“Really, we need your help,” Will said to them. “My girlfriend’s really sick. I don’t know how much longer she’ll make it.”
“I know that,” came the reply. It was a male voice, calm but not gentle. “You told us a couple times already. But you’re gonna have to show us everything on the boat. And if you got any of those things on board—we’re gonna have to do something about that. Otherwise you can just untie from the dock right now and keep going. It’s fine with us. Is that what you want?”
Will turned back toward Truman and Lucy. He stared at them a moment. “No,” he said, and came down the remaining steps.
Will stood next to the hatch to Rachel’s cabin as two other men followed him down the steps. One looked a few years older than Will; he had dark hair and an almost comically long mustache. The other man was younger than Will, with light brown hair and a clean-shaven, boyish face. Both men wore raincoats, though these were open in front, revealing holstered guns at their hips; each carried a shotgun as well. Their eyes immediately found Lucy and Truman huddled against the back wall. The young man leveled his shotgun at them; the older man just regarded them with a frown.
“See,” Will said. “They’re harmless. They don’t attack. They’re our friends. You can’t just shoot them.”
“Terry, put down the gun for a second,” the older man said, pushing down the barrel of his companion’s shotgun. “We’re gonna discuss this. Nice and calm.”
“Okay, CJ,” Terry replied.
CJ’s glance went from Terry to Truman, then to Will. “I already explained this to you. You can’t just take your girlfriend to the hospital and leave these two things here. We know you’re from somewhere way out in the wilderness and you’re not used to civilization. Terry here’s younger, so he doesn’t know. But I’ve met wild people before. They come down out of the hills to trade. Not many left out there anymore, ‘cause they act so crazy and stupid. But I’ve seen a few, and how some of ‘em like having these things as pets. Or maybe it’s their family. I dunno. But whatever it is, it doesn’t matter—we got rules. Dead things don’t go inside the city, and they can’t be on a boat tied to a city dock. Either they’re disposed of, or they’re put in a work detail outside the walls, if they’re good at something and they can be controlled.”
Will’s voice was plaintive. “They are controlled. Look at them. They’re fine. They do whatever I tell them.” He glanced at Lucy, then back to the man. “Whatever I ask them to. You don’t have to do anything with them.”
“Then you’ve got no reason to worry,” CJ continued. “We’ll just put ‘em to work.”
He had that tone of authority and condescension in his voice that Truman hated. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Lucy had raised the frying pan just a bit, but there was no way even she would try to cover the length of the cabin to attack. To Truman, her rage seemed nearly palpable as heat, though he noticed her expression was slack-jawed and uncomprehending. Women were so much better actors, he thought.
“They understand what you’re saying?” Terry asked.
Truman wondered if the man had seen many dead people before. He didn’t look scared, but more incredulous than anything, maybe even a little curious about them, as if he were seeing an exotic animal for the first time.
“Of course,” Will said. “They’re not like others. They can even...” Again he glanced at Lucy, and Truman felt her stiffen. “They help me around the ship all the time.”
The older man nodded. “Yeah, you find some like that. Don’t know why, but some aren’t as messed up as others. That’s why we keep ‘em for work. So like I say—yours should be fine. They’ll be useful. That’s a good thing. But you got to decide. Oh, and we have to see this girlfriend of yours, too. If she’s sick, you know what we’re thinking. Maybe one of your ‘friends’ here bit her. And that means she isn’t coming in, either.”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” Will opened the door to Rachel’s cabin. “Here, see. She’s sick. She has a fever. I don’t know what it is. But she wasn’t bitten.”
“Terry, cover those two,” CJ said. “Especially the bitch.”
The barrel of Terry’s shotgun went back up. It was aimed right at Lucy’s face.
“Don’t call her that,” Will said quietly, but Truman noticed he stood still and didn’t intervene.
“Oh. Sorry.” CJ pointed at Lucy. “But this is good practice for you, Terry. You got to learn which ones are more trouble. You can tell just by looking at her she’s smarter than the rest. Even holding something as a weapon. And the way she’s looking at us now, you know she wants it, even if she’s behaved so far.” He leered at her.
Truman hated him more, but he kept his mouth open and his eyes looking slightly up and over the man’s shoulder.
CJ said, “Oh yeah, that’s it honey, you know you hate us. You know you could take us if it weren’t for the boomsticks, don’t you? And that makes you just about as mad as you can get, doesn’t it?”
Truman thought she might spring, she was getting so tense next to him.
Right as Truman felt certain Lucy would lose all control, and the two of them would be grey paste splattered all over the bulkhead, Will stepped forward, hand on his gun. “Stop it,” he said. “Don’t taunt her. You don’t need to do that. Leave her alone. I said she was under control.”
CJ chuckled a little and held his open hands up at shoulder level. “Okay, kid. We’ll leave your friend alone. But keep an eye on her, Terry. Just everybody hold still for a second while I see what’s going on.”
He stepped past Will and looked in the little cabin. “Okay, kid, get in there and uncover the lady. All of her.”
“You can see she’s not bitten.”
“I can see her pretty face, and her arms, and one leg. Plus, the place smells like rot and sick, just like when someone’s bit and waiting to die. And she’s not even moving. So let’s see all of her. Come on. We’ve all seen tits and ass before.”
Will grunted and pushed past him.
CJ put one foot in the doorway and leaned inside. “Okay. Pull her hair up over her head. Tilt her head. Lift up her arm. The other one too. I can’t see her side. Now turn her over.”
Pause. CJ emerged to stand next to Terry, while Will came out of the cabin.
CJ looked over Lucy and Truman again, before turning back to Will. “We’ll take her to the hospital just as soon as you decide what to do with these two,” CJ said. “It’s up to you, kid. She sure looks worth saving from what I saw. Clean her up from all the stink, she’d be fine as hell.”
Will’s jaw tensed. He always did that. He was almost easier to read than Lucy, Truman thought; this could still end with all of them being shot in the face.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Will said softly.
“Okay,” CJ said. “I won’t tease you about your woman. I know you hill people are touchy about seeing lady parts and stuff. Fuck, I’d forgotten how uptight some of you are. You’d think living out there you’d get more relaxed, swinging from trees naked and shit, but you get like damned Amish or something. But whatever—you got to decide now, or we’ll leave and cut you loose and you can keep going downriver. And I’m no doctor, but I’d say you’ll be throwing her overboard tomorrow or the next day if you do that. If she doesn’t pop up and get you first.”
Will paused and looked at Truman and Lucy, then back to CJ. “Go back up on the dock,” he said. “Just give me a minute to decide.”
“All right. We’ll need a couple minutes to go get collars for those two anyway. But don’t take too long.”
“I won’t.”
Will closed the hatch behind them, and Truman could hear them stepping off the boat, and their muffled voices, along with some others, nearby. The rain seemed to be letting up, too.
Will looked more tired than Truman remembered. Truman hadn’t realized how much the last few days had worn him.
“I don’t know what to say,” Will started. “You heard him. I can’t force you to do anything. I don’t even know what I’d be asking you to do, ‘cause I don’t know where they’d take you, what they’d do to you. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I just want her to be well again. I never should’ve brought any of you. It’s my fault.”
When someone—especially a big, strong man like Will—is about to cry, then you just stay silent a moment, because anything you say would only make him more anguished, or turn him to anger, embarrassment, or despair. For all his physical and mental limitations, Truman still knew that simple point of humaneness, and when he looked over at Lucy’s one eye gazing at Will, he knew she remembered it, too. He loved her so much more than ever because of that, which only made him want to cry as well.
This really was his fault. They’d all be back home if it weren’t for him. Well, not these two—they’d be out somewhere, doing whatever zombies who don’t eat people do. Just milling around and being content, Will guessed. But now they would be rounded up by whoever these jackasses were—and what? Put to work? What could they do? Will wasn’t sure, but he felt pretty certain it wouldn’t be anything nice. He doubted they had zombies picking flowers or writing philosophy books.
Shit, why did people always arrange things in such fucked up ways? Worse—why did he always step right into it? He should’ve known better by now. He should’ve minded his own business back home, then he wouldn’t have been sent into exile, dragging the other three along with him. He should’ve sailed right by these jokers, too.
What did that guy mean, calling him “wild”? He was normal. These people were the strange ones.
That hardly mattered, though. Blaming them wouldn’t change anything. He had to sit down with two dead people and decide together. One look at Lucy and he knew no one was going to tell her what to do, even if Will wanted to—which he didn’t. That’d just make whatever disaster followed even more his fault, if he made the decision on his own.
Will studied her now and she appeared alert again. She’d really looked out of it when the other men were around. And her emotional restraint when they were calling her a “bitch” and daring her to attack? Damn—Will knew from being around her how incredible that was. For a second there, he had been sure it would end with him either scraping her and Truman off the bulkhead, or with him hauling ass out of there after she tore the heads off those two jerks: he would’ve put even money on both outcomes, too. Lucy would know to use the furniture as cover, and that kid Terry looked too scared and nervous to get a good shot off before she brained him with the pan. But she’d played it better than that, and Will was grateful. That guy CJ was right about one thing—she was a smart one. She knew it was better if they thought she was a regular zombie. Good for her. It didn’t remove the difficulty they were in now, however.
Will sat down at the small table. Lucy and Truman shuffled over to stand across from him. They needed to hurry up, so Will tried to start the conversation again. “I should just tell them we’re leaving,” he said. At least he wasn’t getting choked up this time. Maybe they could continue and make their decision.
Truman seemed to appreciate the urgency of the situation and spoke up. “That would be selfish of us,” he said. “We can’t ask you to do that.”
“You want me to tell them you’ll go with them?” Will asked. “I can’t. That’d be wrong. I’d be the one being selfish. We have no idea what they’ll do to you.”
“I know,” Truman said. “I can’t choose, either. Someone is selfish and someone is hurt no matter what we choose. I’m sorry. I’ll do what you and Lucy decide.”
Will had hoped Truman would come down in favor of staying in the city. He had to admit it to himself—it was what he wanted; he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, that he’d sacrifice the two of them for Rach. If Truman had been in favor of it, that sure would’ve made it easier. Will didn’t feel too good about having Lucy decide. But if she chose to leave this city and not submit to their rules—well, that was probably his fault, too, for nearly blowing her away earlier. More stupid choices and actions on his part. Shit just kept piling up, didn’t it?
“Lucy?” Will asked quietly. “What do you want us to do?”
Lucy looked at Truman for a second. When her gaze returned to Will, it had that extra intensity she sometimes had. Usually you could tell there was some reservoir of rage boiling over behind that stare. This time, though, it was something else: concentration, like she wanted each syllable, and the thought behind each word, to make it to her lips without loss of focus or strength. She craned her neck forward before opening her mouth.
“Truman and I want to leave because we are afraid,” she said very slowly, and Will’s heart sank. He bowed his head, resigned to abide by her choice. He would take more punishment for his foolish errors, and accept more guilt for the harm they did to others, like Rach. It was a pattern he was getting used to.
“You want to stay because you love her,” Lucy continued. “Fear is selfish. Love is never selfish. I want to stay.”
Will looked at her in amazement. She didn’t smile—she never did. Well, sometimes he thought she did, but it always looks more like a snarl. But right now, she just kept up that concentrated gaze, and Will had even less certainty about what the hell that meant. You never knew what was up with her. There was no way to know why today Lucy sounded like a Valentine’s Day card, when most of the time she drifted around like a wraith who didn’t quite remember what it meant to be alive, but knew she resented those who still were. What she said reminded Will of something else, too, but he couldn’t quite recall where it was from, exactly. But whatever it was, whatever bright corner of her mostly-darkened mind she’d retrieved it from, there it was, laid before him with finality.