Higher Ground

by Becky Black

  Eventually was the word. After weeks and months, not days. It shouldn’t feel so profound so soon. He looked over at Adam, munching the last of his toast. What did it mean?

  Adam must have sensed his gaze, looked over and smiled at him. Zach felt as if his knees had been suddenly replaced with water. He knew for sure what it meant.

  He loved Adam.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zach was back in the middle of the group packing up to head back down the mountain. Pleading with Jones, begging him not to go. Adam couldn’t think of anything else to say and knew it wouldn’t help anyway. So he’d found a sun-warmed rock to sit on and look back down into the basin.

  Perhaps he should be over there with Zach, supporting him. But he supported him by staying with him, going on climbing. Actions speak louder than words, his dad often said. Usually to annoy Mom when she accused him of having all the conversational skills of a stuffed dummy. Adam resembled the women of his family more in that regard; he was a talker. But today he felt silent.

  “Hi.” Torres sat down on the rock beside him.

  “Come to say good-bye?” He had no bitterness or accusation in his tone. She was just doing her job as she saw it.

  “I have to go with them. Jones is a hothead. He’ll cause more fights than he prevents. He’s not really a bad guy, but he’s been in the cells overnight a couple of times.”

  “I’m not blaming you, Barb.”

  “Thanks. And your group will be okay. You’ve got some levelheaded people in charge. You for one.”

  I’m someone in charge? Strange to think of himself that way. And “your group.” Suddenly, there were two groups. Their tribe had split. Shattered.

  “The sheriff didn’t want you going off without a cop, but we’re going in different directions, and I’m only one cop. So I think I should deputize someone.”

  He nodded. “Good idea. Simon would be ideal; he’s a rock. Or Zach himself, since he’s the leader.”

  She shook her head. “Not Zach. The leader can’t be the enforcer too. Simon’s a good idea, but he’s got his family to focus on. You’re the best candidate.”

  “Me?” He stared at her. “I’m just a grad student.”

  “You’re smart, you’re not too excitable, and you seem to have the best interests of the group at heart.”

  “I’m not sure about the last part,” he admitted. “I’m here for Zach.”

  “Okay. But I still think you’re the one.” She rubbed her bare arms, didn’t have her jacket on, and the wind was colder this high up. “You’re not one hundred percent sure he’s right, are you?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m with him whether he is or not. He’s going to need my support either way.”

  “Your loyalty is admirable, but don’t make a vice of it. Don’t let him lead you to disaster. You’re the only one he’ll listen to in the end.”

  Adam didn’t answer. Would Zach listen to him if he started disagreeing? If Adam turned around and went back down the mountain, would Zach go with him? It hadn’t come to that yet. There was a difference between not being 100 percent sure and having actual doubts. He had no doubts about Zach.

  “Will you let me deputize you?”

  He shrugged. “Okay.” It didn’t matter much, did it? The group had been law-abiding so far. “Do I get to wear a star?” He smiled, and she rolled her eyes at him.

  “Be a grown-up. Raise your right hand.” He did. “Adam Gray, I hereby deputize you. Do you accept? Say ‘I do.’”

  “I do.”

  “You can put your hand back down.”

  “That’s it?” he said, frowning, somewhat disappointed.

  “What more do you want?”

  “I thought it would be a bit more formal.”

  “I said ‘hereby,’ didn’t I?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I guess that’s a formal sort of word.”

  “Here,” she said, handing something to him. He took it without knowing what it was and then realized, with a start. Her gun. He stared at her.

  “What the hell are you giving me this for?”

  “Because you might need it when things get ugly. Use it as you see fit. Being a temporary deputy doesn’t mean you can shoot people willy-nilly. But use your judgment.” She stood up. “Looks like we’re ready to move out. See you later, Adam.”

  “I hope so, Barb.”

  “Good luck.” She left, heading off back to the group putting on their backpacks, preparing to leave, facing the wrong way. Adam stared down at the pistol in his hand. He’d never even held a gun in his life. If pressed, he’d admit to being rather scared of them. It didn’t weigh as much as he expected—not physically anyway. Metaphorically, though, he’d never carried a heavier burden. Had Torres fooled him? Could she only give him the gun once she’d sworn him in as a deputy? So she’d made him swear in first so she could give him this, which he’d certainly have refused otherwise.

  He placed it behind him on the rock. Maybe he could walk away from here and “accidentally” forget about it? Would that make him a coward? Less of a man? No. Using a gun to solve problems didn’t make a guy more manly. He’d never been in a situation where a gun would have been solved the problem rather than making it a hundred times worse. The ease of his life so far struck him. The toughest battles he’d fought had been tennis games against his sisters—Lucy could still kick his ass all over the court. Now he had to face this life-and-death scenario. The moment he took the gun, this situation stopped being a pleasant hike in the countryside. Even if Zach turned out to be wrong and the natural disaster never happened, there was the potential for human-created disaster. It had been there all along, but he’d only just seen it.

  Is that what Torres meant about things getting ugly? If she expected him to threaten Zach with the gun, she must be a madwoman. Or did she expect him to have to defend Zach with it? He looked over at Zach, arguing with Jones, a big man who got in fights, according to Torres. He wasn’t swinging at Zach, and he was leaving anyway. But as the rest of them went on climbing, people were only going to get more irritable, their tempers more frayed.

  Adam couldn’t walk away and accidentally forget the gun. He could feel it behind his back as if it gave off a wave of heat. As if it were radioactive. He picked it up and went to put it into his backpack.

  * * * *

  Even when he knew it was hopeless, Zach still went on arguing. Only sometime after that did he finally give up and walk back to his tent. It wasn’t there. Adam must have taken it down. Their packs sat there, full and ready to go. Zach sat down, facing away from the group, not wanting to see it happen.

  Footfalls behind him that he’d learned to recognize told him Adam was coming. He spoke before Adam reached him.

  “How many?”

  “About half.”

  Zach closed his eyes and bent his head. Less than he’d feared. More than he’d feared. Adam flopped down on the grass beside him and passed him the apple Zach hadn’t eaten earlier. “Finish your breakfast.”

  Zach started as if Adam had handed him a grenade.

  “You have to keep up your strength. It’s a good variety. Grows well here. Three crops a year.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “We’ll grow them elsewhere.”

  Zach smiled, liking the optimism. Yes. They had a whole planet here. He took out his utility knife and sliced the apple in two. He gave half back to Adam. It was sweet, golden skinned, and beautiful. One of the last of its kind, Zach thought as he ate his piece. Even if they grew them elsewhere, he knew different soils made for different results. He was eating one of the last of the Zahara apples.

  He finished it in a few bites and tossed away the core. The seeds would never have the chance to take root in the soil here. They’d wash off the face of the world, perhaps in hours, perhaps in days. He waited while Adam finished his half of the apple. When he did, Zach leaned in and kissed him hard.

  He caught Adam by surprise, and they bumped noses accidentally before finding th
e right angle. Zach tasted the fresh, sweet apple juice on Adam’s lips and tongue. He’d always had a sweet tooth. Adam both tempted and satisfied it.

  Should he say the words when they parted? Tell Adam what he felt? That he loved him. No. Too soon. Adam preferred to move slowly—even in a situation like this, when slow might mean never. It could scare him off or make him withdraw. If they survived this, Zach would say it when they were safe. If they didn’t… He’d say it before the end. At least he’d die before the bloom faded. He’d die while still in love. Some would call that romantic. He only thought it rather a sad waste.

  The apple-juice-flavored kiss ended. This time, Adam got in first.

  “Thank you,” he said with a delightful teasing grin Zach wanted to kiss all over again. But they had no time. Daylight was burning, and Dr. Howie had been right; the climb was about to get harder, the slope steeper. He stood up and turned to look at his reduced tribe.

  They were ready to move out. Most were finishing packing their rucksacks or rounding up the kids and animals. Korrie walked up to Zach and Adam, pack on her back, hiking pole in hand; Tuzo’s head stuck up out of the backpack as usual. Others gathered as Zach and Adam helped each other on with their packs. They waited, subdued. Again they wanted some words from Zach, and he didn’t know if he had any that weren’t sodden with grief, guilt, and failure.

  “Thank you for having faith in me.”

  Ah, those words worked. People murmured but in an agreeing way, not complaining.

  “We have to go on. I know your thoughts are with our friends who’ve chosen to turn back. But we have to think of the children we’re responsible for. The others have made their choice. We’ve made ours.”

  Could he really expect them to harden their hearts to the fates of their friends? They had to. He had to.

  “The climb is getting harder. But you’re all strong. Not only in body but in mind. You haven’t given up because you’re tired or you hurt. You can make it all the way, I’m sure of it.”

  He saw some of them looking past him, doubtful looks at the mountain rising up behind him. Could they all make it? Perhaps not. But the rescue ships would come soon. They had to come soon.

  “Let’s go.”

  He turned and led the way. Adam fell into step at his side. “Good speech,” he said quietly.

  “I’m starting to run out of stirring words.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “Fine? I just lost half the group!” People looked at him when he almost shouted, and he lowered his voice again. “Half of them have gone back. How am I doing fine?”

  “Half of them stayed. Frankly, I’m impressed it’s this many. I thought we’d be down to about ten by now.”

  “Oh. You didn’t think I could keep them together.”

  “Not because of you, dummy, because of them. People are fine hiking for a couple of days; then they get to missing their routines and their beds. The kids get that way fastest, but the grown-ups get there eventually.”

  “I see. Do you think the rest of them will turn back too?”

  Adam shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ll tell you what I know. Jones is all mouth, and when his group realize that, they’ll be back.”

  “And if it’s too late by then?”

  “You said it yourself. They made their choice.”

  Zach turned away so Adam couldn’t see his stricken expression.

  “Keep being sure, Zach. That’s what’s keeping us all with you, the fact you’re sure about your prediction.”

  Was he still sure? One hundred percent? No—he had to allow the possibility he might be wrong. But admitting it to Jones had cost him half the group.

  “I know it goes against your scientific principles,” Adam went on. “Maybe even makes you feel like a fanatic or something. But don’t let anyone see a moment of doubt.”

  Zach squared his jaw and his shoulders, resolute, trying to give off an aura of certainty. Adam grinned.

  “If the wind changes, your face will stay that way.”

  “What?”

  “Just something my mom says when I’m pouting. Stop trying to look like Napoleon. Your face doesn’t suit being all stern and frowny. It’s more thoughtful. Dreamy even.” Adam stopped and laughed, blushing. “What am I talking about?”

  Zach didn’t know, but he could listen to it all day. “I’m trying to look like, well, a leader, I suppose. Everyone’s expecting that of me.” He glanced over his shoulder and grimaced at the reduced size of the group following.

  “I don’t think they’re expecting you to be a general. Don’t try to change too much from the Zach we knew down there.” He gestured back into the basin. “Because then they’ll know it’s fake. And they’ll start worrying about what you’re covering up with it.”

  “I see. Good point, yes.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It doesn’t come naturally to me, I’m afraid. I feel like I’m playing a part.”

  “Remember what I said before. You’ve got backup.”

  Zach smiled at him. “Thank you, Adam. I wouldn’t have got even this far without you.”

  Adam winked and gave him a wicked smirk. “We’ll discuss later how you can show your gratitude.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The rain started right after lunch. Zach looked up and sighed as the big drops began to patter on the brim of his hat.

  “I guess we’ve been lucky so far,” Adam said, catching up to him and falling into step. “Had to get some rain eventually.”

  Zach glanced back, slackening his pace when he saw people had stopped or slowed down to take out hats and coats. “This will make things harder. The climb is already steeper, now the rain.”

  “It might just be a shower,” Adam said. “Might stop any minute.”

  But the clouds above looked heavy and dark gray and full of enough rain to last the rest of the day and well into the night.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Because of the rain, they couldn’t have a campfire that night. People stuck with their tents and did the best they could for dinner with cold food or camping stoves. Afterward, there was none of the mixing and talking that usually went on postsupper. People took to their tents and their sleeping bags.

  Zach headed for the tent while Adam was still talking to people. Rain drummed on the tent’s exterior, but nothing came inside. It was cold, but once Adam joined him, he intended to generate some heat. He smiled but then groaned when he zipped the two sleeping bags together. His aching back, legs, and feet conspired to undermine his determination to make love to Adam tonight. The steeper slope, or simply so many days of unaccustomed exercise, had caught up with him and started extracting a heavy price. He flopped onto his back on the sleeping bag and groaned again just as Adam came in.

  “All squared away for the night,” he reported. “First watch is in place. We’re taking the two till four shift later.” He stopped and frowned. “You okay?”

  “Every part of me hurts. Including my hair.”

  Adam grinned. “Ah, yes. A couple of days of walking is fine, but after that, if you’re out of shape—”

  “I am not out of shape,” Zach protested, sitting up, which sent pain lancing through his back. “Ow.”

  “Come here.” Adam sat cross-legged near Zach’s feet and pulled off his socks. “Hmm, taking my life in my hands here,” he said. “I may need some industrial-strength soap first.” Nevertheless, he took Zach’s left foot in both hands, rested it on his lap, and started massaging it. He dug strong thumbs into the sole, and Zach groaned with a mix of pain and relief.

  “Oh God, Adam. So good.”

  “Not so loud,” Adam said, grinning. “People will get the wrong idea.” He swapped to the other foot. “Your feet need to harden up, city boy.”

  Adam’s hands were large. A gardener’s hands, even if he was a scientist like Zach. A working man’s hands, with rough spots and calluses capable of producing thrills when he caressed the sensitive skin of Zach’s feet. Goose bumps rose on hi
s back, sweeping down in a wave of sensation. His legs felt boneless from the foot massage, and he sighed and closed his eyes, beginning to drift toward sleep. No. He made himself wake. He didn’t want to sleep. Adam. Want Adam. Must make love to Adam. Seize the day.

  “Relax,” Adam said softly, his thumbs pressing hard into the sole. “You’ve had a rough day. You need to rest.”

  “Rough day. Yes. Hard to lose all those people.” His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to put the situation out of his mind and enjoy this time with Adam, but the sense of grief and failure attacked again at the first chance he gave it.

  “They’re not lost,” Adam said. “Nothing’s happened yet. There’s still time for them to turn around again.”

  “What if nothing does happen?”

  “We all go home and talk about crazy Zach Benesh for years to come.”

  “I don’t know how good a person I am,” Zach said quietly. “I’m actually torn between wanting to be right and wanting to be wrong. Surely that’s bad. My academic pride should be nothing in comparison to all those people back in town who will die if I’m right. What kind of person could feel that way?”

  “A human one. And I feel the same. I want you to be wrong, for all those people, but I want you to be right because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He rested Zach’s foot on his lap, tracing a finger along the tops of the toes. “Even if you’re wrong, I’ll stand beside you. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

  “I never want to be rid of you.” Zach reached up to pull Adam down by the shoulders, stretching up to kiss him. Adam. So strong and ready to go on standing at Zach’s side. He had nothing to fear with Adam at his side.

  “Let’s get into the sleeping bag,” Adam said. “I’m cold.”

  They stripped the rest of their clothes off, except shorts and Adam’s socks, and zipped themselves into the bag. Zach lay still for a few minutes, eyes closed but not surrendering to sleep. Simply enjoying all the sensations of being here together. The warmth of Adam’s skin against his. The sound of his breathing, the movement as his chest rose and fell, pressing closer and then relaxing. The scent of him, sweat and soap. His hair, bed-head wild and a little damp from the rain, tickled Zach’s shoulder, like the soft touch of a butterfly on his skin.