Cynthia frowned. “She can’t come back. It’s part of the contract you signed during orientation. You’re free to leave West Genesis, but if you do, you forfeit your spot,” she explained. I hadn’t remembered reading that clause, but I honestly hadn’t read much of the contract. “We can’t hold apartment spaces indefinitely for people to come and go as they please when there’s so many others who could be saved.”
I started to feel a little lightheaded. She’d left. She’d left me behind. Where would she have even gone?
“I’m sorry, dear. I wish I had better news.”
I swallowed hard and mentally shook myself. I needed to make it back to my apartment so I could fall apart. “No. Thank you for telling me the truth, Cynthia.”
“I’m sure now’s not the time to bring this up, but Lisa said they’ll probably re-assign you to a different apartment.”
I nodded. “Doesn’t make sense for me to take up all that space.”
She nodded, but continued to look at me with large, sympathetic eyes. “If you know someone with an extra bed you can pick where you’ll be relocated. Otherwise the housing department will match you up with roommates.”
I stumbled toward the front exit, not really listening to her instructions. “Thanks again for your help, Cynthia.”
“If you need anything, dear,” Cynthia called after me, “just let me know.”
I gave her a brief wave and a half-hearted smile of gratitude. And then I left the library to catch a train to go home.
+++++
“Good morning, sunshine.”
I grunted, not ready to make nice. My morning had been anything but nice. If I had known how to call in sick, even though it was only my third day on the job, I would have.
“Ouch.” Jazmin laughed at my lack of response. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” I sighed.
“Hey, I wanted to say something yesterday, but we got so busy that I didn’t have the chance to, but I hope you didn’t mind us crashing your dinner like that. Greg and Charlie are kind of like overgrown puppies. And once they get a hold of a bone, they don’t want to let go.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m glad you guys said hi.”
A look of relief passed over her face. “Good. I was worried we’d gotten you in trouble.”
“In trouble?” I echoed.
“Yeah, with that girl. Nora, right? Are you two, um, dating or something? Cause it’s totally cool if you are,” she quickly supplied. “I was friends with a couple of gay people before Apophis.”
“I’m not – we’re not...No.” I forced a smile. “We’re not dating.”
Jazmin's dark eyes grew even larger. “Oh, God. Did I just insult you? Cause I didn’t mean anything, it’s just that that girl was kind of acting possessive like a jealous girlfriend or something, and so I just assumed....” she trailed off. “Shit,” she cursed. “I’m just gonna stop talking now.”
“Jazmin, you’re fine.” Another forced smile made its way to my face. “Nora puts off a weird vibe sometimes. What are we doing today?” I asked, eager to change the subject. I’d been hoping coming to work today would help take my mind off of Nora, not be a continual reminder.
“Oh, um, we’re checking traps today. We’ve got a number of live traps set up within a few miles of the entrance.”
“Live traps?”
“Yeah, we don’t kill the animal. We bring it back, fatten it up, and hopefully it’ll have babies.”
“And then we eat the babies,” I guessed.
Jazmin laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Or, depending on the animal, we put them in the zoo, or we shave them and use their hair for things,” she countered. “It’s not just all for food.”
“There’s a zoo?” I gaped.
“Yeah. It’s really amazing. You should definitely check it out. I think they brought all the animals from the National Zoo in D.C.”
I realized immediately that I wanted to tell Nora about the zoo. I wanted to take her there and for just one moment feel like we weren’t living underground – that we were just two girls out on a date. But that wasn't going to happen.
Jazmin’s voice pulled me from my personal pity-party. “Hey, are you okay?”
I self-consciously wiped at my eyes. “Yeah.” I choked on emotions. “Let’s go round up some animals.”
+++++
If I had looked more closely, I would have realized she’d left for good. Most of the nonperishable canned food in the pantry was missing. In the coat closet where we’d hung our backpacks and other camping supplies, her pack was gone. So were her sleeping bag and the tent.
As I packed all my things into my backpack that night, preparing for an inevitable move to a different apartment, I turned the apartment upside-down. I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t left a note of explanation, some sign that she’d left reluctantly, some indication that leaving me behind had been difficult. But there was nothing.
She’d left me. I felt like she hadn’t fought hard enough for me to go with her. I couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t thought it necessary to let me know she was leaving. It hurt my heart just thinking about how little I must have meant to her for her to be able to do something like this.
I think I probably went through all the stages of grief that night. I thought about the empty moonshine bottle, wasted on nerves when I could have been washing down my emotions.
I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling and played with the weather and seasonal controls on the skylights. I’d fall asleep for an hour at a time. The digital clock next to the bed counted down each hour. I sat up and threw the covers off me. I grabbed my packed bag and changed out of my pajamas. I shoved my feet into my boots. I was angry and tired and frustrated.
There was no one in my car of the monorail and no one entered my car as the subway made its scheduled stops. I rode the monorail alone all the way to its final stop. I preferred that though because that meant there would be no witnesses to what I was about to do.
My keycard gave me access to the panel where all the keys were hung. I had a choice. I could take one of the electric snowmobiles or an SUV. The car would protect me from the elements and I could sleep inside it when the sun sank low, but it wouldn’t get me very far. The snowmobile would go further before it ran out of power. Plus, there was more of a chance they’d go after me if I stole one of the SUVs and not just one of fifty snowmobiles.
I lifted one of the snowmobiles from the rear so only the front two skis touched the ground. I couldn’t risk starting up the machine inside the hanger. The noise would echo off the tin walls. I tugged on the bulky machine and winced at the sound of the metal skis scraping against concrete. Every noise I made had me looking over my shoulder, expecting to see someone standing there to stop me.
I imagined a hidden camera trained on me at this very moment and that security was hustling to the surface to stop me. I had no idea what they’d do to me if they found me up here trying to steal a snowmobile. There was probably some sort of prison system in West Genesis, but banishment was probably a more punitive measure.
I was sweating and my back and arms burned by the time I pulled the snowmobile free from the hanger. I still was expecting to get caught and was honestly shocked that no one had found me yet. I fumbled briefly with the key, but the snowmobile roared to life, its electric engine sounding distinctly different than an oil burner.
I didn’t know where Nora had gone to, but I knew of one place where we’d both been happy. I would look there first. The snowmobile wouldn’t last much longer than that, and I had no way of knowing if I’d even make it that far before it ran out of power. But I had to try. I could stay here. I could stay in West Genesis and survive. But what use was survival without happiness? Without…love.
+++++
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My limbs and face were frozen and my ass ached from nearly 24 hours on a snowmobile. I’d gone nonstop knowing that the battery would drain while it was turned off a
nd I needed every mile this thing could give me. I patted the snowmobile’s seat. It had gotten me this far. I was amazed by its resilience.
My heart leapt in my chest when I reached the top of the crest that overlooked the shallow valley where the cottage stood. A steady plume of grey-white smoke billowed from the stone chimney. Nora. It had to be her.
I rushed down the little hill, my feet snapping branches as I haphazardly made a wide berth to the cottage. I couldn’t see footprints in the snow, but it was dark and I’d taught her well about covering her tracks to avoid being followed. That she might not want to be found, even by me, had never crossed my mind. I pushed that thought from my doubting brain though as quickly as it appeared.
When I tried the front door of the cottage, I found it unlocked. Okay, so maybe Nora hadn’t listened to everything I’d told her about wilderness safety. The door swung silently open and I was greeted with darkness. Only the warm, orange glow spilling from the woodstove’s frosted windows illuminated the room, but even that wasn’t enough to light up the darkest corners of the open-concept main floor.
Not seeing her on the first floor, my stomach flopped. I suddenly realized that whomever had taken up residency in the old cottage might not actually be Nora. Nothing on the main floor suggested she was here – no boots, no jacket, no backpack. Nothing looked out of place from when we’d left the cottage just over a week ago except there was less wood stacked by the woodstove.
I craned my neck to look up the short staircase that led to the lofted bedroom. I couldn’t see anything encouraging with the dim lighting and I couldn’t hear anyone moving around upstairs. I could always call out her name, but if I was wrong and it wasn’t Nora, I’d have just given the cottage’s mystery occupant the heads up that I was down here.
I felt for the long hunter’s knife in its sheath at my left hip. I didn’t withdraw it, but I kept my fingers closed tight around the handle. As silently as the aged stairs allowed, I crept up the flight to the second floor. The wood on one of the middle stairs was warped and when the bottom of my boot made contact, it made a noisy complaint. I froze at the sound, sure that I’d just alerted whoever might be upstairs of my presence. I listened again, hard, for telling noises, but was again met with only silence.
I stilled at the top of the stairs to slow my breathing and let my eyes adjust to the darker surroundings. The loft was significantly warmer than the ground level since it was higher and had no windows out of which heat could escape. The second floor also didn’t benefit from the warm glow of the downstairs fire and no moonlight had crept beyond the first few steps. I could, however, make out the pinprick of amber light of a very recently extinguished candle near the bed. Tiny wisps of smoke twisted around each other. The bed was also unmade, with the covers pulled back as though someone had quickly leapt out of bed. But where had that person gone in such a hurry? I hadn’t noticed tracks in the snow either coming or leaving the cottage and the now-extinguished candle wick suggested whoever had left had done so only moments before.
I swept my gaze around the room. The empty double bed. The black pipe from the potbelly stove below. An old rocker with an elaborate quilt thrown over it. The closet where we’d found the tent. I blinked, staring at the slatted closet door. It was ajar.
My pulse elevated and my breathing became shallow. Someone had to be in the closet. My hand defensively tightened around the thick handle of my knife. I slowly stalked forward, mindful of how the floorboards creaked and groaned with each step. There would be no more element of surprise.
I watched my free hand, the one not clutching the knife handle, slowly reach out in front of me. My outstretched fingers brushed against the ajar door. Just the tops of my fingers curled around the door’s edge. I took a deep breath, mustering my courage. On the exhale I swung the door wide open. Almost simultaneously a widespread pain exploded across my left shin. I cried out in surprise and pain and doubled over to clutch my leg. Then came the noisy scramble of feet on wooden floors and a body shoving past me, out of the closet and into the room.
I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose and the pain in my leg dulled, but was still very much present. And at that moment, over the wood smoke and scent of stale, boarded up air, I smelled it. I smelled her.
“Nora?”
The dark figure halted at the top of the staircase. “Sammy?”
With some effort I righted myself and took a ginger step forward. The pain in my left leg re-awoken. “Hi,” I managed to choke out.
“Oh my God.” There was a noisy clatter of something heavy and metal hitting the floor and then she was rushing across the length of the room and enveloping me in a tight embrace.
“It’s you,” she breathed, pressing her face into my neck. “You’re really here.” Her fingers twirled around the hair at the base of my neck. She pulled back just slightly. “How are you here?”
I lifted my shoulders and let them fall. “I had a hunch you’d be here.”
Her beautiful, delicate features crumpled. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“How did you find this place again?”
“I followed the road.”
She slugged me in the arm, hitting my bicep. “Hey! What was that for?” I complained. I rubbed my arm. First my shin and now my arm.
“I told you once before not to play hero,” she scolded. “What were you thinking coming after me like that? You’re not here to bring me back, are you? Because I’m not going back there.”
“No. That’s not why I’m here.” I stroked my thumbs along her warm cheekbones, mapping her features without really being able to see her face in the dark. “What did you hit me with?”
Her hold around my waist loosened. “Shit. It was a golf club I found in the closet.”
“You’ve got a wicked swing, girl.”
“Are you okay?” she worried, tugging her lower lip into her mouth.
I put all my weight on my left leg and gave a little bounce. The leg held with only a ghost of an ache. “I’ll survive,” I decided.
She pulled all the way back and I instantly missed the closeness. She eyed me curiously. “Are you just checking in on me? Because I can take care of myself, you know. I made a fire in the woodstove and I remembered to sweep away my footprints leading up to the cottage.”
The way she continued to stubbornly insist her independence and self-reliance was endearing.
“You forgot to lock the front door,” I pointed out.
“I know.” Her eyes dipped demurely. “I realized my mistake the moment I heard someone coming up the stairs.”
I tweaked her nose affectionately, not really knowing what to do with my hands or how to show her I was beyond happy that I’d found her. I didn’t know where we stood even if she’d given me a tight hug in lieu of a verbal hello.
“I’ll be right back.” I realized I’d forgotten to lock the front door, too. I turned and hobbled down the stairs, using one of the banisters to keep the full weight off of my injured leg. I didn’t think she’d seriously hurt me, no bone fractures or anything, but there’d certainly be a raised welt on my shin in the morning.
I latched the two locks on the front door. The locks couldn’t protect us from other people – my mother’s death was proof of that – but it gave me a slight reassurance of safety nonetheless.
When I went back upstairs, Nora was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at her stocking feet.
“All locked up,” I announced. “Safe as houses.” I’d never understood that saying. I still didn’t.
“Why did you leave West Genesis, Sam?”
“I missed eating squirrel.”
A frown marred her beautiful face, and I wiped the nervous grin from my own.
“I missed you,” I said.
Her eyebrows lifted. “You did?”
I chewed on the inside of my lip, afraid to say more. If she rejected me, should I leave? Would it ruin our arrangement and we’d live out our days in awkwardness?
; I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you feel about me, but I’ve grown fond of you.”
“Grown fond of me?” she mimicked. “People don’t talk like that, Sam.”
I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “But I do,” I rasped. “My dad is gone. I’ve made my peace with that. I’ll probably never find out what happened to him – if the people of Hot Springs killed him, if he escaped but died on the road, or if he’s still alive and surviving the best he can like us. I can’t continue to live in the past. My family is gone and Andrea could never love me the way I deserve to be loved.”
Nora’s eyebrows rose even higher on her forehead. I think this was the most I’d ever said in one sitting. Ever. I was out of my element.
“I’m-I’m hoping that maybe you feel the same way,” I continued, awkward in my phrasing, “and that you don’t just want me around because I’m a warm body and I can make a fire.”
She blinked once. “I’ve got a quilt and I can make a fire by myself.”
“So what does that mean?” I pressed. Did that mean she no longer needed me?
“It means I’ve grown fond of you, too, Fargo.”
“But you left me.” How could she say those words to me when her recent actions spoke louder?
“I know.”
“I woke up and you were gone. No goodbye. Not even a letter, explaining yourself.”
She remained silent, eyes downcast.
“It made me feel worthless,” I continued, picking up steam. “Like you didn’t care enough about me to bother saying goodbye.”
“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” she hushed. She cradled my face in her hands and her thumbs stroked over my cheekbones comfortingly. “I hate goodbyes. And I couldn’t make you choose between me or your dad,” she said, searching my face. “Between survival in Eden or uncertainty on the road with me.”
“You should have let me make that decision for myself rather than you making it for me,” I grumbled.
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