I heard them yelling behind me, following my screams, jostling voices high on adrenaline, slippery footsteps and squeaking sneakers. But I didn’t wait for them.
I jumped over the wall and onto the metal staircase. My shoes clanged and echoed; the noise too loud and too quiet because it was the only noise. I wanted to cover my ears and shut it out, but I need my arms to push me faster, to run. Rash shouted out confused snippets of questions behind me. I didn’t acknowledge him as I skidded at the bottom and swung towards our cottage. And even though I knew they wouldn’t be there, even as my soul started to scrunch up in my chest in anticipation of not finding them, I still ran until my lungs burned. I clawed through the terrifying silence that shrouded the streets, ran past the Spinner that was paused mid-journey, between two stops.
The air was thick with distress, as other Survivors began to fan out and search. But there was nothing, only our breaths, our shouts, and our cries.
I pushed through pain as the fast movement caught up with my aching head.
Maybe they’re here.
They’re hiding.
They’re safe.
They have to be.
Everything pulled in around one image that was so much more out of place than the empty streets and the abandoned carts. A teacup sat on a fence post, yellow with cracks running through the glaze. I stopped, turned, and walked towards my neighbor’s front yard slowly. I lifted the cup and peered in. Rings showed where evaporated tea had sat, and the stink of rotten milk crept up my nose. I hurled the cup to the ground, watching it smash and fragments of stained china roll hopelessly back and forth.
It was like everyone had disappeared in the middle of what they were doing.
I walked softly towards the cottage, sneaking up on it like stealth would stop the worst from happening.
The house stood before me, the stone path winding towards something empty. It was untouched. No signs of a struggle, no obvious door-crashing, blood-smattering evidence to tell me what had happened, only that the door was ajar.
I couldn’t move.
Rash brushed past me and creaked up the stairs. Every sound was amplified because there was nothing to cover it. He turned and looked down at me from the porch. “What’s going on?” he asked between pants.
I put my hand to my mouth to smother a sob and then said, “Oh God, Rash. This is my home. But they’re not here. They’re gone. Where is my family?”
*****
He pushed open the door, like he was afraid he may startle the occupants, but he needn’t have bothered. There hadn’t been anyone here for a while.
I padded in carefully, scared to disturb this unholy, terrifying peace that seemed to drench the whole town. I ran my hands gently over Orry’s rug, which was thrown over one of our chairs. I heard the fridge clunk and hum, and I jumped, running to the door and opening it, twisting my face when I saw the wilted vegetables and unopened food containers.
Orry’s crib was standing in the corner, still made up. Our bed was the opposite. Sheets twisted and knotted. Pillows thrown on the floor. My mind crept towards when I last lay in that bed, the warmth and safety. Arms I had to be in now, or I would scream. I looked out the back window. A blackened patch of dirt was the only thing that didn’t look exactly how I remembered it.
Rash kept a respectful distance. His eyes moved back and forth from the unmade bed to the crib and back again. I stood in the center of the lounge and blinked one tear before I took off running again. I flew out, the door making a dead-sounding crack as the wood frame smacked the wall. Tearing down the center street that led to the town, I screamed Joseph’s and Orry’s names like a madwoman.
Rash could barely keep up with me now, and I know it was taking all his self-restraint not to stop and take in the town. Compared to the ordered blandness of the Rings, this must have looked like a cardboard city a child had created in their bedroom, crooked, corrugated roofs and all.
When I stopped at Addy’s, Rash ran straight past me and had to backtrack. This time I saw him staring at the surroundings, the colored flower boxes, and the stone streets with the spines of Spinner tracks running through them. He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “It’s so different to the Woodlands that it has to be.”
A sob caught in my throat. I didn’t want to frighten him any more than I already had, but when I looked around, I couldn’t see beauty. The beauty was in the people who lived here. Its emptiness made it ugly in my eyes.
Addy’s door was ajar as well. I ran my hands over a neatly shattered window panel. Someone had broken into her house. When I stepped inside, I could see her carefully organized chaos had been disturbed. There were bags with rugs leaking out of them, a ball of wool trailing across the dark floor, and a candle that had burned down to the bottom of the wick. I imagined them bursting in here, pushing her back into her bedroom, and my heart clenched.
Reluctantly, I crept further in, so scared of what I might find in her room. I wrapped my fingers around the doorframe to her bedroom and peered inside, but it was empty just like my house.
When we left, Rash slid his arm around my waist to support my swaying body. “You don’t look so good. You should rest, Soar.”
I shook my head, my world spinning. I couldn’t rest. I had to find them.
*****
I got halfway up the stairs to Apella and Alexei’s apartment and stopped. The air was scrubbed clean of noises. I knew they weren’t there.
The other Survivors checked homes too, zigzagging in and out of doors like startled bugs, yelling ‘clear’ and calling out people’s names.
We were just pushing the heavy door to Apella’s apartment building open when we heard a man scream, “Found something!”
His shouts were far off in the distance and came floating down from back up the hill. We both ran, joining others as we went, all desperately hoping it wasn’t our loved one that had been ‘found’.
The yells came from the edge of the forest, close to where I’d done my training with Careen and Pietre. People were crowded around something, shaking their heads, a warble of confusion drifting towards us as we approached. Two men shifted their legs, and I saw a flash of orange fur like flames and iron bars. I pushed my way into the group and looked down at the ground.
Its ribs rose and fell in a labored manner, a dense, strangled roar stuck in its throat. Blood had poured from a bullet wound in its stomach, creating a dark red halo around its body, but it was now a slow ooze. I felt nausea clouding my head, and I stumbled. Pelo caught my elbow and steadied me. His face showed a flash of concern. I shook off his grip and leaned down to the creature’s gigantic jaw, a disproportionately small trickle of blood slipped down its lip from where someone had wrenched a fang from its mouth. I shook my head with hurt and anger. A Survivor would never do this.
The people who did this had no respect, no understanding, for the life outside their concrete walls. I realized that the flash of white I saw hanging form that soldier’s neck when I was on the spinner heading home was a tooth. Somehow, they’d beat us here.
I snatched the stunner from Pelo’s backpack and held it to the beast’s temple. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I squeezed the trigger and held it there until I could no longer hear its ragged breathing.
When I stood, everyone’s wide eyes were on me. I handed Pelo the stunner and secretly wished Pietre had been here to see me do that. He was wrong about me. He said I didn’t have it in me to use the stunner when it was necessary. He just didn’t understand what necessary was to me.
I faced the men and women. Clasping my fingers around my pledge charm, I tugged it violently and held it up in front of them. “I don’t want to see any one of you kissing this damn thing and saying goodbye to Gwen, or to whoever you think you’ve lost.” I stood on my tiptoes to connect with each and every pair of eyes. “Until we see their bodies in front of us, they are still alive. Do you hear me?” My voice cracked a little at the end, and I whispered, “They’re still alive.”