For starters, I'd like to thank those of you who've commented and favorited my story. I apologize that it's taken me so long to post a new chapter, but I've had some unforeseen health issues and such come up. I hope to continue the story with more frequent updates. Please continue to offer your reviews and commentary; I greatly appreciate your feedback!
The others are gathering around the fire as Mom and I crest the rise. I hear the distant chatter of voices before I glimpse Coral playfully threatening to hurl an egg at Hunter, who brandishes a battered cast iron pan in self-defense. Grace sits quietly at the periphery of the circle made by our tents, sketching lines in the sand with a twig. Coral spots me as she crests the rise, raises her hand in greeting, and smiles.
Looking at her now, I feel a stab of guilt that I was ever hostile toward her. We've worked side by side these last few weeks, and with the absence of Alex as a source of tension between us, at some point I stopped seeing her as my enemy. She is unfailingly cheerful to the lot of us, even given our less-than-ideal circumstances, and she's attentive and patient with Grace, for which I am tremendously grateful.
"Give it over, Hunter," she says as we approach. "Tack's not a pleasant person to be around when he's hungry, and unless I get started now, breakfast won't be ready before he gets here.
"You scrambled the eggs too hard last time," Hunter protests, holding the pan over his head and out of reach as Coral jumps for it. In his efforts to foil her, however, he's failed to notice me striding up behind him, and I seize the opportunity to lunge for his arm and wrest the pan from his grasp.
"Hey!" he gripes as I relinquish the skillet to Coral, who flashes me a grateful smirk before turning away to the task at hand.
"I'm hungry, too, you know," I say, kneeling by the pit to set about reviving the fire.
The sun has drifted higher now, dappling our campsite with a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. As I pass into the clearing from under the shelter of the trees, it warms my skin, chasing away a chill I never knew was there. From the corner of my view, I spot Tack emerging from the trees on the opposite end of the camp, a bundle of kindling in his arms. He trudges toward me, head down, and dumps the load at his feet.
"You should hurry," he says without inflection. "I need to catch up with the others."
"Others?" I ask, and it's only then that I realize that Alex and Julian are conspicuously absent.
"I sent them ahead." He turns and ducks into his tent, and there is the telltale sound of zippers and buckles indicating an impending departure.
I busy myself arranging the kindling, trying not to wonder where they are now, whether the tension between them has boiled over now that they're alone. It takes me three attempts to get it lit, and I find myself utterly annoyed to notice that my hands are trembling. Finally, the spark catches and exhales a breath of black smoke, and I back gratefully away. Coral steps eagerly into my place, cracking eggs and laying out strips of jerky to be warmed. I sink into a chair and Grace skips over to seat herself cross-legged in front of me, assuming the position she has for days on end. I, in turn, reach for her hair and comb my fingers through it, sectioning and weaving it into braids. This is our ritual. This is our morning.
We sit in our circle and eat amiably, a bit of idle chitchat passing between Coral, Hunter, and my mother. Grace picks at her plate and loses interest in her meal early, darting off to chase after a butterfly. Only Tack and I remain silent, and I stare over the makeshift stove at him, but he keeps his gaze downward, refusing to acknowledge me. When his plate is emptied he wipes his lips and rises, reaching for his pack.
"I'm headed out," he announces. "I'll be back in a few days or so."
Coral's head snaps up, distracted from her conversation with Hunter. "Where are you going?"
"To the Crypts," he says, as casually as though he were noting the time of day.
At this, all heads snap up, and Hunter asks the question on everyone's lips. "What for?"
He settles the pack onto his back, squaring his shoulders. "The city is ours now, to regrow and rebuild. We need some answers from the Regulators."
"Where are Alex and Julian?" My mother asks, and I'm grateful I didn't have to be the one to say it.
"I need them with me," he says simply. "I need all the men I can get."
The statement hangs in the air, and no one dares look at Hunter. The awkward silence lingers until it grows stale, and Tack is, at long last, the one who breaks it.
"One of us will be back in a few days, or we'll send word."
No one responds, and I can't help but ask as he starts up the path that leads into the city.
"The Regulators. What makes you so sure they'll give you the answers you're looking for?"
He hesitates only a moment, and doesn't turn to face us. It might be my imagination, but I think I hear the brief crack in his voice, the reminder of what he's lost amid his steely resolve.
"They will if they value their lives."
