Parker sidles up beside me, elbowing me in the arm. “Saw them sneaking into the woods past the boundary as I was getting home.” He winks at me, self-satisfied with his diligent detective work. “Went and told Levi.”
“Gentlemen,” Levi says, looking across the perimeter at the two men. His tone is not angry or chiding—it’s easy, casual, like Ash and Turk were simply out for a stroll, and the group of us all happened to meet at the same point on the road. A happy accident. Levi rubs a hand across the back of his neck, like he is deciding his next few words. “I understand your desperation. I know this has been hard on all of us.” His eyebrows tilt inward, pained by the events of the last few days. “I wish there were something more we could do, but is risking your own lives, risking all of ours, worth it?”
Levi stands dangerously close to the border, the toes of his boots just barely crossing the shadow cast down by the hemlock tree, close enough he could reach out and grab Ash by the collar and drag him across.
“My child will die if we do nothing,” Ash says with such grit in his throat it sounds like a growl.
“We all might die if you venture into those woods and bring the pox back with you.”
“This shouldn’t be who we are,” Ash counters, “allowing a child to die because we’re afraid, because of our cowardice.”
Levi blows out a tired breath—he looks more exhausted than usual, eyelids sloped downward, mouth punctuated by tiny lines. “It’s not cowardice,” he replies gently, and he takes a reflexive step across the boundary then catches himself, his gaze flicking to his feet. But he doesn’t shuffle back across the line made by the oak tree’s shadow. He stays only a few feet from Ash and Turk, as if to make a point, to prove that he’s not afraid—he will trek into the dark to bring them back if he has to, he will risk catching the pox, just so they will see how far he’s willing to go. “It’s sacrifice. It’s devotion—devotion for this place where we’ve carved out a life. Devotion to one another. I’ve devoted myself to you,” Levi says, nodding at Ash, looking him squarely in the eyes. “I’ve devoted myself to every one of you.” He keeps his eyes planted on Ash. “And part of this devotion is also forgiveness. You have risked yourselves by trying to leave, and I understand why you’ve done it, I do.” His tone has dropped now, and it wavers slightly, like there is emotion wanting to break at the back of his throat.
Calla reaches out and takes hold of my hand, a tremble in her skin—she’s frightened—and I squeeze it back. Touching her like this causes all the space that has lived between us these last few days to sink away, and I feel regret for the thoughts I’ve had: of leaving, of escaping just like Ash and Turk, going down the road and out into the world—the ease with which I considered leaving her behind.
“Come back across the border,” Levi urges, reaching out a hand to the two men. “Before it’s too late.”
Turk looks up at Ash, waiting for him to speak.
“We all know Turk won’t make it more than a mile with that injury,” Levi adds. “You’ve only been in the woods a short time; you might not yet be infected. We’ve burned the sage into the trees, we’ve pushed it farther back. But if you go down the road, you’ll surely be exposed.”
I think of all the nights I’ve slipped down the road, a few paces farther each night—I’ve breathed in the air beyond our borders, and not gotten sick. I think of Bee, who has gone over the boundary and touched a sick, rotted tree. And my wife, soaked by the rain. They might not be as lucky as I am, they might not be immune.
And now we face two men who also might be sick. We might be bringing illness into the community if we let them back across. This might be a mistake.
But Levi nods at the two men. “Come back to this side,” he coaxes. “We’ll look at Turk’s ankle. You don’t want to die out there, in the cold, in the trees. You don’t want to die like that. Rotting from the inside out.”
Without a word, Turk releases his hold on Ash and staggers toward Levi, passing over the boundary. Calla tries to pull her hand away from mine, like she wants to reach out for Turk, to help him, but I tighten my hold on her and refuse to let her go.
Ash raises his gaze, unwilling to look Levi in the eyes, then he too passes back over the border into the safety of Pastoral.
I feel a shallow breath escape my chest. Ash wraps an arm back around Turk and they start up the road to Pastoral, Henry following behind. Parker stands fidgety beside me, his hand on his holster, as if he might reach for the gun. He’s waiting for the men to turn and bolt for the trees—he wants an excuse to fire his weapon, to finally use it for something other than shooting old cans behind the crop fields.
“We need to get Turk to Faye’s house so she can take a look at his leg,” I say.
“We’re not taking him to Faye’s,” Levi answers coolly.
Calla squeezes my hand tighter.
“Why not?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Levi glances down the road, into the dark where the men were trying to escape. “They’ll stay in Henry’s barn,” he answers, eyes unreadable.
“Why?”
“Just to be sure.” He gives me a quick look like I should understand his intent: I should know why we need to do this. “We must be certain our boys aren’t sick.”
In silence, our small group heads up the road, and when we reach the parking area, filled with dead, abandoned cars, we turn onto the path that winds through the trees to Henry’s place. His dogs begin barking when we stop in front of the old barn, yapping from the back of the house, but Henry’s wife, Lily Mae, calls out to them and they fall quiet.