Seven's a Crowd

“How do we feel about pasta?” Titus asks. 

Hanna sighs and tells him, “Same way we felt about pasta last week…and the week before.”

Pasta is a sustainable meal for us. Good calories, doesn’t typically go bad for a while, makes a lot of food for our big group. Luckily we have running water and limited electricity here in our cabin. For now. Once it goes away, we’ll be reminiscing on the times we could have pasta rather than dreading it for the fifth week in a row.

We found the cabin by miracle after trekking through the woods. And by an even larger miracle, it was full of items and empty of people. The “electricity” system isn’t perfect nor abundant, but it works enough to take lukewarm showers and boil water for food. 

As the weather grows colder, we’ve started to try to fortify it, keeping in the heat from the small brick fireplace. A wintry mix has lightly coated the ground, but we aren’t in any danger yet. Pim—the youngest of us all and Titus’ kid cousin—is excited about building a snowman and finding a hill to sled down. None of us have the heart to tell her what we’re all thinking about the coming winter.

We haven’t been back to the city in several weeks, trying to lay low after seeing the scarily realistic Copy, but we plan to go back today with the whole group. Just the outskirts. It isn’t ideal for us all to go on every trip every time, but if we don’t get everyone out at some point, we’ll all go stir crazy. And there’s strength in numbers, right?

Faulkner—the strong and silent type—nods his head toward the door. “Bathroom.” He turns and walks outside, not waiting to see if someone follows. He knows they will. Ren sighs, mirroring his sister’s from before. Then he stands and sulks after Faulkner. Using the bathroom outside isn’t fun for us, but it helps save water and it’s pretty easy for us guys. For the most part, at least.

Once Faulkner and Ren return, Titus has the pasta done. We sit to eat, then let it settle  before heading out into the woods together. Ren, Titus, Faulkner, Hanna, and I grab our weapons. For Faulkner and I, it’s two large axes. Ren’s weapon of choice is a machete. Titus wields a rusty scythe we found in an old barn. Hanna has a bat she brought with her from home that she has now wrapped in barbed wire. It’s pretty sick.

Pim keeps a small slingshot and some particularly spiky pinecones or sharp rocks. She won’t need it—we have no intention of letting any enemies near the seven-year-old girl—but it makes her feel included. 

Our search in the buildings on the cusp of the woods and the city went fairly well. We got a lot of non-perishable foods, some containers for water or whatever else we might need them for, and some matches for the fireplace. We also found some more clothes, some better suited for the cold weather ahead. We even found some small enough for Pim and large enough for Faulkner, a feat for the near three-foot and near seven-foot additions. 

On our way back, we split into pairs. Though the whole point is to travel together, leading anyone straight to the cabin with our large and obvious group would be less than ideal. 

The plan doesn’t feel so solid, however, when I hear Ren shout, a grunt from Hanna following soon after. Faulkner and I don’t even spare a glance at one another before running in the direction of the noises. Titus comes out of some brush and begins to run alongside us, Pim on his back.

“Over here,” Ren calls out to us. He’s safe—safe enough to call out, at least. We run up, weapons at the ready but mine drops quickly to my side upon seeing the girl that Ren has on her knees, his machete hovering near her neck. She’s squirming as much as she can without meeting it, whimpering and groaning under her breath.

Her eyes float over all of us, passing over me at first then darting back quickly. Her face floods with both relief and desperation. “Connor,” she shouts. She starts to scramble toward me but stops short at the blade. “Connor, help me.” I feel my crew’s eyes slowly shift away from her and land on me.

“Connor,” Ren draws my attention. “Do you know her?” His eyes hold a hope that my own heart mirrors. 

She’s in a matching short sleeve shirt and long pants that look like they could be from a mental hospital. Thin, cheap, dull. Despite her slightly scruffy appearance, there's no doubt in my mind that it’s her. 

It’s Delavigne.

“She’s my girlfriend.” My voice comes out quietly but everyone hears it; I can tell by all the gasps and whispers around me. “At least I think so,” I amend, “unless she’s a Copy.”

Dela startles at this, eyes growing wide with fear. “No, Connor, please. Please, Connor.” By the look on her face I can tell she knows what this would mean for her—if we decide she’s one of them instead of one of us.

“How do we know?” Titus asks. 

Faulkner answers, leaving no room for argument. “We don’t.” His grip is tight on his axe.

“You guys saw the ones from the city. You said they were almost perfectly human,” Hanna adds. “And who knows how much better they’ve gotten even within the past few weeks.”

Ren nods in agreement. “She could easily be a Copy sent to find you and get information from us. Or worse.” 

It’s a little dramatic. I don’t know what good we would do the masked men. And if they wanted us, they could have had half of us at the start of this whole nightmare. They purposely did not take me when they took Dela. 

But that’s the thing—they took her on purpose. Why would they let her go? She looks rough but not enough to have scrapped with whoever she would have had to fight to escape wherever they held her. I can’t weigh in. I’m not sure where I stand. 

There’s no way we’re killing her, Copy or not. I can’t take that risk. Yet I also can’t risk the safety of the group for my own selfish reasons. 

It doesn’t help that the entire time I’m contemplating, Delavigne is looking at me with betrayal in her eyes. If it’s her, I’m breaking the heart of the girl I love and tainting our reunion. If it’s not her, I’m playing right into this thing’s hands.

“We don’t kill her, we keep her around.” Ren’s weapon drops an inch, and the Dela lookalike melts in relief. “But we restrain her,” I rule. The remaining light in her eyes dims out, and I try to send an apology with my own. I am sorry but we can’t take the risk. 

The last time I saw Delavigne was when she was taken six months ago. I watched the chaos set into motion, and then she was gone. It would be foolish of me to accept this version of her right away, to assume it’s really her without any more proof.

The longer I look at her the more confused I become. She’s herself but something is…cleaner about her, more blank—almost as if something is missing—and it scares me. 

I want more than anything for this girl to be my Delavigne—the real Delavigne.

But wanting something doesn’t make it real.

Author's Note:

I managed to put this part together quite fast! I don't think the next one will come so soon, but I'll do my best. Please let me know any feedback you have on the story so far, any thoughts you have, or any theories you have!

Thanks for reading!