IT WASN'T THE first time I'd woken from this dream in the middle of the night, but it was the first time I'd woken up crying.
I bolted upright in bed, the memory of it still fresh in my mind. A screaming Feral infant, a gun shaking in my hand, a finger squeezing the trigger.
I clutched my chest -god, why did it hurt so bad?- and leaned forward with gasping sobs. The bedside lamp flicked on then, and Parker was sitting up beside me, pulling me into his arms.
"It's alright," he whispered into my hair. "It's alright. You're alright. Just breathe. It's okay."
He didn't even have to ask what was wrong anymore, and on this particular night, I was thankful for that. I didn't think I could explain to him why it was so much worse this time. I didn't think I could tell him that the infant in my dream was no longer Emma, but instead had my nose and Parker's eyes.
The subconscious was a cruel, sadistic thing sometimes. But I had to remind myself that that's what it was -just my subconscious. That aspect of the dream wasn't real. I could move on from that and go back to just being haunted by the memory of killing Emma.
Thank god, right?
Eventually, Parker had convinced me to lie back down, and we drifted off into sleep again until our alarm went off at seven a.m.
I rolled face first into my pillow, allowing it to muffle my exhausted groan. Parker rubbed my back, kissed my shoulder.
"You sure you want to go today?" he asked softly.
"Yes," I answered without hesitation, flipping over and rubbing my eyes.
Parker and I skipped out on the visit to the Zone the first time, and considering the visit had been scheduled just a few days after what had happened to Hannah, I thought it was fair. But I didn't want to skip again. Especially when I had some important questions that needed addressed.
"Maybe we can find something to help you sleep," Parker suggested as we both made our way out of bed. "I'll bet Shepard has something in that cabinet of hers. And if not, we can always go out on a run."
"I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling a sweatshirt over my head. "They'll stop eventually."
"That's not entirely convincing," he said with a concerned frown.
I smiled softly and moved over to him, placed a hand on his jaw and kissed him gently.
"I'm okay," I told him. Even if it wasn't true at this exact moment, I'd find a way to make it be. "Now," I patted his cheek once, "I want breakfast before we leave."
Downstairs in the pantry, Leila and Wes were on duty frying up eggs and pancakes. I loaded my plate up with both, and picked some strawberries and blueberries from the bowl of fresh fruit before finding a place to sit. Putting something into my stomach seemed to improve my mood entirely, and soon Parker and I were giggling like a couple of kids, tossing blueberries at each other and trying to catch them in our mouths. And when he made a ribald comment about the width of my open mouth and how he could think of a better purpose for it than catching blueberries, I launched one at his face -nearly hitting him in the eye- while telling him to shut up because we were in public.
Lance slammed his plate on the table beside Parker and sat. "You two are absolutely revolting. You know that, right?"
"He's just jealous because he doesn't have someone to toss fruit at all cute-like," Xavier explained, sitting down beside me.
The two men were on opposite ends of their twenties, Xavier being the younger of the two. They had almost a brotherly relationship -although there was no blood relation- that mostly consisted of them pestering each other, which could be amusing to the people around them so long as they kept the jests good natured.
We quickly discussed the route we'd be taking to the Zone before Lance launched into a lecture of the importance of servicing vehicles before runs such as the one we'd be doing today. Tire pressure and checking the oil and something about leaking fluids that made Parker raise an eyebrow at me suggestively. I glared at him while Xavier listened to Lance, making a show of being sulky and picking at the food on his plate.
Chris entered the concourse then and my gaze immediately snapped to him. I felt Parker touch my wrist -a soft touch of comfort- and I peeked over at him.
"I just want to talk to him," I told him.
"Do you want me to come with?"
"No," I assured him. "I'm okay. I'll be right back."
"Well, don't take too long," Lance said as I stood. "We need to finish loading up and servicing the-"
"Fuck off, Lance. I'll take as long as I want."
"Well, jeez. Sorry I want to stay on schedule."
I smiled sweetly and gave him the finger before walking away.
Chris had disappeared into the pantry, so I headed that way, stopping in the doorway. He had his back to me, filling up two plates and speaking pleasantries to Leila and Wes. When finished, he turned, pausing when he saw me standing there and I could actually see him breathe out a short sigh.
I gave him a tentative smile. "Hi."
"Hey, Claire."
It was obvious he wasn't overjoyed to see me. And when was the last time we'd seen each other?
The day after Emma, Hannah had taken the bottle of antidepressants Shepard had given her and swallowed them all. Chris had found her and rushed her to the doctor. That was the last time we'd seen each other. Just long enough for him to explain what had happened. After that, he'd taken it upon himself to watch over her. He never left her side, and because she never left her room, rarely did he.
I'd wondered to myself if Hannah would ever forgive me for what I did. The answer, I'd found, was no. It seemed when I'd burned that particular bridge, the rest went ablaze with it. Our friendship was reduced to ash floating in a stream.
I hadn't seen her since then, since that terrible day in the West wing. I'd tried to visit her, but she was adamant about not seeing me. I couldn't say I blamed her, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
"Taking a break?" I asked as he walked past me and into the hall, heading back toward Hannah's room.
"Aleesia agreed help out while I did a few things. I told her I'd be quick."
"And I don't want to stall you. I just..." I sighed and rubbed my forehead.
I just what? I just hoped he would tell me that she'd forgiven me? That I could go see her and talk with her? That I could have my friend back? If that were the case, he wouldn't be looking at me like that- all tired and helpless and desperate for an escape.
"I just was wondering how she's doing," I finished lamely.
"Well..." He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. "To be honest, not great. Better. I think. Maybe. But still not great. I mean, I've been trying to get her to come to the concourse for meals for over a month now. And here we are." He gestured with the plates of cooling food.
I forced a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry."
"Look. Everyone knows that what you did... Well, it had to be done. I know that, you know that, hell, even Hannah knows that. Just give her some more time."
I nodded.
Time. I'd promised myself I'd give her time, leave her alone, let her come to me. But now I was constantly wondering if that would ever happen. I reminded myself of how patient Parker had been with me in the beginning, when we'd first met. How no matter how long I kept him out and pushed him away, he continued to stay calm and compassionate. I still didn't understand how he managed. But yet, I hadn't abused his trust and then killed the most important thing in his life. So I digressed...
"Just so you know," Chris continued, "I'm trying to get her to forgive you. I fuckin' miss you guys. I know she does too."
I nodded again, a little firmer this time, with a little more hope. "We miss you guys, too."
"Tell everyone I said hi, will you?"
"Yeah. I'll pass it on."
...
We'd been on the road for roughly an hour before Lance went silent -cutting off his conversation with Xavier about their favorite road trip songs- and tilted his ear toward the front of the truck.
"What is that?" Lance asked softly. Then a moment of silence before he turned his head slowly to Xavier. "Did you fill up the power steering fluid?"
Xavier winced, sucking air through closed teeth.
So that was a no.
"Dammit. I told you this thing has a slow leak," Lance whined. Oh, so that was the leaky fluid he'd been referring to earlier. "It has to be filled before every run. How many times do I need to say it?"
"Why didn't you fill it then?" Xavier shot back indignantly. "If it was such a big deal."
"Because I asked you to. I literally asked you to do it."
Their voices began overlapping then, spitting out accusations and insults, and Parker and I shared a look. This was when their brotherly banter became decidedly not amusing.
"Alright, guys," Parker interjected, sounding laughably like a father breaking up a squabble between his two kids. "Can we make it to the Zone with what we have?"
Lance huffed, gripping the wheel with both hands firmly. "Wheel's starting to lock up. We're going to have to stop soon. Find some fluid and top it off, or the wheel won't budge. And I know for a fact we can't make it there going in a straight line."
"Alright. We'll stop at the first place we see. Keep an eye out."
Five minutes later, a large gas station came into view just off the highway.
"There," I said, tapping a finger to the cold glass. "Take this exit."
The vehicle reluctantly curved enough to get us onto the exit ramp, but when we came to the stop sign at the end, the truck rumbled to a halt.
Lance grumbled a string of curses, then turned to look apologetically to Parker and I in the back seat. "I'd like to get closer, but...." He sent a look to Xavier who sighed and slumped further into his seat.
"It's fine," Parker said, grabbing his bag while I followed suit. "It's not far. We can walk."
"Cool. We're going to hang back here. Watch the truck." By the sound of his voice, I assumed Xavier would be getting a more in depth lecture while we were gone.
"Good idea." Parker looked to me and I gave him a nod before we both hopped out of the truck. "Be back soon."
It took all but two steps into the gas station to realize that something had died in here. The smell wasn't too overwhelming -I mentally thanked the cold weather for once- but it was there enough to wrinkle our noses; definitely more pungent than the shelf of rotted, half frozen fruits and sandwiches.
"Careful," Parker whispered to me, and I gave him a nod before we headed further into the store.
Expired snacks. Expired candy. More expired candy. The automotive supplies were in the back, but as we turned into the aisle, we both froze.
Near the end, slouched against the bottom shelves, head lolled to the side and unmoving, lay a Feral. It hadn't heard us yet, amazingly.
I looked at Parker, giving him a questioning look. What is it doing?
He shrugged softly, his brow slightly furrowed. I don't know.
I wondered if it was sleeping. Wait. Did Ferals sleep? Why hadn't I thought of this possibility before? Well, probably because I'd never seen anything like this. Surely they had to sleep, right? They were still living creatures. Maybe this one had stashed a half-eaten kill in here somewhere and was now sleeping off the meal.
Regardless of what it was doing, it needed to move. It happened to be lying directly in front of the jugs of fluid we needed.
Looking to my left, I spotted a can of antifreeze. Ah yes. This would do perfectly. I picked it up from the shelf, gave Parker a look that he immediately understood, and then chucked it over the Feral and to the far side of the gas station. It bounced noisily against the tile before rolling into the wall. We tensed... but the Feral stayed motionless.
Huh. Maybe it was dead. But even from here, I couldn't see any visible wounds. No blood, fresh or otherwise.
I began down the aisle, Parker a step behind me with his pistol at the ready. As we got closer and the scent of rot grew stronger, it quickly became obvious that this was what had died in here.
"How did it die?" I thought aloud.
Parker slid his weapon back into its holster as I stooped, moving the body this way and that, looking for a cause of death.
"Must have turned early. No bite marks." I stood and wiped my hands against my coat, an unconscious action that didn't do much more than spread the smell of death. "No bullet holes or blunt force trauma either. Nothing."
I turned to see Parker pinching his lower lip between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer finger, his eyes distant.
"What are you thinking?"
"When we were at the Zone, the first time, George was telling me about how the virus worked. He created it specifically to attack the brain, to shut it down completely. I asked if it would eventually happen to the Ferals and he didn't have an answer." He turned his gaze to mine. "But I think that's exactly what's happening."
I looked back down at the dead Feral. I couldn't stand the look in his eyes. An epiphany and overwhelming hope. "You don't think it just... froze to death?"
"I don't think so," he answered with a slight shake of his head. "This could be... I mean, it could be everything. They're dying off, Claire. Eventually, they'll be gone. It'll be over. Yeah, it'll basically be like building from the ground up, but... we can make a new world. We'll have a chance to-"
"No, we won't."
I couldn't. I just couldn't listen to him talk anymore. About chances, about a future. I didn't have to be asleep for the dream to haunt me -the screaming infant, the blood, the gun. It had been real. He'd seen it. He knew what our future looked like. A blank crystal ball. Nothing to be told.
He breathed out a confused scoff.
"It doesn't matter," I muttered.
"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Of course it matters."
"If every child who's born gets infected because this shit is still airborne, then it doesn't matter. Does it?"
His shoulders slumped, understanding washing over his face before he stepped closer to me. "The dreams are getting worse. Aren't they?"
I bit my lips into a firm line and nodded.
"I'm sorry."
I shrugged, avoiding his eyes.
"No," he said with a small shake of his head. "I mean, I'm sorry. Killing Emma. You shouldn't have had to do that. It should have been me."
"Why? Because I'm not strong enough to handle it?"
"No." He looked a little appalled that I'd come to that conclusion. "You're strong enough. You are. But if I could have avoided putting one more burden on your shoulders, then that's what I should have done."
I stepped away from him, my heart beating violently from the sudden hotness in my veins. He didn't understand anything.
"Even if I hadn't killed her, if she had died from the virus instead of turned, you think that wouldn't bother me? I'm not fucked up because I killed her"- That wasn't entirely true- "I'm fucked up because she got infected in the first place. The fact that that's the way things are? That's the burden. Can you take that from me, Parker? Can you lift that from my shoulders?" I was being harsh, that much was true, but I couldn't stop myself. We'd talked about this vaguely before, but I'd always held so much in and now it was barreling out. "It doesn't matter if the Ferals die out because we're all still fucked. There is no new start, no future, because we're all that's left."
We stared at each other silently for a moment. Him sobered, me angry and upset and on the verge of breaking down. So I spun around and looked at the shelf, trying to busy my hands, busy my mind with something else.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Why did I want to cry so badly?
I grabbed two jugs of fluid and turned back to him. "We should get back."
He touched my wrist as I passed him, circling it with his fingers.
"We're going to fix it," he said. "That's why we're going to the Zone, right? To see how we can fix it?"
I nodded, biting my lip. "Yeah." I dipped my head, pressed my face into his chest. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you," he said into my hair, his arms welcome and comforting around me.
"I just feel like -like it's my fault. Like I'm responsible for all this shit."
He pulled back and gave me a look of mock concern. "Okay, maybe there is something wrong with you."
I glared up at him, but he smiled, and I couldn't help but return it.
"You know none of this is your fault, right?" he asked, serious now. "You're not responsible for George's shitty decisions. He made them. Not you. You're not the one who needs to atone."
"I mean, I know that," I said, rolling my eyes at myself and trying to shake off the ridiculous feeling.
"Do you?"
"Yeah," I whispered with a slight shrug, the fluid sloshing in the jugs with the movement.
"Good." He took one of the jugs from my hands. "We really should get back. I'd rather not be the recipient of one of Lance's lectures."
I chuckled, agreeing wholeheartedly, but as we headed back to the truck, I couldn't help but feel like this conversation wasn't finished. Like there was something unsaid, something deeper, something I couldn't quite grasp that had caused my outburst in the first place.