He nods and we march across the gravel parking lot to the diner’s unlocked double doors. Setting our packs in a booth by the door, we walk back to the kitchen while Jamie watches the road. Our handgun is still the only weapon with ammo, and he holds it at the ready, his finger on the safety.
There’s obviously no electricity but I still flick the light switch on the wall. I don’t bother with the walk-ins because if there ever was anything in there, it’s rotten now. The pantry has a few food items left, including an unopened industrial-size box of Special K, moldy, gray bread in plastic bags, and dry noodles. There’s also a giant can of peaches in syrup. Everything else has been wiped out.
No protein, but at least we won’t starve.
I grab the Special K and peaches. There’s a big crank can opener attached to the side of a steel prep counter. I put the can under it and open it just a bit, then drain half the syrup into an empty sink.
“Andrew!” Jamie’s stage whisper from the front makes me jump. I set down the peaches and run back to him. It’s gotten darker; the storm clouds are rolling in.
He’s behind the lunch counter, crouched with his gun pointed toward the windows. I drop down and join him.
Someone’s outside, standing in the middle of the street. It’s a girl. I scan the other dusty windows, trying to find movement. Other people. Weapons, cars, something.
But it’s only her.
She stands in the middle of the road, wearing a small backpack, her hair tied up in a bun. There’s a bicycle on the ground at her feet. She turns slowly, looking around. Looking for something.
Then she faces the diner.
My voice breaks the silence. “No.”
I move around the counter. Jamie whispers at me to get down, but I want to get a closer look. I want to make sure.
It’s her. Even through the dusty window I can see it’s Cara. The girl from the motel.
They fucking found us again.
When we met her in Fort Caroline, Cara reminded me of my little sister, her shy, quiet mannerisms and the sardonic way she spoke. Like there was some kind of humor under there that only showed up for the people she trusted to recognize it. She was also a literal outsider, posted at the edge of town where only the motel was. I really thought we could trust her. Of course, she knew the way we were going the whole time.
“What do we do?” I ask Jamie, dropping to the ground behind the counter.
“Grab the rifle.”
“It’s empty.”
“They may not know that. Harvey tried to shoot me with it—maybe they don’t realize we haven’t found ammo yet.”
We should have taken Harvey’s and Walt’s weapons, or at least their ammo, but we were in such a rush we left them.
I pick up the rifle, but even as I do, it feels wrong. I should have the handgun. Jamie is better than me. He killed to protect us—not for food or because he was just scared but to protect me. I know he’ll do it again but... I don’t want him to.
“Wait,” I say. I hold out my hand to him. “Give me the gun.” He looks down at my hand, then back up at me.
“No, why do—”
“I got us into this. I trusted her and I was wrong. I’m sorry. It should be...” I almost say “my turn” but Je-SUS does that sound awful. I just shake my head. “Give me the gun. You take the rifle.”
He looks into my eyes like he’s trying to find a way to argue with me. Then he gives up.
We trade, then head for the door.
Cara spins as we step outside. Her eyes go wide and her hands go to the sky when she sees we both have our weapons on her. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I’ll leave,” she says.
Jamie and I move across the gravel lot, the rocks crunching beneath our worn shoes. “Where’s everyone else?” I ask, trying to make my voice hard.
“I... I...” Her hands are shaking.
“Answer him,” Jamie says. “We know you sent Harvey and Waltdown one of the routes you mapped out. As soon as we went this way, you show up. And I doubt you’d show up alone. So where’s everyone else?”
