by Tarah Benner
Bernie squealed with delight as she ran upstairs to check out the bedrooms, and Portia sank down on the modern gray couch with a look that said she would be camped out there for the foreseeable future. The condo wasn’t hooked up to the solar grid, but the living room and each bedroom had a wood-burning stove.
Lark thanked James and went upstairs to explore with Bernie. She gave a wistful sigh when she saw the big Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom, but then she remembered that there was no power or running water. Everything suddenly seemed a little less luxurious and romantic. They’d been in the condo for less than ten minutes, and already Lark was freezing.
Once they’d finished exploring, they went back down to the ski shops and began outfitting themselves in the warmest clothes they could find. Lark shook her head as she ripped a five-hundred-dollar price tag off a fancy snowboarding jacket and pulled on a pair of equally outrageous snow boots.
The stuff from the ski shop was wildly overpriced, but damn it was warm. She laughed out loud when Bernie and Simjay donned a pair of matching red-and-purple snowsuits and handed them some big reflective ski goggles to complete the look.
Once they were dressed, they met James back at the lodge, and he said they could come eat dinner with him at Big Red’s house. Lark didn’t have any idea who Big Red was, but it sounded better than shivering over a bowl of Ramen in their multimillion-dollar ice box.
Around sundown, they piled into the Subaru and went to pick up Conrad. Conrad knew the way to Big Red’s, so he directed them up a winding mountain road while James followed in his Jeep. The road wound deep into the woods, past dozens of snow-covered cabins that were falling into disrepair.
Conrad stopped them at the end of a narrow gravel driveway, and they pulled up to a cute little A-frame tucked in a stand of spruce trees. It was about the size of Conrad’s house, but it had a carved wooden bear on the porch and looked much more inviting. Smoke was billowing from the chimney, and in that moment, nothing sounded better to Lark than a warm meal in front of a roaring fire.
As it turned out, Big Red was the beefy ginger who had searched their vehicle upon arrival. His real name was Sam Baker, but he looked like a real-life lumberjack when he stepped out to greet them in coveralls and a red flannel shirt.
Big Red talked in a slow deep voice and had a rumbling laugh that seemed to shake the whole porch. His wife Rachel was a cheerful, bright-eyed blonde who looked absolutely tiny next to her gigantic husband.
Rachel offered to take their coats as soon as they walked inside, and Lark saw with a swell of comfort that there was a fire crackling in the Franklin stove. The Bakers’ home was the perfect picture of a mountain cabin. Crocheted throw pillows covered nearly every surface, and countless family photos beamed down from the mantel.
As soon as they all trickled into the house, a blond boy no older than six came flying into the room to meet them. He had a straight bowl haircut and a smile that took up his entire face, and he was babbling so fast that Lark had no idea what he was saying. Denali wagged his tail happily and came over to sniff him, but the boy didn’t stop talking or even pause for a breath.
“Hi! I’m Jimmy! What are your names? Where did you come from? Want to see my truck? I just got a new one for my birthday, and Papa says that I —”
“Jimmy, Jimmy . . . slow down,” said Rachel.
Jimmy dragged in a breath and let it out slowly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he mumbled, clearly put out to have to slow down for pleasantries.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Bernie, bending down to his level as he reached out to pet Denali. “I’m Bernie.”
“Hi!” said Jimmy. “Do you guys live here now?”
“No, we’re just visiting,” said Bernie. “We’re from New Mexico. Have you ever been to New Mexico?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I’ve only been to Colorado, Montana, Wyoming, and Kansas,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers.
“I’ve been to Montana, too!” said Bernie. “Where’s your favorite place?”
The best part, Lark thought, was that Bernie wasn’t faking it. She genuinely loved kids and knew exactly what to say. Portia looked utterly horrified that a tiny Jimmy would soon be emerging from her body, but Rachel invited them to sit and started doling out the wine.
It was surprisingly easy to talk to the Bakers. They settled into light small talk about New Vail and the weather, but the conversation became trickier when Rachel asked what had brought them there.
Lark and Soren told the story together this time, and Lark noticed it was even harder to leave out the ugly details of how they’d come to have the seed with two people telling the story. Axel seemed to pick up on their discomfort, and a small annoying smirk began to play at the corners of his mouth.
Lark shot him a glare. She had a feeling that he was dying to disrupt their polite dinner party with some obnoxious comment, and she didn’t want to hear it.
Lark knew it wasn’t right to leave out the details of their entanglement with GreenSeed, but she couldn’t imagine telling their new friends that they were fugitives who’d escaped from prison, fled Cheyenne Mountain in a stolen helicopter, and evaded capture for the past five and a half months.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. The Bakers seemed to accept their abbreviated story without hesitation, and Rachel turned to Portia excitedly. “So, when are you due?” she asked, trying to draw her into the conversation like the skilled hostess she was.
“Christmas,” said Portia, swilling her club soda with the same miserable-pregnant-lady expression that had become her default over the past two months. “At least, that’s the best I can guess.”
Rachel glanced at Soren and Simjay and cleared her throat. “And are you . . . Is one of you . . .”
“None of them is the father,” said Portia sharply.
Rachel immediately turned an impressive shade of red. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t —”
“He’s dead,” Portia added.
“Oh!” said Rachel, looking appropriately sad and horrified. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s aight,” said Axel, rolling his eyes in a way that told Lark he was about to go rogue. “She got knocked up in prison by the son of a drug kingpin . . . also deader’n a doornail.” He turned his smug face slowly in Lark’s direction. “Lark killed her, actually. But if ya ask me, the bitch had it comin’.”
A horrible shocked silence fanned out across the room, and a weight like a brick sank into Lark’s stomach. Soren turned to Axel as though he wanted to deck him, and Bernie’s jaw dropped to the floor.
Rachel and Big Red looked utterly dumbstruck. At first Lark thought that they might take the whole thing as a joke, but then she saw Rachel’s eyes drift over their visible tattoos. It didn’t seem that Jimmy had understood Axel’s entire explanation, but even he was regarding Portia with fresh curiosity.
“You got knocked out by your baby’s dad?” Jimmy repeated.
More uncomfortable silence.
Lark opened her mouth to say something — what, she had no idea — but it was Portia who spoke up first. “Uh . . . What he meant was . . .”
“I meant what I said,” said Axel loudly. “And I don’ see no point in sittin’ around in some fancy-ass condo pretendin’ like we b’long here or makin’ small talk about skiin’ and shit . . .” He shook his head. “Jesus. We only been here like two hours, and ya’ll’re already actin’ like we’re all that and a baga chips.”
Rachel glanced nervously at Big Red, and Lark closed her eyes in exasperation.
Leave it to Axel to fuck everything up just when they’d been offered a hot meal and a safe place to stay. She’d known that no good would come from telling their hosts that they were all escaped convicts, but thanks to Axel, they no longer had a choice.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Rachel quietly. “Where is it that you’re all really from?”
Lark turned to Soren, who looked completely at a loss. In that moment, Lark knew it was no u
se trying to brush off Axel’s outburst as a poorly timed joke. She had to tell them the truth.
“We, uh . . . escaped from San Judas Correctional Community,” said Lark. “It’s a long story, but the seeds we brought with us are the ancient crops that GreenSeed’s new patents are derived from. Homeland Security has been trying to get their hands on those seeds for months, and we ended up with them instead.” She shrugged. “The world needs these crops, which is why we’ve been traveling . . . trying to get them into the hands of people who can use them.”
When she finished, she knew that her explanation didn’t quite cover it, but just that little snippet seemed as though it might send the Bakers over the edge. Rachel’s eyes were the size of saucers, and Big Red’s face suddenly looked as though it were cut from stone.
“Did you know about this?” Big Red asked James.
James shook his head, looking just as shocked, but Conrad raised his hand as if he were in school.
“I-I did,” he said. “I helped them escape, actually . . . Cheyenne Mountain . . . and then prison a second time.”
Soren cleared his throat, and Lark felt sick. Denali was watching the conversation like a mildly amusing tennis match, and Jimmy looked as though his mind had been blown.
As they sat there stewing under the Bakers’ harsh gaze, Lark felt a surge of rage followed by shame. She wasn’t angry with Axel or the Bakers, she realized. She was angry that she’d spent the past five years in prison. She hadn’t belonged there. She didn’t deserve it. And even though the world had ended, they still couldn’t escape the stigma of their situation.
Why was she trying so hard to right GreenSeed’s wrongs? If everything went back to normal, she would go back to being a fugitive on the run. If the world made a comeback, there would be nowhere left to hide.
“So you, uh . . . escaped from prison?” said Rachel.
Lark nodded and glanced over at Soren.
“Oh . . .” She blushed even harder. “What were you . . . What were you in for?”
Lark sighed. She’d dreaded this part.
“Different things,” she mumbled. “All of us were in for different things.”
A horrible pregnant silence fell over the room, and Lark shot Axel a withering look. He was the only one who seemed amused by the awkward turn of events, and the mood was quickly going from bad to worse.
“I think . . . I think you all should leave,” said Red after a moment.
Rachel averted her eyes but didn’t argue. Jimmy looked confused, but Lark just nodded. She didn’t know what else to do.
They all got to their feet and shuffled toward the door, but James lingered in the living room to talk to Rachel and Big Red. Lark guessed that he wanted to apologize to his friends for bringing them along, which only made her feel worse.
Big Red wasted no time in slamming the door behind them, and they were left standing on the cold dark porch as snow drifted lazily from the sky.
“Well,” said Simjay, turning to Bernie. “There goes our first set of ‘couple friends’ in New Vail.”
“Yeah,” Bernie grumbled. “Thanks a lot, asshole.” She shot Axel a seething look, but Axel just guffawed.
“Don’ blame me,” he said. “Blame Miss Priss and the Brawny paper-towel guy. I was jus’ speakin’ the truth. S’not my fault they couldn’t han’l it.”
“You don’t tell people you just met that you’re an escaped felon,” Lark hissed. “Just because you’re a good-for-nothing hillbilly who can’t string two words together in a civil conversation doesn’t mean you have to ruin everything for the rest of us!”
Axel’s eyebrows shot up. Bernie and Simjay were staring at her as though she’d gone too far, but Lark didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
“Well, es-cuuuuuse me,” said Axel. “If I remember right, you appreciated my good-for-nothin’ hillbilly ways all the times I was usin’ ’em to save your skinny ass.” He threw up his hands in surrender. “I am what I am, darlin’, and I ain’t ashamed of it, neither.”
Lark let out a disgusted scoff. She wanted to throttle Axel, but she couldn’t argue with him. In truth, she was ashamed. She didn’t want to be lumped in the same category as Mother Mercy and her daughters. She hated the look that Rachel had given her — as though she were carrying some sort of disease. She wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t deserve that sort of judgment.
It was a quiet car ride back to Conrad’s. They were hungry, tired, and freezing cold, and Axel had just cost them a night of good food in a cozy little cabin. Portia was still in shock at being outed, and the rest of them were seething.
“You’re an ass, you know that?” said Simjay from the back seat.
“Hey, I did us a favor.”
“How do you figure?” asked Soren indignantly.
“We don’ fit in with those people.”
“What do you mean ‘those people’?” said Bernie. “Big Red was a lift operator before the resort closed. Rachel taught ski lessons. They weren’t exactly Rockefellers.”
“Yeah, whatever . . . I know their type.”
“Their ‘type’?”
“People who think they’re better’n everybody else,” Axel grumbled.
“You don’t know anything about them,” Lark snapped.
“Well, my instincts turned out to be pretty spot-on,” Axel shot back.
“Whatever,” said Lark. “They were nice people before you went and ruined everything. I liked them!”
“’Course you did,” Axel spat. “You’re an uppity bitch who thinks you’re better’n e’rybody, too.”
“Hey!” Soren yelled.
“What?” said Axel. “I’m jus’ holdin’ up a mirror. But guess what? They pushed you out the second they found out about you. Because as much as you wanna be like them, you ain’t.” Axel smirked. “Face it, sweetheart. You an’ me are more alike than you wanna admit. We didn’ grow up skiin’. We didn’ go to college. We worked on a farm ’fore we went to prison ’cause we’re the same — trash, trash, trash, trash, trash.”
In that moment, Lark seemed to lose all sense of reality. Her brain shut off, and all she could feel was the raw emotion coursing through her body. Before anyone could say a word — before anyone could stop her — Lark had thrown herself into the back seat and swung out a fist at Axel.
“You — asshole!” Lark yelled, swinging at him as hard as she could.
Bernie let out a startled scream, and Simjay gave a whoop of excitement. With everyone piled in the back, Lark’s attack quickly lost momentum. They were all sitting in a jumbled heap, and Axel had his arms up to protect his face.
“Let it out, darlin’,” said Axel with a laugh. “Let it out!”
Denali gave an excited bark, and Lark stopped hitting Axel. Her body wasn’t quite used to the higher altitude of New Vail, and she was already out of breath.
She let out an exasperated huff and pulled herself back into her seat. “You and me aren’t the same,” she grumbled.
“You jus’ keep tellin’ yourself ’at,” said Axel. “Anyways, you’re stuck with me now.”
“We’re all stuck with each other,” Simjay grumbled.
There was a long drawn-out pause, and then Bernie let out a chuckle. Lark turned slowly to look at her, and Bernie gave a guilty shrug. Another stifled laugh escaped, this time from Simjay, and Bernie giggled harder. Soren shook his head with a reluctant snort, and Lark felt the ice begin to thaw.
They swung by Conrad’s house to drop him off first, and he looked relieved as he climbed out of the crowded vehicle. Lark could hear his Rottweilers tumbling down the porch steps to greet him, and he turned up his collar against the heavy wind.
“See you tomorrow?” Soren called after him.
“Tomorrow?” Conrad repeated, looking confused. “Oh, no, probably not.” He glanced up at the sky, as if consulting the gods. “There’s a big storm blowing in . . . Could be here tomorrow morning.”
Lark glanced at Soren, who looked just as nervous as she fe
lt.
“I’d gather as much food and firewood as you can and try to stay warm. It’s gonna be a big one.”
22
Lark
The next morning, it was clear that Conrad had been right about the storm. Lark and Soren had gone to bed with their mattress in front of the fire and had awoken to a town blanketed in fresh powder. Snow was still tumbling from the sky in nickel-sized flakes, and there was a powerful chill in the air that hadn’t been there the night before.
“Snow day,” Lark murmured, rolling toward the edge of the mattress.
“Hmm?” said Soren, reaching for Lark as she slipped out from under the covers.
Lark gave a violent shiver. Without central heat, it was freezing inside the condo. The fire had died down, and she could see her breath as she exhaled.
She got out of bed, stepped straight into her snow boots, and wrapped herself in an extra quilt. She wanted nothing more than to spend the day snuggling in bed with Soren, and since they had nothing to do except drop off the seed with James, there was really no reason she couldn’t.
Lark walked over to the fire and stoked the coals to get it going again. She added two more logs from the pile next to the window and then wriggled back under the covers. Soren crushed her against his warm chest, and Lark felt instant relief from the cold.
The heat radiating from his bare skin was magnificent. She couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the morning than curled up in bed while snow drifted peacefully from the sky. The only thing that could have made it better was hot cocoa and room service.
“You know, if we had some sustenance, we might never have to leave this room,” Lark mused.
“Mhmm,” Soren mumbled, rolling on top of Lark and planting a trail of kisses down her neck.
Lark giggled and closed her eyes as he worked his way down her throat, lifting up her shirt so that he could press his lips against her stomach.
Lark moaned as Soren’s rough hands stroked a gentle path up and down her ribcage, and when Soren moved up and ground his hips into hers, Lark knew exactly what he had in mind.