(Jeremiah)
“I think we’re gonna break off and head straight south,” Samuel says, letting his pack drop to the ground. The sky is full of the gray clouds, swirling in the hot, humid wind.
“You can come with if you want, of course.”
“What’s south?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel says, shrugging. “The ocean, I guess. I mean, I know it might be worse than here but at least it will be different. I’m sick of this road.”
“What about Paradise?”
“I don’t know about that, either. I mean, if we happen to come across it, then all right, but we’re not seeking it out anymore.” He glances at Verity, and she nods.
“Makes sense. I’ll see what Gabriel thinks.”
The two men sit down, their backs to the woods. No fire yet, it’s still early and hot as hell. Rolling hills stretch out in front, leading down to a stream or river. Jeremiah longs for a cool dip; he’s grimy, dirty, sweaty. Samuel pulls off his T-shirt, his torso only a little lighter than the rest of his skin. If Jeremiah did the same, his fish belly white chest would blind them.
Verity walks past, flashing Samuel a private smile that transforms her normally stern face into something ethereal and beautiful, and it’s hard to look away from her. Her hair is longer now, hanging nearly to her shoulders in light brown waves, her arms tan and muscular. She’s carrying a length of fishing line, and as her slight form disappears down the hill, Jeremiah wonders aloud what she expects to catch.
“Wait and see,” Samuel says, smiling fondly. “She’ll come back up here with enough fish for all of us.”
“You think so?” Jeremiah has doubts that anything coming out of that water will be safe to eat.
“I know so. She’s resourceful.”
“She sure doesn’t say much,” Jeremiah comments. He feels Samuel look at him but stares straight ahead.
“She talks,” he says shortly. “She just doesn’t have anything to say to you.” After a moment, Samuel elaborates. “She hasn’t had an easy time. When we met, she was...not like she is now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, some bad shit happened to her. Like, the kind of stuff women always have to worry about.” He looks up at the clouds, squinting. “She was hiding inside one of those industrial dryers in an old laundromat. It took some time for her to believe I wasn’t going to hurt her. She’s had a lot of traumas, like all of us, I guess.” Samuel shrugs. “After I found a few of the animals and made them regret what they did to her, she knew I wasn’t one of the bad ones.” He sighs heavily. “The rotters are bad, but people...they’re the real monsters. You’re the first people we’ve met on the road who didn’t try to hurt us.”
“We’ve been lucky, I guess,” Jeremiah says. “The only monsters we’ve come in contact with have been the dead ones.”
“I’ll take them over people any day.”
“Maybe,” Jeremiah says, wrestling with his own doubts. “There are people I do miss, people I’ve lost. I hope to see them again, and that’s what I concentrate on when I feel like giving up.” He pauses, feeling Samuel’s eyes on him.
“What do you mean?”
“I need something. In my former life I...” Jeremiah stops; he hasn’t spoken about it for a very long time, and the words don’t want to come. It’s as if they are stuck to the bottom of his shoe like a piece of gum. “I was a religious man,” he finally says, and Samuel grunts. “Now, not so much. I have a hard time believing anymore.” I want to believe again, I do. I just don’t know how.
“I can’t imagine there’s a lot of people out here that still do,” Samuel says, lips twisting. “I suppose there are still fools who think Jesus is gonna swoop down and whisk them away to heaven, but I’m not one of them. I stopped believing in that bullshit a long time ago.” He turns his face away, hiding his expression. “This is all there is, and you have to make the best of it.”
“Like you and Verity have.”
“Exactly. She’s good for me. I never dreamed...I mean, it took the world blowing up for us to find each other. That’s so fucked up.”
A tendril of envy curdling in his belly, Jeremiah understands maybe a little why Jack did what he did. It’s hard to see others happy and loving, when you’ve got nothing, and no chance of changing that. Samuel’s right; he’s lucky.
“Well, I have a tiny hope that’s there’s something after this life, that I will see my wife and son again and finally be at peace. That’s all I want. I have to believe that; it’s what keeps me going. And there’s Gabriel, of course. He’s the reason I’m still here, I guess. We’ve been through a lot together.”
“I’ve no interest in the dead. They’re gone and I never think about them, because there’s no point. They can’t help me, I can’t talk to them, they’re gone. But Verity...
“She keeps me going. Just knowing she’s right there with me no matter what happens, no matter where we go, it’s all I need. She’s real, Jeremiah. Understand? I can touch her, smell her, make love to her—you can’t do that with memories.”
Jeremiah says nothing, because Samuel’s right. His memories don’t give him comfort; they give him pain.
(Gabriel)
He knows Liam is near, he can feel it in his bones. He sharpens his knife, the rasp loud in his head, ignores the concerned looks Jeremiah keeps giving him. Gabriel would like to tell him not to worry, that he’d be better off putting away that mother hen attitude because that’s exactly why Jack’s still hanging around. Samuel should have killed him.
Gabriel still can’t figure Samuel and Verity out. What do they want? Where are they going? Why did they join up with them? He supposes he might know the answers if he paid attention to conversations, but he has no patience for that. Even his wonderings about the dangerous couple don’t occupy much space in his head; that is reserved for Liam and all the things Gabriel will do to him when he finds him. Which will be soon.
(Jeremiah)
As expected, Gabriel reacts unpleasantly when Jeremiah broaches the subject of veering off their path. “NO. Paradise is just up ahead and Liam’s there.”
“Gabriel...”
“NO. Stop telling me what to do!” Spittle flies from the boy’s mouth, his eyes wild with anger or madness. “You can do what you want and so will I. And what I’m gonna to do is find Liam and kill him and you’re not gonna change my mind, so stop trying.”
“All right, just calm down,” Jeremiah says, feeling like a parent whose child has turned on them. Which is of course the problem. Gabriel isn't Aiden or Zeke, even though, he admits to himself, he’s tried to make the boy fill that hole. No. Not a boy. He is a man.
No fool like an old fool.