by Jen Blood
“You’re preaching to the choir,” I assured him. I told Diggs I could handle this mission on my own, left everyone else to their cards, and shuffled off to the back bedroom.
The first thing I noticed when I went into the bunk room was the fact that Kat wasn’t in it.
A millisecond of panic followed before I realized her bag was also gone.
The panic turned to blind terror. It’s hard to keep things in perspective after a year of dead and half-dead bodies turning up at every turn.
About half a second before a coronary dropped me where I stood, the toilet flushed in the next room.
The bathroom door opened, and Kat emerged. Her hair was wet. She’d changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a deep burgundy sweater—cashmere, no doubt.
“Going somewhere?” I asked, forcing my heart out of my throat.
“No,” she said smoothly. If she was surprised to see me, it didn’t show. “But in case you’ve forgotten, I spent the better part of today under a pile of dead bodies. There’s not enough soap in the world to get that stink off, but I thought I should at least give it the old college try.”
I tried to take her bag from her, nodding toward the bed. “Have a seat. I just want to check your temperature and take a look at your head.”
“I’m fine, Erin.” She didn’t relinquish her bag, but she did sit. “I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to diagnose mild hypothermia.”
“What’s your temp?”
“Ninety-eight point two. I told you: I’m fine.”
“How’d you get the gash in your forehead?” I asked. I crouched so I was eye level with her, checking her pupils.
“I don’t remember,” she lied. “The whole morning is a blur.”
“Were you with the students who were staying here before you ran?”
“I was. I don’t know what happened to them—I told you, I don’t remember anything.”
Right. “Well, it’s nice to see you’ve gotten over that insane bout of honesty you were suffering from earlier.”
Her pulse was steady. Heart rate good. She wasn’t happy that I was touching her, but she didn’t try to scratch my eyes out, which was an improvement.
When I stepped away, she grabbed my wrist. I swallowed a scream of pain and pulled away. “Ow! Jesus, Kat. What the hell are you doing?”
“There’s swelling there—what happened? You know you’re supposed to be careful.”
“I’m fine.”
She rolled her eyes at me. Since I knew exactly what was coming, I sat down, shut up, and let her do her thing. She ran her fingers over my wrist: palpating here and there, checking the radial pulse, making sure everything was where it belonged. I can say a lot of things about my mother—and do—but I’ve never questioned her expertise when it comes to medicine.
I took the opportunity to study her in a rare moment when she wasn’t on the defensive. Her hair had been a deep, deep black when I was growing up, but now I noticed a few streaks of gray. My mother had me when she was young—barely eighteen, which meant she was only in her early fifties now. When I was in high school, she had been in her prime: the hottest woman in town, and the fieriest. She ran the town medical clinic, drank like a fish, and slept with every man who’d have her in the tri-county area. In between, she raised me. Or, we raised each other. Sort of.
I thought of the man I’d seen in the woods—or the man I had thought I’d seen. It had to have been my imagination. The father who had been playing dead for over a decade wouldn’t just show up on this island of the damned, out of nowhere. Whether it had been wishful thinking or I was just genuinely losing my marbles, I was sure now that my father wasn’t on Raven’s Ledge. He couldn’t be.
At least, I was pretty sure he couldn’t be.
I never knew my parents when they were together. Kat took off not long after I was born, and she didn’t come back until I was nine. I still can’t imagine the two of them together, though: my father, a quiet man who tended the church garden and mostly kept to himself, and my mother—a hurricane, a wrecking ball, a woman too prickly to let anyone too close.
My father had done better than most, though.
“Do you know where Dad is now?” I asked while she wrapped my wrist.
She stopped what she was doing for just an instant before she continued, without looking up.
“No idea.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“Define lately.” Still without looking up.
“Lately, lately,” I said. “The past month, let’s say.” Or today.
“Can’t say that I have.” When she looked at, there was something stormy and dark brewing behind her green eyes. She dropped my hand into my lap and backed away from me. “You should ice that. Take some ibuprofen tonight, and keep it immobilized as much as you can. You should see Dr. Hardy when you get back to the mainland, too. Wouldn’t hurt to get some fresh x-rays. I think it’s fine, but you did a lot of damage this year. You need to be more careful.”
“I will. Thank you.”
She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
An uncomfortable silence fell.
“You should call Maya,” I said. “I told her I’d let her know you’re okay. Maybe you could do it for me.”
Those dark and stormy eyes got that much stormier. “I don’t think so.”
“She wants to get back together, you know. I could tell.”
“It wouldn’t work out. Anyway, I’m leaving town after this—taking my own advice. I don’t want her coming after me.” She looked at me meaningfully. “I don’t want anyone coming after me.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, more vehemently than I’d meant to. “We can beat these people—”
“No, Erin, we can’t beat these people,” she said wearily. “I’m through trying… I’m leaving. And I want you and Diggs to do the same. Start a new life. And don’t try to find me. Don’t try to contact me.”
“Kat.”
“Listen to me, damn it,” she spit out, her mood turning on a dime. “I know what we are to each other. I’ve never been a mother to you. When you were growing up, the best I could claim was roommate. But I know you: you get sentimental. You’ll try to make us into something we’ve never been. Don’t make that mistake with me.”
“For Christ’s sake, Kat,” I bristled. “I know we’ve had our problems—”
She moved forward so fast I flinched, grabbing my arm with one hand as she lifted my chin with the other. She forced my gaze to hers, holding me hard enough to leave a mark. Another one. “Don’t do that. I’m not saying this to make you feel sorry for me. I’m saying it because it’s a fact. I never wanted to be a mother; I never made any secret of that. Now we both have a chance for a clean slate. Don’t screw that up by getting emotional.”
I pulled away abruptly, my anger rising. “What the hell is wrong with you? If you would just work with me, we can get out of this.”
“No, goddamn it, we can’t,” she roared, any trace of softness gone. She pushed me away and got to her feet. “Are you blind, or just stupid? I’m telling you: this is the only option left.”
She went to her bag, pulled out the last of the whiskey, and took a long pull. When she looked at me again, her gaze was cool. Detached. Oh, how I hated that look. “You might not want that clean slate, but I’ve earned it by now. I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to protect your father and you from these people. I’m done. You can do whatever you want—just don’t come after me. I don’t want to see you again.”
For as much as a minute, it was hard to get a full breath. It’s not like I wasn’t used to Kat’s cruelty, but it had been a while since I’d experienced it like this. I’d forgotten how deeply she could cut.
“Fine,” I said. “Do whatever you want—I don’t give a rat’s ass. Drop off the planet for all I care. But I’m not running. I’m sorry you had to waste your life trying to keep me from getting killed, but I won’t let them manipulate me that way. They’ve gott
en away with too much as it is. I’m taking them down.”
I walked to the door, my hands shaking. When I turned around, Kat was seated on the edge of the bed with the whiskey bottle in hand. Staring at the floor.
“I have no idea if you have a plan or not,” I said, “but the Coast Guard will be here at daybreak. You might want to sober up and get some sleep before you drop off the grid for the rest of your life.”
I left without looking back, slamming the door behind me.
Chapter Seven - Diggs
It was only eight o’clock by the time we were back at the station and safely settled in the dining room. The snow had stopped, but the wind still battered the trees outside. Down the hall, I could hear Solomon and her mother—not their words, necessarily, but the volume was enough to clue us all into the content.
The card game had expanded, most everyone now gathered around the dining room table. Juarez kept getting up to check the perimeter, while Jamie bounced up every ten minutes to do something for the dogs: food, water, bathroom breaks… It was worse than having a house full of kids. Cheyenne spent most of her time staring out the window, still shaky from whatever breakdown she’d suffered while we were gone.
Carl and Monty were the only ones who seemed unaffected by the horror show around us. Carl apparently took his card playing very seriously: we were only playing with M&Ms, but he considered every call and every raise like it was high stakes. Monty, on the other hand, kept up a running commentary—designed, I suspected, primarily to drive Carl nuts. It didn’t appear to be working.
“Diggs? You in or what?” Monty asked.
I started, realizing suddenly that I’d been staring sightlessly at my cards for the past several minutes. The shouting was getting louder down the hall, which meant intervention might be required soon. Just before I took action, a door slammed. Everyone at the table jumped, including me. No intervention necessary, then.
“Uh—yeah, I’m in.” I tossed a couple of M&Ms into the pot.
Monty got up and headed for the fridge. “Anyone want another beer?”
“We should probably lay off for the rest of the night,” Jamie said. Juarez flashed a grateful smile her way. They’d talked about this, then. “If someone makes a move on us, the last thing we need is something to slow down reaction time. Everyone needs to be sober and ready to act.”
The protest I’d expected didn’t come. Instead, Monty nodded unhappily and contented himself with a Diet Coke.
Between the generator and the wind and the card game, the research station was not a quiet place. I strained to hear over the noise—which was laughable, really. Like anyone coming after us would make a sound before they attacked. I glanced at the doorway, willing Solomon to walk through it.
It took a good ten minutes, but eventually she did. She collapsed into a chair beside me and laid her head wearily on the table.
“So… clearly that went well,” Jamie said dryly. She slid a bag of miniature candy bars to Solomon, who smiled gratefully as she raised her head. With all the things I’ve done with, and to, Solomon over the years—many of which I’ve been told by others are pretty damned memorable—the woman has never looked at me with quite the devotion a chocolate bar inspires.
Erin tore into the bag before she answered, going straight for the first mini Snickers she found. “You could say that,” she said between bites. “Mothers… Can’t live with ‘em; can’t legally set them loose on an ice floe anymore.”
“I don’t know,” Carl said, completely taking me by surprise. “A jury might look the other way if they met your mother.”
“I know she’s not the easiest person,” Solomon said uncomfortably, her mouth full of chocolate nougat. “Intimacy, trust—whatever. She’s got… issues.”
“That’s white speak for saying your mama’s a stone cold bitch,” Monty explained to Carl, loudly enough for the rest of us to overhear. At Solomon’s look, he lowered his eyes apologetically. “No offense.”
An awkward silence ensued. Solomon stared at the table, brow furrowed, rubbing at a scratch in the wood with the thumb of her left hand. I noticed for the first time that her right wrist was wrapped.
“She’s not a bitch,” she finally said. She still wouldn’t look at anyone. I put my hand over hers, if only to stop her before she rubbed a hole clear through the table. “That’s not what I said. It’s not what I meant.”
“You should never listen to Monty,” Carl said. He offered a quiet smile when Solomon met his gaze. “He was raised by wolverines. The man has no manners.”
“He’s right,” Monty said miserably. “You can’t listen to me, I ain’t got no filter. Just seems like after you been killing yourself all day to dig her ass out of this mess she’s in, maybe she could be a little nicer. That’s it.”
Solomon shrugged, but when she looked up the frown was gone. While it hadn’t been replaced with an actual smile, she did look marginally friendlier. “It’s all right. I’m sure she’s been called worse. Anyway…” She looked at Jamie, almost visibly pulling herself out of her funk. “We’ve had enough drama today, right? Is it too late to deal me in? If we’re stuck here for the night, I might as well win a little chocolate while we wait.”
For the next hour, we found a kind of mad joy in the simple fact that we were still alive on an island of the dead. The doors were all locked, the windows barricaded. Monty provided a running, off-color commentary while Carl schooled all our asses in five-card draw.
By nine-thirty, the joy had worn off. In its place was a raw weariness that had everyone in the room—including Erin—fading fast.
Juarez looked at his watch for the hundredth time, then back at Erin again. Her eyelids were drooping, and she could barely hold her head up. He looked at me, his meaning clear: put the girl to bed already. That same raw annoyance I’d felt earlier rode my spine again. I liked Juarez, no question, but the man really needed to stop trying to take care of my girl.
Cheyenne had plied everyone with hot chocolate half an hour before, then begged off saying she needed to check on the dogs and get to bed. I pushed the lukewarm cocoa around in my mug. Carl stood, swaying with exhaustion.
“If you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer. I’m going to bed.”
Monty sat with his head on the table, snoring softly. Carl rapped him on the head with his knuckles. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Bed.”
“I’m just going to take one more look around,” Juarez said, getting up himself. Even Jamie’s eyes were at half mast by now. She nodded and rose with him.
“I’m pretty friggin’ knackered myself. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“Knackered?” Juarez said quietly, the words for Jamie alone. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Georgia girl who used the word knackered.”
“That’s Georgia woman, Agent Juarez,” she said, bumping him lightly with her hip. He followed her out of the room, the pair still bantering. Maybe a little good would come out of this nightmare after all.
When Solomon and I were alone, I got up. She remained seated, looking dazed.
“You need sleep,” I said.
“Someone should stay up. In case anything happens—we need somebody to keep an eye out.”
“We’ve got it covered.”
“You’re staying up?” she asked.
“I’ve got a shift later. Don’t worry about it.”
She still wasn’t making any move to get up, so I pulled her to her feet with my hands at her elbows. She swayed, looking up at me blearily.
“You haven’t gotten any more sleep than I have,” she said. “I can get up with you.”
“Fine.”
She frowned. “You won’t wake me when it’s time. I know you.”
“You’re right. But I’m not gonna fight with you about it right now.” I pushed the hair back from her face, gently tracing the scratches Kat had left. “You’ve had enough fighting today.”
She flinched, her cheeks heating. “I’m o
kay. She’s just… you know. Kat.”
“You don’t have to defend her to me. I know who she is.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t run for the hills by now,” she said with a brittle laugh. The intimacy vanished, replaced by tension and that thin shell Solomon tries to wear like armor. It works for Kat; it never has for her daughter. “I wouldn’t blame you. Talk about baggage.”
She tried to pull back, but I kept one arm wrapped around her. With the other, I tipped her chin up so she looked me in the eye. “You really want to start comparing baggage, kid? Because I’ve got three ex-wives and a sponsor who’ll be happy to weigh in.”
I expected some kind of comeback—this is Solomon we’re talking about, after all. Solomon always has a comeback. Instead, her eyes drifted shut. She rested the top of her head against my chest, which is one of Erin’s favorite, weird half-embraces. Her body sagged in my arms.
“All right, come on. Bedtime.” She groaned, but otherwise didn’t move. “Hey.” I jostled her slightly. She managed to lean back and look at me. Her pupils were so big they left only a sliver of green around them. A shiver of panic started at the base of my spine.
“Solomon? Hey, Erin,” I said more loudly. I hit her cheek lightly, and was rewarded with a very definite glower.
“Ow. What the hell was that for?” There was a detectable slur in the words.
“Did you take something?”
I thought of the others: Monty and Carl, half-asleep through the last hand of cards. Jamie, barely able to drag herself out of her chair. Juarez, leaning heavily against the doorframe when he agreed to take the first watch.
Shit.
Solomon leaned against me again, body slack. Head lolling.
Why wasn’t I affected?
“Erin, I need you to wake up for me. Come on, ace. Up and at ‘em.” I forced her to walk beside me, pointing her toward the kitchen so we could get some water. Behind me, I heard footsteps. Someone was approaching the dining room. My heart raced, my palms slick with sweat.