Hidden (Book 3 of the Immune Series)

Spring (Epilogue)

"The marks humans leave are too often scars." 

John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)

Sakir

"You would think after a winter like the one we had, some of these trees would die."

I smirk and continue to stare at my compound issued, new, leather boots and swing the axe beside me.

"But is that what they do?" The man continues to talk, oblivious to the fact that no one but me is listening to him. "No! They just bloom. Every freaking spring like clockwork."

That's when I look up.

The orchard spreads out before us. The long rows of trees continue as far as I can see until the wall appears in the distance. Pink petals clutter the crabapple trees to my left. Darker blooms line the branches of the cherry trees until they fade out into the white of the pears. A wind blows through us, and flowers scatter like dandelions carried away on breaths.

"Sakir, you and Athena take the apple orchard. Make sure you double check for any dead ones. Better to chop 'em down than risk losing the produce from the rest."

I nod towards the adult charged with telling me what to do and glance over at Athena.

In the spring, when the trees begin to bloom, everyone in the compound with any spare time volunteers to help the orchard workers. This is my job, but it isn't Athena's.

She wears her tan uniform with a white coat over it with her name stitched in black on the left breast.

Dr. Athena Waters

She passed the exam a week ago and decided to take a vacation. What's she doing with her spare time? Working with me. Soon, she'll be given a position in the infirmary with my father. Already, our time together diminishes with each passing day, but after that, my best friend will be too busy to keep my company.

Which is okay, I guess.

I've got an orchard full of ghosts to talk to.

We walk towards the apple trees in silence, her fingers interlaced with mine. Her soft palm pressed into the calluses of my own. Her clean, trimmed nails contrast with my own dirt-covered ones. The silence is a familiar friend to us, a comfort after the noise of the loudest winter we ever faced.

Since we left Compound 1, I spend most of my time among these trees, climbing, hiding, crying, screaming, running. I run laps back and forth along the wall. I beg for the guilt to leave me alone.

Yet, it's hard to forget with three markers to remind you at all times.

"You want to take the first two rows?" Athena asks in a soft voice as she releases my hand. "I can walk the last two."

"That's fine," I say, "but if you find anything, just yell at me. I'll hold onto the axe."

She nods and reaches forward to brush her fingers across my cheek. They come away with a touch of dirt on them. With a laugh, Athena wipes the dirt on her coat.

"Don't get lost," she says. Then, she turns and leaves me standing alone.

She's not leaving because there's too many trees for us to cover before the sun goes down, although that would be the answer she gave my boss. She's not letting me carry the axe because it's too heavy or because she's lazy.

She knows that the pink petals matching the sunset stretching out around me like a lazy cat lead me to the back of the orchard. She knows I won't be able to focus on my job until I've taken the fifty-six steps to the last apple tree, until I've knelt down on the cold, hard earth, and until I've placed my hand over the carved marble for the millionth time.