I thank her and grab the hedgehog, and Newt follows me inside. I throw it close to the fire, where Newt runs after it. There are still towels in the linen closet, so I grab a stack, dry myself off, then go back to find Newt working hard at ripping the noisemaker from the hedgehog.
“You’re going to be very disappointed when that isn’t making sounds anymore,” I tell him. He ignores me and keeps gnawing at the stuffy while I rub him with a towel. Once he’s a little drier, I set about combing out the mats and dead fleas—and a few ticks, which I throw into the fire.
When Niki returns, we boil the water and open a few cans of food. We give Newt the tin of sardines, which he laps up in seconds, then stares at both of us, trying to get us to share our food with him.
After it’s clear we won’t, he decides to punish us by jumping onto the couch across the room and curling up, burying his nose under his tail and watching us resentfully.
“What are you and Andrew going to do when we get to Bethesda?”Niki asks me after dinner. The fire is crackling, and outside, rain patters the windows again.
“I don’t know.”
I’m not even sure if Andrew will be happy to see me when I get there. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t kill Rosewood. I left Andrew with the idea that I would, and Rosewood’s still dead and Fort Caroline has fallen, and even though I didn’t cause either of those things, he might still see me differently.
I kind of see myself differently. Maybe it was just temporary insanity, but I couldn’t go on trying to survive in this world knowing someone might show up at any moment looking for revenge. I kept imagining them tracking Amy and Henri-Two to Bethesda. Or finding Taylor and the others at Faraway. Finding the Kid. I could never live with that constant fear.
But even with all that behind us, I don’t know where that leaves Andrew and me.
And I’m scared to find out.
“Faraway seemed nice,” she says. “Maybe we can all go back. I’m sure they’d love to have us.”
I nod. “Yeah. It was nice. We’ll do that.”
Andrew wanted a community in the Keys. If he wants to stay in Faraway, that would be good for everyone. But if he doesn’t want to see me, I think I’ll just keep going. Back up to my cabin. I know how lonely I was up there before Andrew came, but I don’t think I could stand to live in the same place with him if he hated me. It was bad enough when we were fighting in the Keys.
Plus, the settlement that robbed us is still up there, and they didsay they were just trying to scare us into joining. Maybe that’s what I’ll do if Andrew and I are over. He can go back to Faraway with the others. I’ll go back home.
Then everyone will be happy.
“Jamie.”
Niki whispers my name two more times before my eyes snap open. I turn to my right and she’s smiling, holding a finger to her mouth. It’s early morning and the fire has burned down to crackling embers. The rain also seems to have stopped.
Niki points down between our sleeping bags.
Newt has splayed himself out on his back between us, one paw sticking straight up and the other bent at the wrist. I smother a laugh as Niki does the same.
“I think we might be stuck with him,” she says.
“I think you’re right.”
I reach out and rub his belly as he stretches out a little more.
“Newt! Leave it!” I yell. It’s a fun game he has us playing. I have no idea how many things he’s eaten that he shouldn’t have throughout his postapocalyptic journey to us, but I’m trying to keep it to a minimum now. He spends most of his time sniffing things on the side of the road, licking things he probably shouldn’t—my chest aches at the thought of how Andrew would make a joke here—and often we catch him chewing something, but “drop it!” is not a command he is willing to listen to when it comes to food. And “leave it” doesn’t seem to be working either.
“What is it this time?” Niki asks.
“I don’t know.” I jog ahead and push him away from whatever it is he’s sniffing. But it isn’t food; it’s a thick, waterlogged paperback book.
On the front cover, bigger than the title, is the name Daphne De Silva.
My heart feels like it fills my chest to almost bursting, and I reach down for it. I turn the book over, examining every inch. On the back page is a black-and-white picture of Daphne that makes me laugh. She looks like she did in life—like she had the juiciest gossip and just couldn’t wait to share it with you. I can even hear her warm laugh.
“Oh my...” Niki says, coming up behind me.
The pages are all stuck together, so I carefully hold the book before flipping to the front cover again. But something catches my eye. Purple stains on one of the front pages. I open the book to see someone’s handwriting.
Daphne De Silva, still with us on our journey.
