Break Free The Night (Book 2): Loss of Light (12 page)

              "Not in the past couple of days," Paul answered. "You've got another friend out there, don't you? I saw Danny heading out alone last night, wouldn't say what he was doing, but we don't normally go out at night."

              "Yeah, we do," Jack answered, but he didn't offer any more than that.

              "It's okay, I get it," Paul said, noticing Jack's tension. "It pays to be cautious these days. I was too, back before I decided to stay here."

              "So when do you think we get to meet your friend?" Marsden's voice, though quiet, made Kaylee jump. She didn't realize he had been there, listening to them from around the corner. Rose immediately got up from her recliner and busied herself at the stove, pulling a frying pan from a cabinet and taking the fish from Nick.

              Jack didn't answer right away, he stopped pacing and looked at Marsden. The shotgun was still in Marsden's hands. It seemed he really didn't go anywhere without it.

              "I'll have to talk to him, see if he wants to join us in here," Jack said, speaking directly to Marsden and staring at him. Marsden shifted but didn't break eye contact.

              "I wouldn't mind talking with him myself, see if I want to invite him in," Marsden answered. Jack nodded.

              "Hopefully we'll make it soon then."

              Kaylee watched as Rose bristled at the stove, but she didn't say anything. No one did. The easy conversation and friendly atmosphere evaporated with Marsden's presence. He stalked into the room, eyeing each of the occupants slowly. He must have taken interest in Anna and Mario, stopping in front of them and staring. It wasn't until Mario spoke, Kaylee presumed he was asking what Marsden wanted, and Anna answered in a murmur of Spanish that Marsden reacted in any way at all.

              "Are you Mexican?" he asked Anna.

              Anna stiffened, glancing briefly at Mario before she spoke. "My parents were from Puerto Rico," she answered, her voice loaded with hesitancy. Kaylee felt a spasm of irritation spark in her. What did any of that matter? Who cared where anyone hailed from? Kaylee's mother used to joke that Kaylee and Emma were mutts. A little Irish, some French, some German, and way back there was some Icelandic. It never really mattered to Kaylee then and it certainly didn't now. Why was Marsden even asking?

              Mario recognized Anna's answer and he gestured to himself, rapid Spanish flying from his mouth again. Anna grinned, nodding along.

              "Him too?" Marsden asked, pointing at Mario. Anna nodded and silence fell again. Marsden stalked away, coming to rest in the middle of the room, leaning against the stainless steel counter. "What about you?" he said, nodding towards Jack.

              "Capricorn," Jack muttered, sparing Marsden one look before he continued his pacing.

              "I would guess Italian," Marsden answered, watching Jack.

              "Greek," Jack countered gruffly. "Why do you care anyway?"

              "I find it interesting," Marsden answered shrugging. "For instance, genetically speaking, there's several sets of brown eyes, multiple brunettes, but there's only one blonde in the room. She may be the last blonde on the face of the earth. Don't you find that interesting?"

              Kaylee stiffened, her hand unconsciously flit to her hair.

              "And?" Jack asked forcefully. "What difference does it make?"

              "No difference," Marsden insisted. "I just like to know. You may never meet another person with the same color skin as you."

              Jack's features twisted in irritation and he dropped the conversation, but he stopped his pacing, moving to behind Kaylee instead. Kaylee felt her seat rock slightly when he gripped the back of her chair. Nick had stayed quiet throughout the conversation, but he drifted closer to his girls as well. Emma kept her eyes lowered and Kaylee knew she was feeling the same, on display after Marsden had pointed out her green eyes yesterday.

              "Dinner's up," Rose announced softly, just as Cynthia and Danny joined them.

              Eating was uncomfortable, even though Kaylee sat as far from Marsden as possible in the closed area. He ate with Cynthia, Danny, and Rose, the latter's eyes kept drifting over to Kaylee, she thought possibly in apology. Paul, Mario, Maggie and Anna sat at another round table, close to the rest which all sat with Kaylee. She sat between her father and Jack and it felt like she was being guarded. Jack's eyes never met hers, they rotated easily between his meal and Marsden.

              Marsden didn't start his bizarre line of questioning again and, for that, Kaylee was grateful. He had this way about him, whether it was because everyone else stopped speaking when he entered a room or the way he stared so intensely, that made Kaylee feel like she was being taken apart under his gaze. It was acutely uncomfortable for her, and it seemed to just enrage Jack. What he said about Marsden being a collector kept flashing in her mind. But he didn't mean that about people, how could he mean that about living, healthy humans?

              After dinner was over, Danny and Cynthia retired at the same time. Kaylee was glad to see them go, even though this meant that they were leaving all the clean up for Rose. But Kaylee grabbed Emma and shooed Rose away. The older women smiled gratefully.

              "If you're sure you don't mind, then I'm going to bed. I'm old and sleep is usually the best thing that can happen to me all day." She crossed the cafeteria and exited out the back door. Kaylee crossed the floor to watch her, making sure she got to the shed closest to the back door. When the door swung open into the dusky light, Kaylee could just make out the outline of a bed in the small space.

              They must have small heating units, or maybe they were equipped with heat before the infection. Kaylee wondered what they were used for, maybe small offices. They were perfect now, the back yard resembled a small camp ground, individual cabins outfitted for small groups of people.

              It took Kaylee and Emma no time at all to clean up the kitchen with a real dishwasher available. It was almost gleeful to load up the stainless steel machine. She and her sister each took a table and split the last to wipe down. Several times Kaylee noticed Jack poke his head in the cafeteria, felt his eyes lingering on her when her back was turned.

              "You think the boys would have helped," Emma murmured at one point. It wasn't a complaint, more like she was curious about why they had fled so easily and left them. Truthfully, it wasn't like them. Yes, Anna and Emma and Kaylee did the brunt of the kitchen work in the firehouse, but it was because the others were busy doing other things. Whenever they were all together, everyone pitched in, whether with dishes or preparing the animals they caught or scrubbing the countertops. But Kaylee thought she understood why everyone else drifted away so quickly tonight. Jack would be watching Marsden. Marsden was with the rest in the great room, doing who knows what. But after his comments about the girls, Kaylee knew Jack wouldn't let him get out of his sight. Her father, Andrew, Bill, their thoughts were most likely in line with Jack's.

              The great room was completely different when Emma and Kaylee entered it moments later. The outdoor world could only be seen through the narrow, high windows, the sky the color of a deep bruise, made dusky with a thin covering of charcoal clouds. There were no lights on in the great room, though Kaylee could hear the restless movements of people, shifting on the leather couches. Every television, computer, game console, were all off. Save one. The largest television, the one facing the assortment of couches, flickered to life, static at first and then the DVD menu of a movie Kaylee barely remembered had existed.

              "Kay, over here," Jack called out softly, and Kaylee could just make out his outline, waving her over. She grabbed Emma's hand and dragged, taking her sister through the maze of shelves and arcade games, all silent and dark now, until she came to the couch on which Jack was settled. He gazed up at her, patting the space next to him. Kaylee sank into the leather, pulling Emma next to her so that her sister was wedged against Andrew.

              The couch was not built to comfortably seat four people, so Kaylee and Emma were squished together. But Kaylee wanted her sister there. Andrew didn't complain, just moved over a bit to accommodate them. Nick wasn't far, an armchair next to Jack. With the light of the television now dully illuminating the rest of the room, Kaylee could see Anna and Paul, Mario and Maggie, Bill and even Marsden, all perched around the room, eyes on the television. Paul aimed the remote, hit play, and the world went away as Kaylee allowed herself to press to Jack's side. In another life, this could have been a movie theatre, a first date, a comfortable night at home in her sweat pants with her sister. She wouldn't have thought anything of sitting around a television to watch a movie on any of those nights. Tonight it was nothing short of miraculous.

              The room was warm. Kaylee's stomach was full of good food and she was drowsy and content. Jack was warm beside her. And for the first time in a long time, the red wasn't clouding her vision. It was fading. Not the memory of her mother, never that, but some of the pain from that night was ebbing. And it was a relief when she realized it. She sought out his fingers and he twined them with hers easily. She peeked at him, just a quick look from the corner of her eye. He kept his gaze on the television that flickered in front of them.

              That was okay. That was good even. She let her head drop back onto the couch. The cool leather warmed slowly, smelt of warmth and comfort. Jack was warm too, she could feel it as she pressed closer to him, feel the heat radiating from him. He was pressed, a solid line, against her. When his knee shifted, hers did as well. Maybe he hadn't intended for them to be pressed so close, maybe he was uncomfortable. Kaylee glanced to her right and noted Emma, stiff and staring straight ahead, obviously uncomfortable in the tight setting. Kaylee knew she shouldn't have dragged her there just because she wanted the support. A sliver of guilt worked it's way through her core. Emma had been more and more reserved about allowing people to touch her since she was bitten. This was probably the most contact she had allowed herself in weeks.

              Andrew shifted suddenly, bringing his arm up and resting it along the back if the couch. Emma tipped, a small gasp of surprise that was barely audible escaping her lips, as she jerked upright again. In the flickering light of the television screen, Kaylee could make out her sister's shocked expression. Andrew rolled his eyes, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. Kaylee couldn't catch what he said. But it resulted in Emma leaning back, tucking herself gingerly into the space left by Andrew's arm. Her side, previously flush with Kaylee's, was now gone, leaving a small space between the girls. It was probably easier for Emma that way, being close to only one person instead of two. Still, it made Kaylee frown. Even though so much was taken from Emma with that bite, not everything was. The comfort of touch shouldn't be lumped into the losses just because Emma was afraid.

              Kaylee looked over at her sister, her fingers already reaching out, intent on taking her sister's hand whether she liked it or not, but she stopped. In the flickering light of the movie, Kaylee watched as Andrew twined his fingers with hers, watched as Emma froze, her hand tight and non pliable, Andrew patiently waiting her out. She thawed by degrees, her wrist relaxing as she let her hand drop, fingers tangled with the boy next to her, unto his knee, unnoticed by the rest of the room.

              But not by Kaylee.

             
The atmosphere was heavy and slow, the light flickering off the muted television screen like ghostly firelight as the credits rolled on the film that just ended. It flickered with the moving images on the screen over the planes and valleys of their faces, casting them into darkness and then throwing them into brightness. It was not wholly unlike nights around the campfire.

              Kaylee felt both drowsy and alert, a bizarre combination. It reminded her of the time, not so many weeks ago, when she had a can of Coca Cola with dinner, the buzz of the caffeine she was so unaccustomed to singing in her veins with false adrenaline, even as her body rebelled against it with exhaustion. Jack's hand was still around her fingers, his side flushed with hers. It was the source of the misplaced energy, she was sure of it. Somewhere in the midst of car chases and the flashing television screen, her body had become attuned to his, moving with him in small degrees, shifting as he did, keeping the contact that was made necessary by the small size of their couch.

              The group was sated, both from the food they ate and the safety they felt, the security of the electricity flowing around them both inside and out, the constant defense of the electric fence. Jack's gun was still on him, Kaylee knew that, but his fingers didn't drift so frequently to the handle. Even Marsden was more relaxed, his shotgun was resting near him, but he lounged back, his head resting on the concrete wall behind him.

              The group started speaking softly to one another as the endless credits rolled, hundreds of names of people who were most likely all dead. Or worse. A shuddering image of Hollywood floated through Kaylee's mind, a bizarre scene that could have been a movie itself, celebrities all pawing and eating and biting each other. She blinked hard and focused her attention back, back to the soft voices of their group. A few separate conversations were all going on at once, nothing dominated. Until the men started on the infected.

              How the conversation turned to them, Kaylee wasn't sure. But she wished it hadn't. She didn't enjoy talking about the infected and felt less and less like defending her reasons for how she viewed the world. She curled back into the sofa, shifting closer to Jack, letting the worn leather take half her hearing from her as she pressed her ear into the cushion.

              "They surrounded you? All the time?" Paul asked, directing his question to Bill. But it was Andrew who answered.

              "It was a city, there were a lot of people infected," Andrew shrugged. Emma remained silent at his side, her eyes downcast. Kaylee wondered, fleetingly, if his hand still covered hers.

              "But they fell at night, right? Even with a whole bunch of them, they'd still be asleep all night, you could've picked them off one by one over time," Paul said. Mario mimed a gun shooting and Paul nodded at him. His comment was offhanded, as though it were the obvious solution. Kaylee kept her mouth shut as her father bristled.

              Of all people, it was Jack who answered. "It's not the easiest thing, picking them off."

              Paul laughed. "You must not be much of a shot then!"

              Danny joined in at that, both men chortling. The rest of the group, besides Marsden, looked uneasy.

              "Oh come on! It was a joke!" Paul said.

              "That's not what I meant," Jack continued, his voice was soft compared to the other men. "It's not the aim that's difficult, it's what happens after."

              Paul frowned. "You mean the bodies? What to do with them?"

              "Have you been here, at The Mill, from the start of all of this?" Jack asked, his voice soft and not reproachful. The words flowed out of him conversationally, easily, the vibration of them drifting over Kaylee from where their bodies were still pressed together. Paul shook his head.

              "I was in the woods for months, mostly hiding. Danny did that for a while too. And Mario, I think. We all scavenged a bit in towns but kept it local."

              "And the infected that you've killed, it's been mostly those coming after you then? A couple maybe in the woods? Cleaning up the electric fences after they've already been charred on the lines?" Paul nodded as Kaylee cringed.

              "That was me too, until I met Quinton."

              Jack paused and the whole room paused with him. Something had shifted, changed. Kaylee could feel it but couldn't place it. But the attention that had been scattered, moving fluidly between different conversations, was now centered on Jack. He tensed, his fingers contracting over Kaylee's. The light from the one lit screen washed over him, caught his features just so and sent shadows down one side of his face, making only the white of his eye visible.

              "We moved around a bit, focused on cities with high population densities, wanted to trap the infected in concentrated areas so less hordes would be wandering past the city limits. But it didn't start that way. It started in Atlanta."

              Jack paused for breath and a distant memory floated to Kaylee's mind.

              Atlanta was the first and
I’
ll admit, what we did was
n’
t right.

              Jack had said that the first night he and Quinton spent at the firehouse, when her father challenged them about killing the infected. Kaylee had never questioned him on it. She found herself sitting up straighter now, her focus entirely on Jack.

              "What happened there?" It was Anna who asked.

              "We killed them," Jack answered, his eyes averted to the floor. "Every last one of them. We did just as you said Paul, waited for dark, watched them fall down in the streets and on the curbs, then put a bullet into each and every head. And when we ran out of bullets, we used the machetes. It took hours and hours."

              The silence swelled. The only sound in the room was the whine of electricity. It sounded deafening now.

              "It was the wrong thing to do," Jack continued. "I know that obviously. To be honest, I think I knew it then. I thought it would be easy. They were already just laying there, some even face down. I thought it would be so easy. And part of the problem is that it was. It was easy to hit them, easy to kill. But it wasn't right. It wasn't the right thing to do."

              "But they would have killed you," Paul said. It wasn't so much of a challenge as a gentle reminder.

              "Not then they wouldn't, not asleep in the gutter. I know in the daylight I would have been ripped apart. But it's not like that at night." Jack shook his head, his eyes trained on his shoes.

              Kaylee felt frozen. The image of Jack walking executioner style through Atlanta was seared to her brain. She couldn't stop the images, the flash of light from the end of his gun. Over and over and over again, cracking through the night and echoing back. And then the machete, the slashing, the blood. Atlanta would have run red.

              "I don't think Quinton could stand it either. We came together at the end, as dawn was breaking, and we systematically set the place on fire. Let the whole thing burn."

              "Atlanta burning," Anna murmured as Jack nodded.

              "It was easier to walk away from it when it was on fire, when what we had done had been erased, at least from sight."

              The group fell silent as the screen turned black. When the overhead lights flipped on, Kaylee blinked, startled. Marsden was up, limping away from the light switches and looking uncomfortable. Jack's story bothered him.

              Kaylee was surprised, though it bothered her too. Paul was looking thoughtful and the rest were keeping a respectful silence. They had all done things they weren't proud of, especially in this newer version of their world. There was no judgement in their silence, just resignation.

              Marsden was the first to leave, not even muttering a goodnight. He slunk around the back of the group and through a door that looked like it led to the janitors closet. The door shut behind him.

              The rest of the group broke up with murmurs of goodnight, stretching and moving slowly towards their respective rooms. Kaylee and Jack were the last to get up, Kaylee noting with a twist of nerves that Andrew had indeed held her sister's hand through the rest of the evening. She pulled it from him, her eyes still on the floor, as soon as he stood.

              "Jack," she started turning to face him.

              "It's late," he interrupted, releasing her fingers and getting up. He waited with his back turned until she joined him on the stairs, once again taking the bed furthest from hers when they reached the room.

~

              She wasn't sure what woke her. Her dreams had been scattered, twisting images with flashes of fire. Maybe it was the general unease she couldn't seem to get away from, even in the safety of The Mill, maybe it was the way Marsden was constantly staring.

              When her eyes opened, she saw nothing but blackness. No flashes of lights like the previous night, no signals to Quinton. But there was movement. She couldn't see it, couldn't see anything in the density of these shadows, but she could hear it.

              As quietly as she could, she got out of her bed and pulled on her boots. There was only one person moving around in the dead of night.

              She moved swiftly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The retreating figure was already down the stairs and heading into the great room. The lights of the screens and the flickering arcade games were distracting, the low pings and whine of electricity providing excellent cover when Marsden slept just feet away.

              Jack moved stealthily through and into the library, it was only after Kaylee had followed him through, shutting the door behind her, that she chanced to speak.

              "Where are you going?"

              Jack jumped, she could see the jerky movement of his frame silhouetted against the darkened bookshelves.

              "You're quiet when you want to be," he whispered. She shrugged, though she realized he probably couldn't see her.

              "So, where?"

              "The fence," he said softly. He turned from her and kept walking. She followed. He stiffened, she could tell in the shifting of his shoulders through his dark hoodie.

              The narrow library felt claustrophobic in the blackness. Kaylee took three steps before bumping into a warm, dark something. Jack turned to face her. His breath washed over her. She inhaled sharply, the musty odor of old books and the warm pine and honey of Jack.

              "Why are you following me?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper in the enclosed room. She didn't really have an answer, not one she could verbalize. She cared about him. Watching him sneak from the room in the middle of the night, knowing the handle of his gun hung from his waistband, she felt a pang of nervousness flood her chest. She didn't like the thought of him sneaking around in the middle of the night all by himself without any backup. Not that she offered much backup, she knew that, but at least she was another set of eyes.

              But she couldn't say any of this, not aloud, not in the hushed silence of the library. He moved closer and she shook her head, her nose grazing the zipper of his open hoodie. It brought a reluctant smile to her face.

              "I'm sorry you had to hear that tonight," he said.

              Atlanta.

              "You're sorry that I know."

              There was silence for a moment. "You're right."

              "Are you trying to check on Quinton?" she asked into the awkward stillness. "We should go, it's nearly midnight." The green face of her watch glowed to show the hands when she pressed on the side light button. In the brief flash of light, she could see his features. His brow furrowed and his lips drawn tight, apprehension, or maybe loss. She wasn't sure which and she wasn't sure why he would feel either of those things. But his features, lost and in pain, caused something to twist in her stomach. She reached towards him, her fingers flitting over the sleeve of his hoodie before finding the warmth of his fingers. Once his fingers entwined tightly with hers, he tugged, dragging them both through the library and into the moonlit stillness of the kitchen.