Heart racing, he hooked his arm through an open window to break his fall. It took him a few seconds to gain his bearings. He’d have to climb over several more cars to reach flat ground. After that, it looked like...hell. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper as far as the eye could see. If he didn’t pick his way carefully through the rubble, he’d risk a serious injury.
He assumed that most of the cars in the distance were empty, abandoned by drivers who couldn’t move forward or back. The closer vehicles were full of bodies. Owen gagged on the smell of burned and decaying flesh.
“Agua,” a voice said.
He almost screamed at the sound. Getting his two feet underneath him, he scrambled upright, looking through the open window. A dark-haired, heavyset man was trapped inside the car. His large body was wedged between the steering column and driver’s seat. His skin was the color of ash, his lips chalky.
There was nothing Owen could do for him.
“Water,” the man repeated. “Agua, por favor.”
Owen didn’t think the man could see him. He was staring in his general direction, but so close to death that his vision had failed.
Garrett had warned him that there would be people who needed help along the way. There would also be bloodsuckers and thieves, ready to steal from the dead and prey on the suffering. Owen had promised to move fast and not stop for anyone. He truly hadn’t thought he’d feel sorry for the wounded. The first rule of survival in prison was minding your own business, and he’d mastered it.
Already, he was faced with a horrible dilemma. Should he leave his water with this man, and have none for himself?
He couldn’t do it. Owen didn’t know how scarce water would be away from the epicenter, but he needed to drink to survive. If he gave away his water and didn’t find more, he’d be in big trouble. And so would everyone he’d left in the cavern.
Gut clenched with regret, he moved on.
For the next thirty minutes, he weaved through the snarl of parked cars. Most were deserted, and he avoided those that weren’t. It was hard to avert his gaze. Even in his peripheral vision, the horror was astounding.
Women. Children. Jesus.
He kept moving, his stomach churning with nausea. Tears streamed down his face, but he felt strangely disconnected from his emotions. Maybe his eyes were reacting to chemical irritants. It smelled as if some gas lines had been busted during the quake. The stench of fire and death was thick in the air.
Uneven roads impeded his progress. There were so many slopes and fissures that he didn’t bother to look for a bike. He couldn’t have ridden one.
After he’d gone about a mile, the traffic cleared and the ground smoothed out. Buildings and houses were damaged, but still standing. He stopped to take a drink, glancing back at the nightmare he’d emerged from.
Downtown San Diego was unrecognizable. It reminded him of the pictures he’d seen after the World Trade Center collapsed. Only, this was nature’s terror attack.
He spotted a BMX in the back of a pickup truck and helped himself. Climbing aboard, he continued on the deserted freeway. All of the area residents were dead or they’d evacuated, because Owen didn’t see another human being for miles.
He didn’t see any rescue crews, either, which concerned him. Penny and the others might have a long wait. The ambulance couldn’t just drive up alongside the structure and honk its horn. They’d need a helicopter and some kind of specialized equipment.
What if he found help, but was turned away? That would be fucked up. He couldn’t imagine going back empty-handed. He couldn’t imagine going back, period. There were too many dead bodies. Too much destruction.
Distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t notice the barricade until he’d almost reached it. Two pimped-out lowriders were parked lengthwise, blocking several lanes. He could go around them, but not without being seen.
Owen’s pulse raced with anxiety as he slowed to a stop. Four young men got out of the vehicles, carrying a variety of weapons. He’d interacted with his share of Mexican gang members in prison, so he recognized the type.
If they saw his tattoos, he’d be screwed.
He adjusted the hood of his sweatshirt to cover his neck, and pulled the cuff down over his hand. They probably wanted money, and Garrett had given him some. After he paid the toll, they’d let him pass.
Taking a deep breath, he moved forward.
Owen hadn’t lied to Penny about his father’s garage. Christian Jackson had tinkered with a lot of old cars in his spare time. Owen had never owned an automobile, in cherry condition or otherwise, but he knew quality work when he saw it.
The El Camino and Monte Carlo had both been fixed up, with sparkling paint jobs, fat rims and tricked-out hydraulics.
The guys in front of the cars were no slouches, either. They were pumped with muscle. Maybe they’d done recent time.
A guy with a tire iron stood in front of the group. “We don’t allow looters in our neighborhood.”
“I’m not looting,” Owen said. “I’m looking for help.”
“You can’t go this way.”
He swallowed dryly. Should he try to explain the situation, or shut up and search for an alternate route?
“What are you hiding?”
A chill traveled up his spine. “Nothing.”
“Show me your hand.”
Fuck. Again, he considered spilling his guts, but he didn’t want to look like a coward. So he lifted his cuff to reveal the swastika. The thorn in his side. If he had to pay this toll with blood, he would.
“Have you been inside?” the guy asked.
“Yes.”
“Where at?”
“Santee Lakes.”
He studied Owen’s lean form with narrowed eyes, as if contemplating whether or not he was worth fighting.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said. “My...my girl just had a baby. She needs a doctor.”
Owen hadn’t expected them to believe him, or to even care. To his surprise, the guy with the tire iron nodded to his friends. Instead of beating him to a pulp, as expected, they stepped aside to let him pass.
Maybe their differences didn’t matter anymore. Maybe, after surviving a major tragedy, they were tired of strife.
He knew he was.
“Thank you,” he said, pedaling around them quickly. His eyes were acting weird again, but this time, he couldn’t blame it on the smoke.
* * *
LAUREN WENT STRAIGHT to the RV after leaving Garrett.
Cadence was playing with Cruz on the bed, smiling when he clutched her finger. Penny stood by the stove, boiling water for rice. If she’d overheard Lauren’s argument with Garrett, she didn’t show it. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you in private,” Lauren said.
Penny turned down the stove and followed her into the bathroom. It was a tight squeeze, so Lauren stood in the shower.
“Did you know Garrett was a convict?”
“No,” Penny said, her eyes wide.
“Mickey just told me.”
“Wow.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I feel so used.”
“Used?”
Lauren lowered her voice to a whisper. “I slept with him.”
“You did?”
“Yes!”
“How was it?”
“It was—” emotional, intense, amazing. “That’s beside
the point.”
Penny looked disappointed, as if she’d like to hear all the tawdry details. “Did he wear a condom?”
“Yes.”
She patted Lauren’s shoulder. “Whew. You’re good, then. Everything will be fine.”
“No, it won’t. He’s going back to prison.”
“You don’t want him to?”
Lauren sank to a sitting position in the shower stall, burying her hands in her hair. “Damn.”
“What?”
She’d fallen in love with him. “I feel like such a fool!”
“At least you used protection.”
“I never would have slept with him if I’d known he was a convict.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have gotten attached if I’d known.”
Again, Penny seemed skeptical.
“I hate him,” she said, banging her fists against the shower floor. “I hate men.”
“What was he convicted of?”
“Manslaughter. He killed a guy in a bar fight. It was an accident, and he feels awful, but that doesn’t change the facts. He’s a criminal, and he pretended not to be.”
“Why didn’t he tell you?”
“He thought I’d freak out.”
“You are freaking out.”
“Only because he kept it from me!” Realizing that she was becoming shrill, Lauren lowered her voice. “He says he’s in love with me.”
Penny’s face lit up, as if this was good news. “You make a cute couple.”
“He’s a prisoner.”
“So what?”
She gaped at Penny. “It would never work.”
“Why not?”
“Would you date a prisoner?”
Penny smiled ruefully. “No. My father would disown me. He already thinks I’m trash for getting pregnant.”
“You’re not trash,” Lauren said, stricken. “I hope you don’t believe that.”
“He sent me to my aunt when I started showing,” she said, twisting her hands together. “Now she’s dead.... I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Can you go back to your parents?”
“Not unless I give up the baby.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. They’re very conservative. ‘Pillars of the community’ and all that. My father thinks the scandal will stain his reputation.”
Lauren found the attitude old-fashioned, but she tried not to judge. “What about the baby’s father?”
“He doesn’t want us.”
“You can still get child support.”
“No, I can’t. He signed away his rights for a small settlement. We could live on that for a little while, but...I’ve never been on my own before. I miss my sisters and my mom. I want to be with my family.”
“Oh, honey.” She rose and put her arms around Penny. “I’m so sorry.”
“Maybe Cruz would be better off without me.”
Lauren pulled back to study her face. “Do you think so?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s no shame in adoption, Penny.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes. “Before he came, I couldn’t imagine what he’d be like. I didn’t want to know if I was having a boy or a girl, because I thought it might influence my decision. It might have, because I wanted a girl. But now I can’t imagine living without him. I already...love him so much.”
“Of course you do,” Lauren said, stroking her hair. “And you’re doing a great job with him. Talk to your parents again. They’re probably worried out of their minds right now, wondering where you are, or if you’re even alive. Maybe they’ll reconsider. Babies have a way of bringing people together.”
Penny didn’t seem convinced, and Lauren felt awful for her. Here she was, complaining about her unfortunate affair with Garrett. It could be worse. She could be eighteen and alone with a newborn to take care of.
“How long until Garrett gets out?” Penny asked.
“Years, I think.”
“Would you wait for him?”
Lauren stared at the opposite side of the shower stall, considering. If Garrett was on deployment, she wouldn’t mind the separation so much. Being apart for months or years at a time couldn’t be easy, but a lot of couples stayed together for better or worse.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head.
After she left the bathroom, Lauren continued outside, needing some time to think. Could she have a lasting relationship with Garrett? Should she invite Penny to be her roommate? Had she lost her mind?
“This is madness,” she muttered. Almost a week in a dark cavern, and a series of increasingly traumatic experiences, had robbed her ability to form rational decisions. She couldn’t be held accountable for her mental state.
Falling in love with a felon—maybe she should be committed.
Garrett was in the semi, messing with the radio. She headed the opposite direction to avoid another confrontation. She wasn’t ready to forgive him, or even speak to him. Her feelings were so raw and new, she didn’t know if they were real.
The cavern seemed too quiet. Mickey wasn’t making any noise.
Frowning, she approached the car he was chained to, peering around the back bumper. Mickey was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, his head turned away. He looked dead or unconscious.
As if someone had beaten him.
Her stomach dropped. Had Garrett exacted some jailhouse-style revenge on Mickey? Appalled by the thought, she crept forward to examine him. His body was a shadowed mound between two vehicles, completely motionless. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Before she knelt down to check his pulse, she hesitated.
He might be playing possum.
She retreated, deciding to look for a stick to poke him with first. As she stepped backward, an ominous click sounded. She went still, her heart racing. The thick smell of decay assaulted her senses.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jeb.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JEB MUST HAVE TAKEN A CUE from Garrett and hidden in the dead pile.
Bits of rotten flesh clung to his hair and clothes. Dark smears marred his weathered face. There were maggots...ugh. Maggots squirming in the grime, dropping off his shoulders. The stench was atrocious.
Lauren turned to run, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Mickey rose from the prone position, blocking her escape route by throwing his big arms around her waist. She struggled to break free, kicking wildly, but he held tight. Jeb limped forward like a zombie, dragging one leg behind him.
Grinning, he pointed his gun at her head.
Lauren stopped fighting. Mickey panted against her ear, making her gag with his fetid breath. Although his stomach was soft and doughy against her back, the arm locked around her waist felt very strong. His grip was impenetrable.
Jeb loped closer, raining maggots on his gore-stained boots. She tried not to inhale as he aligned his face with hers.
When he brought the barrel to her temple, she cringed in terror. Pulse pounding, she held her breath and waited for him to shoot her.
Was this the end?
Lauren didn’t want to go like this. She had unfinished business with Garrett. There were issues to resolve. Her father had died without any last words, without tearful goodbyes or heartfelt explanations. So much had been left unsaid. It wasn’t fair! She ref
used to let Jeb take her life before she’d decided her future.
Jeb’s dark eyes glittered with malice as he pressed the metal into her skull. “Boom,” he whispered.
Mickey laughed like a loon, his chest rising against her back, chains scraping across the trunk of the car. Unable to go without oxygen any longer, she inhaled sharply, choking on the thick odor of decomposition.
Garrett appeared on the other side of the car. He moved warily, with his hands raised to show he was unarmed. He spared one glance for Lauren. Their eyes connected for a split second, communicating a wealth of emotion.
She understood then that he’d die for her.
Smothering a sob, she cursed herself for doubting him. Garrett hadn’t lost his temper and strangled Mickey. If she’d trusted him and talked things out, instead of avoiding her feelings, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.
“What do you want?” Garrett asked Jeb.
“The key,” he replied.
Garrett had been carrying the key to Mickey’s padlock in his front pocket. She didn’t know if he still had it on him. She also wasn’t sure why Jeb would bother to free Mickey. Maybe he needed his help to climb the escape ladder.
“Let her go and I’ll give it to you,” Garrett said.
“Are we negotiating?” Jeb asked Mickey. “I wasn’t aware we were negotiating.”
“We ain’t negotiating, fuckface,” Mickey clarified. “Just give us the key.”
Lauren’s chest tightened with panic. “Don’t do it,” she said, her eyes wide. “He’ll kill you as soon as you do.”
Garrett kept his focus on Jeb. “I’ll give you the key when you let her go.”
“Fuck you,” Jeb said, digging the barrel against her temple. “Hand me the fucking key, and move real slow, or I’ll waste her right now. Then, after I wipe her brains off my trigger finger, I’ll shoot you.”
His jaw clenched at the threat. Garrett didn’t like it, but he complied. Taking the key from his pocket, he placed it on the top of the car.
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