Jason Morrow - Anywhere but Here

“But you want me to do something,” I say.

“There is always a catch, isn’t there?” he says with a smile. I want to smack it off of him. He leans forward in his chair, elbows on the desk, his hands cupped together. His face turns suddenly serious. “I have a daughter. I haven’t seen or heard from her in four years.”

“You mean a year before the outbreak?” I ask.

He nods. “She and I were never on good terms after she went to college. She started dating this boy I didn’t care for and…” he waves a hand in the air, “well, there was a big fight and we didn’t speak to each other again. Then the greyskin virus broke out and I tried to find her. I spent the better part of a year looking for her before I decided to quit. I built a safe haven here in Crestwood hoping she would find it someday and that I would come across her again. But…I still haven’t seen her.”

“What do you want me to do, find her?”

“Yes,” he says, his face very serious.

“You haven’t seen your daughter in four years and you want me to find her? You know she’s probably…”

“Dead, yes I’m aware of the possibility,” he says, cutting me off sharply. “But I’m not really asking that you find her and bring her to me, I’m just asking that you find out as much information as you can about her — what may have happened to her…something. You bring me any information that’s useful and I’ll reinstate your citizenship here at Crestwood. It will be like this never happened.”

It will never be like that, I think. People will always remember the one accused of murder.

What was her name? they will ask. Remi?

Oh yeah, the murderer.

“I will be the murderer no matter what you tell them now,” I say.

Paxton shakes his head and sits back in his chair, crossing his legs. “They will believe whatever I tell them. Once I declare you innocent, they will forget in time. People thinking you’re a murderer for a short time is a pretty good punishment for stealing from me.”

“What if I find out she’s dead?” I ask. “You won’t want me here after that.”

He shakes his head again. “Just bring the proof.”

“In other words, it’s impossible,” I say. “Sorry to be so blunt but there is no proof left if she became some greyskin’s meal.”

Paxton blinks at my words and I can tell he’s trying not to let my forward speaking get to him. “It’s on you,” he says. “I don’t really expect to see you again. I’m just giving you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and the eyes of others here. If you can bring me proof of my daughter’s fate then you will be welcome here and I will even make you a soldier if that’s what you want.”

I sit and stare at his desk in front of me. It’s an impossible task, a stupid one. How could he ask this of me? Trying to find out what happened to someone in a greyskin-infested world is like asking how a cancer patient died. Well, she died because of cancer…Well, she died because of the greyskin virus. This was Paxton’s way of giving me hope (maybe some hope for himself as well), but I want to tell him that there is none and I will just say goodbye and be on my way.

“Where would I even start looking?” I ask.

“Elkhorn,” he says immediately. “You went to school there, right?”

Elkhorn carries with it another name: The Epicenter. It’s where this whole mess started. “I was going to college there when the outbreak happened, yes.”

“That was the last place I saw her,” he says. “She was a student at the university.”

“Four years ago?”

“Four years ago.”

“I’m sorry to say that she’s probably graduated by now, that is unless she couldn’t figure out a major first.” I can tell Paxton doesn’t care for my jokes. He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t smile. He simply stares. “So,” I continue, “she might not have even been there when this whole thing started?”

“It’s possible that she wasn’t but I don’t imagine she had dropped out.”

“What’s her name?” I ask with a deep sigh.

Paxton looks at his desk and swallows hard as if saying her name would make her truly gone. Finally he says, “Her name is Jessi.”

Walter and Barry didn’t let us leave after Hank was bitten. Their mission to pull the greyskins away from the school had worked, but they wanted to be certain that the undead were still moving far away before they let us drive through Foley again. We couldn’t risk leading the greyskins back to the school. The night seemed to go on forever and I drifted in and out of sleep, never getting the rest I desired. Thoughts of seeing the future plagued my mind and no one knew if Hank was going to make it through the night.

Now, the sun shines on my tired eyes as I sit next to Hank’s cot. There are others in the room watching over him. Walter stands behind me and Ethan and Gilbert sit separately on their own cots.

“He’s not showing any symptoms of the virus,” Walter says. “I think he’s going to make it just fine.”

There is more relief within me than there should be, I think. I have only known Hank for a day, but I feel the need to check on him.

Eventually, his eyes flutter awake and his smile beams at me. “You look very pretty,” he says. “When the sun hits your eyes it looks like the Pacific Ocean.

“Have you been there?” I ask.

Hank nods. “I used to live on the West Coast. My heart is there. I moved out here to pursue a career, leaving my family behind.” He lets out a long breath. “I just didn’t know I was going to be leaving them behind forever. Heh, it’s not like I can hop on a plane and go look for them either.”

“They’re probably still alive,” I say.

“Can you see that too?” he asks. “Can you touch my hand and see a future that I will be arm and arm with my little girls again? Will their mother be with them?”

I say nothing.

“I didn’t think so,” he says. “Strange business what you told me yesterday.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “I don’t know what it is. It comes and goes.” As I want it to, anyway.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a person like you, Waverly.”

“I hope to meet more like you,” I tell him.

“Likely we won’t be seeing each other again, but if we do, perhaps I will be used to fighting greyskins with just one arm.”

“I think it would be better if you kept at your cooking with just one arm,” I say. “Because that’s what I’ll be looking for when we meet again.”

He smiles at me and closes his eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Waverly.”

Walter leads us to our SUV and leaves us with blunt weapons, food, and a full tank of gas. He says his goodbyes and advises us not to take the interstate if we don’t want to get stuck twenty miles down the road. He also asks us not to mention the town of Foley to anyone. They don’t mind trades, but if raiders get wind of their stash, Foley would be in danger.

This time, I ask to drive and Ethan and Gilbert let me. Ethan sits in the back while Gilbert sits in the front passenger side staring at the map. I don’t look forward to spending hours in a vehicle with Gilbert right next to me, but it’s good to be on the road again. If all goes to plan, we should be at Crestwood in about five hours.

The first couple of hours are long and silent. When I look in the rearview mirror, I can see Ethan nodding off, fighting sleep for some reason. I imagine he doesn’t like the idea of being out in the open and dozing. Occasionally, Gilbert pulls the small canister from his pocket and examines the clear glass cylinder. He is certain that the red liquid is blood.