The Survivors (Book 3): Winter

by V. L. Dreyer

  Just at that moment, the door exploded open, and the three girls raced out to meet us. Their expressions startled me even more than their sudden appearance: all three of them were grinning broadly. They'd been slowly relaxing over the weeks since they'd joined our group, but this was the first time that any of them had looked truly happy. Before I could say anything, I was grabbed and half-dragged, half-ushered into the living room.

  "There are so many dresses!" Jasmine told us gleefully. "In all kinds of different sizes!"

  "And there's sewing stuff," Melody added, her sun-browned face split in a wide grin. "So we can adjust things to fit, if we have to."

  "We found one for Sandy already," Jasmine cut in, her excitement quite obvious. She raced over to the big mound of dresses they'd gathered in the centre of the room, and pulled out a simple, elegant gown made of soft, cornflower-blue satin. It was a tiny bit crinkled, but otherwise in perfect condition.

  I was too stunned to say anything, and just stood there with my mouth hanging open while Skye raced over to grab the dress.

  "Oh my gosh, yes! This is perfect!" she cried. She rounded on me, clinging to the satin as though it were the most precious thing in her life. "You need to put this on." She paused, her eyes wide. "No, wait! You're all ashy! You need to go have a shower, right now."

  "Um, Skye… you're ashy, too," Lily pointed out. She was quieter than her twin, but tended to have more well thought-out comments when she did opt to speak. Now was exactly one of those times.

  "Huh?" Skye shot her a wide-eyed look, then looked down at the dress in her hands. Suddenly, she dropped it as though it had burned her. "Oh, no! Is it dirty? Did I get it dirty? I'm sorry!"

  Melody knelt down to inspect the dress. "No, it's fine. Nothing we can't dust off. You two go get cleaned up. There's a bathroom down that hallway there, second door on your right."

  "You're first, sis," Skye instructed. She grabbed my hand and dragged me down the hallway. The indicated doorway opened into a fairly ordinary-looking bathroom, with a bath, shower, and toilet all in the same room. Skye looked around for a moment, and came back with a comb. "Sit down. Let's brush the ash out of your hair first. I don't know how you deal with that much hair all the time."

  "It is kind of a pain," I admitted. "I've been thinking of cutting it off, but I grew it out to honour Mum and… I'd feel weird without it."

  "No way!" she gasped, sounding genuinely horrified. "Your hair is gorgeous. I will not let you cut it. Now, sit your ass down in that bathtub, and let me comb it out."

  "I can brush my own hair, thanks." Laughing, I tried to grab the comb, but she held it out of my reach.

  "No! I want to brush it," she replied with playful petulance. "Like we used to when we were kids. Remember?"

  I paused and stared at her. "Wow, I'd almost forgotten about that. How old were you? Three? Four?"

  "Four, I think." Grinning, she guided me over to the bathtub and helped me to sit down. With gentle fingers, she undid the elastic holding my hair in its usual thick braid, and gently unwound it. "You must have been, what… fourteen? I was obsessed with your hair for ages. I don't remember why."

  Suddenly, the memory came rushing back in force, and it left me laughing so much I could hardly breathe. "I remember! You kept getting nits at kindy, so Mum gave you a pixie cut. You hated it."

  "Is that what it was?" Skye burst out laughing as well. "I just remember desperately wanting to have hair like yours, and being ridiculously happy when you let me brush it for you. I was such a weirdo."

  "Nah, you were a little kid," I replied. My laughter faded away into thoughtful silence, as I delved back into those happy, innocent memories. "You were the sweetest little thing, Skye. Did I ever tell you how much I missed you when I thought that you were dead? I cried for you so often. I don't think I ever really recovered from the grief."

  "I know." I felt her fingers in my hair like a gentle caress, and it sent a shiver all the way down my spine. I sighed heavily and drew my knees up to my chest, letting her touch relax me. After a few minutes of silence, she finally spoke again. "There is one thing I've always wondered, though. When we got separated, why didn't you and Mum come back for us?"

  "Grandma insisted," I replied. A surge of grief rose up in my belly all over again, thinking about the family that I'd loved so much and lost. "She decided that it was too much of a risk, with the riots already starting. I think she was afraid that she'd already lost one granddaughter and that if we went looking for you then she might lose everyone else as well. To be honest, none of us were thinking clearly at the time, and when she made the decision we just went along with it because at least it was some kind of decision. People make stupid choices when they're in life-or-death situations." I paused, and looked back over my shoulder at her. "I'm sorry, Skye. I wish it had happened differently."

  She just gave me a sad smile, and gently guided my head back around to face front. "It's okay, sis. Like you said, people make dumb choices. We both made it, and that's the most important thing. Now, sit still!"

  "Yes, ma'am!" I replied, sketching a salute. Skye giggled, and went back to brushing out my hair.

  When she was finally done, she tossed the comb into the sink and offered me a hand up. As soon as I was up, I realised why she'd put me in the bath; a cloud of fine dust had come out of my hair with every stroke, and the bathtub kept it from going everywhere.

  "In you go!" she ordered, pointing to the shower stall. "And don't forget to wash your hair."

  "But it's cold!" I protested, shooting her a mortified look. "And it'll never dry in time for the ceremony. Do you want me to get married looking like a drowned rat?"

  "God, you're such a drama queen," Skye complained, rolling her eyes. "We'll make it dry in time, okay? Just wash your damn hair. Today is a special day, and requires special effort."

  "But--" I started to say something else, but she cut me off mid-sentence.

  "No buts! Just do it, little miss!" She planted her hands on her hips, and gave me a look that resembled our mother's scolding face so closely that I burst out laughing.

  "Okay, okay!" I held up my hands in mock-self defence. "I'm washing, I'm washing. Jesus. You're so demanding."

  "And that's why you love me," she answered brightly.

  She hopped into the bath and started combing out her own hair, while I stripped down without modesty, and stepped into the shower stall. The water was as cold as ice, but my body was a mess of bruises and grazes again and the cold helped to numb the discomfort. The soap was so old that it was shrunken and crusty, but there was a clean washcloth sitting on a little shelf beside the door. I made do with that, and it was good enough.

  By the time I finished scrubbing my hair with lavender-scented shampoo and had let it soak under conditioner for a few minutes, I was shivering convulsively. Skye was waiting with a big, soft towel when I finally stepped out. I didn't bother to ask where she'd found it, I just took it gratefully and wrapped myself up in it. I was about to get dressed again, when I realised that my clothing was gone.

  "Hey!" I complained, startled. "Where are my pants, Skye?"

  "We took them back to the convoy," she replied cheerfully. "You're not going to need them tonight. Melody! She's ready!"

  Melody appeared in the doorway with a wicked smile on her face. She grabbed me by the shoulders, and steered me back out to the living room dressed in nothing but that towel. I spluttered in protest, but nobody seemed to care. When I got there, I found the twins holding a small mountain of towels, and soon I was being dried off from every angle by enthusiastic helping hands.

  When they finished, the twins vanished for a second and then returned holding a set of very fancy lingerie.

  "What is that?" I demanded, confused and a little horrified. "Guys, you don't expect me to wear that, surely. It's… it's…"

  "It's pretty," Melody supplied. "And yes, you are going to wear it. Put it on, or we'll put it on for you."

  "Okay, fine, geez. Give it here,"
I grumbled. The twins grinned in perfect unison, and handed the frilly garments over to me. Careful not to drop the towel and flash anyone more than necessary, I pulled on the knickers and fastened the bra over my chest. "Wow, this is… almost a perfect fit. Where did you guys find this?"

  "There's a whole storage room full of them off the garage," Jasmine replied. "I don't know why, but they're all pretty like that. Nothing plain or practical at all."

  "Whoever owned this place was probably buying it in bulk, to supply the ladies living in town," I said, staring down at myself to consider the fit of the garments. They were pretty, and very, very feminine – something I was not used to being. "I feel a bit silly, guys. Are you sure about this?"

  "It doesn't look silly," Lily said, shaking her head. She came over to me holding the dress. I stepped into it, and then three sets of hands helped me to pull it up and zipped it at the small of my back. Once it was on, Lily reached into her pocket and pulled out the tiny, antique locket that Netty had given me. "We took your clothing and your ring back to the motel, but I thought you might like to wear this."

  "Oh! Yes, thank you," I said, reaching out to take the locket from her outstretched hand. I fastened it around my neck, and then straightened up and looked at the girls. "Well? How do I look?"

  The three of them stood back and stared at me consideringly, their expressions ranging from pleased to uncertain.

  "Should we do something about the scars?" Jasmine asked suddenly. "We could try to hide them."

  "No." Melody shook her head firmly. "The scars are part of who she is, and she looks lovely despite them. He's marrying all of her, not just the parts that are still in mint condition. If he doesn't realise that, then he doesn't deserve her."

  I felt myself flush at the compliment, and gave her a smile. "That was well-put. Yeah, Michael's marrying all of me, and he's already seen the scars. He doesn't care. Hell, we've both taken scars defending one another in the past, and we'd do it again in a heartbeat. That's why we're getting married."

  "See?" Melody looked at the twins, and gave them a stern frown. "Real life isn't like those stupid romance novels you two insist on reading. Nobody's perfect, but the whole point of love is that the feeling is perfect, even if the people are not."

  Jasmine blew a raspberry at her, and all of us laughed. By the time the levity cleared, Skye was back. The twins vanished to make use of the shower, leaving the two of us alone with Melody.

  I glanced between them, then looked at the door. "Someone is on watch, right?"

  "Yeah, Solomon is," Skye replied. She came over to study me, and nodded her approval. "This looks good. I think we should keep it simple. Right, Mel?"

  "Right," she agreed. "This is our world now, and we can do whatever we like. I think she looks beautiful just like this. Nothing fancy, nothing over the top. Just beauty the way nature intended it."

  "Good grief, when did you two become philosophers?" I asked, amused. "You're starting to sound like me."

  "I'll take that as a compliment," Skye said with a grin. "Okay, what are we wearing, Mel?"

  "Well, we want her to stand out, so we should wear dark colours," she replied decisively. "Blue, or as close to blue as we can find, so that our dresses compliment hers."

  "Sounds good to me." Skye glanced at me, and made a shooing gesture. "You go sit down, we've got this covered."

  "Yes, ma'am," I agreed dryly. I found a seat on a nearby couch, and settled in for an hour of doing nothing while the other girls played dress-up. It was something that I hadn't seen in so long that for once in my life I didn't mind the inactivity at all.

  ***

  The gap in the weather held off for most of the day, though the stench of sulphur permeated everything. By the time my little wedding party was ready, the sun was starting to set and cast the world around us in long, elegant shadows.

  I held my skirt up to keep it out of the dirty streets as we walked back, for fear of damaging the satin. It had survived the years unscathed because the girls had found it hanging in a dress bag; now it was mine and I felt both confused and beautiful while I was wearing it. The girls had dried my hair thoroughly and brushed it until it shone like silk. They'd found a few pretty hair pins to sweep it back behind my ears, but other than that it was all natural.

  I was so focused on watching where my feet were going that I didn't notice the figures lurking in the shadows until we were almost on top of them. Suddenly, someone stepped out into our line-of-sight, and the girls shouted in alarm. I jerked my head up and stared at the person, wide-eyed in shock. She stared back, her eyes narrowed, the hands holding her rifle steady and confident.

  The two of us just stared at one another for the longest time. She was straight-backed and proud, dressed in the uniform of the army. Chevrons adorned her breast, but I didn't know the ranks well enough to understand them. She was substantially older than me, but there was something in her eyes that I understood on an instinctive level. A longing, a desire to protect, and a wariness of the unexpected.

  Suddenly, I realised that she was waiting for me to explain our presence in her territory. Her stance was cautious but not threatening, and her expression was one of careful neutrality. It was like looking in a mirror at the person that I had become since I met Michael and found my sister again. My shock vanished, and I found the words I needed right on the tip of my tongue.

  "Sorry, we weren't expecting anyone in this area," I admitted, raising my hands slowly to show that I was unarmed. That meant dropping my skirt in the process, but the stretch of pavement I was standing on at the time seemed clean enough. "We've just stopped for the night to celebrate my wedding, and we'll move on in the morning. My name is Sandrine McDermott, and these are members of my group." I quickly introduced Skye and the others, then looked back at the soldier. "I apologise for the intrusion. We had no idea this land was claimed, Lieutenant…?"

  A smile cracked the woman's neutral visage. "Sergeant, actually. Sergeant Erica Bryce, Royal New Zealand Army." She lowered her rifle, and looked me up and down with some interest. "I heard your broadcast. We've been watching the roads for days for your group, but you took so long to get here that we were starting to think you'd been wiped out. Good to see that you weren't."

  "The road has been much wilder than we expected," I replied, lowering my hands. "The weather hasn't exactly been very accommodating, either."

  The Sergeant barked a sharp laugh, and nodded her agreement. "That it hasn't. You seem like a smart leader, so I presume there must have been good reason to move your people at this time of year. You said something about a mutation of the virus."

  "Yeah. We had no choice," I replied with a shrug. "The mutants attacked us in our old home territory up near Hamilton. We lost so many people that it was worth risking the weather to head south." I paused, and shot her a long, thoughtful look. "We're heading for Avalon, in Lower Hutt. We're going to build a new city. You and your men are welcome to come, so long as we can trust you to obey the laws."

  "Perhaps," she answered noncommittally. "We're quite comfortable here for now, but we'll think it over. I would be willing to consider letting you use our radio tower to update your broadcast, if you like."

  "Oh?" I stood up a little straighter, surprised and pleased by the generosity. "You have the equipment up and running?"

  "Of course." She shrugged and smiled wryly. "We just don't have anything to say most of the time. Sometimes, it's safer to just stay here and protect our own resources."

  "I understand." I smiled back at her, and pointed towards the motor inn where my companions waited. "Why don't you and your men come to my wedding? My groupmates kind of took over when I told them I wanted to formalize my engagement, but I'm sure there will be food – and there will definitely be good company. We can talk a bit more, and get to know one another."

  Sergeant Bryce paused then, and for the first time I saw a look of some uncertainty on her face. After a few long moments, she shrugged. "We'll… we'll think about it.
Maybe. We know where you are, so if we decide to come we'll let you know."

  "It's fine. I completely understand." I made a broad, welcoming gesture, and then I saluted her. "You're welcome if you want to, but if not then that's your choice. I know how it feels to suddenly be confronted with a large amount of people. Take all the time you need, Sergeant."

  She returned the salute and nodded. "Well, we'll let you go. I'll definitely be in touch regarding the radio, whether we come or not." She paused, then gave me a shy smile. "Congratulations on your nuptials."

  "Thank you," I said with a grin. Then, suddenly, the reality of it hit me in the face like a sack full of doorknobs. "Oh my God, I'm getting married."

  Behind me, Skylar and the others laughed. "You wanted this, sis. Too late to back out now."

  "Are you sure?" I asked, feeling a wave of terror unlike anything I'd ever felt before. "I mean, Michael would forgive me if I ran like a coward, right?"

  "No, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't." Skye grabbed me by the shoulders, and started pushing me off towards the motor inn. "Besides, you wanted this. You made the call. This is all you, sis. Now, own it!"

  "Yeah… yeah, you're right." I took a deep breath to steady myself, then gave them all a sheepish look. "So that's what they mean by cold feet."

  Everyone laughed at that, even the Sergeant and her soldiers. They let us leave without complaint, and made no attempt to follow us as we returned home. There, I found the entire group waiting for us. One of the look-outs shouted and pointed, and then a cheer went up from the entire group.

  Skye stopped pushing me, and took my hand instead. She guided me in through the front gate, past my cheering friends, and into the courtyard of the inn. I skidded to a halt, shocked by the transformation. The courtyard had been decorated with ribbons, streamers, and more flowers than I'd seen in one place for a very long time. An assortment of folding chairs had been arranged in two groups, with a short aisle down the middle. At the far end, Anahera stood resplendent in a long, black gown, and in front of her was my fiancé.

  Michael glanced at me, and I saw his eyes widen – whether it was shock or delight, I couldn't tell. He was freshly-scrubbed, and dressed in his full police uniform, right down to the hat. He looked so handsome that I could hardly believe my eyes.