Resurgence Read Free

possible.
    ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ I hiss. ‘If anyone needs to know what the weapon can do then I’ll tell them.’
    The venom in my voice stings Opie as he holds up his hands as if to defend himself. ‘I won’t say anything.’
    I am about to tell him that he’d better not when he raises his eyebrows. I turn to see my mother hovering nearby. ‘Is everyone all right?’ I ask.
    ‘It’s amazing, as if Hart was never ill. What did you give him?’
    ‘I’m not sure. The scientist who told me about it said it was an amalgamation of every disease ever discovered. He says it can cure almost anything.’
    ‘How much of it do you have?’
    ‘Three more doses.’
    She steps forward, pulling me towards her again and reaching for Opie. She pushes the hair from my face, separating out the silver streak, and running her fingers along the length of my arms.
She is worrying about how thin I am but doesn’t say anything. ‘Are you two staying here now?’
    I shake my head and she bows in reluctant acceptance.
    ‘Can I ask you one thing?’ she says, not waiting for my reply. ‘You’re my daughter and you’re amazing. You’ve helped all of these people, you’ve given
so many hope, you’ve saved people’s lives. I don’t expect you to sit here and do nothing – and if Opie is who you want to be with then you have my blessing . . .’
    I’m not sure where she is going with this, and feel nervous with her mention of Opie. She pulls us both closer until she is wedged between us and then lowers her voice. ‘But why does
it have to be you?’
    She sounds tired and scared, her fingers digging into my back. I gently release myself and cup her chin between my hands. Her tears dribble through my fingers.
    My throat is dry but I manage the words clearly enough: ‘If I don’t do it, who else will?’

2
    I have never been a big sleeper but now it is as if my body fights against anything that will allow me even the smallest amount of comfort. I suppose I can’t blame it
– the endless walking has taken its toll and I haven’t been able to give myself the nourishment my body craves. My mother forces me to take her bed despite my protests. She wraps me in
blankets, tucking me in so tightly that I can barely move, and kisses me goodnight. ‘Sleep well,’ she says, but her sideways glances towards me and the raised eyebrows betray her
thoughts that I am almost unrecognisable. The glimpse I saw of myself in the mirror near the fire showed a pale, thin girl wasting away, not the warrior everyone seems to believe I am.
    I lie with my eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths and pretending to sleep. Time passes and as the cool sunlight begins to fill the room, there are people nearby – Opie’s family
and mine – saying my name and whispering under their breath. Isn’t it amazing about Hart? How did I get into and out of Windsor Castle? Why did I go? What am I going to do next? Over
and over they ask if I am well. Opie is nearby and I hope he is sleeping because the conversation is all about me, not him – even though he was there too.
    By the time the smell of something meaty starts to drift through the area, I am sick of hearing my name. I kick my way out of the covers and follow my nose until I see a spit that Opie’s
father, Evan, has set up. On it, he is slowly rotating three squirrels, ensuring they are cooked evenly. A week ago, he was convinced that much of what had happened was in my head; now he is the
provider and father for the entire camp. Everyone else looks older, the ravages of isolation and hunger too much to avoid; but he is energised, his hair less grey, his skin almost glowing.
    ‘This one’s for you,’ he says, pointing at one of the creatures.
    I yawn and wave my hand. ‘Make sure everyone else has something first.’
    ‘We’ve all eaten. There’s one for you and one for Opie.’
    ‘Who’s the other one for?’
    ‘Your mum says Hart is a lot better. He’s barely been able to eat