Two Nights Ago
The air was cool and the colder it got, the more we huddled together, drawing on each other’s body heat. Throughout the night, four of us, separate and scared, became one. I could taste the sharp salty air and as much as the elements conspired to ruin us, they only bonded us closer. We were quiet, each probably trapped in our own thoughts, fears and regrets. I know I was.
It sounds silly, but I always wanted to spend a semester abroad. To learn a foreign language, maybe French, so fluently I would dream in it. Speaking a different language made me feel as if I’d be a different person over there, wherever there was. I wouldn’t be Ruthie Stroud. I’d be someone special. But after all this, I wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen.
I should’ve been nicer to my mom. I should’ve allowed her to be happy. But mostly, I wished I’d gone out with Max. We would’ve been good together. I was always so scared of getting hurt, but not dating didn’t stop me from getting hurt. It only made me miss out on things. Like love.
To my side, I often heard Theo weeping. Sometimes I joined him.
I wondered what Sasha had meant to tell me in the forest, before we took to the road. There’s something I want to say to you, she’d said. Something I’ve been meaning to say. I will never know. I will always wonder. I know what I wanted her to say. I’m sorry, she might have said. I never meant to hurt you. You were my best friend. I missed you and I want you back.
Not knowing is its own pain. She could’ve told me anything.
It can wait, she’d said.
No, it couldn’t. I was left with a question mark and it will haunt me forever.
“I got it,” said Theo, emerging from memory. “The sheriff’s station.”
“You realize,” said Renzo, “that’s where the sheriff is.”
“It’s the only place with a radio. I’ve been there with Sasha. It doesn’t rely on the internet and it’s got its own emergency link.”
The sheriff’s station was near Main Street. Not far from here. But it might be crawling with adults. Still, it was a plan. An escape. I said, “I say we go for it.”
I glanced at Max and he nodded his assent. Theo massaged his legs before standing up.
“Wait,” said Renzo. “There’s no reason for all of us to go.”
“It’s better,” replied Theo, “if we stay together. That means everybody.”
“Why? Someone’s got to notice the ferry’s not running. We just gotta dig in, hold out and we’ll be golden.”
“Theo’s right,” Max said.
“No, he’s not. It’s basic math. The more of us that go out there, the higher our chances of being spotted. Seriously. We’re safe here.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” asked Max.
“We can go without water for what? Three days. What’s the rush?”
“The rush,” I said, “is that I don’t want to starve waiting for a ship that may never come. We’ve got strength now.”
Theo said, “Renzo’s only saying that so he’s not the one to go if we send one person.”
“I never said that,” Renzo replied. “I’ll go.”
“You will?”
“Yeah, if we draw straws or something.”
“There it is,” said Theo. “I knew the excuse was coming.” Theo said to Renzo, “Everyone’s done something to help the group. Except you.”
“Who made you frickin’ Mayor?”
Max, Theo, and I looked at him.
“And if I don’t?” Renzo said.
“Accidents happen,” Theo said. “Would hate to see you roll off the ledge in your sleep.”
“That works both ways.”
Theo moved threateningly toward Renzo, and Renzo stood up. If they came to blows, they’d likely push us off. I stepped in between them. “Stop it. We’ll draw straws, okay?”
“For once, I’d like to see what you’re made of,” said Theo.
Renzo stood on the edge, arms wide. “Want to push me? Then push me. Let’s get this over with.”
Theo met Renzo’s eyes, tension thick, and he then bent down to pick up a stick.
“Not him,” Renzo said. “He’ll cheat.”
Theo gazed at the stick and then handed it to Max. “Whatever. Here.”
Max broke it into four pieces, all about the same size except for a short one. He laid them in his hand for all of us to see. “Any questions?”
Everyone stayed quiet. He turned his back and when he returned there were four pieces between his thumb and finger that appeared identical. “Theo, you first,” he said.
Theo didn’t hesitate. It was a normal stick.
I went second. My heartbeat sped up and I drew. It, too, was a normal stick.
Two sticks remained.
Max turned to Renzo. “Your turn.”
Renzo rubbed his hands together, taking his time trying to decide between the two. His mouth contorted in concentration, and he peered into Max’s eyes for any tells. Placing his fingers on one, he quickly removed it with dramatic flair.
The stick was short.
Max opened his hand. The last piece was of normal size.
Theo said, “Guess that means it’s you.”
Renzo had the look of someone given a pop quiz. “You know, now that I think of it, it would be better if we all went together. Keep an eye on each other. Cover all angles.”
None of us took the bait.
“You send me out there, you’re sending me to my death, you know that, right?”
“We all picked,” said Max.
“Then make it fair. Do two out of three.” When he saw we wouldn’t be persuaded, he seemed to diminish in front of me. “I’m scared, all right? I’m ready to pee my pants. No joke.”
No one said it, but we were all scared. An uncomfortable silence filled the ledge.
“Screw it,” said Renzo. “Just tell me how to get out of here.”
Max instructed him on where the small outcroppings of rock were, places you could get a foothold and then hoist yourself up. We watched as Renzo climbed the rock, and he cursed Max’s instructions. The rocks were cold and slippery, the dark making things worse.
Renzo’s voice echoed down. “I can’t see crap.”
“That’s a good thing,” said Max. “Means you can’t see the water.” Max whispered to us. “It’s actually scarier during the day, ’cause you’re staring straight down.”
“I heard that,” Renzo said. After several more minutes, he made it to the top and called down, his voice echoing. “Private Renzo reporting for duty. Stay here and I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” Theo said.
“That’s it?” asked Renzo. “No good lucks or I love yous?”
“Good luck,” I said.
“Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but it’ll do.” He left, or we assumed he did, for we heard nothing.
Then we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I might have fallen asleep. I can’t say for sure, but when I looked into the sky, the moon had shifted positions. I certainly didn’t feel rested. Everything was fuzzy, the edges soft. Renzo still hadn’t returned. I don’t know what I expected—an armada of Coast Guard ships or helicopters circling overhead, Special Forces parachuting down. What I expected was something, not the nothing I saw.
“He took off,” said Theo. “I know it. He took off and ran. He would’ve come back by now.”
“Or he might be dead,” I said. One kid against an entire town? It was the most likely outcome, and I wondered if we’d sent him to his death, after all. “Did we do the right thing?”
Theo uncurled from the floor. “Guy like Renzo? He scurried away faster than a cockroach.”
“How long do we wait?”
“We’ve waited long enough,” said Max.
“So, what do we do? Try again?”
“It’s the only way,” said Theo.
“I’ll go,” I said.
“No,” said Max. “This time we’ll go together.”
We climbed, one at a time, threading up the craggy rock. The dark was a mercy, as it saved me getting vertigo or confronting my fear of heights. My world was made up of rock, jagged pieces serving as footholds. I focused on my breath and my hands, and though the journey was only yards, it felt much longer.
Suddenly, my foot slipped, I nearly bit my tongue, but I caught myself. A few stray pebbles rained down on Theo.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said and continued up. Once on the cliff, I scanned the area: no adults. No one, actually.
Then I helped Theo up. Max came last, scampering quickly, knowing the footholds almost by heart.
We stood on the cliff and I felt exposed. Open space from all sides. The dark gave the illusion we were caught in a dream, that come morning this would all be forgotten.
If we made it to morning.
The three of us walked toward Main Street, and Max held my hand. Whether I extended first or if he grabbed mine, I don’t remember, only the pulse and warmth of his grip. It was probably the most romantic thing that ever happened to me. Moonlight spread across the barren town, filling it with possibility. I caught myself wondering what it would be like to live in a world like this: free to choose your own way; free to live a life without the patterns of the past and far too many shoulds. I hated to admit it, but it was beautiful. Such quiet, such peace.
If only it had stayed that way.
Up ahead, the gas station sat empty, no cars in sight.
The shadows were perfect hiding places. So many questions circled. Did infected adults sleep? Did they even need sleep? Maybe they wouldn’t be out at night.
We walked, air nipping against us, crickets chirping, and I could hear Max’s breath. One step followed another until we heard a sudden noise and I recoiled. Max had inadvertently hit a discarded beer can, and it rattled down the street.
We stopped, wondering if the sound had triggered anything. Or anyone.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s all right,” I said, ramrod straight, senses on alert.
Nothing.
Where had they gone? I suddenly felt as if they were waiting for us at the sheriff’s station. They were adults, smart, clever, more experienced. They would know where we would go.
“We can’t,” I gasped. “The sheriff’s station.” I couldn’t put words together. Couldn’t make a thought. My heart pounded, my skin felt like icicles and I must’ve slumped to the ground for my vision was filled with my brother’s face, looking down at me.
“Breathe, Ruthie. Breathe.”
I felt on the verge of slipping into hysteria, a kind of hysteria I wasn’t sure I would survive. My brain, I thought, was broken. I fell into madness; every fiber, every synapse, running on fear. Names fluttered in my mind, a carousel of the dead: Noah, Rachel, Jose, Sasha, and so many others. Noah, Rachel, Jose, Sasha.
I fought for identity.
I am here. I will not die in vain.
Seconds passed and my lungs took up air.
“You okay?”
I nodded. The panic had passed. The mania receded from my body.
Max asked, “You said something about the sheriff’s station?”
“Nothing,” I replied. It was only fear talking. I wouldn’t allow it to take root and grow. “Let’s keep going.”
Theo asked, “You sure?”
“Yes.”
The names kept me focused. I would escape so that the world would know the awful truth. The hideous hell Hemlock Island had become.
Noah, Rachel, Jose, Sasha.
Main Street was deserted. The school and dock were down the way. I gestured, “Should we?”
Max said, “I don’t feel like having déjà vu.”
We kept walking.
The sheriff’s station was a small building surrounded by an empty parking lot. It wasn’t built for major crime, only community service. Max approached the door, about to open it.
“Wait,” I said and peered through the window. The reception area held a phone, desk, cabinets, a sign warning against drinking and driving, but otherwise, no one was inside. I nodded, Max opened the door, and we all entered.
The door clanked behind us and we were met by an odd scent of old socks and rotten fruit. Theo reached for the light switch, and I whispered, “No.” Our eyes were nearly adjusted to the dark. I crossed the room and grabbed the phone. It was dead. “You said—”
Before I could finish, Theo said, “Not that one. That’s the regular phone. The radio is….” And he opened the cabinet.
I didn’t need to look because his face told me everything. The radio was busted, wires emerging like Medusa’s head. Theo reached out and held it, pressing the mic, as if doing so would make it crackle to life.
Of course, it didn’t.
In one second, Theo was still, and then next, he was all motion. He whipped the radio against the wall, winding his arm like a pitcher, the radio clanging. Not satisfied, he kicked it, sending it across the room.
Trying to add levity, I said, “I think you’ve killed it, Theo. It’s dead.”
“All the times I was here with Sasha. I can see her behind the counter, helping her dad.” He moved in circles. “She’s everywhere.” He went back to kicking the phone. “IT. WAS. SUPPOSSED. TO WORK.”
I touched him on his shoulder to get him to stop.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This isn’t how the story was supposed to end.”
“It’s not over, Theo.”
He stood, suddenly seeming very old. My brother, broken. “Isn’t it?”
“Not if we say it isn’t.”
“I don’t want to die, Ruthie.”
I took his face in my hands. “I won’t let you.”
I knew it wasn’t a promise I could make.