by Joss Ware
And back in East Los, Simon had been promoted, so to speak, because of his loyalty and prudence. And cuffed even more tightly to Mancusi.
“Simon!”
He turned from the bamboo growth in the Jacuzzi tub, making his way quickly toward her voice.
“I found something!”
No fucking way.
When he came into the room, which appeared to have been an office, Sage was standing in the center of a pool of sun. She was holding a small black item. “Look!”
“A jump drive?”
She nodded, her aqua blue eyes shining. “It was wedged inside that desk drawer there, and it’s so small, it would have been easy to miss. Besides, I’m sure they took any computers or files he might have had.”
Simon examined the small black flash disk drive and came to the conclusion that it might just have survived fifty years exposed to the elements. The USB plug slid in and out, and the whole thing was cased in soft, protective plastic that appeared intact. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He looked up and gave her a little smile. “It might have something interesting on it. Or it might just have a bunch of old Neil Diamond songs.”
“Who?”
He smiled before he caught himself. “Look him up. Isn’t that what you do?” Simon turned away before the bantering could go any further. Bantering led to camaraderie, and camaraderie led to flirtation, and flirtation could only lead to fucking trouble.
He wandered close to a massive opening in the wall, a window broken completely away, and looked out over the ruins of Las Vegas.
The ocean—the damned Pacific Ocean, here in Vegas!—sparkled blue and green to the west and north, and between this structure and the water were a variety of buildings and ruins. Brick, glass, curling steel beams, all fringed with green and other organic trim.
“Do you have to stand so close to the edge?”
He cast a look over his shoulder. “You afraid of heights?”
Sage shook her head. “No. But I don’t see why you have to stand so close to the edge.”
Simon shrugged, fighting a grin, and turned to look back out over—and froze. “What the…” he muttered, moving closer to the side of the window where he wouldn’t be seen. Curling his fingers around the edge, he carefully leaned forward for a better look. Space loomed before and below him, and a little breeze skimmed his cheeks.
“What is it?” Then, she must have seen how near the edge he was, because she added, “Simon! Be careful! You’re going to fall.”
He swallowed a chuckle. If she only knew how close he’d come to death so many times. “Looks like a boat of some sort, on the shore…” Some type of watercraft had definitely been pulled up on the rough beach. Out of sight of Envy, here on the northwest side of the deserted area…That didn’t bode well.
He scanned the area between the shoreline and the building, the hair on the back of his arm lifting and prickling like it did when he knew something bad was about to happen. It was like a sixth sense.
The ruined buildings and their rubble-strewn footprints hid much of the ground, but then he saw them. Three men, walking…pushing a large, enclosed wagonlike object making their way toward the Beretta building. Much too close; in fact, they were just about to the vehicle barrier.
Pinche.
But how were they going to get that big cage through the barrier? He watched a moment longer, and then saw the ramp. The men had pulled it from a pile of debris and were putting it into place.
Damn. “They’re coming,” he said turning to Sage, adrenaline pumping through him and clearing his thoughts. “We’ve got to go now.” Before they get over the barrier and into the corral.
“Gangas?” she said, following him toward the door without hesitation.
“Strangers. Or bounty hunters. But whoever they are, they’re not coming from Envy. They came from the west. From the ocean.” And they were either bringing something for the gangas…or more gangas…or planning to take something away.
Then he heard it…faint on the air. Howls.
Definitely ganga feeding time. Fuck.
He should have expected it. The wolf remains below in the gangas’ lobby were old and dried…not recent. If the Strangers, or whoever set the zombies to guard the building, visited regularly to check on and feed them, it had been a while since they’d come. And why wouldn’t they come today, when he and Sage were there poking around?
It just about figured.
As they hurried through the ravaged condo toward the French doors, Simon kept his ears attuned for any sounds from below. But he didn’t need to listen to know that the ramp would soon be in place and those wolves would be released into the corral.
The gangas would be happy—distracted, probably—but that would make it all the more impossible for him and Sage to cross back over.
If the Strangers didn’t come into the corral, maybe they could wait it out.
Sage stumbled and he grabbed her arm. Smart, not squeamish…but a bit of a klutz.
“Ow,” she gasped and more of her weight tipped against him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. But when she tried to pull away, she sagged again. “I might have pulled something.”
“Or twisted it.” He saw that she couldn’t put her full weight on her left foot. “Okay, come on.” He steadied her by linking his arm around hers and she hobbled along with him across the threshold to the stairwell.
This was definitely going to be a long trip down.
“Hold on. Stay here a sec.”
Simon settled her inside the stairwell and dashed back into the condo to look out the window at the Strangers’ progress. Pinche. He could already see the pack of wolves down in the corral, and the three men standing about with some sort of weapon—guns? Tazers maybe?—to keep the feral animals away from them as they herded them into the lobby.
He watched a few moments longer, waiting to see if the Strangers were going to come into the building or if they were going to leave. When he saw them walk closer to the building, he swore again under his breath. They looked like they were going to go in.
Simon stilled for a moment and thought. Yes, he’d closed the door that he and Sage had come through. And the one from the ganga lobby to the stairwell. There would be no sign of any—oh, fuck. The dead wolf. The sliced up, fresh dead wolf…next to a car with the door open. On the other side of the barrier…
Sonofabitch.
Back in the stairwell, he explained the situation to Sage. “It’s unlikely they’ll come up through this stairwell,” he said, hardly able to see her face in the dim light. “So I suggest we go a few flights down and wait for a bit.”
“Sounds good.” Though her eyes were serious, she didn’t appear frightened or apprehensive. Either she was taking the danger in stride, or she was trusting him to keep her safe. Simon wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.
He helped her down four flights of stairs and then settled her against the wall. “How’s the ankle?”
“It’s fine. I can walk on it if I need to.”
“No reason to f—mess it up anymore if you don’t need to,” he said.
Her lips twitched in a moment of humor as she looked up at him in the wash of light. “Do you think I’ve never heard the f-word before? It’s Lou and Theo’s favorite word. Sometimes I think they compete to see who can use it more creatively. Once I think Theo said it five times in one sentence.”
Simon blinked and pulled his attention away from that intriguing freckle on her lip and refocused. “I’ll remember that. Stay here—okay? I’m going to go a few flights down and see if I can find out anything.”
Sage nodded, then grabbed his arm. “Be safe.”
He slipped away, then turned himself invisible. He found it easier and easier to concentrate himself into nothingness—almost like flicking a switch. He’d gone only a few flights down when he heard the unmistakable sound of advancing voices. Fu-uck.
Was he just super unlucky, or did God simply
have it in for him?
Still invisible, he hurried back up to Sage. Finger to lips, he turned back to normal just before coming into view. “They’re coming. Up. Here,” he said softly, gesturing so that she understood he meant in this stairwell.
Her eyes widened. “What do we do?” she mouthed, then pointed upward, then downward, then toward the door.
Simon didn’t answer, but tried the door instead. It might open, but it might make a really loud sound…Did he dare chance it? Rusted metal scraping or creaking?
The knob didn’t turn. The voices were coming closer. And Simon and Sage were on a level with a window directly above, leaving no shadows or possibility of hiding.
Simon looked at Sage and made his decision. He pointed down and raised two fingers so she’d know he meant for them to go two levels. At least it would be dark there. And…maybe the door would open.
Sage didn’t wait for his steadying arm, she had already started down the flights. Simon followed, both of them silent and doing their best to avoid stepping on crunching leaves. He moved so he was right next to her in case she lost the strength in her injured ankle. At the second level down, the voices were louder, coming closer, and sounded urgent.
Pinche.
They were definitely suspicious. Simon reached for the doorknob and prayed…but it didn’t turn easily, and the Strangers were too close to chance making the noise.
Though the space in the stairwell was dark and shadowy, it probably wasn’t enough to obscure them. Fu-u-uck.
He’d have to try it.
In the dimness, he saw Sage’s eyes wide, and a little frightened now, and he nodded calmly. Then he turned her gently to face the wall, in the corner, and even as the voices came closer and he felt the pumping of his heart speed up, his palms dampen, he remained calm. “Close your eyes,” he mouthed into her ear. “Don’t open them, don’t move, till I say.”
Simon drew in a deep breath, steeled his thoughts, and prayed.
And then he wrapped his arms around Sage from behind, enclosing her with his body, feeling her warm, bare arms under his hands…and, drawing upon all his strength and concentration, flicked his internal switch.
Yep, God definitely had it in for him.
* * *
Is this the end of the world? A terrorist attack? What’s happening?
I can’t get cell phone or Internet to find out anything. The power’s out. Everywhere I look there are dead people and piles of broken buildings, holes in the street. It’s horrifying.
I think it’s a day after everything started. I don’t know. I can’t tell what time it is or whether it’s day or night, it’s so dark. All I know is it’s been hell. I’m so scared.
Drew is with me. Thank God.
The earthquakes are over but there are aftershocks. And big storms, strong and angry, like the earth is furious. The sounds…I can’t tell if they’re people screaming or the wind.
There’s been no sign of help. Nothing from the outside. No planes, no helicopters. Nothing.
What’s happening?????
—from Adventures in Juliedom, the
blog of Julie Davis Beecher
* * *
CHAPTER 4
Sage could hardly breathe.
Not because Simon was hurting her, but because…he was so close, so big and powerful and warm and so near. All around her.
She couldn’t have opened her eyes if she’d tried.
So she kept them tightly closed, and strained to listen for the sounds of approaching Strangers…because she didn’t know what else to do.
Her world was dark and warm and solid and safe…and she felt a sort of shimmery feeling sweep over her. She rested her forehead against the old crumbling wall and Simon’s taut muscles eased the slightest bit. The biceps that curled around her belly and the forearm that crossed up and between her breasts loosened, and the warm breath against the back of her head slowed.
The Strangers pounded closer and she buried herself in the darkness of her closed eyes and the corner of the dark stairwell, felt Simon pushing her deeper into the corner, tightening his grip. Her mouth was too dry to swallow. Was it shadowy enough that the Strangers wouldn’t see them?
She didn’t move, she barely breathed. Her heart slammed in her chest and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the proximity of danger…or the proximity of the raw maleness surrounding her.
The odd shimmery feeling continued to sprinkle over her, leaving a pleasant sort of humming deep inside her body. Simon’s scent, fresh and masculine, enveloped her…just as his shirt had last night. Her ankle throbbed a little, her forehead scraped against rough wall.
Oh God. Here they come.
The steps were louder now, the voices right there. She could discern three different ones. Sage held her breath, felt Simon doing the same, squeezed her eyes shut, felt him close in even tighter around her…and prayed.
And then she felt the swish of air as the men rushed by, on their way up the stairs, clearly on a mission.
They’d passed them. They’d gone by.
Sage still didn’t release her breath, sure that at any moment, they’d stop and shout and come rushing back.
But they didn’t.
The Strangers had been in a hurry, and it had been dark enough. The shadows had hidden them. A miracle.
After a moment, Simon released her, pulling silently away, taking the warmth, the comfort and power, even the soft tingling. They needed no words, and she turned and started down the flight of stairs.
Ignoring the pain in each step, aware that Simon was there, waiting to grab her if her ankle should fail her, she descended as quickly as she could. Which was pretty quick, considering her knees were shaking.
As they descended, she heard the horrible sounds of squeals, and the cries of animals in distress growing more distinct. The gangas were tearing the wolves apart. Perhaps even fighting each other for their meals. They’d have to be inside the building, for the sunlight was too destructive. But Simon knew where they were going. And she trusted him.
At the bottom, Sage saw that a door that must lead into the other part of the building was ajar—it had to be the way the Strangers came in—but the exterior door was still closed.
Everything was a blur after that. Simon didn’t stop and give her explanations as he’d done earlier; he simply slung an arm around her waist. Lifting her against his hip, face dark with tension, he dashed from the exterior door into the corral area around the building.
Out into the open.
The expanse of ground—at least in this corner—was empty and clear of danger. The rusty vehicular fence rose in front of them, and Simon reached it almost before Sage could comprehend it.
The terrible sounds faded behind them, and as they approached, Simon thrust her, none-too-gently, on top of the nearest car. He leapt up next to her and fairly dragged her over and across the pile of cars. It was like climbing a steep hill of jagged steel—tough, slow, and painful—but he was surefooted and quick. And very strong.
On the other side, he pulled her down to the ground, picked her up again, and ran toward the walls of Envy.
They were safe.
The flash drive actually worked.
Sage plugged it into a USB port and waited impatiently for the list of files to come up, listening to the comforting hum of the computer and ignoring the throbbing pain in various places on her body. Denim was still encrusted to the cuts on her thigh and her sliced palms ached and stung when she rested them on the computer keyboard. But she didn’t care.
She was just about to scan through the list of files when a soft ding sounded, alerting her to a new arrival.
Her heartbeat skipped and she looked up.
“Simon said you had a few cuts that should be looked at.” Dr. Elliott Drake, for some reason known as Dred to his friends, stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase.
Sage tucked away the wedge of disappointment. “That was nice of him to send you.”
“Mind if
I take a look?” His blue eyes held warmth and compassion—pleasant, but quite a different expression than the hot, intense one when he was looking at Jade.
Of course, the feeling between the two was quite mutual, and Sage had never seen her friend happier now that she’d met Elliott. Since they’d resolved some initial problems, they’d been inseparable.
Always so calm and empathetic, with an easy sense of humor, he did seem as wonderful as Jade said he was—just the kind of guy she deserved after her experiences with the Strangers. And, as it turned out, not only had he been frozen in the Sedona cave with Simon, Quent, and the others—Wyatt and Fence—but he’d also come out of it with extraordinary abilities. As a medical doctor trained before the Change, Elliott brought not only experience and knowledge that had been lost since the catastrophic events, but also an extra element: he could diagnose, and sometimes heal, with the touch of his hands.
At least, that was what Sage understood…but from what Jade had indicated, there were also some sort of complications to his skills that were not so pleasant. So he didn’t use them all that often.
Sage frowned, wondering once again why Elliott and Quent seemed to be the only ones who’d acquired special abilities after coming out of the cave. All of them were extraordinarily strong, but no one else had changed in the way those two had. Was it some random thing? Or had they simply not discovered their abilities yet?
She realized Elliott was waiting for an answer and was just about to respond when she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurrying down. Those light, fast clicks she recognized—Jade’s, of course.
“Are you all right?” her friend asked even before she came fully into view. At the bottom of the stairs, touching Elliott casually as she passed by, Jade hurried over, her dark auburn hair flying. “Sage, what happened? Good grief, look at your face! And your hands!”