“Nah. Rafe’s the big-shot General now; he’s got more important things to worry about than chasing after you.” I heard Peter shuffle his back against the door, adjusting his position on the hard floor. “But he sure as shit wanted that girl you took with you. That pissed him off more than anything—you know how he is with the girls. Marion, of course, wanted you”—his laughter was sharp and brief—“Shoulda seen the look on his face when he found out you killed Private Masters! Holy shit, Atticus, that guy’s head was split open like a watermelon on the street! It was brutal. Well-deserved, but brutal. I’ll never eat another watermelon after seeing that.”
“So, you haven’t seen Marion for three weeks?” I held my breath, hoping Peter wouldn’t tell me that Marion was in Paducah, too.
“Nope,” Peter confirmed. “As far as I know, he thinks I’m dead, and he’s still on his way to Shreveport.”
I sucked in sharply, and my palms sweated. I stood up and grabbed the chain-link with more force than before; it rattled in the heavy frame.
“Why is he heading to Shreveport?”
Fuck! I’m going to kill that brown-nosing fucker if I ever see him again! I was convinced Edgar had been lying, and that he’d told William Wolf and Rafe and Marion where Thais and I would be heading.
“We were going west at first, toward Topeka,” Peter said. “But plans changed when we got word to redirect and head to one of the outposts. Signal fires had been lit. It was a small farm. An old woman and two pretty girls. Ring a bell?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, and slowly my heart sank. “And a dead man named David Doakes?”
“Yep,” Peter said. “His daughter wants your head on a pike, just so you know. Anyway, one of them had overheard you or the girl mention something about Shreveport. So, then Marion decided to change course.”
So, it wasn’t Edgar who gave us away—it was Thais. I let out a long, disappointed breath. I knew it hadn’t been me who’d let Shreveport slip—I was careful never to say it out loud, even when I thought Thais and I were alone—so it could’ve only been Thais’ mistake. Maybe when she was making friends with Emily and Rachel and Shannon, or when she was helping with the dishes, or—it didn’t matter.
“And what about Wolf?” I asked of my former leader, trying not to think about Thais.
“Wolf, believe it or not, changed his plans about seizing the Great Lakes for now. Apparently, the allure of guns in the South is more than the allure of water in the North.”
I sighed. “So now Wolf’s army is going toward Shreveport?”
“Not Shreveport as far I know,” Peter said. “More like Texas; it’s what Wolf said in a meeting just before I left with Marion for Topeka to find you. Wolf didn’t know anything about you going Shreveport.”
This was good news. If they were going toward Texas then I could still take Thais to Louisiana as planned. Where else could I take her? Shreveport was the only viable option, the safest option.
“Why Shreveport, anyway?” Peter asked.
I didn’t answer.
After a moment, Peter said, “So is she still alive? The girl?”
I felt a stab in my chest—I don’t know if she’s alive! But still, I didn’t answer. The less Peter knew about us, the better.
After another moment, Peter said, “Y’know, man, we had it good in Lexington City, and I never really thought about leaving before, but now that I’m outta there, I’m kinda happy about it.”
“You’re in a fucking cage,” the woman across from me reminded him, sourly.
We ignored her.
“Why are you happy about it?” I asked.
“I guess because I don’t have to pretend anymore,” Peter answered. “I never liked the way Wolf did things there. Never really was my style, but I had to act like it was. I didn’t like that so much. Did you know I used to be married? Before the world ended?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” I said.
“There was a lot you didn’t know about me,” Peter went on, “because—and don’t be offended—I didn’t trust you.”
I smiled thinking to myself about how neither of us had ever trusted the other.
“My wife, Liana—born ‘Liam’—was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,” Peter said. “We lived in Mississippi. Had two adopted daughters. And the four of us survived The Fever and almost everything after it. We migrated north when the cracks and the savages forced us out of Tupelo. I had to leave them alone one night, in an abandoned house hiding in the basement so I could go out and find food and water. When I came back the next day, they were gone.” Peter choked up, and made a noise with his throat as if trying to clear it. “I looked for them for days, weeks, I don’t know how long, Atticus, but by the time Marion’s party found me half-dead from dehydration, I had walked all the way to Jonesboro, Arkansas, without knowing it.”
I heard Peter sniffle, and then he sighed and made movements against the cage door again.
“On the way to Lexington City,” Peter continued, “we came upon a small group of gay men just tryin’ to survive like everybody else, and instead of taking them with us, they slaughtered them all in the street. I was fucking horrified, man—fucking horrified. But what the hell could I do? I could hardly stand up on my own; I was being carried to Lexington on a stretcher.” He paused. “After that, I was afraid to tell them anymore about my wife and daughters. Or about me. I was afraid that not only would they kill me for being who I am, but that they’d somehow find my family and kill them, too. After the slaughter, I started pretending that I was ‘normal’.” Peter paused, sniffled; I could hear the pain in his voice, the regret. “After a while, I forced myself to accept that my wife and daughters were dead. I knew I’d never find them. So, I did the only thing I could do, and accepted my new life in Lexington.”
“You’re a piece of shit,” the woman said. “You should’ve kept looking for them.”
“Shut up,” Peter bit back. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The woman laughed scathingly under her breath. “You just told me, and everybody else here, all we need to know—you abandoned your family.”
“I didn’t abandon them!” Peter bit back.
“You can’t blame a man for movin’ on with his life,” the man with stringy yellow hair spoke up. “After lookin’ that long I probably woulda done the same thing. These are bad times; life ain’t like it used to be.”
“Then that makes you just as much of a piece of shit as he is,” the woman accused.
More prisoners joined in on the argument, but their voices faded into the back of my mind as I sat against the concrete with my back pressed to the door.
I didn’t care that Peter had been married to someone who was once a man, or about Peter’s regrets. I had only one thing on my mind—escape—it was all I had room for. And although I didn’t blame Peter for ending the search for his family, I knew I could never stop looking for Thais.
Thais, I’m going to get you out of here. I hope I can get you out of here…