Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Journey Continues

AIDEN

We make our way through the desertscape. Towering layered rock walls in shades of brown and gold lie before us. Scrub brush and wild grasses growing in tufts are the only foliage, so our only cover is the land itself. Luckily, the trail we are on runs into a small canyon, and after about fifteen minutes of hiking, we can no longer see the river behind us. More importantly, no one can see us.

The trail gets steeper as we make our way to the first plateau of the gorge. We’re both breathing heavily, and Zach is lagging behind. I slow the pace. Neither of us slept much last night. The entire experience has been physically and mentally draining, but we need to get farther away from the dam before we rest.

I can’t help but smile as Zach follows with a look of determination. He hasn’t forgiven me for abandoning him. Nor should he. After I rescued him, many emotions flew around in the heat of the moment. He’ll need more time to process them all. Heck, even I will. I have more I want to discuss.

Wind whistles along the limestone as we crest the top of the first plateau. We’re exposed again. Luckily, dawn is still a ways off, with the sky going from black to deep purple. The dam is to the north and too far to make out any details. I don’t see any lights or other obvious activity.

We’d be easy to spot on the wide-open plateau. The second canyon wall is ahead of us, about a mile away, so I pick up the pace.

Zach is struggling and favoring his left leg. “Sorry, Zach. Once we make it to those canyons, we can slow down. Are you okay?”

“My leg is a little banged up. But I can push through. Let’s keep going.”

In a short while, we make it to the next canyon. The sky is lighter now, and dawn can’t be too far off. We find a large rock formation jutting out of the ground, which provides excellent cover. We stop to rest.

“Let’s have a look at that leg,” I say.

Zach lifts his pant leg up and winces. It’s a ghastly sight, with his entire sock saturated in blood and a few small beads of red dripping down his shoe.

“Oh, wow. That looks worse than I thought.” I grab some medical supplies from my backpack.

The gash is deep and wraps around much of his ankle. As I remove the blood-soaked sock, Zach lets out a little yelp. But he puts his hand over his mouth to muffle any further noises.

Seeing him in pain is making my heart a little achy. Wow. I forgot what it was like to care for somebody. To open myself up. All I want to do is wrap him in my arms and protect him from harm. It hurts to see him like this.

I use a little of our limited water supply to wash out the wound, then wrap some gauze around it, which immediately starts turning red. I wrap it with an ace bandage to encourage clotting.

Zach sucks air in through clenched teeth. “It’s okay. I can take it. Make it tight.”

We only rest for a few more minutes. I hand Zach a protein bar and take one for myself as well. “We’ll need the energy.”

The trail gets steep again as we approach the second plateau. It takes nearly an hour to get to the top. Once there, the sun has risen, and we’re met with golden, rolling hills as far as the eye can see. Dried patches of sagebrush cover the landscape, and snowcapped mountains line the horizon.

The dirt trail we’re on cuts through the landscape. Before the Great Collapse, this would have been a great mountain biking trail. But it doesn’t appear as if anyone has been on it for months. The wind has blown away all the footprints and tire tracks long ago.

I turn to Zach to see how he’s doing. He looks okay but still has a visible limp on his left side. “How’s the leg feeling?”

“Better since we cleaned it up. But it still stings a bit.”

“In a few miles, we can look for a place to stop and take a long rest.”

“Sounds good. What trail are we on?”

I grab the map from the backpack. “It’s called the Palouse to Cascades Trail. It runs across most of Washington State.”

I show Zach the map, pointing to where we are. “I’m thinking we’re going to have to stay on it for a while. It meets up with I-90 in about twenty miles. We can try to find a car again, but we’ve lost the jump starter.”

Zach nods and lets out a sigh.

We’ve been hiking for about an hour when we come to a small stream that cuts right into the arid landscape. I’m guessing it’s only seasonal and stops flowing after the spring runoff. But fortune is smiling on us.

A small grove of dried-out trees and sagebrush provide some shade and cover. We’re both exhausted, so we take an extended rest and set up camp. We even risk a small fire. With it, I boil some water for a more thorough cleaning of Zach’s cut.

He sits, propped up by his arms with his feet forward, while I tend to the wound. The bleeding has stopped. There’s some dirt ground into the wound, and I wash it out with warm water. Zach winces in pain as I scrub. The edges of the cut are red and puffy. I try to be gentle so it doesn’t hurt too much.

Once we set up camp and have a bite to eat, Zach and I sit under the shade of the tree. This is the right time to clear the air.

“Zach, I want to talk about last night. About leaving you.”

Zach’s shoulders slump, but he says nothing.

“It was an important moment for me. And I need you to understand it.”

He nods and lets out a sigh. “Okay.”

“When I left, I did it because I thought I was protecting you. But the farther I got, the worse it felt. Every step got harder than the next. I couldn’t leave you. I turned back to the camp to rip up that note. Tell you how I feel. But then I saw headlights headed your way. I started sprinting back, but when I got there, you were gone.”

“When I realized you had left me, I was devastated.” Zach chokes out the words. “I didn’t understand.”

“I’m so sorry for putting you through that, Zach.” My voice croaks, and my eyes get glossy. “When Marcus died, I shut down my emotions. Since then, I’ve let no one in. But I do have feelings for you. That’s what I realized last night as I was walking away. I was doing it to protect myself, not you. So I wouldn’t have to face those feelings. To not be afraid of losing someone again. Of losing you.” A tear streaks down my cheek. “I like you, Zach. A lot. And I’m sorry I left you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I like you too.” A smile cracks through Zach’s sad face. “Hearing you say all that helps. But it’ll take some time. And you have to promise me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Trying to protect me came from a good place. But next time you make a big decision like that, you need to include me in it. You need to trust me. Okay?”

I smile and let out a sad laugh. “I promise.”

Zach scoots in closer to me until our legs touch. He gently puts his hand on my knee and looks into my eyes. Our lips join, and we kiss, tender and filled with kindness and hope. But then Zach pulls away, puts his hands around his legs, and sighs.

Hopefully that kiss is the start of healing and he can find a way to forgive me.

*

ZACH

I sit there with Aiden beside me, lost in my thoughts. He professed his feelings for me, which filled me with joy. After all, this is what I’ve wanted since I first saw Aiden stroll into Elk Springs. But I’m still hurt. And my joy is tapered by his choice to leave. This little nagging worry is now firmly planted in the back of my mind. No matter how much we trust each other, a part of me will always be worried that he’ll up and leave me.

We also continue to guard our secrets. I still know very little about his mission or the Scientific Collective. I consider saying that total honesty is a requirement for my forgiveness. But I’m not ready to talk about what actually happened with my uncle, so that would be hypocritical. Maybe this world is too complicated for total honesty.

Connor said some horrible things about Aiden. He said them to provoke me. That much, I know. But is there a sliver of the truth in there somewhere? What would it take to make someone like Connor become the way he is? He wasn’t born that way. Something changed him. Everybody thinks they’re justified in their actions from their own point of view. So what is his point of view?

We spend the remainder of the day resting. I need the break after all I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, and I’m sure Aiden does too.

After a simple dinner, Aiden leans against a rock with a pensive expression, watching the sun getting low in the sky. When I approach, he smiles tentatively and looks at me with hope. His soft and caring eyes melt my defenses, and I sit down and wrap my arm around him.

As the sky dims, the warmth of his body protects me from the chill of the evening. The sunset is spectacular, with unobstructed views west. Streaks of high cirrus clouds turn shades of yellow, orange, and purple as the sun tucks behind the horizon.

With one of the backpacks gone, we only have the remaining tent and sleeping bag, which Aiden set up earlier. He grabs the emergency blanket from our first aid supplies.

“Zach, you can have the tent.” He starts to unfold the blanket.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll freeze out here. We can share.”

Aiden’s face lights up, and he tries to suppress a smile. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. We like each other, right?” I smile at him, and he smiles back with hope in his eyes.

We snuggle up in the sleeping bag. It’s a chilly night, so we keep our clothes on, and that’s probably for the best. As I lie there with Aiden’s arms wrapped around me, my hurt starts to ebb. Tonight, I feel safe with Aiden by my side.

*

We wake at first light before the sun crests over the horizon. After quickly breaking camp, we hit the road. The hiking is easy, and I’m well-rested after our long downtime yesterday. But I’m more aware of the slight pain in my leg the longer we hike. The wound has stopped bleeding entirely, but parts of the skin around the cut are red and inflamed.

A little past midday, we approach a sizable hill. The path leads into a man-made ravine that appears blasted out with dynamite. The walls of the ravine rise higher until they’re fifteen feet tall. We approach the entrance of a dark tunnel framed in cement, with an inscription on the side.

Boylston Tunnel

Est. 1872

In the tunnel, darkness greats us. I shoot Aiden a side-eye. “That looks ominous.”

“Just an old railroad tunnel. Should be a straight shot through.”

I shade my eyes from the sun and peer in. “I can’t even see to the other end.”

“We’ll be fine.”

I’m not so sure. I stand at the edge of the tunnel in the stagnant air. But Aiden is already starting in and gesturing me forward. He pulls the flashlight out and shines it into the darkness. The narrow cone of light does little to illuminate the tunnel, revealing just a few steps in front.

Outside, the heat of the noonday sun is quite warm, but the temperature inside is at least twenty degrees lower. I wrap my arms around myself. Graffiti litters the walls. Mostly standard fare, like people’s names in hearts, tags, and crude pictures of genitalia. One piece stands out.

Here lies death.

The hair rises on my neck. Aiden is already ahead of me, so I run to catch up and loop my arm around his. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Aiden plants a little kiss on my forehead. “It’s okay. We’re in this together.”

We’ve walked a good distance into the tunnel, with the entrance now a tiny pinprick of light. A slight breeze brushes against my skin, but it carries the smell of decay and rot.

Goosebumps cover my whole body. “Oh god, I hope that’s not what I think it is.”

A few more steps, and I get my answer. Aiden shines the light over a group of decaying bodies. They’re around a burned-out campfire. Old, tattered sleeping bags lie about. A rush of panic hits me. I back up to the tunnel’s edge, and my legs give way as I land hard on the ground.

Aiden runs over to me. “Are you okay?”

I’m not sure I am. It’s the same paralyzing fear I had when I saw my uncle staggering up the driveway. The same one that didn’t let me leave the house until I was nearly out of food.

But unlike before, Aiden is here. He puts his arms around me and rubs a hand on my back. “It’s gonna be okay, Zach.”

I’m shivering and can barely talk. “I—what—if they’re Infected?”

“They’ve been gone a long time. They can’t hurt you now. Plus, you’re immune, remember?”

The first part may be true. They may not be capable of hurting me. As for being immune, I don’t know. I consider telling Aiden about my uncle, that I couldn’t even help him as he lay dying on the porch, begging to be let in. But what will he think of me? The thought of Aiden being disgusted by my cowardice and cruelty is unbearable.

Aiden must sense that I’m unsettled. He reaches into the pack and grabs a medical mask. “Here, let’s put this on you.”

The mask covers my nose and mouth, and Aiden helps me secure the straps.

“Wanna try getting up?” His tenderness and patience fill me with resolve. I want to be strong for him. He helps me to my feet, and even with his guidance, I wobble a little, but he’s there to steady me.

He takes my hand and whispers in my ear, “Close your eyes. I’ll guide you through.”

With my eyes clamped shut, I let him steer me, putting all my trust in him. The tug of his hand pulls me forward as he gives the occasional adjustment in direction or warning about a stray rock. The smell gets more intense. Almost unbearable. I hold back heaving in my throat.

Aiden whispers in my ear again. “Zach. I’m going to pick you up. Okay?”

“For real? Can you lift me?”

“Yeah, I got you.”

Aiden puts an arm around my back and another behind my knees and sweeps me up. I was ten years old the last time someone carried me like this. I sprained my ankle on a hiking trip, and my dad carried me five miles through the forest. It’s comforting, feeling Aiden’s breathing and his heartbeat as I nuzzle my head into his chest. I clutch onto him tightly.

“It’s gonna get a little hairy here. Keep those eyes closed,” Aiden whispers.

He doesn’t have to tell me. My eyes are shut tight. Aiden does some serious jumps but clutches me tight through it all. The smell is worse than ever. I can’t imagine what Aiden is witnessing.

In a few minutes, things improve. And soon, the musty scent of the tunnel replaces the stench of rot.

“Okay, Zach, I’m gonna set you down now. You can open your eyes.”

I open them to see the tunnel exit just ahead. We’ve made it to the other side. Aiden gently lowers me to the ground.

“Thanks.” My eyes are downcast, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry I was such a wimp back there.”

“It’s okay. It can be hard sometimes.” His caring and genuine expression eases my anxiety. There’s no judgment or condescension. Aiden is a good person. He’s not perfect, but neither am I. And while a shadow of hurt for his leaving remains, at this moment, I know I can find some way to forgive him.