WILLOW

As the night drew on with no sign of Croc, gravity seemed to increase. It weighed heavy on my shoulders, my heart, my thoughts. It pulled at my eyelids and pushed my head down to rest where my arms rested on the rail. I fought hard against it. I did my best to remain lucid, convinced I'd never see him again if I failed to keep vigil.

But gravity won. It pulled me under like a kraken, so deep I thought I'd never make it back. It was an odd experience, to be aware of the waking world while totally disconnected from it. I felt the cool air, smelled the fishy aroma of the river. I heard the crickets faintly chirping from somewhere more distant than they really were. But in my mind's eye, I went somewhere else. Somewhere new yet familiar.

A courtyard. I sat on a wooden swing, its white paint chipped away in splotches to reveal the gray wood beneath. Its chains were rusted. They creaked each time I moved. Where was I? Barren land stretched out before me, patches of dead grass barely covering the dry soil. Dust clouds rolled each time the hot wind blew, forming a layer of upset earth across a cobblestone path.

I'd seen it before, but I couldn't recall when. Perhaps it was an early memory of somewhere I'd been as a child. Something deep within me knew it hadn't always looked this way. That it had once been beautiful. That the fountain at its center hadn't always been empty. And the statue—a woman in a long dress holding a sword and a set of opened shackles—hadn't always been damaged, her concrete too rough, her features flaking away. She seemed to see right through me.

The swing rattled as someone took the seat beside me, and I looked over, gasping on a sob at Julia's warm smile.

"You aren't supposed to be out here," she said, her tone conspiratorial.

My eyes ran over her. It was Julia, but it wasn't. Her makeup was too muted, her hair too tamed. She was dressed in all white, so unlike her vivid colors. "Are you an angel now?" I breathed.

She snorted. "Hardly." She reached into her bag and pulled out the reddest apple I'd ever seen. "I don't think the tree will survive another season, but I made sure my favorite girl wasn't forgotten." She handed it to me, her smile bitter-sweet, her eyes full of resignation. "This is probably the last apple on Earth," she said. "Enjoy it. That's all any of us can do."

She guided it to my lips, and like DeJa'Vu, history repeated. The sweet taste mixed with the sour, and I broke apart, sobbing into her neck as she held me. I wanted to stay there. To never wake up. To be where she was until the world turned to ash.

But gentle hands smoothed over my spine, pulling me back to reality. I opened my eyes to find Croc crouched beside me. "I'm here," he whispered.

With a sob, I threw my arms around his neck, crushing him in an embrace that sent us both off balance. He fell backward then held me tight as I cried tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of loss, so many tears I was sure I'd end up like the statue from my dream: crumbling, disintegrating, destroyed by the elements.

Croc murmured low, soothing words beneath his breath, stroking my hair until I'd calmed. "We got the ship," he whispered. "And I need to show you something."

I lifted up to see his face, lined by stress and exhaustion. Then I looked around for the first time, my lips parting at the colossal vessel anchored in the center of the river. "You got the ship," I breathed, hardly believing my eyes. Perhaps I was still dreaming because it looked too mighty to be real.

Croc rose to his feet then helped me to mine. "The kids are still asleep. It won't take long."

I nodded, and I didn't question. His words reminded me of the night he'd threatened to take Danny's hand, when he'd shown me things about myself I hadn't known were there. And just like that night, I placed my faith in his hands and followed.

We dropped into the water and swam across the divide, then Croc led me to a ladder and motioned me ahead of him.

I climbed, then waited at the top, taking in my surroundings. Men crowded the deck of the ship, talking in harsh tones. Something had happened. Something to do with Tex and Fern, though neither was anywhere to be seen. Croc climbed onboard a few moments later with two freshly caught fish in his left hand. He led me around the men, then down the side of the ship, where a row of doors stretched on for ages.

Halfway down, Croc moved ahead and retrieved something from the floor. A flashlight. I blinked. I'd never seen him bother with one before. Even I hadn't needed one since the change. He turned it on and waved me forward, then I saw the reason why. A set of steps led down into a black so thick it looked like death. I followed him as he descended, then small blips of dim light filled the space from a few men shuffling around. Hammocks lined the room from wall to wall, many already occupied.

Croc led me passed them, through another room, then down a hallway. I had no idea where we were headed, but his silence fostered my own. He slowed as we approached another doorway. Shouted whispers echoed from within.

"We all agreed," a man said.

"Of course I agreed!" another hissed back. "Did you see the size of them?"

"They said we don't have to fight," a woman's soft voice interjected.

"And we're supposed to believe that?"

Croc stepped through the opening and said, "It's true."

I followed. Piles of hay lined the back wall, and a faintly rotten smell lingered in the recycled air. But all of that meant nothing once I saw the men, women, and children huddled amidst the mounds. They fell silent, staring at us.

Croc hesitated, then started toward them. "My name is Croc," he said. "And this is Willow." He glanced back at me, then focused on the people. They watched him as if he'd brought a bomb. Croc extended the fish. "We brought you something to eat."

A lengthy silence passed, before one of the men stood and walked over, taking the offering. "Thank you."

My eyes aligned with one of the women. A child no bigger than Eve was sleeping in her arms. They looked like skeletons, all of them.

"I'll bring more," Croc said. "We always have fish."

The man nodded, but he didn't speak again. They didn't trust us, and I couldn't blame them.

"We have some clothes and other things in the stock pile," I said. "We can go through tomorrow, if you want."

"Much obliged," the same man said.

The quiet resumed, growing louder with each breath. "Well, goodnight," I said, turning to head back the way we came.

Croc caught up to me. "What do you think?" he asked.

"About what?" I stopped and looked at him.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his gaze zig-zagged over my expression. "They have kids."

"I saw that." I tilted my head. "You want to ask them to come with us?"

His lips pursed, and he palmed my waist, stepping in. "Willow. . .I don't think I can run away."

My mind went blank, unable to process what he'd said. We had to run. There was no other option unless the madness had gotten to him too. "You want to go to Savannah?"

His jaw tensed, and he sighed. "Those people—" He motioned behind him. "—They were hiding and look at them. We were hidden in the swamp, then the camp, and look at us. The longer people hide, the worse it'll be. I'd do anything you asked me." He pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes piercing. "You know that. But there's a predator hunting us, and as long as it exists, we'll never be safe. The kids will never be safe, and what happened to Julia will keep happening, over and over again, until there's no one left to hide."

I hated how much sense that made, but still, Savannah? "We don't have enough people to do what Tex has planned."

"There will be fewer people if we don't. Every day we spend ignoring the problem, it grows. It isn't going to disappear. We have to do everything we can to fix it, so the babies can have it different."

I swallowed. He was right. Of course he was. If we ran, they'd catch us. If we hid, they'd find us. And even if we evaded them to our deaths, what would we be leaving behind for Eve, Eric, and the baby? It was selfish to think about the present when their futures were at stake too.

"And if we get ourselves killed without fixing a single thing?"

"Maybe we will—" Croc pushed my hair back and kissed me softly. "—or maybe we'll live and change it all. But running and hiding. . ." He shook his head. "If we do that, then there's no chance for anything else. Is that what you really want? For us? For them?"

"No." My voice was hoarse. I didn't want that. We couldn't do that. The world was the way it was, and it wouldn't get any better without a fight. It would only get worse. I closed my eyes, envisioning the dream I'd carried for weeks. Us riding off into the sunset, finding someplace, making a home. Childish fantasies. There was no place to go. No home that would stand the test of time.

I nodded once.

We were going to Savannah.