She looked away, uncomfortable, but her sad eyes drifted back to him. Her eyes saddened.
“I know, Joseph. I felt it too. But we can’t think like this. Soon I’ll be gone.”
Joseph’s head wavered. “I know.” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. His mouth formed a sad smile. “We make a good team, you know.” He sniffled.
“Yes, Joseph. We do.” She paused a moment, her eyes blinking rapidly as they whispered a life that they would never have together. A flash of a future that would never exist in this world. An echo of unspoken love. “Back to the data,” she said, looking back down at the tablet.
He watched her as she scrolled through. If only we had more time together.
They worked for hours until Rebecca fell asleep. Rubbing his eyes, Joseph stood. Her skin was pale. The pockmarks poked out all over her face and arms, and her hair was a sweet sugarplum auburn.
He bent down close and let his covered lips graze her forehead.
“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered and silently closed the door behind him.
GWEN
Little Sable Point, Michigan
She awoke with the sun illuminating the blue nylon top of her tent. Stretching her arms above her head, she rolled over, staring at the ceiling, not remembering a recent time she had slept that well. The sunlight filtered through the nylon, softening the color to an almost baby blue. The sandy ground beneath her tent had formed a mold to her body from where she had laid all night. I’m not even feeling nauseous this morning.
Not bothering to turn his way, her hand felt for Mark, patting his side of the tent. She expected a broad hairy shoulder, but instead, a cool sleeping bag met her fingertips. She glanced over. Picking up his sleeping bag, she flung it open, revealing no Mark Steele underneath.
“Mark?” she said softly. But he wasn’t there to respond. Last thing I remember are people yelling and him leaving, but I just couldn’t stay awake. Fear stabbed her gut. What if he was hurt? Or needed my help? And my pregnant ass just fell asleep in the tent.
She grabbed her camouflage pants and slipped them over her legs. She wrapped the jacket around her torso. It was loose and baggy at best. Good for covering up her pregnancy and not the least bit flattering. She tied up her hair in a ponytail and went outside. The morning was brisk with a wind blowing off the beach. It sent a low whistle around the vehicles parked in a circle like covered wagons. She casually slung her M4 over her shoulder. The tall and slender lighthouse, built with reddish-brown bricks, loomed over them all. Its lantern room was capped with a black top.
A few people stoked campfires near their respective vehicles. She walked past a couple of kids that played in the sand under the watchful guise of their father. She gave him a smile as she walked by. His gaze was openly hostile.
“Why don’t you go play inside,” he yelled at the children.
“Ah, come on, Dad,” squeaked a little girl.
“Yeah, why, Dad?”
“Just do as you’re told,” he said. The kids ran for their camper. He patted their heads on the way by as a form of encouragement for obeying. Gwen kept walking under the father’s mistrusting gaze. He couldn’t possibly think that I would pose a threat to his kids. Impossible. I love children. Hell, I am pregnant with one. And I lost a kid which was apparently not real and now everyone thinks I’m a loon. But it was real. I saw the child. I heard him laugh.
She walked past Dr. Thatcher’s camper. He wasn’t outside, but she thought she saw his blinds move as she passed. Now the poor child is probably in some infected’s belly because I couldn’t save him. Or I’m actually crazy.
Ahead she saw them. They moved as if they were trying to move in sync but could only manage a off-beat effort. Mark was in the center calling out orders.
“Margie, quit crossing forward. Your responsibility is the left side. Don’t look back at me. Look outward left.” The small circle of people continued their haphazard progress.
Mark looked back behind him. The volunteer pointed a gun into Mark’s back. “Steve, why are you flagging me? You need to be looking backward at least a part of the time. You’re covering our six.”
The man stopped. “What do you mean? I thought I had the right,” Steve said.
Mark held up a fist. Half the group kept going; the other half ran into him. If he wasn’t so serious, she would have laughed at them.
“Everyone bring it in.” The rest of the group fell in around him. He saw her and made eye contact.
“Okay. That was rough. We’re going to keep working on tactical movement later, but in the meantime, meet with Thunder and go over some dry firing. We will get back up this afternoon to go over room stacking.”
A mishmash of wannabe warriors, they trailed off talking to one another. A mop of waist-high blond hair ran along their side. Was that the boy among them? She stood on her tiptoes trying to see into the group, looking for the little blond haired boy.
“Hey, babe,” he said, approaching her. “You see something?” he asked, turning sideways to look at his retreating volunteers.
The people moved on and she lost sight of anything resembling the marching phantom child.
“Uh, no. Just looking for you.”
He ran a finger over his scar and winced, rubbing the edge of it with his fingertip as though it caused him to have a headache.
“Yeah, I, uh,” he said, wafting a fiery breath of booze on her. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked more disheveled than normal.
“Oh my God, Mark. You reek like booze. What happened last night?”
He avoided her eyes, still rubbing his scar.
“We had a few drinks after we let Jack and his family go.”
“Why did he leave?”
“I’m not sure. Apparently, he thinks he’s better off somewhere else since my appearance. I wanted to commandeer his food but thought better of it.”
“Did you and the volunteers have drinks?”
“I’m pretty hungover. Can we talk about this later?” he pleaded, his eyes guilty.
Her eyes narrowed, gleaning the truth from him every moment. “Who did you drink with?” she said. It better not be that skinny little thing.
“Gwen, I had a few drinks with Tess. We were really stressed out from the altercation with Jack and needed to blow off some steam. You know?” His eyes begged to be believed.
Oh really.
“No, I don’t know. I can presume that’s where you slept last night from your generally hungover appearance.”
“I passed out in the camper. Nothing happened. She’s like one of the guys. You know, no big deal,” he said. He put a hand on his head. “My head. I would kill for some ibuprofen right now.”
She slapped his arm. “Serves you right. What do you mean nothing happened?” She made sure to not allow him any kind of response. “Nothing happened? Are you an idiot? You slept over in another woman’s house.”
“Camper.”
“Whatever! After a night of drinking, and you think it’s no big deal?” she yelled at him.
“It’s not like that,” he pleaded.
Her anger boiled inside of her. How dare he do this to me? Especially after he got me pregnant, he went out on the town with some cupcake, having drinks like it’s fucking New Year’s Eve.
“That’s no way for a father to behave. You have responsibilities,” she shouted. Her jaw dropped after she said it. She hadn’t meant to tell him this way. She hadn’t meant for any of this. It dribbled on out, and now it sat there like a twenty-ton elephant in the room.
He stopped rubbing his scar. His hand fell to his side. “Excuse me. What did you say?” he said, his eyes growing wide. Her mouth clamped closed as if she were forbidding herself to say it again.
“What did you say?” he prodded.
She looked away from him. “I. Said. You are going to be a father. So you better start acting like one.”
His hand ran over the top of his skull repeatedly then moved down to his mustache as he s
moothed that down with his fingers.
“Since when? The pills didn’t work?” he asked.
She could feel the fire in her cheeks. “Excuse me?”
He gulped, the fear only a woman’s anger could bring appearing in his eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re an idiot. Do I have to spell this out for you? I didn’t take the pills because I was already pregnant.”
“How do you know?” he said, a dumb expression on his face. He blinked repeatedly.
“You are dense, aren’t you?” she said. She crossed her arms over her breasts and winced. Tender ladies. “I took the test over a week ago. I took the test three or four times to be sure.” Her eyes darted up to his to see if his reaction was legitimate or if he was trying to fake some sort of emotion.
His mouth turned into a smile. “Oh my God.” His eyes grew distant. “We’re going to be parents.” He blinked rapidly. “I’m going to be a father. Oh, my God, I’m going to be a dad,” he said louder and louder. He turned away from her and called over to Half-Barrel, who was sitting guard at the entrance.
“Half-Barrel, I’m gonna be a dad!” he shouted. The man made of kegs gave him a thumbs up.
“Good stuff,” his gruff voice shouted in return.
He looked back at her, grabbing her by her shoulders.
“We are going to be parents,” he shouted in her ears, as he yanked her into the air, twirling her around.
He set her down laughing. Then his laughter died in his throat. He looked past her. “Oh my God. We’re going to be parents in this mess.”
“I know,” she sniffled. She rested her arms over her stomach. “Don’t you see why I’ve been so upset? How can we bring a child into this? A ring of cars is the only thing between us and being eaten alive. We don’t have food. Most of these vehicles don’t have enough fuel to leave. We don’t even know where your mother is.” She looked at him. What do I expect for a friggin’ answer?
His features settled in worry and he gripped her by the arms. “We will make do and I will find her.”
She looked away. “I’m scared. There are no doctors. No help. And the infected are all over.”
He leaned in close, putting a finger gently underneath her chin so she could see him. His blond-bearded face loomed near hers. His ocean storm blue eyes held every word true. “I promise you; nothing will happen to you or our baby. We will make this work.”
She met his eyes and nodded her head.
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight. That’s when her tears started to flow. Tears she didn’t think she had in her anymore. She didn’t want them to, but they did. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry for this world, but how could she not cry for her unborn baby? Damn hormones.
“Don’t squeeze too much. Today is the first day in a long time I haven’t felt sick, so let’s try and keep it that way.” She let her emotions calm.
“I don’t want to hurt the baby.” He bent down close to her stomach, his hands hovering over her non-existent belly.
His hands ran over her and he stopped them over her navel. He waited a moment, smiling. “I can’t feel anything.” He grew worried and looked at her. “Is that bad?”
She placed his hands inside hers. “That’s cause it’s only the size of a cherry right now.”
He laughed and smiled at her, moving his hand across her stomach. “Wait, what was that?”
She swatted at him. “That was my stomach, dummy.”
“You sure? Felt something there.”
She pulled away from him with an amused dirty look. Then she remembered what prompted this conversation. “You promise me nothing happened between you and that woman?”
“Gwen, please. Nothing happened. We had a few drinks. She and I are a team.” She held her head back, judging his truthfulness. His face looked innocent and she knew he didn’t have the wherewithal to lie to her that well.
“I believe you,” she said, burying herself in his chest. His warmth and body made her feel secure. A rock that she knew would be there for her, and now, her child as well.
“Steele,” shouted a man from across the way. The shouting ruptured their moment. Mark tensed as if he were about to fight. His arms went tight around her as if he feared he may never hold her again.
“Right here,” he called back. The words echoed in his chest. Bedford came running up, his black leather MC vest blowing out as he ran. The short gray-haired man stopped. Mark kept her close to his body but loosened his grip.
“I’m going to be a dad,” Mark said to him, but his smile faded as he saw the look on Bedford’s face.
“That’s great, man, but we have a problem,” he said. Bedford nodded a black and gray goatee to her. “Congrats, ma’am,” he said in hurried respect.
“Thanks,” Gwen said. She held Mark’s waist with both her arms.
“Thunder can’t handle it? I need some time alone with Gwen. We’re going to have a baby!” Mark exclaimed.
Bedford shook his head vigorously. “Nah. He wants you there.”
“Come on. It can’t be that bad?”
Bedford leaned in closer and whispered. “Armed men are at the gate, and they are asking for you by name.”
Mark exhaled loudly. “Damn.” He stared at the ground for a second. “I’m sorry, babe. We’ll celebrate later. Can you get Ahmed to the lighthouse? I don’t know who the fuck is up there, but they should have warned us. Send Kevin to me.”
She nodded. “I will.” Turning to leave, he stopped her and laid an alcohol-tinged kiss right on her lips.
“Love you.” He grinned and took off with Bedford.
“You need to brush your teeth, and I love you too,” she yelled after him. She ran for the tents.
“Ahmed. Kevin,” she shouted. Ahmed was out of the tent in seconds, gun in hand. Kevin was a few seconds behind him.
“What’s up?” Ahmed asked. He scratched his fuzzy-haired skull, scanning the ring of cars.
“Men have come to the camp. Mark wants you in the lighthouse to cover him.” Kevin’s features relaxed, relieved to not have been the one selected to run up dozens of stairs to the top.
“Kevin, come with me to the gate,” she said. She moved fast over the enclosure for the entrance. The tall man jogged to keep up.
She looked up at him. “I told him.”
Kevin smiled back at her. “He was happy, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, but,” she stopped herself.
“But what?” he asked as they ran.
“Nothing.” But what if I am not ready for this?
STEELE
Little Sable Point, MI
Members of the leather-clad Red Stripes lined the backs of the pickups that sealed off the de facto entrance of Little Sable Point to the rest of the world. Interspersed among them were Steele’s Little Sable volunteers. Margie knelt next to orange-headed Max, who looked like he had already peed his pants. Bald Larry and fat Hank were down the line. Trent’s eye was behind his scope, mossy oak camouflage ball cap on his skull, and Old Bengy used a tailgate to line up his shot with his M1 Garand. Would they even fight if it came to it? Steele pushed the thought from his mind. I may have to do all the shooting.
Thunder crouched low, his gut hanging between his legs, walking behind them, trying to keep his girth from being exposed to potential gunfire.
Steele ran bent at the waist and took cover behind the engine block of a white pickup truck next to Thunder. Engine blocks and wheel wells would stop most rounds. Most rounds.
The heavyset gray-bearded man struggled to kneel on his left leg. When he finally got himself lowered to the ground, he grimaced at Steele. “Don’t bend like they used to.”
“I know what you mean,” Steele said. He had suffered his fair share of injury in his lifetime. Between high-school and college sports to training injuries he had received while with the Division, he was no novice to parts of his body not functioning like they used to. Even when injuries to your knees, shoulders, or back healed, they
were a little less functional than they used to be, and it took a little bit longer to recover each time.
Thunder laughed. “You better enjoy it while you got it because before you know it, you’re old and fat like me.”
Steele smiled. “I’ll remember that. What we got?” Steele whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering. The outsiders would never hear them.
“Looks like two trucks, about eight or nine men. There are two in the beds of each truck with high-powered rifles pointed our way.”
Steele flexed his scar-tissued scalp. “You think they know how to use them?”
The older man glanced behind him. “Wouldn’t want to risk it. Even pieces of shit get lucky sometimes.”
“I’d prefer not taking another shot to the head either.” He gave Thunder a smile while his gut churned at the nauseating thought.
Steele nodded to Trent. “You wanna get up in the lighthouse with Ahmed. I want you focused on the guys in the pickup truck beds. They’re the biggest threat.”
Trent nodded. “That won’t be a problem.” He hustled away with a bend in his back and a deer hunting rifle in one hand.
“Mark Steele,” came a shout from the other side.
Steele looked up at the lighthouse, giving Trent a minute to join Ahmed at the top. They better be in place or I may as well be naked out there.
“Mark Steele,” boomed the voice again. Steele ignored the man, letting him holler longer.
He tried to see Trent above but had no vantage. His gut feeling told him that they were ready though. He looked down the line. His volunteers that could hardly hit an unmoving target hid crouched down, an assortment of guns pointed outward. Trust. Can you trust the greenest of the green?
Steele grabbed Thunder’s shoulder, getting close to the big biker.
“If this doesn’t go right, make sure to put them all down. No one can escape.”
Thunder’s eyes sparkled beneath his red bandana and bushy gray eyebrows. “Won’t be a problem. If they run, we’ll mount up and ride them down.”
Steele nodded. “Oh, and did I tell you? I’m going to be a dad.” Before Thunder could respond, Steele rose up, slinging his carbine downward before standing fully upright.
The Rising (The End Time Saga Book 3) Page 23