by Bella Street
The room was clean, the bed made, and everything was in order...except for a stray piece of paper sticking out under the lamp on the nightstand. He went over and looked at it. It contained only the letters LR and an arrow.
She was in the Light Room? But the arrow pointed the wrong way. At least if he went the attic route through his room.
Maybe she meant to point toward the lower room access.
Trent decided to find out, although he didn't know how she'd make it back in time to meet him.
He checked the hall to make sure it was clear, not wanting anyone to see him use the door. It was unlocked, so he slipped inside.
The room was dark aside from the glow coming from above. The Christmas lights were on and the ladder in place. Seffy must not have wanted him climbing through the attics while he was in recovery mode.
As he grabbed the first rung and began to climb, he wondered at her strange behavior. On one hand, she ignored him while trying to get away, and the other, she wanted his company now—if she was up there at all. Okaaay.
As soon as she joined him in the Light Room, he'd make her 'fess up. Things were weird enough around here without having to wonder what was going on in his wife's mind.
Trent grasped the last rung and hauled himself up.
His eyes widened and his questions melted away when he saw Seffy waiting for him on the cushions—wearing his wide-lapeled white shirt—and nothing else.
“Sef.”
She didn't say anything as he stumbled the rest of the way into the room.
How had she arrived ahead of him and gotten out of her tracksuit so fast?
But the look in her eyes erased coherent thought. His heart careened against his chest as he tried to strip off his T-shirt, making him wonder if she was right to worry about his health.
In his haste, he got tangled in the sleeves, but her hands were there to guide the shirt over his head.
She was smiling when his head emerged. The colored lights reflected in her dark eyes.
“God, you're beautiful.” He heard the words—he must've said them—but he couldn't think beyond the pounding of his pulse.
Seffy leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, coaxing a response from him, teasing him with the promise of what was to come.
Trent wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the cushions. They took their time kissing as she helped him out of the rest of his clothes.
Then she lay back on the cushions, her hair a silky puddle around her head, her dark eyes expectant, vulnerable.
A faint pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. His own heartbeat increased as he bent down and touched his lips to the pulsating hollow.
He moved his mouth to hers. Despite Seffy's earlier insistence that they go slow, he sensed a hunger in her kisses he was only glad to match. Passion turned their movements needy and suddenly she was over him, taking the lead. A soft rainbow aura of light surrounded her—turning her into the angel she refused to be. Even more arresting was the keen intent in her eyes, letting him know she was in charge. He had no problem yielding to her, especially considering his incapacitation due to her clever, wandering hands.
Her mouth returned to his, her kisses searing. Trent returned her fervor, sliding his hands under the shirt, reveling in the warmth and softness of her skin. When she joined her body to his, he sucked in a breath and looked up at her in a daze.
Her eyes locked on his, she began to move. Trent skimmed his palms along the flare of her hips, mesmerized by her gentle rocking motions. When she leaned back, his shirt slipped from her shoulders, revealing the swell of her cleavage. He continued his exploration of her body under the shirt, sweeping his hands up her ribs, cupping her breasts.
Trent's respiration deepened as her movements increased, and her muscles tightened. She tipped her head back, her breath coming in soft gasps, tugging him helplessly over the edge.
Trent gripped her waist as their bodies met in shuddering waves of release.
She leaned forward, her eyes radiant, her cheeks flushed. As her breathing slowed, she dropped onto his chest, brushing a kiss across his lips. Trent buried his hands in her hair and returned her kisses, absorbing the sweetness of her embrace, whispering his love for her.
She placed one hand over his heart. “How do you feel?”
Trent regarded her, wishing words could express the overflow of his soul. He covered his hand with her own. “Healed.”
She reached up and trailed her fingers down his cheek, her eyes misting with tears. “Me, too.”
***
Seffy spent the night and the following day with Trent in the Light Room on a razor's edge of contrasting emotions. She'd experienced a contentment she'd never known existed, but in the shadows was the nameless dread of the unknown, of the future.
And behind his caressing gaze and lazy smile, she sensed it in Trent, too.
As she rested in the circle of his arms, she longed to bottle up these finite moments. Just because they were nearly thirty years in the past didn't mean the future wouldn't soon be upon them with its unreasonable demands and impossible choices.
They were living on borrowed time and they both knew it.
Seffy looked up at the skylight where they'd watched the changing skyscape—the marbled sunset, an over-bright sunrise, and now deep pink afternoon flood of light—its alternations marking the moments.
Trent scooted onto his side from where they lay huddled under blankets and propped his head in his hand. He picked up a tress of her hair and watched it slide through his fingers. “Your hair is long again. I can't believe how fast it's grown.”
Seffy caught his hand in hers. “I wonder if yours will start growing faster now.”
He regarded her, his expression suddenly tense. She braced herself for him to mention the poison of her blood flowing in his veins. It had been a subject they'd come close to discussing, but ultimately avoided.
“Sef, what do you think about just staying here at the compound for the foreseeable future?”
She furrowed her brows, sideswiped by his words. “What do you mean 'stay?'”
He lowered his eyes briefly, as if formulating his words. “I mean, we stop trying to leave the compound, stop trying to go back to our time.”
Her face fell. “You mean just live here...indefinitely?”
Trent nodded, his gray eyes serious.
Seffy struggled upright. “Why? Don't you want to go home?”
“Of course I want to go home, but I'm not sure I want to keep trying.”
Her pulse pounded in her veins as the nameless dread came close to identification. “You're starting to sound like Lani.”
“She wants to stay because of Malone?”
“Yeah.”
He sighed, tracing a pattern on the blanket. “Here's the thing; every time we try to get out, something bad happens—”
“Lots of bad things have happened in the compound.”
“Just hear me out. The flip side is that we have a comfortable place to live, food—for the most part...plus we don't have to worry about jobs or taxes or the mundane things of life—”
“Mundane things like trying to stay alive?” she said through stiff lips.
He smiled slightly. “Sounds like I have my answer.”
Seffy wrapped her arms around her knees, her mind reeling. “It's a shock to hear you—you—talk like this. You were always the one pushing every boundary, exploiting every weak spot, looking for any escape.”
He lowered his eyes for a moment. “Well, now I just see it as a waste of time when I could be spending it with you, like this.”
She cocked her head, looking down at him with a gentle smile. “That's very sweet, in a misguided kind of way.”
Trent reached up and tugged on a lock of her hair. “Then at least give us a month or so to relax and enjoy some quiet time together. After that, if some amazing escape attempt happens, or Eugene gets his head out of his butt and fixes the time travel equipment, we'l
l jump on the opportunity.”
She slid back under the blankets and cuddled up to him, not knowing what to say. She wondered if she should mention the news that they might be able to leave 'soon.'
He released a breath. “I'm tired, Sef. I'm tired of fighting and losing. I just want to be with you. That's all that matters anymore.”
Seffy looked up at him and touched a mark on his arm—a light bruise, one among many that were just barely visible under his skin. “Maybe my blood is the reason you feel this way. It's dragging you down.”
Trent took her hand and squeezed it. “My blood is just fine—Olga says so.”
She regarded him, unable to stem a little rivulet of worry trickling through her heart. “Olga can be selective with her information when she wants to. In fact, I don't think she's just a nurse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything that's happened here has been the result of some sort of drug interaction. She told me the zombies were created with components of the Plague. And then obviously I was on something when I thought aliens were after me. Then there was the compound-wide attempt at crowd control. See a theme here?”
“And I'm guessing you think the whole wolf thing is part of that?”
“Yes! I was having dreams about wolves before you were infected. Or more likely, injected.” She gripped his hand. “Why would Olga feed the whole werewolf superstition if she wanted to keep the peace? Wouldn't that cause more distress? Then she can whip up the exact blood potion to cure you because she plays with blood as a hobby? What if she just injected you with an antidote to fight what she infected you with in the first place?”
He regarded her as if considering her words. “I trust Olga. She's saved you too many times.”
Seffy tried not to let her disappointment show. Was Trent giving up on everything? “Maybe those 'saves' were part of her ongoing experiments.”
“Olga cares for you, Sef. There's no way she's the bad guy here.”
“And yet you told me by definition she's not to be trusted because she's employed by the compound.”
“He sent her a rueful smile. “Sounds like I talk too much.”
She returned her attention to his faint bruises. “So we just let this go?”
He nudged up her chin. “For now. All I'm saying is that I want to lay in bed with you and make love and forget about Fenn and Fiona and Olga...and all the garbage that comes with this place.”
She arched a brow at him. “Well, I suppose I can accommodate your wishes, seeing as we're technically still on our honeymoon and all.”
“So we have a deal? A month?”
She held back a weary sigh and instead attempted a smile. “Deal.”
Trent made a face at her and leaned down to drop a kiss on her nose. Seffy glanced up at the skylight and saw movement. “What's that?”
He rolled over, bracing himself on his elbows, and looked up at the skylight. “Whoa, I think it's snow.”
“Seriously? It looks funny.”
Trent got to his feet and opened the latch. Fluffy flakes wafted down onto his pajama bottoms and the blankets below, then disappeared, leaving darkened stains of moisture behind.
“See?” he asked, rubbing his hands over his bare arms. “Snow.”
Seffy grabbed her hoodie and put it on. “Let's climb up on the roof and see.”
Trent reached for his T-shirt and yanked it over his head. “I just suggested that we stay in the compound and the first chance you get, you want to cross that line.”
“It's just the roof.”
“Yeah, and after that, it's the ladder, then it's the—”
“The wolf,” she said faintly. “Is that when you were exposed to the virus?”
He paused. “Olga told me the wound on my ankle looked more like an injection site, not a bite or scratch.”
“That must be how it happened. It had to be that night I followed Angelique out onto the roof.”
Trent put his arm around her, hugging her hard. “I don't know who would stab me with a needle while I was on a ladder in the middle of the night, Sef. But even if that is the case, then it's the girl's fault.”
Excitement at seeing the snow evaporated like the flakes against her skin. “But she's like from my psyche or something, right? So it all comes back to me.”
“Seffy, you are not going to blame yourself for what happened. Understand?”
She stared at him, fighting the suffocation of failure. “You died, Trent.”
He tipped up her chin. “No, I didn't. Olga said you kept my heart beating. Plus I think I'd remember dying—you know, the white light and all that. I don't remember anything.”
Seffy's lip trembled as she struggled to rein in her wayward emotions. Glancing at her hands, she took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened to...the mayor.”
At first he looked confused by the change in subject, but his expression hardened. “You don't want to know.”
“Trent, you came back covered in blood.”
“Is this because you think I'm still violent? That there's a chance that I'll hurt you?”
“No, it's because you killed someone. I mean, you did, right?”
He regarded her, his face a flat mask. “I think what's bothering you is that I don't feel remorse for what happened.”
“Tell me.”
Trent looked out the skylight, his eyes squinting against the wind. “I've wanted to off that guy for a long time. I told Fenn about it once. Then that night...after I attacked you, I knew I had to get away. I was afraid I would lose control. Fenn caught up with me before I left and told me he'd located the man.”
“Why was Fenn so suddenly helpful?”
“He obviously has some kind of obsession for you.” He turned and stared at her. “I've even caught him in your room at night, watching you sleep.”
“What? Ew!”
“So you're not intrigued by him at all?”
She shook her head. “Give me some credit here. Now back to the conversation at hand. You said the man came to you.”
“He had to. I would've been restrained by the stupid pink thing. Fenn set the meeting up for me—apparently he'd set quite a few things in motion before that.”
“What did he do?” she asked through cold lips.
“Made the guy think there would be a girl waiting for him—a ten year old.”
Seffy closed her eyes. “Oh my God.”
“When he found me instead, he tried to pull a knife. Interesting that he'd carry a knife to meet a little girl, wouldn't you say?”
She looked down, wondering why she didn't feel upset for the man. How many victims had there been before her?
“He came at me—but there was no contest. I was looking for a fight, so I just helped him turn the knife on himself. It was his hand gripping the handle when it went into his gut. Not mine.”
Seffy closed her eyes, trying not to imagine the grim scene—but failed. “What did you do with him...afterwards?”
“Left him. The cops did a cursory investigation here since the compound was the closest to the town where it happened. Remember where the disco was? Drug deals went down there a lot, when it was inhabited anyway. And since then a few squatters have taken up residence. So I'm sure it will be chalked up to a deal gone bad.”
“But didn't the man have some political stature to get a more thorough investigation?”
“At this point, he was just a low-level public employee with a dirty little secret. And now he's dead.” He turned to her. “Aren't you at least relieved? He can't hurt you anymore.”
“He already did, Trent. It's too late for me.” She shook her head bitterly. “Obviously, he won't have any new victims, but there are plenty of molesters out there to take up the slack.”
Trent looked away. “I'm not sorry for what I did—whether I was virus-crazed or not. You should tell me now if that's going to be an issue between us.”
Seffy tried to manifest outrage, disgust, pity...anything. But she felt nothin
g outside of good riddance. She sighed. “No...I guess not, but you can't go around killing people, Trent. I mean, gosh!”
“I've never gone around killing people, Sef. I've done what I had to do in self-defense, or to protect you. Don't ever ask me to apologize for that. Because I won't.”
She clenched her hands together. “I have your bloody clothes in a bag in the attic.”
“I'll deal with them later.”
Seffy leaned her head against his shoulder, not knowing what to say.
After an awkward moment, he spoke. “Let's go on the roof and watch the snow for a few minutes, okay?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. They clambered through the window, then bundled up in the blankets. Trent pulled her close, his presence calming her nerves. Still she shivered as they watched the fluffy flakes fall silently onto the metal roof from a shimmering, undulating sky. A dusting of snow covered the far off bluffs, making the landscape appear more friendly somehow.
“It's pretty,” she said quietly, wanting to change the subject.
He looked down at her, smiling slightly. “You're pretty, especially with red cheeks and a red nose.”
“Great,” she groused. “I'm Rudolph.”
“Oh, so you do know some cultural references. I'm guessing that means you've heard of the legend of 'Santa Claus,' too?”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Very funny.”
He grinned.
“God, I can't believe it's winter...or is it? I'm not even sure what month it is.”
“It's almost December,” he said softly, his smile fading.
Seffy closed her eyes for a moment. “We've been here nearly six months?” She snorted. “I can't believe time has gone that fast.”
“I half-wonder if time exists here. Maybe we're in some kind of bubble, caught between two worlds.”
“Ugh, no more time theories.”
Trent rested his head against hers and was silent for a while. Suddenly, he said, “I don't think the snow is white. It looks pink.”
Seffy stared up into the sky. “Hmm. Maybe it just looks like it because of the sky.”
Trent held out his hand and watched several snowflakes fall into his palm. “Those look pink to me.”