What Lasts in Us

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Dog's grown since I first found him. His little legs are longer, he's a bit heavier. His head's even a little bigger, but his tongue is just the same. He loves to lick my face whenever he gets the opportunity.

And right now, I carry him in my arms, leash included, because I know one day he's going to get even bigger and I won't be able to carry him anymore. Soon he won't be able to sit inside my jacket. He'll be too big and too heavy, and already he's impatient and wants to go explore. He follows me wherever I go, including when I want privacy to pee – and, you know, tampons.

"We should start seeing patrols now," I say to Nate. He crouches by the river, filling our water bottles. "We need to seriously start thinking about a plan."

"I don't like what you're proposing," he says when he returns to his full height.

"Then give me something better."

We've been at odds about how we should get Emmi back. He doesn't want me going in alone, even though I'm the only one who's been inside the settlement and knows the layout of the place. I think he just doesn't want to be the one who stays behind with the getaway car, which we will steal from a patrol as we get closer.

"There are too many holes. One mistake and it comes apart."

"Then suggest something," I say again. "You like bagging out my idea but you won't come up with anything else."

He hands me my water bottle. "It doesn't matter," he says. He pushes a hand through his hair, down over his face, over his stubble. He really needs to shave. "I should be the one going in to get Emmi, not you."

I pet Dog along his back, like that villain from James Bond with his white cat. He closes his eyes, mouth open, and I think he might be smiling. "I'm sure Emmi will forgive you if it's me who goes in, not you," I say. "You mean the world to her. She'd want you to be safe and out of trouble."

"So that makes it okay for you to go in?" Nate retorts. "We should be going in together. As a team."

"But if something was to go wrong, as you keep eloquently putting it, then it's only one of us. There'll still be someone on the outside."

Nate releases a sigh and drops his gaze. He kicks the ground with the toe of his boot. The brace over his knee squeaks slightly. "The odds are stacked too high against us. There's what – one hundred, two hundred of them? They know we're coming. They just don't know when. They'll be ready."

"Of course. But that plays to my advantage. They'll be expecting two, not one. I can sneak in like a rat. It'll be harder to spot me. They won't know I'm there."

"That's the other thing," Nate continues. He swings his pack off his shoulders and puts the now full bottle of water inside. He picks it up again and swings it back over his shoulders. He readjusts his rifle, the handgun at his belt. "How are you getting inside?"

We're going in circles. "I told you: there's a spot along the eastern part of the wall where there's a panel loose. It's behind one of the houses. No one knows it's loose or big enough to fit a person through."

Nate groans. He's as sick of this conversation as I am. "And you don't think in all the time you haven't been there they haven't tried to fortify the fences?" he asks.

"I wouldn't think so–"

"That's one hole," Nate says. "This is why I don't like the plan. Anything could and probably will go wrong."

"So we'll check the fence once we steal the patrol car. We'll check it before I actually sneak inside."

"And if it's been fixed?"