Higher Ground

by Becky Black

  “I’m flattered,” Adam said, his hand still on Glyn’s chest, his arm straight, fending him off while trying to ignore his growing erection shifting in his pants. “But I can’t. I’m thinking about the whole group here. I have to work with Zach. If we end up fighting, it’s only going to make things harder for everyone.”

  “That’s very selfless of you. Like parents staying together for the sake of the kids when they can’t stand the sight of each other anymore.”

  No. Not like that. He didn’t hate Zach. He was no longer sure if he loved him, but hate—ridiculous. “We’d better get back to camp.”

  “Sure.” Glyn’s voice sounded cold. From disappointment, Adam assumed. “Sorry to have been so forward, it’s just—”

  “I know.” The danger, the craziness of the situation, the forced closeness. Yes, he understood it all, and none of it gave him an excuse for behaving like a dick. He found his flashlight at his side and stood, turning it on. Glyn did the same.

  In the distance, farther away than he’d realized he’d walked, Adam saw the lights of the camp. He led the way, Glyn following, not saying anything, until they reached the edge of the camp, where he caught up and walked at Adam’s side. Adam wished they’d come back separately, because Zach was still sitting outside the tent and saw the two of them arrive back together. That couldn’t help. Zach didn’t say anything, turned, and crawled into the tent. Damn.

  “Good night, Glyn,” Adam said, turning to see Glyn had gone, his ass already disappearing inside the tiny one-man tent he slept in alone.

  “All righty, then.” Maybe Adam should go see Simon, make some insulting remarks about his wife, or suggest Amina didn’t resemble him much; funny, eh? If he worked at it, he could get everyone in camp hating his guts by the morning.

  * * * *

  In the tent, Zach prepared for bed. He’d come in with his boots on and was busy unlacing them when Adam came into the tent.

  “Hey,” Adam said in a sheepish tone Zach didn’t much care for. Feeling guilty?

  “Hello.” Zach got both his boots off and tossed them into the rear of the tent. Adam sat and started to get undressed too, before he stopped suddenly, looking down at the sleeping bags. They were not zipped together. Zach had come in while Adam was off somewhere in the dark with Glyn and separated them. It had been a stupid thing to do, he supposed, an act of ridiculous jealousy. But he’d been full of deep, fundamental rage. A caveman again. He would not lie with Adam and smell the sweat of another man on him. The mere thought made his gorge rise. He’d calmed down somewhat, and the scowl on Glyn’s face when the two of them came back had given him some reassurance. But it was too late to remedy the sleeping arrangements, at least not without looking like a fool or admitting why he’d separated the bags—which meant having a conversation which frightened him more than the earthquakes.

  “Okay,” Adam said, resuming undressing, keeping his back turned. In such a small space, they couldn’t avoid accidentally brushing against each other sometimes, and each time they did, both pulled away as if they’d been burned.

  After a century of silence—which Zach’s lying watch claimed was only five minutes—they got into their separate sleeping bags.

  “Ready for the light off?” Adam asked.

  “Yes.”

  Adam clicked off the electric lantern, and a cold darkness fell in the tent. Outside, they could hear the sounds of voices, the two people on watch, talking quietly to each other. The noise of the wind.

  “Adam,” Zach said after another couple of centuries of horrible silence. “Are you still awake?”

  A soft snorting sound came from the darkness. “What do you think?”

  They should talk this out. He should ask what happened with Glyn. He had the right to ask, didn’t he? Perhaps not anymore. And they hadn’t even discussed anything about rules regarding other men. He had to be reasonable.

  “When this is all over, I don’t expect anything from you.”

  No answer came from Adam. He lay so still and silent he might as well have been asleep.

  “I know we’ve said…some things, maybe got carried away. But I wanted to say I don’t hold you to anything you’ve said. The situation is so extreme it wouldn’t be fair for us to be beholden to anything we’ve said.”

  No answer.

  “I think it’s more sensible if we concentrate on surviving the next few days. Does that sound okay to you?”

  “That does sound sensible, yes.” Not Adam’s usual voice—the one so often halfway to laughter. This was a cold and flat voice.

  Zach wanted to scream. He wanted to grab Adam and kiss him stupid and demand he never touch any other man again. Beg him to promise he’d belong to Zach forever. But those were the thoughts of the caveman, not the scientist.

  “Good,” Zach said. “Thank you for being so understanding about it.” I’ll love you forever and pine away and die if you leave my side. “We’d better get some sleep.”

  Adam didn’t answer. Zach heard him turn over and in the darkness could just make out the shape of him. The shape of his back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They saw the rescue ship the next day. But not coming for them. The group could only watch as the ship descended farther down the slope, picking up people from Torres’s group. They should be celebrating. Yet they stood watching quietly, and Adam knew many people must be wishing the ship was coming for them first. As if they deserved it more because they’d kept faith with Zach and gone on climbing.

  “Come on,” Zach said after they watched for a few minutes. “We have to keep moving.”

  Nobody came right out and objected, but there were a few sighs and pained looks. If Zach had suggested they camp here and didn’t move again until rescue came, nobody would have argued—except Adam.

  It had been raining steadily since breakfast time, and Adam felt like he’d never be dry again. Water got in under his collar and trickled down his spine in an infuriating way. It must be dripping from something on his pack, but he’d have to wait until their next break to fix it. Meanwhile, he’d go quietly mad.

  Zach led the way, using his borrowed hiking pole to help him up the increasingly steep slope. Sometimes they climbed parts so steep they had to use their hands too. Everyone hated that, especially Jan, who had to be helped over those stretches. Minor quakes had rattled them three times already today.

  Adam walked well behind Zach, in among the group. It wasn’t unusual for him to do so; he’d been doing it since the first day, talking to people, encouraging them, taking their minds off the hardship, assessing the mood of the group. But he wasn’t talking today, and people kept looking at him with nervous expressions, wondering what kept him quiet. Did people assume it was worry and fear? Or did some more sensitive ones realize he and Zach were having issues?

  Issues? Funny word to describe total relationship breakdown. Zach’s words kept playing over and over in his mind. Not beholden to each other. Adam had already feared the relationship wouldn’t last, but hearing Zach talk so calmly about it had freaked him out. Didn’t he care? Didn’t he even want to fight for what they had? Or were those proclamations of love born of fear and adrenaline? Had Zach looked back on them with a cooler head and dismissed them as nonsense?

  “Fuck.” Glyn, walking nearby, stumbled on loose rock, and Adam grabbed his arm to keep him upright. “Fuck,” Glyn muttered. “I fucking hate this shit.”

  “I know. We’ll be stopping for lunch soon. You okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay. I just had to watch the ship I should be on picking up other people and flying off again. So I’m kind of pissed, okay?”

  Adam withdrew from him a little but spoke sympathetically. “I know. Hard to watch.”

  “Why the hell did those idiots turn back anyway?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Truth is, he couldn’t cut it, right?” He gestured ahead of them at Zach. “He’s not a real leader, is he? He’s an amateur.”

  “I
t fell to him, that’s all. I think he’s done okay.”

  “Yeah? Tell that to the families of the thousand people he couldn’t even persuade to leave Arius.”

  “He did his…” Adam stopped himself. “You weren’t there, okay?”

  He walked faster, away from Glyn, until he almost caught up with Zach. At the last moment, he didn’t move to walk at his side but stayed a couple of meters behind. Close enough so if Zach stumbled Adam would catch him.

  He glanced back at Glyn, who had a surly look on his face and was looking daggers at Zach. Or maybe at Adam. Maybe at both of them. Had his rejection last night upset Glyn enough to make him so snappy? Or was it only the sight of the ship? The sight of it leaving?

  But still, screw him. It hadn’t been Zach’s fault the group split. He’d begged them to stay. Like he’d begged the rest of the population to leave Arius. Not his fault they’d stayed and died. Zach had done fine. He might not be a natural leader, but he was smart, and he’d done what a smart man did when he saw a gap in his abilities—brought in others to help him. Some of those others had gone, but he still had Adam and Simon. Simon was a rock, calm and reliable, and Adam knew he should try to be the same. Zach needed him. If not in his bed, he needed him at his side as his morale officer and advisor. To let him down because of their personal issues would make Adam a child.

  Simon must be suffering, he thought, parted from his wife and daughter, but he never complained. He got on and did the job he’d taken on. So did Zach. Adam had to do the same. He’d give it 100 percent. No, 110 percent. That would make up for the rest of his life, when he’d never given anything more than 90 percent.

  “Adam.” Glyn caught up and walked beside him, voice low enough Zach wouldn’t hear him. “Sorry about snapping at you. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sure Zach’s tried his best, no matter how badly things have turned out. I’m sure he meant well.”

  Adam glanced across to him, seeing a look of remorse on his face. But in his eyes he had something of the hunger he’d demonstrated last night.

  “Apology accepted,” Adam said. Glyn opened his mouth to speak again, but Adam cut him off. “Excuse me, I have to see Simon about something.” He turned away. Screw Glyn. Last night and moments ago, Adam had seen other sides to the man and didn’t like them much. After hearing such heartfelt bitterness in Glyn’s words about Zach, this sudden contrition and apology rang hollow. Adam didn’t trust it.

  He put Glyn out of his mind and thought instead about what he’d do when they stopped for the night. He had to clear the air with Zach and make up. This was just a stupid fight. He’d had some spectacular fights with boyfriends in the past and been loved up and cozy again a day later. It could be that way with Zach. Even if the crazy situation had made them move too fast in the relationship, it didn’t mean they had to rush headlong to the breakup. They had to do as they’d said they would. Assess things once they were away from here and could be more normal.

  Zach looked back over his shoulder and caught Adam’s eye. Adam smiled at him. An encouraging smile. If they made up tonight and made love, would that be in the same spirit of encouragement? A pity fuck? Oh hell, no way. Sex with Zach was damn good. It wouldn’t stop being good if they weren’t madly in love. Adam had slept with plenty of guys who weren’t in love with him. He hadn’t kicked any of them out of bed and told them to take their blowjobs elsewhere. Sex was sex. Would Zach feel the same way?

  Many people would assume someone as intellectual as Zach lived too much in his head to be deeply interested in sex, but Zach approached his work and his personal life with the same passion. The same principles too. He’d shown that in refusing to make a bogus prediction about the rate of the sinking. It hadn’t been needed in the end. People had slowed for a while but were moving at full speed again. Watching the ship leaving again had done it. They knew it would be a day and a half at least before it came back, and if they sat and waited for it and it didn’t come back when they expected, they’d eventually be running with the water at their heels and no time to stop for food or sleep.

  “Hi, Adam,” Simon said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Hi. How’s it going?”

  “Great. My feet are ready to fall off. My legs feel like someone set them on fire, and a very strong man appears to be smashing a sledgehammer into my back. But other than that, I’m great.”

  “Tell me about it. Why did I ever do this for fun? I must have been crazy.”

  “I was thinking about Barbara’s group. It was about the same size as ours, and that was the same ship, which means they can’t all have gotten aboard.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same.” How much harder had it been to find volunteers or to choose people with the water so much closer?

  “Barbara will have stayed behind,” Simon said in a tone suggesting anyone arguing with that assertion must be a fool. Adam agreed. “I would hope Jones would have the decency to as well.”

  “He’d better have.” Though Torres might not want him in her group. If the man who’d talked them into turning back and walking toward danger had escaped before all the rest of his companions, it would offend Adam’s sense of natural justice.

  “They could be catching up to us faster,” Adam said. “Like we’ve moved faster without the kids and…” He stopped. “Sorry. I know you must be missing Ami and Visha.”

  “I’d rather know they’re safe than have them with me in danger if that’s the choice. Vish only went because of Ami, you know. She’d have stayed otherwise.”

  Adam nodded. He knew it. “You’re a lucky guy. She’s amazing.”

  “I know I—”

  He stopped as they heard the rumbling all around them. The group faltered to a halt, and everyone dropped to the ground. The dogs howled as usual, and though there was none of the screaming and crying there had been when they had the children with them, the faces around him were full of fear. Simon looked gray and sick. As the shaking started, he grabbed hold of outcropping rocks on the ground, as if they could help. Instinct, Adam knew, doing the same himself. And useless. When the ground itself trembled, what did you have to hang on to?

  “Adam.” Zach’s voice, and Adam looked over to see him doing the same as them, hanging on to the shaking ground, grim-faced, frightened. What did he want to say? Nothing apparently. He didn’t say anything else after calling Adam’s name. Did he only want to see his face? Adam smiled, the kind of reassuring smile he used on the scared kids during a quake. Zach smiled back, and warmth suffused through Adam, rising up his back, down his legs. Oh yes, they’d definitely make up tonight. Maybe before then. Yes. As soon as this quake ended, he’d talk to Zach and get this crap sorted out.

  “Aw hell!” Simon cried, voice unusually panicky as the shaking intensified. Adam’s teeth rattled in his head. The rumbling grew louder and became a roar. Shit, this was a big one, and it wasn’t stopping. An urge overtook Adam. One he could no more ignore than the urge to breathe. He wanted to get to Zach. Moving with the ground bucking under him like a bronco was crazy, a view Simon expressed when Adam shed his backpack and began to crawl toward Zach. But Adam had to get to Zach. He stayed on his belly, found a rock to push against with his foot sometimes, but otherwise pulled himself along with his hands, blood warm on his skin when the rock cut and scratched them.

  He almost made it. Close. Only three meters separated them. Then two. Then…only centimeters from Adam’s face the ground cracked.

  Time slowed as the crack widened. Adam flung out an arm, desperate to grab any part of Zach, who did the same, reaching for Adam. But they were too far apart to have a chance of connecting. Screams came from all around Adam as the ground opened up and fell away. People scrambled away from the edge, some almost falling before others hauled them to safety. But Adam couldn’t reach Zach to do the same. The piece of mountain Zach lay on slid away and fell, taking him away from Adam.

  “Zach!” Adam screamed as the chunk of rock and Zach vanished from sight. “Zach! Zach!”
He crawled toward the edge, trying to see over it. Someone grabbed his ankle, and he looked back to see Simon hanging on to him.

  “Come back from the edge, for God’s sake!” Simon yelled. “You’ll go over too!”

  He didn’t care. He wanted to go over, climb down, find Zach. But Simon hung on and, with a strength he must have only when life and death were at stake, dragged Adam back from the edge, far enough to grab him around the waist and pin him down.

  Adam fought him, thrashing as violently as the ground, but Simon was heavier and stronger so held him, jaw set, grim-faced, like he would with Amina when she threw a tantrum. Fight all you like, the grim look said. I’ll just hold you until you’re tired.

  The shaking began to ease, and Adam did the same, knowing he was hysterical and he couldn’t help Zach like this. Control, he thought. Regain control and figure it out. Zach is alive. Assume that until you’re sure otherwise. Until then, Zach is alive. The unholy terror diminished, replaced by an icy determination, already making plans. He had rope in his pack. He could climb down, see what condition Zach was in. The others could start on building a stretcher. He’d have Glyn climb down to administer first aid.

  The quake finally ended, the noise and shaking dying away, the quiet broken by moans and crying from the group. How many of them had seen Zach fall? How many were simply terrified by the worst quake they’d experienced so far and had yet to realize they’d lost their leader? Simon’s head dropped onto Adam’s chest, and he sighed with relief for the end of the quake, then looked up.

  “Adam, I’m so sorry.”

  Adam wasted no time arguing about it. Zach is alive. He scrambled out of Simon’s arms and crawled to the edge of the new cliff. The slope had partly collapsed, forming a new ravine.

  “Zach!” Adam called. “Zach, can you hear me?” He searched desperately and then gasped. “There! There he is!”

  Zach lay on a piece of flat rock perhaps twenty meters down. It might be the very piece of mountain he’d been lying on up here. Simon came up beside Adam, also on hands and knees, cautious of the edge.