Jamison

FOUR DAYS AFTER WE LEAVE THE AMUSEMENT park behind us, we’re somewhere in North Carolina. I haven’t seen any more wanted posters, and the Nomads haven’t been acting jumpy or suspicious at all. Andrew has been trying to fill the gap left by Daphne, but I can tell he’s missing her just as much as the kids do.

He, Kelly, Amy, and Taylor have taken them into the woods for a potty break while Rocky Horror, Niki and Jamar, Cara, and I watch the road with Cal and a couple other Nomads. We’re always at the end of the seven-vehicle caravan. We have younger kids, so we have to stop more often than the others.

“Sorry,” I say to Cal as he scans the open field next to the road. “About all the stopping.” It’s the Kid. Andrew says he’s been having some stomach issues the past day or so. And unfortunately the RV bathroom isn’t really an option.

Cal shakes his head. “You in a rush?”

A rush, no. But I do want to get off the road once and for all. I want to get Amy and Henri-Two home and figure out where the others are going—then go to our home.

Our home. The thought alone makes my chest ache. I can’t wait to see the cabin again. It’s also good to hear Cal say we’re not in a rush, as it means he probably doesn’t know about the wanted posters. I should show Andrew soon. Right after I found the poster, Daphne died, and I didn’t want to cause any more worry or stress, so I kept it to myself. But it’s still in my pack, tucked away in a pocket.

“I guess not,” I say. “But it still feels like we’re slowing everyone else down.”

Cal doesn’t answer and instead turns his attention to the left, where Kelly, Taylor, and a few of the kids emerge from the line of trees, followed by the others.

I walk over to Andrew, who’s a little farther behind with the Kid. “How you feeling, Kid?”

He doesn’t answer, and Andrew holds up his good hand and wavers it. I was feeling bad for slowing the Nomads down, but now I’m feeling worse for the Kid.

“Should we stop somewhere?” I ask Andrew. “See if we can find Pepto or something? Can kids have Pepto?”

“Great question. When we stop for the night, let’s ask Dr. Jenn.”

“Horses!” the Kid shouts next to us. I look down at him pointing out at the field to our left, and he’s right, there are horses out there.

My stomach drops.

Two horses with riders on them—and me with a secret wanted posted with my name in it in my pack. Everything feels very Wild West all of a sudden.

“Shit,” I say. I move behind Andrew and he puts a hand on the Kid’s back to hurry him along to the road. Cal nods and unbuttons the holster clipped to his belt. The horses are trotting over to us. I reach back and grab the baseball bat I took from the Dick’s in South Carolina out of a side pocket of my pack.

Cara, Andrew, and the adults stand in a short line in front of the kids, waiting to see what the people on horseback are going to do. I step forward with Cal and the Nomads, but none of them have guns at the ready.

“What do we do?” I ask Cal.

“Just wait. See what they want. There’s more of us than there are of them, so I’m not worried, but we don’t want anyone to get hurt if we can help it.”

I nod. “I never did thank you for not pulling your guns on us.”

He looks at me. “We did have guns on you, you just couldn’t see them.”

The idea chills me to the bone. They must have been focused on us in the RV. If we made one wrong move, they could have killed us. And the same might be true right now. Everyone on our side is standing here in the road. But whoever these people on horseback are, they could have more people watching us.

My eyes scan the trees around the field, looking for movement.

As the horses get closer, I notice that if the riders are armed, their guns aren’t in their hands. The taller one raises one hand in a hello, while the other holds the reins.

As they reach the other side of the highway, I see it’s a middle-aged East Asian woman wearing a blue baseball hat, her hair pulled back in a long ponytail. The boy next to her is Asian, too, and probably around Jamar and Taylor’s age, maybe a little younger.

The woman turns the horse around in a wide circle and I see that she does have a gun—it’s holstered on her right. But when she stops her horse next to the other, she seems to give us a friendly enough smile. I see Cal take his hand off his gun. He steps forward and the rest of us follow a few paces behind.

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Hannah.” She nods to the boy next to her. “This is my son, Alex.” Alex gives us a friendly wave and Cal introduces himself.

“And everyone else.” He waves behind him. “The rest of our group is up the road waiting.” It sounds innocuous, but I know it’s a warning—that we have people waiting for us, and if we don’t show up they’ll come looking—and I think Hannah takes it that way.

“Where you all from?” she asks.

Cal laughs and makes a big sweeping gesture. “All over.”

Hannah smiles. “Yeah, us too. We’re from Cleveland originally. Lots of folks in our settlement are from all over, too.”

Lots of folks.I wonder how many.

I don’t know what else to say—none of us seem to—so Hannah speaks again.

“Well, our settlement is up the road here. If you’re all interested in spending the night, we’d like to extend the invitation.”

Cal glances back to me, then his people. I look back to Andrew, Rocky Horror, Amy, Cara. It looks like none of us know exactly what to say. I don’t want to speak for the group, but strangers offering hospitality these days is not always the best sign.

Hannah holds up her hands. “No pressure. You can talk it over. But if you do decide to join us for the night . . .” She points up the road. “Take the second exit, make a left. Head on down the road for a mile and a half and then make a right at the coffee shop shaped like a boot.”

But something isn’t sitting right with me. “Why are you inviting us?” I ask. Cal turns, surprised that I said something, and maybe I am, too. But I want to see what Hannah’s answer is. We told her there were others waiting for us, and she has no idea how many. For all she knows, we could number several hundred, and her settlement might be only twenty.

Or her settlement could be several hundred, and ours is seventy-one.

Still, I’m not willing to trust her so easily. And judging by what I’ve learned about Cal and the Nomads, maybe they aren’t either.

Hannah looks at me, then her eyes drift to the kids, who have gathered to look around the adults in front of them. She shrugs. “It’s Christmas Eve. Think of it as goodwill toward . . . survivors.”

Shit. I had totally forgotten. Holidays are hard to remember without the constant barrage of consumerism and nostalgia. Our minds have been more focused on finding food for survival than gifts. Andrew and Kelly look surprised, too. Amy and Cara either remembered and didn’t tell us, or they have great poker faces. Well, Cara absolutely does.

“Think about it,” Hannah says. “We do hope to see you, though.”

She and her son bid us goodbye and head back the way they came. Hannah stays facing forward, but Alex turns back to look at us, like he’s not sure we’re trustworthy.

We wait until Hannah and Alex are far enough away before we gather in a big circle to talk about it, weighing the pros and cons. The pros are food, safety, shelter, companionship. The only con is, they could be trying to kill us. It’s Rocky Horror who comes in with the logic.

“What’s the point? I mean, we don’t know how many there are, but they have to know we aren’t carrying that much on us. And ‘come join us for Christmas dinner, but also no pressure’ isn’t the most enticing way to lure in a buncha rubes.”

“Excuse me, what is a rube?” Andrew asks.

Rocky Horror claps his hands together. “That settles it, I’m going. I need adults to hang out with.”

I turn to Cal, who turns to Kevin, who’s basically his second-in-command when we’re separated like this. “Radio the others, get their thoughts.” He nods and leaves.

“What if it is a trap?” I ask as the circle breaks up. Andrew joins me.

Cal shrugs. “That’s why we ask the others.”

“But if they say yes, we should have a plan, right?” I ask. “If it’s a trap and they attack us, we should keep the kids back so we don’t have to worry about them getting hurt.”

“Good point,” he says. I can feel Andrew’s eyes on me, but Cal turns to him. “You and the kids will be in the RV. Tell Rocky Horror, Niki, and Cara to stay in the truck.”

“Wait,” Andrew says. “You can’t really be planning to kill these people.”

“It’s the backup plan,” he says. “Not the first plan.”

“No, the backup plan should just be not going. If you think these people are that dangerous—which I doubt, by the way, because what would the point be? But if you really think that, why wouldn’t we just keep going?”

“What if they have supplies we need?” I ask. “The Kid’s been sick for almost two days.”

Andrew turns his attention to me, his eyes wide. “Don’t think it’s worth killing a whole bunch of people for Pepto Bismol, Jamie.”

“And if he needs something more?”

“Then we figure it out! What the hell is wrong with you?” He’s addressing only me now.

Kevin comes back. “They said they’ll leave it up to you.”

Cal looks at me and says, “Universal convergence.” Then he turns back to Kevin. “We’ll go ahead and see. Tell the others to stay back at that boot café until we give the okay.”

I guess that’s a good enough compromise. He heads for the truck as Amy and Kelly start trying to corral the kids into the RV. I go to Cara to ask if she wants to get in the truck with us or the RV, but before she answers, the Kid is pulling at Andrew’s jacket.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Andrew looks down at him. “Emergency?”

He nods.

“Okay, come on.” Andrew gives me one last desperate look, and I know he’s asking me to get in the RV and wait with them. But I’m not going to do that.

“If something happens, get the kids out of here. Take the RV from them if you have to. The Nomads don’t know about Bethesda, so just go and get Henri out of there.” I kiss him. “I love you.”

“Don’t do this,” Andrew says.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Of course we do! The choice is to not go. Or stay with us—Cal and the others don’t need you, there’s plenty of them.”

“It’s not fair to send only the Nomads. Rocky Horror says he wants to risk it.” I turn to Cara. She seems unsure and is also unarmed. Cara doesn’t like guns and only uses them when she has to. For instance, to save our lives.

“I’m with Rocky Horror,” Cara says. “I don’t think it’s a setup.”

“Andrew,” the Kid whines, pulling on Andrew’s arm.

“It’ll be okay.” But I can’t know for sure. Andrew follows the Kid toward the field but stops and turns back, running to me, wincing as he tries to keep his arm steady. He kisses me hard on the lips.

“Don’t do anything. And don’t die. Please.”

“Promise,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

He turns to Cara. “Either of you. Something happens, get Rocky Horror and get the hell out of there.”

Then he runs back for the Kid. Cara turns to look at me.

“You better not be getting me killed tonight,” she says.

“I promise?” I sound even less sure this time. I make sure to tell Amy and the others to stay with the RV until they hear from us on the radio. But while they aren’t looking, I grab the handgun out of Andrew’s pack. I double-check that the safety is on, then tuck it in the back of my jeans.

About twenty minutes later, after making a left at the boot café, we find ourselves greeted by two men with rifles. My stomach tightens and I reach down to feel that the gun is still there.

They introduce themselves and instruct us to park on the side of the road. We pull over and they lead us the rest of the way up a gravel and dirt road, past a sign that reads “Faraway Lodge and Campground.”

Rocky Horror sticks his head between me and Cara and whispers, “Camping was not what I had in mind when she said shelter.”

I shrug. “So it’s the same as every other day.”

“Merry Christmas to all,” Rocky Horror mumbles.

But the end of the road opens up onto a clearing with a massive three-story lodge. The plexiglass-covered sign to our right has a map with labels written in what looks like faded dry-erase marker. Written over the section labeled “campground” is “farm.” On the northern section is a large lake. A small square drawn on the plexiglass says “WT.” To the west of the lodge are a group of scattered cabins labeled with numbers.

I expect to see more people with guns pointed right at us. But it’s quiet.

Hannah trots down the short hill from the lodge to us. “You came!” She holds out her hand and we all shake. “Welcome to Faraway.”

“The others are behind us,” Cal says. “You’re sure you don’t mind? There are about seventy of us altogether. We do have our own food.”

“When they get here, we can talk food. We’re planning a feast for tonight, so some additional provisions will be greatly appreciated.”

My eyes flash to the windows of the lodge. Then the roof and the trees around us. There really isn’t anyone else. The men with the rifles have gone back to their positions at the entrance to the driveway.

I see Cal reclip the holster on his gun. My own gun is digging into my right butt cheek, but I don’t care. Cal may feel safe, but I’m not ready to let my guard down.

Hannah offers us a tour and we oblige. But first Cal turns to Kevin and tells him to check on the status of the others in the caravan. Which I assume is the all clear. Then we follow Hannah as she starts the tour.

Cara leans in close to me. “We should go on a supply run tonight.”

“You think they left anything in the town?”

“Not food. It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t know how many of these kids still believe, but it’ll be a pretty fucked-up Christmas if they wake up tomorrow and the other kids in this place all got gifts and Superflu Santa didn’t leave anything for them. Especially after just losing Daphne.”

Shit. She’s right. I nod and make a mental note to have the others watch the kids after bedtime. Maybe Rocky Horror, Niki, Cara, and I can go. Andrew, too, if he’s up to it. But I don’t think he’d be willing to leave the kids.

During our tour, I learn the “WT” by the lake stands for Water Treatment. There’s a pump powered by a solar panel that pulls from the lake and sends it through several natural filtering systems. Hannah points out a smattering of cabins for us, saying that’s where we’ll stay for the night—Rocky Horror brightens at that.

Then she takes us past their fields, which all look to be cut away.

“How were your crops over the summer?” I ask.

Hannah sighs like it’s a major annoyance. “Not great. We tried, but it’s hard to keep up with the pests, and we had issues troubleshooting our irrigation system. We spent most of the year trying to get us to a point of sustainability, which we’ve almost reached. We hope to make the goal by next fall, then we can focus on keeping the crops pest-free.”

They had the same problems with the rodents and insects that we saw down south.

“It’s going to be a while before the food chain stabilizes,” Hannah continues. “The birds that are left are going to have to try a little harder to repopulate. There were some flocks flying south over the past few months. But for now we’re trying to figure out new ways to roll with it. Next year we might get rid of the cabins and use the foundations for greenhouses. Set up a little airlock-type system to keep out the bugs. But . . .” She shrugs. “We’re okay for now.”

She continues the tour by leading us into the lodge. “This is where most of us stay.”

The lobby has a rustic cabin feeling. The walls are stone, and to our left is a massive stone fireplace, the roaring blaze inside keeping the lodge warm. Ahead of us, between two doors, is a large grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging back and forth. “There’s thirty rooms, a common area, kitchen, dining hall.”

On the walls, string lights have been hung from small nails. They’re off, but there’s enough light coming through the windows for now.

“Electricity comes from the solar panels on the back of the roof. It’s only enough to keep the lights going for a few hours after sunset. But tonight it may not last as long because of this.” She pushes open the double doors to the right of the grandfather clock and we follow her into what looks like the common room.

On the far wall, next to several sliding glass doors that lead out to a deck, is a Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments and unlit string lights, the star at the top just touching the fifteen-foot ceiling.

Cara gasps and covers her mouth.

“Shit,” says Rocky Horror. “I’m not a Christmas gay, but that’s a great Christmas tree.”

Hannah nods, looking proud. “Alex saw you with the kids and thought they might like a little normalcy. Oh, and if any of you are Jewish, we also have a menorah. Tonight is the first night of Hannukah.” She pauses. “We think. Without a calendar it’s hard to be certain, but the Jewish folks who did the math say they’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s tonight.”

I never thought to ask the kids their religions and I feel bad. It seems like something Daphne would have done. I’ll have to ask Andrew if he knows.

“Hey, Hannah,” a voice calls from the doorway. It gives me a chill, and I don’t know why. “Do you have the key to the root cellar?”

I turn and my stomach drops, every hair on my body standing on end.

“Chef needs some potat—” The man’s voice falls off as he locks eyes with me. At first, it looks like he doesn’t recognize me—like he’s wondering why I’m staring at him—then his face drops, and I know he knows who I am.

I saw him look at me the same way five months ago, right before he shot me. His name is Grover Denton.

The sheriff of Fort Caroline.

The Nomads knew about the wanted posters all along. They were bringing us here to hand me over.