Dark Inside (29 page)

“Yep.” He handed her a mug. “It kinda tastes like sludge, but it’s better than nothing.”

She took a sip. “It’s wonderful.”

“We shouldn’t stay long. Maybe just take a look around and see if we can get any clothing. They might still be out there, and it’ll be easier to find without the storm.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “At least now I can feel my toes again.”

One hour later they were ready to go. In the garage they found the ultimate item. A monster-sized SUV with four-wheel drive and a full tank of gas.

“We won’t get far if we come across a traffic jam,” he said. “But at least it’ll get us a little farther down the road at a much faster speed. And we can bring some blankets this way. Might not use them, but at least we’ll be better prepared.”

“Okay, but I drive,” she said.

“I’d better wear my seat belt.”

She laughed and swatted at him. Ducking, he went around to the front of the car and manually opened the garage door.

They both saw the body at the same time.

Lying facedown, half buried in the snow, it was inches from the garage, one hand reaching out as if trying to grab the air.

“Is it one of them?” she asked.

Michael moved in closer. “I think so,” he said.

“Don’t touch it!”

He ignored her, pushing the body with his boot, wanting to make sure the person was dead. He’d have to move it out of the way in order to get the SUV out of the garage. He
grabbed the body by the shoulders and started dragging it to the side. Clementine came to help.

The frozen body was female. Her mouth was open and filled with ice. “That’s the women who tried to claw out my eyes,” Clementine said. “She almost found us.”

Michael shivered. What would have happened if she’d managed to make it a few more steps before collapsing? Both of them had fallen asleep. They would have been sitting ducks. Mice in a cage. Game over.

“There’s another one,” she said, and she pointed. Fifty feet away, a body was slouched against a tree wearing a bright red jacket.

“I think we need to leave,” he said.

She nodded.

The SUV roared to life on the first try. If they were lucky the vehicle might take them all the way into Seattle.

If they were lucky.

In Revelstoke they found a working moped. There was only one helmet, which Mason insisted Chickadee wear the entire time, and she put it on without complaint.

She wasn’t looking good. Paul’s departure hit her hard and she’d lost a lot of the light that seemed to follow her around. She still talked lots, but the cheerful banter was gone. Now her voice had a certain sorrow to it. Sometimes she grew irritated and would snap at him, only to completely break down and apologize. It made Mason uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do to make things better.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for the hundredth time.

“Just tired,” she replied.

“Exhausted” was the better word choice. There were black bags under her eyes, and sometimes she seemed to have trouble focusing. Whenever they stopped, she fell asleep, sometimes even sitting up. Her head would nod and soon she’d be breathing softly, her chin resting on her chest.

Mason grew scared. He knew something was happening, and he was completely at a loss over what to do. Every time
he tried to bring anything up in conversation, she’d insist she was all right and then change the subject.

He asked her if she wanted to stop in Kamloops. She said no. He asked her again in Merritt. She said no.

“I want to make it to Vancouver,” she said. “I want to see the ocean. It’s been forever since I last saw it. I’ll bet it’s beautiful. I want to walk out into the waves and feel the sand squish beneath my toes. It’s the greatest feeling in the world, don’t you think?”

“I don’t remember,” Mason said. “I was really young.”

“Really? Then we’ve got another reason to get there fast. It’ll be like you’re seeing it again for the first time. I want to be the person you’re with when that happens. You’re gonna just die of happiness.”

They made it as far as Hope.

Both of them were on the moped. Mason steered while Chickadee wrapped her arms around his waist. One second her grip was fine; the next moment her fingers loosened and she slipped away, crashing onto the pavement.

“Chee!”

He slammed the brakes. It had been raining earlier, and the back tires fishtailed behind him, forcing him into a half turn, half skid. The bike slid out from underneath him, bringing him down.

Thankfully they weren’t going very fast. His leg got caught under the moped, but it didn’t do much damage aside from tearing his jeans. As soon as he came to a stop he pulled himself up off the ground and ran to where Chickadee lay in the middle of the open road. She was on her back, her brown eyes staring up at the sky without blinking.

“That was really stupid of me,” she whispered.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, help me up, will you?” She reached out her hand to him and he took it. Gently, he guided her into a sitting position and helped her with the helmet. Her face was pale; she was obviously as shaken as him. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and then the world went all blurry.”

“We’ve got to …” He paused, the words “take you to a doctor” froze on his tongue. The idea seemed so ridiculous; he was annoyed that he’d even thought about it for a second.

“Not really an option anymore,” she said, second-guessing him. “I wish there still were doctors. Or artists. Even teachers. They’re all gone, aren’t they? But you’re still here. I’m glad you care about me, Mason.”

He picked her up. She’d lost a lot of weight since he first met her; now she was light in his arms. Without saying a word, he started back in the direction of town. If he couldn’t take her to a doctor, at least he could find a motel where she could rest for a bit. He wasn’t sure if it would help her, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

She wrapped her arms around him as they moved down the hill and under the overpass. Her body pressed tightly against him, she felt both cold and hot at the same time. She leaned her head into his chest and he looked down at her, inhaling the scent of her hair and kissing the top of her head.

“I must smell so bad,” she said. “I can’t actually remember the last time I showered.”

“No,” he said. “You don’t.”

She laughed. “Liar.”

“No worse than me,” he admitted.

“Then I really stink,” she said.

When this whole thing started, after his mother and his friends died, he told himself he was done caring. For weeks
he’d kept the numbness inside, a hollow feeling that constantly gnawed at the corner of his mind. He focused instead on being angry, growing to embrace his thoughts of rage. It kept him strong. But Chickadee had somehow managed to get through his barriers and chase the emptiness away. She’d helped him move on. He hadn’t even realized how much.

Now the numbness started to creep back into his mind.

There was a group of people on the edge of town fighting over something too small to see. Mason ducked behind a car, pulling Chickadee down to the ground beside him. He had no idea who the people were, but history had taught him that no one was safe, especially those making that much noise in the middle of the afternoon. If they were to spot him now, he wouldn’t be able to protect Chickadee. Instead they had to wait till the group moved farther down toward the river before attempting to sneak into a motel that offered free wireless to all its customers. Mason carried her into the main office, where he snagged a set of keys for a room that faced the back.

“Will they come back?” Chickadee asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What if they’re staying in the motel? What will we do then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you so upset with me?”

“I’m not.”

“You sound like you are.”

He ignored her. What could he say? He didn’t have any answers.

Once in the room, he helped her down on the bed, double locked the door, and drew the blinds. Chickadee started coughing, and he opened up her backpack and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” she said.

“I’m not.” He reached out and brushed a few strands of hair off her face. Her skin was warm to the touch, but she didn’t seem feverish. Her eyes were bright and wide, and she stared at him like he was the only person left in the world.

“I think I need to rest,” she said.

Pulling the blankets off the spare bed, he drew them over her and fluffed up the pillows in a dramatic fashion to try and get her to laugh. Afterward, he sat down in a chair by the window and waited. He couldn’t admit this to Chickadee, but he was terrified. He knew she wasn’t feeling well—he’d known for several days. She kept insisting she was fine, and he tried to believe she really was just tired. But it was more than that and both of them knew it. The problem was he didn’t know what to do. If Chickadee knew the cause of her sickness, she wasn’t sharing. He listened to her breathing. It was slow and steady; she had fallen asleep. Good. Hopefully the rest would help her.

Night fell and he continued to wait by the window. Every now and then he’d take a peek to make sure they were still alone. Everything was quiet. Aside from the people they’d seen earlier, the town seemed deserted. A good sign.

They were so close to Vancouver. They could have made it in a few hours if Chickadee hadn’t fallen off the bike. Vancouver was a large city—there had to be a lot of people still alive. If he could just get her there, well, maybe there was the possibility he could find a doctor.

He remembered the last night at his house several weeks ago when he destroyed everything in sight. Right now he wanted to go on a rampage against the room. Pull the paintings down off the wall, punch holes in things, smash the television, and break everything in sight. So much rage was
building up inside, and he had no way to relieve the tension. When did he get this angry? He never used to be this way. Once upon a time he was a nice guy. He played soccer and hung out with his friends. He’d never been the type to get into fights or do random acts of vandalism. But yet, several weeks ago he’d murdered someone in a park.

Where was this anger coming from? Worse, deep down, why did he enjoy it?

“Mason?”

He was up off the chair in seconds and over by the bed. “I’m here,” he said, sitting down beside her. She held out her hand and he took it. Her eyes were wide. Scared.

“I have diabetes.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to scare you away.” She started crying. Big tears fell down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. Pulling her close, he hugged her and stroked her hair, ignoring the tightness building up inside his chest.

“I should have told you. I should have said something. I just didn’t want you to leave. I was so afraid you’d leave me.”

“I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

“Really?”

“Promise.”

He held her. Was it enough? Shouldn’t he be doing more? Chickadee continued to cry herself out, and he kept his arms wrapped tightly around her body. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how to start. He knew nothing about diabetes, except maybe that she needed insulin to survive. When he was in grade school there was a kid who had to inject himself with a needle every day. Did
this mean she was going to die? People survived with diabetes all the time. They had normal, long lives. Didn’t they?

“There’s a drugstore in town,” he finally said. “Can I go get something to help?”

She shook her head against his chest. “It’s too late. I’ve been checking the pharmacies all this time, and most of them have been looted. Remember? You caught me looking and thought I was a druggie.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a choked sob. “It wasn’t too hard the first few weeks, but then the electricity went out. Insulin has a shelf date and has to be kept cold. Even if I manage to find some, it will have expired. I’ve been really careful up until now. Trying to monitor my sugar intake. But it’s not helping anymore.”

“You told me you weren’t sick.”

“I’m not. I have a disease. That’s a whole lot different than a cold.”

“So you kept it from me? I thought we were friends. I thought we were …” He couldn’t bring himself to suggest something different. What if he was wrong and she laughed? “You should have told me. I would have tried to help.”

“I screwed up,” she said. “You’re right. I should have said something. But I was afraid. Look at what Paul did. He’s known me his entire life. But he still left me. I was so scared you’d leave too.”

“I’m not Paul.”

“No, you’re not.”

They sat together on the bed for a while in silence. Neither of them knew what to say. Finally Mason couldn’t hold back the one question he needed to ask.

“So what does this mean?”

He didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t want to know the answer.

“Mason?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens, I want you to promise me something. Promise me you’ll continue on to Vancouver and feel the ocean. Don’t just stand there and look at it. Feel it.”

“I don’t care about the ocean.”

“I do. Consider it my dying wish.”

“Stop talking like that. You’re not going to die. You’ll be fine after some more rest. Maybe I should go check out the pharmacy, just in case.”

“Can you stay with me instead? I don’t want you to leave.”

He hugged her tightly to his chest. “Okay.”

“But promise me you’ll go.”

“Why? That doesn’t matter anymore.” How could she even think about such trivial things when she didn’t even have the strength to sit up?

“It matters to me.”

He decided to humor her. “Okay. I promise.”

“Mean it.”

He should have known she’d see through his empty promise. Nothing ever got past her. She’d known Paul was leaving the night he told his story. That’s why she’d been so upset. She wasn’t going to give up on this, either. He could tell by the look on her face that she desperately wanted him to go, and he knew her well enough by now to know that she always got what she wanted when she was determined enough.