Chapter 21
Going Tharn
Allie
Unable to focus on the paperback copy of Watership Down Gray had lent her for the last few hours of their journey to the Armory, Allie instead replayed her conversation with Key in her head.
During their talk, so many mysteries had been uncovered, but when she examined the questions she’d had—about Morrigan, the dreams, Sekhmet, Cam’s potential gift—all those “answers” had just ended up leading to more questions.
One thing in particular that Key’d said had stuck with her, about the old gods meddling with humanity.
Countless myths about that very thing could be found in every religion.
Divine intervention and interaction were everywhere, from Zeus planting babies in anyone with a uterus to the West African gods living on Earth, having made people for company.
Then there was Christianity—another god actively smiting places like Egypt then, centuries later, sending His son to walk among the people.
What if those stories weren’t meant to be metaphors but had been fact? And if so, why was it happening again? Were the zombies some kind of plague sent by one of the gods? Why would the gods help humanity survive, then? Was it some kind of cosmic player-versus-player thing?
Or were the zombies caused by a virus, like the scientists thought, and the old gods had woken after most of humanity was wiped out? Were they hoping to save their followers—the people who depended on them?
One thing might have had nothing to do with the other. Of course it was possible. Allie had scraped by in her stats class with a B minus, so she was definitely no probability expert, but that level of coincidence seemed fucking highly unlikely.
And then there was the Dream, with a capital D. The shark. The pilot fish. The vortex.
Another metaphor? Or something more tangible? A metaphor seemed more accurate, but where had it come from? The gods? What did the shark represent, and what were the fish supposed to be?
It occurred to Allie, in a horrible, unbidden rush of fear, that maybe humanity was neither.
If humans were meant to be represented in that tableau, they were probably the microscopic plankton swirling around those animals swimming in the ocean of reality—so small as to be irrelevant, incapable of affecting anything, completely at the mercy of the movement of the water in the wake of the fish swimming through it.
Well, that made her feel like vomiting everything she’d ever eaten in her whole life.
Talk to Key and Cam about that later. Or maybe never. Think of literally anything else right now.
She willed Cam into focus. The way he’d smiled in dazed delight when she’d asked him to come into the trailer with her, when she’d been worrying that he’d never want to be close to her, to kiss her or hold her, ever again. Warmth spread in her belly.
Yes, that’s better, inner Allie decreed. This may continue.
Those stolen moments together had meant everything to her. When she’d emerged from the trailer after him to relieve herself and get a drink, moving as carefully as possible, Key had grinned at them, and Ripper let loose a low wolf whistle.
She’d flushed red, but Cam had shaken his head at them all. “Go on about your business, pervs.”
Everyone had laughed, including Allie.
Then Allie had watched with some awe as Keyshawna set about giving brief directions for their egress, and everyone else set into motion. When Key wanted things done, they got done—the whole group was attuned to her leadership and seemed to know exactly what to do.
Cam had told her back in the bunker that he was lucky his whole family had survived their flight from San Francisco, but Allie suspected luck had little to do with it.
Key might have had a goddess on her side and a medical professional in her bed, but she herself had kept them together and alive.
No wonder their group had grown to include an extended number of other survivors.
Even if they didn’t all travel together—organizing a couple dozen people on the road together was awkward and problematic, Cam had told her—Key had helped create a tribe of survivors with good hearts.
The Armory was one of the places Key’s tribe met every month to exchange goods and services, share news, and generally be together, she knew.
It had been a rural school complex, but it now served as a place to live, keep communal supplies, cultivate gardens, and store weapons.
It also served as a fallback fortress for any group that needed a place to hole up in the face of danger—whether from the living or the dead.
It sounded great, but Morrigan’s words kept playing in her head.
Appearances can be deceiving.
Stay close to the man.
Somehow, she dozed off—a dreamless sleep, for once—and woke to the sounds of excited conversation.
“Hey, Allie, we’re here,” Gray said from near the front of the trailer. “Do you need help climbing out, kiddo?”
“I’ll see how it goes,” she called. She sat up to the best of her ability, poked her head out of the trailer, and took a big gulp of fresh air.
“There she is,” Gray said, smiling. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat back.
She grinned at him. “Thanks for the ride. I think I’ll be on my own bike soon. I hope.”
“Anytime.” He held out a hand, and she used it to climb out, happy to stretch her legs. She could hardly believe how much better she felt—in body, mind, and spirit. Key’s goddess had given her one hell of a gift.
Odette and Key had parked their bikes and gear in an area outside the fence surrounding the building. “We’re going ahead to get messages and find Odie,” Dette called to Cam.
He waved in response.
Allie looked around. The survivors had studded the chain-link fence with spears of all types to catch and hold zombies before they could crowd into the fence and pull it down, although the fence held only a few Zs at the moment, all of which had been finished off.
A woman met Odette and Key, and while she seemed to be doing a body search, she wasn’t checking as thoroughly as Cam had described.
But maybe that was just for permanent settlements.
The woman certainly seemed to know Cam’s moms, at least, as she’d engaged Odette in lively conversation. Key, meanwhile, just looked resigned.
The building itself looked different, more welcoming than it had in the dream, with people all around it, talking and laughing.
Some of the women had babies, and a few kids were running around.
Allie could smell some kind of food grilling.
It looked, sounded, and smelled almost like a family reunion from Before.
Still, Allie couldn’t quite banish the butterflies from her stomach.
Jessie and Ripper were unpacking, although Jessie kept looking around with an odd expression. Was she nervous too? Allie didn’t know Jessie well, but maybe she wasn’t good around crowds.
Cam appeared by her side. “Hey, Allie-cat. This is the Armory.”
The next half hour or so was a blur of names and faces.
After they entered and were checked over by the woman at the gate—Katelyn, Cam told her, a good friend of Odette’s—Cam took her inside and introduced her around, and they all made earnest, awkward conversation.
At one point, someone handed her a lemonade, and she savored the taste.
Fortunately, the world still contained Minute Maid that hadn’t gone bad.
Cam murmured in her ear, “There will be adult lemonade later, after dinner.”
She nodded, but no fucking way was she drinking any alcohol. She’d have to keep an eye on the rest of the group. Can’t fight a zombie if you’re falling-down drunk. Even if there are plenty of people around and no immediate threats.
“You okay?” he asked. “I know this is a lot.”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “It’d probably be good if we stayed alert. If that’s okay.”
“No problem, angel.” He slid an arm around her shoulders. “Are you sore or anything? Need to sit down?”
She leaned into him. “I’m definitely feeling better. Walking better.”
“Good. But don’t overdo it, okay?” He looked around. “We need to find Odie, so I can introduce you before the moms descend on him.”
“Cameron!” A white man with a gleaming bald head surrounded by a fringe of brown hair came over to clap him on the back. “Glad you’re back, man.”
“Hey, Jimmy.” They gave each other a back-thumping hug. “Glad to be here.” Cam tipped his head toward Jimmy and grinned at Allie. “Allie Dawes, this is Jimmy Gillum.”
“Enchante.” Jimmy gave her a grin. “Welcome to the full-moon club. Some of us are hairier than others.” He ran a hand over his pate and shrugged theatrically.
She smiled back. “Nice to meet you.”
“Werewolf jokes from the bald guy—always fun.” Cam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Hey, is Odie around?”
Jimmy made a face. “Yeah, about that. No, he’s not. And I already had to break the bad news to your moms, so no shooting the messenger.” He held up his hands, palms out.
Cam instantly turned serious. “He’s okay?”
Jimmy sighed. “He left for the Plant this morning with a few others. They had plenty of supplies and prep. I made sure of it. They’ll get there safe.”
“Fucking hell.” Cam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Key’s probably shitting bricks.”
“She was not pleased. Even less so when she got the messages Malcolm sent asking her to come to the Plant ASAP. She used, well, creative language.” Jimmy shook his head. “But I made it out alive. Dette’s talking her down.”
“Well, that’ll be a damper on the night.” Cam turned to Allie. “Sorry, angel. Looks like family drama threatens anew.”
“Should we go talk to Key?”
“Let Dette do her thing. We’ll eat some dinner first.”
“Ah!” Jimmy pointed both index fingers at Allie theatrically. “Perhaps the lady would be interested in some fresh vegetables?”
Her stomach growled, and the butterflies dispersed somewhat. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Follow me!”