You Re The Only Thing That I Love It Scares Me More Everyday
“I think training would go a lot quicker if you transferred Dr. Bolton out here,” Dr. Lukas says, not for the first time. In fact, he requests Dr. Bolton’s transfer every single time Ginny visits Westfield Medical Center. They’re barely ten minutes into their meeting when he brings it up, and Ginny grins widely as the words leave his mouth.
“Well, Dr. Lukas, I know you are more than capable of properly training our medical staff,” Ginny says. She puts her hands on her hips and stares him dead in the eye. “And you’ll have to be, because Dr. Bolton is dead. I cannot transfer him here, unless you wish to store his body in your morgue. But if the pressure is too much for you to handle, I’m sure I can find someone else to fill your position.”
It takes Dr. Lukas a moment to recover from the shock. He adjusts his glass and stammers, “I – no, of course I can handle it, ma’am.” He clears his throat, jams his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “We’re just getting a little understaffed here. You know how it is. There are never enough people.”
Ginny smiles thinly. “Tell me about it, Doctor. Now tell me, how are our new recruits doing?”
“Thankfully, Nam Dorie was a nurse and knows quite a bit on her own already. She’s helping me train the girl you sent with her. Emily. She’s catching on fast. And with the addition of Faye, we’ll be making more alcohol than ever before. In fact, I think we’ll eliminate our alcohol shortage and have no trouble sterilizing our equipment from here on out.”“That’s good news, Dr. Lukas,” Ginny says. “Sounds like everything is going well out here.”
“It sure is, ma’am.”“Sounds like you have everything under control,” Ginny says, her voice sharpening.
“Yes. Yes, ma’am,” Dr. Lukas replies quickly.
Ginny hums. “Let’s try to keep it that way, okay?” she says. “I’ll be in touch.”
***
Freen spends almost the entire day in the infirmary with Becky. Ramsey comes and goes, checks on Becky’s leg, brings meals. Something about the doctor’s demeanor is off, but neither Becky nor Freen bother to ask, even though they both notice. Ramsey doesn’t say anything about Freen having to make herself useful, and Todd doesn’t show up to force Freen to leave. Becky doesn’t complain about being confined to a bed when Freen’s in it with her. At least, she doesn’t complain as much as she would’ve if she’d been left alone.
They’re left in relative peace, apart from Ramsey coming and going like clockwork, until late that night. Becky’s asleep, and Freen’s just dropping off when the doors fly open, banging against the wall. Freen startles enough to jolt Becky awake, and Freen instinctively reaches for her weapon. Freen’s expecting Ramsey and nearly mouths off until her eyes land on Ginny. The aggressive words die in her throat, and she waits for Ginny to explain her abrupt entrance.“I’ve got an assignment for you, Freen,” Ginny announces.
“I thought you said I didn’t have to start yet.”
“Well, I changed my mind,” Ginny says. She doesn’t smile. “It’ll be simple, I promise. Just need you to follow me around the Lanes with a camera. We start at sunrise.”
Ginny doesn’t wait for Freen to respond. Freen’s too dumbfounded to think of anything to say, anyway. Ginny turns and leaves, the door swinging behind her.
“What do you think that’s about?” Becky asks.
“I have no idea,” Freen says. “How am I supposed to know when to wake up?”
“She’ll come get you,” Becky says. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”
Freen doesn’t bother to tell her that she hasn’t slept a wink, just nods and eases herself back down behind Becky. Even though Freen had been on the verge of sleep before Ginny’s arrival, Freen finds herself unable to even keep her eyes closed. Becky breathes steadily, chest rising and falling beneath Freen’s arm. But Freen lies awake for hours, forehead resting against Becky’s upper back, worrying over what Ginny might want her to film.
***
“Why’d you kill him?”
Ginny grunts, having been moments away from being completely asleep. And Ginny has never had much problem getting to sleep or staying asleep, especially since she all but eliminated the threat of being eaten alive overnight by building a group of secure settlements. Ginny rolls onto her back, buying herself a few seconds to return to full consciousness, before she grumbles, “Hmm? Why did I kill who?”
Ginny hears Dr. Ramsey inhale sharply. “Saint,” she answers. “Why did you kill him?”
Ginny blinks in surprise. It occurs to her then that maybe this question has been keeping Dr. Ramsey up at night. Ginny has to think back to the night she killed Saint – just a few nights ago, though it feels like a lot longer – and remembers shooting him dead in front of Dr. Ramsey. She should’ve controlled herself better, should’ve spared the woman from having to witness that mess. Ginny shouldn’t have let her emotions get in the way of her decision making.
“We don’t need the kind of trouble he’d cause,” Ginny answers.
“He didn’t do anything,” Dr. Ramsey argues. Anyone else would’ve been disciplined for talking back. Not executed, of course, but punished in another way. They’d be slapped with garbage duty over the overnight patrol shift. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Dr. Ramsey, and her value as a doctor has nothing to do with Ginny’s soft spot for her. Though there are no feelings. None at all. Ginny holds onto this like it’s going to prevent things from going too far, like it negates the fact that Ginny can’t sleep in her own bed for a few nights at the Lanes. She tells herself she bends the rules for Dr. Ramsey because she has the power to do so, not because there’s anything impeding her judgment.
“Sure he did,” Ginny replies. “He went stomping around our land, attracting the wrong sorts of people close to our settlements. He’d stir up even more trouble here. He’d never be able to abide by the rules. He’s the type that would’ve tried to challenge my position as the leader of the Pioneers.”
Dr. Ramsey is quiet for a long time. So long, Ginny has to turn her head to the side and see if she’s fallen asleep. But she hasn’t. She’s staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought, apparently.
“What?” Ginny prompts.
“Don’t you think it – we – could be different?” Dr. Ramsey questions.
Ginny snorts. “Sure we could be different, but why should we? This is what works. It produces results.”
“You worried about Saint stirring up trouble, but you aren’t even concerned about Becky,” Dr. Ramsey says. “Madison struggled to follow the rules. Don’t you remember, at the beginning, how she kept pushing you to allow her to search for her kids? How she kept questioning your authority?”
“Maddie knows where the line is, and she doesn’t cross it,” Ginny retorts. “And I told her, we’d find her kids, and we sure did.”
“Her son is dead.”
“That has nothing to do with us,” Ginny says. “And her daughter is alive. That should be enough for her.”
“You think anything will ever be enough for Madison?” Dr. Ramsey asks.
“What are you implying?” Ginny questions in return. Ginny sits up and reaches for the lamp on the bedside table, switches it on so the room is cast under a yellow glow.
“I’m just trying to understand your thought process,” Dr. Ramsey says weakly.
“No. You’re fretting over the death of a man who doesn’t matter,” Ginny says. She doesn’t lie back down, staring over at Dr. Ramsey. Dr. Ramsey’s eyes don’t leave the ceiling. She’s got gorgeous green eyes. Her eyes were the first thing Ginny had noticed about her when she’d joined the Pioneers, even though they serve as a painful reminder of the fiancé Ginny never got the chance to marry. Dr. Ramsey’s eyes are perhaps the one similarity she shares with Ginny’s fiancé.
Landon. His name was Landon.
“Who are you to decide who matters and who doesn’t?” Dr. Ramsey asks quietly.
“Really? You’re going to pick this fight now? At –” Ginny pauses to check the alarm clock on the bedside table, “One in the morning? After I’ve had a long day?”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long day, too,” Dr. Ramsey snaps. “And now I’m stuck here, at the absolute worst settlement, so I can look after Madison’s daughter, because stupid fucking Eric had to go and shoot her. Do you know what kind of stress that puts on me? People die for a lot less than a fucking gunshot wound, and you pretty much forced me to guarantee that Becky would live.”
“Becky is perfectly fine, thanks to you,” Ginny says. “And your stay here is only temporary, until Becky can be safely transferred to Paradise Ridge.”
“And that’ll just fix everything, right?” Dr. Ramsey says sarcastically. “Open your eyes, Virginia. Reuniting Becky with Madison will just be the start of your problems.”
“What do you know that I don’t?” Ginny asks.
“Know? Oh, I don’t know anything for sure. But Tom and Janis defecting wasn’t some anomaly. It was just the beginning.” On that cryptic note, Dr. Ramsey tears her eyes away from the ceiling, and she turns her back to Ginny. “Please turn the lamp off,” Dr. Ramsey adds, and Ginny is too dumbfounded to do anything but obey.
Ginny doesn’t go back to sleep.
***
Freen must fall asleep at some point, because the next thing she’s aware of, Ginny bursts into the infirmary once more, hat on her head, signature smile on her face. Her face is still marred by the suspicious and unexplained welt. The first thing Freen thinks is she does not look well rested.
“Good morning, Freen,” Ginny greets, as cheerfully as ever. She looks like she got maybe two minutes of sleep, maximum. Maybe she drank an entire pot of coffee, Freen muses. Maybe that’s how she’s functioning and even smiling as if they’re friends. “You ready to go?”
“I – sure? I need my –”
“We’ll make a stop at the call center to get all your equipment,” Ginny cuts in.
“What’s this video for, anyway?” Freen asks. She carefully detangles her limbs from Becky’s without waking her and slides off the bed.
“I think it’s time we tell the people out there the truth about us,” Ginny says. “Tell them what exactly we’re trying to build here. Like I said, I just need you to follow me. I’ll do all the talking.”
The walk to the call center is made in silence, Freen trailing a few feet behind Ginny. Ginny holds the door for Freen and motions for her to go in and retrieve her things. Oddly enough, Ginny doesn’t follow her. Freen locates her camera and pockets a few blank tapes, just in case Ginny’s a talker (she is, and Freen doesn’t expect Ginny to keep track of the length of the video). Freen pauses, staring down at the desk and radio in the room. She glances to the door, but Ginny’s still outside of the room, not even in her line of sight.
Freen slowly picks the piece of paper up off the desk, folds it a few times, and slips it into her breast pocket. Freen loads a blank tape into the camera and steps out of the call center.
“So?” Freen questions, squinting against the bright morning sunlight. “Where are we filming this thing?”
Ginny smiles thinly. Freen’s eyes hone in on the bags under Ginny’s eyes, and Freen bets Ginny’s tolerance for bullshit today will be extremely low. “I’m going to walk and talk, Freen. You just keep that camera on me, okay?”
Freen smiles wryly and turns the camera on. “Yes, ma’am.”
***
“Where’s Freen?”
Hayley grunts. “Good morning to you, too,” she mutters. She looks…maybe rough isn’t the word, considering she looks like a supermodel on a regular day, but now she looks like a model who hasn’t gotten any sleep. Her hair is haphazardly pulled back, and the bags under her eyes are noticeable. “She’s with Ginny,” Hayley finally answers. “How’s your leg feeling?”
“Can’t even tell I’ve been shot,” Becky lies. She winces when Hayley’s fingertips press too close to the wound. “Okay, so maybe it’s sore,” Becky says. “So what? I was shot. Give me a break.”
“How sore?” Hayley asks.
“What?”
“Do you think you can put weight on it yet?”
Becky blinks. “Yes,” she says. Another lie. Becky thinks she needs another dose of pain pills first, but she doesn’t say this. “So should I try?”
Hayley takes a step back and motions Becky forward. Becky eagerly swings her legs off the edge of the bed, trying her best not to let her face reflect any pain she feels. Besides, it really is just sore. This pain isn’t anything like the pain she’d felt when it first happened. Becky slides off the end of the bed, making sure she lands with most of her weight on her good foot, but the moment she puts any weight on her other leg, it starts to buckle. Luckily, Hayley seems to anticipate this result and catches her with ease, lowering Becky back to the bed.
“Yeah, okay,” Hayley says. “So you can’t put any weight on your leg.”
“Just give me some pills,” Becky argues. “Then I’ll be able to take it.”
Hayley shakes her head. “No more pills. But I can get the crutches, and we can try that.”
Becky nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“You’ve got a lot of enthusiasm for first thing in the morning,” Hayley comments. She goes to the closet in the back of the room and pulls out a set of crutches.
“I need to see my mom,” Becky says. “And I’m so tired of being stuck in this room, with mostly you as my company. No offense. You’re not that bad. I just mean –”
“I get it,” Hayley interrupts. She shrugs the comment off. “You’re just like her,” Hayley adds, handing the crutches off to Alicia. “Your mom,” she clarifies.
“In some ways, maybe,” Becky admits reluctantly. She takes the crutches and inches her way off the edge of the bed again, starting with her good foot.
“It’s complicated?” Hayley guesses.
“Something like that.” Becky bites down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying we aren’t friends, so this is none of your business. Using the crutches for support, Becky pulls herself up, doing her best to keep her bad leg from touching the floor.
“Got it?” Hayley asks.
“Yeah. I think.”
“Give it a shot. Try not to fall.”
“Obviously,” Becky snorts. She takes a shaky step, but she doesn’t collapse. She keeps herself upright, even with Hayley hovering around her. “I won’t fall,” Becky assures her. “I broke my ankle in high school and had crutches for a while. I’ve got this.”
“A broken ankle is different from a gunshot wound.”
“Well, yeah, but the way you use crutches doesn’t really change.”
Hayley hums, watching Becky carefully as she maneuvers her way around the room. “Take it easy,” Hayley advises.
“I’m fine,” Becky insists. “Besides, nothing will happen with you lingering in my personal space.”
“Well, I can’t linger in your space all day, every day,” Hayley retorts. “So if you get tired or need a rest, you better take it. You seem alright, Becky, but I’m not willing to die for you. No offense.”
Becky blinks. Becky stops to gauge if that was a joke or a serious statement. Hayley doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh. Their eyes lock. Hayley is being completely serious. Becky thinks that might be the most honest thing Hayley has ever said in her presence. “None taken,” Becky finally says. Her eyes search Hayley’s face carefully, but the doctor’s expression is impassive. Like staring at a brick wall. “And before you get any ideas, I’m not willing to die for you, either.”
Hayley, much to Becky’s surprise, cracks a smile. “So we’re on the same page,” Hayley says. She takes a few steps back, out of Becky’s personal space, and picks a clipboard up off the counter. “Consider yourself discharged,” Hayley says. “I’ll show you to your room, and I expect you’ll continue to rest and to call me if anything happens. Even if it’s probably nothing, you should still bother me. Like I said, I don’t want to die for you.”
“You got it,” Becky agrees. “But it’s not infected, and if I take it slow, I shouldn’t have any problems, right?”
“Hopefully everything will go well,” Hayley says. She scribbles her signature on a few pages then motions for Becky to move closer to her. Becky makes her way over, slowly, crutches clunking against the tile, and Hayley pushes a nearby stool over so Becky can sit. Becky eases herself down, leans the crutches against the bed behind her, and accepts the clipboard, signing where Hayley indicates.
“What’s the point of these forms?” Becky asks. “What’s the point of having paperwork at all?”
“Believe it or not, it keeps things organized and running smoothly,” Hayley answers. “And Ginny’s a neat freak and likes it this way, so we do it. But here’s a piece of advice: try not to ask questions.”
“At all or with specific people?” Becky asks, just to see how Hayley’s going to react. She thinks maybe Hayley will smile or roll her eyes, but she just stares at Becky, dead serious once again.
“Don’t ask questions of anyone you don’t trust,” Hayley says. “Unless it’s operational shit, like where to find your schedule for your patrol shifts.”
“Wait. Where do I find that?”
“Worry about that when I clear you to work.”
***
Ginny spends the entire morning walking and talking. Freen follows her around the entire settlement three times. They stop in strategic locations. The kitchen. The crops. The infirmary, which is empty by the time they get there at eleven. Freen frowns when she sees that the bed Becky has occupied the last couple of nights is completely empty. She has to be in their room, Freen knows, but it throws her for a moment. She loses track of what Ginny had been saying, but so far, everything has been rather innocuous. No blatant lies. It’s like Ginny’s giving the audience a tour, explaining how things run, rather than what the Pioneers are all about. That makes sense, though. Showing an audience how their settlements operate on a day to day basis is a lot safer than explaining their survival ideology.
Though Freen supposes that the ideology video was already put out there, before they arrived, even if it was full of shit. But Freen keeps her mouth shut, follows Ginny around, films her every move. It’s one in the afternoon before Ginny calls it quits.
“Nice job,” Ginny says. “Just leave the tapes next to the radio in the call center, okay? We’ll edit it all later.”
Freen nods and heads to the call center, unsupervised, to leave her tapes and camera. It’s strange, not labeling the tapes, but she wasn’t told to label them. She exits the call center, intending on asking Ginny what their next move is, but Ginny is gone. So Freen does the next logical thing and returns to 5A, where she knows she’ll find Becky. And she does find her, sprawled out on the couch in the modest living room, crutches lying on the floor beside her. Becky’s holding a book over her face, flips a page as Freen shuts the door.
“Hey!” Becky exclaims. She throws the book onto the empty coffee table and pushes herself up into a sitting position, though thankfully she doesn’t attempt to get to her feet. “How’d it go?”
Freen shrugs. “She didn’t say anything interesting, frankly. But –” Freen pauses and pulls the folded piece of paper out of her shirt pocket. It’s been weighing her down since she first took it. “I grabbed this out of the call center,” Freen says quietly. She crosses the room to the couch and sits on the coffee table across from Becky. Becky’s eyes don’t leave Freen’s face as she makes her way over.
“What is that?” Becky asks. Now, her eyes do leave Freen’s face, flicker over to the locked door, as if someone’s going to burst in and bust them. As if they’re going to be dragged out in front of the entire settlement and executed.
“It’s a list,” Freen says. She unfolds it, hands trembling slightly. “A list of all of us, where we’ve been relocated to,” Freen elaborates. “It was just sitting on the desk in the call center. I couldn’t leave it there. I had to know.”
“I would’ve done the same thing,” Becky assures her. “So it’s just a list of us?”
“It’s been corrected,” Freen points out. She shows Becky the list, index finger pressed against the spot under the Paradise Ridge category where Becky Armstrong is scratched out, rewritten under the Imperial Lanes category instead. “I’m assuming this list is updated then.”
“They’ll notice that it’s missing,” Becky says. “They might be able to figure out that it was you.”
“But they can’t prove it,” Freen replies. She lets Becky take the list from her, watches Becky’s eyes rake down the list, absorb the information. “It seems like they needed proof,” Freen continues. “I bet they suspected Bolton was stealing from them but couldn’t prove it until you pointed it out and Ramsey checked.”
“Maybe,” Becky says. “Is it worth the risk?”
“You think I should return it?”
Their eyes lock. “Maybe,” Becky repeats. “We can copy it down somewhere else, keep it hidden, and then you can throw this back on the desk. Maybe they’ll suspect that you took it, but they won’t be able to prove anything, especially if it’s there.”
Freen nods. “There are supplies in the spare room.”
She leaves and comes back with a notebook and a pen. Becky takes it from her, transcribes the list onto the first page of the notebook, then rips it free. Freen takes the original list back, returns it to her pocket.
“Wait,” Becky says.
“What?”
“Saint,” Becky mutters. She double checks her page. “His name isn’t on this anywhere.”
“No, that isn’t possible,” Freen says. She pulls out the original, scans over the list again. And again. A third time. “Why isn’t he on here?”
“Maybe they forgot?”
“You really think Ginny let an oversight like that happen?” Freen questions.
“No.”
“Whoever wrote this list went to the trouble of crossing you off under Paradise Ridge and rewriting you under the Lanes. There’s a reason Saint isn’t on here,” Freen says.
“We can’t ask,” Becky blurts. “You can’t ask. Not anyone, and especially not Ginny. Hayley warned me about asking unwarranted questions.”
Freen’s expression darkens, but she nods. “Whatever the reason is, it can’t be good,” she says.
“Maybe he’s okay,” Becky says. “Maybe this really was just a mistake. We have no reason to believe anything bad happened to him, right?”
Freen hesitates. “I don’t know,” she says. “But you’re right. We have nothing that proves anything bad happened. And we need to keep our heads down, especially because I snatched this stupid list.”
“Maybe we can ask my mom,” Becky says.
“You trust her not to pass anything onto Ginny?”
Becky’s teeth sink into her lower lip. “I trust her, okay? She won’t do anything that’ll hurt us.”
“Okay,” Freen agrees. “We’ll ask her as soon as we can. In person. When it’s just us.”
Becky nods. “I can walk on crutches now. I can ask Hayley if we can set up a time to see her soon.”
“We’ll try,” Freen says. “And maybe she’ll have some answers for us.”
***
Nop and Irin drop by after the work day ends. It’s weird, being on a schedule again, but Irin sort of doesn’t mind the structure. And she likes farming. She’s liked it since the stadium, when her and Nick decided that growing food would be mainly their responsibility. It’s relieving to see Becky up, even if it’s on crutches. Irin’s glad to see her out of the infirmary – and she’s glad she can just run across the hall to see Becky now. With Nick gone and all their friends spread across four different settlements, Becky’s the closest friend Luci has left.
“You feeling alright?” Nop asks as Becky manages to get to her feet without any assistance, even though Freen hovers in her space, prepared to act if she’s needed.
“Yeah,” Becky says. “My leg’s a little sore, but I’m getting used to this.”
“Did you guys eat dinner yet?” Irin asks.
“I was just about to get something going,” Freen says.
“Let me,” Irin offers. “Nop and I haven’t eaten yet, either.” Freen smiles, but then she and Becky share a look that causes Irin’s heart to drop into her stomach. “What is it?” Irin asks.
“What’s what?” Freen questions.
“That look. What’s that look about?”
“We have something to tell you,” Freen says. Becky pulls the list out and explains everything, points out how Saint’s name is missing, how unlikely it is that Ginny would’ve missed something like that.
“It could just be a mistake,” Nop says.
“Or it’s very intentional,” Irin argues.
“We’re planning to ask my mom,” Becky informs. “Whenever we can see her in person, alone.”
“Is that a good idea?” Nop asks.
“I trust her,” Becky insists.
“I trust her, too,” Irin jumps in. “If anyone can help us here, it’s her.” They all stand in silence for a few moments, and Irin wrings her hands together in front of her. “I’m going to start dinner,” she announces. “Becky, you should sit down. Stay off your leg as much as possible.”
“Yes, Mom,” Becky says, rolling her eyes. Still, Freen pulls a chair out for her, and Becky takes a seat at the kitchen table, handing her crutches off to Nop to set aside for later. Freen and Nop join her after Irin declines their offers to help her. It isn’t until the food is on the table, and Irin’s seated between Becky and Nop, that Irin truly feels the loss of the rest of their friends. She’s been coasting through these last several days, spending most of her waking hours worrying about Becky, and now that Becky’s undeniably recovering, Irin feels the crushing weight of their friends’ absence.
“Irin,” Becky says, swallowing her mouthful. “You okay?”
Irin startles. “What? Oh, I’m fine.”
Becky doesn’t look convinced, but Freen’s fingertips press against Becky’s wrist, and Becky’s prying gaze turns from Irin’s face to Freen’s. It’s a suspicious gesture, maybe. Or maybe Irin overanalyzes it and sees what she’s hoping to see. But Freen’s fingers linger against Becky’s arm, and for whatever reason, this is the gesture that finally causes the pieces to start to click into place in Irin’s brain.
“Talking to Madison is our first step,” Freen says, distracting Irin from her train of thought.
“First step?” Nop prompts.
Freen nods. “Our first step toward getting all of our friends back and getting the hell out of this place.”
“Yes,” Irin agrees quickly. “We’ll get them all back. We’ll figure something out, and Madison will help.”
Madison has to help, Irin tells herself. They have no other options.
***
After last night’s conversation, Hayley doesn’t expect the knock at her door that night. It’s sort of late, just after midnight. Hayley’s last couple hours have been spent at her dining room table, paperwork spread all across the table, as she tries to get herself caught up on five days’ worth of unfinished work. There’s always something to do, even if a good chunk of her time the last few days has been taken up by Becky Armstrong and friends. Though she can’t blame this entire stack of paperwork on Becky.
Hayley sighs to herself, drops her pen onto her current page, and gets up, pulling her shirt down. Frankly, Hayley is exhausted. She barely slept last night, and she knows Ginny didn’t sleep more than a handful of minutes right before the sun rose. Hayley was in and out of sleep, dropping off just to experience an unpleasant dream then jolting back into consciousness. She shouldn’t have said so much to Ginny, though Ginny would have to be an idiot not to see what’s happening right under her nose. Tom and Janis are just the tip of the iceberg. Hell, Hayley doesn’t even know how big that iceberg is. She just knows it exists, and she’s afraid the Pioneers might be the Titanic: unable to stop themselves from hitting what’s right in front of them.
Hayley answers the door, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over her chest. In the half second before her eyes land on the person in the hall, she’s afraid maybe it’s one of Becky’s friends coming to summon her, afraid maybe something horrible has happened. But no, sure enough, it’s Ginny, because Ginny hasn’t been able to sleep alone when Hayley’s available recently.
And Hayley’s no idiot. She knows Ginny isn’t the feelings type. At least, this Ginny isn’t. Maybe there was a version of Ginny beforehand that was different, but that Ginny is out of reach. So Hayley knows what their arrangement is, even if Ginny has been more and more inclined to blur the line, to cross boundaries she wouldn’t have crossed even just a few weeks ago. Hayley doesn’t remember exactly the last time she slept alone, whereas just last month, Ginny only sporadically showed up on her doorstep.
Ginny offers her a small, gentle smile. Hayley’s eyes go straight to the welt on her face. It’s healing, sure. It’s more of a greenish-yellow color than it is purple, but it’s still a reminder of what Ginny did to Saint Jones. She didn’t even give him a chance. The memory replays in Hayley’s mind, just a quick flash of a memory. A loud gunshot. The sinking feeling in Hayley’s chest as Saint fell to the dirt, unmoving. Hayley knows Ginny can be ruthless, but it’s one thing to know it and another to witness it. And there’s some level of cognitive dissonance that comes with this, too. Everything else Hayley has personally seen from Ginny has contradicted what she did to Saint. At least when she does something questionable, she usually has a Pioneer rule to back up her conduct. This time, though – there is no reasonable explanation, no way to reconcile the Ginny that Hayley thought she knew and the Ginny she witnessed the night the Gulch fell.
For a while, they both stand there, staring at each other. Ginny’s smile eventually fades, but she waits, figuring Hayley will break first. Of course she will. She always has.
“What’s up?” Hayley finally asks, voice sounding flatter than she’d intended.
“If you don’t want me here, you can just say so.”
Damn it. She knows Hayley can’t say no. Hayley just rolls her eyes and steps out of the way, leaving enough space for Ginny to enter the room. Hayley locks the door behind her, watches as Ginny removes her hat and sets it on the kitchen counter. Ginny wanders over to the table, eyes dragging across the paperwork covering almost the entire table.
“You’re a little behind?” Ginny guesses.
“I haven’t had a lot of time to finish all my work,” Hayley says. “Not when you have me babysitting Madison’s daughter.”
“You don’t have to do it at midnight.”
Hayley’s head tilts to the side. “Then when am I going to catch up?” she questions. “I’m pretty sure if I sit in here all day to finish paperwork, I’m going to get a visit from someone. Probably you. Now that Dr. Bolton’s not here, I’m the only person capable of running the infirmary. What happens if someone falls off the roof and I’m here, doing paperwork?”
Ginny sighs heavily and sheds her jacket, laying it over the back of one of the chairs, like usual. Her boots come off next, and she leaves them under the same chair. “I will find a replacement,” Ginny says. “Someone from Westfield will take your spot once Becky has been relocated to Paradise Ridge.”
“Good,” Hayley says. If Ginny’s pushing boundaries between them, Hayley’s going to push right back. If Ginny wants to act like this is some unspoken relationship, full of unspoken rules, then Hayley can act like it, too. Hayley has always been good at reading people; it’s part of what made her a good doctor. And there’s no one left alive who’s better at reading Ginny than Hayley.
“I don’t know how long it’ll take,” Ginny admits.
“As long as I’m not here forever. I can’t stand this place.”
“No. Not forever.”
Hayley nods and holds back on the next questions that threaten to tumble out. Are you going to stay here as long as I’m here? Is that why you haven’t returned back to Paradise Ridge permanently? Can’t sleep alone anymore? How long are you going to trust Madison to run Paradise Ridge unsupervised? Are you scared yet? Do you see it, too? The way things are changing? The way people are acting?
“Good,” Hayley says.
“Should I leave you to finish up?” Ginny asks. It’s a loaded question, and they both know it. Hayley walks back to her spot, eyes scanning the page she’d been working on, and she finishes it off quickly before gathering all her papers up. Hayley stalls. For what reason, she isn’t sure. She could just say she’s tired. Hell, she is tired. Exhausted, even. And it’s already midnight, and she’ll have to be up by eight to check on Becky, and if she’s lucky, she’ll squeeze in a nap tomorrow, but she probably won’t be able to try to sleep until two if –
“You know,” Hayley says, dropping the neat stack of papers onto the center of the table, “I think I just need to sleep tonight.”
Ginny exhales in relief, catching Hayley off guard. “Me too,” Ginny agrees. Their eyes meet, and Hayley does her best to interpret the information Ginny’s unguarded expression is giving off.
“Okay,” Hayley says slowly. She nods toward the hall. “Let’s go.”
***
“God, this mattress is amazing,” Becky says. “And the pillows here! The pillows in the infirmary were terrible.”
Freen laughs, nods in agreements. Irin and Nop had stayed to play card games with them and tell Becky more about what the settlement is like. Becky’s kind of disappointed that everything sounds super boring. Though she supposes that’s a good thing. Boring means no one is dying – or being executed by the settlement’s leadership. Boring means they’ll continue to eat and have readily available water. Boring means the dead can’t breach their walls. She should be thankful for boring. She hasn’t had very many boring days since before the dead started walking.
“Yeah, it’s a real step up,” Freen says. She kicks her boots off, sheds her jeans, then her shirt, leaving her in her underwear and a tank top. There’s no hint of self-consciousness from Freen as she flings herself down on the opposite side of the bed, exhaling heavily.
“Long day?”
“Every day is long,” Freen answers.
“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Becky huffs. “At least you get to go out and see the sun. I’ve been trapped indoors for days.”
“You’re not missing much, trust me,” Freen says. “I spent half the day with Ginny. Would you like to trade? I’d be happy to lay around all day long, doing whatever I feel like.”
Becky fights a smile, shoving at Freen’s arm. “Excuse you, I am injured,” Becky says. They laugh tiredly together, and Freen catches Becky’s hand in her own before Becky can pull away. Freen links their fingers together, and Becky exhales contentedly, letting her eyes close.
“Are you going to ask Ramsey tomorrow?” Freen asks.
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to ask her to meet up with your mom?”
“Yeah,” Becky says. “In the morning. I bet she’ll stop by. She’s kind of freaked out about the idea of me dying.”
“Why?”
“Sounds like she thinks if I die, they’ll kill her.”
Freen hums. “Maybe they will. But you aren’t going to die.”
“I know,” Becky says. She tightens her grip on Freen’s hand. “But that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone. I could’ve easily gotten an infection. I can probably still get one, if I’m not careful.”
“You’ll be careful.”
“This isn’t about me, Freen,” Becky sighs. She opens her eyes, turns her head to meet Freen’s gaze. “This is about how they treat people here. And maybe we can say it doesn’t matter if Hayley dies, but it could just as easily be us. Who knows what kind of offenses are punished with execution? Who knows what other punishments the Pioneers have lined up for people who don’t obey?”
“We have nothing to worry about yet,” Freen assures her. She squeezes Becky’s hand back, but the troubled look doesn’t leave Becky’s face.
“How could my mom go along with this?” Becky wonders aloud.
Freen shifts around a bit, exhaling, then answers, “Maybe by the time she found out what it was like, it was too late.” When Becky doesn’t say anything, Freen continues, “Look, Becky, Madison said she owed the Pioneers everything for saving her life when she escaped the stadium. We don’t know what they might’ve threatened her with. But I do know that Madison knew staying with them gave her the best shot possible to find you. She wants what’s best for you. And she’ll help us figure this all out, okay?”
“Okay,” Becky says quietly.
“We can worry if Madison tells us she wholeheartedly supports the Pioneers,” Freen says. “Until that happens – and I highly doubt it will – we just have to be patient. Talk to Ramsey. Get something set up with Madison. We’ll go from there.”
“Good thing you’re here,” Becky says. “You’re level-headed.”
Freen grins. “You can’t shoot your way out of every situation, Becky.”
“I can try,” Becky jokes.
“No. I won’t let you.”
“Right, right,” Becky snorts. “I forgot. You’re afraid of my mom. A former high school guidance counselor.”
“Your mom’s a scary lady,” Freen replies. “She knocked me out the first time we met. Stole my shit.”
“You should’ve been faster.”
“She pointed a gun at me. Almost shot me by accident.”
“But did you die?”
They both laugh again, and Freen detaches her hand from Becky’s and shoves at her arm. “You aren’t funny,” Freen says before they’re overcome with another wave of tired giggling.
“I’m hilarious,” Becky replies. “And don’t worry. I won’t let my mom kill you.”
“Like you could stop her.”
Becky rolls her eyes. “I obviously can. Very easily.”
“How?” Freen asks.
“You’re doubting my ability to give my mom the puppy eyes and beg for her to spare your life?”
“I’m doubting Madison’s ability to listen to your pleas,” Freen teases.
“I’ll just tell her I don’t want to live without you,” Becky dismisses. “She won’t come near you.” Freen’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but Becky doesn’t acknowledge the significance of her words. Doesn’t even seem to fully understand what she’s just said. “Why’d you get so quiet all of a sudden?” Becky asks.
“No reason, I – that was just very sweet of you.”
Becky freezes, replays the last few seconds in her head. Her jaw falls open as the impact of her words hit her. “Oh. I – I mean, you know – it’s nothing,” she says weakly.
“It’s not nothing.”
“No, it’s not nothing,” Becky admits. “But you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Freen agrees. Her eyes flick over to the clock on the bedside table. “It’s getting late,” she comments. “We should probably try to get some sleep before the warden comes to wake us.”
Becky cracks a small smile. “Yeah, okay. But watch my leg.”
“I know.”
Becky clears her throat. “I’ll, um, see you in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
Becky’s face heats up. She can feel Freen’s eyes watching her. “Don’t forget to return that list!” Becky blurts out of nowhere.
Freen chuckles. “I won’t forget.”
“Okay, then stop staring at me.”
“Okay,” Freen agrees. Becky feels the bed shift as Freen turns her back to her. “Oh, and Becky?” Freen says over her shoulder.
“What?”
“I don’t want to live without you either.”
Becky inhales sharply. Her heart beats a little stronger in her chest, but a smile flickers on her face. “Good to know,” she says softly. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“And you should probably fill Irin in,” Freen says. “About us. I think she’s starting to figure it out, anyway, so you should just tell her.”
“Me?”
“You’ve known her longer,” Freen replies. “So yeah. You. Goodnight.”
***
Becky groans as she returns to consciousness. “What?” Becky grumbles. Freen continues to shake her shoulder. “I’m up. What?” Becky complains, rolling onto her back.
Freen waits until Becky’s eyes are open, until Becky meets her gaze, before she says, “I’m gonna run to the call center and return the list, okay? Ginny shouldn’t come looking for me for at least another hour. If, for whatever reason, she shows up before I’m back, tell her I went for a morning walk, okay?”
“What if she asks why?” Becky questions, suddenly wide awake.
“Tell her we had an argument, and I needed to clear my head, or something,” Freen says. “It doesn’t matter. Just – you better be a convincing liar.”
“And if she sees right through me?”
“Just stick with it,” Freen tells her. “If we’re lucky, nothing will happen.”
Becky nods. “Okay,” she agrees. “You just want me to stall?”
“Yes,” Freen says. “Exactly.” She leans down to kiss Becky quickly then double checks that the list is in her pocket. “I’ll be back,” she promises.
“Hurry.”
“I will.”
Freen steps out into the hall, gently closing the door behind her. She straightens her shirt out, runs her fingers through her hair, and skids to a stop when the door to room 3B flies open. Freen quickly wipes the deer-in-headlights look from her face as Ginny steps out of 3B – definitely not her room – with her hat and jacket in her hand. As the door shuts, Ginny’s eyes fall on Freen, and Ginny’s back straightens.
“Freen!” Ginny exclaims. “What – I didn’t expect you to be up so soon!”
“I thought I’d go for a walk,” Freen says calmly. She eyes the apartment door, racking her brain to determine who exactly lives in 3B. Ginny’s hand hasn’t released the doorknob yet. “Unless that’s not something we’re allowed to do here.”
Ginny lets go of the doorknob and waves her hand in dismissal. “No, please. Take walks. Just don’t disturb anything.”
“Of course not.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few matters to take care of before we get to work today,” Ginny says.
Freen nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
She watches Ginny take off down the hall in the opposite direction of the call center. Freen knows there’s a possibility someone else will be in the call center, but she tells herself it’s too early. The sun is barely rising. And sure enough, the call center is empty. Freen replaces the list without any trouble, and she does a lap around the settlement, just to make sure the people that are already up and out see her.
As Freen’s walking back up the hall to her room, the door to 3B opens once more. This time, though, Ramsey steps out, yawning, wearing shorts and a tank top. Ramsey startles as Freen walks past, and Freen barely manages to say, “Hey,” through the shock of discovering that Ginny definitely has a thing with Ramsey.
“Hey,” Ramsey says faintly. “I’ll – tell Becky I’ll be there in a few, okay?”
“Yeah,” Freen agrees. “Take your time.” Ramsey nods and heads off in the same direction Ginny had gone. Freen rushes back inside to find Becky just finishing getting dressed. “You are never going to believe this,” Freen says.
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