Page 76 of The Compound

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We showered andtook two bottles of water each with us to bed. I would have slept in the living room, but the truth was I’d grown worriedthat Andrew might die. I had never seen anyone look so ill. His skin was gray and his lips were chapped to the point of bleeding. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but stay close and check on him. I slept fitfully, waking up, looking around me as though in a dream. Becca was still there, and Andrew was still alive, but his breathing was heavy, and each inhalation seemed to go on forever. Tom was snoring: he had fallen asleep first. He had vomited copiously after his second bottle of water, and then had stayed outside, sipping a third bottle slowly.

When I did sleep, I had strange dreams, of ghouls, white and ghastly, dripping saliva and reaching out their translucent hands, and Tom, looming over me, his hand on my throat, asking me if I was all right.

I woke suddenly. It was only a slight noise that woke me, but I jerked upright as though an alarm had rung out. It was Becca: she was standing at the foot of my bed.

“Becca,” I whispered. She looked at me and raised a finger to her lips. She took the silk belt of my dressing gown and moved across the room. She stood over Tom’s sleeping form, slipped the belt around his neck, and pulled. He woke instantly, arms thrown out, but Becca was beyond his reach, and he was confused, pulling at the silk at his throat, his fingers scrabbling but finding no purchase. His eyes were bulging, and he was making terrible noises, his hands now flailing behind him to grab at Becca. His elbow caught her in the ribs, but she kept pulling. Absurdly, I looked at Andrew, as though he might sort the situation out. He was lying on his side, on top of his covers, mouth moving, but still asleep.

Above Tom’s strangled sounds, I heard something I had not heard in months—the sound of a car, screeching to a stop outside. The sound was a live wire through me—jarring beyond reason, a siren warning that someone was actually dying, and a reminder that although the rules were gone we still lived at the mercy of others. The rational part of me knew that if they were here, it was to help—but at the sound of the car, I felt pure, unadulterated terror. A car door slammed, and there were quick footsteps on the patio.

“Becca, stop!” I cried. “They’re here! They’re here!”

I threw myself off the bed to run toward them. But just as I had my feet on the floor, the silk cord around Tom’s neck snapped, and the roomfilled with the sound of his wild gasps. Becca fell to the ground. The footsteps outside stopped, and came no closer.

Tom wasted no time. He turned to Becca and jerked her to her feet, his hands wrapping around her arms, tiny in his grasp. “Stupid—fucking—bitch—this, after you left us for dead with no water! After I kept you safe formonths! Ungrateful bitch—spiteful, patheticcunt! What have I done, but keep you safe?”

She cried out, and I thought the bones in her arms would surely snap. He kept one hand on her arm and brought the other to her throat. I tried to prize his hands from her, my nails sinking into his flesh, but he only released her arm briefly to shove me away. His strength was, even now, shocking, and I careened backward and onto the floor. I could hear more footsteps, and shouting, too, and the door to the kitchen opening. “Tom,” I said. “Tom.” Becca was clutching at his hand, turning purple. “They’re here. Tom. Listen! They’re downstairs!”

“Who?”

“Them!”

He looked perturbed.

“She tried to kill me,” he said.

“Look at what you’re doing! Let go of her!”

He dropped his hands, and Becca at once started spluttering and gasping, stepping backward, her hands clutching her throat. “You’re banished,” he said to Becca. “Now. This minute. Into the desert.”

She took in rattling breaths. “Let me get my things,” she rasped.

“Now,” he said.

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

“No,” he said, swiftly, and without room for argument.

“At least let me get her a coat,” I said. “For God’s sake, Tom, it’s freezing out there.”

He hesitated, then picked up one of his own jumpers and pulled it over Becca’s head, careful of her injured nose. Her arm got stuck in the wrong hole, and he helped her, then fixed her hair with surprising gentleness. She was shaking, breathing unsteadily. Tom glanced at Andrew, who was still deeply asleep; he looked paler than he had a few hours ago,and his head was moving on his pillow. “You stay with him,” Tom said to me. “You might have to wake him up and give him more water.”

He put his arm around Becca’s shoulders and walked her out of the room. There was no time for a goodbye, though I wasn’t sure if she would have wanted one.

Now I was the only girl left. For all of our scheming, how depressing it was that Becca and I had been foiled by such a thing as brute strength. I wondered if we were always doomed to fail, because they were strong, and we were weak. Was this how it was always going to turn out? If I stayed here, would I always be under the threat of their strength, the end to every argument, the solution to any problem? Even dehydrated and weak, Tom had knocked me about like I was nothing. Andrew, too, hadn’t hesitated to become a brute when he needed to. But hadn’t I done the same, by helping Becca to keep the water hidden? If I had their strength, would I not useit?

Andrew started to talk in his sleep, sounding distressed. I pressed his shoulder and said his name, as I had done a hundred times or more in the months that we had lived here. He wasn’t easy to wake, and I had to shake him gently before he opened his eyes.

“Lily,” he said. His voice was faint. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Andrew. How are you feeling?”

His eyes moved around, and he muttered something that I couldn’t understand. I felt his forehead: he was burning up. “Lean forward a little,” I said. He didn’t, so I cupped the back of his neck, lifting his head gently, and with my free hand took the bottle from his nightstand. “Open your mouth,” I said. “Some more water and you’ll feel much better.”

I fed him the water slowly. Swallowing seemed painful for him, and he closed his mouth after a minute or so. He put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, but when I got up, his eyes opened again. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get you something for your fever.”

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