Apokalypsis Book Two

by Kate Morris

  “I don’t.”

  She tipped her head to the side, “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t look for any qualities. I just look for someone who’s also looking for zero commitment or usually no chance of it turning into anything more than what it is.”

  “And what is it?”

  He shook his head and frowned. “Look, Doc, I don’t want a commitment from a woman. It’s more of a one-night stand kinda’ thing. They don’t want more than that anyway.”

  “You might be surprised,” she rejected.

  He smirked and picked at a loose thread in the seam of his jeans. “Nah, I wouldn’t. They’re just looking to hook up with a dude in a military uniform so they can go back to their sorority houses and brag about it.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Hell, yeah,” he answered. “I know it. I don’t think it might be like that. A few of the girls have even commented about it afterward how they couldn’t wait to tell their sorority sisters that they’d banged a soldier. It’s a thing.”

  “Really?” she asked in a deadpan tone as if the idea disgusted her.

  “You don’t get out much, Doc. It’s a thing. Especially in the bars around the bases stateside. Never fails there’s also a college nearby.”

  “That isn’t a healthy way to look at women, Tristan.”

  “I’m twenty-five, Doc,” he said as if that were a good excuse. So he added, “I’m gone a lot. Most of the year or longer. I’m not looking for commitments. Neither are they. They just wanna’ tell their sorority sisters they scored a big Army dude with tats. It’s a mutual hook up. It’s not like I’m forcing them. They get what they came for. Shit. No pun intended.”

  This time she smirked. “I’m sure they do, but lots of people have long distance relationships. Many husbands and wives work things out when one is in the military and the other isn’t. It doesn’t mean you couldn’t do the same. I don’t think I’d encourage hitting bars looking for hookups, but you could try actually dating. Who knows? Maybe it would lead to something.”

  He chuffed through his nose. “No. No marriage. I’d never do that to a woman. Not after what I watched my dad put my mom through. I’m not marriage material, Dr. Andersson.”

  “Why not? You’re not like him. Just because you’re his son doesn’t mean you’re him. You’ve told me on more than one occasion that you’ve never hit or abused a woman.”

  “Look at me,” he said, running a hand down the front of himself. “You really think a woman wants to sign on for all this?”

  “I see a man who is dedicated to his friends, his military service, and his country. Yes, you’ve seen some things in war that have caused some issues with sleep, perhaps even a little PTSD when triggered, but I see a lot of good qualities, as well. And like we’ve discussed before, Tristan, your childhood does not dictate the person you become. You do.”

  He snorted. “I’m going to be deployed in four months. This…these counseling sessions are just to get me in fighting shape again. The only reason I’m stationed out here in BFE is so that I can see you two to three times a week before I go. Plus, there ain’t shit to do at the base. Keeping an eye on the oil refineries and pipelines and keeping people off government land ain’t much of a job.”

  “But it’s important, though. Obviously, the government thought it was important enough to build a small, satellite base out here. And I’m glad you’re stationed there, even if it is only temporary. Let me ask you a question, Tristan. Are you eager to go back overseas? You’re a young man. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Why do you want to keep going back into active duty?”

  He sighed, rubbed at his bicep where a thin sliver of scar tissue was located. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, Doc.”

  Chapter Two

  She pulled down their long, steep, and winding lane and noticed her headlights indicator flashed, letting her know they’d engaged. The wooded drive always caused this to happen. It blotted out the light from the denseness of the trees on either side of the gravel road. She parked in front of the garage and got out.

  “Avery!” a squealing girl’s voice immediately assailed her ears. So much for the peaceful audiobook she’d just listened to on the ride.

  She turned to see Faith and Joy running toward her. They were dirty, unkempt, windblown, and giggling. It’s how they always looked. It’s how she always looked at their ages, too.

  “The boys took our swords!” Faith cried dramatically and pumped her fist a few times as if she’d like to use it on her brothers.

  Joy immediately chimed in, “Yeah, no fair!”

  “Did you steal their BB guns?” Avery asked the fair-haired ruffians, also known as her little sisters, ages nine and eleven.

  “No!” they said in unison. Faith, always one prone to histrionics, crossed her arms across her chest with great flair.

  “You didn’t listen to me then,” Avery told them. “I’ve explained it a million times. If the boys take something you were playing with, then you have to take something of theirs and make it look more fun! Easy peasy. Piece o’ cake.”

  “Will that work?” Joy asked, her voice so tiny just like her stubby little fingers caked with dirt under the nails.

  “Absolutely!” she said with conviction and opened the back door to her Lexus SUV. It was a handed down vehicle from her dad but appreciated, nonetheless. She pulled out her leather laptop bag. “Go around and get the grocery bags, girls.”

  They raced to the other side and pulled out the two cloth bags of items her mother asked her to pick up at the grocery store after work. They came back around with wide-eyed expressions waiting for Avery to give them more advice on how to get their swords, likely sticks, back from the brothers.

  “Okay, you think I never got my stuff stolen by Abraham or Ephraim? They did it all the time. I just learned to get smarter or learn to love being disappointed. Just take their favorite BB guns and act like they’re so cool, like you’re having way more fun with them than you would’ve with your swords anyways. Then they’ll be willing to make a good trade.”

  The girls jumped up and down giggling with conspiratorial giddiness as the door to her mother’s office opened and a man with black hair and a matching short stubble beard exited and pulled a ballcap low over his forehead.

  “Really?” Faith asked.

  “Sure,” she said, watching the man walk to his black truck. It was chilly out this evening, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket and Avery could see that both of his forearms were covered in tattoos. Yuck. Major turn-off. Not that any of her mother’s patients would be a turn-on. He caught her staring and stopped walking. He touched the bill of his hat in greeting, fidgeted with his car keys, and finished the short trek to his truck.

  “Are you sure?” Joy asked again.

  “Of course, I’m sure,” she answered, watching the man back up. Then she turned her attention to the girls as he pulled away. Some of her mother’s patients were strange, sometimes even kind of shady. That guy definitely fit the mold. She wished Ophelia would just open up a practice in town. But Avery knew her mother liked her home office. She could be home for the children, and she said the setting made her patients feel more at ease. “Listen, boys are dumb, okay? You just need to learn how to work the system. Now,” she said as she opened the front door to the house, “did you guys get done with your lessons? I’m gonna check, ya’ know.”

  Two groans.

  “Whatever you didn’t finish, you’re going to be stuck doing this evening instead of playing games.”

  “I finished mine,” Joy lied.

  “Yeah, me, too!” another lie from her sister.

  “No probs,” Avery said slyly. “Then you won’t mind showing me your school books?”

  They looked at each other a moment, contemplating the benefit of keeping up the ruse versus coming clean.

  “I guess I still have a few things to finish,” Joy finally admitted.

  “I’m going to start dinner
,” Avery told them. “Why don’t you finish your lessons at the counter where I can help?”

  They took off, dropping the grocery bags on the terracotta tiled floor near the entryway. Avery rolled her eyes and kicked off her pumps into the corner.

  The hallway was dark, so she flipped on the lights. Somewhere in the house, she could hear other kids. Someone was playing the violin. The boys were talking, probably Abraham and Ephraim or Cyrus. It was after five o’clock, so they should’ve all been done with school and on to other things by now.

  Kaia came into the hall and greeted her, “Hey, sis. How was work? Bring home that bacon?”

  She grinned at her younger sister, who was becoming so tall and statuesque. It was hard to believe she was only two years younger and already taller. At seventeen, Kaia was finishing her senior year in high school and already taking online college courses. Avery had done the same thing starting in her freshmen year of high school. She never minded missing out on certain things that kids who went to public school got to do like sports and school dances, but she knew that Kaia did sometimes.

  “More like the whole pig on this one,” she bragged slightly.

  “Really? They liked your offer?” Kaia asked, to which she nodded. “That’s awesome! Man, that’s a big deal, Avery! We should celebrate.”

  “Maybe this weekend,” she said. “I’ve gotta get dinner going…”

  “I already did!” she announced with a smile. “We’re having lasagna. That one’s easy. I started it. Now I don’t have to wash dishes afterwards, right?”

  “Yes, I guess that’s the new deal,” Avery agreed.

  They had a strict chore schedule, but there were ways to manipulate it. If for instance, the person’s job was to wash and load the two dishwashers after dinner, they could start the prep before Avery or her mother were done with work and get out of it, which passed the chore down to the next person on the list. With so many family members in one household, all of the children being homeschooled, and two parents who were self-employed, schedules, lists, and organization were crucial components to not losing sanity.

  She joined her sister after changing out of her work clothes at her place and securing her long hair in a ponytail. Then she pulled the rest of the dinner together: a huge salad from the remaining greens in the garden, homemade dressing made from olive oil, vinegar, and fresh herbs from the tiny greenhouse out back, and bread baked in the bread machines on the counter. Avery usually set that to bake before she left for work on the days she had to leave home, which wasn’t often. They also baked zucchini and squash in the oven along with honey glazed carrots. It was the only way they could get Finnegan to eat carrots. He was the pickiest eater in the family, but her mother assured her it was just because he was still young at seven years old. She said he’d grow out of it.

  “Hello, my darlings,” her mother announced as she entered the kitchen. “Look at my girls cooking together. So sweet.”

  “Smells good, too,” Avery commented. “Kaia had most of it done when I got home.”

  “Wonderful, Kaia!” their mother praised and pulled her beige cardigan closer. “I’m going to see if Abraham will get a fire going.”

  She wandered off and came back a few minutes later. Her mother also changed out of her work attire and was wearing more casual clothing of black jeans and a gray sweater.

  “When’s Dad coming home?” she asked her mother.

  Ophelia carried the large, wooden salad bowl to the long trestle table and said over her shoulder, “Not till Sunday, darling. How’d it go?”

  “Well,” she answered. “They accepted my proposal. Didn’t even bat an eye at the cost.”

  “That’s wonderful, darling,” Ophelia praised and stepped close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing her cheek against hers.

  Abraham, tall and striking already at sixteen, strode into kitchen-living room-dining area with an armload of cut firewood. Two arched brick entry points from the dining area framed the kitchen, and the floor was paved with the same terra cotta style tile as the entryway. The living and dining room, however, were parquet hardwood flooring. A raised fireplace was tucked into the corner of the space separating the living and dining rooms and was surrounded by the same style arched brick wall structure and had a hammered copper-covered hood. From the point where the last kitchen cupboard ended all the way to the corner of the living room and around the entire living and dining room were either floor-to-ceiling glass walls or sets of French doors that led out to patios or deck systems. Their mother was an amateur botanist to hear her speak of it. Over the years, Ophelia had added so much landscaping that friends and guests either marveled at it or commented that it was like a jungle. Avery never minded. As a child, the lush landscaping, massive trees, and secret walkways made for a wonderful place to explore and play. The walls of glass allowed in a lot of light, but the home was surrounded by ancient oaks and cherries, so it was never as light as a house on a flat, empty lot in a neighborhood. The house was cozy despite its size. The many stacks of homeschool curriculum and books sitting around sometimes got old despite her and her mother’s best efforts to keep things neat and organized. It never worked, though. The kids would start at the dining room table or in the office and meander away and end up in a nook doing their school work.

  “Don’t be tempted to burn your Calculus book in there, Abraham,” she teased her brother, who turned to look at her working at the bar in the kitchen that overlooked the dining room.

  “Hey, Avery, how’d the appointment go?” he asked as he squatted with the wood and got to work.

  “It was great. They took the offer,” she explained again.

  “Awesome!” Abraham commented as he struck a long match.

  Ophelia said, “Wait until your father hears. He’ll be so proud, Avery.”

  “Thanks,” she replied. “Where else is he going after he comes back?”

  “Hm, not sure I remember. I think he said something about California. Or maybe it was Florida. Oh, gee. I think I’m getting old.”

  Avery smiled. Kaia perked up and said, “Not old, Mom. Dad’s just gone all the time. That’s what famous people do. They gotta travel.”

  “I suppose they do!” their mother said with pluck. “If the people coming to his lectures only realized how much he hates traveling, they’d be surprised.”

  “Then he shouldn’t be so darn smart,” Avery said. “Then he could just write books and stay home with us all the time. Of course, we’d probably starve and all that.”

  “No, we wouldn’t starve,” her mother countered. “Perhaps we wouldn’t take all those extravagant vacations.”

  Avery laughed, “Hm, don’t remember taking one of those in a while.”

  The last trip they took was about two years ago. Her father was giving a lecture in Italy, so he’d taken the whole family. Italy was fantastic. When she was younger, before her mother’s career held her to their home more and the children became more and more plentiful, they took a lot of trips with their father. Once her mother earned her Ph.D., the trips became few and far between. Traveling with eight children and two parents was a feat.

  “Oh, I know,” her mother lamented. “It’s just so difficult finding the time.”

  “I volunteer to go with just Avery then,” Kaia, always the ornery one said. “Let’s go on fall break to Florida. I love the beach. I miss the sand and the sun. Why couldn’t you guys have set down roots in Florida?”

  Her mother chuckled. “Yes, that would’ve been more convenient, wouldn’t it? And what’s fall break?”

  “You know. Like spring break. It’s just in the fall!”

  “Yes, but I don’t think that’s a thing, dearest,” their mother corrected gently.

  “Drat,” Kaia swore.

  Their parents didn’t condone or tolerate swearing of any sort, but Kaia was the sort who always wanted to push the boundaries. So, instead of swearing in English, she’d find creative ways. Sometimes it was in Russian, othe
rs in French or Spanish. Their father spoke nine languages, including Swedish, which was where he was from. He’d studied at university there and went on to study at Cambridge. He was rather genius. He made Avery proud to call him her father. She wanted to make him proud in return. It was there that he was giving a lecture and met their mother, who was studying abroad at Cambridge, as well. He was nearly thirteen years her senior, but it was love at first sight, according to her father.

  Cyrus and Finn ran into the house from the side door near the dining room.

  “Boys, time to wash up for dinner,” Avery called out to them and got thumbs up signs from both.

  Cyrus asked, “How’d it go, Avery?”

  “Great. They hired me for the job,” she said again. This was how it always was in their home, a lot of repeating things.

  “Way to go!” he said and pumped his fist in the air.

  Cyrus was a foster child from the age of six until her parents adopted him finally at nine. He was the only child who didn’t have blonde hair like them. Of course, he was from Argentina originally, his folks having immigrated. Once his father and mother became hooked on American drugs and alcohol, he was taken from the home and assigned to the Andersson family. He was a skinny wraith of a little boy when he’d come to live with them. Now, he was thirteen and stocky and loving. Kaia was also a foster child, but she’d been taken in when she was only two years old. She looked like the rest of them, though, only her hair was just dark blonde. Cyrus stuck out like a sore thumb when, on rare occasion, they ventured out as a family, all ten of them.

  They gathered around the table, which was no easy task to accomplish herding so many children. They sat at the trestle benches and joined hands. Ophelia said the prayer, and they began, everyone talking at once, some smaller side conversations also going on at the same time, the usual.

  “When Dad comes home, can we take Avery out to dinner for getting that big contract?” Kaia asked.