“Sorry?” Kim said.
“No. And I’m sorry, Kim, but I know why you’re here. The president or Cannon or somebody wants Shotgun and Gordo to come to Washington to work on this project, and I understand that it’s important, but the answer is no.” She shook her head. “We’ve only been here for a few months, but we’re settled. We’re happy here. This is our home now. We’re not going. Whatever it is, they can work on it here.”
Kim looked at Amy for a few seconds. It was interesting for Gordo to watch. No matter how young Kim was, there was a strength to her that had been forged in the fight. Whatever the normal way of going about it was, she’d earned those two stars.
“Shotgun?” she said. “Gordo? Fred? Does Amy speak for all of you?”
One by one they nodded, because Amy was right. This did feel like home. Even if LA hadn’t been nuked and radiation wasn’t an issue, they’d never really thought about returning to the bunker out in Desperation, California. They’d lived there for years, but it had never been anything other than a place to live. No. Burlington was home.
Kim gave it a few beats and then showed her teeth in a genuine smile. “I told her you’d say that. But you know how the president is. Don’t worry about it. I took care of it before I even came inside. Fred, Amy, don’t take this the wrong way, but the president wasn’t asking for you two, just Shotgun and Gordo. And if you don’t want to go to Washington, that’s okay.” She looked first at Gordo and then leaned forward so she could turn and see Shotgun. “I’ll walk you guys over to your new workshop in the morning, okay? We can talk through the project then. I’ve got a broad outline, priorities, requests, and some suggestions, but mostly we’re going to be leaving it up to you two to figure things out.”
“Uh, Kim?” Shotgun said. “Not to be a hassle, but I’ve got a job. Two jobs, really. I’m also on the town council.”
“Not anymore. I told you, I took care of it. You’ve been reassigned. Both of you. You’re full-time on Special Projects now.” She winked. “We might be a bit diminished, but the US military can still get stuff done.”
Despite himself, Gordo felt excited. Being a glorified shopkeeper wasn’t exactly fulfilling. And judging by the expression on Shotgun’s face, he wasn’t disappointed either.
“Tell you what, Kim,” Shotgun said. “How about instead of waiting until the morning, we head over there right after dinner?” He suddenly stopped and turned to Fred. “Sorry. Is that okay, honey?”
Fred shook his head. “Boys,” he said, and although it was clear he was trying to have the word come out in a huff, he couldn’t hide his smile either.
Gordo felt Amy give a gentle squeeze to his thigh, and across the table he heard Claymore let out a soft groan of pleasure as Kim scratched right behind the dog’s ear.
It was a good night to be alive.
Washington, DC
Manny felt like he was going to throw up.
They were alone, just the two of them, in the Treaty Room. Bush and Obama had each used the Treaty Room as a private study, but the two presidents who followed them had preferred different spaces. When Steph took office, she’d had it redecorated. It was a private space, and one of the few places Manny knew they’d be alone.
Which didn’t make it feel any less excruciating that she was just standing there, staring at him.
He couldn’t take the silence.
“I know it’s only been a couple of months since you and George decided to split, and it’s only been a month since the divorce became official. But I feel like maybe I’ve been waiting my entire adult life for this, and we’ve wasted so much time, and—”
“Manny.” She said his name quietly, but it was loud enough to get him to shut his mouth. “Manny. Sweetie. You’re babbling.”
“I’m nervous,” he said. “And this is hurting my knees.” It was hurting. Getting down on one knee was a much younger man’s game.
“Then why don’t you stand up, you great big fool,” Steph said, “and kiss me.”
He hesitated. “Is that a yes? Because you didn’t say yes.”
She reached out, took his hand, and helped him to his feet. And then, instead of waiting for him to kiss her, she kissed him, and in that kiss was the answer he’d been hoping for.
Loosewood Island, Maine
The wind was up over the water. Mike could taste the salt of the ocean spray. He could understand how it might not be for everybody, but he’d fallen in love with the island from the jump. It had been easy to fall in love when they first got there, just as the summer was bringing the long days and the hot sun that stood in such contrast to the frigid water. But even now, in the winter, Mike thought that sometimes everything just had a way of working out.
Well, almost everything. He’d stayed up well past midnight celebrating New Year’s Eve the night before, and because it was a special occasion, there was plenty of booze at the party. He was out of the habit of drinking, and he’d been feeling kind of rough all day. The cold, wet air was good, though. It woke him up. He still wasn’t convinced the island needed a full-time lawman, but he didn’t have any other skills that he could think of, so he didn’t mind the job. Besides, the truth was that it didn’t really matter what job he did; people were always going to think of him as Mr. Melanie Guyer.
He’d been as surprised as anybody when she tracked him down. She’d come to the island with her graduate student—now colleague—Julie Yoo, and a bodyguard complement of something like twenty flamethrower-toting Army Rangers. The Rangers were gone by the end of August, but both Julie and Melanie stayed behind. He was more surprised than anybody that he had embarked upon a second marriage before Halloween. And yet, not once had he had any reservations.
He had no idea that marriage could be so easy. He’d said as much to Fanny at Thanksgiving when the two of them were washing dishes. She laughed and told him that was how marriage was supposed to be, and the fact that he was so surprised said everything about why their own marriage had failed. That had been a good night, their two families and friends meshed together: Fanny doing most of the cooking, Dawson carving the turkey, Leshaun bringing over brussels sprouts and a pecan pie, Rex and Carla pleased as punch with themselves just to be there, Annie running around like a maniac and then falling asleep curled up on the rug like a dog after dinner, and Julie Yoo, thankfully, agreeing not to bring anything over, since it was universally agreed that she was a horrible cook. The whole night, every time Mike looked at Melanie, he couldn’t understand his luck. Sometimes the universe just conspired to make you happy despite yourself.
They all got together like that once or twice a week, and it was always somewhat raucous. More so now that Fanny had given birth. Baby Rex. Which of course had made both Rex and Carla cry, which had made Fanny and Dawson cry, which . . . well, there was a lot of happy crying surrounding that. So now dinners meant Rex and Carla, baby Rex and Annie and Fanny and Dawson, Leshaun, Julie, and Mike and Melanie. Housing was at a bit of a premium on the island—there’d been an influx of people after S-Day—but Melanie and Julie’s status afforded them some benefits, including a quick-built lab inside an empty storefront. The government had promised to break ground on a new building in the spring, with state-of-the-art equipment and enough lab space for Melanie’s research group to grow.
He opened the door to their apartment. It was empty. Melanie must have still been at the lab. He checked his watch. He was, for once, early. He had an hour before she was going to get home. Quickly he locked his gun in the safe, changed out of his sheriff’s getup into civilian clothes, and scribbled Melanie a quick note in case she got home before he was back. He thought for a second about seeing if Leshaun was free and wanted to join him, but decided not to stop in. At the end of the party the night before, Leshaun and Julie had been less than subtle about the fact that they were leaving together—according to Melanie, that had been going on for a couple of weeks—and Mike didn’t want to drop in unannounced. Julie had dated a hangdog guy named Pierre for a co
uple of months—evidently she’d known him from college and then actually stumbled upon him while she was in Peru—but that had ended early in the fall, and Mike thought Leshaun and Julie seemed like they might be a great match. It made him happy to think of his partner partnered up.
He grabbed the kite and went outside. It was only a couple hundred yards from his and Melanie’s place to the small clapboard house where Fanny and Dawson lived.
He knocked, and Fanny opened the door looking slightly frazzled. “Hey,” she said. “Sorry. Rex just fell asleep. I cannot even tell you how lucky we were with Annie. That kid was an angel when she was a baby.”
“You want to drop him and Annie off for an hour or two tonight? You and Rich can go out and do something like grown-ups for a bit.”
“Rain check? Rich has to work late tonight.”
“You know, if you’d told me a year ago that the world might end because of an ancient breed of flesh-eating spiders, I might have believed that. But if you’d told me that the world was almost going to end because of an ancient breed of flesh-eating spiders and that, when it didn’t end, we’d all end up on an island off the coast of Maine and your husband would still be working as a defense lawyer? That,” he said, “might have seemed like a stretch.”
Fanny chuckled. “It kills you, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“That you like him so much.”
“Yeah. A little,” Mike said. “But it makes me happy to see you so happy.”
“That’s sweet, Mike.” She stepped in close and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Ew,” Annie yelled as she ran up to them. “Gross.”
Fanny put her finger to her lips. “Rex is sleeping.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Annie said. She lowered her voice, but she didn’t really look sorry. She looked excited. She spun in almost a full circle trying to get her coat on. “Is that it?” She snatched the kite from under his arm.
“Yep,” Mike said. “Melanie put in her last requisition for lab equipment. I’m sure somewhere in Washington there’s a clerk right now who’s scratching his head and trying to figure out why Melanie needed a high-performance box kite with Spectra line. What do you think about that, kid?” he said, tousling her hair with his hand.
“You’re weird, Dad.”
Mike feigned being shot in the heart, and Fanny pushed the two of them out the door. He told her he’d have Annie back in an hour, but she said not to worry about it. Anytime before dinner.
The wind was coming steady now, and as they walked to the promontory, Annie talked his ear off. She told him about what her new best friends, a twin brother and sister, had gotten for Christmas; how Rex squeaked like a mouse while he was eating; how, if Leshaun and Julie got married—apparently, Mike thought, everybody but him knew about that—she wanted to be a flower girl again as she’d been for Mike and Melanie’s wedding; and how Dawson was teaching her to juggle.
They held hands, and he noticed that she’d grown again. It seemed to happen in spurts. He’d see her one day, and the next she was simply taller. She was still his little girl, however, and he was happy to listen to her, to ask questions, to just be with her.
On the promontory, they assembled the kite and then tied the line. For a moment, holding the line made him feel nervous. It took a moment to process what was bothering him: something about the shape of the box kite and the Spectra line made him think of the pictures he’d seen of the queens and the cobwebbed corpses that had been found in the aftermath of S-Day. He could feel his breath catch in his throat and his heart rate start to jack up, but then he calmed himself. It wasn’t true. They were gone. Melanie was clear about that. They were safe.
He didn’t say anything, and Annie didn’t seem to notice. She was too excited.
That’s what he wanted for her. He wanted her to be a normal kid. As normal as any kid was going to be in this new world. He wanted her to be happy and to grow up and to have a life of her own. As he helped her launch the kite and watched her play the line out, he was struck with a sudden feeling of warmth and joy.
He’d done everything that needed doing. How close had they come to dying? What miracles had enabled him to get his family out of Minneapolis before the spiders reached the city, before it was wiped from the face of the earth? And with Leshaun’s help he’d made sure that the kinds of men who preyed on the weak didn’t find another victim. And then there was the gift of flight so freely given by Rex and Carla . . .
He stood there and watched Annie run back and forth, laughing, her eyes only on the kite. Beyond her, he could see the rolling sea and where the ocean met the sky, the great open waters that seemed to go on forever. The world was wide-open, but there was nowhere he needed to go anymore: everything he could ever want was right here, on this island.
The kite rose higher and higher, the line spooling out, and he could hear Annie laughing. He wanted to call his daughter back to him, to pull her into his arms and lift her up and hold her and tell her over and over again that he loved her, but he didn’t do that. This made him just as happy. It was good to watch her run.
In some ways everything had changed, but in the most important way nothing had changed at all: He was still her father. He was still there to keep her feet safely on the ground. He was still there to help her soar.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my literary agent, Bill Clegg, and all the fine folks at the Clegg Agency, as well as to my screen agent, Anna DeRoy, at WME. Thank you to Emily Bestler, Lara Jones, and David Brown, at Emily Bestler Books/Atria; Anne Collins, at Penguin Random House Canada; and Marcus Gipps, at Gollancz.
Sabine, don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ezekiel Boone lives in upstate New York with his wife and children.
Follow @ezekiel_boone on Twitter or visit ezekielboone.com.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-5011-2510-2
ISBN 978-1-5011-2513-3 (ebook)
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