Chapter 10

Everything that the boy says feels wrong.

Who's they? Who's coming? The Jotunn? Are the Jotunn still here? If so, are they close by? So many questions race through my mind that it makes me dizzy. I lean against Casper as we walk back to the others who wait further ahead. Casper clears his throat as we come in earshot of our group.

"Bay found a boy in the rubble." He says.

Willow lets out a small, defeated sigh. "Dead?" She asks.

"Is now." I rasp out.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Avery asks slowly.

"When she found him, he was very much alive."

"Oh..." Ariel frowns.

"Which means we need to get out of here as soon as possible. We find a store to loot, get a change of clothes to better blend in, and most importantly—find a car."

"Whoa, hold the phone." Willow cuts in, waving her hands around. "Why the hurry? All because one little kid?"

"If the kid was alive we know it was a recent attack. As if that wasn't obvious from what we are seeing now. The fires are still dying and the dead bodies we've seen are fresh. The Jotunn are nearby and they want us, dead or alive. Who's to say they won't nuke the place like they did to Nebraska during the last stage of the invasion? There are three cities left in West Virginia and they are bound to wipe the rest out soon. We need to move."

"No, you're withholding information. What aren't you telling us, Casper?" Willow presses on.

Casper looks at me. I clear my throat and run my hands through my tasseled, knotted black hair. "The boy said something to me."

"And?" Avery huffs.

"He said "They're coming.""

Silence.

Twenty-nine seconds pass.

Avery speaks first. "Well, damn."

"Okay." Diego says, "I'm with the Nebraskans. Let's get a move on."

Casper nods, satisfied as the young boy agrees with him. "Keep your eyes peeled for a car along the way."

+++

It takes our group of six two and a half days of walking to reach an area that remains in one piece. In between that time, we try to make ourselves comfortable amongst the rubble, stopping for sleep every few hours. Casper restarted many fires along the way to keep us warm. Constant breaks were needed in order to preserve our energy. But now, after two and a half days of walking to reach a town that was still intact and functioning.

My eyes dart around the town to see the color is the same as my eyes. Blue. The bricks on the buildings are painted various colors of blue. Gardens outside of shops and houses are a mix of blue. Even the cars that line the street match the state's color. Much like New York—and I imagine, much like any state still left intact—the color has a meaning. New York is pure. Nebraska is rebellious. West Virginia is caution. The people of West Virginia are very careful, cautious people. They never wander very far from the "right" path—the path chosen for them to follow. It has always shocked me that parts of West Virginia were destroyed before New York was ever touched. Is there a rhyme or reason to the Jotunn attacks?

"Over there." Willow says, her finger pointing to a grocery store. "First, water."

Casper intervenes, cutting her short. "No, first we need clothes. While you who wear white might get service, I assure you the two of us wearing green will not. We need to blend in."

Avery gives a bitter laugh. "Easier said than done. We look like hell, regardless a change of clothes or not."

"Casper is right." Willow sighs. "The less conspicuous we look, the better."

We traipse down the street lined with various shops until we stumble across a small boutique named 'Debbie's Clothes & Co'. As I go to enter the shop, I notice from the corner of my eye Casper and Avery remove their shirts and throw them down an alley. I turn around with my mouth agape.

"What on God's green earth are you doing?" I hiss beneath my breath, looking around at people walking. They all seem oblivious to our presence, thus proving caution prevailed by ignoring our presence and not questioning the strangers further.

"Did you not hear me say earlier that people in green don't get service outside of Nebraska?" Casper throws his hands up in frustration. "The Cautious State won't serve to The Rebellious State. Is that so hard to understand?" He rolls his eyes.

I grunt as my eyes fall downward, my sight grazing his right peck and upper forearm, following the flame of his tattoo with my eyes until it disappears on his back. There it traces his shoulder blade, lining his upper bicep, and then comes back around from his back to trace his ribcage where it disappears below the waistline of his jeans. Before I can say anything in reply, Casper walks past me and pushes into the shop. The rest of the group files past me, leaving me to be the last to enter the shop. I let out a huff and follow behind them.

As we enter, a bell sounds, alerting the owner of customers. Behind the counter sits an older lady with her gray hair slicked back, tied in a braid. A newspaper sits in front of her face. As she sits the paper down, I can tell she once was a very beautiful woman. Her face now is overtaken by wrinkles and heavy, dark bags that rest beneath her eyes. Her lips are thin, her upper lip almost ceasing to exist. Her hands look fragile and old, varicose veins lining them. But most of all are her eyes. Golden, brown eyes look at all of us. The eyes seem to tell a story of their own, showing that she has lived a long, possibly prosperous life.

At first there is a smile on her lips as she prepares to greet her guests. But her eyes rest on us just a second too long and then the smile disappears.

"I apologize, I... I must have forgotten to put the closed sign up." She stammers as she staggers to get off of the bar stool she sits on and onto her feet.

The corners of Casper's mouth pull down slightly. "I'm sorry if we frightened you, ma'am." It is then that I decide kindness does not suit Bunk. "It's just, we have traveled two long days from Monongalia."

She takes a minute to consider this. "Survivors?"

"Survivors." Casper nods convincingly.

She stops, eyes narrowing. "Explain your colors." The woman gestures to those of us who wear the color white.

"We took what we could get, scrounging alleys to find what we now have." Casper doesn't miss a single beat. "Homeless people do not conform to the color of one's state."

She nods. "Very well." The woman clears her throat before loudly shouting; "Mariana! Isabel! We have a group of survivors!"

I jump at the sudden raise in her voice, nerves on edge already from the lying we've been doing to such a kind soul.

"My name is Debbie." The older woman finally introduces herself. "Let's get you lot fixed up, alright?"

From the back of the shop emerge two young women. One of the women looks to be about mid-forties. Her hair is a silky, shiny, straight blonde bob, cut neatly beneath her chin. Her makeup is subtle and her stride is light. Behind her comes a young women who looks to be in her mid-to-late twenties. She appears to a walking catastrophe. Her hair has bright red, ringlets so tight her hair looks to be a matted mess. Green eyes peer out from beneath the heap of locks.

The ginger studies us with a wide, almost crazed smile. "Another group, huh? This ought to be fun!"

"Mariana." The blonde headed woman frowns. "There is nothing fun about their situation." By sheer deducing, I figure the blonde's name is Isabel.

Debbie nods. "Isabel is right, Mariana. This is no laughing matter. Get the group clothes, understood? Take measurements, whatever is needed to get them fitted properly." Debbie turns to us with a hesitant smile. "Free of charge."

I can most definitely tell that Debbie fits right into The Cautious State perfectly, seeing how cautious and unsure she is of our presence.

"Yes, Debbie." The two women say in unison. They don't miss a single beat after that, quickly selecting a wide variety of clothes for us to try on.

Mariana takes to serving Casper and I, first. She grabs a deep blue shirt for him to try on in order to cover his chest, then turns to me. She studies me and frowns slightly as she brushes her thick, curly, ginger hair behind one ear.

"Dear," she says, "You're covered in blood?"

I hesitate before my lip begins to quiver and tears start to form. "Well, I did just come from Monongalia."

In my peripheral I see Casper shoot me a shocked look, as if he didn't believe I'd be able to pull it off.

"Oh, honey!" Mariana exclaims and wraps her arms around me for a warm embrace.

I feel a scream tear its way up my throat and before I could stop it, a loud shriek escapes from the confines of my mouth. Immediately she retracts her arms from me, looking at me with a face full of shock and concern.

"Oh! Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She coos softly.

I bite my lower lip and nod as I gesture to my shoulder. "Just a gunshot wound. I'll be alright." I assure her.

She nods and looks to Isabel. "Izzy, I am going to take these two to the back. Tend to the rest, please!"

Isabel gives a wave of her hand as if she is shooing us off.

Casper hesitates, grabbing my arm for a brief second. "I'll catch up, alright? I just need to check in with everybody."

"Do not make me go back there with this woman by myself, Casper Bunk." I say beneath my breath. "What do I say? How am I to answer her questions?"

"Act?" He says as if the answer is obvious. "Kind of like you just did with the whole lip quivering crap." He gives a cheesy smile and walks away from us.

"Are you coming?" Mariana asks as she fiddles with the ends of her curly hair.

"Um... yeah." I stutter. I clear my throat and nod, repeating what I had said before in case she didn't hear me. "Yes, let's go."

I look over my shoulder as we part from the group to see Casper making sure Ariel is okay. He kneels down to her level with a small, reassuring smile on his face.

Mariana leads me to the back and sits me down on a wooden bench as she goes and fetches supplies. I look around the room and twiddle my thumbs absent-mindedly. The walls are a pale blue, almost appearing white to the naked eye. The bench is painted a deeper, more royal blue. The only things that do not have the color blue to them are the frameless mirrors and brass hooks that are screwed into the wall. This isn't the first time in my life that I feel out of place wearing the color white.

"Alright, let's see here!" Mariana says. I can hear her before I see her. The first thing I see is that frizzy, red hair of hers. If nothing else, her hair definitely knows how to make an entrance. She sits down before me, a first aid box in her right hand and clothes draped across her left arm. "Figured every girl needs a little privacy when changing, no?"

I nod, lips pressed tightly shut.

"Do you have a name?" She asks as she sorts through the articles of clothing she brought for me.

I pause. "I'm sorry?"

"A name!" She laughs, moving her hair yet again. "Everyone has one."

My mind reels. Do I tell the truth or do I lie? What if the Jotunn monitor every little thing? Just like the hollow tree we were in several days ago. What if the Jotunn Warriors monitor any and everything the remaining, living humans do? What if the Warriors come looking for me and ask these women if they have seen or heard of a girl named Bay? To avoid shooting myself in the foot, I decide to break the silence before Mariana realizes how long it has taken me to come up with a name.

Stumbling over my words, I search for a name and spit out, "Brady."

"What an interesting name." She smiles up at me. "Tell me, Brady, do your friends also have wounds?"

"Some of them." I nod as I nervously gnaw my lower lip.

"Let me go tell Isabel and get some first aid supplies for her, alright? I'll be right back." She smiles and gives me a wink before walking off yet again.

Alone. That's not only a word but a feeling I truly despise. I am left all alone, again. Left to wallow in my thoughts and self-pity. Left to count seconds that pass, to stare at the floor or at an adjacent wall, to get lost in time. It's what I do. I lose myself to time. Time is my sickness. Time is my weakness. Yet, time is all I truly have left to count on. Time has become a part of me, and quite honestly, I'm not sure I mind that.

How long would I be alone for? I think of my mother, how she comes home late. Perhaps time is her weakness, too. Whether she's out drinking or trying to push down her feelings, she leaves me and my two younger siblings alone. Ever since Dad died, we had been alone as our Mother lost herself to time.

I don't like being alone. I don't like silence. I don't like the waiting. I don't like being by myself because it makes me think. It makes me count. It makes me wonder if anyone is ever coming back for me or if they intend on leaving me alone for forever. Never to return. Am I meant to be alone? Am I that different from everyone else that I fit in nowhere at all? I am destined to be alone.

One hundred twenty-nine seconds. That's how long it takes until someone returns. Only it is not Mariana that greets me. I look up to see Casper with his shoulder pressed against a door frame. His callused hands are hidden within his black pant-pockets and his right foot crosses over his left. I don't know how long he has been there or how long he has been watching me, but he's here now. A small breath of relief leaves my lips and I relax slightly. I am no longer alone.

"You were counting, weren't you Bay?" He says softly, almost as if he cares.

My eyes refuse to meet his gaze. My lips refuse to work, to move, to talk.

"Why?" He asks after fifteen more seconds.

"It distracts me." I say at last. My voice cracks as I speak, emotions raw and uncovered as I reveal part of myself to a boy I hardly know.

"From what, exactly?"

Mother asks me that. It seems like forever ago since I had seen her or even heard her voice. In reality it's only been, give or take, seven days. I remember when she asked why I counted, what it distracted me from, I told her my life. I hated my life, and quite honestly, I still do. I will never understand why I am so different from my family, why I feel so out of place around them. Why I feel I don't belong with the Zachary's. The last I spoke to my mother was the fight we had over me leaving New York. My heart aches as I think about it. What if I don't make it back alive? The last thing I said to her was said in defiance. I can only hope she knows that.

"It distracts me from reality." I say after a thirteen second pause. I clasp my hands in front of me and lean forward into them. My eyes shut and my teeth graze across my lower lip, picking at scabs and flakes of dry skin that crosses them.

The shuffle of Casper's feet meets my ears. Within a few seconds the bench beneath me shifts with the added weight from him. A soft thud echoes as he rests his head against the wall behind us. Instinctively, I lean back and open my eyes, angling my head slightly so I can look at him. Those dashing green eyes of his stare back at me, a soft smile on his chapped lips.

"You don't have to explain." He whispers softly. "I understand."

A small smile finds its way across my lips. No one ever understood, but he did. The remaining portion of time we sit together in silence. I don't mind this kind of silence. I find this silence reassuring and refreshing, taking in every moment of it that I could. Our shoulders touch as we sit, hands remaining in our laps. The feeling of him this close comforts me.

A few minutes later, Marianna makes her appearance once again. "Oh!" She exclaims at the sight of Casper, "Glad you could join Brady and I!"

"I just had to make sure the youngest of our group was properly taken care of—" The sudden information clicks with him and his jaw drops low. "Brady?" He stares at me with a look of pure confusion.

I laugh nervously and elbow him hard in the ribs. "Yep!" I say with a wide smile.

He grunts and narrows his eyes. "What the hell, Brady." Casper hisses.

"Huh? Oh, apologies. My hand slipped." I smirk as innocently as possible at him.

Mariana chuckles. "What a cute couple." She smiles. Casper and I open our mouths at the same time to interject but she cuts us off. "I was just getting ready to replace Brady's bandages. Would you like yours replaced, sir?"

Casper shakes his head, still in shock, his expression matching mine. "Uh, no... no I'm okay, thanks."

Mariana has me remove my shirt to dress my wounds. I hesitate, thinking of Casper being in the room but remove it anyways. Beneath my shirt lies my laced bra, fitting my chest well. A strap falls off of my good shoulder as Mariana works on my other. I glance at Casper to see a mischievous look on his face, his eyes grazing over my body. I clear my throat and his eyes meet mine, a slick smile across his lips. His rough hand jets out and slides gently up my arm. Goosebumps surface as I watch him. His hand hooks under the strap and guides it back up to my shoulder, placing it accordingly and then removing his hands. I bite my lower lip, eyes trained on him the entire time.

"That should do it!" Mariana says as she bites off the end of the bandage and places it down.

"Awesome, thanks..." My voice comes out a gentle whisper.

"Of course." She smiles, grabbing her things. "Let me get you a shirt, alright?"

"Oh, quick question!" Casper interjects before she can leave the room. "Would you mind if we took a backpack and some gauze, as well?"

"I mean, no I do not mind. But are you not intending to stay?"

"Afraid we can't." Bunk shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

"Only if you are sure." The ginger nods. "I'll be back with those things, as well as a pair of pants for you, sir. Can't have you wearing those colors, now can we?" She smiles before walking out.

In order to make sure the coast remains clear, Casper waits thirty-two seconds before speaking to me again. My arms fold across my bare chest as his green eyes direct their gaze towards me.

"Brady, huh?" He snickers.

"I panicked, okay? This is what happens when you leave me alone with not a clue what I'm supposed to do or how secretive I have to be!" I say defensively.

Bunk laughs yet again and crosses one leg over the other. "Why not just give her your actually name, Zachary?"

"Well, think about it like this. What if the Warriors have a lead on us 'fugitives'? They would have our names, our files, things about our pasts. If they do have a lead on us, say, I don't know, they saw us in the hollow tree that's decked out with cameras? They'll come here next, to this quaint little town. They'll ask around, maybe even have photos, who knows? But if they ask around by just giving our names, then these women will have no idea that it was even us."

Casper pauses to consider this before nodding. "Okay, I see what you're saying. That's why I just didn't give a name." He chokes back another fit of laughter.

"Oh yuck it up, Bunk! Mariana