Twenty-Nine
Jack
Asia moved toward the sound, but I grabbed her elbow. “Get behind me,” I said.
I didn’t stop long enough to see if she’d argue.
Instead, I moved.
The others gathered by the front door, peering out. “What is it?” I practically sprinted across the living area.
“Caitlin says she sees someone,” Miles said.
I looked at the kid, gauging what ran through his head. He had a good head on his shoulders. Reminded me so much of Evan, it made my chest ache.
“You stay back here and keep an eye on them.” After a beat, I pressed the gun into his hand. “You know how to use this?”
He shook his head, but then met my eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”
I squeezed his shoulder—harder than I needed to—because his kind of bravery deserved it.
I nodded and moved on, knowing Asia wasn’t even a step behind me. “What did you see, Caitlin?” I said, my voice low as I approached.
“It’s a boy,” she whispered, “out there.”
I glanced at Asia. Her brow was furrowed. Then I looked out and saw nothing but trees.
“You sure?” I said.
“I might not be Asia, but I’m not a freaking idiot, Jack.”
I ignored the venom in her voice, and said, “Where was he?”
“There. By the trees,” she said, looking off into the distance.
I moved, knowing Asia was by my side.
“Keep your eyes open,” I whispered. I didn’t have to tell her.
But saying it was more for me than her—yet another promise I’d keep her safe .
I didn’t like anything about this, but I didn’t have a choice.
If I had my way, Asia would be somewhere safe. But in this world—what was left of it—the only place I thought was safe was next to me. Even if that meant marching her straight into the unknown.
“You don’t think she saw anything?” Asia asked under her breath.
“Maybe. Or maybe it was her imagination. Or it could be someone trying to trick us. I guess we’ll find out,” I said.
She didn’t say anything else, and still together, we walked across the lawn, eyes sharp for anything.
“I don’t like being exposed like this.” Her voice was quiet, but I still heard the tension.
“It’s not perfect, but the trees will give us cover.”
Once we hit the woods, I felt better.
“You hear that?” Asia said a moment later, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
I heard the sound and focused on trying to figure out what it was. It could’ve been an animal. Or maybe the kid Caitlin said she saw. I wasn’t sure, but together, we approached the sound. Every leaf that crumbled, every twig that snapped underfoot felt like a gunshot.
We crept closer.
I focused on keeping my heart rate even, my breathing smooth. Asia did the same—her chest rising slowly, deliberately. A rush of pride went through me. Asia wasn’t cracking.
I’d kill to keep it that way.
I shifted my gaze to the clearing up ahead.
An overgrowth of grass, weeds, and a thick snarl of bamboo created a chaotic forest. Now that people stopped tending it, nature was taking this land back inch by inch.
I heard rustling and looked at Asia.
Did something I would have killed someone else for even considering.
“Who’s there?” I called.
So fucking stupid but it seemed the best of my bad options. My breath froze, and I waited, listening to the high grass swish.
“She was right,” Asia whispered, her voice trembling.
Caitlin hadn’t imagined it.
There was a child.
A boy, eight or nine .
Cartoon shirt, matching shorts, little sneakers with the same character as the clothes.
Also dead.
I glanced at Asia. Her hand covered her mouth, and then she swiped at tears. “We can’t just leave him like this.”
“I know.”
I stepped up, hammer in hand, and quickly put the boy at peace.
As I stepped away from him, Asia reached out to grip my forearm. She did that sometimes, probably more than she realized. I didn’t know if it was for my benefit or hers, but I craved her touch however I got it.
Felt a sting of sadness when she let go. “One of the bedrooms in the house had that character on the comforter. I think—” She broke off.
I didn’t let her finish.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“No, I guess it doesn’t.” She looked as sad as I’d seen her in days.
I knew what she was thinking.
Probably the same thing I was.
The man had taken care of his wife, but hadn’t managed to do the same for his son .
And left him to a worse fate.
Asia gathered a few wildflowers, leaving them on the boy.
It was nothing in the grand scheme, but it felt meaningful. Like a way for us to hold onto something of what we had been before.
After another moment, she met my eyes, hers completely dry. “Let’s go.”
She followed me back to the house where the others waited. I looked at Miles. “Anything happen?”
“No,” Miles said.
“Then let’s get everything and go,” I said.
“Shouldn’t we stay? This place isn’t bad,” Caitlin said, looking around and clearly impressed.
I might have considered it before, but I saw how badly Asia wanted to leave.
“No. Let’s go.”
We set off, somber now.
There was none of the easy banter from earlier. Just shared silence, heavy with what we’d seen.
A few hours later, Mother Nature decided to match our mood .
“Knew we should have stayed at that house,” Caitlin muttered.
No one answered.
They didn’t have to.
The driving rain was answer enough. I decided it was safer to wait out the rain, so we were now huddled under a tree.
Draped in two garbage bags, I sat next to Asia, who had her arms wrapped around Bridget, who was shivering.
Lourdes did the same to Miles, even though the boy was taller by a foot. Elliot and Caitlin huddled together under a tarp.
A shiver wracked Asia’s body. On instinct, I pulled the garbage bag tighter around her. She didn’t flinch or even seem surprised. She just leaned in closer and eventually drifted off.
I couldn’t see anything, but still kept watch, hoping for the rain to end. Thinking how lucky we were so far, but that wouldn’t last forever.
But it didn’t matter.
I wouldn’t let anything happen.
Not to her.
Asia
“I think the flashlights and lighters stayed mostly dry,” I said the next morning.
“Well, that’s good fortune,” Bridget said.
I smiled at the old woman. She tried to smile back, though it was hard.
Last night was hell.
There was no other way to say it.
But we made it through.
That felt like something worth holding onto.
Even as I braced myself for the inevitable reminder of how fragile it was.