3 months later
"Would you look at this view? Almost makes climbing that damn rope worth the trouble," Eugene leans against the balcony railing and takes in view before us. The mountains are covered in fresh layers of snow, the white landscape broken up by the peaks of trees and clusters of long-abandoned homes and businesses across the river bank. Only the faint whistle of the wind passing through the space before us disturbs the almost eerie silence.
"Did you sign the logbook?" I ask him, arms still bent forward against the railing with my legs slightly pressed away in an attempt to stretch my back. What had started as an uneventful four hour ride quickly took a turn when we encountered infected as we approached the suburbs. Taking out three runners took less time than expected, carefully picking them off from a distance as Eugene drove a shiv in a clicker's neck. The sleeves of my jacket are streaked with blood, crimson red fading against the worn leather.
"I signed it," He nods. "Said you single-handedly took them out and refused to let me help."
"Mike hates when you write jokes in the logbook," I remind him, although I could truly care less what annoys Mike. "We'll have to tell Maria when we get back. Four is not a great sign, especially with a clicker. There are likely others around we just haven't found yet."
"She'll just send Joel and Tommy out to handle it," Eugene shakes his head, pushing his arms straight against the railing before standing back up. "Reckon we should head back so she can get 'em ready."
Anytime a patrol comes back with reports of more than three Infected, Maria will send Tommy and Joel out to follow up. Whether this started intentionally or not, it is something we've all come to expect. Of all the established patrol pairs, they are undoubtedly the most experienced and efficient, so I can understand her reasoning behind utilizing their skills in this way.
Earl and Houser have not said much to me since their accusations of nepotism. I guess seeing their complaints result in actual change was enough to satisfy their grievances. When Maria told me I'd be partnered with Eugene, I was legitimately taken off guard. I doubt he had many complaints about the arrangement since his original partner, Mike, has proven to be more legalistic than anyone expected. He follows the patrol rules with strict diligence and has complained countless times about others "not taking this job seriously" over the tiniest things like jokes written in the logbooks. Unfortunately for him, the rest of the patrol groups have only used his irritation as encouragement. The way I see it, if we have to go out and intentionally face any kind of threat, we might as well find ways to make it enjoyable.
"Tommy will be pissed as hell if Maria sends him out tomorrow and he misses the festival," Eugene chuckles as he mounts his horse, leading through the open doorway back into the packed snow on the trail. "If he doesn't make it back in time to accuse you of rigging that bottle toss, he'll be devastated."
"Well, unfortunately for him, I am not working the bottle toss this year," I tug on the reins to bring my horse in line slightly behind Eugene.
"You ain't workin' the bottle toss? Since when?"
"Since I wasn't asked to do it this year," I relay this information with as little emotion as possible. "I think with the Denver group being so involved now, they're trying to just get some new people assigned to the fun tasks."
"Huh," Eugene clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and contemplates what I've told him. "Esther seems like she ain't been to keen on asking you for favors lately,"
"I think it's more that she has a lot more help than ever before, not so much about me in particular,"
I don't even buy it, and I'm the one spinning the story. Esther has been increasingly cold toward me ever since she had to practically drag Joel into the square dancing lesson. Truthfully, I don't blame her. Even though I had not asked Joel to sit with me that night, I know how it looked. I was not surprised when it came time to assign jobs for the annual Winter Festival and my name did not appear on the list. For the last few years, I had always been the one assigned to work the old bottle toss game, a remnant of tourist attractions long gone. This year, that job has been assigned to Felicia, one of the women from Denver who has happily embraced her new life in Jackson.
"If you say so," Eugene skeptically calls from out front, leading us across the upcoming stream and back to the main path to town.
The return trip takes nearly two hours as we cross over fallen trees, icy streams, and dilapidated structures. Occasionally we spot a deer in the distance or a flock of birds flying overhead, reminding us that not all that wanders the area means us harm. We ride mostly in silence, every now and then remarking on the area or a thought that comes to mind. Behind the good-natured antagonism, Eugene means well and does not push me to talk without reason.
The towering security gates are a welcome sight as we return home. My cheeks sting from the bitter wind blowing against them and even through these sturdy gloves my hands are beginning to chill. The sooner I can get a warm drink in them, the better, but I know we'll have to find Maria first. We bring the horses into the stable, passing them off to the volunteers who will remove the gear and see to their grooming.
"Y'all seen Maria?" Eugene asks as he signs the ledger confirming our return. Two young boys by the nearest stall shake their heads, though I am not sure they fully heard his question.
"She left not too long ago," A voice calls out from inside the stall, head dipping with each heaving scoop of their pitchfork. "Headed to the Tipsy Bison I think,"
"You heard the lady! Let's report to the boss and get ourselves a drink," Eugene lets me pass as we walk toward the doors leading out toward the street.
The early afternoon crowd fills the diner, laughter and music creating a warm, jovial atmosphere. I scan the room intently as Eugene goes straight for the bar. His first priority is finding a drink, but luckily for us, I spot Maria standing by the bar, coming to the end of a conversation with two others.
"It's a little early to start drinking, isn't it?" Maria watches as Eugene lets himself behind the bar and pours steadily from the nearest bottle of whiskey. The glass meets his lips before he considers his response.
"You're gonna be askin' me to pour you one once you hear about your route today,"
"What does that mean?" Maria sighs, turning to me for a more accurate report.
"Four infected," I tell her as I ease my way back onto the closest barstool, leaning an elbow against the counter. "Three runners and a clicker. We didn't see any others, but we also only took out ones we saw in the open. There's a chance they've migrated inside some of the buildings while passing through."
Maria processes this information with pursed lips as she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and middle finger. These sightings are becoming more frequent and she knows it is not good news. Eugene slides a glass of whiskey across the counter, but she ignores him.
"Tommy and Joel are helping repair the games before the festival tomorrow, but I'll brief them and see that they head out first thing in the morning." She decides, just as we predicted. Eugene shoots me a look from the corner of his eye, finishing off the liquid in glass and preparing to pour another. "Thanks for your work today. Both of you should go clean up and get some rest."
"Don't have to tell me twice!" His glass hits the counter and he rounds the corner, already heading out toward the door. He waves a jokingly dismissive hand in the air as he leaves.
"I'm actually not going to argue with you for once," I tell Maria, stretching the tense muscles in my back and looking down at the bloodied sleeves of my jacket. "Eugene took on the clicker, but I had all the runners and honestly, I'm fucking exhausted."
The injury on my arm is fully healed, but occasionally gives me problems if I overwork the muscle. The stitches are long gone and a thin scar has taken their place. I want nothing more than to remove my stained clothes and give my arm a break before the pain worsens.
"Go home and get changed. I'm heading over to the church to find the guys. I want them to head out fairly early and scout as much area as possible."
"I'll walk with you," I tell her a little too quickly. "I have to head that direction anyway,"
A wrought iron fence surrounds the church courtyard and creates a wide perimeter around the cobblestone paths and decorative trees planted strategically along the way. The tall gate stands open, revealing the bustling activity taking place to prepare for tomorrow's event. Strands of lights are being wrapped around trees and carefully hung over paths. Several grills are being placed in a row, awaiting the food that will be prepared as festival goers enjoy their drinks and stroll between games.
Maria and I are barely through the gate when I spot him. Through the opening of the bottle toss trailer I can see him leveling the counter, hunched forward as he focuses on the task before him. Tommy is on the outside, leaning against the surface that normally holds the balls and speaking loudly as he watches his brother work, no doubt distracting him.
"You gotta make sure it's perfectly level!" Tommy tells him, leaning slightly to see around him. "Otherwise the bottles will lean and won't stay up like we need 'em to,"
"You're talkin' like I ain't fixed a counter before in my life," Joel does not look back as he talks, frustration permeating his tone.
"All I'm sayin' is that it has been a minute," Tommy clarifies. "I'd hate for your first festival to be ruined all because you fucked up a beloved past time,"
"You're just saying that because if he fixes the counter, you can't cheat anymore," Tommy holds steady as I bump my hip against his, copying his stance of leaning against the counter. A dismissive trill leaves his lips as he shakes his head.
"Don't listen to a damn word she says!" He tells Joel, who seems to ignore him. "She's just bitter that she can't ever beat me,"
Joel sets the tools down and turns, standing slightly above us from the elevated trailer floor while Tommy and I bicker like younger siblings. Maria lets a moment pass before interjecting, getting straight to the purpose of our arrival.
"I need you two to go scout in the morning," She gestures to the brothers. "She and Eugene came across four infected on their route today, so we need to be diligent."
"Four?" Joel quickly turns his attention to me and scans his eyes along my body. He spots the blood on my sleeves almost immediately, but holds back from expressing the depth of his concern. "Y'all manage alright?"
"Eugene took out a clicker - snuck up right behind the thing and just stabbed it in the neck. It was brutal. I got the rest, all runners. They were out near the suburbs, coming from some of the houses. We opted to come back instead of trying to go inside just the two of us,"
"So you want the two of us to check it out?" Tommy asks Maria.
"I'd be more comfortable if you did," She confirms. "First thing in the morning. You head out early enough and you should be able to make it back in time for the festival,"
"You heard the woman. Sounds like we better get our gear prepped and turn in early tonight, brother," Joel simply watches as Tommy pushes off the counter and stretches, hands sliding into his pockets.
"Sounds like it," Joel agrees. "I'm finished here anyway. I'll get the tools packed up and meet ya in a while."
"You headin' home?" It takes a second before I realize Tommy is speaking to me.
"Yeah, in a minute. I'm ready to be out of these clothes,"
"Alright, well, good work today," His hand lands gently against the back of my jacket before he and Maria walk off together, leaving Joel and I alone at the trailer.
"You need some help gettin' out of those clothes?" Joel suggests quietly, leaning forward on the counter so his face eases in closer. A brief flash of anxiety shoots through me as I quickly scope the area around us, scared that someone may overhear his comments or notice the way his shoulders tilt toward mine. Everyone else is preoccupied with their tasks, untangling light strings from branches or swearing as a grill gets caught against the pavers.
"I am quite literally covered in blood and sweat," My voice drops to match his. "I am disgusting. This is not something you want to be part of, I promise,"
"Good thing I ain't afraid to get a little dirty,"
"People could hear you," I hiss at him, but it's hard to be mad at him when it is taking all my self control not to push off the counter and bring his lips to mine, longing stoked by the warmth rising from my stomach. "Plus, I have to work on the layout for greenhouse rotations coming up and you have an early patrol to prepare for…"
"Probably not the best night for us, huh?" He nods, knowing as well as I do that neither of our responsibilities will receive the attention they deserve if we see each other tonight.
"Probably not. But I'm not working the festival this year, so I'll be able to just go for fun. We could meet up and then sneak away together afterward,"
"I like that plan," He smirks, returning to his upright stance and conversational tone of voice. "Ellie is plannin' on goin' with some friends, so I don't know when she's gonna show up. From the sound of it, Tommy'll be planted right here, so it shouldn't be hard to find each other if we just look for him."
"He will be, I can guarantee that." While it will be trickier to get away once Tommy has seen us, I know this is the most inconspicuous way to make this work. "I'll see you at the festival,"
"At the festival," He agrees, and I use this moment to step back before I regret making the most responsible decision in this situation.
Somehow we have successfully managed to keep this situation between us for the past three months. It has not been without close calls, from Ellie walking in for a sporadic movie night to passing glances across rooms or sneaking a quick touch, no matter how innocent, as we pass. Any nights we spend together are at his house, which was a mutual decision we made upon realizing the likelihood that Ellie could show up. It is easier for me to stay hidden upstairs than him to explain why he was not home at a suspicious hour of the night. Joel wasted no time repaying the debt he claimed to owe after I made us dinner that night, but we have fallen into a nice routine together that includes activities outside the bedroom. A few weeks after we first hooked up, a rocking chair appeared in his woodworking room upstairs. He had refurbished it after pulling it from the storage where we keep salvaged furniture and positioned it adjacent to his work table. He carves while I curl up in the chair and crochet, talking about our days and assignments or sometimes just sitting together content and silent.
I thought coming to Jackson had given me peace, but in hindsight I can see how I had barely waded into the water and kept myself safely by the shore. Yes, I had left behind the danger and uncertainty of smuggling in the QZ and built my new life in a way that allowed me to ignore the trauma the journey caused, but it was not until I allowed Joel to access these hidden parts of me that I began to feel genuinely secure. We never talk about the past, or at least not the details of life before Jackson, beyond what I shared at the museum when he stitched up my arm. But the simple change of having someone waiting at the end of the day to listen when rotations are hard or laugh about something one of the kids said has slowly begun to peel away at the hardened layers I have allowed years of pain to metastasize to my heart.
I am flooded with relief as the bloodied clothes are peeled from my body, tossed aside the moment my front door closes, and the grime is rinsed from my body under streams of tepid water. I do not have the patience or stamina to heat it up today. I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening pouring over charts and calendars at the kitchen table, working diligently to plan the seasonal crop changes to be implemented in the greenhouses in the coming weeks. When the sun finally sets, my eyes are heavy and my limbs feel sluggish as I stand from the table and drag myself up the stairs. It is a matter of mere moments but I drift off to sleep.
4:53. The dimly lit numbers on the bedside clock come into focus as I roll over, once again awake long before the alarm. Falling asleep is one thing, but staying asleep is another and on the nights I have slept alone it becomes harder and harder to achieve. I roll out of bed slowly, pausing a moment as my feet hit the floor before heading down to the kitchen.
The eye on the stove glows as the dial clicks to the highest setting, tiny water drops rolling down the kettle and sizzling upon contact. While the water comes to a boil, I prepare one of the gray porcelain mugs from the cabinet with a sachet full of herbal tea. A stern knock at the door fills the house before the kettle can begin to whistle.
Maybe the chickens escaped. Or one of the hoses near the greenhouses sprang a leak again. Aside from an emergency, that would be the only reason anyone would knock on my door before the sun has risen. I secure the sash along my flannel robe as I move between rooms, tucking a stray hair behind my ear and hoping my appearance is not too disheveled as I open the front door.
"You're already up?" Maria seems surprised at my prompt answer as she stands on the front porch. Judging by her alert appearance, she has been awake for a while, her eyes portraying a sense of stress and urgency.
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. I was just making some tea. Is everything okay? It's really early,"
"I am incredibly sorry to ask this of you," She speaks slowly, gauging my attitude as she prepares her request. I am more confused than irritated, but she does not seem to sense this. "We decided to send another pair out with Joel and Tommy, just in case, and well…the short version is that they backed out. I'm handling it and the details aren't important, but I'd be a lot more comfortable if two pairs went out this morning. Between the potential infected and the number of bears we've been spotting lately, I don't want the guys to go alone."
"Are you asking me to go on patrol right now? At this hour?" A yawn escapes before I can stifle it.
"Yes," Maria confirms. "Eugene is already heading to the stables. I don't think that man ever sleeps. I'll give you a few minutes to get dressed and grab your gear. Don't worry about the greenhouses today - Bonnie and I will handle it."
"Am I really that much of an asset?" I groan, hoping to escape this change of plans. "Eugene is far more help than I'll be and the three of them are perfectly strong group,"
"It's always pairs, you know this. And don't discredit yourself. You took out three runners without issue yesterday, didn't you? You're absolutely an asset." I should have known that Maria would buck against any implication that the men are more capable, but it's far too early to play these mental games. She leaves me to get myself together, so I head back to the kitchen and shut off the stovetop before grabbing clean clothes from the closet upstairs.
I'm the last to arrive at the stables. I follow the street lamps and lanterns illuminating the path through the darkness of the early morning and hear the group of deep laughter as I approach. Steam rises from their cups as the men stand in a cluster sipping their drinks and waiting on the horses we'll take to be brought from their stalls. Eugene is probably thrilled to be heading out on a sporadic assignment and Tommy loves any chance he gets to work with his old friend. As they tell an unusually energetic story for this hour of the day, Joel listens and sips from the cup in his hand. At his side, Jesse copies his stance, watching with rapt attention every motion the men make. I'm surprised to see him, especially since Maria only mentioned two pairs going out. If Jesse wants to pair with Eugene for the day, I take no offense and will happily give up my place.
"There she is!" Eugene bellows, opening his stance to welcome me into the group. "Nothing like an early morning ride to get the heart pumping!"
"I prefer to keep my heart pretty chill in the morning, actually…" I tell him as I continue to assess the situation before me. I feel something warm press gently against my hands and look up to see Joel handing me a cup of my own. He stays next to me even after I accept, his arm lightly brushing against mine and pulling all my attention to his touch even as the first sip of tea fills my mouth.
"Nah, this'll be great!" Tommy seconds Eugene's sentiment, setting his empty cup aside and starting toward the stable doors. "They've got the horses by the gate waiting for us."
"All five of us?" I try not to make my inquiry sound negative because I do not want Jesse thinking his presence is a bad thing.
"Jesse's trainin' to be a lead patrolman," Tommy explains. "He's been doing so well on the shorter routes, so I thought it'd be good for him to come along today, get a feel for some of the longer routes while a group of us are goin', ya know?"
"Makes sense," I turn my attention to Jesse so we are not just speaking about him as though he were not there. "I'm glad you're coming. I think you'll like this route. It's got some great views, once the sun is actually up that is…"
"Thanks for letting me come," The young man seems to be addressing Joel instead of responding to either me or Tommy, watching with admiration as we approach the horses. "I know there's a lot I can learn from you all,"
The initial ride out to the suburbs is nearly two hours, winding through snowy mountain trails and over icy streams. The sun begins to rise after a while, bursts of orange and yellow illuminating the landscape with a kind of beauty that takes your breath away no matter how many times you've seen it. Joel rides between me and Jesse while Eugene and Tommy take the lead. I'm content to ride in silence, taking in the scenery as I mentally prepare for what may be waiting on the paths ahead and watching in quiet amusement as Jesse works carefully to fit in with the older men.
"The path splits up here," Tommy nods to a break in the trail. "Here's the plan: Joel and I will head down toward the suburbs where y'all spotted the group yesterday and do a more expansive search. While we're clearin' down there, you three go on up to the cabins and see if anything made its way up there. We'll meet back here to regroup."
Jesse is visibly disappointed that he's being grouped with me and Eugene instead of Joel and Tommy, but he tries his best to hide it.
"C'mon, gang!" Eugene waves his arm dramatically, motioning for me and Jesse to follow him up the path. I am more than happy to led him assume leadership over our group. "We'll be done clearin' the space before these old fucks have even started on theirs,"
"You're very literally older than both of them," I remind him, cutting my eyes back at Joel in time to catch him laughing. "Let's get moving before Jesse regrets agreeing to come along with us,"
Joel and Tommy take off and my eyes linger an extra moment on his back, watching the way his shoulders sit back confidently as he rides away. Eugene and Jesse don't seem to notice as they are already deeply entrenched in conversation about what to expect up ahead.
The cabins are part of the old ski resort, scattered around the base of the ski slopes farther away from the actual lodge. Unlike the neighborhoods that are more sectioned off for privacy, these buildings are laid out in open clusters with paths leading between them that used to guide tourists to and from their temporary dwellings.
The first hour is quiet aside from Eugene teaching Jesse the lay of the land. This route is one we've covered more than once, so we are pretty familiar with the area. We hitch the horses by the first cluster of cabins and go on foot, carefully clearing each building one by one. There are few signs of life - no footprints in the snow or disturbed windows or doors - so I am not overly concerned about what we may come across. Based on our findings yesterday, it is more likely that Joel and Tommy will be the ones encountering threats. We repeat this system twice, hitching the horses at the next cluster and clearing the cabins before moving to the next. Once we hit the fourth stop, this consistency comes to a grinding halt.
"Hey," I get Eugene and Jesse's attention quietly as we dismount, then gesture to a cabin in the distance. "Blood. Do you see it? Leading into that cabin over there,"
"Yeah, I see it," Eugene brings his rifle from his shoulder and motions Jesse to do the same. "Let's be smart about this,"
We move cautiously toward the building, careful to not rush forward and potentially be taken off guard. The blood smears across the like a swash of crimson tattered by staggering footprints. They lead into the cabin through the front door which hangs ajar against the frame.
"In there," I whisper, moving to take the lead. Jesse and Eugene follow silently behind. The unmistakable, metallic scent of blood assaults our senses the second we step inside. It mixes with the stench of mildew and dust from the decaying cabin structure and sends my stomach churning in sickening waves. The blood trail continues through the entryway back to the bedroom, streaked across the door with a bloody handprint across the door. At first, it is hardly audible, but it grows less faint the farther in we move. A weak, breathy whimper that is distinctly human.
"Someone's back there," Upon hearing this, Eugene steps up and stands shoulder to shoulder with me, unsure what might be waiting for us on the other side. As we move through the door, nothing could have prepared us for what we find. "Oh fuck…" Eugene steps to the side as I push past him, rushing in to attend to the situation at hand.
The blood trail leads to a woman propped up against the bed barely hanging onto consciousness. Her leg lays in front of her, mangled and pouring blood from the gaping wound. The wound is too large to be a bite, but we cannot rule it out immediately.
"Hey, hey," I drop to my knees in front of her, taking the woman's face in my hands. If she is infected, it has not set in yet and she is in no state to overtake me. "We're here to help you."
Her eyes flicker with the faintest sign of recognition as I speak, slowly rolling my direction as another frail breath crosses her lips. Eugene and Jesse finish checking the room to make sure we are alone and then come back, ripping open their packs to pull out the small amount of medical supplies carried as a safeguard.
"Tourniquet her leg," Eugene instructs Jesse, helping arrange the supplies around them. She only lets out a slightly louder moan as the belt goes around her leg.
"We're going to get you out of here, but you have to help me," I continue, keeping her face turned to mine. "Are you infected?"
"No…" She manages to get the word out as she leans her head into my hands. "Not…bit…"
"Good, that's really good," I nod toward the guys, but they are working intently and paying me no attention. I tell her my name and speak intentionally slower than normal to give her time to comprehend. "Eugene and Jesse are with me, working on your leg. We have a town, a really big town, just a few hours down the hill. We're going to get you back there and take care of you, alright?"
"This leg is pretty rough," Eugene gives me a look I know all too well - it doesn't look good. But I am not going to give up on her until it is absolutely, undoubtedly too late.
"And I'm sure my shoulder was too," My words are completely lost on Jesse, but land exactly as I intended with Eugene so he continues to work.
"We need to get her back as soon as possible," Eugene pushes Jesse toward the door. "Go get the horses."
"I'm on it," Jesse jumps up and out the door without question. When he returns, we work together to lift the woman and carry her outside with as much care as possible.
The sunlight temporarily blinds us as we come through the front door and fills our eyes with white light. Jesse relieves me, taking my place lifting her side and allowing me to step back as he assists Eugene getting her on the horse. The snow covered ground radiates sunlight back at us and reveals what was hidden in the shadows of the cabin. Dark, wet pools of blood stain the knees of my pants where I fell in front of her, matching the sleeves of my jacket and continuing in waves down the front. There will be no amount of washing that could redeem these clothes, but that is the least of my concerns.
"Take her back to Jackson," I tell them, mounting my own horse. "I'll find Joel and Tommy,"
"You can't stay out here by yourself. Not only will Maria have my head, it's just fucking stupid," Eugene protests. "I'll take her back and you two stick together."
He doesn't wait for my counterargument that it's stupid for him to go alone as well, but instead takes off down the cabin paths with the injured woman secured before him. Jesse takes a moment to process what all just happened now that the shock begins to fade. The smell of blood is overwhelmingly inescapable as it seeps into the deepest fibers of our clothes.
"We should find Tommy and Joel," He says in a tone easing out of shock. We ride back together toward the split in the trail where our groups parted ways earlier, but we do not wait long before they find their way to us. It only takes a moment as the brothers come down the hill before Joel sees the blood soaked clothing hanging on my body.
My name rings out through the air, his southern drawl heavy with panicked concern. He and Tommy gallop toward us, his horse hardly coming to stop before he dismounts and comes to me.
"It's not my blood!" I assure him, dismounting from my own horse and holding up my arms to prove I am without injury. At first sight, I am sure it appears that I have been mauled by some vicious animal. "It's not my blood. I'm fine, I promise."
"Jesus Christ…" Tommy slides from the saddle and comes over as well, oblivious to way Joel put his hands on my shoulders only to quickly pull back at my warning glare. "What the fuck happened? Where is Eugene?"
"We found a woman in one of the cabins," Jesse reports, tone official and more collected than I anticipated. "Her injuries are severe, but Eugene took her back regardless. We couldn't just leave her there,"
"How bad was she fucking injured for you to have this much blood on you?" Joel is restraining himself, I can tell, and it is taking everything within him to not pull me into his arms right there on the spot.
"Her leg was really bad," My stomach clenches at the memory. "Like, she may lose it, that kind of bad. We did what we could but getting her back to Jackson is going to be critical. He should be moving pretty quickly, so I doubt we'll catch him but it's worth trying."
"Well, let's go then!" Tommy gets back up on his horse and expects us to do the same. He and Jesse take off, not realizing at first that Joel still stands in front of me assessing the situation.
"I'm fine, I promise," I assure him quietly, careful not to touch him and risk staining his clothes with the woman's blood. "I jumped in to help her without thinking. I'm not hurt,"
"You sure?" Behind the others' backs he allows his guard to drop ever so slightly.
"I promise. Now let's get after them before they start wondering why we're lingering behind like this together. It's not a good look, Miller,"
"After you, ma'am," He winks, and my heart does a complete flip in my chest.
Eugene beats us back to the settlement by more than we expected, but this is likely the best outcome. By the time we arrive and get the horses back to the stable, Robin has her team in full force caring for the woman we brought back. Maria meets us at the stables with fresh clothes in hand and immediately directs me to a secluded area to change. Eugene must have tipped her off about the state of my appearance.
"Here," She hands me a towel and stands guard around the empty stall as I peel off my clothes that are stiffening under the dried blood. "Are you okay?"
"It's not my blood," I am having to assure too many people of this fact for my liking. "Is that woman okay? Did Eugene get her back safely?"
"She's with Robin and the others now," Maria's back is to me as she leans against the stall door. "It's a miracle you all came across her when you did."
Inside the stall, a bowl of warm water and clean cloth wait to wash the blood from my hands. It melts away and tints the water while leaving layers of sheer red along my fingers. The spare clothes are not my own so the pants hang too loose around my legs and the button up shirt is slightly oversized around my shoulders. Regardless, I am just happy to no longer smell blood with even the smallest movements.
"Where is everyone now?"
"Eugene and Jesse are with Robin. Joel and Tommy are helping get the horses settled. Everyone else is getting ready for the festival," Maria steps aside as I slide the stall door open and step out in the baggy clothes. "You should go home and rest. We'll all understand if you stay in tonight."
"I'm not going to skip the festival," I shake my head, rolling the plaid sleeves past my wrists. "Can I see her? Will Robin let me?"
"Possibly," Maria nods slowly. "I'll take you to them."
She leads me to the building next door where Robin has set up space to triage the woman. The brief reprieve from the smell of blood and decay comes to an end when we enter, but now it is accompanied by a scent of something sterile.
"She's resting in the other room," Robin explains, looking through the cracked door behind us. I turn my head over my shoulder and crane my head to see. In the warm glow of the overhead light, I can see details on her face that were not clear before. Her hair is dark blonde, hanging limp like wet straw around her bruised cheeks and sunken eyes. Her bandages are visible only as bumps under the blanket pulled up to her chest, concealing the truth about the severity of her injuries. "We have her stabilized, but she has a long road ahead of her."
"Was she able to tell you anything about herself?" Maria asks. There is a litany of critical questions every new arrival has to answer when they come to Jackson. It seems like an intense protocol to some, but this security keeps our community safe.
"Very little, but the more she recovers I believe she will open up," Robin lowers her voice respectfully so as to not wake the woman. "Her name is Jamie. She was with a small group, maybe three others from the sound of it, and got separated in a snowstorm."
"Where were they heading?" Maria looks back skeptically through the door, as if she is analyzing the validity of this story.
"She didn't say, all I could gather is that they came from Atlanta,"
"Excuse me?" A sharp ringing shoots through my ears and it feels as though my stomach has fallen to my feet.
"That's all I could get out of her. Jamie from Atlanta. I'll keep talking to her as she wakes up. It may be a little while, but we're going to take care of her," Robin assures us. Before we can inquire further, one of the women assisting her approaches. Maria and I dismiss ourselves, stepping back into the stark, frigid air. A long, staggered breath escapes my lungs and I steady my hands on my hips.
"Talk to me," Maria places a hand on my back in an attempt to ward off the panic she sees building. "What are you thinking right now?"
"She's from Atlanta, Maria. Fucking Atlanta…"
"It's a big area," Maria assures me. "The likelihood that she knows you is so small. It's been years now, and people come and go all the time."
"Of all the places though…of all the places she could have ended up…" My head is spinning at an alarming speed and my heart pounds so hard I swear it is visibly attempting to leave my chest.
"Look at me. Look at me!" Maria steps in front of me, hands on my shoulders as she keeps me still. "Even if she knows exactly who you are or where you came from, what is going to happen? Not a fucking thing. Do you think we'd let anyone come here to hurt you? Absolutely not. You're safe here, always. Let's get you home and settled. You need to rest."
Everything passes in a blur, from the walk home to being brought inside and Maria setting a hot cup of tea in front of me at the table. She leaves and I take a proper shower, replacing the oversized clothes with my own before laying down across my bed despite being unable to rest. Nothing calms the panic coursing through me and it becomes more and more difficult to shift my focus from this woman whose arrival so similarly reflects my own.
When I close my eyes, they come back in flashes. The screams of terror and shrieks of infected approaching. The blood flowing thick across green swathes of grass. The faces of my friends dropping one by one. My shoulder nearly ripped from the socket, shrouding me in excruciating pain…
I cannot stay here alone in this house. In the silence, I hear their screams and cannot escape from the memories breaking free from the most repressed parts of my mind. I told Joel I'd find him at the festival, and that is exactly what I intend to do.
When I arrive at the church courtyard, Joel is nowhere to be found. The rest of the town seems to have shown up though and are busy enjoying the games, food and drinks that are endlessly flowing throughout the night. The string lights around the trees transform the courtyard from its usual plain appearance and give an almost ethereal quality to the space. Meat and vegetables sizzle on the grills and the crash of a ball against metal bottles rings out through the air. There is music and laughter and a general sense of joy, but I am unable to experience it through the cloud of trauma engulfing me.
I grab a beer from the bar and head off to the only secluded spot I know. In the far corner of the courtyard, a gazebo is nestled between the church wall and the fence and just out of sight from the main crowd. Light faintly spills under from the nearest street light, but it is mostly covered by shadow and vines. A bench sits on each side aside from the opening, the perfect spot to be away from the crowd while escaping the unsettling silence at home. This is not how I saw this year's festival going. I did not think I would spend the evening tucked away on a bench drinking a beer alone.
I am on my own only a few minutes before someone appears, merely a silhouette against the streetlight shining in from behind. They saunter over silently and join me on the bench and leave a respectful amount of space between us.
They pull a lighter from their pocket and a flame appears with a small click. Pulling their hands closer to their face, a small ember glows before emitting puffs of smoke that fill the space with an earthy, distinct scent.
"Maria is going to kill you," I tell Eugene, but he ignores me as he breathes out a cloud of smoke. We all know he partakes in things Maria does not approve of, but he is not usually so flagrant with his actions.
"Eh, at most she'll give me a strongly worded lecture," He shrugs and takes another puff before tilting his hand in my direction. I realize he is offering it to me, waiting patiently as curls of smoke disappear into the night air. When I first came to Jackson, Eugene would sneak over to the Millers at night and ask me to join him on a walk. What Tommy and Maria believed to be an innocent act of friendship was actually him sneaking me away from their house to smoke pot. It was the only thing that effectively numbed the physical pain from my shoulder and the emotional pain from my traumatic arrival. Once I moved into a place of my own, the need to smoke with him became less frequent and I focused my attention on other outlets for my stress. But tonight is different.
I take the first puff too confidently and almost immediately choke, eyes watering as my lungs burn and Eugene bellows in amusement. It does not take long to recover and I go again, waiting for the familiar sensation to set in. While he waits with me, Eugene begins to talk.
"You did a good thing today," He leans back against the bench, legs spread comfortably apart. "Seeing that girl all torn up and all but dead, I'm sure you know it brings up some familiar memories for us all. Then Robin told me she was from Atlanta and that just seemed too damn crazy to be true."
Another puff. I can feel my body beginning to slow down, from my movements to my thoughts, and I only partially focus on his words. I know all too well how eerie it is that Jamie and I share such similar stories. He continues without waiting on any response.
"You've come a long way, kid. Tommy was so adamant about bringing you back that day, even if you bled out on the way. He couldn't live knowing he just left someone to die without givin'em a chance. Now look at you, running the gardens and doing these patrols and making this entire, full life for yourself. Then today it was you bringing someone back, even if they might bleed out on the way. Full fuckin' circle."
He readily accepts as I pass the joint back in his direction, sighing heavily as my head swims.
"I'm scared that she'll know me," I admit it plainly for the first time. "When she wakes up and really sees me, what if she knows me…"
"What if she does? Ain't nobody comin' after you here, not if any of us have a say in it. Plus, what's she gonna do? Drag you back to Atlanta? She left herself for some reason,"
He's right, and for the first time all day I feel a sense of relief begin to blossom. Even if she knew me from Atlanta, there is nothing for me to fear. I left to escape a death sentence, but no one is going to drag me back again. If anything, they believe me to be dead since the moment we fled past the gates. A splash of lukewarm beer glides over my tongue and I am very aware of the glass bottle opening resting against my lips. We sit in silence as Eugene continues to smoke, waiting a minute or two before he poses his next question.
"So, how long've you been sleepin' with Joel?"
Maybe he came here to get me high on purpose. Not to calm my nerves, but because he knew it would bring my guard down and I would be less likely to completely lose my shit on him for asking such a blatantly personal question. I take another sip of beer and realize how heavy my hands feel.
"A few months," I hear myself answer, but my mind feels like it is dragging behind my words. If this was his plan, it is working. "After his first leadership meeting. We haven't told anyone."
"And whose idea was that?" Eugene does not seem surprised by my confession.
"Whose idea do you think it was?" I scoff. If he knows me as well as he claims, I do not need to truly answer this question.
"You're too stubborn, m'girl," He shakes his head, elbows pulling back to rest on the top of the bench as he fully relaxes.
"You know how it is around here! I don't want the gossip. Do you know what kind of shit people would say if they knew?"
"It's way too late for that. Everyone started assumin' Tommy would be arranging the marriage the same day Joel moved in, you know, gettin' you in the family for good…"
Before I can protest, two people appear at the gazebo entrance and make their presence known.
"Now who's the delinquent?!" Ellie practically shouts, hands on her hips and expression aghast. "You're such a fucking hypocrit!" Dina doubles over laughing and I can only imagine the look on my face as the teens walk in on this scene of Eugene and I secretly smoking beneath the church gazebo.
"I never said I was a good role model," I tell her, taking the final sip of my beer and leaning forward slightly on my knees. "Why are you sneaking around spying on people anyway?"
"I was looking for you," She explains. "I need you to go distract Joel so we can leave." Dina nods in agreement, eye flitting to each face in the group nervously. They are up to something, but I am not sure what.
"Why me?" I intentionally avoid looking at Eugene as I feign ignorance, wondering why she felt it appropriate to assign me this task.
"Because he'll fucking listen to you," Ellie groans. "You've had your fun for the night, clearly, so go distract the old man so we can have ours,"
"You gave them pot, didn't you?" I turn to Eugene as the mystery slowly comes together in my mind. He is unbothered by my accusation and takes a final puff before answering.
"Let the kids live. They're young! This is when they're supposed to do this shit."
"Fine!" I turn to Ellie, slowly rising to my feet as she and Dina begin to move excitedly. "Where is he? I'll go find him, but you have to promise me you aren't getting into any major trouble. I am not having that blame turned back on me."
"No major trouble, we promise!" Dina swears and the girls take off after pointing me in the direction of the bottle toss game. I should have known that is where he would eventually be, but the conversation with Eugene distracted me. I turn back to him before leaving and make one final request.
"Don't tell anyone what we talked about, okay? About me and Joel?"
"I'll take it to my grave," he says, and I know he means it.
Moving back into the bustling crowd feels like navigating through a dense fog, the chatter of conversation and lively music swirling around me. I see Tommy and Joel over at the bottle toss trailer, Tommy lining up his throw enthusiastically while Joel sips his drink and watches. He's wearing different clothes than this morning and I realize he must have gone home to get ready before making his way over here.
"There she is!" Tommy lands a hit that knocks over all but two bottles, preparing another ball as he greets me. "We were startin' to think you wouldn't show up after all,"
"I'm here," I look past him as he throws again, eyes meeting Joel's as he watches me over the rim of his glass. "I was just catching up with someone for a minute."
"Smells like you've been catchin' up with Eugene," Tommy smirks, cutting his eyes over to me in amusement.
"Why don't you just focus on trying to win this game for once instead of telling people what they smell like? That's creepy," I shove his arm, realizing I need to steady my feet more than normal. When he throws this time, I walk around him and make my way over to stand next to Joel, but I am intentional about leaving space between our arms as we stand.
"You do have a um…certain aroma about ya tonight," Joel agrees, looking me up and down with a devilish smile on his face. This is likely not his first drink, though he holds it better than his younger brother.
"You both need to mind your business," I laugh, but it comes out with less sincerity than I intend. I am overwhelmed by the spectrum of emotions racing through my body, partially calmed by the high I am experiencing but fed further by the delayed realization that I admitted my most closely held secret to Eugene just now.
"You alright?" Joel asks, turning from Tommy, who has entered a heated disagreement with the bottle toss volunteers over the validity of his final scores.
"I'm fine," I lie and he knows it. "It's just been a really long day, you know? An intense one…"
"Did your catch up time with Eugene make that any better?" He raises a skeptical brow in my direction before finishing his drink.
"I thought it would, but really it may have just made things worse," I cross my arms at my chest as a swell of anxiety bubbles to life. "Honestly, I might just head out in a minute. Maria suggested I stay home and that may have been the best idea after all."
"Let me walk with you," I feel like he volunteers this too quickly, but no one else catches on. For once, I am thankful for Tommy's obsessive, competitive streak. "Tommy can manage this little fight on his own, I believe,"
"If you're just going to stand there yappin' and not actually help me out, then please, feel free to walk her home." Tommy snorts, but laughs after a moment showing he is not actually upset. We say a quick goodbye and slip out, a task which is made easier due to the game's close proximity to the main gate. Aside from the guards positioned around the gates, nearly every resident of Jackson is at the festival, meaning the streets are empty as we head back toward our street.
"What's really going on with you?" Joel waits until we are out of earshot from the festival to ask, watching me with concern as we go. "You've been real distant all day, which ain't much like you anymore,"
"I'm…I'm just…" I struggle to find the words, clutching my arms even more tightly to my chest as we walk. "Finding that woman, Jamie, this morning really got to my head more than I expected."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Not really," I admit, releasing a deep sigh. "But I know I probably should."
I stop walking and it takes him a couple of steps to realize. He turns back and waits patiently as I collect my thoughts.
"Can we just go back to your place?" I ask quietly, despite knowing that no one is around to hear. "I don't want to be alone right now,"
"Of course, darlin'," He places a gentle hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly to reassure me. "You can stay as long as you need."
When we get to his house, every wall I have put up comes completely crashing down. We sit on the couch in his living room and he takes in my every word with rapt attention. I sit facing him with my feet pulled securely under me, picking at the same spot of ripped leather along the seam of the back cushion as the stories spill forth.
"I just see them, I hear them," I choke back tears as the images come back again, my friends falling one by one as the horde tears them apart. "I smell the blood and I hear their screams and it just replays over and over again, like a fucking broken record I can't escape. And the worst part of it is, I have no idea if anyone else made it out. I have always assumed they didn't, but maybe one of them is out there assuming the same about me. It's just so much easier to pretend it never happened, like Atlanta is some nightmare that I finally got to wake up from and I can just leave it there. But then she showed up…"
Joel holds my free hand in his, same as he has the entire conversation. His thumb runs along my knuckles, back and forth in a comforting repetition. He does not cast judgment or offer unsolicited advice, but simply listens and allows me to process this untapped part of myself.
"It's hard to forget your past when you've got someone right in front of you reminding you it exists," He finally speaks, and I nod, releasing a new stream of tears and lean my head against the back of the couch.
I've never talked about this with anyone before, and I've never met anyone who made me want to. Not until Joel, who sits and does so much more than just listen. He takes in my words like the most important lesson he has heard, like a test he can never study for enough. He is learning me, becoming proficient in my needs and my wants and every brutally inflicted scar that marks the journey of my life up until now. And the craziest part is that I want him to, whether I initially realize it or not - I want him to know every part of me.
"Honestly, Joel, I don't want to think about any of this," I tell him, rolling my head to the side and wiping a tear from my cheek. His hand rests on my knee as he watches me intently.
"C'mere," He wraps his arms around me, pulling me in to rest against his chest as he runs a hand through my hair. "You've had a really hard, really long day."
"I just want to forget about all of it," I push up to sit facing him and run my hand behind his neck, encouraging him to lean forward as I tip my mouth up to find him. He follows my lead, lips parting as his tongue slips between my own. He tastes like whiskey and the faintest hint of smoke that I am desperate to consume. Each eager kiss begins to quell the turmoil agonizing me within and I cannot take him in fast enough.
"We should move upstairs," He says, lips meeting the crook of my neck in a way he knows drives me wild. "Just in case…"
"Ellie won't be back," I shake my head. "She sent me to distract you at the festival so she could she could sneak out with friends,"
"We'll address that later..." His mouth meets mine again, removing any thought of negligent teens and ulterior motives. His hand slips around my back, pulling me tighter into him as we both get swept up into the moment.
"Later, definitely..." I agree, arms wrapping around his neck as I pull his lips back to mine.
"Let me take care of you," His deep whisper makes my mind go foggy, dazed by the overwhelming combination of alcohol, desire and that damn joint I knew better than to smoke.
"What do you have in mind?" I whisper back, eyes locked onto his.
"Trust me," He shifts and gently leans me against the back of the couch. He drops his hands to my waist and begins carefully pulling at the front, undoing the little metal button clasping them together. Without a word, I take my hand from his neck and help, removing them in one slightly disjointed motion.
Joel's lips leave a trail of kisses along my jawline and down my neck, the scruff of his beard setting every nerve alight as he nips at my collarbone. As he slides to his knees in front of me, his hands glide agonizingly slow down my thighs, fingertips pulling against the soft skin. When he finally reaches my knees, he pauses, gripping more firmly and staring at me from under his furrowed brows with a passionate, determined gaze.
"This okay?" His voice is a mix of desire and concern, my comfort being his prioritized goal in this endeavor. I nod enthusiastically as the ability to form words has departed from my body.
He gently pushes my legs apart and slides his hands to the inside of my knees. It feels as though each pause holds an eternity and everything within me aches for his touch. I feel each coarse callus on his fingers and lift my hips against the rough skin as they hook into the waistband of my underwear and peel it away. The leather couch cushions feel cool against my bare skin as I slide my hips closer to the edge toward him.
His tongue barely brushes between my legs, teasing and tormenting as a light breath crosses his lips and sends electricity shooting up my spine. My back arches as I involuntarily gasp, hands gripping the worn leather of the couch cushions below. He laughs to himself, a quiet, endearing chuckle brought on by his ability to make me completely fall apart under the absolute lightest of touches. I am like the most pliable clay in his hands, desperate for each touch which shapes me into something new and unique, without the burdens I have fought so hard to push out.
With each stroke of his tongue, I lose more and more control over myself and allow him to lead me from the pain exactly as I have pleaded. In this moment, there is nothing else - no lost hope or broken pasts or life-altering journeys culminating in immense loss - there is only us. Joel and me and the surge of ecstasy swelling in my core that threatens to overtake me at any moment. My head falls back against the couch as my eyes screw shut, legs shaking as he works his mouth and hands in rhythm with my body and guides me through each wave of that euphoric release.
My chest rises and falls with heaving breaths and I bring my hands to his head as I attempt to recover, running my fingers through his ever-graying brown hair. It takes all my strength to lift my head, but when I see the way he looks up at me it is worth every bit of effort. We shift so I lean slightly more forward and he rises, still between my legs yet practically face to face. In his eyes, there is warmth and kindness and the most authentic expression of an emotion I am not sure I have truly grasped until now. The words form in the back of my throat, catching only for a moment before I allow them to escape.
"I love you,"
Each syllable punctures the silence between us, delivered with a heavy breath I have not yet brought back into control. His hands come up from my legs, cupping my face and pulling me into him until our foreheads are touching and noses brush gently together.
"I love you too, darlin',"
1:17. The clock on Joel's nightstand reflects the hours that have flown by as we laid together in his bed. My eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but the longer we talk the more sleep evades me.
"Never let me smoke with Eugene again!" I call out from the bed and hear Joel laugh all the way from the bathroom. "I'm serious, this was not my best move,"
"I don't think it was smokin' a little pot with Eugene that made you feel like this," Joel comes back to bed and slides in next to me, kissing my shoulder as it peeks out from the comforter.
"Are you suggesting that all the unexpected trauma I was forced to relive today and then openly discussed for the first time in very many years would cause me to feel like I am reeling from a horrific hangover?" I ask sarcastically, knowing full well that is the source of my current exhaustion.
"Of course not," He matches my sarcasm with a mocking grimace. "That would be crazy,"
"Thank you," I roll over and face him, bringing my voice to a more serious cadence as I address him with sincerity. "Seriously, for everything. For listening to me, for giving me a chance, for seeing past my quick judgment…"
"It's like I told you - I love you," He pulls me in and kisses my forehead, keeping me in his embrace for an extra moment.
"But I gave you a lot of reasons not to, and I want to make sure you know that I really do love you too,"
"Trust me, I know. You ain't gotta prove a thing to me," He assures me, and I truly believe him.
Maybe this winter festival was not quite the bust that I believed it to be at first. Even with the unknown lingering in front of me as we wait for Jamie to wake up, the anxiety I originally felt about the situation seems to fade the moment Joel talks me through each step. Let every person I ever wronged in Atlanta come find me, because they'll have to go through Joel first.
"I'm going to make a cup of tea," I announce, rolling over my hips so my feet land on the floor. I grab his discarded shirt from the end of the bed and pull it over my head, the smell of him covering me completely as the hem falls mid-thigh. "Do you want anything?"
"At this hour?" He looks at the clock skeptically, still laying on his side.
"I can't sleep. It usually helps, or at least I feel like it does,"
I head down to the kitchen without another word, barefeet padding against the hardwood floors and his shirt brushing against my bare legs. I think back to that morning just months before when walking this path felt so new and terrifying, but now I'm making it with ease and in half the clothes. I descend the stairs and turn the corner into the kitchen, filling the kettle from beside the sink before walking over to the stove. As I turn the dial that brings the eye to life, I hear heavy steps coming down the stairs. Joel enters the kitchen behind me, walking over slowly as I place the kettle and pressing up against my back.
He brings his hands around me, one slowly sliding around to cup my breast as the other slowly pulls at the hem of his stolen shirt. When his lips brush along my neck, I softly gasp and grip the oven handle to keep myself from falling forward.
"What are you doing?" I press my hips back into him, feeling him press against me and setting off a deep, visceral ache within me.
"You look so damn good in my shirt," He growls into my ear, hands moving with growing desperation. I lean my head back into him and expose the sensitive nape of my neck, inviting him in.
"Couldn't even wait until I came back upstairs, huh?" I tease, but before we can take the moment any farther, a thundering pound at the front door resonates through the house. It continues, over and over again, causing us both to jump back from the stove as if we had been burned.
"Who the fuck is that?" I tug the edge of the shirt down over my thighs, as though this looks any less revealing should someone walk in. It is nearly 1:30 in the morning, so there is no explanation for this that can be good.
"I have no idea," Joel adjusts the waist of his sleeping pants and heads toward the door. "Just stay here, I'll keep them outside,"
I stay frozen in place as the deadbolt creaks open on the front door. I don't even dare to breathe, terrified that this secret has finally been revealed in the worst possible way I could imagine. Confiding in Eugene is one thing, but being caught half naked in his kitchen during the middle of the night is another.
When I hear Joel address the unknown visitor at the door, my heart stops.
"What the fuck are you doin', Tommy? Have you lost your damn mind?!" Joel is shouting from the entryway, partially from anger and partially for my benefit - it is absolutely imperative that I stay hidden. Of all the people to catch me in this position, I cannot think of a worse one than Tommy.
"We have to go, Joel!" He explains, his tone frantic. "They ran away - two kids from town. Slipped out while the guards were distracted and everyone was at the festival."
"What are you talkin' about?"
"Adam and Sidney, two of the teenagers in town. They ran away. Her momma got home from the festival and found a note saying they were sorry, but they had to leave. They stole two horses from the stables, and took off. We're sending every patrol out after them,"
"Let me get my stuff," Joel tells him firmly, but I can hear their voices growing louder and another set of feet cross the threshold. Tommy has entered the foyer despite the effort to keep him out, meaning he is one room closer to where I stand. "I'll meet you at the stables, you ain't gotta wait on me…"
"I'm not waitin', I gotta go across the street too, since we're sending every patrol -"
"I'll get her," Joel cuts him off hastily, voice rising as he says my name and I hear their feet shuffle awkwardly, as though Joel has stepped in front of him to keep him in place. "You go get the others and let me get her,"
For a horrifying second, I contemplate bolting out the mudroom door and trying to run across the street before Tommy notices. Maybe I could make it back in time and avert any suspicion. But the mudroom opens to the entryway and getting through without him seeing will be nearly impossible. My only hope is that Joel can hold him off and pretend to come get me.
I know Adam and Sidney, which adds another element of complexity to this panic. Sidney helps with garden rotations and Adam works in the stables. That's probably how they knew the best way to steal the horses, which is an absolutely asinine plan. The young couple could not be any older than 16, raised in Jackson since they were learning to read. They have no concept of life outside these walls and the dangers that await.
In my panic, I completely forget why I originally came into the kitchen and I am brought back to reality when the kettle releases a shrill, sickening squeal. The whistle rings through this house, overwhelming all other sounds as it echoes off the wooden walls and surfaces. Before I can think, I instinctually rip it from the stove and silence the howling whistle…which simultaneously alerts Tommy to another presence in this house. How else would a kettle have silenced itself?
"You got someone in there?" Tommy asks, and I hear the shuffle of footsteps as the brothers step around each other defensively.
"Don't worry about it, Tommy," Joel takes on a tone that I have not heard before, serious and defensive, with even more intensity than our first interaction at the dam. "Go get the other patrols,"
"Christ, Joel, you're practically sweatin'!" Tommy scoffs, taken off guard by his brother's defensive tone which only feeds his curiosity more. "Now I have to know what's going on that's makin' you act like this…"
It happens so fast I can barely register what takes place. Joel's frustrated protest, Tommy's hurried steps, my heart racing so rapidly I fear I may throw up.
There I am, standing in his older brother's kitchen in the middle of the night, half-naked except for Joel's shirt. Tommy stands in the kitchen doorway and for the first time since I've known him, he is rendered truly speechless.