Andrew quickly adds, “They were going to kill us.”
Cara’s still looking at me as the storm begins to slow. “They must have sent out groups to find you. Because they were afraid you knew too much, that you’d tell others how to get in and out unnoticed. I’m sorry.”
I turn to Andrew and he looks disappointed. I ask, one last time,“Did you tell them where to find us?”
“No.” There’s something in how simply she says no. She’s not lying. Which means I really threatened her for no reason.
“Do you think they’ll come after us?”
Cara shrugs. “They don’t like wasting things. But... Harvey...”
I nod. Rosewood will want revenge, and he might waste whatever he has to in order to get it.
“We should probably get some sleep,” I say. “Get an early start if we hope to get farther from them. I’ll take first watch.”
I stand up, taking the gun off the table and tucking it into the back of my shorts. Andrew follows me, out of earshot of Cara.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Talk to me.”
“I was scared, all right? Just leave it. Go get some rest, I’ll keep first watch. Then I’ll wake you up when it’s your turn.”
He looks like he’s going to argue, but instead he gently grabs my forearm, giving it a squeeze. He goes behind the counter to lie down while Cara lies under a table, as far away from me as she can get.
The thunderstorm stops after sundown and the diner windows fog up. After a few hours I wake up Andrew for his watch, but I don’t get much sleep.
A little before sunrise, we’re on the road again. All three of us.
Cara refuses to leave her bike and brings it along, walking it quietly three steps behind us.
We walk. And walk. The days are hot and Andrew keeps trying to get me to talk, but I don’t want to. I keep thinking about HarveyRosewood and Walt. About what Harvey said and what he was going to do to Andrew. If he was in front of me now, I’d kill him all over again, to protect Andrew, but I wish I knew why I still felt like this. Guilty, but also so sure. So certain that it was horrible, but the right thing to do. Every time I remind myself of that fact, the guilt returns along with Cara’s words about Fort Caroline. She said they think they’re righteous, but they’re really poison.
Maybe that’s me now. So poisoned by doing what Ithoughtwas right, I was willing to pull a gun on Cara and possibly kill her to protect Andrew, too. It feels like some malignant cancer of violence spreading through my thoughts.
I know it’s there and there’s no cure for it.
We walk.
And walk.
And I keep thinking about Harvey and Walt.
Andrew
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FIX JAMIE.Having Cara with us doesn’t help. She talked enough when she was pleading her case to stay with us, but now she’s back to the quiet girl from the motel. There’s something so similar about the way they act, and Jamie wasn’t like that before. But any time I ask about Cara’s family, to break the silence, she shakes her head and doesn’t talk. And now Cara’s quiet has spread to Jamie the way the bug spread between people. Most of the time it feels as if I’m talking to myself.
I get it, though. We weren’t made for a world like this. Before the bug, there were rules and regulations and laws. We had years of moral code ingrained in our minds and now none of it matters. Does anything matter? I feel like all it will take is time and then he’ll be Jamie again. But we’ll always have the memories of what we did.
I let myself think about the Keys once and only once. Any more and I’ll spiral and then it will be both of us moping and Cara is going to be all “I left my motel for this?” What happens if no one is there? If everyone is dead and all that’s left in the world is Fort Caroline, agay guy, a broken straight boy, a cartography genius with PTSD, and a seventy-year-old woman with a shotgun fighting zoo animals? Plus Howard’s crew. Then there’s Chris and his brother and sister, but hopefully they’re in Chicago by now.
We can launch the first postapocalyptic sitcom.
I file all this away because it’s too dark to joke about right now. Jamie needs to believe that there’s going to be something there. He needs to believe we’re truly doing this to help someone. I think it’s all that will save him.
That will save us.
