Logan
“Be careful,” I warned, grabbing hold of Willow’s elbow as she attempted to stand.
Willow scowled, and for a moment I’d thought she might argue. Instead, she merely gripped the walker more tightly, and pulled herself up with a grunt.
Two weeks since our fortunate run-in with Britta and Davey; two weeks of waiting by Willow’s side while she healed, slowly but surely. She was able to get out of bed now and use the walker Doc had given her in order to get herself to and from rooms. Yet, despite her physical improvements, she seemed to be on an emotional decline—she spoke very little, some days not at all. Mostly, she slept or read the books that Doc would lend her.
I’d been concerned at first; it wasn’t like Willow to be quiet, but Doc had mentioned to me that everyone deals with grief differently.Some people lash out, she’d said.Others tuck themselves away and wallow. Then she’d looked me in the eyes and said pointedly,and some people never deal with it at all.
“Go slow,” I said, cringing as Willow began limping forward at a pace that seemed far too fast for someone who was still healing. Though the swelling in her calf had gone down considerably, her leg remained bandaged and Doc was still applying topical antibiotics to her wound a few times a day.
“Iamgoing slow,” Willow muttered, just before stumbling.
My grip tightened on her arm, halting her fall. “Christ—why don’t you ever listen? I told you to let me carry you.”
“I’m not a baby; I don’t need to be carried.” Yanking her arm from my grip, Willow resumed limping through the room while I hovered at her elbow. Crossing the threshold into the waiting room, she stumbled again; I reached for her and she shoved me away.
“Back off,” she snapped. “It’s not like I don’t know how to walk all of a sudden.”
Yeah,I wanted to snap back, but you also almost died from an infection in your leg that left you bedridden and at death’s door for three weeks, all because you didn’t clean your wound like I’d fucking told you to.But I stayed silent, mostly due to the look Doc was giving me from her waiting place by the front door—a pointed look that was telling me tokeep my mouth shut.
“This is a fiercely stubborn woman we’ve got here, honey,” Doc whispered as she came to stand beside me. “You need to let her do her thing, alright?”
“You mean fiercely stupid?” I muttered, holding my hands up in acquiescence. I’d only wanted to help, to prevent Willow from hurting herself; but, as was always the case, Willow was dead set on proving herself, even to the point of stupidity.
Leaving Doc’s place, we followed a well-worn path toward the center of camp. Willow remained in the lead, setting the pace. As we moved slowly around the small grove of trees that kept the Nurse’s building partially hidden from the rest of camp, Willow began to slow, eventually coming to a stop at the concrete base of an empty flagpole. Approaching her, I found her eyes saucer wide and her jaw hanging slack.
It was midmorning and camp was bustling with activity. People paused to glance curiously at our trio, some even flashing curious smiles in Willow’s direction. An older man, walking his dog on a leash, tipped his hat in greeting. A woman carrying a baby in a sling waved hello. Nearby, a small group of children were playing hopscotch in the dirt.
While I’d had weeks to grow somewhat accustomed to our new surroundings, this was Willow’s first day outside of Doc’s cabin. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to look so… so…” she trailed off with another hard swallow.
“Normal?”
Her eyes met mine, her throat still bobbing. She merely nodded in answer.
“If we go any slower, we’ll be walking backward,” Doc said cheerfully as she passed us. “And it’ll be a damn shame to have to eat a cold breakfast.”
At the mention of food, Willow appeared to shake off her shock and resumed hobbling down the walkway. The dining hall loomed to our left, the single largest building in camp. Constructed in the shape of a rectangle, it boasted a wraparound porch with both steps and a ramp, and potted wildflowers lining the balustrade. Inside, there were sky-high ceilings, wall-to-wall windows and massive stone fireplaces built into either end. Sunlight poured in through the windows, illuminating the numerous tables and chairs filling the vast space. Up above, timber framework crisscrossed smartly along the ceiling. If it weren’t for the wire mesh reinforcing each window, or the several armed guards waiting in line for their breakfasts, it might have looked like we were walking into a casual reception.
“Now, Willow,” Doc said, holding the double doors open. “The dining hall is open all day, every day; however, there are only two sit-downs for food—breakfast and dinner—two hours each. We don’t have a formal lunch and there’re no snacks given out, just two carefully rationed meals, nutritionally balanced to give you everything you need. Of course, if we have a good crop or a great hunt, there’ll be more to go around.”
Meanwhile, the din of noise inside the hall had noticeably lowered; people had paused their morning conversations in favor of staring at us. They’d all seen me many times already, though only briefly. I ate all my meals with Willow and usually only left Doc’s to wash or sleep. However, very few of them had actually seen Willow, and it was obvious that the mystery surrounding her had become a source of excitement for them; new faces certainly weren’t a regular occurrence at Silver Lake.
“Hello!” a tiny voice exclaimed. A little boy, no more than four or five years old, jumped in front of Willow, enthusiastically waving his arms around. “My name is Béla! I was named after my grandpa who’s dead! He was from Hungary—but not the hungry kind of hungry—the country kind of hungry!”
While the dining hall tittered with laughter, Willow’s head had whipped around, her frantic gaze finding mine. “L-logan,” she stammered.
I glanced blankly between Willow and the boy, unsure what she wanted me to do—I couldn’t exactly kick a kid out of her pathway. I’d already had my introductory meeting with Béla, whose dead grandfather was from Hungary—which he seemed to enjoy conveying to each new person he encountered. I hadn’t known what to say to him either and had ended up only staring at him for several moments before turning around and walking off.
Luckily, a smiling young woman soon came rushing up beside the boy, slipping her hand into his. “We should let our new friends eat,” she whispered, tugging him away. “We’ll talk to them later, okay?”
“Okay, bye!” Béla called out, waving. “Bye!”
“Logan,” Doc said softly, watching Willow with concern. “Why don’t you two find us a table while I go make up some plates?” With a quick pat on my shoulder, Doc hurried off.
“I’m leaving,” Willow hissed through her teeth, as soon as Doc was out of earshot. Jerking her walker around, she limped noisily across the floor, banging through the double doors. The dining hall had fallen silent; all eyes were on me. Cursing beneath my breath, I took off after her.
