viii. Shortcut

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Peter loves that Autumn is paying attention to him, loves that they’re friends and that they’re holding hands. And yet, his palms are sweating and he wants to pull away from her. He doesn’t want her to get too attached because he’s going to do everything he can to save her and not himself. Because that’s love, right? Putting them before yourself? “Are you okay?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed and her big brown eyes full of concern.

“Yes, of course,” Peter replies quickly, hoping that his voice is not too shaky.

“You believe me, right?” Peter nods, though he most certainly does not. He knows what she is talking about, how she said that it will be okay. He’s a nurse, has been for a year and a half now – and he knows that when he says that to people, as he holds their hand, he is 60% of the time lying.

“The sun’s setting. We should find a shelter and set up camp for the night. Does everything have what they need to set up for the night?” Michael is taking the lead, not that anyone minds. He’s authoritative in every way, how he speaks and how he walks and stands. There’s a chorus of yes’. “Set up close to everyone else. We’ll have one person for each of the six hours we’ll be resting to stay guard.”

“I’ll go first,” Peter volunteers.

“Then he can wake me up,” Autumn chimes. Michael nods, not even looking at Autumn. She appears hurt, or maybe confused.

Everyone sets their sleeping bags (ragged and old, but sleeping bags nonetheless) up on a pile of crunchy leaves. It’s soft, but any movement sets off a creepy rustle. Peter seats himself atop his sleeping bag, next to Autumn. She smiles up at him, before closing her eyes and drifting to sleep.

“Peter.” He looks up to see Michael, with his hands in his pockets and shadows of the leaves and branches dancing along his face. “My sister likes you. She’ll listen to you. I need you to convince her to not fight. Don’t wake her up the next hour, wake me up. Let her sleep, and protect her with everything you’ve got.”

“I can’t, Michael. It’s Autumn, she’ll hate me.” Michael sighs. “But since it’s to protect her…I told her I wanted to do everything I could to protect her and she told me that I should protect myself and she can protect herself.”

“Hey, you said it before – it’s Autumn. She’s determined to be independent and an adult but she’s only seventeen.” Peter nods. “Wake me up or I’ll kill you myself.” Michael stares at Peter curiously for a moment before a grin breaks out on his face. “I’m kidding!”

“Again, Michael, she’ll hate me.”

“Well, it’s a risk you’ll have to take.” He removes his glasses from the bridge of his nose and hangs them from the collar of his shirt. He settles down into his makeshift bed, which actually does look comfortable.

“Fine.”

A thin layer of fog coats the ground. The room is freezing cold and the stench is so similar to the hospital’s back at home in Kirstai. But this isn’t home. She sees her parents, strapped to beds, pale and appearing lifeless. She cries out to them, “Mum! Dad!” but they do not move. She runs through the hazy fog, towards their beds.

Her black boots click and clack against the hard tiled floors. She skids to a halt as the fog stops abruptly. A big ring with the concrete foundation of the building completely cut out. Only darkness can be seen all the way down. The leap to her parents small patch of the building would be impossible.

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