Heather sighs. “That there was a fire,” she says. “Or—there had been a fire. And you were alone.” She looks back down at the ground. “Sometimes I see things like that. Other people’s—memories. I know it sounds ridiculous.”
“I saw you,” Tasha says, and Heather’s face softens in surprise. “Or—I heard you. When my hand touched your face, I saw the mountain and clouds, and I heard you scream. What happened? Did someone fall?”
Heather stares at her for a long moment. “My father,” she says, eventually. “My father had an accident on the mountain. He died.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tasha feels her eyes blur with tears.
“It’s all right,” Heather says. “It was a long time ago.” Then, still looking at Tasha, “Your fire wasn’t a long time ago, was it?”
Tasha looks away from Heather, out through the windshield of the ambulance and up the street, which is slowly being overtaken by green. “No.” She sniffs, then wipes at her nose with her hand. “My parents, two years ago. They died in a house fire.”
“I’m so sorry,” Heather says. When Tasha turns back to her, there’s an understanding deep in Heather’s eyes. Tasha wants to fall into it. She feels tiny, like a child.
“I try to forget,” Tasha says. “Or—not forget, I’ll never forget, I just—concentrate. On something else. You know?” Then she takes a breath, uncomfortably aware that she’s starting to babble. “How did you see what you saw? And why did I see your memory? That’s never happened to me before.”
Heather lifts her shoulders a little. “I’m not sure,” she says. Now her face is—not unfriendly, exactly, but warier. “I should get back,” she says. “I’ve been gone a long time.”
“Do you want a ride?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well. You know where we are if you… need anything.”
“Yes,” Heather says. “You said that already.”
Tasha flushes. “Right,” she says. “Well—I’ll see you around, then, I guess.” Heather only nods and starts walking. After a moment, Tasha puts the ambulance in gear.
To her right, the mountain. She’s heard the rumours about it. Strange animals in the trees. People who disappear. The stories the city people tell about the mountain comfort her, in a weird way. They remind her of the stories her mother told her as a child. The mountain and its secrets have endured—they will survive long after all of humanity is gone, whether by disaster or illness or old age.
This mountain, the one closest to them, rises pristine and untouched into the clouds. Did Heather’s father fall from there?
Then Tasha shakes her head. We can endure, she thinks. Maybe Elyse is right—maybe help will come. We just need to be smart and care for each other and focus on concrete things. The things we know to be true, and not the things we imagine.
There’s a spark of something in the city. She can sense it. It isn’t hope yet, but it’s close.
When she gets back to the middle of the city, there is yelling in the square. The area in front of the name boards is chaotic, frenzied, filled with rage. Half the people left in the city, it seems, are milling about in the streets, angry and frightened.
Tasha pulls the ambulance up as close as she can, then jumps out, shoving the keys into her pocket. “What’s going on?” she shouts, making her way through the crowd.
Kevin stands in front of the crowd, his arms spread wide, holding everyone back. Behind him, in front of the name boards, stand three people—a woman, a man, and Annie.
The woman has one arm locked around Annie’s neck. The other hand holds a knife against Annie’s throat.
“What’s going on?” Tasha says, again. She clenches her fists and fights to push a long-ago dream memory away. Fiery birds burning holes in the ground. A woman who screams and screams.
“What’s going on?” the woman shouts. She looks right at Tasha. “The food is disappearing—that’s what’s fucking going on! You think we’re stupid? You think we don’t know you’re going to take off with the gas?”
“I don’t think anyone’s stupid,” Tasha says calmly. She holds out her hands and takes a step forward—and then, when the woman moves the knife and Annie winces, stops. “We’ve been collecting and saving what we can. So that everyone will survive. That’s all.”
“So it’s looting when everyone else does it but it’s fine when it’s done by a fucking stranger?” The man steps forward and jabs a finger into Tasha’s collarbone. Tasha can’t remember his name.
Tasha spreads her hands farther, steps back from him. I have nothing. I have nothing. “I haven’t accused anyone of looting,” she says.
“She did!” the woman screams, jerking her head to Annie.
“They were.” Annie speaks through gritted teeth. “They climbed over the enclosure. They were trying to get at the gas.”
“So what if we were?” the man shouts. Wendell. That’s his name. “Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? You don’t even live here.”
“I’m nobody,” Tasha says, and she means it. “But I do live here now. And so does Annie. We’re just trying to help.”
“Well, guess what,” the woman says. “You’re not helping. Do you think hoarding all of the food in that godforsaken mall is going to help us in the winter? Is hoarding the gas going to help other people come to the city and help? Is it?”
“Help is coming,” Tasha says. “We just have to be patient. We just have to look out for each other. I know this is hard.”
“Do you?” the woman screams. She flings Annie away from her and moves toward Tasha, brandishing the knife in her face. “My home was destroyed. I haven’t slept in three days. I don’t feel safe. And no one is coming. No one is coming to help.”
Tasha doesn’t flinch. “Many of us don’t have homes anymore.” She ignores the ripple of unease that goes through the crowd behind her, like a great beast slowly waking from sleep. She ignores Annie, stumbling forward to stand in the crowd. She reaches tentatively for the woman’s shoulder, but the woman shies away. “But we’re building a new home, together. One that can last for as long as we need it.”
The woman laughs, then sobs. She turns around and throws the knife at the boards—it goes deep, splintering an unknown name in two. “We’re fucking stuck here,” the woman says. “We can’t leave because you won’t let us have gas to go. How far do you think any of us is going to get on foot? I’ve seen the vines growing over the roads. And we’re going to run out of food. Whatever you think you’re building—it isn’t going to last. We’re all going to starve.”
“We’re not going to starve,” Tasha says. Then she says it again, louder. “We are not going to starve.”
“Maybe not now,” the woman says. “But if help doesn’t come, we’ll all be dead by the end of the winter.” Her eyes burn. “And if that doesn’t happen, the mountain will drive us all mad anyway.”
Tasha’s breath stills, for a moment. “What?” she says.
“You’re not from here,” the woman snaps. “You don’t know—but we do. Just wait. We’ll stay here and starve, and people will start disappearing. They’ll get lost, or they’ll walk too close to the mountain and bears will eat them. Bears—or other things. Monsters that hide in the trees.”
“Monsters aren’t real,” Tasha says. She keeps her voice soft. “That’s only a story. And I won’t let anyone go up the mount—”