“I’ve seen a new man around lately,” I told Haruto, knowing it would only make it harder for me to steer him off the path he was heading down. The conversation had been too long in coming though, and I needed to put his mind at ease, so he'd know I was going to be okay when he was gone.
“Not from the gang?”
"No." I’d shared endless stories of my adventures outside with him. Haruto knew what it was like even if the only outdoors he’d experienced were the times he’d sat in the wedge of sunlight coming through the balcony door. “He’s different. I don't know how to explain it.”
“You talk to him? You know where he lives?”
"We haven't spoken yet." I pushed off the chair and walked across to the sliding door, gazing at the office complex opposite. The thought that he might be standing there right now looking back at me was surprisingly thrilling. “But he’s staying there." I pointed at the building and shot Haruto a glance over my shoulder. "He keeps giving me glimpses of him then disappearing. Not like he’s playing with me or trying to lure me somewhere to do horrible things. More like he’s letting me get to know him in a weird kind of way.”
Apparently, it didn't seem so weird to Haruto. “Go look for him.”
I faced him and tried to smile, but I couldn't quite pull it off. “I will.”
“Today,” he insisted. “No time to waste.”
Both Haruto and I had slept late this morning for the first time. It was almost nine o'clock, and I hadn't even had my coffee yet let alone been outside. I closed my eyes and released a slow breath, forcing down the emotion building inside me. He didn’t have long until the illness took him. I could hear it in his voice, in the urgency pushing him to push me. We’d spent every day together since the world fell apart, keeping each other sane when we would have otherwise been alone. I thought of him as my own grandfather, and I didn’t want to contemplate what it would be like living without him.
“I’ll go now,” I said, opening my eyes again.
“Good—and when you find him…” He picked up the magazine and flicked to the page he’d earmarked. “You live here.”
“Where?” I crossed the room and took the magazine from his outstretched hand.
He’d been reading an article about off-grid housing, featuring an architecturally designed home on two acres, with high fences surrounding the property and a security gate at the entrance. It boasted an extensive solar-power system with battery backup to heat water from a series of tanks and run all the lights and appliances inside. The walls were thick enough to keep out the summer heat and the winter chill—and if on the off-chance solar energy became a problem during the depths of winter, there was even a wood fire and a generator.
With the extensive orchard, chicken coop, and veggie gardens, the property would have been a peaceful oasis even before the world crumbled. Now? It was Nirvana.
It was also in Bridgehill, a six-hour drive from the city, about as far east as you could go without ending up in the ocean. For security reasons, the author hadn’t included the address, and that didn’t even take into account the fact that the owners might still be living there, or more likely, other people had caught onto its existence and overrun the place. Two acres of land could easily be turned into a colony with multiple residences if it was organised by the right people.
Just the thought of it got my heart thumping harder.
“It’s six hours from here—in a car,” I pointed out, then added unnecessarily, “I don’t have a car.”
Even though I knew how to drive, living within walking distance of work, entertainment, and all my favourite restaurants had made the idea of owning a car and dealing with the associated expenses redundant. During my prep stage years ago, I'd also Googled how to hotwire a car just in case the information ever came in handy. I'd discovered that anything built from 2000 onwards ran more like a computer, meaning if you didn’t have the key fob, abandoned cars were pretty much useless—unless you wanted one for temporary shelter or to hide from the infected.
I had no intention of walking or riding for weeks to get to a house that may turn out to be a dead end. There were too many unknowns and a high probability of getting hurt or killed along the way.
“Find man,” Haruto said. “Look for car together, and both drive to house.”
Haruto had neglected to include himself in that scenario, and we both knew why. I hoped he understood there was no way I’d take off anywhere without him. He'd either make the trip with us or I'd wait here and nurse him through his final days.
“I’ll find the man.” I’d planned on doing that sooner or later anyway. “I'll bring him back here, and we can figure out together what we're going to do next.”
“Now, little ninja,” he said.
His insistence had tears filling my eyes. I blinked and looked away. “Let me get ready, and I’ll head out straight away. It shouldn’t be too hard to track him down.”
Minutes later, I’d thrown on all my equipment, and I stood in the living room watching him.
He’d been so strong in the beginning that it hit me hard to see how much he’d deteriorated. He'd lost weight, his cheeks were hollow. He was fading right before my eyes, and I tried my best to keep a brave face when all I wanted to do was sit with him and cry about the unfairness of the world. The thought of leaving him this time scared me more than anything I might encounter outside, but he could be a stubborn man, and he wouldn’t let me rest until I’d done as he asked. “I'll be back in two hours, hopefully with a new friend.”
I bent to kiss his cheek, but he reached up to pull me in for a hug instead. His frail arms were surprisingly strong as he clung to me, and for a moment it felt like he didn't want to let go. “You good girl.” He patted my back in a sweet, paternal gesture. “Best part of my life. Be safe, granddaughter.”
"I will." I pulled back and smiled, letting him see the tears filling my eyes. He'd always felt like my family, but it was the first time he'd ever referred to me in that way. "I love you, Haruto."
Three
Cruz
