"I didn't break your jaw, did I?" I felt a flash of unexpected concern.
"No, I don't think so. Doc says it might be a little cracked, but it'll heal just fine."
I stared at the bruise, noticing the fine stubble on his chin for the first time. It was nice, just a half day's growth but it made him a little less perfect, a little more human. Just the right touch of scruffiness. I wondered if the bruise made it hurt to shave, but I decided not to ask. Instead, I looked down again with another soft sigh.
"You've been so patient with me. I'm really sorry, for everything." I felt ashamed of myself and didn't quite know how to express it. "I'm just, you know..."
He reached across the table, and rested his hand over mine. "I know. You're broken." He smiled softly, and gave my hand a comforting squeeze. "It's okay. You've been through a lot. We'll talk about it, gradually, when you're ready. I'll help you get better."
"You mean that?" I asked softly, feeling hope for the first time in what felt like forever.
"Damn right, I do. We're friends now, okay? You and me. And Doc and Maddy, too. And the others once you get a chance to meet them. We're all friends, and we're here to support one another. Right?"
"Yeah," I agreed readily, although I barely remembered what it was like to have a friend. There had been a lot of friends in my early life, before the outbreak, but now I was in uncertain territory.
"Besides," he reached over to lightly chuck me under the chin in a friendly fashion, "if we ditched one another just because we were a little broken, this place would be completely empty."
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first laugh I'd had in a while, too. The sound of it made him smile.
***
We just talked for a while about nothing in particular, about cartoons we watched as children and the places where we grew up. The conversation stuck to cheerful things. Skillful manipulation on his part, but I wasn't complaining. I needed it, to just talk about good times and forget all the bad ones.
He even broke out the food to keep me distracted, and we ate reheated spaghetti-from-a-can together while we chatted.
"Call me crazy, but I think the little sausages are the best part." He stabbed one of the tinned sausages with his fork.
"Yeah, I agree. I always begged my mum to get the kind with the sausages in it when I was little. She always said no, no, it's not good for you, they’re more expensive, blah blah; but then she’d end up buying it anyway."
He was really good. Usually, whenever I thought about my mother, I suffered a terrible pang of grief; this time, all I felt was the wistfulness of remembering a happy memory. With an impish grin, he waved the little sausage at me teasingly, and then popped it in his mouth. I stuck my tongue out childishly in return, and found my own sausage to eat.
"Mich-ael?" A female voice called from some distance away, drawing our attention away from our lunches. A few seconds later, the voice called again. "Mi-ike?"
Michael grunted in annoyance. "She knows I hate being called that."
"I understand. I don't much care for my full name." I nodded understandingly, twirling spaghetti on my fork.
"What, Sandra?" He peered at me, curious.
"That's actually not it."
"Then what is it?"
"I'm not telling." I waved my fork at him in mock threat. "If I tell you, then you'll be tempted to use it, and if you use it then I'll have to give you a shiner to match your jaw."
"Oh no, anything but that." He feigned terror briefly, then stood up and stretched. "I better go see what they want. They were out scavenging, so they probably found something big and want me to help them move it. You want to come meet them?"
"In a minute. I want to finish my food while it's hot; I'm pretty hungry." I gestured for him to go ahead without me. "Don't worry, I'll find you. You're kind of loud."
"I am not loud!" This time he was the one faking indignation, but it didn’t last for long. His scowl melted into a grin, and he gave me a wink before he left the room.
I took my time finishing off my lunch, not entirely sure how I felt about meeting yet more potentially dangerous survivors. In spite of everything, I really felt like I could trust the three I'd met so far, but adding more strangers to the mix felt like I was pushing my luck somehow.
Still, Michael would probably bring them to me if I didn't go to them. I popped the last bite of spaghetti in my mouth and stood up to take my bowl and utensils to the sink. I rinsed them and left them to dry, then headed off in the direction my new friend had gone.
It didn't take me long to find them. He wasn’t really all that loud, but voices did carry in these cold, concrete halls. I found him deep in conversation with a pair of young people, a man and a woman, over some item of salvage they wanted to bring back to base.
The male was a fairly short fellow in his early twenties, skinny as a rake with a shock of red hair and a plague of freckles across every inch of visible skin. By contrast, the woman was blonde and pretty, no older than eighteen or nineteen, with pale skin that showed just a touch of sunburn across the nose. Her hair was clipped at a practical shoulder length, and fell in tight natural curls that reminded me of my mother. I also noticed that she was heavily pregnant.
Some inexplicably jealous part of me hoped it wasn't Michael's baby.
"Hey," I called softly to announce myself, and the trio looked up from the map they were studying.
"Oh, hey, you must be Sandy. Michael was telling us about you. I’m Ryan." The redhead approached with a hand extended, and I managed to shake it without freaking out. I thought that was a pretty major achievement for Project: Tame Sandy – I didn’t even hit anyone that time.
"Hi." My reply was a bit awkward but was functional, then I looked over at the young woman and froze when I realised that she was staring at me intently, looking puzzled.
"Sandy..." She repeated my name, as though trying it on for size, her brow furrowed. "Sandy McDermott?"
"Yes?" Something was going on here. How did she know my last name? I hadn’t told anyone that. My brain shifted into overdrive. Then, something clicked and all the pieces fell into place.
The age, the hair, the complexion. This young woman was the spitting image of my mother from her old wedding photos. But, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. Could it?
"...Skylar?"
Chapter Fourteen
There was a lot of squealing and bouncing and hugging as Skylar and I reunited. The men watched with bewildered expressions, clueless as to why we’d both suddenly gone mad – but we didn’t care. We clung together making inarticulate noises, but too impossibly happy to form a rational thought.
After a whole decade, hundreds of kilometres of wandering, and against all odds, I had found my little sister alive and well. I could hardly believe it. Ten years I'd spent mourning for her, and all that time she was still alive. It seemed like a wonderful dream and I was afraid to think about it too much in case I woke up.
We were so noisy that we even attracted the doctor and his granddaughter from wherever they had been. With everyone gathered around, I finally managed to gasp down enough breath to explain the reason for our joy.
"This is my sister. My little, baby sister. Though not a baby anymore, by the looks of it." I eyeballed her pregnant belly and gave her a playful nudge, which made her giggle. Then the reality of the situation finally struck home and dampened my levity. "I thought you were dead, Skye. Where the hell did you go? Why didn't you meet us at the beach house?"
"I couldn't." Skylar clung to me like a limpet. I didn’t mind – I was just as determined to cling back. "We got a flat tyre halfway there, so we tried to walk but we got lost. Dad found an empty farmhouse for us to sleep in, but I think he was already infected. He put me to bed one night, and when I woke up he was gone.
"Ryan's family owned the house. He was away at a school camp when the infection hit and had to walk home. When he got there, he found me hiding in his house and his family was all gone. He's been looki
ng after me ever since."
"I can't believe it." Overcome by a surge of emotion, I squeezed my little sister so hard that she squealed in protest. "All these years, I thought you were dead. If I'd known, I would have come looking for you."
"I know. If I’d known you were alive, I would have done the same." Suddenly, she shoved me back and stared at me with huge, hope-filled eyes. "Is Mum alive, then? Grandma?"
My heart sank, knowing that I was going to have to break her heart all over again. I just shook my head.
"We made it to the beach house, but they got the infection anyway. I'm so sorry."
I hugged her tight and gave her a minute to absorb the information. She looked pretty crushed, but took the news well. I understood how she felt. I’d already mourned for Dad so much over the years that finally hearing for sure that he was dead didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. That wound had scabbed over and turned into an old scar years ago.
"Well, at least I've got you again." Skye squinted up at me with tear-filled eyes, as though trying to figure out if I was the real thing. "Though, I do remember you being taller."
I shook my head and gave her a smile. "Nah, you were just shorter."
Suddenly, little Madeline decided that she’d heard enough of our nonsense. She stomped over and poked me unceremoniously in the bottom. I squeaked in surprise and looked down at her; her big brown eyes were narrowed suspiciously.
"Miss Skylar can't be your sister. Your sister is my age. You told me so." The little girl stomped petulantly, drawing a chuckle from the adults in the room. I stood awkwardly for a moment, not entirely sure how to respond to that. The childlike answer seemed like the best response, so I went with that.
"Well, she was your age when I last saw her, but she grew up. But, look." I poked Skylar's pregnant belly. "She's making a new baby for you to play with. That counts."
"But the baby won’t be my age either," Madeline complained, pouting.
"She will be when she’s your age." I selected a cryptic answer as though it made perfect sense.
"Ohhh." Maddy's eyes lit up as if she suddenly understood. "Well, I guess that's okay then. She can be your sister."
"Thanks for the permission." I smirked and shot an amused glance at the other adults in the room. Oblivious, Maddy skipped off and vanished down the corridor in search of something fun to do.
Awesome. Apparently I spoke fluent seven-year-old now. I should add that to my resume.
"That kid is so cute." Skye giggled and leaned up against me. Even as an adult, she was still a little shorter than me, but in some strange way that pleased me. At least she was still my little sister.
All grown up. Still alive. I marvelled at the fact. I could hardly believe it. After a decade, a whole decade, somehow we had both survived and found each other.
It was a miracle.
***
We didn't have much time to get reacquainted. As it turned out, Ryan and Skye had been off scouting for resources and had found a cache that had been opened up by the storm a few nights ago. An old tree had come down in the wind, taking out the wall of a building as it fell.
Once it had been a big general goods store, but the front of the building collapsed years ago, so whatever was inside had been sealed in ever since. When the tree fell, it exposed the stock room and all the merchandise that was hidden safely within. It was like a time capsule of retail greed and it was ours for the taking.
The good news, Skye told us, was that a lot of the stuff still looked viable – clothing, shoes, home wares and much more. The bad news was that we would have to be quick. The tree took out half the roof when it collapsed, so the stock was exposed to the elements.
"It's going to take us a lot of trips to get all that stuff back here. We could probably scavenge some shopping trolleys, but it's about two kilometres each way." Ryan peered down at the map spread out on the table as he explained the situation to us.
"We're going to need every able body." Skye shot me a pointed look. "You're on babysitting detail."
"Hey, I can help," I protested, feeling stung.
"With that?" Michael cut in, and pointed at my foot. "Oh no, you stay here." With one big hand, he reached out and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze to soften the blow of what he had to say next. "With that injury, you're more of a liability than an asset in the field. You know that. Plus, someone has to stay here to protect Maddy if anything goes wrong."
My shoulders slumped. I didn't like it, but I knew they were right. Until it healed, my foot made me a liability. Still, I wanted to help in some way. This was my sister, for crying out loud. Her presence in this group changed everything.
"At least take my truck." I gave them a plaintive look. "It still has half a tank of gas, it should get you back and forth a few times."
"You have a truck?" Skye stared at me, wide-eyed. I squinted at Michael, who shrugged sheepishly.
"I forgot to mention it." He looked a little embarrassed. "I parked it in the garage with all the others, but none of them work and we don't know how to fix them, so we never really go in there."
"Huh." There were other vehicles? And these survivors didn't know how to repair them? I stored that piece of information away for later use. "Anyway, yeah, I resurrected an old ute. The back is pretty spacious."
"Thank you, Sandy. We appreciate the offer." Michael smiled that kind smile of his. "That'll help things go much more quickly."
I felt an unexpected flush of pride at his praise, but I just smiled back and nodded.
"Alright, so we've got a plan." Michael turned to the others and took command with an ease that just seemed natural. "Sandy stays with Maddy, everyone else is with me. Has anyone seen Dog?" He looked around at the others, but they all shook their heads.
"He was off scouting this morning, like us." Skye shrugged. "I imagine he'll be back before dark."
"Hm, okay." Michael glanced over at me again. "If you see a skinny kid come waltzing in with a big black Labrador, don't panic. He's one of us. He's also deaf, so don't be offended if he doesn't hear you yelling at him. I'll leave a note for him on the fridge in case he gets back before we do."
I nodded my understanding.
"Right." Michael clapped his hands once, falling into the leadership role by default. "Everyone, go get your gear. Ryan, come and help me get Sandy's stuff out of the car before we go." He looked at me. "You don't mind if we put it in your room, do you?"
I hesitated. They seemed perfectly happy to let me be selfish with my supplies, but for the first time in a very long time I felt like being generous.
"No, just add it to your stores." I smiled shyly. "You've all been so kind to me – I don't mind sharing."
Michael looked both surprised and pleased at my decision. He nodded his understanding, then clapped Ryan on the shoulder and vanished off down a corridor. The doctor left to gather his things, leaving me alone with Skylar. She beckoned for me to follow her, so I did. Together we made our way through the cold, concrete passages towards her room.
We walked in companionable silence, each of us hampered in our own way by our medical conditions – me by my foot, her by her swollen belly. Judging by the size of it, she must be at least seven months along, maybe even eight. She looked about ready to burst and yet she was still going, game to help with the search. I was impressed with her stubbornness and determination. That was a survivor’s attitude.
Curiosity got the better of me at last; I just had to ask. "So, who's the dad?"
"Ryan, of course." Skylar grinned broadly and glanced over at me, her big blue eyes sparkling. "He's such a sweet guy, the way he's been taking care of me all these years. He was twelve when he found me, and I was eight of course, so we grew up together. A couple of years ago, we both kind of realised we were adults, things got a bit more serious, and, well—" She trailed off and rubbed a hand over her belly, smiling contentedly. "He's asked me to marry him, but we haven't found a living priest yet."
"I'm sure there's one a
round somewhere, we'll just have to find him." I gave her another mischievous little nudge – and tried to ignore the way relief flooded through me when she named her young companion as the father.
It concerned me a little bit that I felt that way, but it was a basic, animal kind of jealousy, even though I knew full well I had no right to feel jealous over Michael at all. He wasn’t mine. I did find him attractive though, so perhaps some part of me wanted to claim him somehow. I wasn’t sure. It’d just been such a long since I’d felt any kind of attraction to another human being. I didn’t really know what to do about it anymore. I didn’t even know if I wanted a relationship with any man, ever.
But when he gave me that quirky little half-smile of his, it made my gut do a backflip. I couldn’t help but feel something.
"Hopefully." Skylar’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and suddenly I felt the warmth of a small hand slipping into mine, just like when we were kids. "It doesn't really matter anymore. All that matters is the way we feel about each other, right?"
"Right," I agreed and gave her hand a squeeze. "Aren't you worried, though? About the immunity, I mean?"
"What do you mean?" Her smile faded and she looked at me in concern.
"Well, I mean, about the immunity to the disease." I chewed my lip and stared down at my feet as we walked. "I guess you were too young. Before the internet went down, I found articles online from scientists that were studying the immunity. They said that they discovered the gene that makes us immune is a recessive gene—"
"What does that mean? Is my baby in danger?" Suddenly defensive, Skye stopped walking and grabbed me by the arms, her eyes wide.
"I-I don't know." I grabbed her in return and hugged her close, hating to be the bearer of bad news. "I just remember reading that they said there's no guarantee our immunity will be passed on to our children."
Skylar's lean frame shook in my arms. For a moment I was scared that she was crying, but when she pulled back and looked up at me I saw that her eyes were dry and her face set in a mask of determination.
The Survivors (Book 1): Summer Page 14