The Escape

by Shoshanna Evers

  Barker kicked his way back to the stern and took a breath at the surface, the water chilling him to the bone.

  “Roy was telling the truth. The boat’s fucked up,” Barker called. Understatement of the year.

  He didn’t need the life vest after all. Instead, he climbed back onto the dock, and lay there for a moment, catching his breath.

  “I want to go in, too,” Jenna said.

  “No, you don’t. It’s too cold. You’d be better off grabbing a bucket of water and washing with it,” Barker said.

  Jenna tossed him the life vest. “I’m going in. Please save me if I start to drown.”

  He watched in amazement as she stepped off the boat onto the wooden dock, kicked off her shoes, and jumped into the freezing water below.

  * * *

  “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding!” Jenna screamed when she hit the icy water.

  “Do you need help?” Barker asked.

  “Gimme a moment.” Jenna had to get the blood off of her. Ever since she’d killed those men, the scent of their blood had lingered on her, haunting her.

  She dipped her head back, letting the cold water rush through her hair, rinsing it, cleansing it.

  If only the water could clean away the guilt she felt, despite knowing, logically, that it was a kill-or-be-killed world now.

  She took a deep breath and put her face in the water, rubbing her hands over her skin, getting herself as clean as possible.

  “Okay, get me outta here,” Jenna gasped, and she reached up for the dock.

  Barker helped pull her up, his muscles standing out in his soaking-wet clothing.

  Her nipples tightened in the cold, beading under her shirt. “We better get changed. Clarissa,” she said, “are you okay up here with Roy? Barker and I need to change our clothes in the cabin.”

  “Well, Roy?” Clarissa asked. “Am I okay?”

  Roy smiled for the first time since they discovered him, revealing straight, white teeth. “Yes.”

  “How do I know?”

  “I’m going to sit over there,” Roy said, pointing to the cockpit at the bow of the boat. “There’s cushioned seats if you want to join me. You can bring the gun, if you want. I’m unarmed.”

  “I’ll take the rest of the guns and supplies down into the cabin with us,” Barker said.

  “Tell me, Barker, do I trust this man?” Clarissa asked, looking down at the gun in her hand, her finger held cautiously outside the trigger guard. “Do you?”

  Jenna looked over at Barker. If Barker wasn’t comfortable leaving one of them alone with the man, there would be no point in taking him along with them. And after what they’d experienced that morning with Lanche’s soldiers, they needed another set of hands.

  Because at some point, you had to trust someone. How else could America rebuild, if every survivor just shot each other on sight?

  * * *

  Do I trust him? The question whirled in Barker’s brain like a mantra.

  If he answered yes, and Roy turned out to have changed for the worse since the Pulse, turned out to be a bad guy, then he would have sacrificed Jenna’s and Clarissa’s safety for loyalty to his father’s memory. Losing Jenna—God, losing Jenna—nothing was worth that.

  But if Roy Nolan was still a good man then leaving him behind wasn’t right. And then Barker would be sacrificing all of their own security by refusing to bring on an able-bodied man, one who was ready to kill to protect. He’d certainly proven that, even if his territoriality was misdirected.

  Barker thought about the damaged boat Roy had told the truth about, about the many times, so many years ago, when Roy Nolan and his dad would stop and chat on the docks while Barker ran ahead so he could get the Marjorie ready to sail.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “I trust him.”

  Clarissa nodded, and followed Roy to the built-in bench seating at the bow.

  Jenna started picking up all of their supplies and the rest of the guns and ammo and tossing it down the stairs into the cabin. Barker followed suit, but kept one rifle in his hands.

  “Let’s go,” Barker said.

  To his surprise, he heard light conversation coming from the cockpit. Roy Nolan always was good for the small talk, he mused. He could even take a girl hostage one minute and have her laughing the next. Amazing.

  “I’m freezing in these wet clothes,” Jenna said, rubbing her arms as she descended the few stairs down into the cabin. “Wow. It’s like a little house in here!”

  “More like a trailer than a house, but yeah, I suppose it is,” Barker said. “Stateroom is down there,” he said, pointing to the forward cabin. “That’s where my parents used to bunk.” He pointed to the smaller quarter berth hidden away near the port side. “And that’s where I’d sleep.”

  “It’s like fancy camping,” Jenna laughed. She grabbed one of the packs and unzipped it. “I’m gonna have to wear men’s camo, apparently,” she said in dismay.

  “You’d look good in anything.” Barker grinned and pulled her wet shirt off, so drenched it clung to her skin, her nipples visible beneath the fabric.

  “Think we have time?” she asked breathlessly, and pressed her body against his, unbuttoning his wet uniform as she spoke.

  Clarissa’s light laughter sounded from above, and Barker raised his eyebrows. “I think she’s forgiven him. And she’s got the gun. We’re only a few feet away, after all . . .”

  He wrapped his arms around her, clasping her to him, unable to remove their wet clothing fast enough for his desire. Jenna’s mouth was hot, her lips warming every spot of skin they covered, kissing, licking, caressing.

  “Is this weird?” she whispered. “To want to have sex, after everything that’s happened?”

  “Hey,” he said, tilting her chin up so she looked into his eyes. “When we’re together, when we enjoy each other like this, that’s all we’ve got. This is the only part of my life right now that makes everything else worth it.”

  She smiled. “Let’s go to the bed. Berth. Whatever you call it on a boat.”

  He couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t keep his hands off her luscious body, and they banged into every piece of furniture in the small space on their way to the bed.

  The queen-sized mattress took up almost the whole room. He bent her over the mattress, not caring that this was probably where Roy had been sleeping. Not even caring that Roy and Clarissa were, at this moment, right above them.

  “Fuck yeah,” Jenna gasped, as he reached around and found her clit, rubbing the little nub until it swelled under his touch.

  “Are you ready for me?” he asked, positioning himself between her legs. “I don’t think I can hold back.”

  “Fuck me, please, fuck me, I need it too,” she whispered, arching her back, pushing her round ass up, until he pressed his cock into her pussy, pushing slowly, mindful of his size.

  She moaned, and gripped the wrinkled bedsheets, and the sound urged him on. He thrust inside her again, and again, keeping a steady rhythm with his hand on her clit.

  Her hips circled, as if she wanted to both meet his thrusting cock and grind against his fingers all at the same time. He collapsed on top of her back, pinning her to the bed with his hand still on her clit, so there was no more wiggle room.

  Now he could ram himself into her and play with her pussy as hard as he wanted to, as hard as she needed it.

  “Fuck, fuck, oh my God,” she moaned with pleasure. “You’re killing me, Barker, don’t stop.”

  But her words brought on his climax, and he came hard, grunting, biting back a scream of ecstasy as his come spilled down her legs. He kept rubbing her clit, though, waiting for that sound, that sound she made when she came.

  Jenna buried her face in the mattress to muffle her cries, her entire body spasming under him.

  “Think they heard us?” she aske
d softly.

  Barker laughed. “Yeah.” He helped her up, using her sea-drenched underwear to wipe up his seed from her thighs.

  “Thanks for warming me up,” she said. She grinned at him.

  He felt her arms, which had been freezing and covered in goose bumps when they first entered the cabin. “You warmed me up too.”

  They walked back to the galley naked, and pulled fresh clothes out of the packs. The pants fit Barker all right only after he tightened the belt, but the shirt fit well.

  Jenna put on the man’s camo pants and rolled the top over several times until it stayed on her hips, and rolled the pants legs up. The T-shirt was large on her, except for over her breasts, which seemed to stretch the material. She tucked the shirt in, which showed off her feminine waist, and pulled on one of the long-sleeved camo button-downs, leaving it open.

  “You look like GI Jane,” Barker said.

  She sighed. “Wish we didn’t have to dress like soldiers. Anyone we meet is going to think we’re out to get them.”

  It was a good point. “We’ll keep an eye out for civilian clothes.”

  “If I were GI Jane I’d have to shave my head too, like in that movie,” Jenna said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Then we’d be twins.” He laughed and touched his own shaved head, wincing when his fingers grazed the scrape across his scalp where the bullet had whizzed by. “But I’m gonna grow this out. I miss my hair.”

  “What’s your hair look like, when it’s not shaved, I mean?”

  “Dark. Straight. Plain old hair, I guess. Nothing special, not like yours,” he said, running his fingers through her damp locks, carefully detangling them.

  “Or Clarissa’s,” Jenna said.

  Barker shrugged, as if Clarissa’s flaming red hair hadn’t even occurred to him as being special. It almost sounded like Jenna was a little jealous.

  “Speaking of, let’s go make sure everything’s okay. We’ve been down here longer than we should have been.”

  Jenna laughed. “We were warming up. It’s totally a valid use of time.”

  * * *

  Up on deck, Jenna peeked over at Roy and Clarissa, who were sitting and talking.

  But Clarissa still kept her gun in her hand, resting on her lap. Apparently the recent memory of Roy’s hand on her throat hadn’t left her so easily.

  Jenna had her rifle slung around her body too. She’d helped Barker carry the guns and supplies back out of the cabin, so they were always in sight.

  “You know,” Roy said, “now that I’m around people again, I should probably make myself presentable.” He ran his hand over his facial hair. “Do you guys mind if I go down and shave?”

  Jenna shrugged.

  “Maybe I could come with you,” Barker said. “I want to talk about my parents.”

  An uncertain look passed over Roy’s face. “Sure.”

  Jenna opted against taking Roy’s seat when he stood, and instead sat next to Clarissa.

  “You can take your hand off the gun now.”

  “Sorry,” Clarissa said, and set it down next to her. “I was just being cautious.”

  “That’s good. A girl can’t be too cautious.”

  Clarissa was so beautiful. Even with her vibrant auburn hair piled messily around her shoulders, even with a soot streak across her cheek, she was nothing short of breathtaking.

  She had such amazing lips. Kissable lips.

  Jenna sighed. She shouldn’t be thinking like that. Maybe she was still feeling sexed-up after her quickie with Barker. But on the Tracks, she had sex all the time, and loved it. She’d even found some real affection, with Taryn.

  Kissing Taryn, touching Taryn . . . it had been the highlight of her too-long time at Grand Central. Something about a woman’s curves really turned her on.

  Was it possible to be straight, but also want to kiss girls?

  Seemed so. Or maybe she was bi. But right now, all of her emotions, all of her fantasies, had been falling straight onto Ken Barker’s broad shoulders.

  So why was she imagining what Clarissa’s lips would feel like under hers?

  A little voice in the back of her mind whispered

  (sexual addiction)

  but she pushed it down. That was before, when she had to live on the Tracks. Surely that behavior wouldn’t have followed her out here, out into the sunshine—right?

  “Clarissa,” she asked softly, so the men couldn’t hear them below. “Why did you think Barker was raping me that first night?”

  Clarissa blushed, as if she was embarrassed by the memory. “I’m sorry, I thought I was helping when I held that gun on him. I had no idea you two were a . . . an item.”

  “We’re not really an item.”

  The words came out of her automatically, without her thinking about them. But once she said it, it didn’t feel one hundred percent true. But they’d never made any commitment to each other. Just because they were traveling together and hooked up didn’t mean they were an item, necessarily. Right?

  “Do you want to be?” Clarissa smiled at her and raised her eyebrows.

  Yes. No. Yes.

  “I’m not sure I’m the sort who’s meant to be monogamous. I like sex too much to save it all for one person.”

  Oh God. Jenna struggled to keep herself from being so flirtatious, but it was just her way. Being sexual was the best way she knew how to communicate.

  Maybe that should change, though. She needed a friend, friends—where she wasn’t trying to get into their pants. Did she even know how to do that anymore?

  “If I ever have sex again, it will be too soon,” Clarissa said with a shudder.

  Jenna grinned. “That’s because you haven’t been enjoying yourself. You did what you had to do on the Tracks because that’s what we all did. But . . . that’s not how sex has to be. Didn’t you enjoy it before?”

  “Before the Pulse?” Clarissa looked out over the water. “Yeah. I sorta had a fling with another waiter at the diner I worked at, you know, before the Pulse. But that was so long ago. And I’ve had too many bad experiences since to even remember what good sex was like.”

  “Roy seemed to like you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind reminding you,” Jenna teased.

  Clarissa laughed. “No thanks. He’s so much older than me, anyway. What do you think, like fifty years old?”

  “What’s wrong with fifty? Isn’t Brad Pitt fifty?”

  “Touché.”

  “My friend Taryn, she was like that too. So disgusted by sex after her experiences on the Tracks. But she opened up, enjoyed herself . . . when she was with me.”

  “I’m really sorry for your loss,” Clarissa said quietly.

  “Me too. I wish I could make Colonel Lanche pay for what he’s done. I would kill him, if I could.”

  Clarissa didn’t respond for a long time, just sat there.

  “What are you thinking?” Jenna asked.

  “I’m thinking how strange it is, how perfectly normal people have become prostitutes, thieves, rapists, and murderers. How did that happen?”

  Jenna sighed. “Put millions of people in a desperate situation, and things happen, I guess. People do what they have to do.”

  “No one had to rape anyone. Those soldiers—we were supposed to be kept safe. That’s why they put us all on the Tracks in the first place, you know?”

  “That, honey, is why you should never give that gun up,” Jenna said, nodding toward the weapon near Clarissa’s right hand. “Because when someone else has all the power and isn’t afraid of the consequences, isn’t afraid of what you’ll do in retaliation . . . well, you saw what happened in the camps. At Grand Central.”

  Suddenly Jenna wasn’t thinking about sex anymore.

  All she saw, all she could think about . . . was revenge.

  Barker sat p
erched on the edge of the quarter-berth and watched as Roy methodically trimmed his hair.

  “Is it even in the back?” Roy asked.

  “Guess so.”

  Roy was actually doing a really good job with the self-haircut, transforming his long stringy hair into what looked like a normal short haircut, like he used to have back when Barker knew him.

  He trimmed his facial hair before attacking it with a razor.

  “Haven’t shaved in ages,” Roy said. “Didn’t see any need to look civilized, I suppose.”

  “But now there’s women,” Barker said dryly.

  “I’m not . . . I know you and Jenna have something going on. That’s cool. I’m just trying to look less intimidating. Might help when we get to a town if I don’t look like a homeless person.”

  “We’re all homeless now, though.”

  Roy paused, rinsing his blade in a bucket of seawater. “Suppose we are.”

  “When was the last time you saw my parents?”

  “A while ago. Everyone in our neighborhood ended up at the church, since they set up a FEMA camp there. To get in, you had to submit to having your home searched and anything they considered useful was confiscated. Not just food, but blankets, buckets, ammo if you had any. They’d be yelling, ‘National Guard! Are you in need of assistance?’ But they’re yelling it as they’re kicking down your door and running in with their rifles in front of them.”

  “I know that already. Martial law was put in place everywhere after the Pulse. Everyone knows that. What I want to know is about my parents.”

  “I’m . . . I’m getting to that. Okay?” Roy sighed and finished shaving, rinsing his face. He looked like a completely different person.

  “I didn’t go to the camp right away,” he continued. “Waited until it was too cold without heat to stay put, and all my food had run out. Only took a couple months, and I was one of the lucky ones, since my wife always kept a stocked pantry, and I never threw anything out after she died.”

  “She had two months’ worth of food stored away?” Barker asked in surprise.