The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

It had to happen sooner or later. I’m not proud to admit what happened today.

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’m not the only one growing restless here. Last night, talk turned towards the places we haven’t got to yet. The Emergency Coordination Centre, the signal-senders at Greenberry. The promises of something organised that might take us out of this wandering, hand-to-mouth existence.

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.

Last night’s talk didn’t achieve much. Some minds are taking a while to make up. I guess we won’t know who’s coming or going until we actually leave and check who’s in the vehicles.

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.

I was hoping to get moving this morning, but a group of shamblers turned up and trod all over that idea.

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.

It started off as such a normal day, as far as ‘normal’ applies here. And then it nosedived, without warning.

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.

I haven’t seen Ben today. In a way, I’m glad – I wouldn’t know what to say to him if I did see him.

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.

I killed a  man last night. I killed someone I love. I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to.

They sound like such feeble excuses. Thorpe brought the gun, but it was my hands that did it.

I had to make a choice. Ben or Matt. The two people who mean the most to me in this world.

And now I’m covered in blood. I keep looking at my hands and seeing his face. So surprised, his eyes staring at me though he’d already fled from behind them. That perfect circle punched through skin and skull. I did that.

Tears won’t wash it away, but they keep coming anyway. I can’t sleep.

I can’t do this. I can’t find the words. I thought writing it down would help, but there’s no sense to be found in any of it.

I killed someone. I think I killed myself, too.

We’re leaving tomorrow. One less than we should have been. Everything’s packed and ready and there aren’t any more reasons to delay.

I don’t want to be here any more. I’ve been buried in blankets, as if they might protect me from the world. From the truth. They won’t. They can’t. It seeps in, it grabs me and sucks me down, and plays over and over in my head. I keep thinking of things I could have done better, or differently, but the end is always the same. A perfect circle.

I could have not picked up the gun. I might have lost them both, but it wouldn’t have been my hands that did it. I keep trying for a better solution, but I can’t find one, and that hurts more than anything.

Dillon came to see me today. He struggled all the way up three flights of stairs on his crutches and into the room I had isolated myself in. He asked me how I was, but I had no answer for him. There just aren’t words. I shook my head and returned the question.

He was quite happy to talk. About how he’s getting better on these crutches and the doctor says that his leg is healing all right. He’s been playing soccer with the other two kids, hopping about and using crutches to bat the ball, and they’re not letting him win any more. His grin didn’t mind that, but it didn’t last long. He’s going to miss them when we go; the other youngsters are staying here. Dillon has a family to find.

Before he left, he said that he didn’t blame me for what happened and put his hand on my head. It was the only part of me he could reach from up on his crutches. The gesture brought tears up again, but I held them back until he was gone.

If I’m not to blame, then who is? It’s not Ben’s fault that he became what he did. It’s not Thorpe’s for bringing the gun. It’s not Matt’s for standing up for what he thought was right. He was trying to protect me.

I made the choice. Just me.

I want to write it down but I’m afraid to put it into words. That awful scene, the moment when I knew I had to do something. Each frantic little thought that led to the sharp tang of gunpowder in the air. I can explain it. I can justify it. And that’s the part that frightens me the most.

I don’t want to know that I can do something like that again.

So today was it. Today, we stood together and said our farewells. Today, the Seekers reformed and set out on the road again, where we belong.

Before we left, I went around to the back of the building to say my own private, apologetic goodbye to a square of concrete marred by scraps of cloth. This is where they brought him after he died, so that he would never come back. The rain made him what he was; it only seemed right that it took the rest of him after he died.

My Ben. The rock I leaned on, the arms I took comfort in. The man I loved, and killed.

I remember lying with him at night, when his skin was still warm. I remember when he got burned, the way his screams tore right through me. I remember all the times he was there when I needed someone. His hand in mine, gripping tight.

He came back for me. That night, he came back to ask me to go away with him. He came back to see if he had a life left, a life with me, but he knew the answer even before I went to see what all the noise was about.

A couple of the others were standing in his way and Dillon was struggling into the room on his crutches when I got there. The way that Ben was standing made my heart thump uncomfortably; it looked dangerous.

“…you’ll kill her,” Matt was saying.

“I won’t.” Ben knew that he wasn’t convincing anyone, not even himself. Then his expression hardened. “Not her.”

Matt drew a breath to argue but he never got the chance to speak – Ben struck out and knocked him down. Thorpe walked in with my father’s rifle and handed it to me so he could wade in and pull his old friend off of mine. He was thrown across the room for his trouble. I was the only one in the room who wasn’t reaching for a weapon to brandish. I told them to stop but no-one heard me – I barely heard myself, my voice was so thin. I cleared my throat and shouted so loud it hurt.

I must have looked terrible, pale and sickly after that last feeding. I tried not to let my hands shake. Ben glared at me and spat accusations at me: I had told them all about him. I gave up his secret. I’d given him nowhere to come back to.

“I came to ask you to leave with me.” I could see the betrayal in his face and the hope slipping away from behind it. “What do I have left now? Should I just become what I am?” he asked me. “Maybe I’ll start with him.”

I don’t know where he got the knife from; suddenly, it was pointing at Matt. That jealous beast had never left him alone.

“Are you going to stop me, Faith?” His eyes flicked to the weapon in my hands; that was the first time I was truly aware of it and the choice I had in front of me. Even Thorpe couldn’t stand against him, but they’d all try if they had to. And some of them would lose. The rifle – my father’s rifle – was the only thing that might stop him.

“Is this really what you want?” I asked him. I felt so tiny.

It was the clench of his jaw that gave him away. He didn’t want this at all, any of it. He was desperate to find a way to live with himself and us. He wanted to know if it was possible and he was losing hope. He was standing with a knife in his hand, trying to work out whether or not he was a monster. I think he has known the answer to that all along, but he didn’t want to admit it.

I begged him not to do this. I asked him to stop, to let us try… something. But he knew it was past all that now. His face twisted with anger and he grabbed at Matt. The gun went off in my hands; I didn’t even think about it.

He stared at me and touched the mark on his shirt. It barely bled at all.

“So this is how it is,” he said, with barely any emotion at all. “That’s not enough to stop me.” Then he lunged for my friend again and I fired.

I think he knew that if he had come at me, I wouldn’t have. I would have let him come, heeding the tiny voice in my head that was telling me that he’d never hurt me, not really. But Matt – I knew he would, and could, and wanted to hurt him.

He didn’t make a sound. Not a cry or a whimper. Just a soft huff as he fell to the floor. The gun was louder when it clattered next to my feet. I stared at him, at the perfect circle on his forehead. Then I just ran, out and up and away from the body.

Now all that’s left of him are scraps of his clothes and the soles of his shoes. The rain has washed him away, scoured him out of this tainted world. I don’t even have a picture of him. Nothing to remember him by but the things I’ve lost.

There wasn’t much left in me by the time we were ready to leave; I was hollowed out and wrung dry. But still, the other farewells made me ache inside.

Sally gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. She was the one least afraid of touching me. She’s staying behind so that Masterson and Kostoya can keep an eye on her and the baby. I told the doctor to take care of her and he patted me on the shoulder. The unexpected gesture lifted a lump into my throat. As if it all wasn’t hard enough, he had to choose that moment to be nice.

Nugget is staying behind, and Estebar with her. It’s safer there than out on the road. Matt got a hug from her, but she stayed away from me. I didn’t blame her.

Of the Wolverines, only Dale is coming with us. He has recovered and wants to stretch his legs now that he’s back on them. Conroy wants to help Kostoya with his research, and Jersey is staying in the hopes that they might find a way to stop her getting Sick. Her. I still can’t get used to that. But in a group of over-enthusiastic boys, I can’t blame her, either.

Most of the runners are staying behind too. Iris has taken up the maternal reins for the youngsters. I think she knows that Ben might have killed her husband; she hasn’t looked at me in days. Tom’s knee is still injured, so he’s resting up and Janice is naturally staying with him. No-one expected Bree and her two friends to come along, so we weren’t surprised when they opted not to come.

Terry and Tia decided to join the Seekers, though. I think Terry is a little freaked out by Jersey’s revelation and wants to get away from her, and Tia goes everywhere her brother does.

The biggest surprise is Dan, the so-far withdrawn fella. When we were forming up, he stepped forward and said that he wanted to accompany us. He didn’t give a reason and we didn’t ask; we just made a space for him.

The eight of us set out without fanfare or celebration, tyres slithering over the melting ice. Thorpe, Dillon, Matt, Dale, Terry, Tia, Dan, and me. Those staying in the university stood on the road and watched us go; even Kostoya came down to see us off.

I’m glad to be moving again. I’m glad to be heading for something new, but right now, I’m far more grateful to be heading away from that place.

I can’t count the pieces of myself I left behind.

Hello!

Er, this isn’t Faith – it’s Matt. She was sitting there looking miserable, all uplit in blue, and said that I might as well write something because she had no idea what to say any more. If someone’s going to waste battery power, it might as well be me.

Can’t say that I have more of a clue about what to write here, but, well. Here we are.

Okay, I just read over what she wrote about what happened with Ben. I knew she was beating herself up about it, but wow. All I remember is him shouting and coming at me, smacking me in the face (I think I have a loose tooth) and other places. I think Thorpe hit a wall at some point – he has the most spectacular black eye. And then the gun went off and I was checking myself for holes, just in case. Had no idea she could shoot straight. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?

She was right about one thing, though – he did exactly the right thing to make her shoot him. In another time and another place, that’d be called ‘suicide by cop’. Selfish bastard.

Just realised that Faith is probably going to read this. Better keep it clean, then.

So, where are we, I hear you say? Well, Thorpe has the map – or Dale or someone – so I’m not exactly sure. We took a skew to the right today in search of fuel, and I think we’re a couple of days out from the Centre we’re heading for. What that means in geographical terms… like I said, I don’t have the map. We’re over here. That help?

I have Terry and Tia travelling in the car with me, and oh god, you can tell they’re siblings. They bicker all the time. It would be annoying if they weren’t so funny. Terry still thinks his sister is made of glass and Tia’s eyes will pop right out of her head if she rolls them much more. We did, however, manage to get all the way through Bohemian Rhapsody twice, headbanging and all. We had to pause halfway through the second round because Tia thought she’d popped a vein.

Up front, Thorpe is leading the charge. Well, not so much a charge as a controlled slither across slick roads between the lumps of abandoned vehicles. It’s like a long, skinny game of pinball, except you lose points if you hit something. He’s got Dale and Dan Wu with him. I bet Dan is feeling like a third wheel. Not that he would ever say.

Good ol’ Faithy is behind us in the campervan. Dillon is supposed to be lying up in the back, but he keeps insisting on wedging himself in the cab. I think he’s trying to bully Faith out of her moping by sheer concentration of presence. Good luck to him – it might just work. Never know, right?

I’ve tried to talk to Faith a couple of times, but it’s hard to know what to say to her. I feel like what happened was my fault. I got in his way, I let him know that we knew. I couldn’t let him get to her. Failed at that, too. And I think she blames me. I don’t blame her for that – if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have shot him. Oh, shit, there I go again.

Wow. Y’know, I always wondered how Faith did this, tapping away every day. Turns out that once you start, the babble just keeps coming. Better stop now before I get carried away, give you back to the mistress our faithful blogger. It’s been fun!

~Matt