Calico J has slipped out of the car again. I can still see Patrick in the back seat, hunched down so far, I'm not sure the two women would be able to see him even if it were daytime. He's got his hood up, and I think he's still hugging his bag.
"This one of your group?" says Oreo as he comes back within light's reach of us, with a nod toward Calico J. He's turned off and pocketed his own light again. He's also smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
The answer is obvious, so I don't deign to give it to him. Few survivors would choose to wander the woods out here after dark, and Oreo already knows we're a group of four.
"Oreo," he says, with a nod of introduction for Calico J. "And this'll probably go easier if we can get your names, too. Nicknames. But if you guys are still alive, you already know that."
Behind him, lights in the motel room catch my eye. He's got more than just the two women here, and the spare is searching Vix's room while Oreo's out here talking. I'm suddenly, savagely glad I made off with the notebook and phone. I suspect he was looking for the latter behind the motel, and the fact that he hasn't asked us anything about what we found among Vix's belongings means we're not as buddy-buddy as he's pretending.
Both my companions are looking at me. I'm shocked Calico J hasn't stepped forward and made friends with this guy already; meeting people is kind of his thing. And Ditzy isn't usually the quiet type. They both seem to be waiting for my go-ahead to do anything, a realization that puts my stomach in my throat even as I'm secretly glad for it. The temptation to break this off and leave strikes again. But that would shoot down everything we came here to do, and it's not my place to sabotage that.
"Meg," I say.
Calico J's relief is visible. He and Ditzy both introduce themselves, and then Calico J steps in, as expected. "And that's Patrick in the back," he says, with a nod to the car. "Are you the one I was texting with?"
Oreo's smile turns genuine. "One of two, but I had the phone, yes. Good to meet you! You guys are the first other pro-social group we've found, and the first real humans to actually text us. We've been trying to track down other civilization since we founded the camp, but until you guys, it's just been our current members and a couple of weirdos."
Calico J laughs. "There's a reason there's only four of us. So where's the camp? You told us you were just north of Wakewater; that's still another hour out. Did you walk down? I didn't see a car come in."
"Our van's just up the road. Didn't want to risk scaring you guys off in case you weren't the ones we were waiting for, or turned hostile. We check here pretty often; it's a good landing zone along this stretch of highway. Found three of our members here already, believe it or not."
"Oh cool, like a regular patrol? How big's your area? You said you've got sixteen people, right?"
Something in Oreo's face shadows. "Fifteen now. Your friends here just found the last one."
There's a moment of silence.
"What kind of screening do you need from us?" says Calico J tentatively. "I'd love to talk more, but it's getting pretty late..."
He shoots me and Ditzy a glance that seems more directed at me than Ditzy. It's got that anxious look in it again, like he's waiting for me to chip in. I shrug. On one level, I'm exhausted. On all the others, I'm so tense from finding Vix's body, the phone, the notebook, and then meeting Oreo that I'm ninety-nine percent certain I wouldn't sleep if I was offered a double bed and down duvet within the next hour. Which means Calico J might as well keep making friends. Oreo keeps giving sideways answers, and I probably shouldn't be the one handling negotiations anyway. I'm not a people person. And I'm certainly not as bright a conversationalist as Calico J.
I think Ditzy gives a similar answer, because Calico J says, "Are you guys sure? We were looking for a place to spend the night. I'm not really tired anymore, but..."
Ditzy doesn't seem about to answer, so I do. "Kind of hard to sleep after seeing that." It comes out more dryly than intended, so I add a wry smile so it doesn't look like I'm mocking him. "I'm tired but not tired, if you know what I mean."
He nods reluctantly and turns back to Oreo. "Looks like we're fine to come with you guys tonight yet, then. Do you need any help with... her?" His eyes stray to the motel, and he swallows hard.
Oreo's look hardens for a moment before he forces it back to neutral. "We don't really like bringing bodies back to camp. Don't know if it's infectious."
I lock onto that. They don't know? Still peering at Oreo's face, I see more maddening flickers of things I can't tease out. He's not telling us the full story on what happened with Vix.
Of course he isn't. He hasn't said a single damned thing about Vix despite having found us picking over her possessions, and he hasn't told us anything else we want yet, either. Not about Chesnet, not about his group's screening process, and not about why they're actually here.
"Fair," says Calico J. "But you mentioned screening. What do we need to do?"
"Can you get your other member out here? We're going to need to split you up and do a strip-down, sorry."
"Then we're not coming," I say.
The words leave my mouth before I'm aware I've said them. Oreo's eyebrow ticks up. Ditzy looks at me sharply. Calico J does not. His gaze flits to the car behind us, then drops to the ground and stays there.
It's Patrick. We don't know what kind of situation he came from before he got pushed off a bridge and nearly drowned, but from what Calico J and I can gather, it wasn't pretty. It's manifested in a few quirks and neuroses. Being unable to sleep in a room alone is one of them. A powerful compulsion to obey any direct order, even if it hurts him, is another. Flatly refusing to remove clothing in any of our presences is a third. I can imagine a few things that can lead a person to that kind of combination, and none of them are anything I'm willing to compromise on.
"Sorry," I say. "I'm drawing a line on that one. We can talk here if that's what it takes, but whatever you're looking for, our clothes stay on. At least one of us isn't comfortable with it, and we're not splitting up."
"Isn't comfortable why?" says Oreo. "Do you actually know?"
"Have you ever heard of not prying into someone's personal business? He's not comfortable, never has been, and that's all I need to know. Either we give you honest answers on whatever you're looking for, or we talk here. I'm willing to negotiate, just not on that."
I find myself fixed by Oreo's dark eyes again, narrowed in the same look he gave me when I shut him down in the motel room. It's the first time I realize he's not turning to any of his companions for backup. I keep nearly forgetting that a woman and a teen girl still lurk in the shadows behind the car, though I think Ditzy's been keeping an eye on them. Oreo seems to be calling all the shots for his group here, and it makes my skin prickle even more uncomfortably.
"Look," I say when he continues not to speak. "We didn't need to drive all the way up here to meet you—which, I should mention, we trusted you and did anyway even in the complete absence of other information. I'm as ready as the next person to trade whatever we each know about this apocalypse. I'm trying to stay alive, and look out for myself, my friends, and my family if I ever make it back to them. But so far you've told us to do things and then more things without offering anything in return, and if you want me to actually trust you, you're going to have to buck up and stop hiding absolutely everything. This exchange goes both ways."
Oreo still doesn't answer. Looking at him, I can tell he's weighing options, but if he hasn't come to any conclusions yet, it's his fault for doing this alone.
"We're here to talk, not rob you," I say. "We're not Sleepers. We've all lost friends or family, or something we value to this hellscape. We don't know any better than you why we've managed to survive in what is apparently the most dangerous town on the Cape, except that we've taken nicknames, found safe houses, left them when it chases us out, and gotten good at fighting Sleepers, sticking together, and finding food that isn't contaminated. And we're still alive. What do you want from us?"
Finally, Oreo speaks up again. "Have any of you..." he begins, then breaks off, considering how to phrase whatever I've pried out of him. "Gotten sick? Or started acting weird around the others?"
"What qualifies as weird?"
"Infected."
I rub the spot between my eyebrows. I can tell my body is tired by the headache budding behind my temples, and I would really like an end to these cryptic answers.
"Like a Sleeper," says Oreo, and I look up again. He tilts his head and turns that look on each of us in turn. "I'm sure you're all close, but maybe there've been moments when you've wondered what's wrong with the others? Gotten a little too close? An unwanted advance, perhaps? I'm sure you at least would have noticed it."
That last part is directed at Ditzy, and my temper officially snaps.
"What is wrong with you?" I say, and the ice in my own voice shocks me. "If you think all survivors out here are so twisted, take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why your female members are running away before you try to give us advice. Or is that why you wanted our clothes off? To see if your own group members can contain themselves?"
"No, we're looking for those red patches," says Oreo shortly. "Though if you really want to know, yes, we've dealt with three incels and a rapist since the world shut down. There's a reason I meet newcomers, when my co-leader is honestly better qualified."
I blink, stunned. I assumed he was trying to antagonize us, and he probably was, but I can't argue with that reasoning. He's got two women here, and he's protecting a group, too. And there is a reason we've steered clear of other survivors.
"So give me an answer on that first," says Oreo. "The behavior part. If any of you are in danger, we'll have your backs."
This time, it's Ditzy who shakes her head. She isn't looking at him like a shit-stain anymore. Calico J gives a similar answer, then winces as Oreo eyes the backseat of our vehicle. The optics of this aren't great—we might be holding Patrick hostage for all Oreo knows.
Patrick, though, has moved out of the shadows and is sitting just inside the car door. He must also give some indication that he's okay, because Oreo relaxes and turns to me again. "We're looking for those red patches," he repeats. "They turn people sick, and we don't know if they're contagious. Vix had them, and she hid them instead of owning up under camp rules or leaving immediately. She put the whole group in danger. Is that enough reason for you?"
I don't want it to be, but it is. I still feel compelled to be argumentative, but I can put a lot of that down to my general dislike of Oreo, rather than what he's actually saying. "No red patches from me as of two days ago." That was the last time I did a tick check after wading through the almost knee-high grass that most Chesnet lawns have sprouted. "Ditzy? J?"
They both shake their heads. Calico J sticks his head in the car door and comes up with a thumbs-down.
"Great," says Oreo, once again expressionless. "You can come to the camp, but I'll need to talk to my co-leader before letting you inside. And if one of you shows even the slightest sign of the sickness, we reserve the right to take you off our own territory, dead or alive. Do we have a deal?"
I get a nod from each of my companions before I answer for all of us. "Sounds reasonable. So long as it cuts both ways."
"If one of us turns into a Sleeper and comes at you, by all means, take care of them. You'll save us the trouble." Oreo turns away as a light flickers some code pattern from the motel room doorway. "We're ready to leave. Grab whatever you need."
He strides off towards the road, presumably to get his group's vehicle. A morose-looking man emerges from Vix's room and skulks in the shadows around the motel, waiting. Calico J manages a weak smile. "The others sound like they might be okay," he says. The hope he's carried since he first started searching for other survivors is cracked at the edges. It sinks my heart like a stone.
Ditzy is still watching the place where Oreo disappeared up the road. "Did you notice it?" she murmurs.
"Notice what?" I say.
"The way he talks about Sleepers. None of us know these people's real names, Meg. Sleepers only chase you if you say their name and wake them. Why would anyone in this other group turn into a Sleeper and then come for us?"
"Or show signs of 'sickness' beforehand," adds Calico J in a murmur. "This isn't a zombie apocalypse. Sleepers just drop."
"Not the ones like her," I say, and tip my head ever so slightly towards the motel.
Calico J's eyes meet mine.
"So they know," he says. "They've seen it happen."
"Seen what?" says Ditzy.
"The cafeteria," I say, and that's all it takes to silence us. Calico J is first to move, ducking into the car again. Ditzy and I follow him, retreating to the illusion of safety of our vehicle as we wait for Oreo to return.
Like this chapter if you want to know what this survivor group knows about the Sleepers
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