Life After War: Books 1-3

by Angela White

  Adrian placed a light hand on her arm as he introduced them, and Angela jumped at the sweet curl of lust produced by his fingers on her bare skin, surprised. His hand tensed on her for just a brief second before letting go, telling her he’d felt it too.

  “This is Angela. She’s an M.D.”

  The seven closest (oldest) men and women immediately turned to her with outstretched, groping, grotesquely swelled hands, assailing her with questions and complaints of illnesses. They scared her just a little.

  Adrian saw her fingers flinch downward, and then go out to shake the nearest hand instead.

  “Are you a real doctor?”

  “Will you look at my rash?”

  “Who’d you come in with?”

  The queries came fast, and for Angela, who’d been alone for a long time, it was hard to smile awkwardly and keep her gift under her thumb as it cried out with a hunger that food couldn’t quench. She wasn’t ready for this yet.

  “Nice hair. You dye it?”

  “Are you staying here with that man?”

  “It itches all the time.”

  “‘Cause we have laws …”

  “Do you play …?”

  They jostled each other, trying to get her attention, and Angela’s thumb slipped, letting a wave of frustration escape. “Enough!”

  The mental shout stung them all, like the small, sharp bite of an insect. Adrian’s heart thumped as silence fell among the older people who were usually never quiet. Would she fail the first test?

  Angela’s eyes lit up with regret even as a satisfied gleam flickered in her blue depths. She turned to one of the men, took his gnarled hands. “That was rude,” she said, tone gentle as she locked eyes with the miner. “Please. Forgive me?”

  There was another second or two of tense silence and then Ralph’s old, rheumy brown eyes twinkled as he smiled back with a toothless grin. “Will you come read to us geezers sometime?” he bellowed, hearing mostly gone.

  Adrian relaxed a little as the older people lost their confused, hurt looks, and began adding their support. Had she known he was the unofficial senior, senior? He’d never seen them take to anyone so fast, not even Becky.

  Angela smiled at the small group of elderly men and women, open and unguarded, and Adrian felt the magic again, that spark of flint on flint, and knew he wasn’t the only one. Men across the Mess were turning her way.

  “I’d love to. Tell me about this rash.”

  The seniors converged on her again, much more gently this time, and the rest of the twenty-five or so people in line and already at the tables went back to what they were doing, not sure if they had missed something. Adrian knew how they felt since he’d been closely watching the whole time and knew he had missed something.

  They got their cups, and walked up the other side of the neatly set-up camp. Adrian stopped to light a smoke, then caught her eye.

  He didn’t speak right away, just looked at her, and Angela could feel her gift wanting more of him. His energy, willingly given, would be sweet, as refreshing as Marc’s maybe. He was like her but different, and together they could …

  “So what did you say to them?”

  Angela dropped her eyes, suddenly unsure. “You heard it.”

  Adrian’s eyes blazed with emotion, “Don’t do that! If we’re to build something, honesty between us is all that matters.”

  She dropped her head, face reddening. The old Angela was saying he was like Brady, that she could trust him, but she based her choice on that first, sharp connection. For just a too-brief second, she’d known she was where fate meant her to be. The feeling was gone now, but she longed for that peace, and sensed this man could help her find it again.

  “I told them I’m young and don’t have enough control over my emotions. I asked them to be patient and quiet while I learn.”

  Adrian tried hard to sound casual and knew he wasn’t quite successful. “Mental conversations. You can do that whenever you want?”

  Angela nodded nervously and missed the happy greed that flashed over his face as she stuck to the plan. She would be herself here - the newer, stronger woman - or she would take her boy and go somewhere else. “Usually.”

  Adrian had to struggle with himself not to ask her to prove it, but he got them moving again, leaving her relieved, surprised, and a little suspicious. Shouldn’t he call her a liar or at least be asking questions?

  2

  The camp was fully awake now, people everywhere and staring. She could hear them wondering who she was and when she’d come in, but it was clearest in the faces of the guards.

  Most of the security was inside the camp, easily accessible, and the black-clad men appeared to be patrolling set areas. They looked the same as SWAT officers, wore the exact clothes and gear from what she could see, but to Angela, the difference was in their eyes. They were much more aware, more alert than the cops of the old world had been.

  They walked past a taped-off area and stopped in front of a large grassy field with three enormous tents set up in a semicircle. The center shelter was a double-sided, brown circus-style with an 18-wheeler backed in on each side. Angela saw another, smaller tent in the far corner and concentrated... “You have a veterinarian?”

  Adrian nodded, grinning. Despite all the trouble he already foresaw, his mood was good. His Witch had come.

  “Yes. We’ve gathered him a small herd to look after. The goal is to produce our own food, and we try to be careful,” he said, leading her through a maze of chest-high, portable wooden stalls inside the big tent that smelled lightly of fresh straw and mildew. “We even keep them away from the gun area.”

  Adrian waved a hand at a thin, handsome, yet harried-looking man of about forty, who was kneeling in one of the straw-covered pens. “Chris says it might upset them and make the meat sour.”

  Angela nodded, watching gentle hands push a big pill down a tiny mouth before putting the rabbit in a cage by itself. “I’ve heard something like that. They say chickens won’t produce well if they’re not kept in the right surroundings.”

  “Who’s this?”

  The man’s voice put off equal waves of impatience and dislike, and Angela saw Adrian give him a warning look.

  “This is Angela. She treats people. This is Chris. He treats animals.”

  Angela automatically held out a hand and the vet frowned, forced to stop and wipe his on his filthy white coat. The second they touched, she caught flashes, some of which disturbed her, and she quickly let go. “Pregnant.”

  Chris’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, Adrian moved forward, and Angela faded back, realizing she had overstepped. The blond might think he was ready, but he knew his people weren’t. She would have to be more careful.

  “You start this week’s tests yet?”

  The brown-and-gray haired vet shook his head, green eyes still on Angela as she wandered the cluttered aisles. “No. Tomorrow. I need…”

  Angela looked around while they talked, admiring cats, chickens, roosters and many other animals, each in their own neat cage or pen. It impressed her to see not only extinguishers, but also fire alarms hanging from tent poles.

  Adrian caught her eye, and she moved quickly to his right side, knowing instinctively that was where he wanted her. She looked at Chris as his intense green eyes lingered, and he returned it with no change in annoyed expression.

  Knowing she shouldn’t, Angela slipped into his thoughts and was a little surprised to find a thin wall. He was blocking her. She could be through it in seconds, sensed he was waiting for her to try, and pulled back instead. What would she gain? Proving that she could, only to find he was scared and disliked her because of it? Angela let out a sigh and caught up with Adrian.

  Next to the animal area was a large tow truck with a tarp stretched over a small space off to its side. As Adrian talked with the man behind the wheel, Angela understood this was Safe Haven’s communication center and the man standing just under the cover of the camouflage canopy was a
guard, though he wasn’t dressed like one.

  Her brow creased with insight. Anyone this organized and careful had to be able to see Kenny for what he was. Just choosing to overlook it? Adrian didn’t seem the type, but only time would tell. Time she and Brady would spend apart. She was missing him already. She turned her back to the busy blond and looked at the QZ, noticing there was one less tent now. Brady appeared almost immediately in the doorway of the vinyl shelter farthest from everything, deep blue eyes locked on her.

  “You okay?”

  Angela was able to feel how upset he was. Had he and Kenn been in another fight? “I’m fine. Seems like a good place so far.”

  Marc shrugged, eyes going to Adrian as he came up behind her. “We’ll see, won’t we?” Marc let the flap fall back over the doorway.

  “He’ll be out of there by morning, probably. I skipped it with you because you’re a doctor,” Adrian stated casually.

  Angela spun on him at the evasion. “Don’t do that! If we’re trying to build something, honesty between us matters.”

  Adrian’s face reddened a little at having his own words used against him. There wasn’t anyone here who would do that, and the leader was a little surprised to find his soul needed to be held accountable. Needed it and wanted it. “I skipped it because I didn’t want to wait while you were quarantined.”

  She almost rose to the bait and asked “wait for what?” but she wasn’t ready to talk about the things she sensed he now was, and held silent.

  Adrian once more let her evade, knowing she (and the camp) needed time, but he hated it that she was so aloof and so tense. He had only spent half an hour with her and already saw things that shouldn’t be there, even for a survivor. Unless she’d been mistreated long before the War. Steady eye contact, genuine smiles, mild reactions to gunfire, and fresh curiosity were things most of his people had arrived (or been found) with. These refugees had been fresh out of basements and cellars or recovering from shock, too numb to really be scared anymore, but there was a deep, wild fear in the depths of Angela’s eyes that sent his mind to her arrival and the cut on her lip.

  He was almost positive the injury had come from a vicious (or series of) back-handed slap, and Adrian knew instinctively they hadn’t come from Brady. Their looks were too intense, too familiar. She wasn’t afraid of Marc and unless Rick had hit her (and wouldn’t Kenn have told him that right away? Or, just killed him?), that only left his Marine. It was the explanation that fit all the awkward moments, and Adrian felt something shift in his heart as he stole a glance at the quiet woman on his right. He would look out for her. No man would ever hit her in anger again. Not while she was under his protection.

  3

  Angela drew in a steadying breath as two trucks and campers parked side by side came into view. There were armed men smoking and talking a bit away from the small, neat lines of people who stared and whispered, and Angela suddenly wondered if Adrian had a woman here who would be jealous. There was a hollow ping somewhere deep in her stomach, and she blinked away a red haze of blood. What the hell was the matter with her? Brady was the only man she wanted.

  Adrian moved closer, and she could sense him trying very hard not to ask for something he needed, felt him come to a decision when she remained silent.

  Adrian stopped before they reached the row of trucks and people, met her eye. “We have a thief.”

  Angela frowned at the lowly spoken words. “Why share that with me?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll tell me who it is.”

  He turned away before she could respond, leaving her with yet another choice to make. Clearly he understood a lot about how different she was already, and if she did this, if she looked for him, there wouldn’t be any saying “no” later. Still, the thought of earning her place here based on what she could do was very appealing, as Adrian had known it would be. Who could resist being needed and wanted for who they really were?

  “Besides,” the Witch seduced, “he’s the best ally to have here. Give him what he wants. Build up a debt.”

  Four of the five men sitting on crates by the open semi doors looked up with greetings and curious smiles. Angela hung back as Adrian stepped over to the largest of them.

  “Hey, Doug. How’s the count?”

  The huge man frowned, grinding out a cigar in the dry earth at his boots. When he stood he towered over them all by inches. “Light in every truck. Same as last week.”

  The man’s Irish lilt was barely noticeable in his frustration, pleasing to the ear. When he caught her stare and winked, Angela couldn’t help smiling back, a little amused (and intimidated) by all the interest from these men and those watching. Kenn had ignored her unless he was in the mood, and people at a hospital weren't aware enough of their surroundings to notice something as unimportant as looks. Until her trip with Marc, she hadn’t felt pretty in a long time.

  “Didn’t break in, the locks are fine,” the heavily-bearded man stated, green eyes upset. “They must have a key.”

  Adrian stared into the nearly empty truck and Doug waited for the new solution he knew was coming, but his mind was on the woman, recognizing the way she carried herself. Had she served?

  “Okay. Post new rules. Fuel and water trucks are now closed from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. Only Level guards or higher will have access after those hours. Put a red collar dog on watch, stake ‘em down with those railroad spikes if you have to and we’ll hope it doesn’t rain.”

  Doug agreed, eyes still on the woman.

  Adrian motioned her forward. “This is Angela. She’s Charlie’s mom and hopefully, our second doctor. This is Doug, Daryl, Chris, Tony and Danny. These guys are pretty useful, so you’ll remember their names after a while,” he joked, thinking Danny and sometimes Tony couldn’t really be included in that. Those two were mostly useless.

  Angela exchanged polite (and avoided leering) looks with the men, and then Doug limped forward to shake, his massive hand swallowing hers. Angela’s gift surged forward at the contact, pulling violently.

  The sky darkened to charcoal, and thunder crashed overhead, shaking the very ground they stood on and sending a surge of protectiveness into the big man’s heart.

  Angela slid her hand free, a tiny smile and healthy glow on her face. “Nice to meet so many loyal men.”

  The others hadn’t seen or felt anything (except Adrian, his sharp eyes saw it all), only heard her words.

  Adrian grinned at Doug’s confused look, eyes ordering even as his mouth spoke. “She must want extra shampoo or something.”

  The men laughed and Doug questioned, “You’re Kenn’s lady?”

  Her quick denial was noticed by all of them. “Not anymore.”

  Doug gave her a friendly once over, making Angela flush. “Well, I’d be honored to take his place.”

  The men laughed again, and she shook her head, embarrassed, but also flattered. “Thanks, but I’m not looking for a replacement.”

  Doug nodded, wondering how much the man with the wolf had to do with that and with the wound on her lip. Their arrival story was currently racing through the slowly waking camp. “Well, you say the word lass, and I’m all yours. I’d even take off me vest iffin ya wanted.”

  Even Angela laughed this time, but noticed that Adrian’s shrewd eyes were asking her if she’d made her choice. Had she?

  Adrian drew their attention back, wanting to know if anyone had seen or heard anything last night, and Angela realized she had. She’d hoped for this a long time ago, a world where she could be herself, be accepted because of her gift instead of in spite of it, and the voices whispered again that Adrian could give that to her. She would do this for him, allow him to place her where he wanted. Once things settled down, she and Brady could…

  Angela stopped herself, not wanting to look at her future again and see only darkness. She’d do these things for the right reasons and never take another life. That was a guilt she didn’t think she was strong enough to survive again.

  Angela leaned
down to tie her shoe and slipped into their minds, hard and quick. Seconds later, the dark glow of thievery lit up around one of them. It was unmistakable, very common at the hospital where many of the patients were drug addicts strung out and suffering from withdrawal.

  When Adrian met her eye amid the conversation, she looked at Danny, the only one hanging back and pretending to belong, then turned her back, unable to keep her eyes on the man now that she had condemned him.

  Adrian was floored, not sure if he believed her and yet sure he did. Danny was arrogant, lazy, and often disrespectful to the camp women. Adrian hadn’t cared much for the “handyman” when he’d come to them back in Utah, and the feeling had only grown in the weeks since then. Especially when they realized there wasn’t anything the sleazy man was actually handy at.

  Exchanging a friendly look with Doug as they left, Angela stayed quiet and alert. She let the Witch look over the camp and file things they could improve on, but she didn’t say anything, not sure if that was what Adrian meant by helping him. Answering when asked was good for her.

  Trying not to dwell on that side of the duties yet, she enjoyed the warming wind, glad to see bright rays of sunlight piercing through the thin layer of grit. They passed a group playing soccer on one side of camp, then a circle of men and teenage boys learning to handle dirt bikes, and it was all impressive. Such easy control and neat organization amid so much destruction and chaos was enough to ease some of her fears about using her gift. Maybe these people were different. Adrian sure seemed to be.

  They hadn’t gone very far when Angela noticed there were people following them, a small group of about five.