Chapter 9
Maverick is waiting for me at the corner of Ridgemond and Grove.
On the one hand, I’m kind of surprised he didn’t put Madison behind him as quickly as he could.
If he expected a solid troupe of hunters to join him, that sure as hell didn’t happen, and I don’t think he was all that eager to take me up on my offer to tag along.
Sure, he sided against Jack, throwing out the “vote” idea, but I wonder if that was only because he seemed convinced our community would lean toward safety, urging me to stay.
On the other hand, the fact that Eddie caught me heading to St. Matthew’s and turned me around, telling me to head back the other way because that’s where the newcomer had gone… I almost said fuck it myself and returned to the condo.
I haven’t been back to that part of the Grave since the accident. If I wasn’t so determined to get away, I would’ve done anything to avoid the scorched asphalt where Hallie died. But if I stayed, it was inevitable that I’d have to face Chase again, and… no.
I hike my backpack high up on my shoulders, watching the stranger once I spot him so I don’t see anything else that might mess with my mind.
I approach him. “Thanks for waiting. I’m ready to go when you are.”
Maverick doesn’t move. There’s a pack perched at his feet like a faithful dog showing loyalty to his master; it’s about three times the size of mine, and he has a stained old bedroll stacked neatly on top.
On top of that there’s a Tupperware container full of pancakes, a plastic fork, and a bag full of fresh syrup. Looks like Mrs. Baker got to him, too.
A stack of papers are tucked neatly under his arm. He was studying one of the sheets as I moved toward him, but it’s suddenly folded up and out of my sight.
A slight frown tugs on his lips. “This is a bad idea,” he mutters. His voice is rough and quiet without the help of the microphone.
Not the sort of greeting any girl wants to get, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting this.
“You spoke to Jack.”
“It’s fair to say I spent a good chunk of my time in your town with him.”
That didn’t answer my question.
“And?” I cross my arms over my chest, a defiant tilt to my head as I look up at him. “We were both at the auditorium. It’s no secret that he doesn’t want me to leave the Grave.”
“It’s not that, Alexandra… it is Alexandra, right?”
“Xandra,” I correct him.
“It’s not that, Xandra. It’s—when I asked for volunteers to join me, I thought I’d get someone like that Chase kid. Or a vet, like your dad or Eddie Rogers. And, instead, I get—”
“A little blonde girl who looks like she doesn’t know her ass from her elbows?” I suggest.
Maverick’s lips quirk slightly, a hint of a smile on a hard, older man. “Something like that.”
The whisper of a grin is a tiny improvement, but it doesn’t make his expression any less guarded—or him any more eager to lead me out of the settlement.
I have to change his mind. If he doesn’t want me to tag along, I’m not going anywhere, and that just doesn’t work for me.
“He tell you about me?”
“You might have come up in the conversation.”
“Did he tell you that, after Chase, I have the most kills in the Grave?”
A calculating look flashes across his features, so quickly that if I hadn’t been watching for his reaction, I never would’ve noticed. He narrows his dark eyes, his lips pursed now.
“No,” he says at last. “He didn’t.”
“Yeah? Well, I do. And after I help take out another nest, I’ll have the most.”
Maverick watches me for a moment, sizing me up. I know exactly what he sees. No one in the Grave ever thought me and Hallie could team up and kill so many lurkers until we proved it by just going out and doing it.
“It’ll be a lot of roughing it. Walking through the daylight hours when the lurkers aren’t out, sleeping in shifts if we don’t find safe shelter when the sun goes down. You get that, don’t you? Because if you don’t—”
“I used to camp with my brother,” I tell him. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“A weekend on a camping ground is a lot different than going weeks at a time on the road. You sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me. You can back out now, stay here where it’s safe. No one’ll think any less of you if you do.”
Safe? Where the fuck has he been the last nine months? Hallie is proof that not even living in the Grave can protect us for long.
I shake my head stubbornly. "You're right: I don't have to prove anything to you. To anyone. You know why? Because this isn't about any of you."
He starts to say something, but I cut him off before he can.
"And, hey, look… this isn't about me, either. Not really. This is about taking out as many lurkers as I—we—can. You're going out there to hunt. You asked for volunteers. I'm here. Maybe we can add on, gather a crew before we make it to the city. Either way, I’m ready to light ‘em up."
Maverick looks me over again, though not in a pervy way.
Not like how the boys used to check me out growing up, or how the guys did when they were eager to get me into bed with them.
Nope. It’s an appraising-my-abilities way.
His eyes linger on the backpack I’m wearing, the newer sleeping bag that Eddie dropped off last night looped around the top.
The stranger can see that, for better or worse, I'm as ready as I can be.
The jut to my jaw warns him against even trying to call my bluff.
In the morning light, his expression darkens.
And I wonder: what's gonna be his next move?
He jerks his head at me before starting to gather his supplies. “Just make sure you keep up.”
I’m at least fifteen years younger than this guy, and I want it bad. “Don’t worry. I will.”
He wasn’t kidding when he told the Grave that this trip is going to take a whole lot longer than I would’ve thought.
A walk that should’ve taken ten minutes in the before times—the journey to the end of the Grave, stepping over our self-proclaimed borders—takes half an hour despite my desire to get out of town as soon as possible.
Before we started off, Maverick pulled a battered compass from his pants pocket. He tapped it once, watched the way the needle spun, then nodded to himself before walking away from me without a word. Following his lead, I jogged at his heels, determined to keep up.
At first I was a touch nervous that he planned on taking us right through the trees in front of us; no matter how much I want to go, I don’t think I could walk the path the lurkers took toward us the night Hallie died.
But then Maverick turned left, heading down the middle of Ridgemond Avenue.
It’s the direction of the nearby train tracks, and I exhale softly as I match his pace.
Up ahead, there’s an elementary school. It sits about two blocks past the rusted, unused train tracks. Martin Luther King Primary School marks the far reaches of the Grave on this side, the outskirts of the boundary that our patrol teams watch over.
It’s also the plot of land where we bury the few survivors who have died since the Turning.
Only our community-appointed gravediggers ever go this far. Even if a loved one is buried here, we’re not allowed to visit. It’s too dangerous.
At least, that’s what Jack always said when I asked to visit Hallie’s grave. But Jack’s not here, is he?
“Wait,” I call out. “Before we go… there’s something I have to do.”
Maverick pauses ahead of me. Interestingly, he’s not staring straight in front of him.
As I move past him, I notice that he’s staring at MLK.
I’m pretty sure that all he sees is the school.
It’s not like he has any idea about the cemetery behind it…
and I believed that until he frowns, shaking his head, as he says, “I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” and I suspect that he might know more about the Grave than I would have expected.
Oh, well. He’s not me, and I’m not about to let him stop me, either. So, giving him a tight-lipped smile, holding up one single finger to signal for him to hang on, I jog across the street before he can say another word to me.
I slow down to a brisk walk when I reach the front of the school.
Something compels me to stop and check over my shoulder, and I do.
I give a start when I realize that Maverick is right behind me.
Though his boots look like they’ve gotta be heavy, he must have a gait like a damn cat because I never even heard him coming.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “You done already? Because I don’t like stopping unless it’s necessary. That includes bathroom breaks if you’re wondering.”
If he thinks he can convince me to give up while we’re still in the Grave by mentioning I’ll have to squat outside to go, he has another think coming.
“Don’t worry about me. I can piss outside without getting any on my socks.
But that’s not what I’m doing. And you don’t have to come with me. I’ll be finished in a few seconds.”
He doesn’t have to come with me, but Maverick doesn’t quite get that. For a man who seems more than happy to go on without any volunteers after asking for them, when I inch my way around the back of the school, he’s right there behind me as though afraid we’ll be separated.
Oh, well. If he wants to come, he might as well. Maybe then he’ll understand that this isn’t a game to me.
Leading the way, I go around the perimeter of the school, more than a little nervous the closer I get to the cemetery.
I’ve always wanted to see where Jack had Hallie buried.
On the nights when my dreams were really bad—when I swore she was haunting me—I’d think of all the conversations I’d have at her graveside, of the apology I don’t think I’ll ever get quite right.
Now? Now I have my chance.
Except, the moment I turn the last corner, I stop short. Maverick does the same, pausing before he bumps into me. I don’t even think I’d notice if he did.
Nope. I’m too busy heaving behind the hand I clamped over my mouth.