The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

I didn’t realise I’d said her name out loud until I noticed everyone staring at me.

But there she was, right in front of me. She was my best friend once. She was the person I confided in and shared everything with, including and unknowingly my boyfriend. She had taken him away from me, just before the End. Seeing her brought it all back in a rush that wanted to crush my chest. I forgot how to breathe.

The strangest part was that she didn’t look any different to the last time I saw her. She looked like a piece of the time Before that had stepped into After, barely pausing to flick dust off her designer sleeve. Only she could do that; looking perfect was a skill she had cultivated all her life.

I found my tongue again as she put a hand on Kingston’s shoulder, with a traitorous little thought: it was typical that she had latched onto this awful, powerful excuse for a man. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She was staring at me with a puzzled frown that took a few seconds to clear. “Mac? Oh my god, Mac?” She hadn’t recognised me at all; had I changed that much? I wasn’t sure whether or not I should be offended. She had the grace to look stunned, at least.

Seeing her, hearing that name – it all jarred horribly with what I knew the world was now. Things suddenly made less sense. I was aware that people were looking at us curiously, Pride and Seeker alike, but I couldn’t think about them.

“I go by Faith now,” I told her.

“I thought you hated that name.”

“Used to.” I glanced at Kingston, who was taking all of this in with a calculating air. “So. You’ve been all right, then.” I couldn’t help it; I smiled a little bit. Typical Bree, always coming out exactly where she wants to be.

“Oh, yeah. You know how it is.” Her fingers curled around her fella’s shoulder and she smirked. I remembered abruptly why I didn’t like her any more.

“You know what happened to Cody?” Not that I cared. I hadn’t wanted to see either of them again, not even after everything that’s happened.

The name was enough to dent her smile. “No, haven”t heard anything. You?”

“Nothing.”

And there it was, the frost between us. We weren’t friends any more. She had taken all the warmth and good feeling and ploughed it into illicit sex with someone I thought I loved. Strangely enough, the coldness helped. It crystallised the situation and I was brighter, clearer. I straightened my shoulders and felt better than all of this.

“Your boy was just propositioning us,” I told her, as if it was nothing. As if I didn’t mind. “Bit of a turnaround, isn’t it?”

Kingston didn’t like being talked about as if he wasn’t here; his expression gathered threatening clouds. Bree’s face hardened and I could see the veneer of cultivated bitch sliding into place. “The world’s different these days.”

I looked at the Pride leader and felt Matt’s hand tightening on my beltloop in warning. Careful now. I aimed my words at her again in an attempt to not provoke him. In truth, I was furious and frustrated, and nowhere near as calm as I thought I was.

“Don’t worry, Bree. I’m not interested in your leavings. Screwing other people’s men is your speciality.”

Bree bristled and Kingston drew himself up straighter, eyes narrowing. It was the sort of scene that didn’t need subtitles.

“Oh, don’t be offended,” I told him. “You’re already getting the better end of the deal. She’s much better at that than I am. So I hear.” She looked away from me and I was surprised at how satisfying that tiny victory was.

Behind my shoulder, Matt hissed my name, barely loud enough to hear. Had I gone too far? I looked around and was rudely reminded of the guns that surrounded us. We were trying not to get ourselves killed and here I was mouthing off over something that happened a world ago. I took a breath and tried to steady myself. I needed to be smarter than this.

Than I realised that Kingston was smiling at me. “And you don’t want to even the score?” In truth, I was tempted to sleep with Kingston to get back at Bree; it was a small, mean voice in the back of my head. She deserved it.

I smiled back at him with no mirth whatsoever. “I wouldn’t lower myself to her level.” I wasn’t prepared to do something like that. I still needed to be smarter. Watch your tongue, Faith.

“Maybe she should show your boy what he’s missing, then.”

I was speechless for a second; the notion of that happening all over again stopped the air in my chest. Bree glanced at Kingston in surprise, but then the corner of her mouth twitched and I knew she’d do it. Out of spite, out of pride. I could feel Matt’s hand at my back, keeping me close for everyone’s safety, and it felt like it was all that was holding me up. We were outside and there was no air.

“Sure, if she wants to get sick,” Ben said suddenly. I looked at him in surprise and saw the anger in his face. It was well-covered, but I knew that taut line in his jaw and the flat look in his eyes. He was glaring at the pair of them, both healthy and clean and so damn cocky.

“Sick?” Kingston looked more closely at Ben; his skin was pale and bore a sheen of sweat. There was doubt now and a whiff of distaste.

“Yeah. You know, the sickness that causes those… what is it you call ’em?” Ben glanced at me.

“Shamblers,” I said, mentally begging him to stop there. Don’t give them an excuse to put us down like rabid dogs. Luckily, he didn’t seem inclined to push the issue.

It didn’t take long for the Pride to recover their composure and determination. “You still have a toll to pay,” was Kingston’s decision.

There wasn’t going to be any backing down about that. He had decreed it, and even with the complications, had to see it through. It’s all about pride and status. He was looking at me differently – he suspected I was sick too, and I think Bree’s sour expression had something to do with it, too. His gaze moved on to the others in the group, sizing up Matt and Thorpe, and then those gathered behind. He smirked and my stomach lurched.

“You’re got a nice young thing hidden in there.”

I felt my hand curl into a fist at the thought. He wasn’t joking, and neither were the hungry grins around us. My belly briefly considered throwing up, right on his shoes. I drew breath to answer.

“I’ll do it.”

It wasn’t me who said it. I turned to look along with everyone else, and Sally stepped forward. She knows how to hide, that one; I had forgotten she was back there. She drew her tiny self up and the rabbit sought the lion’s eye.

“I’ll pay your toll.”

Ben is worse today. He’s feverish and murmuring, and it looks like we won’t be going anywhere soon. Thorpe is watching Ben for me, so I’ve got a little time to post now.

The others spent most of the day scouting out for supplies – we were nearly two days without water after the Pride took our supplies, and we wound up eating cat food. It’s not an experience I’m eager to repeat, but surprisingly less unpleasant than I had expected it to be.

We’re settled in an empty house now. We took down some of the Christmas decorations, because it’s all getting a bit weird. Like the world is stuck on the day the bomb went off, growing colder and dimmer every day, dying gradually under us while the clock forgets how to tick.

I’m trying not to think of this house as the place that Ben is going to die.

We’ve seen the Pride only once since we ran away from them. They passed by the basement just before the rain came, on our own scooters. I wasn’t the only one who felt furious at that: it was a reminder of everything they took from us.

No-one did anything, though. We huddled by the high windows and watched, holding our breath as they scanned the area on their way through. They weren’t trying very hard to find us; they probably thought we were hours away by then. None of us sought to disillusion them.

To my surprise, I saw a familiar face travelling with them. Paige, the girl who told us her story just a few days before, was riding with them. The one who stayed with us that night and listened to our tales. She pointed us towards the mall when we asked if she’d seen Alice; now we think she was sending us into her group’s jaws. She wasn’t wearing the Pride’s tag and I’m not the only one feeling betrayed by that. Perhaps she was only doing what she needed to to survive, serving her group, but I can’t quite bring myself to be okay with that.

I still don’t really know how Sally is. I tried to talk to her, but she won’t open up to me – she just keeps saying that she’s fine and I shouldn’t worry. When I asked her about the baby, she paused before she said that she thinks it’s okay; that was the most honesty I got out of her.

She didn’t tell me off for opening my mouth to the doctor and I haven’t apologised for it. If nothing else, it made him go check her out.

Masterson still isn’t talking to her but he is sticking close; I don’t think he’s been more than a few feet away from her since I shouted at him. She doesn’t do much that he isn’t keeping an eye on, even if he is grumpy and growly about it.

I hear Ben calling again. I’m not sure who he’s calling for but Thorpe looks helpless – I’d better go and lend a hand. I wish this headache would go away.

Today was much like yesterday, except that Ben was quieter. He didn’t wake up at all, not even when we tried to give him something to drink.

I sat with him all day, watching him breathe. A couple of the others came over to relieve me, but I didn’t let them. I should be with him now. I think it’s all the time we’ve got left.

Sometime this afternoon, I called Masterson over. There was a rash creeping up Ben’s neck, just like the one we saw on Sax’s arm not long before he died.

I think tonight’s going to be a long night.

Something occurred to me today while I was monitoring the rise and fall of Ben’s chest. I could hear Dillon talking to someone else, asking about Alice and if she was like this. I guess she is, or has been. Poor Alice, losing her family and her face, and now her life.

It reminded me about where the Pride caught us – right outside the mall. They were very focussed on us, but they were scouring all the stores along that street. How long before they broke into the mall? Had any of them seen the Rats locking us out and watching us through the tinted windows?

Had we told Paige about the Rats and the mall? I can’t remember now. I don’t think we did; we asked about Alice, but I can’t remember anyone mentioning where we thought she might have gone.

I can’t bear to think about what will happen if the Pride find the Rats. I know how they looked at Dillon and what Sally did for us. Those kids weren’t bad, not anything like some of the other groups we’ve seen. They just wanted to protect the little they had and survive.

I want to go back and get them. I want to help those kids. I want to save them, but I know I can’t. There’s Ben, and we’re probably already too late, and what could we do anyway? We barely got away in one piece as it was. We can’t fight a gang with guns.

I don’t want this. I can’t think about those kids in the Pride’s hands. I can’t sit here next to Ben. But I have to. There’s no-one else left to take care of this stuff any more.

What else can I do? I wish there was someone here to tell me. I wish there was someone I could save.

I fell asleep a little while before dawn this morning. It can’t have been more than an hour later when I was woken up by Ben’s hand crashing into my side. He was thrashing around and shouting, delirious.

It took four of us to hold him steady so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Masterson shrugged and said that there wasn’t anything he could do; he didn’t have the medicines for this. We just had to hold on until Ben exhausted himself and fell back into a stupor again. He was restless all day, thrashing one moment and then mumbling the next, never quite still. Never resting.

By the time darkness fell, I felt as wrung out and drained as he looked. From somewhere, he found the energy to howl and thump the bedding up, writhing and sounding like someone was gutting him slowly. Whatever the fever was ripping up inside his head, he was fighting it so hard.

It was louder and more violent than anything Sax did. We were all too shocked to know what to do with Ben and Masterson was still useless. Holding him down just made him twist harder, so we let go for fear of hurting him.

I’ve never felt so helpless before. All I could do was watch and wish for it to stop, and then hope that he wouldn’t stop altogether. I want this to be over but I know that that will mean Ben is dead. I don’t want him to be dead. I don’t know how much more of this I can watch.

He’s quieter now; those awful sounds have stopped curdling in his throat, though he’s still mumbling incoherently. He seems to be calming in stages. I don’t want to see the final stage. I can’t.

I want there to be a day when I don’t end up crying.

I can’t believe it. I thought he was gone. I woke up this morning and it was so quiet. The others had gone out foraging, leaving me to sleep because I’d been up all night again.

From Ben’s bed, there were no moans or murmurs, no shouting or shifting in his blankets. He was so still, as if he was made of pale, thin wax. I couldn’t see him breathing; I thought he was gone.

I had to touch him. I had to make sure that it wasn’t a fearful hallucination, or a twisted dream I didn’t know I was in. Somehow, touching makes it real.

He was real. Cold now, the fever’s heat gone from his skin, and the sensation made my heart twist painfully. So cold. It wasn’t fair. It was too soon.

Then he opened his eyes. I felt his chest lift under my hand and he said my name, looking up at me. For the first time in days, he knew it was me there with him. I was crying when I answered him, and he sat up and hugged me.

That’s how the others found us. Ben smiled thinly and said hello while happy chaos burst around him. Even Nugget came up and patted his hand cautiously. We’ve all been more buoyant since then.

I’m trying not to read too much into it. Sax woke up before the end too. Ben’s still not well – he’s cold and clammy, and he has a grey tinge to his skin. He’s awake now and that’s all I know. I want him to stay that way. I never want to see him asleep again, just in case. He can’t slip away while I’m not looking if I keep looking at him. If I keep hold of his hand.

But it feels like a reprieve. If feels like I’m not going to lose him after all. I want to believe in this. I need it to be real.

Today has been mostly about supplies. I made sure that Ben was comfortable – he kept assuring me that he felt fine, just needed rest – and joined Thorpe, Masterson and Dillon to search the locale for food and water.

It’s easier to search other people’s homes if you don’t look at them too closely. Just focus on the cupboards and drawers and shelves; ignore the personal effects, the fading decorations, the unopened presents under the drooping trees. Go for those places that people put food and drink, check for second fridges, take the alcohol if that’s all that’s there.

I suppose one good thing about the bomb going off in the holiday season is that many had stocked their cupboards. I try not to think about the family members it was intended to feed.

It’s easier if you focus on every single tree’s bark and ignore the wood. The forest reaches too far and too deep, and it’s too empty for comfort.

We didn’t see any signs of shamblers in our searching, but we all kept weapons within each reach anyway. I don’t think any of us feel comfortable without something hard and swingable close by now. I still have the knife I got so many weeks ago – months now – tucked in the back of my waistband. I used to be scared of what it meant; now I know that I’d reach for it without thinking if I needed to. I don’t know what that says about me any more – I never liked the notion of pragmatism.

This bruised, scarred world is eroding all of us. We’re a part of it more fully than any of us would like, even though we haven’t embraced it as much as some have. The sad part is that I get it. I even get Bree and Kingston, the compromises made for survival. It doesn’t mean that I like it.

We managed to find enough food and liquid to keep us going for a little while. There was some comfort in that.

Ben hasn’t been eating much – he’s giving back almost as much as I’m giving him. I think he doesn’t think I’ve noticed, but I have. I’ve stopped taking my meal until he’s finished with his, because we can’t afford for any of it to be wasted. I figure that if I’m going to get sick, I’ve already done enough to catch it; eating his untouched food isn’t going to make any difference.

He’s cold, too. We’ve had to start carrying heavier blankets with us because of how cold it gets at night, but blankets just don’t seem to make any difference to him. When he lets me, I snuggle up to keep him warm. It seems like he only just thaws when morning rolls around and it’s time to get up. He says that he’s okay, but it can’t be good. I talked to Masterson about it and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Matt’s leg seems to be healing all right, though. We’re all scared of infections with open wounds and no water to clean them, but between antibiotics and painfully-applied antiseptic, he seems to have avoided getting sick with it.

I’ve held his hand while his bandages are changed when I can, and while his grip is tight, he never complains. That’s not like the Matt I knew; he used to mutter something under his breath if he tore a nail or cut himself shaving. I just hope that he’s not hiding anything with this new stoicism of his.

They’re not good now, but they’re getting better. I have to believe that my boys are getting better.

Last night, Ben drew me aside to quietly hand me a bombshell. I didn’t know what to do with it, of course; I still don’t.

He’s been quiet since he came out of his room, withdrawn like he’s been ever since he got sick. I thought it was just because he was ill, but now I’m not so sure.

He had to leave, he said. He had to go find Hugh – his sister’s husband, the one that left her and never came back. He had to find out what happened to him; he had to know why his sister was left alone to despair and die, with his beautiful little nephew. He needed to find some answers.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All this time, all this fighting to stay alive and for him to stay with us, and now that he’s getting better, he wants to leave. I understood his reasons, I could comprehend them, but they sounded false to my ears. My brain was too busy filling up his words with other meanings.

Was it me? Did I do something wrong? (I’d try to make it up to him, whatever it was.) Was he afraid of making us sick? (Because it was way too late by now, if that was likely.) Was he better at all, if he thought that going on his own was safe? (Maybe he better lie down again.) Did he really think that we wouldn’t go with him, if he needed to do this?

No, he said. He couldn’t ask us to come, and it would be safer if he went alone. He’d be able to move faster on his own. Without us.

“I’ll come back, Faith,” he said, putting a chilled hand to my cheek. The gesture grabbed me by the heart and I swallowed painfully, feeling cracks forming. “I know where you’re headed. Once I have this figured out, I’ll catch up.”

Don’t go. I begged him, but he was stone. We need you, we all need you. I need you. Don’t leave me.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ben change his mind about something once it’s made up. The thing is, he always agreed with me before.

I started to cry and he hugged me awkwardly, kissed me on the cheek. I tried for more, in case that might make him stay, but he pulled away and picked up his pack. The crack in my heart widened a little bit further.

“Now?” I asked him. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yes. I’ll be back, Faith.” He made me promises I couldn’t absorb while I was wondering how I was ever going to tell the others.

I begged him not to go, pride all shrivelled and forgotten. He looked at me with regret and then left by a back door. The rain had stopped and it was thick darkness outside. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run after him and drag him back physically; I wanted to scream at him for doing this. It hurt so much I didn’t know how to breathe any more, and the air outside swallowed him, leaving me staring at the black hole of the doorway.

Thorpe found me like that, tears streaming down my cheeks. I don’t know how many times he asked me what was wrong, what had happened, before I heard him. I tried to tell him, I tried to explain, but it all curdled in my throat until all I could throw up were broken phrases and choking sobs. He asked me if Ben was dead, shook me until more words tumbled out. I think he got enough to understand, because he stopped asking.

He was the closest chest, so I buried myself in it. He was awkward about it, but I couldn’t care about that just then. I was useless for anything except seeking comfort, even when the others started trickling in, wondering what was going on. I couldn’t hear what he told them; it was all a blur, swirling around my swell of pain.

Someone touched my hair – I think that was Matt, the gesture felt familiar – and Thorpe handed me off to Sally. She sat with me and held me while I cried myself out, until my eyes were hot and my head felt three sizes too big.

Someone else closed and locked the door behind Ben.

We were supposed to get moving today, but it didn’t happen. Dillon spied the shamblers still in the area from his rooftop vantage point, barely a block away, and we didn’t want to chance a meeting with them. I wish we had been able to go; I wish I had anything to do except sit here and think about this.

I miss him. I don’t understand why he had to go alone.

There’s an ache where he used to be.

Yesterday’s storm lasted most of the day and into the night. The weight of water pounding on the roof found a weakness in the structure, working its way inside to dribble onto the floor. We’ve tried to make a channel for it, but it’s hard to find materials to make walls out of that it won’t just eat through. The floor is concrete, so there’s not much chance of being able to dig a channel for it.

The storm washed more than acid rain in our direction. We were all sitting around the fire when it finally stopped, listening to the drip-drip-drip of it hitting the floor where we had corralled it with some rubber sheeting. Bree’s little group was sitting in the offices – they had lit a small fire in a metal bin for warmth and were keeping to themselves. That was the safest thing they could do.

We talked quietly to stop ourselves from obsessively checking on whether the water had escaped and was running towards us yet. The soccer ball rolled between Dillon and Nugget, and we huddled in clumps of blankets. I was leaning against Matt, as usual, when Conroy jumped to his feet.

“The door’s open! Who left the door open?”

We all looked over and discovered that he was right – there was a door-shaped patch of deep black in the wall, showing us the thick night outside. Conroy hovered like he wanted to go and close it, but didn’t dare in case it was one of those things you should never do in a horror movie.

We all saw the shadow next to the door move; I imagine that Conroy was glad he didn’t go over there. The shape shifted and stepped forward until the firelight fell on it. My chest tightened abruptly and I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. I felt Matt’s arms tighten around me but it was Dillon who identified our visitor.

“Ben?”

I didn’t think I’d see him again. I clung to his promise, but I was losing sight of his face in my mind. The shadows of everything that could have happened to him were rising up to obscure my hope that he would make it through. It felt futile to believe he was able to survive everything that was happening. And yet here he was.

I struggled to get up, stumbling and nearly falling twice as I untangled myself from the blankets. I wasn’t the only one clambering to my feet, but I was in the most hurry to get over there and hug the stuffing out of him. It wasn’t until I heard him grunt and felt his hand on the small of my back that I believed he was really here. Of course, the wash of emotion that came with the realisation that he was alive and all right made me want to cry. I fought it off as I let him go, giving the others space to welcome him back.

He looked exactly the same as he did when he left. I couldn’t look away from him as he was ushered to the fireside to warm up. Everyone was full of questions: where has he been, what happened, how did he find us again. Somehow in all of that, he caught hold of my hand and kept me next to him. I was doing a good impression of a stunned fish and stayed quiet, content to watch as he tried to field the queries coming his way.

He went back to look for his brother-in-law, he said. He searched for a while, but he couldn’t find any clues about where Hugh might have gone. Finally, he gave up and turned to come after us; he knew which direction we were supposed to be heading in, so he made a guess about where we’d be by now. Then the shamblers got so numerous that they were driving everyone out of their hiding places, pushing them to run in a wave that swept up others as it passed, and he was forced to follow them. He saw our light in the warehouse and came to see if he could take shelter for the night, and here we were.

It seems far too lucky that two familiar faces have found us, but I can’t bring myself to question it. Ben’s back and that’s all that matters.

I felt bad, abandoning Matt so I could spend time with Ben, but Matt doesn’t seem to mind. He came and gave me my blankets, and tried on a smile. The Wolverines look somewhat puzzled by all of this, but I think one of the others filled them in because they haven’t asked me about it. I would hardly know where to start, anyway.

I hardly slept last night, though nothing other than chatting happened. We spent most of today talking with Ben and settling him back into the group. He didn’t have many stories to tell; I don’t think things were easy for him out there on his own. “It was tough,” is all he will say about most things. He says he’s glad to be back, though.

He’s just as chilly as he was when he left – even close to the fire, he never seems to warm up properly. He says that he’s fine, though, and otherwise he seems okay. He’s not injured, at least.

It’s hard for me to know what to think right now. I feel knocked out of my usual orbit. I think there’s a part of me that’s scared to feel this excited and pleased, and it’s holding me down. Sometimes, I think that’s all that’s holding me down.

Tomorrow, we’re going to pack up and get out of here. No more delays. I’m looking forward to it.

Ben and I had a blow-up today. The only saving grace about it was that we did it in private, not in front of the whole group.

There was a discussion about stopping to search for supplies over breakfast, involving everyone; we’re getting short on food and water, particularly. We’ve put a couple of days between us and the shamblers, so it should be safe to pause here, even if the car park is starting to creep me out. I can’t tell what time of day it is, and the rain runs down the entry ramp towards gutters that are sounding dangerously full. There are sounds in the dark corners that I have wish to investigate.

The question of the two newcomers came up as we talked. How we can’t afford to be picking up strays and how it’s dangerous to stop to do it. We can’t just leave all these people to die out here. The siblings haven’t been any trouble. They’re too weak to be a danger to us, but not to be a burden. We shouldn’t feed them. Our injured are a burden too – should we stop feeding them? Where do we draw the line?

The group split predictably. Matt, Sally, and Dillon (who had hobbled out of the campervan to join us) backed me up. Masterson, Jersey, and Thorpe disapproved with varying levels of voracity. Nugget, Conroy, Dale, and Ben all stayed silent but watched us to see what we would say. Bree’s little bunch and the siblings stayed well out of range, sensing that their presence wouldn’t help matters, especially not for themselves.

It was difficult to argue with them and not just because they’re friends. The problem is that they’re not wrong; we just disagree on what’s an acceptable risk and effort, and the level of compromise we’re willing to make. We didn’t come to any kind of agreement; we barely agreed to disagree before we all moved off. The whole episode left a nasty taste in my mouth.

A group of the boys went out to search for supplies and I turned my attention to the vehicles in the dim lighting. Some need minor repairs after all the grabbing-on that’s happened lately. Desperate people will ruin what they’re trying to get their hands on, if they can. That’s when Ben came to check on me. I thought he’d gone with the others, but there he was, standing at my elbow and making me jump. I nearly hit him with a spanner.

He asked if I needed a hand. It was a simple offer, but I was still stinging from the argument. I snapped at him about needing his help earlier; I didn’t realise until that moment just how much his lack of support had affected me. It’s not that I think it would have helped me ‘win’ the argument; seeing him standing on the sidelines, watching me fight my corner and not stepping in, hurt more than I’d realised. I had always been able to rely on his support before, he had always been rght there with me, but since he recovered from the Sickness, that has changed.

It changed him. Maybe it was the helplessness, maybe it was facing death and the prospect of becoming a mindless expression of hunger. Maybe it was because he had to fight to survive and now thinks that everyone should. Maybe something hurt him that I don’t know about.

“The problem with you, Faith, is that you think everything should happen your way.”

Those words still ring in my ears. I stared at him and it took a stunned moment for me to loosen my tongue enough to respond. Of course I thought that. Of course I did. Everyone wants things their own way! I stand up for what I believe in – when did that become wrong? But I’m not selfish with it. I’m not. I listen to the others and we make decisions as a group when we can. I try to be fair. I try to do what’s best for everyone. Maybe I don’t always get it right, but I try.

I haven’t changed, but he has. I told him that. The Ben I got to know wouldn’t have tried to turn those kids away. He would have shown them some mercy and understood what I was doing. The Ben I knew had a kinder heart than the one that’s here now. What happened? What’s wrong?

He wouldn’t answer the question; I tried a few times. Finally, he hit back.

“And what about you and your ‘friend’?”

It was such a change of tack that I struggled to keep up with him; it left me stumbling and breathless. Matt? He thought that Matt and I–

I told him no. I explained to him why some of the others might think that (and that I didn’t care what they thought now, with Ben back and me apparently switching beds). It was for safety, because being single and alone is dangerous. It was because he left me on my own. It wasn’t what he thought, dammit.

I missed him, and I worried about him, and I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again. Now he’s all distant and weird, and I still miss my friend called Ben. Not just my lover who slept with me, but my friend, the one who stood next to me,. He won’t tell me what happened to him, he won’t explain anything. I was crying then and I’m crying again now, because I don’t know what’s wrong, let alone how to fix it.

He looked at me as if he was trying to figure out the answer to eternal life from the trails on my cheeks, then cupped one side of my face. “I’m working it out,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

I let him hug me until I had calmed down, then I got back to work. The lack of proper lighting gave me a headache but I kept at it anyway. Anything other than dwelling on it all. Anything other than thinking about how he didn’t want me to help him work this out; he made that clear.

When the boys got back, Matt came over to ask me what was wrong. Trust him to spot it from across a room. I brushed him off, told him it was nothing, cut too freshly to know if I should open up to him or stay away because it might upset Ben. Then I got upset with myself for not daring to talk to my best friend and went away to smack at a stuck window lever for a while.

At dinner, Ben was attentive to me, as if trying to make up for the argument. I’m too off-balance to know what to do with him. I want to lean on him, but it feels like he might shift at any moment. I can’t tell which way he’d go any more.

I guess it’s time I learned to stand on my own.

We had a little celebration last night. So much water – we all drank our fill when we found somewhere to stop for the rain. Even the siblings joined in; it’s funny how they’re fitting in with us much easier than the ex-Pride group. No-one has mentioned that we should ask the siblings to leave since the big argument a couple of days ago, despite them getting their strength back, so they’re still here.

Bree and her friends hover on our edges and exchange supplies with us every now and then, but they aren’t part of us.

Then the Wolverines got out a few bottles of liquor and we drank some more. We lit a big fire and got merry. There was even a spate of messy, coat-flapping dancing that collapsed into laughter. I remember my head buzzing and Ben’s arm around me.

I was still floating this morning when I went around to rouse everyone. There were sore heads but plenty of water to ease them with this time.

I was slammed back down to earth when I got to Matt’s offroader (most of us are bedding down in the vehicles at the moment). Thorpe was asleep inside it, and Matt was standing on the other side, getting dressed. I didn’t need a diagram; the truth slapped me in the face. I hurried away before he saw me.

It felt like someone had stabbed me between the ribs and one lung wouldn’t reinflate. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had no right to be upset, but I was anyway. He was just my friend. I was with Ben. He had every right to sleep with whomever he wanted. I know it’s ridiculous of me to feel this way.

It felt like it had when I found out about Bree and Cody. There was a part of me that wanted to shout, ‘no, he’s mine’. But we’re not like that. We’ve never been like that. I wish someone would tell that to the feeling in my chest. It doesn’t understand.

Ben asked me what was wrong and I told him it was nothing. Then I told him it was the hangover and he smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

I remember kissing Ben last night, before we went off to find our blankets. There was only kissing, though, after we went off; he stopped and I fell asleep. He hasn’t seemed to want more than that. Is it him? Is it me? I have no idea what to think about that.

I’ve hardly seen Matt all day. A part of me thinks that he’s avoiding me, while another points out that I don’t usually pay this much attention to where he is. I haven’t seen him with Thorpe, either – they’ve been conspicuously apart.

I think I’m reading too much into everything and need to stop. I want to walk away from all of them but I can’t bear the thought of doing that, either. I’m bruised all the way through.

I feel like I’m standing on the point of the knife, wavering back and forth. There’s nothing to grab onto for balance. There’s nothing to hold me up. It’s already hollowed me out, but I don’t know what will happen if I fall.

Why does this stuff never make sense?