Meeting her eyes was difficult, so he kept his gaze locked on the wooden box. Had the cards sent him to Severity? If so, why hadn’t it done that with the cards back in the hospital room? Maybe there was something specific about these cards. They did feel different—

  He remembered the black book and Oliver’s bed. He had to go check, to see if what he’d seen was real. If it was, he almost shuddered to think what that could mean. The things he could uncover…

  He turned for the room when Eve’s soft hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Wait just a minute,” she said, her tone equal parts stern and soft.

  Zach’s first inclination was to just go on, he had to know what book was hiding in Oliver’s room. His journal, or the grimoire itself? After all, he didn’t owe these people anything. Once he got back home, Oliver would come back to this body and deal with whatever inconsistencies Zach had created.

  Not really fair, but he did bring me here.

  But as quickly as that thought came to his mind, he realized why he hadn’t thought like that before. At least, when it came to these two. There was a deep need to obey these parental figures, to do as they said, or conduct himself in a proper manner in the hopes that he could earn their affection.

  He knew he’d articulated that feeling correctly when he looked over his shoulder and met their eyes. The slight frown on John’s face was enough to stop him from walking on. The look on Eve’s face…

  She looked horrified at the fact that he’d used her Deck. But there was also worry in those eyes. Worry for his safety and well-being; he could see it in the way her eyes kept going to his nose. How much blood was I losing?

  He couldn’t help feeling guilty at putting that worry there. With that guilt, the same voice from the hospital echoed as if from a great distance. Saying his name as if in pain. He looked back down at the couch and found the locket carrying the wooden piece lying there.

  “What has gotten into you?” she asked.

  “Zachary…” the voice that sounded like the wind said.

  Stop it! he shouted, taking care that the voice was internal this time.

  Surprisingly, the voice stopped. The suffocating feeling it carried, leaving with it. Was it his trip to Severity or his contact with those cards? Or maybe even the locket? There was no way of saying for sure. But it felt like he’d pushed away at the wall.

  It was still there, a painful and taunting reminder of what was currently happening with him. It seemed a cruel sense of balance that although he couldn’t get his memories, he could still have control over what he remembered.

  So, you’re actually choosing not to remember something? You need all your memories, and you think you have the privilege to decide what you remember and what you don’t? Surely, it couldn’t have been that bad.

  But no matter how he tried to rid himself of his weakness, his cowardness, for some unknown reason, he still felt that he was making the right decision. If he didn’t remember any specific detail, he knew what he felt. He sensed its dark wave, waiting to sweep him away into nothing but despair.

  What if those memories were important to getting home, though? It seemed very unlikely, but if that turned out to be the case, well, he would deal with that then. He—

  “Where do you go?” Eve suddenly asked. “When you zone out like that?”

  As much as he wanted to go find that book, it was clear he had to deal with this first. But what would they want to hear? What would Oliver have said to this line of questioning?

  “The hold?” John asked, walking around the couch so he stood beside Eve as they both looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

  That gave him an out. Hopefully, something that would prevent this from happening again. Like before, he decided to mix in a bit of truth. Well, in this case, more than a bit.

  “When the enforcers took me from the platform into the Dreamhold, I couldn’t move. My hand was shattered—is shattered—and I couldn’t even scream at the pain. Not when I entered that building.”

  It was no effort at all to inject the pain coloring his every word. He slid his hand into his pocket, ignoring the strangeness of its healed state. Healed or not, that pain had been real. Intense, sharp, and stabbing.

  “Ava kept telling me how you wanted me to get better, and I couldn’t even respond to her. I couldn’t eat! I couldn’t walk! I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything! Now every time I close my eyes, I’m back there. Locked in my body.”

  He breathed heavily, his head almost vibrating from the strength it took to get those words out. He’d effectively admitted to being weak. And it was an admittance; every word he’d said was true. But no matter what, he wouldn’t cry. He. Would. Not. Cry.

  “Oliver,” Eve said, setting the box down. “I won’t even pretend to understand what you went through. Okay? I won’t. But you’re not in there anymore. You’re home. And if it’s too much for you, you can share some of it with us. Okay? That’s why we’re here. You can talk to us. You know that, right?”

  Zach nodded, swallowing the burning sensation in his throat. That phantom voice from his memory seemed to scream at the suggestion. Seemed to suggest something else. But his pushback against the wall still held. Both her presence and her voice were diminished to near-nothing.

  He nodded subtly.

  According to Oliver’s memories, the people of Camp Twelve usually only came home a few minutes before evening fell. The Heads, like John, only returned an hour or so after that. Why were they home...?

  One glance at the windows showed him the sun had set a while ago. The rain had ended as well, leaving behind that depressing gray cast in the sky. How long had he been out? It seemed that John was wondering the same thing.

  “I told her it would be too soon to have you serving in a Function,” he said. For someone who rarely showed emotion, there was a deep scathing quality to his voice now. “Ava says as far as she’s concerned, you didn’t really get any nutrients in, let alone food. You must be feeling weak.”

  That word felt like a physical blow. Zach thought John couldn’t have hurt him more if he’d actually struck him with a fist. It was only through sheer willpower alone that he convinced himself John hadn’t meant it maliciously.

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  “I’m fine,” Zach said. “After today’s rest, I’ll be better. I just need an early night.”

  “Oliver, you’re not fine,” Eve said suddenly. She took a deep breath before she planted herself on the couch with a heavy sigh. “You’re fighting Jonathan’s group in the streets now?”

  Zach closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of his own. How could he have forgotten that? He looked up at John and found no help there, only a slight glint in his eyes. He seemed proud, and damn if Zach didn’t find a strange comfort in that expression.

  “John!” Eve said, obviously taking note of their exchange. “Oliver, this isn’t good. Not even close. I heard you were at the Function meeting today. You’ve heard Michel Caine—both of you! She wants you to bring back the keys!” she addressed the last bit to John.

  “You heard what she said,” John said. “They started it first. At our graveyard of all places.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Zach said, saying his peace before they came with their questions. “But they were saying… things. When I tried to leave, they wouldn’t let me. They said they wouldn’t let me kill their families.”

  Eve’s expression softened remarkably at that. “I know, Oliver. I know. But they’re scared. Everyone’s just a little scared. After that war in the north, the demons had everyone running from their homes for years. They just need time.”

  Again, Zach glanced at John, who gave him a silent warning not to say anything about what he’d learned about the demons. So, Eve was one of the people who thought the lands beyond the camp were haunted by the creatures that had crawled out of the rift opened at the war site.

  Interesting.

  “We just have to give them time, okay? And that means both of you.”

  “Me?” John asked.

  “I saw how you looked at Michel as she spoke. Everyone did. You were a moment away from throttling her with your own hands. That won’t help anything as well. So, just stop it. Please.”

  John sighed, but nodded.

  A stomach growled. When Zach realized it had been his stomach, only then did he truly feel his hunger. Where before it had only been something to keep in mind, a reminder that he should eat soon, now it was near ravenous. Something that made his hands vibrate and his legs weak.

  As useful as the tracking in Severity might’ve been—or as useful as he hoped it was, he could only really check once they let him go to his room—as useful as it might’ve been, clearly it took a lot of energy from him.

  He needed food.

  “Well, that’s a good sign,” Eve said, a small smile touching her face. “You had a nosebleed like I’ve never seen before. But you’re talking fine. You’re standing. You look a bit pale—or maybe that’s a result of you being indoors for that long. But at least you’re hungry.”

  She got up off the couch and approached him. Gently, she touched her hand against his forehead, feeling for a fever. “Is that something you picked up in there?” she asked. “You never had nosebleeds.”

  “I think so,” Zach said softly. “But it’s nothing.”

  She looked dubious. She started feeling under his jaw, her fingers moving deftly. She massaged gently, then moved onto the back of his neck. He realized she was checking his lymph nodes for swelling.

  “Zachary...” that voice said again.

  He jerked away from her, clamping his mouth shut against the forceful command that sat ready to be uttered. Eve frowned, but he couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. He’d been trying, and for the most part, he thought he’d somewhat succeeded. But it was too much now.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, taking a step back. “I forgot you don’t like to be touched.”

  Zach blinked.

  “At least some things stayed the same,” John added, turning back into the kitchen. “Never could stomach it, not even for a quick checkup.”

  At least something’s going my way, Zach thought to himself with a slight smile.

  “Since you’re so hungry,” John said, removing bowls from a bag he’d set down on the counter. “Let’s eat.”

  As they were busy dishing out the food onto three separate plates, Zach stole a glance toward Oliver’s room. Toward the book that might or might not be waiting for him under that mattress.

  It hurt that his stomach had betrayed him. He couldn’t very well say he had no interest in food now, not after it had made such noise. He sighed softly, walking over to the stools arrayed around the counter.

  Hopefully, this would go quickly.

  Dinner consisted of boiled lentil stew with the smallest amounts of meat drowning inside it, served alongside mashed potatoes that had their own meaty taste as though they’d been mixed with some sort of fat.

  Surprisingly, it was good. An explosion of flavor, both spicy and savory. The potatoes were creamy without a single lump. He found himself remarking for the umpteenth time that for a camp, a world that had just collapsed, Camp Twelve acted as though the apocalypse had skipped right over them.

  He could only marvel at the level of coordination it would take to run something like this. Let alone so well. Everyone was fed by a group that by all rights should have been a Function, but wasn’t. They didn’t have anything to do with the running of the camp. They’re only concern was cooking enough food for everyone.

  Talk at the table was of many things. A married couple who lived in the old residential area were still fighting against the idea that they should be doing work rounds, even after seven years of that being the norm.

  They discussed the strange weather patterns, like today’s sudden rainfall. Zach was surprised to find that it wasn’t normal for the rain to be salty. Someone from the WSF had said that when they collected rainwater, there was a large amount of salt that fell as sediment to the bottom of the containers. Thankfully, it was nothing distillation couldn’t fix.

  On and on the conversations went. A lot of it felt like Eve was catching up on events she’d missed. Then again, it was probably for his benefit as well. After all, Oliver had also been gone for a long time.

  The atmosphere around the counter complemented the food well. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling as though they were avoiding something. That was when he remembered Eve had gone to see the Head with Ava.

  He wanted to ask about that visit, but this moment was strangely peaceful. It felt like he’d been searching his whole life for this sense of normalcy, and he was suddenly loath to break it.

  Every time Eve broke out in laughter, or John gave a small smile, he couldn’t stop himself from answering with one of his own. He even contributed to the conversation every now and then with a small remark they either accepted, responded to, or laughed at with him.

  John had just said something about the enforcers, which tickled Zach’s memory. Something he’d seen at the graveyard. The enforcers entering that building. He asked John about it.

  “The strangers from outside,” John answered. “The last time I spoke with them, they insisted on being difficult. It seems they’re finally ready to talk. Well, Thirteen’s ruler is. B has been nothing but cooperative. The enforcers came looking for me today, but I was too busy looking for you.”

  Though he hadn’t meant it as an admonition, Zach felt guilt and embarrassment rise to his cheeks, and quickly looked back down at his plate. For her part, Eve seemed eager to change the subject.

  According to his memory, the food rations were calculated to meet an adequate caloric intake, well, as adequate as they could make, feeding thousands of people. And yet, Zach found himself still hungry.

  Suddenly, he felt his body drawing energy from a different place. A shifting that went from his stomach to the rest of his body. His eyes felt heavy, and his limbs as heavy as lead.

  He frowned, trying to pinpoint how exactly he’d felt that shift, but he might as well have pondered the nature of biology. His body was tired from the hearing he’d strained for, the trip to Severity, and the tracking he’d used in that realm.

  In search of energy, it had drawn from the food he’d eaten, and it seemed the rest of it would have to come from sleep.

  “I’d get some good sleep if I were you,” John said to him. “Tomorrow, you’re going early to the military base for some shooting lessons and a fitness test. You’ll need both to make it on an expedition.”

  Zach could only nod, finding it really difficult to do much else. The action of getting up from the stool, walking across the apartment, then walking into Oliver’s room was something he did on autopilot. He didn’t even close the door.

  The second his head touched the pillow, sleep dragged him down. Before he went, he thought it ironic that the book was just underneath him now, but he was too tired to reach for it. He made a vow then never to use the tracking again.

  “Whatever happened in that building must’ve been bad, John.” Eve’s voice, coming in hushed tones across the apartment. “He’s never opened up like that before.”

  “Let’s just be glad he’s home. It could’ve been...”

  The rest of that sentence was lost on him as he finally fell back into that waiting darkness.