Prep For Doom Page 38

  “Should we check inside?”

  “Do you think it’ll matter?” Bitterness joined the loathing.

  She didn’t answer. Stepping over the splashes of blood on the pavement, she made her way to a sidewalk and followed it to an office. Through the window she saw devastation inside—broken glass from the other window and door, bullet holes in the furniture that oozed white stuffing. But it was a square of white paper on a mostly intact window that caught her attention.

  She scraped at the tape with her fingers. Chad passed her, heading inside. He stood in the middle of the little lobby for a moment, staring at nothing. He wasn’t even curious about what she was doing.

  After a moment, he hooked the leg of a thinly cushioned chair with his foot and pulled it to rest beside two others. He eased himself down, draping his legs off the side of the third chair. He leaned back on the other two and closed his eyes.

  “They left a note,” she told him as she entered the stuffy lobby, her feet crunching across broken glass.

  Chad grunted a response.

  “It’s dated today. We’re moving on to R2. Will wait a day if able. It’s signed PFD-NM.”

  No response.

  “Chad. That means they’re only hours ahead, if we leave now. We could catch them.”

  Why did she want to catch them? She didn’t know these people.

  But she didn’t like that he’d given up.

  He shook his head back and forth on the cushioned seat. “Then I’ll be two or three days away from being able to get back to go look for Wendy. Everything’s just—nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Okay. Well. It’s the apocalypse, Chad. What did you expect?” It really was the apocalypse. She looked back down at the note in her hand, tossing the little plastic guitar pick that had been taped beside it into the air and catching it. She noticed a word scrawled on the back.

  “Is ‘dork’ a code word for you guys or something?”

  His brows knit together. “What?”

  “‘Dork.’ Is that a code word for you internet prepper people?”

  Chad opened his eyes to stare at her as if she’d grown another head. “No. Why?”

  “‘Cause this was taped next to the note. It says DORK.” She held up the green plastic pick between her thumb and forefinger so he could see the word, written in marker.

  Chad went so utterly still that she wasn’t sure he was even breathing. A light flared in his eyes—was it hope?—before a low sob caught in his throat. “Could you bring it to me, please?” His voice was shaking. He held out his arm, hand open.

  Elena took two steps and dropped it into his hand.

  His fingers curled around it and brought it up to his face. The moment he opened his hand and saw it, his body started shaking.

  “It’s mine.”

  She was silent, waiting.

  “I gave it to Wendy after camp. We exchanged—it’s what I gave her. It’s from Wendy.”

  “Wendy? She was here? How—?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. Except—she must have remembered. About my dad. Or the site. Maybe our friend Billy helped her.”

  “Smart girl.”

  He nodded. “She’s amazing.” He bumped the fist that held the pick against his forehead. “She was here. They were attacked, and they couldn’t wait for us.”

  Elena held up the note. “They’re going to R2.”

  “Rendezvous point two, on the way to the bunker in Kingston. In New York.”

  “Can we go there? Do you know where it is?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hated this stuff. Annee knew the route.” He lowered his head, beating the back of it in slow thumps against the seat of the upholstered chair. “I have to remember.”

  Chad stopped talking. His eyes searched the ceiling. She left him be, settling on the floor to wait. After a long while, his face twisted and he shook his head, lowering his hand to his face.

  “Chad.” She waited until he lowered his hand and turned to her. Elena nodded at the pick in his hand. “We’ll find your Wendy. Can’t let a girl that perceptive get away.”

  His head cocked. “That percep—?” Realization washed over his face. With a wobbly grin, he lifted the pick to flash the word DORK at her. “Dork. It’s not about me. It’s about us, what we call each other, me and Wendy. ‘Cause we can be ourselves, always.” He flipped the pick around to stare at the letters written with girlish flair. “It’s about trusting each other,” his voice became soft and almost hesitant, “and making a decision to believe.”

  “A decision to believe, huh?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Elena felt a twisting inside. What would that be like, to have the kind of faith that had led Wendy to leave the pick taped to the door? To believe so absolutely, even as people were dropping all around you, that somehow life would bring you together again?

  She didn’t know. Before all this had happened, she wouldn’t have believed at all. But maybe… Maybe the best way to honor Annee was to believe.

  “We can do it. We can find Wendy.”

  He nodded, sliding the pick into the palm of his hand and curling his fingers around it protectively. After a minute, a smile flitted over his face. “Think we can do it without killing each other?”

  She laughed, surprised at how easy the sound burst from a chest still numb with pain and loss. “Yeah, well. We made it a whole day, didn’t we? Annee would be shocked.”

  His lips curved up. “Nah. She believed in us more than either of us ever could.”

  She felt tears begin to close her throat again, and her eyes flooded. She lifted them to him anyway, knowing that if there was one person on the earth who could feel Annee’s loss as she did, it would be the jerk in front of her.

  “I loved her, you know.” If they were going to keep going together, she needed to be able to say it. He didn’t have to like it. But he had to let her be free to claim it, finally.

  He was silent for a long moment, his eyes dark in the shadow of the dim room. A quick bloom of familiar fear—rejection, flitting through, as it knew its way—joined the heaviness in her heart.

  Then he shifted on his improvised cot. His hand reached to hers, clasped around her knees, as she sat on the floor beside him. She could see the bright guitar pick safe within his curled fingers like a promise he refused to let go. The rough, split skin of his knuckles brushed hers. “I know. I loved her, too.”

  She nodded. Warmth curled inside her, a tiny, flickering thing. It surprised her. It was a funny thing, acceptance. Not as bright a light as love, it still had enough power to push back the shadows. It had the power to nurse hope back to life.

  “You’re gonna make it, Chad.”

  “We’re both gonna make it, kid. And we’re going to keep her alive.” He lifted his hand up to bump it on his chest, above his heart, then lowered it again to her.

  Elena smiled. Sometimes even the smallest of lights could hold back the dark. She bumped her knuckles against his gently. “Here’s to life then.”

  “Here’s to believing.”

  Learn more about Kate Corcino

  Major Johnsen already stood at the front of the room when Eve walked into the mess hall. Close to sixty other survivors were gathered around the tables, and throughout the room uniformed soldiers stood sentinel. A reminder that even if society had collapsed, there would be no anarchy inside these fences.

  Behind the Major, a handful of officers were lined up, Lieutenant Hicks among them. When his eyes met Eve’s, Hicks threw her the same easy smile he always seemed to wear, and Eve found herself returning it. After all the death and grief, the gesture felt foreign on her lips, but Hicks brought it out in her. He was her savior. The one who had brought her back to Charleston Air Force Base, back to safety.

  Eve had been on base a week now, although it felt longer. Hicks had been out on a supply run with a few other soldiers, and she’d been wandering around Sam’s Club in a trance. She had watched he
r parents die, then her brother. Seen neighbors lying dead in their front yards. The world had turned into some kind of nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. When Hicks had told her there were survivors at the base, she almost didn’t believe him. After the horror she’d witnessed, it didn’t seem possible. But something about him had stood out among the other soldiers, and it had little to do with the dimple in his left cheek or his rugged good looks. There was a softness in his brown eyes that made Eve believe she could trust him.

  She slid into a seat at the back of the room and her gaze landed on Doug, the man who had lost his wife and all but one of his six children. Four-year-old Blake sat at his father’s side, his blue eyes shimmering with fears a toddler should never have to face. Looking at him tugged at Eve’s heart, bringing her own brother to mind. Cade had been older than Blake when he died, but she could remember him at this age so perfectly that the memory felt like it was going to crush her. She swallowed and turned her eyes away from the small boy before the tears clogging her throat could make their escape, and instead focused on the woman sitting across from her.

  Stephanie smiled and reached across the table, patting Eve’s hand in a grandmotherly gesture that was almost as painful as the terrified expression in Blake’s eyes. The woman was in her sixties, and her hands shook so hard that Eve wondered if she was in the beginning stages of Parkinson’s. But she was nice, and having someone who cared—even a stranger—helped loosen that ball of tears.

  Major Johnsen cleared his throat, but when Eve turned she found herself caught in one of Captain Tanner’s hard glares. He’d been with Hicks when they’d found Eve. Even before he’d spoken, it was clear by the look on his face that he wasn’t thrilled about finding more survivors. Of course, he’d had no problem voicing his concerns, letting Eve know what a strain on their resources she was going to be. His tone had been as cold and hard as ice. Tanner didn’t agree with how Major Johnsen had chosen to run the place. He probably even thought he could do a better job himself. But as far as Eve was concerned, Major Johnsen was doing a great job. He stood center stage at the dawning of the apocalypse, the leader of this brave new world.

  Even though the room was already quiet, Major Johnsen cleared his throat for the second time, releasing Eve from Tanner’s cold stare. “Thank you all for coming. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Major Johnsen. I’ve taken charge, but this isn’t a dictatorship. We’re in this thing together, and I want to be honest about what’s going on. As far as we know, there is no working government at this time, and while we’re still trying to collect information about this virus, we believe that more than 75% of the population has been wiped out.” He paused for a split second and his eyes went to the floor. “Worldwide.”

  A buzz swept through the room as people reacted to the Major’s announcement. The number hit Eve like a tsunami, and for a few seconds she could hardly breathe. All the questions she’d had before walking into the mess hall evaporated like a drop of water on a hot sidewalk in July. What were they going to do?

  The Major didn’t pause long enough for the conversation to rise higher than a whisper. “The virus may have run its course,” he said, raising his hands to draw the attention his way once again. “But we want to be certain we’re still not at risk, which was why you were all given blood tests when you arrived. Charleston Air Force Base is safe, and we want to keep it that way. We want to survive, we want to start over, and we want to keep order. Those are our goals.” He paused, allowing his words time to sink in.

  Eve found herself once again glancing toward Tanner, curious how the younger man would react. The glare Tanner shot at his commanding officer was so sharp it felt electric. There was something about the younger soldier that made Eve squirm. Something bigger than a few dirty looks or the fact that he didn’t want to share their resources.

  “Some of you may have heard that we’ve been in contact with a few other groups spread across the country,” Major Johnsen continued. “Those rumors are true. We’ve located a group out in Boulder, and another in Vegas. Although we aren’t liking the intel we’ve gotten from the Vegas group so far. Then there’s this so-called ‘safe haven’ on Staten Island, run by Peter Franklin Donalds, the corporation. They claim to have it all. Safety and supplies, plus more than enough food to make a go of it. It sounds good, but it’s a risk. We’re discussing our options at the moment, but we have pilots, jet fuel, and C-17s at our disposal. We can go, join up with one of these other groups, or we can stay.” His shoulders drooped like the weight of the decision rested solely on him. “I’m not going to force people to do anything they don’t want to do, so this isn’t an all or nothing situation. If we decide it’s worth it to send a group out, those of us who want to, can go. Those of you who want to stay, are free to.”

  He looked across the room, pausing to meet the eyes of every person. When his gaze locked with Eve’s, the ball of tension in her stomach slowly began to unravel. He seemed to be silently trying to let her know that he was trustworthy. That he’d do his best to bring them through. Eve believed him, as crazy as that sounded.

  Once Major Johnsen had looked everyone over, he cleared his throat again. “Now, let’s open the floor for discussion.”

  Someone at the front raised their hand, and the Major nodded. “How many people are in Staten Island?”

  “They claim to have several hundred thousand survivors, but they have assured us there’s room for more.”

  “Who’s in charge?” someone called.

  “I haven’t been able to speak to the leader directly. Of course, over the wire like this, I have to take them at their word anyway.”

  “When would we go?” said a woman up front.

  “There is no rush on this and we aren’t going to jump into anything. We’ll take our time and make a rational decision.”

  After that the organized information session exploded. People began yelling over each other as the Major tried to relay what little information he had. Belting out questions and opinions and theories that sounded more like B movies than anything that could actually happen. Conspiracy theories about this company and their part in the virus. Crazy things.

  “We can’t risk it! These people could be luring us up there to steal our supplies!” a man at the table next to Eve yelled, spittle flying from his mouth with each word.

  “We need to find more people,” a woman across the room responded, her voice so high-pitched that it rose above the others and made Eve cringe.

  “There’s nothing out there for us—we’re better off here.”

  “We need to find a working government!”

  “We have everything we need in Charleston. We’d be idiots to leave!”

  The voices soared, making Eve’s head pound harder. She couldn’t take it anymore. The arguing made her jittery. Nervous.

  She got to her feet and stumbled from the room, massaging her temples as she went. The second Eve stepped out into the hot, South Carolina sun, she let out a deep sigh. The humidity was thick, but welcome because it was familiar. So much had changed recently that Eve was willing to embrace anything she recognized, including the heat.

  She’d barely made it two steps when the door opened at her back. “Hey!” Eve turned to find Hicks jogging her way. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I just—I couldn’t sit through that, you know?” She did her best to keep the tremor out of her voice, but it was impossible. She missed the person she’d been before everything disappeared. Strong and brave. “Everything is bad enough without all the fighting.”

  Hicks tilted his head as his eyes swept over her like she was a puzzle he was trying to work out. The look made Eve shuffle her feet. She swept her blonde hair back, nervously twisting it around her fingers. Hicks acted like he was trying to read her mind, but everything inside her felt raw and broken. Eve wasn’t sure she wanted him to see how messed-up it all was.

  “You think we should do it?” he asked, pushing his hat back so he could sweep his hand through
his brown hair. “Go up to Staten Island, I mean.”

  “I don’t know, but I know traveling to Staten Island with a bunch of screaming morons sounds horrible.” Eve shook her head and her hair swished behind her. “Plus, I think it could be dangerous. We need more information.”

  “We have a lot of information that Major Johnsen never got to share. Thing is, it could all be bullshit.”

  “Yeah,” Eve said, swallowing when the words almost stuck in her throat. “It’s about trust. Can we trust them?”

  “I don’t know, and I’m afraid we won’t know that until we get there.” Hicks gave her a sympathetic smile, like he understood the battle going on inside her.

  The thought of leaving Charleston had Eve torn. She’d grown up here. Spent summer days at Folly Beach and had fished in the Ashley River with her dad. Every corner of this area was filled with memories of a happy childhood. But it was also where she had watched her family suffer and die. There were so many ghosts in Charleston now… Maybe a change of scenery would be good. She needed to focus on the future and moving forward. To stop looking back.

  “What do you want to do?” Eve finally asked.

  “Honestly, I’d like to go.” Hicks looked away when pain flashed in his eyes. “I’m from Maryland. If my family survived, they could be at this safe zone. It may be the only way I’ll ever find out what happened to them.”

  Eve’s stomach clenched. Her family was gone, but at least she knew what happened to them. The uncertainty Hicks had to live with must have been horrible.

  “Hicks, I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, Eve reached out and wrapped her arms around him. His body was firm and warm against hers, and within seconds Hicks had let out a breath so deep it felt like it had come straight from his soul.

  When he pulled away, his eyes were still swimming with pain. “We’ve all lost.” He ran his hand down his face like he was trying to keep his emotions from escaping. “So how’s your job going?”

  This time, it was Eve’s turn to look away. “The cleanup is rough.”