by Nora Roberts
“I should’ve come home. I should’ve been here.”
“Could you have saved them?”
“No, but I’d have been here. Helped take care of them, given them comfort. Said good-bye.”
“Arlys, you’re saying good-bye now. And what you did in New York gave comfort to we don’t know how many people. Being able to hear you and see you every day. And at the end? What you did? We don’t know how many people you might have saved. You saved me,” Fred insisted when Arlys shook her head. “I wouldn’t have left, and maybe they’d have taken me to some testing place, locked me up. Chuck, too. Katie and the babies, all of them. You saved some who could be saved. It matters.”
“My family—”
“Must have been proud of you. I bet they’re proud of the way you figured out how to get out of New York, how you came all the way back here to stand over them now. It shows you loved them, and love matters.”
“I knew they were gone.” She had to take careful breaths to get the words out. “I knew in my head even before we left New York.”
“But you came because you loved them. Is it all right if I pray their souls find peace? I feel like they have, but I’d still like to.”
Undone, Arlys turned her face into Fred’s hair. “They would’ve liked you.”
She wept a little, knew she’d weep more, but now she had to decide—they all did—what to do next. She hadn’t thought beyond coming home.
They went inside. Pangs twisted and pulled as she walked through the kitchen, saw her mother’s wooden spoons in the white pitcher, the fancy coffeemaker she’d given her father for Christmas, the holiday photo of the four of them Theo had taken with a selfie stick centered on the kitchen corkboard.
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, then dropped them.
“There are things we can use. We’ll need to make room.”
“You don’t have to think about that right now.”
“Yes, we do, Fred.” She took the photo, slipped it into her coat pocket. “We all have to think.”
She walked to the living room. Katie sat on the couch with a baby at each breast. The third slept in Bill Anderson’s arms. Chuck peeked through a chink in the curtains.
“Rachel and Jonah?”
He glanced back at Arlys. “Outside. We don’t want anyone happening by and getting our supplies. Sorry, Arlys. I want to say we’re all sorry.”
“I know. Mr. Anderson—”
“Make it Bill now.”
“Bill, I didn’t ask about Mrs. Anderson, or Masie and Will.”
“Theo helped me bury Ava before he took sick. Masie, she … she’s with her mom now, her husband and our two grandchildren with them.”
“Oh, Mr.… Oh, Bill.”
“It’s been a hard winter. It’s been … a horrible time. But Will was in Florida on business, and I have to believe, I have to hold on to hope he’s all right. The last I heard from him he was okay, and trying to get home.”
Arlys sat on the edge of the chair next to his. “I’m so sorry.”
“A lot to be sorry about these days. Then you’ve got this.” He brushed a finger over the baby’s cheek. “You’ve got to hold on to it.”
“How many people are still in the neighborhood?”
“Four last count, but Karyn Bickles took sick a couple days ago. I was going to check on her when you rolled up. Some died, some left.”
On a fresh sweep of cold air, Rachel came in. “We’re going to take shifts watching our supplies. I’m sorry about your family, Arlys.”
“Thanks.” There would be time, plenty of time, for sorrow later. “Bill says there are four left in the neighborhood, one of them sick. Bill, Rachel is a doctor.”
“So she told me. The hard fact is a doctor won’t help Karyn. She’s got the virus. I’ve seen enough of it to know.”
“I might be able to make her more comfortable.”
“Well, I’ve got a key to her place. I can take you over.”
Practical matters, Arlys thought. Next steps. “The rest of us should go through the house, see what we can use. What we have room for. We can’t stay here without heat or water.”
“Jonah and I were talking about that. We thought maybe south, maybe into Kentucky or toward Virginia,” Rachel said.
Arlys nodded. Direction didn’t matter to her, but south made sense. Get out of the hardest grip of winter in the weeks it had left.
“We could plot out a route—and alternates. Bill, you should come with us.”
“My boy may be trying to get home. I have to be here when Will gets home.”
“You can’t stay here alone.”
“You shouldn’t.” Katie looked at Rachel, lifted a baby for Rachel to take, burp while she shouldered the other. “You should come with us.”
“We could leave the route for your son,” Fred said. “Leave a big note or sign telling him where we’re going. And, if we have to go off route, we can leave signs there that he could follow. I bet he’s really smart, isn’t he?”
A smile ghosted around Bill’s mouth. “He is. He’s smart and strong.”
“He’ll follow the signs,” Fred told him. “He’d want you to come with us, and he’ll follow the signs.”
Bill shifted to look out the window, to his own house, his own porch and yard. “We bought the house when Ava was pregnant with Masie. It strapped us, but we knew what we wanted for our family. We had a good life here. A good life.”
“I know how hard it is,” Arlys consoled. “But we need to make a new place, and here we’re too far from a water source, too exposed once the snow melts. I’ve seen things, Bill. It’s not just the virus killing people.”
She stood. “I’ll start upstairs—there’ll be blankets and linens and…”
Understanding her sudden distress, Bill rose as well, passing the baby to Fred. “Theo and I, we cleaned up, and he helped me do the same. Your mom and my Ava would’ve wanted that.”
Tears rose up, spilled out before she could stop them. Bill simply hugged her. “It’s all right, honey. Tears wash some of the worst away.”
* * *
When she’d cried all she could, Arlys went back to her parents’ room. Blankets, sheets, towels. Maybe they could get another car for supplies. She could drive it.
Bandages, antiseptics, more baby aspirin, more ibuprofen, over-the-counter sleep aids from the bathroom. Soaps, shampoos, razors, skin-care stock.
She slipped one of her mother’s lipsticks into her pocket with the photo as a keepsake.
Scissors, sewing supplies.
Despite the circumstances, she found herself more than mildly mortified to find lubricant and Viagra in her parents’ nightstand drawers. Rachel stepped in as Arlys stared at the bottle in her hand.
“Any meds—OTC or RX—for my stock?”
“It’s, ah, Viagra.”
“Also used in treating pulmonary hypertension.”
“Oh. Well. I bet he wasn’t using it for that.” She laughed a little. “They had a good life here. Like Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. He has to come with us, Rachel.”
“I think he’s leaning that way now. The woman, Karyn? She was already gone. Another woman—I can’t remember her name—gone, too. She hanged herself. There’s a man several houses down, but we couldn’t get close to the house, much less inside. Even when Bill identified himself, he threatened to shoot us dead—his term—if we didn’t get the hell off his lawn.”
“But you think Bill will come with us?”
“He’s having a hard time with it, but, yes, I think he will. He’s got a truck—four-wheel drive—and he and Jonah are working on fixing a tarp across the bed. Jonah’s pushing the idea of it helping us out to have him and another vehicle. And the babies are a big draw.”
“A good strategy, and truth, and, yeah, I can see the babies added some weight. One less thing to worry about then. We should go through the other houses, see what we can use. We’re going to find more guns, and we should take them.”
“Any here?”
“No, not that I know of, but upstairs there might be a compound bow. My brother—”
It slammed into her again, all the loss, nearly stole her breath.
“Theo,” she managed. “Theo got on a hunting kick when he was a teenager. It didn’t stick, but he had a bow. And if we can get another four-wheel drive, we should take it. We can take turns driving it.”
When Rachel said nothing, Arlys tossed the medicine bottle onto the bed with the other supplies. “It helps me to just do what comes next.”
“I know. I haven’t lost anyone in this. Only child. My mother died two years ago. I haven’t seen or spoken to my father since I was eighteen. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand how hard it is to come here, find your family gone, then do what comes next.”
Tears clouded up again, but Arlys sighed them away. “It doesn’t seem real, any of it. But it is.”
By sundown, they had dry goods, canned goods, frozen foods in two ice chests packed with snow. Blankets, sleeping bags, numerous kitchen tools, four hunting knives, eight handguns, three rifles, an AR-15, two shotguns in addition to Bill’s, and three compound bows.
Rachel packed two boxes full of medications and medical supplies. Another box held a variety of batteries. They gathered clothes, boots, winter gear, scored walkie-talkies—including a child’s set. Fred put together a box of baby and toddler gear. Between Jonah and Chuck they siphoned enough gas out of tanks to fill their vehicles—and the brand-new Pathfinder they added to their convoy.
They hauled in a couple of kerosene heaters, cooked over Bill’s camp stove, and plotted out the route south.
At dawn, they loaded up. Chuck led the way with Fred, Jonah’s group followed. Arlys, the holiday photo tucked in the Pathfinder’s visor, pulled out behind Jonah.
Bill, after one last glance at his home, at the sign he’d left for his son, drove after her.
* * *
After a full week, Lana took another inventory of supplies, and found them diminished beyond her calculations. As she—with the occasional assist from Poe or Kim—did the cooking, she knew damn well how much of every single item should have been on the shelves, in the cabinets, in the freezer.
They were light several cans of soup, ravioli, two boxes of mac and cheese—however deplorable she considered that—and some of the frozen foods. Bags of chips and snack foods, too.
She went through the inventory again, then stood seething in the kitchen as Max and Eddie came in, with Joe rushing to her with a snow-covered nose.
“We’re light in food inventory,” she said flatly. “Someone broke the agreement and has been sneaking food. Maybe more than one person.”
Rather than ask if she was sure, Max hissed out a breath. “That goes along with the fact that the propane’s down more than it should be. We’re going to have to try to get that truck up here. We’re below half. The way Kim calculated it, we should be well above that.”
“How do you want to handle it?” Eddie asked.
“I’d say by kicking some ass.”
Lana smiled thinly at Max. “I’m in the mood for kicking ass.”
“Whose?” Poe wondered as he came in, still sweaty from his morning workout.
“Whoever’s been pilfering the food supplies and using up propane.”
“Propane? What are we down to?”
“Under half.”
“But Kim said we wouldn’t be down to half for another five days. She’s never wrong. What food supplies?”
“Some of just about everything. Frozen, canned, dry goods, snack food, box mixes.”
Poe scrubbed a hand over his face, eased down on a stool. “I’m going to tell you it wasn’t me, but everybody’s likely to say that.”
“It wasn’t you.” Lana dismissed that with an annoyed flick of the wrist. “I’ve cooked with you. I’ve seen how carefully you measure things out, then check off the inventory list.”
“It’s not going to be Kim—and not just because I like her. Because she’s no bullshit. And she’s no sneak.”
“Not the Kimster,” Eddie agreed. “She always saves a little something on her plate to give to Joe. You don’t do that, then steal. ’Cause, man, it’s stealing.”
Hands fisted on her hips, Lana scowled at the cabinets. “I’m going to have to recalculate meals and portions.”
“We’ll see about getting more supplies when we get the truck,” Max told her.
“I’ll go with you,” Poe said. “You need at least two for driving, and three’s better.”
They turned as a group, looked at Shaun when he came in. He shoved up his glasses.
“What?”
“Food supplies and propane are down,” Poe said.
“Yeah? Well, we’ve been eating and living, so supplies go down.” He walked to the pantry, came out with a can of Coke. “This is my ration, and I don’t drink coffee or tea.”
“How much else have you taken out of there?”
“Why me?” he shot back at Poe.
“Because, brother, you’ve got guilt all over you.”
“Bull. If anybody’s taking stuff, it’s probably you so you don’t lose any frigging muscle tone. And you know what? I don’t have to take this crap from you, from anybody. It’s my damn house.”
“One you wouldn’t have gotten to without the rest of us,” Poe reminded him, and stood, using his impressive height and build. “It’s everybody’s damn house now. It’s everybody’s supplies. And nobody takes more than his share.”
“Screw you.” But Shaun’s eyes sparkled with more than defiance. Seeing it, sensing the anger building in Poe, Max stepped forward.
“Easy,” he murmured to Poe, then turned to Shaun. “If I go up to your room, am I going to find food stashed?”
“You’ve got no right to go into my room. Who made you captain of the damn ship, anyway? You’re only here because I did Eric a favor.”
“Dude.” Eddie let out a sigh. “Weak. And you just copped to it.”
“So the frick what? So I took a fricking bag of fricking Doritos. I got hungry.”
“That’s bad enough, but it’s more than that,” Lana said. “There’s more food gone than that.”
“Fine, I made some damn mac and cheese one night. I couldn’t sleep. Sue me.”
“And the canned pasta and stew, the soup?” Lana asked.
“Not on me!” Now tears glittered on his lashes behind his glasses. “Canned stew’s revolting. I took Doritos and the mac and cheese, and okay, a couple of the snack cakes. That’s it. I get nervous at night. I eat when I’m nervous.”
“What’s going on?” The raised voices had Kim rushing in, with Eric and Allegra strolling in behind her.
“They’re bent out of shape because I ate some Doritos.”
“Because you took more than your share,” Lana corrected.
“What else do you do when you’re nervous at night?” Poe demanded. “Do you sleep with the lights on, turn up the heat in your room?”
“I read. Okay, I read, but I’ve got a book light. I use my book light. And I like the room cool to sleep. You could ask my fricking roommate if he wasn’t dead.”
Tears spilled then as he dropped down on a stool.
“Hey, chill, everybody.” Smiling a little, Eddie held out his hands. “No big. So Shaun got the munchies.”
“He took more than his share.” Max’s voice hardened. “More than we all agreed. We have to think of the group as a whole, not just ourselves. We’re down food and propane because someone got selfish.”
“It’s not all on me! I didn’t take any disgusting stew.”
“Jesus, get off his back.” Eric patted Shaun’s knee. “It’s not the end of the world because, hey, that pretty much already happened.”
Hands clenched at his sides, Max stepped forward. He knew his brother. He recognized the attitude. “Did you help yourself, Eric?”
“What if I did? Are you going to vote me off the island? Who crowned you king
around here? You bring this guy—who wasn’t even invited—and his stupid dog. Without them, we’d have more food anyway.”
“Harsh, dude,” Eddie commented.
Because her temper jumped, Lana fought for calm. Shouting, she thought, accusations, ugly words wouldn’t solve the problem. “We had enough for two weeks, now we don’t. It’s just that simple.”
“So, get more.” All defiance, Eric flipped a hand at Lana. “You’re the one doing all the cooking. Maybe you got sloppy with it. For all we know you’re helping yourself when you stir the pot, and guard this kitchen like you’re fucking in charge.”
Max clamped a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Careful.”
After knocking the hand away, Eric rounded on Max.
In Eric, Lana saw more than temper. It shocked her to see something approaching rage.
“What’re you going to do about it?” Eric lifted a hand. Little blue sparks snapped from his fingertips. “You want to try to push me around like you always did? Try it. Try it now and see what happens.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Everybody’s just stressed out.” Allegra gripped Eric’s arm, tugged. “Come on, Eric, come on now. We’re all just penned in here and stressed out. Let’s go for a walk, okay? I really want to get out for a while.”
“Sure, babe.” Eric’s eyes held Max’s, gleaming with rage, even as he let Allegra pull him away. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Bunch of losers.”
Allegra threw an apologetic look over her shoulder, and walked Eric into the mudroom.
“Dude’s on something.” Eddie blew out a breath. “Wish I had some.”
“My parents wouldn’t have drugs in the house. We didn’t bring any.”
“Shaun’s right. I’m going to make some tea, okay?” Kim waited for Lana’s nod. “Poe’s body’s a temple, and we’d have known if Eric had anything. We were on the road for days.”
“It’s not drugs, not like you mean. It’s the power,” Max said. “He’s drunk on it. None of that was like him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Sorry,” Kim added. “He’s your brother. But the fact is, Shaun screwed up, and he’s sorry.”
“I get scared at night. I hear things at night. And I stress eat. I didn’t mean to screw it up.”
“Well, you did,” Kim said flatly, “and you’ll have to make up for it. Eric screwed up—and if he did, Allegra knew and was probably part of it. But he doesn’t give a shit. That’s going to be a problem.”
“I’ll talk to Allegra.” Lana rubbed at her forehead. “I think I can talk to her. She seems to be able to calm him down, and he needs calming down.”
“He’s not handling the power,” Max said quietly. “He doesn’t know how, and that’s another problem. I’ll deal with it. But for now, we’ll deal with the immediate and go try to get the propane truck. And we’ll try to scavenge more supplies.”
“Just let me grab a shower—I’ve got it down to ninety seconds,” Poe added.
“We could use you,” Max admitted. “But … I think I’d feel easier if you were here while we’re gone.”
On a nod, Poe glanced toward the window. “I’ve got it.”
“I’ve got a wish list started upstairs.” Lana signaled Eddie before she slipped out of the room. She waited until she’d reached her bedroom, then eased the door shut.
“Something up?” Eddie asked her.
“Yes, actually. Would you do me a favor? If you see a drugstore, a pharmacy, we can always use more first-aid or medical supplies.”
