The red
phone booth appears in the clearing, still bright under the moonlight despite
its age, and I know I’m close. There’s a chance now that I might make it. I run
a little faster, arms and legs pumping, chest tight with the effort to breathe.
Two hundred
feet. Maybe less.
The night
has lasted forever and just a few minutes at the same time, the events of the
last several hours alternately playing in slow motion and high speed in my
brain. Three hours ago I was coming out of the booth with Ryder, Tuck, and Vi
to explore the ruins for the first time on our own. We hadn’t exactly asked for
permission, but then if we had, we wouldn’t have gotten it. The ruins are for
soldiers and scavengers, not for us—even if the four of us are only a mere year
away from being drafted into service. Three hours ago leaving New Sanctuary
hadn’t seemed like a good idea exactly, but it had seemed like an adventure of
the grand kind found in the few books kept in the school building: dangerous,
but somehow not when taken on
together. All it took was Ryder’s hand over my own, covering it completely, his
fingers lining up with mine to make my resolve not to go dissolve.
We’d jogged
the miles to the ruins in silence, but not because anyone in New Sanctuary
would hear us. Once we passed through the iron and steel door in the giant
stone wall surrounding it and through the red phone booth into the snow beyond
we were in Wanderers’ territory. They didn’t tend to hang around the wall in
winter—that much is true. The cold seemed to make them sluggish and prone to
hibernating in the tunnels under the Ruins, but there was always a chance that
one would be awake and hungry and so we were careful to step lightly and keep
our mouths shut tight. Still, Ryder managed to look back at me a dozen times, smiling
encouragingly every time I faltered, hesitated. Out of the four of us I am
always the fearful, doubting one. I would’ve never left New Sanctuary this way
had he not asked me, had I not been afraid that if I didn’t, he might start
asking someone else.
The Ruins
were terrifying in the moonlight, but magical too—all dressed in snow and ice. If
I didn’t know what hid inside them I might’ve been tempted to linger at the frosted
windows and open doorways, to sift through what was left of the world before.
“Over there,
on the left,” Ryder said, his voice sure and calm even now, maybe especially
now. Growing up he was the first of us to scale the wall on a dare and walk the
length of it while Wanderers howled down below, fruitlessly trying to scrabble
up the stone. I climbed it just the once, the day he asked my father if he
could call on me. We kissed up there, sitting on the stone, but even in broad
daylight I was too nervous to enjoy it fully. I felt Wanderer eyes on me every
minute until the kiss went from exciting to excruciating since we were so
exposed. Ryder leaned over then brushed his lips against mine as if he’s
reading my mind and checking to see if despite my coming along tonight I had
changed it. I put my hand on his neck and pull him closer, let the tip of my tongue
trace his upper lip. I couldn’t help smiling when he let out a shuddery breath.
Let Vi compete with that.
She was watching
us, her eyes every bit as dangerous as any Wanderers and I couldn’t help
thinking that sometimes New Sanctuary has its risks too.
We trudged
forward in a line towards the building Ryder wanted us to explore. His father
had been out there last week and the building looked like the one marked on his
map—low and rectangular with a sign marked “Costco” on the side of the bricks
near large glass doors, broken out enough in places to allow us to crawl
through. The building was dark inside. Quiet. I shone my flashlight on the
entrance, through it to the gloom beyond. There was no sign of eye shine or the
unmistakable howl of Wanderers. This didn’t mean we are safe though. The
building was long even if it was not high and there were no windows or doors
beyond the entrance, save for a few rolling metal ones around the back.
Ryder and
Tuck pulled their guns off of their shoulders, held them at the ready. Vi followed
suit. I refused their offer of a gun myself, choosing instead my father’s
knife—so sharp that he could cut scrap metal as easily as butter. I liked the way
it felt in my hand. Guns don’t sit in between your palm and fingers the same
way. It means that any Wanderer that might come for me would get very close
before I could use it, but somehow I still felt safer with it. Father had spent
most of my childhood teaching me how to use it. Even Ryder is impressed by my
skills.
Vi went into
the building first. She looked back at Ryder and winked before she plunged into
the dark, becoming nothing but a moving shadow, a silhouette. Ryder shook his
head and laughed, whistled low under his breath so that I had to strain to hear
it. I didn’t like that whistle so I went next, except I didn’t wink at him on
my way in, I elbowed him instead.
Tuck and
Ryder entered together, their guns already sweeping the space as if the steel had
the capability to sniff the Wanderers out. Ryder leaned towards us, jabbed his
fingers toward the sign that read Jewelry and motioned for us to follow him. Vi
glared at me then, but she didn’t say anything.
We approached
the old counter on tiptoe and leaned over the open display. There was a mess of
debris inside, but my flashlight picked up the glint of the old watch right
away. The diamonds circling its face were still bright. Ryder grabbed my free
hand and pulled me towards it. My heart beat a little faster. I’d hoped that
this was what we were coming for, but there was always the chance that he
wanted to try for the last of the canned goods or medicines.
“What do you
think?” he asked as he plucked it from the dirt and dried leaves…and bones.
“It’s
beautiful,” I breathed and it was. It was just as lovely as the men described
it that night around the campfire when they told tales of this place and what
they’d seen. The watch was originally meant for Ryder’s mother. His father had
been here a dozen times to try and get it for her, but the first few times it
had been mounted tight to some kind of velvet board and then the last few times
they’d been ambushed by Wanderers. He’d planned to come back in the summer when
the sun was out longer and the sky would light up the front of the store enough
to keep the Wanderers at bay, but in the past few months Ryder and I had gotten
closer and somewhere along the way he wasn’t planning the scavenge for his wife
anymore, but for me. The watch was to be Ryder’s engagement gift—except Ryder
never liked the idea of his dad getting the watch on his behalf. I was going to
be his wife and he wanted to get it himself.
Vi snatched
the watch from his hand and draped it along her wrist. “Lovely. Like a medal or
something. I like it.” Her eyes cut to mine and I had the urge to slap her
cheek and snatch the watch myself. But it felt odd to fight her for it. It felt
like Ryder should be scolding her and taking it back instead. He stared at the watch
on her wrist for a second as if mesmerized before he held out his hand palm up
and waited for her to give it to him. She stared at him and something passes
between them: intimate and awful in its longing.
When Tucker
started to scream they were still looking into each other’s eyes and I was
gripping the knife so hard that my knuckles hurt. Tucker’s gun went off, a brief
burst of orange sparks lit up the dark around him, enough for all of us to see the
Wanderer before it drug him off.
We drew
together and formed a tight circle, each of us facing out the way we’d been
taught. My heart was a galloping horse inside my chest. The first howl split the
quiet and then there was just the sound of Tuck shrieking as somewhere in the
dark he was ripped in two. We moved together as swiftly as we could towards the
door while still holding our circular formation. There was the sound of claws
against cement and the stench of sweat and musk and fur.
When we were
close enough to the door Ryder yelled “Run!” and we took off for the outside,
feet slipping in the snow a bit. I felt something brush my foot before I gain
traction and I screamed, but when I looked around for help Ryder and Vi were
gone. There was only the snow and the dark outline of the other ruins. When the
screaming started this time it was two voices making it. I let out a sob and ran
for the trees and the field beyond.
They are
gone, they are all gone and now there is only me.
There must
have only been three Wanderers because now I am suddenly alone. I run a bit
faster, but my legs feel heavy and wooden and my throat is so tight I can’t
breathe. I head for the wall and the bright red booth. I can see it now, a dot
the color of blood peeking out above the snow.
When the screaming
stops I know I am out of time, but I am close enough to make it. Maybe.
My lungs
are on fire. I need to stop, but I don’t, even when the fuzzy black circles
start popping up in front of my eyes.
Branches
snap behind me and then there is the ragged sound of them panting. They are
close.
Oh God.
I run
faster.
The booth
is before me a moment later and then I am through the door though for a painful
moment my fingers shake so badly it feels like I won’t be able to open it. I
close the door just as the first of them smashes into it. Quickly, I slide the steel
bars across the door—all three. The thing, as if sensing it’s already too late
lets out a howl so long and loud that it reverberates inside the booth and I
cover my ears, my knife clattering to the floor. I grab for the door at the back
of the booth, the one that leads into the tunnel to New Sanctuary, but it’s
locked. It won’t be opened again until morning when the first scavengers go out.
I am stuck here until then.
Outside the
Wanderer settles, stops bashing the door with its bulk and begins to pace. I
push myself into the corner of the booth farthest from the outside door and try
to calm down. The booth was reinforced long ago to withstand their attacks. I
am safe enough inside.
“Sarah.”
I am not
expecting to hear my name or see the familiar silhouette of Ryder outside the door.
The creature looks up at him and howls and I watch as he puts out his hand to
pet it. His head lolls to one side at a funny angle where he was bitten.
“Sarah, let
me in,” he says, his voice rough, but warm like always, coaxing. Tears pool in my
eyes and spill out onto my cheeks, my jacket.
“Please,
Sarah. It’s not too late.” He puts a hand on the booth and something clatters
against it. I lean forward in spite of myself and peer through the occluded
glass as best I can, but I don’t have to see it to know what it is. The watch.
It was
supposed to be mine. He was supposed to be mine. Maybe he didn’t love me the
way he loved Vi, but he needed me, he’d always needed me in a way she never
understood. We were soul mates—the kind born of friendship and history. I ached
to open the door all of the sudden, to reach out and take his hand, to let him
put the watch on me and take me with him and the others, even if it might mean
being one of them.
How can I
stay in New Sanctuary without him? How can I leave it to patrol the Ruins
knowing he might be out there waiting? That I might one day have to kill him?
I put my
hand on the door and he mirrors my movement from outside. He leans his forehead
against it and I can see the circle of skin pressed to the glass, the faint
outline of his hair.
“Sarah,
please,” he says and there is still so much of him in his voice that I begin to
move the first steel bar off the door without thinking about it. If I am brave
I will open the door enough to stab him through it and end the transitioning. I
move the second steel bar slowly out of the way. I can be brave enough, I have
to be. I stoop down and grab my father’s knife. I put my hand on the last bar and
slowly slide it out of the way too. Ryder’s hands pry open the door the moment
the bar clears it, the watch still dangling from his fingers. Our eyes meet.
For a moment he is Ryder, the Ryder I rode bikes with and skipped stones with.
The Ryder I kissed less than an hour ago. But then the irises of his eyes begin
to go red, as red as the booth that we’re standing in.
“Sarah,” he
growls.
I reach out
to him, my hand closing around the wound at his neck as I bring my knife into
his chest then drive it upward. He howls—a very un-Ryder like sound and the watch
drops from his fingers to the floor, falling between us. I push him back
through the door, careful not to look at his face—more Wanderer now in the
moonlight flooding in from outside.
I pick up
the watch and with trembling hands try to throw it into the snow, but in the
end I can’t and so I slip it into my pocket and wait for sunrise.
Story by: Amy Christine Parker
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