Memory Logs

A New Connection

12. A New Connection

[ Meeting 103-4; MacMillan Estate. ]

When Meg opened her eyes, her vision was fuzzy and her whole body ached. Feeling something wonderfully plush beneath her, she slowly and painstakingly rolled over to see that she was laying on a bed.

A bed?

She hadn't seen a single bed in the entirety of the Fog, not even at the campfire; so where the hell did this come from? It seemed poorly-made, as if thrown together from random scavenged items, but it was leagues better than sleeping on the ground. Sitting up, Meg found herself to be in immense pain - and she realized, looking down, that the wounds she'd received hadn't disappeared. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes and she looked up to analyze her surroundings so that she wouldn't have to stare at all the punctures and cuts marring her pale skin. Her breath caught when she saw not one, but two figures slumping against opposing walls right near her little makeshift cot; one was about her size, and the other was enormous. Squinting in the dim light, she noticed one was Jake... and the other was... Evan?

They were both right near her. Both right there; not fighting. Asleep.

What the hell was going on?

Meg's gasp caused one of them to stir; with a low rumble, Evan shifted from the wall and turned his head to watch her. "M-My injuries," she whimpered, shifting in the cot to look back at him. Everything from before came rushing back in a whirlwind; wandering accidentally onto the grounds of Ormond, being tortured by the Legion, and seeing Jake... and Evan. They had saved her.

Evan had saved her. After the look she'd given him, after the way she'd yelled at him...

She blinked back more tears and swallowed the lump in her throat, shifting to lean over toward him - as if being only a couple of feet apart simply wasn't close enough. Strangely enough, despite knowing the whole truth - despite knowing what they'd done in the past - Meg found herself oddly longing for the strength of his embrace and the warmth of his chest. Seeing her shift closer, the killer tensed up, body growing rigid - and his milky white eyes watched her closely. Like a hawk.

It seemed not everything was entirely okay.

"You saved me," Meg whispered, unwilling to wake Jake. "Again."

Evan grunted, his eyes shifting over to the boy against the opposite wall. "He... did."

Meg followed his gaze. "How did he...? Did Jake... find you?"

The killer nodded, eyes never leaving the woodland survivor. "Came to me," he murmured. "Said that... survivors... remembered."

The red-head's eyes widened. "No... everything?"

"Everything."

"So they remembered when you..."

"Yes."

"And is that why Jake came to find you? Why didn't he take - I don't know, David or Adam?"

"Don't know," Evan rumbled. "He came... to me. Told me... you hadn't come back. Said... to help... find you."

Meg's eyes finally shifted back to Evan's masked face and she found her fingers itching to take that damn mask off. She'd somehow grown accustomed to seeing the face underneath; scarred, masculine, strong, sharp. "What color were your eyes?" She blurted.

This seemed to yank his attention away from Jake and he stared at her, obviously confused. The red-head's cheeks flushed with heat as she balked under his gaze. "I-I just... you know. Before all this. What color were they...?"