Shadows Have Gone (38 page)

Fuck it.

Whatever reason, he was still alive.

He started to laugh. He laughed until his eyes squeezed out helpless tears of mirth that then turned into sobs. He laid his arms over the top of his knees and leaned his head down on them and let his body shake with it. Laughs and sobs, or something in between. He wasn’t sure. But a crazy, sheer exhilaration was racing through him. He was alive.

Alive.

No one lived through the Infection. This simply couldn’t be happening. And the improbability of that added to the improbability of the grenade being a dud . . .

But it was.

He looked up at the blue sky shining through the small window and whispered, “Thank you.”

The grenade rested beside him in a pool of light.

Carly was right all along.

This was fate. There was something—someone—leading them to the path they were supposed to take. It was a heady feeling, though somewhat frightening at the same time.

He hadn’t exactly lived the most righteous life, but then again, he’d been chosen for a reason, apparently.

Carly thought it all happened for a reason.

Once upon a time, Justin had decided on a whim to attend the Deadhorse Motorcycle Rally in Alaska. He’d gotten the flier in the mail and had been about to toss it aside when something caught his eye. An image of a wolf.

It had just been a stock photo of a gray wolf running through the forest, but now it seemed almost prophetic. And as Justin had packed up his gear on his bike, Lewis had been frantically sending out the last batches of vaccine, trying to save ones he’d deemed worthy or important to whatever future plans he’d had, though God alone knew what they had been.

Justin tried to stand, as shaky as a newborn giraffe, but that didn’t work out as planned. He struggled to haul himself to his knees, but even that proved to be too much. He had to drag his body along, pausing for long intervals when he ran out of steam, but he made his way to the case of water and laboriously worked a bottle from the shrink-wrap. Twisting the cap off was a lot harder than it should have been, and his shaking hands sloshed some of the water from the bottle before he could bring it to his lips.

He sucked half of it down in greedy gulps before his stomach reminded him that wasn’t a good idea and it came back up in a rush. Afterward, he leaned against the wall and forced himself to sip.

He would get stronger. And he would go home to Carly, to Dagny, to Colby.

He felt light. He felt free. The old Justin had died along with Lewis. He had been given a second chance, a second life, and he was going to make it worthwhile.

Carly led Shadowfax through the gates, pulling the wagon. They needed food, and she was hoping there would be some potatoes in the patch outside the gates. Potatoes would be easy to prepare and would be bland and soothing for those who still had easily upset stomachs, her own included.

Colby’s population had almost doubled in size with the addition of Lewis’s people . . . her people now. Once everyone was healthy, they’d have more willing hands to work, but for now, they had to stretch their resources thin to feed everyone.

Pearl had argued with her about this. “There are other people here, you know. People who have already gotten better. At least more recovered than you are. Let them go out. Hell, I can take the damn wagon. Shadowfax likes me.”

“No, I want to go.”

Pearl tossed her hands up. “Why?”

Because she needed to feel useful. Because she couldn’t lie there, staring at the ceiling and letting her thoughts run down the same track again, wearing a deep, painful groove in her mind.

“I just want to,” was all Carly said before shrugging into her coat.

Pearl had sighed and laid a hand on her shoulder. Her lips curled back, but it couldn’t be called a smile. She nodded and drew Carly in for a hug before she said, “Be careful.” She took her gun from her holster and held it out to Carly, butt first. “You sure you won’t let anyone come along to help?”

“Sam will be with me.”

“I don’t mean for security.”

Carly shook her head. “I need . . . I guess I just need to do this myself.”

It had taken Carly a week to regain her full strength after her illness. It was the worst week of her life, because the forced immobility gave her time to think . . . and to mourn. It was unbearable, yet she had to bear it. Like Atlas, she struggled beneath an unimaginable weight and was given no choice but to shoulder it and rise. For a while, it seemed like just continuing to breathe required exhausting effort, and then just the simple act of getting out of bed each morning became the insurmountable task. It was a constant struggle against that part of her that wanted to lie down and give up. Just roll over and stare at the wall until she faded away and didn’t have to feel this agonizing emptiness any longer.

“I can’t explain it,” Stacy had said one afternoon as she sat on the edge of Carly’s bed, taking her temperature. “The only thing I can think of is illnesses like the Spanish flu, killing millions, only to vanish or maybe mutate into the common flu. I remember reading once that natural selection favors a milder strain, because less ill people are able to be more mobile and spread it to others.”

“Does it matter?” Carly muttered around the thermometer. They had found it beneath the edge of a mattress at some point.

“I guess not.” Stacy drew it out and held it up to the light. “It’s not like we can use the data to work on a new vaccine for it.”

“And Justin is still dead.”

Stacy dropped the thermometer, and it fell into Carly’s bedding. Her brow crumpled in concern. “God, Carly, if there were any words I could say . . .”

Carly turned away to stare up at the ceiling. “I know. Stacy, I need to ask you . . . did anyone . . . hear it?”

Stacy seemed to know what she was asking without needing Carly to say the painful words. She rubbed a hand over her face. “No. But we were all occupied with trying to take care of the sick. We’re far enough away that we might not have heard.”

Carly nodded. “I’m glad he’ll never know it was all for nothing, at least.”

“Don’t say that, please. He thought—”

“I know what he thought.” Her throat was so tight, it was hard to force out the words.

“
You and me, always saving the world
.
”

“Have you seen Mindy?”

Stacy shook her head again. “Stan says she doesn’t want to leave the house. She’s taking Claire’s loss very hard.”

“I need to go see her.”

“You need to concentrate on getting better.”

The day Carly finally went home, Mindy had come to see her, tapping on the door. Kaden had let her in to where Carly was laying on the couch, propped up by the half-dozen pillows he had brought her. He had bounced back remarkably fast from his own illness and was back to helping others before most had mustered the energy to get out of bed. Maybe that was how he dealt with the grief—burying it in helping others. It wasn’t healthy, but she wasn’t dealing with her own grief yet. She couldn’t help him when she couldn’t help herself.

“Hey.” Mindy sat down on the spot Carly made for her by squeezing over close to the back of the couch. “How are you?”

“Better. The more important question is how are
you
?”

Mindy took a deep breath. “Alive.”

Carly nodded. She understood.

“I’m stuck in this loop where I keep questioning myself—did I do everything I could for Claire? Did I take care of Bradley better than I took care of her? Should I have tried to make her eat more to build up her strength? Should I have—” She stopped and shook her head.

“You keep trying to find a way to blame yourself,” Carly said. “I did the same thing after my parents died of the Infection. I kept telling myself if I had done better, they would have survived.” Although she didn’t want to say it, she wondered the same things about Justin, about whether she could have prevented his death by waiting at the propane station instead of her ill-conceived escape, or if she had headed to the road instead of cutting through the woods.

There were always a thousand doubts and questions a person could find. A thousand “what ifs” that could circle in the mind and swoop down into thoughts like angry birds.

“Everyone else survived this time.” Tears ran down Mindy’s cheeks, unheeded. “Just not Claire. Just not my Claire.”

And Justin
.

But he didn’t have to die, did he? She could have—

Carly stopped herself before that horrid thought could gain traction.

“Why?” Mindy demanded. “If there is a God, why would He do this to me? Why would He give me both of them if He was going to take one of them away from me?”

“I don’t know, Mindy. Maybe you should talk to the Reverend about this.”

“I don’t even know if I believe in all that stuff anyway.” Mindy twisted the hem of Carly’s blanket in her hands. “It was the Reverend who was saying the birth of the twins was a miracle and a gift from God to show us we could go on. He said they were like the rainbow after Noah’s flood . . . a sign of God’s blessing on us.”

Mindy’s voice was ugly. She twisted the blanket in her hands again, and Carly nearly stopped her because the blanket had been made by Miz Marson, and the violence of the twisting was damaging it, but she refrained. Let her tear the thing to shreds if it soothed some of the pain.

“And if I asked him, the Reverend would probably give me some bullshit about God’s plan being unknowable, but I don’t want to hear that. What about you, Carly? You were so sure all of this was some kind of fate or something. That we were being led here because we were supposed to do something. What do you think now?”

“I don’t know.” Carly’s voice cracked as the tears she couldn’t hold back spilled down her face. “I just don’t know, Mindy.”

And because Carly hadn’t had an answer for her, all she had done was hold Mindy while she cried.

Sam trotted by Carly’s side, occasionally bumping her leg with his ribs, as if trying to transmit some of his strength to her. He’d woken her from the nightmare she’d had the night before by jumping onto the bed to bump his snout at her chin until she opened her eyes, crying and trembling. The dream had faded almost instantly, but Carly remembered she had been running toward Justin, trying to save him before—

She shook her head and tightened her grip on Shadowfax’s bridle as they walked past the gauntlet of alligators sunning on the bank by the road. She thought about what Kaden had said as she’d made breakfast that morning.
 

“I heard you yelling last night.”

Carly had paused in flipping the cornmeal pancakes. “You did?”

Kaden had placed Dagny into her high chair and snapped the tray in place. “Yeah. I wanted to tell you something Justin told me when I was having nightmares.”

Carly had transferred the pancake to a plate. “Maybe later, okay?”

Kaden had given her a slight smile. “Okay. Just know . . . it won’t always be like this. I promise.”

She had felt like arguing as she turned back to Miz Marson’s stove and poured more batter into the skillet. How could he know that? But the rational part of her mind told her that he was right. Her heart and mind would heal over time. Right now, she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Someday soon, it wouldn’t feel like she had to remind herself to breathe, to remind her heart to beat. Someday soon, it wouldn’t feel like she had a raw, gaping wound with ragged edges that set every nerve on fire. Someday soon, Justin wouldn’t occupy her every waking thought, and the spot in the bed beside her wouldn’t feel like a black hole, an emptiness so profound that it absorbed even her dreams.

Someday soon, it wouldn’t hurt to look at her daughter and see his dark eyes. Someday soon, Dagny would stop asking for her father, though Carly had the feeling that might hurt even more. Someday soon, Sam would stop looking up at every noise, then drop his head down to his paws with a sigh. Someday soon, Kaden would stop crying in the bathroom and trying to hide his red eyes from her.

Shadowfax lowered her head and bumped her nose below Carly’s ear with a soft puff of breath. Carly patted her and reached down with her other hand to stroke Sam’s ears.

“I’ll be all right,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. It was a promise for the future. She wasn’t all right now, and that was okay. But she would be.