Travis

Rough is an understatement.

For the first several miles outside Hope Creek, Grace and I have had to trudge through mud, sometimes wading in it up to our knees. We nearly even stepped into quicksand, twice.

Then we’ve had to climb up a craggy mountain under the hot sun. Grace and I both slipped and scraped our hands and knees on sharp rocks any number of times. It took us four days just to get to the other side.

And it took us longer to cross the desert that was waiting for us, seven days, with the wind blowing in our faces the whole time, night and day, getting sand in our eyes and in every crevice of our bodies. If not for Phil’s water canister that caught moisture in the air and turned it into potable water, and Martin’s miraculous food multiplier, Grace and I wouldn’t have made it.

But we have.

Now we’re about to cross the vast plains, the last stretch before we reach the city. Here, the soil is neither soft nor parched. In fact, it looks fine. But it’s not. It’s barren, just like the soil everywhere else. It’s so salty and so lacking in other minerals that nothing grows.

“We’ll camp here for the night.” I drop my backpack to the ground.

Grace takes off hers. “Okay.”

To her credit, she hasn’t complained. She hasn’t asked for help once, and even when the chill crept into our tent, she never once tried to snuggle against me for warmth.

Is she trying to prove that she’s tough, or is she just still mad at me?

“Are you alright?” I ask her. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m just tired,” she says before drinking some water.

I start setting up the tent.

I get why Grace is mad. I would be plenty pissed myself if someone told me I was someone I wasn’t. Heck, I feel like punching someone when I’m told to be something I’m not. But I don’t think she should be this mad.

It’s already been more than two weeks since we left Hope Creek, and it’s not like the people of Hope Creek only did terrible things to her. Nancy and Phil were kind to her. The people accepted her. And I…

I glance over at Grace and sigh.

I gave her everything, and it still wasn’t enough. In fact, it doesn’t seem to mean anything at all, which pisses me off more than anything. She doesn’t even have anterograde amnesia, and yet she seems to have forgotten all that I’ve done for her, all that we had.

As Grace pulls off her sweater and wipes the skin under her shirt with a towel, I watch her. I catch a glimpse of her bra and draw in a breath.

True, most of the things I did for her, I did because Phil told me to make her feel at home, because I needed to distract her from reality and protect Hope Creek. But there were also things I did for her that I did only because I wanted to.

That’s the problem. I got into wanting to do things for Grace and enjoying the things she did for me. I lowered my guard and let her in.

I shouldn’t have.

As a wounded soul, I should have known I’d easily be drawn to another, which is exactly what happened. Now, I find myself attached to her, wishing she never had to leave.

But she has to. In a few more days, she’ll be back at the city where she belongs.

And I’ll be back to being all alone.

When did I mind being alone?

“Need help?” Grace asks.

I shake my head and continue setting up the tent.

This is better. It’s better for us to keep our distance from each other, better for me to ignore my attraction towards her. Maybe then I’ll be able to let her go.

I was stupid enough to let her in. I should be strong enough to let her go.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

I nod. “Just rest. These plains may look easy compared to what we’ve just passed through, but don’t let your guard down. It’s always toughest down the final stretch.”

~

So far, so good, I think as we approach the dumps.

I can see the city walls now. All we have to do is get past these piles of garbage from City Q.

Now, this is literally a wasteland.

I put on my mask and turn to Grace. “Watch your step.”

She nods and puts on her own mask.

For the next few hours, we walk through the garbage, sometimes on top of it. Every now and then, something squishes or snaps beneath my boot. Every now and then, something catches my eye that makes me want to vomit.

I ignore it all.

But Grace can’t seem to.

After a while, she stops to throw up, adding even more filth to the landscape. I approach her but she raises a hand.

I stand and wait for her to finish.

When she’s done, she wipes her mouth and gargles some water in it. Then she gulps down a bit more water.

“This place is full of shit,” she says afterwards.

“Literally,” I agree.

She puts her mask back on. “How can you stand the stench? I can smell it even through my mask.”

She can?

“Let me see your mask.”

I go over to her and check it. It seems secure.

“Do you want to exchange?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. Let’s continue.”

After a few minutes, though, she stops again. I stop as well, but I don’t turn around so that I don’t have to watch her throwing up. This time, I don’t hear any belching sounds, though.

I turn to her and find her just standing there.

“Grace?”

She doesn’t answer. She’s just looking into the distance with eyes full of shock and pity.

I look in the same direction and I understand.

There’s a group of people rummaging through the trash, most of them skin and bones. They look like trash, too, with their skin and clothes blackened and their hair a mess.

I stand beside Grace. “Most of the people ended up like this after the Icebreaker.”

“Why don’t the people in the city let them in and give them food?” she asks.

“Because in the eyes of the city, they don’t deserve to exist anymore,” I say.

She looks at me in horror. “No way.”

“Only people who are smart, skillful, strong or have something valuable are allowed into the city,” I tell her. “Or so I’ve heard.”

Grace shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

To my own shock, she starts walking over to them.

I grab her arm. “Grace, what are you doing?”

“I have a bit of food, and we can always get more,” she says. “So I’m giving it to them.”

“You can’t do that, Grace.”

“Why not? They’re hungry and I have some food. Why can’t I help them?”

I shake my head. “It’s not simple.”

“See, that’s the problem with humanity. We were almost wiped out, and yet we still have to complicate things.”

She pulls her arm away and goes over to the group. At first, they look at her with wide eyes. Then she brings out the food and they flock around her. After taking the food, they run off like wild animals with not so much as a whisper of gratitude.

Are they even human anymore?

Still, Grace looks happy as she walks back to me, and that smile on her face banishes my worries—right up until I see a man sneaking up behind her.

Shit.

Before I can reach her, the man grabs Grace’s backpack. She nearly falls backwards but grips the straps and manages to shake him off. He quickly recovers his footing, though, and picks up a shard of glass.

I throw my backpack at Grace’s feet and throw myself at the man. He falls to the ground and I fall on top of him.

Quickly, he turns around and swipes the shard of glass at my throat. I manage to move away so that it cuts my cheek instead.

“Travis!” Grace screams.

I twist his wrist so the shard falls, then punch him in the face, knocking him out.

I get up, grab my backpack and Grace’s hand, and we run.

“Where are we going?” she asks between pants.

“We’ll have to find another way to the city that isn’t through this wasteland,” I answer in between my own.

Now that they know we have food, there’s no way we can make it through that horde of hungry people unscathed.

We keep running until I no longer feel anything squishing beneath my feet. Then we walk until we get to the foot of a hill.

“That’s better,” I say as I take off my mask and breathe in the fresh air. “We can rest here for now.”

Grace takes off her mask. “I’m sorry. I know I should have listened to you. I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stand seeing all those people suffer and not do anything.”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Is there really nothing we can do? I mean, can’t we share Phil’s inventions with them, or Martin’s research?”

“And you think they’d be able to understand?”

Grace shrugs. “I just feel like we have to do something. We’re the only humans left. Why can’t we help each other?”

“You can’t save the world, Grace.”

“Why not? And I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Hope Creek. If the cities can’t help those poor people out there, maybe Hope Creek can. And if Hope Creek doesn’t, then that makes it no better than a city, right?”

She turns to me and her eyes grow wide.

“What?”

She touches my cheek. “You’re still bleeding.”

“It’s just a scratch.” I wipe the blood off with the back of my hand. “It won’t kill me.”

Still, she takes off her scarf and dabs at the wound.

“You were cool out there,” she says. “It kind of reminded me of when we first met.”

“You mean when you tried to kill me with a brush?”

“With a pair of scissors,” she corrects me. “You disarmed me then, too. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“The Marines taught me,” I answer.

Grace looks at me with wide eyes. “The…? Wait a minute. You were a Marine?”

I give her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wow,” she gasps. “No wonder.”

“No wonder what?” I ask her curiously.

“Nothing.”

She puts down her hand and purses her lips. Then she lifts her head and looks into my eyes.

“Will you tell me… more about you? I know you’ve told me some things, but I feel as if I still don’t know you that well.” She looks away. “And I’d like to.”

I nod. “Sure. But first, let’s set up camp and eat something. All that running has made me hungry.”