Two dollars? I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have two bucks to throw away. Even when I was little, my parents would stop at every quarter candy machine we passed so I could get my sugar fix. A side effect of being the long-awaited miracle child they’d been praying for.
I almost said this out loud, but something about the expression of pride and determination on Kiaya’s face made me swallow the words. Instead, I said, “It’s on me.”
“You don’t have to—”
I cut her off. “Consider it an apology for kicking you so much last night.”
Kiaya hesitated, but after a second managed a small smile. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”
“No problem.” I waved my phone at her. “Text if you change your mind and decide you want something else.”
I turned to leave but stopped when she said, “Rowan, I don’t have your number.”
Of course she didn’t, because I’d never given it to her.
“I think I’m losing my mind,” I said, turning back to face her.
“It’s been a stressful few weeks,” she replied.
“Yeah.” I sighed.
Shaking my head, I rattled off my number, and she typed it in, her fingers flying across her phone’s screen with expert speed. When she was done, she nodded and tucked it in her pocket.
Before I could turn away, the door to a nearby motel room opened, and the man I’d seen the night before stepped out. The early morning sunlight seemed to accentuate his gray eyes as he scanned the parking lot, making them look dangerous, and he wore a hardness about him that was impossible to miss.
He paused, the door behind him still open, and a second later two other people stepped out, a guy and a girl. They were a lot younger than he was, college age, and I couldn’t think of a single place where the three of them would look at home together. While the older man was hard and rough, the other guy looked more like someone I’d see playing football with his friends on the weekend, and the girl was small with big, brown eyes that radiated innocence. Even stranger was the fact that she was Indian, and the college age guy was black, and the older man’s body language made it seem like he wasn’t too pleased with the company he was keeping. Although why they were sleeping in the same room was beyond me.
“Get the doc,” the older man said, nodding to the motel room next to theirs without looking at the other two. “Axl won’t be comin’, but the doc’s gotta be hungry.”
As if sensing my gaze on him, the man turned his focus to me, and his lips twitched with the hint of a grin.
“Well, lookie what we got here,” he said, eyeing me from head to toe. “We got ourselves another blondie. Just our luck, too. Looks like we’re gonna have an openin’ here real soon.”
I crossed my arms, suddenly very sorry I hadn’t put on a bra.
The younger guy rolled his eyes before jogging over to the other motel room but said nothing.
At my side, Kiaya shifted like she, too, was uncomfortable by the way the older man’s gaze zeroed in on me.
As if noticing her for the first time, he turned his focus on her, his mouth turning down, and my spine stiffened. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His thoughts were as clear as the blue sky above our heads. I wasn’t totally sure if I even liked Kiaya, but thinking this asshole was judging her because her skin was browner than his made me want to punch him in the nose.
I turned my back on him, grabbing Kiaya’s arm. “Go back in and sit with Kyle. I’ll be back soon.”
She had to forcefully tear her gaze from the man with the steely gray eyes, and I was a little happy to see the fierce light in her eyes. Somewhere deep inside, Kiaya had spunk.
“Forget him,” I said, keeping my voice low.
She glanced his way once and headed back to the room, saying nothing.
I didn’t look at him again before heading across the parking lot.
5
The diner was brimming with activity just like it had been the night before, but something about it had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, and when I paused just inside the door to look around, the feeling that something was off grew. The booths were just as full, the waitresses just as haggard, but there was less urgency in the air. More terrifying were the expressions most of the customers wore. Defeat and hopelessness were prevalent, but even worse were the people who looked like they could hardly hold their heads up. It wasn’t loss or despondence, but illness. It was written in every line of their bodies. In their red eyes and noses, their shoulders, shaking from fever chills, their sniffling and constant swallowing as if trying to fight against the raging soreness in their throats. It reminded me of how Kyle had acted in the car when he first started showing symptoms, and it made me want to turn and run. Which was just dumb. I was already exposed, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Instead of running, I took a deep breath and forced myself to move farther into the diner.
There was a line at the counter since all the booths were occupied, so I took my place at the end of it, trying my best to ignore the coughs echoing through the air. It was impossible.
A few seconds later, the door opened behind me, bringing with it a burst of hot air and the ding of a bell, and I turned as the three people I’d seen outside the motel walked in. There was another man with them, but nothing about his presence made the group look any more at home together. The new guy was white, like the older man, but tall and gangly, almost awkward and somewhat alien in appearance. Even so, his big, brown eyes, although filled with exhaustion, were intelligent and alert as he took the place in, his frown telling me he had the same impression I’d had when first walking in.
The older of the four, the man who’d called me Blondie, spotted me and grinned. “There she is. Thought you’d gotten away from me.”
Behind him, the others shifted and looked away, acting like they were afraid to be associated with him, but said nothing.
“Just getting breakfast,” I said then turned my back on him, hoping he’d take the hint and realize I wasn’t interested in talking.
Thankfully, he seemed to, but that didn’t stop the group from talking amongst themselves, and in the absence of anything else to do, I couldn’t help eavesdropping.
“How’s Vivian this morning?” the girl asked.
“Same as last night,” one of the men—the tall one, I was pretty sure—answered.
A grunt followed—the asshole. “Shoulda left her ass on the side of the road. Waste of time.”
“You would have been leaving your brother behind, too,” the tall man responded. “He hasn’t left her side.”
“He’s always been too soft. It’s gonna get him killed in this world.”
“He’s kind,” a small, feminine voice responded.
The asshole only snorted.
“How long do you think it will be?” the fourth person asked.
“Not long,” the tall man replied, sounding despondent. “The longest I’ve seen them last after showing symptoms is forty-eight hours, and that’s pushing it. Usually, it’s less than twenty-four.”
The group lapsed into silence.
It was clear by their conversation that, like us, they’d stopped here because someone in their group was sick, but something about the tall man’s words stuck out. He sounded like he’d seen people die before. And not a few, either. A lot.
Against my better judgment—I really didn’t want to encourage the asshole—I turned to face them, focusing on the tall man. “Do you know something about this thing?”
Four sets of eyes turned on me.
The tall guy cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. A lot, actually.” He paused, frowning as he thought something through, then said, “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I think I need to know. The guy I’m traveling with is sick.”
He exhaled and his shoulders slumped as if weighed down. “How long?”
“He started showing symptoms yesterday evening. Maybe around six o’clock.”
The guy nodded slowly, his gaze moving to the ground. “He’ll go fast, and it’s going to be bad.”
“How do you know?” I asked, prompting him.
“I’m a doctor, and I was working in Baltimore.”
My back straightened. Maryland. Holy shit. That was so close to New York, so close to where this all started. And he was a doctor? My thoughts went to my dad, and I had to dig my nails into my palms. I couldn’t even imagine what this guy had seen, and my dad was facing the same thing right now.
“Tell me everything you know,” I said even though all I really wanted to do was run back to the hotel room and cover my head with a pillow so I could block all of this out.
He gave three quick nods, breathing in a few times before blowing out a long breath as if gearing himself up for something horrible. Then he began to talk. “They locked Baltimore down about eight weeks ago, a lot earlier than they’re saying on the news. When that happened, all nonessential businesses were shut down, hospitals were overrun, and they had to set up temporary clinics in the schools. People were literally dying in the streets. Then it just stopped.” He paused and shrugged, then shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it had happened. “It’s not contained the way they’re claiming. It’s more like everyone who was going to die from it already did. The best guess is that eighty to eighty-five percent of the population is going to die. If you get it, you die. The end. If not, you’re immune.”
“Immune?” I looked from him to the rest of his group, so out of place with one another but wearing identical expressions of gravity. “So, you’re all immune?”
“We are,” the college guy said. “Parv and I were in New York, going to school at Cornell.”
New York. Holy shit.
“And obviously, I am,” the doctor added.
I turned my attention to the asshole, who didn’t look as much like an asshole with the expression of defeat twisting his features. “You?”
“Gotta wait,” he said. “Blondie’s been sick for a day now, and we ain’t come down with it yet.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but his gray eyes said differently. It mattered. A lot.
I let out a deep breath and shifted when the line moved forward, trying to absorb this new information. Kyle was sick, which meant it was only a matter of time for him. Kiaya and I had about an eighty-five percent chance of coming down with it, according to this doctor—who sounded like he would know—but we hadn’t had any symptoms yet. Did that mean something?
“How long?” I asked, turning back to the doctor. “How long after exposure does a person know?”
He exhaled, his eyes darting to the older guy—almost like he hated to say anything in front of him—before once again focusing on me. “Honestly? There’s a lot to take into consideration. Like hygiene, for example. I saw a few people go for a week or more caring for the sick and not come down with it because they were diligent about wearing masks and gloves and washing their hands, but even with all the precautions the medical staff at the hospital took, eventually the virus still won. For the average person, I think you’re good if twenty-four hours have passed since exposure and you haven’t gotten sick.”
The older man’s back stiffened. “You shittin’ me? You’ve known that this whole goddamn time and never told me?”
“I told Axl.” The doctor looked down. “You never asked.”
The other guy gave him a nasty look. “Never thought I’d hafta ask somethin’ like that. If a man’s waitin’ for death, you tell him when he’s in the clear. It’s the fuckin’ considerate thing to do.”
The doctor’s cheeks were red, but the way he was staring at the floor told me he hadn’t wanted this asshole to make it. Like he’d intentionally held the information back hoping it would make a difference.
Seemed like they had a bit of a stormy future in store for them if they planned on traveling together, but it didn’t matter to me one way or the other. What mattered was that by this evening, Kiaya and I would know for sure if we were going to die. Ten hours from now we’d have our answer. It seemed both too soon and much too far away at the same time.
I turned back to face the line when it moved forward, and as if sensing that I needed to absorb the information, the group left me to my own thoughts. The news, I soon realized, wasn’t all bad. Dad was at the hospital and he was exposed, and according to the doctor there was no real way to stop this thing from spreading. But Dad could be immune. He could be one of the lucky fifteen percent. If so, it didn’t matter how many sick people he cared for, he wouldn’t get the virus.
I had to pray that was the case. Not just for him, but for Mom as well. They had to make it.
My appetite had disappeared, so when I reached the counter, all I ordered were two cups of coffee. A few minutes later, steaming cups of energy in hand, I turned to leave but stopped beside the doctor.
“Thanks for telling me all that.”
He exhaled. “I only wish I’d had better news.”
“It isn’t great,” I admitted, “but I’d rather know.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He gave me a shaky smile. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. You, too,” I said, then gave the others a quick nod and headed off.
The bright day seemed at odds with the gloomy future facing me, and I found myself studying the people I passed as I made my way across the street and motel parking lot, headed for our room. Their expressions were nearly identical to the people inside the diner. Hopeless and weary, many of them looking like they were ready to keel over at any moment.
A guy in his mid-twenties drew my attention, but it took a second to remember why he looked familiar. It was the guy I’d seen the night before, the one who’d been leaning against the Coke machine. Now he was sitting in a chair outside one of the nearby motel rooms, a phone in his hand, and in the light of day I was able to better appreciate his broad, muscular shoulders. They were slumped in defeat, but powerful-looking nonetheless.
As if sensing me staring, the guy looked up, and his gaze captured mine. His eyes were pale blue and piercing in the early morning sunlight, but filled with sadness. Not sick, not defeated, just desolate.
I looked away when my scalp prickled and kept walking.
The parking lot was nearly full, and I saw people sleeping in more than one vehicle I passed. Probably, they’d gotten here only to discover every hotel in town was full and had chosen to spend the night in their cars rather than keep driving. It was even possible a lot of them had been unable to drive.
Thank God we’d gotten here when we did.
I passed a gray sedan with a man behind the wheel, his eyes sickly and sad as he stared out the windshield. He was trembling, probably raging with fever, and it only took one glance to know he was nearing the end.
Just like it did with Kyle when I slipped back into our motel room.
Kiaya was beside him, wiping his sweaty forehead with a washcloth as he writhed and moaned, and I found myself praying he’d go soon. Not just for us, although I had to admit I was anxious to get moving again, but for him as well. He was a nice kid and didn’t deserve to suffer like this. I wasn’t sure anyone did.
Kiaya looked up when I shut the door, her eyes looking twice as big, and swallowed. “He’s worse.”
“He’s only going to get worse,” I said.
Her eyebrows jumped, so I nodded to the other side of the room. It wasn’t big—just a typical motel room—and I wasn’t sure if Kyle would even be able to focus enough in his delirious state to understand me, but I still wanted to shield him from the worst of it if I could.
Kiaya got up, leaving the washcloth on his head, and followed me to where the bathroom sink sat. Like a lot of hotels, it was in the main room rather than with the toilet and tub, but even so, it was far enough away that we would be able to talk.
I passed her a cup, and she gave me a grateful nod, and for a moment we just stood in silence, each of us taking a couple sips as if wanting to avoid facing the truth.
Kiaya said nothing as I laid out everything the doctor had said, her expression barely changing. Maybe she was as relieved as I was to have a few more details and a better idea of what we were facing, or maybe she’d already accepted the truth. That this virus was the end of everything we’d ever known.
“So, Kyle will die today?” she said when I’d finished talking.
I nodded.
“And by the end of the day, we’ll know if we’re going to die?”
I nodded again.
Kiaya exhaled, and her expression grew dark, but she squared her shoulders as well. “At least we know.”
“Yeah,” I said and looked back toward Kyle. “At least we know.”
“We can take turns sitting with him,” Kiaya said, drawing my focus back to her. “That way we don’t have to be stuck here all day.”
Thinking about being able to occasionally escape the horror of Kyle’s death made me feel a little lighter. As awful as I felt about it, I didn’t want to have to stay at his side the whole day. I would, because no one deserved to die alone, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. He seemed to be unable to rest, and the pain must have been awful, because even when he did drift off, he moaned and thrashed. It was torture to listen to.
“I can take the first watch,” I said, although what I really wanted to do was run from the room and never look back.
Kiaya gave me a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
All I could do was nod.
Kiaya showered and changed then disappeared from the room with her textbook while I spent the next few hours playing nurse, a role I wasn’t the least bit used to or comfortable with. I forced ice chips into Kyle’s mouth, even running the cubes over his dry, cracked lips in hopes of easing some of his discomfort. His skin burned like there was a fire raging inside him, so I wiped his face with a cold washcloth in a futile attempt to cool him down.
Far Series (Book 1): Far From Home Page 6