by Schow, Ryan
“Friends are good in times of strife,” Quan said. “We appreciate our friends.”
“I will pray for Graham,” Lienna said, not flippant, but enough for Quan to turn and fix her with a look. In the candlelight her face was sincere, but she knew what he knew—if she hadn’t killed Graham, Quan would have.
The next day, they woke to Quan’s sat phone buzzing beside him. He squinted against the daylight, realizing now why Brandon wanted to sleep on the other side of the room. They still had shade.
“Hello?” he answered, groggy.
“Hey, Quan,” the familiar voice said. “Portland’s a freaking war zone.”
Quan sat up, turned away from the morning sun. “Logan,” he said with a smile. “You could not have called at a better time.”
“Did you move on, or are you dug in there?”
“Dug in,” he said. “But I’ll give you my location. Oh, and we made a few more friends for our trip to Yale.”
“We met some folks, too,” Logan said.
Chapter Sixteen
Logan hauled the five gallon bucket into Felicity’s kitchen. It was full to the rim with water from the catch out back. He poured the raw water over a clean t-shirt Harper had stretched over another five gallon bucket, then they ran the loosely filtered water through Felicity’s Alexapur Pro countertop water filtration system. The system filtered two and a quarter gallons of water relatively quickly, and though processed water would certainly filter better, they were making do with what they could. He’d just poured clean water into a three gallon jug and added the appropriate amount of bleach when his sat phone beeped. He capped the jug, then looked at the incoming number. Smiling, he stepped away for a moment. He answered the call, provided the caller with directions to Felicity’s home, then hung up, walked out back and looked around.
“Where’s Longwei and his crew?” he asked.
“They’re going house to house in search of food,” Orbey said. She and Harper were filling up another five gallon bucket of water from the water catch system. Harper looked up, pushed her hair out of her face and said, “Who was that?”
“A surprise,” he said. “And a good one at that.” It was about time they received some good news.
Felicity stepped out on the back porch and said, “Boone just got back. He and Clay got a couple of rabbits and three pheasants.”
“Nice!” Logan said. “Where’s Skylar?”
“Off to the side of the house helping to skin the rabbits.”
He nodded, then went back inside, checked the water he was filtering, and added it to the next three-gallon jug of water. A few minutes later, he heard the vehicle out front. Out in the back, he saw others looking up at the sound of an engine. They stopped what they were doing, but he said, “I’ll check it out.”
Smiling, Logan wiped his wet hands on the thighs of his pants, then went and opened the door to a friendly, but badly bruised face and one very excited young German Shepherd.
Cooper started jumping all over him, barking and squirting little bits of pee everywhere. Logan hugged Stephani and said, “We were missing you. I’m glad you came.”
“It’s barely even been a day,” she grinned.
“Yet it felt like forever.”
The others joined them and in seconds, Orbey had her daughter in her arms, holding her tight. Boone came around the side of the house and saw her, his face lighting up with joy. Harper emerged holding Rowdy, who started crying and reaching for Stephani the second he saw her.
“I missed you!” Stephani said, taking Rowdy and peppering his cheeks with kisses.
She’d grown so fond of the child, she once told Harper she’d like to be the boy’s mother. Even though Rowdy would never know his real mother, he’d need someone to love and nurture him in his older years, and Stephani wanted to be that woman.
Boone watched her with the child, and that’s when Logan saw it. Something in Boone had changed. He wasn’t just looking at the woman who’d taken care of him and his son for the last several months. There was…something else. A recognition of something he’d missed, or the final piece of a puzzle he wasn’t sure he’d ever complete. Or perhaps he was imagining things and Boone was just glad to have the babysitter back.
“I couldn’t stay there by myself knowing everyone was up here,” Stephani said, Rowdy looking closely at the dark circles under her eyes, and the yellowing and greenish blue bruising on her face. “Plus Cooper needed a change of scenery, and he needed his family.”
For all Stephani had endured, she wasn’t the least bit unattractive, for the swelling had allowed her features to return, albeit with bruising and stitching, and a few small scabs.
When Harper asked her about her injuries, she said, “I’m not dead, and one day I’ll look like myself again, so for that I’m grateful.”
Skylar came inside, blood on her hands. Seeing her cousin there, she smiled wide, held her hands out so as not to get them on anyone and kissed Stephani on the cheek.
“I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you already,” Skylar said, a rare smiling lighting the woman’s face. Logan watched Skylar’s reaction, but not too closely, and not for too long, for when it came to Skylar, Harper’s insecurities could flare up. There was no reason for that, he told himself, but was there? Either way, he treaded lightly, remembering the life he chose. It was a life with Harper, not one pining after Skylar.
“Where’s Longwei and the boys?” Stephani asked.
“Scavenger hunt,” Orbey said. “Looking for food or toiletries, anything we can take with us when we head to Portland, and eventually to Yale.”
Clay walked in the front door with a couple of skinned rabbits in hand, saw Stephani and broke into a big smile.
“My fraternal twin,” he said, the two of them having suffered enough facial injuries to satisfy the entire group for a long time to come.
“Will you be jealous if we don’t share scars?” she asked.
“A touch,” he said with a grin. He hugged her, kissed her cheek and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” Stephani said. “And I’m sure I’ll have a little scarring, under my right eye, so we can still be twins.”
Longwei and the boys returned an hour later with a fair bounty, most of it coming from a single house. The group had a great dinner—rabbit and pheasant off the spit, canned green beans and canned pears for dessert.
“I’m going to turn in early,” Orbey said, yawning. “Try to get rested up for tomorrow.”
Logan thought they were heading out that night, but apparently they weren’t now. He gave Clay a sideways look. The big man shrugged his shoulders and raised his brows in a noncommittal look. Skylar seemed to have had the same idea as Logan and Clay.
“So I guess we’re staying the night then after all,” Harper replied after Orbey left.
“Looks that way,” Logan said under his breath.
Sitting around the campfire, trying to enjoy the embers and the night sky, Stephani asked what she’d missed. Skylar told her all about Delmont Fick and the two ingrates, and how they’d fleeced them of their stores of gas. She didn’t include the part about castrating the man before killing him. Felicity told them that part, and then the twenty-two year old talked about how the entire town had wanted to kick the crap out of Sludge and Blane, and damn if it didn’t feel amazing that she was able to do just that.
“We’re going to need to make one more trip there,” Logan said, “squeeze out the last drops of gas before heading out.”
“How much gas do you think they had left?” Harper asked.
“Enough for two, maybe three tanks,” Ryker said. He was sitting by the fire, Skylar curled in his arms, looking ready for bed. “We’ll fill everyone up, top off the spare tanks, then see what else is there to take before we leave.”
Longwei cleared his throat, then said, “Are you guys telling tall tales about these Fick kids, or did you really do all that?”
It seemed his crew was just as cur
ious about the events of the day as Stephani was.
“Clearly you don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Ryker said. “When it comes to violence, you’re in the midst of artists.”
“Violence is artwork?” Jin asked, looking to Ning for confirmation.
“To these three it is,” Ryker said.
“What can I say?” Skylar beamed. “We’re in it to win it.”
“Or maybe we’re a bit scared at what will happen to all of us if we don’t win,” Logan added. “That’s why when we see a threat, the first thing we do is figure out how to eliminate it. That way there’s no looking over our shoulders.”
“But you didn’t kill the boys,” Barde said.
“That was my decision,” Felicity replied.
“It was a bad one,” Barde said, which caused Felicity to frown.
“Do you really think so?” she said.
“I would have killed them,” Barde said without pretense. “But that’s me. I’m sure you did what you thought was right.”
Felicity didn’t share the same ferocious survival style as Logan, Skylar and Harper, but then again, she didn’t take Krav from Instructor Yoav. If they survived this war, if she did, then she might know a new way of survival, one that meant you didn’t toe the line out of fear, revulsion or even the perception of morality and common sense. If anyone would have asked him, Logan would say survival wasn’t pretty, that it was a big blade and it was always dripping with blood.
Leaning into Harper a bit more, feeling the warmth of her body, Logan figured Felicity would learn soon enough. Still, Barde was right: she should have killed them. Or maybe one of them should have gone back and killed them. Either way, they’d have another opportunity tomorrow.
Across the fire, Boone sat next to Stephani, closer than usual and looking like some of the burden he carried about Miranda’s death had lifted. Logan wondered if leaving their house and the cemetery would do him some good. Already it appeared to be working wonders for the man. Even Stephani seemed to notice, for the way she was looking at him was different as well. Logan could tell she didn’t like Boone seeing her face, but it seemed that he didn’t mind.
“So what changed your mind?” Felicity asked Stephani, stoking the fire to rouse up a bit more heat before bed.
“I couldn’t be alone there anymore, not with all the ghosts,” she said. When she looked at Felicity, she winced, realizing the girl was now in a house of her own ghosts. “I’m sorry, Felicity.”
“It’s okay,” the girl said, low but stricken.
“If anything,” Stephani said, heartfelt and sincere, “we have each other.”
Felicity nodded, even gave a brief smile. She seemed taken aback by the statement, but that was because she never expected Stephani to like or respect her. It seemed as though she was wrong. Perhaps they were all wrong.
“We were going to leave tonight,” Logan said to Stephani, looking back and forth between her and Boone, wondering what their sleeping arrangements were going to be with such tight quarters. “But it seems we’re going to be leaving at first light.”
After a few more minutes, everyone but Logan and Harper turned in for the night. The two of them sat together and watched the glowing embers, feeling a sense of calm before the storm.
“Do you think Stephani should come with us?” Harper asked.
He shook his head and said, “No.”
“Me neither.”
“I think she’ll be best staying here with Rowdy and Cooper.”
“Here here?” Harper asked, “Or Roseburg here? Because that new house might be better, in light of what you guys said you did to the mother Fickers earlier today.”
Logan let out a low chuckle over the statement, then said, “We can get them situated in the new house tomorrow. It’ll be good for Felicity to leave here.”
“Yeah,” Harper said. “That poor girl.”
Logan stood, shoveled a bit of dirt on the fire, enough to make things safe, then he and Harper turned in for the night.
Most nights were bone chilling, but with the heat of Harper, and enough blankets, he found it easier to sleep, even in homes or beds that weren’t theirs. He was out like a light before she was, but he felt alright drifting off because he could hear the weight of drowsiness in her voice, too.
He was having the most wonderful dream when the proverbial shit hit the fan.
Logan was torn from his sleep by a screaming ruckus in the front yard. He stirred just as something smashed through the side of the house, hitting his and Harper’s bed. The two of them were flung into the wall so hard, he only felt himself hit for a second, then it was all black again. When he began to stir, it was to Harper lightly shaking him.
“Logan, please wake up,” the pleading voice was saying. He didn’t know where he was, what happened, or why he’d gone to sleep and woke up with the worst headache.
“Whahappened?” he said, his words slurring.
She helped him sit up, showed him the Mad Max looking muscle car sitting halfway in the bedroom, it’s yellow lights dim but shining. The grill was dirty, reinforced, and caked with the backside of clapboard siding and patches of drywall.
He was still trying to get his wits about him when Harper said, “Guess who.”
Logan’s brain was scrambled eggs at that point. He was just hoping to guess his own name, let alone try to understand what he was feeling or who did this.
“Car accident?” he asked.
“Worse,” Harper said. “The mother Fickers.”
As he pulled himself to his feet, he saw their bed was broken in half, the sheets and quilt flung about the room. He thought he saw a trickle of blood rolling down the side of Harper’s head, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“They’re here,” she hissed, low.
“Who?”
“I just told you,” she whispered. “The Ficks.”
Now everything made sense. He turned to sounds coming from the living room. Looking toward the hallway, he stood, wobbled out of the mess around him, crawled over the front half of the broken bed and touched his head where it hurt. He felt the stickiness of blood, was hit with a shot of dizziness, then grabbed whatever was close enough to hold onto to keep from falling over. A second later, he got up and stood by the dresser.
Harper was at his side again, holding him, her arms wrapped around him. She was squeezing him near his gunshot wound, but he didn’t say anything. Pain had many ways of serving him, but in that particular case it served to wake him up.
“I got it,” he said, standing on his own.
Sludge was suddenly there, an ugly face in the bedroom door seeing them both. He grabbed Harper by the hair, spurring Logan into action. But there was no gas in his gas tank. Sludge kicked him in the stomach so hard, Logan crumpled over. Unable to breathe, he dropped to a knee, looked up through strained eyes and saw Sludge dragging Harper out into the hallway, one hand with a knot of her hair, the other with a gun to her head.
“Come with meeeeee!” he screamed, the shrill, hateful sound curdling his blood.
Managing to get to his feet, trying not to fight the clenched feeling of his stalled out lungs, he grabbed for something to fight with, but found nothing. Staggering out in to the hallway, Sludge was there again—that face wild and twisted, his eyes shot open like a freaking psycho. He drilled Logan again, a gut shot this time. He bent to the pain, then he felt himself being grabbed and thrown down the hallway and into the living room. He hit the floor in front of everyone.
“Well looky what we have here,” Blane said, standing over the top of him with a rifle. “Mr. Big Hero Thief. Where’s the bitch who killed our Daddy?”
Logan tried to sit up, but a boot stood on the top of his head, smashing his face back down in the floor. Turning sideways, he saw the two solar powered floor lamps with their bright bulbs aimed up at the ceiling. From there, all he could see were booted feet.
“You move when we say you move,” Sludge said. Not a scream this time. “Now where�
��s the girl who did our Daddy?”
“If you keep standing on my head, I can’t actually look for her, you freaking nitwit.”
The stomp on top of his head was lights out again.
By the time he came back around, he’d been rolled over and his side hurt. Did they actually kick him when he was unconscious? His ribs were throbbing, but not like they were bruised, cracked or broken. He sat up slowly, took in the scene.
Ryker, Clay, Boone, Harper and Stephani were all on their knees, foreheads pressed to the floor, hands zip-tied to their backs. Sludge stood over them with a shotgun. He turned Logan’s way, but Logan slammed his eyes shut fast, tried to fake being knocked out, prayed he did it well enough. But then he realized that was stupid because he sat up where before he’d been lying down.
“I think the hero is awake,” Sludge said. “You awake, boy?”
Logan feigned unconsciousness as best as he could, but when the shotgun barrel started prodding his skull, he opened his eyes and looked up…
….in time to get kicked in the face.
Lights out again.
“Leave him alone!” Blane said from a million miles away, and through a thousand pounds of wet cotton.
“Need him tied up when he wakes,” Sludge said, closer, but still sounding so far away.
“Some dummy, not me, didn’t bring enough ties,” Blane mocked, “so just keep knocking him out when he wakes up.”
Blane was much closer now; Logan was pretending to be unconscious, but he’d come back around and was measuring things.
“And git a gun on them fellas!” Blane roared, closer than ever. “One of ‘em’s getting brave. Good God, no wonder I was always Daddy’s favorite!”
When he cracked open his eyes, he saw Blane standing before Skylar and Felicity. The boys, Stephani and Harper were turned away from them, which made this Blane’s show. But not everyone was going along without a fight. Rowdy was in the back room crying, and Cooper was barking up a storm. Logan figured they were locked in the room. Gritting his teeth, he saw Felicity and Skylar not ten feet away. Both of them had their hands zip-tied behind their backs. They were also on their knees, blindfolded and nearly naked from the waist up. Their shirts had been cut away with a knife and cast aside, and now Blane was eying their bras. A sickening feeling moved through him, like a snaking coiling around his guts. He gathered up this fear, this revulsion, this bitter hatred, and he turned it into rage.