∘∘∘
THE DOZEN.
xxviii. THANK YOU
∘∘∘
"DO YOU KNOW where you're going?"
Parker, with his eyes glued to the littered streets ahead, averted his attention for just a moment to look at Derek in the passenger's seat. Focusing mostly on avoiding a collision with an abandoned car, he mumbled a small, "I guess not."
He heard Derek breath out a small laugh, though it sounded mostly like just a sharp breath with a hint of his deep voice beneath. It was a sound Parker was already familiar with. Derek seemed to find a lot of amusement in Parker's mere being, in the things that he said and how he said them - and for once, it didn't feel like belittling. Derek was the first person Parker met from Maxson's group - though Parker himself couldn't remember much of their first encounter.
He remembered lying in the snow. He remembered feeling and being lost. He remembered that he wasn't sure if he'd ever pick himself back up. The other details evaded his sense of relevance.
Derek drew in a deep breath, shifting in his seat. "I offered to drive," he reminded the younger man.
"I can drive," Parker assured him, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as he let his attention flicker away from the road for just one more moment. "You could be my navigator, y'know."
In his peripherals, he saw Derek slowly nod. "Fair enough," he commented leisurely. "In that case, to where do you wish to be navigated?"
Drawing in a slow breath, Parker haltingly shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, they'd already found more than half of The Dozen (excluding the ones who didn't make it.) They were now just looking for Jasper, Ellie, Alexa, Scarlett, and Kellin. Parker had no clue if they grouped up like Carson and Adelaide or Lucas and Clara did, or if they broke off separately as he himself did. Were they even in the city anymore? It was a bold assumption to make to think that they all stayed in the mess that was D.C.. "Well, okay," Parker began slowly, clearing his throat, "if you were just getting out into this new world for the first time and was scared away from The White House by a big helicopter firing into the crowd there, where would you run to? Again, with basically no knowledge of the area or anything-"
"Hold on," Derek interjected, holding up a finger to hush the younger of the two as he leaned forward in his seat. "Helicopter?" he confusedly questioned, his voice raising an octave in a way that Parker found himself noting. "Did you get a good look at it?"
"No," Parker shook his head. "I was busy." I was trying to stop a slit throat from bleeding. "And it was shooting at us."
Diverting his attention from the road just one more time - the last time, he told himself - he watched Derek's eyebrows furrow as he visibly tried putting the pieces inside his head together. "Well, it might've been military. Those are the only people around who would have a helicopter, I think. That doesn't explain why they'd shoot into a crowd like that, though... Was it peaceful? The crowd there."
Parker was quick to answer with a short, "No." It was the absolute polar opposite of peaceful. It was devilish, malicious, with no silver lining. It was hell on Earth. Parker expected to just leave it at that, finally managing to keep his eyes glued to the road, making arbitrary turns every now and then. But then he noticed Derek lean towards him, the older man's stare burning into Parker's skin. Slowly, reluctantly, Parker began to recall the details of that day, "Everyone that was in The White House was slaughtered. They hung the bodies from flag poles. This one guy," his face was imprinted in Parker's memory, but no name labeled it, "he... he killed a kid right in front of everyone. They all just stood there and watched. He made it sound like she deserved it, like we all deserved that..."
Derek was quiet for a moment, finally leaning back into his seat. "That sounds like military then, I guess," he hummed quietly, blatantly not expecting the harshness of Parker's elaboration. "Those people really had it coming. It just sucks that you and your friends happened to be there."
Silently, Parker agreed, but only raised the question of the military. With the current state of things, it seemed presumable that the military fell with the rest of America. The speaker in the facility said to make it to D.C. to get help, as if that was the one last safe haven - but D.C. was nothing but safe. "How can the military still be active?" he questioned.
"I mean, I don't know anything for sure," Derek was quick to clarify. "They're not active here, definitely. When everything started to get bad, martial law was ordered. They were setting up quarantine zones in all the major cities to keep out the infected. The one here failed, but Chicago, Los Angeles, Boston, Atlanta, the others... they might be okay. We have no way of knowing."
"Boston's dead, too," was Parker's only small response. He tried to add up the information learned in the facility to the new information to somehow make sense of how things must've been before they made it to the surface. America didn't fall immediately. It put up a fight, which was evident by all the military gear, vehicles, and bodies littering the streets. The battle was clearly lost on the Eastern seaboard, but what about elsewhere? "So, this whole thing, is it just us? In the West, is it fine?"
"Hard to say," Derek breathed. "They might be fine, comparatively. The only way to know is to go find out for ourselves. Maybe after we find your boyfriend and everyone-"
"I don't have a boyfriend," Parker immediately corrected, neck snapping to look in Derek's direction, slowing the car to avoid an accident.
Derek's face contorted with confusion. "Then who the hell is this Jasper guy?"
"He's my best friend," Parker answered lightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've been friends for... like, forever."
Wordlessly, Derek merely stared at Parker for longer than they both realized. His head rocked in a slow nod as finally turned back to face forward. "Okay," he breathed out shortly.
"Okay?" Parker reiterated automatically, still facing Derek.
Derek only spared Parker a glance, exactly how Parker treated him just minutes before, and nodded incredulously. Smirking, he let out another one of the laughs that Parker was so used to, then mumbled a smooth, "Is there something else you want me to say?"
Leaning back into his seat, Parker shook his head, thoughts racing. He himself wasn't sure why he questioned Derek's nonchalance so much. He wasn't sure what he expected from the man sitting in the passenger seat. While mentally trying to justify himself, he only lightly responded with a short, "No."
∘∘∘
"YOUR NAME?"
SCARLETT only stared at him. She stared at his glasses, taped around the edges, and at the way he let them teeter on the edge of his nose. She stared at the way he tapped his pen against the clipboard on the table, clicking it and clicking it over and over again. She stared at the way he stared at her, both of them waiting for the other to cave in. "Scarlett," she answered flatly, her blank stare unfaltering, "Montgomery."
The room uncomfortably silent, she could hear Maxson scribbling her name down. "How old are you?" he questioned, eyes still glued to the clipboard.
"I don't..." Her eyebrows pulled together just slightly as she shifted in the metal seat, sitting on her hands. She wasn't sure how old she was, wasn't thinking about it, and wasn't sure why it was important. She was old enough to think straight, but not too old that she couldn't take care of herself. She was old enough to have a son, but never old enough to think about having another. "I don't really know-"
"How old do you think you are?" Maxson interrupted impatiently, glancing up from his clipboard with sharp eyes.
As soon as the words shot from his mouth, Scarlett turned in her seat and looked over her shoulder at Clara, who stood near the door. As much as she wanted to just ask to leave, ask who the guy sitting across from her even was, the only question that fell from her mouth was, "When can we go see Alexa?" It was the most pressing issue of the very moment, but the only one she was trying her hardest to stop thinking about.
Clara's eyes immediately shot to Maxson, her mouth dropping open without any words following. Before the youngest in the room, a mere teenager, could come up with an answer, she was interrupted by Maxson. "As soon as we're done here," was his instant reply. "This is just a formality and you're not an exception, so let's just continue. How old are you?"
Biting her tongue to hold herself back from saying all of the inappropriate and harsh words that dared to erupt, she settled back into her seat and faced him once more. "I don't know for sure," she answered slowly, calmly, scarily, all while maintaining eye contact with him. "Let's just say early thirties."
In the tense silence, the sounds of his scribbling arose once more. "Okay," he mumbled. "Any life-threatening or ability-hindering diseases, illnesses, conditions, or injuries?" Scarlett silently shook her head. "Take any medicine?" No. "Suicidal thoughts?" No. "History of drug use or alcoholism?" No. "Ever committed a violent crime, either before or after the vaccine?" No. An obligated smile broke out onto Maxson's face as he tossed his clipboard down, beaming a clear, "See? That wasn't painful."
Maxson extended his hand across the table. Rather than shaking his hand, Scarlett silently stood to her feet and joined Clara near the door. Without even skipping a beat, Maxson's extended hand pointed at the chair and then at Kellin, as he ordered, "You, sit."
Kellin obediently took a step forward, but then noticeably changed his mind as his face contorted with defiance. "No," he spoke, shaking his head, curls bouncing. "I want to go see Alexa." Eyelids narrowing, Maxson leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, and cocked his eyebrow. His face, however, was blank and emotionless as he stared at Kellin. "We can always do this later, right? It's not urgent. Alexa, on the other hand, is-"
"I'd like to know who shot her, actually," Maxson interrupted, "while we're on the subject. Those people out on the road, who were they?"
"Nobodies," Kellin mumbled with a shrug.
"Well, I'm offering to let you stay here. I'm offering you a bed and water and food and protection," Maxson reminded him, glancing over to Scarlett and Clara for good measure. "I think the least you can do is tell me what baggage you're coming in with."
"We don't know them," Kellin stated, shaking his head again. "I... I think that it's a group. What happened in D.C. and what happened to Alexa, I think those were the same people. They hate us - envy us, really. They want us dead because of something we can't control. Like I said, nobodies."
Without skipping a beat, almost not even acknowledging Kellin's answer, Maxson leaned forward and stated, "Well, the guns I picked up from the bodies were pretty high-grade. It's a safe assumption to say that they are probably what's left of the people who overthrew the city and the quarantined district. And if it makes you feel better, those people are a dying breed, so..." His eyes shot up to the two women near the door, focusing mostly on the younger one, with her eyes glued to the floor and hands folded on her front. "Clara, take them."
She didn't respond. Clara only opened the door, waited for Scarlett and Kellin to exit, then quietly closed it behind them. Leading them down the hall, she looked over her shoulder at the blood-stained couple, then sighed, "He runs all of this. You should get used to dealing with him."
"He's a shit," Scarlett muttered under her breath.
Intending to stop Clara from replying to Scarlett, Kellin was quick to ask, "When do we get our rooms? And the food?"
Slowing, Clara turned to look back at them. "You said you wanted to see Alexa first," she reminded Kellin. "Maxson takes things literally. Chances are he probably won't feed you till you finish the interview."
Almost immediately, Scarlett glanced over at Kellin. "Go finish it up," she told him. "I'll sit with Alexa." It took him a moment to process her words, but as soon as he understood her, he opened his mouth to protest. "Just do it," she muttered dismissively, already brushing past Clara to head downstairs.
Ignoring Kellin's dismissal, Clara rushed to catch up to the blonde, pointing her in the right direction. "It's right over here," she spoke up, gesturing towards the infirmary wing of the motel. Right next to Cami's allotted room was Alexa's, the door adorned with a small piece of construction paper bearing her name.
Clara entered the room first, then Scarlett. It felt almost as if the small room had more gravity than outside. The air was heavy, hard to breathe. Feet sunk easily into the carpet and wished to plant themselves there. However, nonetheless, Clara dragged herself to the bed, where Alexa lied unconscious, and Henry at its side. "How is she?" she asked, hesitant to speak up.
Henry seemed busy. Eyes narrowed in focus, both hands wielding medical tools that were buried in Alexa's upper leg. Clearing his throat, he slowly retracted his hands and placed the instruments down onto the tray at his side. Pulling down the mask covering half his face, he spoke, "Alive. She actually woke up not too long ago, but then passed right back out," he told Clara, glancing over to Scarlett at the other end of the room. Silently, he beckoned Clara over, pulling a small flashlight out of his pocket. As he shined the light into the gaping hole in Alexa's leg, he mumbled to the young woman, "I can't get that out," pointing to pieces of a shiny bullet deep within the wound. "It's embedded in the muscle. I just don't trust myself to do it. Either she'll lose too much blood or I'll give her permanent damage, so I think I'm just going to suture it and hope for the best."
Clara couldn't really bring herself to stare at the wound. She only nodded and mumbled a small, "Thank you." Turning on her heel, her eyes met Scarlett's, hooded and bloodshot. The blonde's eyes were glued to the bed, to the bloody girl in it, so Clara decided it was best to not speak to her. She wasn't sure what to say and because she had a terrible fear of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, so she merely walked out of the room without saying a word.
However, as soon as she exited the room, she was immediately intercepted by none other than Adelaide. A hesitant hand haltingly tapping her upper arm and a small, "Hey," breathed into the air, Clara silently turned to face Adelaide. "What happened?"
Flatly, Clara mumbled a small, "Um..., Alexa got hurt, so Scarlett's sitting in there with her. Kellin's still upstairs with Maxson, so that's where I'm headed, I think."
Eyes glancing towards the door, Adelaide nodded slowly, making the quick decision to try to help where she believed she could. "Thanks," she mumbled, sending Clara off with a small smile.
The door closed quietly; she made sure that it did. She didn't want to mess Henry up or frighten Scarlett, who already looked frightened enough. Blood on her hands, face, and in her hair, she looked simply pitiful. Adelaide felt a pang in her chest just from glancing at Scarlett. Her eyes then fixated on Alexa's motionless body in the bed; on Henry's sewing the skin on her leg shut; on the tear streaks breaking through the dirt on her face. The sight just made her chest hurt even more.
With a small sigh, Adelaide lowered herself into the chair beside Scarlett. Without giving her words very much thought, she began speaking, voice just above a whisper, "I don't know if this helps, but... We're all here, you know - or at least almost all of us." In Adelaide's eyes, it was good news - and Scarlett looked like she could use some good news. "Me, Carson, Lucas, Clara, Parker - and now you, Alexa, and Kellin, so... That's good, at least."
"Jasper's alive," Scarlett whispered, eyes fixated on her hands in her lap, "but he left." Sighing heavily, she brought her head up and blankly stared ahead at Alexa's bed. "She was really torn up about it, y'know. She never said anything, but I could tell. He was her only friend. I mean, anyone could tell that they were more than friends, but Alexa doesn't know anything about that stuff... She just doesn't know enough about the things that are good in this word. She has to find her own version of goodness in it all, and she does a good job of it. My son, he..." Almost as if she caught herself, her mouth closed and she let out another quiet sigh, eyes falling back down. "I'm just rambling."
With soft eyes, Adelaide reached over and put a gentle hand on top of Scarlett's bloody ones. "Don't worry," she told the teary-eyed blonde. "You can ramble as much as you need to. It's fine."
Biting her tongue and blinking back tears, Scarlett nodded slowly. "Thank you," were the only two words she could manage through her grief.
∘∘∘
WITH THE SLAM of the door behind him, Parker spoke over the starting engine with a hopeful, "We'll just try again tomorrow." It was another empty-handed day of looking. As much as Parker hoped to find the others, he knew that it wasn't an easy task. He knew that it wasn't a guarantee. It was the trying that sufficed. In his book, sometimes trying was all that one could do, and it was never a failure unless there was no attempt. So, here he was, attempting.
"Put your seatbelt on," Derek mumbled, buckling his own. It wasn't until he heard Parker's seatbelt click that he continued, "If you say so, Parker."
"What do you mean?" the younger of the two asked confusedly, eyebrows furrowed.
Derek shook his head dismissively. As he began to drive them out of the city, he breathed out a quick, "How honest do you want me to be?"
Even more confused now than before, Parker was quick to answer, "You can say whatever you want."
Hesitantly, Derek began, "I think... Don't take this the wrong way, but I think that maybe it's time to consider other options. Like, not looking anymore. It's just a lot of time and a lot of gas and... you're just exhausting yourself. And what if something happens to you or to me or to anybody while we're out here? That would suck. I... I don't know. I'm just saying."
"Why would I stop looking?" Parker was quick to counter. "That's just me giving up on them, on Jasper. I can't do that."
"You just think that you can't do it," he said. "I mean, the people that are out there, the people you barely know, would they do this for you? You risk your life every day to find them. Do you think they would do the same for you?"
Jasper would. But Parker knew Derek wasn't talking about Jasper. He was talking about Ellie and Kellin and the others. He might have even been talking about Carson and Clara and the people who had been found, too. And it was something that rubbed Parker the wrong way. He didn't care if it was reciprocated or not; trying to find the rest of The Dozen was just the right thing to do, so he would do it. He wouldn't let himself be talked out of it.
And so he didn't speak. He knew Derek meant well - or at least Parker wanted to believe that he did - but it was a futile discussion. Giving up was just too easy. Things in this world, and in the world before it, were never easy. Parker almost couldn't comprehend the idea of easy. What was he supposed to do, sit in his room all day? Leech resources that weren't his to leech upon? That just sounded boring and dependent.
If Derek didn't like it, he could just stay home from now on. Then, maybe Maxson would tell Roy to join Parker once more. Parker sort of missed Roy, so it didn't sound like a bad idea at all. But he also enjoyed Derek, but only when he wasn't being so nosey and pretentious.
However, more than Derek and more than Roy, Parker enjoyed Jasper. He missed his best friend more than anything, thought about him almost every minute of every day. It didn't matter to him who was searching with him, it just mattered what he was searching for. That was what he had to tell himself on the quiet car ride home, just to keep himself composed.
As the truck pulled into the motel lot, Parker noticed the way Clara began to rush into view, speeding down the stairs. Assuming the worst, Parker was quick to exit the car, preparing himself for whatever news she had to break to him. However, when she slowed to a stop at his side, breathlessly blurting out, "We found Scarlett, Kellin, and Alexa,", he was glad to have been proven wrong.
Taking a moment to process her words, a wide grin began to grow on his face. "Wait, really?"
"Yeah," Clara nodded with a small smile. But the smile faded as she remembered the mousy teenager fighting for her life in a room just feet away. "But...," she sighed heavily, "Alexa got shot, so she's in there with Henry. He said that she should be okay, though."
In almost a split second, his smile vanished. "Okay," he mumbled softly, already taking a small step towards the infirmary, "I'll go see her. Is she awake?"
Clara shook her head. "No, not right now," she answered. Before he could walk away, she reached out her hand and just barely grabbed his wrist. "Parker, another thing," she added, finally letting go of him once he'd stopped again. "Um, Jasper's alive. They were all together - all four of them - but they said that he left and went back home."
At that moment, Parker thought of art. The types of paintings where it seems like the artist just splattered a bunch of different colors onto a canvas; the ones where, somehow, it all ends up congruous and beautiful. That was how he felt. He felt like messy art. He felt like his happiness and his sadness and his worry and his anger and his exhaustion were all being thrown onto the canvas in his chest, but somehow it all still felt okay. Jasper was alive, which was literally a dream come true - he just wasn't here. But that was okay. It had to be okay.
"I'll go get him," Parker stated hopefully before he even gave it a second thought. There was simply no second thought to be had. "I just need a map. Do you think you could get me one from Maxson?"
"Yeah, of course."
"I need a route from here to Minnesota," he continued, not even giving her a chance to really speak. He was so... excited. His heart was pounding in his chest. His stomach was fluttering with feverish butterflies. He just wanted to get back in the car and go to where he knew he would find his best friend. (That was assuming Jasper made it all the way there, but Parker wasn't even considering anything different.)
"Minnesota?" Clara blurted, eyes wide. "Parker, that's too-"
"Far," he finished for her. "Yeah," he shrugged, "but I don't care. I'm going to check on Alexa, then I'm heading out."
And he was gone before she could even wish him farewell.
∘∘∘
fam i have RISEN
word count: 4062