by A. M. Geever
Alec raised his glass after she filled it. “To tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she said, gently clinking her glass against his.
They both took a sip. Miranda closed her eyes, the fullness of the wine exploding across her tongue.
Alec gave an appreciative sigh. “How much do you reckon this cost?”
Miranda grinned. “I have no idea, and whatever I guess, it’s probably too low.”
“Kendall does have good grog,” he said, grinning.
She sat on the table, the wine bottle beside her, and tucked the cardigan around her thighs. The table was just high enough that she could swing her feet. Alec pulled out a chair, turning it so he sat parallel to the edge of the table and could rest his elbow on it.
“Big day tomorrow,” he said.
She nodded. They were opening the exterior blast door tomorrow for Kendall. Unlike the past week, while Kendall had worked his way out of the airlock and then up the switchbacking ramps with Alec or Rich, Miranda would be there, too. The LO crew had wanted everyone on hand, in order to make it as safe for Kendall as possible. Kendall hadn’t liked the idea of leaving the bunker empty, even though he was the only one who knew the lock codes for the doors. He insisted that someone stay behind. When the choice came down to Miranda, who he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of, or Phineas, who he didn’t like, dislike proved less palatable than embarrassment.
She said, “Do you think he can do it?”
Immediately, Alec nodded. “Absolutely. He’s a trooper, our Kendall. I think he’ll be fine. Having you there will help.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I thought he was afraid of embarrassing himself in front of me.”
“And that’s why he won’t lose his nerve.”
She took another sip of her wine, feeling the anxiety her dream had triggered recede.
“Fresh air for the first time in a decade,” Alec said softly. “Can you imagine?”
She shook her head. “I was thinking of this place as a prison, but when you put it like that, it feels more like a tomb.” She shook the morose thought off. “Why are you working out in the middle of the night?”
“Can’t sleep, same as you.”
She finished her glass of wine and refilled it. Alec shook his head no when she held the bottle out to him.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing Kendall’s art collection,” Alec said. “Maybe when he’s flush with victory after going outside, he’ll say yes.”
“Have you asked him?”
Alec shook his head, the sharp edge of a smile squaring his jaw. “Maybe you could ask him for me.”
“Don’t,” she said, imploring. “Just don’t.”
Alec sat up straighter. “I’m only teasing, Miranda.”
She looked in the direction of Kendall’s apartment. She hopped off the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, leaning toward Alec.
“I know,” she said, her voice low. “I just feel…shitty. He likes me, and I’m not exactly leading him on, but I’m not discouraging him, either.”
Alec cocked his head to the side. “D’ya think he’d help us if we just asked?”
Miranda shrugged. “No,” she said, thinking of the seeds. “Not soon enough to make a difference back home, anyway. It’s like Rich said, if we ask and he says no…”
“Things get awkward fast,” Alec finished for her.
“We’d help him even if he had nothing. Especially if he had nothing. It’d be the right thing to do, and it’s how they do things at LO, which is why I like it so much. But knowing that doesn’t change the rest.” She looked at the floor, then back at Alec. “It taints everything. I see the way he looks at me, how hopeful his eyes are behind that owl blink, and…”
At her characterization, Alec smiled. Despite how shitty she felt—from the dream, from not checking Kendall’s interest—the butterflies started up again.
“We should have a party.”
She’d just told him how crappy she felt for leading Kendall on, and he was suggesting they throw a party. “A party?”
“To celebrate, after Kendall goes outside.” His voice softened, and his eyes filled with a gentleness she hadn’t seen before. “And to cheer you up.”
The corners of her eyes prickled, the rush of emotion surprising her. Alec barely knew her, but could see she needed…something. Rocco knew it, River and Rich and Phineas, too, but she always deflected their questions, their concern, their attempts to help. How was this man she hardly knew managing to wriggle past the barriers her friends couldn’t? And why did it have her on the verge of tears?
“We’ll make party hats,” she said, plastering a smile on her face, trying to get her emotions under control. “And a banner.”
Alec’s grin widened. “We’ll break out the good Macallan for a proper toast. But right now, we both need to get some sleep.”
He stood and held out a hand. She took it, letting him give her a hand up that she didn’t need.
“You’re a good scout, Miranda,” he said. “Your intentions are good. It’s the situation that twists them about.”
“You know what they say about good intentions.”
Alec laughed softly. “I do, lass. I do. My own road to Hell is smoothly paved.”
Rich said, his voice gently encouraging, “You ready, Kendall?”
They stood near the top of the ramp, just beyond clearance of the outer blast door’s inward swing. Kendall stared at the keypad, the digital readout above it a bright line of zeroes. He blinked almost nonstop, and Miranda could see sweat on his upper lip. He looked again at the security monitor, which again showed nothing outside in the immediate area, just forest.
Kendall nodded, but his hand—hovering in front of the keypad—didn’t move. Rich looked at Miranda, his eyes bugging out at her under raised eyebrows that were in danger of reaching his hairline. Beside him, Alec made a circular ‘hurry up’ motion with his hand. She set her hand on Kendall’s shoulder. He startled and gulped, then looked at her as if he wanted to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment.
“This is the worst part, before you do it,” she said. “Fuck zombies.”
Dismay filled Rich’s face. Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that. But she had a feeling that tender encouragement from her wouldn’t be helpful. She thought it might even fuel Kendall’s fear that she’d think he was a coward. Kendall gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then she saw it—determination filled his eyes and set his jaw. He looked back to the keypad and punched in the numbers. Rich smiled, looking impressed.
The pneumatic hiss of the door lock signaled disengagement. Alec held out sunglasses to Kendall.
“Don’t forget these.”
Kendall took the sunglasses with shaking hands, only getting them over his ears on his second attempt. A crack of light appeared as the door swung toward them.
“You’ve got this,” Miranda whispered to him.
She didn’t think Kendall heard her. Alec stepped forward, taking point as they had agreed. When the door swung open enough that a person could get through, he hit the red button on the wall, arresting the door’s movement. He paused, then stepped out. Fifteen seconds later, he called, “C’mon out.”
Miranda walked to the open door, watery afternoon sunshine illuminating the concrete at her feet. She turned back to Kendall, and to Rich, who stood behind him.
“Coming?” she asked.
She couldn’t see the terror in Kendall’s eyes through the dark lenses of the sunglasses, but she could feel it rolling off him in waves, despite the heavy boots, and the kevlar pants, jacket, and gloves he wore. And then, after a halting first step, he followed her.
“To Kendall!” Rich crowed, glass upraised.
Whoops and shouts—from her friends and her own—filled Miranda’s ears. She laughed as their glasses clinked together, the enthusiasm with which they were wielded bordering on dangerous.
“Watch it,” Alec cried, some of his Scotch slopping out of
his glass.
Miranda could only give herself over to the laughter that bubbled up and out of her. Beside her, Kendall glowed like a firefly under their praise. He took another sip of his Scotch, then screwed up his face.
“Somebody get this man a drink he likes, for goodness’ sake,” Rich said. His party hat—hastily constructed of stiff paper—sat askew on his head.
“Already on it,” Phineas said, jumping to his feet. He scurried out of sight, then reappeared a moment later with a bottle of white wine and some glasses. He set it on the coffee table in the center of the couches and chairs in the lounge they occupied and fished around for a corkscrew. A moment later he handed Kendall an overly generous glassful, murmuring, “I don’t know how they drink that crap.”
“It’s supposed to be very good,” Kendall said, his dislike of Phineas forgotten in the merriment. “Must be an acquired taste.”
“I’ll just acquire yours, then,” Alec said. He reached over Miranda, bumping her into Kendall.
Kendall’s party hat fell off when he turned his head to follow the path of his stolen glass of Scotch. It tumbled over the back of the couch, and set off another round of uproarious, drunken laughter. Miranda turned in her seat, hung over the back of the couch, and fished it from the floor. She set the hat on Kendall’s head, fiddling with the string so it would stay behind his ear and hold it in place.
“I think it’s a lost cause,” he said.
Miranda tried a moment more, then said, “I think you’re right.”
Kendall shrugged, then grinned and knocked the hat off his head. Miranda watched it tumble over the back of the couch again. She got up and went over to the stereo to choose a new song. The music was too loud, causing them all to speak a bit too loudly—or maybe it was the alcohol. Dirty dishes and empty bottles littered the table. She switched the music to a better song and turned it down a little. The volume of her friends didn’t lessen—drunken high spirits for the win.
Kendall and Alec sat on either end of the couch, laughing at the story Rich was telling. Kendall looked exhausted, but happy. He’d done it—he’d gone outside. He’d stood outside the bunker door for half an hour. More astonishingly, he’d then walked a short distance into the forest with Miranda and Rich while Alec minded the open blast door. Kendall had been terrified out of his mind, but he’d done it. Thankfully, they’d encountered no zombies. They’d gone back inside to celebrate, surprising Kendall with party hats and a banner and snacks.
Rich stood near the chair he’d abandoned, waving his arms as he regaled them with a story. He stumbled, losing his balance. She hurried over and caught him.
“Careful,” she said.
He grinned, then said ruefully, “I think I better go to bed.”
“Aw, c’mon, man,” Phineas whined. “This party is just getting started.”
“No, no, I’m done,” Rich said, resolute. He turned to Kendall. “My hat is…” He reached up, pulled it from his head, then said, “Off to you.”
Kendall smiled unreservedly, nothing shy or uncertain about it. Happiness burbled inside her, to see him this way, to see his confidence boosted.
“I’ll walk you,” Alec said, getting to his feet.
Rich tried to wave Alec away, but Alec insisted. Miranda sat back down on the couch next to Kendall. Phineas left for the kitchen to get more snacks.
“So…was this a good day?” she asked Kendall.
His smile grew broader. “Yes.” He paused, then said, “I feel free.”
Miranda took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, meaning it.
She went to pull her hand from his, but Kendall held on. His brown eyes had a warm, hopeful look that she didn’t like at all. Fuck, she thought. She let it go a few more seconds. When she pulled away this time, he gave her hand a final squeeze and let go.
“Yo, Kendall!” Phineas called. “You want some pizza or… What is this?”
“You better go rescue him. If he’s too drunk to figure out the food, I don’t trust him to put it in the oven.”
Kendall laughed. The confidence going outside had given him—at least now, while he was loaded—was amazing.
“You were right,” he said, standing. “Phineas isn’t that bad.”
He lurched to the kitchen. Miranda reached for her Scotch, the spicy, earthy scent filling her nose as the amber liquid lit up her taste buds. That had been uncomfortable, but thank God for Phineas. He’d saved her from things getting really awkward. She drank the rest of her Scotch, the music filling her ears as she lay her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.
When she woke, she was still in the lounge, and still a bit buzzed. A blanket had been draped over her. The lights were dimmed, except for the thin track of safety lights that ran along the floor. She stretched as she sat up, groaning when her spine crackled. She squinted at her watch—past midnight. She went to the nearest bathroom, where she relieved her poor bladder and brushed her teeth. Thank God for the mystery dentist who hadn’t made it here. The toothbrushes, toothpaste, and floss in every bathroom was coming in mighty handy just now. The Scotch had been wonderful, but after a couple hours asleep, her mouth wasn’t.
She walked under the dark chandelier and around the dining tables in the center of the dome, on her way to the kitchen to get a glass of water before she headed to bed. Flickering light through frosted glass of one of the activity rooms caught her eye; someone was watching a movie. She got her glass of water, gulped it down and refilled it, then went to the theater. The door was open to the central dining area, and the closing credits of a film were scrolling up the screen.
“How was it?” she asked. She couldn’t see who was watching since the room was dark.
Alec’s low voice said, “Pretty terrible.”
She found the switch inside the door. Bright light filled the room before she hastily turned it down to the lowest setting.
“Trying to blind me?” Alec said.
He looked over the back of his seat and squinted at her like a mole surprised by bright sunlight. There were six rows of an assortment of single and love seat-width reclining theater seats. In all, the room could comfortably fit forty people, more at a squeeze.
“Sorry,” she said.
Alec grinned, and she heard the low whirr of his seat being brought upright. He held aloft another bottle of the fancy Scotch that was almost full.
“You broke out another?”
The sly grin appeared. “D'ya want one? There are glasses on the bar there.”
She grabbed a glass from the small bar against the shared wall with the library next door. When she turned back and saw Alec still looking at her, she felt a crackle of attraction arc between them. A frisson of electricity flared inside her, and the butterflies in her stomach began to run riot. She sat beside him on the wide love seat. He turned toward her as he boosted himself up onto the armrest separating this love seat from the next. He poured her a drink, a generous two fingers.
“To Kendall,” he said, the intent stare of his heathered hazel eyes pinning her in place.
“To Kendall,” she echoed.
Instead of the smooth, lightly burnt caramel taste she’d come to expect, the Scotch tasted bitter. She coughed, then gagged, remembering that she’d just brushed her teeth. She took another bigger gulp and swished the Scotch in her mouth, trying to get it into every nook and cranny.
“What the hell are you doing, lass?” Alec said, his brow crinkled with surprise.
She swallowed, grimacing, then said, “I just brushed my teeth.”
He stared at her a moment, his mouth falling open. “I take what I said before back. You,” he said, poking her just under her collarbone, his accent making you sound like a stretched out yeeeew. “Are a right savage, treating fine Scotch like mouthwash. If I’d known, I’d never have offered.”
She shrugged, arching an eyebrow at him. “The damage is already done.” She smiled over the rim of her glass as she took an
other sip. This time, it tasted better.
“The party was a good idea.”
Alec nodded. “Having him open the door was the hardest part.”
“Isn’t it always?”
She caught the sharp edge of his grin. “I reckon so.” He paused, then said, “You seem cheered up.”
She considered this a moment. “I am.”
His eyes lingered on her face as they drank. The air around them fizzed with an electric hum, ionized like the air before a thunderstorm. She felt goosebumps ripple to attention on her arms, attraction and hunger buzzing beneath her skin as she finished her drink.
“Another?” he said.
She should go, before something happened that she might regret. Deciding who to screw while drinking rarely stood up to the harsh light of day. She would only regret it. Or, a small voice whispered, maybe she wouldn’t.
“I should go to bed,” she said.
Life felt complicated enough; she didn’t need more, but she didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to lie in bed, thinking about Kendall holding on to her hand and how she’d let him. Didn’t want to wonder what she was passing up with Alec. Didn’t want to slide into nightmares of zombie babies and the insomnia that would follow. She wanted to stay. She wanted to find out if she was imagining the hum in the air, the attraction that seemed to swirl thickly around them.
Alec slid off the love seat’s arm and touched his hand lightly on her neck. His thumb stroked down, his fingers tracing forward to meet it. Her breath caught in her throat, her skin tingling where his fingers skated over the pulse pounding in her neck. His hazel eyes were hooded, burning bright with a desire that he didn’t bother to hide.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
She took a breath, fast and shallow. He leaned in, lips meeting hers, and she fell into the kiss. She twisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him to her, the hum and hunger detonating like a bomb.
Alec’s hands slipped into her hair, the deepening kiss requiring no adjustment, no effort, only her desire and tongue and lips. She ran her hands down his body, the muscles of his chest hard underneath the softness of his skin. He broke the kiss, the sharp, inward hiss of his breath as her hands slipped beneath the thin cotton of his shirt and skittered over his muscled abdomen. She pulled the shirt over his head, then kissed and nipped his chest, the tremble in his body making her hotter. She wanted to tease and touch and taste all of him at once.