Survivor by James Phelan Page B

over to the cafeteria.
    â€œRachel!” I called again. Into the cafeteria. Empty. The Zoo shop—more locked doors. “Ra—”
    Rachel emerged from an equipment room. She looked spooked and stayed where she was; I ran over to her.
    â€œI’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I met this guy, Caleb—”
    â€œAre they still out there?”
    â€œThe Chasers? No, I didn’t see anyone,” I said, talking fast. “I meant to come straight back, but he’s a good guy and we’re all about the same age, and I was thinking how we’d be so much better off as a group. You know, safer.”
    She stood there, silent.
    â€œRachel?” Maybe it was too soon to mention the plan that was forming in my mind. Maybe I had more to do to earn her trust.
    â€œYou’re sure they’re not still there?”
    â€œThere’re no Chasers. Rachel, I’m sorry I took so long. Are you okay?”
    She replied with a half-nod. “Were you followed?”
    â€œJust now? No.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    â€œYes,” I replied. She looked like she’d been awake all night; my guilt amplified. “Why, what happened?”
    â€œThey came back.”
    â€œCame back?”
    â€œThe ones that followed you here the first time.”
    â€œYou’re sure it was them?”
    â€œI saw them,” she said. Her body and face looked tense, her eyes taking in every detail.
    She looked so scared that I promised myself that I’d be there for her from now on, that I’d be more reliable. She might not be as fun as Caleb, but she needed me around. Sure, I’d come back with food before she’d run out, but I could see what mattered to her more was my being there, my keeping my word. If I had to do another food trip, I’d be better at it next time. And right now I’d prepare this place better, for her.
    â€œThe front doors are still locked,” I said.
    â€œThey smashed at the glass with a steel pipe,” she said. “I watched them beating on it until it started to break through, then I ran out here.”
    She looked back into the room. There was a little burner set up with a pot of water. In the dim light from the equipment room behind her there was a stack of blankets where she must have slept, or at least sat, listening.
    â€œCan you make tea?” I asked, wanting to distract her. She nodded, and I could see her slipping into nurturing mode, her comfort zone. “I brought food, I’ll go get it.”
    â€œWait! ”
    â€œThey’re not there at the moment,” I said, “but I’ll have another look around, okay?”
    She softened just a little more. “Okay.”
    â€œCan I have the key to the gate?”
    Rachel took her keys from the lanyard around her neck and placed it over mine. She went inside while I ran back around to the front of the arsenal building to get the food. As I picked up the canvas bag I looked at the snow.
    Footprints.
    My heart skipped a beat before I realized that they were mine, only mine. I did a quick scan of the street, searching for any sign—nothing. Wherever they were, they’d gone before this last snowfall.
    I dragged the bag down from Fifth, and took it through the gate with the other.
    Rachel was busy at her work, as if with my presence and news she’d now hit reset; this was how I’d found her two days ago. I presented her with the food, and she came over and put her gloved hand on my shoulder, then pulled me in for a hug.
    â€œThank you for coming back,” Rachel said, holding me. “I was worried. I was worried I’d never see you again.”
    Rachel was so small in my embrace. So fragile, a bird.
    â€œI can look after myself.”
    I felt her warm tears running down my neck. She let go and sniffed into her sleeve, looked about her, blinking.
    â€œI know you can,” she said, watching her animals eat. “It’s just . . .