Lavender Dreams: Life After Us: Book Two

by Rebekah Dodson

  She instantly shivered from pleasure, resisting the urge to lean into him. She didn’t know how to tell him it had been a mistake. Why did she give in? How could she? Now, even if she found Will … god, everything was so complicated. She shrugged Ambrose off gently, and clearly confused, he turned and set about tucking the tent away and packing their bags. Vicki dressed as quick as she could, aware he watched her with a smile on his face.

  After a few minutes, Vicki exited the tent and he tossed her a can of beans and a spoon from the meal packages. They shared the can and a bottle of water, one of the last three they carried. Sitting down on the log next to her, he said, “Any idea why the military is after you?”

  “I have been thinking about it all morning,” she replied softly, taking a spoonful of the cold beans and grimacing. “And I don’t know. But I think it has something to do with Will. I don’t think he’s their prisoner.”

  “Could it be something to do with when we saw him at the airport? He was in cuffs, after all,” Ambrose said thoughtfully.

  “I don’t even know why they would want Will. Even if he was going to Iraq…”

  “That’s right, I forgot about that.” Ambrose froze with the water bottle up to his lips. “Why was he going to Iraq?”

  “Will was – is – a contractor, an engineer. He won a contract to go over for a year to help do some rebuilding after the war.”

  Ambrose opened his mouth, but found he had nothing to say. Thoughts churned in his head. “Hmm.”

  Vicki eyed him. “What?”

  “How did he get that contract?”

  “Easy, he’s very charismatic.” Vicki shrugged. “And, like I said before, he speaks fluent Arabic. I mean, I was surprised when we got the call, but he was very confident about it. Even though he works with a very small firm.”

  “Vicki, did it ever occur to you Will won that contract on purpose?”

  “What do you mean?” She tilted her head at him and frowned.

  “I don’t know, but something here isn’t right.”

  Vicki waved him away. “Will’s no terrorist,” she frowned. Even as she said it, she knew she didn’t believe the words herself. “He doesn’t even know how to shoot a gun. For God’s sake, we don’t even own one!”

  “But he’s very charismatic.”

  “So?”

  “All the world leaders were. Hitler, Mussolini, Castro, Stalin, Pol Pot. Their people loved them and were mostly unaware their leaders were really evil men.”

  Vicki shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. Will’s a good guy. He never…”

  “Think about it, Vicki. You said you bought a house together; how much was your down payment?”

  Vicki stared into the ashes of the fire. “We put fifty-thousand dollars down.”

  Ambrose whistled. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of money. Where did it come from?”

  “He told me his grandmother died and left him an inheritance.”

  “Uh huh.” Ambrose narrowed his eyes at her. “And what about the boat, the RV? I’m assuming you both drove brand new cars?”

  Vicki bit her lip. “And?”

  “Paid for in cash?”

  She looked at him, her mouth open and then shut. “Yes.”

  “Do you really think he’s innocent, Vicki? Large sums of cash, winning a contract for overseas, even though you said he has a small firm. Who does he work with?”

  “A couple of guys, mostly sub-contractors. Palestinians, I think.”

  “When was the last time he said he loved you?”

  Her eyes flashed at him. “Will loved me. He just didn’t express it often. There’s nothing wrong with…”

  “A man should always say how he feels,” Ambrose interrupted. He stood up, brushing off his jeans. “We need to get a move on.”

  “Ambrose?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Will’s a good guy. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Hitler never killed anyone, either.” Ambrose focused on the tree line behind her. “At least, not directly.”

  She was quiet for once.

  Ambrose couldn’t shake the feeling he was right. Letting Vicki go on her hare-brained dream of finding her fiancé was asinine at best. Something was wrong with the way Will was escorted off the plane back at the airport – in handcuffs, yes, but his head was held high, as if it was all for show. He couldn’t pinpoint anything yet, but something was definitely going on. If Will was behind the invasion, or at the very least some kind of high ranking officer, would that explain why he sent legions of men to track down Vicki?

  “Oh god, what if he wanted me to die in the airport?”

  Vicki’s outburst was almost what Ambrose was thinking.

  He wondered briefly if Will could know about the baby but shook his head, dismissing it. Why would he care, anyway? Why was Vicki so important to him, or the organization he worked for, if he even did? But maybe Vicki was right: Will never intended for her to escape that airport alive. And now that she was, she knew him, so the military was after her to silence her once and for all.

  “I don’t know, but it seems that way.” One thing is for sure, Ambrose thought, I bet this Will guy never thought I’d fall for his girl. Now he has me to contend with.

  She gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth. He pulled her close to him.

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered into his shoulder.

  The fact Vicki had slept with Ambrose and still wanted to go back to Will was craziness. His heart burned over it, but he’d go where she went, and he told her as much.

  Vicki rubbed her stomach absently as she helped him gather up the last of their supplies. “Thank you, Ambrose. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Smiling at her, he kissed the top of her head and tucked his knife behind his back. His fingers brushed the tips of Marissa’s picture in his pocket. He turned and glanced at Vicki, who was busy trying to tame her long blonde hair back into a makeshift ponytail. The early dawn caught her silhouette crisp and clear, framing her in golden and crimson rays. Ambrose crumpled the picture deep into his backpack. His old memories were painful, and he had sought to make new ones for a long time. And now he was; it was just sad it had to wait until the world ended.

  A thousand thoughts and plots swirled in his head and he threw the heavy pack onto his shoulder, which was feeling much better today, the pain down to a dull ache. Vicki, her smaller pack already hoisted high, came to stand by him.

  “You ready?” she said, her eyes searching his.

  Before he could answer, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

  He squeezed her hand gently, feeling her small grasp in his. He wanted to tell her how he felt. He wanted to tell her that last night had changed everything; in that moment, he saw the cat before her, he realized unless he saved her, his life would have no meaning. He wanted to tell her he didn’t care about her pregnancy, and he didn’t care her skin was pale and his dark amber. Most of all, he wanted to tell her when she was over him, loving him, he felt more alive than he ever had in his life. He had to tell her how he felt: the honest truth.

  For the first time in his life, he didn’t have the words. Instead, he panicked. “Yeah, let’s go.” There would be time to tell her later, when they weren’t exposed and out in the open.

  As they set out through the thick forest to find their way back to the road, Ambrose knew two things were for certain: Will, or whoever was in charge at the WWA, wanted Vicki bad enough that they were going to the greatest lengths to find her. Ambrose had the sneaking suspicion Will wanted his fiancée back, and no good would come of that. Ambrose wasn’t going to let them find her, especially not now.

  And the other thing?

  Somewhere between being shot, nearly dying, surviving the rapids, and spending the night in a broken-down shack, holding her in his arms, and making love to her, Ambrose had fallen in love with Vicki.

  Yet he didn’t know if it was good or bad. Despite their moonlit tryst last night, he wasn
’t sure if she felt the same way, or if it was born of the desire to connect with another human.

  Chapter Five

  “Ambrose, stop, stop, stop,” Vicki cried out, her voice small and quiet. “I have to rest.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” Irritated, she plopped down on a rock that looked too jagged but more comfortable than the open field they were trekking through. She massaged her ankle as Ambrose squatted nearby, reaching for their last bottle of water.

  “I saw that.” Vicki narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Saw what?”

  “You rolled your eyes at me.”

  Ambrose looked out across the fields, knocking back a carefully measured sip and handed the bottle to Vicki. “Maybe I did.”

  “You did.”

  He shook his head, but Vicki could see him smile.

  Her stomach flipped a little, but she dismissed it. At least, she tried to. Why was she feeling this way? Maybe it was just the baby, but it was too early to tell, right? Every time he smiled at her, she felt something stir inside her. Something felt foreign, but undeniably good.

  “How far do you think we covered today?” Vicki asked. The sun was dipping low in the horizon and they’d been hiking since just after dawn that morning. What she wouldn’t give for a hot shower and a warm bed. She shivered, thinking of sharing it with him, of enjoying it with him.

  “Woman, I’m Samoan, not Native American, do you think I’m some kind of tracker or something?” He chuckled softly.

  Vicki pretended to scoff at him but couldn’t help smiling. His joviality was contagious. She wondered how he could always see the positive in everything, even in the face of certain death, but she found it oddly refreshing. It wasn’t like Will, who considered himself a “realist” and had brushed everything off as unimportant, dismissing all her worries as a trivial concern. Ambrose was different, he was … real. He wanted her opinion; he looked to her for help. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but despite the constant risk to life and limb over the last week, she didn’t want to share it with anyone else. They were partners, now.

  Stop it, Vicki told herself, her smile evaporating. That kind of talk will lead to something neither of you can recover from. Remember, Will is out there, and you need him.

  Did she? Of course she did. Will was the best thing she could have asked for. Even if he was cold sometimes, he could be attentive and loving, and even though things had been a bit rough lately, she dismissed it as the stress surrounding his impending trip half way across the world.

  Besides, the very thought that he left her there, knowing the bombs … oh, god, Vicki couldn’t think of it.

  She turned her thoughts to her rescuer. Ambrose was so different. Sometimes Will had brushed her concerns away like they weren’t a big deal, and she felt he never listened to her. How had she not realized he was so dismissive? Ambrose hung on her every word, respected her, and for the most part did everything he could to make her comfortable, even when it wasn’t in his best interest. The differences between the two men were so stark that for the first time, Vicki began to doubt why she wanted to go back to Will. If it hadn’t been for the baby, why she…

  “Why the frown?” Ambrose stepped closer to her. “I know I make the worst jokes, but that wasn’t too awful, right?”

  Vicki shook her head, smiling once more to ease her troubled thoughts. She looked up at his towering height. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body, and a shiver ran down her that he would kiss her again. She couldn’t allow that, she couldn’t do that to Will. The damage was already done, and she didn’t want to cause any more. She stepped back.

  “That may be the most racist thing you have ever said to me, Ambrose…” She trailed off. She didn’t dare go into detail and risk spilling what her betraying heart wanted to believe, and a burning question flooded her brain. “What is your last name, anyway?”

  Ambrose chuckled. “Palamo.”

  “Palamo.” Vicki tossed it around in her mouth. She liked the exotic feel of it. “Morel,” she said finally, “I’m Vicki Morel.”

  “Like the mushroom?”

  “Like the… what?”

  “The mushroom? You know, like the ones that look like a brain?”

  Vicki just stared at him.

  “Woman, you’re not much of a cook, are you?”

  Vicki looked away, mostly to hide her smile from him calling her woman. It was amazing it didn’t irritate her anymore; she actually enjoyed hearing that word from his lips. “Alex made all our food.”

  Ambrose did scoff then and shook his head. “I nearly forgot about those damn glasses.” He took the water bottle from her and stuffed it back inside his pack. “I bet you even had a fancy kitchen in that new house, and…”

  “I forgot about Alex, too,” she mused, “I can’t believe I’ve been without them for a week. It’s been an experience.”

  Vicki’s words were drowned out when the deafening roar of an engine slammed into her hearing. She pressed her hands to her ears and cried out.

  “Vicki?” He reached out, but it was too late.

  Vicki swayed and fell sideways off the rock. Her vision was blurry, the sound clanging through her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt Ambrose’s arms slide around her, helping her up. “Do you hear that? Oh my God, it’s so loud…” Since this whole thing started, her hearing had become more sensitive, but the engine was like a sonic scream in her brain, piercing and agonizing. Not a plane engine, but some kind of motor engine. Like a motorcycle, but louder.

  “Vicki, look!” Ambrose was still holding her waist, steadying her on her feet. He swung his pack over his shoulder.

  Vicki looked towards the west, where the outline of the highway lay on the horizon. She knew they were far enough from the road to only appear as specks in the field, but still close enough they could make their way to the nearest town, at least that’s what Ambrose had said this morning. The town they hoped held survivors. She shielded her eyes against the sun and strained to see the line of gray pavement, almost blinded by the harsh sunlight. “I can’t see.” A crippling thought ripped through her. “Is it… the military?” she whispered. They were out in this field, in the open. If they found them…

  Ambrose curled one of his hands over hers and shielded his eyes towards the sun as well. “It’s a motorcycle, maybe a dirt bike I think, and an RV.”

  “An RV?”

  “Yes!”

  Vicki could hear the excitement in his voice, but the sun blinded her. “What does it look like?”

  “It’s wide and tall, tan with a red stripe down the side. Definitely not the military,” Ambrose added.

  “Do you think they are—” she could barely manage to say it, “—the good guys?”

  “I don’t know.” Ambrose sounded sad.

  Vicki frowned. “I have an idea.” She dropped his hand and turned around. “Take your shirt off.”

  “Vicki, I don’t think…”

  “Just do it. And hand me your knife.”

  He stared with his mouth open, fumbling with the knife in his pocket, he finally handed it over.

  While Vicki set about making several slits in her jean shorts, Ambrose pulled his shirt over his head. She resisted the urge to stare and focused on tearing her stained, road-worn jeans. She took off her windbreaker, shoved it in the pack, and tied her shirt in a knot above her stomach.

  “How do I look?” She took his shirt from him.

  “Like a one of those hillbillies from reality TV. And…”

  “Pregnant?” she added softly.

  It was like a knife digging into his chest as he focused on the small bump around her middle, the one he’d felt the night before. He realized that under flowing dresses and windbreakers she’d hidden it well.

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect. Now turn around.”

  As he did, Vicki used his knife to shred his shirt into a triangle, slipping it over his head.

  “A sling?” Ambrose
said with his back still toward her. “I don’t need a sling. My shoulder…”

  Vicki tied off the cotton shirt around his neck. “They don’t know that.”

  “This isn’t going to work.” Ambrose turned to face her. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Come on, you’re looking at the lead Dorothy for my 4th grade production of Wizard of Oz.” Vicki flashed her brightest smile at him. “I can convince anyone of anything.”

  Ambrose opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. “This isn’t going to work,” he protested again.

  “It won’t work if you don’t hurry your ass up.”

  Vicki took off running, waving her arms high in the air.

  She hoped it would work. She prayed Ambrose had enough brains to play along. But most of all, she hoped they were survivors escaping the city on fire just like they were.

  As the pavement grew closer, Vicki could see Ambrose was right about the RV. She could barely make out the outline of an old Winnebago with a stunted front end. Both the RV and dirt bike began to slow down, and she knew they had spotted them. She couldn’t see who was behind the wheel of the RV, but noticed it was longer and much, much older than the one she and Will had. This one probably runs on gasoline, she thought grimly. The motorcycle undoubtedly was a loud-engine dirt bike. One of those older, beat up two-strokes, Vicki thought. Will had wanted one, but she’d talked him out of it. He bought a four-stroke Kawasaki instead, mostly because it had come with the Alex interface and free wi-fi for a year. Vicki didn’t know much about bikes, but one thing she knew, you could always hear a two-stroke coming.

  It’s strange, Vicki thought, as she watched the dirt bike skid to a stop, once her and Ambrose were about a hundred feet from the highway. Why would they risk being discovered by the military with such a loud engine? Either they are very stupid or very brave, she decided.

  Ambrose reached the highway first, and Vicki saw that quick jaunt hadn’t left him out of breath at all, but he gripped his side, so she knew it had taken a toll on him. She panted and struggled to limp on her injured ankle. It was obvious he was in much better shape than she was, if it wasn’t for the sling over his right shoulder. Of course, this was the man that had managed to leap into an airport to save her, swam against currents, and ripped branches out of the ground like they were twigs.