Why would he do that? Why bother?
I avoided his eye as the cathedral's heavy door swung shut behind me. I owed him, and now I knew it, but what I didn't know was why. As if I needed something else to ratchet up the level of awkwardness between us.
Jackson leaned against the stone wall of the cathedral. “What did Brother Charlie say?”
A lot of things, but what could I tell them? Definitely not that Charlie had told me about the shelters. I'd have to tell them about the cameras, but the thought of saying it out loud made me almost nauseous from shame.
“Well?” Lu said from the bottom of the stairs.
I took a deep breath. “Charlie thinks the highways have cameras. That's why they went to my house. They traced my truck's plates when I was driving to the springs.”
Everything was still for a moment. Then Jackson swore explosively, whipped around and punched the wall so hard it made his knuckles bloody. I flinched and backpedaled away from him.
The realization settled over me like a blanket: we'd taken a main highway to get into the city every time.
Jackson turned back to face me, the sun silhouetting him from behind, and my heart jumped into my throat. I couldn't see his face from where I stood in the cathedral's alcove, just his shoulders curving inward like a cobra's hood and the wide stance of his legs. Lu stepped closer to him and squeezed his arm, trying to calm him.
Lonnie stepped up beside me and squeezed my hand. Brooks moved in on my other side.
“Are you sure?” Jackson growled, advancing a few steps. “Are you sure that's what he said?”
I took another step back. “Yes I'm sure, I was sitting right there!”
“Jackson,” Lu said, pulling him back by the arm. She spoke in low and soothing tones, like he was a wild thing to calm. “Relax. If the military had been able to trace us back to the warehouse, they would've done it already.”
Jackson curled his fingers into fists and I flinched, waiting for him to lash out. Brooks and Lonnie tensed on either side of me. What would they do if Jackson threw a punch? Defend me? It was too much to hope for.
Jackson squeezed his eyes shut tight and turned to face Lu. “What should we do?”
The set of Brooks' shoulders relaxed. Lonnie gave my hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. But my heart didn't slow. Jackson's display had convinced me I wasn't safe with the brigade. Brooks and Lonnie might not be around to watch my back next time.
“We'll leave the Hummer here,” Lu said. “Take the alleys back to the warehouse.”
Lonnie sighed and rolled his eyes to me. “That means we'll be hoofin' it, Janie.”
No way. Walking would take hours! “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Lu looked up at the three of us, her eyes narrowed. I could tell that Jackson's outburst had unsettled her, the guy was definitely unhinged, but she looked pissed at the way Lonnie and Brooks stood up for me.
Her gaze slid from Lonnie's hand where it dangled close to mine, to Brooks hulking at my shoulder protectively, and her nostrils pinched. “Let's go,” she said.
The storefronts of the downtown district were smashed and looted, shards of glass glittering on the sidewalks. Trash and sewage clogged the storm drains. I couldn't stop myself from looking inside the stores. Here was the world-famous bistro Dad always took me and Coby on Father's Day. Across the street was the boutique where Dad said Mom bought her wedding dress.
A red “X” stamped most of the storefronts. If the store didn't have a door, the X was spray-painted on the sidewalk where the door should have been.
Two blocks later, I slowed when I saw the entrance to Coby's favorite toy store. He'd play with the train sets in there for hours if Dad let him. Brooks and Lonnie paused, looking back at me.
“How many people survived?” I asked them.
Lonnie shrugged a shoulder and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “No one really knows, Janie.”
“But not many,” Brooks added. His voice wasn't harsh; it was matter-of-fact. “Most of the survivors were taken into government custody immediately. The people the military pulled out of places like this have been dead a long time, for the most part.”
“Not all of them,” I said, remembering the hills of bodies from my first trip through the city.
Lonnie shook his head slowly. “No, not all of them.”
I started walking again, eyes glued to Lu and Jackson's backs. Lonnie and Brooks walked on either side of me. “So why didn't everyone give themselves over when everything started falling apart?”
“It's not easy, giving up everything you love to live at shelter,” Lonnie said. “It's a one-way ticket. Word spread about that pretty fast.”
I sighed in frustration. “Why? Why can't people just come and go?”
How the hell was I supposed to get Coby out?
“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Brooks said.
“What makes sense?” I asked, raising my voice without meaning to. “Imprisoning people to experiment them?” The military taking Coby would never make sense, no matter what justification someone slapped on it.
Brooks' jaw clenched. “It makes sense to have people in a controlled environment while they study the virus.”
Lonnie rested his hand on my shoulder. “But of course that's no reason for them to take your brother, Janie.”
Brooks scanned the destruction in Savannah's streets. “You weren't out here when the city was falling apart. Gangs moved in packs, taking whatever they found. Then they'd die in the streets, some with arms still full of loot. People were safer with the government. Most didn't even
want
to leave.”
“What happened to the ones that did want to leave?”
“They were shut up,” Lonnie said. I turned to him in surprise. I'd never heard him sound so grim. “Imprisoned, really imprisoned, with steel bars and everything. Just for wanting to leave and see if their families were still alive.”
A cool drop of sweat rolled down my spine as I imagined it. Fathers and mothers imprisoned for wanting to find their kids. Families shattered. Just like mine.
I bent to roll up my pant legs for an excuse to have a moment of stillness. A warm breeze ran through the street, and even though it must've been a one-hundred-degree afternoon, I had chills.
The breeze grew stronger, until it whipped the hair from my face and trash started blowing from the gutters. A sheet of paper, blown from the sidewalk into the air and a little damp, wrapped itself around my calf. I peeled it off.
Uncle Sam's face, covered in a white gauze mask, stared up at me from the flyer.
EPIDEMIC!
Uncle Sam proclaimed.
HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS.
Beneath the picture was a set of instructions on how to make your own gauze mask, the same as the kind I'd seen on the soldiers from the day before. I looked up at Brooks and Lonnie, who were waiting for me a few feet ahead.
“Why don't you wear masks like this?” I asked, flipping the page to show them.
Brooks snorted. “They don't help. Remember the patrol from yesterday?”
“Yeah, they were all wearing masks.”
He nodded. “We had to wear them in the military. Everyone did. People still died.”'
I picked up another flyer from the sidewalk. This one was bright red and a little metallic, like it'd been designed to catch the light.
INSTRUCTIONS TO ALL
CIVILIANS
ALL of Chatham County, including metropolitan Savannah, has been declared unfit for habitation. The head of each household is report to their neighborhood's government-managed safety zone to obtain a designated temporary residence and await further instruction.
THIS ACTION IS MANDATORY
PERSONS FOUND TO BE IN IGNORANCE OF WILLFUL NEGLECT OF THE LAW WILL BE FORCIBLY REMOVED
I looked up as a shadow fell over me. Brooks stood there. “Come on,” he said, jerking his head to the side. “We've gotta go.” I stood, letting the flyer fall through my fingers.
I'd seen enough of Savannah to know it'd never be the same. The virus had taken everything.
It took hours to get back to the warehouse, just like I thought it would. The last few rays of sunlight were just barely peeking over the treetops when we finally ducked under the chain link fence surrounding the warehouse.
I trudged up the stairs, feet aching with every step. Lu and Jackson had gotten here way ahead of us and had already disappeared. I tried very hard not to imagine what they were doing.
Lonnie collapsed onto the couch with a groan, his swoop of white-blond hair clashing magnificently with the tacky green floral pattern. Brooks settled into his overstuffed recliner and kicked off his boots. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
“You know what I miss most?” Lonnie asked.
I looked from Brooks to Lonnie and sat in the wooden chair a la 1974 and hooked my arms over the back. “What?”
“Spas.” Lonnie lingered over the word, drawing the syllable out like if he wished hard enough, a masseuse would materialize behind him and douse him in scented oil.
It made me smile in spite of everything. “What else do you miss?”
Lonnie gave it some thought and then his face lit up. “Crepes. Paper-thin and stuffed with cream cheese and blueberries or gooey chocolate and strawberries then dusted with powdered sugar.” He closed his eyes, licked his lips, and moaned.
Brooks watched with a smile before turning to me. “What about you, Cora? What do you miss?”
My face fell. What I missed most was my family. Coby and Dad, and even Mom, though I could barely remember her. But I didn't want to go there now. I missed other things, too. Little things, like Dad taking me for pizza after a track meet. Reading romance novels with embarrassing covers late into the night. Air conditioning.
“I guess,” I said, struggling to find the words, “something familiar.”
Lonnie leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Like what?”
“A routine, you know? Knowing what I'll be doing from day to day and knowing what'll happen tomorrow. Even coming home from school and having an avalanche of homework that'll be due tomorrow. Because that means there will
be
a tomorrow.”
Lonnie nodded slowly and my face began to burn as I watched Brooks from the corner of my eye. He was smiling at me. It felt like I'd divulged something personal, even though I hadn't. “And chocolate, of course,” I said to lighten the mood.
“What do you miss?” I asked Brooks.
The smile slid off his face. “Nothing.”
I shook my head. Why did he have to do that?
Lonnie, vanquisher of awkward silences, started chattering about his favorite massage oils and the absolute best crepe recipes. Brooks knew a surprising amount about French cooking and seemed happy for the distraction. I wondered if anyone in France was still alive.
My mind drifted back to what Charlie had told me. How the military had tracked my plates and raided our home. The guilt was a stab in my stomach. As soon as Brooks and Lonnie's conversation lulled, I gathered the courage to ask a question.
“Do you think Brother Charlie was right?” I asked. “About the cameras?”
“Occam's razor, Cora,” Brooks said. “The simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”
“And you think Brother Charlie's is the simplest?” I asked.
“Do you have another?” he said. I shook my head, my throat hot with tears. “Then yes, I think it's the simplest.”
I would not cry. Not in front of Brooks.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat, watching me with pity. “Look, don't blame yourself for what happened to your brother.”
“But it's
my fault,
Brooks! They traced my plates.” I dropped my head into my hands, hiding the tears that threatened to spill down my face.
“I don't know how you two escaped notice for so long,” he said. “But you would have been found eventually. You're just lucky you weren't at home when it happened⦠and Coby's lucky to have someone who loves him enough to look for him.”
“Truth,” Lonnie said.
As the sun finally set, the warehouse grew dark.
“Lu and Jackson will be back soon,” Brooks said, staring toward the front door.
Lonnie bit his lip and glanced in my direction, then back to Brooks. “How do you think it went?”
Brooks' head snapped around to look at Lonnie. “I'm sure they'll tell us.” His next words were directed at me. “You can have my bed again tonight.”
I stood uncertainly. “What are Lu and Jackson doing?”
“None of your business.”
I bit my tongue, realizing I was being dismissed. Brooks sat there, staring at me, waiting for me to leave. A vicious desire to bite his head off warred with the equally vicious desire for a soft bed to sleep in. I finally turned my back on him.
Lonnie mouthed
sorry
at me as I walked by him toward the patchwork curtain that partitioned Brooks' room. I snapped the curtain shut behind me and tore Brooks' sweaty t-shirt over my head before wiggling out of his baggy black jeans and tossing the sweaty, crusty clothes in the corner.
In my backpack was a sharp pocketknife. I retrieved it and went Brooks' dresser. Stacks of his black V-neck t-shirts and jeans filled the third drawer. I pulled out a random shirt and pair of jeans and threw them on the floor.
How did he freaking
stand
to wear this crap when it was a million degrees outside? Maybe the white hair helped. I gripped the pocketknife and hacked at the legs of the jeans, a few inches above the knee. Then I cuffed them. I wouldn't win any fashion awards, but at least I wouldn't die of heat exhaustion.
I picked up the t-shirt and cut off the bottom and the sleeves, widening the armhole until it was large enough to give me plenty of air. It'd fall to about an inch below my navel and probably show the band of my bra, but I didn't care.