The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

Today, a group of nearly a dozen of our amalgamated number went out to look for supplies. I stayed behind with the kids and the injured, along with Sally and a couple of the boys for security. My arm’s still not working very well after the fight, so I’m taking the chance to rest it while I can.

Dr Kostoya showed his face to report that he has been pouring hot water on the pipes and they’re all unfrozen now. So we can try to feel secure again. It was nice of him to try but very much too late. We keep our watches and weapons close.

Ben stayed behind too. He said that he wanted to make sure that we were protected here, but I have my suspicions. I think he stayed because he didn’t want to go outside and get burnt again.

I managed to catch him alone and asked him what was wrong. He keeps himself separate from everyone else and barely talks to me at all. He doesn’t even talk to Thorpe, his fire-fighting buddy he’s known for years. I don’t remember the last time I saw the two of them sitting together, laughing at some private joke. Certainly not since Ben got the Sickness.

He shook his head in answer to my question but he didn’t walk away like he keeps doing lately. I took a chance and pressed him.

“The Sickness changed you,” I said. I had meant it to be a question but it didn’t come out that way.

He looked at me and I couldn’t tell if the shadow was on or in his eyes. “Yes.”

“How? I mean, in what way? Is that why you got burnt?” He still bears the red stripes across his cheeks and neck.

He nodded but he didn’t say anything. I couldn’t read him; he has become good at closing off his expression.

“Ben, I want to help you. But I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t scare you?”

“That you’ve changed?” It’s not a reaction that had crossed my mind. “No. Should it?”

He touched my cheek gently. “No, not you.”

As answers go, it wasn’t a very comforting one. There was a warm, happy spot in my belly that wasn’t sure if it should be there. “Then let me in, Ben. Tell me what’s happening with you.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I will, when I have it figured out.”

I wanted to help him figure it out. He could see it in my face and the shutters were down; the words died before they fell out of my mouth. The answer was no and that was that. I never could change Ben’s mind about anything – that much of him was the same as ever.

He kissed me on the forehead by way of apology, and that was the end of the conversation.

The foragers didn’t find much today. They came back to the chemistry building in high spirits but with empty hands. At least the chance to get out seems to have done them good and they didn’t see any shamblers.

I talked with Matt about the situation with Ben. He was supportive but had no answers either. What can any of us do? There are nervous flies in my belly looking for a way out. I felt a little better after talking to him, though; I can always count on Matt for that.

I guess we’ll find out the truth soon.

Yesterday’s revelation spread around the group like fire on a wet log: in sputters and with much smoke. A new word attached itself to the rain and rose out of the ashes: poison. It’s not just acid: it poisons us, makes us Sick, and twists our bodies into those empty shells stumbling around on the ice outside.

Conjecture ran around like a scared child, pinballing from one possibility to the next and failing to find safe arms to hide in. I didn’t hear all of it, and I didn’t understand some of what I did catch. I strove to stay out of it all, and managed to do that until I heard the voices rising towards paranoia and hysteria. I wasn’t the only one calling for sanity and sense.

Give people a little information and they’ll make up a host more to fill in the blanks, truth be damned. Most of what they make up is frightening.

I had to promise to prevail on Dr Kostoya for more answers; it was the only way I could shut up the maybes and what-ifs. Today, that’s what I went upstairs to get. I managed to convince most of the group to stay downstairs – I didn’t want the entire mob turning up and freaking the poor old fella out. The shamblers outside are terrifying for their hunger and my group are no different.

Kostoya wasn’t pleased to see us, but when we explained that we wanted more information from him, he relaxed. I could see it slipping into his expression – relief and the familiarity of the teacher’s pose.

“We have a lot of scared people downstairs,” I told him. I asked if he’d come down to talk to all of us, because the Chinese whispering was giving me a headache. I was afraid that I’d misunderstand the science and get it all twisted.

He hemmed a bit and bustled around the lab in his nervousness, but we pleaded and eventually he agreed. He followed us down and hovered by my elbow until everyone was seated and ready for him.

Standing off to one side, I looked at the room and felt suddenly off-kilter. It was so familiar and yet not at all what it should have been like.

Here were all these people – my friends and strangers who might become friends – gathered behind the desks, students waiting for the professor to speak. They were bundled up in various types of clothing, a mishmash of leather and cloth, felt and suede. Jackets and scarves and the occasional hat pulled down over ears to keep them warm. Thin and worn, with a thread of toughness in all of them.

There were no pens and paper, no notes waiting to be taken. But their expressions were open and expectant as well as guarded, doubtful, hopeful. In one or two, there was downright derision, but they were at least silent about it.

It was a strange classroom in the time After. Standing up by the blackboard, Dr Kostoya stood with his elbow-patched jacket and white hair sticking out in random directions. He didn’t take up the chalk and start writing. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether to dive in or bolt from the room when he took a deep breath.

He dove in. He told us about the bomb scorching the sky, about chemicals suspended in the atmosphere and the conditions that bring it raining down on us. He told us about how the acid interacts with the human body, how it works like a poison in the bloodstream, corrupting the cells it comes in contact with. It takes a long time to build up to a noticeable state – months, in most cases. Sometimes it takes less time, but the chances of absorbing enough acid to do that without dying are fairly slim.

He wasn’t so sure about exactly what it did to the human body to make it into a shambler – he’s a chemist, not a biologist, and he hasn’t had a ‘live’ subject to examine. From his observations, he suggests that there’s a deadening of the neural system, along with most brain functions. They’re left with basic motor functions and base survival – eating. He suspects they’re trying to assuage a chemical imbalance by seeking fresh meat that hasn’t been tainted by the rain; that’s why they don’t just eat each other.

His words turned my stomach over, but they made sense. Kostoya looked at me when he was finished to see if he had covered everything, but I had nothing for him. The others were ready to fill in the gap.

Jersey asked if the Sickness could be caught by being bitten. Kostoya replied that it was possible, but unlikely – exposure had to be above a certain level for it to have any real effect. He said that there would probably have to be blood transfer.

Terry asked if the Sickness could be caught from others suffering from it. The answer was the same: not impossible, but probably required direct blood contact.

Conroy asked if there was a cure. Kostoya spread his hands and said that he wasn’t a biologist or a medical doctor. He didn’t have the knowledge or the resources for that kind of thing. Masterson spoke up to say that it was unlikely someone could be brought back from the shambler state; it’s difficult to return brain function to a person at the best of times. This was far from the best of times. It might be possible to prevent the changes wrought by the poison, but not to undo them. If one had the knowledge and resources to figure it out. And the time.

It was a lot for us all to mull over. The room descended into shards of conversations as the new information was turned over, like rocks, to see what crawled underneath. There is always something crawling underneath.

I caught Kostoya before he could slip out of the room. I asked him, “Is it possible for someone to recover from the Sickness without becoming one of those things?”

He looked at me and shrugged; he thought Masterson was a better person to ask. “I suppose it’s always possible that someone could have a natural immunity. It’s a very virulent chemical compound, according to my observations. It hasn’t left any organic material unchanged in my experiments. But it’s definitely possible.”

I thanked him and he fell out of my fingers before I could think up anything else to ask him. Hasn’t left any organic material unchanged. If someone could be immune to it, then they could be resistant. They might not be changed at all, or they might be changed… differently. Ben was watching me when I looked across the room at him and my innards went cold.

I didn’t noticed Sally until much later, after the foragers got back with some supplies. Her eyes were red from crying and she was hurrying away from Masterson, her head ducked down.

Even with all the talk of the rain, I hadn’t even thought about who might yet get Sick. Who had been burned. We’ve all been wrapped up lately, so it has been easy to forget about the bandages and scars.

Sally’s arm was burnt on the boat while we were visiting Dillon’s house. There was a nasty splash of acid scored across her forearm; I helped her dress it when it was fresh. I don’t know if it’s enough to make her Sick, but I don’t think that’s all that’s upsetting her. I’d ask her about it, but I don’t think she’d talk to me and I have no comfort to offer her.

I need to go and see Kostoya again. I need to ask him what the rain’s poison might do to an unborn child.

This morning, Conroy and Scott took the radio back up to the roof to search for the signal again. They were gone for a couple of hours and then bounced down again. After a few revolutions, they had managed to hear all of the message’s pieces. One of the sentences mentions ‘Apollo’s Mount’, which is a hill near the Greenberry Junction we found on the map yesterday. We’re sure about the location of the signal now, and where to look for those who are sending it out.

Their excitement was infectious and I was only too happy to get caught up in it. I cheerfully helped them spread the word, letting the kids and the few others around know. I avoided intruding on Sally and Masterson’s corner. I couldn’t see Ben in our makeshift camping room, so I went looking for him to share.

I never got to tell him the news. I found him in a supply room and all thoughts about the signal fled from my brain.

He was with Bree.

There’s no mistaking the way he was leaning her into the wall. The tilt of his body, the brace of his hand beside her head. The way his head was dipped in close. Her eyes were closed, her face turned to the side.

The first thing I thought was: it had to be Bree.

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d turned around and cut me open, spilling my guts onto the cold floor. That’s what it felt like.

I must have made a sound, because he looked over his shoulder suddenly. That was all I needed to snap my reverie; I spun on my heel and ran. I couldn’t bear to be there, to have to process them, to see which of them smiled and which looked shameful. I couldn’t handle any of it.

He followed me. I heard the slap of the doors behind me as he burst through them, but I didn’t look back. I just kept running, not seeing anything other than doors and obstacles. I think I headed outside on purpose, knowing that the sun burns him. I pushed on when my feet started slipping, even though I wasn’t dressed for it, through the sharp, cold air and across the snow.

I’m not sure how far I went. A few buildings down the street, I think, before I dove inside and found something solid to lean against. I had no breath left; the air shook in and out of my body without giving me any oxygen. I wound up crumpled in a heap with my head in my hands, unable to see anything.

I don’t understand. I don’t know what I’ve done, or not done. He hasn’t been interested in that stuff since he got back, but I guess that’s just with me. Just with me.

There are so many pieces and I don’t know how to put them back together again. I feel like I’m holding a bloody puzzle in my hands, and I can’t tell where it starts and I end.

Sleet was pouring onto the snow by the time I had calmed down. All I had on me was a candy bar and my laptop bag. It’s getting colder now, and it’s too dark to head back. I can’t find my way. I’m not sure I want to.

Ben found me last night. After the darkness had wrapped up the building I was crouching in, after I had put away the laptop’s glow too save the battery. After I had given up finding any way to keep warm and all I had left was my own misery.

I know it was stupid to run off on my own. I know it was worse to get stuck away from the group when the rain came down. It wasn’t particularly bright to be trapped in the dark either, too scared to fumble around outside in case I fell into a snowdrift and melted away with it. At the time, even as I got colder and colder, I didn’t particularly care.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the corridor outside the room I was in and held my breath. I had no idea who it might be. I ducked under a desk, comforted only by the fact that the steps were too quick and controlled to be a shambler.

My heart was beating in my ears when the door swung open. I didn’t want to be found. I didn’t want to know who it was. It could have been anyone – a person from another group, even.

Then he said my name and I knew it was Ben. Of all people that I had hoped it was, he was the last on the list.

“Go away,” I told him.

He crouched in front of me; I heard his jeans creaking. “I brought your coat.”

I felt him putting it around me and snatched it out of his hands. I couldn’t bear him so close and stood up, but I did pull the coat on. I was shivering. I didn’t thank him.

“It’s not what you think, Faith.”

I laughed; it came out twisted. “Never is, is it? Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” My throat was closing up.

“You can’t stay here.”

“I don’t care! And neither do you! Just leave me alone, go on. Go!”

He said my name and touched my arm, and I struck out at him. I couldn’t see him, not properly, I just wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit something. All of a sudden, I was crying and shouting at him, struggling as he tried to hold me still. How could he? With her, of all people. How could he? After all his shit over Matt? Why would he do this to me? Doesn’t he know how much it hurts?

He kept telling me that it wasn’t what I thought. Over and over, until I finally bit on the bait.

“So what was it, then?” My eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his face, just inches from mine. He was as hard to read as he always is lately, his face closed down like it’s not even a part of him.

“It wasn’t sex,” he said. “I… can’t.”

It’s not what I expected him to admit – that’s not something I had considered. I thought he was just disinterested, and then interested in someone else, and… well, anything but that. “Because of the Sickness?”

“Yes.”

I frowned and swallowed down a discomfort in my chest, determined not to be distracted. I could still see them, leaning up against the wall like that. “Then what were you doing with her?” My voice broke under the strain.

He hesitated, then said, “I’m not what you think, Faith. Not any more. Things have changed. I’ve changed. The Sickness, it made me… something else.”

“Made you what?” I was starting to get angry with him again, my mood yoyoing between despair, pain, and rage. He was avoiding telling me, I could feel it.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what I am. I thought that going away would help me figure it out, but it didn’t, so I came back. You ever notice that I don’t eat any more?”

“Yeah, I have.” I stopped bringing him food a while ago, because he never ate it. I assumed he was eating elsewhere. He kept avoiding my questions about what was wrong with him, so I stopped asking. Same way I stopped asking about the sunburn, and how he sometimes seemed stronger than he should be. What else was I supposed to do?

“But I’m hungry. I’m hungry all the time. I just can’t eat anything except meat.”

“Meat?” I felt stupid, but I didn’t get it.

“Yes. Fresh meat, particularly.”

He was staring at me. I could barely see him in the dark, even though he was so close, but I could feel him willing me to understand. All of a sudden, I remembered a dead body torn up by human teeth, but not by shamblers. I went cold all over.

“Caroline. You killed Caroline.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You ate Caroline.”

“It was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally eat someone?”

I almost laughed. It felt the same way as it did when we realised what the shamblers were. I still can’t called them ‘zombies’, because it’s just too ridiculous. I keep thinking I’ll laugh, and then cry, and then throw up at the wrongness of it all. Just when I think the world makes sense, it’s all gibberish again. Or maybe it makes me gibber. I can’t tell. I can barely tell up from down any more.

He was trying to explain. There were rats there, he said – a whole nest of them. He’d been eating them. He said he’d been trying not to hurt anyone. But Caroline came along and started screaming, and he tried to shut her up, and then she fell. Fell and stopped. There was fresh blood, fresh meat, and he was very hungry.

I was shaking and struggling, my arms wrapped around myself as I tried to digest all of this. It didn’t make sense and yet it did. A part of me couldn’t deny it and the rest of me wanted to. I still couldn’t get the image of this morning’s discovery out of my head; it taunted me.

“So were you ‘accidentally’ eating Bree, too?”

I felt him hesitate and that made me afraid of what he was going to say. “No. I wasn’t going to kill her.”

I think it would have been easier to handle if he had been trying to kill her. “So what were you doing?” I had lost hope of a straight answer to that question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“Sometimes, blood will do.”

I ran those words around in my head until they had meaning. It took a while. She wasn’t fighting him off; she was giving it to him? She knew. She knew what he was. Tears pricked at my eyes again and thickened my throat. She knew the truth he had refused to tell me. She had a part of him that he had kept secret, something that should have been mine. It wasn’t the part I thought it was – screwing would have been worse – but I still felt betrayed. I’d begged him to tell me something Bree had known, and he had only let me in because I’d caught them.

I slapped him so hard my hand stung. I have no idea how I hit him in the dark, but I did. I don’t think either of us felt any better for it.

“You need to leave now,” I told him. He tried to convince me to come back with him, but I had no wish to let him lead me through the darkness. It was cold there, but I could deal with that kind of chill. I couldn’t deal with having to lean on him. He went away, though I don’t know how far. I tried not to think about it through the rest of the night.

I went back to the Chemistry Department this morning. The foragers had gone out by then, but Matt had stayed behind. He was so worried that he pounced on me as soon as I came through the door. I must have looked terrible: cold, sleepless, red-eyed and hungry. I burst into tears when he hugged me, though I couldn’t tell him why. I’m all right, I told him. I didn’t know how to say any more. He stroked my hair until I was feeling well enough to stand on my own again.

I’m numb now. I see the faces around me, most of them glad to see me back, but I can’t feel anything. I’ve thawed myself by the fire all day, but I still feel cold in a way that all the blankets in the world won’t cure.

I need a new word; I don’t know what to call Ben now. There’s one word for what he is, but I won’t use it. Maybe I’ll just call him cannibal.

I thought about going to see Dr Kostoya today. I thought about going to ask Bree what she knew. I thought about talking to Thorpe to see what he had noticed about his old friend and crewmate. But even I knew that I was avoiding what I needed to do, so I ignored the distractions.

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.

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.

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.

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.