Chapter 5
Emma is gone. One moment, she was running from the dead, and the next, she disappeared into the woods.
It all happened so fast that Addison could be convinced it’s all a terrible nightmare.
The reality of the situation hasn’t completely sunk in yet.
She’s only barely holding it together as it is.
Hormones have her ready to cry at the drop of a hat, even before her daughter went missing.
At this point, she could run through her yearly allotment of tears in under an hour.
There’s no time to dwell. Wyatt could be right, and Emma climbed a tree, waiting for rescue. It’s a simplified version of a possible truth that Addison wants so badly to believe in. He likely only said it to calm her down, but the alternative isn’t something she can consider.
She needs to focus on the next thing. That’s the only way she’ll get through this, so she picks herself up and follows him into the bedroom, where he grabs the clock. Then, back into the other bedroom for a rifle.
“Won’t it draw attention?” she asks.
“May as well get anything within earshot showing itself now. It’ll be safer when we go back into the woods.”
She supposes that makes sense, though she isn’t eager to see what might come running.
Their current guests are in the front yard, so they toss the clock out back before Wyatt points the gun through a half-open window and waits. It doesn’t take long for the whole herd to show up once the alarm goes off, and then all she can hear are gunshots one after another until her ears ring.
It’s stupid to be so bothered. She has to get used to these things. Her whole body is sensitive these days to sounds, smells, and touch. It’s all ten times worse than it otherwise would be. This cacophony of bullets is enough to have her stomach rolling.
She rushes into the bathroom, lifts the toilet lid, and throws up her breakfast like she’s being paid to do it.
When she finally stops dry heaving, there’s nothing but silence until he knocks at the door.
“Come in,” she groans, leaning against the bathtub.
“All clear.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Doing okay?”
“Oh, fine. Just morning sickness in the afternoon. It’s false advertising.” She gets up to rinse her mouth out. “You think it’ll only be in the morning, but it’s all day.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No. I’ll be okay. I think it stopped for now. Can we go back out?”
He nods, stepping out of the way for her to pass as they head into the kitchen.
“The alarm was a good idea,” he tells her, stuffing a few supplies into his bag.
It’s almost funny how quickly that simple compliment lifts her spirits, if only for a moment.
A bashful half-smile creeps up as she shrugs like it’s no big deal, and really, it’s not, but she’s starved for any positive reinforcement.
Her flutter of pride is fleeting, though.
She can’t be happy about anything until Emma is home again.
At least Vincent isn’t here, she thinks, following Wyatt out into the woods.
He’d have killed her already for making such a dumb mistake.
Not because he loved Emma, but because he’d jump at any chance to lay blame at her feet.
He wouldn’t have the first clue how to find her, either, but Wyatt seems more than capable.
They’re so lucky he’s here. She winces the moment that thought enters her brain. She hardly knows him yet. Just the other day, she was considering how she might stab him. Allowing herself to get too comfortable too quickly is a terrible idea.
“She couldn’t have gotten far. Might have heard the shots and could be running our way,” he says.
Addison hopes that’s true, but after a mile, they’re no better off than when they started.
“Earlier, you mentioned someone named Gwen. She knew about the runners?” She needs to talk to keep her mind occupied. Otherwise, she might curl up on the ground and not move for the foreseeable future.
“She knew more than anyone. It was ground zero up there.”
Addison’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? The news cut off before they told us how it happened.”
“Gwen worked at a research facility up in Barrow. She studied the effects of the melting ice, so I’m assuming it had something to do with that, though we didn’t really have much time to get into specifics once everything fell apart.
” He goes quiet for a moment, his voice turning softer.
“I’d bring her supplies. She made me coffee sometimes… we were friends.”
“Were. She didn’t make it?”
Wyatt shakes his head with a scowl. “She fucking might have if she listened to me. I wanted to take her to the safe zone, but she was so worried about the animals in the wildlife center that she was staying in. ‘Who would care for them if I go now and we can’t come back? At least if I stay, I know you’ll come for me after you take them.
’ That’s what she said. I listened. I listened and took a cargo full of birds and seals off to some safe zone that doesn’t even exist anymore, and when I finally got back for her, she was already gone. Two bites away from patient zero.”
“You couldn’t have known how bad it would get.”
“She knew.”
“Then she probably knew there wasn’t any hope for her, anyway. That’s why she made sure you tried to help the animals instead. There was a chance for them. You can’t blame yourself for—”
“None of that matters. Over and done with. To answer your question, she thought the runners were a mutation. That this thing kept testing out different options until something fit. That’s why they behave differently in different places.
It’s all a theory, though. Not like she got much chance to research any of it further. ”
“It about took a year off my life when I saw them running at us. I’m not good at any of this yet,” she admits, remembering how she froze when she could have reached Emma. If only she just kept going…
He pauses, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’re out here now, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.” If pushing through counts for something, then maybe she gets a point or two.
“Have you thought of a name for the walnut?”
“The what?” Then she remembers she compared the baby to an almond. “Oh, not yet. To be honest, I’ve been in denial about it. This isn’t the best time to bring a new person into the world, not that it ever has been.”
He only gives her a grunt she can’t decipher before they lapse into semi-comfortable silence. She begins to wonder about his personal life as they crunch through fresh leaves. He knows so much more about her than she knows about him, and she decides to do a little fishing.
“Do you have any children, Wyatt?” She should have said have or had, but that feels too depressing to voice aloud.
“Not in the cards for me.”
“Why not?”
He sends her a glare as if she’s joking at his expense. She waits him out. “Don’t have any, don’t want any. My wife did. Now I’m glad it never happened. The poor kid would have had a long road of therapy ahead of them if that were different.”
“Your wife…she—”
“Is a conversation for another time.”
“Right. Sorry.”
He seems to think he’d make a terrible father, but as far as she’s concerned, he’s likely wrong. He’s traipsing through the woods right now, heading into possible danger to find a child that’s not even his. That tells her he’d do far better than he thinks.
It not her business, though. It isn’t her job to change his mind. Having children is a duty ingrained in her for as long as she can remember. She didn’t have much choice in the matter. Part of her can’t help but wonder if Wyatt has the right idea in avoiding it altogether.
She loves her daughter, and she’ll love this new baby, but she could barely protect the first one from what their life had become within the organization. She fears she won’t be able to protect the second from this new world.
A rotter tangled in the fence wire changes the subject. It’s hogtied itself and carved out a path for the others they already put down. She assumes Wyatt will kill it, but he only holds the head to the ground with his foot and points toward her knife.
“Go on.” He nods toward the unfortunate thing still trying to take a chunk out of his boot. “Remember, aim for the eyeball if you can.”
Oh. He wants her to do it.
A dozen excuses pop into her head.
They don’t have time for this.
She isn’t strong enough.
Somehow, it’ll bite her, anyway.
She doesn’t voice any of them. Instead, she takes a deep breath, moves forward, and shoves the pointy end exactly where he told her to. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple, and her blade gets stuck.
She curses, her confidence waning as she struggles to yank it free.
“Easy. Put your foot next to mine for leverage, then pull hard,” he tells her, far calmer than he should be.
Eventually, she rips it free. By then, frustration propels her second attempt through like butter.
“Now you know how much force to use,” Wyatt says.
At first, she can only think of how dead she would be if she were alone. It would have bitten her the moment she got her knife stuck. But she’s not alone. For a first attempt, it could have been worse.
“How many have you killed?” she asks.
“Lost count. The first one was the hardest. It gets easier every time.”
Every time. When this is all said and done, how many kills will she have racked up?
Soon, a clearing reveals the freeway overpass.
Not a rotter in sight, but she figures the ones that showed up at their house must have come from here.
There’s an eerie quality to places like this that reminds her how quickly the world is decaying.
It’s easier to pretend it’s not a lost cause when they’re hidden in the woods.
Seeing a once-busy freeway now clogged with abandoned cars is a harsh reality check.
They search glove boxes and consoles for supplies, finding a few snacks and bottles of pain pills. Addison would stay out all day and night if she could, but the skies open up to soak them right before they reach the thicker forest boundary.