Chapter 22 – Uncle Bill

Troy recovered quicker than I did, and in my daze I hardly felt him grab me by the lapel again and sit me back on the log to face Carver. I licked the inside of my cheek where the flesh was beginning to swell, coated in a thin layer of saliva-diluted blood. Beneath my right eye the skin was tender, and I knew it would bruise. But what was another bruise, after all? I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve and Troy grabbed my wrists, yanking them up into the small of my back.

"Leave it," Carver ordered, retaking his seat across from me and lighting one of the cigarettes he'd just confiscated, taking a long drag and breathing it out. Troy released me gruffly, stepping back a few feet and standing at weak attention with his rifle at his waist. "Now," Carver continued, holding the Camel between his middle and forefinger, "tell me about that ski lodge, and don't make me ask again."

My mind raced, but before I could consider where my loyalties laid, I was speaking, and I couldn't stop. I told him first that it was massive, boarded up in the front but nowhere else. The floor-to-ceiling windows were its greatest weakness, and the second-floor wraparound balcony was merely for show: the lodge was meant as a place for skiers to recoup: eat, nap, sit around a fire for an hour or two before making their way to the slopes. Its greatest qualities were its steady stream of electricity from the wind turbine, large supply of food, and community.

"How many people were there when you arrived?" He pressed, unreadable.

I hesitated, considering lying, exaggerating the numbers on the off-chance I could either miraculously steer Carver away or buy the group some time to get out. They only needed until morning. "It's a big group," I covered. "We met one of their scouts in the woods on the way up. They're organized, prepared to last the winter."

"One of their scouts, huh?" Carver stood, tossing the cigarette butt into the fire. I swallowed. "That wouldn't be the one that little Nick shot off the bridge, would it?"

It had been them down by the river. They had been that close to us the entire time? I looked around, for the first time noticing that Carver, Troy, and I weren't alone. There were a couple of tents set up a few yards away, barely visible in the darkness, and more men milling around, watching us. "How many scouts did you say there were?" Carver brought me back to earth, propping his foot on the log next to me.

"I'm not sure-"

"Now, now," he interrupted, his tone chilling me to the bone. "You can't have already forgotten what I said about lying to me." I fell silent, my cheek throbbing. "We're gonna have to play catch-up, you and I," he bent down, folded his arms atop his raised knee, scrutinizing me. "I know you remember the rules, Scout."

I did. I did remember The Rules. Who knew that The Rules would be so sacrosanct as to survive the apocalypse? But if they still governed my uncle's life, then they explained his actions, and I realized that in my fear of him there was a respect for him, and despite either, I would be held to the same standard as anyone else in his outfit. I glanced back at Troy, imagining the twin bruises we would have in a few hours' time.

Carver tapped me on the chin, snapping me back to attention. "I know you don't give a damn about these people," he lowered his voice. "Any more than they gave a damn about whether or not you were gonna live or die in that shed. What I can't figure out is why you won't give them up to me? I mean them no harm, I only want to bring them home."

Maybe it was true. From what Pete said about Carver's compound, it was safer than anyplace immediately outside. Food, water, walls. I even remembered thinking that they were stupid to leave such a place, regardless of how bad they made it out to be. And how bad could it be? Even forced labor with a hot meal and a bed to sleep in at the end of every day was better than roughing it. Had to be. But I had a bad feeling. A persistent biting at my gut that said it wasn't the place for Clementine. She shouldn't be caged. Couldn't be. Someone had to be free, and it wasn't me. I wasn't meant for it. I was meant for this.

"Clementine," I spoke. It was the only word I could get out, and as it rolled off my tongue it felt like a betrayal. Carver's brow furrowed, but then he remembered. "That girl you were with back at the cabin."

"She's not one of them," I entreated desperately. "She's leaving the lodge in the morning, with the rest of the people that were already there. I'll tell you whatever you want to know about the rest of them, but let her go, please. She does better on her own."

"No one does better on their own," he replied darkly. "And besides, it's much too late for that."

He looked up, past me, into the darkness. Dazed, I turned. A woman approached us, and as she neared the fire, the light of the flames illuminated her gaunt face, the face that appeared almost dead to me, beneath the mop of red hair in a ponytail. And I knew then what Carver had done.

"You see, Scout," he turned back to me, "I always get my answers, one way or another."

The woman stopped behind me, and began to speak. "Our group's still there," her voice could have been kindly in another life, comforting even. I was breathing hard, my head pounding. "There's three strangers up there manning the place. Couple of guys and a woman."

"Weapons?"

"One of the guys had a rifle, but I didn't see anything else when they let me in."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. They let her in? She dropped something near her feet. I looked over my shoulder at the box of food: canned peaches and beans. Fuck. I knew it had to be Walter. His heart was so damn big. No sense of self-preservation at all.

"Good. Thank you, Bonnie," Carver smiled. "Tell the others to be prepared. We go tonight."

"Yes, sir," she replied, collecting the box and disappearing toward the tents.

Carver's hand fell upon my shoulder and I looked up, lost. "It'll be mighty good to have you home, darlin,'" he smiled. "I promise, nothing's gonna happen to your little friend. Not as long as she minds the Rules. I trust you to show her the way." Please, Uncle Bill, I wanted to say. Please, for me, let her go. His face softened some, the smile faded. "You don't have to run anymore, Scout. I'm taking care of you now."