Harry stared at the knife in his hand with dull, empty eyes.
He flicked it open.
Closed it.
Open again.
Closed.
The tal clicked softly each ti, steady, controlled. It was the only thing he could seem to focus on.
He sat against the base of a tree just outside the camp, one knee pulled up to his chest, the other stretched out in front of him. The ground was cold, but he barely felt it anymore.
The tears on his face had dried. They left tight streaks on his skin.
Around him, the camp was alive.
Lanterns swayed from ropes tied between trees. Shadows moved across tents as people went in and out. Low conversations filled the air, mixed with the occasional nervous laugh that never lasted long.
It felt wrong.
Too normal.
Like nothing had happened.
Like his dad hadn’t just—
Harry shut his eyes.
A few ters away, voices carried through the night.
"What do you think happened out there?"
"I don’t know, man. Harold’s not back. That usually tells you everything you need to know."
There was a pause.
Then soone scoffed.
"I’m just saying, every ti that kid’s around, sothing goes wrong. Every ti."
Another voice chid in, quieter. "Co on, that’s not fair."
"It’s not fair? He always panicks. You saw it the other day. He lost his grip, slowed everyone down. I bet if Bill didn’t step in this ti, we might’ve lost more than just Harold."
"That’s not how it happened," the second voice said, though it sounded unsure.
"It’s exactly how it happened. Harold always had a soft spot for him. Thought he was ready. Kid’s not ready for shit."
Harry’s knife snapped shut.
His jaw tightened.
For a second, his body leaned forward like he was about to stand.
Like he was about to walk over there and—
"Harry."
His mother’s voice cut through it.
He stopped.
Slowly, he sank back against the tree.
She approached carefully, like he might bolt if she moved too fast. Her face was pale, eyes red from crying, but she was holding herself together in a way he couldn’t.
"...Honey, it’s cold out here," she said softly. "Why don’t you co inside and get so rest?"
He didn’t answer right away.
His fingers tightened around the knife.
Her eyes dropped to it.
"Harry..."
He looked away.
Before she could say anything else, a voice called out across the camp.
"Everyone, listen up!"
Heads turned.
Conversations died down.
The man who had decked him in the face, Bill, stood near the center of the camp, lit by a lantern hanging above him. His face was serious, his posture straight, like he had already stepped into sothing bigger.
"Gather around," he said. "We need to talk."
People started moving closer.
Harry didn’t move.
His mom stayed beside him, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
Bill waited until enough people had gathered.
Then he spoke.
"What happened out there tonight... it wasn’t good," he began. His voice carried, steady and clear. "We went out to check the smoke like we planned. Thought it might’ve been another group. Thought maybe we could trade. Maybe find sothing useful."
A few people nodded.
"We were wrong," Bill continued. "We ran into trouble. A lot of it."
He paused, letting it sink in.
"Harold didn’t make it back."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
So people looked down. Others whispered to each other.
Bill raised a hand.
"He died making sure the rest of us got out," he said firmly. "He stayed behind when things got bad. Bought us ti. If it wasn’t for him, more of us wouldn’t be standing here right now."
Harry’s grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles went pale.
That wasn’t how it happened.
Not even close.
Bill kept going.
"He was a good man," he said. "A strong leader. He kept this group together when things were falling apart. And we owe it to him to keep going."
A woman in the crowd spoke up. "What exactly happened out there, Bill?"
Bill didn’t hesitate.
"We got surrounded," he said. "Too many of them. We had to move fast. Harold made the call for us to fall back while he held them off. That’s the only reason we made it out."
Harry’s breathing slowed.
His chest felt tight.
Another voice spoke up, sharper this ti. "So what now? We just keep moving like nothing happened?"
Bill nodded once.
"We keep moving," he said. "That’s exactly what we do. Sitting here won’t help us. Waiting won’t help us. We’re still heading to Canada, and we’re getting there alive."
"And who’s leading us there?" soone else asked.
That was it.
Bill took a small step forward.
"I am," he said.
The words landed heavy.
So people shifted uncomfortably.
Others looked relieved.
"I’ve been on runs. I know how to handle situations like what we ran into tonight," Bill continued. "I’m not saying Harold didn’t. He did. But he’s gone now. And we don’t have ti to argue about what-ifs."
A man crossed his arms. "You’re just gonna step in like that? Just like that?"
"I’m stepping in because soone has to," Bill replied. "Or do you want us to fall apart out here?"
Another voice cut in. "Harold had a plan. You don’t even know what it was."
"I know enough," Bill said. "I know we need to move faster. I know we need tighter control. And I know hesitation gets people killed."
Harry’s vision blurred for a second.
He rembered the gunshots.
The running.
His dad hitting the ground.
Left behind.
Not staying.
Not choosing.
Left.
His fists clenched.
Bill’s eyes shifted through the crowd.
They landed on him.
"Are there any other objections?" Bill asked.
Silence.
No one spoke.
No one stepped forward.
The woods seed louder in that mont. The wind through the trees. The faint creak of branches.
Harry couldn’t take it.
He ripped his arm away from his mother’s grip.
"Harry—" she started.
He didn’t listen.
He stood up and turned away from the camp, from the people, from Bill.
From all of it.
And he walked.
—
"Damn, seriously?" Naomi asked after I finished my explanation.
I nodded.
She leaned forward on the couch, elbows on her knees, cigarette hanging between her fingers. The tip glowed faintly as she took a slow drag. For a second, she just looked at the floor like she was putting the pieces together.
"Well, shit," she said. "You really don’t catch a break, do you?"
"Doesn’t feel like it," I answered.
She let out a quiet breath through her nose, then brought the cigarette back to her mouth.
"Hey... look."
She looked up at .
"About everything back then," I said. "St. Louis. Hailey. All of it..."
Her brows furrowed then, as she rubbed her thumb against the side of the cigarette.
"We didn’t have a choice," I continued. "It was either your people or mine. That’s what it ca down to. Hailey made sure of that."
She took another drag, then exhaled slowly, smoke drifting between us.
"I know," She said simply.
My eyes widened at that
"There’s no clean way to survive this shit. There’s no right side. There’s no wrong side. You just pick who you’re willing to protect, and you live with what it costs you."
She looked up at .
"That’s it. That’s the whole ga."
I didn’t say anything right away.
I just let it sit.
Then I nodded once.
"But that still doesn’t explain sothing," she added.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Why you took her."
My chest tightened slightly.
"That night," she said. "When you and your people wiped out the Crucible."
The mory hit fast.
Gunfire. Screaming. Fire spreading across walls that used to feel untouchable.
"We didn’t take her to torture her," I said.
Naomi’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read .
"We needed her," I continued. "As a sample."
"A sample?" she repeated.
"To find a cure."
That made her sit up a little straighter.
"You’re serious?"
I nodded.
Her expression shifted. For a second, there was sothing like hope there.
"...did you find one?"
I shook my head.
"No. The compound got hit not long after. Everything we had... data, research, people... gone. The ones working on it are probably dead."
The hope drained from her face just as fast as it ca.
"Oh."
She leaned back slightly, staring off for a mont.
"Well... that’s just great."
There wasn’t much else to say to that.
Silence settled in again.
Then I spoke.
"What about Samuel?"
Her eyes changed imdiately.
Darker.
I caught it right away.
"It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," I said. "I get it."
"No," she said quickly. "No, I’ll talk."
She took a breath, deeper this ti, and closed her eyes for a second.
When she opened them again, they looked steadier.
"He got bit," she said. "I put him down."
Straight. No hesitation.
But I knew that wasn’t the whole story.
She kept going.
"I never had a boyfriend before all this," she said. "Before everything went to shit. I wasn’t really the type. Was always busy. Too angry. Didn’t trust people enough."
mories of Lila started to appear in my mind. I quickly pushed it down.
She gave a small, dry laugh.
"Then I joined Hailey’s group. t him there. He wasn’t anything special at first glance. Just so guy with a leather jacket who knew how to shoot and keep his mouth shut."
She looked down at her hands.
"But he stayed. Didn’t try to impress anyone. Didn’t try to act tough. He just... showed up. Every day."
She took another drag, slower this ti.
"And for so reason, that got to . I started looking for him without realizing it. Started noticing when he wasn’t around. Started caring."
She shook her head slightly.
"Stupid, right?"
I didn’t answer.
"He got bit during a run," she continued. "Didn’t even tell at first. Tried to hide it. Thought he could ride it out."
Her jaw tightened.
"By the ti I saw it, it was too late. He was already shaking. Already losing it."
She looked up at .
"He asked to do it," she said. "Didn’t want to turn. Didn’t want to be one of them."
A pause.
"So I did."
Silence filled the cabin again.
"That must’ve been hard," I said.
She shrugged, but it wasn’t convincing.
"You do what you have to do," she said. "That’s the rule, right?"
I nodded.
She let out a breath, then gave a small, crooked smile.
"Just wish I knew about that cure you guys were working on before I shot my boyfriend in the face."
I almost laughed.
It caught off guard.
She noticed and smirked slightly.
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Real funny."
The tension eased a little after that.
Not gone.
But lighter.
We sat there for a mont without saying anything.
Then she spoke again.
"Well... I guess Canada’s as good a place as any to start over."
I looked at her.
"So you’re coming with ?"
She shrugged.
"Don’t see why not," she said. "Better than rotting in this cabin waiting for sothing to break in and eat ."
Sothing settled in my chest at that.
Not relief.
Not quite.
But close enough.
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