Dorran relaxed again and adjusted his legs to stretch them ahead of himself. Clare tried to read his expression. The hope was a painful wildfire burning through her chest. He wasn’t meeting her eyes, though, and that wasn’t a good sign.
“You don’t think so,” she prompted, trying to fight the disappointment that wanted to leak into her voice.
“I think it is plausible that Beth would have a plan to escape. Possibly the address was a part of it.”
His sentence had an unspoken but. He still hesitated, though. Clare closed her eyes and spoke more calmly. “It’s okay. I won’t get angry. Go ahead.”
He released a held breath. “The hollow was still alive, but the blood was dry. Beth has been gone for at least a day.”
“Okay.” Clare pictured the hollow lying on the bunker floor, twitching, for that long. Beth must have thought she’d killed it when she’d driven the knife through its skull. But the hollows refused to follow human laws of mortality. They didn’t seem to need their blood, all of their brains, their spinal cord, or anything else that should have been necessary for life.
“If the bunker had been empty and orderly, I would hold hope, as well. But this was a fight.” Dorran indicated to the dead monsters. “Fights create noise and draw more hollows. You saw how many were outside the door when we were trying to close it. Beth was remarkable to have killed four of them. Truly remarkable, especially for a sole individual with very little in the way of defence. But I cannot imagine she would have made it as far as a car. Especially not without leaving signs for us to see. The garden was undisturbed—no bodies, no blood, no churned dirt. The fight started, and ended, here.”
She kept her head tilted back so that he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. Both her mind and her heart hurt. She wished he wouldn’t make so much sense.
“I am so sorry.” It was not a platitude; his voice was full of pain. “I wish I could see it any other way. I wish I could justify a journey to the city.”
“But we can’t.” Her mind was clearing, and the address, so full of promise a moment before, felt empty.
“Six hours to the city if the roads are not blocked. Then perhaps a full day of driving to reach home. We would need to stop for food and fuel. We would need to find a way through the city.”
Beth’s voice echoed in Clare’s mind. If you want to survive, don’t take risks.
“And we don’t know what we would find when we arrive there.” Clare’s voice had lost its energy, but she tried to smile. “It might be a safe house. Or it might be nothing.”
Underneath was an unspoken implication: Whatever is there, it won’t be Beth.
It hurt. She shook her head as she tried to focus on something more immediate, something more actionable. “What supplies do we need?”
“Clare…”
“What supplies?”
“We are low on all necessities, including petrol, bandages, antibiotics, and food. We have enough water left for a day if we only drink it and don’t use any for washing.”
“And I would like a bath. I never realised what a luxury running water was until we didn’t have any.” Clare looked down at herself. On top of every other layer of grime, blood, and sweat, Clare now had cranial fluid sticking on her hand. She felt repulsive. The fact that Dorran still sat so close to her reinforced what she already knew: he was halfway to being a saint.
“I would not disagree with a bath, either. I feel as though I am barely a step above the hollows I am fighting.” Dorran chuckled.
Clare joined in, and the tension between them dissipated.
“It is in your hands.” Dorran’s voice was so soft she could barely hear it. “You know how I feel, but this is still your choice. I promised I would follow where you led, and I will. If you wish to travel to the city, if you feel you cannot return to the house without doing so, I will be there with you.”
The city would be dangerous. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt. The streets would be worse than the freeway. The buildings would be many-storied death traps. The cities had been the first places to change, and their high-density populations meant there would be precious few chances to slip past the hollows unobserved.
They had made it through so much already. They were both injured and worn down. Ready to return home. Ready to consolidate and recover.
Dorran was watching her, his dark eyes filled with grief and love. She had lost her sister. She had to protect what she had left. Clare smiled, and this time, it didn’t hurt as much. “Let’s go back to Winterbourne.”
He kissed her forehead, a soft murmur in the back of his throat, and she could feel the relief running through him.
“We don’t have to give up entirely,” he whispered. “We still have our radio. Beth knows your frequency. If she is out there, she will make contact.” It was a promise without hope, but it was all he could give her.
Clare nodded. He pulled her closer and rested his head on top of hers. The bunker was cold, but Dorran was warm and safe. Clare closed her eyes. Her heart hurt, but she knew it wouldn’t last forever. She just had to get them home.
Low on food. Low on water. Low on medicine. She turned the radio over in her hands. At the opposite wall, the fractured supplies shelf covered a plethora of tins and bottled water. Some had become broken during the scuffle, but there was still more than they could carry. “We can take some of Beth’s food with us, at least. And… I think I know how to get
