Chapter 5
five
Hazel
I barely sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Travis's face when I told him I used him. The way something shuttered in his expression, like I'd confirmed what he already feared.
I'm a coward. That's the truth of it. I pushed him away because I'm terrified of caring about someone who might die, and pushing people away is easier than admitting I'm falling for a convoy coordinator with a hero complex who makes me want to believe the world can be better than it is.
The guilt sits heavy in my chest as morning breaks. I help pack up camp in silence, avoiding Travis's eyes even though I can feel him watching me. Waiting for... what? An apology? An explanation?
I don't have one that doesn't make me sound pathetic.
We ride for three hours in uncomfortable silence. I'm back on Eric's ATV, putting physical distance between myself and the conversation I need to have but can't figure out how to start.
Then Old Pines appears through the trees.
My stomach drops.
I've been here a dozen times over the past year. Delivered supplies, trained their volunteer medics, shared meals with families who trusted my crew to keep the routes safe. The radio tower is new since my last visit—part of Cole and Sierra's expanding network.
But everything else is painfully familiar.
Somewhere in there are Eleanor and James, Reggy's parents, who I promised would see their son again. Maria, Susan's sister, who I swore I'd keep safe. Emma, Tommy's little sister, who asked me to teach her brother everything I knew.
The people I failed.
"You okay?" Eric asks, slowing the ATV as we approach the gate.
"No." The honesty surprises us both. "But I have to do this anyway."
Tom meets us at the gate, his weathered face lighting up when he sees Travis, then going carefully neutral when his gaze shifts to me. He knows. The moment he sees me without my crew, sees the medical supply packs still strapped to the ATV, he knows.
"Hazel." His voice is gentle. Too gentle. "We've been trying to raise you for over a week."
"They're gone, Tom." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "All of them. Raider ambush three days north of here."
His face crumbles, and I see him age ten years in a second. Tom coordinated our deliveries, knew every member of my crew by name, joked with Reggy about his terrible coffee and listened to Susan's accounting rants.
"I'm sorry," he says, and the weight of it nearly breaks me. "Jesus, Hazel. I'm so sorry."
The gates open, and I know what's coming. Word will spread fast. Within minutes, everyone will know. The families who've been waiting, checking the horizon, telling themselves we were just delayed.
They're about to learn the truth.
My legs almost give out.
"I need to talk to them," I hear myself say. My hands are shaking. "About what happened."
"You don't have to do that alone," Travis says quietly. It's the first time he's spoken directly to me since last night.
"Yes. I do." I meet his eyes finally, and the concern there almost breaks me. "This is my responsibility."
"I'll be right here when you're done."
I nod, not trusting my voice, and walk toward the families.
Once all the bad news and tears have been shed, a hard cold silence settles over me.
Sarah, Travis and Emma’s grandmother, stays behind, putting her hand on my shoulder.
"We've needed a proper medic for over a year, Hazel.
You know that." Her voice is kind but firm.
"Maria's pregnancy is high-risk. We've got people with chronic conditions, injuries healing wrong. If you wanted to stay..."
The offer hangs in the air.
Old Pines needs me. These people I know, who I care about, who just lost family because I failed them, and they're offering me a permanent home.
I find Travis at the radio station with Tom, their heads bent over maps and frequency charts. They're discussing raider patterns, coordination between settlements, and the work Travis does to keep people connected.
The work my crew died trying to do.
When I enter, Travis looks up, and the careful neutrality on his face tells me he's still hurt from last night.
"How did it go?" he asks.
"They don't hate me." My voice sounds hollow. "They offered me a job. To stay here, be their medic. Help with Maria's pregnancy, train volunteers, actually make a difference for people I know."
Something flickers across his face. Fear, maybe. Or resignation.
"Are you going to take it?"
I sink into a chair, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know. It makes sense, doesn't it? Stay where I'm needed, where I have relationships, where I can help people who just lost family because of me."
"Because raiders ambushed your convoy," Travis corrects quietly. "Not because of you."
"Does it matter?" I look at him, really look at him. "They're offering me safety. Purpose. A chance to actually save lives instead of just watching people die."
Tom clears his throat. "I'll just... check on the convoy." He leaves, closing the door behind him with careful precision.
Travis and I sit in silence.
"Last night I told you I used you," I finally say. "That I needed to leave before I got your crew killed."
"I remember."
"I was lying." The confession comes out rough. "Not about being scared—that part was true. But about using you. About it not meaning anything."
He leans back against the radio console, arms crossed. Waiting.
"I'm terrified," I continue. "Everyone I care about dies, Travis.
Everyone. My crew, the families here—I promised them I'd keep their people safe, and I failed.
And you—" My voice cracks. "You make me want things I thought I'd never want again.
A future that isn't just about surviving. And that scares me more than anything."
"So stay here." He says it without judgment. "Old Pines is a good settlement. Those people care about you. You could help Maria, teach Emma, build something safe."
"I could." I stand, needing to move. "I could stay here and help eighty people. Train volunteers, deliver Maria's baby, treat chronic conditions. Important work. Necessary work."
"But?"
"But my crew didn't die protecting one settlement's medical supplies.
" The realization crystallizes as I say it.
"They died protecting the idea that settlements should be connected.
That cooperation beats isolation. That the network you're building," I gesture at the maps, "That this matters more than any single place. "
His expression shifts. Hope, carefully guarded.
"Staying here means helping people I know," I continue.
"People I care about, people I owe. It's safer.
Smarter, probably. But going with you means helping hundreds of people.
Maybe thousands, as the network grows. It means finishing what my crew started.
" I close the distance between us. "It also means not losing this.
Whatever we are, whatever we could become.
And I'm terrified it'll end badly, that I'll lose you the way I lost them.
But I'm more terrified of choosing safety over purpose. Of surviving without actually living."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying my face.
"Last night hurt," he finally says. "Hearing you say you used me, that you needed to leave. It hurt because I care about you. Because somewhere between finding you on that road and watching you face those families, I started falling for you."
"I'm falling too. That's the problem."
"No." He takes my hands. "That's the point. This world tries to make us isolated, tries to convince us that caring about people is weakness. But connection is how we survive. Not just physically—actually survive, as humans instead of just breathing bodies."
I think about Reggy's gap-toothed grin. Susan braiding my hair. Tommy asking endless questions. They chose connection over safety every single day.
"So if you're going to join my crew," Travis continues, "I need to know it's not just because you're running from something. I need to know you're running toward something too."
"I want to build what they believed in," I say. "I want to honor my crew by proving they were right—that cooperation beats isolation, that connection is worth the risk. And I want to do it with you, because you're the only person I've met who understands that some things are worth dying for."
"I'd prefer we focus on things worth living for."
He pulls me close, and for the first time since the ambush, I feel like I made the right choice.