What Lasts in Us

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Which was a good idea at the time. It sounded so good until the words spilled from my mouth. I can't walk five metres on my own, so there's that. If only I knew how to keep my mouth shut.

Just as I didn't like hearing what he'd said, Nate didn't like what I said. I render him speechless and angry. He collects his belongings, slips his brace over his leg, positions it over his knee before tightening it – then leaves, taking Dog with him. No backwards glance, no remark, nothing. He just leaves me here, by the river, in my underwear.

Of course I don't leave. I don't go anywhere.

If anything, I feel worn out, exhausted. I feel like I'm stretched too thin. For Nate not to understand my anguish makes me feel like a crazy person. I already know my humanity was gone. I just don't need him to confirm it, understand it, and be accepting of it.

The stars provide me with little comfort as I stare up at them – neither does reading The Road for the hundredth time. Nothing fills the hollowness that sits in my chest and stomach like a permanent ache.

I find myself in a similar position to when I was by myself, before I ran into Nate and Emmi and everything went haywire; I use my pack as a cushion propped against a tree, and lie back in an attempt to get some sleep. But the difference here is that I'm covered in a blanket, and that I can't get to sleep. So I watch the night sky, and allow myself to become lost and entranced amongst the stars.

There's no way in hell I was going to sleep in the back of the 4WD with Nate – especially with the huge hole – crater-sized – gap between us. If we weren't broken before, we definitely are now.

I would kill to have some headphones and some music right now. Maybe a little bit of David Bowie, maybe some Bryan Adams. Nope, scratch that – John Williams. Indiana Jones.

Star Wars. Jurassic Park. The theme music from Jaws would go down a treat. It would create and set the mood for how I currently feel.

Everything is so confusing, so blurred. Everything I've strived for, the person who I've been, constantly clashes with the person I am now – the person I'm becoming. Everything I learned, everything I taught myself, feels as though it's about to fly out the window and cease to exist. I don't have just myself anymore. I have Nate and Emmi. I don't have to rely on only myself. Nate will help. I can depend on him. He can help me. He will fight with me.

But the fight with the MeVs only preyed on what I already knew, what I'd been dreading from the start. Me and Nate both have different fighting styles, different techniques on how to get the job done. I'm ruthless, cruel, cold-hearted, efficient; he's human. He hesitates. He would've incapacitated Ethan, whereas I shot him between the eyes. He saved my life; I endanger his. He protects Emmi; I get her kidnapped.

He's too good, too human. I'm a shell, a ghost of who I used to be. For better or worse, I don't know. Could I have survived this long if I hadn't changed? Could I confidently say that my former self would've survived to this point? I don't know. I'll never know.

I can't think about it. I can't go back. This is me, this is who I am, and I'm not changing. I can't change. I'm too efficient at what I do. It's Nate who's the problem. He will get me killed – he almost got me killed. He wanted to use his rifle when he easily could've used a knife or my gun. He only used my gun after I'd prompted him. Otherwise we'd be up shit creek.

And that's the problem. I can rely on him to an extent. But when it comes down to it, we're two very different people. He's not experienced enough – or he is, but he hasn't adapted as well as I have. Because if that's his attitude – basically guns blazing in all situations – then he's screwed. And if he's screwed, then I am, too. I might be crazy, and I might do crazy things, but I've never put another person's life at risk because they don't consider all the factors.