“Ah—I suppose?”
“Well, either way, you’re intimidating enough that most solo travellers won’t even try.” Beth shrugged. “He’s the best choice to stay guard.”
Dorran gave a small nod. “That makes sense to me.”
“Clare, you should stay with him,” Beth continued. “I’ve done this kind of supplies run before. I know how to avoid the hollows.”
“You shouldn’t go alone. Especially in the fog. You need someone to watch your back.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I can handle myself around those monsters.”
Clare looked over her sister—the scars on her face and the scars on her hands—and knew Beth was telling the truth. But a horrible sense of misgiving had solidified in her stomach. “You keep saying we need to minimise risk. Don’t gamble. Well, going in there alone is gambling. We stack the odds in our favour if we go together.”
Dorran touched her shoulder. “Clare, I agree with your sister. You’d be safer in the bus.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What was that about letting me make my own bad decisions?”
He half sighed, half laughed. “Well…”
Beth rolled her head, stretching her neck muscles. “Okay, Clare. You can come. But you have to follow my instructions. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Beth stood and fished through one of the compartments near the driver’s seat. She passed Clare a pair of thick gloves and a wooden mask that looked like it had once been a part of a theatre production. The eye holes, already small, had fabric glued over them. When Clare put on the mask, it was like staring at the world through a dark, blurry filter. “This isn’t great for visibility.”
“Yeah. But you won’t need perfect sight. You only need to be able to watch where you’re walking.” Beth put on her own protection, a beekeeper’s helmet, and checked both of them to make sure no skin was exposed. Then she opened a box near the driver’s seat and retrieved two objects: a small red stick, which she pocketed, and a large hunting knife.
“Just in case,” she said, as she passed the knife to Dorran. “We’ll be back within the hour.”
Dorran tucked the knife into his jacket pocket then took Clare’s hand. He pressed it gently, his eyes earnest. “Be safe.”
“You too.” She didn’t want to let him go, but Beth was already at the door. Reluctantly, she released his hand then stepped up behind her sister. Beth, her face inscrutable under the mask, unfastened the lock and pushed open the door. Clare sucked in a lungful of mist as they stepped outside.
Their boots crunched over dead grass as they retraced the path to the road, staying close to the sparse trees, then began following it as it trended downhill towards the town. As far as Clare could tell, Beth was right. She couldn’t see or hear any trace of the hollow ones amongst the trees. They had parked far enough out from town that nothing living there would hear them. As far as remaining discreet, the plan seemed to be working.
Clare wished she could see more easily. The mask was more stifling than the fencing guards she’d worn when leaving Winterbourne, and it only took a few minutes for its edges to stick to her face from condensing mist and her own warm breaths.
Beth walked at her side, hands thrust into her jacket pockets. “The masks will buy you time, but don’t rely on them to keep you safe,” she whispered. “If we’re spotted by a hollow, we either kill it—silently—or run. If it makes any noises, our time is up, and we get out and try a different town. If we become split up for any reason, we meet back at the bus. Understood?”
“Yes.” Clare kept her voice low. The mist seemed to swallow any noise she made, which meant it would mask any other creatures around them as well. She didn’t like the way it isolated them.
Winter had set in weeks before, but the days still felt abnormally cold. She hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with any more snow on their trip. It could close up the roads within hours, and even the bus wouldn’t be able to ford the snowdrifts.
Beth’s mask hid her face perfectly. Clare wished she could see her sister’s expression. That morning’s argument had left her uneasy, and she couldn’t shake the feeling. She cleared her throat. “Apparently the thanites were responsible for destabilising the weather and bringing on early snows. I wonder what they will do to summer. Will it be warmer than usual or colder?”
“My bet is on colder.” The path was growing steeper, and Beth kept her head tilted to watch her feet as she navigated the debris cluttering the asphalt. The fog became thicker the farther into the valley they walked. “Not all of the weather’s issues would have been caused by those machines. We were spared the worst of it in our colder areas, but I’ve heard stories of immense fires in the regions that didn’t get snow.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Entire towns and forests burning. People thought it might be a way to kill the hollows—which, technically, it is. But it kills everything else at the same time. The urban fires especially were devastating—all of that plastic turns into black smoke, which chokes the sky. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of this”—she indicated towards the pale sun—“is smog from those fires.”
Clare shivered. She didn’t like to think about what summer would be like with the sun dampened like that.
She tried a different topic, one she’d been curious about since being reunited with her sister. “Did you meet up with many other survivors on your way into the city?”
Beth was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was oddly devoid of emotion. “I stopped at a couple of safe havens. We traded stories.”
“You didn’t want to stay at any of them?”
“No.”
A note of terseness had entered her sister’s voice, and Clare knew she was pushing a line of questioning Beth wanted to leave dead. This is why she’s so hostile. This is why she mistrusts Dorran and why she doesn’t want to meet any other humans. Something happened at that safe haven.
Beth had talked about how democracy was in short supply in the new world and how friendships counted for nothing. Clare’s stomach coiled. She wanted to press Beth for more, but she sensed any further questioning would be rebuffed with increasing sharpness. Give her space.
Beth tapped Clare’s arm. Buildings were emerging from the fog. She nodded to let Beth know she understood and began stepping more carefully.
If the hollows were staying indoors, then the walls and windows would muffle sound, but even one slip—a rock kicked accidentally or a snapped branch—could end their sojourn in Little Leura.
Clare alternated her focus from the ground ahead and their surroundings. Houses drifted in and out of the smothering white. There was no sign of motion. She squinted at the buildings, searching for names or designs that might be familiar. Ten years had passed since they’d stopped in Little Leura to buy a giant tub of ice cream, and her memories of its layout were sketchy.
Beth tugged her sleeve and pointed to the left. Clare squinted through the rolling white. There was a curb. Beyond that, some kind of sign. And…
Petrol pumps. The service station.
She moved towards it, but a hand on her chest halted her. Beth backed up as she pulled the red cylinder out of her pocket. Clare realised what it was: a flare. This was one part of the plan Beth hadn’t thought to share with her. She backed up, frowning.