongings. “But that doesn’t negate the bad news. A lot of the packs and bags were ripped and torn, and it looks like the bear ate a good chunk of our provisions.”
“Does that mean we should head back to the house?” Bianka asked.
“There’s nothing back at the house for us,” Leandro said. “We took all the meat with us. We’ll have to go on a hunting trip to replenish.”
The rest of the night was filled with fitful attempts at rest, and at first light, we set about our plans to fix the mess of our situation.
Too many people out on a hunt scared the prey away, so Boden, Murphy, Leandro, and Ryder split off into two groups, tracking down rabbits and elk. Cole needed the extra rest, so he stayed back at the camp, and Bianka and I stayed with him, mending the packs and salvaging food and supplies as we could.
“I’ve never been any good on a hunt,” Bianka explained after the others had gone. The two of us were sitting near the firepits, patching up the bags, and Cole was sleeping on his bedroll on the other side.
“I’ve never really been on one,” I admitted. “Boden or other people in our group have always handled it. I used to do foraging, back before we lived on a boat.”
“I’m not even any good at foraging,” Bianka said with a laugh. “There is no way I would’ve survived this long if it hadn’t been for Murphy.”
“How long have the two of you been together?” I asked.
“Oh, gosh.” She tilted her head, thinking. “Three years now? It’s hard to keep track of time these days, though, so maybe I’m off by a year.”
“Yeah, I do know how that goes,” I agreed grimly. “If it wasn’t for my daughter growing so fast, I think I’d have no idea at all.”
“You have a daughter?” Bianka asked, startled and wide-eyed. I hadn’t been hiding her from the others, exactly, but it hadn’t come up yet.
“Rafaella,” I said with a proud smile. “We mostly call her Fae. She’s twenty-one-months old now.”
“Wow.” Then she lowered her voice and leaned in a bit closer, even though we were alone. “Is… is Boden the father?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, no. He’s more like an older brother to me, and Fae calls him uncle.” And then, because I knew she would ask, “Fae’s father died.”
Her expression turned sympathetic, and she put a comforting hand on my arm. “We’ve all lost so much. It ain’t easy surviving anymore. But at least we got each other, right?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I really don’t know what I would’ve done if Murphy hadn’t found me. I think, even in a perfect world, I’d be a mess by myself, and this is certainly not a perfect world,” Bianka added with a laugh.
“Murphy seems like xe could survive most anything,” I commented. “I mean, xe used to be a soldier at Cold Shore, right?”
Bianka nodded. “Technically, xe was called a ‘special officer’ in the Shore Guard or something like that, but yeah, basically. A soldier.”
“Is Cold Shore still around?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, it’s not going anywhere,” she answered with certainty. “It was built to survive the end of the world, and they got enough people and precautions in place to endure damn near anything.”
“Why did Murphy leave then?” I asked.
“Xe was with Cold Shore for a few years, but xe doesn’t like talking about it much,” Bianka confirmed what I’d already noticed.
On more than one occasion, I’d tried pressing Murphy for more info, but xe was so evasive. Bianka was such an open book, she seemed like the better avenue.
“Why not?” I asked.
Bianka pursed her lips and stared off into the trees around us. “Xe said it was bleak and unyielding because it had to be, but sometimes, they took it too far. And it wasn’t a good space for xe to be anymore, so xe left.”
Cole stirred on the other side of firepit. He’d been resting, but now he spoke up softly, “Out here, at least you can breathe. Even when you’re scared, you get to decide which direction you’re running.”
“How are you feeling, Cole?” Bianka asked. “I hope we aren’t disturbing you.”
“No, you’re fine,” he said, but his voice came out dry and brittle.
Bianka set aside the pack she’d been mending, and she went to where Cole was resting. She crouched beside him and gave him his canteen of water and helped him drink it.
“Is that better?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Is there anything you need?” she asked. “You haven’t eaten much today.”
“I can’t stomach what’s left of the dried venison or stale biscuits,” he admitted with a grimace.
“I saw some salmonberries when we were coming down here. It wasn’t too far away, and I could forage you up some,” I offered.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Cole said.
“No, none at all,” I insisted. “And besides, we could all use some fresh fruit after last night.”
Bianka stayed back with Cole, since he still needed his rest, and I went off with my newly fixed pack, meandering back down the trail we’d taken through the forest yesterday.
It wasn’t too long until I discovered the salmonberries. This time of year, they were a little sweet-tart, and there weren’t enough of them to make a full meal, but it was better than nothing.
As I gathered them, munching on berries as I went along, I nearly tripped on an elk calf, nestled in a nest beneath the brush. Based on the speckled markings and the way it lay perfectly still, I guessed it was only a week or two old.
Even at that age, it was fairly large. Long legs with a fat belly full of nutritious milk from the mother, the calf had to be at least fifty pounds, maybe even sixty. That would be enough meat to feed our group for a few days.
My knife was holstered on my hip, and the calf was frozen still, which would make an easy harvest. It was well over a week until we got back to the steamboat, and this was a certainty that fell right into my path.
I knew what I should do, but as I stared into the wide frightened eyes of the calf, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Even in this world, some things still felt sacred. Some lines should only be crossed when there was no other choice, and some shouldn’t be crossed even then.
11
Stella
The hunting troop came back with rabbits and squirrels, and while not as substantial as elk, it would be enough protein to feed us for a few days. That meant we’d have to stop again to hunt along the way, but Cole needed frequent breaks for rest anyway.
Consequently, the return trip home took much longer than the journey to the Lakehouse. By the time we reached the halfway point, I’d been away from Fae for nearly a month, and we still had another week to go.
The one upside of the length was that it gave Boden and I more time to get to know the others. Not that they gave up much information. Murphy and Ryder were especially stoic and rarely engaged in small talk, and Cole was often too fatigued or sickly to say much. Bianka and Leandro were more open, but they still mostly talked to their own group.
To be fair, Boden and I weren’t that great of conversationists, either. I suspected that surviving the zombie apocalypse had that effect on people.
That didn’t mean I didn’t try, though. Especially with Ryder. It was hard to explain exactly how I felt about him, but at the very least I couldn’t deny an infatuation. I was curious about his life, the one I’d gotten glimpses of at the Lakehouse, and he had a brooding intensity to him that made my stomach flutter in ways I wanted to ignore. I often caught myself staring at him and sometimes even daydreaming about him, if I let my mind wander too much.
Boden was leading the way, following a trail through the forest, since he knew it the best, but Ryder was always right behind him. Murphy and Bianka tended to hang back with Cole, helping him and making sure he didn’t get left behind. Leandro stuck close to Ryder, and I usually stayed by Boden.
One afternoon, I let myself fall in step beside Ryder. “Did you hike a lot B.Z.?” I asked him.
He glanced over at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I meant before the zombies,” I clarified. “Did you hike around the woods at the Lakehouse? Or in Vancouver? Your family seemed so outdoorsy.”
“My family seemed like a lot of things,” he grumbled.
“I’ve only really been able to guess at what I thought they were like,” I said. “You all looked so happy and nice.”
“That’s because they were pictures, and my mom made sure that we always appeared happy and perfect,” he replied darkly. “But that was not real life.”
“Oh?” I asked, slightly taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. “What were they really like?”
He was silent for long enough I thought that he wasn’t going to answer, but then he took a fortifying breath and said, “My dad was never around. He worked all the time, and my mom was obsessed with keeping everything neat and wonderful. And if me or my sister weren’t picture perfect at all times, there would be hell to pay. The fact that a zombie got my mom so early was actually a blessing, because there was no way she could’ve handled the mess of everything now.”
Ryder’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw. All the time I had been imagining their lives from the glimpses I found, and I had gotten it so wrong. My time at the Lakehouse with my family hadn’t been without issues, but we were mostly happy. It was unnerving to think that Ryder’s life before the zombies was somehow less joyful than my life afterwards.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, because it seemed like the right thing to say.
“I’m not,” he replied, and then he picked up his pace, leaving me behind as he caught up to Boden.
“Don’t mind him,” Leandro said, speaking low enough that Ryder wouldn’t be able to hear us. “He doesn’t like talking about his family.” Leandro was a step behind me, so I slowed to fall in next to him.
“I shouldn’t have been prying about them,” I said.
“No, you were fine,” Leandro insisted. “And I don’t blame you for being curious. You grew up in a house full of pictures of Ryder and his family. It must be so surreal actually talking to him now.”
“It kinda is,” I admitted.
We walked amiably together, following a trail through the trees. A log had fallen across the path, and Boden and Ryder effortlessly climbed over it. They were both a lot taller than me, making it easier for them to maneuver with their longer legs, so I decided to go around it.
Leandro followed me, and he asked, “What about you? What was your family like before the zombies?”
“I don’t really –” I began to answer, when the ground gave out underneath me.
I had stepped on what looked like a pile of leaves, but I was suddenly falling down into a hole. Leandro was right next to me, so I reached for him and he grabbed onto me, and we were both tumbling down. I screamed as we fell, but it was all over in a matter of seconds.
I landed hard on my back, with something jabbing up into my rucksack. Fortunately, my overloaded bag absorbed most of it, but it still hurt, especially when Leandro landed on me.
“Stella!” Boden yelled, and Ryder was shouting for Leandro.
Their faces appeared at the top of the hole above us. Boden and Ryder first, Murphy and Bianka a moment later.
“Are you okay?” Leandro asked me as he carefully climbed off me.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said, but I grimaced when I sat up from the back pain. My skin wasn’t broken, but I’d definitely have a big bruise later on.
“I’ve got to tie my rope to a tree, and then I’ll get you both out of there,” Boden promised. His face disappeared from the top of the hole, but Ryder, Murphy, and Bianka remained.
This clearly wasn’t a naturally occurring hole. It was three meters deep with a width a little over half-that. At the bottom, about two feet long, were sticks sharpened to a point and embedded in the dirt like spikes.
The only reason that I wasn’t injured on them – other than my backpack – was that the previous occupants had destroyed many of them. Leandro and I weren’t alone in the hole, but we were the only ones still alive.
Three zombie corpses lay motionless on the dirt floor. One had been impaled on a spike, but the other two had been mobile long enough to destroy the spikes and tear at the walls with their hands and teeth. All of them had been finished off by a bullet hole in the skull.
“What the hell did we fall in?” Leandro asked as we took in our situation.
“Looks like a spike pit trap,” Murphy said. “People use them for hunting or trapping zombies.”
There were remnants of a few small animals – rabbits and squirrels that had fallen in without any way out – but there were no signs of larger prey. Either more valuable animals like elk had been harvested by someone, or they were large enough to get out on their own.
“Someone has definitely been checking this trap,” Leandro said. “The zombies have bullets to the head, and the hole was strategically covered with leaves and sticks, so we couldn’t see it at all.”
“Well, we’ll get you out of there before anyone comes back,” Ryder assured us.
A chill ran over me, and it wasn’t so much from the cold, damp earth that surrounded us but the memory that surfaced. I’d read The Book of Mercy, and I’d spoken to Harlow about the Loths, and I’d learned about people who trap humans to enslave them or infect them.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Leandro asked, looking at me with concern.
I nodded and sharpened my resolve. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Boden secured the rope, so it’ll be a minute longer,” Ryder yelled down.
Sunlight glinted through the tree branches above him, and only a few slivers made it down into the hole. They landed on the zombie nearest to me, and it was little more than a pile of bones and rags. Greenish flesh clung to it in a few rotting patches here and there, but most of it returned to the dirt. Even with a spike protruding through the shattered ribcage, nature was reclaiming it.
Then Boden’s head reappeared with a rope slithering down the wall. “Tie this around you one at a time,” he directed us. “We will pull you up.”
“Stella should go up first,” Leandro said, and I didn’t argue with him. I glanced back at the bony zombie remains before securing the rope around my waist, and then I got out of that hole as quickly as I could.
12
Stella
“We haven’t seen very many zombies,” Bianka remarked to no one in particular as we walked along one day. The broken asphalt road was wide enough that we travelled in a lax clump, loosely sandwiched between the forest to the west and the Staulo River to the east.
“At least not any living ones,” Leandro corrected her with a laugh.
It had been a week since he and I had fallen in the pit with the zombie corpses. Since then, we had stumbled across a few more lifeless bodies along the way, including one that had been decapitated just outside Priest’s Mill, but there had been zero confrontations with moving, biting zombies.
“This time of year, they’re usually searching for something to eat like a grizzly bear waking up after hibernation,” Murphy agreed.
“We’ve been lucky, I guess,” I said, deflecting the truth.
The entire time we’d been travelling together, I’d been doing my best to use my pheromonal communications to keep the zombies away from us. But Murphy and the others didn’t know that. Outside of my family, no one else knew about my connection to the zombies. It seemed safer, especially because I couldn’t fully explain it myself.
Since Leandro and I had escaped the spike pit, the journey had been relatively uneventful. The hunting hadn’t exactly been plentiful, but we’d managed to catch a couple good-sized chinook salmon once we reached the river, so that helped.
Cole’s condition continued to worsen, with his gums bleeding throughout the day, and he’d lost even more weight. Somehow, he was able to keep going, with the aid of a walking stick and Bianka’s help.
Then, finally, on the afternoon as we walked along the dilapidated road, Boden announced, “We should reach the S.S. Barbarabelle by nightfall.”
I almost cried out in delight, and I had to fight the urge to run the rest of the way. The area around us looked vaguely familiar to me, so I’d known we were close, but I relied on Boden’s more extensive knowledge.
“So, what should we expect when we reach this boat anyway?” Bianka asked. “I know Stella’s already told us so much about it but I – ”
Murphy snorted in derision. “You mean Stella’s nightly bedtime stories about the magical steamboat utopia didn’t satiate enough of your curiosity?”
Everyone laughed at that, even Cole, whose laughter sounded more like a wet cough these days. My cheeks burned in embarrassment, and I readjusted the straps of my pack as I stared down at the ground.
Most nights, after we set up camp, I had been telling them about life on the Barbarabelle. My main motivation had truthfully been because I was homesick, but I had also thought they’d want to know about it. And it wasn’t like there was much to do besides watch the stars and the embers in the fire pit once the sun went down.
“Oh, come on!” Leandro chastised them with a smile. “Like you all didn’t want to know as much as you could about where we’re going?”
“I do,” Murphy admitted as her laughter subsided. “I just don’t know that I completely believe the fairytale that Stella is spinning with satin blankets and warm water showers and big dinners in the dining hall.”
“To be fair, the showers are more tepid than warm,” Boden conceded. “But everything else Stella’s said has been the truth. Our chef Oakley Cruz does make the tastiest meals around, and our medic Joseph Worrall works hard keeping everyone alive. And I liked Stella’s the nightly stories.” He smiled back over his shoulder at me.
“Anyway, what I really meant is what happens when we get to the boat?” Bianka asked. “Is there a quarantine or an inspection? Do others have to vote if we can stay or not?”
“When you get on the boat, you’ll be given a room and time to acclimate,” I explained. “After a few weeks, you can decide if you want to stay, and the boat will decide if they want to have you. But most people who want to stay are allowed to, assuming they aren’t rude or violent.”
“And that’s it?” Murphy asked, sounding surprised.
“And that’s it,” I replied.
“What more were you expecting?” Boden asked.
Murphy shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just usually not that easy.”
We walked on in silence for a while. It wasn’t until I rounded the curve that the unmistakable scent of ash and blood hit me, and I faltered. I couldn’t see the boat through the trees on the shoreline, but I got a glimpse of the burnt remains of one of the Barbarabelle’s mainland gardens.
I didn’t think, I bolted forward. Boden called for me only once, but then he gave chase after me. Splatters of dried blood lined the worn trail, both rust colored from the uninfected and mossy green of the infected.
Panicked and out of breath, I finally reached the clearing on the shoreline. A shed for storage should have been there, along with wooden racks, which held the shuttle boats used to ferry us between the land and the anchored Barbarabelle. But instead, all I found was blackened earth and the burnt shells of boats stacked on top of each other. Charred shapes were scattered among the driftwood, and flies buzzed about in the stench of death.
My only relief was that the Barbarabelle was still there, floating placidly in the middle of the river.
“What is going on?” Murphy shouted behind me, but I barely heard xer.
With all the shuttles burned, there was only one way to get out to the steamboat and make sure my daughter was okay. I shrugged off my backpack, kicked off my shoes, and strode into the river.
The water was a shockingly cold juxtaposition against the warm summer sun, and it threatened to take my breath away if I let it. Instead, I concentrated on making my freezing limbs work as I frantically swam out.
Behind me, someone crashed into the river. Probably Boden, maybe the others. I reached the side of the steamboat and hauled myself up, cold and dripping, every muscle trembling.
There, on the deck, were more disturbing signs. Scattered and broken chairs, bloodstains smeared across boards, a single boot left by the rail.
“Fae!” I yelled. “Rafaella! Edie!”
I ran inside the boat, rushing through the opulent entrance and dripping wet all over the rugs. I kept calling for my daughter and Edie, and by then my heart was pounding so hard, I could hardly even hear myself think.
“Stella?” Harlow responded, and as I was racing toward the grand staircase she appeared at the top. “You’re finally back.”
“Where are Fae and Edie?” I asked as I jogged up the steps to meet her.
“They’re both fine,” Harlow assured me. “They’re in Fae’s nursery.”
“Thank you,” I said as I rushed past her. Then, almost as an afterthought, I asked, “What in the hell happened here?”
“It was a mess,” Harlow replied, but I didn’t wait any longer for her answer.
I ran down the hall straight to Fae’s room, and there she was sitting on the floor playing with toy blocks. She was bigger – my god, how she’d grown in the weeks I’d been gone, her downy auburn hair was even longer – and a lump formed in my throat at the time I’d missed with her. But mostly what I felt was relief.
Fae’s eyes lit up and she squealed when she saw me. I knelt down in front of her and scooped her into my arms. She squirmed at the cold, dampness of my clothes, but she let me hold her tightly to me, and I cried softly into her hair.
13
Stella
“So what the hell happened here?” Boden asked once the community of the S. S. Barbarabelle had convened in the grand dining hall.
Those of us who had just arrived – myself, Boden, Cole, Murphy, Bianka, Leandro, and Ryder – were sent down to the infirmary, where our resident medic Joseph Worrall began a new protocol. He checked our temps and inspected us for any bite wounds.
We’d all cleared, except for Cole, but he’d been sick for so long, it ruled out the lyssavirus. He stayed down in the infirmary with Joseph, while the rest of us were allowed to clean up before heading down for a boat-wide meeting. Including the seven of us recent returnees and newcomers, that was around fifty or so people in a room that could seat closer to a hundred, but I did notice a few faces were missing.
At one point, the dining hall had likely been the crown jewel of the luxury steamboat. Gleaming crystal chandeliers hung from molded ceilings, while gilded mirrors adorned the lavish rococo paneling. Of course now, the lights didn’t work, half the mahogany chairs had been broken, and there were blood stains and cracks on the mirrors. Not to mention that most everywhere on the boat smelled vaguely of must or soot.
Although the dining room did typically smell better than most places because it was right off the kitchen, where Oakley Cruz and his small team of chefs worked. Every day, they would cook lunch and dinner for all of the people who lived here. It involved a lot of fish and seasonal vegetables, but it was always delicious.
Oakley, his wife Sienna, and their daughter had lived in Emberwood before it fell, but after his brother Wilder was killed during the attack, they decided that the boat would be safer
While I had been gone, I had thought about Oakley’s porridges almost as often as I thought about Fae. Tonight, though, despite my appetite and cravings, his usual fare felt underwhelming. Typically, his fish porridge was made with fatty trout, ginger, and garlic, mixed with spring onions, zucchini, and sorrel mushrooms. Then he would top it off with fresh cilantro or parsley. But this time, it had thin cuts of fish with a simple broth and the only vegetable was canned corn.
I didn’t complain, but Murphy did give me a dubious glance after xe took xer first bite since I had spent so long hyping up his cuisine. I just gratefully ate my meal while Fae clung to me.
“What do you think happened?” Harlow answered Boden’s question rhetorically. “Zombies, same as always.”
She sat across from us, between her girlfriend Kimber and our friend Edie. One of her elbows was on the table, she languidly stirred her spoon in her porridge without taking a bite.
“It was my fault,” a woman interjected. “It was an accident, but it was still my fault.”
She was sitting a few places down from us, and I hadn’t seen her around before. She looked to be in her early-twenties, with jet black hair in corkscrew curls, and her skin was light brown. Her cheeks were round, almost cherubic, but she was slender and petite.
“Who are you, and how did you cause this?” Murphy asked. Xe was sitting on the other side of Boden, but xe leaned forward onto the long table so xe could get a better look at her.
“I’m Alphonsine Babineaux, but people usually call me Alphie.” She lifted her head up, awkwardly trying to meet our gazes. After a deep breath, she began again with the honesty of someone who had run out of places to hide. “Me and my friends left a bad situation a couple weeks ago, and we were looking for another community. But when we got here… Clifton was already infected.
“I didn’t know it then,” Alphie amended quickly, her dark eyes insistent and apologetic. “He hid it from everyone. It must’ve happened the day before we found the boat. We ran into some zombies, but I swear I didn’t see anything.”
“Alphie, we know,” Sienna said gently. As one of the longest residents of the Barbarabelle, she’d become sort of a one-woman welcoming committee for any newcomers.
“And it’s not like Clifton was the only one hiding things,” Harlow added, her tone weary and bitter. “That’s how this whole thing became such a clusterfuck. After Clifton went full zombie, he killed two people outright, and then he managed to bite another two in the process. But of course Castor hid his own bite, so a few days later, we had to go through it all again.”
Castor had been with us when we first discovered the boat, along with a few others and his twin sister, Polly. Things between us got somewhat strained after everything that happened in Emberwood, but he’d always been polite and helped out around the boat when needed.
“How many did we lose?” Boden asked.
“Five, including our nurse Mika Dumont,” Sienna said. “And when we burned the bodies, the fire got out of hand, and we lost one of our vegetable gardens and our shuttle boats.”
I held Fae a bit tighter to me and tried not to let myself think about what would happen if I lost her. The Barbarabelle was supposed to be a haven, some place where she could be protected, but nowhere was truly safe anymore. Somehow I’d let myself forget that for a while.
“We have new precautions for getting on the boat, as you all witnessed,” Edie said, as if reading my thoughts. “It can be safe here, as long as we’re cautious and prudent and honest.”
“That’s easier said than done, isn’t it?” Harlow asked dryly, and Edie shot her a look.
“Alphie, you said you had to get away from a bad situation,” Bianka remembered and turned her attention to her. “What was that?”
“We were part of this group called the Reverence of the Revenant – ” Alphie started to answer, but Murphy cut her off.
“Wait, you were one of the fucking Revvers?” Murphy asked, sounding simultaneously incredulous and disgusted.
“Look, I left them,” Alphie snapped. “I realized they were messed up, okay?”
“What are the Revvers?” I asked, confused.
“You heard about the Dignity in Death folks, right?” Murphy asked. “They were basically zombie rights activists who thought that instead of fighting them, we should be keeping them as pets or some shit like that. And the Revvers take it a whole other level.”
“They think zombies are superior to humans, that they’re the next stage of our evolution, and that humans should serve them,” Harlow continued for xer. “They think it’s an honor to be infected.”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Alphie argued, and her cheeks reddened with shame or anger, I couldn’t tell which. “When someone gets sick, they don’t stop being human. That’s all I ever truly believed. But that doesn’t mean I agree with everything they did.”
“Why did you leave?” Bianka asked, sounding much less accusatory than her partner.
“It’s hard to explain, exactly.” Alphie stared down at the table and seemed to struggle choosing her words. “A lot of little things, and some big things. I wanted to help people, but everything we – er, the Revvers – did only caused suffering. And one day, I realized all we really have is what we do ourselves, here and now, and I didn’t know how much longer I could survive with what the Revvers were doing.”
“And we’re so glad you found us,” Sienna told her warmly. “Life hasn’t been easy for anyone these past eleven years, but here we can be part of a community that actually helps each other.”
The conversation at the table gradually lost its intensity, and people went back to finishing their meals or talking amongst themselves.
“Well, how was your journey?” Edie asked me and Boden. “I know you’ve found some new friends” – she smiled and motioned to Murphy, Bianka, Ryder, and Leandro – “but did you find any sign of Remy?”
Boden’s mouth pressed into a grim line and he shook his head once. “No.”
“Did you say Remy?” Alphie asked. “Are you looking for someone named Remy King?”
“Yeah.” Boden instantly perked up. “Do you know where she is?”
“I don’t know where she is at this moment, but she ended up with the Revvers back in December,” Alphie said. “She wasn’t around that long, and she carried The Book of Mercy with her.”
“Where was this?” Boden asked.
“Fort Lately,” Alphie explained. “It’s a town to the north where the Revvers made their base. She didn’t seem to like it there much, not that I really blamed her, so she didn’t stay for long.”
“Did she say where she was going?” Boden asked, and all of his attention was completely fixed on Alphie. He was like a bloodhound locked on a scent.
“She mentioned Glacier Valley,” Alphie said.
Boden shook his head, unfamiliar with the name. “Where is that?”
“It’s in the far northwestern corner of British Columbia, almost to the Pacific Ocean,” Murphy replied.
“Doesn’t Cold Shore have an outpost in Glacier Valley?” Bianka asked xer.
Xe nodded. “It surely does. What does Remy want with Cold Shore?”
Boden hesitated, jaw working, and staring down at the table as if it held the answers. Both of us knew of one reason that Remy might hold interest to some place like Cold Shore, but neither of us could imagine what possible interest they could hold for her. After what she’d been through at the last government quarantine zone, she never wanted anything to do with organizations like that or even anything medical.
“All I know,” Alphie continued since neither Boden nor I answered, “is that she was in a hurry. I’ve never seen anybody look so determined and so lost at the same time.”
A heavy pause settled over us. The tabletop candelabra flickered, drawing shadows along Boden’s cheekbones.
Finally, he got to his feet. “It’s been a long few weeks, so I want to get some rest. Tomorrow, I need to go have a talk with Lazlo.”
14
Lazlo
Our second home in New Emberwood was larger than the first had been, or the old house on Nova’s homestead. All of the houses around it were destroyed in the attack, and we’d turned the surrounding empty lots of burnt soil into gardens for our family and those who make this town home.
This was our second summer, and all the plants were coming in much better this year. Tending to the garden has become nearly a full-time job. Well, that and caring for our animals, livestock, and of course, our daughter, Sage, who turned six this past February.
My wife Nova was busy rebuilding the town. Hundreds of people lived here, with many of them returning and others moving for the first time. We hadn’t set up an election yet, since everyone was still re-settling, but Nova has become the de facto mayor. Most days, she leaves early in the morning, and I won’t see her again until it’s almost dark.
I spent the morning weeding between the neat rows of carrots and chard while Sage chased chickens and darted between the berry bushes, her laughter adding to the soft haze of summer. The bees were humming, the chickens were clucking, the town faintly bustled.
Despite the revival all around us, a tension lingered beneath the surface. It was one I felt most in the quiet moments, hands deep in the earth, listening for the distant sounds of death groans.
Today, though, it wasn’t death groans but the sound of hoofbeats I heard rapidly approaching. I lifted my head, and over the leafy greens of the garden, I saw a familiar horse. He was a gelded quarter that briefly belonged to Nova before she traded him to someone on the Barbarabelle. The rider, however, had already dismounted by the time I saw the horse.
“Hello?” I straightened up slowly, with my bad knee letting out an anguished complaint.
“Hi, Lazlo,” Stella replied cheerily as she came out from around the horse. She wore her young daughter on her back in a sling, the fabric knotted tight across her chest and shoulders. Fae’s legs wrapped around her ribs with her head peaking curiously over her mother’s shoulder.
Beside Stella, Boden was busy tying down the horse. The last time I had seen Boden things had very nearly come to blows. Well, more accurately, he had wanted to punch me, and he very likely would’ve, had Harlow and Stella not been present. Ever since that very heated conversation, the two of us had been avoiding each other.
Not that I completely misunderstood his anger. That had been back in December, right after Remy had left, and Boden blamed me because I’d given her a mule. Really, though, he was raging at me because I was here, and Remy wasn’t.
“How are you all doing?” I asked as I limped over to greet them. “Is everything okay on the riverboat?”
“We’re all doing well,” Stella said. “The boat’s okay.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said, then looked over to Boden, who’d finished tying up the horse. “To what do I owe the pleasure for your visit? Or were you enjoying the lovely summer afternoon?”
Boden’s reply was direct and gruff: “We’re here to talk about Remy.”
I nodded. “Why don’t we go inside, and the kids can play together?”
I called Sage, and she followed us into the house. In the kitchen, I invited Boden and Stella to have a seat while I poured a few glasses of iced tea.
“Sage has gotten so big,” Stella commented as my daughter took Fae by the hand, leading the toddler into the other room to play. We could see them from where we sat, but the kids were far enough away where they shouldn’t be bothered by the conversation.
“She really has,” I agreed with a warm smile. “And she’s gotten so helpful. She tends to the chickens all on her own, with only minor supervision. And I can’t believe how much Fae has grown! She’s really starting to look like you.”
“You think so?” Stella smiled, both heartened and wistful all at once. “When I look at her I only see Max.”
“I don’t mean to cut the pleasantries short, but we rode a long way to get here, so why don’t we get on with it,” Boden suggested in his curt way.
“Let’s get on with it then.”
“We have someone new staying on the Barbarabelle. Her name is Alphie,” Boden said.
I shook my head. “We have a lot of knew people coming into town, but I don’t think I’ve heard of her.”
“She was staying with the Revvers up in Fort Lately,” Boden elaborated. “She claims that she saw Remy in December, but she didn’t stay with them long.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised and irritated. “I told Remy to stay away from Fort Lately. I’d heard the Revvers were a nuisance around there.”
Boden gave a humorless smirk. “I guess it’s nice to know that she doesn’t listen to you, either.”
“Did they say where she was headed?” I asked, ignoring his attempts to get under my skin.
“Glacier Valley. She’s apparently interested in Cold Shore.” He answered with his eyes locked on me, and they narrowed slightly. “You don’t look surprised by that.”
“I’m not,” I admitted, because there was no point in playing games.
“You son of a bitch.” Boden’s voice came out in an angry growl, and his hand balled into a fist on the table. “She told you where she was going, didn’t she?”
“Boden. The kids,” Stella chastised him in a harsh whisper.
Boden lowered his voice, but the anger and venom remained as he glared across the table at me. “You stood in this room and you fu-… you lied to my face. I asked where she was, and you said you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t know for sure,” I corrected him carefully. “She asked some questions about Cold Shore, but her main thing was that she needed to get away and be on her own for a while.”
“But you had an idea, and you didn’t tell me,” Boden persisted.
“Because I knew you would go after her, and she didn’t want that,” I reasoned.
“She was my wife, dammit,” Boden said in a low snarl. He leaned forward and pointed to the south. “We went back to the Lakehouse. Stella left Fae behind for over a month, because we were looking for Remy. And you knew we were looking in the wrong direction, and you didn’t say shit.”
I glanced over at Stella’s daughter playing with Sage in the other room, and guilt tightened around my chest. When I looked back at Boden, all I could say was, “You didn’t ask me before you went.”
“Because I don’t talk to you, but Harlow does,” Boden argued. “You knew we were going, and you didn’t have Harlow tell us? While we were gone, there was an attack on the boat. Did you know that? Fae could’ve been killed while Stella and I were gone, because you didn’t bother to tell us the truth!”
He was nearly shouting by the end, but this time Stella didn’t admonish him. She ] sat beside him, staring down at her glass of iced tea looking sad and a little sick.
“I’m sorry about that,” I told them both as emphatically as I could. “I heard about the outbreak on the boat from a pigeon telegram. I obviously never meant for anything like that to happen. I just – ”
“You just thought we’d waste a month of our lives chasing our shadows?” Boden cut me off. “That was the best-case scenario.”
I exhaled roughly and shook my head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. It probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but I am truly sorry. I… I wasn’t trying to hurt you or your family at all. I was only trying to protect Remy and do what I thought she’d want me to do.”
“It’s not your job to protect Remy,” Boden snapped.
“It’s everybody’s job to protect everybody else. That’s the only way we’re ever going to survive,” Stella said matter-of-factly, and then she turned her pale gray eyes onto me. “And for what it’s worth, I believe you, Lazlo, and I accept your apology. But please, don’t ever tell me another lie that separates me from my daughter.”
“Understood, and I appreciate that.”
“So you ready to be straight with us then? About everything?” Boden pressed.
“Yes,” I said, and I meant it.
“What does Remy want with Cold Shore?” he asked.
“She…” I took a deep breath. I’d kept her secret for so long, and it felt strange to be spilling it now, even to the people who loved her the most in the world. “She wants to find a cure.”
Boden frowned. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“Too many people have died, and she knows that the answer might be in her veins. So…” I shrugged helplessly, because we both knew what that meant for Remy. “She wanted to try.”
“No.” Boden leaned back in his chair and shook his head adamantly. “There’s no way. She’d never let anyone experiment on her ever again.”
“This is the Cold Shore Global Contingency, so it’s not affiliated with any one government, and she’s going in with her eyes wide open,” I said, relaying what she’d told me all those months ago when she first came to me hoping to escape.
Boden was still incredulous, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he thought I was still lying, or that he couldn’t believe that Remy would do this.
“The last time they tried to use her to find a cure, they cut her up and took every part of her that they could,” Boden insisted. “They almost killed her. You know that, right?”
“I do,” I admitted thickly. “But… if she can save the world… how can I tell her not to?”
“She can’t. No one can,” Boden said. “All you did was hand a loaded gun to a suicidal person.”
“No, that’s not fair.” I shook my head. “I gave a map to someone who was hellbent on escaping.”
“If you gave her a map, can you give us the same one?” Stella asked.
I went over to an apothecary chest on the far wall of the kitchen. In the top left drawer, I found the same letter I had shown Remy before she left. It explained what I knew about Cold Shore, and on the back of it, I’d written out a map that Remy had copied for herself.
“I first heard about Cold Shore from Nova’s sister, Sage,” I explained as I set the letter on the table between Stella and Boden. “Our daughter was named after her. The elder Sage was a doctor in Vancouver when Cold Shore tried recruiting her. She declined them, but she explains why in this letter. This copy she didn’t send, because the ink is smudged.”
Stella reached into her pack and hurriedly pulled out a journal, so she could begin copying the map.
“You should’ve given this to me when I came here months ago.” Boden glared up at me.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I’m giving it to you now. That’s the best I can do.”
15
Sage
To: Michael Haugen, Director-General
Cold Shore Global Contingency
c/o Glacier Valley Outpost
Western Reach, Former British Columbia
Thank you so much for reaching out and even considering me for involvement in the Cold Shore project.
I clearly recall when your proposal for a global contingency was announced, so presciently it seems since it was less than a decade before the lyssavirus mutation changed the world forever. While others had decried it as a “doomsday fantasy,” I have always seen Cold Shore as a sign of optimism. The idea that humanity can come together and rebuild, no matter what we endure is nothing if not hopeful.
I believe your intentions are noble. If you succeed in recruiting the best of us who’ve survived, I’m confident you’ll make real progress toward rebuilding civilization, and maybe even finding a cure.
But I fear that is where our positions differ. Finding a cure is undoubtedly important, but I am less interested in rebuilding the world as it was and more interested in understanding what the world has become. The virus has changed people and altered humanity on a scale that we have never encountered, and I fear that if we attempt to destroy it without truly understanding it, that we will be doomed to repeat it again.
In my experience at the Cascadia General Hospital, working in the emergency room for three months after the first “zombie” was reported, I saw how authority responds to a threat like this. The priorities are containment and eradication, even if those infected still looked and cried like humans.
It is my understanding that for a variety of reasons, most of them practical, logical, and likely even correct, the Cold Shore Global Contingency follows these same protocols. The infected and the virus itself only have value if contained, and they must be eradicated if they are unrestrained.
That’s not to say that I disagree with that in all cases. I have killed infected people in self-defense, and I fear that I will again if I mean to survive for any length of time. But I don’t believe that execution should be our first or only choice in dealing with them.
Yes, the virus changes humans in ways far beyond our current understanding. Yes, the virus is dangerous and highly contagious. No, a human does not stop being a human because they are infected, even if the virus is dangerous and contagious and beyond our understanding.
While I admire and appreciate your goals of finding a cure for the lyssavirus and rebuilding civilization, I believe that my time is better spent pursuing an understanding of those that have been left behind. The infected that still roam the earth. It may seem preposterous to some, but they are in dire need of medical care and understanding.
Thank you again for considering me, and I wish you nothing but the best of luck in your endeavors. Please do reach out to me again if you think I can be of help, but I plan to remain on my homestead and continue my work here.
Respectfully,
Dr. Sage Boone, MD, CCFP
16
Stella
The visit to New Emberwood had been a lively one for Fae. In addition to playing with Sage, Lazlo had taken her out to the fields to see Minnie, the dairy goat that stayed with us to feed Fae when she was a baby. On top of that, we had the long ride on the back of a quarter horse either way.
When we finally returned to the Barbarabelle, Fae was exhausted, and I put her down to sleep in her nursery.
“How was the trip?” Edie asked, poking her head in the room just as I finished tucking Fae into her little crib.
“The grizzlies and the zombies avoided us, so it wasn’t that bad, all things considered,” I whispered and gave her a tired smile.
I motioned for Edie to step out, so we could talk without disturbing the baby. The lanterns hanging on the walls doused everything in a warm amber glow. Down the hall, Harlow gave us a wave as she walked toward us.
“I heard you all made it back,” Harlow said as she reached me, and she toyed absently with her layered necklaces. “Did you get a chance to talk to Lazlo?”
“Yeah, we did. But let’s get Boden. He understands more about what’s happening than I do,” I said.
“What’s there to understand?” Harlow asked. “Do you know where Remy is or not?”
“Maybe,” I said, then walked a few doors down the hall to Boden’s room.
When I knocked, he shouted a muffled, “Just a minute!”
“What does ‘maybe’ mean?” Harlow asked.
Boden opened the door, his hair damp from the shower, and he was still pulling on his threadbare army t-shirt.
“Oh, wow, I didn’t expect a whole party,” Boden commented, his eyes bouncing to Edie and Harlow on either side of me.
“You know that you’re not the only ones who care about Remy,” Harlow reminded him.
He nodded once, looking momentarily chastened, and he stepped back into the room so we could get by. “Come on in, then. We don’t have much to talk about, but we do have a few things.”
Boden’s room was a mirror of my own, although his did have a different set of wear-and-tear since he’d shared with Remy and a lioness for over a year. Scratch marks on the walls, bite marks on the bed frame, and one of the brocade curtains was shredded in half. The carpet hadn’t been great to begin with, and now it was torn up in a few places.
The bed was neatly made, but the plethora of gear and dirty laundry from his backpack had been dumped out on top of it. In the corner, next to a sitting chair, a pile of Remy’s clothing was folded and collecting dust.
“I wasn’t expecting to entertain any visitors today, but I have some tepid water and a room-temp bottle of wine.” Boden moved ahead of us, and he opened the sliding door, airing the room out.
“That’s fine,” Harlow waved off his attempts at hospitality. Edie and I sat on the edge of the bed, while Harlow stood with her arms folded across her chest. “Will you just tell us what you found out?”
“It seems like Remy is heading to Glacier Valley,” Boden explained. “She wants to donate… herself to finding the cure with Cold Shore.”
“Donate herself?” Harlow wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “What are you talking about? There is no way that Remy would let anyone experiment on her after what was done to her and Max in that last quarantine zone.”
“Well, obviously, she’s not in her right mind,” Boden said. “Which is why I’m going after her.”
“We’re going after her,” I corrected him, and he shot me a weary look.
“Stella, we’ve already gone over this – ”
“I know, and I told you that we’re not splitting up anymore,” I reminded him firmly. “The outbreak on the boat proves that nowhere is safe, so all that matters is that we’re with each other. Wherever you go, I go, and wherever I go, Fae goes.”
“Just because nowhere is completely safe doesn’t mean that some aren’t safer than others,” Boden argued.
“I keep you safe, too,” I persisted. “The zombies don’t bother you when I’m around.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek and looked away from me. “Zombies aren’t the only dangers out there.”
“Are you sure this isn’t all a moot point? Do you think Remy even wants to be found?” Harlow asked. “Or that it’s not too late?”
“That’s a shit thing to say.” Boden glared over at her. “And I already told you that Remy clearly isn’t thinking straight, so it doesn’t matter what she wants.”
“So are you going to drag her away kicking and screaming?” Harlow asked.
“If I find her, and they’re dissecting her like a preserved frog, then yeah, I will,” he said. “But … I need to find her and make sure she’s okay, and that this truly is what she wants.”
“How will you know if it’s ‘truly’ what she wants?” Harlow asked.
“I don’t know. I just will,” he said finally. “Why are you so against me going after her? Haven’t you known her the longest?”
Harlow bristled a little. “I’m not against you going after her. But I just know what she’s like. She leaves people. It’s what she does. And the only reason she didn’t leave you all for so long was because Max was there, but now he’s not. He’s the only one she never left.”
“Jesus, Harlow, why don’t you tell us how you really feel?” Boden asked bitterly.
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” she insisted. “I’m only trying to get you to understand why I think it’s pointless to go after her. Remy is going to do what she wants.”
“And so are we,” I shot back. “We can talk about what Remy would do all day, but it doesn’t change what’s happening right now. She’s out there, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t matter to me.”
Edie, who had been quietly watching the exchange so far, finally spoke up. “If Stella and Fae are going to find Remy, then I want to go, too. This boat doesn’t feel safer to me than anywhere else, and I want to be with the people I care about.”
“Thank you, Edie.” I reached over and squeezed her hand as I smiled at her. Not only had she become someone that both Fae and I relied on, but she had medical training and she was an avid hunter. With her, we’d all be safer.
“Fine,” Boden said, sounding resigned. “Whoever wants to go can go, whoever wants to stay can stay. I won’t be the one to decide what’s safe or what path is right for anyone.”
Harlow hesitated, arms crossed, her gaze flickering from each of us before she finally exhaled. “Well. I wish you luck, I really do. But I’m heading back to New Emberwood. That’s where Kimber and I are making our home.”
He nodded. “We should rest up and gather supplies over the next day or two. If we travel quickly, we should make it to Glacier Valley by August.”
17
Stella
The Barbarabelle didn’t have a true leader or mayor. Anyone strong and smart enough had been taught how to operate the boat, and all major decisions were made as a group. No one would stop us if we just tried to leave – as evidenced when Remy made off in the night – but it would be considerate for us to have a discussion with the community at large before we left.
Over supper in the dining hall, once everyone was gathered at the tables, Boden stood up and explained what our plan was. Of course, he conveniently left out one key fact that he didn’t want everyone to know: Remy was immune to the lyssavirus, as were Fae and me. Something that powerful was safer the fewer people who knew about it.
Instead, he kept it vague, saying that Remy simply wanted to join Cold Shore to help fight the zombies in a different way.
“Can anyone just walk in and get a job at Cold Shore?” Bianka was seemingly asking Boden, but her gaze was pointed on Murphy beside her.
Murphy snorted. “No, of course not. They have a limited number of positions, and the people who hold them have to meet very specific criteria and do this battery of testing called the ARK. I mean, their whole plan for surviving the end of days is by closing themselves off as much as possible in their frozen little bunkers.”
“But Cold Shore isn’t the only thing in Glacier Valley, is it?” Sienna asked. She stood off to the side of the room with her husband Oakley. He was usually still in the kitchen now, but he came out to hear what Boden had to say.
“The Cold Shore outpost ended up there because Glacier Valley was one of the first settlements post-civilization,” Murphy said. “It wasn’t anything as big or as glamorous as it was before, but there’s a decent little town there. The mountains to the west, the glacier to the north, and the canal to the south help keep it isolated from a lot of zombies.”
“If it’s so great, then why didn’t you stay there?” Harlow asked.
“Because I can’t be anywhere Cold Shore is,” Murphy said. “Don’t get me wrong. They generally leave you alone if you leave them alone, but I went AWOL on a contract. So they won’t leave me alone.”
“Well, I guess we won’t be going with you,” Bianka said with a laugh.
“Oh. I didn’t really think that anyone else would be going with us,” Boden said. “I mean, you all weren’t as close to Remy as we were, so I didn’t expect anyone else to go on a search and rescue mission for her.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing more about this Glacier Valley,” Fergus O’Hara interjected in his lilting accent.
He and his older brother Dougal had joined our group last summer. They had been travelling from their home in Ireland since the outbreak began, moving further and further to the west to get away from the virus.
“Um, I don’t know a lot, really,” Boden replied uncertainly. “It sounds like Murphy knows a bit more.”
“We’d be better off in Glacier Valley, d’you think?” Fergus asked, turning his attention to Murphy.
Xe shrugged. “I haven’t been here that long, and I haven’t been in Glacier Valley in years, so I’m not really in a position to judge.”
“But it was a proper town?” Fergus pressed.
“Was there a pub, a bite to be had, and anyone knocking about?” Dougal clarified on behalf of his younger brother.
“When I was there, it had shops, places to trade, and yeah, it had a few different spots where you could get a cooked meal or a stiff drink,” Murphy said.
“Are you saying there is something wrong with my cooking?” Oakley asked from where he leaned against the wall next to Sienna. He still had on his chef’s apron, and his black hair was pulled back into a slick bun.
“No, no, I’d never say such a thing, or even think it,” Dougal insisted with a laugh. “Your meals are truly the highlight of the Barbarabelle. After the showers, of course. I only meant it’s good to have somewhere else to be. This barge’s a bit ripe, isn’t it?”
“So there’s trading and a major outpost there?” Leandro asked. He sat at the table on the other side of me, next to Ryder, and he leaned forward. “Do they have doctors or medicine there? Maybe something to help Cole?”
“They have medicine there?” Sienna reiterated, her interest clearly piqued.
“Maybe,” Murphy replied uncertainly.
Joseph Worrall – the boat’s only real practitioner of medicine since Mika Dumont was killed – cleared his throat. He’d been treating Cole in the infirmary since he’d been here. I hadn’t visited him yet, but Bianka had reported that he’d been sleeping a lot.
“It doesn’t really matter if they do or not,” Joseph said, speaking loud enough so that everyone could hear from the other end of the table. “Cole wouldn’t survive a journey like that. Glacier Valley is how far away?”
“About 800 km, which should take us just over two-months to hike,” Boden said, having already calculated it with the map that Lazlo had given us.
Joseph pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “No. There is no possible way he could handle it.”
“Have you figured out what’s wrong with him yet, Doc?” Bianka asked.
“It is difficult to get a clear diagnosis given our limitations here, but I have been unable to rule out acute myeloid leukemia,” Joseph explained sadly.
“Well, what about us?” Leandro asked. “We could go with them, and maybe we’ll find medicine.”
“Some chemotherapy medications do have a long shelf life,” Joseph allowed. “But if I’m being candid, I’m not optimistic about his prognosis. At his current stage, I don’t know that he’ll survive until you return even if you were to find the ideal treatments.”
“But it would help, right?” Leandro asked. “If he survived long enough?”
“And even if it doesn’t help him, it could help someone else,” Bianka added. “It’s not like this boat is overflowing in life-saving medicine, is it? Maybe it’d be good for Leo to go and bring some back, no matter what happens with Cole.”
“That is true,” Joseph said, and his weathered gaze settled on Leandro. “I could give you a list of medications we could use, in addition to the ones to treat your friend.”
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Leandro agreed readily.
“Well, we weren’t really inviting folks along,” Boden said carefully.
“What?” Bianka glared over at him. “Are you going to stop them from helping people?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Boden said. “We’re trying to find someone, and I hadn’t planned on taking a whole bunch of people with me.”
“You know, I wouldn’t mind having a look at this bustling Valley,” Fergus said and wagged his eyebrows at his brother. “What do you reckon? Will we go see what’s out the far side of it all?”
“Aye,” Dougal agreed with a smile. “You know I’m not one for staying put.
“I really hadn’t planned for all these other people coming along,” Boden tried to dissuade them.
“Well, you’ve no need to worry about us,” Dougal insisted. “Fergus and I have been traipsing about since we were young lads.”
“Young lads?” Fergus replied with a scoff. “You were sixteen when the virus hit. You were well on your way! I was just a wee boy of nine when we took to the road.”
Dougal rolled his eyes. “We’ve been knocking about for eleven years, even across the Atlantic. That’s the main thing, isn’t it?”
“Leandro and I know how to take care of ourselves,” Ryder said, speaking for the first time since the meal began. “You’ll need to hunt with a journey that long, and you already know that we can help out in a hunt.”
“Sending out a small group on a medicine run would also help with our reliance on crops,” Joseph reasoned. “We aren’t in dire straits yet, and I’m not suggesting that we kick anyone out, but if some are utilizing other food sources while we have time to replant and regrow, that would be beneficial.”
“We’ll go, too,” Sienna suddenly said, and her husband Oakley looked at her in surprise.
“What are you doing?” Oakley asked in a shocked whisper.
“It isn’t safe here, Oakley,” Sienna said without looking over at him. “There’s not enough food or medicine. And we have a daughter to think about. Juniper’s already lost two friends in the past year.”
“Yes, but what happened to Clementine happened because she was off the boat, remember?” Oakley asked. “She was playing on land when she got attacked by zombies.”
“And three people died of pneumonia because we didn’t have enough medicine,” Sienna argued, and she finally looked over at Oakley. “After what happened with the outbreak, how can you think that the Barbarabelle is the best place to raise our child?”
He scowled, and lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “I cook for these people. I can’t leave them.”
“Someone else can learn to cook,” Sienna replied simply.
The room had been relatively silent even before the couple had started arguing, but now, I could practically hear a pin drop. Oakley seemed more acutely aware of this than Sienna, glancing anxiously out at us.
“We can talk about this later,” he said finally.
For his part, Boden tried again to encourage anyone from joining us. “Well, I still don’t know if it’s a good idea for a whole gaggle of us to go. It needs more planning.”
“Your friend Remy’s been gone for like six or seven months, right?” Bianka asked. “What’s another day or two to make sure you’re all prepped?”
The table was all restless energy now, everyone shifting in their seats, exchanging glances both anxious and excited. Boden cast a wary eye over our group, but he offered no more protests.
18
Stella
We all agreed to meet on the foredeck at first light. The shuttle boats were lost in the fire, but there were a few lifeboats that stayed with the Barbarabelle. Someone would be able to row the lot of us and all our gear to the shore and then row back after we left.
Boden, Edie, Fae, and I were the first ones there on deck, which wasn’t surprising. The others slowly drifted in. Ryder and Leandro with Bianka and Murphy trailing to say goodbye. Then came the O’Hara brothers, Fergus and Dougal, both chipper and energized about venturing off the boat.
Finally, Sienna, Oakley, and their eight-year-old daughter Juniper appeared, but I was actually a little surprised to see them at all. They had been quietly arguing about it since the dining hall announcement, or inadvertent recruitment session, depending on how you looked at it.
From what I could tell, Oakley was very resistant to the idea. I don’t know how Sienna was able to finally convince him, but they all arrived together in time to leave with us.
“Since we’re all here, we should double check our gear and make sure we have what we need,” Boden announced. “We’re going to be on the road for months, and we don’t know how many other friendly communities or trading posts we’ll find along the way. So we need to be prepared for anything.”
“Um, I can help with that,” a voice piped in behind us, and we all looked back to see Alphie standing there. She had an overstuffed backpack on, and she toyed uncertainly with the straps on her shoulders.
“How do you mean?” Boden asked.
“I know the area around Fort Lately really well, and I can help you navigate it,” Alphie offered. “I know all the best passes and trails for steering clear of Revvers or other unfriendlies.”
“Do you think we’ll have a problem with the Revvers?” Sienna asked.
“Some people have,” Alphie replied noncommittally. “It is best to avoid them.”
“And you can do that?” Boden pressed.
Alphie nodded. “I can. I’ve gone out on foraging missions, and I know the area well.”
“Okay then,” Boden decided. “You can come with.”
By the time our group had been ferried across the river, the sky had shifted to a pale, uncertain gold, as if even the sun was holding its breath. In a loose, shuffling caravan, we started out, boots crunching over dew covered grass. Boden and Ryder headed up the group, with Alphie a few steps back to offer advice or direction if needed.
I stayed in the middle with Edie and Fae. Since she was so small and couldn’t do much walking, I wore Fae carefully but snugly wrapped in fabric on my back. I was able to carry some supplies in a large cross body bag I wore over my shoulder, but Boden unfortunately had to haul nearly half of mine and Fae’s belongings. Thankfully, he had a massive expedition backpack that was taller than Juniper and weighed three times as much as Fae did.
Somewhere behind me, Fergus hummed under his breath, and Sienna talked to Juniper about sticking together. It was a fragile optimism that clung to us, a sense that if we kept moving, we would be safe. I’m not sure how much any of us believed it, but sometimes, the act of pretending was the only protection we had.
The hours blurred into kilometers through unending forests, marked only by the changing light and the slow unraveling of exhaustion. It was strange how quickly things became routine, even on the road. Nights camped out beneath tree branches or under holey roofs, either way the stars and bugs always got in. We all woke with the light and ate a quick breakfast together before packing up and moving on again.
Despite the age gap between the children, with Juniper six years older than Fae, they had managed to become friends of sorts. They would play together whenever we took breaks, chasing each other around the trees or collecting bright flowers and big bugs. While we walked, Juniper was often behind us, making faces and talking to Fae strapped on my back.
In the evenings, after everyone was settled in and the light was fading, Fergus and Dougal would tell stories around the campfire, often with an assist from Leandro or Edie. Sometimes they regaled us with fairy tales, other times they rehashed the plots of old movies, like Star Wars or The Princess Bride. No matter what, Fae and Juniper were completely enraptured.
And then, after the girls had finally fallen asleep, I would work on my scrapbook for Fae by firelight. Even after most of the others had gone to bed, except for whoever was keeping watch, I would be awake. It was important to me that after all this, Fae was left with something more substantial than memories.
One morning, three days into our journey, we all sat around the dying embers of our fire, except for Ryder. He’d had last watch, so he got in a few extra minutes of sleep. A few people talked quietly among themselves, and the bugs and birds were already abuzz.
I was feeding Fae her breakfast of dehydrated fruit and biscuits. I was hungry myself, but I couldn’t stomach anymore dense crackers or salted meats, so I chose a rumbling stomach and sipping water. Besides, it helped conserve our food.
Boden was sitting across from me, eating venison jerky and hardtacks, when he suddenly tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at me.
“What? Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No, nothing wrong.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I just remembered what today is.”
“Oh.” I laughed, because I’d nearly forgotten, too. It was one of the only things that I remembered from my life B.Z., and I almost missed it this year.
“What?” Fergus asked, his curious eyes darting between the two of us. “What’s today meant to be?”
“The sixteenth of June is Stella’s birthday,” Boden said.
“Happy birthday!” Juniper shouted immediately, causing Fae to babble something that sounded like bir-birb-da.
“I can’t believe I forgot!” Edie immediately looked apologetic. She was sitting beside me, so she threw her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me to her. “Happy birthday to my favorite little star.”
“So, what do you want for your big day?” Boden asked after the others had finished with their well-wishes.
“You don’t have to do anything,” I demurred, shaking my head. “We’re on the road, and turning seventeen isn’t that special anyway.”
“Ah, seventeen years and still standing in this world? You’d be mad to not make a fuss,” Dougal insisted.
“Yeah, we always tried to do something special for birthdays,” Boden reminded me.
By the pain in his eyes, I knew he was thinking back to the parties we’d had at the Lakehouse. It had always been a big to-do with homemade gifts, games, and the tastiest meals. But that was back when the family had all been together. When Max, Serg, Remy, and Ripley were still there.
“Sure, yeah,” I said, because maybe we all needed this. And since my stomach was growling, I admitted to an actual want I had: “Fresh meat would be fantastic. I know dry travels better, but it doesn’t have quite the same taste.”
Boden thought on it and nodded. “Okay. I can do that. When we bed down this evening, I’ll head out and see if I can scrounge up a few hares or something.” Then he looked to Edie beside me. “You in?”
“You can always count on me,” Edie agreed with a laugh.
“If you’re going out hunting tonight, I’ll be happy to go with you,” Leandro offered.
“If you guys get something good, I could make up a little feast,” Oakley added. “Or even if you don’t get anything good, I can probably work a little magic.”
“You don’t have to go to too much trouble,” I tried again to decline.
“Come on, now, we all need a little magic,” Dougal said.
That finally quieted my protests, and I accepted my fate with a grateful smile.
In the late afternoon, we came across an abandoned cabin. It wasn’t exactly habitable, with part of the roof and one wall missing, but it was still safer than sleeping out in the open forest. The floor plan was quite small, occupied by a rectangular living room, rustic galley kitchen, and a bedroom with an open loft area above it, so it would make cozy sleeping for the eleven of us tonight.
After we decided to set up camp in the cabin, Boden, Edie, and Leandro went out on a hunt. The rest of us stayed back to scare out the field mice, clean out the cobwebs, and put a tarp over the gaping hole in the bedroom wall to keep the bugs out.
Since the space inside the cabin was so tight, Oakley focused on creating a nice firepit in front of it. He used a few logs, rocks, and even a couple of “recovered” half-rotted canvas lawn chairs to create a quaint sitting area around it.
Fortunately, we had finished by the time the intrepid hunters returned. Boden led the way, proudly carrying ten pounds of racoon meat.
“I know it’s not the best meat, but it is definitely fresh,” Boden explained, as if I would ever denigrate his gift of food.
Honestly, my mouth started salivating the moment I caught a whiff of the tangy, metallic scent of fresh blood. I didn’t say that, though, because I didn’t want the others to know about the gruesome intensity of my cravings.
Oakley got to work with practiced hands, butchering the animal and preparing it for the roasting spit. The raccoon meat was tough and gamey, but he handled it with a kind of reverent expertise. He even brought out his satchel of what he called his “tactical spices,” and they scented the air with bold garlic, bright ginger, and woodsy juniper berries, or Allium sativum, Zingiber officinale, and Juniperus communis.
“Don’t cook it too long,” I told him as I stood transfixed, watching the flesh sizzle and pop over the flame.
Oakley looked over at me, startled and a little disgusted. “What? It’s raccoon.”
“I know. But…” I had to swallow to keep from drooling, and as emphatically as I could, I tried to explain, “I like my meat on the rare side. Even raccoon.”
“You’ve eaten it that way before?” Oakley asked, growing even more dumbfounded.
“Many, many times,” Boden confirmed wearily.
Oakley glanced between the two of us, then shrugged and grabbed his cooking knives. “Normally, I don’t let anyone tell me how to cook, but since it’s your birthday, I will give you a rare cut.”
He sliced off a few tender strips of the backstraps, his blade sliding easily through the crispy mahogany flesh and the juicy pinkish meat underneath. It smelled and looked so delicious, I wanted to grab it from him and eat it with my bare hands, devouring it in rabid bites.
That would likely alarm my travelling companions, so I used all my restraint to wait until after Oakley had nicely plated it with a side of foraged vegetables and biscuits lathered in lard.
But as soon as I took my first bite, I couldn’t help myself. I let out a euphoric groan. “Mmmm. That is so delicious.”
“Oh, is it?” Dougal asked, sounding utterly intrigued. “Can I have a go at it while it’s a bit underdone?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Oakley replied.
“Ah, sure, a little bit won’t do any harm,” Dougal insisted.
Oakley sighed and set to making up a serving for Dougal on a tinware plate. Dougal sat down beside me and excitedly dove in.
“It’s good, yeah.” He equivocated, turning his head this way and that as he chewed. “Not saying a word against you, Oakley, it is a fine thing. But I do believe that Stella may have exaggerated with her delirious mmmmm.”
“It wasn’t delirious, and I wasn’t exaggerating,” I insisted through a mouthful of food.
“You’d know well enough by now, dear brother, that taste’s a fickle beast,” Fergus said with a smirk. “Mind you, I’ll not be lifting a fork till the chef gives his blessing.”
Raccoons didn’t have that much meat, so it didn’t take long for it to cook. Still, when Oakley declared it done, I had already finished eating. This time, I couldn’t hold back, and I licked the plate.
Oakley only responded with laughter. “That is the highest compliment a chef can receive.”
The feast went on with quiet fanfare, and even the girls seemed to enjoy the meat, although I made certain that Fae ate hers very well-done. Long after we finished, and the conversation and laughter faded, we lingered around the fire.
We were tired, bellies full, but no one wanted to drift inside the cabin to sleep quite yet. Instead, we fell into tranquil contentment, punctuated by the crackling of the fire and the distant, mournful call of a barred owl. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt safe.
But as the embers waned, a prickle of unease returned. I gathered up Fae and carried her into the cabin.
19
Stella
In the night, on my bedroll on the floor with my daughter snuggled up beside me, I drifted off into a dark heavy sleep. For once, I went to bed with my appetite satiated, so I hoped for a dreamless slumber.
Instead, I was treated to gauzy dreams of chasing Max through a field of wildflowers, but no matter how fast I ran, I could never quite catch him.
I awoke in the pre-dawn blue glow with a longing in my chest so painful, I could barely breathe. But when I did inhale, my nostrils were filled with the cloying, pungent odor that I had come to know too well: Fae had a dirty diaper.
Fortunately, it was contained inside her cloth diaper and pajamas, so the whole mess could be a lot worse. Still, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately, if I didn’t want to wake up the entire cabin with the stench.
Fae didn’t stir as I scooped her up. Edie – who slept on her own bedroll on the other side of me – woke up as I was gathering what I needed to clean my daughter.
“Need a hand?” Edie whispered as she watched me.
“I’m heading down to the nearby creek to clean everything up,” I explained quietly. “But I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Edie nodded, gathering her sweater around her shoulders as she quietly slipped from her bedroll. We tiptoed past the slow, steady breaths of the others. Boden, Leandro, and Ryder were sprawled out in the living room with us, while Oakley, Sienna, and Juniper had taken the solitary bedroom, and the O’Hara brothers were in the small loft above it.
Edie and I made our way toward the creek, following the sound of the babbling water, and Fae was half-asleep in my arms. On the bank, I laid her down on a blanket, but when I changed her, she wasn’t quite as soiled as I expected.
Edie stayed on the banks with Fae, who promptly fell back to sleep, while I went to the water to clean her clothing. I knelt at the creek’s edge, letting the current carry away the grime as the first hints of soft orange sunrise glittered through the pine tree branches around us.
“So, what do you think of Ryder and Leandro?” Edie asked.
“What do you mean?” I glanced sharply over my shoulder at her, and then I saw a strange gleam in her eyes.
“I only mean that… they both seem nice, and I’ve seen the way you look at Ryder sometimes,” Edie said knowingly.
My cheeks reddened at the realization that anyone had noticed. It wasn’t something I meant to do, and whenever I had caught myself staring at Ryder, I’d always quickly averted my gaze.
I hesitated, scrubbing at the fabric. “I…don’t know what I feel, honestly. I thought I was going to be with Max forever, and I know it’s been years since he died, but it still seems too soon to think about anybody else like that.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Edie paused, tracing lines in the dirt with her finger. She’d lost her boyfriend in the attack on Emberwood, so she truly did understand better than most. “I feel the same way about Alec.” Her voice wavered, but she steadied herself. “Some days, I wake up and reach for him without thinking.”
There was a heavy silence between us, broken only by the burble of the creek, and I quietly admitted, “I dreamt about Max last night. I was chasing him, but I never could catch him.”
Edie nodded, a sad smile flickering on her lips. “Yeah, I’ve had that one, too.”
A sudden scream shattered the stillness, sharp as broken glass. We both froze, looking back toward our campsite, and then another cry followed.
Instinct took over, and I told Edie, “Stay here and keep Fae safe!” And without another word, I sprinted back through the trees to the cabin, dread clawing up my spine.
Through the clear plastic tarp that covered the gaping hole in the bedroom wall, I could see a swirl of shadows, and then blood splattered across it.
I darted toward the front door, and I threw it open in time to watch the chaos crashing down. Four zombies lay dead on the floor – one decapitated, two with arrows straight through their heads, and another with a fire poker in the eye.
Boden was standing with his bloody machete in his hand, and he rushed to me. “Are you okay? Where’s Fae?”
“She’s safe with Edie at the creek,” I asked. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assured me, and he glanced back over his shoulder at the others.
Fergus and Dougal were up in the loft with a crossbow, and Alphie was standing in the corner still wielding a hearth shovel. Leandro knelt on the floor next to Ryder, checking out a scrape he had on his arm.
Behind them, the bedroom door was open and covered in bloody handprints – both human red and zombie green – and I could hear Juniper crying.
I breathed in deeply, and I realized that I could still smell it. The pungent odor I had initially assigned to my daughter lingered long after she was gone. Nauseatingly rotten meat and too sweet, fermented fruit finished with a sharp greenness, like fresh cut grass.
It hadn’t been Fae that I smelled but my own chemical communications. In my dreams, I’d been so overcome by longing that my body had released pheromones to summon zombies.
I had accidentally called them here.
“But everyone’s okay?” I asked weakly, and my gaze was fixed on the bedroom door with the bloody handprints. Some of them looked so small. Too small.
“No,” Boden replied sadly.
And then because I needed to see for myself, I brushed past him and stepped over the zombie corpses. Before I even reached the doorway, I could see Oakley on the floor. His hand outreaching toward nothing, his throat torn out, his eyes vacantly staring at the ceiling. Another zombie lay on top of him, the back of its head bashed into a mushy green mess.
Juniper was still crying, but she wasn’t the only one alive in the room. Sienna sat in the corner of the bedroom, her young daughter on her lap, holding her tightly.
Juniper’s leg was bare beneath her sleepshirt, and the bright red crescent shape of a bite wound almost seemed to glow against her golden tan skin.
Sienna saw me noticing the wound, and her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t say anything. She just rocked Juniper and held her close.
“Is it awful altogether?” Fergus asked from the loft.
I nodded. “Yeah, it is awful altogether.”
“The little lass is still with us, yeah?” Dougal asked. “I can hear her.”
“She’s been bitten,” Boden said, his voice behind my shoulder.
Juniper didn’t look up, though her sobs had faded into thin, shuddering breaths. Upstairs, Fergus released a string of expletives in his dismay, and Leandro asked if there was anything that we could do.
“I am so sorry,” I said in a voice so thick, I thought I would suffocate under it.
“I know,” Sienna said, but she didn’t, because she didn’t understand what I was apologizing for. She thought I was only saying it, because that’s what you say to someone who just brutally lost her husband and will very quickly lose her daughter.
But what I meant was that I am so sorry for summoning the monsters that tore apart your family and destroyed your life in a matter of seconds.
“What do you want me to do?” Boden asked her.
“Close the door and leave me with my family,” she answered.
Boden’s eyes went to the breeze ruffling the tarp over the window, where the zombies had broken in. This room wasn’t safe, and it held more than one corpse.
“Sienna, you weren’t bitten, were you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter!” Sienna snapped, her gaze fierce and determined. “I want to be alone with my family!” She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, she sounded much calmer but far more beseeching, “Just leave me be.”
Boden tentatively put his hand on the door. “If you… if you live, you know where we’re going. You can meet us in Glacier Valley.”
She didn’t respond and instead turned her attention back on comforting her daughter.
“Goodbye, Sienna and Juniper,” I said as Boden closed the door, but neither of them replied.
20
Stella
To break the monotony, we sang as we walked. It also helped to distract Fae from crying, as she had been doing since she realized that we left the cabin without her friend Juniper. I had tried to explain that Juniper and her family were going somewhere else, but I don’t know how much she could understand except that someone she loved wasn’t there anymore.
Leandro started first, singing something low and mournful. I didn’t know it, but Ryder, Edie, and Boden joined in, explaining that it was a song by Tracy Chapman. Boden crooned Stone Temple Pilots, and Edie belted out a Cher song. But Alphie sang one that none of the rest of us knew. A melodic folk song about living with the dead, and while she hadn’t exactly needed to explain it, she said she’d learned it from the Revvers.
We hiked longer than we usually would without a break. Part of it was that we didn’t need to slow to accommodate Juniper’s tiny legs, but the other part of it, I think, was because we wanted to put what had happened in the cabin behind us. So we sang, and we walked.
It had been less than a week since we left the Barbarabelle, and we’d already lost three people, including a child.
And it happened because of me.
By midday, the forest opened up to a patch of sun-warmed clearing, and we stopped for a break. As I took a seat on a fallen log, my mind spun with guilt and questions. When Boden left to fill the canteens with water, I jumped at the chance to talk with him alone.
“Can I tag along and lend a hand?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, sounding a little taken aback by my eagerness.
I looked over at where Fergus was helping Fae chase a yellow Canadian Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio canadensis). “Can you keep an eye on Fae for me? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, no bother at all,” Fergus said with an easy grin.
When we were far enough away from the others that no one could hear us, Boden asked, “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“It was my fault,” I blurted out.
“You mean because you weren’t at the cabin to still the zombies?” he asked.
“No.” I stopped and looked up at him. “I was dreaming of Max, and I didn’t realize it, but I did it again. Like back at the shed next to the mine.” I glanced around, in case others were nearby, and tears stung my eyes. “I summoned them. With my stupid pheromones. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and it’s all my fault what happened to Oakley and Juniper and Sienna.”
“Oh, no, kiddo.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me to him, letting me cry into his chest. “It’s not your fault. It’s chaos and it’s the virus, and none of it is your fault.”
“No, but it is,” I insisted through my tears. “I’m a danger to everyone here every time I fall asleep! I can’t control it.”
Boden held me a moment longer. “You’re not alone with this,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe we adjust things to keep you safe, keep everyone safe.”
“Adjust what?” I asked after he released me.
“The only time you can’t control what you communicate to the zombies is when you’re sleeping, so let’s change that up,” he elaborated. “We’ll have you sleep earlier in the day, when it’s light and everyone else is awake, so you’re never alone with your dreams. We’ll all be able to watch out for anything, and I can wake you up right away. And at night, someone will always be awake with you, keeping watch, too.”
“What if that doesn’t work?” I asked. “What if the zombies come again and someone gets hurt?”
“I’m not saying it’s fair, but that is generally the risk of being alive right now,” Boden reasoned, and he put a strong hand on my shoulder. “Zombies will always be a threat, no matter what you do or don’t do.”
“Was that meant to be comforting?” I asked.
He gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, it was.” He put an arm around my shoulders, and we started walking to the creek to refill our canteens. “Come on. We should get the water, so you can get to bed early tonight.”
Once we’d collected the water, we headed back, Boden walking a half-step ahead. When we broke through the trees, the others were scattered about resting and murmuring in small knots of conversation.
“Are we about ready then?” Boden asked as we arrived.
Fergus was crouched down in the grass, with Fae attempting to climb him like a tree, and he motioned behind him toward the thicket. “Dougal is out making a donation to the undergrowth,” he said, speaking euphemistically of his brother’s stomach issues.
“I could use a few more minutes,” Ryder said. He was lying on his back in the grass, his fingers laced behind his head, and his jaw was working as if he were chewing on hard jerky.
“We can take all the time you need,” Boden said. “I know it’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Honestly, I think that Fae could use the time to stretch her little limbs,” Edie remarked with a laugh as she watched my daughter scramble all over Fergus.
Unlike the rest of us, Fae spent most of her day being carried around on my back. The trek through the woods gave her plenty to see and hear to keep her mind busy, but her body was left without much to do. I let her walk as much as I could, but we simply couldn’t let our pace be dictated by the capabilities of a 22-month-old child toddling through the forest.
So on our breaks, when I set her free, she would run around and dance and wiggle as much as she could. Fae had apparently grown bored of climbing Fergus, and she darted over to Boden, handing him a flower she’d picked.
Dougal came out of the woods, walking slowly with a grimace on his face. “Sweet suffering, I’m weak at the knees after that.”
“Feeling it now, are you?” Fergus asked with a teasing smirk. “Is that raccoon you scarfed last night now chewing its way back out?”
Dougal scowled and laid down on the grass. “You don’t have to gloat over your poor brother’s misery.”
“Sure, that’s what family’s for,” Fergus countered with a wry laugh. “I’d be failing in my duties if I didn’t say I told you so.”
“Aye, but you’re also the same lad that decided to eat mud,” Dougal argued.
“What? Back when I was only five, and you egged me on?” Fergus asked dubiously.
“What about you, Stella girl?” Dougal asked, squinting over at me in the bright sun. “Is that raccoon sitting well with you at all?”
I shook my head. I felt terrible about what had happened with the zombies this morning, but physically, my stomach seemed indestructible since my pregnancy and the zombie bite. No matter what I ate, or how undercooked or rotten it might be, I never fell ill. Everyone around me still did, including Remy when she’d been here, and sometimes even Fae, so it must be because I was infected with the lyssavirus and started to turn, not because of the immunity.
“You’d land on your feet in a bog, you would,” Dougal said, warmly teasing.
“We’re all lucky if we’re still here, aren’t we?” Edie asked.
Fae gave chase to a clouded sulphur moth, darting toward the forest around us.
“Fae!” I called for her, but she only picked up her pace, hurrying as fast as her little legs could carry her. I got up and jogged after her, and this time, I used her full name so she’d know she was in trouble: “Rafaella Avalyn King!”
She froze for a split second, her arms outstretched toward the flitting pale yellow blur. I reached her before she could disappear beneath the low branches of the ponderosa pines, and I grabbed her and scooped her up in my arms.
“Rafaella,” I said again, firmer this time, and she stared up at me with her wide eyes. “You have to listen to me when I say your name. It’s a dangerous world out here.”
“Mama,” Fae replied before her words were lost in happy babbling, and she flapped her hands, as if mimicking the butterflies.
“We’ll find more that you can chase,” I promised her as I carried her back to where the others were resting.
“What did you call her?” Ryder asked.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“What did you call your daughter when you were chasing her?” he clarified, more forceful this time.
My cheeks burned when I realized what he was getting at. “Her full name is Rafaella Avalyn King.”
“Avalyn,” he repeated, like he hated the taste of the word.
“I named her after your sister,” I admitted. “I thought it was a pretty name, and I wanted to do something to honor her.”
“Why would you do that?” Ryder asked. “You didn’t even know her.”
“I-I-I- ” I floundered and lowered my eyes.
“Lay off, would ya?” Fergus said. “It’s a lovely name, and she meant well.”
“Still seems strange to me,” Ryder muttered, and he got to his feet. “That’s probably enough rest for now, if you all are ready to get moving again.”
It didn’t take long for us to gather up our things and set off. The somber determination lingered like a bruise, but our pace rapidly declined because Dougal needed frequent breaks.
Eventually, as dusk crept across the sky, we found shelter in the skeletal remains of an old barn. The second story loft had a retractable ladder, making it near impossible for a zombie to reach. The musty loft was filled with straw and an abundance of animal droppings littered on the floor, but after the day’s relentless marching, even that felt like a luxury.
Ryder and Dougal collapsed on their makeshift beds, while I curled up in a quiet corner. This was our first attempt at my adjusted sleep schedule, so I napped until sundown, and then I traded off, sitting up awake until sunrise, when Boden would wake so I could sleep for another hour or two before starting the day.
Thankfully, the eerie state of the barn made it easy to stay alert. Shadows flickered over the rafters as pigeons rustled overhead and the scurry of tiny feet betrayed the presence of mice. I did my best to keep myself occupied, working on my scrapbook by dim lantern light.
Most everyone else slept without problem, but that made sense given our collective exhaustion. The lone exceptions were Dougal and Ryder, restless silhouettes in the night gloom, waking again and again, slipping outside to the far end of the barn with a quiet urgency.
When the faintest hint of morning seeped through the warped boards, I nudged Boden awake and slipped gratefully back into the cocoon of sleep. He woke me up for the day an hour later, and while I was tired deep down into my bones, at least I hadn’t summoned any zombies.
21
Stella
The following days blurred together in a haze of fatigue and quiet misery. Dougal’s bathroom breaks hadn’t slowed, and while Ryder had recovered from that already, he still seemed off. His usual silence felt sharpened into something brittle.
At least the weather had been pleasant with warm sunny days and cool dry nights. The wildlife had been giving us a wide berth, too, which was mostly positive because we didn’t need to quarrel with anything dangerous. But it also meant that there wasn’t much hunting.
That wasn’t so bad for our group, especially Dougal and Ryder who had soured on fresh meat for a while. But I was craving it something fierce, and I was hardly sleeping because I was afraid of what I might accidentally summon.
So even with all our silver linings, it was hard to stay upbeat with the dark cloud hanging over me. For Fae’s sake, and for my own, I kept my mind busy by pointing out anything interesting we saw. Mostly that ended up being birds, bugs, and flowers, but it was important for Fae to know the world around us.
When a bird flew overhead, Fae happily babbled, and I started to reply with, “That’s right, Fae, it’s – ”
“I swear to God, if you say ‘barn swallow, Hirundo rustica’” – Ryder used air quotes, his voice going high-pitched to mock mine as he said the name – “one more time, I am going to lose my goddamn mind.”
He was trailing a few steps behind me and Edie in the middle, with Boden and Alphie leading the way through a wide trail winding through the forest in the foothills of the mountains. Dougal and Fergus were bringing up the rear behind Leandro and Ryder.
My cheeks burned with shame, and I suddenly felt like crying, but I managed to blink it back.
“Hey!” Boden shouted back over his shoulder.
“Oh, come on,” Ryder insisted, sounding annoyed. “Like you all weren’t thinking it.”
“She’s only teaching her daughter stuff,” Leandro said. “It’s nothing to be all bothered about.”
“I wouldn’t be if she didn’t say the same thing ten thousand times!” Ryder shouted in exasperation. “Is the barn swallow the only bird in this whole damn forest?”
“Ah, now, that’s not quite true,” Fergus corrected him. “There were two robins and a waxbird only fifteen minutes back.”
“A cedar waxwing,” I amended quietly. Then I cleared my throat and more loudly said, “It’s fine. If it’s annoying, I’ll just stop.”
“Everyone is tired, and probably hungry,” Edie said, playing mediator. “Why don’t we stop and have a break?”
“There’s an old campground not far ahead,” Alphie said. “It’d be a better place to have a rest.”
There were murmurs of agreement, so we went onward, but no one really said anything. Even Fae fell silent, as if she sensed the tension.
Eventually, the trees thinned a bit, and I spotted a faded lodge sign partially swallowed by moss. The first word was a little hard to read through the vegetation, but the big letters for Cedar Hollow Campground had been carved deep into the wood.
Over the top of the word Hollow, a unique design had been spray painted on it. Fairly recently too, if the vibrancy of the bright green was any indication. It was something like a lopsided maple leaf with a crooked smile in the center.
More ominously, below that, someone had scratched a warning into the wood with jagged letters: Beware of the Revvers’ punishments.
“Does that grinning leaf mean anything?” Boden asked Alphie. “Is it a mark for the Revvers?”
Alphie shook her head, glancing at the sign with visible distaste. “No, that has nothing to do with them. It’s something that stupid people do to let other stupid people know they’re around.”
“What about the punishment warning?” Ryder asked. “Is it something we should be worried about?”
“Not as long as we stay away from the Revvers, and that’s our plan.” She kept walking ahead, effectively shutting down the conversation.
The campground itself was mostly overgrown and worn down by the elements, but there were picnic tables under an old pavilion, and even a couple semi-functional outhouses.
We made our way to one of the sturdier tables. The mood was subdued, everyone picking quietly at their lunches of dried meats and stale biscuits. The weariness of the journey was settling into our bones, and despite the break, an unspoken anxiety hovered over us.
After we finished, we packed up our things, and we started out again. Alphie led us onward, taking a narrow trail of trampled earth. The nearby woods seemed to press in tighter, their shadows growing longer as the afternoon waned.
Conversation was sparse, with only Fae babbling occasionally, or Dougal asking to slow down. The silence finally broke late in the day when Alphie suddenly swore loudly.
“What’s wrong?” Ryder asked from behind me.
We were walking in a single line, with Alphie in the lead, and from where I stood three people back, I couldn’t see much of anything through the trees.
“We can’t get through,” Alphie replied.
“What do you mean we can’t get through?” Ryder asked, and he pushed past Edie, me, and Boden until he could see for himself. “Oh shit. There was a landslide or something.”
Carefully, since I had Fae on my back, I climbed up onto a fallen log at the edge of the trail. From that vantage point, I could see the churned earth spilled across the trail, the tangled mess of branches and uprooted trees blocking any passage forward. There was no way around it that I could see. The hillside was simply too steep and unstable, the mud still damp and slick.
“They must’ve been having a lot more rain in the mountains then we’ve been getting this summer,” Edie mused.
“So what does this mean for us?” Boden asked Alphie.
“We will double back to the campground, and tomorrow we’ll have to cross the river and enter the Revvers territory,” Alphie explained. “I was hoping to skirt around it, but there isn’t any other option.”
At least the walk back to Cedar Hollow somehow felt quicker than it had been getting out to the mudslide. We ate quietly and slept under the pavilion, with me spending the dark hours as alert as I could be.
Morning brought a cold mist that clung to the ground, making the world seem even more isolated than before. Ryder woke up last, even accounting for my brief nap after dawn. He also managed to wake up in an even worse mood than he had the day before, and I was finding him less and less attractive by the minute.
Once everyone was ready, Alphie led us down another path, away from the ruined hillside. The forest looked different in the morning fog. Both more haunting and, strangely, more intimate, as if the world had shrunk to only the trail ahead and our little group.
Before we left, Alphie had assured us that the river wasn’t that far away, and it really wasn’t that long until we could hear it, the sound of churning water echoing through the trees. The air grew cooler and damper, and it smelled of wet stone and earthy moss. The forest itself seemed to hush, quieting the birds and the breeze so that the only noise was the relentless, rhythmic surge of the river.
“This is stupid,” Ryder said, suddenly. “We shouldn’t be going this way through the Revvers territory. We should go back and find another way around the landslide.”
“Rye, there wasn’t a way around it,” Leandro tried to reason with him. “You saw that yesterday.”
“The river is too dangerous!” Ryder shouted. “You can hear it through the trees! We’ll all drown!”
By then, we’d all stopped moving. Dougal and Fergus took the opportunity to have a sit on a nearby boulder, and Ryder stood with his feet planted in the dirt and his arms folded across his chest.
“We’re not swimming across,” Alphie told him. “There’s a bridge across it.”
“Has anybody been maintaining this bridge?” Ryder asked. “It’s probably not even safe!”
“The Revvers maintain it,” Alphie argued back. “And it’s not even that big. The Staulo River narrows as it curves up ahead, and it’s only fifty meters across. It takes a minute to walk it, two if you’re feeling leisurely.”
“We’ll have a look at the bridge when we get to it,” Boden said reasonably. “And if it’s not safe, we won’t risk it. But we can’t do that until we get there. Everyone okay with that?”
Ryder grumbled something under his breath, but he had no real argument against it, so we got moving again.
As we pressed on, the path sloped downward, and the roaring of the river grew loud enough to drown out any complaints that Ryder had.
Finally, the river came fully into view. It was quite high and rapid, reminding me more of a raging flood than the placid water that the S. S. Barbarabelle floated on. Even with that, the bridge was at least half-a-meter above the surging current. The weathered planks were dark with age and damp from river spray, but they looked sturdy enough.
Boden stepped on the bridge tentatively, and when it held, he put on his full weight, then jumped up and down a bit.
“It seems good,” he decided.
“No.” Ryder shook his head emphatically. “No. You don’t know that.”
Boden frowned in confusion. “Okay. Alphie and I can go across to check it out, and then the rest of you could – ”
“You’re not listening to me!” Ryder yelled. “I’m not going across that fucking water!”
He’d been irritable all day, but he was angrier now than I had ever seen anyone before. His face had turned red, his eyes were bloodshot, and his lip pulled back into a snarl.
Boden got off the bridge and came over, putting himself between Ryder and most everyone else.
“Ryder, calm down,” Leandro said, speaking slow and deliberate. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, cause nobody can make me do shit,” Ryder snapped back, but he wasn’t yelling and seemed to relax a bit.
“That’s right,” Leandro agreed. “But would it be okay if I ask you just one question?”
Ryder grunted in response and shrugged.
Leandro must’ve taken that as agreement, because he asked, “Why don’t you want to cross the river?”
“I just don’t!” Ryder shouted, and he started pacing in a narrow oval. He put his hands up, hovering ] above his ears like floating earmuffs. “I can’t stand to be near it!”
“That’s fine, Rye, that’s okay,” Leandro reassured him soothingly. “We’ll be able to get away from here real quick, but I want to ask you one more thing.”
“Just fucking ask it!” Ryder yelled and kept pacing.
“How is your arm healing from that cut you got back at the cabin?” Leandro asked, and Ryder stopped cold.
Back at the cabin, when the zombies had attacked, Ryder had gotten a cut on his forearm. It hadn’t looked like a bite wound to me – it had been a straight gash – but I had noticed a smear of green blood on his arm. Infected blood.
There had been so much going on since then, I hadn’t thought anything of it, or the fact that Ryder had been wearing long sleeves even when the temperatures soared to summer highs. He’d been sick and rundown for as long as Dougal had, so everyone chocked it up to the bad meat.
“What are you saying, Leo?” Ryder asked, looking at his friend with dark, suspicious eyes.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to know,” Leandro said as apologetically as he could.
Ryder scowled, but he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a nasty gash. It wasn’t healing at all, and pus oozed through a green scab. The flesh around it was all puckered and red, but the veins beneath his skin looked pitch black, like spiderwebs extending out from the wound.
“Dammit,” Leandro said under his breath, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he took a deep breath and looked over at Ryder. “Do you want me to uphold our pact? Or do you want us to leave you here?”
Ryder’s mouth twitched, and his jaw was clenching and unclenching. But finally, he nodded. “I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you, and I’m sorry I’ve been so angry.” He paused and his breath hitched in his throat. “I just don’t want to be one of them.”
Leandro put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t let you.”
Tears welled in Ryder’s eyes, and they were tinged red with blood. He smiled sadly at Leandro, and in a thick voice, he said, “I love you.”
“You are my brother in this world and the next,” Leandro replied, and suddenly Ryder’s eyes went wide.
I didn’t even notice until after it happened, Leandro moved so quickly. He’d had the dagger in his hand, and he stabbed Ryder straight into the heart. He was dead before he knew it.
Leandro lowered his friend’s body to the ground. His back was to us, and he said over his shoulder, “Go ahead and cross the bridge. I’ll meet you over there when I’m done here.”
“You don’t have to bury him alone,” Boden said.
“Thank you, but I do,” Leandro insisted, his voice low and resolute.
“Don’t be daft.” Fergus came over and put a comforting hand on Leandro’s back. “You bore the brunt of it, you did. Now let the rest of us help you to honor our friend.”
All of us set down our bags and got out camp shovels and tools. Dougal didn’t have the strength to dig, so he watched Fae, who napped on his lap. Together, without saying a word, we dug a hole and buried Ryder on the banks of the river.
22
Stella
“Stay quiet and stay as close to the water as you can,” Alphie warned us after we went over the bridge. “It’s best if the Revvers never have any idea we’re here.”
On the south side of the river had been dense forests with narrow trails, but we had crossed onto the far more open lands of the north side. The riverbanks gave way to sloughs and muddy wetlands, so we had to venture farther into the grassy fields and even some of the brush.
“So, why exactly are these Revvers so dangerous?” Leandro asked wearily. “What are they going to do to us that the world already hasn’t?”
“They have guns,” Alphie said.
“Lots of people have guns,” Boden retorted. “It’s the ammunition that’s impossible to find anymore.”
“They have ammo, too,” Alphie replied.
“Bullshit,” Boden sneered. “Everywhere worth a damn was picked over long ago.”
Alphie looked sharply over at him. “The Revvers have holed up in Fort Lately. Do you know why it’s called Fort Lately, or did you think it had a cute name?”
“It’s not even that, is it?” Fergus asked. “Something like Bunny Hill or Fort Rainbow. That’d be a cute name, wouldn’t it?”
“There’s a town in England called Giggleswick,” Dougal added, leaning against the branch he was using as a walking stick.
“Well, Fort Lately isn’t cute,” Alphie said, sounding irritated. “It’s a star-shaped bastion fort on a hill with walls of concrete ten feet tall and six feet thick. It was built in the 1840s to be impenetrable to cannon fire. Sometime in the last century, it was declared a historical site, refurbished, and turned into an educational tourist hotspot. That included a gift shop and museum.
“And that museum focused on 19th century weapons and artillery, and it was filled with them,” she went on. “And in the armory, it’s filled with all the other weapons they didn’t have room for in the museum.”
“But that’s all… old,” Leandro said, uncertainly. “Like crusty old antiques?”
“They might be antiques, but that doesn’t mean they’re useless,” Alphie insisted. “Some of those old rifles were built to last, and the Revvers know how to maintain them. Nell was really involved in self-reliant naturalists before the outbreak, and it was those folks who knew to take the Fort for themselves and how to use the armaments there.”
“Who’s Nell?” I asked.
“Cornelia Mahler,” Alphie said, lowering her voice as if saying the name aloud would summon her. “She’s the Allmother of the Revvers.”
“What was it like?” I asked. “Living with the Revvers?”
Alphie was quiet a minute before answering, “It was really nice until it wasn’t. All bright colors and the darkest darkness.”
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” Edie quipped knowingly.
Alphie gave a small, humorless laugh. “With the Revvers, you get used to the contradictions.”
“Oy! You hear that, don’t you?” Fergus asked suddenly, alarmed, and then I heard it, too. Hoofbeats sounding much too close.
“What do we do?” Boden asked Alphie as two men on horses burst out from the brush a few meters in front of us.
With the river behind us and the wetlands surrounding us, there wasn’t anywhere to run. Dougal especially couldn’t really move very fast, not that any of us were in any shape to outrun a horse. Even with the adrenaline surging through me, I felt the exhaustion deep in my bones and the heavy weight of my daughter on my back.
The horses stopped at the edge of the muddy sloughs, where the ground was more solid. Both the riders had musket rifles pointed straight at us, and we were all plenty close enough to take a bullet. Or maybe a musket shot pellets or maybe balls? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to find out this way.
Since there wasn’t much else to be done, we all grouped up together, with Boden and Alphie standing in the front. I slipped off my wrap, so I could hold Fae in my arms. In case I needed to run, I didn’t want her facing the shooters.
“Alphonsine, is that you?” one of the riders asked, smirking as he squinted down at her. He was the shorter of the two riders, built stocky like a finisher pig, with a shock of curly hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Hello, Dusty,” Alphie said, and then, to the other rider, “Hello, Benedict.”
Benedict was the taller of the two men, and his mouth was pressed into a deep scowl. Over one of his eyes, he had on an eyepatch shaped like a sunflower, which contrasted with his otherwise intimidating presence.
I had been so focused on their weapons that I hadn’t noticed it right away, but the bridles on the horses were adorned with flowers and ribbons. Both the men wore brown pants with brightly colored tunics for tops.
“What are you doing here, Alphie?” Dusty asked. “I thought you didn’t want to be friends with us no more.”
“We’re only passing through,” Alphie said, and there was a nervous tremor to her voice. “We won’t be any bother, and we won’t even have a rest on your land.”
Dusty leaned forward on his horse and his gaze hardened as he glowered down at Alphie. “You know damn well that Nell is gonna wanna see you, and she would love to meet your little friends.”
“Maybe we can just talk – ” Boden started to say, and then Benedict’s musket pointed straight at him.
A loud shot cracked like thunder, and the ground directly in front of Boden’s feet erupted mud and grass in a small circle. Fae immediately started crying at the sound, a frightened wailing, and she put her chubby hands to her ears as I held her tightly to me.
“I think it’s best if you save the talking until you meet with Nell,” Dusty said, his rifle trained on us while his cohort reloaded his own. When he finished, he said, “Benedict, make sure they don’t got anything that’ll be a problem for us.”
Benedict dismounted and as he swaggered over to us on gangly, long legs, he demanded all our belongings. With a few grumbles, we complied and dropped our bags and supplies on the ground. He scooped them all up and loaded them onto the horses. Afterward, he came back and patted us down to make sure we didn’t have any weapons.
It was when Benedict confiscated Dougal’s walking stick that it finally got to be too much.
Fergus asked him, “Going after the sick lad now, are you? Big man altogether.”
Benedict stepped up to Fergus and smiled at him, a wide, cold thing, like an icicle sliced across his face. Then, without warning, he used the walking stick to clock Fergus right in the face. Dougal cried out and tried to catch his younger brother, so they both fell back in the mud. Boden moved forward, like he meant to do something, but Edie put a hand on his arm to stop him.
With the smug smile still in place, Benedict picked up the rest of our bags and sauntered back over to his fellow Revver. Fergus was bleeding from his lip, but he kept assuring us he was okay.
“They’ve got nothing left but the baby,” Benedict told Dusty as he walked back over to his horse.
“You’re not touching the baby,” Boden snapped, and both Boden and Edie moved in closer to me and Fae.
“Well, we’re done here. It’s time to get you to the Fort.” Dusty grinned down at us, then he waved the rifle at us, motioning for us to move. “Come on, Alphie, you still know the way. Follow her, and anybody that steps out of line will end up with a bullet in their head. Yes, even the baby.”
Reluctantly, we began our slow walk forward, with Alphie leading the way, her shoulders tense and head lowered. Every few steps, I glanced down at Fae, holding her close, and tried to steady my breath.
Much too soon, we rounded a thicket of trees and the fortress at the top of the hill came into view. In the middle of the Canadian wilderness, it was a concrete behemoth, with bastions jutting out at sharp points.
Yet it held a bright touch of whimsy. All of the walls had been painted in vibrant colors – mostly reds and oranges, but purples, blues, and greens, too. From far away, it looked like swirls and blotches, but as we grew closer, I could see flowers, trees, a purple elk, and a blue moose.
But in every mural, no matter the landscape, there would be skeletons dancing through it. Sometimes together, arms entwined in a waltz, and other times side-by-side with their legs flung this way and that.
Fae squealed in delight when she saw the paintings, and at any other time, I would’ve relished the chance to show them all to her. But now I could only hold her close and try to quell her excitement.
At the top of the hill, we reached the iron door into the fortress. Above it, the words Reverence of the Revenants had been written in a swirling script.
Dusty barked out a command to open the gates, and a large arched door slowly groaned outward. Beyond it was a dark tunnel through the thick walls, and Benedict commanded us to march forward into the darkness.
23
Stella
The tunnel was cold and dank without the warmth of the sun, and Fae fussed in my arms. All of us were huddled together, shuffling forward in the darkness, so close that I bumped into Boden or Leandro or Edie with every step.
Then the metal door on the other side finally opened, and for a moment, we were nearly blinded by the bright light.
“Get going,” Benedict commanded behind us.
Boden moved right in front of me, shielding Fae and me from whatever laid ahead, but even before we emerged from the tunnel, my curiosity was nearly overwhelming my fear.
It was the sounds and the smells first. People laughing and singing, chickens and goats, savory meats and sugary sweets, flowers and hay.
I peered around Boden’s shoulder and saw the sunlight spilling over a lively, bustling town square set inside the walls. Little homes and cottages were along the edges with gravel pathways woven between barns, gardens, and market stalls. Vibrant colors danced everywhere. In the banners strung overhead, the planters overflowing with wildflowers, and the bold clothing adornments of the people moving about.
It was if we’d stumbled into a street fair instead of being taken hostage from the wilderness.
“Keep walking and don’t talk to no one,” Dusty said in a loud commanding voice.
That was the first time that the residents of Fort Lately seemed to notice. They looked at us with mild curiosity, and some of them whispered to one another, but mostly it fell eerily silent as we passed by.
Alphie kept her eyes down on the ground, but a few people seemed to recognize her. Nobody spoke to her, though. Nobody said anything to us – or even to our captors – at all.
“You’re going straight ahead to the barracks,” Benedict directed us, pointing to the buildings that made a quadrangle in the center of the fortress.
The barracks were made of stone with evenly spaced windows covered in bars. They were relatively squat rectangles topped with low-pitched thatched roofs, and if not for the colorful murals on the exterior walls, they appeared simple and utilitarian.
As we approached, Dusty went ahead of us and unlocked the door. He led us down a narrow hall dimly lit with lanterns, and the ceiling was so low, it was almost claustrophobic walking in single file.
Finally, we reached the bunk room at the back. The ceilings were still low, and the walls were white. A dozen cots lined the walls, each one with folded blankets on top of it, but that was it for furnishings.
The windows were small but numerous, so they let in plenty of light. Although the bars cast shadows all over, almost comically emphasizing the fact that we were in prison.
Unfortunately, the view from the bunkroom wasn’t something any of us wanted to see. We were at the back of the building, with the windows open to the courtyard created by the barracks quadrangle. And that courtyard held hundreds of zombies milling about.
But unlike any other zombie I had ever seen, these ones appeared to be decorated. They were draped in robes and scarves colored in vibrant jewel tones. Many of them wore necklaces and bracelets, and some had on earrings, pierced through the rotting flesh of their ears, noses, even their cheeks and lips.
“What the hell did you do to your zombies?” Boden asked, sounding shocked.
“Nell will come by later, and you can ask your questions then,” Benedict said, his musket still in hand but now pointed at the ceiling.
“Are you going to tell her that I’m here?” Alphie asked him.
He smirked down at her. “You’ll find out when she gets here.”
None of us said anything until after our captors had left. Most of us stared at the zombies, watching the strange sight of the costumed corpses shuffling this way and that. Fergus helped his brother over to a cot, and Dougal collapsed back onto it with an exhausted sigh.
As soon as Benedict and Dusty had gone – the door closing with a loud click of a lock – Fergus asked, “Alphie, girl, what the fuck is this place at all?”
“I already told you,” Alphie said. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her eyes were on the floor as she bounced from one foot to the other.
“No. I feel like you didn’t tell us about any of this,” Edie argued. “Why are there a bunch of zombies dressed like drag queens in the damn courtyard?”
“Those are the Loved Ones.” Alphie pointed at the windows, out toward the zombies, but she wouldn’t look at them. “They were family or friends of Nell or other Revvers before they got infected. So they keep them and care for them to honor what they’ve become.”
“What about zombies that aren’t connected to the Revvers?” I asked. “What becomes of them?”
“We burn them, and we mix their ashes with the paints,” Alphie explained, sounding more and more agitated as she spoke.
“I suppose that’s not the worst thing I’ve heard someone doing with zombies,” Fergus muttered.
“What is this room we’re in?” Leandro motioned around the barren room and the cots. “Why did they bring us here? Is this like a quarantine or something?”
Alphie nodded rapidly. “They want to make sure that we’re not sick.”
“And how do they do that?” Boden asked.
“For three days, they will keep us locked in this room,” Alphie explained. “They will give us water and food, and they will wait.”
“And then what happens?” Boden asked.
“And then Nell decides,” Alphie said as if that explained anything.
“What does that mean?” Leandro asked.
“It means that Nell decides!” Alphie snapped. “She decides after she meets with us, and she alone.”
“How has she decided in the past, when the people aren’t sick?” I asked.
“Exilation, Execution, Expiation, Exaction, Exbindition,” Alphie recited in a flat voice. “Those are the five punishments.”
“Exilation, that’s like exile, right? So it means we won’t be allowed back here?” Leandro asked. “That seems like the one we should aim for.”
“Nell will decide,” Alphie said again, in the same flat voice.
“Ah sure, if we don’t end up dead, three days’ peace wouldn’t be the worst,” Dougal said, groaning a bit as he readjusted himself on the cot.
While Dougal was definitely faring the worst of us – his stomach bug necessitated frequent breaks, and he’d been struggling to keep down anything more than the weak broth that Edie made of water and dried venison – we all could use a break.
It wasn’t only the long days spent hiking uneven terrain, or the loss of so many people in such a short amount of time. I had hardly been sleeping to keep everyone safe, but here was different. If I summoned the zombies, they wouldn’t be able to get through the bars on the windows. They hadn’t even broken through the glass after all this time.
We were finally somewhere that everyone could be safe from me, and the moment that realization hit me, I almost sobbed in relief. I sat back on the cot behind me, and the vice around my heart loosened enough that I could feel something other than fear and dread.
“Maybe this is a blessing in disguise,” I said. “Like an oasis in a desert. Somewhere we can catch our breath for a minute.”
“Here is only as much a blessing as it is a curse,” Alphie responded cryptically. “But everyone should rest while we can. No matter what Nell decides, you’ll want your strength.”
Since I was sitting down, Fae untangled herself from my arms and walked to the end of the cot. There, standing on her tiptoes, she could peer outside at the zombies. For her, they were dazzling displays of color and decoration, unlike any she had seen before. How enchanting they must look to her! Her only comparisons for something like Fort Lately were in colorful picture books.
“I should rest,” I said, because I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do much else.
The relief had washed over me, but it had also washed away the steely resolve that had masked so much of the pain and exhaustion that had been building up inside me. Suddenly, I could feel the burn in my shoulders from constantly carrying a child on my back.
My feet felt swollen inside my boots, and when I got them off, my socks were stained yellow and pink from blood and popped blisters. The pain in them ballooned after I relieved the confinement of the boots, and a slow burning ache radiated throughout my entire body.
The insatiable hunger inside me – my constant companion – for once was overridden by the general exhaustion and pain of everything else.
I laid back on the cot, and the tiredness hit me so hard, I was dizzy and nauseous. Fae’s feet were right by my head, dancing as she watched out the window.
“Sleep while you can,” Boden said, draping a threadbare blanket over the top of me. “I’ll watch Fae, and we’ll work on a plan for getting out of here.”
24
Stella
It was another two days before we met Nell. During that time, I’m embarrassed to admit that I mostly slept. In a strange twist, I felt more protected held captive than I had out on the open road.
It wasn’t that I believed the Revvers themselves to be safe. The guns and the glamorized zombies were threat enough without the addition of the warnings and Alphie’s general agitation.
But the walls and locked doors assuaged my fear enough that I could finally close my eyes and breathe.
So that’s what I did. Those two days passed in a blur of fitful naps and muted conversations. Fae was largely occupied by the spectacle outside our windows of the zombies in their colorful garb. Sometimes, I awoke from a nap to the sound of her laughter as she danced in the sunlight slanting in through the windows.
Occasionally, Boden and Fergus would quietly strategize in the corner, their voices low but urgent, while Alphie paced anxiously or sat in the corner.
We hadn’t heard from the Revvers since the first day, and we were left on our own in the barracks with enough rations of canned beans, uncooked potatoes, and water to sustain us a few days.
On the afternoon that the Revvers finally returned, I was awake. Fae was on my lap, watching out the window. A few others were napping, while Fergus and Leandro played some kind of game they’d concocted using dried beans.
Boden was up, standing by the windows staring out at the zombies. That was how he spent most of his time here. Silently standing vigilant against a threat he didn’t know how to prepare for.
The metallic rattle of keys drew all of our attention. Fergus shook his brother awake, and Alphie scuttled to the far side of the room, standing with her back pressed against the wall and her brown eyes locked on the door.
Benedict – the taller guard with the sunflower eyepatch – was the first to enter the room, ducking as he did. Behind him, a rather unassuming woman followed. Once she was in, Dusty came in and closed the door behind them.
The woman was short, maybe half-an-inch shorter than me even, and she looked to be in her early forties. Her long hair had the appearance of dry straw bleached nearly white by the weather, and her eyes were the color of old bruises, gray and yellowed at the edges. In a plain way, she was pretty – her features soft, delicate, and symmetrical, but also faded and unremarkable.
The clothes she wore were in stark contrast to her understated appearance. They were layers of robes made of gauzy, flamboyant fabric draped all over her petite frame. She was bone thin, with bracelets and bangles clattering on her narrow wrists.
“Hello,” she greeted us with a warm smile and a voice like honey. “My name is Cornelia Mahler, but most folks here call me Nell. I am the Allmother of the Reverence for the Revenant.”
“And we’re some people passing by,” Boden said. He was standing in front of us all, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Now, that isn’t exactly true, is it?” Nell asked, her pale eyes flicking over to Alphie.
“I only tried to help them find their way around your territory, so none of us would be a bother to you,” Alphie argued in a tremulous voice.
“We really don’t mean you any harm,” Edie added from where she sat on her cot beside mine. “If you just let us go, we’ll be on our way.”
“What do you know about the Reverence for the Revenant?” Nell asked, ignoring both Alphie’s and Edie’s comments.
“Not much,” Leandro answered.
“A rumor or two’s made the rounds, but I wouldn’t believe the half of it,” Fergus said, and his lip was still swollen from Benedict hitting him with a stick, adding a touch of irony to his smirk.
Nell gave us all a placid smile that never quite reached her eyes. “We protect the ones who walk between worlds, and those who join us find a purpose they cannot find elsewhere.” She paused, bracelets clinking as she folded her hands in front of her abdomen. “Not everyone understands our ways, but I promise you, everything we do is for the greater good.”
“Okay,” Boden said uncertainly. “What is that you plan to do with us exactly?”
“It takes time to make a decision,” Nell explained. “First, I need to see that you are healthy, and it seems that not all of you are.”
“Aye, boyo,” Dougal agreed tiredly. He was sitting up thanks to Fergus’s help, and he was noticeably pale and sallow. “I’ve been feeling rough, I have. But it’s no virus, or I’d already be out in your courtyard, dancing like gobshite in rainbow pantaloons.”
“We have ways to help those who are unwell,” Nell offered. “Do you wish to recover?”
“Sure I do,” Dougal said with an uncertain glance to Fergus.
“Benedict will take you to our Wellness Center,” Nell said. “You can begin your recovery there while a decision is made, and I will take the child to the nursery.”
“No,” I said instinctively, and my arms tightened around my daughter on my lap.
Edie stood up, and Boden dropped his arms and widened his stance. But Benedict and Dusty loomed over Nell, their rifles in their hands.
“You’re a bit like a cheeky fairy tale witch, so you are,” Fergus commented, slowly getting to his feet. “Coming in here, bold as brass, demanding a baby.”
“I have been called a white witch before,” Nell admitted, sounding amused. “But you misunderstand my intentions. Yes, I demand the child, but only to keep her safe and healthy.”
“If you took her, what would you do with her?” I asked.
Nell stepped closer, and Boden moved back slightly so we could look more directly at one another. “Is she your daughter then?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I’d rather not be apart from her.”
“We have a nursery here, where our children are safe and nourished, both body and mind,” Nell assured me in an oddly serene voice. “She will be cared for and protected as if she was born here.”
“She is safe and nourished with me,” I insisted.
Her expression turned to one of pity. “You are exhausted and filthy, and I know what exists beyond my territory.”
“She’s not lying about the nursery,” Alphie interjected. She was still standing at the back of the room, her arms hugging herself tightly, and her eyes on the floor. “The children are well cared for, and she’d never hurt them. Nobody here would.”
“Perhaps Alphie’s assurances will soothe your worries, but truly, it is no matter,” Nell went on. “The child is not contagious, so the barracks are no longer the best place for her. She will be placed in our nursery, with or without your compliance.”
“You can’t really expect to come in here and rip a child from her mother?” Boden asked, his words hard but calm.
Nell stared up at him, nonplused. “I have done it before, when necessary. But please know that defiance always reflects poorly when it comes time for me to decide.”
“We keep hearing that you’re going to decide,” Leandro said. “What does that even mean? What are you deciding, and why are you the one who gets to decide?”
“I did already tell you, but it seems that you need me to expound further.” Nell stepped closer to us, speaking louder and more authoritatively. “I am the Allmother of Fort Lately, and I command over armed Sentries. Under my care, I have hundreds of Reverent and twice as many Revenant.
“The world beyond these walls is sick and hostile, and to keep all of my loved ones safe, I am forced to make difficult decisions,” she continued. “When it comes to dealing with the un-Reverent, there are only five options: Exilation, Execution, Expiation, Exaction, Exbindition.”
As Nell went on, she made sure to look between each one of us, as if forcing us to weigh her words more heavily. “So, outsiders are quarantined while I watch and wait and commune. When I am done, I decide.”
The sickening horror that there was nothing we could do to stop Nell from taking Fae moved into cold certainty. They were going to take my child from me. What mattered now was keeping Fae happy and safe and ensuring that I would be reunited with her again.
I stood up with Fae still cradled in my arms. I kissed the top of her head and walked slowly toward where Nell stood with the guards. When I reached Boden, I stopped and he gently ruffled Fae’s soft hair.
In a low voice, he whispered to me, “We can fight, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not what’s best for her,” I insisted quietly. Gunfire and getting ripped screaming from my arms sounded far worse than handing her off.
He frowned, then bent down and kissed Fae’s cheek. “We’ll see you soon, kiddo,” he promised her thickly.
I went up to Nell when everything in me wanted to run the other way.
“Her name is Rafaella, after her grandmother,” I explained as tears welled in my eyes. “But we call her Fae. If she gets fussy, she’s hungry, or she wants you to sing to her.”
Nell reached for her, and it took all my will to release her, to actually let go of Fae.
“Nice to meet you, little Fae,” Nell cooed at her with an affectionate smile. “You’re going to have so much fun and make so many new friends.”
As soon as Nell looked up from the baby, her smile evaporated. She ordered the guards to lead her and Dougal out of the barracks. After a brief goodbye between the brothers, Dougal, Nell, the guards, and Fae went out the door.
When the locks clicked shut, I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Boden pulled me into his arms, and I sobbed into his chest as he stroked my hair.
“We’ll get her back,” he promised me, and I believed him, because it had to be true.
25
Stella
“What precisely does Nell mean by this exilation etcetera?” Boden asked, turning his attention to Alphie once I calmed down and got myself under control.
“And none of this vague bollocks,” Fergus said. “Just tell us straight what is gonna happen when Nell makes her fucking decision.”
“The Five Punishments are to be banished without aid, put to death without remorse, atone without mercy, relinquish without assent, serve without end,” Alphie said.
We’d all formed a loose semi-circle around her, as if she was giving a speech. Her eyes were locked on the wood floorboards creaking under her feet as she shifted her weight. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, and the corner of her mouth had a slight twitch.
“The way things are carried out can vary, so I can’t be as precise as you want,” Alphie went on. “Nell has put people to death by beheading them with an ax, hanging them from a rope, burning them at a stake, and stoning them with rocks. Maybe other ways that I don’t remember anymore.”
“So it’s not all peace, love, and harmony?” Fergus asked wryly.
“Why did you say that Fae would be safe with her?” I asked – shouted in a rage, really. My composure was a very fragile thing, and I felt like I could shatter at any moment.
“We – they …” Alphie grimaced as she tripped up on her own words. “Nell and the Revvers would never hurt a child. She will be cared for, she will be loved.” She paused, as if summoning strength. “Fae is part of the exaction. She has been relinquished without your assent.”
“Nell never means to give her back,” I said, and it wasn’t so much a realization as something I needed to say aloud.
“Exaction is part of it, no matter what else she decides,” Alphie said. “She will take everything from us. Everything that might be of use to her or means something to us will belong to her. We will be left without even the shoes on our feet.”
“What about Dougal?” Fergus asked. “What’s she done with him?”
“It is as she said. Nell doesn’t lie,” Alphie claimed. “He’ll be treated in the Wellness Center. If he returns to health, he’ll face her decisions. If he cannot, he will be put to death.”
“She’s gonna murder him just because he’s sick?” Fergus asked, incredulous and horrified.
“Execution is primarily reserved for those exceptionally hostile or diseased,” Alphie said. “Despite how it may seem to you, Nell doesn’t revel in the loss of life.”
“No, yeah, she seems like a real stand-up lady,” Boden said dryly. “But if she’s not super big on the execution, and she always does the exaction, what are the most likely options for us?”
“For us?” Alphie echoed, almost as if she hadn’t thought of it before. “I only see expiation or Exbindation.”
“Why not exile?” Leandro asked. “How do we get that as an option? We just have to get the hell out of here and stay away, right?”
“I’ve only ever seen Exilation done in the winter,” Alphie said. “And only then, after all their shoes and clothes have been relinquished, and when they are alone, they are banished outside the walls.”
“That’s just another form of execution!” Fergus said in dismay. “You’ve been saying we’ve got options, but it’s all just different ways to die, isn’t it?”
“What about Exbindation?” Edie asked. “That was serving without end. So does that mean slavery?”
“Of sorts, I suppose,” Alphie admitted quietly. “But they do not serve Nell or the Reverent. They are the servants of the Loved Ones. They enter the courtyard to adorn them and clean up after them.”
I looked out the window at the extravagantly dressed zombies shuffling from side to side. Under the dark clouds, their glittering jewelry was dull, and the paint on their skin was little more than streaks of color staining their ashen flesh.
“How?” I asked, voicing a question I’d wondered since I first saw the decorated Loved Ones. “How can the servants get so near them to paint their flesh without getting torn to bits?”
“They have armor made of steel and leather, and they cover the mouths of the Loved Ones when they are being adorned,” Alphie said. “Sometimes, the servants are still torn to bits, and eventually, they all are infected. If they served well, they will be kept with the Loved Ones. If not, they are put to death and burned to ash.”
“See, it is just another way to die!” Fergus shouted in frustration.
“I’m not the one who decides the punishments!” Alphie yelled back, her voice cracking a bit. Tears filled her eyes, and she glared up at him fiercely. “I don’t get to choose whether we live or die!”
“Wait,” Boden said, as if something had occurred to him. “Remy was here in the winter. You told me that before. What did Nell do to her?”
“Nell never got to decide for Remy.” Alphie shook her head. “She escaped.”
“So there is a way to escape from here?” Leandro asked.
Alphie shook her head again. “Not from the barracks. She was held in the Wellness Center. I don’t know a way out of here.”
Boden, Leandro, Edie, and Fergus had been trying to figure out a way to escape. With the bars on the windows and the locks on the door, just getting out of the room was a difficulty.
Outside the door were armed guards, a courtyard of zombies, and a community of close-knit flamboyantly dressed devotees who would immediately notice that we didn’t belong. After that were more concrete walls with armed guards in the bastions, and locked iron doors.
Not to mention that Dougal and Fae were being held in two separate locations, the Wellness Center and the nursery, so we’d have to find them and get them out.
“Alphie, please!” Edie begged her. “There has to be some way to get us all out of here alive. You know this place better than we do. Help us get the fuck out of here.”
“I-I am trying,” Alphie stammered.
Suddenly, the harsh clangor of bells rumbled through the air like ominous thunder. The metallic ringing echoed off the concrete, making the sonorous sound nearly deafening.
Alphie’s eyes widened as she turned to look out at the courtyard in horror. “Is it dusk already?”
“What’s going on?” Leandro asked with his hands pressed to his ears even as the clattering came to an end.
“No, no.” Alphie whimpered and scurried back into the corner of the room, pressing herself as far away from the windows as she could. “I cannot be made to bear witness again!”
She collapsed to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rocked herself and cried and shook her head, her curls flying about.
“Bear witness to what?” Edie asked, rushing over to comfort her. “What’s happening?”
“Alphie, what does Nell do for expiation?” Fergus asked, coming to a frightening realization before I did.
I looked back out the window and realized the zombies were no longer shuffling about. All of them had turned their attention to the arched gate on the north wall of the courtyard.
In the barracks behind me, the others were frantically shouting over each other and at Alphie. I tuned them out as I focused on seeing what the zombies were about to do.
As I stepped closer to the windows, the distant but blood-curdling sound of someone screaming became audible. Then the north gate of the courtyard opened, and the screams were loud enough that everyone could hear. Everyone else in the bunkroom fell silent and slowly joined me at the windows to bear witness.
Four Revvers in armor tossed two women into the courtyard. The armor I only caught a glimpse of, and it looked like a metal trash can covered in spikes with a football helmet on their heads. What I noticed the most was the women and the way they were tossed into the zombies like a bag of trash into a pit.
As the women landed roughly on the hard cobblestones, the Revvers left and closed the north gate behind them.
From where I watched, I couldn’t discern the women’s ages. Somewhere between twenty and fifty, maybe. But they were both a little chubby in tattered, filthy clothing. There were fresh wounds on their arms and calves with bright red blood scenting the air.
The zombies were already lumbering toward them, having been summoned by the screams. The women turned, limping and running toward the door, but neither of them reached it before they were swarmed.
The entire horde of Loved Ones descended on the two women. At first the women screamed, somehow louder and more desperate than before, but soon they stopped. Then it was only the wet sound of tearing flesh and teeth gnashing on bone.
My mouth began to water, and I felt like throwing up and sobbing. I pressed my palm against the glass, and I breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of rotting decay, coppery blood, and impending rain.
And then, almost all at once, the zombies straightened out and shuffled off again. When they cleared enough that I could see the women, there was nothing but bloody bones and rags left.
That’s when I finally noticed Nell, the Allmother, standing on a second story balcony outstretching over the courtyard. Beside her were at least a dozen other Revvers, all dressed in gaudy clothing. Each and every one of them had watched the zombies feast, and they all were smiling and laughing, as if it had been some wonderful play put on for their enjoyment.
“Boden,” I said, summoning him away from his attempted interrogation of Alphie.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he came over to join me at the window. “You shouldn’t have watched that.”
“I know how we can get out of here,” I whispered and looked up at him. “I need the Revvers to feed me to the zombies.”
26
Stella
It was dark when Alphie had finally calmed down enough to talk about what exactly expiation meant for the Revvers. She still sat in the corner, with Edie beside her and a blanket around her shoulders. I sat between Boden and Leandro on the closest cot while Fergus paced the room and chewed on his thumbnail.
“The Loved Ones require nourishment, as all living things do,” Alphie explained. “They prefer living food with humans being their only true craving. So, to appease and venerate the Loved Ones, they must be fed on a regular basis.
“Sentries are always patrolling the territory looking for outsiders,” she went on, speaking as if telling a charming bedtime story to us instead of explaining the cannibalistic rituals. “But even Nell can’t control how many people will cross our paths. That means that the Loved Ones are fed much more intermittently than is ideal.”
“How frequent are regular feedings if Nell had her wish?” Boden asked.
“Once every single day,” Alphie said. “The humans must be healthy, and never more than two at a time because the Loved Ones will leave too much meat on the bone. If a body isn’t entirely devoured, sometimes it rises again as a Revenant, and there is only room in the courtyard for Loved Ones.”
“Wait.” Fergus stopped and looked down at her. “What’s the tipping point, so to speak? Or how little flesh is needed for the virus to get it moving again?”
“A brain at least,” Alphie said. “But I don’t truly know. I hated to watch the expiation ceremony.”
“Yeah, so did we,” Leandro muttered.
“The Loved Ones haven’t been fed since we arrived,” Boden realized. “If Nell prefers to feed them daily, why weren’t they fed for three days?”
“Like I said, even the Allmother can’t control the supply. There was no healthy offering available,” Alphie said. “Nell would never give them anything diseased or unworthy. That’s why expiation isn’t the automatic punishment for everyone the Sentry finds. Not all outsiders are suitable.”
“What about us?” I asked. “Would we be deemed worthy and healthy enough to be an offering?”
Alphie thought for a moment, blinking as she stared straight ahead. “Yes.”
“Trust Dougal to be the one getting sick, not me,” Fergus muttered to himself.
“Do they take volunteers?” I asked.
Alphie looked at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“When they come to collect two of us for the expiation, do they allow us to volunteer?” I clarified.
“What are you at, asking that?” Fergus asked. “You’ve got Fae to think of, not this.”
“I am thinking about Fae,” I said emphatically. “But there’s something you don’t know about me.”
“Stella,” Boden whispered, trying to admonish me.
“They’re going to find out anyway,” I reasoned. “And it’ll be easier if everyone knows what’s going on.”
Fergus’s eyes shot up. “You’ve kept a secret, yeah? Well, that’s altogether grand.”
“It felt like it was more of a need-to-know basis kind of thing,” I explained awkwardly. “When I was pregnant with my daughter, shortly before I gave birth to her, I was bitten by a zombie. I was infected, and I nearly turned, but Fae’s immune system helped me resist it.”
I carefully left out the fact that that had happened because Fae herself had an immunity to the virus. Remy had always insisted that the fewer people who knew about Fae’s condition the safer it was for her and the rest of us.
“It’s called microchimerism,” Edie elaborated. She had been one of my midwives while I was sick and when I gave birth, and she had known about my condition because she was treating it as it happened. “It’s when a fetus’s immune system helps bolster the mothers to fight off infections, even viruses and diseases.”
“You’re saying that you were infected, but you’re not anymore?” Leandro asked, his brow crinkled in confusion. “Like you’re immune to zombies?”
“Yes,” I admitted and took a deep breath. “I can also communicate with them, but only in the most rudimentary way using pheromones. I honestly don’t have much of a grasp on how it works exactly, but the zombies won’t hurt me.”
“What?” Fergus asked.
“That’s why we haven’t seen many of the Revenant on our way here,” Alphie realized. “Usually there’s so many more out in the summer. And when they attacked the cabin and got Oakley and Juniper, you weren’t around. Have you kept them away?”
I swallowed back guilt and gave a quick nod. “I’ve been doing my best to repel them.”
“You can control two hearts,” Alphie murmured, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell us that?” Leandro asked.
“Because I warned her not to,” Boden answered for me. “People can react in strange ways when they find out about something like this. I didn’t want her to be a target for the Revvers or anyone else.”
“If Nell discovered what you could do, she’d keep you on a golden chain so you could never get away,” Alphie said, sounding both awed and menacing. “She’s been searching for someone like you for so long, and she would do anything to possess you.”
“Well, that is never going to fucking happen,” Boden said.
“So you’re heading into the courtyard to take charge of the zombies, yeah?” Fergus said, surmising the initial part of my plan. “And then what? How’re we meant to get Dougal and Fae out past those bloody thick walls?”
I took a deep breath and explained my plan, the one that I had come up with Boden while Alphie had still been sobbing and hyperventilating.
Edie and Leandro were initially dismayed and opposed, while Fergus got on board almost immediately. He and I had an understanding because he would do anything to save his brother the same way I would do anything to save my daughter.
Alphie, interestingly, only had one question. “Are you planning to hurt the Loved Ones?”
“I am not,” I said truthfully. “But I can’t predict how the Revvers themselves will act when the Loved Ones are unleashed.”
“So who’s the second then?” Fergus asked when the other details had been sorted out. “They usually offer up two, yeah?”
“I am,” Boden said without waiting for anyone else to answer.
I frowned at him. “We talked about this. I would rather you stay back in case something happens to me, so someone is here for Fae.”
“Edie’s here, and I know Fergus and Leandro wouldn’t leave Fae behind, either,” Boden said.
“The only way I’m going out those bloody walls is if both Dougal and Fae are with me,” Fergus immediately promised me.
“Fae can’t lose you, too, Boden,” I insisted.
He held my gaze when he said definitively, “You were the one that told me where I go, you go. I’m with you on this all the way, and we’re both getting Fae out of here. That’s the only way this works anyway.”
And that’s how it was decided. With great resolve and many reservations, the six of us made our plan in the dark of the barracks with zombies dancing in the moonlight outside the barred windows.
In the morning, a garden shower dampened the courtyard, washing the remaining blood off the bones of yesterday’s offering. But by afternoon, the clouds had parted enough that a salmon-orange sunlight could get through. The courtyard was left in the shadows for most of the day, but the sky above painted a disparate picture from the Loved Ones shambling below.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Alphie asked me as dusk slowly approached, though I didn’t know who the she was she was referring to.
Alphie had been standing at the window, staring outside for most of the day. It didn’t seem particularly strange to me, because it was what I had been doing, too. Boden and Leandro were trying to rest while they had a chance, and Fergus continued his pacing. Edie sat on her cot, running through various scenarios in her head, and occasionally stretching or doing light exercise.
“Who is beautiful?” I asked.
“Her.” Alphie smiled and pointed to a female zombie a meter or two away from us.
The zombie was facing us, but by the vacancy of her eyes, it didn’t seem like she was really looking at anything. Half of her face and scalp had rotted, but her remaining hair was wrapped with golden ribbons. A flowy, tattered orange tunic was draped over her, but all that poked out at the bottom were literal bones for legs. Her feet, oddly enough, still had skin, but they’d swollen into putrid bags of flesh.
“In the orange?” I asked, confused. “You think she’s beautiful?”
“She was always so beautiful,” Alphie said wistfully. “She’s my mother, Josette.”
For a moment, I tried to see the traces of humanity clinging to the ruined forms in the courtyard. But the sound of bells tolling shattered the illusion. Some of the zombies growled in anticipation, with a few already turning their attention to the north gate.
Through the thick glass, I could smell the hunger coming off the Loved Ones. A heavy, cloying sweetness tangled with rot and copper. It seeped through the barriers, mingling with the damp cobblestones and morning rain. Somehow faint but potent enough that I could still taste it in the back of my throat.
The moment the bells stopped, the door to the barracks opened. Benedict and another guard burst into the room, while another two waited in the hall.
All of them were dressed in the unusual armor I had only glimpsed before. A metal carapace covered in foot-long dull spikes – likely to repel the Loved Ones without harming them – atop coveralls made from a thick moose hide. On their heads were football helmets with a mesh screen across the entire face. The helmets were painted in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the rest of their armor was much more utilitarian and drab. In addition to their usual rifles hung over their shoulders, each of the men had a spear with a jagged blade at the end.
“Nell has made her decision,” Benedict announced. With his good eye, he surveyed the six of us. “Your punishment is to be expiation, and you will atone without mercy. Two of you will be chosen for tonight’s offering.”
Boden stepped forward. “What if we volunteer?”
“Some have in the past, but it doesn’t change the fate of anyone else,” Benedict said. “Nell’s decisions are never undone.”
Boden nodded his head in understanding. “I know. I just want to get this over with.”
“Fine,” Benedict said. “Any others?”
I raised a hand. “I volunteer.”
Momentary surprised flashed in Benedict’s solitary eye, then he reached forward and grabbed me by the arm. “Let’s begin then.”
“Hey, easy!” Boden protested, and another guard grabbed him by both his arms.
“I told you that volunteering won’t change your fate,” Benedict reminded him as they roughly dragged us away.
27
Stella
The journey through the narrow corridors to the north gate was brief. The guards walked quickly and half-carried me/half-dragged me along before tossing me on the floor in a staging area.
“You okay?” Boden asked, as he fell hard on the cobblestone beside me.
“So far,” I mumbled.
As I glanced around, I realized we weren’t in a room but an arched passageway that ran through the barracks, connecting the interior Loved Ones courtyard with the community of Fort Lately. Both ends of the passage were closed off by sturdy gates with locks and crossbars, but the cloying hunger pheromones permeated even more.
The area was dimly lit by a candle ring hanging from the ceiling. I was studying the locks as best I could when a guard suddenly grabbed me and yanked me to my feet. Boden protested a moment before another guard grabbed him the same way. Benedict walked over to the wall, and that’s when I noticed the row of blades and spears hanging on it.
“What are you doing?” Boden asked, straining futilely against the guard that held his arms behind his back. “You’re going to feed us to fucking zombies. Why do you gotta torture us first?”
“Because you refuse to show reverence,” Benedict said as he chose a skinning knife with a sharp, curved blade.
When he approached me, Boden cursed at him, but I knew this was a part of the ritual we’d have to get through. There was no way around it, so I closed my eyes and I thought of Max and of Fae and the French lullaby I sang to her at night.
Benedict cut my pants first with a rough jerking motion, leaving me with jagged shorts that landed just above the knee. Then he sliced down my calf, one quick cut on each side.
“This is barbaric,” Boden growled at the guards. “You’re a disgusting disgrace to the human race.”
Benedict said nothing as he slashed the blade across the soft underside of my forearms. I opened my eyes then to see him grinning smugly down at me.
“I’m going to kill you,” Boden warned him in a low growl.
“That sounds damn near impossible, since you won’t even be alive in a few minutes,” Benedict sneered at him as he went to work, repeating the same quick cuts on Boden’s legs and arms. “Although, I’ve always thought those last few moments must feel like a lifetime.”
“I only need to live a minute longer than you,” Boden replied, and Benedict’s sneer faltered slightly.
“Let’s get this over with,” Benedict said, speaking to the other sentries. “Nell likes her punishments carried out swiftly.”
It took two guards to lift the crossbar, but the gates appeared to swing open with relative ease. Since neither Boden or I were screaming or causing a commotion, the zombies were much slower to notice and start their shamble toward us.
The guard holding me was fairly strong, and he tossed me out into the courtyard like I was nothing. I landed roughly on the ground, scraping my fresh wounds painfully across the stones.
Boden was much bigger than I was, so his guard hadn’t been able to throw him as far. He landed a couple meters from the gate with an audible thud.
I scrambled to my feet as quickly as I could, because I had to get to him. It was the only way I knew I could protect him.
Before I even reached him, the gates had slammed shut behind us.
Boden grimaced as I crouched down beside him, and he said, “Gates shut and the zombies are coming.”
“I know,” I said, helping him up. “Stay close to me. I can’t be super precise with directions when it comes to zombies, and I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”
We were both on our feet, so I finally looked up to make sure Nell was witnessing all of this. She stood on the second-story balcony in her garish robes, a serene smile on her face as she watched her judgements come to pass.
The zombies were closing in around us, but I stared up at Nell, meeting her gaze with a smile of my own.
Be still, I thought, willing my body to emit a potent musk. I never took my eyes off Nell, but I could hear the zombies falling silent around me. No hungry groans or shuffling steps. Even their jewelry stopped jingling as they went complete still.
Nell’s smile turned to confusion then shock and horror. The Revvers on the balcony with her began to murmur and whisper among themselves.
“How have you done this?” Nell shouted down at me. “What have you done to the Loved Ones?”
“I decided that they should be still,” I replied simply.
“Tell me what you have done!” Nell yelled, sounding more enraged.
“Release me and my friends, including my daughter and Dougal, and I will release your Loved Ones,” I said, hoping she would take my first offer. It was the only one without bloodshed.
Nell let out a humorless laugh. “That is not how things work here. I am the Allmother. You abide by my decisions, and there is not deviation. If you do not tell me what I wish to know, then I will have my Sentries convert your Expiation to an Execution.”
“Release us, and no one needs to be hurt!” I yelled, desperately imploring her now. “Your people and your Loved Ones will be safe.”
For some reason, my pleas seemed to only make Nell angrier. She scowled and shouted, “Sentries! Open the gates and complete this Execution!”
“Stay close,” I reminded Boden again, and I grabbed his hand.
As the gates creaked open, Benedict strode in with three other guards at his side. They took deliberate steps walking between the unmoving zombies on their way toward us, occasionally giving an uncertain glance around them.
Chase the threat away, I thought, but the pheromones that came from me smelled like rage and hunger.
The courtyard was small enough that all my commands reached them near instantaneously, and when they came to life, they practically moved in unison. The zombies ran around me and Boden – leaving us a safe island in the center of chaos – as they all overwhelmed the guards.
Benedict managed to break away and race back toward the passageway. If he locked the north gate again, it would make the rest of our plan so much harder.
Run, I commanded, and the zombies surged forward, knocking Benedict down as they raced into the passageway.
“Let’s go,” I said, still holding Boden’s hand to keep him close to me.
We moved with the horde, an untouched eye of the storm while zombies swarmed around us like a hurricane.
Benedict was on the floor of the passageway, his armor protecting him from being trampled by the zombies.
“Wait,” Boden said as I started to walk by Benedict.
The zombies parted around us when I did, and Benedict was on his back, rocking like a turtle on the dull spikes. When Boden bent down and picked up a discarded spear off the floor, Benedict held up his gloved hands out in front of him, palms out.
“Please, Nell was the one who decided,” Benedict tried to plead for his life.
“Now I’m the one who decides,” Boden said flatly.
In one swift motion, he drove the spear through the mesh of Benedict’s helmet. Straight into his good eye, deep enough to kill. Boden pulled the spear out, with the eyeball and some brain matter still stuck to the spike, then motioned for us to go on.
The zombies were all piled up at the gate at the other end, slamming into it as they tried to escape, so I stilled them long enough that Boden and I could get through. We removed the crossbar, and then I commanded the zombies to run again.
The gates popped open, and the Loved Ones were unleashed on Fort Lately.
28
Stella
Boden grabbed the keyring of Benedict’s corpse, and we ran down the narrow corridor back to our bunkroom. As soon as we unlocked the door, Edie rushed over to Boden and me, and she immediately began inspecting our wounds.
We had a few scrapes and bruises from being thrown around, but it was the gashes down our calves and arms that were the worst of it. She had torn strips of fabric from the blankets, and she attempted to bandage us before we could even say anything.
“We need to hurry, we don’t know how long the chaos outside will hold,” Boden said, practically swatting her hands away.
“An open wound is ripe for infection,” Edie insisted, tending to his wounds despite his protests. And then, distracting him by going over the plan again, she asked, “Does everybody remember where they need to go?”
“Just so you’ve got it straight, you and I are after the Wellness Center, which is a squat blue building, to the west of the barracks,” Fergus said, answering for himself and Edie. “There’s a sign over the door with a big white solar cross on it.”
“Boden and I are going to the nursery in the northwest corner and looking for a pink cottage,” I said.
“There is a sign in front painted with a crescent moon cradling a star,” Alphie added.
“Alphie and I are going to the hayloft above the stables where all the stolen gear is stored,” Leandro said.
“We need the keys you got from the Sentries,” Alphie said, holding her hand out to us. “The nursery and the Wellness Center probably aren’t even locked, but the loft is so close to the main gates that we’ll get there first, and we will need the keys to get out of them.”
Boden winced as Edie tightened his last bandage, and he handed the keys to Alphie. “And you’ll wait for us to all meet at the south exit, and then we all get the hell out of here.”
“And if you’re not near me, I can’t protect you from the zombies,” I once again clarified. “They can’t understand specific commands like that.”
The sounds of havoc echoed from the other side of the walls – shouts, crashes, and the unmistakable groans of the undead.
“Right, I’m off now,” Fergus said, slipping past us toward the door. “I’ve no time for this. You’ll catch up when you’re done, won’t you, Edie?”
“There’s weapons hanging on the wall in the passageway out!” Boden called after him. “Grab yourself one!”
“Thanks, man!” Fergus yelled back as he ran down the corridor.
“I’m fine,” I told Edie, yanking my hastily bandaged arms back from her. “Fae needs me.”
Once we were outside the barracks, we all parted ways, with Boden and I heading to the right. It was impossible to ignore the carnage and chaos unfolding around us, although I desperately wanted to.
When I had first come up with this plan and discussed it with Boden, I had known there would likely be casualties. I had hoped that once Nell had seen what I could do, she would let us all go, but I had known that she might choose violence even when peace had been an option.
Then, in hushed conversations, it had been easy to think of it as a necessary evil. Nell was holding us captive with the intent to feed us to zombies and raise my daughter up as a follower and servant. I never wanted to hurt innocent people, but I would do anything to prevent Nell from making the final decisions for me or my daughter.
Now, though, as I ran through streets in disarray and upturned market stalls, listening to the people scream and cry around me as the zombies ran amok, I worried that there was no such thing as a necessary evil. That all evil is simply evil. That some means cannot be justified by any ends.
“I think I can see the sign!” Boden yelled, pointing toward a corner of the fortress. He was a good foot taller than me, so he had a better vantage than I did. “A moon and star on a pink building, right?”
“That’s how Alphie described it,” I said.
We pressed forward, weaving through the wreckage and skirting shattered carts. My heart hammered as Boden led the way, his eyes fixed on the pink building. All around, the shrieks and commotion seemed to blur together, making the fear and regret harden in my chest.
Finally, we reached the nursery. The door wasn’t locked, just as Alphie had predicted, so Boden threw it open and we ran right into the main room of the nursery. It was a rectangle with pastel murals featuring children and colorful animals playing with zombies, as if they were all friends.
One wall was lined with bunkbed style cribs stacked three high. While they were undeniably still cribs – each one covered in ornate carvings of flowers, baby animals, and zombies in a fairy tale sort of way, even on the spindles – the stacked style gave them an unnerving cage appearance. I suddenly had a memory of being in a pet store as a young child, and the feeling was disturbingly similar.
Toys were scattered across the floor, with books and crafts stacked on dressers and shelves. There were even a few adult size rocking chairs, but nobody was sitting when we ran into the nursery.
In addition to the children in the cribs – from babies to maybe four-years-old – there were three women in the room. Two appeared to be in their early twenties, cowering in the back and looking horrified.
The third was Nell Mahler. My daughter Fae was in her arm, resting on one hip, while Nell held a curved skinning knife in her other hand.
“I knew you would come for her,” Nell said, as if she had cleverly deduced some great mystery instead of running for the most obvious choice.
“Give me my daughter, and we’ll be gone,” I said, keeping my voice calm and light because I didn’t want to frighten Fae.
“Mama! Bobo!” Fae called for me and Boden, stretching her tiny arms out toward us.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Nell told her soothingly. “Mama has to tell me what’s going on with my Loved Ones before I let you go. How is she controlling them?”
A gunshot blasted outside, and all the babies in the room began to wail and scream. Fae, for her part, began to squirm. Nell was a petite woman holding a frightened toddler in one arm, and it didn’t take much for her to wriggle enough that Nell dropped her on the floor.
Boden immediately dove at Nell while I ran for Fae. She was crying now, big wet tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, and I pulled her into my arms, squeezing her tight to me.
Nell and Boden fell to the floor beside me, and I skittered out of the way with Fae still in my arms. Boden got Nell on her back and punched her in the face, hard enough that she went unconscious
He sat back on his heels and gave me an apologetic look. “A man should never hit a woman. But she tried to kill my family.”
“I would’ve punched her if I wasn’t holding Fae,” I said as I got to my feet. “Come on. We have to go.”
“What about the other kids?” Boden asked, glancing around.
“We can’t take care of a dozen babies,” I said, because there was nothing more we could do. Fae was crying in my arms, and outside, people were screaming. “We have to go.”
“Yeah.” Boden nodded grimly, and he got up.
Nell was still unmoving on the floor, and Boden told the other two women to put something heavy in front of the door after we left. He grabbed his spear from when he’d dropped it, and we went back outside into the chaos.
Fortunately, we were at the back corner, so there didn’t seem to be as many zombies or people running around. It would be easier to slip by unnoticed, even with Fae’s cries muffled into my shoulder.
“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Nell shrieked behind us, and a wooden barrel next to me exploded as a musket bullet pierced it.
I instinctively crouched, shielding Fae with my body, and Boden stood in front of us. I looked back to see Nell staggering toward us, a rifle in her hand. Her face was already swollen, and her nose was bleeding.
“The Reverent are owed Expiation and Exaction,” Nell insisted as she staggered toward us. “You owe me.”
Her blood was dripping over her lips as she spoke, and as she glared at us with hatred burning in her pale eyes, I focused all my energy on summoning the zombies.
It didn’t take long. She only managed to get out one more demand, screeching, “That child belongs to us!” And then zombies were swarming her. Not all of the Loved Ones – maybe only a dozen – but it was enough to overwhelm her.
Her final words I could understand, before her voice became nothing more than squelching screams and bloody gurgles, were, “But I served you!”
29
Stella
As we ran toward the gates, I clung to Boden’s hand and let him lead the way. Fae’s face was buried in my shoulder, because I didn’t want her to see any more of this. The sounds and smells were more than enough.
“Hey, over here!” Fergus shouted, and that’s when I finally looked up.
Fergus was waving for us, while Dougal and Edie stood further back near the door set into the fortress wall. We ran through a crowd of oblivious panicked Revvers to reach them, and Edie pulled me and Fae into a rough embrace.
“Where are the others?” Boden asked.
“We haven’t seen Leandro or Alphie yet.” Fergus clapped a hand on Boden’s shoulder. “But you’re alright, mate, yeah?”
“Yeah, we’re okay,” Boden said. “And you all?”
“Ah, I’m grand now. Just needed a few days’ rest,” Dougal said with a lopsided grin. He was still pale and underweight, but he had a bit more color to his cheeks. His eyes went to Fae clinging to me. “How is the little one?”
“She’ll be better once we get out of here,” I said.
“Hey, hey, don’t leave yet!” Leandro called as he and Alphie sprinted toward us.
The two of them were running haphazardly between overturned stalls, injured Revvers, and rabid zombies, and they were struggling under the weight of all our gear they’d retrieved. Packs slung over their shoulders, arms loaded down with supplies we otherwise would have lost. Immediately, Boden, Edie, and Fergus raced over to meet them, taking on some of the bags.
“We got as much as we could,” Leandro said breathlessly as they all joined Dougal, Fae, and I at the door.
“You did amazing,” Boden assured him. “You and Alphie are real life savers.”
“Now how are we to be gettin’ out of here?” Fergus asked, raking his fingers through his thick hair as he took in the gate. “One of you has the key, right?”
“Here.” Alphie handed it to him.
He immediately went to work at the hefty lock, with Boden and Leandro lifting off the heavy crossbar as he did.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dusty barked at us, and we all looked back to see him standing behind us with a rifle in his hands. His red hair had come free from its usual ponytail, and there was a flap of flesh on his cheek that looked suspiciously like a zombie bite.
“You’ve got enough to be fretting over, boyo,” Dougal said, motioning vaguely to the carnage unfolding throughout the town square. “Leave us be.”
“Do you think you can make a mess of everything here and dip out?” Dusty asked incredulously.
“Stella, if there’s anything you can do, now might be a great time,” Boden said.
I started to focus my thoughts on summoning the zombies, but then Dusty whipped his rifle right at me and Fae, and all thoughts went out of my head.
“It’s you that done this?” Dusty asked. Boden immediately made a step toward me, but Dusty stopped him with, “Nobody move or I’ll shoot that girl in the heart, straight through her baby.”
“Dusty, please,” Alphie pleaded with him, but she didn’t move. “That’s not what the Reverent do. We don’t hurt babies.”
“You don’t do nothing but betray us!” Dusty shouted at her, but his eyes – and his rifle – stayed locked on me and Fae.
“Alright, we’re not moving,” Boden said calmly. “We’re doing as you ask, Dusty. Now what do you want?”
“I want her to stop what she’s done, and then I want her to pay for it!” Dusty shouted, and then he pulled the trigger.
I heard the blast, and I put my hand over Fae’s head and held her close to me. Suddenly, a pair of hands were on my back, tackling me to the ground and laying their body over me like a shield. Alphie let out a strange gasping scream, and I watched her fall to the ground right in front of me.
“You alright?” Fergus asked, and that’s when I realized he was the one that had pushed Fae and me out of the way.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said.
Alphie had apparently leapt in front of the bullet at the same time, and her chest had been blown wide open. Her head lolled over on the gravel, looking at me, and just before the light faded from her eyes, she murmured, “All will be well.”
By then, Boden had already charged Dusty and gotten the empty rifle from him. He used it to beat Dusty across the head three times, until he stopped moving, and then Boden turned back to us.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
30
Stella
We walked through the night, only stopping when necessary. Leandro and Alphie had managed to grab four lanterns and three times as many candles from the storehouse, so at least we weren’t travelling in total darkness.
I carried Fae in my arms long after she’d fallen asleep and my body began to ache. Wrapping her on my back made carrying her a bit easier physically, but I wanted to hold her to me.
The rest of us spoke very little, other than directions here or there (watch out for that branch, it’s slippery up ahead, and the like).
When we’d first gotten far enough away from Fort Lately that it felt safe, far enough that we couldn’t hear the screams or see their firelight anymore, we had stopped to go through our retrieved belongings to make sure that we had everything.
The scrapbook journal I’ve been making for Fae was intact, including the map I’d made with Lazlo’s input. The trail followed the Staulo River west before diverging slightly north toward a town called Xwechtáal. According to the note I’d scrawled underneath, it was an estimated two-week hike from Fort Lately’s territory.
Lazlo was familiar with Xwechtáal – which he pronounced as Schweck-tall – because they sometimes traded with Emberwood, and he described it as a friendly community. Or at least as friendly as anywhere could be these days.
We followed the river, keeping it to our left. Eventually, we’d part ways with it, but Boden had a compass, and we all had the stars to guide us. So we walked on, pushing ourselves, each of us committed to putting as much distance between us and the Revvers as we possibly could.
As dawn approached, Dougal let out an audible groan and sat down on a fallen log.
“I’m sorry, folks, but I haven’t anymore in me.” He grimaced and put a hand to his head. “I need to lie down or I’ll be out cold standing.”
“We’ve all had our fill of it tonight,” Fergus agreed, and he was already fishing in his bag to pull out a canister of water for his brother. “We should set up camp and get a proper rest in.”
“Sure,” Boden said, glancing around uncertainly. “We’ll just, uh, clear out a spot for our bed rolls and get a fire going, and sure. Yeah. I can take the first watch.”
And so that’s what we did. We set up our makeshift camp in a tired but practiced rhythm, like people who’d done this too many times before.
I slept in my bedroll, curled up around Fae. I only managed a few hours before Boden woke me for my watch, but then Fae was up anyway. As the sun rose in the sky, she crouched down, watching a caterpillar crawl across the ground.
Somehow, through it all, she remained happy and curious, and I knew then that I made the right choice. Unleashing the Loved Ones had been brutal and drastic, but it was the only way I could ensure that Fae and I could be safe, happy, and free.
And I would choose Fae every single time, no matter the cost.
It was still early in the day when everyone woke and we rolled up camp. The main priority was still putting as much distance between us and the Revvers as possible, as quickly as possible.
None of us could move with the same intensity as we had yesterday and last night. The adrenaline was fading with our exhaustion growing. But even with that, it soon became clear that Dougal was struggling to move at all, regardless of intensity.
With his sallow cheeks, his sunken gray eyes looked too large for his face. He’d always been the slenderer of the two brothers, but it progressed to emaciation. He was drowning in the baggy layers of clothing, despite the summer temperatures leaving the rest of us in tank tops and short sleeves.
Over breakfast – where Dougal only had warm water lightly flavored with dried venison – Edie had gone through the medicine she’d heisted from the Wellness Center back at Fort Lately. All of it was helpful, but she had been disappointed to find the Revvers had stocked the medicine cabinets with bandages, herbs, and crystals, but they were remarkably short on things like antibiotics, antineoplastics, and sedatives.
She had done all she could with what she had, but it was clear by the worry in her eyes that it hadn’t nearly been enough.
After he’d consumed the herbs and used the ointments, Dougal drank water, and he laid down and took another nap in the sun. Even with a flannel shirt, a sweater, and his bedroll, he still shivered underneath, so Fergus added his own bedroll, draping it over his brother.
“We should really get moving,” Boden said as afternoon approached, and his worried gaze was to the east, back where the Revvers might still follow us.
They had definitely been hampered by the Loved Ones and the loss of Nell, but all they needed was one or two guards hellbent on revenge with a horse and a firearm. How long would it take them to find us, especially if they decided to follow the river?
“Could we give it just a small while more?” Fergus entreated. He glanced imploringly between his still sleeping brother and Boden.
“If I thought he would wake up fully rested and ready to go,
I’d give him another hour. Hell, I’d give him another five hours. But…” Boden exhaled roughly and lowered his voice, even though Dougal was snoring softly and couldn’t hear him. “I don’t think he’s going to feel better any time soon.”
“What would you have me do?” Fergus asked. “Walk away from my only brother, is that it?”
“No,” Edie said, answering definitively before Boden could.
She’d been sitting on a fallen log beside me, where both of us had been playing with Fae in between upkeep. I mended some of Fae’s clothing that was tattered, while Edie was making cordage out of cedar bark. But as the conversation between Fergus and Boden had grown more heated, Edie had set aside her things.
“We don’t have to leave Dougal behind,” she continued, getting to her feet. “But we need to move quickly. So, we have to figure out how we can bring Dougal along with us.”
“You’re thinking about a stretcher?” Boden asked, and he motioned to the rope she’d made. “Is that what the cordage is for?”
Edie nodded. “It won’t be easy through the trees and over the foothills, but it’s the only way we’re getting him out of here.”
Relief washed over Fergus’s face, and he gave himself a forehead slap. “Why didn’t that cross my mind?”
“You’ve been too busy worrying to think straight,” Edie told him with an understanding smile. “If we’ve got enough cordage, all we need is a couple sturdy saplings that we can lash together, with a tarp for the cot.”
“Come on then, no sense in standing around,” Fergus said, and his attention was already turned to scouting out the trees around us for a suitable sapling.
Everyone scrambled to get to it, with Leandro and I following the others’ instructions since we’d never made a stretcher before. Dougal slept for a while longer, but he woke up when Boden took an axe to a sapling a few meters away.
“There’s no need for all this carry-on,” Dougal said when Fergus explained the plan to him. “If I’m of no use, just leave me where I am.”
“We’re not leaving you, and that’s the end of it,” Fergus replied, undeterred. “Rest up a bit, and you’ll be on your legs soon enough.”
“There’s no reason for us to lose another person, if we can help it,” Leandro added.
Dougal continued to protest a bit more, but honestly, he sounded too weak and tired for much conviction.
Still, while the rest of us worked to assemble the makeshift stretcher, I kept an eye on Dougal. He looked pale and clammy, a sheen of sweat gathering on his brow.
Within an hour, the stretcher was complete, and sturdy enough to hold Fergus’s weight. The plan was for two of us – one at the head, the other at the foot – to carry him across the uneven terrain. We would be moving much slower that way, but it was better than not moving at all or leaving anyone behind.
“You’ve made it up grand for me,” Dougal said once he settled back into the stretcher. The base was made of a canvas tarp, and Edie had put some moss and leaves under a bed roll for added comfort. “I appreciate it all, folks, but you didn’t need to go through all that bother. I’ll be moving on my own soon enough.”
We all agreed it was no trouble, and that he would be well again soon, and then we moved on. We had far to go.
31
Stella
Ten days after Dougal had gotten in the stretcher, he still wasn’t well enough to walk long distances. In fact, he’d only gotten worse. He slept most hours of the day and night, and he still had bouts of vomiting and diarrhea, despite the fact that he hardly ate anything.
Fergus was almost always one of the two people carrying the stretcher, only stopping when Boden or Edie insisted he rest. His hands were blistered and calloused from the wooden poles, but he was undaunted.
During breaks, he practically spoon-fed Dougal broth. He wiped his brother’s forehead when it glistened with sweat, and he added another blanket when he shivered.
The days were long and hot, especially since we tried to stick to open areas when possible for easier maneuvering of Dougal. That meant avoiding the cool shade of the trees. As an added insult, even the clouds have been absent.
It was so hot that Dougal had actually discarded his blankets. He’d even abandoned a few of his extra layers, and it was alarming to see how skeletal he appeared without all the padding hiding it away.
We’d been moving slow enough that I could let Fae walk, which was a relief because she gave off so much heat for such a tiny thing. She wore only a light sundress, and her auburn curls were pulled up in a pair of pig tails.
“Is that a pond over there?” Leandro asked as the morning tilted toward an exceptionally hot afternoon. He was the second one on stretcher duty, with Fergus at the head. Boden was leading the way, while Edie and I meandered with Fae at the back.
I stood on my tiptoes and squinted, and a dark blue pool appeared on the horizon, but I half-feared it might be a mirage. My tank top was drenched with sweat, and my cheeks were red from sunburn and overheating.
“Yeah, it seems to be,” Boden said.
“Well, I think we’ve earned ourselves a beach day!” Leandro shouted gleefully.
With barely contained excitement, we all hurried across the sunbaked grass toward the shimmering lake, the promise of relief quickening our steps.
Dougal, too weak to join any activities, was placed in the shade of a maple tree north of the sandy beach, and Boden sat down beside him. On the other side of the tree was a large boulder, and rather strangely, it had been spray-painted with that symbol we had seen before. The one with the grinning leaf on the Cedar Hollow Campgrounds sign.
I didn’t have time to think on it because Fae was sprinting toward the water, and I had to keep up with her.
“I can stay with Dougal,” Fergus was telling Boden as I left them behind. “It’s no trouble with me if you’re keen to get in.”
“No, I’ve never been much for the water,” Boden assured him. “Go cool off. Have fun.”
On the soft, sandy beach, Edie and I stripped down to tank tops and underwear, and I let Fae strip down entirely. Already, she was toddling in the shallows, laughing and splashing about.
Edie crouched down next to her, where the water splashed her legs and backside, and she let out her own enthusiastic cry, “Oh, this is magnificent!”
I didn’t disagree with her. When the cool water covered my battered, swollen feet, it felt practically euphoric.
Leandro had waded way out into the pond by the time Fergus finally relented to Boden and joined us at the shore. I glanced back over at him as he pulled off his tee shirt and kicked off his jeans.
Though he was the stockier of the two O’Hara boys, he was still rather lean, especially after all these days on the road. His shoulders were fairly broad, and his arms were toned and strong. A light trail of dark hair ran from his naval to below his boxer shorts, and for some reason, I found it … intriguing.
A strange warmth fluttered in my stomach, and my cheeks flushed with heat. I quickly looked away and hoped that nobody had noticed me staring.
He slipped into the water with an exuberant whooping, and I focused on Fae’s laughter as she danced and the water lapped at her belly.
“I swear this is the best I’ve felt in a damn month!” Leandro shouted as he swam backwards.
“Too true, boyo,” Fergus agreed, swimming out after him into the depths of the pond.
“You can go out with them and have a real swim,” Edie told me. “I’ve never been that strong of a swimmer, so I don’t mind staying here in the shallows with Fae.”
“I’m okay,” I demurred, but I glanced back over at Fergus and Leandro laughing.
“Go on,” Edie pressed with a smile. “We’ll be right here.”
I paddled into deeper water, sunlight glancing off the ripples.
Fergus arched a brow at me, his grin sly and unmistakably mischievous. “About time you joined us, lass.”
“I couldn’t leave Fae,” I reminded him, and he immediately turned apologetic.
“Of course not. Only meant it’s nice to have you along on such a fine day as this.”
It was a fine day. Before, when Max and I were young at the Lakehouse, we would’ve spent the day in Tremblay Lake or reading in the shade. That had only been before Fae was born, but it felt like a lifetime ago. How many lifetimes had I lived before I even reached adulthood?
Distant death groans echoed through the trees, shattering the illusion of a peaceful afternoon. The zombies sounded far enough away that they weren’t an immediate threat, but I wanted it to stay that way.
While treading water in the middle of the pond, I closed my eyes, and I focused on commanding the zombies to stay away. The air around me filled with the scent of musky earth, too faint for Fergus or Leandro to smell, even as close as they were.
“Are you at it now?” Fergus asked, and I opened my eyes again to see him watching me with a curious kind of awe. “Were you talking to them? The zombies?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t call it talking,” I said, sheepishly explaining something that felt so innate to me. “Not like a conversation. But I was signaling for them to stay away.”
“And that works?” Leandro asked, watching toward the trees as if he half-expected a horde to come stumbling out.
“You saw it work back at the Revvers,” Fergus reminded him. “Or have you forgotten already how Stella saved us?”
“No, I haven’t,” Leandro said with an embarrassed grin. “It’s just that it’s still hard for me to wrap my head around.”
“It’s like anything else in life,” I said. “You get used to it with enough time.”
“Do you feel it?” Fergus asked. “When the zombies are close by?”
“Indirectly,” I said. “Their scents make me feel a certain way. I think that’s how it is for them, too, but they don’t have rational thought anymore. I can still deliberate and make choices for myself, so I don’t feel compelled to react to the pheromones the way they do.”
Suddenly, Edie screamed, and I looked back to see her frantically scooping Fae out of the water.
“What’s wrong?” I shouted, but already, I was swimming back toward the shore as quickly as I could.
“There was a leech!” Edie yelled, and by then, Fae had started crying, and Boden was rushing down to join them. “Fae had a leech on her leg!”
When the lake was shallow enough that I could touch the bottom, I started running. It wasn’t until the water was about knee-deep that I finally slowed some, catching my breath, while Edie and Boden doted on Fae on the shore.
“Is she okay?” I asked as I approached.
“She seems to be,” Edie said, and then she looked back at me. Her eyes widened with horror, and she gasped. “Stella, you’re covered in leeches!”
I glanced down at myself, and immediately noticed a dozen slimy wriggling worm-like creatures had attached themselves to me. Most of them were around an inch long, but the one latched onto my calf had to be half a foot in length, all of them swelling as they sucked my blood.
I screamed because I couldn’t help myself and started yanking them off of me. Boden yelled for us to get out of the water, but I was already racing to the shore as quickly as I could.
“We’re away from zombies, and still there’s some fecker trying to sink his teeth in us,” Fergus muttered, as he joined us on the shore and pulled a swollen leech off his chest.
32
Stella
The heat finally broke a week later around the time the rolling foothills gave way to a rugged alpine pass. We were in the final stretch before we’d reach Xwechtáal, where we would be able to get some respite.
By then, we were all in desperate need of a break. Dougal’s condition hadn’t worsened, but it hadn’t improved, either. The task of maneuvering his stretcher up uneven elevations had increased the work exponentially.
Everyone managed it without complaint, and when things felt especially treacherous, all four of us would grab a pole and get through it. But that didn’t change how taxing the trek had become.
Our rations were dwindling, as game grew more scarce the higher we climbed. The last fresh meat Edie had gotten were a few ground squirrels, and that had been ten days ago. We had to make do with our dried meats and stretching our last bits of flour out in brittle hardtack biscuits. Most mornings, Fergus and I were out foraging to supplement our provisions.
He was also hoping to find wild yarrow (Achillea millefolium), which could help Dougal. So far, he hadn’t had any luck on that particular herb, but he did manage to find wild raspberry leaves that he brewed into a tea. Dougal said it settled his stomach a bit, so that was something.
The others managed better than I did without fresh meat, but I tried to keep my hunger to myself. I didn’t want to explain the constant cravings or my frequent dreams of tearing into the soft warm flesh of any living thing I could get my hands on.
I was hardly sleeping as it was. A few hours here and there when I was certain that Boden or Edie were awake. The others thought I hardly slept to repel the zombies away, and that was part of it. But I was far more worried about summoning them again.
Finally, the village of Xwechtáal came into view, but even from a distance, it wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Both Lazlo and Alphie had assured us that while small, Xwechtáal was friendly to outsiders and boasted an inn that served food in the evenings.
As we approached, all I could really see was the fence, if it could even be called that. It was a defensive barrier made of sharpened logs driven into the ground at staggered angles with their aggressive points aimed outward, and not a gap between them to let anything through. The logs were lashed together with thick, rusted strands of barbed wire, and a few corpses of zombies had been left tangled in it to rot.
In general, the wall of splintered wood and twisted metal did not look very welcoming.
“Is that our destination?” Leandro asked, sounding as skeptical as I felt as Xwechtáal loomed on the horizon.
“I can recheck my map if you want, but I do think that’s it,” I said.
“There’s no way around it anyway.” Boden motioned to the sheer mountains that jutted from the earth on either side of the village. “If we want to get to Glacier Valley on the other side, we gotta pass through.”
“Looks like a bloody porcupine,” Fergus muttered. “Here’s hoping none of us end up with a spike in the gob.”
“Probably they’re being prudent,” Edie theorized as we continued. “Everyone wants to find a way to keep the zombies out and stay safe.”
The mountain trail leveled out and led directly to a heavy wooden gate set into the formidable fence, the only visible entrance. The gate itself was reinforced, flanked by watchtowers, and looked every bit as impregnable as the rest of the barrier.
“You there!” A woman leaned her head out of the second story window on the watchtower and shouted down at us.
“Do you mean me, or the group as a whole?” Boden asked, stepping out in front of us.
“Whoever speaks for you,” she replied. Her hands gripped the window frame, and her black hair was pulled into a long braid.
“I’m Charlie Boden, and I’m travelling with my family and friends.” He motioned back toward us. “Can I ask who you are?”
“I am Daiyu Chen,” she said. “I am the Warden of Xwechtáal.”
“I have heard your town is open to visitors,” Boden said. “Is that not true?”
“It is, but only those that are deemed physically fit,” she said.
“What do you mean by that?” Fergus piped up.
“Any signs of the lyssavirus are not permitted inside the walls,” Daiyu said. “These signs include but are not necessarily limited to: evidence of exposure such as bites and scratches, uncontrolled aggression, hydrophobia, and fever.”
“Fever?” Edie echoed, and she stepped forward, joining Boden. “But there are so many other reasons for a fever outside of the lyssavirus.”
“We don’t need any contagions here,” Daiyu replied. “All of you will need to pass a health inspection before you are granted entrance, but I can see from here that one of you is unwell. What is the nature of his ailment?”
Fergus and Leandro had set the stretcher down when Daiyu began her questions, and Fergus stepped forward now, moving closer to Boden and Edie.
“That’s my brother, Dougal,” he said. “He’s been feeling off for some time now. The rest of us are grand, so I doubt it’s catching. Sure it’s been weeks, so it’s not the zombie virus. You can give him the once-over for bites, if it’ll settle you, but he’s no danger to your lot.”
“If he has a fever, he will not be allowed in,” Daiyu said definitively. “All who pass the health assessment at the gates will be allowed in. All who do not will have to stay beyond the fence.”
“It’s as simple as that, is it?” Fergus asked with a sardonic smile.
“Yes, it is as simple as that,” Daiyu said, her voice unyielding. “I cannot risk the safety of those in my community, no matter your assertations.” She glanced toward Dougal. “Those we cannot enter are welcome to stay outside the walls, and others in your group can barter on their behalf.”
A tense silence settled over us, and Boden and Fergus exchanged a look.
“I’ll stay out here with Dougal,” Fergus said. “Go on in, the lot of you. I won’t have you missing your chance just ‘cause the doors swung shut for my brother.”
After the agreement had been reached, the gate opened for us. Daiyu stayed in the tower, watching as our group split in two. We gave our brief goodbyes to Fergus and Dougal, and we promised to help set up the camp and take turns outside with the two of them.
A thin woman in a trench coat greeted us, and then took us into a small room at the bottom of the watchtower for our inspections. Each of us went on our own, except for Fae and me, who were allowed to stay together. Fortunately, it was a quick once over for bites, getting our temperature taken, and drinking a glass of water. In under twenty minutes, Boden, Edie, Leandro, Fae, and I had been cleared and were free to explore Xwechtáal on our own.
Beyond the sturdy gates, the village sprawled across the uneven ground, its layout dictated by necessity more than design. Weathered timber formed the walls of squat buildings, their roofs patched with anything that could keep the temperamental weather at bay.
Smoke curled from chimneys here and there, hinting at life inside the makeshift homes. Narrow paths wound between the structures, edged with wild grass and spiky purple and blue lupine (Lupinus arcticus).
In the shadow of snow-capped mountains, the people of the village moved about with ease. Chickens flocked in the streets, and I spied an orange tomcat dashing between buildings, chasing after a fat rodent. Near the center of town were communal gardens and greenhouses made from repurposed windows and scrap metal.
Unlike in Fort Lately, the townsfolk here paid us no mind. The Revvers had all stared at us, but then again, we had also been brought into the fortress by armed guards. Here, we were allowed to freely walk around. Daiyu had pointed us down the main street, letting us know the inn was across from the gardens.
The main lodging of the town had existed long before the virus broke out, dating back to the 1970s based on the gabled roof, faux-stone exterior on the main floor, and peach cladding on the second. Nine rooms and a small dining room took up two stories, with the rear wall nestled into the mountain behind us.
Above the door was a sign with “The Foxglove” written in orange bubble letters with the final e curving into a puffy fox tail. In planters on either side of the door were bright pink, white, and yellow foxglove bells in full bloom.
Inside, a stout woman stood behind the desk decorated with more faux-stone. Behind her, the walls were golden oak wooden paneling, and several framed watercolor paintings of foxes were on display.
“You all look like you could certainly use a rest, so I assume you are here for a room,” the woman said, greeting us with a warm smile.
“Yes,” Boden said as he approached the front desk. “I don’t know exactly how payment works here, but I was hoping to find enough beds for four adults.”
“Well, we can certainly help you here,” she assured us. “My name is Jannifer Campbell, and here in Xwechtáal, we work on a barter system. Right now at Foxglove, the things we need the most are silver, ammunition of any kind, fresh meat, especially deer, elk, or moose, chanterelle mushrooms, wild plums, kerosene, batteries of any kind, and books, although the value really depends on the book. We are completely stocked up on copies of the Bible, the Qur’an, and Dan Brown.”
Boden frowned. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any of that right now. Is there anything else we can do?”
“Of course!” Jannifer smiled. “There are always options. You wouldn’t happen to have any…” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Alcohol, marijuana, opiates, or grinleaf?”
“I’m not sure what grinleaf is, but I know I don’t have any of the others,” Boden said with an apologetic smile.
“We can always use any kind of medicinals,” Jannifer went on, speaking at a normal tone again. “Bandages, antibiotics, ointments, anything like that.”
Boden looked back over his shoulder at Edie, who was in charge of our medical supplies. They exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite read.
“Anything else?” Edie asked, as opposed to directly denying that we had any of those things.
“Well, I’m personally looking for the third book in the Broken Earth trilogy by N. K. Jemsin, if you have that on hand,” Jannifer said. Then she brightened slightly and touched her wrist. “Oh! I broke my watch last week. If any of you have a working watch, I’d be happy to barter that.”
Leandro stepped forward, unhooking the timepiece on his wrist. “What would we get for this?”
Jannifer let out a low whistle. “For that? I’ll give you four beds for… three nights.”
“We only need one or two nights,” Boden said.
“Well, I can’t really make change for a watch,” Jannifer said.
Leandro brushed her off. “It’s fine. Can we get a room to rest in?”
“Yes, of course.” Jannifer turned around and grabbed a key off the corkboard on the backwall. When she looked back, she seemed to notice Fae, who still wrapped on my back.
“Oh, you’ve got a little one?” she asked, her voice brightening and her eyes widening with astonishment. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen a baby.”
Jannifer leaned in, her face softening. “She’s so precious.” She gave Fae a gentle wave, then straightened herself, her professional demeanor returning as she gestured for everyone to follow her. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. You all deserve a bit of comfort.”
“There is one thing I did want to ask you,” Boden said as Jannifer led us down the hall to our room.
“And what’s that?” she asked, smiling brightly over her shoulder at us.
“We’re looking for a family member of ours. We think she might’ve come through here,” Boden explained. “Her name was Remy?”
“Remy King?” She looked back at us, surprised and gave a strange laugh. “Of course I know of her. It’s hard to forget someone with a lion in tow.
“So she was here?” Boden asked.
“She was, but she left about the end of May,” Jannifer said. “She went to Glacier Valley with our chemist Jordy Duvall.”
33
Stella
After Jannifer told us what little she knew of about Remy and her whereabouts, she showed us to our room. It was sparse with more of the wood paneling. The only furniture were two queen-sized beds underneath orange crushed velvet comforters. Attached was a small restroom with a modified composting toilet, which gave the room a distinct odor.
But it was a room, safer than we’d been in weeks, and the beds were still the most comfortable thing I’d lain on since we left the Barbarabelle.
We all took some time to rest and clean up a bit, but Boden was focused on the first scraps of info we’d gotten in a while. When Leandro headed out to help Fergus and Dougal set up their tent, Edie and Fae laid down for a nap, and I volunteered to go with Boden to scout out the town.
He hurried through the streets, his earlier exhaustion apparently overtaken by his dedication to Remy, and I had to jog to keep up with him at times.
Fortunately, Xwechtáal was small enough that it wasn’t the kind of place anyone could get lost. Janiffer’s directions had been simple enough anyway: Take a left after the gardens, go straight until you find a little wood cabin with a maple tree in the yard.
It didn’t take long at all until we found it. A maple tree grew between a rustic cabin and the garage that was nearly the same size as the house. On the exterior wall of the garage was a staircase that led up to a second-story apartment.
According to Janiffer, Remy had rented that loft apartment from Jordy Duvall, until she had packed up and left, and it had been empty ever since.
Boden bounded up the stairs two at a time, and I raced up after him. He tried the door, and when it didn’t budge right away, he slammed into it with his shoulder, and it popped open.
“Careful!” I admonished him in a hushed tone. “You can’t be breaking other people’s stuff.”
“I’ll fix anything I break,” he muttered as he went inside, and he quickly followed up with a disappointed sigh.
It was a small single-room illuminated by the solitary window – a skylight in the vaulted ceiling. A single mattress leaned up against a wall next to a table and two chairs, but that was it. Other than some dust, there was nothing in the room.
But there was clear evidence that Remy had been there. Or at least, that Ripley had. Telltale claw marks on the floor and teeth marks on the table leg, since the lion sometimes chewed on furniture when she was bored. There was even a tuft of amber-gold fur in the corner.
“Well, we knew she wasn’t here now, but we know she made it this far,” I said, trying to look on the positive. “And we have confirmation that she’s heading to Glacier Valley.”
“And that she likely arrived there by now,” he grumbled as he surveyed the room. “She could already be locked up at Cold Shore. Or…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t even let himself finish the thought.
Abruptly, he turned and started out the door and down the stairs.
“Boden?” I called after him in surprise. “Where are you going?”
From the landing at the top of the stairs, I watched as Boden jogged over to the cabin next door, the cabin where Remy’s landlord, Jordy Duvall lived. He tried the door, and when it wouldn’t give, even when he slammed his shoulder into it, he moved onto a nearby window.
I hurried down the stairs and over to him, hoping to stop him before he broke something that he couldn’t fix.
“Boden, stop,” I said. “You can’t go breaking into people’s houses. Remy’s not even in there, and you know it.”
“I just have to look,” he insisted without even pausing his attempt to pry open the window with his fingers.
I was about to argue with him more, because I truly didn’t know what he hoped to gain by this. The Warden Daiyu had seemed like a no-nonsense type, and she could easily kick us out before we had even a single night’s rest in those gloriously soft, safe beds.
But then the window opened, and Boden was crawling in through it before I could stop him. I sighed and followed him in, because there was no point in turning back now.
Boden caught me before I went tumbling onto the floor, and he helped me to my feet. The cabin was only slightly larger than Remy’s apartment had been, but it was crowded and overstuffed.
The air was tinged with the sharp, earthy scent of dried herbs but also something vaguely chemical and metallic.
The small kitchen was tucked into a corner of the rustic cabin, and the wooden shelves were warped with age and lined with mismatched jars and bottles. One wall was dominated by an iron stove, the top cluttered with kettles, pots, and glass jars.
Moving deeper in the living space, an unmade bed was against one wall. Beside it was a bookshelf completely overflowing with books. In fact, books were stacked up in nearly every available space. Next to an overstuffed leather chair, a tower of books served as an end table, where a flask and kerosene lamp sat.
The centerpiece of the room, if there was one, was a large roughhewn table. Similar to the kitchen, it was crowded with mortar and pestle, tongs and tiny spoons, tattered cheese cloth and stained papers, each marked by green residue.
“So, what are we doing in here?” I asked Boden as he surveyed the cluttered cabin.
“I don’t know exactly. I just wanted some sign as to what Remy’s doing.” His fingers trailed on the table, and he toyed absently with the pestle. “All this stuff is for chemistry? I expected more beakers and Bunsen burners.”
“He’d probably have them if he could,” I pointed out. “But I think he’s actually a chemist, as in someone who prepares and sell medicine compounds. Like a one-person pharmacist.”
“Well, that makes more sense.” Boden’s eyes went to the rafters, where herbs, garlic, peppers, and tear-dropped pouches wrapped in cheesecloth were all suspended from rope, likely for storage or drying. “I flunked out of chemistry back in high school, but I was struggling to figure out what a village like this needed with a chemistry teacher.”
“They need a chemistry teacher the same reason that anyone needs any teacher,” I said. “So knowledge is passed onto our children and it isn’t lost forever. If we hope to build a civilization again, it’s important we keep our knowledge.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” Boden agreed, sounding reluctant. “I guess I don’t have much hope for civilization anymore.”
“As long as Fae is here, and there’s people like you and Edie and Fergus and Dougal and Leandro and Alphie and all the countless others who have helped us along the way, then there is still hope,” I said. “There has to be.”
His smile was proud but his eyes were sad. “You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.”
“So we look around for a few more minutes, then get out of here?” I suggested, since breaking and entering didn’t sound like a way to ingratiate ourselves to the community.
He nodded in agreement, and the two of us set about searching through what appeared to be little more than haphazard junk. Atop one of the shorter towers of books that dominated every corner of the room, my gaze caught on one with a glossy cover called The Willowbrook Files: Ethics, Experiments, and Medical Abuse.
I flipped through the pages, and a folded piece of paper slipped out, fluttering to the floor. While Boden rummaged through the kitchen drawers, I stooped to pick it up and saw it was a letter.
It was dated over two years ago, before the fall of Emberwood, and it was addressed to a doctor at the Cold Shore Contingency Outpost in Glacier Valley. It mostly discussed some concerns between two scientists, but a couple things especially stood out to me.
The first was that the letter had been sent from the main Cold Shore headquarters, which was listed as being located in the Alaska Territory.
The second, and as equally concerning, was a sentence written in Remy’s familiar handwriting: Cold Shore is just to the west of Point Barrow and can only be accessed by ship.
“Boden,” I said. “You should see this.”
“What is it?” he asked, but instead of explaining, I handed the letter to him. He scowled as he finished reading it. “So… Remy left weeks ago with the goal of boarding a ship to get to fucking Alaska? She might already be gone.”
“We don’t know that yet,” I said, because it seemed like the thing to say, and because it was true.
“I guess we’ll find out when we get to Glacier Valley,” Boden said with a heavy exhale. “But I might have to go a hell of a lot farther than I originally planned.”
34
Pyotr
To: Leila Lund, Ph.D.
Neuroethologist and Chemical Biologist
Cold Shore Contingency
c/o Glacier Valley Outpost
Western Reach, Former British Columbia
In respect to your recent inquiry about our supply chain of samples, I am in agreement with you. We have become far too reliant on the Loth Family Ranch, especially considering how unreliable they have been as of late.
In the interest of full disclosure, my son Dmitry has assumed responsibility for the supply run and has expressed growing concern over instability at the ranch. While rumors persist of depraved and possibly heretical acts, I’ve yet to verify them.
It should be of the utmost priority for all of us who work for Cold Shore – whether here at the main base in the northernmost Alaska Territory or at one of the outposts, like Glacier Valley – to find other sources for specimens. The Loth Family simply cannot be considered either a reliable or ethical source.
We still have a limited supply of samples from Subject HF-05102010 and Subject HM-01101968. Dr. Daniels’s notes underscore their significance, so if we hope to counter this virus, our focus needs to be on obtaining more samples.
Dmitry has expressed an interest in expanding his search throughout the western reach in order to find more valuable specimens. I urge us all to remain vigilant as we shift our approach and seek alternative, more trustworthy sources for our ongoing research. Collaboration and transparency will be key as we navigate these challenges together.
Please keep me informed of any progress or new leads regarding specimen acquisition, and do not hesitate to reach out with further questions or concerns.
With utmost respect,
Pyotr V. Popov, PhD, DSc
Pathogen Geneticist and Viral Biologist
Cold Shore Global Contingency
Cold Shore, Alaska Territory
35
Stella
The dining room of the Foxglove served venison meatloaf and wild spinach in the evening, and after days of eating stale road rations, it honestly smelled so much better than it should have. I got myself a plate, and then another for Fergus as well as a cup of broth for Dougal. I truly meant to wait, so we could eat it all together. But I just couldn’t help myself, and I wolfed down my plate of meatloaf and greens before I even left the dining room.
I went by myself because the plan was for Edie to trade off, and she would join Fergus and Dougal when I went back inside. It seemed the only fair way to handle things, since Dougal wasn’t allowed inside the village walls. The warden agreed to let him pass through when it came time to leave, but only as long as he hurried straight down the main road and out the back gate.
Before we’d arrived at Xwechtáal, we’d been hoping to stay for several days, so we could rest up and find out more about Remy. But we’d already found out what we could, and our whole party wasn’t even allowed to rest properly at the inn.
The sun set early in the village, thanks to the surrounding mountains soaring high and casting shadows on the low-lying pass. The sky far above was still tinged pink and orange, but the kerosene streetlamps lit my pathway as I headed out.
A few meters away from the prickly walls of the village, a little campsite had been set up for Dougal. Leandro had pitched in, helping to make both Fergus and Dougal as comfortable as they could.
A broad canvas tarp was stretched taut between two weathered spruce branches and the side of a mossy boulder, creating a lean-to that would block the worst of the wind and weather, should any roll through. Bedrolls were layered on top of each other over a bed of pine boughs to insulate against the chill that seeped up from the earth.
A small, carefully contained fire ring sat outside the makeshift tent, with a tin cup and an old kettle ready for tea or broth. Fergus was sitting across from it, with his back resting against the boulder while his brother slumbered in the tent.
“Don’t you know a watched pot never boils?” I teased as I approached, but he didn’t really look like he was watching anything. His eyes were far away, gazing vacantly in the distance.
When he looked up at me, he had to blink before a smile spread slowly across his face. “Hello, girl. Didn’t think it was your turn to see the lot of us. Got the short straw, did you?”
I handed him the plate, and I set the tin of broth in the fire ring to reheat it for Dougal. The hotter the broth, the more it helped fight off the perpetual chill he had most days.
“Would you believe I volunteered?” I asked.
“I would, but you’re far too good for the likes of me and Dougal,” he said. “Still, we’re grateful.
I sat down next to him, peering into the tent where I could hear Dougal. That was the one good thing about his raspy, labored breaths – you would definitely be able to hear the moment he stopped. If he stopped.
“How’s he been?” I asked quietly, as if much of anything woke Dougal.
The other day, Fergus and Leandro had tripped and stumbled while carrying him, and the stretcher had fallen heavily to the ground. Dougal wasn’t hurt, at least not that any of us could tell, and he didn’t even stir.
“As he ever was,” Fergus said noncommittally and took a half-hearted bite of his meatloaf. “Or as he has been, at least.”
“How are you?” I asked him.
He exhaled roughly, and then shook his head. “I’d leave off talking about me, in truth. What’s the story with Xwechtáal? How is the inn? Any word on Remy?”
“There isn’t too much to see of the village,” I said. “But the people seem nice, and they don’t leer at us like the Revvers did in Fort Lately.”
“Sure it’s always a good sign that you’ve not landed into another cult when the people aren’t gawking at you or holding you against your will,” Fergus said.
“Or feeding you to zombies,” I added.
“Aye, that is the main thing,” he agreed with a laugh. “But not a peep about the inn, I noticed. Are the beds as lush as I imagined?”
“I won’t lie and say it’s not a huge step up from the cold, hard ground,” I admitted. “But they aren’t anything compared to back on the Barbarabelle.”
“You’d swear those beds were stitched by angels,” he reminisced dreamily. “Folks say you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone, but I did. I knew I’d never lie in better.”
“Do you regret leaving it behind?” I asked carefully.
“Dougal’s not the staying kind,” Fergus brushed it off. “Still half the world left to see. Never made it south of the line, even.”
“But you’ve been to Asia?” I asked.
He gave a nod. “Ah sure, that was before the virus and the whole collapse, like. Our dad was a structural engineer, buildings and all that. We landed in Japan for a couple of years while he worked on earthquake resistance.” He grinned over at me. “Konnichiwa! Genki?”
“What is that?” I asked. “What did you say?”
“That was ‘Hello, how are you?’ in Japanese,” Fergus explained. “That’s all that stuck, really. Oh, and ‘orenji.’ Orange was my favorite color.”
“What’s it like to travel?” I asked.
“How do you mean? You’ve barely stood still since I met you,” Fergus pointed out.
“No, I mean, to real travel. Like vacations and the way it used to be with people and different cultures and new foods,” I said. “I don’t really remember anything outside of Canada, and that’s not so terrible, I suppose, but it’s hard when I don’t really know of anything outside of books or the little I’ve seen with my own two eyes.”
“Wouldn’t be fair to say you’ve seen too little,” he countered, shaking his head. “Anyone left breathing’s seen more than enough. But you’re after the old world, aren’t you? The cities full of color and noise, easy food, and trinkets everywhere you looked.”
“The way you describe it makes it sound like it wasn’t that different than Fort Lately with the Revvers,” I said.
He shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“What for?” he asked, looking over at me in confusion.
“Everything with Dougal. I know I didn’t really invite you along this journey – ”
“You’d swear it was an insult, not an apology,” he interjected dryly.
“No, I only mean that… I never wanted anything bad to happen to you or your brother, or Alphie, or Sienna and Oakley and… and Juniper,” I said, my words choking on the growing lump in my throat. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry that Dougal got wrapped up into this.”
“If you feel you’ve cause to say sorry, I won’t stop you, but don’t be doing it for me or Dougal,” he said. “We made our own way, and you know well we’re not ones to stay put. On the road, and in life, things go sideways now and again. That’s the way of it. It’s not your doing, Stella. If it’s fate you trust in, then maybe it’s no one’s fault. But if you believe in free will, as I do, then it’s Dougal’s. Same as my choices are mine, and yours are yours.”
“You really think it’s that simple?” I asked, my voice catching somewhere between hope and desperation.
“I do,” he said, like it settled the matter. “Simple as anything, and twice as tricky.”
“Do you have the answer for everything?” I asked, and I was only half-kidding.
“I’d say I do, but I’d be lying. I only know about thirty percent of everything, give or take, on a good day.” Then he turned to me, his dark eyes curious as he asked, “You never did say, by the way, about your friend Remy? Did you find anything?”
“According to the woman running the inn, Remy was here, but she left at the end of May,” I said.
He raised a brow. “You’d think that was good news that you’re still on her trail. But you’ve got a face on you like it’s bad.”
“We think she’s trying to get to the northern point of the Alaskan Territory,” I elaborated.
“Well, so you’ll be travelling on after her, won’t you?” Fergus asked. “Sure, wasn’t that as you planned?”
“I wasn’t planning to bring my toddler all the way up the frozen arctic,” I said. “But if I’m being honest the thing that scares me the most is that Boden might think it’s too far.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged, not wanting to fully give voice to the fear but finding myself doing it anyway. “Boden will likely think it’s too cold and dangerous, and that he’s gone as far as he can go. That he’ll turn back, and … and we’ll never see Remy again.”
“You think Boden will give up on her?” he asked.
“No, actually. It’s worse than that. I think he would never give up on her, unless it was to protect me and Fae. If he thinks Cold Shore is too much for us… he’ll let her be. And what if she needs us?”
“Well, then you keep at it, don’t you?” he asked. “You keep going until you can’t anymore. That’s all there is.”
“You know if you keep talking like that you could end up the next leader of the Revvers,” I said.
He leaned back, laughing heartily, and the firelight glinted in his eyes. “Don’t go tempting me now.”
The way he was looking at me then, with genuine hope and happiness lighting up his face, I noticed that he was rather handsome. Actually, I’d been noticing it for a while now. His eyes were deepset and intelligent with a glimmer of something playful, and his enigmatic smile quirked so easily on his lips. His cheek bones were high above a tapered jaw, giving him a compelling foxlike appearance.
Being around him sometimes caused the heat to stir in my belly, a feeling that had mostly been dormant since Max had died. I didn’t know how Fergus was able to resurrect so much inside me, but I found myself enjoying his company more and more each day.
“You’re still going on with us to Glacier Valley?” I asked.
“Of course. Nothing’s changed there.”
The conversation lingered between us as the fire crackled softly, casting warm shadows that danced on our faces.
Suddenly, Fergus’s expression shifted, his laughter fading as he sat up, alert and tense. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. He started toward the tent, and that’s when I realized that I couldn’t hear his brother’s rasping breaths at all. “Dougal? Dougal! Dougal!”
He clambered on top of his brother, shaking him and beating his chest in a futile attempt. I hurried over to help him, and when I touched Dougal, his skin was already cold and clammy.
“Fergus, he’s gone,” I said, because pounding his brother into a pulp would not bring him back.
“Dougal, you bloody fool, you can’t go like this!” Fergus shouted, his voice cracking.
He let out a pained sob, then he got up and ran outside of the tent. I checked again, making sure there was no pulse, no breath, no life in Dougal, and I could not find any.
When I went out of the tent after Fergus, he was standing in the nearby road, staring up at the darkening sky. He let out an agonized, enraged scream, as if hoping that he would reach the gods.
Then he collapsed onto the ground, hunched over his knees, as his body was wracked with sobs. I knelt down beside him, and I put my hand on his back. He cried so hard that he dry heaved into the dirt, but I stayed with him.
Eventually, after his energy was spent, and the sky was dark and the stars were out, he lay on the ground with his head on my lap. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, and I sang to him the same French lullaby that I sang Fae, because it was the only way I knew to comfort him. He didn’t say anything, but he clung onto me so tightly – one arm around my waist, another my leg – that I didn’t dare let go of him.
36
Stella
The rocky terrain of the mountain pass made burial a difficult thing, though not impossible, but that’s not what Fergus wanted anyway.
“Doesn’t feel right, him being stuck in just the one place,” Fergus said when he decided against burial. “Let him be ash, scattered about, like he was in life.”
So the day after Dougal died, Boden, Leandro, Edie, and I helped Fergus build a pyre outside the limits of Xwechtáal.
When it was ready, we laid Dougal atop it with care, wrapping him in a blanket and tucking wildflowers at his side. As the sky darkened, Fergus took the torch and lit the edges. The flames slowly climbed the wood and cast flickering shadows.
As the fire burned, Dougal began singing an Irish folk song, “The Parting Glass,” in a mournful, breathy tenor.
We slept another night at the Foxglove, since we all needed the rest. Boden took the floor, so Fergus could share a bed with Leandro, while Edie, Fae, and I bunked up in the other one.
In the morning, after we’d all woken up, Boden cleared his throat to get our attention. “So, a lot has changed recently, and I think that we ought to consider our plans again.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, and my heart tightened as my fears seemed to be coming true.
“With all of the losses and dangers, and given that Remy might not even be at Cold Shore, I think we should consider turning back.” Boden’s voice sounded confident but he wouldn’t meet my gaze as he spoke.
“Maybe it’s changed for you, but it’s no different to me,” Fergus countered. “If anything, I’ve more cause to go now. To put Dougal’s ashes to rest in the sea.”
“Ditto. I mean, not about Dougal’s ashes, although, more power to you with that.” Leandro gave Fergus a supportive pat on the arm. “But with Ryder and Alphie and Dougal’s sacrifice, it’s even more important to me now that I make it to Glacier Valley to get the medicine that Cole and the other people need back at the Barbarabelle.”
“And I still want to find Remy,” I added.
“So you all still want to go then?” Boden asked. “Nobody wants to turn back, even though it’s another few weeks before we reach the Valley at least?”
“It’s still closer than going back to the boat,” Edie reasoned. “And we’ve come this far. Why go back now?”
Boden rubbed the back of his neck and stared off out the window. “I just wanted to be sure.”
After his moment of hesitation faded, we began packing up our bags. Boden helped me with Fae, while Fergus tucked Dougal’s ashes safely away. Once everyone was ready, we said goodbye to Jannifer at the front desk and gave her the key.
It was a brisk morning when we set out of Xwechtáal. Just beyond the fence, the trail immediately pitched upward. Both Lazlo and Jannifer had warned us that we had a grueling uphill hike for the next few days, and then everything would be downhill toward Glacier Valley.
37
Remy
Eight Months Ago
Just before dawn, Ripley and I left the S. S. Barbarabelle to prowl the forests to the west of the river. Out here, it was quiet. Most of the towering trees were evergreen, insulating us from the outside world between the bare skeletons of aspen and paper birch. Snow hadn’t yet blanketed the ground, but frost lingered in the mornings, making my steps crunch underfoot.
Our days usually began this way, with us out hunting to feed the many mouths that lived aboard the boat. It was early November, which meant winter and harsh temperatures – and the deluge of snow that went along with it – were likely any time now.
But we also left to hunt because Ripley was bored and restless cooped up on the floating hotel. By my best guess, she was at least ten years old, over three-hundred-pounds, and presumably an African lioness. She’d likely been born into captivity, since I’d found her chained to a truck outside Las Vegas.
Even with that, Ripley wasn’t domesticated in a traditional sense, not like a dog or even a housecat. We’d been together long enough that we had a bond and an understanding, but sometimes she’d run off into the woods, and I wouldn’t see her for hours.
Most days, though, she spent our time on land sleeping in the sun puddles she found between the trees. If I was being honest, I spent more time walking around the forest than she did.
Maybe I was the one that was restless.
Lately, I’d been travelling farther away, so that kept us gone even longer. That wasn’t so much a choice as a necessity. On the land near where the boat was anchored, we had our gardens, stables, and barns. All of that commotion from people and livestock had started scaring away the prey.
The past couple weeks, I had mainly been getting grouse and ptarmigans. Game birds weren’t bad, and I was happy to be bringing back much needed protein, but it would be nice to get something fattier and juicier than woodsy poultry.
That’s why I was excited when Ripley gave chase so early in the day. I barely caught sight of a young doe weaving through the trees with the lioness hot on her trail. The deer must’ve seen me, too, because she abruptly doubled back, narrowly avoiding a swat of Ripley’s powerful paw.
The doe was running back toward the river, and I bolted to the left, hoping to be able to get ahead of her so Ripley would chase her right to me.
When I could hear them crashing behind me – the lion wasn’t nearly as silent running through the underbrush as the swift moving deer – I knew my plan had worked.
Quickly, I crouched down in a thicket of spruce, and I settled into the shot with my bow. Then I saw the flash of movement.
For one clear moment, the world narrowed in around me. I loosed the arrow, watching it slice through the air as it flew toward my mark.
I hurried out to check my kill, branches grabbing at my clothes, and I wondered dimly why Ripley wasn’t here. She had been right on the deer’s tail, so she should’ve reached her by the time the doe had fallen.
And then I found her. I could see the body, with the arrow jutting out of it, but I couldn’t make sense of it. The world seemed to tilt as I stumbled into a clearing.
There, lying motionless on the frosted ground, instead of my intended prey, was a child. A blossom of red blood darkened the front of her wool sweater.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered in a panicked breath, and as I staggered toward her, I realized that I knew this child.
She was Clementine Dumont, the seven-year-old daughter of the Barbarabelle’s nurse, Mika. I never spent much time with the children, outside of my niece Fae, and really, I didn’t spend much time with most of the residents of the boat, outside my family.
But Clementine was the kind of child that was impossible to ignore. Bold, curious, adventurous, fearless, and outgoing. She sought me out every time she saw me because she loved Ripley. Even when the lioness wasn’t with me, Clementine would still run over and ask me about her.
And now she was lying in the dirt, her dark hair tangled with pine needles, her eyes wide toward the clear blue sky. The arrow was center of her chest, run straight clean through her. Blood was seeping from her mouth, and a gargled sound came from her throat.
“No, Clem, no!” I collapsed on the ground beside her as she sputtered, and I watched as the light left her eyes. “Clementine!”
I grabbed her, pulling her onto my lap, even though I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help her. She couldn’t be helped, and I knew it, deep down in the sick heavy feeling in my stomach, I knew I couldn’t do anything, but I didn’t want her to be alone.
I think I screamed, but I couldn’t say for sure. I only knew that I was holding her, squeezing her to me hard enough that the arrow I’d killed her with pierced my own flesh. The blood on my hands was slowly cooling and drying, and my face was slick with tears and sweat.
My stomach rolled, and I realized I was going to throw up, and that I couldn’t do that on Clementine. I had already done enough.
I lay her gently on the pine needles, and I raced a few meters away, back through the trees to the creek I had passed. It was only a few inches deep, but it was more than enough. The water was ice cold, nearly freezing, and I collapsed into it, my knees scraping against the sharp stones, but I barely even noticed.
I vomited on the banks of the creek. I splashed the water on my face, and it was so cold, I could hardly breathe. So I splashed myself again, because I didn’t deserve to breathe.
I couldn’t keep breathing. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep living when everything around me was just death and death and death and death and death….
Ripley was suddenly beside me, rubbing her big head against my back.
“This is too much,” I cried. She nuzzled up against me, and I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her thick fur. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Ripley suddenly pulled away from me, lifting her head high with her ears alert. Distantly, over the sound of the babbling brook, I could hear death groans and the crunch of branches.
But I didn’t care. I didn’t care if zombies came out here and devoured me. Maybe that’s what I deserved.
I stared down at the blood staining my jeans, and I remembered the way it felt when Max’s jeans slipped past my fingertips. I felt the rough fabric scrape on my fingers as he fell out that window, and I never touched him again.
My skin was red and wrinkled, and Clementine’s warm blood washed away. My hands were numb, and I wished that all of me would be numb. That the cold water would take me away.
A scream suddenly tore through the trees, raw and high pitched. It was the desperate cry of a little girl, and the zombies sounded far too close to her.
Ripley ran through the trees, running toward the sounds, and I hurried to get to my feet. I’d been kneeling in the cold water so long that they’d gone numb and prickly, and I stumbled forward, tripping over myself and scraping my palms on rocks and pine needles.
I got up again, and I ran as fast as I could, unmindful of the branches cracking into me.
And then I lurched forward, back into the clearing where I’d left Clementine’s body, but it wasn’t only her now. Zombies had crowded around her, tearing into her flesh and devouring her while she was still warm.
Ripley had arrived before me, and she’d already taken some of them out. I’d left my bow and quiver behind before I’d gone to the creek, but I always had a dagger sheathed on my hip when I went hunting. I pulled it out and ran towards the zombies eviscerating Clementine.
I dispatched them in a blur of blood and gelatinous bones and primal screams I couldn’t contain. Then it was over, none of the bodies moving anymore. Ripley’s face was stained green with blood, and so was I, but the rage and despair remained. Nothing changed, except my lungs burned and my muscles ached and my mouth tasted like copper.
Then I heard a little girl crying above me, and for a delirious moment, I worried I’d lost my mind. I looked up, and in a nearby pine tree, I caught a glimpse of orange between the evergreen branches.
A meter or two off the ground was Juniper Cruz, the young daughter of Oakley and Sienna. She was wearing an orange jumper, her dark hair hanging in two braids, and she clung to the branches with terrified ferocity.
“Juniper!” I yelled up at her as friendly as I could, and I held my hands out toward her. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Can you get down from there?”
“They ate Clemmy!” Juniper yelled, tears streaming down her tawny cheeks, ruddy from fear and crying.
“I know, and I am so sorry, honey, but you gotta get down,” I said, pleading with her really. “I want to get you back to your mom and dad. All the zombies are gone, and I’ll take you back home.”
For a horrifying few moments, she didn’t respond or climb down. She clung to the tree, sobbing, and I wasn’t at all sure what I should do. I just wanted her to be safe, and far away from this.
“If I jump, can you catch me?” Juniper asked.
And because I was afraid any other answer would leave her stuck in that tree, I said, “Yes!”
With a frightened squeal, she leapt, and I held my arms open to her. I caught her, but I fell back to the ground, and she knocked the air painfully from my lungs.
Once I could breathe, I sat up and looked her over, making sure that she was okay. Or at least as okay as she could be. Scrapes and bruises from the tree, and whatever lasting trauma happened from witnessing her childhood friend eviscerated by zombies.
I couldn’t leave Clementine here, and I didn’t want Juniper to see her this way. No one needed to see her this way. I took off my flannel shirt, stripping down to a tank top, and I wrapped Juniper up in my clothing, hiding as much of her as I could. I had killed the zombies quickly, but already, there was so little of her left. Even her feet had bite marks on them.
I carried her in my arms, and Juniper walked between Ripley and me as we headed back toward where the Barbarabelle was anchored in the Staulo River.
We hadn’t gone very far when we heard them calling for the children. Clementine’s mother Mika and Juniper’s mother Sienna, and others, many others, yelling for them.
I knew I should shout and say, I found them. But I couldn’t bring myself to say something that would allow Mika to feel a moment of relief, because it would feel like a betrayal, it would cut deeper than any lie. Her daughter was dead in my arms, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise.
So we walked, and it wasn’t that far. They were searching the woods that ran beyond the gardens and the grazing meadow for the livestock. I could see them running toward me, and all I wanted to do was sink back into the cool darkness of the woods.
But I couldn’t.
From the moment I saw them, it was a blur. Mika and Sienna running towards me. Juniper broke away from me, racing toward her mother. And then Mika saw the body in my arms, she saw my shirt stained red with blood, and she saw her daughter’s legs with chunks of flesh missing.
Mika screamed and collapsed, and all I wanted to do was die. I wished I was anywhere, anywhere at all, not in that moment. Not there. Not feeling the body cooling in my arms. Not hearing her mother scream like her heart had been ripped from her. Not here. Not alive. Nothing.
38
Remy
The zombie attacks had masked the evidence of the arrow through the chest, so no one knew what I had done. They all assumed I had come across the wayward children being attacked by zombies, and that I had saved Juniper, but I was too late for Clementine. They kept calling me a hero and thanking me.
I knew I should tell them the truth. That it was my fault. That I had killed that little girl. That I destroyed everything I touched. But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to form the words.
Not even when I was alone with Boden in our bed, and he asked me about what had happened. I just couldn’t tell the truth, but I didn’t want to lie, so I said nothing at all.
It was on the third morning after Clementine’s death that I realized I couldn’t stay here anymore. I got out of bed slowly and quietly before the sun had fully risen, careful to remove Boden’s arm from around my waist. I wanted to slip out without a sound, but when I pulled on my jeans, I heard him calling my name.
“Are you still having trouble sleeping?” he asked groggily.
“Always and forever,” I mumbled, and I grabbed a t-shirt and flannel from my pile of clothes stacked on a chair.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Maybe Mika or Joseph have something they could give you.”
“Mika’s got enough on her plate, and I’m fine.” I turned around, finally facing him.
He was handsome, almost tragically so, shirtless under the plush comforter. His face was angular, with a constant shadow of stubble on his sharp jawline. His eyes were deep set and hooded, and his full lips curved slightly downward, making him look brooding and thoughtful even when he was half-asleep.
Behind him, the glass doors to the small patio were covered in thick frost, and Ripley was lying with her back pressed against the cold glass as she slumbered.
“I’m heading up to Emberwood today,” I said.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked. “I was supposed to check out the oven vent in the kitchen. Oakley says it’s been clogged up, but I could just as easily take a look at it when I got back if I went with you.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said with a forced smile. “Oakley needs you more than I do.”
“Are you sure?” he asked as I went over to give him a kiss goodbye. “You’ve been through a lot lately, and it won’t take me that long to wake up and get dressed.”
“No, I know, but it’s fine.” I kissed him on the cheek and on the lips, and when he touched my waist, like he wanted to pull me back into bed with him, that’s when I pulled away. “Go to sleep. I’ll be back in a few days.”
The hike from where the Barbarabelle was anchored in the Staulo River took me up past the Grizzly Falls, and the final stretch beyond that to Emberwood was relatively mild. At the wrong time of the year, the bears could be an issue, but a lion walking at my side did wonders at keeping them away. If we hurried, the journey usually took under two days with a camp out at the top of the Falls for one night.
The stillness and quiet when it was only Ripley and me next to a crackling fire, with me using her as a backrest, was the kind of peace I had been so desperate for.
I knew I shouldn’t feel that way. That I should be grateful for all the people I loved that were still with me, for the entire community on the Barbarabelle supporting each other with kindness and determination.
But in the cold night, underneath the glittering stars, when it was only Ripley and me, everything seemed so clear.
Back on the boat, in a community, with family, I was only a danger. A harbinger of death and destruction, no matter how hard I tried to protect the people I cared about. There was too much. Too much I couldn’t defend. Too much I couldn’t bear.
But out here, I could breathe in deep and sleep heavy in the cold, because there was no one to worry about except for me.
Those two days on the road were enough to solidify my resolve that I was making the right decision. I had to get out of here, and I had to do it quickly so that Boden or Stella wouldn’t be emboldened to give chase.
I also couldn’t be reckless because I wasn’t going entirely alone. Ripley didn’t belong on that boat, not forever, and she seemed to prefer staying close to me, even when given the options otherwise. She was a powerful big cat, but I didn’t know if she could survive on her own in the Canadian wilderness, especially not in winter. I needed to be prepared so that I wouldn’t leave her to die.
That was why I went to see my old friend Lazlo in Emberwood. He and his wife were the main ones behind the rebuilding of the burned town, and they also had quite a bit of livestock, including horses. I figured that he ought to have one that he could spare for a few months, and with a big animal like that, I could carry so much gear. I could even ride the horse at times, saving energy for myself and travelling much faster.
By the time Ripley and I reached the center of New Emberwood, the afternoon sun was dipping low behind the hills, painting the roofs in gold. I hadn’t been to Lazlo’s new house yet, but it was recognizable by the pair of wolfdogs that guarded it from their fenced run beside it.
Ripley gave them an annoyed grunting sound and flicked her ears, but that was the end of their interaction. I held tight to her leash with one hand, and I knocked on the front door with the other.
Moments later, we stepped inside, the chill of the road quickly replaced by the gentle heat from the stove and an awkward embrace from Lazlo.
He invited me into his kitchen, pouring a bowl of water for the big cat, and he explained that his wife Nova and their daughter Sage were gone, helping a neighbor with birthing a calf. That was fine by me. I liked them both well enough, but conversations like this were better with fewer people.
The two of us sat at the kitchen table with tea steeping in mugs between us. It was still strange for me, seeing him this way. Part of me would always picture him as he was when we first met – young and clean shaven, fierce and unworn by the world yet, confident bordering on cocky.
And that was still him, but his beard had silver in it, and his eyes were lined with wrinkles. He walked with a pronounced limp, especially when the weather was cold like it was today. Even his hands had changed, becoming calloused and larger somehow, with faded tattoos bleeding down from his wrists and arms.
His eyes were the same, though. Twinkling as if he was privy to a secret joke as he watched me across the table.
“Are you going to tell me what you came all this way for, or you going to make me guess?” he asked.
“I need a horse. And I was hoping you could help me.”
He shrugged. “Sure. No problem. What do you need the horse for?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“It certainly does. Different horses are better at different tasks. You don’t want a racehorse as a plough horse or vice versa,” he clarified.
“I’m going to Glacier Valley,” I said. “Alone. Well, with Ripley, but she doesn’t ride a horse, so it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters a bit, because not all my horses would ride with a lion,” Lazlo countered with a dry laugh. “But that’s not really my main concern right now. Why are you going to Glacier Valley?”
“Because it’s far away from here, and that’s where I need to be for a while,” I deflected.
“I heard about the girl that your group lost the other day,” he said, his voice gentler now but his eyes still studying me. “Edie sent a message by pigeon. If there’s anything we can do – ”
I cut him off with, “I read what Nova wrote in her reply message. There’s nothing you can do. She’s dead and buried.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness – ”
“We’ve all witnessed enough that neither of us needs to apologize, alright?” I said sharply.
“Oh, shit.” Lazlo seemed to realize something and he leaned back in his chair. “You want to meet up with the Cold Shore Global Contingency?”
“How do you even know about that?” I asked in surprise.
I’d only learned of Cold Shore after I’d read the book that Stella had found in Emberwood, The Book of Mercy. Mostly, it focused on Mercy Loth’s grandiose and seriously deviant delusions, but there were references and letters from a place called the Cold Shore.
“I first heard about it from Nova’s sister, Sage.” He got up as he spoke and went over to an apothecary chest on the far wall of the kitchen. He opened one of the many little drawers, rummaged inside it for a moment, and finally returned to the table with a piece of folded paper. “She was a doctor in Vancouver when the virus first broke out. She survived, so Cold Shore tried recruiting her. To find a cure.
“She declined them then, because she thought she could do better work out here,” he went on.
Tentatively, I took the letter from him. “What are you saying, Lazlo?”
“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself, not for anyone,” he said. “But I won’t stop you from trying to save the world, if you think that’s what you can do. Mostly because I know that I’d never be able to stop you.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me a horse?” I asked hopefully.
“That means I’m gonna give you all the help and information I can.” Lazlo slowly rose to his feet. “Which means I’ve got something better than a horse.”
He led me outside, through his tilled gardens, to the stables behind his house. As soon as we stepped in, I realized exactly who Lazlo had in mind, because Vince stuck his head over the stable door to bray a greeting at me.
Vince was a mule that both Ripley and I were familiar with, since Lazlo used to ride him out to meet us at an old farmhouse a few times a year. He was friendly with me, and even got on well with the lion.
He was a massive beast, with a striking blond sorrel coat that gleamed golden in the sunlight. He stood tall and broad, easily weighing over 1,500 pounds, with powerful shoulders and muscular haunches. His dark eyes were large and intelligent, always observing everything around him.
“Vince isn’t just strong,” Lazlo explained as he lovingly stroked his neck. “He’s bred from power. His mother was a Belgian draft mare who pulled timber in the mountains, and his father was a Mammoth jack donkey from Tennessee. He was a Grand Champion three years running.”
“Wait, how old is Vince?” I asked, because I couldn’t imagine anyone giving out ribbons to donkeys since civilization fell, no matter how special the animal.
“He’s eleven, born right before the whole mess of everything,” he said. “And he’s got another twenty years in him, if things go well.”
“Are you sure you’re want to part with him?” I asked. “He seems exceptional.”
“He is, but I know what you mean to do,” he said. “You’ll be going for months in the depth of winter, travelling through mountain passes, and if you have any chance of making it alive, you need Vince.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I asked, suddenly overwhelmed. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Well, you know how much I owe you,” he replied quietly “So don’t worry about repayment. Just send a porter back with Vince in the spring, after you make it to the Valley.”
Before I left, Lazlo took a moment to go over everything I’d need to make it through the journey safely. He drew a map with the best routes through the mountain passes, warned me about various dangers, and reminded me to watch for signs of frostbite.
Then, he handed me a sturdy set of saddlebags, a warm blanket for Vince, and a kit of basic tack and grooming supplies. He showed me how to check Vince’s hooves for ice buildup and how to adjust the pack load so the mule could carry it comfortably.
“If you look after him, he’ll get you there,” Lazlo assured me.
I hugged him. “Thank you for everything.”
“Take care of yourself,” he said, squeezing me tighter for a moment before releasing me.
“And you won’t tell anyone where I’ve gone, right?” I asked. “I don’t want them wasting time getting hurt going after me. Not when I don’t want to be found.”
Lazlo exhaled roughly, and he gave me a pained smile. “Sure. If that’s what you want. I promise that I won’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
39
Remy
When I returned to the boat with Vince in tow, Boden asked what I needed with a mule, and I told him he’d help me bring back bigger game in the upcoming hunts. That was good enough for him, and he didn’t press me further.
Over the next couple weeks, I started getting my things in order. I couldn’t venture off in winter on my own without proper supplies, but I also couldn’t take so much from the Barbarabelle that it would leave them all in a lurch. On top of all that, I had to go about it stealthily as not to draw attention, because I didn’t want Boden or Stella finding out and trying to stop me.
So I began with a few emergency caches around the boat and on the land nearby. In the back of a closet near the infirmary, I hid away a makeshift first aid kit with ointments, threads, needles, and bandages. In the ceiling tiles of the kitchen, I put a medium-sized tin box and filled it with salt, dried meats and vegetables, flour, anything nutritious and portable that wouldn’t be immediately missed.
The extra gear was harder to stash away, because it was larger. My solution was to move a lot of it to the shed next to the stables on land, claiming that I was diversifying our storage in case of emergency. From the bowels of the steamboat, I moved a quarter of all our extra gear – including, hatchets, folding saws, firestarter kits, snowshoes, canvas tarps, tents, bed rolls, canteens, portable stove, and rope – into the shed with help from Edie. Nobody questioned it, and I was easily able to set aside what I’d need so I could grab it all after I saddled up Vince.
By the time the first snow fell in earnest, I had everything I needed. I waited another day, just to be sure that it would stick around, and that there was enough of it to slow everybody down.
In the middle of the night, when Boden was asleep most soundly, I slipped out of bed. I’d already written my note a few days ago, and I’d been carrying it around in my pocket until the time was right.
“I had to go. I’m sorry. Don’t follow. Take care of yourself and Stella and Fae.”
It was simple, too simple maybe, but I didn’t know what more to say. I left it on my side of the bed, along with the silver band that Boden had given me after Emberwood burned. Something to symbolize we belonged together, that we were married.
As I stood in the quiet darkness, his back to me and the moonlight revealing his strong silhouette, a wave of guilt and resolve washed over me. But I had made my decision, and soon enough, the open wilderness would swallow me whole.
I slipped out of our room, with Ripley padding silently on the carpet behind me. Sometimes, she needed coaxing to get up for the day, especially when the temperature turned cold, but she didn’t require any then. Like she somehow sensed what we were doing and how quiet and fast we needed to be.
My steps were calm and deliberate, but inside, my heart was racing. By the time I reached the stables, it was pounding so hard, I felt lightheaded, but I didn’t slow.
I rigged Vince with a decker and a padded seat. Not built for comfort, but he’ll carry the gear and let me ride when the snow’s deep or when we need to hurry.
And, then suddenly, I was done. All my gear was loaded, and Ripley was pacing out in the moonlight to keep from spooking the livestock. I had no reason to wait anymore. Nothing holding us back.
I climbed onto Vince, and as soon as we were out of the stables, I urged him to go as fast as he could. Given the snow and the darkness, it was more of a cautious trot than the exuberant gallop I’d imagined, but with the cold wind whipping in my face, it was exhilarating enough.
Once we were finally running, all my regret and hesitation melted away. That’s not to say that I didn’t love Boden, Stella, or Fae. I loved them with everything I could. I loved them more than myself. But that’s why leaving only made sense. They would be safer without me.
The first few days we spent covering as much ground as we could, but some point before dusk, Vince would let me know when it was time to stop for the night.
As the last traces of daylight faded behind the snowy pines, I guided Vince off the trail into a sheltered hollow beneath a stand of firs. After all the work he’d done all day, my main focus was on making sure that Vince was comfortable.
I removed the decker and gear bags from the mule’s broad back. My fingers were stiff in their gloves as I shook out the wool blanket for him and checked his hooves for packed ice. He snorted, tossing his head, but stood patiently as I rubbed him down and scattered oats for his supper.
After that, I set about making my own camp. The ground was frozen, so I stamped out a patch in the snow for my sleeping roll and spread a canvas tarp underneath for extra insulation.
I hoisted my bags with my provisions up into the branches of a sturdy pine, looping the rope several times to keep it out of reach of any hungry bears or even human thieves that might happen upon us.
While I did all that, Ripley sometimes went off to wander and hunt on her own, but she always came back once I got the camp stove going. Her favorite part of the night was when I melted snow and made broth with the dried meat. Most of it went to me, since she supplemented her diet with squirrels, rabbits, and birds. But I still shared with her, because it was basically impossible not to when she pressed her giant head against me.
I thought of Boden, Stella, and Fae often, but I never let my thoughts linger on them. My worries and my guilt couldn’t help them.
Before I had left, I been worrying about the cold nights and struggling to keep warm if I couldn’t find shelter, but it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, one night, when Ripley was fully pressed up against me, I had to take off my sweater because I was too warm under the blankets.
But soon I realized that the warmth was actually a problem. I’d waited until the snow seemed fully set before I left, in part to deter followers, but also because zombies were largely absent during the winter. Some I think migrated south, others seemed to hibernate almost, standing frozen between the trees until spring thaw came.
While the rising temperatures might protect me from hypothermia, it also meant that zombies were on the move once again. When I woke up on my fourth morning away from the boat, snow was melting from the branches, and I could hear zombie death groans in the distance.
I packed us up in a hurry and got back on the road in record time. Both Ripley and Vince kept glancing back over their shoulders, their ears on high alert for the calls of the zombies, but they rushed onward.
Unfortunately, all of us were so busy looking over our shoulders that we didn’t notice what was right in front of us. Not until a small horde of a dozen zombies came shambling out of the dense brush.
40
Remy
Vince stopped short when he saw them, his sturdy hooves skidding through the snow. I nearly launched over his head, but I braced myself enough with my legs to keep from tumbling headlong in front of the zombies.
Ripley was already primed for a fight with the infected, and she ran at them. While I climbed down off Vince, she feinted left and right, dividing the horde to make them easier to combat.
I grabbed my splitting maul from my things. It had a long handle, like a sledgehammer, with a broad axe as the head. That made it an ideal tool for cutting wood or cutting down zombies.
Vince stomped his feet and his nostrils flared with rage as he snorted. I quickly put distance between us, because I didn’t want my axe hitting him in the chaos.
He turned away from the zombies, kicking with his powerful back legs. Hooves cracked through their decaying limbs, sending them flying. When a zombie managed to get too close to him, the mule grabbed it by the head. The gelatinous skull squelched between his teeth, and he shook the zombie like a rag doll until the neck popped off, decapitating it. The headless corpse fell to the ground, and Vince spit out what was left of the skull.
Ripley continued her attacks by taking powerful swipes with her paws, tearing legs out right from under the zombies. They weren’t killed by that, but they were severely hampered without any lower limbs. Plus, when they were legless on the ground, it was easier for Vince to stomp on their heads, crushing their greenish-grey matter with the slush and mud.
While I kept my focus on swinging my ax and finishing off any zombies that had only been maimed by Ripley or Vince, I didn’t see the top half of one, dragging itself toward me with its bony hands. I only noticed it when the zombie clamped down hard on my left foot, tearing straight through my boot and sinking teeth into my flesh.
“Dammit!” I yanked my foot free, then drove my axe down right between the zombie’s eyes.
The worst part of it all was that it was almost over. If I had only been vigilant enough for a few more minutes, we would’ve gotten out of this without any injury. Vince was more helpful against fighting the infected than I expected, and this should’ve been an easy win.
As I finished off the final zombie, I wondered if maybe I’d grown complacent on the boat. I didn’t usually find myself the victim of such a clumsy attack as that.
Thankfully, I was immune to the lyssavirus, but a foot injury during the first week of my long journey was not good news.
I hobbled back to Vince and gave him an appreciative scratch on the neck. “You’re kind of a bad ass, aren’t you?”
He made another snorting sound before sniffing me, practically inhaling my hair. I gave him another friendly pat, then moved on to getting my first aid kit from the packs.
I sat on a nearby rock and pulled off the shredded boot, wincing as I saw the deep bite marks and torn flesh. I used a bottle of antiseptic, pouring it generously over the wound, biting back a cry as it burned, then wrapped my foot tightly to slow the bleeding and prevent infection.
Ripley had finished her zombie feasting, and she came over to me, still licking the green blood off her lips. She pressed her forehead against me, the way she often did after something like this, as if she wanted to make sure I was okay. Unfortunately, she did that by butting her head so hard into me I nearly fell off the rock.
“We’ll all be okay, Ripley,” I assured her, running a hand through her thick fur. “We have to keep moving.”
After that, I patched the boot as best I could with duct tape and scraps of leather, making it sturdy enough to keep out the cold and slush until I could find something better.
As the sun lowered below the horizon, so did the temperatures as they boomeranged from highs to lows. The unseasonable warmth plunged before I even had a chance to bed down for the night.
In a fortuitous bit of luck we came across an actual campsite. The wooden sign outside the entrance announced the name Cedar Hollow Campgrounds. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much for remaining structures, at least not that I could see under the ice and snow.
However, there was a pavilion, which meant that we would at least have a roof over our heads. I stretched the canvas tarp over two sides of the pavilion, the fabric snapping as it caught the wind. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave us walls against the gusts.
After I got the fire started, I wrapped Vince’s legs and covered him in a blanket. Then I settled down with Ripley by the fire and tried not to think about the throbbing cold in my toes.
“It’ll be better in the morning,” I promised Ripley and Vince as we huddled around the flames.
But that turned out to be merely wishful thinking. The morning continued with arctic winds, so bone chillingly cold my lashes froze to my face.
The shelter wasn’t nearly enough to protect from it, and Vince had started stomping his feet and pacing, presumably to keep warm, so it was time to move on.
My coat and matching gloves were a gift from Boden, something he’d had Harlow specially make for me from a caribou hide he’d harvested. My balaclava was hand made by Sienna with Romney wool. My boots had been a brand-new military-grade winter tactical pair in exactly my size that I happened to find during a scavenge trip last summer.
I had prepared about as well as I could to withstand this weather, and still, the cold kept seeping in. So deep into my bones I feared I’d never be warm again.
By midday, I couldn’t feel most of my left foot, and I honestly didn’t know how long the mule and the lion could handle these temperatures without some kind of a reprieve.
We couldn’t keep going like this, deliriously stumbling forward through ice and cold sharper than any blade. I had to do something.
Before I had left, I had copied a map from Lazlo, telling me how to get to Glacier Valley. He had very clearly marked a waypoint town called Fort Lately with a big red X. He warned me that the Revvers were there and described them as some weird cult who worshipped the dead. They didn’t sound like they were more than I could handle.
But I didn’t know how much longer the animals could handle the pervasive cold. I’d brought along bees wax to coat the pads of Ripley’s paws to protect them some, but she wouldn’t wear shoes or coverings. And honestly, her claws were large enough that I couldn’t force the issue. At least her fur was exceptionally thick after years living through Canadian winters.
When we reached the river, instead of going west toward Glacier Valley, I headed north to the town of Fort Lately. It wasn’t an ideal option, but it was the only one I felt like I had, if I wanted to keep Vince healthy and give Ripley a break.
41
Remy
The fortress of Fort Lately was impossible to miss, not least of all because it was an imposing structure at the top of a hill. The tall exterior walls were painted in vibrant, psychedelic colors with cheery designs, reminding me of a bizarre children’s show from the 1960s. It was almost an eyesore contrasting with the blanket of white snow surrounding it.
“It seems like a silly place, but that’s where we’re headed anyway,” I said, my voice muffled through my balaclava. And then, louder so Vince could hear me, I commanded, “Let’s go.”
He started onward, nimbly stepping through the snow, with Ripley trotting alongside us. We hadn’t made it very far when a thunderclap bang broke the silence, and the air smelled vaguely of fireworks.
Vince gave a distressed braying sound and stomped his feet, but I managed to keep him from rearing up entirely. I glanced over him, and he wasn’t hurt, just spooked. Ripley let out an alarmed growl and pressed herself low to the ground, but she seemed otherwise unharmed.
“Wait. Is that cat with you?” someone asked, sounding surprised, but I still couldn’t see him.
I squinted and finally saw movement in front of me. Two men came out from behind a snow berm they’d been using as a hunting blind. They were both dressed in winter ghillie suits, made of white and gray rabbit fur, and that made them almost invisible until they moved.
Most alarmingly, though, they were carrying long rifles pointed at us.
“Yes, and I’d rather you didn’t shoot her or any of us,” I said.
“Well, if you come down and do as we say, that won’t be a problem,” the taller of the two men said.
I carefully climbed down off the mule, and something about that must’ve startled Ripley. She let out another annoyed growling sound, and the taller man fired his rifle. Another loud thunderclap, and she jumped back, narrowly dodging the bullet.
“What the hell, man?” I shouted. “I did what you asked!”
Ripley turned and raced into the nearby tree line, disappearing into the woods before anyone could get off another shot.
“I’m not ending up a stupid cat’s meal,” the taller man insisted, and he was already fumbling with his rifle, reloading it by dropping pellets into the barrel and ramming them down with a narrow rod.
“Is that a musket?” I asked in surprise.
It had been a while since I’d seen a gun, since ammo had been in short supply with the factories closed and so many guns emptied on zombie hordes. But I was fairly certain that was not a typical rifle.
“All you need to know is it will kill you just fine,” the taller man insisted.
“Are you from Fort Lately?” I asked.
The taller man lowered his rifle slightly, getting a better look at me. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I’m headed that way,” I said.
“And what do you want with Fort Lately?” the shorter man piped up.
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s rather chilly out here.” I brushed crystals off my eye lashes with my gloved hand. “I was looking for somewhere that my mule and I could warm up for the night.”
“Sure, we can put you up somewhere warm,” the taller man said in a breezy way that made me worry. “Go on up that hill to the main gate. We’ll be right behind you.”
I took Vince’s reigns, and as I started past the men, they both kept their guns pointed on me.
“Are you gonna leave your big cat out here?” the shorter man asked.
“I figured she’s safer out there than with your guns,” I said, which was true, and I had to believe she’d find a way to take care of herself. A nice cave or abandoned cabin to curl up in and lay low until the cold snap broke or I came out to find her.
I led Vince up the hill and the men walked behind me, with occasional chattering between the two of them. Mostly they debated which one of them should alert “Nell” about the big cat, but I was able to gather that the taller one was called Benedict and the shorter one was Clifton.
The entrance to the fortress was through a locked door followed by a dark passageway through the thick concrete walls. Vince made an annoyed grunting sound, like he was telling me he had a bad feeling about this place, and I didn’t disagree with him.
Beyond the passageway was a crowded town square, in that there were buildings cramped up against each other, but it was empty in terms of actual people. I suspected that the icy temperatures were keeping many of them inside, especially since I could see the smoke coming out of chimney tops.
The whole place had such a weird vibe, like an old, abandoned Santa’s village. Everything was covered in ice and snow, but bright colors bled through the frost. It was so quiet as we walked in, and other than a distinctly unpleasant waft of manure mixed with fresh baked bread, it would be easy to think it was abandoned.
“Take the mule to the stables,” Benedict ordered Clifton, who nodded as he hurried to take the reins from me.
Vince again made a displeased grunt, but this time, I stroked his neck.
“It’ll be okay. Just warm up, and I’ll see you soon,” I promised him.
Clifton led the mule, along with all my gear, away, and I was stuck with Benedict and his rifle.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked as he nudged me toward a pathway to the left. “Is this what you do with all your visitors?”
“Not all, but some,” he said. “You seem sickly with that limp, and you’ve been out in the cold. So I’m taking you to the Wellness Center for an inspection.”
“The Wellness Center?” I glanced over at him with a cocked eyebrow to see if he was kidding. “Are you running some kind of health spa here?”
“We all care about health here,” Benedict replied. “Is that so crazy after the way civilization fell to disease and rot?”
“It’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” I admitted wryly.
The Wellness Center turned out to be a squat building painted a nausea inducing shade of seafoam blue. There was no sign denoting it, at least not with words or a name. Above the door, a large white solar cross was painted.
I was hit by the strangest smell upon entering. The sickly clinical scent with a smoky earthiness. Like disinfecting cleaners and lingering illness and patchouli all mixed together.
The building that housed the Wellness Center must have been some kind of gift shop, back before the virus. A sepia photograph of the star-shaped fortress (from before the Revvers had started painting it) was framed on the wall. Beneath it was a sign in bronze letters reading Fort Lately National Historic Site.
Some of the shelves that had likely held shirts and trinkets now held supplies – folded cloth, bandages, little glass bottles of alcohol and syrups, rows of various crystals and dried herbs, and all sorts of other wellness paraphernalia.
One side of the room had been turned into a triage area of sorts. Three beds were separated by curtains between them. Two of them were empty, but the third held a young boy covered in red hives.
“Keep going,” Benedict commanded, directing me toward the back of the building and a door labeled with a big red sign: Quarantine KEEP OUT.
The clinical scent and the hospital beds brought my mind back to the locked medical ward at the Blaine County Quarantine Zone. My brother Max had only been eight when they started experimenting on him. The doctors and butchers there had been so desperate to find a cure for the lyssavirus that they hadn’t even cared if they killed a little boy in the process.
And they would’ve, if I hadn’t traded places with him. For six months, they kept me in a locked room while they drained my blood and sliced me open. They biopsied my spleen, my lymph nodes, and my salivary glands. They cut open my skull to get a sample of my brain and drilled a hole in my bone to get my marrow. When what they found there wasn’t enough, they’d cut me open and started taking my organs. Anything they thought I’d survive without: appendix, tonsils, uterus, ovaries, and my left kidney.
And all of it had been done with little to no anesthetic because they had nothing to spare.
But I couldn’t let myself dwell on that. That was the past, this was now, and this was different. A quarantine was a necessary precaution these days, one that I was powerless to stop anyway. All I could do was take a deep breath and try to slow the racing of my heart.
A cold sweat was breaking out all over my body, and my hands were clammy. My clothing felt too restrictive, and I pulled off my balaclava and gloves, and I kept taking deep breaths.
Benedict glanced back at me as he unlocked the door. “You okay, lady? You aren’t gonna hurl, are you?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He pushed open the door, revealing a small wood paneled room that had likely been an office back when this was still a gift shop. It had apparently been repurposed as a holding cell for the possibly infected, with two cots and a red biohazard bucket for waste.
“On you go then.” Benedict motioned for me to enter, and when I didn’t do it on my own – I couldn’t seem to force myself forward – he grabbed my arm and dragged me in.
My feet caught up underneath me, because only one of them had real feeling. On my left foot, I could only feel a vague throbbing burn around the zombie bite, and an increasingly uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation everywhere else.
I fell face first onto the cold tile floor, and Benedict let out a snorting laugh.
“One of the Empaths will be in soon to check you for bites,” he said.
“What’s an Empath?” I asked.
But instead of answering me, he slammed the door shut, and I was alone and locked in a room. My stomach rolled, but I swallowed it down because I didn’t really have time to vomit.
On my foot was a clear zombie bite, and no one here would believe me if I said I was immune. Especially not with Benedict already telling me I looked sickly. They’d see the bite and probably take me out back and shoot me.
I stared down at my aching foot and took a deep breath. I had to do something about it, and I had to do it before the alleged “empath” came in.
42
Remy
The last time I had taken my boot off had been right after the zombie bite, and apparently, my foot had swollen two or three times the size since then. Parts of it were still blissfully numb, but the rest burned as if a hundred red hot needles were being jabbed through it.
My sock and bandage were completely stuck to my foot and stained the color of rust, which I knew wasn’t a good sign. I had wanted to change the bandages, but it had been so damn cold ever since, I only took off layers if I absolutely had to.
This might have been a mistake, although I don’t really know what I could’ve done differently out there.
Maybe it was the going “out there” part that was a mistake.
I shook it off, because I knew what I needed to do. I survived everything that had come before this, so I could handle a little injury to my foot.
As I peeled off the sock and bandage with a wince, I realized that this was quite a bit more than a “little injury.” Surprisingly, the zombie bite itself wasn’t the worst of it. It was a puckered crescent made of teeth marks above my smallest toes. Slow healing, yes, but otherwise only a flesh wound.
My toes, however, had been exposed to too much cold and snow, even with my makeshift remedy for my boots. All of them were experiencing some degree of frostbite. The big toe was in the best shape, just a little purple and red. The middle two were swollen red and blistered, and my final smallest two had turned completely black.
Longterm, whatever was going on with my toes would be a much bigger problem, but for the immediate future, I had to mask the bite.
Benedict and Clifton had taken anything that even resembled a weapon from me, so I would have to make do with something already in the room. I quickly glanced around until my eye caught on the metal frame of the cot. One of the corners looked like it might be sharp and jagged enough.
I got up and peeled off my jacket. It felt too hot and constraining in the building. The weird thing about the intense cold I’d felt for days was that I could still feel the chill deep inside me, even while externally being overheated enough that sweat was dripping down my brow.
I limped over to the cot and sat down near the sharp corner. As soon as the cold metal point touched the tender flesh of my foot, a burning jolt zapped through me.
But it had to be done. So I gritted my teeth and fought back the bile as I cut a ragged line through the barely healed zombie bite. Working gruesomely but carefully, I tore the wound into something that would never resemble human teeth marks.
Once I finished, my own blood feeling strangely hot as it dripped over my hands and frozen toes, I leaned forward and put my head between my knees.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I whispered to myself.
The door opened a moment later, and I sat up straight and tried to look like I hadn’t been about to pass out or vomit.
A woman entered the quarantine room – the Empath, presumably – and she wasn’t exactly what I expected. It wasn’t only that she was fairly young, maybe twenty or twenty-one at the most. But it was also the way she dressed. Instead of the usual scrubs I had come to expect in a clinical setting, her clothes were flowy and bright. A cozy long sweater made with teal and orange spirals, and a long, quilted skirt made with patches from every color in the rainbow.
Her skin was light brown, and her hair was in long black coils, carefully clipped up on the top of her head. Her eyes were dark walnut framed by long lashes.
“I’ve come in here to give you an examination to make sure you’re well enough for our communities,” she explained, but her eyes were down on my bare foot, bleeding all over the tile. “I see you have some frostbite. Did you try to take the toes off yourself?”
“Something like that,” I muttered.
She carried a wicker basket with her, and she reached in and pulled out a white cloth.
“Wrap your foot for now,” she said, holding the cloth out to me. “I’ll take care of it after the exam.”
“Sure,” I said and wrapped it up as best as I could without causing too much pain.
Next, she instructed me to strip down so she could inspect for any fresh bite wounds. The worst part for me wasn’t being naked, at least not as in showing my breasts or ass. No, it was really the scars that covered up far too much of my body. Mostly on my torso, but my arms and legs had more than their fair share.
People usually gasped the first time they saw the pink lattice of scars across my skin, and this woman was no different. I never looked at them, although I was always acutely aware of their presence. Not just when my hands brushed against the rough bumps, or when the puckered keloids caught my clothing, or when I stretched the wrong way, so the taut scar tissue would cry out in pain.
Somehow, intrinsically, I always knew their exact shape and their precise placement. Each and every one. I had memorized the constellation of trauma that my body carried.
So I never had to look again, and I could close my eyes and keep my head up.
“I have to mark down every one of your scars on a sheet of paper,” the Empath explained, sounding apologetic. “This will take a moment.”
“Do what you gotta do,” I said through gritted teeth.
I refused to look down, but from the corner of my eye, I could see her pull a clipboard and a pencil out of her basket. Then she slowly walked around me, eyeing up every little mark and making little notes on a piece of paper, recording the size and color and location of every single one of my scars.
“Can I ask what happened to you?” she asked, soft and apologetic.
“People can be real assholes,” I said, because it was the easiest explanation I could give out.
“And is that a healed bite mark on your hip?” she asked, referencing a zombie bite I’d gotten nearly a decade ago.
“People can be real assholes, and they have teeth,” I clarified.
“It seems you don’t want to talk about it so I won’t press any further,” she said. “But I am sorry that happened to you.”
“You’re not the one who did it, so there’s no need to apologize.”
When she finished, she said that I could get dressed, and I hurried to pull on my thermal shirt and my jeans.
“My name is Alphonsine Babineaux,” she said as I dressed. “You can call me Alphie, if you would like. I am an Empath here at the Wellness Center, which means that I help care for those that are suffering from any illness, disease, or other infirmary.”
“And by ‘here,’ what does that mean?” I motioned vaguely around, referencing the town as a whole. “Are you all Revvers?”
“We prefer Reverence to the Revenant,” Alphie corrected me gently. “Sit down and put your foot up so I can get a look at it.
I did as I was told, because I definitely needed medical care, even if I didn’t completely trust it. I stretched my leg out, and she placed a folded towel under my damaged foot, elevating it slightly.
Gingerly, she turned my foot this way and that as she inspected it, and she finished with a soft hmm noise. “I won’t lie and tell you this isn’t going to hurt, but I’ll do the best I can to minimize it. Your foot needs to be cleaned, the wound needs a few stitches, and very soon, you’ll likely need those two necrotic toes removed.”
“Why not do it now and get it over with?” I asked.
“Nell will want to meet with you first,” she said. “She is the Allmother of the Reverent and the Revenant.”
“Of course. That makes sense,” I muttered, my voice dipped in sugar and spite.
When she touched my tender flesh with a rag soaked in alcohol, I inhaled sharply through my teeth. I had felt worse pain in my life, but not by a wide enough margin, honestly.
“So what’s your deal?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from it. “What do you all do around here? You worship the dead and squeeze in a little yoga?”
“There is some yoga,” she admitted with a sly smile. “But it truly is a simple, blessed life here. We all work to take care of each other and our Loved Ones, and we express gratitude for living such a comfortable life when so many others are suffering.”
“That sounds nice,” I said, and it did. But I had been around the post-apocalypse long enough to know that if something sounded like a utopia, it was probably the opposite.
43
Remy
At least I was warm, and Vince was likely warm, too. No matter what happened to me here, he was a good sturdy mule, so I assumed they would treat him well.
I didn’t let myself think on Ripley or anyone back at the Barbarabelle too much. Ripley was strong, independent, and resourceful, so she’d figure out some way to hunker down and stay warm. Boden, Stella, and Fae were safe back on the boat, probably even safer now that I was gone.
Sometimes, I wondered dimly if they hated me for leaving them the way I had. I wouldn’t blame them if they did, especially if it made it easier for them. And it wasn’t like I didn’t deserve their rage, either.
I understood that what I’d done was unforgivable. But I didn’t see any way to avoid them getting hurt. I brought too much darkness on myself, and it was only a matter of time before they’d be consumed by it, too.
The only thing I had to distract myself from my own thoughts was the battered leatherbound copy of The Book of Mercy. It had been tucked away in the lining of my jacket, because I sometimes read it on breaks, so I liked it keep it on me. Flipping through the pages of a mad woman’s delusions was only slightly better than focusing on the throbbing pain in my foot or the anxious beating of my heart.
Eventually, the door to my cell opened. Benedict – the tall guard – entered first. He’d traded in his snow white ghillie suit for a vibrant tunic and trousers. His rifle was shouldered, and he had a sharp spear in one hand.
Behind him was Alphie, the Empath who had cleaned my foot, once again carrying her wicker basket of medical treatments. That had been yesterday, I think, or maybe earlier today. It was hard to tell when left alone in a windowless room without a clock.
Then yet a third person came in. A petite woman draped in vibrant robes and glittering jewelry. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she looked strangely familiar.
She was shorter than me, and maybe a decade or two older. Her hair was long, light brown with graying streaks near the top, and her pale eyes were large but weary, like an exhausted mother about to scold her misbehaving children. Her layers of colorful robes accentuated the aggressive sinewiness of her collarbones and her narrow arms.
“Rise when Allmother comes in a room,” Benedict barked at me, like I would’ve somehow known any of that shit.
I sat up and faced them, tucking my book behind my back so they’d be less likely to take it. My legs hung over the edge of the cot, but I didn’t go further. “I’m not really standing so great on my foot these days.”
All of their eyes bounced down to my partially bandaged foot, and they wore a trio of grimaces at the sight of my two black toes poking out from beyond the wrapping.
“You were correct, Alphonsine,” the woman said. “Those toes must come off.”
“Thank you,” Alphie said, turning humbled by such minor praise. “Shall I do it now?”
“Yes, I don’t see why not.” The woman motioned for Alphie to tend to me, and the Empath hurried over and kneeled at my feet.
“What exactly is going on right now?” I asked, growing confused and concerned.
“I’ve come to introduce myself and perform an assessment,” the woman explained with her slender fingers laced together in front of her. “The Empath is here to amputate your toes before illness ravages you, and the Sentry is here to ensure that everyone is safe.”
“Okay, sure,” I said, as Alphie began to carefully unwrap and wash my injured foot.
“My name is Cornelia Mahler, the Allmother of the Reverent and the Revenant, but most of my community simply call me Nell.” The woman introduced herself serenely, but I barely heard anything after she said her name, because it’s when it all clicked in place for me.
“Holy shit!” I pointed my finger at her as I gave a snap of recognition. “You’re Wellness with Nell-ness! You were all over social media up until… well, right up until we didn’t have social media or civilization anymore. My mom used to watch your Pilates videos.”
Her smile deepened, turning into something proud, and her pale eyes brimmed with faux humility. “I helped people in the way I could before the world fell.”
“You’ve really embraced color now, haven’t you?” I gestured vaguely to the bright costumes of everyone else in the room. “Way back when, I remember, you were all very… beige. A lot of blank white rooms and neutral colors. Like dry oatmeal.”
Her smile faltered slightly at that, but she replied coolly with, “Color is needed now more than ever. Beauty is the rarest commodity there is in life.”
“Well, I always thought life was the rarest commodity in life,” I countered, but then I snapped my fingers again as I remembered something else. “When the virus first broke out, weren’t you claiming that you could cure it with apple cider vinegar? Or maybe it was those overpriced sugary drinks you’d sell that were meant to ward off the zombie apocalypse? How did that work out for you?”
Nell’s smile instantly fell away, and her eyes narrowed at me. “The Revenant need no cure, and the world is as it’s meant to be right now.”
“You think this is the ideal version of the world?” I asked with a suspicious eyebrow raised.
At the same time, Alphie had finished cleaning my foot with cold alcohol, and she had moved onto tying a tourniquet around it, just above my toes. I winced slightly, but I did my best to hide my reactions.
“This will hurt a bit but it will be over soon,” Alphie said softly, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw her reach into her little wicker basket and pull out a pair of bone shears.
“Where we are now in time is setting the stage for what is to come,” Nell explained, her self-satisfied serenity returning with her pontification. “Someday soon, the One Who Commands Two Hearts will unite the Revenant and the Reverent as we are truly intended to be, and then all will be well.”
“The One Who Commands what?” I asked in confusion.
“We are –” Nell began, but I honestly couldn’t process the rest because the cold blades of the bone shear suddenly chomped down on the swollen skin just above my blackened toes.
“Oh, fucking hell!” I shouted, because I couldn’t help it. I gripped the edge of the cot with my hands, squeezing until my knuckles turned white.
“Sentry, help the Empath hold her down,” Nell commanded.
But it wasn’t like I was trying to get away. It wasn’t even the pain – although it felt like blunt severing, fiery burning, and incredible agony – it was when the cold blade touched my hot skin, it was like the butchers had gotten to me again.
My body was thrown back in time, even though my mind was still here. My insides were ice cold, and my skin was burning hot. Sweat prickled out all over my trembling flesh. Tears blurred my vision so I could hardly see anything, and air struggled to escape from my lungs, as if my throat was closing.
I could hear Nell talking, telling Alphie she had to do something, and hands were on me. Too strong to be Alphie, so they must’ve been Benedict slamming me onto the cot while I gasped for air.
“Give her space to breathe!” Alphie snapped at Benedict, and the hands clamped painfully on my arms and then more soothingly, she told me, “You’re doing great, Remy. Take a deep breath, and exhale slowly.”
With her guiding me, I took several, slow deep breaths, and eventually, my body felt more like it was under my control and not trying to claw its way out of my skin to escape from myself.
“Finish tending to her,” Nell said, when I had calmed down somewhat.
“What should I be readying her for?” Alphie asked.
“Expiation,” Nell replied. “As soon as she is well enough.”
“As you decide,” Alphie replied. “Thank you, Nell.”
Nell gave me one last disparaging look as she went to the door. “I’ll leave the Sentry with you in case she gives you anymore trouble.”
“Thank you, Nell,” Alphie repeated, but then her attention was back on me. “I need to irrigate the wound and clean it before I dress it, and unfortunately, that is going to hurt quite a bit. But it’s the only way to truly prevent infection.”
“Do what you need to do. I can handle it,” I said.
It was going to happen anyway, so I might as well grin and bear it. At least, that’s what I thought until I felt the strange freezing burn of an astringent cleansing the freshly exposed meat and bone of my foot. I had a vague sensation of screaming, of pain, and then I disappeared into the black oblivion of unconsciousness.
44
Remy
The Empath was still there when I woke. She sat on the cot across from me, hands flat on her lap, staring ahead with a blank intensity. Maybe watching, maybe waiting, maybe not seeing me at all.
Benedict was gone, so it was only the two of us in the locked room.
“Am I dying?” I asked, since that might explain why she hadn’t left me when the Sentry had.
“Not as far as I know. But I’m glad you’re awake.” She got up and walked over, then sat down on the cot beside me. “How are you feeling?”
“Great, except for the phantom ache where my dead toes used to be,” I said, and I was only slightly exaggerating. Beyond the throbbing pain in my foot, I was mostly tired and sore.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Alphie asked.
“Do you have any serious pain relievers you want to throw my way?” I asked. “Literally any analgesic or an opioid would be especially appreciated.”
She shook her head. “No, we don’t have anything like that here.”
“Figures,” I grumbled. “I guess expecting painkillers from someone who swears by mangoes and miracles was a stretch. Especially these days.”
“You knew of Nell before?” Alphie asked, intrigued. “Before the disease ravaged the world?”
“If you’re talking about before the zombies, sure, yeah, I was aware of her back then,” I said. “My mom was into fitness. She loved running, marathons, that kinda thing. And Nell had a few good workout courses, apparently. But as for the rest of her alleged ‘teachings.’” I snorted, remembering the way my mom had referred to her as a holistic hustler.
“So, you didn’t follow her then?”
I looked up at Alphie, studying her dark eyes to see what she was getting at. But all I could find was compassion and curiosity. Maybe the title of Empath wasn’t pulled entirely from thin air.
“No, I didn’t follow her,” I finally answered.
“So who do you follow then?”
“Nobody. I mostly just run from things.”
“And that’s how you want to live?” Alphie pressed.
“It’s not a matter of want so much as I don’t know any other way to survive,” I admitted wearily. “Why are you still here?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she replied.
I smirked up at her. “I’m dandy. Can’t you tell?”
“I also … I wanted to ask you about something Benedict said,” she said, sounding almost cautious. “When you were unconscious, he told me that you had a cougar with you when you arrived.”
“Lion,” I corrected her.
Both her eyebrows raised excitedly. “What was that?”
“A lioness, technically,” I amended. “And yeah, she’s mine. Sorta. No one really owns her. But we travel through life together.”
“That is a very romantic way to describe your relationship with a cat,” she remarked.
“Well, you haven’t been friends with a lion.”
“I haven’t, but I do imagine it is something special,” she said. “Is there some way we can help her?”
“If Ripley needs help, she’ll go back to the boat,” I said, because that was what made the most sense. If I didn’t come back, she would return to the only other family she had. Boden and Stella on the Barbarabelle.
“What boat?” Alphie asked, her interest clearly piqued, and I realized I’d accidentally said too much. Losing two toes had really fucked with my head.
“It doesn’t matter. Why are you asking all these questions?” I deflected. “Why do you even care?”
“People aren’t usually curious about the fact that you have a pet lion?” Alphie asked me with a smirk.
“Fair point,” I said, because I couldn’t argue it.
I readjusted myself a little, because there was something digging into my back. I slid my hand underneath me and pulled out my copy of The Book of Mercy. When the Empath had first come in the room, I’d hidden it behind myself, and apparently I passed out on top of it.
“What is that?” Alphie asked.
“It’s just some book.” I tried to brush it off, but she reached over me and picked it up.
“This is about the Loths?” Alphie asked in surprise as she flipped through it. “I’ve heard stories about them and the way they abused and exploited zombies.”
“I’ve never been a big fan of zombies, but I’m not gonna disagree with you about that point,” I said. “Mercy Loth and her family sound like some deranged folks.”
“If you’d don’t like them or admire them, why are you carrying this book with you?” Alphie asked.
“There’s some information in there that’s relevant to me,” I explained as vaguely as I could. I never liked divulging anything, but I really wanted to make it clear that I had nothing to do with the practices at the Loth Family Ranch. “I’m trying to get to the Cold Shore outpost in Glacier Valley.”
“What do you want with Cold Shore?” she asked.
“What does anybody want with anything these days?” I retorted. “I want to find a way to survive the end of the world.”
“That is something I think about a lot myself. If I’m being honest…” Alphie turned timid, her hands fiddling in her lap, and she stared down at the floor. “There is something else you said that had me more curious than your exotic pets or your taboo reading.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you were unconscious, you kept mumbling strange things,” she explained, almost ashamed at having overheard me. “You said that you knew of the One Who Commands Two Hearts.”
“That sounds like some real fever dream panic attack shit,” I said, immediately dismissing her. I closed my eyes, just in case she could see any recognition in them.
“People have always had crazy ideas about prophecies, especially charismatic cult leaders,” I went on. “I survived three ‘end of days’ predictions before the virus broke out. Which also goes to show you that if you say enough looney shit, eventually some of it might turn out to be true. You know the old saying a broken clock is right twice a day?”
She was quiet for a moment, long enough that I considered opening my eyes to see what she was doing. But finally, Alphie said, “When I was a little girl and my mother brought me here to the walls of Fort Lately, Nell promised that she would find a way to reunite us. All humans, both infected and uninfected, the rich and the poor, the powerful and the powerless. All would be well again. I believed that then, and I still need to believe that now.”
“You don’t need to believe in anything,” I corrected her. “You only want to. You need oxygen and food and sleep. A belief in something better is just a fantasy, a wishful dream. All we really have is what we do ourselves, and how long we can survive with what we’ve done.”
Alphie’s gaze flickered up from her hands, meeting mine with a quiet intensity.
“I’m going to leave now,” she announced as she got to her feet, but her voice sounded odd. Sort of flat and… scripted. “If I have forgotten my basket here with my supplies, that would be such a shame.”
45
Remy
Lockpicking was one of many skills I’d picked up during the first year or so after the end of civilization. Back then, it had been especially valuable because Max and I were scavenging so much for our supplies.
I hadn’t done much lockpicking in recent years, but this was just a simple office door. Using a suture needle and a pair of tweezers, it didn’t take that long until it clicked to unlock.
Already, I’d put on my boots. I would have to find something better than my tattered boot for my injured foot, but for now, it was better than running around bare feet through the snow. Alphie had left a tie-dye cloak in the wicker basket, and it was large enough that I could pull it on over my bulky jacket, so I could blend in.
After that, I rummaged through the rest of Alphie’s bag for any other useful supplies. I took some bandages and disinfectants for my foot, and I palmed an especially sharp scalpel.
When I had everything I needed, I opened the door slowly. The Wellness Center itself was mostly dark, with only a few lanterns burning, and the windows outside showed that it was nightfall.
To be safe, I stayed crouched down, which wasn’t easy with my limp and foot injury. But nobody noticed me as I made my way to the exit. I eased the front door open silently, but the frigid night air blustered in around it.
Somewhere behind me, someone called out, “Who’s there?” But I ran outside and into the night.
The fortress of Fort Lately lay quiet beneath a blanket of snow, the only sounds the distant creak of wood and the low whisper of wind against the stone walls.
Sticking to the shadows, I slipped past shuttered windows and careless sentries. I didn’t know exactly where the stables were, so I peered around every corner for a sign of a building large enough to house horses.
Then, finally, I heard a mule let out an annoyed braying, and while I couldn’t technically be certain it was Vince, I knew in my gut that it was. Maybe he could smell me. Maybe he hated it here.
When I opened the stable doors, the hinges groaned loudly, so I grimaced and dashed inside. The musky warmth was a relief from the cold sting of the air on my face. Vince’s head popped over this stable door, and I hurried over to greet him.
I ran my hand over the coarse fur of his forehead and snout. His ears flicked forward at my touch, and he leaned into the pressure, offering a soft snort of recognition.
“I missed you, too, buddy,” I whispered to him. “I hope you warmed up, because we’re getting out of here soon. But I have to get my stuff first. I’ll be right back.”
Quietly, I climbed up a ladder to the loft overhead, where Benedict and Clifton had once mentioned the Revvers stashed the stuff they took from outsiders like me. My own bags were easy to find, because they were nearest to the front. But I had to procure a better pair of boots if I had any intention on keeping my foot through the winter.
My heart pounded as I rummaged through the bags, and I tried not to think about who had owned them before. It was hard to do when I rifled through a tiny backpack embroidered with pink butterflies, or another one that contained a stack of faded polaroids of a smiling group of people trekking through the woods.
The most overwhelming thing was honestly the sheer amount. Bags stacked upon bags stacked upon bags. How many people had come through and had all their possessions taken from them? And what had happened to the people themselves? What the hell were the Revvers actually doing here?
I let out a sigh of relief when I finally found a solid pair of boots. They were about half a size too big, but with my left foot so swollen, the extra room was actually a good thing. Just in case things got rough later, I put the other boot into my pack along with my spare supplies.
Vince made another annoyed snorting sound below, and I worried I was taking too long or making too much noise. Either way, it was clearly time to get out of here.
I tossed my bags down to the main floor, and then I climbed down after them. I’d only touched my good foot on the concrete floor when I heard someone shouting behind me.
“The loft is off limits,” a man announced, and I slowly turned around to see Benedict. His face contorted to rage the moment he recognized me, and he snarled, “You’re not supposed to be here! What do you think you’re doing with our property?”
“I’m only taking my own stuff,” I insisted, as if I thought it would convince him of anything, and I reached around to the scalpel I had tucked into the waistband of my jeans.
“None of that is yours!” Benedict snapped. “All of that belongs to the Reverent and the Revenant, and you will be punished for crossing us!”
He started stomping toward me. His rifle was still shouldered, and he didn’t reach for it. By the way his hands were balled up tightly at his sides, I guessed he was looking for a more tactile release of all his rage.
I stepped backward, until I bumped into the ladder behind me, and I pretended to cower down. I wanted him to think that he had me cornered.
But when he was close enough, I lunged forward, and I drove the scalpel right into his right eye. I knocked him backward onto the ground, and his blood was pouring hot all over my hand.
He was screaming, so I grabbed him by the head and I slammed it back into the concrete, hard enough to knock him out. All the noise he made likely drew attention, so I had to get the hell out of there.
As quickly as I could, I saddled up Vince and loaded up all my gear. I grabbed the musket rifle from Benedict, and I took Vince’s reins.
Once out of the stable, I led him steadily toward the heavy gates in the fortress wall, the ones that led to the exterior world.
The Sentry posted at the gate hesitated as I approached, his face uncertain as he eyed the rifle I pointed in his direction. I didn’t give him a chance to argue, and my voice was low and firm as I demanded he drop his own rifle and open the gates.
With a wary glance, he complied, opening the massive door. I commanded the Sentry to walk in front of me through the darkened passage because he had to open the door on the other side.
As soon as we were on the outside, I used the butt of the rifle to knock the Sentry out, and as I climbed up onto Vince, I heard the bells ringing in the fortress behind us. Our escape had been announced.
Vince must’ve understood, because he galloped ahead as fast as his long legs would carry us through the snow.
46
Remy
One of the reasons that Lazlo had thought that Vince was better suited to my travels – beyond his mutual tolerance of the lion – was that mules had an innate sense of self-preservation. More plainly speaking, it meant that Vince wouldn’t run himself to exhaustion, no matter how much I urged it.
That also meant that I trusted Vince. He ran on for what seemed like hours, enough that I was starting to worry about him just before he stopped on his own. I had been hoping his time at Fort Lately would be a recovery, but now I feared it had been nearly as unpleasant for him as it was for me.
We camped out for the night in a thicket of trees, not that either of us slept much. But it was dark, and Vince couldn’t run any longer.
Fortunately, the severe arctic temperatures had subsided some, though it was still below freezing. If I wrapped myself in my bedroll and kept the travel stove fed with nearby twigs, that was enough to keep me warm through the night.
As soon as dawn broke, we started on again, but this time I walked beside Vince instead of riding him. My foot still hurt like hell, and I was limping along, but we needed to find Ripley before we got too far away from the Revvers territory. I figured she would stay around the area for a few days at least, and I was going in the same direction I had last seen her run – into the forest to the west.
When left to her own devices, Ripley typically did most of her hunting at dawn or dusk. Those were the times of day she was most alert and active, so if she was around here, she’d likely be awake.
I stopped and cupped my hands around my mouth, calling for her. My breath hung in the cold morning air as Vince and I made our way along the snowy trail toward the mountains and away from the Revvers.
For a long while, the only replies to my calls were the gravelly croaks of ravens and the sharp chirps of chickadees.
Finally, as morning deepened, I heard a heavy crunching sound moving through the nearby underbrush, and my hand went to the maul axe tied to the side of the mule’s pack for easy access. Then I heard a familiar excited grunt.
Ripley burst from the trees in a flurry of snow, her golden coat flashing between the shadows. She bounded toward me, and I knelt down just in time to brace for her greeting. The lioness collided with me, knocking me back into the snow and rubbing her big head all over me.
“I missed you, too, girl,” I told her as I pet her. She had a few patches of burs embedded in her thick fur, and I’d have to dig them out tonight when we camped around a fire.
Once Ripley finished greeting me, she even turned her attention to Vince. They both sniffed each other with their necks extending as they chuffed, their ears posed forward in friendly curiosity.
With just over seven hours of daylight right now, we didn’t have time to waste, even if I would’ve loved to sit and check Ripley over more right then. I climbed back onto the mule, and we continued our journey.
According to the map I’d copied from Lazlo, the next place we could stop and take a serious break was Xwechtáal. He’d said the town was friendly to outsiders and even had rooms for rent. My plan was to hunker down there through the coldest days of the year. All of that meant that we had a two-week uphill hike through snow if we hoped to arrive by January.
Soon it all became a blur of frigid nights and long, exhausting days. In the beginning, I walked as little as possible, riding on the mule, to give my foot some time to heal. But the extra weight was hard on Vince, and he couldn’t make it to sundown carrying me.
As soon as I was able, I trudged along beside him, and the cold helped numb the throbbing pain in my foot.
Sometimes the wind howled so fiercely it felt like it would strip the flesh from my body. At those times, I’d find any wind block I could – trees, an abandoned shell of a barn, even a large rock. If there was nothing, I’d hurriedly build a berm of snow, and then the three of us huddle behind it, sharing our body heat under the blankets and furs I’d packed.
In the evenings, I tended to the animals first. Grooming them, wrapping any wounds, and making sure they got plenty of food and water. With it being so cold, I’d taken to boiling snow over the camp stove, and then I mixed the hot water with Vince’s oats and Ripley’s dried meats. It helped warm them up and ensured they got enough to drink. The high altitude, the freezing cold, and the long days of walking meant that dehydration was a constant threat for all of us.
At night, the three of us huddled together around a fire. I slept in brief stretches – an hour here, a few minutes there – because keeping the vital fire going meant constantly feeding it and stoking it.
When it was too cold, I wouldn’t sleep at all. It was too easy to drift off and freeze to death, so I’d pace around our little campsite to keep the blood moving. I was constantly checking to make sure the animals were still breathing and making them get up and move around if need be.
In the morning, we shared another warm breakfast of boiled water with oats or meat, and then we packed up, and we were on the move again.
We crossed frozen creeks, navigated shadowy forests, and climbed slow inclines. We kept moving forward, because that was all we could do. Even when things hurt.
One day, I noticed the tip of Ripley’s ear had started turning black, so I bandaged it. Then I wrapped a scarf around her head, covering both her ears. She didn’t love it – she shook her head a lot while wearing it and made annoyed guttural sounds – but she tolerated it, which made me believe she understood the warmth in her ears was worth the discomfort.
Since we’d left Fort Lately, I had only taken my boot off twice to change the bandages. I’d liked to have done it more often, but the other days were too cold. As it was, I didn’t even look at it much or clean it. I switched out the bandages and changed my socks as quickly as possible.
All in all, it was a brutal trek that had me questioning so many of my life choices, and I still had a long way to go until we reached Xwechtáal.
It was on that day the foothills shifted from sloping to a much sharper incline. The path was slick with snow and ice, but Vince and Ripley were able to easily maneuver it. I, on the other hand, kept struggling to find my footing.
Suddenly, my boot slid out from under me. My hand still held the mule’s reins as I trudged beside him, but the cold got through my gloves enough to hamper my dexterity and grip. In an instant, the reins slipped through my fingers, and I was tumbling down the slope, the world a blur of white and gray as I slid downward.
The slide ended abruptly as I crashed off the edge and fell down a three-meter drop, slamming hard against the frozen ground below. Pain burst through the left side of my chest and my left shoulder. I gasped, and it intensified ten-fold, exploding into a blinding agony that lanced straight through me.
When the pain subsided, I tried again, and deep breaths were nothing short of torment. Shallow ones still hurt, but I could manage them.
I tried moving my left arm, and when I did, the sound of my broken collarbone grinding against itself echoed disturbingly loud in my ears. That alone was enough to make me want to vomit, but the agony that accompanied it was what really did me in.
I screamed louder than I had ever screamed before. Or at least not since Max had died. I screamed because it was all I had, all I could do, and even though it hurt like hell, I screamed.
Vince and Ripley’s heads appeared over the top of the cliff, staring down at me. Vince made a loud braying sound, and he looked about as concerned as a mule could look, with his big eyes nearly bugging out of his skull.
“I’m still alive!” I shouted at them, so they wouldn’t worry. “I am seriously fucked, but I am alive. For now.”
Ripley let out a low, anxious chuff and nimbly stepped over the edge. Even with the ice, the big cat agilely found her way down the cliff face.
“I’m sorry, girl, I don’t know if I can get up this time,” I told her with tears freezing on my cheeks. She nudged me, pushing me with her big head, and it hurt like hell but I knew she was trying to force me up again. “You won’t let me sit this one out, huh?”
And maybe I would’ve if it were only me. Probably. The ice cold of the snow surrounding me felt like such a relief from the burning agony inside my body.
But I really didn’t know if Vince or Ripley would survive without me. I at least had to get them to Xwechtáal, where someone could care for them. Or at least make sure they didn’t kill each other.
“Okay, Ripley,” I said, taking as deep a breath as my broken ribs would allow. “I’ll get up, but I’m gonna need your help.”
With my right hand, I reached up and grabbed hold of her thick leather collar. She seemed to understand, and she slowly stepped backward, pulling me up into the sitting position as she did.
And then she kept going. I leaned on her strength, gritting my teeth, until I was on my feet again, gasping for breath and clinging to Ripley.
It wasn’t easy, and I cursed multiple times when the pain was especially intense. But I couldn’t lay down here at the bottom of the mountain and die. The only way out was through the pain, so I would go through it.
47
Remy
As the days stretched on, I relied on Ripley and Vince far more than they relied on me. The only tasks I managed on my own were tending to the fire, boiling water, and doling out portions of food. Even when I went to the bathroom, I crouched down and clung onto Vince’s reins with my good arm, because it was hard to stand up on my own.
Vince had even learned to bow slightly, kneeling one front leg while outstretching the other, so I could more easily climb onto him. I’d made a sling for my left arm, but I was in constant pain regardless of what was happening.
I didn’t even really notice my condition was worsening until one morning, I could hardly stand. Twice I managed to get to my feet – still with the help of Ripley – and then all at once, my legs gave out, and I was on the ground again with a few minutes of time lost.
I realized that I might actually die. Not in the abstract far-off future time, but imminently. Presently.
In the history of my life, this wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. In fact, off the top of my head, I could name six times in the past I was absolutely certain I was moments from death.
But this time felt different. Maybe it was because I was alone. Maybe it was the oppressiveness of the cold. Or maybe it was the pointlessness of it all. If I died out here, half-way to sacrificing my body for a cure… all I could think was: What a waste.
I closed my eyes, and then I felt a tug on my jacket, and I started sliding on the snow. I opened my eyes again to see that Vince had grabbed hold of me, his mouth biting the hood of my jacket, and he was dragging me along the trail.
“Vince, no, this won’t work.” I waved my good arm, more flailing than swatting at him the way I intended. “Vince! Stop! You can’t drag me up the hill.”
He released me then, and he made another annoyed snort and stomped his feet in the snow.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I can’t move anymore. You gotta go on without me if you want to live.”
He stared down at me, his ears flicking this way and that, and he considered me for a long while. Then, without warning, he started galloping uphill, continuing the trail to Xwechtáal.
In fact, he left so quickly, he kicked up snow behind him, and startled Ripley.
“You should go with him,” I told her, as she watched his retreating figure and flicked her tail back and forth.
She didn’t leave, though. She laid down beside me, on my good side, and I didn’t have the strength to send her away.
I wondered how long it would take to die. Would I freeze to death first? Or would it be dehydration? Starvation? An infection likely ravaging my insides? Something else I hadn’t considered?
At least it wouldn’t be a zombie. I found some comfort in that, as I closed my eyes and let myself drift off to a deep dark dreamless sleep in the snow.
Sometime later, I awoke to the sound of a man shouting, “Is that a fucking lion eating someone?”
“No!” I shouted emphatically from my groggy stupor, and my ribs cried out at the exertion. “She’s my friend. She’s my pet. Don’t hurt her.”
“Is she friendly?” he asked.
“Sure, if you don’t try to hurt me or her,” I replied simply.
I tilted my head back, trying to see who was approaching me, since it took so much effort to sit up. From that vantage, I could see Vince the mule walking toward us with a man following behind him.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Jordy Duvall, and I live up the way in Xwechtáal,” he explained. His heavy boots stopped right before my head, and I finally got a look at him when he reached me, albeit with an upside-down view.
Most of his face was covered by his ski mask, so I could only get a glimpse of his deep olive skin and his disorienting hazel eyes. The only thing I had been looking at for days was the mountain, and his eyes were, somewhat ominously, the same exact palette: gray stone and pale snow, sunlit gold and shadowed pine.
“What kind of predicament have you got yourself in?” he asked, sounding almost amused by my near-death on the mountainside.
“I fell, and I think I’ve broken my ribs and my clavicle,” I said, because playing coy about my injuries wouldn’t help any. I could hardly move as it was, and the only thing I had consumed all day had been the snow that I could reach with my tongue from where I lay.
“And that’s your mule here?” Jordy asked, motioning to Vince, who had been sniffing me all over since he returned.
“Yeah. His name is Vince,” I said. “And Ripley is the lioness.”
“So you have a hero mule, a pet lion, and a few broken bones,” he surmised, again with that amused glint in his eyes. “Have I got that all right?”
“Pretty much,” I admitted.
“Well, the good news is that I can help you with all that,” he said. “The bad news is that it’s gonna hurt like hell getting you back to town.”
“The bad news is that I’m the harbinger of death, but I really don’t want to die out here,” I told him honestly.
“That’s what I like to hear!” He started shrugging off the large pack he had on his back. “I actually do emergency patrols around Xwechtáal, which is why I followed your friend Vince here down the hill. I figured a pack mule without a rider meant someone must be in trouble. And that’s how I found you.”
“I’d take umbrage with that, but I think I am trouble,” I said, and then more wearily, “Too much trouble.”
“Nobody is too much trouble,” he said conclusively as he pulled a collapsable stretcher out of his pack. “Or rather, all humans are too much trouble, but we’re all mostly worth it anyways.”
“You really believe that?” I asked.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here loading you onto a stretcher,” he said. “I’m going to hook it onto your mule, so he’ll be the one pulling you along. It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but it’ll be the fastest way to really help you back in town.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“I suppose if I’m going to be helping you, I should at least know your name.”
“Remy King.”
“Nice to meet you, Remy,” he replied. “Let’s hope this is the start of a pleasant friendship.”
48
Remy
It was dark when we arrived in Xwechtáal, since Vince’s pace was hindered by dragging me along in a stretcher. Jordy had also been right in that the entire trip was agony. Overall, though, the pain was a double-edged sword: I passed out from it at least three times, but it always eventually woke me again.
Someone tried to take my temperature at the gates, but Jordy waved them away, and for some reason, they listened to him.
From my place on the stretcher, I hardly saw anything of the town, other than a few glimpses of roofs and trees. Eventually, we came to a stop outside a barn that used to be a garage. A staircase clung to the outside wall, leading up to the second floor.
“I’ll come back and take care of your mule in a minute, but let’s get you upstairs first,” Jordy said before gingerly putting his arms around me and helping me to my feet.
Very slowly, he managed to get me up the stairs to the apartment above the garage. It wasn’t without a great deal of pain, but it was the only way to get me up there.
The apartment was completely dark when we went in, and he carefully sat me down on a cold mattress. He scrambled around the room, and shortly, a fire roared to life in the hearth, illuminating the one room flat under a pitched roof.
“I’ll let you catch your breath for a minute,” he said. “I’m going to get your mule all settled in. I have my own mule, Buck, actually, so I’m all set up to make him comfortable. Once I’m done with him, I’ll run over to my house next door to get a few things to help you.” He started for the door, then paused. “What do you think is wrong?”
“Broken ribs and clavicle,” I repeated my best guesses. “And some frostbite on my toes.”
He glanced towards my feet, still in my boots. “Good to know. I’ll be back shortly.”
After he left, I pushed myself up slowly, grimacing through the pain. I took off my gloves first, then I pulled off my balaclava and ran my fingers through my sweaty tangles of dark hair.
With a considerable amount of pain, I was able to slowly shrug my jacket off my good shoulder, but I was completely immobilized by agony when it came to getting it off my broken side.
Ripley laid down in the corner, near the unlit fireplace, and licked her aching paws. I hoped that Jordy had some fresh hay for Vince down below us.
A little while later, the door to the apartment swung open, letting in a cold draft of air, and Jordy came in carrying a tray of various supplies. Since he’d been in his house, he’d shed his layers, the same way that I had attempted, so he returned wearing a sweater and jeans with his face fully visible.
The first thing that surprised me about his appearance was how youthful he was. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, but I had to be at least a few years his senior. Being rescued by someone younger than me felt off somehow.
The second thing that shocked me about him was that he was rather good-looking. His hair was thick, raven black and landed above his shoulders. Most people these days, especially in this subarctic climate, had weathered faces that aged them. Somehow, he looked so fresh-faced compared to the usual survivor I met.
Just because he was attractive didn’t mean I was attracted to him, but I noticed it, the same way I noticed the burn scars on his hands. Speckled patches of lighter skin and a waxy sheen on his fingertips.
“I’ve brought a few things that I think will help –” he was saying as he came in, but he stopped midsentence when he saw me, and he scowled. “Oh, no, you were supposed to wait for me to help you undress.”
I bristled. “I can do it myself.”
“No, I’m not being a creep.” He rolled his eyes. “You are visibly bruised and broken on your left side all the way up to your chin. With only the injuries you’ve diagnosed yourself with, it is almost scientifically impossible for you to undress on your own.”
I glanced down as far as my neck would allow, but even a subtle movement sent pain all through me. My chest had turned a horrible dark purple color, except for the bright white spot where the bone pointed jaggedly into the skin, straining it to the limit without quite piercing it.
“Who are you? Why are you helping me?” I asked and motioned to the apartment. “This isn’t an infirmary or quarantine. Are you keeping me hostage or something?”
“I honestly don’t believe I could hold someone and her pet lion hostage,” Jordy said with a smirk, and he set the tray on the nightstand, before he carefully sat at the edge of my bed. “But what do you need to know about me to feel more comfortable about this arrangement?”
“Who are you? Why did you bring me here? What are your qualifications for helping the infirmed? How old are you?”
“As I told you before, my name is Jordy Duvall. Jordy’s actually short for Jordano, with my full name being Jordano Anthony Duvall, if that is pertinent info for you,” he said. “I brought you here, because you would’ve died if I hadn’t. I am a chemist here in Xwechtáal, and I am twenty-six-years-old.”
“Twenty-six?” I echoed skeptically. “So you were like fifteen or sixteen when the virus broke out? How the hell did you become a chemist?”
“Same way anyone became anything before the industrial age,” Jordy replied glibly. “I studied, I practiced, I apprenticed, I tried, I understood.”
“What is a chemist anyway?” I asked.
He gave an incredulous laugh. “You don’t even know what a chemist was, and you couldn’t believe that I was one?”
“It sounded like something you need an education for,” I reasoned.
“That’s true, but there’s more than one way to receive an education,” he said. “A chemist makes and distributes medicine, using science and herbal know-how to handle all kinds of problems.”
“And that makes you qualified to treat my broken bones?” I asked.
“Given the other options around here, yes, it does,” he said. “Do you want to get better? Do you want me to help alleviate your pain? I can do that. Or, if you’d prefer it, I can leave you here to suffer and slowly die. I won’t force anyone to live these days, especially if they’re unwilling to fight for it themselves.”
“I want to live, and I’d rather not suffer,” I admitted wearily.
“I can help you with that,” he promised with a confident smile. “Why don’t I give you something for the pain, and then I’ll add another log to the fire?”
“What do you have for the pain?” I asked.
Jordy reached over and picked up a small clay dish off the tray on the nightstand. Inside the dish were a few tiny scraps of green paper, like bits of hand-torn confetti about the quarter of the size of a postage stamp.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a concoction I’ve made called grinleaf,” he explained, carefully picking up two small flecks with his waxy fingertips. “It blocks pain receptors and causes a sense of euphoria. Given your state, I would recommend that you take two.”
I stared up at him, debating as the ache burned all through me. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. But you’re not going to survive without some help.”
“Fucking hell,” I muttered. “How do I take it?”
“Put it on your tongue and let it dissolve. You’ll feel it working almost right away,” he assured me.
I took the green tabs from him, and they reminded me almost of fish food that I’d fed my goldfish as a child. Irregular shapes of semi-translucent shades of green.
“If I die, my lion will blame you for it and take it out on you,” I warned him. “Just so you know.”
“Thanks for the heads up, but I promise that I’m only trying to keep you alive,” he said.
The way he smiled at me, I wasn’t sure if I should believe him. But my options were all so limited. How much longer could I go on without treatment for my broken bones? Especially now when I could hardly even hold myself up?
I popped the two tabs on my tongue, and they tasted like vinegar and copper.
Jordy went over to the fireplace, throwing in a few logs from the nearby rack, and the fire blazed and crackled.
“How are you feeling?” Jordy asked as he walked back over to my bed.
“Warm,” I said, but I also felt the pain slowly subsiding.
No, that wasn’t the right word. It was like it was still screaming outside the windows of my mind, but now I could slam them shut and pull closed the curtains, blocking them out.
Tension was slowly unfurling through me, with ice melting in my veins, turning into a sweet liquid, like warm honey, flowing all through me.
Jordy knelt on the bed beside me and helped me take off my jacket. I felt the tug of my left arm, even heard the jostling of my bones scraping against each other. But it didn’t hurt.
With my jacket off, I started fumbling with the buttons of my flannel shirt, clumsily using my one good hand, and already, my eyelids were feeling so heavy, I had to fight to keep them open.
I slipped out of my top layer, but I still had a long-sleeved thermal shirt, a tank top, and a sports bra underneath. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, though, and I fell back onto the bed.
“Ripley will eat you alive if you hurt me,” I mumbled groggily.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” Jordy said, and then I lost consciousness.
49
Remy
It felt less like waking up and more like slowly surfacing from some strange, dense fog. Vague memories of pain, of sharp blades and bright lights, of longing and despair, evaporated the moment I opened my eyes, blinking up at the snow-covered skylight above me.
I craned my neck slightly to get a look at myself, and even that caused burning pain in my shoulder. A pillow and blankets were propped under my injured arm, and I appeared to be naked, other than the bandages wrapped snuggly around my ribs and chest. The blanket was pulled to my waist, so I couldn’t be sure about my bottom half, but it felt free of the constraints of my long underwear or socks.
“Good, you’re awake,” Jordy said.
He sat at a small table near the fireplace in one of the mismatched chairs. A fire crackled beside him, making the one room apartment almost too toasty, and he had the sleeves of his sweater pushed up high on his forearms.
In front of him on the table was a tea tray with two cups and a plate of biscuits, and he had a book splayed open. He tilted in his chair to look at me and slipped a bookmark in between the pages before closing it.
“Did it seem like I might not wake up again?” I asked.
“It did seem a little touch and go, if I’m being honest,” he said, but the way the firelight glinted in his eyes, I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“Where’s Ripley?” I asked, since I couldn’t see her or hear her.
“The lion? She’s over there, sleeping.” He pointed to the corner, and even if I strained my neck until it hurt, I couldn’t see her past the roughhewn footboard.
Jordy noticed, so he stood up and started over to me. “Here, let me help you sit up some, and I’ll pour you a cup of tea.”
He moved to my side, and with steady, careful hands, he helped maneuver me until I was sitting. Once I was, he tucked another pillow behind me.
Finally, I spied Ripley curled up in the corner of the room on a pile of blankets. A massive animal bone was under her head like a pillow – an elk femur, I’d guess by the size of it. Already, she’d cracked it in a few places to get the fresh marrow out if it, something she often did at home when I let her keep the bones.
“I wasn’t sure what to feed your lion, and she seemed hungry,” Jordy explained. “I gave her an elk bone with meat still left on it. I hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, she loves those,” I said. “What about Vince?”
“Your mule is doing wonderfully,” he assured me. “I brushed him, cleaned his hooves, gave him some fresh hay and oats. The heat from up here keeps it warm downstairs, so he’s cozy and comfortable. He’s getting on well with my mule Buck, but it helps that I’ve been giving them both extra carrots since Vince arrived.”
“Thank you,” I said, and gave him a sheepish smile. “You really don’t have to help me so much, but I appreciate it.”
“Everybody needs help from time to time, especially these days.” He went over to the table and poured me a cup, then returned with it and the plate of biscuits. “You should eat and drink to get your strength back up. The tea is a blend of chamomile with elderberry and rosehips. It’s something that I make to help with recovery.”
“You made it?” I asked.
“Well, I grew the plants in the greenhouse, and I harvested them and dried them in my kitchen, then ground them and blended them together,” he elaborated. “I can go through the process more in depth, if you’re exceptionally curious.”
“No, I’m satisfied with the gist of it,” I replied and took a sip. It reminded me a bit of a subtly sweet apple juice but with mellow grassy undertones. “This is really fucking good. Excuse my language.”
“It’s not that good,” he disagreed with a laugh. “I suspect that it’s more the fact that you’re near starvation than the flavor itself.”
I bristled. “I wasn’t that close to starvation.”
He gave me a hard look. “If I’m gonna help you, we both need to be realistic about your condition. I bandaged you, and all your ribs were protruding against your skin, not only the broken ones. You were about a day or two away from death knocking on your door, but I just happened to meet you first.”
I stared down at the amber colored liquid swirling in my cup, and my stomach rolled. For some reason, I felt like I should apologize. But to who and for what, I couldn’t fully articulate. I just knew that I was contrite and embarrassed.
“Well, let me rest up a day or two, and I’ll be out of your hair,” I said at length.
He laughed at that, loud enough that Ripley lifted her head and bent her ears back in annoyance.
“Did you not hear what I said?” he asked incredulously. “You have multiple broken bones, including three ribs and your clavicle, in addition to frostbite and an infection in your left foot. You’re dehydrated and underweight. Outside, the temperatures are well below freezing, with a wind that will turn the air in your lungs to ice, and with your specific injuries, that is virtually a perfect recipe for pneumonia and death. And you think that you’re going to hobble out into that in a day or two?”
“How long do you think I’ll need to wait until I am well enough to travel?” I asked.
“My guess would be a minimum of 8-12 weeks,” he said. “But with the way the weather kicked your ass on the way here, I’d suggest you wait until after the spring thaw in May or June.”
“So I’m supposed to be holed up here for months? How am I supposed to take care of myself? Do you have any idea how much a lion eats?” I asked. “What day is it even?”
“Today’s the ninth of January,” he replied, and my body went cold.
“Oh. Fuck.”
“What?”
“I thought it was still December. I lost track of time on the road, the days were blurring together,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was… Today’s my birthday.”
“It is?” Jordy smiled, as if it was some happy thing to be celebrated, and not some pathetic realization. “Happy birthday, Remy!”
“It’s not a happy birthday,” I cut off his cheer. “I’m thirty years old, alone in a bed with a stranger, barely….” I trailed off as bitter tears stung my eyes. I knew I should be grateful for Jordy’s help and that I was even still alive.
But the truth was that part of me hated that I was still alive. That I was here, celebrating another birthday without my brother Max. I was still fucking here, without the people I cared about because I couldn’t protect them.
It wasn’t sadness I felt then but rage. An all consuming, visceral fury. It was like I had been cut open from bow to sternum and filled with red hot coals of anger. And all I could do in my current state, with the wind howling outside the walls, was seethe in a fucking bed.
I had never felt so useless or powerless in my life. Even when I was locked up in the Blaine County Quarantine Zone, I had the cold comfort that the butchers and scientists were working to find a cure. All of that pain was at least an attempt at something good.
This was nothing, and it was my own god damn fault for not waiting until the spring. I knew when I set out that what I was doing was dangerous bordering on reckless, but I thought I knew better. I thought it would be worth it somehow. That my suffering would mean something. But it never did.
And then, because I couldn’t do anything else, I balled my hands up into fists and I screamed. Even that hurt like hell, but I could still do it, so I did.
When I finished, I collapsed back on the bed, staring up at the skylight and gasping for breath as deeply as I could.
“Okay,” Jordy said at length. He was standing beside my bed, looking down at me with confusion and concern. Not that I blamed him.
“Sorry,” I said, my voice going raspy after that scream. “I had to get that out.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” He watched me a moment longer, then went back and grabbed something from the table. He returned with another flake of the grinleaf he’d given me earlier.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to be drugged out sleeping all the time.”
“This is less than what I gave you last time,” he explained. “It’s just to take the edge off so that you can rest. That’s the only way you’ll heal and get your strength back.”
“Fine,” I said, mostly because I didn’t want to feel this way anymore, and I didn’t know what to do with all the anger inside me. I took the flake and put it on my tongue, and I stared up at Jordy, waiting for it to take effect.
“You know, I don’t know for sure what you’ve been through, but I can tell it’s been a lot,” he said gently, and then softer, almost bashfully, he added, “I saw your scars.”
“They’re hard to miss,” I muttered since they were everywhere all over me.
“If you ever want to talk about – ”
“I don’t,” I snapped, cutting him off before he could finish his unnecessary invitation, and I closed my eyes.
“Okay then. I’ll let you rest,” he said. “I’ll be back in a while to check the fire, and if you’re hungry, I’ll bring some stew.”
“Thank you,” I said, but already I was drifting away to the warm painlessness of oblivion. It wasn’t as powerful as before, but with the exhaustion I already felt, it was more than enough.
50
Remy
One thing that I really disliked about the otherwise adequate apartment was that the sole source of sunlight was the skylight. Not even the tiny bathroom had a window. But that was because it was actually a closet with a composting toilet and a water basin.
I imagined the skylight would be nice in the summer, without the snow constantly blocking it out, or if I wasn’t confined to a solitary room.
If I was being fair, the first week of my recovery, the lack of natural light was kind of nice. I was mostly sleeping, and the apartment was like a dark, warm cave. Even into the second week, I was still asleep more than I was awake.
Around that time, as I started being alert more often, Jordy began spending more time with me. In the evenings, he brought over supper. Usually fatty salmon and potatoes or a hearty vegetable stew for me and him, and a mix of vegetables with raw meat, eggs, and boiled oats for Ripley.
For his part, Jordy did what he could to make being virtually bedbound bearable for me. The most obvious ways were medicine for inflammation and fighting infection, as well as the grinleaf for pain, usually at night.
I didn’t like talking about myself, so he carried most of the conversation. He filled me in about his life and how he’d ended up as a chemist in a frozen little town in the mountain pass.
His childhood sounded about the same as anyone else’s before the virus. His dad left, so it was him and his mom. They lived in the city of Kamloops, where she worked as a professor at the university.
When the zombies started showing up, his mom only lasted another two weeks before they got her. Jordy ran around, tagging along with other survivors where he could. The military came in and eventually liberated the city, burning it to the ground along with all the zombies.
Everyone that wasn’t infected was hauled off to quarantine zones, which Jordy referred to as “the camps.” He was thrown in a room with dozens of other orphaned kids, and for a little while there, he described it as being dangerously close to going very Lord of the Flies.
Fortunately – or unfortunately, I couldn’t really tell by his tone how he felt – he was plucked out by the military after scoring particularly well on something called the ARK.
“What’s the ARK?” I asked.
“It stands for Adaptive Resilience & Knowledge,” he explained. “It’s a whole battery of tests that are designed to basically see if you are smart enough and not too traumatized to survive. Not to toot my own horn, but I scored well enough that I ended up getting hauled over to Cold Shore to finish my education.”
“You were a part of Cold Shore?” I asked, surprised.
“Sorta, for a year or two.” He shrugged. “I was stuck in their outpost in Glacier Valley where their education program was. It only had me and a handful of other teenagers. But they didn’t let us do anything at all, except study and work for them. So as soon as I turned eighteen, I decided I wasn’t going to let anyone own me anymore. I bugged out and went all the way to Xwechtáal. It’s quiet and safe here, and nobody bothers me. I’m allowed to live my life as I pleased so I stayed.”
“But at Cold Shore, weren’t you helping to save the world?” I asked.
“Mostly I was studying, doing math equations, sweeping floors. If I got lucky, I was rinsing out beakers,” he replied with a crooked smile.
“Well, yeah, cause you were still a teenager,” I reasoned. “Once you had learned enough, you could’ve been a scientist and worked on finding a cure.”
His smile only deepened at that, as if I had said something particularly amusing. “I think maybe you’ve gotten the wrong idea of me.”
“How so?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous.
“I helped you, because I like helping people when I can,” he clarified. “But I am no optimist nor am I a fool. I know a lost cause when I see one, and I could tell you were right on the edge – ” He held his fingers half an inch a part to demonstrate. “ – so trust me on this one. Even if Cold Shore does find a cure, which is already dubious enough, there is no saving the world. The world we knew is gone, and it ain’t ever coming back.”
“Then why did you save me?” I pressed. “What’s the point if we’re all going to die?”
“Everyone was always going to die,” Jordy observed. “In the best of situations, human lives are tragically short.”
“You know what I meant. If we’re all doomed.”
“I didn’t say that we’re all doomed,” he corrected me. “Sure, civilization is doomed. But you and I, we’re alive, and we’re still capable of feeling pain and feeling happiness. So why not strive for happiness, since we’re here anyway?”
“You really believe it’s as simple as that?” I asked. “Choosing happiness over suffering?”
“No, of course it’s not that simple,” he said. “There are a million other factors pushing and pulling us between the two. But when it’s all said and done, I still think the pursuit of happiness is a worthwhile thing, even if you never quite attain it.”
“That sounds easy to say when you’re not the one sitting there with all the broken bones,” I remarked dryly, and he laughed in agreement.
It took nearly four weeks from when I first arrived at Xwechtáal before I was able to sit up fully without too much pain. This was a particularly exciting milestone for me because it allowed for a new activity beyond talking or reading.
Jordy pulled over the table and chair, sitting beside my bed, and we played with an old deck of cards. Gin rummy the most, but War sometimes, especially if I was feeling restless.
“When do I get to see the sun again?” I asked one night.
Jordy was leaning on the table, his glass of wine next to his empty plate, as he absently flipped through the cards in his hand.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“There isn’t any sunlight here. I haven’t seen the sun in a month,” I pointed out.
“What?” He glanced around the room in confusion, and when his gaze landed on the snow-covered skylight, his eyes widened in realization. “There isn’t any sunlight in here this time of year.”
“That is literally what I just said.”
“I guess I don’t spend enough time in here in the winter,” he admitted sheepishly. “I usually rent out the flat here and there, and only come in here to clean.”
“Well, I’m not really complaining. You’ve been nice enough to put me, my lion, and my mule up, and a lack of windows really isn’t the worst I’ve been through,” I said. “I’m more just saying that I’m feeling a little stir crazy and wanna get out of this room. But now that we’ve mentioned it, isn’t it unhealthy for me not having any sun?”
“No, it’s not great,” he allowed. “But I’ve already been supplementing your diet with salmon, fatty cuts of venison in our stew, and lots of mushrooms. They all give you vitamin D, and the mushrooms are great for preventing scurvy. But that’s also why I put rosehips in your tea, too.”
“Wait, you’re saying there’s a chance I could get scurvy?” I asked.
“Yeah, it happens if you don’t get enough vitamin C, which you were probably already lacking on your days on the road before you collapsed at my doorstep,” he said.
“I wasn’t on your doorstep,” I disputed, as if that would somehow change his point. “I just didn’t realize that scurvy was a thing that effected anyone outside of pirates.”
“It’s actually a real concern for anyone living in the subarctic.” His expression had shifted to disbelief. “How have you survived this long on your own?”
“I – ” I started, planning to argue that I’d survived this long because of a mixture of my own stubbornness and a curse that left me burdened to live when everyone else died.
Then I realized that wasn’t true at all. I mean, stubbornness and spite had at least a little bit to do with it. But I also remembered Stella spending long hours in the forest foraging for us, and Serg reading cookbooks and survival books to find the best way to feed us. Ripley and I would hunt, but Boden and Max were fishing and gardening.
And that was all before counting my time in the communities of Emberwood and the S. S. Barbarabelle.
“I survived this long because I wasn’t on my own,” I replied thickly. “I was… I was only truly alone for a few weeks, and you saw how well I did. And even then I wasn’t alone, because I had Ripley and Vince with me the entire time.”
“The good news is that you’re still not alone.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “How about this? You give it a few more days on bedrest, and we can try taking the stairs? You could see Vince, and if you’re feeling up to it, I could even give you a tour of my house next door.”
I swallowed back my sadness and forced a smile. “That sounds wonderful.”
51
Remy
As soon as Jordy opened the door to the garage and Vince caught sight of me, the mule let out an ear-splitting bray of excitement. His tale wagged back and forth as he trotted over to me.
“Easy there, big fella,” Jordy warned him gently.
Vince started nuzzling me, still braying and snorting. He nearly knocked me over in his happiness, but Jordy’s hand was on my waist, steadying me. It still hurt like hell, his big head pressing against my broken bones and bruises, but I grimaced and kept it to myself.
“I missed you, too, Vince.” I pressed my forehead against his and stroked his thick fur with my good hand. “Sorry I haven’t been able to visit you sooner.”
Vince was well-groomed, and he’d put on some weight since I saw him last. So had I, because we were both so underweight when we reached Xwechtáal over a month ago. The garage worked nicely as a stable, with plenty of straw on the floor and a bucket of fresh water. There was even a window, so Vince got sunlight as well as a view of a maple tree and Jordy’s house next door.
The other mule came over more slowly to meet me. He was a bit smaller than Vince, with a coat of dark gray, but he was happy to accept pets and oats from me.
“Buck’s actually enjoyed having a roommate around,” Jordy said, giving his mule a hearty scratch. “I think he gets a little lonely in the winter since we don’t go out as much.”
“Vince seems very happy here,” I said.
“He’s happy you’re here,” Jordy clarified. “But I’ve been doing what I can to take care of him.”
“Well, we both really appreciate it.” I looked over at Jordy, meeting his gaze to convey the depth of my gratitude. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to repay you for everything you’ve done.”
“Not everything can be repaid, and not everything needs to be.” He smiled at me, then turned his attention back to the mule. “Sometimes health and happiness is enough.”
Vince let out an appreciative snort and nuzzled me again. But this time he accidentally pushed a little too hard, and I inhaled sharply through my teeth.
“Are you okay?” Jordy asked, and his hands moved to my hip and my good arm to support me without hurting me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, still wincing from the pain.
“That’s probably enough visiting with Vince for today,” Jordy said. “We’ll go over to my house, and you can have a rest and some tea.”
I gave Vince one last pat and promised I’d see him again soon, and then Jordy helped me out the door.
It was February, and the temps were still below freezing. With my left arm in a sling, I couldn’t handle much in terms of layers. I wore one of Jordy’s thick flannel shirts with one arm in the sleeve and the other sleeve hanging empty. The pants were an old pair of fleece pajamas, and I’d managed to get my feet into my boots.
Not that I had really dressed myself by myself. I couldn’t even brush my hair. Jordy had put it in a long braid for me, so it wouldn’t get in the way.
It was such a strange thing how quickly I’d gotten used to his hands on me. Not in a sexual way or anything. Generally I didn’t like being physically close to any person outside my family. Jordy didn’t feel like family. But he felt safe, steady, and strong as he helped me.
The pathway between the garage and the house wasn’t very long, but the cold was harsh enough that I was trying to jog. Jordy wouldn’t let me, though. He kept an arm secure around my lower waist, refusing to let me hurry myself into an injury. He stood tall and coiled himself around me, using his body to shield me from the wind.
From the outside, Jordy’s house looked like a rustic one-story cabin, and technically, from the inside it looked that way. That is, assuming, anyone could see past the piles of clutter. Mostly books, stacked up against the walls. Piled on tables. Used as tables and furniture themselves.
It was basically all one room with a small kitchen tucked into the back beside a table covered in herbs and all kinds of utensils. The shelves on the kitchen were overflowing with mismatched pots and pans, as wells jars and satchels.
On the other side of the house was a sitting area in front of the fireplace – one comfy chair, and an end table made of books – and then a large bed in the other corner, once again surrounded by books.
“Wow.” My eyes were wide as I tried to take in all the clutter that filled up such a small space.
“Wow?” He looked at me, suddenly uncertain. “Why did you say it like that?”
“I guess I wasn’t expecting so much stuff,” I admitted honestly. There were even plants and cheesecloth pouches hanging from the rafters.
“The bed is probably the most comfortable space here for you,” he said as he helped me cross over to the sleeping area of the open floorplan.
His bed was neatly made, stacked with plush pillows, so I didn’t doubt it. He leaned over, supporting my back as I maneuvered myself onto the mattress with my one good arm. Once I had, he adjusted the pillows behind me and tugged the blanket into place.
“So you think my place is cluttered?” he asked, glancing around as if looking as his home in a new light.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No. You just said wow,” he replied with a smirk.
I defended my position with, “The apartment I’m staying in is so sparse.”
“Yeah, cause I rent it out. This is where I keep all my possessions.” He gestured around. “And I need a lot of them for my work.”
“No, it makes sense. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. It just wasn’t what I was expecting. And even if there is a lot of stuff, I can see that everything has a place. It’s orderly.” I smiled up at him. “Now I understand how you were always able to bring me over so many books. I was afraid I was putting you out, making you track them down all over town or something.”
“I basically grab every book I can get my hands on,” he admitted and raked a hand through his thick black hair.
“What do you do with them all?” I asked as my eyes followed the towers of books on either side of the headboard. “I mean, you have a lot, but you seem to be reaching maximum capacity.”
“If it’s full of useful knowledge, especially relating to chemistry and medicine, or if it’s one of my favorites, like Jack London, I’ll keep it no matter what,” he explained. “With everything else, I trade them, or I give them away, or I use them as firewood or to make grinleaf. For those, though, I usually pick books I hate or ones I have in duplicate. The Da Vinci Code was a good enough read, but I don’t really need a dozen copies of it.”
I held my hand to stop him. “Wait. What do you mean you use books to make grinleaf?”
“Well, it’s a whole process.” He took a deep breath before launching into the step-by-step of it. “I grind up a few herbs and naturally occurring ingredients with a pestle and mortar, and then I soak them with ethanol in a cheese cloth for a few days.
“When it gets to be a kind of thick paste, I add apple cider vinegar to liquefy it,” he went on. “I simmer that concoction in a cast iron pan over low heat until it’s almost a syrup. Once it has the right viscosity, I pour it out in a shallow dish, so it’s a thin layer about half a centimeter thick.
“That’s when the books finally come into play, because I need paper for the final step,” he continued. “I tear out a page of a book and submerge it completely, leaving it until it soaks up all remaining liquid. After that, I air dry it for a few days, and then I tear it into little tabs that you put on your tongue.”
“How’d you figure out how to make it?” I asked.
He shrugged, like inventing a drug or a remedy or whatever he wanted to call it wasn’t any big thing. “It sounds a bit like alchemy, but I assure you it’s all very boring chemistry. People were hurting, and I tried a few things that I thought might work until I found something that did.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Why is it called grinleaf?”
“Oh, that one’s easy. When I was first tearing the pieces of paper, I thought they looked a bit like a leaf.”
He went into the kitchen area and grabbed a mason jar full of the green flakes. On the side of the glass jar, he’d drawn a crude picture of a maple leaf with a smiley face in black marker. He shook it up for me like a snow globe, and they did look a bit like leaves falling from a tree.
“So I get the leaf part. What about the grin?” I asked.
“After you take it, you’re grinning from ear to ear,” he replied with a crooked smile, and he returned the jar back to the kitchen shelf.
“So what I’m learning about you is that you’re very smart, very organized, very generous, and you’re also a little bit of a nerd,” I teased.
He laughed as he walked back over to me. “That really takes me back. I don’t think I’ve been called a nerd since I was a teenager.”
“To be fair, it takes one to know one.” I picked up the battered copy of the graphic novel Batman: Shamen sitting on his nightstand. “I used to read comics all the time, but I haven’t read this one.”
“It’s pretty good, although there are dated tropes around some of the tribal elements,” he said. “But since when do people ever get everything right?”
Just then, a knock sounded at the front door, sharp and unexpected.
I glanced over at Jordy, eyebrows raised. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“Not that I know of,” he replied, giving the door a wary look, before he went to answer it.
52
Remy
As soon as Jordy turned the handle, the door swung open, letting in a rush of brisk air. From my vantage point on the bed, I could see two people standing outside, though it was hard to get too many particulars because they were both bundled up.
One was much shorter and from the eyes I could see between the scarf and the hat, I surmised she was a woman. The other was a hulking giant, holding a casserole dish in big, gloved hands, and their thick fur coat added an unnerving similarity to a grizzly bear.
“Hello,” Jordy said, greeting them both with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from you today. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” the woman replied. “We saw your visitor was up and about, so we thought we’d pop over and say hello.”
Jordy glanced back at me, and the cold wind rushing in around him caused me to shiver.
“Oh, yeah, come on in,” he told the woman and her very tall friend, and he stepped aside so they could enter.
“I brought my famous maple-glazed salmon,” the man said in a jovial booming voice as he held the casserole out to Jordy. “It’s cold now, but you can reheat it easy peasy on the stove.”
“Thank you,” Jordy replied, taking it from him after he closed the door.
The man in the fur coat pulled off his ski mask, revealing a friendly smile beneath a bushy brown moustache. His face was boyishly round, and the thick glasses he wore only added to his youthfulness by making his eyes look big and curious.
“I hope we’re not intruding too much,” he said with a laugh.
“No, not at all,” Jordy replied, and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “She was feeling well enough to move around, so I took her on a little field trip.”
By then, the woman had pulled off her own winter gear, draping her hat and scarf on the back of a dining room chair. Her hair was dark brown with silver streaks shimmering through it, and she wore it in a low ponytail. Her skin was pale, except for the rose on her cheeks from the cold, and her sweater and pants were all black and slim fitted to her petite frame.
“So glad to see you’re doing well.” She turned her polite smile toward me.
“Thanks,” I replied uncertainly, since I had no idea who the hell these people were.
“Sorry, this must all be so peculiar for you. Two strangers bursting in on you like this.” She walked over to me and extended her hand. “I’m Daiyu Chen, the Warden of Xwechtáal.”
“And I’m her boyfriend, Trevor Hartmann.” The tall man waved at me from where he stood by the door instead of snaking his large frame through Jordy’s cramped space to greet me.
“Remy King,” I replied, shaking Daiyu’s cold hand in mine.
“We’ve heard about you from Jordy,” Daiyu explained. “I like to keep track of what’s going on in town, and it’s so rare for us to have a visitor for so long without personally meeting them.”
“And I said before, she needed her rest,” Jordy reminded her with only a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“He did say that,” Daiyu immediately confirmed. “Many times. And I understood that. Which is why waited until I saw you were mobile to drop by.”
“That was very considerate of you,” Jordy said dryly, and he grabbed a chair from the dining table. “Would you like a chair so you can sit down, Daiyu?”
“That would be wonderful,” she chirped happily.
Jordy brought the chair over, between the fireplace and me, and she sat down. He offered another for Trevor, but he shook his head and insisted he was fine.
“So Jordy hasn’t told us much about you, although we have seen glimpses of your lion in the yard when he takes her out,” Daiyu said.
“Is she here?” Trevor asked, glancing around hopefully.
“No, she’s asleep in my apartment,” I explained. “She mostly sleeps in the winter.”
“And she does well living around people?” Daiyu asked carefully.
I nodded fervently, because I couldn’t send Ripley away, and I wasn’t ready to travel yet. So the warden needed to be certain that it was safe having my “pet” lion in her town.
“Yeah. Like I said, this time of year, she’s mostly sleeping,” I said. “She is wary of strangers, but that just means she stays away from them. When the weather’s nicer, we spend a lot of time out in the woods, hunting and hiking. But we’ll probably be on our way by springtime.”
“So you’re not planning on staying here?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.
“Not past winter, no,” I said.
“Most people passing through here are on their way to or from Glacier Valley. Since Jordy found you heading west, can I assume that was your destination?” Daiyu asked.
“Yeah,” I said, since there was no point in denying it, but I didn’t elaborate more than I had to.
“So where were you coming from? The Fort Lately area, perhaps?” Daiyu’s questions were friendly but probing, and I was beginning to suspect that this little fireside chat was really an interrogation to see if I was safe for her town.
I shook my head. “No, I passed by it on my way here. I’m from much farther south.”
“Emberwood?” she pressed.
“No. I wasn’t part of a community like that. I lived on my own with my family,” I lied.
She straightened up slightly. “You weren’t part of the Loth Family Ranch, were you?”
“No.” I shook my head again, and I hoped that Jordy hadn’t found my copy of The Book of Mercy in my belongings. “I’ve heard of them, but I never had any dealings with them. I don’t even know where their ranch was.”
“So you were living on your own then?” Daiyu asked.
“No, I was living with my family.”
“But you came here on your own?”
I nodded once. “Yep.”
“Where’s your family now?” she asked.
“They’re not here,” I replied simply. “What does it matter to you where they are?”
“Daiyu, I already told you a lot of this stuff,” Jordy said. He was standing at the end of his bed, his hands on the footboard as he leaned against it.
“I know,” Daiyu said, and she gave me an apologetic smile. “I’ve always been a very inquisitive person, and now with safety such a concern, it’s more important than ever to know as much as you can about the people you surround yourself with.”
“That’s fair. But like I said, I don’t plan on staying here that long. I’ve never been the kind to wear out my welcome.”
“Most folks who make it past the gates end up staying here as long as they’d like,” she said. “We work together here, building our community and taking care of each other. Our currency is barter or trade, and we welcome anyone willing to contribute.”
“Remy still needs more time on her recuperation,” Jordy persisted. “When she gets better, we can talk more about contributions. But right now, she’s exactly where she needs to be.”
53
Remy
As the days grew longer, the darkness slowly retreated. My recovery felt like it moved at a glacial pace sometimes, but I was recovering. After my first visit with Vince, I started going downstairs every day to see him. Within a few weeks, I was able to brush him with my good arm and do other basic care for the mule and the lion.
Jordy had managed to quickly earn Ripley’s trust, thanks to him feeding her. Almost right away, she let him take her out on her leash to do her business, but even months into our living arrangement, she still wouldn’t wander too far away from me. Maybe it was because she knew I was unwell, or maybe she just didn’t trust Jordy that much.
Either way, she was a big cat, and she needed to be able to roam. Eventually, being cooped up like this would be too much for her, and I wanted to be more proactive about it.
On a sunny afternoon, Jordy and I decided to take Ripley out for a walk around town. The weather was finally warm enough, and Ripley seemed to enjoy leisurely stretching her legs. As we wandered through the quiet streets together, Daiyu and Trevor “happened” to cross our path, but the whole interaction went really well. Trevor couldn’t stop smiling when he got to meet the lion up close, and Ripley was receptive to pets and meeting new people.
Soon, my focus shifted from simply getting through each day to considering what might come next, and thoughts of leaving started to surface more often.
“So what do you think, doc?” I asked Jordy one evening, after he’d taken off my sling to have a look at my progress.
I was sitting on his bed, in flannel pants and a tank top, and he was beside me, gingerly touching my shoulder and moving my arm.
He lifted his gaze from my collarbone with a teasing spark in his pale hazel eyes, but he admonished me, “You know I hate when you call me ‘doc.’”
“I’ll stop calling you ‘doc’ when you stop treating me like a patient,” I countered.
“Is that your way of trying to manipulate me into giving you a clean bill of health even when I think that’s not the case yet?”
“Come on. Like you aren’t ready to get me out of your hair,” I replied.
“You know me better than that.” His hand on my shoulder, which moments ago had felt insignificant, suddenly seemed warm and heavy, his skin rough from scars and the harsh winter.
I looked away from him, and he dropped his hand, resting it on his leg as he sat back beside me.
“I only meant that I’m healing up, and the spring thaw is coming. It’ll be time for me to go soon,” I reasoned.
“It’s only March. The snow on the pass west of Xwechtáal is likely too deep for a mule to safely travel, and you still can’t lift much of anything,” Jordy disagreed. “I can’t stop you from doing what you want, but you have to realize that is so reckless.”
“I do, which is why I didn’t mean now,” I clarified. “I was thinking… four weeks. Mid-April.”
“The pass will be better then, and you should be able to do a lot more then.” He considered a moment, rubbing his hand on his thigh, and his brow furrowed. “It does depend on how well you’re healing up, but it doesn’t sound impossible.” He hesitated, then looked uncertainly over to me. “Unless you wouldn’t mind waiting until May.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Because that’s when I go to Glacier Valley.”
“What?” I asked in surprise. “Why do you go there? And why does it have to be in May?”
“First off, it is safer travelling then,” he elaborated. “But mostly it’s because I need to wait until my ingredients become available. I go to Glacier Valley twice a year, basically bookending summer trading with them. I give them medicine, and they give me supplies for Xwechtáal. But it isn’t until after the spring thaw that necessary materials for some concoctions are harvestable.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” I asked. “You knew I was going to Glacier Valley.”
“No, I knew you had planned on going there before you ended up here,” he corrected me. “I wasn’t sure if you were still planning to go or not. And, I guess, I wasn’t sure that I’d want to travel that long with you.”
I laughed at his surprisingly relatable honesty. “And now you are sure that it wouldn’t be so bad?”
“I have enjoyed having you around the past few months. It made the winter a lot more bearable.”
I wouldn’t lie and say I hadn’t noticed the way things had been subtly changing between us. We spent our long evenings together, talking, playing cards, and reading by candlelight. Our conversations had shifted, with playful teasing and warm familiarity.
Sometimes, I felt his gaze or his hands linger on me. But if I was being honest, sometimes I leaned into his touch or teased him to see that glint in his eyes.
It wasn’t unreasonable, or even unexpected, really. For the better part of the past three months, it had only been the two of us. He did spend time away from the house, helping people around town, or sometimes going hunting. But otherwise, it was only us all evening, until we parted at bedtime.
After I left Boden, I had planned on the romantic part of my life to be closed forever. If I couldn’t make it work with him, I couldn’t make it work with anybody. And I still loved him, as I knew I always would.
That was why I’d been ignoring the growing flutter in my stomach when Jordy was around, or how much I looked forward to seeing him every evening.
Maybe I had a crush on him, and I didn’t know why it felt so uncomfortable to admit. Of course I was attracted to him. He was a handsome young man, with eyes the color of the snowy mountains behind us, and he’d been attending to my every want or need for weeks. Not to mention that he was strong, and his rough hands always felt so warm and reassuring on my skin.
My mouth went dry, and I looked away from him because I had the overwhelming urge to cry or kiss him. I wasn’t even sure which one was more likely, but I didn’t want to do either.
“I’ve enjoyed your company, too,” I admitted. “But you know when I go to Glacier Valley, I won’t be coming back to Xwechtáal with you.”
“I do know that. I may not know exactly what your mission is, but it’s been clear to me since I met you that you are on one, and you are not easily deterred.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “That you don’t know what I want, or where I’m from, or that I’m going to be out of your life in a matter of months?
He shrugged. “I’ll admit that I’m curious about a lot of things. But like I said, I enjoy being around you, and it will be safer and easier for both of us if we travel together.”
Part of me wanted to say yes, for reasons both logical and painfully emotional. But another part hesitated, uneasy with how much I found myself drawn to him.
“I know that I need to be more cautious so I don’t end up putting myself and my animals in danger again,” I said, carefully choosing my words. “But… I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“I won’t ask you for more than you’re willing to give,” he promised, and the way he looked at me… I believed him.
He was sitting there, one hand on his own leg, the other on his bed, his fingers knotted in the blanket. The firelight was dancing across his face, and his lips were slightly parted as he inhaled.
I was beside him, my legs crossed underneath me, on his bed, in only a tank top, and I knew that nothing would change unless I asked for it. By necessity, I had been vulnerable with him since the moment we met, and he’d never overstepped a line or crossed a boundary.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?” he echoed uncertainly. “As in just okay, or okay you’ll wait until May?”
“Okay, I’ll wait until May,” I said, and already his smile was deepening. “I’ll go with you.”
“Yeah?” he asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
I laughed. “Yeah. It’ll be fun. And I think Vince will like Buck’s company.”
“Oh? So this is all about Vince, and not about how you feel about me?” he asked.
“Yes. That is what I’m saying. It’s entirely about Vince, and not about how I think you will increase my likelihood of survival.” I put my hand on top of his, the one on his leg, and as I spoke he moved, entwining his fingers through mine.
“Well, as long as we’re both clear about where I stand.”
He leaned in, and his hand that had been knotted in the blanket moved onto my back. His rough fingertips brushed against the exposed skin between the hem of my tank top and my pants.
I shifted closer, feeling the heat from the fire and from his body. My heart hammered in my chest, and then, with only a moment’s hesitation, I pressed my lips to his. Immediately, he kissed me back and slid close to me. His hand gripped my hip desperately but carefully, pulling me closer to him without hurting me.
Almost as quickly as we started kissing, we stopped, with me pressing my hand to his chest.
“Was that okay?” he asked breathily, his eyes searching mine.
“Yeah, it was great.” I smiled up at him, and relief washed over his face. “But I need you to know… this doesn’t mean anything, okay?”
He paused, as if considering, then he nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
I kissed him again, more deeply this time, and he responded by wrapping an arm around me. His kisses were fervent, but even in the heat of the moment, his touch was restrained. His hands anchored me, gripping my hip with a desperate need, but never rough, always mindful of my healing body.
I climbed onto his lap, looping my arms around his neck as I pressed my body against his. “Don’t be so careful, you can’t break me.”
He smirked up at me. “You were literally a bag of broken bones when I met you.”
“You put me back together once, you can do it again,” I told him as I pulled him back onto the bed with me.
54
Remy
“This feels bizarre,” I told Jordy as we walked through the quiet streets to Daiyu and Trevor’s house on the other side of town. It was only about five minutes away, and the brisk air felt good on my cheeks.
“You were the one who told Daiyu you wanted to get out more,” Jordy reminded me. He was carrying a platter of spruce tip shortbread cookies he’d made, but his other arm was looped through mine, in case I slipped on an errant patch of ice.
“Yeah, but I meant that I wanted to get back out into the woods with Ripley to do some hunting,” I said.
“That may be what you meant, but what Daiyu heard was that you wanted to socialize more, and that’s how you got us an invitation for dinner with her and Trevor,” Jordy said.
“We could’ve declined,” I said.
“We could’ve,” he agreed. “But if I recall correctly, you were the one who replied, ‘Sure, that sounds wonderful.’”
And I couldn’t argue that because he was right. We’d been down at the greenhouse, gardening and harvesting here and there. The Warden had stopped in to check on us, and she seemed so happy when she invited us over, I had just said yes.
The spring thaw coincided with the end of my convalescence. Well, Jordy kept reiterating that I needed to take things slow, and I could definitely feel that I wasn’t up to one hundred percent. But I was able to get out and explore the town.
At the beginning of April, I had started working at the greenhouse in the afternoons. Some of the work there could be labor intensive, but Jordy was there to supervise and make sure that I didn’t push myself too hard.
Daiyu greeted us at the door of her cabin with a wide smile. As she had been every time I’ve seen her, she was dressed entirely in black. This time a floor length sweater dress with a snood neck. Her hair was once again pulled back in a low ponytail, but she’d added a pair of mismatched earrings. One was a plum blossom carved from bone, the other a butterfly wing twisted from copper.
“Come in, come in,” she said as she ushered us into her spacious cabin.
The wood floors and exposed timber beams overhead were in warm honeyed tones. The main room with its vaulted ceilings was anchored by a stone fireplace with a scattering of cushioned chairs and patchwork throws tilted toward it. Shelves lined the walls, brimming with worn books and various antiques.
“Trevor’s in the kitchen finishing up,” Daiyu explained, and the clattering of pots and the savory aroma wafted out of the kitchen, hidden from us behind a staircase to the second story loft.
“I hope he didn’t go to too much trouble for us,” I said.
“Oh, no, he’s going to all this trouble for the goat,” Daiyu explained. “He came back from a hunting trip yesterday, and he’d managed to land this beautiful – ”
Trevor suddenly poked his head out of the kitchen archway. He wore a white apron over his clothes, and it was stained red and brown. “Are you telling them about the most beautiful mountain goat I landed yesterday? He was a ten-inch billy. I have his horns hanging over the kitchen sink if you want to have a look after supper.”
“Uh, sure, maybe,” Jordy replied for us both.
“And the meat –” Trevor paused to do a chef’s kiss motion. “I’ve been slow braising the shanks all day, and you are in for a real treat, my friends.”
“Trevor might not be a humble man, but he’s not exaggerating about his cooking and hunting prowess,” Daiyu said after he had ducked back into the kitchen to finish the meal.
“I brought cookies.” Jordy held up his platter. “They aren’t as fancy as Trevor’s slow braised shanks, I’m sure, but I made them for you anyway.”
“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Daiyu said. “Why don’t you take them into Trevor, while Remy and I have a chat by the fire?
“Sure.” Jordy gave me a reassuring smile, then headed off to the kitchen, leaving Daiyu and I to sit on a loveseat near the fireplace.
“I’m afraid that you and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Daiyu began.
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
“I don’t want you to think of me as some kind of hard dictator,” she went on. “This really is a welcoming community with a good group of people. But the world is a dangerous place, and I need to keep my good people safe.”
“No, I get that,” I said.
“The Warden isn’t a title I gave myself, and if I’m being honest, I think it’s a little much,” she confessed. “I have always thought of myself as more of a steward for the town, overseeing its safety and viability on behalf of everyone who lives here. But the title of ‘stewardess’ sounded patronizing for the role.”
“That is understandable,” I said.
She leaned against the arm of the loveseat and crossed one of her legs over the other. “Jordy is a very beloved member of our community. He’s an intelligent, capable, resourceful young man, and on top of all that, he’s handsome and compassionate.”
“I have noticed all of those things,” I admitted, glancing back over my shoulder to see Jordy helping Trevor in the kitchen.
“I never doubted that,” Daiyu replied. “The same way that I don’t doubt you are a strong, resilient, intelligent young woman, and you’re beautiful. So I’m not surprised that Jordy has grown so fond of you.”
I looked down at my lap, unsure how to reply to words that somehow seemed to straddle the line between compliment and criticism.
“My question is simply this, as someone who cares about Jordy, and as someone who has a stake in his well-being: what are your plans with him?” Daiyu asked.
“I am leaving at the end of May,” I answered carefully. “And he knows this. He’s always known that I can’t stay here for too long.”
Daiyu seemed to appraise me a moment longer, and then she relaxed into a smile. “As long as the two of you are on the same page, then you have my blessing.”
“Th-thank you?” I replied uncertainly.
“Daiyu, my love, Remy, my guest,” Trevor said, poking his head into the main room again. “Dinner is about five minutes out if you’d like to have a seat at the table.”
I stood up, smoothing my shirt. Jordy headed out of the kitchen at the same time as Daiyu went in, saying something about getting the wine.
“How are you doing?” Jordy asked in a low voice, when it was only the two of us standing next to the round table beneath an antler chandelier.
“Dandy. You?” I asked.
He smiled down at me as his arm snaked around my waist. “I’m great, but I knew I would be. These are my friends, after all.”
“Are you saying you were afraid that they wouldn’t like me?” I asked, pretending to be appalled.
He pulled me closer to him and lowered his voice even more. “No, I was afraid that you wouldn’t like them.”
“I like you,” I reminded him. “Isn’t that enough?”
He kissed me, his lips brushing against mine, but when Trevor came out of the kitchen a moment later, I gently pushed Jordy away from me.
Trevor brought out a platter of braised goat shanks, and Daiyu poured generous glasses of wine. As plates were passed and everyone helped themselves, the mood relaxed, and we began trading stories. Trevor told about the time he’d defended himself against a zombie using only an American Girl doll, Jordy regaled us with the time he burnt off his own eyebrows trying to make an antibiotic ointment, and we drifted into a debate about which luxury of civilization we missed the most.
Towards the end of the meal, when our bellies were full and our glasses were empty, the conversation turned to life outside the safe walls of Xwechtáal.
“How have you survived so long without a community?” Daiyu asked, her gaze turning to me. She was leaning into Trevor, his big arm wrapped around her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed. “I admire an independent spirit, but it seems too easy to end up as food if you’re on your own.”
“Having a lion helps,” I replied cagily, and Daiyu laughed.
“Most living things die to be food. Except for humans.” Jordy leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “We’d removed ourselves from the equation of ending up as something else’s meal. All zombies did was rebalance it so that we’re included in the food chain again. We think that now life is so unfair, that the world has ended, but the world is the same as it’s always been. The rules just apply to us again.”
55
Remy
Trevor cleared the plates after dinner, and Daiyu refilled our glasses with burgundy wine. Already, I was feeling tipsy, since I very rarely drank, but tonight, it was nice. My body felt relaxed and warm, and my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.
“I did bring a little something for dessert.” Jordy slowly rose from the chair beside me.
“Oh, right! The cookies!” Trevor started back toward the kitchen.
Jordy laughed and stopped him. “No, I didn’t mean that.” He went over to his jacket hanging near the door, and he pulled out a small jar half-full with flakes of grinleaf.
I had taken a fair amount of it while I had been recovering, but Jordy and I had also used it recreationally a few times. In the evenings when we were relaxing by the fire, sometimes talking, sometimes Jordy reading aloud from one of his books. It was a nice way to unwind and release some of the tension I always carried in my body.
Daiyu’s eyebrows rose in excitement. “Jordy, I can always count on you to bring my favorite treats.”
“I’m still going to get the cookies,” Trevor said, retreating toward the kitchen. “Grinleaf always gives me a sweet tooth.”
“Oh! And there’s one more thing we need!” Daiyu announced, and she jogged up the stairs without any further explanation.
With the two of them gone and us alone, Jordy leaned over, putting an arm on the back of my chair. His face was close to mine, but he still lowered his voice when he asked, “How are you really doing? We can bail at any point you want.”
“Surprisingly, I’m having a really good time,” I admitted with a laugh. “I don’t know if I can remember the last time I smiled this much.”
His eyes sparkled. “Good. I love making you smile.”
“And you are quite the charmer,” I replied before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.
A moment later, Trevor returned with the platter of cookies, and Daiyu came running back downstairs carrying a boombox and a small generator.
“Daiyu, the solar batteries are for emergencies this time of year,” Trevor gently chastised her.
“No, we have another one that is strictly for emergencies,” Daiyu countered. “This one is only for when we need it. And we need it right now.”
Trevor laughed, and she went about setting up the boombox and generator on the coffee table. A moment later, Donna Summer came blasting out of old speakers, and Daiyu pushed the table to the side of the room, presumably to make room for a dance floor.
“Oh, so it’s gonna be one of those kind of nights?” Trevor asked with a smile as he danced his way over to her.
Jordy took my hand, and we went over to join them. He still had his pouch of grinleaf, and he carefully doled out the flakes. Two small ones each for Daiyu and me, two big ones for Jordy, and four huge ones for Trevor, who insisted he always needed a bigger dose of everything because of his size.
“The trade off of being nearly seven feet tall by the time I was in high school was that I need to down a full bottle of wine to get buzzed,” he’d explained when he took the tabs.
As Donna Summer’s music pulsed through the speakers, our laughter grew faint and our movements loose. The languid euphoria of the grinleaf was taking hold of us all.
Daiyu spun in the center of the makeshift dance floor, arms flung wide, her usual sharp energy softened into luminous joy. Trevor’s giant frame swayed with surprising grace, his face split by a dopey grin as he twirled Daiyu and dipped her with exaggerated flair. Jordy even pulled me into his arms, moving with me in time to the music.
It all seemed to melt together, with one song blurring into the next, until it felt as though time itself had changed, stretching out to hold us all. And for once I felt good, with no guilt of the past or worry of the future. I was only here, in the glorious present moment.
“I think I may have had a bit too much wine tonight,” Trevor said, sometime later. My hair was damp with sweat, and I was only vaguely aware that my legs were sore from dancing.
“Oh no!” Daiyu rushed over to comfort him, standing up on her tiptoes to touch his face.
“I’ll be okay. I think I need to lie down.” He took a staggering step toward the stairs, and Jordy rushed to catch him by the arm before the big man tumbled over.
“Here, let me help you,” Jordy offered, and Trevor leaned on him.
“You know what that is?” Daiyu asked me, pointing at the two of them going upstairs to the bedroom. “That is a sign we need to hydrate.” She turned down the boombox, then went to get us two glasses of water from the kitchen.
While she was gone, I went over to her shelves to admire her various collectibles when I noticed several framed pictures. One was of Daiyu with a young girl, and another was of Daiyu and the same girl, older now, in her twenties, in a wedding dress.
“Are these your family pictures?” I asked.
“Yes. I made sure to take them with me everywhere I’ve gone,” Daiyu explained as she joined me. “I knew how much I’d need them if I were to survive. That’s my only child, Emily Mei.”
“She looks just like you,” I said.
“She did, but she wasn’t much like me at all. So much kinder and more generous,” Daiyu explained wistfully. “She was seven months pregnant when the virus broke out. By the time I was evacuated, she and the baby were gone.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied simply. There were no words large enough to encompass a loss that great, so sometimes the simplest would do.
“Me, too,” she agreed with a sad smile.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, emboldened by the wine and grinleaf to pick at a wound I usually preferred to leave alone.
“What?” she asked.
“Living when they didn’t.”
Daiyu looked at me thoughtfully, her eyes full of something I couldn’t quite read. “Sometimes in my dark moments, yes, I do. But part of Emily lives on within me, so I still live for her, for the grandbaby I never even met. I carry them with me wherever I go.”
“And that’s enough for you?” I asked, my voice thick.
“That’s all there is, so it has to be,” she replied simply.
“Got the big man to bed,” Jordy announced as he came down the stairs, pulling Daiyu and I from our somber thoughts.
The three of us sat around the fire, sipping water and chatting about lighter things, but it didn’t take long for the fatigue to settle in. Maybe twenty minutes later, Jordy yawned and suggested we head home right before I was about to do the same.
“Thank you for having us,” Jordy told Daiyu again as I started pulling on my boots. “Next time we’ll have to have you over to my place, although I’m not nearly as good a cook as you or Trevor.”
“You bring the dessert, we’ll bring the dinner,” Daiyu countered with a grin.
Upstairs, we heard the shuffle of heavy feet on creaking floorboards, and Trevor let out a loud groan.
“Oh, no, it really sounds like he’s not feeling well,” she said, looking toward the loft with a frown.
“If you want to go check on him, we can see ourselves out,” Jordy offered.
“Maybe I –” Daiyu was starting to say, but she stopped when Trevor came staggering toward the wood railing that ran along the edge of their loft. “Do you need something, honey?”
“Trevor, are you okay, pal?” Jordy called up to him, and he moved toward the staircase. “Stay back from the ledge since you’re not so steady on your feet right now.”
Trevor ignored them both and took another lumbering step toward the railing. Daiyu yelled again, and Jordy started up the stairs, but it was too late. Trevor crashed right into the railing and fell over, landing on the floor with a squelching thud.
“Trevor!” Daiyu screamed, and she ran toward him.
I grabbed her arm, stopping her before she reached him.
“Let go of me! He’s hurt!” she snapped at me.
“No,” I insisted. “Something’s not right with him.”
Jordy was coming back down the stairs, and Daiyu looked like she meant to argue, but everything stopped when we all heard Trevor let out a long, low death groan.
56
Remy
“No, no, no,” Daiyu cried out, her words getting more desperate. “How could this have happened?”
Trevor lifted his head and started pushing himself up, completely unmindful of the jagged bone sticking out of his arm. He looked over at us with glassy eyes bloodshot with veins gone green from the infection.
“He must’ve been bitten on his hunting trip,” Jordy reasoned, since he’d just returned with the prized mountain goat.
Daiyu shook her head frantically. “No, he wouldn’t have hid that. He never would’ve hidden something like that from me!”
How he was infected was really beside the point at the moment. Not long ago, Trevor had been a hulking man, but now he was a hulking zombie staggering back to his feet, and he posed a real threat to all of us.
All of the night’s earlier bliss had completely evaporated. I was a rigid livewire, and I wasn’t about to let any zombie take down anyone else I cared about.
My maul axe was at home, but it was just as well, because I shouldn’t really be swinging something that heavy yet. I grabbed the lighter poker from the nearby hearth.
As Trevor lumbered toward me and Daiyu, Jordy launched himself from the mid-point of the stairs, and he landed on Trevor’s back. His arms wrapped around the zombie’s neck, using them to clamp the gnashing jaws shut.
Daiyu darted around them, avoiding Trevor’s long arms as he flailed about. She ran to the kitchen, while I started swinging at Trevor’s thick legs and knees. I was afraid to aim the poker at his head, because if I missed, I could seriously hurt Jordy.
Each of my swings did nothing. I know I wasn’t as strong as I once was, but it was like fighting a brick wall. He staggered and lumbered, and I dodged his powerful arms, while Jordy held his head and kept him from biting anyone.
A moment later Daiyu came running back into the room carrying something long and sharp in her hand. At first, I thought it was a unique stick or some kind of magic wand, with the pitch-black color and twisting ridges. But when she raised it up, I realized it was one of the subtly curved long horns from the beautiful mountain goat.
“Get him to the ground, and I will finish him!” Daiyu commanded, as if that hadn’t been what we were trying to do.
I gritted my teeth, and with all my might, I swung the poker like a bat against the back of Trevor’s knees. They finally buckled forward, and Jordy used his weight on his back to knock Trevor face first into the floor.
Daiyu ran over, and Jordy moved out of the way as she raised her arms over her head. Trevor was already trying to push himself up again when she drove the goat horn straight into the back of his skull.
The zombiefied Trevor let out one final rattling death groan, and he collapsed onto the wood floor. Daiyu yanked the horn out of his head, and the brain matter stuck to it had already turned pistachio green.
Daiyu stood over the unmoving body of her boyfriend, his green-tinged blood spilling out all over the amber-colored floors. She let out a long primal scream, loud enough that I had to put my hands over my ears. Then she stopped, dropped the horn to the floor with a clatter, and that was it.
Jordy and I helped her wrap the body in an old blanket, and we moved it out to the shed behind the house. It was cold enough to help the body keep until Daiyu could organize a pyre in the daylight. The other townspeople needed a chance to say goodbye and grieve him, too.
She spoke very little, really only when we asked her a specific question, like where to find a tarp. Jordy and I didn’t say much either. We soaked up the blood from her floorboards, we cleaned up her kitchen, and we helped her up into bed. Jordy gave her another tab of grinleaf to help her sleep, and he promised he would check on her tomorrow.
And then, with dawn nearing the horizon, we finally left her cabin and walked across the town on quiet, frosty streets.
“Should I go?” I asked Jordy outside the front door of his house.
“I would prefer if you spent the night tonight.” He put his hand on my waist. “I mean, I’m too exhausted to do anything but sleep, but I’d really like having you near me.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” I clarified. “I meant… should I just pack up and get out of Xwechtáal?”
He leaned back, trying to get a better look at me. The lamp he’d left burning above the door cast us both in a warm amber glow. “Like right now?”
“Tomorrow, the next day.” I shrugged. “Whenever I get all ready.”
“But we have a plan. We’ve talked about this. We’re going together in May.” His brow furrowed. One hand was still around my waist, but the other went to my neck with his thumb caressing my jaw. “Nothing’s changed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“No, I’m serious. Yeah, Trevor died and that was fucked up. But what does that have to do with you and me?” he insisted.
“It’s like I told you when I met you. I’m the harbinger of death.”
“Remy, stop being so damn fatalistic and acting like you’re some mythical deity of death,” Jordy replied, sounding far more weary than angry. “You are one fucking person. What happened tonight with Trevor had absolutely nothing to do with you. And if you run now, it is not because of this. It’s because you like to run when you’re scared.”
“Are you calling me a coward?” I asked incredulously.
“I only said you run when you’re scared. If you take that to mean that you’re a coward, that’s on you.”
“How dare you?” I shot back at him. “You have no idea what I’ve faced and what I’ve been through and what I am willing to do.”
“If you’re so damn brave, why don’t you stay until May?” His hand was still on my neck, and he stared straight through me with his eyes the color of mountain stone.
“Because I don’t want to watch you die,” I confessed, and I didn’t even realize that was the truth until it was out of my mouth.
Angry, embarrassed tears stung my eyes as I realized that he was right. I was a coward. The thought of losing another person, of losing more of myself when they died… I was absolutely terrified of going through that again.
“Remy.” His voice was soft and low, and when he wiped the tears on my cheek, I realized I was trembling. “I promise you that I’ll live as long as you do.”
“You can’t make that promise,” I argued.
“Watch me,” he said and kissed me deeply before pulling me into his arms.
57
Remy
The arrival of spring helped alleviate the shroud of darkness that Trevor’s demise had brought on. In addition to being Daiyu’s significant other, a skilled hunter, and an excellent chef, Trevor had been an outgoing force of nature in Xwechtáal.
Or at least that’s what Jordy had said at Trevor’s eulogy before the funeral pyre. I had no reason to doubt him, because the entire population was there, crying as they said goodbye to him.
As the days grew longer, my strength returned more and more. Jordy went on long foraging trips to gather what he needed to make his grinleaf and other medicinals. I stayed back, but I could handle everything on my own, including mucking the mules’ garage and chopping firewood.
Even with that, waiting until Jordy was ready wasn’t the easiest thing for Ripley or me. With the warm weather, the forests beyond the town walls were waking up and beckoning us. She spent afternoons pacing the room or gnawing on my bedpost.
By the time the end of May finally arrived, Ripley was about ready to climb the walls, and honestly, so was I. Jordy and I loaded up our respective mules with our gear, we said goodbye to Daiyu, and we left, taking the only road west out of Xwechtáal.
Jordy – who took this exact route twice a year with Buck – figured it would take us about two weeks to get to Glacier Valley. The first several days, the trail continued uphill, following the steep curve of the mountain.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, we reached the highest point of our journey. The peak of the mountain itself still soared above with the snow-covered caps piercing the clouds, but we were high enough that the air felt thin and crisp.
“The rest of our journey will literally be downhill,” Jordy explained as we took in the view, and even I had to admit it was majestic.
The valley stretched out before us in breathtaking clarity. The snowcapped mountains rolled in waves of deep green, their slopes blanketed by dense forests in full vibrant color for the short season of growth. Waterfalls created by the spring thaw cascaded down the mountainside, cutting lines through the tapestry of conifers. At the bottom, a cerulean river snaked through the trees and wetlands of the vast dale.
“Once we get to the bottom, we follow the Cambria River until it meets with the K’alii Canal. Right at the crux where those two waterways converge, nestled against the Miso’o Glacier, that’s where we’ll find the town of Glacier Valley,” Jordy explained. “At night, you might even be able to see the light from there. A few places have electricity.”
“I’m used to surviving without electricity,” I said.
“You can survive without a lot of things. Don’t you enjoy a little luxury?” he countered with a smirk.
“It isn’t so much that I don’t enjoy luxuries anymore. But I’ll never depend on them again. “
He narrowed his eyes slightly then, as if appraising me in a new light.
“What?” I pressed when he didn’t say anything.
He averted his gaze and shook his head. “Nothing. But how do you feel about setting up camp here? We can start early tomorrow on the downhill.”
Ripley had already gone on ahead of us, far enough that I couldn’t see her through the trees anymore. This had been her first time running free in weeks, and I knew she would come back when she was tired or hungry. She always did.
Jordy and I made our campsite in a shallow cave, carved a meter or two into the side of the mountain. While he focused on that, I took care of the mules. They’d worked hard for us, and we still had a lot of journey left, so I made sure that both Vince and Buck were happy and comfortable.
Later on, after everyone was fed and cared for, including the two of us, Jordy and I settled in for the night. The fire was in the mouth of the cave, and he and I laid beside it on our bedrolls. His arm was draped over my waist, and both of us were staring beyond the flames at the twinkling stars.
“One nice thing about the end of the world is how bright the stars are now,” he said, and I could feel his voice rumbling through his chest as he spoke.
“The stars were always bright this far up, weren’t they?” I asked. “Or was light pollution really that bad?”
“I guess that is fair. I wasn’t hiking up mountains much back then. What is something that you miss the least about the old world?”
“Something that I miss the least?”
“Yeah. Like I don’t miss light pollution at all. Or those commercials on TV that were louder than the shows you were watching. Late fees also seemed like bullshit,” Jordy went on. “But maybe that’s because I used to get so many fees at the library.”
“I guess… if I really think about it, there were lots of things I didn’t like,” I admitted. “I was never really one of those happy-go-lucky types, even as a kid.”
“You don’t say?” he asked with faux surprise.
“So if you’d asked me then, back when I was eighteen, and I knew almost nothing about viral contagions or survival or sacrifice, I would’ve been able to come up with a damn near endless list of shit I wouldn’t miss.
“But if I’m honest, the thing I am most happy to see gone was my own innocence and naivety,” I continued. “I was so ignorant about the realities of existence and what humanity is truly capable of – both good and bad. Looking back, it was like I had been living in black and white, but now it’s all vibrant, horrifying colors. No one fully appreciates how terrifying it must’ve been for Dorothy when she first arrived in Oz, all those colors blinding her eyes.
“But how can you come back from that? Even if it’s frightening and overwhelming and migraine-inducing, how could you ever go back to not seeing things how they really are?” I asked finally.
His lips brushed against the back of my neck when he murmured, “Damn, Remy. You really put my stupid late fees comment to shame.”
“No, I didn’t mean anything like that.”
“I know.” He kissed the back of my neck, and I snuggled into him, so he wrapped his arms more tightly around me. “I’m glad you’re with me now, under the brightest stars I’ve ever seen.”
Ripley returned in the morning, just as Jordy and I were packing up to go. She carried the hock of a deer with her, so I guess she’d been busy.
“Did she bring that back to share with us, do you think?” Jordy asked.
As if answering him, she laid down and immediately started gnawing it herself.
“Oh, no, it’s just a snack for her,” he realized.
Vince had gotten used to Ripley and her appetites, but Buck watched her eating with absolute fascination and possibly abject horror. Although it was hard for me to tell exactly what horrified a mule.
As the morning light spilled over the mountains and onto the valley below, an unsettling noise drifted through the air. The dry guttural moaning was unmistakable.
Somewhere beyond the tree line, the zombies had awoken from the spring thaw, stirring with new hunger. Jordy and I exchanged wary glances before we went for our weapons of choice – the maul axe for me, and a machete for him. We readied to face whatever had clawed its way back to life with the melting ice.
58
Remy
Half-a-dozen of the decaying, infected bodies shambled out from between the trees. None of them were particularly fast, and they had survived enough seasons out here that most of their flesh had been rotten or frozen off. They were little more than skeletons with flakes of bluish-green skin and filthy scraps of old clothing.
A good chunk of them didn’t even have eyes anymore. Likely because so much of the tissue had been lost around the faces. Maybe the eyes froze and burst or were eaten by a particularly brave crow.
I half-expected them to erupt into a cloud of dust when I hit them with my axe, but that wasn’t what happened. Their bones had deteriorated to the typical zombie-gelatin, but the cold left them semi-frozen. A slushy mixture of green blood and yellowish bone splattered all over the ground and all over me.
By then, Ripley set aside her deer leg and went to work tackling the boney remnants of the zombies that clambered up the hillside toward us. The mules were braying and kicking out, but the ghoulish predators never made it anywhere near the tied down equines.
Ripley, Jordy, and I made quick work of the zombies, and then we were left with bones and flesh littering the ground around us.
“That’ll get your blood pumping in the morning.” Jordy grinned down at the carnage, and he wiped a spot a blood off his brow.
“These zombies look old as hell. I wonder how long they’ve been up here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe they’ve been wandering for a long time. They started out way down in the desert and slowly stumbled their way north for a decade.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Why do they do anything?” Jordy countered. “Zombies motivations have never made much sense to me.”
My hands were sticky with cold, drying zombie blood, and it would rust my axe blade if I didn’t take care of it properly.
“I’m going to get cleaned up,” I told Jordy, using my maul axe to point to a meltwater stream down the trail half-a-kilometer.
“I’ll be behind you in a few minutes. I want to check on Buck and take care of some things around the camp,” Jordy replied.
“Okay,” I said, even if I didn’t fully understand. I didn’t want to touch anything with hands covered in congealing zombie blood. It would get matted in the mules’ fur, contaminate our food and water, and stain our clothing.
But Jordy had his own way of doing things, so I left him to it. Ripley followed me down to the rapidly flowing stream, and she immediately stuck her face in the cold, clear water.
I rinsed off my weapon, and then I scrubbed at my hands until they were red and raw. Lyssavirus infection wasn’t a threat to me, but I hated how their blood felt on my skin.
Once I was done, I headed up the hill. As I returned to the campsite, I saw Jordy crouched over the zombie corpses. His back was to me, so I couldn’t tell what he was doing at first.
Then he stood up, and I saw the zombie brain in his hand. It was unmistakable. A fleshy mound of pale green marred by dozens of little holes, so it resembled a cross between Swiss cheese and pistachio pudding.
In his other hand, he held a strip of cheesecloth and wrapped the infected organ inside it. But I’d seen that before. At Jordy’s house, where bound pouches leaked green fluid into mason jars.
He had claimed that the cloth was filled with various herbs, giving the grinleaf its green hue. I had naively assumed that by herbs, he meant things like mushrooms, marijuana, or psychotropic flowers.
The rest of the process I understood, because he’d even walked me through it, and none of it had seemed strange or horrific. Of course that was before I understood that the very first “natural” ingredient was actually a freshly squeezed zombie brain.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted at Jordy, even though the situation was more than apparent to me.
When he saw me, his eyes widened, and he stammered out, “I-I… It’s not… This isn’t how it looks.”
“Really?” I asked skeptically. “Because it looks like you are using the infected brains of dead people to make drugs!”
“It looks bad, but it’s really not. People lick frogs to get high. People eat mushrooms grown in actual bat shit. Hell, even the tomatoes and potatoes back in Xwechtáal are fertilized with the compost made from literal human shit,” Jordy argued.
“Oh, fuck you for pretending any of that is even the same!” I yelled back at him. “I’m not upset because it’s repulsive, although I am very repulsed. I’m upset because it’s utterly depraved and a huge violation of human dignity!”
“Where was your concern for their human dignity when you were gleefully slicing them down with your axe?” Jordy shot back. “Or did you think that I didn’t notice that you only seem to come alive when you’re fighting something?”
“First of all, I have never done anything gleefully! And don’t try to pretend that I am the bad guy here!” I shouted. “You are making drugs from the brains of infected humans! It’s like cannibalism with extra steps!”
His face curled up in disgust. “It is nothing like cannibalism! And you know they’re not people anymore or you wouldn’t have killed them.”
“I kill them because I know they are people!” I disagreed. “I kill them because if I were a mindless monster destroying everything, I would want someone to put me down as quickly as possible. And that’s exactly what I do for the zombies.”
“Really? That’s your argument? That you’re doing it for the zombies like you’re some kind of Patron Saint of the Undead?” Jordy asked with a dubious eyebrow.
“No!” I groaned and threw my hands up in the air. “I know everything is complicated and messed up right now. But one of my hardlines is that I don’t want to consume any part of a human at any point for any reason, whether they were infected or not. And I think if you’re going to be handing out a drug, no matter how clever you are for discovering it – ”
“You think I’m offended that you don’t appreciate my genius?” he cut me off indignantly. “This is about helping people! How much would you have suffered if I hadn’t given you the grinleaf?”
“I would rather have suffered than taken a zombie drug!”
He gave a sardonic laugh. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize you were such a martyr when I met you, but most people would rather not suffer needlessly.”
“You should’ve given me a choice. You should’ve told me what it was made of,” I insisted.
“You needed the pain relief, and I knew I could help you.” He stepped closer to me, his anger slowly fading. “I swear that I only wanted to help you, and to help other people like you. And no one living was hurt. I mean, the zombies were killed in self-defense, and I only extract from the dead.”
“You shouldn’t be giving this to people. At least not recreationally,” I persisted. “And you have to tell them what it’s really made from. They need to decide for themselves.”
“You make a valid point.” Jordy closed the distance between us, and when I didn’t move back, he put a tentative hand on my waist. “I never meant to mislead you or hurt you, Remy. You know that I care about you.”
“That’s not the only thing that matters.”
“But it still matters, a little, doesn’t it?” he pressed.
“It does,” I admitted softly.
“Do you forgive me then?” His voice was low and husky, and he touched my face, leaving a cold, congealing smudge of zombie blood on my cheek from his thumb.
“Just don’t lie to me or keep things from me.”
“I promise.” His eyes studied me, and when I leaned into him, his mouth found mine.
It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around me, pressing me to him as we shared fervent kisses, that I was reminded of how thin the lines between rage and passion could be.
59
Remy
It had taken me over six months since I first left the Barbarabelle, but I had finally arrived in Glacier Valley.
The days of getting here with Jordy had been quiet and relatively uneventful, after I’d found out about the truth behind the origins of grinleaf. I still didn’t like it, but neither of us mentioned it again. He wasn’t taking any while we travelled anyway, since inebriation made us vulnerable to attack in the wilderness.
The weather had been nice, the zombies had been scarce, and the hunting had been good. Ripley and the mules seemed to enjoy the long days, and even I went to bed at night feeling less restless than I had in Xwechtáal or back on the Barbarabelle.
All of that was to say that I arrived in better shape and better spirits than I had been in a long while. I wouldn’t say I was optimistic or anything, and I still had this nagging panic deep in the pit of my stomach when I thought about going to Cold Shore, and what that would mean, medically speaking.
But mostly, I tried not to think of what came next. I had set a goal to get here, and I arrived with a full belly and all my travelling companions in good health. What more could I ask for?
Nestled between the shimmering expanse of a natural fjord and the blue-white mass of a glacier, we finally reached Glacier Valley. There was no gate or fence needed because of the natural barriers, and we just strode right into town.
The main street was astonishingly busy, feeling almost on par with what I remember from civilization, except there were no motor vehicles. A wooden sidewalk ran in front of the shops, protecting pedestrians from the dirt and animal dung that muddied up the roadway.
Jordy and I stuck to the streets, since we had the two mules trailing behind us, and I had Ripley on her lead. Obviously, she was powerful enough that she could do about whatever she wanted, collar and leash or not, but I think in unusual circumstances like this, she preferred to stick close to me anyway.
“I usually rent a room at this nice inn down the way.” Jordy pointed to a rectangular two-story building on the main road, where a big wooden sign had been painted with the name The Frozen Grave. “They have stables out back for the mules, and there’s even an area where you can tie Ripley out with the sled dogs.”
I had already caught a glimpse of some of the dogs, and with their summer coats, they all looked remarkably small next to Ripley. Maybe I’d gotten accustomed to a bulky mule and a big lion, because I didn’t think huskies bred for sled mushing were tiny animals. Either way, though, I didn’t fully trust Ripley not to treat them like a disposable new toy if I left her alone with a bunch of excitable dogs.
“It’s probably better if Ripley stays with us,” I said.
“Okay. If that’s what you say, we’ll have to talk to Anoona.”
“Who is Anoona?” I asked.
“Anoona Dube,” he said. “She’s the innkeeper at The Frozen Grave. You’ll like her.”
“You say that, but you know I don’t like anybody,” I reminded him.
Jordy laughed. “You like me, and you’ll like Anoona.”
Inside The Frozen Grave, timber beams stretched across the ceiling, and the floor was patched with mismatched planks. To the left was a common room and waiting area, with sofas covered in soft amber leather and taxidermized animals were displayed, including a porcupine near the unlit fireplace. To the right was the check-in area, and between the two areas was a corridor and staircase, presumably leading to the rooms.
The check-in area’s prominent feature was a counter made of a solid slab of driftwood. The wall behind it sported keys on a rack as well as shelves stocked with jars of preserves, homebrewed liquors, and other supplies likely bartered from traders passing through the Valley.
Working the counter was a tall, slender woman with dark brown skin. Her eyes were narrow and almost feline, and her lips were full and round. Thick coils of black hair framed her oblong face like a halo.
“Back so soon, Jordano?” Her voice was resonant with a faded accent that I couldn’t quite place. She smiled at both of us as we approached, but her eyes widened when she spotted Ripley walking at my side. “And you’ve got yourself some exciting new friends.”
“This is Remy, and her lion, Ripley.” Jordy made quick introductions. “Remy, this is Anoona.”
“She’s an African lioness?” Anoona asked, her attention still on Ripley, who glanced around and flicked her tail. “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a little girl in Zimbabwe.”
“She’s a bit friendlier than a wild lion,” I said, and I gave Ripley a scratch on the top of her head to prove it.
“I will have to take your word for it,” Anoona replied.
Jordy leaned against the counter and gave his most charming smile. “I know you usually have guests keep the animals outside, but I was hoping you’d make an exception for me.”
She gave him a hard look for a moment, then relented with, “It’ll cost you.”
“I’d never expect anything less from you.”
She and Jordy exchanged a knowing smile, and then she reached behind her and grabbed a key off the corkboard. “Room 113 at the end of the hall,” she said as she slid the key across the counter, and she turned her dark eyes to me. “You may be the one with the wild animal, but you’d better be careful with him.”
“I always am,” I assured her.
“We’ve got a pair of mules out front that need a good rubdown and a bucket of oats,” Jordy said as he took the key.
“I’ll have my stable hands tend to them right away,” Anoona said, and she watched us as we walked down the hall. “See you later, kitty cat.”
“So how much does it cost to stay here?” I asked Jordy quietly as we walked.
He shrugged. “It depends. I always settle up at the end.”
“Settle up? What does that mean?” I asked.
“I’m here trading my medicine and concoctions, and they pay me in goods and services,” he elaborated. “Mostly goods like food, herbs, equipment, jewelry, clothing. Whatever they have, whatever I need. And then at the end, I talk to Anoona, and we square up with what I’ve received during my time here.”
“So you don’t pay Anoona in grinleaf?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. She’s never really liked that.”
“Good, because I meant what I said before. I don’t want that shit in my life at all. I don’t want you using it or selling it to people, either.”
“Only when medically necessary, I know,” he said before giving me a quick kiss on the temple.
Jordy unlocked the door to our modest but comfortable rustic room. The centerpiece was a queen size bed tucked neatly against one wall on top of a bearskin rug.
As I glanced over at the window, the view stopped me in my tracks. The breathtaking canal shimmered half-a-kilometer out from us, with water the most amazing shade of clear teal deepening into near black. A few ships were docked at the harbor farther down, their masts swaying gently in the breeze.
“How much does this view cost us?” I asked.
Jordy came up behind me and looped his arms around my waist. “Whatever it will be, I promise it’s worth it.” He kissed my neck, and I leaned back into him.
“I know we need to rest up before we do anything,” I said.
“Yes, rest up.” He kissed my cheek, and one of his hands cupped my breast over my shirt.
“But where is the Cold Shore outpost?” I asked.
“Right off the harbor.”
“So can I go there tomorrow?”
“I don’t see why not.” He stopped kissing me and rested his chin on the top of my head. “What is your goal with them, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you never really told me what you hoped to gain.”
“Cold Shore is helping to find a cure, and I want to help them,” I replied as vaguely as I could.
Jordy didn’t know about my immunity, and that’s how I planned to keep it. In my experience, it was best if only people who absolutely needed to know found out about it. And right now, Jordy did not need to know.
“Yeah, but how?” he asked. “Lots of people want to help them. What are you planning to do?”
“I don’t know.” I put my hands over his arms and sunk back into him, swaying, and hoping to distract him. “I mean, they need people if they want to rebuild civilization. I … I just assumed I’d take the ARK, and they’d find a place for me.”
“But that doesn’t really sound like something you’d enjoy. What is Ripley going to do while you’re scrubbing toilets and getting blood samples from zombies?” he asked.
He was raising questions that I didn’t have the answers to, and that made me want to tense up or push him off. But that would only make things worse. I didn’t want to fight, and I didn’t want him to worry.
“I don’t know,” I tried to deflect. “I haven’t got it all figured out. I just knew that I wasn’t helping anyone where I was, and I’d be able to figure it out if I got around people who knew what they were doing.”
“What makes you think that the people at Cold Shore know what they’re doing better than anyone else?”
“Because someone has to know.” I turned around to face him, his arms still twined around my waist, and I put my hands on his chest as I looked into his eyes, imploring him to understand. “Someone has to… I refuse to believe that after all the trials and tribulations that humanity has been through in recent years, that the best of us are somehow gone. That those of us still here haven’t been forged in fire and proven that we are capable of handling any challenge that comes our way.”
“So that’s it then?” His eyes studied mine as he brushed a lock of dark hair off my face. “Your endgame is based almost entirely on optimism and survival-of-the-fittest?
“No. My endgame is based simply on the fact that I am still here.” I took his hand and pressed it to my chest, above where my heart pounded despite so many efforts to the contrary – by me, by nature, by zombies, by mad scientists. “And as long as I am here, I want to try to make the world better. And if I can’t do that, then at the very least, I don’t want to make it worse.”
“We’re both in the same boat, then.” Jordy kissed my forehead. “Why don’t we rest up, and we can figure out how to save the world tomorrow?”
60
Remy
True to his word, Jordy led me down the boardwalk to the Cold Shore outpost in the harbor on the K’alii Canal the next morning. The mountains surrounding the town on either side held back the sun’s warmth until late morning, but the sky was bright blue above us.
I’d left Ripley behind in our room, since she’d been sleeping happily in the blankets. I had also left her with a big elk bone, in case she woke up hungry and bored.
“I don’t mind helping you, obviously,” Jordy said as we walked. “But I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Getting my hopes up too high has honestly never really been a problem for me.”
“I get that,” he allowed. “And I’m still telling you that your hopes for Cold Shore might still be too high.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Are they trying to find a cure for the lyssavirus or not?”
“They are,” he agreed, sounding reluctant. “But… just because the goal is noble doesn’t mean the people working there are. There’s a reason that I noped out when I was still a teenager.”
“Nothing’s ideal anymore,” I said. “I guess it’s never really been all that ideal to begin with, if I’m being honest. So we gotta work with what we have, warts and all.”
The outpost building for Cold Shore was stark and utilitarian, a squat arrangement of corrugated metal, sandbags, and reinforced timber planks that looked ready to repel anything from a marauding band to a harsh northern storm. It was flanked by battered watchtowers and flags emblazoned with a faded logo: a red droplet of blood over an icy blue globe.
As we neared, I caught the oily scent of machinery and the faint odor of something sickly sweet mixing with the salt air.
In the watchtower on the right, a man wearing indigo-fading-to-gray coveralls was working the guard station. He looked a bit younger than me, with an oblong face and pale skin with ruddy red cheeks. His hair was hidden underneath a black knit cap pulled down to his ears.
He’d been slouching against the pass-through window, staring vacantly into space, but he straightened up when he saw Jordy and I approaching. The nametag embroidered on his chest read Q. Stensrud.
“What do you want, Duvall?” He sneered at him. “You know we have orders not to deal with you anymore.”
“Good news, Stensrud, because I don’t want anything to do with you either,” Jordy replied. “But my friend here, she wants to be a part of the organization.”
Stensrud scowled in confusion when he looked over at me. “Why?”
“I wanna fight the good fight,” I answered, but Stensrud was unmoved and continued staring blankly.
“Come on, man,” Jordy said. “I know you always need an extra pair of hands. Can’t you call up Post Commander Rhodes and set up an ARK testing?”
“Commander Rhodes is dead,” Stensrud replied. “Dr. Leila Lund administers the ARK now, but she’s up at the main base in the Alaska Territory for the summer.”
“And no one else can do it?” Jordy asked, sounding in disbelief.
“Not since Commander Rhodes died,” Stensrud reiterated.
“Is there anyone I can talk to?” I pressed. “I want to help. Like I’ll volunteer to scrub floors.”
“Nobody’s allowed in through the gates without clearance,” Stensrud said.
“Well, how do I get clearance?” I asked, growing irritated.
“Post Commander Victor Garnett, Dr. Leila Lund, or Director-General Michael Haugen,” Stensrud recited the names flatly. “But Dr. Lund and the Director-General are both in Alaska.”
“Can I meet with Post Commander Garnett?” I asked.
“No one is allowed inside the outpost without clearance, unless they’re taking the ARK,” Stensrud clarified unhelpfully.
“Can the Commander come out and meet me?” I asked, doing my very best to mask my growing irritation.
“That’s unlikely, because the Commander rarely leaves the outpost,” Stensrud said. “Even then, he only leaves when absolutely necessary.”
“Okay, but Dr. Lund and the Director-General, they can give the ARK?” I asked. “When will they be back?”
“The Director General never leaves the base in Alaska,” Jordy answered for him. “And I don’t mean like the Commander who rarely leaves. The Director General hasn’t stepped foot outside of the base since he first went in after the virus broke out.”
“That is all very fascinating,” I replied wryly. “What about Dr. Lund? When will she return?”
“Late August usually, sometimes later if there’s storms,” Stensrud said. “The sea can be unpredictable. The only way to get to the main base is by a ship, and that’s why it takes so long going back and forth.”
“Is there anyone I can meet with other than you that I can talk to about joining your illustrious organization?” I asked.
“Not without clearance, not really,” Stensrud said. “We do have other guards that work different shifts than me, but they’ll tell you the same thing I did.”
I looked over at Jordy for help, but he could only shrug. I had been so worried about getting here that it hadn’t occurred to me how difficult it might be to get anyone to take me seriously. On that note, I had always been so focused on keeping my immunity secret that I hadn’t thought on how I would prove it when faced with a skeptical bureaucratic guard.
“Okay then,” I said, because I clearly needed time to regroup. “Thanks for all your help.”
“No problem,” Stensrud replied as Jordy and I started walking on the boardwalk back toward the inn.
“Are you feeling sufficiently underwhelmed?” Jordy asked me once we were out of earshot of the outpost.
“I just have to figure out a way in there,” I said.
He sounded surprised when he asked, “Are you still sure you want to go with them?”
I stopped and faced him fully. “Let me ask you something, and I want your honest opinion. You trade a lot, so you’ve heard things. You know things. Is there anywhere in the world – that you know of – that is closer to finding a cure than the Cold Shore Contingency?”
“No,” he admitted reluctantly after thinking for a minute. “But the thing is, I don’t think Cold Shore is all that close to finding a cure, either. Maybe a cure isn’t possible.”
“Maybe not, but if this place is the best chance at finding it, then that’s where I need to be.”
61
Remy
Any further attempts I made at contacting anyone in the Cold Shore outpost were essentially just repeats of my conversation with Stensrud, no matter which of the apathetic young men they had in the watchtower.
Despite how frustrating it was for me, the only option I had left was waiting. One of Stensrud’s comrades had given us a slightly more precise estimate for the return of Dr. Leila Lund, putting it between the 22nd of August and the 5th of September.
Jordy offered to stay with me, and at first, I tried to decline. His argument for it was that there were even more people in Glacier Valley than back in Xwechtáal, so his services were still necessary, and he could help me and Ripley cover our food and board.
Deep down, the real reason I relented when he proposed spending the summer with me here was far simpler. Not because his knowledge about Cold Shore and Glacier Valley were helpful, or because I was going to be bored out of my mind for two months.
The truth was that I liked Jordy. Even after I’d discovered the disturbing way he made grinleaf. I had been a total mess when he found me, and he quite literally brought me back to life. And I liked the way his eyes glinted when he looked at me, and the way he was always finding a reason to touch me.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, but I would be by the end of summer. No matter what.
While the view from our room was majestic, I found my time in Glacier Valley to be largely frustrating. It wasn’t just Stensrud, either. This was one of the largest communities I’d lived in since before the virus broke out, and all the noise and congestion was overwhelming. I was used to quiet solitude, not waiting in line on a crowded street.
That was one of the reasons I volunteered to go on hunting trips as my contribution towards mine, Jordy, and Ripley’s food and board. Both the lion and I needed a way to be off leash away from people, and stalking prey out in the woods far beyond the town limits was the best way to do it.
Within a few days of us deciding to extend our stay at Anoona’s Frozen Grave, Jordy worked out a deal to get back to work as a chemist. Our room in the inn was nice, but there was neither the space nor the proper equipment.
Fortunately, there was a pub two doors down called Glacier’s Edge. Jordy was friendly with the owner, so he was able to use the restaurant kitchen in the mornings, when they were closed.
All in all, there were worse ways to spend the summer. Even by the end of June, the weather here was crisp bordering on warm at times, but the afternoons hiking with Ripley or fishing in the canal with Jordy were pleasant.
We’d been here for a little over two weeks when I realized that I felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. Ripley and I had spent the night camping in the foothills to the east of the town, hoping for an elk or even a mountain goat. We had settled for a few ptarmigans – more than enough for me, barely adequate for the lion – and a fire under the stars.
In the morning, as I sat with her and watched the sun slowly rise, bathing the entire valley in a warm amber glow, that’s when I had the thought: This is what peace feels like.
I wasn’t necessarily happy or content, although I wouldn’t say that I was despairing or depressed anymore. And I was still incredibly frustrated about the situation with Cold Shore refusing to see me. But there was a calmness inside my chest instead of that restless panic.
My impatience had always told me that anything other than moving forward was a failure. But what I had needed the most was time and rest and space.
Despite the disappointing game, I headed back to town with Ripley right after the sunrise. I wanted to get back and share my good mood with Jordy.
The busy streets strangely didn’t feel as grating to me as they had last night, but people also usually gave me a wide berth when I had Ripley on a leash at my side.
I slipped through the side door of Glacier’s Edge, which Jordy always left unlocked when he was working, and I was immediately hit with the scent of potent vinegar and acrid burning. I dropped Ripley’s leash, allowing her to peruse the kitchen for any errant rats or other pests.
Sunlight filtered through the frosted windows and cast long shadows across battered counters and shelves lined with mismatched pots. There, hunched over a cluttered countertop, Jordy was alone.
“Morning, Jordy,” I said as I came up behind him.
He whirled around, his eyes wide. “Remy! I didn’t know you’d be coming back so early!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” I said, but then I realize it wasn’t surprise in his eyes. It was fear, and it was lingering long after he saw that it was only me.
“No, I just, like I said. I wasn’t expecting you so early,” he replied, stretching his arms out along the counter.
“It’s not that early, is it?” I asked, and then I craned my neck to look over his shoulder.
He tried to move and block me, but it was too late. I had already seen the green brain oozing liquid all over the cheesecloth.
“Remy – ”
“You lying asshole!”
He let out a frustrated groan. “Dammit, Remy, it’s not like I was lying when I told you that I wouldn’t make more to trade around here. I meant that then, but the situation changed. You’re why the situation changed!”
“Don’t blame this on me! If you had to go digging around in zombies’ brains to stay here with me, then you should’ve fucking left!”
“That’s absurd. You’re being absurd!” he yelled. “This helps people, Remy! It helps us! Why do you have to keep acting like it’s some evil thing?”
“The virus that creates those euphoric highs is also the same virus that nearly destroyed everything! It killed nearly every man, woman, and child on this planet! Forgive me if I don’t want to get my jollies playing around in that apocalyptic sandbox.”
“Remy, you know how good can come out of something bad,” Jordy persisted, trying a gentler, more imploring tactic. “Like what’s happened with me and you.”
“I honestly don’t care how you justify it, Jordy,” I said. “I told you my line in the sand, and you promised that you wouldn’t cross it. And now that you have, you can’t walk it back.”
“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath and put his back to me. “Don’t do this, Remy.”
“It’s already done.”
He slammed his fist down on the counter, hard enough that it made everything on it clatter, and I heard Ripley’s claws skitter on the flooring in surprise.
“No,” he said in a firm voice. “You can’t do that.” He turned back to face me with tears swimming in his eyes, and I swear the hazel irises looked more green than normal.
I took a step back from him, until I bumped into the counter behind me. “I’ll go back to the inn first, and I’ll get my stuff and talk to Anoona. I’m sure I’ll be able to figure something out. And you can stay, or you can go.”
“Remy, please. I love you.” He moved closer to me and put his hands on my arms, hands I had once trusted almost as much as my own. “We’re good for each other. Please don’t throw this away.”
“It was never going to last, Jordy. You know that.” I searched his eyes, begging him to understand, but his grip tightened on my arms. “Let go of me. You’re hurting me.”
“I’d never hurt you,” he insisted, oblivious to how painful his grip had gotten.
“Let go of me!” I tried to pull my arms free of him, and when one managed to slip out, Jordy suddenly slapped me, hard across the face.
“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry!” Jordy said, realizing too late what he’d done, but I slumped over the counter for a moment.
I’d been hit and kicked and bit and all kinds of shit happened to me in fights with zombies, with marauders, with the butchers back at the Blaine County Quarantine Zone. But this was the first time that somebody I cared about, somebody I truly trusted put their hands on me like that.
It short-circuited something in my brain, and I didn’t know how to react.
Fortunately, though, Ripley knew exactly what to do. When Jordy tried to touch me again, this time apologetically and comforting on my back, the lion let out a deep growl.
“Ripley, easy girl, you know me,” Jordy cooed at her.
“I don’t think either of us ever really knew you at all,” I said wearily and I straightened up.
I went over and grabbed her leash, mostly because I knew it would be bad for her if Ripley were caught attacking somebody.
“I’ll leave your stuff at the desk with Anoona,” I said, but I couldn’t bring myself to look back at Jordy. “If you come near me again, I’ll let my lion eat your fucking heart out. Do you understand me?”
In a thick voice, he replied quietly, “Yeah. I understand.”
62
Leila
To: Pyotr V. Popov, PhD, DSc
Pathogen Geneticist and Viral Biologist
Cold Shore Global Contingency
Cold Shore, Alaska Territory
A concerning new supplement has been appearing around Glacier Valley. I have not personally experienced it myself, but I have been able to gather a sample from one of the Shore Guards at the outpost.
Initially, I was concerned that the compound was derived from addictive and corrosive precursors, consistent with other illicit synthetic substances such as methamphetamine hydrochloride or mephedrone. However, the findings were significantly more alarming than anticipated.
The substance known as “grinleaf” appears to be made from several relatively benign ingredients, like vinegar and spruce tips. However, the presence of pronounced elevations in phenylethylamine, dopamine, and most notably, rabidamine, strongly indicates that its principal active component is derived from human neural tissue.
While the properties of rabidamine are not yet fully undersood, current data indicates that it is exclusively present in the tissue of individuals infected with lyssavirus genotype-8. Preliminary findings suggest that rabidamine may be a primary driver of the pronounced aggression and cognitive disorientation characteristic of infected subjects, commonly referred to as “zombie” behavior.
As such, consuming any substance containing rabidamine poses a serious threat to a human. Not only is the source ethically questionable at best, but there is already a precedent of the lyssavirus causing unexpected mutations, with the genotype-8 only being the most notable and catastrophic. Prolonged and sustained exposure to rabidamine is likely to amplify adverse effects and, under extreme conditions, may precipitate “zombie-like” aggression in otherwise uninfected individuals.
Because of all these reasons, “grinleaf” needs to be banned on all Cold Shore premises, by all of the members of our organization.
Considering Dr. Kimble’s strong interest in exploratory research, it may be advisable to withhold details from him about grinleaf and its association with rabidamine until the findings are more conclusive.
I trust you will exercise appropriate discretion when briefing Director-General Haugen on the concerns regarding grinleaf. However, please ensure that the urgency of implementing a consumption ban is clearly conveyed. The associated risks are too significant to warrant further experimentation.
Respectfully,
Leila Lund, Ph.D.
Neuroethologist and Chemical Biologist
Cold Shore Global Contingency
63
Remy
In the weeks that followed, I settled into a routine in Glacier Valley.
Ripley and I spent a few days away from the town, hunting, and whatever we harvested that we didn’t keep for ourselves, we’d trade with Harvey Bonet. He was the proprietor of Glacier’s Edge, who served food in addition to libations, and he was happy to procure any red meat I brought in.
The next couple days after a hunt, I set about doing any task that Anoona needed at The Frozen Grave. Mostly, that meant patching up holes in the siding and chasing out a destructive family of squirrels that made a nest in the eaves. Sometimes, she’d send me on an errand, like delivering a letter to the pigeon post, or I’d tend to the mules in the stables.
Jordy took Buck with him when he left, and in the early days of July, I found a trusted porter to take Vince back to New Emberwood. By then, I’d worked enough to ensure the mule had extra oats and supplies on the long journey back.
It had been surprisingly emotional for me, saying goodbye to him. He’d been a reliable companion for so long, and I know I would’ve died without him. Maybe Ripley, too, since Vince was the one who ran for help outside Xwechtáal.
But that was also why I knew I needed to say goodbye. He deserved to go back to Lazlo, Nova, and the rest of his family in New Emberwood. Along with instructions on how to care for Vince, I gave the porter a letter for Lazlo, so he’d now how much the mule deserved to be pampered.
I stroked his fur, I pressed my forehead against his, and I thanked him before I told him goodbye. Ripley had also seemed to understand, because she twined herself between his legs when she tended to be more physically aloof with him.
The two of us stood in the middle of the muddy main street one warm morning, and we watched as Vince and the porter walked out of town and out of our lives.
“What do you say, Ripley? Should we get a drink?” I asked her, and she let out a chuffing sound. “Well, you can have fish, and I’ll have the drink.”
Heading over to Glacier’s Edge fairly early in the morning had also become a part of our routine. The owner Henry didn’t usually start serving food until the evenings, but I had worked out a deal with him for Ripley. He kept a whole intact salmon on ice for us, and when we came in, I sat in the back corner drinking my cares away while the lion happily chomped down on a frozen fishcicle.
So after Vince left, that’s where Ripley and I went. This early in the day, there weren’t many people here yet. Most folks out here had to work hard all day long to survive, but the ones who didn’t had a funny way of ending up in the pub.
The proprietor Henry was behind the bar, pouring a drink for an old man who was here even more often than I was. Henry was a wiry man in his mid-fifties, with medium-brown skin, and long black hair that he often wore pulled back in the warmer weather.
“Remy, Ripley,” Henry greeted us when we went inside. “Shall I bring you your usual?”
“That would be fantastic, thanks, Henry.” I sat down at a corner table, and Ripley spun three times before laying down on the floor near my feet.
A moment later, Henry set my glass of wild berry brandy in front of me, before he crouched down to present Ripley were her hefty frozen fish.
“Long morning?” Henry asked me. He was still crouched beside the lion, stroking the fur on her back as she licked her treat.
I nodded, swirling the liquid in my glass. “Saying goodbye isn’t easy, even when you know it’s for the best.”
“You did right by that mule,” Henry said in a knowing way. “If you mean to go to Alaska, he’ll be happier here.”
I glanced over at him. “How’d you know that my mule left? I didn’t tell you that yet. And how do you know I mean to go to Alaska?”
“Glacier Valley isn’t that big of a town, and I have an ear for all the news,” he replied with a quixotic smile.
He straightened up, then went back to tending the bar. Glacier’s Edge was one of the places in town that had electricity, so fairy lights were strung along the wall, and music played softly out of a crackling stereo. I settled back into my seat and downed my brandy.
Right now, I felt in limbo between journeys, and that’s where I would remain until Cold Shore let me in. So, I supposed, I might as well relax and enjoy it. While Ripley purred as she gnawed on her fish, I flagged down Henry and ordered another drink.
64
Stella
It had been nearly three weeks since Boden, Edie, Leandro, Fergus, Fae, and I had left Xwechtáal, and fortunately, the descent down had been much more peaceful than the climb up. The mountains, the canal, and the glacier made it an inhospitable area for zombies, and most predators and people, honestly.
In the days following Dougal’s death, Fergus didn’t let himself slow down. He kept up on the hike, sometimes even leading the way, and he’d even returned to his usual chipper banter.
But at night, when most everyone was sleeping, I’d hear him crying softly with his back to the firelight. I left Fae slumbering in between Boden and Edie, and I laid down behind Fergus. I didn’t say a word, I just wrapped my arm around him. He linked his hands with mine, hanging onto me, and he would cry until he fell asleep.
By the time we reached the valley, Fergus seemed mostly back to his old self. Not that any of us were truly our old selves anymore. It was so strange to think that it had only been two months ago that we were all on the Barbarabelle, and over that time eleven people had dwindled down to six.
But we were still here. Tired, dirty, and hungry, but we were alive.
Even with as much as we had seen, the landscape surrounding Glacier Valley was especially breathtaking. The shimmering blue expanse of the fjord cut through the verdant forests before ending in the vast glacier to the north.
As we approached, I was surprised to see that there wasn’t an actual fence surrounding the town itself. Three sides had natural barriers with estuaries leading into the inlet, the expansive flowing icefield, and the snowcapped mountains. But I had still expected an entrance gate or at least health vetting.
Instead the dirt trail we’d been following through the forest widened into a real road heading straight into the town. The salty air from the brackish water left everything vaguely damp, and the main street running through the Valley was a rutted mess of mud, dry dirt, and horse droppings.
On either side of the street, in front of storefronts and homes, were wooden boardwalks for people to avoid the mess of the road. And as for people, there were a lot of them. Some walking, but others were in horsedrawn carriages, and I saw a few on bicycles or riding in pedicabs.
“This is a right proper town,” Fergus said with an impressed whistle.
“Even back in Emberwood, things weren’t this busy,” Edie agreed, glancing around at the bustling main street.
I’d taken Stella out of her wrap, preferring to carry her in my arms when we entered a new town, and she was squirming around to get a look at everything. Emberwood fell when she was practically a newborn, so she had no memory of anything even comparable to this. Her eyes were so wide, they practically bulged out of her face.
“Yeah, I don’t even really know where to start with all this,” Boden admitted. “I’m so used to guards or wardens meeting us at the gate.”
“Let’s start with getting a room.” Leandro pointed to the sign that read The Frozen Grave, and beneath it in smaller letters, Offers Both Short Term and Extended Stay Rooms. “We can rest, clean up, and make a plan. Plus, if Remy was here, she probably stayed at an inn.”
The interior of The Frozen Grave reminded me of pictures I’d seen in books of the old west. The waiting area even featured taxidermized animals, like a massive moose head above the fireplace and a porcupine standing beside the hearth. The check-in desk, with its worn wood and cluttered shelves, echoed a saloon.
Fae kept squirming in my arms, so I set her down to stretch her little legs while Boden and Leandro got the rooms. Her eyes immediately locked on the stuffed porcupine that was nearly the exact same size as her.
“Careful, Fae,” I said as I hurried after her. “You don’t want to get poked with any of those quills.”
As I did, I heard the sound of a door opening down the hallway, followed by the familiar chuff of a lion. I looked up in time to see Remy coming out of a room at the back of the hotel. She had Ripley’s lead in hand, but the big cat was scrambling past her.
“Hold on, I’ve got to lock the door,” Remy was telling Ripley, but then the lion’s eyes met mine, and she lurched forward, pulling the leash free from Remy’s grasp.
Ripley came racing down the hall toward me, and Fergus let out a surprised curse before scooping up Fae in his arms and moving her out of the way of both the incoming lion and the tempting porcupine.
Ripley slammed into me with a delighted roar and knocked me back to the ground.
“Is that lion mauling someone?” the desk clerk shouted in alarm. “Does somebody need to kill her?”
“No!” Boden, Remy, and I shouted in unison as Ripley nuzzled her big head against me.
“That’s the lion you’ve been fussing about, is it?” Fergus said, sounding amused as he held my giggling daughter, her arms outstretched to the kitty she missed. “Thought she’d be a bit bigger.”
“Stella?” Remy said in surprise, and then she looked around the room. “Boden? Edie? What the hell are you all doing here?”
Ripley had moved on from greeting me and ran over to rub against Boden. He gave her a few pets, but his attention was focused more on Remy.
“We came here for you,” I said, since Boden seemed reluctant to answer.
Remy came over and extended a hand to help me up off the floor. When I stood up, I hugged her, but it took a moment for her to hug me back.
“Mama!” Fae squealed, her hands outstretched to me.
“Holy shit, that’s Fae?” Remy asked in dismay, and tears immediately welled in her eyes. “And she’s talking now?”
“Yeah.” I took her from Fergus, and she stared up at Remy with curious eyes. “She’s almost two now. Do you want to hold her?”
“I-I…” Remy stammered, and she reached out and touched the freckles on Fae’s chubby cheeks that had darkened over the summer. “Fuck, she looks just like him.”
“She does,” I agreed.
“So all of these people are your friends then, Remy?” the desk clerk asked.
“Yeah, sorry, about the commotion, Anoona,” Remy said.
“I’ve got their rooms all squared away, if you want to stop crowding up my entry area,” Anoona replied, her dark eyes watching Ripley uncertainly as the lion weaved between the people she’d missed.
“Yeah, we’ll get out of your way.” Remy bent down and picked up Ripley’s leash, and then, to no one in particular, she said, “I suppose we should all have a talk.”
65
Remy
From the moment I saw them in the common area of the inn, I had the strangest sensation of floating outside my body. Like I was hovering above myself, numbly watching everything transpire.
I led them down the hall, to the room next to mine, and the young man with the key and the twisted locs opened the door and ushered the group in. I didn’t say anything the entire time, which only intensified the feeling that I was floating somewhere beyond this, watching it happening to someone else.
“These rooms are quite posh, actually,” the Irish one said, sounding impressed.
I recognized him vaguely from the S. S. Barbarabelle. He and his brother had moved on shortly before I left, but I don’t think I’d ever spoken to him or even bothered to learn his name.
The young man with the key I was fairly certain I’d never seen before. He flopped face first onto one of the beds. In a muffled voice he said, “The beds are fantastic, too!”
Ripley jumped on the other bed, and Stella sat down with my niece so that she could pet her.
My niece. Who had gotten so big, and somehow looked even more like Max. I wasn’t prepared for that at all, and I was suddenly thrust back here, in the moment, in my body again. My heart was beating too fast, making me light-headed, and my skin felt too tight, like it was constricting all around my body.
“This room will work for the six of us,” Edie commented as she looked around. “Do you have your own room here, Remy?”
“Yeah,” I said flatly.
I glanced over to where Boden was leaning against the wall. He hadn’t really spoken to me, neither of us had really looked at one another. Part of me wanted to run to him, throw my arms around him and beg him to forgive me, and another part wanted to scream at him for not listening to me. And all of it overwhelmed me completely, so my mouth felt dry, and every noise seemed so unbearably loud.
“How long have – ” Edie started to ask.
But I couldn’t help myself anymore and I interrupted her and blurted out, “What the fuck are you all doing here?”
Everyone fell silent at that, except for Fae who babbled a bit more at Ripley. Stella looked at me with wide, hurt eyes, and I wished I hadn’t snapped at them like that.
“We were worried about you,” Stella said in a small, sad voice that nearly broke my heart.
“But I specifically told you not to follow me!” I yelled back, and I wished I wasn’t yelling. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t seem to keep my voice down or hide the tremble in it.
“Leo, mate,” the Irish one said, gently patting the bed of the one I didn’t know who was already half-asleep. “Maybe it’s best we go out and explore.”
“I don’t want to be in anyone’s way, but I really need a nap,” he grumbled into his pillow.
“You know, now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind having a rest myself, and I bet I could persuade little miss Fae to go down for a nap,” Fergus offered. “If the rest of you all wanted to go on to Remy’s room to have a talk.”
“I’m sorry, but who are you? And why is anyone trusting my niece alone with you?” I asked.
“Remy!” Stella snapped, looking embarrassed. “That’s Fergus. He’s our friend, and he’s great with Fae.”
“Actually, I think I should hang back, too,” Edie interjected diplomatically. “The conversation seems best if it’s between you three.”
“Fine,” I relented. “My room’s right next door.”
“Thanks for watching her.” Stella kissed Fae on the top of the head, then she stood up. “Feel free to come get me if you need anything at all.”
“And feel free to come get me if you need anything,” Fergus replied cheerily, and then he and Stella exchanged an affectionate look that I did not like at all.
After the quick farewells, I led Stella and Boden next door, and Ripley followed us, still rubbing against Stella and Boden every chance she got.
“Nice to see that you aren’t keeping this place any cleaner than you did ours,” Boden muttered as he cast a disparaging glance over my unmade bed and pile of dirty clothes. My bedside table had a messy stack of books. Some that Jordy had gifted me, like Mary Shelley’s The Last Man, Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild, and Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, but The Book of Mercy sat at the top.
“Did you really travel all this way to make fun of my lack of housekeeping skills?” I asked.
“No. Honestly, I came here because I didn’t want Stella going alone, and she wanted an answer for why you abandoned your only niece,” Boden said.
“Boden!” Stella yelled. “That’s not true! Remy, don’t listen to him. I don’t know why he’s being a jerk right now, but we came here because we love you and we’re worried about you.”
He scoffed. “I’m the one being a jerk after all I’ve done?”
“Please!” Stella shouted again, holding up her hands. “We’re all here together, and we’re all each other has. Can we please talk about this like civilized people?”
“Yeah.” I motioned vaguely to my bed. “Have a seat. I’m sure you’re tired after all that walking.”
“I’m fine.” Boden stayed by the door, arms folded over his chest, and he still wouldn’t do more than glance at me for a second at a time.
But Stella sat down on the bed, folding one of her legs underneath her, and I realized that she had grown up, too. Not as much as Fae had over the past nine months, but there was a subtle shift from young girl to young woman. Some of the baby fat had been lost from her cheeks, but it was how weary and tired her eyes looked that made the guilt twist inside me the most.
I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted her to hurt at all.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“Fine. Good. I don’t know how to answer that,” I stumbled. “I mean, I’ve been good lately. How have you been?”
“Fae’s doing great, and the rest of us could be a lot worse,” she replied with an uncertain smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Since you found me, I’m guessing you know about Cold Shore then,” I said.
She nodded. “We’ve heard of it.”
“Then you understand why I’m here,” I said, frustrated. “The immunity in my body could help create a cure, and that could create a safer world for everyone, including Fae. So I don’t know if you came all this way to talk me out of it, but I don’t even know why you would.”
“I understand your reasons, but why didn’t you tell us you were going? Why did you leave the way you did?” Stella asked. “If you really believed in what you’re doing, why didn’t you say goodbye?”
“Because I was afraid you would talk me out of it, and this is more important than how I feel about you or anyone or anything,” I said, my voice tight.
“It’s awfully convenient how running away from everyone is always the most important thing for you to do,” Boden responded glibly.
“Boden!” Stella snapped again in exasperation. “Why are you being this way? For months, all you’ve cared about is finding Remy, and now that we have, you’re so angry and mean!”
“I didn’t expect to feel this way.” Boden’s voice was thick, and when he finally forced himself to look at me, tears were swimming in his eyes. “I have been so worried. I have thought of almost nothing except finding you and holding you in my arms… and yet the moment I saw you, all I could feel was rage.”
His arms fell at his sides, and he stepped over to me, so we were only inches apart. “You ripped my fucking heart out, Remy, when you left me and our family.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied quietly. “What do you even want from me anymore?”
“Right now, I honestly don’t know.” He shook his head and looked away. “I think I need to take a walk and clear my head.”
“Do whatever you need,” I said.
“Seriously, Boden?” Stella asked in surprise, but he just shook his head again and left the room, shutting the door hard behind him.
I exhaled roughly after he left, and if Stella hadn’t been sitting there watching me, I probably would’ve cried. But she was, so I swallowed it down and tried to force a smile at her.
“Sorry about him,” Stella and I both said at the same time, then we shared an uneasy laugh.
“I’m sorry things are tense, and I’m sorry I left the way I did.” I sat on the bed next to her. “I missed you and Fae a lot, and … I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to stay.”
“You should be sorry for the way you left,” Stella affirmed. “I’m a young woman with a child who has survived a zombie apocalypse. I can handle difficult things, and you know that better than anyone. If you really think that being here is the best thing for you – and for the world – then I wouldn’t have stopped you. Not that I truly believe I even could have stopped you. But you still should’ve talked to me about it. I want you to be safe, and I love you, and Fae loves you.”
“I know, and I love you both,” I said.
She leaned over and hugged me tightly. “I really did miss you, Remy. But please, please don’t leave without goodbye again.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t,” I promised her, but even as I said it, I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to keep it.
There was a heavy silence between us for a moment, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I took a deep breath, searching for the right words, when curiosity got the better of me.
“So what’s the deal with Fergus?” I asked.
Her cheeks reddened slightly as she guardedly responded with, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s the deal with you and Fergus?”
“Nothing. I don’t know.” She averted her gaze and picked a loose thread on my comforter. “A lot has happened while you’ve been gone.”
“I know,” I admitted sadly. “What does Boden think of him?”
“Boden likes him,” she replied. “So do Fae and Edie.”
“Well… I want you to be happy.” I put my hand over hers. “I know Max would want that, too. You’re so young, and you have a whole life ahead of you.”
“I know. You’re not that old, either, Remy. You’ve still got your life ahead of you, too.” She smiled at me. “And I just want to be a part of it, and I want you to be part of mine and Fae’s. Is that too much to ask of you?”
And then, because I did want it, even if I wasn’t sure that I could ever live up to it, I said, “No. Of course not. I want that, too.”
66
Stella
When I went back to the room I shared with the others, Edie and Fae were asleep in one bed, while Leandro snored in the other. Fergus, like me, had nervous energy, and he was pacing in front of the window.
“Did it go alright for you?” Fergus asked in a whisper, but I shook my head. “Would you fancy a stroll while the others sleep?”
I left a quick note for when Edie woke, letting her know that we were going for a walk down the main street.
Fergus and I slipped quietly out into the warm evening sun. The town was still busy, with others brushing by us without a second glance. Fergus nudged me and pointed ahead at a place two doors down on the boardwalk. The sign overhead read Glacier’s Edge.
“That’s a pub if ever I saw one, and it smells like dinner. Will we chance it?” he asked.
My stomach rumbled, as it so often did, and I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Inside, the pub had the same rustic charm as The Frozen Grave. Mismatched chairs around battered tables, their surfaces scarred and polished by years of use. Flickering lanterns hung from exposed beams overhead and electric fairy lights were strung between them, bathing the handful of patrons in a warm glow. Speakers were nailed up on the wall, playing out a lively song in a language I didn’t recognize, which only ruled out English and French.
At the far end of the dining room, the bar was built from weathered timber, and behind it, the backbar utilized carved driftwood and featured a frosted mirror and shelves of bottles. A few patrons sat on stools made from old kegs, and a wiry man was tending the bar. He appeared to be in his fifties, his long black hair framing a thoughtful face that hinted at First Nations heritage.
The savory aroma of hearty stew and fresh bread mingled with the tang of old ale, and that’s really what drew us in. Fergus and I took a seat at a corner table, and we’d only just settled in when the bartender came over to us.
“You new around here?” he asked.
“That obvious, is it?” Fergus replied.
“I make it my business to know the people around town,” he told us with an astute smile. “I’m Henry Bonet, the owner and operator of Glacier’s Edge Saloon and Diner. We’re open from eight in the morning until midnight, unless I get tired and close up earlier. The kitchen serves dinner from 5 pm until about 9 pm, depending on how fast we run out. The bar serves alcohol all the time.”
“Nice to meet you, Henry. I’m Fergus, and this is Stella. We’ll likely be in town for a few days, and we’d love to hear your recommendations on what to eat and what to do while we’re here.”
Henry gave us a strange look. “That sounds like you’re here for sightseeing. The two of you wouldn’t happen to be on your honeymoon, would you?”
“Us?” Fergus laughed, a little too loudly, and my cheeks burned. “No, we’re travelling companions. But we are hoping to do some sightseeing, I suppose.”
“There’s one other bar, but the service isn’t nearly as good as it is here,” Henry boasted with a broad smile. “There’s a brothel and a casino down at the south end of town, if you’re into a rowdier place.”
I shook my head adamantly. “No, that really isn’t for us.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Henry admitted with a laugh. “But you are visiting at the most perfect time of year. The orcas are coming up the inlet chasing the salmon, and you’re likely to catch sight of them. Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, you can even get a glimpse of a humpback.”
“That’s amazing!” I said excitedly. “My daughter Fae would love that.”
“Oh, yeah, you got a little one, with you?” Henry asked. “She might also like to see the sealions that sun on the docks down in the harbor. Just be mindful of steering clear of the Cold Shore if you head that way.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Why do you say that?”
“For one thing, the guys that work there tend to be real pricks, and they’re usually armed,” Henry said, glancing around as he spoke as if realizing he ought to make sure there was none of them around to overhear. “The other reason is that they get up to some weird shit down there.”
“I’ve heard about Cold Shore, but I don’t think I know quite what it is,” Fergus said.
“Down at the harbor is their outpost, but the main HQ are way up in the Alaska Territory, where the sun doesn’t shine for months at a time,” Henry explained. “They’re supposed to be a team of the best and the brightest from all around the world, coming together in an underground bunker to rebuild civilization.”
“Sure that’s not all that strange, given the way things are going,” Fergus reasoned.
“Fair enough. I’ve never got a good vibe from them,” Henry said. “The higher ups almost never leave the outpost, though the low-level guards like to have drinks around town. They prefer the brothel and casino, but we get them here from time to time, too.”
“Have you ever been inside the outpost?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Never, and I wouldn’t want to. Sometimes people go in, and they don’t come back out.”
“Oh yeah?” Fergus asked. “Who’re you on about?”
Henry leaned forward, speaking more quietly as he did. “A couple years back, these two odd little kids rolled up in town. They were with one of the Cold Shore cronies, and the rumor was that these kids were some kind of zombie hybrids. A little boy and a little girl, can you imagine that?”
But I didn’t have to imagine that. I knew exactly who he was talking about.
I’d first learned of the hybrid children and their disturbing conception in The Book of Mercy. Mercy had claimed to get pregnant with newly infected men to produce her offspring, and if I hadn’t met her son Chosen myself, I don’t know that I would’ve believed it.
Chosen was the one that I had taken from Emberwood and left in the Tarik Copper Mines. Then it had broken my heart to leave him, but I had to return to my daughter, and I didn’t know where a zombie hybrid child was supposed to fit in this world. And then it had broken my heart again when I found the pit was full of nothing but blackened, burnt corpses.
I had mourned him twice, and I regretted my choices, even if I still couldn’t see any other option. My daughter had been just a newborn, and a zombie child like Chosen was far too dangerous. From what I had seen, he could make choices beyond what the pheromones commanded, which meant that I might not be able to stop him if he tried to eat my daughter or attack – and infect – someone else.
His sister Valorous I had never met. According to her book, Mercy had left her young daughter back at their farm during the assault on Emberwood. I had sometimes wondered how she fared, but mostly I tried not to think too much on the Loth family and what had become of them.
“The children are here?” I asked, trying not to sound as desperate for information as I felt.
“They were,” Henry said. “But that was years ago. They’re probably dead or up in the Alaska Territory by now.”
“Well, that is certainly an intriguing idea,” Fergus said, since I had lapsed into a stunned silence. “You really seem like you have your finger on the pulse of things around here.”
“Well, I certainly try,” Henry agreed with a proud smile. “If there’s anything that you want to know, feel free to ask me.”
“Um, I think right now we’d like to know your recommendations on what to order to eat,” Fergus said.
“Two bowls of stew and our finest summer ale, coming right up!” Henry announced.
“Thank you, mate,” Fergus said as Henry departed, presumably to get our orders. Once he’d gone, Fergus rested his arms on the table and leaned in closer to me. “So, you knew them zombie kids, yeah?”
“What?” I asked. “How’d you know?”
“There’d been rumors that it was a hybrid child led the zombies through Emberwood,” Fergus explained. “And then you turned white as a sheet when Henry said that they were dead.”
“I don’t really know them, but…” I trailed off, because I didn’t know how to explain the connection or responsibility I felt toward Chosen.
Before I could find the words to continue, Henry reappeared at our table carrying two steaming bowls of stew and a pair of mugs filled with summer ale. He set them down in front of us with a cheerful nod, and the savory aroma instantly cut through the heaviness of our conversation.
67
Remy
After Stella left, I paced my room because it was the only thing that felt right to do. Ripley was sprawled out on my bed, licking her giant paws, looking more content than she had in a long time.
She missed Stella, Boden, Fae, and Edie. So did I. I’d known we would when we left the Barbarabelle, but I thought it was the right thing to do.
It didn’t matter if we loved them. It didn’t matter that seeing them all again made my heart feel like it was going to explode in my chest.
There was a gentle knock at my door, followed by Edie saying, “Remy? Are you in there?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath and opened the door, and there was Edie, standing with a sleepy Fae in her arms. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I thought you might want to spend a little time with Fae,” Edie said with a smile.
My niece smiled at me, but it was shy, uncertain, and I wondered how much she even remembered me after all this time. That hurt, of course, but it would be easier for her if she didn’t miss me the way I missed her.
“I, uh…” I tried stammering out a way to deflect when Fae suddenly leaned forward and reached her arms out toward me.
“Emmy!” she squealed, dropping the difficult first letter of my name.
And I couldn’t deny that, so I gingerly took her from Edie’s arms, and Fae giggled as she looked up at me.
“I can’t believe you actually remember me,” I admitted.
“We talk about Auntie Remy a lot back on the boat, and the other people who aren’t with us anymore,” Edie said.
“Any Emmy, Any Lo, Any Edie, Unka Bobo, Dada, Mama, Lipley,” Fae recited rather proudly, and I gathered those were her toddler pronunciations for Auntie Remy, Auntie Harlow, Auntie Edie, Uncle Boden as well as her mom and dad and Ripley.
“You’ve got a lot of people to remember.” I brushed back her soft curls from her forehead. “Good thing you’re such a smart cookie.”
“Cookie?” Fae echoed excitedly.
“I don’t have any cookies, but I did recently trade for some drawing pastels and paper,” I said. It helped ease the long nights if I had something I could do by candlelight on my own.
I sat on the floor with Fae, grabbing my drawing pad and tin of pastels from the nightstand. Her eyes widened at the spread of colors. Soon she was lying on her stomach, back legs wiggling with delight as she used my soft pastels to swirl and smudge across the pages.
“How have things been back on the Barbarabelle?” I asked Edie.
She was sitting on the bed, watching the two of us. “Not great, honestly There were two breaches back-to-back in June, and we lost five people. That was finally what made Stella decide to bring Fae with her when she and Boden went after you.”
“There were two breaches?” I asked, horrified. “On the Barbarabelle? That’s insanity.”
“They’ve put in new protocols to prevent that kind of thing from happening again, but nobody feels that safe there anymore,” Edie said. “Harlow and Kimber are living in New Emberwood, and the lot of us came out here to see what else the world had to offer.”
“And what did the world have to offer you so far?” I asked.
“Not much that I would want a second helping of,” Edie admitted grimly. “Glacier Valley seems nice, though. The little I’ve seen of it, anyway.”
“How have Stella and Boden been? Actually?” I asked.
“Stella’s resilient, and she’s determined to provide a good life for Fae, and I think that really helps her get through the hardships that come her way,” Edie said. “Boden… he’s held it together for Stella and Fae, but I won’t lie. He hasn’t been the same since you left.”
I looked away and chewed the inside of my cheek. “I was afraid of that.”
“Why… why did you leave the way you did?” Edie asked. “I know you love them, so why did you do it?”
“The truth is that I just couldn’t watch anyone else die,” I said.
“Life is fleeting, even in the best of circumstances, but that doesn’t make it not worth living,” Edie rationalized. “It only means that we have to appreciate what we have while we have it. Running from pain doesn’t make life better, it only makes it emptier.”
A tear slid down my cheek, and I wiped it roughly with the palm of my hand. “I know you’re right, and I fucked up big time.”
She gave me a soft, understanding smile. “Not too big that it can’t be forgiven.”
“Thank you, Edie. Not just for this, but all you’ve done for all of us.”
“We’re a community, Remy. A family. We look after our own.” Her voice hung in the quiet between us. “So what was the plan? Why are you and Ripley here?”
“I’m still trying to get someone from Cold Shore to meet with me, but they keep putting me off until this specific person gets back from the main base at the end of summer. Right now, I don’t have any plan beyond that.”
“But what about Ripley?” Edie pressed. “Are you meaning to bring a lioness with you?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe if my help was valuable enough to Cold Shore, I’d be able to keep her with me. She sleeps so much anyway, especially in the winter. Or maybe if I had to, I thought I could find someone else to take care of her.” I shook my head. “I don’t know that I had a clear plan for all of it. I knew that I had to get out of there, and Ripley would go with me, the way she’d always gone with me. So that’s what happened.”
Edie nodded, her expression thoughtful. “We’re all together again, so we’ll figure it out, like we always do.”
“I trust that you can speak for yourself, and even Stella and Fae to a degree, but I don’t think Boden is going to be quite so eager to forgive me.”
“Well, have you tried apologizing?” Edie asked pointedly. “Like an honest, soul bearing, apology? Because that usually goes a long way.”
“I have not,” I admitted.
“He’s walking around town, if you want to go find him,” Edie said. “Since you know this place, and you know him, you’ll likely have a good idea where to look.”
I didn’t answer her, just letting the words settle, and helped Fae with her drawing. But even later on, after Edie and Fae had gone back to their room, her words echoed in my head. I took a fortifying breath and set off to find Boden, so I could make things right.
68
Remy
Night had fallen on Glacier Valley, and the main street was illuminated by lanterns hanging on posts. Beyond the main roads was mostly darkness, except for the amber glow from windows here and there.
Edie had more confidence in my ability to find Boden than I had in myself. Part of it was because I hadn’t actually done all that much exploring beyond the main street. Ripley and I headed out in the mountains and foothills for hunting and hiking, but otherwise, I mostly stuck to the stretch between three locations: The Frozen Grave inn, Glacier’s Edge pub, and the Cold Shore outpost.
But I also knew that Boden wouldn’t want to wander too far off, as not to risk getting lost, so I decided not to overthink it. I followed the main road southwest, and when I didn’t see any sign of him, I kept on going. Beyond the shops and the glow of the final lantern. The boardwalk stretched nearly another kilometer over a tidal estuary until it ended at the fjord.
This far south of Glacier Valley, there was nothing else because the marshland was too unstable for building, making it eerily quiet compared to the heart of the town. There were only the quiet calls of night birds echoing off the mountains and the rhythmic lapping of water against the wooden pilings. The air was cool and carried the crisp, briny scent of the sea, filling my lungs with each fortifying breath I took.
I saw him before I reached him, and even in the dim twilight, I recognized him by the way his silhouette leaned against the railing.
“Is that you, Remy?” Boden asked without turning around, so my footsteps creaking on the boards must’ve alerted him.
“It is, but you’d feel awfully silly if it wasn’t.”
He was still leaning on the railing, unwilling to look at me even though our faces were mostly hidden by the darkness anyway.
“You have really distinct footsteps. You don’t lift your foot all the way, so you drag the heel of your boot across the boards.”
“Oh yeah?” I leaned against the railing beside him, because it seemed like the thing to do, and I stared at the dark blue water reflecting the starry sky above us. It was disorienting, like staring into infinity, but it was a nice distraction from the tension that made me want to crawl out of my skin. “Well, I guess it’s good to know that my footsteps haven’t changed.”
“Why would they have?” Boden asked, bemused.
“Oh, right.” I realized his confusion. “You don’t know. I lost two toes to frostbite back in December. They were just the little ones, and considering all the other organs I’ve lost, it’s not that bothersome for me.”
He finally looked over at me, and I could feel the severity of his gaze more than I could see it. “You lost two fucking toes, and you’re telling me it’s no big deal? Christ, Remy. What else happened to you?”
“A lot of things, some good, some bad,” I confessed quietly. “What happened to you while I was gone?”
“Do you even care?” he asked cynically.
I sighed, even though I knew that I deserved some of his anger. “You know that I care.”
“No, I don’t, Remy. You just left me!” Boden yelled. “Do you understand that? No conversation, no invitation to come with, not even a goodbye. And you did it in such a way that you knew I wouldn’t be able to follow you. Do you know how hard that was for me? To go through the whole fucking winter without knowing whether you were alive or dead?”
“I’m sorry, Boden,” I said, and I could barely get the words out around the lump in my throat. Tears were burning in my eyes, but I fought them back with all I could. “I am truly so, so sorry. I know I fucked up. I really do. And I know it won’t change anything, but I swear that I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know that, Remy!” He was still yelling, but he sounded more exasperated than angry. “I’m upset because you did know that it would hurt me and Stella, and you did it anyway! Our pain wasn’t enough of a deterrent to you!”
“No, it was! It was!” I insisted. “I know you won’t understand, but I thought the pain of me leaving you would be better than the pain of me staying! Everything I touch falls to shit! Everything I try to save ends up dead! I didn’t want to kill you too!”
He let out a frustrated groan. “You’re not going to kill me. That doesn’t even make any sense. You haven’t killed anyone that didn’t deserve it.”
“I killed Clementine!” I blurted out, and I didn’t even know I was going to say it. I didn’t even mean to, I never wanted to confess it aloud ever, but the words were suddenly out of my mouth, and in the air, and I was trembling all over.
“What?”
“A few weeks before I left the Barbarabelle.” Everything came out in a rushed breath, because I knew I’d only be able to say it once, that I could only say it fast, because once I started crying I would never be able to stop. “I was hunting with Ripley, and she flushed a deer out of the trees, and I fired my arrow. But it wasn’t a deer that came running out of the trees. It was Clementine, and my arrow hit her straight in the heart. And… and then the zombies got her when I was washing the blood off my hands, and Juniper was in a tree, so I saved her and I brought the body back, and everyone thought I was a hero. But I did it. It was me. I am death.”
And that was it. Like a damn had broken inside me, and all the pain and rage and shame and guilt and remorse came pouring out of me in uncontrollable sobs.
Boden didn’t hesitate to pull me into his arms, and I was overwhelmed by how much I missed him and how much I didn’t deserve him. The way he smelled, the way he felt. Nothing else in my life felt like home except for his arms.
I clung to him and I cried into his chest, even though I knew I was greedy and selfish, and I was the one who should be comforting him. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t do anything else but let him hold me.
“Remy.” He stroked my back and kissed the top of my head as he held me to him. “No, no, no. You’re not death. That’s why you left?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I finally said once I got my crying under control. “I needed my life to have meant something.”
“You really think your life hasn’t meant anything?” he asked me sadly. “That you haven’t already given enough of yourself?”
I shook my head. “I’m still here. So, no, I haven’t given enough.”
“Fucking hell, Remy.” He exhaled roughly. “Please. For me and Stella and everyone who cares about you, can you knock off the self-flagellation and just listen? You are one of the strongest, most relentless people I have met in my entire life, but you are still only a person. You aren’t meant to save the world single handedly. No one is.” He put his hand under my chin so I’d look up at him in the dim starlight. “You do know that, right?”
“I honestly feel like I don’t know anything anymore,” I admitted, and then, because we’d already wasted too much time on me, I asked, “Have you rested or eaten anything today? You’ve been travelling for so long.”
“I could actually stand to eat,” Boden admitted.
“There’s this place two doors down that serves excellent food,” I said. “Why don’t we get something to eat, have a rest, and we can talk about things more tomorrow?”
“That sounds perfect.”
69
Remy
In the morning, I woke up in my bed with Boden’s arm draped over me, and for a moment, I thought everything had been a dream. That the entire past nine months had been nothing but a reverie.
But when I opened my eyes, I could see the canal just beyond the window, and I knew I was at The Frozen Grave.
The two of us were fully clothed, and we hadn’t even really done much talking after dinner. We were both so exhausted, so we’d just laid together in bed and fell asleep. Ripley, meanwhile, spent the night next door with Stella, who she had missed so much.
I rolled over to face Boden, and he opened his eyes. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he replied with a tired smile. “I half-expected you to run out on me while I was sleeping.”
I laughed softly. “I won’t do that again.”
“It would’ve really put a damper on our reconciliation,” he agreed.
“Is that what this is?” I asked, putting my hand on his cheek, so his stubble scraped my palm. “A reconciliation?”
“What do you want? Really?” he asked directly.
“I don’t want to be apart from you again, but I still want to see what I can do with Cold Shore. If there’s a chance that I could make this world safer for Fae, for Stella, for everyone… I want to do it.”
“I don’t want to be apart from you, either,” he admitted, putting his hand on top of mine. “But I don’t want you getting exploited or abused again. I do understand and admire your intentions for a better world. So I think the solution is that we go to Cold Shore together. I’ve been a soldier before, so they should have a place for me.”
“What about Stella and Fae?” I asked.
“We’ll talk about it with Stella, and with Edie and Fergus,” he reasoned. “She won’t be alone, no matter where you and I go.”
“And you’re okay with all of that? Is this really what you want?” I asked.
“All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you and make sure that our family is safe.” His expression turned solemn, his eyes imploring. “But you can’t do this again, okay? I know you were scared and hurting, but you can’t just go running away from me like that. I chased after you this time, but I won’t do it again.”
“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did,” I reiterated, because it was all I could do. “I won’t do it again.”
He smiled and kissed the palm of my hand. “So what now?”
My stomach rumbled and answered for me. “Now we get some breakfast and figure out what to do next.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He squeezed my hand once more before letting go. With a contended sigh, I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Boden sat up and stretched his arms above his head, blinking away the last traces of sleep.
He offered me a soft smile as we stood together. “Oh, but there is one more thing.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pair of simple silver bands – a larger one for him, a smaller one for me.
“Are those our rings?” I asked, tears filling my eyes as I remembered when Boden had first obtained them. It had been the winter after my brother died, and he’d wanted something tangible that bound us.
“Yeah, I brought them in case…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure.
“Thank you.” I closed the distance between us. He slid the ring on my finger, and I slid the ring on his. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed me deeply and wrapped his arms around me.
With the morning light filtering through the window, we readied ourselves for the day ahead. Boden rummaged through his bag for a cleaner shirt while I quickly brushed the tangles from my hair and pulled on my boots. We exchanged quiet smiles and a few whispered words, and I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed him.
We headed out of the inn, and we were walking down the boardwalk when Boden pointed to a young man in faded coveralls. “Is that one of the Cold Shore guards there?”
The logo on his arm – the drop of blood over the earth – was the dead giveaway that he worked at the outpost, but I didn’t recognize him. Over the past weeks, I had the displeasure of getting familiar with the guards that worked the watch tower, like Stensrud and a few others, but this one I had never seen before.
“I think so, but I don’t know him,” I said.
“Maybe he’ll be more helpful than the others,” Boden suggested.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”
As I approached him, I called out, “Excuse me. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He glanced around uncertainly, but he stopped and offered a perplexed smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been trying to get into Cold Shore for ARK testing, or at least just talk to someone, but the guards at the gate have been giving me the run around,” I explained.
He nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that’s what they do. It’s in their training procedures to keep outsiders on the outside.”
“You seem a bit friendlier,” Boden commented.
“I’m more of a courier, so I get to be,” he replied with a smile.
“So, can you help us?” I asked.
“I can take down your names and talk to my superiors, but I don’t really have any sway in who is let in and who is sent away.” He reached into the pocket of his overalls, pulling out a small notebook and pencil.
“Well that’s more than the other guards did, I guess,” I said. “My name is Remy King.”
His pencil was poised over the paper, but he froze and looked up at me in disbelief. “Remy King? Seriously?”
“Yes… why do you sound so shocked?”
He looked over at Boden. “You wouldn’t happen to be Max King, would you?”
“What? No.” Boden narrowed his eyes at him. “Why would you ask that?”
“How do you know who Max is?” I demanded. “How do you know me?”
“Sorry.” He shoved his notepad back into his pocket, and he held out his hand like he meant for us to shake it. “My name is Dmitry Popov, and my father has been studying your blood at Cold Shore for years now. So yeah, I think we can find a place for you.”
