by Schow, Ryan
He didn’t even know what he was looking for, other than food and disinfectant. What if what his mother needed was more than he could give her? What if she had broken bones, or internal bleeding—whatever that meant—or paralysis? They dragged her out of the rubble of the house, got her into a safe section of her bedroom. But what if that collapsed, too?
He had to get home.
If she was awake, she could tell him what to do. He got in the Jeep, drove home without incident, parked outside and took the keys in with him. Ballard was there to greet him.
“Where’d you get that?” his younger brother asked, eyeing the Jeep.
“Don’t ask,” he said. “How’s mom? Is she awake yet?”
“In and out.”
He wanted to ask his brother if she was going to die, because that was what was on his mind, but he kept his mouth shut. At fourteen, he wouldn’t have known enough about enough to come to such an important conclusion, therefore, it stood to reason that Ballard wouldn’t have a clue either. Heading inside the unstable home, navigating slowly and cautiously though the collapse, he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t do this alone.
He needed help.
Chapter Fifty-One
Cincinnati and Stanton were doing it again. He could hear them, even though they were trying to be quiet, and it wasn’t really his thing—listening to his older sister getting railed in the other room.
With no noise to cover their affair, Rex snuck outside, into the pitch black darkness of the ten o’clock hour and went over to Indigo’s. He knocked lightly on the front door.
A moment later, a voice on the other side of the door said, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Rex.”
The door pulled open to Indigo in short shorts and a tank top. It wasn’t her attire, however, that startled him. It was her gun pointed in his face.
“What did I tell you about coming over here unannounced?”
Atlanta appeared behind her, the blonde with the pixie cut. Maybe being a petite young thing made the pistol in her hand look a lot bigger than it was; maybe he was just startled to see her holding it at all.
“Me knocking on the door was my announcement.”
She turned around and said to Atlanta, “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Then to Rex: “You scared the crap out of us.”
“My sister and brother-in-law are having sex and it’s sort of uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t need to hear that,” she said, coming out onto the porch and closing the door behind her.
“Can we just talk?” he asked, his eyes dipping quickly to her chilled breasts.
She folded her arms over herself, then said, “Let me grab a robe.” She went inside, then came back out wearing a fluffy white robe. She handed him a man’s jacket and said, “It was my dad’s, but obviously he’s not here.”
Rex put it on, grateful for the warmth. He sat down on the top of the concrete stair case. Indigo sat beside him.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Indigo asked, shivering a bit and still hugging herself.
“Atlanta. You never said who she is.”
“I barely know her,” Indigo replied. “But she was in a bad situation and she doesn’t need to be alone.”
“None of us do,” he said.
“I wish I was more attracted to you,” she said. “Then this would be fun.”
He looked at her, tried to measure her seriousness.
“You are attracted to me,” he said, his eyes turning away from her, assessing the neighborhood. “I just wish you’d admit it already and we could kiss.”
“I’m not kissing you,” she said.
“How old is Atlanta?” he asked. “She can’t be more than fifteen, sixteen years old.”
“I haven’t asked her.”
He looked at her, the question still in his expression.
“I think she’s sixteen. But like I said, I don’t know. She doesn’t talk much. All she does is sleep and cry and stare outside.”
“That sounds really sad.”
“It is.”
“What happened to her family?”
“Dead,” Indigo said.
Talking about this, something triggered inside her. Rex felt the change in the air. She just stared out into the darkness, her face completely expressionless. He slipped his hand into hers, expecting her to pull away. She barely responded. Then, when she finally curled her fingers into his, they looked at each other.
“Please don’t fall in love with me,” she said, her eyes moist.
“I can’t promise that,” he said, low, serious.
“You can’t kiss me,” she said.
“I know,” he said as he moved towards her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned in and met her mouth with his.
Whatever it was about her hit him with righteous fury. He’d kissed a hundred women, but none quite like her. Maybe it was her dislike of him, or the way she finally broke down and gave in to him but was still fighting it; maybe it was that they were in a nightmare together and needed each other; or maybe it was that she wasn’t like any of the other women he was with, that she was tomboyish and hostile, a fighter and a survivor, too tough to crack.
Either way, he was in that singular blissful moment and he didn’t want out.
When he felt her tears meeting his lips, he slowly pulled away, concerned. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything. She just looked out into the street, crying to herself for all the things that had gone wrong.
“I miss my father,” she said.
Rex scooted next to her, pulled her into a hug and they held on to each other until she could compose herself long enough to sit back up without feeling like she needed him, or anyone for that matter.
“Don’t fall in love with me,” she said again, wiping her eyes.
“I won’t,” he said.
“It’s already happening, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at him with haunted eyes.
He slowly nodded. She was right and she knew it. When she leaned forward and kissed him again, something in her seemed to crack open and envelope him.
This thing between them…it felt right. Maybe for the first time for Rex, maybe for the first time for her.
“It’s time for you to go home,” she said.
“I know.”
“I’m going to regret this in the morning.”
Looking at her, Indigo looking back at him, he said, “No you’re not.”
“No I’m not.”
He stood, extended his hand, which she took. He stood her up and pulled her into a long, warm hug. He wanted to say so many things, like how he’d protect her, or not hurt her, how he would make sure she didn’t regret anything with him, but instead he said nothing. He just held her.
Letting go, not looking at him, she simply went inside, shut the door.
He touched the place where her lips touched his, smiled then headed back to his place thinking about how she smelled, how she tasted. How could someone like Indigo have done this to him? He hadn’t been affected by a woman to this extent before, yet here he was, planning a life with her. After a moment’s reflection, he realized it made perfect sense.
She wanted him and he wanted her, but he also knew it wouldn’t work. They both had too many demons, too much tragedy. Then again, with everything happening, Rex knew there wouldn’t be a sane mind left in the end of days, so maybe there was a possibility.
God, though—that kiss…
Chapter Fifty-Two
The next day, Indigo and Atlanta come over to the house. I answer the door, invite them in. Rex and Macy are at the table laughing when the two of them walk past me. The second I see it, I know. It’s the look between them. Him and Indigo. They like each other and each of them know it. Did it happen yesterday?
Damn.
I try not to show my disappointment, but I’m not the best at concealing my emotions. But whatever. Maybe it’ll be okay.
“Did Rex tell you about the commun
ity meeting?” Indigo asks. “Up in Balboa Hollow?”
“He did,” Stanton says, coming downstairs. After last night, he’s moving pretty good. He said he’s feeling back to himself again and it’s showing. “I’d like to go.”
“I think we should all go,” Indigo says.
“We don’t all need to be there,” I say. “Do we?”
“We do,” Rex says. “Just in case.”
“In case what?” Macy asks.
“Think about it,” Indigo says. “All those people in one place. It’s not a set up, I’m sure, but if The Ophidian Horde gets wind of this, maybe they’ll do something. There could be a lot of people in one place, and they weren’t shy about handing out flyers to strangers.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Stanton says. “But if we have some people on the inside and some on the outside, we can cover all angles of this. I’m thinking Rex and Indigo go in first, then Macy. Sin and I will stay outside, cover the entrances and the exits.”
“Will we be armed?” Macy asks.
“Yes,” he says.
“I’ve graduated from the ball smasher,” she says, talking about the dirty sock with a lug nut in it. “Or the skull crusher, depending on where I’m aiming.”
“I know,” Stanton says. He looks at me and he can see that I know Macy’s not only going to be strapped, she’ll be ready to unleash hell and I won’t be objecting.
“And if something happens?” Indigo says.
“This is no longer the civilized world,” Rex says. “We’re all aware of that, Stanton included.”
“Do you have a problem shooting someone?” Indigo asks, looking at my husband.
“No,” Stanton says. “None of us do.”
“What about her?” I ask, nodding to Atlanta.
“I can handle myself,” she says, to which Indigo nods and agrees. I think these are the first words she’s said, other than her name.
“Well alright then,” I say. “What time do we go?”
“I was thinking we get ready, maybe scope out the area first. We can drive most of the way there, but someone’s going to have to take the trunk.”
“I got it,” Rex says. “But I get claustrophobic, so the lid’s staying up.”
“Fine,” she says. The way she says it, without looking at him, tells me something happened between them. Not sex, but something.
“One hour?” Stanton says.
“One hour,” Indigo answers. Then: “Macy, can I talk to you outside?”
“Anything you have to say to her, you can—”
“Mom,” Macy says and I shut up. As the girls walk out back, I work like the devil to keep my mouth shut. I don’t like secrets. And certainly not conspiring.
When she rejoins us inside, Atlanta leaves, closing the door behind her. The two girls walk out back, leaving through a broken section of the fence, then heading across Dirt Alley to their home.
“What did she want?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I say, surprising myself. “Tell me.”
“Sin,” Stanton says.
“Be quiet, Stanton. I let her carry a gun, I let her shoot people and I want her to have friends, but what I don’t want are secrets.”
“She wanted me to look out for Atlanta. She said the girl’s sister was killed in front of her eyes and that she’s not herself.”
“She wants you to protect her?”
“No, she wants me to look after her at the meeting, just in case.”
“Does she think there will be trouble?” Stanton asks.
“She seems a bit paranoid,” Macy says. “But yeah, I think that’s the gist of it.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Frank McCoppin Elementary wasn’t easy to find using the crayon directions. Indigo was trying not to drive aimlessly around, burning gas, but that’s what was happening. It didn’t help that there were no operable cars on the road other than the Olds, which was loud as hell and an announcement of their presence for blocks around. And it didn’t help that the back lid was open and presumably Rex was hanging out of the back of the car with a shotgun.
“Sooner is better than later,” Macy said, the expression on her face showing just how cramped she was in the back seat. She was stuffed between Atlanta and Stanton. Stanton was taking the seating arrangements in stride, but even Atlanta had a frown on her otherwise cute, but dispassionate face.
“Macy,” her father warned.
Indigo heaved a frustrated sigh and said, “My GPS being down is a problem. I’m sorry we’re not there just yet. If it’s better for you, you can get out and walk. I’ll go slow enough that you can keep up.”
“You have GPS?” Macy asked.
Indigo looked in the rear view mirror at her and frowned. “Of course not.”
“Oh. Yeah. This car being older than my dead grandmother.”
“Macy!” Cincinnati said, spinning around from the front seat to glare at her.
“I’m a puny anchovy in a small can of bigger anchovies.”
“First off, you and Atlanta are the same size and you don’t hear her complaining, so just be a good little fishy and zip it. We’re almost there.”
“You said that like ten minutes ago.”
Indigo said, “There’s probably some room for you in the trunk with your uncle, if that’s more comfortable.”
“Sure, if I want to suck down clouds of this gas hog’s exhaust fumes straight from the pipe.”
Crap, Indigo thought. I hadn’t considered that. Now she was feeling bad for Rex, and feeling worse that they hadn’t found the school yet.
“Hey,” Cincinnati said, “there’s a family walking there. Pull up beside them.”
Indigo did. Cincinnati rolled down the window as the family watched them approach with concern, or perhaps curiosity in there eyes. There were five of them: the husband, his wife and three little girls, none of the kids over the age of ten by the looks of it.
“Excuse me,” Cincinnati said with a smile on her face. “Are you guys headed to the Elementary school?”
“We are.”
“My friend here is lost, and so am I. We seemed to have gotten turned around. Could you point us in the right direction?”
“Sure,” the husband said. He was a nice looking man with good manners, but there was something protective in his voice, like he wanted to be helpful, but only so they’d leave. His wife kept looking at Rex, and not because he was easy on the eyes, which he was.
Sitting there with the car rumbling, having the man tell us to go two blocks up, take a left, then go one block and take a right, she was thinking about hers and Rex’s kiss. How it warmed her. How she had never been kissed, much less like that. She could actually feel him, what he felt for her, what he wanted from her. It wasn’t sex. Not yet. He really seemed to like her, so naturally, she had to kiss him back.
She shouldn’t have done that. Or maybe she shouldn’t have pulled away so soon.
When Cincinnati thanked the man and said she’d see them there, the oldest of the trio of girls said, “Why is your car working when no one else’s is?”
“Because it’s older than dirt,” Macy said from in back.
“It’s a classic,” Indigo explained, leaning over Cincinnati to speak to the little girl. “What that means is there aren’t computer chips in the car that an EMP would ruin.”
“This car has chips?” the youngest girl said laughing out loud like it was the funniest thing ever. The mother pulled her daughter closer, then smiled while the middle girl said, “What’s an EMP?”
“It’s like a lightning bolt that makes your lights and water not work,” Cincinnati said.
They seemed to think about that.
Then the husband said, “Is that what you think happened?”
“That goon in the back with the gun, he’s ex-military and harmless to nice folks like you,” Indigo said. “He says it was a high-altitude nuclear blast meant to stop the machines. It’s a double-edged sword, thoug
h, in that it also takes out the city’s power.”
“When are they going to fix it?” the wife asked.
“When you say ‘they,’ who are you referring to?” Cincinnati said, although it was more a rhetorical question than an answer.
The wife looked at the husband, who didn’t have an answer, then she looked back at Cincinnati and said, “I don’t know.”
“Neither do we. We’re assuming this is a regional problem, not just a local one.”
“Is that why there hasn’t been help?” the husband asked.
“Yes,” Cincinnati said.
Indigo made no mention of the National Guard and their meat wagons. When there were no more questions, Indigo thanked them again, put the car in gear and continued up the road.
“Those people are screwed,” Indigo said. No one objected. Looking in the rear view mirror, her eyes meeting Stanton’s, she said, “You were some stock broker hot shot or something, right?”
“I did alright,” he said.
“So you talked for a living, right?”
“Yes.”
“So why are you so quiet all the time?” she asked, feeling Cincinnati suddenly going very still. She looked at Cincinnati and said, “It’s a legitimate question.”
“Because it feels good to let everyone else do the talking for a change,” he replied.
“We’re going to need a leader at some point in time,” Indigo said.
“You nominating me?”
“No. Not at all. Leaders get involved. They speak and take charge.”
“He led us out of hell,” Macy said. “He killed two guys threatening us and an—”
“That’s enough, Macy,” her mother said.
Macy fell quiet.
“Well it’s good to know you’ve already crossed that line,” she said. “That means if it comes to it again, you won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary.”