“Your turn,” Devon said from behind me.
I turned just as Lisa stepped away, her hands up. “I’ll wait for the chair.”
“You don’t trust me?” he asked, smiling.
“I trust you. I just prefer to get myself over if I can.”
“Here.” Kiaya came huffing up, holding a chair, and handed it over the fence to Devon.
Once he’d set it down, Lisa hauled herself up. She’d just jumped into the yard when the door to the house opened, and I turned to find Buck standing there. Smiling.
“You made it.”
I gave him a thumbs up, wanting to make as little noise as possible.
Devon got himself over, then grabbed the chair. “Just in case the zombies figure out how to climb.”
“That would just be our luck,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “As if things aren’t difficult enough.”
I glanced toward the pillar of smoke. “Yeah.”
Devon followed my gaze, his mouth turning down. “I’ve been watching that, too. Seems pretty far away, but it could be an issue if we don’t get a good rain.”
“We should,” I said as we hiked across the yard toward the house, following Lisa and Kiaya. “It’s fall in Ohio. It always rains.”
“Yeah.” He eyed the cloudless sky, his expression doubtful and worried. “Hopefully, this isn’t one of those years where the weather decides to be stubborn.”
“It looks good,” Lisa was already telling Buck when Devon and I stepped into the house. “We talked to a couple of the guys,” she nodded to Kiaya, “and they were friendly and welcoming. Everything inside looked good, too.”
“You talked to them?” Miller spit out, his back straightening in surprise.
Lisa pinned him with an unimpressed look. “Yes. We talked to them.”
“We’re obviously not very good at hiding,” Kiaya explained, her tone giving off the impression that she was trying to offer Miller an olive branch of some kind. “Since they saw us, we decided it was the perfect time to get a closer look at the place.”
The corporal grunted. “Sounds like a big risk.”
It looked like he’d had another one of his mood swings.
“It worked out,” I said, coming to their defense.
“So, you’re thinkin’ it’s a go?” Buck asked, his focus on Devon.
“I am,” he replied, his voice solemn but hopeful, too.
Buck nodded as he lifted the glass in his hand, taking a sip. His gaze had moved to the living room where Lexi was sitting with Zara. It looked like the teen had managed to calm down enough to read her a book, and the little girl’s eyes were big as she listened, her focus on the page. Randall was listening as well, sitting in one of the chairs but leaning forward like he was having a difficult time hearing or maybe even excited for the next part. Hank sat in the room as well, on the other side of Zara, but as usual his excitement had more to do with the girl than the book. To my delighted shock, Mike was putting together one of the Lego sets I’d gotten for him. It was the first kid-like thing I’d seen him do, and it warmed my heart. He was always so serious.
“It’ll be good for them,” Buck finally said, turning his gaze back to us.
“Hopefully,” Devon said, “it will be good for all of us.”
My stomach clenched because even though I didn’t think he was singling me out, it felt like it. Doug. It was crazy to think he’d dropped back into my life, but he had, and now I was going to have to deal with all the bitter feelings I’d refused to let go.
Wanting to deflect everyone’s attention from my ex, I said, “I’ll have to check on Mr. Ito tomorrow.”
I frowned at the thought of leaving him here alone, but I knew he wouldn’t go with us. It was a shame, because I was pretty certain Akio wasn’t going to show up. If he was still alive, he would have made it home by now.
“I’ll go with you,” Kiaya said.
I shot her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“We should get our things together,” Lisa said. “That way, we’re ready.”
“Yup.” Devon was nodding slowly, his expression thoughtful as he looked the house over. “Which means going through every nook and cranny so we’re sure we get every useful item in the house. Just like we did at the neighbors’.”
I hadn’t thought about that, but he was right. We needed to get everything.
“We should spread out, then.” I looked everyone over. “It will be faster that way.”
“I’ll head on down to the basement,” Buck said, tilting his glass my way.
“I can search this floor.” Kiaya looked around as if making mental notes of what she needed to do. “We tore the kitchen apart pretty thoroughly, but there’s still the dining room and closets and bathroom.”
“Thanks,” I said then took a deep breath. “I’ll go through my room before I head to bed, but I doubt there’s going to be much. I wasn’t exactly thinking about end of the world survival until recently. First, though, I’ll go through my parents’ room.”
My throat tightened with sobs that were begging for release, but I swallowed them down. Not now. Later.
“I can help,” Devon said, his voice gentle.
I looked up at him, forcing out a shaky smile that felt insincere even though it wasn’t. “Thanks.”
He only nodded.
My hand was shaking when I grabbed one of the flashlights off the counter. It had been my idea to search my parents’ room, but I was dragging my feet as I headed for the stairs. There was no way this wouldn’t irritate some already throbbing emotional wounds, and I suddenly felt like a little kid who couldn’t stop picking at a scab even though it was already bleeding. Still, I had to do this. I needed it so I could achieve closure or at the very least come to terms with the fact that they were gone. It might also give me the courage I needed to put my mom to rest.
Devon followed in silence, not talking as we climbed the stairs or even once we reached the second floor. The quiet felt thick as I headed toward my parents’ room. The door was cracked but not open, and I was thankful for the short reprieve. Soon I’d be inside, would come face to face with the bed my mom had died in, the one she and Dad had shared for more than thirty years. It was empty now and would stay that way indefinitely, just like most of the rest of the world.
I paused outside the room, my hand on the knob as I took a deep breath. When I let it out, I pushed, and the door swung open. Immediately, my gaze was drawn to the bed, and a rush of gratitude came over me. The sheets were still pulled up. Thank God. I wasn’t sure if I could have stomached the sight of what lay beneath.
“I’ll check the bathroom?” Devon lifted his eyebrows, waiting for me to give him permission.
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
His head dipped twice, then he headed across the room.
In seconds, he was gone, and I was alone. I felt like I was on autopilot as I moved to the closet, and once inside I panned my flashlight around, not even sure what I was looking for or what we would need. The future felt so overwhelming every time I thought about it, so impossible to predict. How could we ever really prepare?
I got to work anyway, digging through boxes and tossing aside things I thought might be helpful. There wasn’t a lot.
I was on the floor digging through a box when footsteps scraped against the floor at my back, and I looked over my shoulder.
Devon was standing in the doorway. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.” I placed the lid back on the box and shoved it aside. “Or not. I don’t know if I’m missing things that might be helpful or what. I mean, how are we supposed to know what to be ready for?”
“I know, believe me.” Devon ran his hand down his face, looking twice as tired as he had earlier. “No matter how hard we try to prepare, we’re likely to miss something.”
“Yeah.”
I exhaled and sat back, my gaze landing on a black dress. Mom had worn it a couple Christmases ago when she and Dad had gone to some fundraiser
for the hospital, and I smiled at the memory of how excited she’d been to get all dressed up. Immediately, though, the thought was followed by the image of her rotting face, and my smile melted away.
“What is it?” Devon asked.
“I need to take care of my mom.” I tore my gaze from the dress so I could focus on him. “I can’t leave her out there like that. She deserves better. She deserves a proper burial.”
His frown deepened, and he knelt beside me. “I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s too risky, Rowan. What if you got hurt? Do you think your mom would want you to risk your own life just so you could bury her?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, “because she would have done the same for me, and I’m not leaving her out there like that. I won’t, Devon.”
His brows furrowed as he studied me, probably trying to figure out what to say. How to convince me to let it go. There was nothing, though, and even if I had to do it on my own, I would make sure my mom got the peace she deserved.
“You don’t have to help me,” I said.
“You can’t do it on your own.”
I held his gaze. “Watch me.”
“Rowan.”
He grabbed my arm, but I brushed him off.
“I won’t leave her like that, Devon.”
He exhaled, his shoulders slumping as he shook his head. “Why do you always have to be so stubborn?”
“Takes one to know one.”
Resorting to childish taunting was beneath me, but I couldn’t help it. It had been a few days since we’d butted heads like this, but I suddenly had the urge to stick my tongue out at him. I hated when Devon acted like he was the only one who knew what was best. Especially when he was wrong. Like now. If it was his parent or grandmother out there, he would do the same thing, and I knew it.
“Forget it,” I said when he didn’t look away from me and his expression didn’t ease. “I don’t need your permission, Devon. Remember that.”
Getting to my feet, I pushed past him and headed into the bedroom where the pile of items I’d collected was gathered. I wasn’t sure what it meant that he didn’t follow or try to stop me, but I wasn’t concerned about it as I scooped the items up off the floor.
The house was so quiet I could hear the floor groan as I headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs, but I wasn’t sure where everyone else was. Still searching or loading the car, maybe. Possibly in the garage doing something else—like smoking. It was hard to say.
In the kitchen, I set my items on the counter and let out a long breath.
“Tough day,” Buck said from behind me, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
My hand was pressed against my heart when I turned to face him, and I shook my head. “Don’t sneak up on a person during the apocalypse.”
He chuckled and tilted his glass toward me. “My apologies.”
“But yes,” I said, answering his question, which I wasn’t even sure had been a question. “It seems like every time I think I’ve hit my emotional limit, something else gets thrown on me.”
“I hear you,” he said, his mouth turning down.
He took a sip, watching me over the rim with steady, gray eyes. When he’d lowered the glass, he said, “We could have that drink we talked about. It does calm the nerves.”
I eyed his half-empty glass, not sure if I should. If doing it would be me enabling him or just simply me trying to take a break from reality.
“I’m okay,” he said when I didn’t respond. “I knew y’all would notice eventually and bring it up, knew Devon would be the one to do it, too. It’s normal now, having people ask ’bout the drinkin’. I just let them have their say and do my best to assure ’em it won’t affect anyone but me.”
“But it does affect you?”
“Unavoidable,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m too old to quit, and even before all this, I didn’t have much of an inclination to try. Now, though, can’t say as I really see a point.”
“I can’t really argue with that,” I muttered.
Buck smiled and lifted his glass again. “What do you say?”
“Okay,” I replied, returning his grin. “But I’m not going to promise to like it.”
“Well, I promise to make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”
I snorted out a laugh.
Like we were in his kitchen and not mine, he headed to a cabinet and got a glass, then poured a little of the brown liquid in. There was less than an inch, which I was thankful for, but I still knew it was going to seem like a lot.
“Care to sit?” Buck asked, nodding to the kitchen table.
“Definitely.”
I grabbed my glass off the counter and headed over, but before sitting down, I moved to the window so I could pull the blinds up. We’d been careful about keeping them closed, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves, but this window faced the back yard and there hadn’t been much movement that way, so I figured it was worth the risk. Plus, I needed a few minutes to pretend everything was okay.
Too bad once I could see out, any illusion that the world was normal was wiped away. It was too dark to convince myself nothing had changed, too quiet. Then there was the plume of smoke. I could still see it thanks to the clear night and the nearly full moon, and even though it was impossible to know for sure, I got the impression it was closer now.
Buck had already settled into a chair when I moved over to join him, and the expression on his face as he stared out the window said he was feeling more peaceful about the view than I was.
“Mighty nice neighborhood,” he said, tilting his glass to me. “And I got to say, I like the view. A pond. A field. Lots of stars. Nice.”
He sipped his drink, nodding, and I did my best to try to see the world beyond my house the way he did. It wasn’t easy, but concentrating on the pond helped. The water was calm and smooth, and the light from the moon reflected off the surface. Staring at it made it easier to pretend I was in the middle of nowhere, vacationing on a lake or something, which made the darkness and silence nice instead of jarring.
I was still staring at it when I took my first sip, and the cough I let out when the liquid burned its way down my throat jolted me out of the peaceful daydream.
“Oh, my God,” I managed to get out between coughs. “That’s horrible.”
Buck let out a low chuckle. “It’s an acquired taste for sure.”
“I guess,” I said, sniffing the liquid and wrinkling my nose. “Although I don’t know why you’d want to acquire it.”
“Like I said,” he plucked the drink from my hand and poured the liquid into his own glass, “it calms the nerves.”
He was still smiling when he took the next drink, his focus on me. I studied him, wondering about his confession, about when his problem with alcohol began, and why. Usually people turned to booze for a reason. A bad breakup, anxiety or stress, to party. No one who started drinking ever thought it could get out of control for them, though. At least not unless there’s a family history of alcohol addiction. What was Buck’s trigger?
“It started a long time ago,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I told Devon all ’bout it, but of course, I knew he wouldn’t pass the information along to anyone else. He’s a gentleman like that.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said, even though I very much wanted to know.
“It’s okay. I’m used to explaining to people, and it usually helps them understand. As much as they can, anyway.” Buck set his glass down but didn’t let go of it, and he wasn’t looking at it when he started twisting it, moving it in a circle over the smooth surface like he was trying to screw it into the wood. “It started after my daughter died.”
I sat up straighter. “Your daughter?”
He nodded slowly, dragging the gesture out like he was collecting his thoughts or trying to delay having to say the next words. “I was forty-five, old to have a four-year-old, but her momma was quite a bit younger than me. Never thought I’d ge
t married before I met her, never thought I’d have a kid. Wasn’t even sure I wanted one. But that girl was the light of my life.” His smile was sad and far away. “Kept me on my toes but made every day worth living.
“The day she died, I just about thought I’d die, too. It was so sudden. Like the whole world being turned upside down in the blink of an eye. One minute she was playing in our front yard, and the next she was in the street. She’d gone out to get a ball, and I was right there. Was on my way to her. The car beat me to it.”
He picked up his glass and took a drink, this one bigger.
“My God, Buck, I’m so sorry.” I wanted to hug him, but he seemed so fragile at that moment that I was afraid it would push him over some kind of emotional cliff. So instead, I put my hand over his. “I can’t even imagine going through something like that.”
“Losing a child is ’bout the worst thing that can happen to a person,” he said. “No one should have to go through that.”
He wasn’t done, I could tell, so I said nothing, and I didn’t remove my hand from his.
“That was when I started drinking. My wife, she didn’t blame me, she knew accidents happened and that I would’ve given my own life for Belle if I could, but I blamed myself. Still do. So, I turned to booze.
“She tried to understand, tried to be patient, tried damn near everything to reach me, but I was too far gone. God bless her, Barb stuck ’round longer than she should have, but eventually, she left. Said she couldn’t watch me kill myself, not after losing Belle.”
“Buck, there are no words. I just—” I shook my head.
“No need to try to find the right ones, ’cause you and me both know there ain’t any. That’s why I still drink. Why I never tried to stop. I have it more under control than I did back then, but it’s part of me now. Like an arm or a leg. It will always be here, and I’m okay with that.”
His head dipped as if to tell me he was done, then he took another drink. This one was bigger, more drawn out, and the silence that followed was heavy. There were so many things going through my head that I could have said, but I knew he didn’t want to hear them. Knew he had said what he needed to and considered the subject closed. At least with me. He’d have the same conversation with Kiaya and Lisa if he hadn’t already, and possibly Miller if the corporal ever got around to asking, but he wouldn’t bring it up to Devon or me again.
Far Series | Book 2 | Far From Safe Page 22
