Where We Go | Book Three

6. Never in Control

The room stilled. My heartbeat seemed loud enough to fill the room with the drumming that pulsed in my ears. I don't know what I expected from Pilot, but I'd expected him to at least say something.

He froze at my admittance, hesitating before opening another cupboard. His movements were slow and I could only hear the rummaging from inside before he spoke again. "This might be the wrong question to ask right now," he began. "But how did you survive? Being an Infected, I mean..."

I scowled, making sure I had heard him correctly. There was no push to convince me of a cure, no statements to change my opinion. Only curiosity remained at the surface of his expression as he stared back at me.

I lifted myself and sat on the office chair behind me, spinning slightly as I pushed against the carpet with my feet. Blinking slowly, I let those memories come back, and let myself focus on them one at a time. "I found a herd," I explained. "I stuck with them for most of it, following wherever they went, feeding whenever they did... We stuck to the forests." I looked around the empty office building we sat in. "In places like this, you get trapped too easily... We had a certain advantage but the instincts were to always keep the upper hand."

Pilot's brows pressed together and his hands hovered in the cupboard like he'd forgotten they were there in the first place. "You would think it through that carefully?"

"I wouldn't," I replied. "Whatever was inside me would... I was never in control. When the trucks from EDIN came, everything got frantic. It was a bloodbath on both sides but one by one, the herd was taken down. I was the last one they threw into the van."

His head was cocked and I could see his thoughts in his expression. "Forgive me," he said, catching himself staring. "I was never told much about it at EDIN. I never got the chance to understand it."

I half shrugged. "It's alright," I said. "I can talk about it... I just..." I dared to glance over to him. He didn't move, didn't even lift a finger. He only waited patiently for me to continue. "I can't bring it up when Ben's around."

"Why?" he asked. Returning his attention to the cupboard, he pocketed a box of plasters that fell from the shelf above him. "From what he told me in the car, he wants to understand."

I spun to the desk behind me and continued my search through the drawers. We had come to look for supplies, after all. "I get the impression that's not how he feels," I replied. "Maybe he does want to understand, and he does want the truth... But he knows deep down he's not going to like hearing it because it will just confirm what he already suspects."

The rummaging stopped on the other side of the office. "Is this what being in a relationship is like? Because do I have time to change my mind?"

I almost laughed. "I'm sure Chris is fine. How are the two of you doing?"

He faltered, opening and closing the next cupboard, finding nothing inside. "We're... alright, I suppose."

"Only alright?"

He moved closer, leaning against one of the desks. "I never know what he wants... One moment we're fine together and the next, he'll look at everyone in the room but me. What am I supposed to think of that?"

My muscles had started to relax, and my body loosened. I never expected to open up to Pilot and I'd never expected the same from him either. Somehow, talking to him was easy, like we'd known each other for years.

My lips tugged a smile. "You're supposed to think he's shy," I said. "He doesn't know how to be affectionate, especially not around everyone. It'll take time."

"I don't know how much time we have."

I turned, looking over my shoulder. The sentence was enough for the conversation to fade to black. It was dark and truthful. More so than I was expecting from him. It was my turn to reassure him now. "All we can do is hope everything will be fine. That it will work out somehow," I tried. "You seem like you know how to survive better than any of us."

He paused, and his expression shifted to something darker. "In these circumstances, more experience isn't necessarily a good thing."

"How so?"

He was crouched, opening one of the lower cupboards when he turned. "Seeing more of that stuff... Seeing people in that much pain... It's not good for anyone." He exhaled a heavy sigh as he met my eyes. "Nobody is getting out of this with their sanity intact, especially not you. No offence."

I shrugged. "Have you talked to Chris about it?"

He turned his attention back to the final cupboard. Its contents, like most of the others, were lacking except for a few stacks of white paper. "He knows some things... others, I've decided to keep quiet for now. Until I know how he'd handle it."

I saw the way he held himself now, the way he hid his face. It was how I felt after I'd woken up, knowing everyone knew what I'd done. "You've hurt people, right?"

His head turned the slightest movement in my direction. "None of us are the good guys anymore-"

His words were halted by a thud that came from the kitchen. Both our heads snapped to the noise; weapons instantly raised. Our eyes darted to each other, widening in silent communication.

Pilot stepped first towards the open door, his body positioned like he was stalking his final prey. He stood taller as he rounded the corner, his eyes landing on the source of the noise. If there was a threat, I would've expected him to move quicker. But he didn't. I edged myself closer to the doorway, finally understanding why Pilot had barely reacted.

In the corner of the kitchen, a young man huddled into himself. He was bruised and bloodied and dried mud covered almost every inch of exposed skin.

"Please," he begged, holding up shaking hands as he backed further into the corner. "Please I have no weapon, I swear."