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Circe's Isle
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DAY 35
As the sky gradually grew light outside the windows of the remodeled classroom, Kurt lay awake with his mind going in circles like an eddying wind. He cycled repeatedly through guilt, then fear, then guilt again, but couldn't follow any productive line of thought. He still knew far too little about Nazareth to make any kind of concrete escape plan, and he had absolutely no idea how to get Santana and Dani out of the police station. Worse still, he had a feeling that saying with indifference that his father was dead had jinxed him, and Kurt couldn't help envisioning over and over arriving home only to find Burt's corpse rotting in an upstairs bedroom.
Beams of soft sunlight broke through the treetops outside and roused the others sleeping in the room. Mack and Javi stretched with half-asleep grumbles and began putting on their boots, while the blond boy sat on his cot and yawned, pulling at his ruffled hair. Kurt awkwardly followed suit, feeling like he wasn't supposed to be there and not knowing if there was a particular routine he should be following.
The blond boy waved at him, speaking through what was probably his third yawn in as many minutes. "I'm Toby," he said sleepily as he put on a fresh shirt from the tiny bureau.
"Kyle," said Kurt.
"Come on," Mack jerked his head in the direction of the door.
Kurt stood and followed Mack out of the classroom and down the hall, leaving Javi and Toby to finish getting ready. There were a few other people trickling out of adjacent rooms on both ends of the school. Walking out the door and into the direct sunlight made Kurt squint and shield his eyes. "Where are we going?" Kurt asked.
"The church. We need breakfast."
Kurt didn't feel hungry, but he knew he should probably eat again. He didn't want to get too used to having food readily available — if by some miracle he and the girls made it out of Nazareth, he knew food would become immediately scarce again.
The church's white steeple and roof shone brilliantly in the already-bright morning. Nobody was working in the gardens quite yet, but Kurt was surprised to see three water stations off to the side of the church that he hadn't noticed yesterday. These were not drinking stations, however, and the handful of people already there were bathing — actually bathing! A makeshift shower had been constructed at each station, with repurposed garden hoses and buckets propped up high to create water pressure. Granted, there would be no heated water, but it was more than Kurt had had since leaving New York, and he couldn't feel anything but excitement when he saw that each station had a bottle or two of shampoo.
Mack saw him eyeing the people washing. "You want to shower first?"
"Yes," Kurt answered emphatically.
Mack cracked a smile. "Go on, I'll meet you inside."
Kurt left Mack's side without a second thought, making a beeline for the showers and stripping off his shirt as he went. He scrubbed the buildup of dirt and oil from his hair, his armpits, and everywhere else he could reach, relishing in the smell of real soap and the feeling of his skin finally being able to breathe again. The cold water sent shivers down to his toes and thoroughly woke him up, and he barely noticed the other people using the showers alongside him. He shook the water from his hair when he was done, standing in the sunshine for a minute to warm up a bit before pulling on his shirt again. With clothing sticking to his damp skin, he finally went inside.
In the church, there were already a few dozen people eating breakfast. Which, as Kurt quickly discovered, wasn't much different from what he'd eaten the day before. There were no eggs or bacon or cereal, but instead the same venison alongside potatoes and the same unleavened flatbread as yesterday. The main difference was that on the long table in the apse, next to the bread were a few jars of Edna McCready's jams. Kurt quirked an eyebrow at that; apparently, the food he and the girls had been carrying were being distributed to the masses. It wasn't the worst use of stolen goods, he had to say, but it still irked him.
He sat at a table with Mack and ate halfheartedly, still somewhat full from yesterday. At one point Javi and Toby joined them, and the three of them joked and idly chatted, as though they'd completely forgotten that just a few days earlier Kurt had been dragged here by force with a bag over his head and his hands tied behind his back. Kurt couldn't quite bring himself to join in the conversation, even if it would help him blend in.
When they were done, Mack said something along the lines of heading out to "work on the aqueduct" and Javi beckoned Kurt to follow him. Javi was much less chatty than Mack, and didn't attempt to get Kurt to talk at all as he led him out of the church and down a street away from the town center. Still, Kurt's curiosity got the better of him and he asked if Mack had been serious about the aqueduct.
Javi nodded. "Yeah. We can only have people carrying the water for so long," he said, as though it was obvious. "Having the water come to us will make everything a lot easier."
After passing through several blocks, they reached the fence near the main entrance. Stretching along the fence was a barricade of abandoned cars, staffed with a few armed guards spaced out along the perimeter and standing atop the line of vehicles so as to have a high vantage point. Right up to the edge of the line of cars, was a long and narrow expanse of freshly tilled soil. Already there were several people working, carrying bags and gardening tools and planting seeds for (presumably) vegetables. Others still were carrying the same lidded white buckets Kurt had seen yesterday, bringing water to the gardeners.
A short, pot-bellied man in a sweaty, dirt-streaked t-shirt nodded to Javi in greeting. He was manning a large wheelbarrow laden with lumpy cloth sacks, marking notes down on a clipboard as he surveyed the gardeners through his sunglasses. "This the new kid?" he asked as Javi and Kurt approached.
"Kyle, this is Bruce," said Javi with a half-interested introductory wave.
Bruce didn't seem to care. He hefted a sack out of the wheelbarrow and pushed it into Kurt's arms. "Here you go," was all he said.
Kurt's legs nearly buckled under the sudden unexpected weight, and he struggled to keep from dropping the sack.
Bruce pointed to a woman on her knees in the dirt nearest the barricade, digging small holes with her fingers. "Jessica will show you what we're doing."
"Are you working here too?" Kurt asked Javi.
Javi shook his head. "Nah, I'm on guard duty at the armory," he said, already turning to leave.
Kurt blinked. "There's an armory?"
Javi didn't hear him, and went back the way they'd come.
Bruce raised his eyebrows over the rims of his shades. "Go on," he urged, jerking his head in Jessica's direction.
Kurt did as instructed, more than a little annoyed that they seemed to continuously hand him off from person to person. He didn't at all enjoy feeling constricted and overly monitored, and wasn't at all certain that he'd manage to find a gap in their system big enough to slip through.
"No!" gasped Jessica in exasperation when he walked over and set the sack down on the ground.
Kurt flinched, instantly looking down at his feet for something he might have been stepping on.
"Pick that up, will you?!"
Kurt lifted the sack again, and she immediately reached over and gently tried to straighten the little sprouts Kurt had accidentally crushed. Instantly, Kurt felt guilty. "I'm so sorry," he said quickly, moving the sack away and making sure to check where he was putting it this time.
Jessica sighed. "It's fine, honestly," she said, though it really sounded like it wasn't. "They'll be okay." She sat back on her heels, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She was plump and pretty, apart from the various streaks of dirt on her face and arms, and had her dark hair pulled up and away from her face. "Who are you?"
"Kyle," he answered. "They just said I should work with you for now."
"Right, you're the guy they brought in a few days ago," she said.
Kurt shrugged. Brought in seemed like a pretty tame way to describe a kidnapping, but he wasn't about to argue.
"So what are we doing?" Kurt asked, kneeling across from Jessica and inwardly moaning over having to get dirty again. After all, he'd literally just showered.
Jessica yanked open the top of the sack, and a pile of cut tubers spilled out. "Starting a potato crop."
"Santana?"
Santana sat on the floor in the corner of the cell, picking at a patch of peeling plaster on the cell wall. It had started as just a crack in the paint, and was now expanded to the size of a basketball. Little flakes lay scattered on the floor around her feet like confetti.
"Santana."
She flinched, looking up. Dani sat cross-legged on the cot, staring at Santana with an expression that was unnervingly worried.
"I called you three times," Dani said.
"I didn't hear you."
Dani only looked even more concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I guess." Santana shrugged, feeling sluggish. Like she was swimming in molasses. She leaned her head against the wall and went back to picking at the paint. The angry pain in her stomach from not eating had faded into a distant ache. She took fitful naps, barely staying awake at all but still only sleeping for ten or twenty minutes at a time. She briefly wondered if this was anything like what Rachel had felt like before she'd died.
"Do you think they're going to feed us?" asked Dani.
Santana didn't answer. Her hand dropped into her lap, her eyelids heavy.
"Santana."
"Hm?"
Dani chewed on her lip, toying with her shoelace. "I think we need to say yes."
Santana let an exhausted, hollow laugh escape her chest. "Right."
"Santana, joining them is the only way we're going to make it out of here."
"Dani," Santana said softly, feeling so heavy that she might melt into the wall at any second. "There's no point. They have armed guards, barbed wire… If we tried to get out, they'd just kill us."
Dani glared at Santana, her eyes piercing. "If it's between dying in this cell, or dying trying to make it out, then I choose the second option," she said coldly. "There's not much of a choice anyway."
"And how far do you think you're really going to make it?" Santana asked. "We haven't eaten in days. We can't outrun anyone."
Dani brushed a tear from her eye, her jaw clenching. "Santana, I love you, but you're making the worst decision of your life."
Santana smiled sleepily. "You never said 'I love you' before."
"Don't change the subject. If you're going to just give up, then you don't give a crap about me, or Kurt, or Rachel—"
Santana's eyes darkened. "What the hell does Rachel have to do with any of this? She's dead."
Dani swallowed, chewing on her lower lip. "If you're not going to push forward for yourself, do it for her. She died trying to make it home. The least you could do is try as hard as she did."
"Maybe I'd rather stay here than get killed after joining a group that murders anyone who disagrees with them," Santana seethed.
"It wouldn't be real, Santana!" Dani argued.
"It'd be real enough."
Dani almost looked hurt at that, but through the fog clouding the back of Santana's brain, she couldn't be entirely sure. It was quiet for several minutes, apart from the sound of Dani picking at her fingernails. When Dani finally spoke, she refused to look anywhere but at the concrete floor, and her voice shook with fury.
"If you die in here, I will never forgive you."
The sun beat down on the back of Kurt's neck, sweat dripping from his forehead. The feeling of being clean after the shower had been so brief, much to Kurt's lament, and now his hands and knees were covered in dirt. Hopefully he'd have another opportunity to bathe before the end of the day, but he wasn't counting on it. His back already ached from being hunched over, and his nails were caked deep with soil.
Jessica was nice, if a little overly focused on the task at hand, and didn't seem all that interested in making small talk. She had given him a small knife and instructed him to cut the potatoes into chunks, making sure that each piece had an eye, and plant them one by one in the row. This way, one potato could yield up to a dozen more. At least, that's what Jessica said; Kurt was nowhere near an expert on potato farming.
As they and the other half a dozen gardeners worked, they remained under the ever-vigilant eye of the armed guards patrolling the fence, who seemed to be scrutinizing them just as much as watching for threats from outside the perimeter. Only about a third of the guards were equipped with semi-automatics, while the rest had handguns or even shotguns intended for duck hunting. There weren't as many guards here as he'd seen at the gate when he'd first been brought to Nazareth — only three or four within his range of sight — and if Kurt had to guess, it would be pretty easy to slip between them. The main issue with making a break for it straight through the guards was the barbed wire fence. Even if the guards were entirely absent, Kurt doubted he'd be able to squirm through the barbed wire at all, let alone climb the fence without being shot before he got to the top.
By the time Bruce called for a water break, Kurt was exhausted, and the promise of a few minutes' rest was relief. Jessica stood, brushing the dirt from her knees. The gardeners, Kurt included, all herded toward where Bruce was distributing cups from one of the white water buckets.
"You get one cup," Bruce said to Kurt.
Kurt blinked in surprise. "Seriously?"
"That's the policy until the aqueduct is finished," Jessica interjected, her tone warning Kurt not to argue.
As thirsty as he was, Kurt had the sense to keep his mouth shut.
Jessica jerked her head in the direction of a shady spot under a tree near the sidewalk. "Come on," she said.
They sat on the root-mottled ground at the base of the trunk, cooling off now that they were finally out of the direct sunlight. Kurt sipped his water slowly, trying to make it last as long as possible, and watched a spider crawl up the bark of the tree. Jessica pulled a matchbook and a beaten pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and lit one, leaning back against the tree trunk.
"Where did you come from?" she asked, scratching a bit of dirt from the side of her nose and blowing smoke up toward the branches overhead. The question was forced, as though she only wanted to fill the silence.
"New York."
Jessica's eyebrows shot up, interested for the first time since Kurt had met her. "You walked all the way from New York?" When Kurt nodded, she stared at him for a moment in disbelief before following up with a second question. "What the hell made you want to walk this far?"
Kurt paused, taking a long sip from his cup as he carefully selected a response that would be believable and not make her think he was trying to escape. "The city was a death trap," he said. Simple and straightforward, not to mention true. "People were looting, killing each other… I figured the further away from the city, the better my chances were."
Jessica sighed, watching a robin hop through the grass a few feet away. She tapped ashes onto the roots by her shoes. "I'm sure you're right."
She went quiet, and Kurt finished off the contents of his cup. By the time he noticed that she'd started crying, Bruce was calling for the gardeners to restart their work.
"Um… are you okay?" inquired Kurt, not sure what he could have said to offend her.
Jessica quickly swiped the tears from her cheeks, putting out the cigarette and sticking the remaining half back into the box. "My sister's in New York." She cleared her throat, standing to head back to the garden.
Kurt watched her walk away for a moment before following. Until this moment, it hadn't occurred to him that the people in Nazareth might be just as trapped as he was.
It was hard to stay awake in the cell. Boredom and a lack of food combined into a truly profound lack of energy. Dani had lost all natural sense of time, and found herself checking her watch almost constantly, as if it would make the day go faster. Sometimes she'd look at her wrist and only a few minutes had inched by; other times, hours vanished without so much as a blink. Hunger gnawed at the pit of her stomach, making her head throb and her throat burn.
Santana was fading much faster than Dani. Her head lolled intermittently as she fell unreliably in and out of sleep, her eyes glassy and unfocused even when she was awake. She couldn't easily follow a conversation, and Dani had to assume that the only reason Santana was being so goddamn stubborn was because she couldn't think clearly. At least, telling herself that was the only way Dani could keep from being absolutely furious with Santana for apparently giving up.
It was so quiet that Dani heard the front door of the police station slam shut in the distance and footsteps in the hall well before Ennis appeared. The hair on Dani's arms stood erect the moment he entered the room — he scared her much more than anyone else she'd met. This time, though, he hadn't brought his bat. Instead, Ennis was carrying a sandwich on a plate and a large glass of water.
Dani eyed the plate suspiciously, already salivating. Santana lifted her head at the sound of Ennis unlocking the cell.
"So you're feeding us now?" said Dani.
Ennis set the plate on the cot next to Dani and the water glass on the floor where it wouldn't tip over. "The whole point of this is to give you a choice. No sense in letting you starve to death before you make that choice."
Santana laughed — a thready, hollow chuckle. "As if we actually have a choice here."
Ennis gave her a stony cold look. "You do, and you should make the right one."
"Go to hell," Santana spat, sagging against the wall.
"See how far that attitude gets you." Ennis turned and stepped back out of the cell, locking the door shut behind him. "And just so you know, there's a lot more where that came from," he added, gesturing to the plate of food.
Dani very nearly opened her mouth to tell Ennis that she was ready to join. But she couldn't leave Santana in here, all alone and resigning to die. Besides, she didn't really know what was waiting for her if she did say yes. Maybe this was all a game and they'd really been kidnapped to provide some sort of warped entertainment for the people of Nazareth. Maybe Kurt had been killed after all and they'd dumped his body somewhere Dani and Santana would never find even if they did escape.
Ennis left the room, the door swinging shut behind him.
Dani stared at the sandwich, if it could be called that. It was two pieces of something that barely passed for bread with unrecognizable shredded meat in the middle, seeping juice onto the plate. It didn't look all that appetizing, but Dani didn't care, her stomach screaming for her to grab it and practically swallow it whole. It was more food than Dani had seen in weeks, but it still wasn't enough for her and Santana to share.
She looked at Santana, who had closed her eyes again. At that moment, Dani made a split-second decision. She lurched to her feet, ran to the bars and banged on them with her fists. "WAIT!" she shouted. "COME BACK!"
Santana lifted her head and frowned at Dani. "What are you doing?"
"I'm buying us time."
The sound of footsteps coming back towards the cell room echoed down the corridor. "Please don't do this," Santana begged, lacking the energy to argue. "Don't leave."
Dani drew a breath, hoping she'd made the right choice. "I'll come back for you," she whispered just before Ennis came back through the door.
"What do you want?" he said.
Dani gripped the bars, her knuckles white as she tried desperately not to look at the hurt and betrayal written all over Santana's face. "I want to join," she said. "I'm saying yes."
Ennis smiled, a smug, self-satisfied smirk, and unlocked the cell door.
"Dani, please," Santana cried, her voice small and thready.
Dani swallowed, took a page from Kurt's book, and ignored her.
Ennis brought Dani down the hall, leading her into Nick's office once again. Nick sat behind his desk, poring over a haphazard pile of engineering books. A handful of titles jumped out at Dani: Water Mechanics Made Simple, Irrigating Your Way To Healthier Crops, and Constructing By Hand: Old-Fashioned Carpentry. All of them seemed new, like Nick had raided a Barnes & Noble only recently, but were already extensively dog-eared and bookmarked. Nick was so deeply engrossed in The Drought-Resistant Farm that it took Ennis loudly clearing his throat to make him realize there was anyone else in the room.
"Oh," he said, putting the book down.
Ennis steered Dani forward with a firm grip on her shoulder and directed her to sit in one of the chairs across from Nick's desk. "She said yes."
Nick looked Dani up and down in a way that made her uncomfortable. She didn't know what was going through Nick's mind, but she didn't like being so closely examined. It was as though he was measuring her up for a very specific purpose, like he was selecting just the right tool for a particular task.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Dani."
"Full name."
"Dani Mitchell."
Nick pulled a note-riddled legal pad from underneath A Guide To Crop Rotation: Utilizing Your Soil. He flipped to a fresh page and began to write down everything Dani told him.
"Any health problems?"
Dani blinked, wondering if Kurt had been asked the same questions. "Like what?"
"Anything you think is significant."
Dani frowned, not sure that she and Nick would consider the same things significant. "No."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"And your friend who's still in the cell. How old is she?"
Something tugged at the pit of Dani's stomach, not liking the fact that Nick was already interested in Santana. "Twenty," she answered.
"And what are your skills?"
Dani swallowed. This was a test, and she had no idea what was required to pass.
Nick immediately sensed her confusion. "Anything you can do that would lend itself to the community, I need to know about," he specified.
"I grew up hunting," Dani replied, feeling a pang of sadness as a memory of traipsing through the woods with her father flashed through the back of her mind. Hunting had been one of the only things her dad enjoyed doing with her in tow.
Nick's eyes sparked at that. "So you know your way around a gun?"
"Just hunting rifles, and only a couple of models," Dani elaborated. "My dad liked his Rugers."
After Nick noted the new information, he opened his mouth to ask her another question but was sidetracked mid-syllable, his eyes drawn to Dani's wrist. "Your watch is working," he said, watching the second hand tick.
Dani almost laughed at him. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. "It's a wind-up. Family heirloom."
"Ah." Nick tugged on his earlobe, trying to rediscover his train of thought. "Your friend," he started again. "Does she know how to hunt as well?"
Dani shook her head. "She's never held a gun." As she watched him mark it down, it suddenly occurred to Dani that not knowing how to hunt would make Santana less valuable and more disposable. She quickly amended her answer. "But she volunteered at a hospital for a few years. She knows First Aid. And she's tough. She's gotten us out of a couple of scrapes."
Ennis scoffed behind her. "She didn't seem that tough."
"She's just stubborn," Dani insisted, glaring at Ennis over her shoulder. "She'll come around."
"I guess we'll see about that in a couple of days," Nick interjected diplomatically. He opened the top drawer of his desk. "By the way… I found this in your backpack. Figured you'd want it back."
Dani's heart skipped. Nick was holding the photograph that Kurt had pulled from Rachel's hand when she'd died. Rachel's eighth birthday party, complete with balloons and cake and more than a few creases from being kept in a pocket instead of a frame. Dani very nearly reached out to take it, but something nagged at the back of her skull. She distinctly remembered the photo being packed in Kurt's bag, not hers.
Was this a test? Or a genuine gesture of good will?
There was a very real possibility that Nick didn't know whose pack was whose and was just trying to return a keepsake to its owner. If Dani didn't take it, he might throw the photo away and they'd lose any chance of giving it back to Rachel's parents. On the other hand… if she admitted she knew the person in the photo and Nick knew it had come from Kurt's backpack, their lie would be out in the open.
She decided to err on the side of caution. "You found that in my bag?" she said, feigning confusion.
Nick nodded, still holding the photo out for her to take.
"It's not mine. I don't know who that is."
"No?"
Dani shrugged. "Maybe you got our bags mixed up?" she suggested. "I'd check with Kyle."
"Hm," Nick said thoughtfully, studying the image of eight-year-old Rachel grinning in front of her birthday cake with frosting on her nose. He paused, then tucked the photo back into his desk drawer. He stood, hitching up his jeans. "How about we get you something to eat?"
She sighed, relief flooding her veins. "Yes, please."
"I'm glad you agreed to join. You made the right decision."
Dani's reply was uncalculated and truthful. "I hope you're right."
Santana wasn't able to cry for more than a minute or so before her body couldn't produce any more tears. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had anything to drink, but was fairly certain it was before she'd been thrown into the cell. Was it four days now? Or five? She didn't even know how long a human being could reasonably last without water. She felt shriveled up and her skin was stretched taut over her joints, like she was rotting from the inside out.
So as soon as Dani and Ennis were gone, Santana crawled across the floor with as much energy as she could muster. She seized the glass of water Ennis had left and began to drink in huge greedy gulps. Water dribbled down her chin. Having liquid on her throat felt so good that Santana's eyes rolled back in her head as she drank, taking desperate gasps for air between swallows. The glass was empty far too soon, and Santana sat with her back leaning against the edge of the cot, breathing hard and waiting for her stomach to adjust to the shock of being hydrated. A painful cramp spread from her belly, and she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and willed herself to breathe through it.
By the time the cramp faded, the smell of food was tickling her nose and the pain in her stomach had changed to screeching hunger, violently clawing through her gut and up her throat. Santana shakily hoisted herself to sit on the cot, her heart thudding and her hands trembling. Her body was no longer asleep and every cell from the skin of her fingertips down to the marrow of her bones felt as though they were practically vibrating, screaming for the starvation to end.
The only thing that gave her any pause at all was the fleeting thought that the food might be poisoned, that her captors might have decided she wasn't worth the effort and this might be the quickest way to dispose of her. But she didn't care. Not in the slightest.
She tore into the sandwich with an animalistic fervor, feeling like a freshly-awakened zombie. Her teeth ground the meat and bread to a pulp, her esophagus burning with the effort as she swallowed real, solid food for the first time in weeks. It was unseasoned and tough, and she bit into her own tongue by mistake more than once. Her jaw quickly grew sore — she hadn't had practice chewing anything, really, since their supplies from New York had run out.
The pain in her stomach started again as it strained to accommodate the sudden onslaught, but she barely registered the discomfort. Little bits of meat fell out of the sandwich and onto the plate; she picked them up and licked the juice from her fingers, frantically absorbing every last calorie.
Selfishly, she was glad Dani wasn't here and she didn't have to leave any of it for her. If there had been any room in Santana's brain to think of anything other than food, she probably would have felt guilty at the thought.
Eating was satisfying but exhausting work, and by the end of the meal Santana felt her eyelids already drooping. She moved the plate, clean of every last crumb, to the floor just underneath the cot so that it was out of the way. Laying down and tucking her legs close to her body, she felt a wave of cold course over her as if all her limited energy was drawing away from her extremities and concentrating inwards, toward her very center. She shivered and yawned.
Within seconds, Santana had plunged into a sleep so deep and blissful and dreamless that it was as close to death as she had ever been.
Kurt was thoroughly drenched with sweat, his knees and shins covered in streaks of dirt, and hunger was beginning to creep into his stomach again. He and Jessica had finished planting several long rows of potatoes by early afternoon, and Kurt was thoroughly exhausted already. When Bruce announced that it was time for lunch, Kurt nearly cried in relief. He wiped his forehead on the back of his arm, fairly certain that he'd just rubbed more dirt onto his face. He fell in line beside Jessica, herding along with the rest of the gardeners back toward the church.
As they walked, they passed dozens of people carrying white water buckets to various stations around the town. A handful more stood washing loads of laundry by hand in large barrels full of soapy water, clotheslines strung up between the trees punctuating the sidewalks. Many of the storefronts had been emptied, as Kurt had observed the day before, but as they got closer to the church he saw that several had been converted into apartments instead — large storefront windows revealed home furniture and lived-in space, rather than retail racks or cashier counters.
Only one building stood out from the rest, two blocks before they reached the church. The entrance was a large door set above a few concrete stairs, where two guards armed with semi-automatics were stationed. The sign above the door read HAMILTON ARMS COMPANY, with a logo of two crossed rifles. One guard noticed Kurt staring, and his hand tightened on his gun.
"Is that the armory?" Kurt asked Jessica.
She nodded.
"Makes sense, having it in a gun shop." Kurt glanced one more time at the guards, then kept his gaze forward. "Is it guarded all the time?"
"Yeah, twenty-four-seven. Nick monitors gun usage pretty closely. We can't waste bullets and it's not a good idea for everybody to be armed."
"Smart," Kurt said, making a note of the armory's location in relation to the church. His mental map of Nazareth was slowly becoming more and more clear.
This was the first time Kurt had approached the church from the rear. On the grass directly behind the building were four large mismatched grills, manned by a handful of people cooking. The grills looked like they'd been taken from the average suburban backyard, but were being used to prepare more than just meat — vegetables, bread, and various pots and pans sat on the coals. The fragrance of food hung in the air around the church like a heavy mist, and Kurt found his stomach rumbling again.
The church was already half-full of people digging into their midday meals, and for a moment it almost felt like Kurt had just walked back into the NYADA cafeteria. Dozens gathered at tables to eat and talk, laughter punctuating conversations and rising up to the vaulted ceiling. It was loud. Kurt had honestly forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by so much noise.
He filled a plate with food from the table in the apse and sat with Jessica at a table off to the western side of the church, the afternoon sun casting little splashes of color across the table through the stained glass window overhead.
"Do you work in the gardens every day?" asked Kurt as he tore into a piece of bread.
"Most days," Jessica replied through a half-chewed mouthful. "I work on the aqueduct sometimes. It depends on what's needed."
It felt shockingly normal to be having a casual conversation over a meal in a room full of people, and Kurt's shoulders relaxed as he settled into the comfort of being somewhere that, amazingly, felt safe.
"This aqueduct," he asked, because he was genuinely curious, "how much further does it have to go before it's finished?"
"It's halfway. I'm looking forward to it being done so we can free up some more hands to help with the crops." Jessica bit noisily into a carrot. "Most of the systems we have right now are temporary solutions until we get the aqueduct finished. Once we get a steady water supply, we can worry about everything else."
"Was that Nick's decision?"
"Nick and the rest of the precinct, yeah."
Kurt paused in thought. "Mack and Javi — are they cops?"
"Yeah. Well, former cops now, I guess."
"What about Julie and Toby?"
"Julie was too," Jessica nodded. "Toby's just a kid, though. All he could talk about before he graduated last year was joining the police academy. He volunteered after half the police department died in the blackout."
Kurt chewed silently for a moment. "You lost a lot of people here, then?"
Jessica shrugged with one shoulder. "No more than most places, I guess." She moved the food around her plate idly with her fork, suddenly seeming reluctant to eat. "What did New York look like when you left?"
Kurt watched her, knowing she was hoping for a chance — any chance — that her sister was okay. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Tell me," she said, which didn't really answer the question.
Taking perhaps a little too long to chew his last bite, Kurt decided not to tell her about the pack of hyenas that had escaped from the zoo. "Food was gone within a week," he said, clearing his throat. "There was a lot of looting. Dead people in the streets."
"Do you think a lot of people made it?"
Kurt sighed, having nothing truthfully optimistic to report. "I think if they could turn the entirety of Central Park into a farm like you've done here, they might have a chance."
She was quiet, pushing the rest of her food around her plate with her fork.
"Jess, why don't you go look for your sister?"
"I've thought about it." Jess shook her head, swallowing. "But my mother is here, and she's too old to travel. Besides, haven't you seen what we're doing? This town is the best chance we have."
"Well, why couldn't you go find her and then come back?"
Jessica huffed, anger seeping into her voice. "You really think Nick would let me back in the gate?"
Kurt paused in confusion. "He wouldn't?"
"You can't contribute if you're not here, and if you can't contribute, you're not a part of any of this."
"That's insane. This is your home."
Her eyes bore into Kurt's. "Kyle, you can't be so naive to think that any of this is built from sentimentality."
Kurt pulled on an overgrown lock of hair behind his ear, suddenly feeling like the people around him were eavesdropping. He lowered his voice. "I know it's about surviving," he said. "I just don't get how Nick really expects this whole join-or-die strategy to work. I mean, there must be people who aren't on board with all this."
"That's not his strategy," said Jess bluntly.
"What?"
She put her fork down and leaned forward conspiratorially. "If they ran into you and just invited you to join, would you?"
"No."
"Of course not. Nick's aim is to get you inside, and make you see how much we have to offer. Protection, resources, expertise, jobs . You won't make it out there. And even if you do make it back home, what the hell are you even going to do? "
Kurt frowned, shaking his head. "That's not the point."
"Yes, it is. I don't agree with the method any more than you do, but this is the safest option. It's the only option."
Over Jessica's shoulder, Kurt saw the door to the church swing open, and Ennis and Nick walked in. A skinny, dirty, shaking figure followed behind them, and the breath rushed from Kurt's chest as he realized it was Dani. She had said yes. While Kurt knew he would not be able to run over and greet her without arousing Nick's suspicion of them, at the very least she wouldn't be starving away in a cell in the meantime.
Jess twisted in her chair to follow his gaze, watching Dani sit at a table in the corner with Nick and Ennis. "Look, Kyle," she said as she turned her attention back to Kurt. "Nick doesn't actually give two shits about you."
"I know that."
"No, I mean you specifically," Jessica insisted. She dropped her voice almost to a whisper. "He's using you to get to the girls."
The pit of Kurt's stomach dropped. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Haven't you noticed there's way more men here than women?"
Kurt swallowed, feeling sick. To what fate had he subscribed them by his act of desperation? "Is… is he keeping them somewhere?"
"What?" Jess blinked. "No. No, I meant that when Nick and the rest of the precinct took over, a lot of people left town, and most of them were women."
Kurt frowned, surveying the crowd of people enjoying their lunches. Five out of six were men, and Kurt felt more profoundly aware of the ratio than ever before. "Why?"
Jessica shrugged. "I don't know. I think overall women are less likely to put up with this martial law crap."
"You're still here."
"I told you, my mother's here. I'm not leaving her. Otherwise…" Jess didn't bother to finish the sentence.
Kurt watched Dani greedily attack a plate at Nick and Ennis' table, hoping Santana would be able to hold out just a little longer in the cell.
"My point is that Nick wants your friends to join," Jess continued. "He's not desperate for people — he's desperate for women. His goal is to build a city, and you can't do that if the population isn't balanced. If the girls hadn't been with you, he'd have gotten rid of you."
"Are you sure about that?" Kurt had to ask.
Jess gave him a look that seemed to say oh, come on. "Kyle, all due respect, but you don't have anything to offer this place. You don't know how to hunt, or farm, or shoot."
"Neither do my friends."
"They can still contribute to the population."
Kurt made a face at the thought. "Well, the joke's on Nick, because they're together."
Jess was unfazed. "They can still have children. You're disposable. They're not."
Dani was out of breath as she finished her meal, having been more desperate for food than oxygen, and she sat back to slowly savor the large glass of water that Ennis had brought for her. She wasn't sure what their after-lunch plan for her was, but she was determined to make this last as long as possible.
"Can I ask something?" Dani said, making both Nick and Ennis look up from their own plates.
Nick raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Why are you so keen on people joining you? You've already got hundreds of people here. Don't you think that might be enough?"
Nick's mouth twitched, and he combed his fingers through his beard. "If we only had, say, twenty people? Wouldn't have to worry. Small groups work well together; they communicate and share labor equally. This many is too big to manage."
Dani blinked, not sure of his meaning. "So… you need more people because you have too many?"
"Delegation is the key to running a city. And with a community this size, there is a massive amount of resources that need to be brought in, managed, and distributed. We don't have delivery trucks coming in every Monday any more, and most of the people here don't have any skills that would lend to survival on their own. Ultimately, cities are built on two things: labor and social cooperation. Those are what we need most."
"And you just kill anybody who doesn't agree with that?" Dani was unable to entirely keep herself from sounding bitter.
Nick leaned back in his seat, draping one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap. "People are panicky, aggressive animals when they're frightened," he said levelly. "You can't expect that aggression to not go anywhere, and if you don't give them something to target, they'll end up taking it out on each other. Nothing unites a group as quickly or efficiently as a common threat."
Dani swallowed, the back of her neck prickling. So it boiled down to propaganda. That's what kept the fences up and the residents inside. She supposed that the threat wasn't entirely invented from nothing, but it was certainly exaggerated.
"Do you know what the population of Nazareth was before the blackout?" asked Nick.
Dani shook her head, unclear on how the question was relevant.
"We had almost five thousand people," said Ennis.
"Seriously?" Dani asked, surprised.
"What you see isn't the whole town," Nick explained. "We've cordoned off this neighborhood to house the people that are left. You can't manage people when they're scattered over too big an area."
"What's the population now?"
"Just about three hundred."
Dani paused. "…You lost four and a half thousand people?"
Nick pulled his fingers through his hair. "A lot of them died in the blackout. I mean, you've seen the damage it caused — cars crashed, elevators fell, airplanes… We must have lost at least a thousand just that first night. Most of the injuries people got if they did survive weren't treatable, and we started losing hundreds more a few days later. And then the food and water ran out. People were killing each other over a box of crackers."
He sniffed then, swallowing like he was fighting the urge to cry. Dani wasn't sure if it was a genuine display or just an act to earn her sympathy.
"Ennis and I, we convinced the rest of the precinct that we had to keep order. Set up new systems with new rules. Most people chose not to stay."
Dani glanced at Ennis, but he didn't seem to have anything to add, instead solemnly listening to Nick's speech. "How many people have died since you took over?" she asked.
"Just a few," Nick answered, and it did sound honest. "Sickness or injury, mostly. People work together now — we're setting up farming stations, we've got an aqueduct halfway to completion from the nearest river, we've got a couple dozen people who know how to hunt… People need jobs to do and rules to follow so they don't go crazy. Organization is the key to survival."
Dani sighed, reluctantly agreeing with Nick's final point. "That makes a lot of sense." At the very least, Nick's philosophy explained why his plan was effective. Dani looked around the room, her heart skipping when she spotted Kurt several tables away. He was talking with a brunette who had her back to Dani, and even though it had only been a day since she'd seen him, Kurt already looked much better. At the very least, he was cleaner, and the circles underneath his eyes weren't so prominent.
Before she realized it, Dani found herself wondering whether staying here really would be the worst thing. Protection, food, water, a roof and a bed… all things that she hadn't even thought about losing until just over a month ago. She didn't take them lightly anymore.
An image flickered in the back of her head of Rachel lying curled and cold at the base of the birch tree, and Dani felt sick. She could chastise Nick and Ennis all she wanted for their brutal approach to strangers, but it wouldn't change the fact that they were already surviving better than anyone else. It was safety versus sentiment, and Dani wasn't certain any longer of which was more important.
The next morning seeped into the town slowly, sticky and humid and oozing into every crack in the pavement without so much as a breeze for relief. A few low-hanging clouds provided momentary shade, but Dani still found herself sweating profusely as she worked. Her first assignment was hard labor, building the aqueduct that stretched southward from the river. She'd marched with the other workers nearly a half mile outside the gate to where the aqueduct sat unfinished. Worry tugged at the back of her head — she hadn't seen Kurt since mealtime at the church the day before, and wasn't sure where he was today.
The aqueduct was a far cry from the Roman aqueducts of old, with their high grand arches and perfectly laid stones. Instead, what Nazareth was building was a structure only a couple of feet off the ground, made of salvaged lumber and PVC pipe. To Dani, who admittedly had limited engineering and plumbing experience, it looked like clumsy work by an undertrained contractor. But at the end of the day it didn't need to look impressive; it simply needed to function.
Flies buzzed and the air was stifling, filled with the banging of hammers and rasping of saws. A man in his forties named Jason was acting as a foreman of sorts, directing the builders as he worked alongside them. Nearby, a steady stream of dozens lugging water buckets flowed past the worksite, following the same path as the aqueduct itself from the river all the way back to town. The water carriers looked like an unbroken line of ants, bringing resources home to the colony before going back for more.
It had not escaped Dani's attention that the aqueduct worksite was unguarded. Unlike the area inside the Nazareth fence, there were no armed gunmen patrolling here and no barbed wire to keep the workers penned in. Neither were the water carriers guarded, and it occurred to Dani more than once that it would be all too easy to run and not be caught. But if she ran now, she'd be leaving Kurt and Santana behind, and after having been fed, clothed, and given a bed Dani wasn't entirely sure she wanted to leave at all.
She was in the middle of hammering a wood plank into place when Jason called for a water break. She quickly finished, then sat down to rest on the edge of the nearest lumber pile, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck. A handful of water carriers broke from the line, and Jason passed out empty cups. Dani closed her eyes against the sun, relishing in the blinding light despite the heat and humidity. After so many days in the cell, she'd not realized how much she missed sunlight.
"Dani."
Her eyes snapped open. Kurt was standing in front of her with a water bucket at his feet.
"Kurt," she said without thinking, her heart leaping.
"Shh," Kurt hissed under his breath. "Here. Drink up." He held out a water cup.
Dani finished its contents in only a few gulps, eyeing the other people taking their water breaks and trying to figure out if they were being watched. Kurt gave her a refill, then filled his own cup.
"Are you okay?" Dani asked.
Kurt shrugged. "My arms are pretty sore from water duty," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the ant line. "Other than that, I'm okay. You?"
"I'm fine."
Kurt stared into the bottom of his cup. "We need to make a run for it."
Dani blanched. "What, now?"
"Of course not," Kurt made a face, finishing off his water. "No, if we go now we'll never get Santana back. Later."
Dani sighed, tugging at the split ends of her freshly-cleaned hair. "Kurt, how the hell are we supposed to do that? All the gates are guarded. And even if they weren't, we'd never be able to climb them. At least, not without shredding ourselves on the barbed wire."
Kurt squinted in the sun at the dozens of workers milling around, checking to see if anyone was listening. "Do you think there's any chance Santana will say yes?"
"No, I don't," Dani replied softly.
"Then we need to find a weak spot. Fast."
"How are we going to get her out of the police station?"
Kurt scratched at the underside of his jaw, his stubble rasping. "We need a distraction."
Dani swallowed, her throat dry and sweat dripping from her temple. "We need more than that, Kurt," she said solemnly. "Santana's starving. It's one thing for her to sit in a cell and do nothing, but if she tries to run with us, she'll pass out. Or worse."
Kurt was silent for several seconds. "I know," he eventually replied. "Any ideas?"
Dani shook her head.
"Ennis is going to take me hunting later."
"Why?"
"I've never shot a gun before. I need to learn."
Dani was quiet for a while, watching the other workers rest and drink. "Kurt, are you sure that running away is a good idea?" she finally asked.
Kurt stared at her. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't you think it might be safest to stay here a while longer? Convince Santana to join? Nick might let me back in the station to talk to her."
She saw Kurt's jaw twitch.
"I mean, they have resources, Kurt. They have food and they're organized. That shouldn't be taken lightly."
Kurt fist tightened at his side, and then Jason called for the end of the break. The workers began to stand back up and stretch. Kurt clamped the lid back onto his water bucket. "I know you don't have a family, Dani," he said quietly. "Santana and I are leaving regardless of what you choose to do."
Dani swallowed, fighting the sudden urge to cry.
"But when we leave, Nick is going to know that all three of us lied. And if you stay, they very well might kill you for that."
Kurt stood there for a moment, waiting for Dani to respond, but she didn't have anything to say. He hefted the bucket back off the ground and went to rejoin the line, only saying "I'll see you later."
Dani stood, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck with her palm, and got back to work with her heart thudding loudly against her ribs.
Kurt sat crouched on the side of a steep hill, shaded by trees and listening to the chitters and melodies of birds overhead. Even under the canopy of the woods the summer heat was stifling, and sweat dripped down his spine and soaked through the back of his shirt. He sat with his feet half-buried in the dead leaves and pine needles carpeting the forest floor, Ennis sitting to his left and Julie to his right. Of the three, Kurt was the only one without a gun. Neither Ennis nor Julie seemed comfortable giving him a gun just yet, and so both of them sat with their rifles laid across their knees and out of Kurt's immediate reach.
He wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there, but Kurt was already bored out of his mind. They were probably three miles from Nazareth and at least a mile from the nearest road. Kurt hadn't been this far from pavement since his dad had tried to take him camping when he was thirteen, and the thought of potentially being lost in the woods made his stomach twist into knots. As much as he hated Ennis, Kurt was at least confident that Ennis knew the way back.
A small click made Kurt look to his right. Julie had opened a tiny makeup mirror from her pocket along with a pair of tweezers and was plucking her eyebrows, her elbows resting on her gun.
"What?" she asked in irritation when she saw him looking.
"Nothing," Kurt said. "You really care that much? I mean, with everything else that's going on?"
"So just because the world went to shit, that means I have to look like Frida Kahlo?"
Kurt almost laughed at that. "I guess not."
"Would you two shut the hell up?" Ennis snapped. "Nothing'll come near us if it can hear you from a mile away."
Kurt shifted, stretching a cramp out of his leg. "What exactly are we waiting for anyways?"
"Anything," Ennis replied helpfully.
Kurt couldn't suppress a roll of his eyes.
Ennis huffed a breath through his nostrils. "Deer, mostly. They're common in this area, and they go by this particular spot pretty often."
"Squirrels will do in a pinch," added Julie.
Kurt stared at her in horror, truly unsure whether she was joking.
Ennis smirked. "Afraid of eating a little rodent?"
"Well, I—" Kurt stammered, wondering if he'd already eaten squirrel at the church without knowing. "I don't know. Just seems gross."
Ennis shrugged, seeming more amused than anything at Kurt's squeamishness. "It's worked for rural Appalachia for centuries. You eat what you can catch."
"I guess." Kurt still shuddered at the thought. He missed his Julia Child cookbook. He missed all of his old comfort foods, his smoothie blender and salad spinner. He missed his microwave. All the pleasures of first-world home cooking seemed like not much more than a fleeting memory.
Ennis' voice took on a more somber tone, and he said, "You'd best get over that soon if you want to live a while longer. You eat what you get, that's that. Or you don't make it long term."
"You're right," said Kurt.
"Honestly, it's a wonder you even made it this far."
Kurt frowned at that. "Excuse me?"
Ennis gave a short, hollow chuckle. "Oh come on, kid. You worked for Vogue. You probably spent your free time ordering fancy coffees and making sure your iPhone was the latest model. You have no skills that will serve you in this kind of world, and the fact that you're still alive is just a fluke."
"Are you saying I deserve to die because I don't know anything about hunting?" retorted Kurt, the hair on his neck bristling.
"I'm saying that if you want people to provide for you for the rest of your life, then your life's going to be very short."
"I don't want people to provide for me."
"Then, son, you'd better learn fast."
Kurt's jaw clacked shut and he fell silent. Neither Julie nor Ennis said anything more, and the air was once again filled with chirps and songs from the birds flitting between the trees above. A soft breeze finally blew through the woods, the first breath of wind since yesterday. The leaves whispered overhead. The trees creaked. Abruptly Kurt's nose caught a whiff of decay — something had died not too far away. A chipmunk skittered across the forest floor a few yards to Kurt's left, then disappeared down a tiny hole at the base of a maple.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Kurt was fighting off another cramp in his foot by the time Ennis perked up, his hands tightening around the shotgun. "Hear that?" Ennis said under his breath.
Kurt listened, and with a little strain his ears picked up an odd half-screech half-yelp, coming from somewhere to the right behind the trees. It was quickly followed by a series of chirping warbles, and then another screech.
Julie smiled for the first time since Kurt had met her. "Turkeys!" she whispered excitedly.
Ennis shushed her, then without warning pressed his shotgun into Kurt's hands. "Now's your chance, kiddo," he hissed.
Kurt's heart skipped. He'd never held a gun before, and certainly not one as large as this. The metal was surprisingly warm, having been sitting in Ennis' lap for hours, and the gun was heavier than Kurt had expected. It felt like something he shouldn't have touched.
"First lesson," Ennis said, still keeping his voice low. "Never aim at something you don't want to shoot."
Julie had already stood and moved to the nearest tree, bracing herself against it and aiming in the direction of the flock, whose calls were gradually growing louder. Kurt quickly followed suit, leaning on an oak two yards down the slope from where he'd been sitting. Ennis crouched behind him. They could see the wild turkeys now, a flock of fifteen or so ambling gracelessly through the carpet of leaf litter, pecking at the ground as they went. They chirruped at each other, so far seeming unaware of the hunters' presence. The majority were hens, with a handful of juveniles and one hulking male, his tail feathers constantly flaring behind him and his wrinkled wattle dangling from his neck. The male gobbled irritatedly and ruffled his wings in warning when a chick got too close to him.
Kurt awkwardly lifted the rifle, his arms already straining to hold it steady, and braced it against his shoulder.
Ennis shook his head, correcting Kurt's grip until the butt of the gun was solidly below his collarbone. He reached around Kurt and flicked a tiny switch on the side of the rifle near Kurt's trigger finger. "Safety's off. Aim with both eyes open," Ennis said. "And watch for the kick."
The big turkey bobbed his tiny head, pecking at an acorn. Kurt let out a long, slow, shaky breath, staring down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.
In half a second, Kurt was punched backwards and fell on top of Ennis, both of them slamming into the hillside. There was a clamor of terrified screeches from the turkeys, followed by several quick gunshots from Julie.
"Ow!" Kurt yelped, clutching at his chest.
Ennis laughed, pushing Kurt off him and taking the gun back. He switched the safety back on. "Kick a little too much for you?"
The turkeys had all fled into the brush by the time Kurt managed to pull himself back to his feet, already feeling a bruise forming. Two dead birds had been left behind, sprawled on the forest floor with their necks and legs akimbo.
"Did I hit anything?" asked Kurt, wincing.
Ennis shook his head. "Nah, you didn't hit shit. But hey, nobody hits anything the first time they use a gun."
Once Julie had retrieved her kills, the three of them began to hike back towards town. The breeze had been short-lived and the air was once again thick with humidity. Since the gunshots, the woods had gone quiet, birds silent and hiding in the branches until they were sure the threat had gone. Eventually, they made it back to the road. Out of the forest cover, direct sunlight washed over them again, and within minutes Kurt already felt as though he was getting sunburned.
"Oh, hey, before I forget," said Ennis as they walked. He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out something small and folded. "Nick wanted me to give this back to you."
Kurt took it, realizing with a leap of his heart that it was the photograph he'd taken from Rachel's hand. It was more wrinkled now, but at least he had it back. He had assumed that Nick had thrown it away when he'd gone through their bags. "Thank you," he said, tucking it into his own pocket.
"Who is she? Family?"
"Just a friend," Kurt answered truthfully.
Ennis frowned. "And you keep a photo of her?"
"She was a good friend." Kurt's voice was tight. He didn't want to talk about this with Ennis.
Ennis noticed Kurt's use of the past tense, and nodded. "Sorry for your loss," he said, and didn't press the issue further.
"So… the other girl who was with me," Kurt started, changing the subject and hoping to use this opportunity to suss out a bit more information from Ennis. "The one who hasn't said yes yet."
"What about her?"
"I'm just curious about the process. How much longer are you giving her? Seems like after a while it'd be more effort to keep her than get rid of her," Kurt said, hoping his tone was casual enough. It was possible that, after what Jessica had said about Nick needing more women to balance out the population, they were giving Santana more time than they would have given a man, and Kurt wanted to know exactly how long they had to come up with an escape plan.
"That's up to Nick," said Ennis. "I don't imagine it's going to be much longer, though. She seemed like she was in pretty bad shape when I gave her a sandwich yesterday."
Kurt blinked at that. "You gave her food?"
"Yeah."
"Why? I thought starving her out was the strategy."
"It is," Ennis said. He shrugged. "But you take someone's food away for long enough, and the body kind of just goes to sleep. Eventually, they stop feeling hungry. Giving them a single bite or two wakes up the stomach. Makes it hurt."
"That's cruel," Kurt couldn't stop himself from blurting out.
"It's effective."
Shuddering, Kurt wondered how Ennis knew that in the first place. He didn't say anything more, knowing there was nothing he could do to help Santana at this particular moment. He just hoped she could last long enough.
DAY 37
The following day was even more humid than before, but it was colder as well, which provided some small relief. The morning began with only a few clouds hanging low and heavy, but by mid-afternoon the entire sky was covered. Kurt couldn't tell if it would rain or not, but it was nice to get a break from working in the sun. He'd been assigned to the gardens again today, and so spent his time wrist-deep in the dirt alongside Jessica, his arms still sore from carrying water the day before, and his chest still slightly bruised from hunting. (He was pretty sure that firing one shot and missing didn't exactly qualify as hunting, but he didn't know what else to call it.)
By the time he and Jessica finished their work for the day, it was almost chilly. A bank of fog had descended on Nazareth, turning even the trees to shades of grey. The edges of the town faded into the mist, its residents meandering through the streets like ghosts. There was still nearly an hour of daylight left, but beneath the fog it was already growing dark. Before they went into the church for dinner, Kurt and Jessica stayed outside to have a quick rinse at the shower stations.
Jessica yelped when the water splashed onto her shoulders, and all of Kurt's muscles went rigid as he let it pour down his back. The cool air and even colder water left Kurt feeling frigid and hyper-alert, like he'd just been electrocuted. His teeth chattered as he pulled his shirt back on, shaking the droplets from his hair.
"Jesus," Jessica said through her teeth, rubbing her arms to warm back up. "Winter's going to suck."
"I imagine there'll be a way to heat up the water by then," said Kurt. He shivered, his gaze scanning what little of the town was visible. The fog was slowly growing thicker, the last inkling of sunlight turning the mist overhead a deep blue. Kurt sighed, feeling the damp in his lungs. "Dinner?" he asked Jess.
"You go on in," she replied, wringing the water from her ponytail. "I'm going to go get my mom. Meet you inside."
Once Jess had left, Kurt stood there in the chill for a few minutes, actually enjoying the quiet. He could hear people inside the church, but it was muffled and far-off. He watched people slowly trickle toward the church from various work stations around town: gardeners with their soil-marked hands, builders stomping sawdust off their boots, water carriers delivering the last gallons for the day and piling the empty buckets alongside the outer church wall. The guards from the fence were in the middle of a shift change, handing off their guns to their replacements before heading into the church for supper.
Javi was just leaving his sentry position at the gate and stopped when he saw Kurt standing by the church steps, frowning suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for Jessica to get back," Kurt answered evenly.
"You're not hungry?"
Kurt shrugged. "Not enough to start without her. I guess I have manners."
Javi snorted at that. "All right, fine. See you later."
Kurt rolled his eyes as Javi brushed past him and went inside. It had been almost entirely a lie. While it was true that Kurt wasn't starving enough to rush the food table just yet, he didn't care if Jess ate with him or not. He just wanted Javi off his back.
Somewhere behind him and to his left, a familiar voice carried through the mist from close by, and Kurt turned to see Dani in the outdoor kitchen on the lawn at the rear of the church. The cooks were just finishing up the last batches of food and were beginning to shut down the grills. So this was where Dani had been assigned, co-opted into a full day of food prep. No wonder he hadn't seen her since yesterday.
A whiff of smoke drifted into his nostrils, and suddenly a tiny spark of realization ignited in Kurt's mind.
The fog. He could barely see more than a block away, and sounds were deadened and short-lived. People had been reduced to ill-defined dark shapes, impossible to recognize from a distance. And as the sun went down, the fog was only getting heavier.
Kurt took a deep breath, his pulse pounding. He turned on his heel, walking beneath the shadow of the church to where Dani was finishing up her day's work.
"Psst!"
Dani's head jerked up from where she was scooping a pile of roasted potatoes into a serving tray. The last cook she'd been working with was just going inside through the back door, no doubt expecting Dani to follow behind her in a moment. Kurt knew they didn't have long, and so did Dani. She glanced at the door to make sure it wasn't about to open back up again, then took a few quick strides over to Kurt.
"Dani, we need to go. Now."
"What?" She blanched, her eyes wide.
"While the fog lasts," Kurt insisted. "Before curfew."
Dani swallowed, staring into the mist. The buildings further away were already disappearing into the dark as the night crept closer.
"Dani," Kurt pressed, his palms sweating. "We're not going to get another chance like this."
She drew a deep, slow inhale, her voice trembling only slightly. "Okay," she said. "Okay. What's the plan?"
"We need that distraction."
Dani nodded, pursing her lips. "What do you have in mind?"
"Start a fire?" was Kurt's only suggestion.
"With what?" Dani asked. She gestured vaguely to the water vapor clogging the air. "Everything's damp right now. Nothing would light."
Kurt swore under his breath. Dani was right. He desperately ran through the map of Nazareth in his head, searching for a weakness — any weakness. There were no gaps in the barbed wire he'd been able to find, no points where the chain links were damaged. Perhaps one of the cars barricading the fence was obscuring a hole somewhere? He quickly disposed of the idea; even on the off chance he was right, it would take far too long to search the entire perimeter. He wondered instead if there was any way to use the cars to boost themselves over the fence — a truck, maybe, or another taller vehicle that would get them high enough. Of course, they'd still have the barbed wire to contend with, but it was a start.
Abruptly, his mind focused not on the fence, but on the cars. The cars! There had to be at least a dozen vehicles for each section of the perimeter. He only needed one or two. Three, tops.
"I have an idea," he said.
A savage smile crept across Kurt's face. There was one skill that Nick hadn't realized Kurt had — and in truth, Kurt himself had forgotten about it until now. All other talents aside, Kurt was the son of a mechanic, and he knew how to siphon gasoline.