Matt found me fumbling over breakfast and made me sit down. I was pale and shaky, more than I like to admit. The cuts on my arm ache, as if they want to remind me why I feel this way. My friend made me something to eat and waited while I put it away before he asked me what was going on.

I couldn’t fob him off any more. He had the look in his eye and the set to his jaw, the ones he always gets when he won’t take no for an answer. He took my hand, as if he might need to hold me down, and asked me what Ben had done.

I think it was the way he put it that got to me. I tried to form an answer, but it cluttered up behind a sudden wave of tears. He put an arm around me while I broke down, and he told me that I didn’t have to do this on my own. I’m not alone. I’ve offered those three words to others so often, but I had forgotten what they sounded like.

And he’s right. This isn’t my secret to keep. It’s too big for me, and it’s not harmless. I keep trying to make the right decision, but it’s not up to me. It never was.

So I told him. I unloaded what I knew and what I feared. My mind tripped over everything that has happened since Ben recovered from the Sickness, and my tongue tried to keep up. When I fell down, Matt filled in the gaps with his own suggestions.

All those who have gone missing, starting with the first Wolverine we met. Dennis entered through a broken window and was last seen running towards the room where Ben had been lying sick. He disappeared and then Ben was on his feet again. I think he scared himself so much when he fed off Dennis that he left to keep us safe, because right after that, he left.

And after he came back, there were more disappearances, like Iris’s Norman. What happened to him before the rain got to him? And was Caroline’s death really the accident he claims?

“Jones,” added a voice. We looked around to find Nugget watching us. I felt my innards contract, knotting up into a tiny ball as if trying to hide. I opened my mouth to deny that possibility, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You did say that he ate animals too,” Matt said.

I almost broke down all over again. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse. Jones was the first one to go missing after Ben got back. But maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe none of it was him.

“I’m so sorry, Nugget,” I said anyway. She climbed into Matt’s lap and leaned on him, looking sad. I think she has known that Jones wasn’t coming back for a while now, even though she kept asking for him.

Matt asked me what I was going to do, and I had no answer for him. I don’t know. I’m afraid to tell everyone, because I’m scared of what they’ll do to Ben. I’m scared of what he’ll do to them, too. I don’t think I’ve felt so helpless since we were in the city and buildings were falling on us.

I thought it would feel better after I told someone else. It didn’t.

I didn’t want to tell the rest of them, but once Matt knew, it was only a matter of time. I’ve lost count of how many times I went over it, and that was only to a few of the others. I wanted to curl up and pretend it wasn’t happening. I wanted to deny everything, tell them I made it up and laugh.

I didn’t. I did my best to look them in the eye. People I’ve come to know so well: Thorpe, Sally, Conroy, Dillon. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

They didn’t shout at me. Masterson wasn’t there, so that’s probably why. I could feel the disappointment rolling off them, though. I could feel them all shifting away from me, though no-one moved physically.

After I was done, they all–

Something’s happening. I have to go.

There were no signs of more shamblers in the area, so we moved the vehicles over to the chemistry building to load them up. With so many ‘helping’ hands, it took ages to get everything done, even though we’re not planning to take all of the vehicles with us. After a quick survey last night, it looks like we’ll have maybe a dozen heading out, give or take a few vacillating souls.

I went to check that we hadn’t missed any equipment and heard a shout from one of the back rooms. I called for the others as I ran back to see what it was, though once I saw what was going on, I wished I hadn’t.

Jersey had called out, but when I got there, his air was choked off. Ben was the cause and the Wolverine was batting feebly at his arm. I didn’t think: I ran over and tried to pull Ben off with words and hands.

It was like trying to move the arm of a statue. Ben scowled and shoved me off, and I wound up sprawled on the ground.

“Jersey’s dead anyway,” he said. When I asked what the hell he meant, he added, “She has an acid burn.”

I stared at him, trying to work out which part to process first. Jersey’s batting was fading, so I put the rest of it aside and told Ben to let go, let go. Some of the others were arriving, and I think it was that more than anything else that made him release the Wolverine. Jersey fell into a heap and gasped for air, trying to scrabble away.

“She’s been lying since we met her,” Ben said, spitting the words out like pips. He glanced at the doorway, where Conroy and Dale were among the onlookers. They were as stunned as the rest of us, like fish. “And probably for a while before that. About that, and about being burned.”

We all looked to Jersey for an answer, an argument; anything. It was there, written plainly on his face. Her face. Guilt, fear. She must have kept that secret for so many months, from everyone. Now the thin tissue of it was torn irreparably.

She glared at us, rubbing her throat and coughing, and then stumbled out of a side door. She wanted nothing more than to get away from all of us, and I didn’t blame her. No-one tried to stop her.

It was enough of a distraction that no-one asked Ben what he was doing choking the life out of the psuedo-boy. I don’t think any of them realised what he was doing before they got there.

The onlookers milled about uncertainly, angry murmurs fluttering between them. I caught sight of Terry, who has spent so much time with Jersey lately, looking uncertain about everything. I asked him to go after her, make sure she’s all right, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. He asked me why I didn’t want to go, and I told him that I needed to talk to Ben.

He’s a good lad. He didn’t know what to think of his new friend any more, but he went anyway. I hope he managed to say the right things. I can’t imagine how scared she must be now; I haven’t seen her since she ran off.

I turned around and Ben had already gone. It took me a while to find him, and by then I was afraid of what I’d discover with him this time. He was on his own, luckily, and my fear relaxed into anger.

“You were going to kill her.” It wasn’t a question; we both knew the truth of that.

He frowned at me, folding his arms over his chest. “I told you – she’s dead anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She’s been burned. That means she’ll get the Sickness and die.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. Words cluttered up in my throat behind a roadblock of shock. It wasn’t that she would get the Sickness: it was his abrupt attitude about it. As iff that justified everything and anything.

“Ben, that takes months. And she might not die! She could turn out like you.” I tried to make that sound like a good thing, but my heart wasn’t in it. “We might be able to find a way to stop it!”

“She’s dead, Faith. Face it.”

“No! And even if she was… even if we were sure, that doesn’t give you the right to just… kill her.” I looked at him, at the way he avoided my gaze but wasn’t apologetic at all, and suddenly he felt like a stranger.

“Why not? She’s dead and I’m hungry. What would you have me do?”

“You can’t just kill people! Is this what happened with Steve? Did you kill him before the Sickness could take him?”

He just glared at me. “He was dead, too.”

“But still alive when you got to him! Ben, you can’t do this! You just can’t!”

He stepped closer and looked down at me, pulled his lips back. “It’s survival, Faith. They’re not going to make it, so I might as well.”

I stared up at him, ice all over and shivering. It felt like someone else was having this conversation. “How many has there been?” My voice sounded small and far away. It took me a moment to figure out why my cheeks were wet.

He just looked at me for a long moment.

“No more,” I said. “Promise me there won’t be any more.”

“And if I do? Will you offer a vein every time I’m hungry?”

“If I have to.”

The next thing I knew, my back was against a wall and there was a fresh cut on my arm. I didn’t fight him. I felt my heart throbbing and the wall wasn’t enough to hold me up. I asked him to stop just before my knees buckled. He said my name, but it was too dark. I don’t remember hitting the floor.

That was a few hours ago. I just woke up, wrapped in blankets. He must have put me to bed. I don’t know where he is now. I don’t feel good. I can’t keep doing this; I know that now. I think he’ll kill me without meaning to. Add me to the list of those he’s sacrificed so that he can keep on being.

There’s a part of me that wants to believe in him, but it’s growing smaller all the time. The knowledge is seeping through me, slow as slush: I love a killer. Do I dare to think I can still change him? The more I know, the less I like it. But I still don’t know enough. It won’t be enough until it’s too much.

Bones to entrails, I ache. It’s cold tonight. Or maybe it’s just me, all the way through.

The foragers were just gearing up to go for their daily hunt when the mass was spotted. They’re less comical these days now that the ice is thinning and retreating. We watched them come and weren’t worried; Kostoya had told us that the pipe-warming system was working fine and that he had plenty of rainwater to keep them out with. We’ve grown complacent.

The waterfall worked fine, stopping the shamblers in their stumbling tracks, and we allowed ourselves a cheer. They lurched back and milled around in some confusion, but they didn’t go away. In the past, they have always given up and moved off towards something else.

They reminded me of a story I read once, about a robot who was caught between two commands. His orders conflicted with his safety protocols, and he wound up circling the object of the order and the danger in indecision, until his batteries ran down. When I read it, I thought about how sad it was that no-one came to break him out of it. He was left there, endlessly circling, forgotten. Expendable.

The shamblers weren’t quite smart enough to circle the building to look for another way in, but they weren’t giving up either. They hovered until the water was turned off, then lurched in again. Water came on, they backed off, some of them sizzling.

Someone asked why they weren’t leaving. It was Ben who answered.

“There’s no other meat around here.”

I don’t want to know how he knew that. I don’t think any of us were comforted by the information.

Kostoya had come down to see what we knew, his little waterfall remote in hand. His fingers were white as he looked from one of us to the other.

“The tank will run out eventually,” he said, his accent thick with nerves.

We all looked at each other. “Then let’s do this on our terms,” I said. No-one argued.

It’s frightening how good we’re getting at preparing for something like this. The kids were shut away with Sally in a room on the floor above. The rest of us grabbed weapons. Ben protected himself from the sun with a hat and scarf.

When everyone was ready and the tips off bats were circling in the air, we nodded to Kostoya and he shut off the waterfall. After a few seconds to make sure that we wouldn’t be dripped on, we piled outside. The shamblers were already heading towards the building again and we went to meet them.

I quickly realised that I shouldn’t have been out there. I still wasn’t feeling on top of things after feeding Ben yesterday and just a few swings of my bat left me feeling weak and shaky. I retreated to the back of the group and fell into instruction mode, yelling for this person to step back, go help him, look out for that. There were more of them than I had realised before we came outside and I had to dodge out of the path of more than one.

Ben is very good at dealing with them. I noticed before that he was better at fighting them, but I thought it was because he’d had to look after himself when he left us. Now I know what he is, there’s a new slant to it. He’s very fast. They tend to go down after just one hit with him – even Thorpe is lucky to do that consistently. Even out in the sunlight, trying to hide in the shade of his own hat, his eyes scrunched up, he was intimidating. Scary. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed.

I couldn’t help but wonder how many he might have killed. And then, I wondered how many weren’t shamblers. When did that first time happen? Who was it? How is he so sure about what he can and cannot eat? I don’t think I want answers to any of these questions.

There were a few yells and injuries, but we got off lightly considering the odds. It was a shock when they were finally all gone, and then there was the wounded to deal with. I worked on automatic pilot, making sure that everyone was getting what they needed, patching up the minor hurts.

For the second time, Jersey refused any help. He had an injured leg but he kept insisting that he was fine. His face was white with pain but he wouldn’t admit it. I made sure he had bandages, even if he wouldn’t let me put them on. I knew it was bad when he didn’t throw them back in my face.

I was dizzy by the time I was done with everyone; Matt had to take me to a chair and sit me down before I fell over.

The attack has kept us quieter today. Some of us are in pain, and all of us have been reminded of the dangers that lie on the roads we’re going to travel. I think some of those eager to get out of here might think again. The group of Seekers that will leave here soon just got smaller.

It makes no difference to me. I am eager for the road, even with its dangers. I trust my friends to keep the group safe. It’s what we do.

And I suspect that the greatest danger isn’t waiting for us outside in the broken world. It travels with us.

The only person missing from the discussion was Ben. He didn’t turn up at all last night, so this morning I went to find him. I wound up in a room a couple of floors up, where he was staring out of the window at the forbidden daylight. He didn’t look good, paled into sickliness and gaunt, as if he was wasting away.

He asked me what I wanted and I said I came to find out what was going on with him. He shrugged and gave me a single word: “Hungry.”

I looked at him standing there with his arms wrapped around himself, as if he was afraid of what his hands might do if he didn’t clamp them down. My brain ran through the options with stumbling feet. We didn’t have any fresh meat and canned stuff wouldn’t do. He said he’d exhausted the animal population around here already. The only other option was blood, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him going to Bree again. Her words still rattle around in my head.

It was my blood or hers. My heart made the decision and handed him the knife I still have sheathed at the small of my back. Then it tried to flutter its way out of my chest in denial when he asked if I was sure and I said yes, yes I’m sure. I bared the soft skin of my inner forearm. He didn’t hesitate much.

It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I watched him with his mouth on my arm and thought about Bree and her bitterness.

She has hated me a lot longer than I realised. The things she threw at me mean little to me, but they’re so much to her. Like dating Cody, the lawyer with the prospects she used to go on about. And the job my dad gave me at the car yard that I left because I wanted to find my own way, rather than following in his footsteps. She despised the car yard, but she used to tell me about how her father left her to her own devices; ‘free’, she called it.

It never occurred to me that I might have things she wanted, not until she took Cody away. She was the prettiest of our little circle, the confident one, the one with the best job and the most money. I was the plainest, the lowliest, the one hoping someone else would be able to buy the drinks at the high-end clubs she liked. And she had never let me forget it, though it didn’t turn nasty until after I found out about her and Cody.

Bree put herself on her pedastal and made everyone recognise her up there. The rest of us were in our place without any doubts. I know now that there was doubt; it’s just that she was very good at hiding it. Them the bomb kicked her pedastal out from under her and she’s still trying to work out how to stand up on our level. My memory’s Bree has gold plating, and it’s flaking off. Underneath, she’s just as grubby as the rest of us.

It doesn’t make me like her any more than I did before. She’s still the snake at my back, all cold-blooded eyes and tongue grabbing at my air.

I was lightheaded by the time Ben was finished and there was a dull ache all the way up my arm. It’s possible I shouldn’t have used the one that was still healing. He put an arm around my waist when I wobbled and kissed me. I tasted copper but wasn’t quick enough to recoil before it was over.

He fetched me something to eat, attentive once his needs were met. I let him. It feels fair to have this exchange between us, even though it doesn’t quite feel right. Or safe. But even with all that, I couldn’t find it in me to be scared of him.

While he was gone, I wondered why he didn’t go find some shamblers to eat; that would solve so many problems at once. Then I remembered what Dr Kostoya said about the chemical deficiency and how the shamblers can’t get nourishment from each other. Presumably, the same applies to Ben.

Abruptly, my stomach went cold and edged into every crevice of my body. Bree said that Steve had died of the Sickness before Ben fed on him, but that can’t be true. It wouldn’t have worked. Steve can’t have died of the Sickness.

Something else killed him. Or someone.

Finally, I am starting to be afraid of Ben and what he’s capable of.

Today, the snow melted a little before the rain came. The acid water fell as sleet again rather than fluffy flakes and the wetness muddied up the slush on the ground. Tonight looks like it’s going to be as cold as ever, but there’s hope that the frost will be kinder in the morning. There might even be glimpses of concrete. I guess the hope of that nudged thoughts towards the possibility of walking out on it.

I went out again, but not with the foragers. Instead, I went over to where our vehicles are sitting, frozen onto the campus road. One of the panels on the water truck has been wedged open – the foragers fetched bottles from it when we needed them – and I’m fairly sure that other scavengers have been at it. I can’t bring myself to mind, though. If our water helped others survive, then good for them. It’s not like we’re short of it.

The vehicles seem fine. We managed to get a couple of them running (I took Tia and Iris with me). The offroaders’ engines chugged obscenely loudly in the crisp air. I shut them off quickly, not wanting to waste the fuel and maybe a little bit creeped out by so much noise in the silence.

I ducked into the social building while I was there and looked at the place we first stayed on the campus. There’s a scorched mark on the floor where our fire sat and smoke has blackened the ceiling in places. Furniture is still arranged in approximations of beds. There’s a pile of wrappers and cans dropped in a corner, scoured clean of any traces of food.

It’s strange to think about how much we’ve learned since then. How much has changed.

Tonight, we talked about what we wanted to do. Kostoya was sitting with us and asked if it was safe for the little ones to be going out into the world. I had no answer for him; we would protect them as best we could, obviously, but it was still dangerous. I had to restrain the urge to glance at Ben. It was dangerous for all of us.

We’re a big group now. Over twenty of us – not too many for the vehicles to carry, but a lot to move around. Everything takes so long with this number of bodies to motivate and get moving. But do all of us need to go?

“Dr Kostoya, would you object if some of us stayed here?” I asked.

He looked around, torn. We did move in and make ourselves at home. “I suppose not,” he said. “I have grown used to the help.” And the company, I think. I don’t think he has been alone since the bomb went off – he has talked about others ‘visiting’ him here – but no-one else had been here for some time before we showed up.

Some of the others were looking at me expectantly. Masterson was the first to speak up.

“Thinking of dumping some of us?”

Trust him to inject venom into the conversation. “No,” I said. “But if people do want to stay, then it’s nice to know they can.”

“What are you thinking, Faith?” That was Tom with his calm, solid voice. He reminded me of a lighter, more quiet-spoken version of Sax.

“We don’t all need to go. If we find anything, we’ll come back and… go from there.” I shrugged.

“There’s the radio,” Conroy pointed out. Scott said that the radio was only useful if both those leaving and those staying had one – we still had the firefighting unit, but we didn’t know what kind of range we’d get on it.

“Plenty of parts in the electronics department,” Kostoya said.

“When are you leaving?” Again, the question was aimed at me by Tom.

I restrained the urge to shrug again. I wanted to get moving but it wasn’t like I had a timeline laid out for this. “Couple of days at the most.” I could see the brains reeling from where I was sitting. I felt unfair, though a couple of days felt like too long to wait to me. “We don’t need to decide everything tonight. Have a think about what you all want to do.”

With luck, tonight’s evening chatter will work out who’s coming and who’s staying. I can guess at least a few of those who will stay behind.

I’m looking forward to hitting the road. I feel like I might be able to leave some of these headaches and heartaches behind.

I decided not to go out with the foragers again, partly because I knew that I was running away from Ben and all the complications around him when I went out. I had hoped to spend some time with him, but he excused himself with a murmur about needing some space. I was thinking about feeling hurt and then he said that it was because he was hungry. That was enough to make me leave him alone.

I suppose I should be grateful that he’s not just going to Bree any more. I didn’t forbid him or anything like that. I think he knows I wouldn’t handle it well if he kept on with that.

I wasn’t looking for him when I went to find Bree, but there was a frightened swirl in my stomach that thought he might be there. He wasn’t. She was alone; her little friends had gone off to help Kostoya again. She didn’t look well and I tensed because I knew the reason for that.

The glance she gave me was so tired that I almost felt sorry for her. I have an idea about the position she’s in right now, stuck between the shadow of the Pride, my own memories and enmity, and the needs of survival. I don’t envy her any of it. I don’t think I’ve envied her since I found out about her sleeping with Cody.

“What do you want, Faith?” she asked when I came into her room and didn’t immediately turn around and walk out again. “Come to tell me to stay away from your fella?”

I had to clench my jaw to stop a number of angry responses spilling over onto her. I closed the door behind me and leaned on the edge of a desk. “I want to know what was going on between you and Ben.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“I’m asking you.”

She looked at me for a long moment. “You know what he is now, don’t you?” Her tone was expecting a negative answer and I had to slide my hands under my thighs to stop them from curling up. Damn her, she knows how to get to me.

“Yes.”

“Then you know what was going on. He was hungry. I gave him what he wanted.”

I knew she was doing it on purpose, lashing out with the worst wording possible. I think it’s the only arsenal she has left. It pricked at me and I had to keep a tight hold on my temper. “How did you find out about him?”

“Same way you did: I walked in on him feeding.”

I stared at her and tried not to feel sick. I failed. “Who?” Another girl?

Bree glanced away, showing that maybe there was an actual heart in there somewhere. “Steve.” It took me a moment to remember the Pride wannabe she had arrived with. He was just a kid, seventeen, eighteen maybe. “He got Sick. We think he died in the night sometime. Then I found Ben… eating him.” She shuddered delicately.

Steve had disappeared some time ago; she knew all this time? “Why didn’t you tell someone?” Tell me. Why didn’t she tell me?

“He asked me not to. I was too scared.”

“Scared?”

“He’s a– he eats people, Faith. That doesn’t scare you?”

I shrugged. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“Well, maybe he should. You think I let him feed off me because I like it? I don’t. Does that make you happy?”

Actually, it did make it easier to deal with, though I wasn’t going to tell her that. “So why did you let him?”

“I told you – I was scared.” She got up and started pacing around the little room, rubbing her arms for warmth. I think it was someone’s office once. “You people – the rest of you – you barely look at us. Would anyone have noticed if he’d picked us off, one by one?”

I can’t even pin a firm date on when Steve disappeared from our ranks. “How long?”

“Has he been coming to me for this? A while. Few weeks, maybe, off and on.”

I didn’t know what to say. It’s been so long – all that time, he had come to her and hadn’t told me anything.

She smiled bitterly. “What’s the matter, Faith? The happy new boyfriend not all you wanted him to be? Why is it your men always prefer to come to me when they really need something?”

She was close enough that when I stood up, I only had to stretch my arm out to slap her. It made a satisfying, shockingly loud sound. “Why do you have to do this?” She was always taking away things that were mine. Things I cared about.

“Poor blind Faith,” she said, rubbing her cheek. “Never can see what’s right there, can you? Everything’s so easy for you; the things you want just fall into your lap, while the rest of us have to work for it. You don’t deserve any of it.”

I stared at her, trying to take all of that in and only getting shards. “I don’t deserve it? And you do? I’m not the one stabbing friends in the back. What the hell makes you think I get what I want?”

“You always do! The pretty boy with big prospects; the job from daddy. And now the pretty boy and a group that follows your every word, without question.” Her tone dripped with derision and made those things dirty somehow. “The world ended and everything changed, but you, you’re exactly the same.”

“You have no idea who I am.” The words came out more surprised than I had intended, but it was true. She didn’t know me, not if she thought I hadn’t changed. Maybe I didn’t sell out like she did but there are lots of ways to change.

I knew then that I wouldn’t get anything else out of her except abuse. There was already too much in my head and my handprint on her cheek, so I turned to leave.

“What are you doing to do now, little miss blind Faith? Huh?” she shot after me. “Tell him to stay away from me? What are you going to do when he’s hungry enough to bite down? What’s it like sleeping with a monster? How is your perfect little arrangement going to work then?”

I didn’t look back at her. She sounded so angry and I had no answer for her. I let the door close behind me and kept walking, up and up until I got to the roof. I stood there in the cold wind until my cheeks were numb and the clouds had ganged up overhead.

The worst part is, I think I understand her now.

I wound up pulling one of the sleds while the others ran into buildings and searched for supplies. It was nice to be out in the fresh air, even with the smouldering sky hovering so close overhead and the icy bite on the wind.

For a while, I was able to forget about everything that’s been going on lately. The shamblers, Ben, Bree. Caught up in the search for food and essentials, it was like it was months ago, when things were simpler. It was a chance to be with the others, to get to know the newcomers as more than just names. Like how Janice always looks out for Tom, because he’s got a sore knee and will hurt it if he slips again. Jersey is hanging with Terry a lot now; I suspect they might be bad for each other, reckless behaviour concentrated too much for anyone’s good. Now that his sister is better and he doesn’t have to worry so much, Terry has definitely come out of his shell. Dale is mostly recovered from his injuries and recently started accompanying the foragers too, under Thorpe’s watchful eye, and he seems like a good enough fella.

Matt walked with me for most of the day. It was nice; I’ve missed his company. Between Ben’s frowning and the secrets I’m not supposed to tell, we haven’t really talked much lately.

It’s no accident that going out with the foragers meant that I got time away from Ben. I needed space to think and to not have his eyes on me for a while. Even if he’s not in the room, I know he’s close, like a lean on my peripheral vision.

I asked Matt how he’s doing and he said that he’s all right. He sounded surprised by his own answer. Other than being worried about me, he seems better than he has been for a long while. More like his old self. I guess having a big group has given him a bigger audience; he always did play well to a full house.

He gave me that concerned look that wanted to return the inquiry to me, but he didn’t put it into words. I told him anyway. That things are difficult since Ben got back and we’re trying to work them out. I told him that Bree’s involved, but not in that way. That it’s complicated and painful and I’m not handling it very well. I didn’t tell him the truth about Ben, but I didn’t need to. Matt slung an arm around my shoulders and let me know that he was there for me, whatever I needed. At that moment, that was exactly what I needed.

It was a relief to hear. It was like getting my best friend back, though I never lost him, not really. I leaned on him and he let me, and we talked about other stuff. He let me in on some of the gossip – like his suspicions about Thorpe and Dale. That surprised me for several reasons, not least being Matt’s casual attitude towards it. I remember how I felt when I saw him and Thorpe together; it’s still bright and sharp. It’s still confusing. I changed the subject.

By the time we got back to the Chemistry Department, I felt lighter. I felt more solid at the same time, as if I wasn’t at the mercy of the pounding waves at the changing of the tide, not knowing if it was going out or coming in. I felt better able to handle the buckshot being scattered in my direction.

Ben was hovering and grumpy when we came inside, scowling at me and my friend. I went over and kissed his cold cheek, and spent the evening talking to him about nothing. He thawed after a while and held onto my hand.

It was almost like being a normal couple again. Like being a normal girl. It was nice to remember what that’s like, before I have to dive back into what passes for our regular lives here.

Ben has done nothing lately except watch me and stay out of my way. He tried to talk to me a couple of times but wound up just sitting next to me. I had no idea what to say to him and I think the feeling was mutual. Today, though, I was determined that we were going to actually communicate.

I waited until the foragers had headed out for the day. They’re doing well at finding us supplies and we’re building up a stock now; there has even been enough to share with Kostoya when he said he was short of food.. They’re going to need to find a store of heavy boots soon – the snow is eating away at our shoes, no matter how careful we are.

It went quiet about mid-morning, once the remains of breakfast were cleaned up and the foragers were long gone. The kids amuse themselves – Dillon is getting good at being in charge of the other two, supervising by waving a crutch around. Some of the others disappeared upstairs to give the chemist a hand with whatever he’s doing lately.

I sat down next to Ben; he was by the window, looking out at the places he couldn’t walk in the tainted orange day. Why is it so hard to start a conversation like this? It’s easier when I don’t have time to prepare myself, when I just react, though I beat myself up afterwards for all the stuff I forgot to say.

Instead, I took his hand and put my fingertips on the inside of his wrist. His skin is chilly but just as soft as it used to be. He knew what I was doing and just sat there, waiting for the bump under his skin to let me know that he still has a heart in there. It took a long time to come – it felt like forever, though it can’t have been more than half a minute. His is a shy heart.

“What else don’t I know?” I asked him.

He shrugged, but not as dismissively as before. “You know most of it now. I can hear better than I used to. And smell, too – I can smell the rain coming sometimes, though less now that it’s freezing.”

“Is that how you found me that night? By scent?”

“Yes.”

I’m not used to getting such straight answers from him. I looked into his face and he seemed sincere. “I smell that bad, huh.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. It’s the closest that any of us have got to a real smile in a long time. The moment didn’t last long, but it was long enough to chip away some of the frost between us.

I sighed and looked down at his hand, still held between mine. It felt warmer than before; either I was warming it up or I was getting used to the cold.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Ben.”

“I want you to be okay with this,” he said, quickly enough to make me glance up at his face. There was earnestness there. “I’ve got nowhere else to go. No-one else that matters to me.”

My throat was threatening to close up. “I want to be okay with it too.”

“But?”

It was elusive, that ‘but’. It hung between us and I struggled to reach out and grab it. “I don’t know what all this means. Not, not yet.”

He frowned at our hands. “It means I’m not entirely human any more. I’m some halfway thing. Not one of them, not one of you either.”

“You’re not like the shamblers.”

“I’m trying not to be.”

Suddenly, I felt like I was slipping, or he was slipping, and there was nothing to hold onto. His pulse was slow while mine wanted to beat out of my chest. It was all I could do to keep the desperation out of my voice.

“I want to help you.”

“But?”

“You went to her.” It was out before I’d thought about it. It mattered, though. It mattered more than I like. It was raw and I couldn’t let go of it, even if I wanted to.

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t like that, Faith. You know that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The pressure was building up and abruptly I was trying not to cry. “You didn’t come to me. You chose to go to someone else. To her, of all people.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you did. That’s exactly what you did.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me the truth! Tell me what was going on!”

“And the feeding? Would you rather I had fed off you, too?”

“Yes!”

He stood up and pulled his hand out of mine, still staring at me. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either. I knew it was stupid, but it was how I felt. I remembered what my dad said once, just after I found out about Cody and Bree. “The heart isn’t a rational beast,” he had told me. And then he had hugged me. I would give anything for one of his hugs right now, even for him to scruff my hair up like he always did.

“It’s the truth,” I said to Ben.

He touched my cheek and told me again that he didn’t want to hurt me. He was troubled when he went away, as if he thought I might offer again. As if maybe he’d say yes.

I don’t know what I’d do if he did. I don’t know what’s more important to me right now – that he kept things from me; that he didn’t want to hurt me; that he chose to go to Bree; that he eats people. In my head, it all seems so straightforward, as if the answer is obvious. Then the rest of me gets involved and I don’t know anything.

He said that no-one else matters to him. I want to believe him, though the more I think about it, the more scared that thought makes me.

I saw Bree. She’s staying in a side room with her friends: Mira the teenager and Scott the random pickup. She’s pale and that was enough to make me turn around and walk away. Bloodloss. Ben.

Instead, I took hold of my courage and went to speak to someone else. Someone who I hoped would have some answers for me.

I didn’t expect a warm reception and I didn’t get one. At first, I didn’t think he’d talk to me. When I walked up to him, he looked ready to physically toss me out of his way. Luckily for me, he’s a wiry little guy and his mouth is much worse than his hands.

It’s never fun asking Masterson for help. He called me names and spent ten minutes tearing strips off me, until I was nearly in tears all over again. It’s nothing I haven’t said to myself and I was determined not to run away from him.

He said that he had noticed something when Ben was sick. When the Sickness got really bad and we thought he was going to die. After Ben got better, he asked Masterson to check him over. After the doctor noticed a few odd things he couldn’t explain – like low body temperature and elusive pulse – Ben called the whole thing to a stop. Since he returned to the group, Masterson has noticed Ben’s strange behaviour and the sunburn.

I asked him why he didn’t say anything. Masterson shrugged and said it wasn’t up to him to force people to do what they should be doing. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough to do in the group just keeping on top of the injuries. And if Ben didn’t want his help, what did he care?

I tried to get the doctor to help me work out what’s going on with Ben. What’s different about him. Masterson didn’t want to play ball, though.

“Go talk to the chemist,” he said, shooing me away. “Deal with your own problems. Ben gives me the creeps.”

Talking to him is like running into a spiked wall. I gave up eventually and left him alone, with only a little more information for my trouble. Ben’s body seems to be running slowly – his heartbeat is low, which is probably part of the reason he’s so cold. It’s not much, but I guess it’s something to go on.

I should take Masterson’s advice and see if Kostoya can help me figure this out.

The thing is, I’m not sure if working out what’s going on physically will help me deal with the other stuff. With Caroline, with Bree, with blood and meat. With not being entirely human any more. Will bald facts really help me work out how I’m supposed to feel about all this?

There’s no manual for this kind of thing. I feel like I’m learning to dance, but there’s no music or footprints painted on the floor. Who turned off the music?

Matt’s worried about me. He has stopped asking what’s wrong – he gets that I can’t tell him – but he’s always near. He didn’t go out with the foragers again today. He knows that Ben’s involved: they’re exchanging scowls now. There’s nothing I can – or want to – say to dissuade him.

Bree has wisely stayed out of sight. I think I’d do something we’d all regret if I saw her right now.

I haven’t known what to say to Ben, either. So many questions, but I don’t want to accept what he’s already told me. It’s hard to know where to start. He has been watching me with eyes that are always assessing me, weighing my expressions and reactions, looking for flickers – of hate, or anger, or sympathy. I have nothing to give him yet.

He killed someone. It was an accident, he says, but that didn’t stop him from chowing down on the remains. I can forgive him for an accident. Death and killing are so much a part of our world now that ethics have shifted, but it’s not like he murdered her. It makes a difference, though I’m not sure how much.

He’s not human any more. It’s not a surprise: I have suspected it for a while now. The way his hands and skin are always so cold, his reaction to sunlight, how he caught the offroader that slipped off its jack and held it up. How he found me in the dark. I had no idea of the scale of it, though; it goes much deeper than that, but I don’t know how deep. What else hasn’t he told me?

He has been so reluctant to let me in that I have no idea where I am any more. I want to go talk to him again, but I’m scared. Scared he won’t tell me any more, and scared that he will. Scared that he has more to tell. How much worse can it get?

It still hurts that Bree knew more about what was going on with him than I did. How long has she known? How did she find out? Did she catch him feeding and he didn’t manage to accidentally kill her? Was it longer than that? She has been avoiding me ever since she tagged onto our group, so I can’t use her evasiveness as a clue. Or did she meet him before he came back to us?

How many times can I be the girlfriend kept in the dark before I stop trusting everyone? Am I that easy to lie to?

I could run around in circles on this forever; it’s been almost a couple of days now and I’m still no closer to any kind of resolution. I can’t put this behind me until I know more and at least some of my questions are answered.

I have to talk to one of them. I don’t want to. Every fibre in my chest clenches when I think about it.

I just remembered what Masterson said to me the other day. He told me to look at my own house. Does he know too? How many people were in on this? How many friends didn’t tell me? How blind was I?

I’m in a group of over twenty people and I’ve never felt so alone in my life.