Journal Entry

I thought taking another night off would be easier the second time.

It is not.

For about five minutes I relaxed into my empty bedroom.

But then I became bored and boredom led to me thinking.

Me thinking never leads anywhere good.

Today made everything more complicated.

Which feels unfair.

Maggie and I got real time off where nobody needed us.

No kids.

No chores.

No adults asking if we checked something.

No boys asking if they could learn to shoot.

Just the lake.

A couple (few) beers.

Quiet.

I think that was the problem.

When everything is quiet, your brain starts filling in the empty space.

And apparently mine has terrible ideas.

The second night off was colder.

Not cold enough to freeze the lake.

Not yet.

But cold enough that James could see his breath when he stepped outside.

Maggie was already on the porch, arms crossed tight over her chest, pretending she wasn't freezing.

"You know jackets exist," James said.

"You know minding your business exists?"

"I've heard rumors."

She looked him over.

"Are we going?"

"Apparently."

Behind them, the cabin was already loud.

Board game night had returned by force.

Harry was arguing that he should be allowed to make up new rules because civilization had collapsed.

Jonas was supporting him.

Elliott was calling both of them cheaters.

The adults were losing control faster than usual.

James smiled.

"They'll regret this again."

"Good."

Maggie stepped off the porch.

"That's how they learn."

They walked toward the lake without deciding to.

It had become their place somehow.

Not officially.

Nobody had claimed it.

But every important conversation seemed to end up near the water.

The trail was darker than last time.

The moon hung thin behind the trees, turning the branches silver.

James kept his bow slung over his shoulder.

Maggie carried her crossbow.

Freedom was one thing.

Stupidity was another.

Still, neither of them suggested going back.

At the shoreline, the lake spread out black and endless.

The wind moved over the surface in small restless shivers.

James handed Maggie a beer.

She took it and laughed.

"You're making this a habit."

"Borrowing?"

"Stealing."

"Borrowing permanently."

"That's stealing."

"Agree to disagree."

They sat on the driftwood log, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

Almost.

For a while they talked about nothing.

Which was becoming James's favorite kind of conversation.

The boys.

Elliott.

Karen's terrifying board game voice.

Dr. Anderson's complete inability to bluff.

John's habit of pretending he didn't care while absolutely caring more than anyone.

Normal things.

Small things.

Things that didn't hurt.

Until the quiet came back.

Maggie tipped her bottle toward the lake.

"Do you ever feel guilty?"

James looked over.

"For what?"

"This."

"What's this?"

She shrugged.

"Having fun."

He didn't answer right away.

Because yes.

Of course.

All the time.

"Sometimes."

Maggie nodded like that was the answer she expected.

"I do too."

The wind pushed her hair into her face.

She brushed it away.

"Then I feel guilty for feeling guilty. Which is stupid," James said while peeling the label off the beer bottle.

"Sounds efficient," Maggie teased.

"It's exhausting."

"Also efficient."

She laughed softly.

James liked that laugh.

Too much.

He looked away before it became obvious.

Too late.

"You're doing the staring thing again," Maggie said.

"I'm looking at the lake."

"My face isn't the lake."

"Maybe it is."

"That was terrible."

"I panicked."

"At least you admit it."

He took a drink to avoid answering.

Maggie smiled into the dark.

The conversation should have recovered.

It didn't.

Something shifted between them the way it had the last time.

Not sudden.

Not dramatic.

Just there.

A current under the surface.

Maggie stood first.

She kicked off her shoes.

James groaned.

"Again?"

"You scared?"

"Of hypothermia? Yes."

"Ancient."

"I'm eighteen."

"Practically dust."

She stepped into the water and hissed through her teeth.

James laughed.

"Still pretending that was a good idea?"

"Shut up and come here."

He should not have liked the way she said that.

He absolutely did.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped into the lake.

The cold bit immediately.

"Holy shit."

Maggie laughed.

"Told you."

"You did not."

"I implied."

"You tricked me."

"You followed willingly."

"I'm questioning my judgment."

"Probably smart."

She splashed him.

He splashed back.

Within seconds they were both laughing too loudly for people standing in dark water during the apocalypse.

For once, James didn't care.

The world could have its rules back tomorrow.

Tonight he wanted one stupid thing.

One normal thing.

One thing that didn't belong to survival.

Maggie slipped on a smooth stone.

James caught her before she fell.

His hands closed around her arms.

Her hands landed against his chest.

The laughter died.

Water moved around their legs.

Cold.

Black.

Quiet.

Maggie looked up at him.

Close.

Too close.

Not close enough.

James forgot every clever thing he had ever said.

Which wasn't a huge loss, probably.

Her fingers curled slightly in his shirt.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He noticed everything.

The freckles across her nose.

The way her breathing changed.

The way she didn't step back.

The way he didn't want her to.

"Maggie," he said quietly.

It wasn't a question.

Not exactly.

But she answered anyway.

Not with words.

She leaned closer.

Just enough.

His heart kicked hard against his ribs.

For one second, James thought the world might let him have this.

Then Maggie stopped.

Her eyes dropped.

The warmth left her face so quickly it felt like a door closing.

"I can't."

James froze.

Not because he didn't understand.

Because he did.

Immediately.

Her Ryan.

She stepped back, water rippling between them.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

The word came out faster than he meant it to.

She looked up.

He shook his head.

"Don't apologize."

Maggie wrapped her arms around herself.

Suddenly she looked cold for real.

"I thought I could."

James swallowed.

"It's okay."

"It's not."

"It is."

She laughed once. Small and sad.

"No, it isn't."

He didn't argue.

The lake lapped at their ankles.

The cabin lights glowed through the trees behind them.

Warm.

Too far away.

"I still think about him," she said.

James nodded.

"Every day."

The words hung there.

Not dramatic.

Worse.

True.

"Sometimes I wake up and forget," she continued. "For maybe two seconds. I forget he's gone. Or maybe gone. Or whatever he is."

James looked down at the water.

He knew that kind of maybe.

Maybe dead. Maybe alive. Maybe Sick. Maybe trapped somewhere.

Maybe searching.

Maybe not.

Maybe was worse than dead some days.

"At least if I knew," Maggie said, voice thinner now, "I could do something with it."

James nodded again.

Because Abby had just arrived.

Not really.

Not in the way a person arrived.

More like a bruise waking up when pressed.

Abby in his hoodie.

Abby laughing at him for overpacking.

Abby holding his hand so tight the last day that her nails cut crescents into his skin.

Abby saying the words he had buried so deep he almost pretended he'd forgotten them.

Maggie stepped out of the water first.

James followed.

Neither bothered drying their feet before putting shoes back on.

Maggie handed him the beer she hadn't finished.

"I should go back."

"Yeah."

She started toward the trees, then paused.

"James?" He looked up. "I wanted to."

That hurt worse than he expected.

He nodded.

"Me too."

Her face crumpled for half a second before she got it under control.

Then she turned away.

"Goodnight."

"Night."

James watched her walk back toward the cabin.

The trees swallowed her piece by piece until only the porch light remained.

He stayed by the lake.

The cold worked its way through his wet jeans.

He deserved it, probably.

For wanting.

For forgetting.

For almost letting himself have something while Abby was still somewhere in the dark.

The last day came back sharp.

Smoke.

Sirens.

Traffic locked in every direction.

His mother screaming into the phone.

His father loading the truck.

Elliott crying because nobody would explain why she couldn't bring all her dolls.

Abby standing in the driveway with ash in her hair.

Her parents yelling from their car.

His parents yelling from his.

Nobody knowing which direction was safe.

Nobody knowing nowhere was.

Abby grabbed his hand.

"We'll meet at the cabin," James had said.

Like it was easy.

Like the world was still the kind of place where plans mattered.

Abby nodded too fast.

Scared.

Trying not to show it.

"Find us," she said.

Then her father pulled her away.

James held on until he couldn't.

Their fingers slipped apart.

Not goodbye.

Not I love you.

Just a promise neither of them understood was impossible.

Find us.

The lake stretched black in front of him.

Behind him, the cabin waited.

Safe.

Lit.

Full of people who needed him.

Full of people he loved.

Full of Maggie.

James closed his eyes.

Find us, Abby.

The words followed him all the way back to the cabin.