All at once I remembered he was now married, and my entire body stiffened. I kicked my legs. Rylen stopped and leaned down so I could leap from his arms. I spun to face him, feeling irrationally angry. My whole body shook and in the moonlight I saw his eyes widen.
He held his palms up. “It’s just me, Pepper.”
“You didn’t have to . . . hold me,” I said.
His face flashed through a series of surprise and agitation before he shook his head and said, “Well, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wake you and I didn’t want to leave you in the truck all night. I won’t touch you again if it bothers you so much.” He put his hands up, pursing his lips.
“Fine,” I said.
“Fine,” he huffed back.
I looked around at my dark yard, breathing hard, feeling a pang of upset at the blurry sight of the tree still laying across my car. Wrong, so wrong. Everything was wrong. I grabbed my head, which was about to split open.
“Amber,” Rylen said in a ghost of a whisper. “You’ve been through a lot today.”
I opened my eyes and looked into his solemn eyes. A painful crack split my heart. Why did I have to love him so much? Would it always hurt like this?
“Let’s get you inside.” He reached for my arm and I shifted, turning and jogging toward the house.
“Pepper, what the hell?” His voice trailed off behind me. I didn’t stop.
Inside, I found Livia standing by the window with her arms crossed. She studied me as I passed her, heading straight for the hall. I wondered if she’d been watching from the window. Probably. I didn’t wait around to witness Rylen greeting her. I knew I was being a bitch, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I didn’t want to acknowledge any of it.
Despite my complete exhaustion, I slept restlessly with thoughts of Rylen and work. It was weird not to have a working cell phone—not to know if there were local dire emergencies where I was needed. I felt guilty trying to rest. All night I kept glancing toward my alarm clock to check the time, only to be greeted by darkness and the reminder that we had no electricity. It was eerily quiet without the white noise of my fan. When I heard the quiet opening and closing of my parents’ bedroom door at dawn, I got up and joined them in the kitchen.
Abuela was already up too, sitting at the table in her nightgown and quilted robe. She took my face in her hands and kissed the top of my cheek as I sat next to her. Mom and Dad were looking out the front windows of the house.
“His truck is back,” Dad murmured.
“Whose?” I called.
“Grandpa Tate’s,” Mom said. “He told us he was going to get something from the storage room he rents, but he was gone all afternoon. Must have gotten back after dark.” Grandpa was funny like that. Very private.
They came and sat across from us at the table. I noticed a stack in the corner of family photos in frames that had broken or lost their glass during the earthquake. It made me sad to see our history piled there like that. I remembered what some of the people had been saying yesterday.
“They think the earthquake here was caused by the bomb in Vegas. Like they shifted the earth’s plates or something.”
“Unbelievable,” Dad said. “To think a single bomb could do that.”
“It might have been more than one bomb,” I told him. “Some lady said she saw to planes drop separate bombs.”
“What?” Mom’s eyes bulged, and Dad’s narrowed.
He shook his head. “There’s no way. No way these were from bombers. The Air Force is right there in Nellis—they would have stopped any foreign aircraft.”
I shrugged. Maybe she’d seen wrong. I had no idea.
“Did Rylen and . . . his wife stay here last night?” The words felt like grit in my throat.
“No, honey,” Mom said quietly. “They went to his house. Why don’t you tell us what happened when you three left here.”
I told them about Vegas and how the people had to make it up to us for treatment, though by the end of the day they were ruling out nuclear radiation. I told them about how we’d seen the senator, too.
“I heard that speech on the radio!” Mom said. “He’s just what this country needs right now.”
Dad pinched the skin between his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“I hate this feeling of sitting around, being disconnected. Our main comm systems are down at work, but we blew the dust off an old telegraph machine yesterday and I was able to get through to Tater’s squadron leader. He hasn’t seen him. They’re all out helping with local relief in the Atlanta area.”
“Was Atlanta bombed too?” My heart thudded as Dad and Mom both nodded. I hoped Tater was okay.
“Is there any major city that wasn’t hit?” I asked, appalled.
Dad sighed. “We really don’t know.” He glanced longingly toward our coffee pot, and my gaze followed. Everything in our house was electric, including the stove. This sucked hard. My eyes felt weighed down by rocks.
“We shouldn’t use the tap water,” I said. “Senator Navis mentioned possible bio warfare. Do we have bottled water?”
“Some, but I need to try the bank and the store again today,” Mom said. “It was packed yesterday with a line out the door.” Dad shook his head.
“I don’t want you going out there again, baby. The Harrises down the street said when they went to the store yesterday afternoon there were fights, and cops out there pepper spraying people and hauling them off. It’s gonna be the same today. And even if the bank is on a generator, everyone’s going to be trying to cash out their assets, and banks aren’t equipped for that. They’ll run out of cash and shut their doors.”
A feeling of horror ran through me, matching the look on Mom’s face.
“We won’t be able to access our money?” I asked.
Dad shook his head. “Nope. And chemical warfare or not, we won’t be able to access our plumbing water without electricity. The Fites might be able to; I think they’re one of the rare old houses on well water still.”
“How will we get food and stuff?”
Mom and Dad shared a glance. Abuela brought a hand up to her cheek, murmuring, “God help us,” in Spanish.
Just then the front door opened, and my heart gave a bang, expecting to see Ry. But it was Grandpa, holding something bulky and metal . . . a camping stove?
Dad jumped up and went to take it from his arms. A French press coffee maker was on top of the two-burner gas stove. My mouth watered. Dad asked, “Where you been, Pop? You disappeared on us yesterday.” He set the things on the table and faced Grandpa.
“Just picking up a few things we might need. You all might want to follow me.”
We looked around at each other with interest before standing. I gave Abuela my arm and we followed Grandpa Tate out of the house into the dawning morning that felt cool on my bare arms. The sight of my smashed car made me grimace. We went to the side of the house and took the outdoor stairs up to the loft above the garage. Grandpa’s loft had been off limits since he moved in. He locked the door every time he went in or out. He’d even added a padlock to the outside.
Abuela and I were last to make it in. Dad was standing there with a surprised, goofy kind of grin, his hand on his head as he stared around. Abuela smacked a hand to her chest.
Whoa.
“Shut the door,” Grandpa commanded. I quickly did, then turned to survey the dim room. Against one wall was a twin-sized bed, neatly made, a dresser, and a tall, wide bookcase. The rest of the room was packed full. Piles of canned food went nearly from floor to ceiling in the corners. Cases of bottled water and giant jugs, bags of rice, propane tanks, sleeping bags, boxes of matches . . . it was like a camping supply store. Or a zombie apocalypse safehouse. All that was missing were guns.
Mom picked up a can of green beans and looked at the label.
“They’re all within date,” Grandpa said. “I keep them in order of date and chuck ’em when they get bad.”
“Pop?” Dad said, still wit
h that quirky smile on his face. “How long have you been doing this?”
“You never can be too careful,” Grandpa said in a gruff tone, as if he didn’t want to answer any questions or hear any teasing. “I knew after Fatal Friday it was only a matter of time.”
This was extreme. Part of me felt like Grandpa was batshit crazy, but was he?
“This was very . . . smart of you,” Mom said, seeming to choose her words carefully. “This is exactly what we’ll need to get us through until things are back to normal. Thank you, Papá Tate.”
He grunted. “Things ain’t getting back to normal anytime soon, sweetheart. Bet on it.”
Mom frowned and I swallowed hard.
“And don’t go telling anyone about this,” Grandpa continued, pointing at his piles of goods. “Otherwise they’ll all be over here trying to take our rations. I know how you ladies have soft hearts, but this is for our family. Do you all understand that? The Fites are the only ones we share with, and that’s because I know damn well they’ll share their fresh crops with us too.”
An awkward lull passed in which he stared around at all of us until we nodded our understanding.
“One more thing,” Grandpa said. He limped his way over to the tall bookcase and proceeded to grab it on both sides and pull. To my shock, it moved forward as if on wheels, and he pulled it to the side, opening it like a hidden door to reveal a wooden panel in the back and within the wall behind it. The doors had two padlocks. He must have constructed this entire convoluted thing himself. We all gawked as he unlocked it and swung both doors wide.
Holy freaking zombie apocalypse. There were the guns.
Dad whistled low and stepped forward. Mom gave Abuela and I a frightened glance. She’d never been comfortable with guns. Some of these were straight out of Rambo. There were handguns, rifles, and shotguns—manual, semi, and automatic. A variety of at least twenty-five. Along with axes and boxes of ammo lined along the bottom.
“You don’t whisper a word about these,” Grandpa said in a low tone. He shook a finger. Abuela’s eyebrows were practically grazing the ceiling. “The government will try to take ’em.”
Oh, Grandpa. He’d lost his mind. But once again, when he nailed us all with that dire look, we nodded our promise not to tell. He closed the doors and clicked the padlocks shut. I almost burst out laughing at the look on Dad’s face, as if caught between amusement, worry, and absolute admiration.
“Now.” Grandpa clasped his hands. “Let’s go make some coffee.”
Amen.
French press joe with a scoop of sugar was rich, dark, smooth, and every other wonderful adjective that might describe perfect coffee. I was sipping with my eyes closed, letting it sooth my soul when Dad said, “I always thought Tater would be the first to run off and elope.”
My coffee became bitter and turned my stomach.
Mom and Abuela both glanced at me. Dad took another big drink, oblivious. I looked at my cup, swirling the dredges.
“That’s a soldier for you,” Grandpa said. “Most are married before they even turn nineteen.”
“Jacob no marry,” Abuela said, pronouncing his name like Jyae-cobe. “No yet. He like mas chicas too much.” Her much sounded like mush.
I snorted. Gross. Mom rolled her eyes, and Dad and Grandpa both chuckled.
“He’s better off,” Dad said. “Too many of these young guys end up cheating, or being cheated on while they’re away, then getting divorced.” We all got quiet. Dad’s first wife cheated in their first year of marriage when he was gone for eight months. They didn’t have any kids together, thank goodness. He’d drilled it into mine and Tater’s heads not to be quick to marry, as it was his most regrettable, rash decision in life.
“What am I gonna do about a car?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“You can take mine,” Mom said. “I think I’ll stay here with Abuela. I’m sure there’s nothing left at the store now anyway. And we seem to have enough.” She smiled at Grandpa.
I really wanted to shower, but I knew there was limited water available to houses during outages, and I was afraid of contamination. I really hoped the town would be able to get us up and running again soon.
I brushed my hair and put on work clothes. When I came out, Rylen was standing there talking to Dad in camo cargo pants with his boots planted a foot apart and his arms crossed over his fitted white T-shirt. That same irrational anger from last night rose inside me at his effortless hotness. Now that he was married, he should have the decency to grow a beer gut or something.
I jolted at the feel of someone’s eyes on me, and found Livia sitting at the table, watching me watch her husband. She looked so small sitting there in a worn gray dress and black leggings, her tiny frame sitting up straight in the chair. I wanted to just ignore her—pretend she didn’t exist—but ugh. I walked over and pushed my hair behind my ears.
“Would you like coffee?” I asked, nodding toward the French press that still had a little left.
“No, no,” she said, shaking a hand.
“She likes tea,” Rylen said from behind us. Dad kept on talking, and I realized Ry had probably been on his way in to help Livia when he got stopped by Dad’s motormouth.
“Rylen, no,” Livia said. Again with the Ry-LEN. I wondered if they’d had sex last night.
Oh, God.
“I can make it,” I told her, bustling over to the pot with the boiled water. It had cooled, so I lit the burner again. Propane fumes stung my nose. My stomach was a knot, coffee halfway back up my esophagus. A wave of dizziness hit me as I turned toward the cabinet and reached up for a mug and the box of teas. I closed my eyes and leaned against the counter.
“Please.” Her voice was close. Livia had moved to me and taken the mug and box. I gave her a single nod and bit my lip as she turned away to make her own tea. My eyes burned. Two seconds later Rylen was at my side, scrutinizing me with those gray eyes.
“You okay?” I knew he was talking about last night, too, not just my current state.
“I’m fine. Just over-tired,” I assured him. Then I walked in an arc past him, careful not to touch him. Dad reached out and put an arm around me, pulling me in for a hug. I was so tense.
“I have to get to the hospital,” I said.
He kissed my head. “Don’t burn yourself out, Amber. If you need to take a day off, do it. You’re no help to anyone if you’re falling down.”
“Okay,” I said to appease him.
I finished getting ready and grabbed Mom’s keys from the hook when a knock sounded on the door. I followed Dad, who called through without opening it, “Who’s there?”
“Nevada State DRI,” came a man’s voice. “Here for the mandatory census.”
“The Disaster Relief Initiative,” I whispered.
Dad raised his eyebrows. “That was fast.”
He slid the deadbolt and opened the door. A gorgeous woman with flowing brown hair and new highlights stood there with an equally handsome man, both with glowing olive skin, both in suits. They looked like flight attendants. Did the senator hire DRI people from the Vegas modeling agencies or something? Geez.
“Please, come in,” Dad told them. I moved aside and they walked in, smiling at the room. Dad called for Mom. Grandpa slid in the door behind them, staring at their backs with distrust. I really hoped he didn’t embarrass us by spouting any conspiracy theory nonsense to them.
Rylen and Livia walked in from the kitchen, her blowing steam off her cup of tea. The room was full and I focused on the two government workers.
“Can you please tell us how many people reside here?” the woman asked.
We went through the entire family, genders, ages, races—they were very particular, needing to know precise percentages for each race—a precise census. We had to explain that Rylen and Livia were our neighbors, newlyweds. They became especially interested to learn that Rylen was Air Force based there in Nevada.
“When was the last time you were at Nellis?”
the woman asked.
“Actually, never, ma’am. I’m supposed to report in five days, but I think I’ll go today to see if—”
“You can wait,” the woman said. Rylen appeared taken aback, so she smiled with assurance. “The base is in chaos. I suggest taking your remaining days and allowing them to reestablish communications before you bother reporting.”
“Oh,” he said, his brow still furrowed.
The woman forged ahead with their questions. My head spun until it sounded like they were finally wrapping up.
“Your water here is still testing fine, but I would boil before consuming for now,” said the man. “They’re working rapidly on vaccines to some of the strands, and antitoxins, so if your area is affected, DRI personnel will be set up to take care of the community.”
“Wait,” I said, running my hands over my arms. “Would it be safe to shower in?”
The man shook his head. “We recommend bathing in boiled water, as well. But as I’m sure you know, there is only a limited amount of water available because the pumps are run by electricity, so once it runs out, there is no more.”
“I’m sure electricity will be back on before that’s an issue though, right?” Dad asked.
The woman gave him a pleasant smile. “Let’s all hope. We’re doing our best.” The woman casually added in a chipper voice, “And do you have any weapons on the premises?”
They couldn’t see Grandpa’s saucer-sized eyes, but I could, and I had to look away from him for fear of bursting into laughter.
“You’re cataloging weapons?” Dad asked. His face appeared casual, but I could tell from the stance he took and the way he crossed his arms that he didn’t approve.
The woman looked to the man, who gave a tight grin. “As you know, sir, these are trying times. The enemy could be anywhere. To be completely transparent, we need to know who’s able to defend themselves, if necessary, who’s willing and able to help, and who’s not.”
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