Which was a good idea at the time. It sounded so good until the words spilled from my mouth. I can't walk five metres on my own, so there's that. If only I knew how to keep my mouth shut.
Just as I didn't like hearing what he'd said, Nate didn't like what I said. I render him speechless and angry. He collects his belongings, slips his brace over his leg, positions it over his knee before tightening it – then leaves, taking Dog with him. No backwards glance, no remark, nothing. He just leaves me here, by the river, in my underwear.
Of course I don't leave. I don't go anywhere.
If anything, I feel worn out, exhausted. I feel like I'm stretched too thin. For Nate not to understand my anguish makes me feel like a crazy person. I already know my humanity was gone. I just don't need him to confirm it, understand it, and be accepting of it.
The stars provide me with little comfort as I stare up at them – neither does reading The Road for the hundredth time. Nothing fills the hollowness that sits in my chest and stomach like a permanent ache.
I find myself in a similar position to when I was by myself, before I ran into Nate and Emmi and everything went haywire; I use my pack as a cushion propped against a tree, and lie back in an attempt to get some sleep. But the difference here is that I'm covered in a blanket, and that I can't get to sleep. So I watch the night sky, and allow myself to become lost and entranced amongst the stars.
There's no way in hell I was going to sleep in the back of the 4WD with Nate – especially with the huge hole – crater-sized – gap between us. If we weren't broken before, we definitely are now.
I would kill to have some headphones and some music right now. Maybe a little bit of David Bowie, maybe some Bryan Adams. Nope, scratch that – John Williams. Indiana Jones.
Star Wars. Jurassic Park. The theme music from Jaws would go down a treat. It would create and set the mood for how I currently feel.
Everything is so confusing, so blurred. Everything I've strived for, the person who I've been, constantly clashes with the person I am now – the person I'm becoming. Everything I learned, everything I taught myself, feels as though it's about to fly out the window and cease to exist. I don't have just myself anymore. I have Nate and Emmi. I don't have to rely on only myself. Nate will help. I can depend on him. He can help me. He will fight with me.
But the fight with the MeVs only preyed on what I already knew, what I'd been dreading from the start. Me and Nate both have different fighting styles, different techniques on how to get the job done. I'm ruthless, cruel, cold-hearted, efficient; he's human. He hesitates. He would've incapacitated Ethan, whereas I shot him between the eyes. He saved my life; I endanger his. He protects Emmi; I get her kidnapped.
He's too good, too human. I'm a shell, a ghost of who I used to be. For better or worse, I don't know. Could I have survived this long if I hadn't changed? Could I confidently say that my former self would've survived to this point? I don't know. I'll never know.
I can't think about it. I can't go back. This is me, this is who I am, and I'm not changing. I can't change. I'm too efficient at what I do. It's Nate who's the problem. He will get me killed – he almost got me killed. He wanted to use his rifle when he easily could've used a knife or my gun. He only used my gun after I'd prompted him. Otherwise we'd be up shit creek.
And that's the problem. I can rely on him to an extent. But when it comes down to it, we're two very different people. He's not experienced enough – or he is, but he hasn't adapted as well as I have. Because if that's his attitude – basically guns blazing in all situations – then he's screwed. And if he's screwed, then I am, too. I might be crazy, and I might do crazy things, but I've never put another person's life at risk because they don't consider all the factors.
That's why I was on my own in the first place. I'm liable to get killed because Nate doesn't react and fight like I do. He doesn't consider every possible outcome – he attacks in the same way every time, hoping the outcome will be different. And that's not how it works. Stealth in most cases is the best way to get out alive – not attract every person in the area like a bright light does for insects.
The stars are so bright, so beautiful. And dead.
Like me. Like I am on the inside. Who'd have thought being emotionless was just as painful and exhausting as having emotions?
I miss Mum and Dad. I miss them so much. I miss my old life. I miss everything my life used to be. And it scares me that my memories aren't what they should be. It scares me that I can't remember them properly; it scares me that I can't remember the little things, the important things. It scares me that I won't remember their voices, how they sounded; it scares me that I can't see their faces properly but can hear them clear as day; it scares me that I can see their faces but don't know what they sounded like.
I hate that they're all just memories, that they're forever immortalised as they were several years ago. I hate that I've had to grow up without them, that I've been orphaned. I hate most of all that I've aged, that I've moved on, and they're as they were when I left them behind.
If anything, I would've gone with them. Why should I be the last one left? Why should I be the last remaining family member, left alone? Left alone to die. To die alone.
My eyes burn. I scrub at my face. It's chilly for a summer's evening, or maybe it's just my body's reaction to the stupid tears that want to erupt from my eyeballs. I scrub at my face again, and my hands come back wet.
Death doesn't scare me. It's the fact that I'm still alive and everyone else I love is dead. But then I also don't want to die. I'm not ready to leave. I will leave this earth on my own terms, and I will embrace Mum, Dad, and Thea when I get to the pearly gates in heaven. But until then, until it's the right time, I'm not going anywhere.
I've got work to do.
The sky and its dead stars mock me, laugh at me. I throw my head back and watch them sparkle despite all the shit they've seen and overlook here on earth. They've seen millenniums, they've seen years pass by in a blur; they've seen the dinosaurs, the ice age, the moment humans destroyed everything for good. They saw the moment we destroyed ourselves, when we attacked one another, when we started to pick ourselves off bit by bit. They saw the moment the virus spread, the resulting chaos.
The stars were witness to my parents' deaths. They saw Thea ...
I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. I try to push my tears back into my eye sockets. I try to dispel the image of my sister, the one person I truly let down. She should be here with me. She would be alive, and I wouldn't be a shadow of myself.
Deep breath deep breath deep breath.
I'm tired of being tired.
I'm tired of a lot of things.
And one of those things approaches, torch in hand. He's almost completely lost in the darkness, but thankfully the light lets me know where he is exactly. And for once he doesn't shine it directly in my face.
I clear my throat. "Hey."
Even without being able to see his face I can feel his eyes on me; I pull my blanket up higher until it's right underneath my chin.
"About this morning," he says, and I all but want to mentally kick myself. Why else would he want to talk to me? He's been thinking about our conversation all day; nothing's been going on, nothing's happened since then. We took some time apart – over twelve hours, believe it or not – so what else would be on his mind? "What you said. Did you mean it?"
"I did at the time," I reply. I focus my gaze on where I think his face is. "But you're right. I can't go anywhere until my ankle's better. I can't go off on my own."
"You agree with me," Nate says, and I can hear the mocking in his words. "That's a first."
I scoff. "I'm sure they're plenty of things we agree on," I retort. "We just don't verbalise them."
Nate crouches down now, and I can just make him out beyond the flashlight. "I want us to work," he says, echoing the words I'd said to him hours ago. "I'm sick of fighting all the time."
"We're adults, for crying out loud."
Nate chuckles. "Apparently." He kneels on the ground before me. He doesn't say anything for a moment, like he can't find the right words. He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry about earlier – you know, when you were talking about how many people you've killed. I'm not the best at putting it into words, but I understand what you meant."
The crater-sized gap between us shortens and lengthens all at the same time. I suck in a breath, because it suddenly feels as if there's not enough oxygen. My chest constricts and my heart beats erratically. The blood in my veins feels cold.
"Do you though?" I whisper.
He nods. "And honestly? I don't care."
Still not the words I want to hear. I wince.
"It's kill or be killed. And you can't tell me anyone who's survived up until this moment is completely sane." He nods at me. "And maybe you enjoy it – I don't know. But if you're protecting me, or if you're protecting Emmi, then do whatever the fuck you want."
A cross between a laugh and a cry escapes my mouth. "Should I feel good about myself?"
Even without being able to see him properly, I know Nate's smirking. "Take it however you want," he says.
It doesn't change how I feel, but I do feel marginally better. I tip my head to the sky again. There's a reason they always say one is the loneliest number. Maybe I should multiply and make it two.
I feel Nate's fingers on my skin; he gently turns my face to him, so I'm no longer looking at the stars. "Are you alright?" he asks. Somehow, his blue eyes reflect the stars above, and for once, I want to get lost in them, not look away.
"You don't need to check up on me," I reply. Despite the hold on my jaw, he allows me to look back up at the sky. I trace the constellations I can see, and I've never felt so miniscule, so forgotten. We're here within the blink of an eye, then gone again. I only have a small amount of time on earth to appreciate the stars that will twinkle forever. I'm nothing but a tiny little blip on their radar. I am nothing. I am so much more.
"I want to," Nate says.
I look at him again. His thumb strokes my cheek, the corner of my mouth. It's all I can do to not lean into his touch. "Sometimes being around people is too much."
Nate nods his agreement. "True," he says. His gaze follows the movement of his thumb, maybe even focusses on my mouth. "Join me," he says. "Don't stay out here tonight."
"Nate, it's fine, don't worry–"
He picks me up, blanket, pack, and all, like I weigh nothing. He holds me to him like I'm fragile, like I might disintegrate in his hands. "I've got you," he murmurs, and as I look back up at the night sky, which somehow seems brighter and much closer than ever before, I don't feel so miniscule after all.