Chapter Sixteen

N

I'm standing on a beach, the wind blowing the smell of salt into my face. I blink in the sunlight and then lift a hand to shield my eyes so I can take in the world around me. There's nothing but an open expanse of blue water ahead of me, rock-strewn sand beneath my boots that stretches away to either side, forever in both directions. It's beautiful and serene and I'm more than content to stay here for a long time.

A bright laugh makes me look again. On my right is a strange structure - it looks like the crumbling remnants of a personal dock - that I hadn't noticed before. Or maybe it just hadn't been there before. There are three people standing there talking. Two of them are men, both with brown hair although one of them wears it in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. I recognise the other as the man that I killed, Audrey's boyfriend Chris. The third is a familiar blonde girl with a smile to rival the sun reflecting off the ocean.

"So tell me," Audrey says to the man with the ponytail - I realise I've seen him before when we attacked them at the hospital, and Audrey's described him to me well enough for me to know that he's her best friend Duke. "If the world was right again, if you could be anything in the world, what would you do?"

Duke grins and covers one eye with his hand, forming a hook shape with the other. "Argh, I'd be a pirate, milady."

Audrey breaks out in giggles. "You're such an idiot," she teases. "But seriously?"

"Seriously?" he echoes. "Honestly, I think I'd like to own a bar. What about you?"

"I think I'd want to do something exciting," she says. "Something where I can travel a lot."

"Pirates travel," Duke pointed out. "And they're really exciting."

Audrey laughs. "No, I want to help people," she says. "Something where I can help people who are in trouble. Maybe something like the FBI or CIA or something, catching criminals all over the country and getting people in trouble the help they need." Duke nods and Audrey turns to Chris. "What about you?"

"It doesn't matter," Chris replies with a shrug. "There's no fixing the world. It's not going to get better."

"Well I think it will," Audrey says firmly. "I think one day someone will find a cure and everything will get better. The world will be brought back to life."

Chris suddenly looks up at me and he narrows his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he sneers. "Are you actually dreaming?"

I look around in confusion. Is that what's happening? "I don't know," I admit, shocked by how clearly my voice comes out. No stutter, no hoarseness, no slur. I sound Living but the visible veins and bruising I can see on my hands tell me that's not true. I'm still a Corpse, I just sound like a Living. "I think so."

"Corpses don't dream," Chris says sceptically. His eyes are like winter ice, hard and sharp and pale. "Dreaming is for humans."

"Back off, Chris," Audrey says defensively. She steps down off the broken dock and crosses the sand to stand in front of me. Maybe it's just because I'm not slouching, but I've never realised how much taller I am than her. "So what about it, N? What do you wanna be?"

"I don't know," I say again. "I'm not even sure exactly what I am." How can I know what I want to do with my life if I don't even have one? Or if I don't even know who or what I am? I'm not Living, but I don't feel like I'm really a Corpse either. I'm stuck in the void in between, merely passing.

"You can be anything you want," Audrey says, unconcerned by my existential crisis.

"We can?" I ask hopefully. There's still a 'we,' right? I hold out a hand imploringly.

Chris snorts derisively. "Get over it, Romeo," he says sarcastically. "There's no way. Not since you told her that you murdered me." And suddenly there is a pencil-thin ribbon of blood rolling down his forehead.

Panicked, I turn back to Audrey but she isn't looking at Chris. She's still staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. "We can, right?" I ask again.

Audrey smiles. "To put it in monosyllable," she says playfully, and then she dips her head and lifts her shoulders. "Shrug."

AUDREY

The miles disappear beneath the hood of the truck as the sun steadily climbs up the sky on the passenger side. In the distance I can see the towering stone and steel walls of the Compound rising up against the horizon. Nearly there. I keep a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel as I drive, trying not to think about anything else. Still, I can stop myself from glancing at the empty passenger seat every few minutes.

Part of me feels guilty about leaving the way I did. I keep thinking about N realising that I've gone, the panic in his doe-eyes as he stumbles around the house trying to find me. He's going to worry, I know that. He worries all the time. I think about how scared he was when I tried to run the last time, when he thought that the Corpses were going to get me. He attacked his own people, his own friend, to keep me safe.

And I returned his kindness by deserting him in the middle of nowhere without a word.

He would never understand though. Even if I had tried to explain why I couldn't stay with him any longer, he just wouldn't understand. And I couldn't have left if he was there staring at me with those sad, blue-gray eyes. It's safer and easier this way. This way he can't try to stop me. This way we can go our separate ways without any trouble.

Besides, it's not like I could've let him go all the way to the Compound with me. The moment the wall guards saw him, one of the snipers would've blown his head clean off. I can't live with that thought. It's not fair that he has to live this way, but it's even worse to think of him being gone forever.

God I hope he doesn't try to follow me.

The guilt is getting too strong, so I turn my attention back to the empty stretch of highway in front of me. I haven't seen any Corpses in a while, just abandoned vehicles and the skeletal remains of people who didn't make it all the way to Haven. I weave my way as quickly as I can through the maze of broken down vehicles, ready to just be inside those stupid walls again and for all of this to be over.

I can't be more than twenty or so miles from the Compound when the truck's engine starts to sputter. I glance down at the dash and my heart plummets when I see the little hand of the fuel gauge is hovering below the E. The truck jerks and stutters forward like its limping along. A mile and a half later the engine cuts out entirely. I coast it for a while longer but in the end I have to face the facts. This truck isn't going any further.

Snatching my bag up from the bench, I sling it over my shoulder and start walking for home.

N

Waking up is a whole new experience for me and because of that it takes me a few minutes to figure out exactly what is going on. I blink, staring ahead at the dusty underside of a dresser where I can see a stray slipper left behind, as my brain slowly grinds back to consciousness. Why is my head so foggy?

Then the truth hits me in one dazzling moment of clarity and I roll onto my back before shoving myself into a sitting position. I was dreaming. Corpses don't dream, but I was just dreaming.

Excited, I turn to wake Audrey, to tell her what happened, but the sight before me stops me up short. The bed is empty, the blankets heaped at the end of the mattress in a tangled pile. "Audrey?" I say in alarm. I clamber awkwardly to my feet and check all over the room but there's no sign of her. "Audrey." I raise my voice, as close to shouting as my weak vocal cords can manage, but there's no answer.

I check every room in the house but I can't find her. The bag she left on the sofa in the living room is gone and it feels like my heart has sunk into my stomach. I shoulder through the front door and all of my worst fears are confirmed. The truck is gone.

She's left me.

My legs quaver underneath me and I drop down to sit on the front lawn while I gather myself. I can't believe it. After last night, after she chose to stay with me instead of going out to her people, I had thought that maybe we have something. That maybe she feels just a flicker of what I feel for her.

But it seems like maybe the Chris from my dream was right. There was no way she could feel anything for me, not after I told her that I was the one who killed him. She loved him and I took him away from her. The fact that I feel sorry about that, that I wish I could take it back just to make her happy, apparently isn't enough.

I don't blame her for leaving. Who would want to love a monster?

Standing up again, I turn and start walking back the way we came. There's no point in going on now. She's got the truck, she'll be safe. Who knows, she might be home already with the people who care about her. At least the ones I didn't kill. I've got no reason to keep going, so I head for home.

It's not like I've got anything else worth living for.

This is what I get for dreaming. I'm so stupid. You can't be anything you want. All I'm ever going to be is a Corpse; a vicious, dead-eyed, stumbling monster. Like she'd actually want to stay with me. I'm an idiot for thinking anything different. Things don't change. Things don't miraculously get better. I should just be happy with what I've got instead of hoping for the impossible.

It would be better if I couldn't feel, because then at least I wouldn't have to feel like this.