“Shit,” I feel and hear the words come out of a mouth that isn’t mine. A hand reaches up to my neck and comes away red. “Hide, we’re under—“ the word attack falls short from my lips as I slump over, vision blurring at the edges. It hurts, but more than that, I’m all too aware of my heartbeat. And it seems like with every thud more red drenches my shirt.

  I feel scared and panicked, but only for a moment. Then I notice my vision collapsing and I see an image of a woman.

  She’s in a white dress standing by a kitchen window, her dark skin glowing in the sunbeams.

  It looks like a farmhouse, and words flit through my thoughts that aren’t my own. Words like “she’s beautiful.” And “I will see her again now”.

  Warmth fills my body and sense of calm washes over me. No more panic, no more pain, just like you’re falling asleep. One breath. Then another. Then nothing.

  I awake this time, not with a scream or a start, but with longing. My heart hurts. It was Alyx I saw, I think, but there is no way to be certain. Maybe they had a wife or a serious girlfriend at one time. But I won’t ask. I lay in bed for as long as I can until the sound of others getting ready stirs me.

  I sit up, and Amber finds me, handing me an orange. These were hard to find in the city, so I thank her and scan the room for Alyx.

  “Who are you looking for?” She asks as she sits down on my makeshift bed, joining me and eating her own orange slices.

  “Alyx.” I say.

  “He went out earlier on a scouting mission. Left a girl named Shot in charge.”

  “Shot? Really?” I ask, letting myself be distracted, instead of thinking of my dreams.

  “Whatever, Cain.” She responds, putting emphasis on my name. I grin at her and then shrug as well. But the moment passes, and dread fills me.

  “Where did Alyx say they were going?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

  “Mmm, not sure,” Amber says in between bites. “I think they said there’s a warehouse a little ways away. They took some of the teams with them. They all left a few hours ago, so they should be back soon.” She frowns at me, “Woah, you okay? Your face just went super pale.”

  I nod and I know with a sinking feeling that it’s too late. That in a few hours, maybe some of the members will return, or maybe none at all. I hate waiting, but I also know I can’t go out alone.

  If I die doing something stupid, Barclay wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, dead or not. I smile at the thought but it’s quickly replaced with worry.

  “Did they say what they were doing?” Amber shakes her head.

  “They said they were scouting, going to check for supplies. Hey,” She turns to face me now, a concern similar to Bren’s the day before, etched across her face. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, they’ll be back in a couple of hours, you’ll see.” She stands and extends a hand down to me.

  “In the meantime, we should get going. The people stationed here want some help, and there’s more than enough of us to lend a helping hand. “I take her hand, grateful for her kindness and the distraction.

  They give most of us shovels and tell us to get to work digging. The soil closer to the house is mostly clay, which doesn’t work as well for gardening. And though it’s quickly turning fall, they want to expand their garden spaces for next year.

  So we level out the ground not far from their house and then get to work on building boxes — or raised beds, as they called them. One of the guys stationed at the house explains that these boxes, once filled with soil, will help them have some plants closer the house, instead of going all the way out to the field.

  After a couple of hours of this, we’re all sweating, despite it still being early in the morning. But the work is nice, people talk idly amongst themselves, and the work calms me.

  Those thoughts are broken an hour later, as we work on the boxes, when we hear screaming from the front of the property. We grab our shovels, and whatever weapons we have near us, and rush beside the house to see what’s going on.

  “There’s a few left, we were chased! Incoming!” For a moment, I am too stunned by the voice to react. And as I come around the side of the house, I am even more confused as I see Barclay yelling and waving at everyone. “We’re under attack, everyone in defensive positions now!” His voice is loud and booming, and I see through the crowd that is now running frantically, that he is holding someone up.

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  My heart leaps in to my throat as I think it’s Alyx, but then I realize it’s someone else — and they’re both covered in blood.

  There isn’t time to make my way through to talk to him, so I follow everyone else into the house, grab some knives from my bag, and hold onto my shovel. Those that have guns grab those too. Ammo has been low the last few months, but some of our group have setup an outpost where they are hand-making bullets. But it’s a slow process to find all the materials.

  We rush back out the front moments later and are greeted by a small group running up the road, hollering. As ordered by Barclay, some of our group run ahead to meet them, the rest of us stay back, prepared.

  Barclay is still supporting the guy, though I can tell he’s exhausted and his arm has fallen out of his sling. Briefly, I wonder if he might have rebroken his collarbone.

  There are more screams then, and I don’t even hear Barclay’s order, but I follow everyone as my group rushes forward. I don’t hear anything but my adrenaline-filled heartbeat in my ears.

  We meet them, and they are no match for our numbers. I’m not even sure why they bothered following. Before I even reach them, the remaining four attackers have been killed.

  Everyone stops, shoulders rising and falling, all of us breathing heavily. We face the road and wait, expecting more of them. But there is no movement on the horizon, though that doesn’t mean we’re safe.

  Others take over managing the bodies, while some help our injured teammates back to the house. I take the latter job, never liking seeeing the aftermath of the fights. I feel like I spend enough time with death while I sleep.

  I get back to the front of the house, helping a girl with a knife in her leg stumble inside. Amber had said earlier that Shot, whoever that was, had been placed in charge. But it appears, as we stand in the living room, everyone has now nominated Barclay as leader by default.

  I cross my arms as he instructs groups into sections, some guarding, some providing care to the wounded. My group is selected to repack our supplies and get ready to leave, and take over as a second guard shift after. It will be a long night for everyone.

  I watch Barclay, someone had finally moved the boy he had been helping, and now he’s cradling his arm against his chest. Something in my heart pangs, and I wonder if he’s injured.

  My mind is still processing the attack as everyone leaves to start their duties, but mainly, I’m wondering where Barclay came from, and how did he find us?

  I push my way through the people. I search his face as I get closer, but his expression is masked as he meets my eyes.

  “Hey,” He says, and I reach out to help adjust his sling and get his arm settled again. But then I look at the angle he’s holding it at, and grimace.

  “It’s broken again,” I sigh, and then step back, folding my arms and looking down. I suddenly don’t know how to stand around him.

  “Yeah, I think so.” He then tries to shrug, and winces, laughing, I think, though it almost sounds like a groan.

  “Why — How,” I start, and then gesture to him to convey my question. He smiles infuriatingly.

  “How am I here?” He asks, smirking. “Well, I just missed you.” I reach out to playfully punch him, but pull back before contact, mindful of his injury. He doesn’t even flinch.

  “Seriously, what happened? Everyone else—“ I break off, not wanting to hear it. His eyes move awya from mine and towards the field. He doesn’t look at me, as he steps closer, lowering his voice.

  “I couldn’t save Alyx. I tried, I really really did, I knew,” He takes a deep breath and gestures to a back room of the house, where there isn’t anyone working. He moves through the crowd and I follow him. He continues in a low voice, even once we’re out of earshot of the others.

  “They was coloured when you guys left, so I knew, I just—“ He clenches his good hand, and I suddenly notice how tense he is. Upset, and probably frustrated with himself, if I know him at all.

  “Hey,” I say softly, and put a hand on his good shoulder, pausing until his hand relaxes, though he still won’t look at me. “That is not your fault. You saved that boy, right?” I ask him, and he nods.

  “Thirteen. I got thirteen of them out, but not Alyx, and a few others didn’t make it either.”

  “You saved thirteen people in there?” I’m shocked by the number, and how Barclay can’t see it. He nods but still looks grim. Without thinking, I pull him into a half-hug, holding his good shoulder, and speak quietly next to his ear. “You’ve done more than anyone could ask for. I’m sure they’re all grateful.” Barclay shakes his head, his chin rough against the side of my face.

  This time I step back, and touch his chin, making him turn to face me.

  “Alyx would have wanted it this way.” I add when his eyes finally meet mine. I see the grief in them, and I wish there was more I could do.

  “I’m sorry,” He says, and I open my mouth to object, but he steps back abruptly, cutting me off. “No, you don’t understand. I was there. I watched him die. I felt him die. Right there. On the floor of that warehouse, shot in the neck.” He shakes his head and turns away.

  I step forward, not letting him shut me out this time. I place a hand on his back, and I imagine, for a moment, what that must have been like for him. To both see it and feel it happen — and still not be able to stop it.

  “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.” I tell him, and I honestly mean it. “He was at peace, at least, did feel that part? His wife, or girlfriend was there, to meet him,” He turns to me.

  “What do you mean, girlfriend? I felt the peace, the warmth, but,” I shake my head, smiling slightly, glad I can give him this one thing.

  “They were happy at the end. Sometimes I get to see it,” I tell him, detailing the woman standing in the sunlit kitchen. “So you can’t see what I see, you only feel it?”

  “I guess so.” There is still sadness hanging around him, but he seems better now. To know at least that ?Alyx was okay, in the end.

  I tell Barclay then that I’m going to go pack up, and I leave him in the room. Part of me wants to hug him and make him see that’s it’s a miracle that he was able to save that many people. But I know he needs time to process, and as much as I hate it — I know I can’t help him with that part.

  When I arrive back in the living room where we’re sleeping, I see that Amber already packed up my things. I scan the room, before finding her in a corner talking with Bren. I decide to leave them alone for the moment and shoulder my pack instead.

  I look around the room at the group, larger now, with thirteen — fourteen, if you count Barclay — more members. And wonder who else knew Alyx’s plans, and think back to the whispers that we were supposed to be looking for something.

  What is the plan now?