Josephine looked down at the ground for a second before looking back up at me. She tugged once again on her hoodie’s zipper. “No. I don’t have boys fighting over the chance to take me to the big game. No one at our stupid school wants to know me. They’re happy with me being Scary Carrie. It’s what they need from me. But if I ever do fall in love, I’ll want it to be with someone who doesn’t need me to be something for them. That’s all I’m saying.”
I took a deep breath. I created the Scary Carrie persona, and I wondered if I had damned Josephine as a result. “Can we just drop this? I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just a little frustrating feeling so useless out here.”
Josephine nodded. “Sure. We can drop this. Just some friendly advice though...if you want to really know your girlfriend talk about real things—menstrual cramps, bowel movements...”
I opened my mouth to go off on Josephine when she started laughing. “Not funny,” I muttered.
“Oh, come on. It is. Can you imagine yourself going to the store to buy Jenna some tampons?”
I could feel my face go red at the very thought which only made Josephine laugh harder. “Shut up,” I replied, unable to stop from laughing a little myself.
We walked on in a comfortable silence after that. I was getting sick of looking at the destruction that surrounded us. Sometime during our walk Josephine pushed up the sleeves of her hoodie. It was a start.
“Josephine?” I asked after another half hour of walking around without a purpose.
“Hmmm?”
“What the hell are we supposed to be doing here?”
Josephine spun slowly in a circle, taking in the damage. We had circled back around to Jenna’s neighborhood. I knew I wouldn’t ever go back into that house. I didn’t need to see those images ever again; those images of loss were burned into my eyes. For some reason, I still needed to be near Jenna in any way I could be. If Josephine noticed the direction I took us in she didn’t say anything.
“Not sure. I keep waiting for something to happen. Maybe we were supposed to stay with Mr. Ambiguous. Maybe he was telling us the truth about being our orientation leader.”
“He just didn’t feel right to me.”
“Me either.”
“He can’t lie,” said a voice that didn’t belong to either Josephine or me. I spun around to see where the voice had come from. It had a low, guttural sound to it that caused my stomach to drop. I heard Josephine gasp before I found the source of the voice.
Before us stood a man, or what was left of a man. He didn’t look a thing like Mr. Ambiguous. No clean cut look or perfectly tailored suit—this man looked like the hell that surrounded him. He was covered in filth and sweat. His longish hair lay matted against his neck, and you could tell it had been awhile since he saw a shower. He wore a pair of torn jeans and a ratty t-shirt. And he smelled, not like the rotting body of my dead girlfriend but almost as bad. None of this was what was most disturbing about his appearance. His arms shared the sores visible on the other victims of whatever event had nearly destroyed the world, but crusted over—his body still intent on healing itself. His face was marked by three long slashes across his left cheek. The cuts were deep, and I wondered how long it would be until they became infected. On top of his head he wore a top hat—an actual top hat like he ransacked Lincoln’s closest.
This is what it looked like to be a survivor. I reached behind me and grabbed Josephine’s hand. She didn’t protest.
The man grinned as he caught sight of Josephine. Mr. Ambiguous attempted to hold his emotions in check. The man in front of us didn’t give a damn. The way his eyes traveled across Josephine made it clear he liked what he saw. I pulled her so she was slightly behind me. It was this movement that made the man look back to me.
“One light. One dark. One light. One dark. One conductor. One along for the ride,” the man began to mumble as he walked back and forth in front of us. Every so often he would stop and stare at Josephine with a grin.
I felt her shudder. She cleared her throat. “What are you talking about?”
“Maybe we should just go,” I replied.
“We need answers, Logan.”
The man stopped pacing and took a step towards us. I clenched my fist in response. My heart was pounding so fast I thought I would pass out. “I have answers,” he whispered, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Good,” I replied. “'Cause we have some questions.”
“You get something for something,” said the man.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“You give me something, and I give you something.”