The screams above her faded away. After a beat of silence, Carter choked out, “Terra?”
Terra rolled, leaves crunching beneath her sweatshirt. She felt lightheaded, as if her body were floating away from her. She gripped the grass, anchoring herself to the ground.
“Am I dead?” she asked, confused.
Carter and Jack exchanged glances, and Carter spoke again. “Tare… You’re not dead.”
The words seemed dreamlike and hazy. Terra reached for her friends. She wanted to cup them in her hands. They seemed so small up there on the path, clutching each other, shock painting their features.
“I feel good,” Terra murmured, turning her palms around. Dirt sifted from her fingers. “Better than I ever have.”
“Tare, get back on the path,” Jack commanded. His hard voice broke through like a splash of icy water.
Terra slammed back into her body, her consciousness catching up to her physical form. Suddenly, the ground seemed cold and dead beneath her.
Death. She had touched death and lived.
She sat up so quickly the blood rushed to her head and she swayed.
Carter made a sharp sound of worry and kneeled. He reached for her but pulled back before he crossed the path’s edge.
Leaving the path means death.
Terra turned to gaze down at her best friend, horror growing inside her.
Rowan lay on his back, pale and still. His shaggy black hair splayed over the grass like an ink spill. His green eyes stared unblinking into the sapphire sky, framed by rapidly drying blood.
Terra touched his neck gently, searching for a pulse, but found nothing. He had no heartbeat. No breath. And beneath his pale skin, his veins had begun to darken.
Danu’s poison.
Shock flooded her, and she screamed. She screamed and screamed and scrambled away from Rowan’s body, tripping over her hands and feet in her haste to get back onto the rubber path.
Carter fell back onto his ass in his haste to get away from her, and Jack lifted him easily by the arms, putting distance between Terra and the two of them.
She clutched the tires, still screaming, holding tight to those dead, rubber pieces of Danu that had protected them for years. She screamed until her throat was raw, until she couldn’t breathe.
Until she didn’t have the energy to scream anymore.
In the aftermath, even the ever-present birds had gone quiet.
Terra looked up. Carter hung from Jack’s arms as if he wanted to go to her, but was being held back. The anguish on his face brought a fresh wave of tears, and Terra reached for him.
Jack yanked him backwards, out if her reach.
“You’re covered in Danu,” Jack said evenly. She had never heard him sound so… nice.
Terra opened her palms and stared at the dark grounds of dirt embedded in her skin. Grass had stained her blue jeans, and leaves clung stubbornly to her hair. Danu had left marks all over her.
She picked out the leaves and deposited them on the ground beside Rowan. One by one, the crinkled pieces of Danu drifted to the ground beside his body.
“I don’t understand,” she said hoarsely. She tore her gaze from Rowan to look at Carter. “I should be dead.”
Jack laughed, the sound more crazed than amused. “Trust me. We’re just as fucked up over this as you.”
Carter jerked from his boyfriend's grasp and kneeled, seeking Terra’s gaze. “How do you feel?”
Terra took a deep breath. The truth was, she felt amazing. Energy coursed through her, and her entire body felt vibrant.
She couldn't say that, though. Because regardless of how her body felt, her heart had gone as cold as Rowan’s body.
She glanced at Rowan. If they were in his bunk, he could have been asleep — except for those wide, blank eyes.
He was dead.
Dead.
And she wasn’t.
Nothing would ever be right again.
* * *
Carter stuck close to her all the way back, hovering like a worried butterfly, though he made sure not to touch her. If he eased too close, Jack didn’t hesitate to yank him away.
Terra couldn’t blame him.
Thankfully, Ground Bay had emptied in the time they’d been gone. Terra didn’t want to be a sideshow, and she definitely didn’t want to be the one to tell Roark his brother — his only remaining family—was gone.
Jack hit the intercom. “Dr. Reed to Ground Bay. Dr. Reed to Ground Bay.”
Terra's knees shook, as if her body could no longer support itself.
It didn’t take long for her father to appear, his brow crinkled. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and his dark hair seemed longer than usual. Terra worried over the dark bags under his eyes.
“Sweetheart! I was worried when I got the page.” He moved in to put his arms around her.
Terra leapt away, heart beating wildly.
“Dr. Reed,” Carter cut in, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Something had happened.”
Teddy shot Terra a wounded look, then met Carter’s gaze. “What’s wrong?”
“Sir… Let me preface this by saying I saw it with my own two eyes. Jack, too.” He motioned to his boyfriend where he hovered in the doorway, smoking a cigarette with fingers as shaky as Terra's knees. “Terra had an accident. She and Rowan-” His voice cracked. “They fell off the path.”
Teddy blinked, confused. “Where is Rowan?”
“Sir, listen to me.” Carter gripped her father’s arm so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Terra and Rowan fell off the path and onto Danu. Rowan is dead.”
Teddy's gaze shifted to Terra. “You fell off the path.”
Terra lifted a knee and ran her fingertips over the grass stain.
“Sir, Terra touched Danu and didn’t die,” Carter said slowly, as if the miracle needed clarification.
Terra waited for his response. She expected extreme emotion at the thought of narrowly losing her, and astonishment that she had survived Danu.
Instead, his face smoothed. All emotion faded, and the scientist said, “You need to decontaminate.”
* * *
The decontamination chamber rarely got used. It stood in a corner of Ground Bay, pristine as the day it was built. In Terra’s lifetime, she’d seen it turned on once. Most of the time, if someone fell off the path, they were too dead to need decontamination.
Like Rowan.
Terra stepped into the egg-shaped shower. The lights were bright, luminous, a stark reminder that she was alive. The walls and floor were a continuous sloping piece of plastic leading to a shiny metal drain in the floor.
Carter saw her in, then moved to close the door behind her. He paused to offer her a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know why you’re alive, Tare. But I’m glad you are.”
Terra nodded, unable to find her words. She flinched as the heavy door slammed shut.
She didn’t think she was happy to be alive. Not at such a cost.
Her dad’s eerily calm voice came over the intercom. “Shed those clothes and boots, sweetheart. We have to burn them.”
She wanted him to show more emotion, to scream, to rave, to be angry that she’d fallen off the path and could have died. But it was as if he had cast aside the “Dad” persona, and Dr. Reed stared at her in scientific fascination, like the anomaly she was.
Terra fingered the hem of her Heather-gray t-shirt. Sure, the grass had stained it, but the shirt had been her mother’s.
The intercom buzzed again, announcing her father’s disembodied voice. “I know. It’s just a shirt, sweetheart. It’s not your mother.”
Terra nodded and gulped in a deep breath, fighting back the acrid taste of tears. “Don’t watch.”
The intercom's sharp buzz had started to hurt her ears. “The screen is off. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Does it hurt?” Terra’s voice cracked.
The pause before he keyed up was scarier than his answer. “It might. Especially with your burns.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She peeled off her dirt- and grass-stained clothes, dropping them into the trash chute, and followed them up with her boots. They would fall ten stories into a special chamber on the maintenance floor, where maintenance personnel would burn any trace of their existence.
Terra wrapped her arms around her body and curled her toes on the cold plastic beneath her feet. Goosebumps rose along her body. “Daddy? I’m ready.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Somewhere deep within the thick walls of the shower, the pumps came alive. “I love you.”
Terra didn’t have a chance to respond. The trio of showerheads above her came to life, and she closed her eyes.
It burned. As if the water were no different from Danu’s deadly acid rain. As if each drop of water were ripping her skin away. Terra dropped into a crouch, protecting the sensitive skin of her chest and stomach as she clutched her knees and sobbed.
Not just for the pain on her skin, but also for the deep ache in her heart — the open wound where Rowan still lived.
Chapter 7
Terra owed it to Roark to be the person to tell him about Rowan, but she just couldn't.
She wasn’t strong enough.
She was a coward.
So when her door flew open that night, and Roark stalked into her bunk, she braced herself for his wrath. For the blame and the anger and the grief.
Instead, he closed the door, flipped the lock, and took her in his arms.
He kissed her forehead. His lips moved to her cheek, then lower to the sensitive spot behind her ear.
Then his lips were on hers.
All sense left her body as her libido took up residence. She tiptoed, her body molding to his as the kiss deepened, grew wilder, desperate.
Terra didn’t protest as he peeled off her dress. She followed suit, unzipping his jumpsuit, splaying her hands over his skin.
Roark backed her to the bed and swept her off her feet, gently lowering her to the mussed sheets.
Terra watched him through a haze of lust as he jerked his jumpsuit off, never taking his eyes off her.
He crawled over her, capturing her lips again as he nudged her legs apart and settled between them.
She sucked in a breath as he entered her in one smooth motion.
Their bodies fell into a familiar rhythm, Roark’s warm, soft skin like silk against hers.
Terra gripped his back, nails in his skin as she rode the building pressure inside her. She came with a breathless gasp that he silenced with his mouth.
For a while, they were nothing but mindless need, clinging to one another in the dim room. Two people seeking comfort in one another, despite their differences.
Until he reminded her why she had broken things off with him.
She lay spooned against him beneath the blankets, her body weak but sated. He kissed her neck and tightened his arms around her.
“I’m glad I didn’t lose you, too,” he said.
Terra stiffened at the sharp reminder of Rowan’s death.
Roark kissed a path up her neck. “Marry me, Terra.”
Terra jerked away, fury powering her limbs as she stumbled from bed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Roark propped himself up on one elbow. “What?”
“This is exactly why we can’t do this, Roark.” Terra searched the floor for her cotton dress and yanked it over her head. “We are in two places. Marriage and kids aren’t going to happen with me. Especially after today. I could never bring a kid into this fucked up world.”
Roark kneeled, the blankets falling away from the hard planes of his body. He grabbed her before she could back away and pulled her close.
“I don’t care about that. I just want you, Terra. The thought that I might have lost you today, too… I love you. Just me and you. No expectations.”
“Liar.”
Roark laughed, but realized she was serious. “Look, you’re young. You’ll change your mind. I can wait.”
Terra shoved him away. “Don’t be condescending. Don’t pretend to know me so well. You don’t.”
The glow of sex had faded, leaving her tired and weary. She pressed her palms into her eyes.
“Just leave, Roark.”
“Tare. You don’t mean that. Come back to bed. We can talk about this later.”
Terra lowered her hands to argue, to demand he leave, but the anguish on his face chased away her anger.
She could see Rowan in him.
Terra sighed. What good did it do to fight? She couldn't make the commitment he wanted of her, but she could comfort him. She could take comfort in his presence.
She extinguished the lamp and got back in bed. Curled against his steady warmth, she slept.
* * *
They laid Rowan to rest in the crypt two days later.
The entire compound pressed into the mausoleum, a crowd of stunned-silent mourners watching another young life buried before its time. When they ran out of space, bodies spilled into the hall and up the stairs, each person there to remember Rowan even if they couldn’t see him.
Terra remained by Roark’s side. She found peace in her own grief by helping Roark through his. It was a coping mechanism, one that would likely come back to bite her in the ass on her first lonely day after the compound returned to business as usual.
Stoic Roark with his gaunt face so similar to Rowan’s and his body so familiar to her heart. If nothing else could make her wish she could be the woman for him, watching him grit his teeth and survive another funeral could. And only a couple years since saying goodbye to his parents.
Focusing on his needs helped her put off her own. But doing so also reminded her she would never be the right woman for him.
She could be there for him. But no matter what, she couldn’t let him come for her again. Each time, cutting the connection was harder than the last.
Terra paid little attention to the funeral, and even less attention to the reception afterwards. Funerals were a common part of life with Danu, each the same as the one previous — sincere regret and insincere curiosity. Death had become a regular sideshow — a normal part of life on this side of the apocalypse.
She left early, her brain a fog of exhaustion and painkillers. She snuck away while Roark was occupied with well-wishers — cowardly, maybe, but she needed to breathe.
The quiet solitude of her room eased her mind. She changed into a clean nightgown and crawled into a bed that smelled like Roark.
She lay in bed, numb and cold. Away from the adrenaline of Roark's arms, the blankets set her skin on fire, which in turn reminded her of the day she'd run through the rain with Rowan. An ache had burrowed inside her, deeper than the acid burns, deeper than the river, deeper than Danu herself.
How could she live without Rowan?
Her bunk door opened.
She expected Roark to enter, with his charming smile and sweet words. Her heart hurt enough that she wouldn’t have turned him away. But it wasn’t Roark.
Nat slipped inside, illuminated by the orange glow of a mini oil lantern. In the light of the lamp, the hollows beneath her eyes looked like black holes.
She placed the lamp on Terra’s bedside table, and then crawled beneath the blankets.
Terra waited silently. So much time passed, the girls laying side by side in the echoing silence of the underground, that Terra thought she’d gone to sleep. Which, in all honesty, would have been perfectly fine. She understood the need to be with someone without expectations.
Finally, Nat spoke, her voice low and bitter and full of despair. “I’m pregnant.”
Terra sucked in a surprised breath. Of all the confessions she could have expected, that wasn’t the top billing.
Her shock was immediately replaced by a rush of thankful relief.
Nat was carrying Rowan’s baby. A piece of Rowan. A little peanut who would allow Rowan to live on.
Holy shit.
Terra reached between them, searching for Nat's hand. Their fingers entwin
ed.
“I didn’t tell him, Tare,” Nat wailed. “I was scared. I kept waiting, trying to talk myself into it.” Her tone shifted higher with every word, hysteria and regret lacing every breath. “I was afraid he wouldn’t want it. Wouldn’t want me anymore.”
Terra pulled Nat’s hand to her lips and kissed her fingers, then cradled her palm between both of hers.
“He would have wanted it,” Terra assured her. “He wanted to be a dad.”
“He did?”
“Totally. Ever since we were kids.” Terra chuckled, a warm tear sneaking from the corner of her eye. “He used to make fun of me because I didn’t want kids. A girl who didn’t want kids. Like I was an alien.”
Nat laughed. “Nobody should want to bring a kid into this world. This is a fucked up place to procreate.”
“Do you think that’s part of her plan?” Terra mused. “Make us too jaded to keep populating the planet?”
“On top of killing us off one by one? Yeah. We killed her. What a beautiful justice if we ultimately end our own species.”
“We didn’t kill her.”
“Sorry. Poisoned her.” Nat paused, and then went on in a small, scared voice. “What do I do, Tare? I’m all alone.” She sniffled, turning her face away.
Terra rolled gingerly to her side, gritting her teeth against the sandpaper rawness of her skin. She kept her fingers laced with Nat’s. “Look at me.”
Nat rolled to face her. The oil lamp cast a halo behind her head, draping her face in shadow.
Terra wiped her tears “You’re not alone. He may as well have been my brother. Which means I’m going to be a fucking awesome aunt.”
Nat laughed, her chuckles ending on a sob. “You will. A really good aunt who can’t die.”
Terra cringed at the reminder. “I should be dead. He was trying to save me. I should have died with him. No, I should be dead and he should be alive.”
Nat squeezed her hand. “Tare, he died to save you. He loved you. Don’t let survivor’s guilt overshadow his final gift to you.”
East of the Sun Page 4
