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The next day after another MRE breakfast, they left the area. For her and Benjamin, the morning meal had been chicken a la king, crackers, stale fruitcake for dessert, with a piece of gum so dry and hard that she could have used it to tip an arrow. They marched northwest with the four strangers. For once, Coral was certain of her direction, for Doug had a compass that he kept consulting.
When she asked Kathy about the compass, the other woman said, “It’s our only one. We pass it between groups.”
Coral knew better than to ask for more information about their supplies yet, or their organization, but the woman’s brief explanation must mean that they had three or more groups of explorers, going out to hunt for food and useful equipment. They would have begun nearer home and cleaned out everything within a day’s hike before ranging out farther. How far they walked back to their home would give her a hint of how desperate they were for food.
As the day wore on, she grew weary. It wasn’t only the chronic hunger, it was reluctance to be embroiled in another bad situation—to be trapped and powerless—that made her legs unwilling to move quickly.
In mid-afternoon, they walked into the beginning of what was obviously a city. “Is it Boise?” she asked Benjamin.
He nodded.
“The outskirts, really,” said Kathy. She sounded happy. She was probably returning to friends and familiar routines.
“We’re set up in the university district,” said Doug.
“You mean, your group?”
“Everyone left alive,” he said. “It had the best housing, lots of brick and concrete that survived.”
“And it’s defensible,” said Jamie. “More so before the river froze.”
“Have you been attacked?” asked Benjamin.
Doug said, “Early on, once. But we still have patrols. We learned our lesson.”
Jamie cleared his throat. “Let Levi give them the orientation.” And decide what they need to know, he clearly meant.
“Right,” said Doug.
“We’re all excited about getting home,” said Kathy, conciliatory.
Coral wondered if there was punishment, something official, for one of them breaking the rules. If Doug turned to her and gave her every piece of defensive information about the Boise compound, would he be shot, or not fed for a day, or put in stocks? Or were they as casual as they seemed to be, blithely letting secrets slip with nothing more than a friendly reminder not to do worse.
Surely, after all these months, they weren’t this casual about security. She wondered if they were acting out a play for her and Benjamin, pretending to be something they were not. And then, she’d find out, once she was behind closed doors, what they really were. What if this was bad, like the cult? What if it were worse than the cult?
Her steps slowed more, and Martin, who was directly behind her, walked into her, his boots scraping her heels.
“Sorry,” he said.
He had jostled the burlap bag off-balance, and she stopped to readjust it and to think. Should she and Benjamin make a break for it now? Her palms were sweating and her breath coming fast. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and she dropped her sack and sat right there.
“What is it?” Benjamin said, coming to her side. He dropped his own sack and knelt beside her. “Are you sick? Dizzy?”
She shook her head. “I think maybe—” she gasped for another breath. “Maybe a panic attack.” She tried to keep her voice pitched for his ears only.
Kathy, overhearing, said, “Do you have them a lot?”
“Never,” said Coral. “Maybe it’s—” She ran out of breath again. “Something else.” She pressed her hand to the ache in her chest. That felt better. She opened her jacket, made a fist, and massaged her chest with her knuckles. The knuckles bumped over her protruding ribs, but the ache eased.
Kathy had waved the other men away a few feet, and they stood in a loose circle, watching her. Coral closed her eyes against the sight of all those judging eyes. “I’m fine,” she said to Benjamin. She motioned him closer and whispered to him. “Just scared. Are we going to be all right?”
“I think so,” he whispered. “I have your back. Every minute. I promise.”
“Don’t let them separate us, okay?” she said. The tightness in her chest was easing. She felt ashamed of her momentary weakness. She was stronger than this.
“I won’t leave your side,” he said.
She struggled to get up and he jumped up first to give her a hand. “Sorry,” she said to the group. “I’m okay now.”
Kathy came forward. “Really?”
“Really,” she said.
“We won’t hurt you.” She looked sympathetic.
Coral didn’t believe the reassurance. “I’m conditioned for the worst.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Kathy. “We’ve had it okay here. I don’t appreciate it enough, I suppose. Food, walls, organization, law and order.”
“I’m ready,” Coral said, picking up her sack again. Her embarrassment was turning to anger at herself. If she had to be weak, did she have to show it to these people? No good could come of that. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again, no matter what happened. Keep a brave front. Don’t seem vulnerable. Watch your back. Trust no one but Benjamin. Those were the rules of survival.
They walked farther and farther into a ghost town. Brick and concrete buildings had survived, and the tidy lines of streets were still obvious between them. The cars had been buried under snow by now, but every so often the top of a truck poked up out of the drifts. Metal poles that had held streetlights still stood. Two stories of a chain hotel stuck out of the snow, its sign a reminder of the old world.
How long before all this was gone? Twenty-five years? A hundred? How long before every building and the asphalt below them crumbled into dust? Would the buildings outlast people? Was there anything that anyone could do to keep humanity alive that long?
Coral was having a hard enough time keeping herself alive. The rest of the species would have to fend for itself. She glanced at Benjamin. Except for him, of course. She’d do whatever she could to keep him alive too.
For the hundredth time that day, she hoped that following these strangers into their home was not going to be something she’d regret.
Then she glanced at the hands gripping rifles and shotgun, and she remembered it wasn’t her choice at all—not any longer. She had seen their city. The choice had been made. She would have to see it through.
