Andrea is no longer the only one responsible for Emma, and against logic, this doesn’t sit well with her at all. Ogden and Annemarie are grownups, and thus think they know better. They have no clue how much Emma and Andrea have been through already—and survived. Still, they maintain that the girls need to stay with them and hold off on their journey to Shillings Creek. Especially Annemarie. She butts in and suggests one change after another, generally acting like grownups do. 

So far, Andrea has stuck to their plans, and if it hadn’t been for their food shortage, they never would have come home with Ogden and Annemarie.

“You look like you’re planning for world domination,” Ogden says and sits down next to Andrea. She’s found a good spot where she can see who’s coming and going around the cottage area. The view toward the tree line is a bit obscured, but she can see further down the winding road without a problem. One of the advantages of the latter is that you can see anyone approaching and take cover. But it also means that people with evil intent can spy on Ogden’s collective from the woods.

“I don’t want to dominate anything.” Andrea spits the words. “But I don’t want to stay here either. It’s not safe like this in the open. Emma’s grandparents live deep in the wood by a lake. That’s a much safer dwelling than this.”

“You’re entirely right, my girl,” Ogden says, rubbing his beard.

Andrea is just about to snarl at him and point out that she’s not Ogden’s anything, when she realizes that he actually agrees with her.

“We’ll have to plant more trees and shrubs to create cover. Extend the cottage so we can have room for storage and more friends,” Ogden continues.

“What do you mean, more friends? How many friends of yours has survived?” Andrea doesn’t snarl, but she can tell how hostile she sounds.

“I mean future friends. New friend, that we feel we can trust. The more we are living together, the stronger we’ll be regarding our defense strategies when it comes to potential incursions.”

“Like most people that survived, then.” Andrea sighs. She’s tired of the entire situation and just wants to grab her backpack and go. Her arms and legs are all jittery from staying in one place when they shouldn’t. They’ve stayed with Annemarie and Ogden for more than three weeks now, and every morning, Andrea promises herself that this is the day they’re going to move on to Shilling’s Creek. 

When she’s left Emma with her grandparents—she prays they’re alive—she’ll move on to her next mission to find, and take care of, Theo. Whoever has him, she’ll have to make them see that he’s not alone in the world and doesn’t need them. She gets this crazy idea that a bunch of ladies from the welfare office has survived and rounded up orphans. It’s entirely insane, but so is the world around them.

“I want to believe in the innate good in people, even in disastrous times as these. We’re exposed to hardships and it’s not the result that counts, not only that, at least, but how we deal with these challenges.” Ogden speaks in a firm, but kind voice. “Like you, my girl. You’re not a little homebody like Emma, who feels a sense of security having grownups around. This is why she shadows Annemarie wherever she goes. You’re a warrior. It’s obvious.”

Andrae blinks and looks at Ogden. He is holding on to some kind of metal strappings and studies her calmly. 

“Warrior?” Andrea asks, and she can hear how her voice loses its scornful, distancing tone.

“Absolutely. You were ready to knock Annemarie and I to smithereens out in the woods when we stumbled on you and Emma. Your protective nature is obvious.”

“Emma and I only have each other—so far. Until I find Theo, my little brother.” Hot, unwanted tears run down Andrea’s cheeks. Fortunately, Ogden acts as if he doesn’t notice. 

“I have a mission for you. You carry that bat around everywhere, and it’s your primary weapon, which is all you need at your age. You can’t carry a firearm until we have trained you. I have a feeling you’re going to be a hell of a marksman. Or woman, as it were.”

Impressed that Ogden doesn’t care about swearing in front of a nearly fourteen-year-old kid, Andrea nods slowly. “Okay. What kind of mission?”

“Your baseball bat can break if you don’t strengthen it. It has to be done right, though, so we don’t weaken it. Come with me to my workshop and I’ll show you.”

Andrea tags along to Ogden’s workshop that is located in a shed behind the cottage. It’s nice and warm inside as he’s got a fire going in an open fire with a wide hearth in the corner. 

“This is my amateur forge. I enjoy forging and making things that are useful or pretty—or both. This hobby of mine will come in handy in days to come, I’m sure. You put the iron in the fire over there, and then you keep the fire roaring around it by pumping oxygen into it by using the bellow over there.” He points to a large, folded thing that reminds Andrea of an accordion. “The iron gets red hot and malleable. Then I can shape it the way I want to by using a mallet, etcetera.”

Andrea is again reluctantly impressed. Ogden is more resourceful than she thought. “Are we going to stick the metal strappings in the fire?” she asks and indicates the thin strappings in Ogden’s hands.

“No. That’s not necessary for what I have in mind. This is a suggestion, Andrea. If you don’t want to make indentations on your bat, then we won’t. But if you’re going to use this as a weapon, it needs strengthening.”

Andra regards Theo’s baseball bat. “It’s my brother’s and he’s really proud of it. But if I can’t use it while I look for him, or if it breaks, then he’s not going to get it back either way.” Andrea swallows hard. “Can we avoid drilling into the autograph? That one’s important to him.”

Ogden stops in midmotion and looks at her. Then he takes out a plaid handkerchief and blows his nose. After clearing his throat, some humming, and wiping his eyes, he places the metal strappings on his work bench. “These strappings are meant to go around pallets during transport. They are welded together and they’re strong. They’re not going to corrode very easily, and especially not if you oil them every now and then. Superficial rust is all right, but it can’t be allowed to go straight through.”

“Let’s do it then.” Andrea says determinedly.

Ogden shows Andrea how to bend the firm metal strappings and shape them from just above the handle, up around the bat and down the other side. She makes two of those, and then six shorter to go around the bat. Wherever they crisscross each other, Ogden helps her use a drill for metal and brass screws to attach the metal strappings tightly to the bat, mindful of not disturbing the autograph. When they’re done, the metal cage-looking support feels so tight, as if it were merged with the bat.

“We’ve got to tidy it up at the bottom, so you don’t hurt your hands. We’re going to wrap the handle and that is where my old soft leather strips will come in handy. They come from my old motorcycle jacket.”

“You used to ride a motorcycle?” Andrea thinks Ogden looks a little too old for that.

“Yes, I did, until the arthritis made a mess of my knees. Eventually I got wary of not being able to keep Annemarie and me upright at the traffic light, and then it was time to give it up. I should’ve sold the bike, but now it’s good that I didn’t get around to it. We can have use for it if we can get our hands on more gas.”

“You can teach me to drive, perhaps?” Andrea hears herself ask. Then she regrets it. That makes it sound as if she can imagine staying longer than she plans to. That’s not the case.

“I can do that. Absolutely. It’s easy. Have you ever used a moped?”

“Just a few times. The brother of some of my friends had a scooter. Automatic. A motorcycle must have tons of gears.” Andrea weight back and forth on her feet.

“Mine has five gears,” Ogden says as he adds a thick, yellow glue to the bath’s handle and then starts wrapping the leather strips around it. He starts where the ends of the metal strappings begin and covers the sharp edges carefully. “Now you can continue wrapping it completely. Put on more glue as you go, and when you reach the end, just cut off the excess and leave it to dry twenty-four hours. We’ll see if we can take one of the cars and go to the closest store that sells magazines. We’ll get some martial arts. You must learn to swing that thing in the best, most efficient way. That way and you’ll protect yourself and incapacitate your opponent.”

Andrea nods slowly. “Okay.” She knows what this means. They’re going to have to stay here for a while, if she’s going to learn what she needs to know and scavenge for the right gear to fully become the warrior Ogden sees in her. It occurs to her that he might be saying these things to make her stay and not take Emma and go, but she doesn’t believe this. Not really. She can sense that he’s being honest, whether he fully understands it or not. She is a warrior. 

Andrea lets her mind wander as she glues the leather strips to the bat, keeping the overlaps precise. A warrior, and a loner, like Mom used to call those people who didn’t seem to have much need to surround themselves with tons of people. Andrea wasn’t a loner then, but she is now. Perhaps because she’s one of the very few immune people in the world? Perhaps.

The bat is done, and she keeps it carefully to not disturb the leather. It looks ten times as intimidating now. Anyone who’ll be on the receiving end of this can kiss their life goodbye. She doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, but if someone threatens her, or worse, Emma, she’s going to swing. 

Realizing that she has to include Ogden, Annemarie and the others, doesn’t elude her. If they’re going to take care of each other, she has to be everyone’s warrior. Andrea is well aware that they see her as a child, and age-wise, she is, at barely fourteen. But she’s no child. No immune kid will stay a child for very long, not after what’s happened to her. Now she’s a warrior apprentice and she’s not going to give up until she’s an expert at handling her bat, and, in the future, knives and guns as well.

#

 Andrea isn’t sure which reaction from Emma she expects when she tells her they have to stay on with Annemarie and Ogden a while longer. She thinks Emma might feel let down, that she’ll think Andrea’s broken her promise of going to Shilling Creek and then go on missions to find Theo.

Now, Andrea sits on their bed and holds her breath, studying the little girl she loves almost as much as Theo by now. Emma is sort of hers. Her sister that she’s protected since she came upon her in Remerton.

“Thank you,” Emma says in her precocious way and takes Andrea’s cold hand in hers. “It’s okay that we can find my nanna some other time. Shillings Creek is far away, Annemarie says, and especially on foot.”

“When I have learned to ride Ogden’s motorcycle, we’re going to go there. It’ll go super-fast. And before then we’re going to learn all the paths and roads here in the Hudskills. That’ll be our missions.” Andrea feels tears burn, but she forces them back.

“Yes. We must.” Emma throws herself in Andrea’s arms. “Are you very upsets that you have to wait to find Theo?”

“Yes. But I’m also glad that we get the chance to learn everything about surviving. It’s not like before, when we went to school, but we have to study even harder now, but other things. Or, perhaps the same subject, but in another way.”

“How?” Emma asks, her face pressed against Andrea’s shoulder.

“Well, take gym class. Instead of all that indoor stuff we used to do, we train in the woods. Climb trees, ropes, run, and stuff like that.”

“That sounds kind of fun,” Emma says and pulls back to look up at Andrea. “And we have to read and write really well, to learn things that we can’t ask our parents about.”

Andrea studies the little girl in her arms, a child that’s going to have to grow up much too fast, in what has to be labeled a dystopian world. She has to smile at Emma’s fortitude, but a part of her is filled with sorrow. She simply can’t be selfish. Emma does need parents and Annemarie and Ogden are the closest thing she’ll have. 

Andrea doesn’t think she can regard Ogden as a father figure, but perhaps like a mentor. Ogden showed in words and action that he meant what he said earlier. Annemarie is always kind to her and perhaps she’ll stop regarding Andrea with a certain amount of suspicion once she knows that she’s not going to take Emma and run at any given time. It would be easy to sneak off in the night, but it’s not the right thing to do.

“Exactly,” Andrea says. “Your idea is great. There are libraries all over the place in Remerton. We can borrow books about anything. That’s how we’ll find out things now that we don’t have access to Google. The last time I tried logging into the internet on my phone, I just got a white screen. Not even a 404 message. I’m not going to waste Ogden’s solar power to try unnecessarily. We better load all our photos onto the same tablet. That way we can charge it when we need to.”

“Okay,” Emma says and hugs Andrea again. “Hey. You’re not going to leave me behind her, are you?”

“You mean, leave without you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I promise not to leave without telling you where I’m going and when I’ll be back. I would never just leave you. We belong together. We’ve done from the start.” Andrea wipes a foolish tear from her cheek and hugs Emma back. “I promise.”

“Okay. Good.” Emma sits still in Andrea’s arms for a while, but then frees herself and jumps to her feet. “I have to and tell Annamarie. I think she’ll be happy. She says she always worries for us.”

“I’ll join you in a little while.” Andrea wants to go outside and watch the tree line on the other side of the meadow. She feels it’s important to learn every part of the border between them and the forest. Unknown dangers lurk there, and once her baseball bat is ready, she’s going to start patrolling it with Ogden. They’re going to explore the paths, make exact maps, and mark every source of fresh water. She’s postponing a lot for Emma’s sake, but at the same time, Andrea is certain that a new phase in her life is about to begin. This is her temporary base—for now. Here she can feel somewhat safe, and she knows Emma’s thriving here.

Andrea takes her notebook from the backpack and brings that with her. Finding her usual perch, she starts making a list of the skills she needs to learn, to stand a chance when she goes on the road to find Theo. She swears to check them off, one by one, and not give up until she masters them all.

She had already made sure to everyone living in the cottage that nobody, absolutely nobody, could breathe a word about the risk that Theo might be dead.

Because that’s simply not true.