Starting Point (Doomsday Preppers)

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Starting Point (Doomsday Preppers) Page 10

by Elle Aycart

It was cold, and yet he couldn’t feel it, so after splitting a couple of logs, he got rid of his jacket. Heather was going to have wood for the next two winters after he was done.

  He had never shied away from a tough situation, but getting involved with Megan meant jumping headfirst into a world of unimaginable pain. If it were a matter of convincing his dick, he could do it, but this was Megan. His Megan. She was carved so deep in his heart that even if he’d wanted to—which he most definitely didn’t—there would be no way to extricate her.

  He hacked another log, splintering it into kindling. He needed to kill something. Punch it into oblivion. Being punched would work too. Maybe he should go visit someone from his crew. Drake was out of town. Cage and Wolf would still be asleep. Marc, on the other hand, rose with the chickens. Maybe he could convince his friend to spar with him. It would be a fair fight, with a reasonable chance of Alec being beaten to a pulp, especially with his concentration as shot as it was now.

  He was so damn angry. Sinking into despair was not his thing. Whatever the problem, he worked to find a solution. Give him a dragon to slay, he’d do it. Save the day. Rescue his princess. Only now he didn’t get to put on his armor and ride into battle. All he could do was watch while the dragon feasted on the love of his life. He was helpless, and he couldn’t stand it.

  “What has that poor log done to you?” came a voice from behind. Heather.

  He looked at the chopping block. He’d totally destroyed the log. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

  The old lady smiled. “Nah. You know I wake up early. And I think some of Carol’s disinfectant fell on my fish, because my stomach feels a bit funny. What’s wrong, Alec?”

  Man, where did he begin? “I think—no, I’m pretty sure I’m in love.”

  “Megan?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Please, son. Everyone saw how you looked at her at the cookout. I know you. You had the same look in your eyes every time you came back from the lake, that first summer you were with us.”

  And he’d thought he’d been so clever back then too. “It’s the same girl. And she’s sick. Very sick.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. What do I do?” He didn’t know how to be helpless. He’d spent all his adult life working very hard to be the opposite.

  Heather sighed. “You destroy all the logs you need to destroy, until you are totally spent. Then you go back to her with a clear head and a smile on your face.”

  Chapter 8

  When she opened her eyes, Alec was beside her, his arm across her back, her head on his chest. Nothing weird about that, except that he was fully dressed and lying on top of the quilt.

  “Bonehead?” She shook him lightly.

  “Hmm?

  “Do you sleepwalk?”

  That seemed to get his attention. He cracked one eye open. “What? Oh. No,” he said, looking down at himself. “Had an errand to run this morning.”

  “What errand?”

  “It’s a surprise. Come on. Get dressed.”

  She studied him, looking for any signal that would give him away. After all, she’d dropped a big bomb yesterday. People ran for the hills at the C-word. At the D-word? Most fainted or went into shock. Either way, they couldn’t look at her straight in the eye afterward without pity. And sadness, and guilt, and all sorts of other emotions Megan didn’t care for.

  But she wasn’t finding anything like that in his gaze. For that, she was infinitely grateful.

  “Chop, chop,” he added, giving her a peck on the lips and getting up.

  When one didn’t use makeup, didn’t have a complicated hairdo, and kept one’s choice of clothes to black and gray, getting ready fast was a piece of cake.

  She opened the door to a surprise indeed. “My car!”

  “I wouldn’t go as far as to call that thing a car, but yes,” Alec muttered. “Now, do you see this?”

  It was a screwdriver. “Ye-es.”

  “Your car is so old, the door can be opened with a screwdriver. The same is true of the ignition. This is for next time you get locked out.” He took a piece of duct tape, slapped it across the screwdriver’s handle, and attached it to the inside of the mud flap of one of her rear wheels. “That duct tape is strong as hell. It won’t come undone. When you’re in a pinch, use the screwdriver. Modern cars have more complicated locks, and hot-wiring them is tricky, but this here is a dinosaur.”

  “Hey, don’t insult Adele. She can hear you.”

  He was wearing sunglasses, so she couldn’t tell for sure, but she would have bet good money he was rolling his eyes.

  Next, he produced a day pack. “This is your emergency kit. Always keep it in your trunk—which, by the way, you can open with the screwdriver too.”

  She peeked inside. Mylar blanket. Three flares. Emergency flags in red and white. Jumper cables. De-icer. Bug repellant. Sunscreen. First-aid box. Windbreaker. Hat. Food rations. Lighter. Carabiners. Bottled water. Oh, and a piece of rectangular metal. “This?” she asked, pointing at it.

  “Snow is a bitch. You drop something like your keys and you’ll never find them again. This magnet will attract anything metal.”

  Impressive. “Thank you.” The first present he’d ever given her—of course it had to be an emergency kit. “But something’s missing.” At his frown, she went on tiptoes and hugged him tight. “This was missing.”

  He wrapped her in his arms and spoke into the crook of her neck. “You’re welcome. You free, boss?”

  “My schedule is wide open, why?”

  “I thought we’d pass by Marc’s before going to grab some lunch at the diner.”

  She lifted his sunglasses and stared at his eyes again. Nope. Nothing that shouldn’t be there. She was so relieved. She kissed him on the cheek. “Great. I’ll get to see Elastigirl too.”

  She released him and was walking to the driver’s door when he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back. Cupping her face with both hands, he kissed the daylights out of her. “Now we can go.”

  Dazzled, she opened the car door. She heard a loud snort. “Not in that.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Adele. I’m very glad you’re back.” She kissed the palm of her hand and placed it on the hood.

  “Why the fuck does your car have a name?” Alec asked after they both got in his truck.

  “All the heroines in TV shows name their cars. Except in K-dramas. K-drama heroines don’t have cars. They ride buses and fall asleep all over Seoul.”

  He shook his head but didn’t reply. It was a sunny day, and she enjoyed the ride. They reached the farm pretty fast. As soon as Alec turned off the engine, Marc came out, Cage and Wolf with him. “Oh, your whole crew is here!” She jumped out of the cab and waved. “Hi guys!”

  Marc and Wolf hailed her back. Cage just nodded.

  “Do you mind if I visit Elastigirl?” she asked Marc.

  “Go ahead,” Marc said. “We’ll be in the backyard when you’re finished.”

  Megan dashed into the barn. Elastigirl was still with Fiona, but she wasn’t the fragile, wobbly-legged calf Megan had helped deliver a couple days ago. She was darting and jumping around her mother.

  “Wow, girl, you are kicking up a storm,” Megan said, leaning on the fence.

  Elastigirl came close, smelling her. Curious. She even let Megan touch her head before going back to her mother.

  Given that it had been her first time assisting in a delivery, a difficult one at that, Megan was pretty pleased with herself. She couldn’t imagine what the feeling of accomplishment would have been like from delivering a human baby. That had been her dream.

  She shook her head. It was far too late to cry over spilled milk.

  She checked around the small barn, the smallest from the three she’d spotted at Marc’s place. There were cows on one side, pigs in the other. No little silos full of beetles anywhere she could see. Good. She’d steer clear of the other barns, though.

  She made it to the backyard in
time to see Marc bringing a big tray full of deep-fried tidbits. “You want a snack?” he called.

  “Ha! No way, buster. Heather warned me.” Then she noticed there were several platters already on the table. She took a step back. “Crap.”

  “I prepared a tasting. That’s why they came,” Marc explained, indicating Cage and Wolf.

  “Marc sells the…” Alec was probably searching for a word that wouldn’t freak her out. Too bad he wasn’t going to find it. “…protein source from which his bigger clients produce bars and powders. Others use it to add to rations. He experiments with recipes to enhance the flavor.”

  Oh God. “You mean disguise it, right?”

  The crew didn’t seem horrified at all. Standing around the table, they sampled from every tray. Several times.

  “How can you eat that?” she demanded.

  They shrugged in unison. “We ate far worse things on some of our deployments,” Cage offered, to murmurs of agreement. “The menu selection is pretty limited when you’re crossing enemy lines. At least these are dead and cooked.”

  She didn’t even want to think about it.

  She edged closer to the table. It had to be said, if you didn’t know what the morsels were, you’d think they smelled okay. Kind of appetizing, even. She sooo understood Heather. “If the beetles taste like lobster, what do those taste like?”

  “The grasshoppers?” Alec replied. “They have a mild, slightly nutty taste.”

  She was afraid to continue asking, but she’d made it this far. “And the worms?”

  “Mealworms,” Marc said, offering her one, which she promptly refused. “These are mushroomy and creamy. Very crunchy when deep fried.”

  Now he’d ruined mushrooms for her too.

  “What do you do with the cows and pigs in the barn?”

  “They keep me company. I like animals.”

  Nuts. Completely nuts.

  “Verdict, please,” Marc asked after some more sampling. He picked up a tablet. The guys commented on each recipe, and Marc took notes. “What about the booze?”

  Only then did Megan noticed the bottles at the far end of the table, each containing clear liquid—and a humongous bug. One looked like a cockroach, the other an equally big centipede. “And the horrors continue.”

  “Vodka. It’s made from potatoes. This one is produced locally,” Alec explained.

  “I’m okay with the vodka, silly. It’s the creepy-crawlies inside that freak me out.” She turned to Marc. “Which kind of hormones do you use to get them to grow that much?”

  Marc laughed. “No hormones. This one is an Asian long-horned beetle, and that one a giant centipede. Venomous.” He opened the bottles and passed them around for the guys to smell. She wouldn’t put her nose near that if her life depended on it. Yet when it was Alec’s turn, she was standing close enough to catch a whiff. It pained her to admit it, but the aroma was pleasant.

  “Some people drink it for medicinal purposes,” Marc said. “It’s believed to have… reinvigorating properties.”

  Alec looked pointedly at her. She scrunched her nose and whispered, “I’d rather go with the Roman technique and freeze my ass, thank you very much.”

  Shot glasses were produced. After sampling, the men decided the giant centipede had the better taste. She couldn’t attest to flavor, but if creepiness was a contributing factor, then yes, the centipede won hands down.

  “Can we please go to eat something more traditional?” she begged Alec after Marc finished taking his vodka notes.

  “Burger and fries at the diner?” Alec offered.

  “Yes, please.”

  They said their goodbyes and were walking to the truck when Marc caught up to them, holding out a plastic container. Alec took it with thanks. “Leftovers for Sean,” he explained to Megan.

  Man, she was surrounded by weirdos. She looked up at the sky. Jess was surely cringing too.

  Alec saw her and once in the truck observed, “Not on your or Jess’s bucket list, I’m guessing.”

  “Bug sampling? Not in a million years. Not even watching it. You’re gonna have to rinse your mouth with a couple of hamburgers and a liter of soda before you dare kiss me, Bonehead,” she warned him.

  “Got it. So what is on that bucket list of yours?”

  “Nothing special, really.”

  “No trekking in Machu Pichu or skydiving?”

  “Our bucket lists were full of normal things. Bucket lists that include bungee jumping and such are for people who aren’t in the hospital yet. Doing extreme sports while carrying around an oxygen bottle is tricky.”

  “You take this shit with humor,” he said, pulling into a parking space on Main Street.

  “There’s no other way to take it. I’m thirty-one. I have no career. I have no clear purpose aside from being a burden to my family. For the last ten years, all I’ve done is fight a losing battle. Doing anything more than watching my life slip away was too risky. God forbid I catch an infection, with my immune system compromised as it was. When I wasn’t sick, I was recuperating, and when I wasn’t doing either of those things, I was scared shitless I was getting sick again. And pissed all the time at the cards I’d been dealt. What can I tell you? The roller coaster of cancer: fun, fun, fun every time around.”

  “No purpose, my ass,” he growled.

  She appreciated the sentiment but remained silent.

  He opened the door of the diner for her, and they sat in a booth by the window. While they waited for their order, Megan noticed a small church on the other side of the road. She read the sign out front and snorted. Alec followed her gaze. “God will never give you more than you can handle,” he read aloud.

  “God grossly overestimated me, then.”

  “You have a bone to pick with him, boss?”

  More like a several dozen. “In my experience, terminally ill patients go one of two ways: either they turn to God wholeheartedly, or they have a bone to pick with him, as you put it. Why do you ask? Are you one of those who’s going to tell me God has a plan and there’s a reason for all my suffering?”

  “Me? Nope. There’s no reason. No plan. Although I’ve got to admit, if all you need to do is repent to make your sins disappear, I can totally see the appeal.”

  She couldn’t. “What about people around here? Because I can take freaky preppers, but I can’t handle religious freaks, regardless of the religion.”

  He shrugged. “People in NoName are more the kind who say, ‘God helps those who help themselves,’ you know? I’m sure if there were a flood and Noah came to their rescue, they’d tell him to beat it, that they could build a much better ark.”

  Megan broke into giggles. She was sure of that too.

  “Here you go,” the waitress said, putting plates on the table.

  Megan lifted the bun on her burger and inhaled. “Finally. Meat. Thank God.”

  They both dug in. It was delicious. She hadn’t tried the bugs, but she still imagined a foul taste in her mouth. “What on earth made Marc go for insect farming?”

  “Insects have a high nutritional value and dense protein content,” he explained. “And insect farms are eco-friendly. He’s big on the eco-friendly.”

  “He’ll never get a girlfriend, mark my words.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, boss. He’s pretty popular with the ladies.”

  “I bet none of his hookups know about the bugs.”

  “There is that too,” Alec admitted, roguishly smiling.

  “What about Wolf and Cage?”

  He sipped his soda. “Pretty popular with the ladies too.”

  “No, I mean what do they do? Don’t tell me something freaky.”

  Alec pondered for a second. “It depends on your definition of freaky. They run a cleaning company.”

  “Really?” She would have never guessed.

  “It’s not a traditional cleaning company. They have offices across all fifty states. They specialize in cleaning crime scenes.” At her stunned expre
ssion, he shrugged. “You learn all sorts of things running black ops. And Cage has a degree in chemistry.”

  “Oh God, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You guys okay here?” asked the waitress, coffee pot in hand. “Need anything?”

  “No thanks,” Megan replied with a smile after Alec shook his head. When the waitress was far enough away, Megan drew him close and whispered, “Did you see the pair on her? That’s some spectacular cleavage.”

  He almost choked. “You ogle other women’s breasts?” The outrage in his tone was hilarious.

  “Sure I do. I live vicariously through other women’s boobs. It’s a healthy jealousy. Did you notice how sweet she smelled? Like vanilla.”

  “I prefer your smell.”

  She frowned. “How do I smell?”

  He nuzzled her ear, her neck. “Like me.”

  Alec’s phone beeped, saving her from melting. Megan peeked at the message but couldn’t make out a word. “What’s that?”

  “Encrypted message.”

  “The end of the world is here?”

  He scoffed. “Not really. It’s Heather, asking if I can bring her some milk tomorrow. I think I told you about Fergus’s conspiracy theories rubbing off on her.”

  “I love it!” She said delightedly. “Can I learn the code?” Sending encrypted messages was something she’d never done before. It was going on her bucket list, stat.

  “The computer does the coding part,” Alec said, feeding her a French fry. “But I can show you how to tell the computer what to do. Would you like to come see my place?”

  That sounded interesting. “Yes.”

  By now they were almost done with the food. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. “I only ate one burger, but it was plus size.”

  She leaned in. Kissed him. “Sure you can.”

  He’d thought it would be more difficult to get her to his place, but it seemed curiosity had gotten the best of her. As she got out of the truck, she looked around with a pleased expression. His home was a cabin— two stories, with all the trimmings, but a cabin nevertheless.

  “You approve, boss?”

  “Any secret rooms, escape tunnels, or booby traps?”

 

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