“Hey,” she said nervously.
Jon nodded and gestured to the chair in the corner. “You can go ahead and sit.”
“It’s okay. I think I’ll stand.”
“Alright.” Jon shrugged. “What’s up?”
Brooke rubbed her forehead before looking up at Jon. “I know you’re planning on going there and turning yourself in. I’m not stupid.”
Jon bit his bottom lip, but said nothing.
“I can’t stop you. I know that, too. But I really wish that you would reconsider.”
Hesitating to find the right words, Jon said, “You know there isn’t another way. If I don’t do this, those people are going to come down here and—”
“But we need you. And it isn’t only Hope’s Dawn that needs you, Jon. I need you. My son, he needs you. You don’t understand the effect you’ve had on him in the short time that you’ve been here. Even with your brief interactions with him.”
“What are we supposed to do, Brooke?”
“We can fight.”
Jon started to speak up in protest, but Brooke cut him off again.
“What good do you think it will do if you go turn yourself in? Yeah, they might not come and burn this place to the ground. They might spare our lives for now. But at what cost? So that we can continue to be slaves for them and give half of everything we have to them? What kind of life is that?”
“One where you and your son get to continue breathing and living.”
Brooke scoffed. “You call that life? We may as well be walking out in the fields with the infected if that’s what it means to live now.”
Jon looked to the ground, unsure of how to respond. Then Brooke stepped forward and grabbed both of his hands. He ran his fingertips over them, feeling her soft skin. Then he looked into her green eyes, which were filling with tears.
“Please,” she said. “Don’t do this. Stay. Together, we can all figure out how to make this work.”
Looking into her sad but beautiful eyes, the only thing Jon could think to do was something he would have never done to Carrie: lie.
He nodded. “Okay.”
Brooke’s face turned bright, and a smile grew on her face. “Really?”
Jon smiled. “Really.”
She threw her arms around him, embracing him. Jon’s hands landed on her bare back, where the tank top didn’t cover. He ran his hand around there, feeling a woman’s soft skin for the first time in a long time. When they pulled apart, her hands naturally landed on Jon’s face. She traced the scar on his left cheek that he had gotten in an encounter with a zombie and stared into his brown eyes. Then she leaned in and kissed him.
Their lips touched, and Jon allowed it to happen. Brooke ran her hand down his cheek and to his neck, sliding her nails across it. Jon left his right hand on her back, but put his left hand on her neck, sliding it down and under the strap of her tank top and squeezing her bare shoulder. She moaned and kissed him harder, slipping her tongue into his mouth.
She pushed against him, and as he had his eyes closed, he didn’t feel like he was kissing Brooke. All he could see was Carrie. He let go of Brooke and pulled away from her.
Gasping in surprise, Brooke stared at him, but he managed to avoid her gaze. She then covered her mouth.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“No, no,” Jon said, looking up. “It’s not you.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“I’m so sorry. I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t, please.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brooke said.
She cupped the back of her head and turned around, exiting the tent. Jon tried to stop her, but it was no use.
Jon sat back down in the chair, putting his head back into his hands. He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled as he stared at nothing.
“What the fuck are you doing, Jon?”
30
Jon didn’t sleep. He stayed in his tent, alternating between lying on his bedroll and sitting in the chair until he couldn’t any longer. He didn’t feel a bit tired, having too much adrenaline rushing through his veins.
His mind had been racing ever since Brooke had come to visit him. But he knew what he had to do to keep her and the others safe.
Standing from the chair, Jon looked down at his possessions on the ground. He wouldn’t be taking them with him, and would leave most of his stuff in his bag. His guns lay on his bedroll out in the open so they would be easily found. He covered them up enough to where, if a child happened to walk in, they likely wouldn’t notice them. But whatever adult came to check on him, who he assumed would probably be Brooke, would be able to spot them easily.
Turning his attention to the corner behind the chair, Jon put his eyes on his baseball bat. He reached over the chair and picked it up. Grasping the handle with both hands, he took a couple of practice swings before running the fingertips of his right hand up the shaft. Bloodstains decorated the wood like pockmarks. Along with his bike, the bat had been his most trusted ally ever since Carrie and Spencer had left him. But he knew now that it would be of little use to him. He kneeled down and lay the bat at the end of the line of guns. He gave it one last stroke, then patted it.
“See ya, friend.”
Standing back up, Jon exhaled and stepped out of the tent.
The sun appeared to be at least another hour or so from coming up, though it was difficult to know for sure. Time passed by in a weird way when your mind wouldn’t slow down, usually going at a slower pace for Jon. All he hoped was that most of the people in the camp, specifically Brooke, weren’t awake and
