Chapter 168: Signal
The room was dim.
Not dark—there was a weak bulb somewhere above them—but it flickered just enough to make everything feel unstable. Like the light itself didn’t trust the place.
It had to be around one, maybe two in the morning.
Neither Saul nor Jackson had checked.
Time didn’t feel real in here anyway.
The walls were too thin. The air too recycled. Every sound from outside carried in just enough to remind them they weren’t alone—but not enough to feel safe either.
Naomi and Cherie were gone.
The bedroom door had shut a while ago. No voices since. No movement.
Just quiet.
The kind that sits heavy.
Saul leaned against the edge of the table, dragging a hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat that had nothing to do with heat.
Jackson sat on one of the chairs, elbows on his knees, hands locked together like he was trying to hold something in place.
He exhaled.
Long.
Then ran both hands through his hair, fingers snagging slightly like he hadn’t bothered to wash properly in days.
He looked up at Saul.
"Alright," he said. His voice was low, but there was something tight in it. "I gotta say it."
Saul didn’t respond.
Jackson pushed off his knees, sitting upright now.
"I get it," he said. "I get that you like her."
Saul’s eyes flicked to him.
"What—"
"I’m not stupid," Jackson cut in. "You don’t look at people like that unless there’s something there."
Saul straightened slightly.
"That’s not—"
"But what I don’t get," Jackson continued, talking over him now, "is why the hell we’re doing this."
Saul’s brow furrowed.
"Doing what?"
Jackson let out a short, humorless laugh.
"This," he said, gesturing vaguely around them. "Running around a controlled zone, dodging patrols, almost getting our asses locked up—or worse—for what?"
Saul’s jaw tightened.
"We made it back."
Jackson stared at him.
A beat.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "We did."
He leaned back slightly in the chair, studying Saul like he was trying to decide something.
Then his expression hardened.
"That doesn’t make it smart."
Saul pushed off the table.
"No one forced you to come."
The words came out sharper than he intended.
Jackson’s face shifted immediately.
Not hurt.
Not surprise.
Something uglier.
"Right," he said quietly. "Yeah. No one forced me."
He stood.
Slow.
Deliberate.
"Who else is gonna save your ass when shit goes down?" Jackson asked, stepping closer. "Because it sure as hell isn’t her."
Saul squared his shoulders.
"Watch it."
"You didn’t even know her like that," Jackson went on. "You met her, what? A few days ago? And now we’re risking everything for her problems?"
Saul stepped forward.
"It’s not just her problem."
Jackson laughed again.
Louder this time.
"Yeah? Then whose is it?"
Saul didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation was enough.
Jackson saw it.
Shook his head.
"That’s what I thought."
Saul’s fists clenched at his sides.
"We’re not just gonna sit around and do nothing."
"And we’re not gonna get ourselves killed chasing ghosts," Jackson snapped back.
Saul’s voice rose.
"It’s not a ghost. He’s real. He’s out there."
"And so are the people looking for him!" Jackson shot back. "You heard the patrols. You saw the way they were moving tonight. That wasn’t routine, Saul. That was a hunt."
Saul faltered for half a second.
Jackson stepped closer.
"We can’t find Harry," he said, voice dropping now, heavier, "we can’t find mom or dad, if we’re detained. Or dead."
The words hung between them.
Real.
Unavoidable.
"That’s why we came here," Jackson continued. "Not for some manhunt for an idiot and some infected girl."
Saul let out a breath through his nose, pacing once before stopping. He dragged a hand through his hair, gripping at the back of his head like he was holding himself together.
"We’ve been over this," he muttered. "We don’t even know if Harry’s still—"
Jackson snapped his head toward him.
"No."
Saul didn’t stop this time.
"I’m saying we don’t know, Jackson. We haven’t seen him, haven’t heard anything, and you want to keep acting like—"
"Like he’s alive?" Jackson cut in, stepping forward. "Yeah. I do."
Saul’s jaw tightened.
"Hope doesn’t keep people breathing."
Jackson let out a sharp laugh.
"Jesus Christ, you’re still on that?"
Saul looked at him dead on now.
"I’m trying to think straight."
"No," Jackson said, shaking his head, irritation bleeding through now, "you’re trying to make it easier to quit."
That hit.
Saul stepped closer.
"Don’t do that."
"Don’t do what?" Jackson shot back. "Call it what it is?"
Saul’s voice sharpened.
"I haven’t quit on him."
"You have," Jackson said immediately. "You just dress it up better now."
Saul scoffed, but there was no humor in it.
"You think running around this place blind is better? That’s your plan? Just keep chasing shadows until we get locked up or shot?"
"That’s what the fuck we just did!!!" Jackson snapped.
"At least what I’d be doing is for him," he continued.
Saul’s expression hardened.
"This—this isn’t just about him anymore."
Jackson blinked once.
Then his face twisted.
"Oh, I get it now."
Saul frowned.
"Get what?"
Jackson stepped closer, pointing at him.
"You’ve got all this energy—all this drive—to go help some girl you barely know find her little friend..."
Saul’s shoulders tensed.
"...but when it comes to your own brother?"
That one didn’t just land.
It stuck.
Saul didn’t look away.
Didn’t flinch.
But something in his face tightened.
"You don’t get to say that," Saul said, voice lower now.
"I do," Jackson said. "Because I’m the one still acting like he matters."
Saul stepped right up to him now.
"You think I don’t care about Harry?"
"I think you already made peace with him being gone," Jackson fired back. "And now you’re just moving on."
Saul shook his head, anger rising.
"That’s not what this is."
"Then what is it?" Jackson demanded.
Saul opened his mouth—
Then stopped.
Because the answer wasn’t simple.
And Jackson saw that.
Saw it too clearly.
"Yeah," Jackson said quietly. "That’s what I thought."
Saul looked at him then, dragging a hand over his face, rubbing hard at his nose, frustration boiling over.
"Man..." he muttered, shaking his head. "I can’t keep having the same damn conversation with you."
"Then get your shit together."
Saul stepped forward again.
"Then stop twisting what I’m saying—"
"I’m not twisting shit," Jackson cut in. "You just don’t like hearing it out loud."
Saul’s voice rose.
"You think this is easy for me?"
Jackson looked at him.
Really looked at him.
And whatever he saw there didn’t help.
"Yeah," he said flatly. "I think you made it easier. Just like what you did when Harry ran off into the woods that night and you didn’t help him."
"—..."
That one dug in deep.
Saul didn’t have a comeback.
Didn’t even try this time.
Jackson let out one last scoff, shaking his head again before turning away.
"Unbelievable."
He started toward the bedroom.
"Jackson—"
But Jackson didn’t stop.
Didn’t even slow down.
He pushed the door open.
"Figure your priorities out," he said without turning around.
Then he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
Not loud.
But with enough weight to say everything he didn’t bother finishing.
Saul stood there alone.
Jaw tight.
Chest rising and falling.
And for the first time—
He didn’t feel right about anything he’d just said.
—
Carl was already halfway through the day before he noticed how quiet it was.
Not peaceful quiet — just... steady. The kind that made you forget to stay alert for a second longer than you should. The settlement had a rhythm now. Buckets moving. Wood stacked. Someone coughing in the distance. Someone else laughing too loud near the garden beds like they were trying to prove something.
He kept his head down as he helped one of the older men back to his cot. The man’s hands shook around Carl’s wrist, but he didn’t let go until he was sitting.
"You don’t have to keep doing this," the man muttered.
Carl adjusted the blanket anyway. "Yeah. I do."
Adira was nearby, sorting medical supplies on a folding table. Calm like she always was when things weren’t actively falling apart. She had that focused look — jaw slightly tight, eyes moving too fast for how still her body looked.
Carl didn’t think much of it. That was normal now.
Then the radio on the table cracked alive.
A burst of static.
Everyone near the table paused instinctively, like muscle memory.
Carl stepped forward first, reaching for it.
Adira got there faster.
Her hand closed around it without looking away from what she was doing. That alone made Carl pause. She always looked first.
"Aubrey?" Adira said into it, tone flattening instantly.
Carl blinked.
Static answered her. Then a voice, distant but real.
Adira went still.
Carl watched her face carefully now. The way her fingers tightened slightly around the radio. The way her eyes shifted like she was trying to place the voice properly in her head before believing it.
Then—
"Isabella’s alive," the voice said. "We found Hale and Terri too."
Adira let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. More like air leaving her too fast.
Carl frowned, glancing between her and the radio. "What’s going on?"
She ignored him.
"...repeat that," Adira said, slower now.
The radio crackled again. "We found them."
Silence.
Adira’s mouth opened slightly, then closed. Like her brain refused to connect it properly the first time.
Carl stepped closer. "Adira?"
Her eyes flicked to him for half a second. Didn’t register him properly.
Then—
"...the bad news?" she asked quietly, like she already knew there had to be something waiting behind it.
That shifted something in Carl’s chest. He didn’t like the way she said it. Like hope always came with a cost.
The voice on the radio hesitated.
"It exists," Aubrey said.
Adira exhaled once, sharp. Almost a laugh again, but colder this time. "What exists?"
A beat.
Then—
"Canada."
"—...."
"Yeah," Aubrey said, voice breaking into something lighter now. "It’s real. It’s actually real. We got confirmation. Safe zones. Structured intake. Military control, but it’s stable."
Carl heard it clearly.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just... enough.
The word sat in the room like something dropped too carefully.
Adira didn’t move at first.
Carl watched her face change in layers instead of all at once.
Confusion first.
Then disbelief.
Then something that looked almost angry — like her brain was refusing to accept something that didn’t match the world she’d been living in.
"Say that again," she said, quieter now.
The radio repeated it.
"Canada."
Carl’s breath caught before he even realized it.
Because it didn’t sound like a story this time.
It sounded like somewhere.
Adira’s grip on the radio loosened slightly.
Then she let out a breath — short, broken, like she didn’t mean to make a sound at all.
"...you’re sure?" she asked.
"Yeah," Aubrey’s voice came back. "Tell Carl and the others to get their things packed."
Silence again.
This one lasted longer.
Carl looked at Adira properly now.
Her eyes weren’t just surprised anymore.
They looked tired in a way he hadn’t seen before. Like something heavy had finally stopped pressing down on her, and she didn’t know what to do without it.
Her hand slowly lowered the radio to the table.
Careful. Almost like it might disappear if she moved too fast.
Carl spoke softly. "Adira..."
She didn’t answer right away.
Then she laughed.
One sharp breath out through her nose. Not joyful. Not bitter either. Just... stunned.
"Canada," she repeated, like testing whether it sounded real in her mouth.
Carl felt something shift in his chest too, but he didn’t have words for it yet.
Adira finally looked at him.
Really looked.
And for the first time in a long time, her expression wasn’t guarded.
It was just human.
"...you were right," she said.
Carl frowned slightly. "About what?"
Her lips twitched, like she almost didn’t want to say it out loud.
Then she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.
It wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t controlled.
Just sudden.
Carl froze for half a second, then slowly let his arms come up around her.
She was shaking.
Barely. But he felt it.
He didn’t say anything.
Neither did she.
After a moment, Carl leaned his head slightly closer and muttered, almost under his breath—
"...what did I tell you."
Adira gave a small sound that might’ve been a laugh again, but this time it didn’t break apart halfway through.
She held on a second longer.
Then let go.