Hope's Ruin

7 | Exodus

Pepper dashed past Flake 99 and up the steps to the Millennium Kestrel. She turned in agitated circles, her mind struggling to process everything. Decisions rose, then vanished like vampires at dawn. Grabbing the edge of the sink, she steadied herself.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Calm seemed impossible.

She settled for mild panic instead.

A fresh wave emotion hit. Pepper slid down the cabinet. She pulled her knees to her chest, buried her head, and wept. She hadn't cried for a long time. Not like this. With all she'd been through, tears seemed a waste. But they came hard now, like the rain had for so many years.

Pepper wiped her eyes with the heel of both hands, sniffed, and swallowed a mixture of tears and snot. She retched. Fingertips tingled. Body ached. Slowly, she pulled herself up and straightened her clothes.

The half empty wardrobe made her heart sting. Pepper tore the remaining clothes from their hangers and thrust them into her backpack. She swiped two paperback books, a compass, the last of her beleaguered AA batteries, and the secret stash of dried biscuits that they'd been stockpiling for the next global emergency.

Pepper secured the backpack and took one last look around her home—a sanctuary she'd never believed was possible in all those years underground—wondering if she'd ever see it again.

How has it come to this?

Many of Fisk's books, clothes, and bedding still cluttered the place. Would he even bother to come back for them? Was he gone now? Gone to live with the Governor and the Doctor and whatever else lurked inside Angaarspear 4?

Her eyes found his maps. He'd be back for them. Definitely. He was obsessed. He'd spent so long researching and plotting and documenting the locations around Hope's Ruin. He'd never leave them to rot and ruin.

Pepper stopped, her hands on the cool aluminium door frame.

She spun and approached Fisk's most detailed map. The one pinned in three dozen places to the ceiling of the Millennium Kestrel. It showed his approximations of Oldster and Asheford City, Hatfield and Flynn Ravine, the sprawling grandeur of The Great Wastes, the Boat Graveyard, the Nomad Road, and a handful of others that he'd gleaned through his research and conversations with passing traders.

This was his most precious possession.

Pepper's hands faltered.

This was his.

Not hers.

But, if Fisk was the one giving credence to the Governor's lies and demanding the exile of all reanimates from Hope's Ruin, then he wasn't the one that needed this map.

Not anymore.

Pepper ripped the pins from the foam board and folded the map once, twice, thrice, end over end over end, then slipped it into her belt.

"Thank you, brother," she said to the empty room.

<< departing >>

Pepper froze for an instant, worried she'd been caught in the act, then softened.

"Yes," she told Flake 99.

Several question marks replaced the robot's blinking eye.

"It's complicated."

The question marks remained. Blinked some more.

"I'll tell you on the way."

<< destination >>