Hesitantly, I took one small step. Nothing happened. I took another, and when still no pain surged through me, I moved a little farther. When nothing happened yet again, a grin spread across my face. I didn’t trust this man for a second, but he hadn’t lied. The collar was off.
Heath started walking again, and I followed—still smiling to myself. Staying behind him made me feel more like a prisoner—as if I were being led—but I couldn’t stomach the thought of walking at his side, so I chose to keep my distance. At first, the only sound in the hall was the thud of our footsteps, clicking in unison as I kept pace with him. But before long, we were greeted by the distant murmur of voices, and I began moving faster.
“In a hurry?” Heath asked when I passed him.
I shot him a glare. “You know I am.”
“Do you even know where you’re going?” was the reply.
“Following the sound of voices.”
I turned a corner and came to a full stop at the sight of the people crowded into the cafeteria. It had seemed like a lot when I arrived here the day before, because they’d come pouring out of the building, but now they were all gathered in one place, and I was able to appreciate exactly how many survivors had gathered here. I couldn’t believe it. There were dozens of them.
“How many people do you have here?” I asked even though I had no desire to talk to Heath.
“A little over fifty.”
“Fifty,” I repeated.
Having that many survivors together seemed unreal. Impossible. We’d traveled across the country and seen so few people, and after what the doctor in Texola had told me, I hadn’t been the least bit surprised. What had he said? Something like eighty-five percent of the population was going to die from this virus. I believed the numbers, because we’d driven from Phoenix to Troy and only come across a handful of people. Yet Heath had managed to amass a huge group. How?
People turned as they became aware of my presence in the doorway, their gazes brimming with curiosity as they looked me over. I scanned the room, barely able to focus on their faces as I searched the sea of people. I recognized a few of the survivors from the farm—including the bitchy woman who’d sat next to me in the truck—but most were strangers. Not that it mattered. There was only one face I wanted to see. My dad’s.
I caught sight of Ryan on the other side of the room when he turned my way, and his gaze met mine. It was brief, though, because a second later he shifted his focus to someone at his side. The man’s back was to me, but it didn’t matter. I would have recognized my father’s messy, gray hair anywhere.
Ryan said something to him, and my dad spun around, his gaze sweeping across the room before landing on me. His brown eyes widened in shock, almost like he hadn’t thought it would really be me, and a pained smile broke out across his face. Then he was moving. It took a few seconds for me to realize I was as well, my gaze on him as I wove my way between the tables and people, my gaze never leaving his.
Like a movie, we met in the middle of the room, and he opened his arms for me. I threw myself against him, tears blurring my vision and my choked sobs making it impossible to speak. My shoulders were shaking, and when I blinked, tears ran down my cheeks. He was here. I couldn’t believe it. I’d thought for sure he was dead, but he was alive, and we were together, and now that we were, I really and truly believed everything was going to be okay. It had to be.
Trying to control my sobs, I sniffled, but it was impossible. I was getting tears and snot all over him, but I couldn’t care, and I doubted he did either. It wasn’t the first time, anyway. How many times as a child had we been in this same position? His arms around me while I sobbed into his shirt. Too many to recall. And it was amazing.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said, and I cried harder at the familiar feeling of his mustache tickling my cheek. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you got home. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I thought you were dead,” I said between sniffles. “When Mom said she hadn’t heard from you, I thought you were dead.”
At that, he pulled back, taking my face between his hands so he could look me in the eye. Even before he uttered the words, I knew what he was going to say, because heartache was etched in every line of his face. And there were so many more than before. Around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, and dark circles under his eyes that made it look like he hadn’t slept in years. He’d aged so much, I couldn’t believe it.
“She’s dead, Rowan,” he said, his voice rough, his words a whisper. “Your mom is dead.”
“I know.” My own words were a sob on my lips, and I had to swallow before I could say, “We buried her.”
My father’s expression didn’t change. “We?”
“A friend from school who came here with me, Kiaya,” I said. “And Doug. He helped, too.”
Confusion flashed in his brown eyes, the only change in emotion he’d shown since pulling away from our hug. “Doug Phillips?”
“Yeah.” I sniffed, trying to prevent the snot from dripping from my nose but failing. I felt like a wet mess, but controlling my emotions had always been hard, and never as difficult as it was at this moment. “I ran into him a couple days ago.”
Dad let out a sigh that sounded half exhausted, half resigned. “I’m glad you weren’t alone. It was my biggest worry. That you were all by yourself in Phoenix, and no one was around to take care of you.”
Despite my joy at seeing my father, his words stung. I shouldn’t have been surprised he thought I needed someone to take care of me, because I’d never had to do anything for myself before all this. But I was smart and determined, and I thought that should have counted for something in his eyes. Apparently, though, he still saw me as a little kid who needed to be looked after.
“I was never alone,” I assured him.
“Good,” Dad said then wrapped his arms around me again. “And now you’re here where I can make sure you’re safe.”
His words chipped away at the confidence I’d worked so hard to cultivate over the last few days, making me feel small and useless. It was the last thing I wanted, and I found myself wanting to pull away from my father.
It wasn’t until then that that I realized nearly everyone in the room had stopped to watch our reunion. They’d seen my tears and heard me blubber like a baby and had probably even heard my father’s words. My cheeks warmed at the humiliating thought, and I wiped my face on my shoulder, which only resulted in making me feel even more like a child than I had a second ago. Why couldn’t I get my emotions in check? Why couldn’t I be strong and sure of myself like Kiaya?
Desperate to focus on something other than the dozens of eyes watching me, I focused on my dad. “You’re not being held against your will?”
He frowned, and the lines around his mouth and eyes deepened. He looked like he’d aged a year since the last time I saw him. At sixty-two, my father wasn’t a young man by any means, but I wasn’t sure if the sudden change was the result of stress and grief, or just the natural order of things.
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“One of the guys in my group told me that doctors and nurses were being held against their will.”
“No. Of course not. I mean, I was pretty mad yesterday when Heath wouldn’t let me see you.” Dad glanced past me, his frown growing deeper but the expression in his eyes still not changing. Something about it nagged at me, but I couldn’t say what. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m needed here, and I didn’t really think I had anywhere to go. Plus, it’s safe.”
It was a relief, but having Ryan’s words confirmed didn’t ease my worry completely. I still didn’t trust Heath, and I was still a prisoner here.
Before I could voice any of my thoughts, Dad said, “I thought you were still at school, but I left a note at the house just in case you came home. I wanted you to be able to find me.”
“A note?” I shook my head to let him know I hadn’t found a note from him. Only the one from Mom. “I never saw a note.”
“There was one from Mom, but nothing from you.”
He stiffened. “Your mom left a note?”
“She knew I was on the way home when she got sick,” I explained, tears once again filling my eyes. I didn’t bother trying to blink them away this time. There would be no point. “She left it in case I didn’t make it in time.”
“I didn’t see it.” Anguish and regret rang in the words, and that expression in his eyes remained. It was like looking at a sad puppy, his eyes wide and brimming with grief. I’d never seen that look in his eyes before, and it unnerved me. “I looked around, but the front door was open, and she was already gone. I assumed she’d been too sick to even think about leaving a message in case we came back.”
I thought about how I’d stood on the sidewalk in front of my house, waiting to find out my mother’s fate. Even before Devon and Buck went inside, I’d known she was gone. I’d told myself there was a chance she was okay. Tried to convince myself she was inside waiting for me. It hadn’t worked, though.
“The front door was open when we got there, too,” I told my dad. “She must have left it open when she wandered out.”
“I shut it before I left.” His frown returned, emphasizing the new lines etched in his face. “It just felt wrong to leave it open.”
For a moment, I said nothing. Was I remembering it wrong? Everything had happened so fast, and I’d been exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Could I have been confused about the details? Even though it felt like a knife was lodged in my heart when I thought about that day, I replayed the events in my head. No. I wasn’t wrong. The aftermath was fuzzy, but the few moments before my world shattered were as vivid as if they’d just happened. The front door had definitely been open when we got to the house.
“Maybe someone went in after you left?” I suggested. “I don’t know why they would have, and nothing seemed to be missing, but it’s the only logical explanation, because the door was definitely open.”
“That must be it.” Dad’s shoulders sagged.
He looked so sad, so beaten down, that I threw my arms around him, not caring if I looked like a child. “I missed you.”
He hugged me back, but it seemed automatic, almost robotic. He was probably just in shock.
After a few more seconds of hugging, I extracted myself from his arms and was relieved to discover that most people were no longer paying attention to us. Most, because Heath still stood nearby, not only watching our reunion, but listening to us talk as well. Ryan, too, had come over to join us. He stood behind my dad like he was waiting for his turn to speak, and even though I still didn’t trust him completely, I thought I should let him know how grateful I was.
The smile I gave him was shaky, thanks to my emotions, but genuine. “Thanks for making this happen.”
Ryan’s own grin was whole-hearted. “You’re welcome.”
“Dr. Shelton has been a good friend the last couple weeks.” Dad gave Ryan a firm pat on the back, and the smile he forced out helped erase some of the newer wrinkles even though it still didn’t reach his eyes. “We were on the front lines together.”
“It must have been awful,” I said.
The smile waned then melted away. It reminded me of eating a popsicle as a child on hot summer days and how fast it would melt if dropped on the hot sidewalk. At the memory, I couldn’t help picturing my father as he’d been back then. A full smile as he swept me into his arms, quick to reassure me that everything would be okay even as my tears began to fall. So unlike how he’d been today, which made no sense to me. This thing—the end of the world as we knew it and the death of my mother—was so much bigger than a melted popsicle, and yet he hadn’t tried to really comfort me beyond a hug. He hadn’t promised he’d take care of me or fix things, either. Why? What was going on in his head?
“It was,” Dad said, his focus on the ground, his mouth formed into a frown that made him look like a stranger. “It was more awful than anything I’ve ever seen.”
I waited for more, for him to do something, to say something that would make him seem like the man who’d raised me, but nothing happened. He didn’t even try to lift his gaze.
Before I could think of anything to say, Heath cleared his throat, pulling my attention from my father.
“Breakfast will be winding down soon.” He nodded toward the kitchen.
I looked from him to my dad—who was still staring at the floor—my gaze finally settling on Ryan. “Winding down?”
“We have a pretty strict schedule.” Ryan gave an apologetic shrug. “It helps keep things moving.”
“It helps us stay alive,” Heath corrected him.
“That too,” the other man replied.
This time, he forced out a smile that was easy to interpret. It said he was sorry for Heath’s brusque tone and he wished things were different. If that were true, though, he needed to be a man and do something about it.
Since I wasn’t about to tell him that, I tore my gaze from his and looked around. A lot of people had already left, and most of those still in the cafeteria were in the middle of cleaning up. Only a few were still sitting at the tables.
“Okay.” Again, I looked toward my dad, only to find him still staring at the floor. Trying to pull him into the conversation—or maybe even remind him that I was here, I said, “I guess we should eat?”
Dad didn’t reply.
“I can give you the official tour after that,” Ryan said, then shot Heath a penitent look that had irritation prickling at my insides. He definitely needed to grow a pair. “On the way back to her room, of course.”
“I don’t get to spend more time with my dad?”
I’d been hoping to have more time to talk to him, both so I could fill him in on what had been happening with me, and so I could draw him out of his shell. He was starting to worry me.
Despite how uncomfortable it made me, I focused on Heath, hoping to appeal to his human side—assuming he had one. “I haven’t seen my dad in almost two months. Not since leaving for college.”
Unsurprisingly, Heath’s expression didn’t change. Maybe he didn’t have a human side. Maybe he was a cyborg or something like that. Alien. Hell, it was possible. Zombies had turned out to be real, so why couldn’t the other things sci-fi lovers had spent so much time speculating about exist?
“Actually,” Dad cleared his throat and finally dragged his gaze from the floor, turning his beaten puppy expression on me, “I need to be doing my rounds. I need to check on Bill, plus we have a couple sick people here that I need to look in on. I can stop by your room later, though.”
“Oh.” My heart dropped. “Okay. Later is good.”
I couldn’t believe he wasn’t fighting to spend more time with me. It wasn’t like him at all. None of this was. Was he depressed? Broken? I didn’t know for sure, but I did know one thing. I wanted my dad back.
“I can trust you to take care of this?” Heath’s focus was on Ryan when he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out the remote for my collar.
The leather around my neck seemed to tighten at the sight of it, and I reached up to tug on the thing.
“Of course.” Ryan shot me a wink as he took the device. “I’ll take good care of her.”
He smiled at me, his green eyes intent, and my dad woke up long enough to eye his colleague. Despite how watered down the expression seemed, I recognized it. Dad had looked at Doug the same way when we first started dating. It was like he was sizing Ryan up. Trying to decide if he was good match for me. No, thanks.
“Excuse me,” Heath said then hurried away, acting like he was off to save the world.
My focus was already back on my dad, but he’d once again spaced out. It was the only way to describe how he was acting. Like he wasn’t sure where he was or what was going on. It was creepy and unnatural, and even worse, it made him seem like an imposter.
&n
bsp; “Since I’ve already eaten,” Ryan said, taking a step back, “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” He gave me a stern look. “Don’t leave the cafeteria without me. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I assured him.
“Good.”
Ryan turned away, but I didn’t watch him go.
Dad and I went to get some food in silence. Our reunion hadn’t gone quite how I’d thought it would, and I didn’t know what to expect. He’d been happy to see me, relieved I was okay, but something about him was definitely off.
“I met a lot of great people while I was on the road,” I told Dad as I grabbed a tray from the stack. I figured bringing up Devon was my best shot at getting my dad to wake up and take notice of me. He’d always been so protective. “They helped me get here. Kept me going when things got rough. Devon most of all.”
“Devon?” Dad’s bushy, gray eyebrows lifted a little, but his surprise stayed confined to that part of his face.
“Yeah. He was a cop before all this.” I slid my tray along, allowing the women working the food line to pile eggs and bacon on it. “In West Chester. Kiaya and I met him in Texas.”
“West Chester,” Dad repeated as he, too, paused to let a grandmotherly woman drop a spoonful of eggs on his tray. “How’d he get all the way out to Texas?”
There wasn’t an ounce of interest in his tone, but I wasn’t willing to give up just yet.
“He was out west with some friends. Camping, hiking. That kind of stuff. They got stuck when everything shut down, and he was headed home like me, only all his friends got sick and he had to stop. That’s what happened with Kiaya and me, too. The other guy we were traveling with, Kyle, got sick and died.”
Dad watched me out of the corner of his eye as we moved forward, which I took as a good sign. At least he wasn’t staring at the floor anymore.
“So, this Devon started traveling with you?”
“Yeah. He taught us to shoot, too. I honestly don’t know what we would have done without him.”
I grabbed a small, plastic mug at the end of the line and filled it with coffee, inhaling the rich aroma. The last coffee I’d had was at the diner in Texola, and I was thrilled to set the steaming cup on my tray—along with several creamers and two packets of sugar.
Far Series | Book 3 | Far From Lost Page 16