Chapter 39: Truman

Truman had been the one to think of releasing the other dead people, mostly because he felt sorry for them, but also to increase the confusion and give Ramona, Lou, and him a better chance of escape. It was still early enough in the morning that they had no trouble sneaking among the tents and buildings and unlocking cages and chains and collars. Truman felt some concern that the dead people might kill some living person who wasn’t so bad, but he hadn’t met many of those since coming here. Dalia was the only one he’d be really worried about, and she seemed quite capable of taking care of herself. Truman’s concern over the safety of the living people diminished further when he saw that most of the dead people either just sat there when they were released, or they immediately made their way out of the camp and toward the wilderness.

“Shouldn’t you have kept the gun, Truman?” Ramona asked as he led her and Lou out of the Dead End and into the surrounding woods, trying to head in the direction Dalia had indicated.

“Maybe,” he said. “I thought she might need it. And I hated how it felt, anyway.”

“Really? I kind of liked it when I held the cannon. Felt good. And that look on his face.”

“Then I’m glad you’re the one who used it.”

Ramona’s bloodthirstiness was a bit unnerving, but not nearly as upsetting to Truman as Dalia’s reprimand. Other than that, this morning had gone about as well as he could’ve expected. He really didn’t know if they’d find Lucy, or what would come of this, and his worries now turned to what would happen to him out in the wild—killed by other dead people, or by the living? Just sitting in the cold and heat with nothing to do? Well, it couldn’t be worse than what they’d been through. At least they were free, and if death came, it would only be a more radical kind of freedom for them.

From somewhere nearby, Truman heard gunfire. He stopped to listen. It seemed to come from where Dalia had said the City Patrol base was located. Truman’s first instinct was to flee from guns, but at the same time he wondered if Lucy might be in danger. He couldn’t decide what to do. The gunfire was followed by an explosion, powerful enough to cause ripples in a puddle at Truman’s feet. That only further confused and frightened him, and he looked at Ramona with embarrassment. A man was supposed to make decisions and solve problems, but he was powerless at the moment.

Ramona smiled at him, and even took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Truman,” she said. “Everybody’s scared of being shot. The girl said your woman was that way. We should go. Bad men are shooting. They usually shoot at dead people. We need to help.”

Truman now heard a sort of cheer, but it sounded funny, more like a call that dead people would make. This finally shook him from his indecision. “Let’s go,” he said.

The three of them continued, emerging from among the trees into an open area. A high fence was there, topped by barbed wire. Behind the fence were dilapidated buildings that didn’t look fit for habitation, but didn’t look fully abandoned either. They weren’t overgrown with kudzu or falling down completely, so people must have lived in them, though Truman couldn’t imagine how. Farther away, drifting above the buildings, he saw a dust cloud that he assumed was from the explosion.

They followed the fence until Ramona extended her arm and stopped. Three figures were coming toward them. At first, Truman felt terror, that these were guards with guns and everything would be over in a moment. But he and Ramona and Lou weren’t fast enough to make it back to the trees anyway, so they just stood there and awaited their fate. As the other people got closer, however, their movements didn’t look like those of the living. Good. These were people like him. Perhaps they’d know where Lucy was, though Truman wasn’t sure how many dead people could talk or understand. He pushed Ramona and Lou forward toward the strangers.

As they got closer, Truman could not believe it was Lucy, but the cloth across half her face was a pretty distinctive marking. It had to be her, leading two other dead women—one quite broad, the other tall and thin. It seemed to take Lucy a moment longer to recognize Truman, but as her pace increased, he knew she must’ve realized it was him as well.

“Truman,” she said as she threw herself at him. Her voice was the most beautiful thing he’d heard in weeks. Her grip as she held him was even stronger than he remembered.

“I didn’t think I was so lucky,” he whispered to her. If he’d still been able to shed tears, he would’ve cried for joy, but all he could do was hold on to her and breathe in her scent.

They only stayed there a moment, before she released him. Truman got a better look at her. He found the blood around her mouth a little disconcerting, but even that added to her beauty.

“These are my friends,” Lucy said. “Christine and Carole. This is Truman.”

The two dead women acknowledged him with nods. Only after an awkward pause did Truman realize he was supposed to give similar introductions. “Oh, this is Lou and Ramona,” he said. He thought Lucy’s eye might’ve flashed as she looked over Ramona, but Truman probably just imagined it.

“I’m glad you found your man,” the large woman, Christine, said. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy said. Truman could only shake his head as he kept staring at her and thinking how happy he was.

“We should get back to the others,” Carole said.

“Yeah, we should,” Christine agreed. “We need to get them out of there before the food men show up and kill all of them.” She turned to Lucy. “But you should go with your man and his friends. Go off into the woods. You can be free of all this shit. You deserve it.”

“So do you,” Lucy said.

“Maybe we’ll find you later,” Christine replied. “But we need to get going.”

Lucy embraced her two friends, who started back the way they had come. “They’re right,” Ramona said. “We should get out of here.”

“What about Will and Rachel?” Lucy said.

How could she think of them? She was free, with Truman, and they should forget about the people who’d gotten them into all the pain they’d suffered over the last few weeks.

“What about them?” Truman asked, scowling at her for maybe the first time. “We don’t need them.”

Lucy smiled, in that way Truman always thought was so beautiful, even as he had to admit it looked a little like a snarl. “No, we don’t,” she said. “But they’re our friends.”

“We have new friends. People like us. It’s better, safer.” Truman had only thought of finding her, and he’d been unbelievably lucky to do so. He wasn’t about to go traipsing around trying to find those two. “Besides—how would we find them, anyway? We can’t get inside the city where they are.”

“No, I guess you’re right.” Truman was shocked at how sad she sounded at that. What was wrong with her? Her strength when she’d held him, together with the blood on her lips, had reminded him of how she really was—savage and powerful—but all this talk about Will and Rachel confused and frightened Truman. It didn’t seem natural or right to him.

“People coming,” Lou said, pointing back toward the trees. “Truman and ladies should run. Lou can’t run as fast. Go.”

Truman looked to where two figures were approaching them, then he heard one of them call his name, then Lucy’s. Truman looked at Lucy, and saw how excited she was at the appearance of Will and Rachel. Though Lucy’s look of joy gave Truman the usual thrill that it always did, he could hardly share her feelings. He knew the two living people would complicate things, as they always did, and he didn’t like that at all.