Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Jenny - Day 986

Another shake.

They sat in silence, neither breathing—her rifle pointed toward the glow of the fire. Failure filled her mind, defeat, anticipating their capture. Then, the crunching of snow in the distance allowed them to breathe once again. The scout plodded toward the wheelbarrow with stacked firewood cradled in his arms. Lazily, he dumped his load to the ground, allowing the firelight to climb his chest, to illuminate his face, his dark framed glasses.

Jenny’s heart dropped.

In a trance, she took a step toward the scout.

Xavier… Her eyes honed in on his face, discerning its features. It can’t be, but… No, he’s dead. It can’t. Tears formed within her eyes, blurring the sight of this cruel joke her mind played with her. She swiped the tears from her face. Even after, it was Xavier that stood there feeding the fire, warming his hands. But in a Second Alliance uniform. It couldn’t be him. To be sure, she forced another step. Someone grabbed her from behind.

“Is that…?” Matt whispered, still clutching Jenny’s coat.

She ignored him, her eyes remained on Xavier, watching him as he pulled a few logs from the snow and stacked them neatly on top of the fire. I know it’s him. Without a doubt. “Xavier,” she said, quiet, but forceful. His head lifted, searching across the top of the deck. “It’s me. Jenny.”

“Jenny…? Where the hell—”

“Shush! Under the deck.” Jenny and Matt crept toward the yard.

Xavier leaned forward to see. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, really.”

“Matt and Grant, too,” Matt butted in.

“Man…” Xavier’s voice broke. It took everything inside her not to break down with him. “How the hell did—”

The back door creaked open. “Who you out here talking to?” one of the Guards asked, his footsteps crossing the deck.

“No one.” Xavier’s voice quivered. “Nothing. Just… I’m just singing.”

“Well cut that shit out. No one wants to hear it.” His hand scraped across the deck’s railing, plowing a stretch of snow onto the ground. A few clumps fell just beyond Jenny and Matt’s boots. “Thomas wants them checked on. They causing any trouble down there?”

“No.” Xavier made toward the bottom of the deck’s staircase. “I checked them like five minutes ago. Everything’s good. They’re sleeping. Ropes are good.”

“How the hell they sleeping down there? I gotta see this.”

He’s coming. Shit!

“You guys made it sound like it was a long march.” Xavier caught the Guard a few steps from the bottom of the flight. “Probably exhausted.”

“Pussies.” The Guard chuckled.

“You need me to do anything else?”

“Quit singing and get the fuck out of my way, small fry.”

“Thomas put me on watch,” Xavier tried.

“Don’t give a shit. It’s my ass if anything happens to them.”

Through the gaps in the open stairs, she watched the Guard brush past him. Her heart sank. Silently, she slid her pistol from its holster and handed it to Matt before taking the rifle into her shoulder, steadying it toward the Guard.

“Hey!” Another voice rang out from the back door. “If the kid’s got watch, then the kid’s got watch. He’s not gonna learn any other way, right? Wasn’t that what you said?”

“Yeah, I said that, so what?” The Guard spoke from only fifteen feet away from Jenny.

Go Away. Go away. Please go away.

“Well, how about this? If you’re so concerned, why don’t you stay out there with him?”

“Point taken.”

Each thud of the Guard’s ascending boots loosened the suffocating grip from Jenny’s chest.

“You wanted your chance, so don’t fuck it up, kid. I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Don’t die out here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door snapped shut.

Matt broke away to finish freeing Grant.

Jenny watched Xavier retreat from the stairs and back to the wheelbarrow to grab his rifle. That uniform… I don’t understand. Why are you with them? Why are you wearing that thing? A million more questions swarmed her mind, but she had to suppress them. There would be a time for that, but it certainly wasn’t now.

Xavier’s approach seemed to take forever, but finally he stood before her. She reached trembling fingers toward him, toward the kid risen from death. Her hand wouldn’t budge—something about the uniform prevented her. Are you still Xavier? Or aren’t you? Before she could convince herself either way, she felt his embrace, his body crashing into hers, then all around she was smothered. Each friend came together, squeezing one another.

“We gotta—” Jenny struggled for air. “We gotta go, guys. Now.”

The four of them snuck off to the far end of the yard, then bolted along the path Jenny had worn in the snow earlier, back to where she’d left Sherman.

Pawprints circled the yard, but no dog. She could see the anxiety in his pacing, his lack of direction. Where are you, boy? His absence placed a sickness in her stomach. Afraid she’d lost him, her eyes darted across the snow, winding along his tracks—no telling where he could be. Hesitant, but without a choice, she broke the stillness of the night with a hushed plea. “Sherman! Hier!”

“Who?” Xavier asked from beside her, bent over, catching his breath.

“Hier!” she called again, ignoring him.

“Where’s Danny?” Matt asked. “Seriously, Jenny, we’re gonna need him.”

She pushed the truth down. Away from her mind. “Hier!”

“What’s the plan?” Xavier tried for her attention again.

“We get out of here, that’s it, that’s all I got,” Jenny snapped, still somewhat suspicious of him in that uniform. “The plan was to get Matt and Grant. I’ll guess you’ll do too.”

“Why’d you—”

“Shush.” In the distance, a rustling caught her attention. “Sherman?” The tramping of snow approached at what sounded like a gallop. His body came into view. An exhale of relief. “You had me scared, boy.” She buried herself within his side for only a moment. “Alright,”—she stood—“we gotta get my shit out of a house over this way, then back to the Depot. At least there, we have a chance against the S.A.”

They had put some serious distance between them and the Second Alliance. But the entire time, Jenny’s suspicion had grown, gotten the best of her along the way. “Then who was it?” she continued to tear into Xavier, her brow pinched with thought, unsure of who she spoke with—friend or foe. Etched in her mind, relived more times than she dared count, was the moment the Second Alliance swung Xavier’s body from the scaffolding—his legs flailing, his struggling.

Not until now did she know it wasn’t him, not the one that died hanging in the courtyard of River’s Edge. Here, he walked in enemy’s clothing. Held the enemy’s weapon. Too much unanswered or made little sense. “No one else was missing except you and Sam. The guy they killed instead of you…” She stared at him without speaking for several paces. “Obviously, it wasn’t you, but we all thought… We all thought it was. Who? Who did they kill to hide you? Get rid of you?”

“It’s complicated,” Xavier mumbled, pulling at the bottom of his black Second Alliance coat. He looked over to her but offered nothing further.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it is.”

Xavier’s legs seemed less eager now with Jenny’s questioning. His pace slowed—anxiety and uncertainty worn like a mask. She couldn’t help but wonder what was hidden behind it. Something worse? That damn uniform. “Xavier.” Turning toward him, she continued bluntly, “You need to tell us what the hell’s going on?”