Chapter 28
By late afternoon, the air was thick with heat and dust. The sun hung low behind the hills, casting long shadows across the valley.
Mary Anne sat on the clinic steps, her eyes heavy from another sleepless night.
The square was quiet except for the creak of the windmill and the distant clatter of Hale’s men reinforcing the barricades near the well.
The light had that strange stillness it got before sundown.
Emily was sweeping the porch beside her, moving slowly, her face drawn. “Almost feels calm,” Emily said.
“Almost,” Mary Anne said.
“There’s a man coming from the hills,” someone yelled.
She stood, eyes narrowing against the glare.
Dust rose in the distance, a wavering figure moving toward them.
At first, she thought it was a mirage, one of the illusions the desert made in the heat, but then the shape stumbled, caught itself, and kept walking.
The figure was tall but hunched. Each step looked like it took everything he had.
“Freddie,” she called.
They started toward the southern edge of town. Others followed, Hale among them, his expression wary. The man reached the last stretch of road before the square, swaying. His face came into view, blistered and streaked with dirt. Her breath caught.
“Rick,” she whispered.
“Mary Anne,” he said, the word breaking in his throat.
She ran the last few steps and caught him as his legs gave out. His body was light and burning hot, every muscle trembling. He fell against her shoulder, barely conscious. He tried to speak again, but only a rasp came out.
“Get water,” she shouted.
Freddie was already moving. Hale kneeled beside them.
They carried Rick to the clinic. His weight was almost nothing.
Inside, the air smelled of antiseptic and ash.
She laid him on the cot near the window, his clothes sticking to his skin.
Blisters covered his arms. The soles of his feet were cracked and bleeding.
“Bring the clean sheets,” she said.
Emily hurried to fetch them. Mary Anne filled a basin with cool water and tore what was left of Rick’s shirt away.
The burns were bad, but not the worst she had seen.
She soaked a cloth and began to clean the dirt from his skin, working slowly so the water didn’t sting too much.
Rick groaned once, his eyes flickering open.
“You’re here,” he whispered.
“I’m here,” she said. “Don’t try to talk.”
“Didn’t think I’d make it.”
“You did,” she said.
He tried to smile again, then coughed. She lifted a cup of water to his lips, tilting it carefully. He drank a little, then leaned back, eyes closing.
“You sure it’s him?” Freddie asked.
“It’s him,” she said.
“Where’s he been?”
“We’ll find out when he can speak.”
Hale entered next. “I’ll tell the others to stay back. No crowding.”
Mary Anne nodded. When they were alone again, she sat beside the cot. Rick’s breathing was shallow but steady. She wiped his forehead and pressed a damp cloth to his lips.
He stirred again near sunset, eyes fluttering open. “How long?” he asked.
“You’ve been out for a few hours,” she said. “Don’t move too much. You’re burned.”
“You fixed up the clinic.”
“It’s what was left.”
He gave a small laugh that turned into a cough. “Still fixing what breaks.”
“Someone has to.”
“You thought I was dead.”
“I think that about everyone lately,” she said.
“Vegas is gone.”
“Gone?”
“Burned,” he said. “The pulse hit worse there. Fires everywhere. The air was thick with smoke. People went mad. Some blamed the government; some blamed God.”
Mary Anne’s throat tightened. “You walked from there?”
“Started with a group but didn’t end with one. No one’s coming, Mary Anne. No rescue, no rebuilding. The cities are tearing each other apart. The bases are silent. It’s all gone.”
“What about the others?” she asked quietly. “Clinics, government stations, anything?”
“Gone. Whatever didn’t burn was looted. The people who survived are killing each other for what’s left.”
Emily came in with another bowl of water and froze at the sound of his voice. “He’s awake.”
Rick looked up. “Emily Turner. You grew up.”
She laughed softly. “You look like hell.”
“Feels worse.”
Mary Anne dipped the cloth again. “Drink more. Small sips.”
“How long’s it been?” he asked.
“A few weeks since the pulse.”
Freddie leaned in the doorway again. “You said Vegas burned?”
Rick nodded. “Firestorms. No power meant no pumps, no water. Gas lines ruptured. Whole neighborhoods went up. People tried to leave, but the freeways were jammed. Took me four days to get clear.”
“You’ve been walking since then?” Mary Anne asked.
“I followed the old highways until they ended in sand. Picked up pieces of food where I could. Found a few dead trucks, a few worse things.”
Freddie frowned. “Did you run into anyone else?”
“Too many,” Rick said. “Not the kind you talk to. Gangs, scavengers, and people who’d do anything for a full canteen. I started sleeping during the day and walking at night. It’s the only reason I’m still breathing.”
Mary Anne cleaned another burn on his arm. “You should rest.”
“I’ve been resting since I fell down that hill.”
“You need more,” she said.
He gave a small nod and let his eyes close again. His breathing evened out after a while, shallow but steady. The sun dropped behind the ridge, turning the sky the color of rust. The air cooled slightly, the heat bleeding away into the night.
Hale came by as darkness settled. “He’s awake?”
“Off and on,” Mary Anne said.
“He said anything useful?”
“He said everything’s gone. Vegas burned. The cities are dead.”
“Then that’s that.”
“It’s what we already knew,” she said.
“Knowing it and hearing it are different,” he said.
She nodded. “It means no one’s coming for us.”
When he left, she closed the door and sat back beside Rick. He slept fitfully, turning from side to side. His skin gleamed with sweat.
Emily returned later with a lantern and a plate of bread. “You should eat,” she said.
“I will,” Mary Anne said.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it this time.”
They ate in silence. The bread was hard but filling. The smell of smoke drifted through the cracks in the window frame.
After a while, Emily cleared her throat. “Do you believe him?”
“Yes,” Mary Anne said. “He wouldn’t lie about that.”
Emily nodded. “Then this is it.”
“This is it.”
“He’s lucky he found us.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t die out there,” Mary Anne said.
When Emily left, the room fell quiet again. Mary Anne watched the lantern flame flicker against the wall. The lantern light softened his face. He looked older and thinner. His eyes were sunken, but the intelligence she remembered was still there, buried under exhaustion. He reached for her hand.
His hand relaxed in hers, the tension easing as sleep took him again. Mary Anne stayed beside him until the lantern burned low. The quiet outside was deep, broken only by the soft hum of insects and the distant creak of wood. Sometime before dawn, Hale knocked at the door.
“Sorry to wake you,” he said. “Patrol saw movement north of the ridge. Could be fires again.”
“Any closer?”
“Hard to tell.”
She nodded. “Keep watch.”
He hesitated. “You sure he’s not bringing more trouble?”
“Rick?”
“Anyone who’s walked that far brings ghosts with him.”
She looked at the cot. “He’s not a threat. He’s just proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That we’re all that’s left.”
Hale studied her face for a moment, then left. When she turned back, Rick was awake again, watching her.
“You heard?” she asked.
“Some of it,” he said. “You really think we’re the last?”
“Not the last,” she said. “Just the farthest from anyone who can help. Rest,” she said. “You’re safe for now.”
He closed his eyes again, breathing slowly.
The sky outside began to lighten. Mary Anne stood, stretching her back.
Her legs ached, but she didn’t care. She poured the old water onto the dirt outside, then watched the horizon turn gold.
The mountains rose in silhouette, jagged and still.
When she turned back toward the town, she realized how quiet everything was.
Rick’s voice echoed in her mind. It’s all gone.
He had walked through the heart of what used to be a civilization, and all that was left was ash.
She stood there for a long time, the sunlight warming her face.
For the first time, she didn’t wonder if help might come.
She knew it wouldn’t. Rosewood stood alone, and the thought no longer shocked her.
She turned back toward the clinic and looked at Rick sleeping beneath the thin sheet, his chest rising and falling slowly.