Chapter 38
Remy
The zombie attacks had masked the evidence of the arrow through the chest, so no one knew what I had done. They all assumed I had come across the wayward children being attacked by zombies, and that I had saved Juniper, but I was too late for Clementine. They kept calling me a hero and thanking me.
I knew I should tell them the truth. That it was my fault. That I had killed that little girl. That I destroyed everything I touched. But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to form the words.
Not even when I was alone with Boden in our bed, and he asked me about what had happened. I just couldn’t tell the truth, but I didn’t want to lie, so I said nothing at all.
It was on the third morning after Clementine’s death that I realized I couldn’t stay here anymore.
I got out of bed slowly and quietly before the sun had fully risen, careful to remove Boden’s arm from around my waist. I wanted to slip out without a sound, but when I pulled on my jeans, I heard him calling my name.
“Are you still having trouble sleeping?” he asked groggily.
“Always and forever,” I mumbled, and I grabbed a t-shirt and flannel from my pile of clothes stacked on a chair.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Maybe Mika or Joseph have something they could give you.”
“Mika’s got enough on her plate, and I’m fine.” I turned around, finally facing him.
He was handsome, almost tragically so, shirtless under the plush comforter.
His face was angular, with a constant shadow of stubble on his sharp jawline.
His eyes were deep set and hooded, and his full lips curved slightly downward, making him look brooding and thoughtful even when he was half-asleep.
Behind him, the glass doors to the small patio were covered in thick frost, and Ripley was lying with her back pressed against the cold glass as she slumbered.
“I’m heading up to Emberwood today,” I said.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked. “I was supposed to check out the oven vent in the kitchen. Oakley says it’s been clogged up, but I could just as easily take a look at it when I got back if I went with you.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said with a forced smile. “Oakley needs you more than I do.”
“Are you sure?” he asked as I went over to give him a kiss goodbye. “You’ve been through a lot lately, and it won’t take me that long to wake up and get dressed.”
“No, I know, but it’s fine.” I kissed him on the cheek and on the lips, and when he touched my waist, like he wanted to pull me back into bed with him, that’s when I pulled away. “Go to sleep. I’ll be back in a few days.”
The hike from where the Barbarabelle was anchored in the Staulo River took me up past the Grizzly Falls, and the final stretch beyond that to Emberwood was relatively mild.
At the wrong time of the year, the bears could be an issue, but a lion walking at my side did wonders at keeping them away.
If we hurried, the journey usually took under two days with a camp out at the top of the Falls for one night.
The stillness and quiet when it was only Ripley and me next to a crackling fire, with me using her as a backrest, was the kind of peace I had been so desperate for.
I knew I shouldn’t feel that way. That I should be grateful for all the people I loved that were still with me, for the entire community on the Barbarabelle supporting each other with kindness and determination.
But in the cold night, underneath the glittering stars, when it was only Ripley and me, everything seemed so clear.
Back on the boat, in a community, with family, I was only a danger. A harbinger of death and destruction, no matter how hard I tried to protect the people I cared about. There was too much. Too much I couldn’t defend. Too much I couldn’t bear.
But out here, I could breathe in deep and sleep heavy in the cold, because there was no one to worry about except for me.
Those two days on the road were enough to solidify my resolve that I was making the right decision. I had to get out of here, and I had to do it quickly so that Boden or Stella wouldn’t be emboldened to give chase.
I also couldn’t be reckless because I wasn’t going entirely alone.
Ripley didn’t belong on that boat, not forever, and she seemed to prefer staying close to me, even when given the options otherwise.
She was a powerful big cat, but I didn’t know if she could survive on her own in the Canadian wilderness, especially not in winter.
I needed to be prepared so that I wouldn’t leave her to die.
That was why I went to see my old friend Lazlo in Emberwood.
He and his wife were the main ones behind the rebuilding of the burned town, and they also had quite a bit of livestock, including horses.
I figured that he ought to have one that he could spare for a few months, and with a big animal like that, I could carry so much gear.
I could even ride the horse at times, saving energy for myself and travelling much faster.
By the time Ripley and I reached the center of New Emberwood, the afternoon sun was dipping low behind the hills, painting the roofs in gold. I hadn’t been to Lazlo’s new house yet, but it was recognizable by the pair of wolfdogs that guarded it from their fenced run beside it.
Ripley gave them an annoyed grunting sound and flicked her ears, but that was the end of their interaction. I held tight to her leash with one hand, and I knocked on the front door with the other.
Moments later, we stepped inside, the chill of the road quickly replaced by the gentle heat from the stove and an awkward embrace from Lazlo.
He invited me into his kitchen, pouring a bowl of water for the big cat, and he explained that his wife Nova and their daughter Sage were gone, helping a neighbor with birthing a calf. That was fine by me. I liked them both well enough, but conversations like this were better with fewer people.
The two of us sat at the kitchen table with tea steeping in mugs between us. It was still strange for me, seeing him this way. Part of me would always picture him as he was when we first met – young and clean shaven, fierce and unworn by the world yet, confident bordering on cocky.
And that was still him, but his beard had silver in it, and his eyes were lined with wrinkles.
He walked with a pronounced limp, especially when the weather was cold like it was today.
Even his hands had changed, becoming calloused and larger somehow, with faded tattoos bleeding down from his wrists and arms.
His eyes were the same, though. Twinkling as if he was privy to a secret joke as he watched me across the table.
“Are you going to tell me what you came all this way for, or you going to make me guess?” he asked.
“I need a horse. And I was hoping you could help me.”
He shrugged. “Sure. No problem. What do you need the horse for?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“It certainly does. Different horses are better at different tasks. You don’t want a racehorse as a plough horse or vice versa,” he clarified.
“I’m going to Glacier Valley,” I said. “Alone. Well, with Ripley, but she doesn’t ride a horse, so it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters a bit, because not all my horses would ride with a lion,” Lazlo countered with a dry laugh. “But that’s not really my main concern right now. Why are you going to Glacier Valley?”
“Because it’s far away from here, and that’s where I need to be for a while,” I deflected.
“I heard about the girl that your group lost the other day,” he said, his voice gentler now but his eyes still studying me. “Edie sent a message by pigeon. If there’s anything we can do – ”
I cut him off with, “I read what Nova wrote in her reply message. There’s nothing you can do. She’s dead and buried.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness – ”
“We’ve all witnessed enough that neither of us needs to apologize, alright?” I said sharply.
“Oh, shit.” Lazlo seemed to realize something and he leaned back in his chair. “You want to meet up with the Cold Shore Global Contingency?”
“How do you even know about that?” I asked in surprise.
I’d only learned of Cold Shore after I’d read the book that Stella had found in Emberwood, The Book of Mercy. Mostly, it focused on Mercy Loth’s grandiose and seriously deviant delusions, but there were references and letters from a place called the Cold Shore.
“I first heard about it from Nova’s sister, Sage.
” He got up as he spoke and went over to an apothecary chest on the far wall of the kitchen.
He opened one of the many little drawers, rummaged inside it for a moment, and finally returned to the table with a piece of folded paper.
“She was a doctor in Vancouver when the virus first broke out.
She survived, so Cold Shore tried recruiting her. To find a cure.
“She declined them then, because she thought she could do better work out here,” he went on.
Tentatively, I took the letter from him. “What are you saying, Lazlo?”
“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself, not for anyone,” he said. “But I won’t stop you from trying to save the world, if you think that’s what you can do. Mostly because I know that I’d never be able to stop you.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me a horse?” I asked hopefully.
“That means I’m gonna give you all the help and information I can.” Lazlo slowly rose to his feet. “Which means I’ve got something better than a horse.”
He led me outside, through his tilled gardens, to the stables behind his house. As soon as we stepped in, I realized exactly who Lazlo had in mind, because Vince stuck his head over the stable door to bray a greeting at me.
Vince was a mule that both Ripley and I were familiar with, since Lazlo used to ride him out to meet us at an old farmhouse a few times a year. He was friendly with me, and even got on well with the lion.
He was a massive beast, with a striking blond sorrel coat that gleamed golden in the sunlight. He stood tall and broad, easily weighing over 1,500 pounds, with powerful shoulders and muscular haunches. His dark eyes were large and intelligent, always observing everything around him.
“Vince isn’t just strong,” Lazlo explained as he lovingly stroked his neck. “He’s bred from power. His mother was a Belgian draft mare who pulled timber in the mountains, and his father was a Mammoth jack donkey from Tennessee. He was a Grand Champion three years running.”
“Wait, how old is Vince?” I asked, because I couldn’t imagine anyone giving out ribbons to donkeys since civilization fell, no matter how special the animal.
“He’s eleven, born right before the whole mess of everything,” he said. “And he’s got another twenty years in him, if things go well.”
“Are you sure you’re want to part with him?” I asked. “He seems exceptional.”
“He is, but I know what you mean to do,” he said. “You’ll be going for months in the depth of winter, travelling through mountain passes, and if you have any chance of making it alive, you need Vince.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I asked, suddenly overwhelmed. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Well, you know how much I owe you,” he replied quietly “So don’t worry about repayment. Just send a porter back with Vince in the spring, after you make it to the Valley.”
Before I left, Lazlo took a moment to go over everything I’d need to make it through the journey safely. He drew a map with the best routes through the mountain passes, warned me about various dangers, and reminded me to watch for signs of frostbite.
Then, he handed me a sturdy set of saddlebags, a warm blanket for Vince, and a kit of basic tack and grooming supplies. He showed me how to check Vince’s hooves for ice buildup and how to adjust the pack load so the mule could carry it comfortably.
“If you look after him, he’ll get you there,” Lazlo assured me.
I hugged him. “Thank you for everything.”
“Take care of yourself,” he said, squeezing me tighter for a moment before releasing me.
“And you won’t tell anyone where I’ve gone, right?” I asked. “I don’t want them wasting time getting hurt going after me. Not when I don’t want to be found.”
Lazlo exhaled roughly, and he gave me a pained smile. “Sure. If that’s what you want. I promise that I won’t tell anyone where you’re going.”