“Guys,” Hugo said. “Let’s calm down.”
“It’s fine,” Brooke said. “I’m through.” She shot one more harsh look at Jon before turning around and heading out the door. She slammed it behind her.
Garrett exhaled. “Sorry about that. She won’t give up on this damn forsaken dream of some kind of uprising.”
Jon kept his eyes on the door. He knew what he had done was the right thing for Brooke’s well-being, but he also knew he couldn’t leave without her knowing why.
Keeping his eyes on the door, he said, “I’ll stay for the day. But in all likelihood, I’m gone tomorrow morning.”
“That’s fair,” Hugo said.
“All we ask is that you stay a little longer to see what we’ve got to offer before you make a final decision,” Garrett said. “Keep an open mind.”
Jon stood, and the other two men did, as well. He shook their hands, then shuffled out the door.
Outside, gray clouds sat scattered in an overcast sky, blocking most of the sun’s rays. Jon looked around, but saw no sign of Brooke. He walked down the porch steps to go look for her, but as he stepped into the grass, he heard someone crying.
He followed the sound around the back of the house, where he found Brooke leaning against a tree, her arms crossed. They made eye contact, and she sighed in frustration and rubbed her eyes as she turned away from him.
“Please, just leave me alone,” she said.
“You have to know why I couldn’t back you up in there,” Jon said. “This camp isn’t prepared for what you want.”
“Yeah, well, then you’re no different than them if that’s what you think.”
“It’s suicide. Is that really what you want for your—”
“Don’t say it.” Brooke came off of the tree and moved within inches of Jon, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare say it. You have no right.”
Jon put up his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help and do what’s best for you.”
Brooke scoffed. “You don’t even know me. What gives you the right to think you know what’s best for me?”
Brooke walked away, not giving Jon the chance to respond. He didn’t want to anyway, thinking it best to let Brooke go and cool off. He had said his peace. It was all he’d wanted.
When she’d walked nearly ten yards away, Brooke turned halfway around. Tears came from her eyes, but she didn’t bother wiping them away.
“You’re just like the others. You’d rather die here in the past than forge something better for yourself. Well, go ahead. But don’t try to drag me and my son along with you.”
21
Jon remained behind the houses as Brooke disappeared into the central part of the camp. He had no interest in walking around more, only to be gawked that by the settlers.
Walking along the exterior fence that protected the camp from outsiders and the infected wanderers, Jon found a picnic table under a couple of trees. It was in rough shape, looking like someone in the camp had built it after the world had gone to hell. Using the wood to build a picnic table seemed like a waste of precious resources to Jon, but he also admired the thought of looking for some normalcy in this new world. It was something he had yet to find, himself. Being in Hope’s Dawn had done little to encourage Jon that there was something better out there. The world had changed, taking most everything and everyone with it. But those who remained continued to live within the bullshit hierarchy built up by the old world. The Vultures had proven that the lust for power and control over other people would never go away as long as the human species existed.
There was little hope for Hope’s Dawn.
Jon had done enough damage and knew he wouldn’t be able to stay there, no matter what they had to show him or say to him.
As he stood up off the bench, he heard the rustling of leaves and watched as a faded soccer ball bounced against the tree in front of him. He glanced in the direction from which it had come and saw the familiar face of a child approaching him.
“I’m sorry about that, sir,” Lucas said. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
The timid boy appeared to be shaking as he stood several yards away from Jon. It was apparent he was afraid to approach him. Jon grinned and picked the ball up.
“Here you go. Catch.”
Jon tossed the ball, but instead of catching it with his hands, the boy kicked it up in the air with the side of his right foot. He then juggled the ball a couple of times with his feet, finally letting the ball hit the ground.
Raising his eyebrows, Jon whistled. “Those are some impressive moves.”
The boy blushed. “Thanks.”
“Where did you learn all that?”
Lucas shrugged. “Just a lot of free time on my hands, I guess.”
Jon called for the ball and the boy kicked it back to him. It bounced off his boot and Jon struggled to control it. Finally, he managed to kick it back with the steel toe of his boot.
“You’re not very good at this, are you?” the boy asked, dribbling the ball between his feet.
“I haven’t played in a few years.” Jon thought of kicking the soccer ball around the front yard with Spencer, shaking off the emotions that accompanied the memory. “I might be a little rusty.”
“Are you staying here?” the boy asked, changing the subject.
“Um, I’m not sure yet.”
“It’d be really cool if you did. I like you more than most of the other people here.”
Jon laughed, kicking the ball back to the boy. “Aren’t there other kids here for you to play with?”
Lucas nodded. “Zion and Mary are pretty cool, but everyone else... I don’t know. They’re okay, I guess.”
Jon and the boy kicked the ball back and forth some more, neither of them saying anything. Looking into the boy’s
