“To Charlotte? The cities are crazy.”
“No, not to the city. I’m looking for someone further south,” I say, realizing that I just admitted out loud my destination is a someone, not just a somewhere. The twins share another look heavy with skepticism and it’s enough to spur me forward. I move past Wyatt down the trail we’d already chosen. I’m pleased to see he follows me.
“I should check your cut,” I say quietly. “Or let that guy—if he’s really an EMT. He may be able to suture it or something.”
“It’s fine.”
I roll my eyes but don’t push it. I’ll make him show it to me later.
There’s a rush of feet behind us and Cole catches up, asking me, not Wyatt, “Mind if we tag along? We’re a little aimless.”
I shrug but Wyatt, to my surprise, says, “Yeah. That bow came in handy. Just so we’re clear though, as long as we travel together, Alex is the navigator. She has a head for maps and planning.”
“Sounds good to me,” Cole says falling into line. My cheeks burn from the compliment and a quick look at Chloe tells me she’s not entirely keen on the idea. But I understand their predicament. They already have one another. If I didn’t have Jane to find in Atlanta where would I go?
Chapter Thirty
~Before~
Five Weeks Earlier
We make it safely to the church around three a.m. The weight of what happened at Liza’s house presses down on my shoulders. They’re dead. All of them. But what about me? Am I infected?
I have no idea what tests my father had been taking or giving me, but I’m not dumb. Obviously. It’s related to ETR virus. If I’d been exposed he would have
said something that last day. I would be sick now, like the others.
I push the idea of out my head and follow the path next to the playground, toward the back of the church. The moon lights up the sky enough that we move easily without flashlights. The storage shed is visible next to the big, plastic slide. It’s small, but it should work for the night.
“There’s a lock on the door,” Mom whispers, pointing to the padlock and chain.
On my tiptoes, I reach my hand under the eave and feel around for the spare key I knew they kept up there a couple of years ago. My arm strains and a brief panic flares in my chest. What if they moved it? Or maybe I made it up? I’m about to give up when my fingers brush against the smooth metal. I smile and hold the shiny brass key up for her to see.
“How did you know that?”
“Remember that summer I helped at the bible school?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I worked on the recreation team. We had to get supplies, like the tents and water containers out of here. This is the key we used.” Kids also came back at night and smoked—made-out—whatever they were into in the shed. A key and a locked door always held appeal. For me it became a flicker of a memory that gave me a destination.
The key works and I carefully unloop the chain and lock. Once we’re inside the shelter we turned on our flashlights. I relock the door but this time from the inside.
The storage building is tight—filled with a lot of supplies. It smells like dust and gasoline but we make a small spot for ourselves in the back corner. It goes without saying we both wish we were at home right now.
“I guess we should take some of these tarps and use them to sit on, right?” I ask.
Mom nods as clueless as I am about how to hide out in a tool shed. We’re so out of our league here. I mean, we’re not even one of those camping families.
We settle onto the blue tarps and I pull out a bottle of water and a peanut butter sandwich from my bag.
“Mom, you should eat yours.”
“No, thanks,” she says. “I just want to rest for a minute.”
I’m not happy at her refusal to eat but the weariness on her face keeps me from fighting. “I think we should stay here until it gets dark again, don’t you? That gives us plenty of time to sleep.”
Mom nods her head and leans against the wooden wall. “How did you ever even think to pick this spot?”