Mia, Monica, and I were dropping off some pie that Debbie had made for the recovering Stone and the hardworking medical staff when we walked by Credence’s room. What I saw out of the corner of my eye made me stop. The woman was just sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the wall. Mia kept on going a few steps before realizing I was no longer with her. She was holding Monica, who pointed at me and made a “Bah!” sound, which snagged Mia’s attention.
“Yo, what are you doing, Grady?”
I nodded toward the room. “The woman in there…” But that was all I had to say for Mia to understand what I meant.
Mia walked back, leaned forward, and looked at Credence for a few seconds. When she faced me, the expression on her face was one of both concern and morbidity.
“Think she’s okay?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Those people who attacked, they were her friends. Were being the operative word here.”
Mia suddenly tensed. I didn’t know why until I saw what she saw. The woman was staring at us, almost blankly.
I offered a weak smile and said, “Sorry. Don’t wanna bother you. We’re just passing through.”
“You’re the one who got me, aren’t you?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, yes and no. George technically brought you in. I saw you on the monitor and I opened the gate.”
“Superman better watch out,” Mia mumbled sarcastically.
“Oh…well, thank you,” the woman said. “You look different without all your winter clothes on.” She smiled. “You guys don’t have to stand out there. You can come in. I won’t bite.”
Mia said, “No, we don’t wanna bother you or nothing like that.”
“The loneliness is what bothers me. Please, come in. I passed my tests. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
I led the way, but I’ll be honest and tell you I didn’t want to go in that room. She was a stranger, yes, but her eyes were nearly lifeless. Empty. The light inside the room tried its best to make the woman look healthy but that was no easy task.
“What was your name again? Grady?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” I offered a handshake. She took mine in hers. Her skin was cold and dry, but the tattoo on the back of her hand was what caught my attention. What the hell it was I don’t know, but it looked far from professionally done, like someone had done it in their basement with a needle and some pen ink. It was a series of rough lines. Scribbles, the kind you’d make in the margins of your notebook while watching the clock tick slowly by in school, but there was some structure to it too. Almost like a triangle.
She saw me staring at it and hid it with her shirtsleeve when our handshake was done. Her gaze averted to the floor, those almost-dead eyes, and she slipped the hand beneath her thigh. Then she put on a smile so fake and trying it almost pained me to see it.
“Well, my name’s Credence.” Her left hand came up, palm out. “Yeah, it’s a weird name, I know that.”
I shrugged. “I’ve heard weirder.”
“Yeah, Grady’s kinda weird too,” Mia said. She passed me Monica, who was goggling at Credence, the corners of her mouth tight with curiosity, and then Mia leaned forward and offered her own hand. That was when Credence shifted on the bed. The television remote fell off the side and hit the linoleum with a terrible crack. The remote’s back popped off and skittered across the floor. Each of the AA batteries went their separate ways.
I knelt down and retrieved them while Mia went for the remote itself. This was no easy task with Monica in my arms, but I managed, and the second handshake was forgotten. I made no mental note of this.
In fact, I hadn’t remembered this happened until I saw that symbol again—only the next time I saw it, it wasn’t in the form of a tattoo.
After we got the remote put together, Credence scooted back on the bed. She looked paler than before—weak.
“Mia, we'd better get going,” I said.
“Yeah, all right.” She nodded at Credence. “It was nice meeting you. Sorry about your friends. That’s super crummy.”
Credence smiled somberly—this one seemed real enough—and a touch of sadness filled her eyes.
We left, and I didn’t see her again for another few days.
The second time was in the cafeteria a few days or after our conversation in her hospital room. Credence was eating alone. Well, saying she was eating would be a stretch. She was pecking at her food. Nibbling. Debbie’s mashed potatoes and sliced ham still covered the majority of her plate.
I was also by myself. Since I'd opted for a quick nap before dinner to prepare me for my shift on watch, the others usually ate without me. I thought it might be a good idea to sit by Credence. She seemed lonely. She was still grieving, no doubt, and I knew a decent amount about losing people you cared for. Maybe I could help her. I had a few friends in the City, but most of the people here kept to themselves. They were all huddled into little families of their own. In such a difficult time, it was hard to infiltrate one of these units. People weren’t trusting before the end of the world, but now they really weren’t trusting. I imagined Credence felt isolated too, like the new kid in school, lost.
Turns out, I was wrong.
As I walked her way, John Berretti slithered behind her with a devious grin on his lips. I stopped about halfway and turned toward a vacant table near the back. When I sat down, there was no chance I’d be able to focus on my food no matter how monstrously my stomach was growling. So I watched them from afar, and pretty soon I lost my appetite.
Berretti snaked his
