CHAPTER 11
FREJA
WILF WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE LOCATION of gas supplies on the base, and he even knew where the keys were kept. He’s had a lot of time on his hands to explore.
Kai fetches the truck while we work out the emergency release for the boom gate so he can drive it onto the base. Now that we know it is just Wilf and Azra who monitor the cameras, at last I can be out in the fresh air without that appalling hat.
And I wonder why we’re even doing this—getting fuel for the tanks in the back of Angus’s truck. We’ve found what we need here: internet and supplies. Surely we’re not going to take this truck back to Angus? Maybe this is just Kai’s way of distracting us from attempting to contact other survivors—if we even can.
I can’t see what his problem with it is, anyway. He was always a bit funny about being with that group of survivors—even though I could tell he liked and trusted Patrick.
But he doesn’t like being the different one.
Who does?
When Kai drives the truck through the gate, Wilf and I get in the front with him, and Wilf directs Kai to the pumps. Azra went back to the bunker, saying something about making dinner.
There’s no power on the base generally, just in the bunker. Filling the tanks is slow without it; it’s a matter of siphoning small amounts and then transferring to the tanks. Wilf is soon bored and wanders off.
“Alone at last,” Kai says, heaving a full tank onto the back of the truck, then getting an empty one to replace it.
“Why are we doing this? You’re not still thinking we’ll take them back to the farm—or are these supplies for us?”
“We can’t leave them stranded without fuel or a truck—so yes, it needs to go back.”
“Aren’t other things more important?”
He meets my eyes. “Yes and no.”
“Hmmm. And now is your chance to talk like you said you wanted to. What was bothering you earlier, Kai?”
“Lots of things: the state of the world, my family—and their whereabouts—kids like Azra and Wilf left on their own. We can’t leave them here like this; what do we do?”
“It’s not for us to decide, Kai. Look at all the two of them have managed so far.” His eyebrows are going up, and I’m shaking my head. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t offer help. Just don’t be surprised if it is refused.”
“They’re not exactly adults. Should they decide what to do?”
“The world has changed.”
“Don’t I know it. Just because they’re survivors doesn’t mean they know what’s what at their age.”
“I didn’t say that it did. But—”
“I just get the feeling you think anyone who is a survivor is vastly superior to everybody else. Like suddenly a twelve-year-old can make grown-up decisions.”
“I never said anything of the kind! But you don’t know how it is to be as they are. How would you know what’s right for them better than they do?”
There’s a pause, an uncomfortable one.
“Look, Kai. I really think the best thing we can do for them is get them to hook up with Patrick’s group or another like it. I think once they’ve thought about it some more, that is what they’ll want to do.”
“What if Patrick and the others are with Multiverse and Alex?”
“We don’t know that they are.”
“We do know there was a mysterious group in Scotland that contacted them, asked them to go there and join up.”
“Scotland is a big place.”
“Survivors are, what—one in fifty thousand, something like that? What was the population of Scotland? How many groups could there actually be?”
I frown. “Math isn’t my thing. Anyway, apart from Alex, nobody else we met in Multiverse was a survivor—that doesn’t exactly make a group.”
“Shay, Elena, and Beatriz have joined them, though.” Kai manages to say their names without wincing, either visibly or internally, and despite my irritation at this conversation, I still notice this. I’m relieved he can say her name without it being a big thing.
“They did, but that was well after Patrick was communicating with whoever it was.”
“I just have a bad feeling about contacting them. Aren’t there any other options for Azra and Wilf?”
“Like what? Turn them in to the authorities and hope they’ve given up on the institutionalization or murder of survivors? I don’t think so.”
The last tank is full now, and Kai heaves it onto the back of the truck with the others.
“What now, then?” Kai says.
“If you want to take the truck back to the farm, go ahead. I’ll wait here; I don’t want to leave them.”
Kai wants to get going instead of having dinner, and Azra packs some food for him. I manage to get her to hold back Wilf while I walk out to the truck with Kai. The bike is full of gas too, for his return, and he’s managed to squeeze it back on the truck with the tanks.
“Well. Okay, bye, then,” Kai says. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He stands there, a bit awkward—shifting from one foot to the other. Is he that impatient to get away from me?
“Kai?”
He turns toward me, and there is something else there, in his aura—some worry he hasn’t shared.
I slip my hand around his back to tug him closer, and all at once he hugs me tight like he doesn’t want to let go.
“Make sure you’re still here when I get back,” he whispers into my hair.
“You do have a history of losing girls,” I say, surprised that I dare. “But don’t worry; I’m hard to get rid of.” And without waiting to see if he reacts to what I said, I kiss him, and he kisses me back until the world melts away.
A moment later I watch him disappear up the road, confused how I can feel one way one moment and another the next.
Is something wrong? It’s Azra. She’s standing in the shadow of the building behind me.
I don’t know.
Nice kiss.
You were watching?
Not much to do here but watch things. She’s sort of teasing and wistful at once.
We need to get you away from here before Wilf seems like a good option.
She shudders. As much as I like the brat—and don’t tell him I said that—that’ll SO never happen.
Over a dinner of tasteless reconstituted long-life spaghetti and meat sauce, we three have a meeting to talk about what Azra and Wilf should do. Wilf has some interesting suggestions, like traveling to the coast, building a boat, and sailing around the world. But eventually we get around to the option I’d raised earlier: contacting other survivors and maybe thinking about joining them.
And it’s unanimous: they want to try.
Doing this when Kai isn’t here feels wrong: I know he won’t like it. But for so long now, we’ve been on his quests: first, to find Shay; now, his sister, and dealing with Alex. I’ve gone along—I’ve been there for him. I did everything I could to help and protect him on the way. Even though he maybe wouldn’t agree with me not telling him what Shay said if he knew about it, I’m still certain it was the best way to help him. My friend.
Maybe now he’s something more, even though I’m not sure quite what that something more may be.
Or may become.
Just the same: this is one time he doesn’t get a vote. It is all about Azra and Wilf.
Back on the computer, first we check the email address Kai gave to his mum to reply to. There’s a message! It says to call the switchboard and ask for her assistant to set something up.
Given that a dead guy emailed her and she is reacting like this, maybe she worked out it is Kai. Maybe she thinks doing it through a switchboard and assistant means no one will take notice?
Next, I find the forum I met JJ on before, all that time ago. He was the first survivor I found anywhere, online or in person, and I remember how amazing it felt to know: I’m not the only one. I’m not alone.
I log in. I’m surprised to see that I have a load of unread messages: they’re all from JJ. Until recently he messaged every few days. They are variations on a theme but mostly asking if I’m okay, and I feel guilty that I didn’t think to contact him before and am only doing it now because I need help.
The last one he sent was over a week ago. Is that because he’s given up on me? Or maybe something has happened to him. I hope he’s okay.
I bite my lip, then type this: Hi, JJ, sorry haven’t been in touch. I’m fine. How’re things with you? And I sign it using my online name, the one he first knew me by: Dineke. There’s a pang inside when I see it on the screen again. It was my sister’s name.
Until I found JJ, I’d thought I was even more different—and more alone—than she ever had been, even before she killed herself. That’s why I used her name.
Finding JJ then had made me find hope.
And all we can do now is wait, see if he answers. If he doesn’t, we’ll have to try other ways to contact survivor groups. But it’s risky to search online for survivors when being one is so dangerous; anyone you find that way could be something entirely different from how they portray themselves—they could be survivor hunters. Or the authorities. Perhaps they are one and the same; it certainly was that way with SAR.
Come on, JJ, we need you.
Well, they do: Azra and Wilf. I’m good; it’s me and Kai against the world as usual, isn’t it?
But somehow that seems lonelier now than it did before.