The Last One(65)

“Well,” I say. “We still have our guts.”

“Shh,” he whispers. He’s curled like a thief. “I heard about this kind of thing.”

I didn’t listen closely to his story, but I’m pretty sure this is a contradiction. “I thought you didn’t see anyone after leaving your church.” I speak at a normal volume and he shushes me again. “Fine,” I whisper.

“I met a few, at first,” he tells me. “They were always sick.”

That’s a fair revision, I think. And I have to admit, his worry is contagious. Are we about to meet my marauders? I creep forward and keep my lens in my palm, ready. As we advance, Brennan’s gaze darts from side to side.

I wonder how I’m being portrayed now. I know what my role was when we started. I was the earnest animal lover, always cheerful and up for a Challenge. But now? Will they cast me as off my rocker? Probably not; that’s Randy’s role, with his stupid gold cross and his tales of possessed toddlers. But whoever I am now, I’m no longer who I was.

I wonder if I can even do it anymore, be that person grinning until her cheeks ache. It was exhausting, as exhausting as this endless trekking, in its own way.

Give it a try.

Well, why not?

I look at Brennan and smile. I summon my most chipper voice and say, “Some weather we’re having, huh?” My stomach turns; being cheerful hurts.

He just looks at me, eyebrows raised. I drop the painful smile and look away. What if I can never be that person again? Not the exaggeration of myself I put on for the show, but the person I really was. The person I worked so hard to become after leaving my mother’s sour home. I hate the idea of being this miserable for the rest of my life. But I’ll readjust. Once this is over. I have to. My husband will help. As soon as I see him again, all this misery will be banished. This experience will become what it was meant to be—one last adventure. A story to tell. We’ll adopt the wacky-looking greyhound of our dreams, toss our condom supply in the trash, make a small family. I’ll do it, even if I’m not ready, because you can’t be ready for everything and sometimes overthinking a challenge makes overcoming it impossible and I am not my mother. Soon these hardships will be far enough in the past that I’ll be able to pretend I had fun here. Or maybe being pregnant will be so awful this will seem like a vacation. I read a book before I left that makes that seem possible, with its talk of grape-sized hemorrhoids and crusty gum growths.

Is that why I haven’t had my period yet?

No. I’m not pregnant. I know I’m not pregnant. This is my body’s reaction to physical stress—all this hiking, and how long did I go without eating when I was sick?

But. What if?

My last period was a week or so before I left for the show. We had sex after that, but with protection—I’ve never been on the pill; sex without a condom is nigh inconceivable to me—but maybe something went wrong. Maybe after all these years something finally went wrong.

I remember being so scared that I’d get my period while here, anticipating it, fearing a cameraman would get something incriminating on film. As if menstruation were shameful. As if it were a choice. Now I just want it to happen so I can know, so I can be certain of something.

I think of the doll in the cabin. Its sunken, spotty face. Its mechanical kitten cries.

I’m not pregnant.

I want to think about something else. I need to think about something else.

“So, what’s with the zebra print?” I ask Brennan.

“Shh!”

I forgot we were whispering. I mouth an apology, just to get him talking.

It works. After a moment he says, so quietly, “Reminds me of Aiden.”

The brother. I don’t remember if he’s supposed to be dead or alive. Wait—Brennan said something about calling him, about phones not working. He doesn’t know. “If you survived, he might have too,” I try. “Immunity could be genetic.”

“My mom didn’t survive.”

“What about your dad?”

He shrugs. “He was in the Army. Died when I was little.”

I’m trying to decide what to say next when a loud snap to our left interrupts my thoughts. I pivot toward the sound; Brennan jumps behind me. Hurriedly, I find my lens and hold it to my eye. I close my other eye and scan the woods.

This is it, I think. Everything is about to change.

A flash of white, a curled tan body on stiltlike legs, big dumb eyes. An eastern white-tailed frozen in our presence. I take a step toward it and the ice cracks. The deer scrambles over a log, then bounds away, its snowy tail erect.

“What was that?” asks Brennan, voice trembling.

“A deer,” I tell him. I hear anger in my voice, but all I feel is tired.

Soon a driveway sprouts to our right. I take out my lens. The driveway is a semicircle leading past a gas station, a minimart, and a motel, and then back to the road. There’s a black pickup truck by the pumps, and the windows of the minimart are boarded. One of the motel room doors is open. There’s a vending machine by another.

“I bet this is their base,” says Brennan.

Of course the marauders have a base. I’m anticipating a Challenge, but this place looks abandoned and it’s out of the way. There is no blue that I can see.

“Do you think we should check it out?” Brennan asks, suddenly bold.