Terra melted at the flash of sadness in his eyes. She hated when he pulled the Mom Card.
“Sorry, Dad. Next time, I’ll leave him.”
“Hey!” Rowan protested.
“Next time, Rowan will remember the rain can and will kill you. Like it did Terra’s mother.” The older man tipped his chin down to peer at Rowan over the top of his glasses. “Do you understand?”
Before Rowan could assure the doctor that he did, the curtain rustled and a harried nurse popped inside. Her eyes darted between the two patients and Teddy. “Dr. Reed, a word?”
Teddy nodded, and handed the ointment to Terra. “Work on smartass over here.”
Terra sat up and exchanged a look with Rowan. She dumped half the tube on his shoulders and set to work rubbing it in as her father joined the gray-haired nurse outside the curtain.
Her low voice carried enough to hear. “Sir, we have another one.”
Teddy let out a slow whistle. “Do we have a bed?”
“No, sir.”
Terra lifted an eyebrow at Rowan, who shrugged. The ointment had left a thin sheen of oily white on his back and face.
Terra handed him the ointment, indicating his chest. He'd have to be at death's door before she would rub oil in his chest.
“We’ll make it work,” Teddy said finally. “Clear out a space in the storage closet and send Marshall to get enough blankets to make a pallet.”
“What do we do if we get another?”
“We cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ll be in to see the patient when I’m done here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Teddy passed back through the curtain, a worry line creasing his brows.
Teddy returned to the table and extracted the ointment from Rowan's hand. “You’re both terrible at this.”
Terra eyed the thick goop visible all over Rowan’s body. “I’m a hunter, not a doctor.”
“Same,” Rowan agreed.
“It’s ointment, not open heart surgery,” her father countered wryly.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Terra motioned to the curtain where the nurse had disappeared.
Teddy squeezed a glop of the cooling cream on Terra’s forehead and gently began to spread it on her skin. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Another outbreak.”
The world swerved. Terra gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. “Outbreak of what? Zika?”
Teddy shook his head once, moving to Rowan’s face. “No. We… aren’t sure. It manifests as a rash. Then escalates.”
“Are we in danger?”
Terra knew her dad better than anyone. He and Rowan were her best friends—the two most important people in her life.
And she knew by the hyper-focus on his face that he was worried but didn’t want to tell her.
“We don’t know yet. It’s early,” he said.
“Contagious?” Rowan asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
Dr. Reed shrugged. “We are unsure as of now.”
Terra gripped her father’s hand, forcing him to stop focusing on the cream. He raised his dark eyes to meet her gaze.
“How many?” Terra asked.
Teddy sighed and extracted his hand from her grip. “Twelve.”
Terra’s heart hammered. “In how many days?”
“Less than a week.”
“Dead?”
“Sweetheart, you needn’t concern yourself with—”
“Dad. How many are dead?”
“Three. So far.”
A thirty percent fatality rate.
Fuck.
The world swayed around her. She clutched the metal table tighter, grounding herself to the room. “We can fix this. Right?”
Teddy dropped the now-empty tube on a side table, then wiped his hands on a clean towel, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t know, Terra. I don’t know this time. Like I said… It's early.”
“Is there anything we can do, Dr. Reed?” Rowan asked.
“Thank you, Rowan. But no. Unfortunately not. But if there is anything you can do, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, sir. I’m at your service.”
Teddy laughed and ruffled Rowan’s black curls. “You’re a good kid, Tate. I like ya, as long as you’re not getting my daughter killed.”
Terra and Rowan slipped from their respective tables and headed for the exit in their underwear and barefeet. Carter had said he would get their clothes and boots to Laundry.
“Terra.”
She paused with her hand on the curtain and offered her dad a smile that she hoped looked stronger than she felt.
“I’m going to work through dinner, sweetheart. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Teddy leaned to kiss her hairline, his hand lingering on her head for a brief moment before he turned to clean up their mess.
But Terra glimpsed something on her father’s aged features she never thought she would see — fear.
Chapter 3
Terra shoved open the heavy door to her bunk and groaned in ecstasy as cool air brushed over her bare skin
The room wasn’t big — barely wide enough for her bed and the armoire that held her meager selection of clothes. But the bunk was her own little piece of underground paradise — a cool sixty-five degrees year-round and all hers.
Terra struck a match in the angle of hall light that filtered through the door and lit the oil lamp. She closed the door and stripped off her bra and panties.
The basin of bath water usually chilled her to the bone, but with her body temperature soaring somewhere between purgatory and hell's half-acre, the cold felt divine tonight. She skipped over the parts of her body covered in her dad’s medicated ointment, and then dressed in a cool, clean cotton dress — her wardrobe of choice for lounging around the compound.
Thankfully, Rowan had decent timing and barged in without knocking after she was done dressing.
He flopped onto Terra’s unmade bed and hissed as his bare arms hit the blankets. “Okay. It was really dumb to get caught in the rain.”
“You don’t say.” Terra pulled her wet hair into a bun, rolling her eyes at his reflection in her vanity mirror.
Rowan lifted his arm — the outline of his star tattoo made a perfect pale outline on his angry red skin. “I’ve decided not to ignore George ever again.”
“You can’t steal my tattoo’s name.”
“We share everything. Even anthropomorphic tattoo names.”
“Can you even spell that word?”
“Nah. But it’s fun to say.” He tucked his arms under his head and grinned.
“You didn’t learn that one in school,” Terra teased.
Firma's academy focused on building the skills necessary to survive — hunting, fishing, repairing, growing food. Most kids came out of the program at sixteen and went straight into an apprenticeship in their chosen task.
Terra and Rowan had always wanted to be hunters; just like Rowan’s older brother had always wanted to be an engineer.
The thought of Roark sent a new wave of heat to her face.
“If it’s chlorella algae, I’m not eating.” Rowan had closed his eyes. His long legs dangled off the side of the bed, one boot tapping on the floor.
“You’re nothing but talk. If you skipped dinner, I would never hear the end of it.” Terra opened her jewelry box and extracted her locket.
Time had tarnished the silver and she’d dented the heart charm wrestling with Rowan when they were twelve. But when she snapped open the locket, her mother’s smiling face appeared completely untouched.
“She looks like you.”
Terra jumped, startled at how quickly and silently Rowan had appeared behind her.
“Think so?” Terra eyed the young woman. Long dark brown hair, gray eyes, but tanned skin many shades darker than her own. Living underground didn’t lend itself to tanning.
“You have her nose,” Rowan said as he took the locket from her and wrapped it around her neck to clasp it. “See the
way it turns up at the end? And her jaw. It’s really long.”
“I have Dad’s smile, though.”
“And his big, smart brain.” Rowan chucked Terra’s cheek and kissed her hair. “Come on. I’m starved. There’s algae calling my name.”
* * *
What seemed to be the entire population of Firma occupied the cavernous mess hall when they arrived. The concrete room did little to stifle the din of four hundred plus laughing and chatting people.
Terra already had the beginnings of a migraine, not to mention the way her raw skin felt turned inside out. Just the thought of spending even thirty minutes with that roar in her ears made her queasy.
“You okay?” Rowan asked, turning as he realized she'd slowed to a stop outside the open double doors.
Terra touched her head. “Do you wanna eat upstairs tonight? In the rec room?”
“Sure. You want me to get you a plate?”
Before she could wholeheartedly accept his generous offer, Carter and his boyfriend appeared, exiting the cafeteria arm-in-arm — the picture of post-apoc domestic bliss.
“Only three ducks tested safe,” Carter informed them, leaning into Jack. “Meat’s all gone.”
Rowan groaned. “Of course it is. Is it kale? Tell me it’s not fucking kale.”
“It’s not fucking kale,” Carter parroted dutifully, while Jack grinned wolfishly and said, “It’s fucking kale.”
If Carter could be considered tall, Jack was gargantuan. He towered at least a foot over Terra, and had a big red beard that bounced when he spoke. But where Carter was willowy — almost delicate — Jack had the muscled upper body of a lumberjack. He was also refreshingly blunt and sarcastic, a trait that made most people think him an asshole.
For Terra, that trait had long since proved she could trust him.
“You guys wanna chill upstairs with us?” Rowan asked. “I’m gonna grab plates for us both, then I’ll meet you there.
“Right on,” Jack agreed. He slung an arm over Carter’s shoulders. “Walking with us, Tare?”
“Nah, you guys go ahead. I’ll wait for Ro.”
Jack saluted her, then steered his boyfriend to the stairs.
“Brew?” Rowan asked.
Terra laughed. “Do you even have to ask? Two of ‘em.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
After Rowan merged into the melee, Terra ventured down the hall and leaned against the wall, propping a boot up behind her.
Nat and Bill would probably show up after they ate, too. The whole team meeting to chill with brew after a hunt had become a tradition. Some days, despite how hard it was to keep living in a poisoned world, Terra counted her blessings to have a team she loved like family.
“Hey, Terra.”
The smooth baritone crawled up her spine, a delicious tingle that jumpstarted her heart.
Roark had come down the hall while she was lost in thought. He drew near, shoving his hands in the pockets of his engineering jumpsuit. The suit was unzipped to his navel, revealing a hard expanse of muscles she still couldn't believe she’d had the pleasure of touching them.
Once.
“How are you?” he asked, his piercing green eyes locking on her gaze.
They were identical to Rowan’s, right down to the darker ring around the iris and the speckles of yellow near the pupils. But unlike Rowan’s playful gaze, Roark's always seemed dark and brooding.
“Good,” Terra replied, working to keep her voice even and shove away any hint of desire. “You?”
“Good. Got a promotion.”
“That’s great!” Terra said, and she meant it.
Roark stepped closer. He stood a head higher, his dark hair shorn, a shadow on his jaw. She smelled the grease on his jumpsuit and the clean scent of soap on his skin.
Her mouth watered. She was starving, but for a whole lot more than food.
Roark touched her neck, his gaze roaming over her lips. “I miss you.”
And there it was. That tone in his voice. It bypassed desire. It bypassed all sense and reason, and it was every reason why they couldn’t have a repeat of that night.
No matter how good he looked.
Terra sidestepped his hand. “It’s good to see you. Better go get dinner before they run out.”
She hated to put that ache behind his green eyes.
But Firma was no place to get married and raise a family. Terra couldn’t give him that. He deserved someone who could.
“Hey, bro,” Rowan said as he joined them, his tray weighted down by two plates and six glasses of brew. He eyed the sliver of space between Terra and Roark, then caught her eye. “Alright?”
“Fine. Roark just stopped to say hi. Enjoy your dinner,” she said brightly.
A muscle moved in his jaw, but he nodded once. “See you around.”
Roark stalked off, landing a brotherly punch on Rowan’s arm as he passed.
They both watched the older Tate brother vanish into the mess hall.
“For real, are you okay?” Rowan asked. “I’ll kick his ass. You say the word.”
Terra grabbed a brew from the tray between his hands and slammed half the glass in one go.
The home brew was made in Firma’s hydro-labs: a stronger version of pre-Danu beer. It burned on the way down.
Terra clutched the cup and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I know I made the right decision, and he'll find someone better.”
“Look around ya, Tare. Not a whole lot of options.”
“Is he going to relentlessly pursue me forever?”
Rowan laughed and nudged her with his shoulder. “You’re a prime catch. My dumbass brother isn’t the only man who watches you.”
Terra blushed. “Can we stop talking about this? It’s weird enough you know what happened.”
“You broke his heart. Man needed a shoulder to cry on. Can’t help it.”
Groaning, Terra opened the door to the staircase and motioned him in. “Lets go before I feel the need to run far and fast.”
* * *
Fitting five hundred people in a ten level compound had proven an interesting task to the team who helped her father plan and build Firma.
To maximize space, they’d chosen the small bunk system and communal cafeteria, but they knew humans were a social lot, which necessitated the rec rooms in Ground Bay.
The entire back half of the bay housed ten medium-sized rec rooms equipped with comfortable chairs and tables, as well as old board games and card decks, plus each room housed several stacks of books for perusing.
The team had a favorite rec room — not because it was any better than the others, but because it had the most worn furniture. Which meant it was almost always empty.
The massive garage doors that closed up the compound at night were still open to the fading daylight. Rain poured outside, billowing smoke from the grass. As the rain always did, it would destroy much of the grass and leaves, but Danu would restore them as soon as the clouds cleared.
If it weren’t so terrifying — that absolute force and power Danu held over nature—Terra would think it magical.
Nat, Bill, Carter, and Jack already sat around the sparse room in cushioned chairs saggy and darkened by time and use. Nat bent over an oil lamp, coaxing the flame higher, as Terra dropped into the chair next to her.
“Good job today,” Terra said as she shoved her white, nearly translucent casserole around her tray. Cauliflower and kale in a chlorella algae sauce with the consistency of saliva. “Five ducks is a record for you guys.”
Nat grinned and sat up, swinging her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Bill’s aim was on point.”
“You bagged two of them!” Bill protested with a laugh. He was the oldest of their team at twenty-nine. Thanks to the stress of living in Danu’s hell, his thick dark hair had already gone gray. He had warm caramel-colored skin and spoke with the faint hint of a Spanish accent.
“Total luck.” Nat winked at Terra.
“Luck or not, you ma
de a lot of people happy tonight.”
“Except me,” Rowan griped. “Didn’t make me happy.”
Bill and Nat exchanged sneaky smiles, then Nat pulled a bundle out of her bag. She unwrapped the stark white napkin to reveal two crisp, golden slices of duck.
Rowan let out a strangled cry and leapt for the duck. Nat laughed and danced away from him.
“Ah, ah! One for you, one for Terra.”
Rowan pouted but snatched only one slice from her palm.
“He’s like a fat kid stuck in a skinny kid’s body.” Nat held out the remaining piece for Terra.
“Yeah, but he’s our fat, skinny kid,” Terra said. She tore off half of the slice and dropped it on Rowan’s plate.
His child-like grin was worth the sacrifice.
Terra bit into the meat and groaned in ecstasy. Hot, herbed juices oozed from the meat, sending her neglected tastebuds into bliss.
“Thank God we get a couple days off. I’m exhausted.” Bill kicked off his boots and propped his feet up on the table. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Terra laughed with everyone else, but the truth of the matter was many of her team were pushing what was considered middle-age now. Life expectancy had declined so thoroughly for the past twenty years that living to thirty was considered a miracle.
As Terra polished off her duck, the massive groan of the garage doors closing filled Ground Bay outside the rec room.
“I hate to think of Alexis and Freya out there alone.” Nat hunched low in her chair and picked up her mug of brew.
“We spent the night in a Frig just last year,” Bill pointed out. “We were fine.”
“I know. But it still sucks. With all the fucked up wildlife out there, and Danu herself always pulling shit.” Nat shuddered.
“As long as they don’t leave the Frig and keep the door locked, they’ll be okay,” Terra assured her. She took a bite of tasteless veggies and chased it with brew. “We’re all trained for this kind of situation. Let’s not worry too much until we have a reason to worry.”
“And it’s still raining,” Rowan added. He had finished his food — and his first mug of brew. “They couldn’t try to come home now anyway.”
“And they shouldn’t,” Jack said darkly. “We close the doors at night for good reason.”
East of the Sun Page 2