28. Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Shelby
Isuffer through the waves of pain in an unending loop while Nora remains steadfast beside me. When it finally eases sometime during the night, I turn over and look out the window.
Not twenty-four hours ago, I wished Cason a safe journey and for him to find what he’s looking for but maybe my wishes were misguided because I’m the one who can’t find my way. I lost it a long time ago.
Now I’m living in a nightmare that no one could have dreamed up and despite being free, I’m shackled once again.
Maybe this is my punishment but if so, I don’t know what the fuck for. Yes, I’ve made mistakes but in the balance of life, I think I’ve been a fairly decent human being.
They say God won’t give you more than you can handle but if that’s the case, I think he forgot about me.
Do I want to die? No, I don’t think so but I’m starting to believe it’s inevitable. There’s only so much this body can take.
As though echoing my mood, the faint mist dotting the land turns to fat drops before the sky rumbles. The clouds blot the sky, dark and angry while the wind blows the trees in violent gusts.
My thoughts are turned when a whisper of sound brings me around and I spy Cason slipping through the door that Nora exited moments ago.
By the light of the moon, I study his stoic expression before closing my eyes. I don’t want to see his pity. I want so much more and that’s the problem. Cason doesn’t have it within him to give, and it’s been so little time since the world went to shit.
I left my husband, albeit mentally a long time ago and while I still bear the scars, I don’t need time to consider what I want. This isn’t the case for Cason and it’s selfish to think that he can forget his wife so soon or ever.
Maybe like Larry, his love will continue on for eternity. This is why I know that Cason has to leave. My world is already so fragile that to harbor hope where none exists might truly send me over the edge.
Besides, it’s only been a few days. I can’t imagine how painful this will become as time wears on. As it stands, he’s one massive writhing ball of emotion, ready to take me down if I let him.
“How are you feeling?” he rasps, and I chuckle before shaking my head.
How do I feel? It’s hard to describe so I settle for a simple word and touch my stomach before saying, “Empty.”
When he sits in the chair Nora pulled up alongside my bed, I roll toward him and whisper my confession, “I never wanted kids, you know.” Playing with the folds of the blanket, I smile, albeit bitterly and say, “Well, not his . . . ”
He doesn’t respond, which is just as well. There’s nothing anyone can say to explain away the pain radiating through my chest on wings of fire.
Instead, I bite back a sob and say, “I tried to stop it. I did but he found the pills.”
When words fail me, I shake my head. After a moment, he leans forward, resting his arms on his knees but I can’t meet his gaze. I don’t want to see what he’s thinking any more than I want to feel this infernal burn in my chest.
“Why does it feel like I just lost something?” I finally ask and from the corner of my eyes, I watch him bow his head.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he says, "but I’m sorry.”
Sorry. What does that word really mean? For some it’s an empty platitude, others an effort to cover their unease.
With Cason, I sense a deeper meaning, but I can’t decipher it, as though he’s spoken another language and it’s all garbled to me. Instead I ask, “Is this goodbye?”
His head whips up and his eyes meet mine, the depths darker than usual, as he says, “No, Shelby, I–”
“What?” I whisper and he reaches forward, running the tip of his finger down my cheek.
“Nothing, just . . . sorry,” he says, and I close my eyes after that because I don’t have the energy to decipher his mood. After that, I slowly slip into sleep.
When I rouse later, he’s still sitting in that chair with Nora fast asleep behind him. At the sight, warmth rolls through my chest, and I let myself fall under again, refusing to analyze the empty ache that invades later when he’s gone the next morning.
Cason
Is this goodbye?
Her question bounces around my head while I sit beside her bed and watch the slow inhalation of her breaths before they hitch on her exhale.
The darkness hides her pretty hair, but I see by the slice of moon peeking through the clouds her delicate fingers, grasping the covers in her sleep.
There’s a faint line on her ring finger, indicating she removed the symbol of her marriage. I don’t recall seeing it before, but I was hardly focused on something so mundane. Now, I can’t help but wonder when she cast it aside.
In the end it doesn’t really matter but it is another reminder of just how little I know about this woman. There’s a part of me itching to leave while the rest dreads actually going.
It’s not like I can’t come back, but what if something happens while I’m gone. What if something happens to me? I won’t make promises that I can’t keep but the brutal burn in my chest urges me to do just that.
With everything going on, it makes more sense to leave the group somewhere they can rebuild but is it the right decision?
Every day on the road presents a new problem and we’ve lost two people already. It’s not fair to expect these people to risk more for my family, whom they’ve never met and have no connection to.
Although I keep telling myself this is not my responsibility it doesn’t tamper the guilt riding through me in waves.
However, Shelby needs time now to recover and it’s time that I don’t have. What if my family needs me? What if they’ve lost someone because I wasn’t there?
Fuck.
The following morning, I find Jason sitting at the dining room table. Although I welcome the distraction, I’m not in the mood to make small talk when he smiles and says, “Hey.”
Yesterday was a shit show to say the least. On the bright side, Lottie continued the tour she started the evening before.
Confirming my suspicions about the barn behind the house, I spied multiple stalls inside although the building was full of old tools, machinery and other detritus collected over the years.
The small garden contains sprouts of green beans, corn, cucumbers, strawberries and more. The fields beyond the house yield more grass in which Lottie’s cows graze lazily.
Unfortunately, they’re not dairy cows but will offer protein when other food sources run dry.
With the river abutting the back of the property, this place has more potential than I’ve seen since this nightmare began. It gives me some peace of mind, but I can’t let loose the feeling of dread perpetually pressing at my chest.
I guess I don’t have to worry about small talk though because Jason gets right to the point when he says, “You’re not staying.” When I don’t respond beyond rubbing my brow, he says, “I get it, man. Have you thought about when you’re going?”
“No,” I say, dropping my fork to the plate. The fresh eggs and bacon were a welcome change after consuming granola bars and pastries, but the food hasn’t settled well in my stomach. “I’ll go when things are good here.”
When he eyes me for a moment, I lock my jaw, grinding my molars, only to look away as he says, “I’ll watch out for her.”
“I know you will.” The words should bring me comfort. They don’t. It should be me, my heart screams while my brain continues to insist that it’s better if I leave.
Shoving the thoughts aside I change the subject because I don’t have the fucking answers, but I do have an obligation to my family—Rosanne’s family—and that’s what I choose to focus on.
“We need to work on the perimeter,” I say, after clearing my throat. “If a horde comes through, it won’t matter if they’re too stupid to go under what’s there now.”
Like many typical farms, the fencing is designed to keep animals in but former humans with insatiable appetites and zero need to rest would bulldoze right through the wooden slats and that’s a problem if there are enough of them.
“Lottie mentioned a feed store not too far out. If they don’t have anything there, there’s got to be something that sells what we need. What are you thinking?” Jason asks.
“I’m not sure because if enough of them come through, even concrete barriers aren’t going to stop them.”
They seem to gather together, a phenomenon I can’t explain. Is it some sort of animal instinct or do they all just gravitate toward the same sounds?
“How far do we have to go to find the feed store?” I ask.
“A few miles up the road, per Lottie,” Jason says, glancing over when Larry drops his plate to the table and sits with a sigh.
“Ready to do some recon?” I ask him and Larry brushes his fingers through his scraggly beard.
“What are you thinking?”