“How were afternoon patrols?” the middle-aged man with thinning hair asked.
“Excellent, sir,” Trent said, standing tall in front of the man.
“Excellent?” the man said.
The other man had a scowl on his face that appeared stuck there. He was large—his biceps too large for the shirt he wore. He reminded me of a bouncer at a club.
“Yes, sir!” Trent exclaimed.
“Explain,” the officer said, crossing his arms.
“Yes, sir. While on patrol we came across my girlfriend and her friends,” Trent said, gesturing to us.
The officer came around the table. “Your girlfriend?” he asked.
Was I his girlfriend? We never broke up, so I guess maybe I was. Did I want to be his girlfriend? I knew now was not the time to decide.
“Yes, sir,” Trent answered.
“I wasn’t aware you had a girlfriend,” the officer said, raising an eyebrow at Trent.
“We were not in the same place when the attack happened, sir. I didn’t know she was alive until a few moments ago.”
“I see. And where are you coming from?” he said, looking at me.
“North Carolina. It’s where we were when everything stopped,” I answered.
“You’ve been there this whole time?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded.
“How did you get here?” the officer asked.
“We walked,” Jonah answered before any of the rest of us could speak.
I glanced at him; he avoided my eye contact.
“That is quite a walk,” the officer said, moving to look at my friends.
“Yes, sir, it was,” Blaise answered.
“That explains the state of your clothes and shoes,” the officer said. He walked back around to face Trent and me.
“Ordinarily we don’t provide civilians with supplies, but in this case we will make an exception. Make sure they get some food and fresh clothes. They may stay in your apartment, at least for the night.”
“Thank you, sir,” Trent answered.
“Very well. You may have the rest of the night off,” the officer said.
“That is very generous of you, sir. Thank you,” Trent said. He turned and directed us to leave.
“Oh, and Lieutenant,” the officer called from behind us.
“Yes, sir?” Trent said, turning to face his commander. I turned with him.
“She’s better than you deserve,” he said, but not with kindness, as one expects with such a comment. It was as if the comment had less to do with my worthiness than Trent’s unworthiness.
“Yes, sir. I agree, sir,” Trent said, his words and tone sounding lighthearted.
But when he put his arm on my back I felt the tension in it, the anger as he guided me forward.
Twenty
A few minutes later we entered what’d once been a high-end apartment building. The white marble floors glistened and everything in the lobby glowed from a lack of dirt. It was as if the light and all that came after it had not touched this place.
Three people standing in a corner of the lobby looked down as we entered.
“I’m on the fourth floor. It’s a bit of a hike, but it has the best view,” Trent said, and squeezed my hand.
He paid no attention to the people in the corner. I couldn’t take my eyes off them, though they didn’t look at me or in any way acknowledge that we were there.
“We are thankful to have somewhere to stay,” Blaise said.
As we climbed the stairs I saw one of the “corner people” lift her head and watch us. Her face was young—not more than twelve—but haggard in a way no child’s face should ever be. The other two pulled her forward. They immediately took rags from their oversized beige clothing and began mopping away any marks we might have left.
“Do they do that all day?” I asked.
“What?” Trent answered.
I lowered my voice. “Clean behind people as they walk in and out of the building.”
“They’re no good for anything else.” His tone was callous, as if the people who stood in the corner were less than human.
I knew Trent was under a lot of stress and when he was like that he often sounded harsher than he meant to. He had a good heart, but sometimes the realities of the world caused him to hide it.
The rays of the setting sun flooded the stairwell, coming through one small west-facing window on each floor. Trent led us to the door at the end of the hall. A Thanksgiving wreath hung on the outside. I stood, staring at it.
“It was here when I moved in. I liked it, so I left it,” he said, turning the handle and opening the door.
Sun drenched the large apartment, making it hard to see after the dim light of the hallway. The floors, like the lobby, were spotless white marble. Modern gray artwork hung above a black baby grand piano. The couches were upholstered in a delicate red material. The large rug was a light-colored Persian. One wall was filled with bookcases methodically decorated with books and pieces of ceramic and crystal. The room was a mix of modern and classical. The effect was striking and exactly what Trent would’ve chosen, all except the piano. He never cared for music, especially not classical music. Looking around the room, it seemed impossible that such a perfect apartment existed and that Trent just happened to stumble upon it, but I knew that’s what must have happened. There could be no other explanation.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, his hand still holding mine.
I nodded, sure my friends were as hungry as I was.
We followed him into the kitchen. This room too was uncomfortably clean. Except for two empty wine glasses that sat in the corner of the gray granite—the red lipstick stains noticeable even from a distance.
“If you take a look in that cabinet you’ll see the few food options I have,” he said, releasing my hand and directing our attention away from the wine glasses. He swiftly placed them in the empty sink. He put two empty bottles into a trash can under the sink.
“I’m afraid all I have are military meals in a pouch,” he said, standing behind me. He was rubbing my shoulders and pretending I hadn’t seen the glasses.
I pretended right along with him. The two of us had always been good at pretending.
Jonah’s eyes met mine for the shortest of moments. He was not good at pretending, and neither was I when he was around. I blinked away the feelings.
“Those will be wonderful. Thank you,” I said, stepping aside so Trent could remove a small box of MREs.
“Here, take this. I’ll get some glasses and water,” he said, handing me the small box.
The six of us made our way to the dining room table. A moment later Trent placed seven plates and glasses and some silverware on the table. He left and returned with two gallons of water.
“The MREs are better than you would think. This thing is the heater. You just add a drop of water and the chemicals inside heat up. You can place your food on top for a moment and then it tastes pretty decent,” he said, demonstrating what to do as he spoke.
“How is this possible?” I asked, staring at him.
“You mean how am I alive? And here?” he asked, his hand squeezing mine as he gazed at me.
I nodded.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” he said, with an easy smile. “But it’s because of you.”
“Me?” I asked, confused.
“At the last minute I decided not to get on the plane with my friends.”
His face looked torn. That decision meant he had lived, but his friends likely did not. I petted his arm and he offered a small look of gratitude.
He sat up a little straighter and continued. “I realized things needed to change between us. We kept going in circles. It was pointless and frustrating, you know?” He looked at me.
I nodded. He was right. It was as if we were passing time with one another, but not moving in any particular direction.
“So I came here to talk to your father … a-about us,” he said with a lowered face a
nd shy smile. “But as I entered the city the EMP detonated, and life as we knew it changed. I didn’t know that then, of course, but I knew I needed to get off the streets. I took what I could from the car and walked to your father’s. He wasn’t there but the door was unlocked, so I went in, locked the door, and waited. Within a few hours the streets erupted into catastrophic violence. Many were killed or so badly hurt that they died soon after. It was chaos,” he said, shaking his head.
“Then the fires started and they didn’t stop for weeks. So many buildings. Even one of the military bases. With the fires came explosions: natural gas, ammunition on the bases, gas stations. So many more people died. There were bodies everywhere. At times the fires became crematoriums. The police force virtually disappeared and most of the military personnel ended up deserting. Those that were left stepped in and created order from the chaos. I knew I wanted to be a part of that, so I enlisted. I never saw myself in the military before any of this, but now I can’t imagine doing anything else. Once I enlisted I quickly moved up and was assigned as the second in command of this quadrant. I’ve been here for the last month or so. It’s amazing, really, because if I’d been assigned to any other quadrant I would’ve never known you were here.” He rubbed my hand with both of his.
Trent had grown so much; he seemed nothing like the person I’d dated. He had become what I always knew he could be. He’d found passion in life and was blossoming. I was happy for him and proud to know him.
I looked at my friends and couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking. They had all thought him so bad before, but he proved them wrong. And in the process, I guess he’d proven me right. They could no longer question why I was with him. Blaise and Josh looked quizzically at Trent and then at one another. I knew they were trying to understand what they were seeing, trying to determine if it was real or not. Sara’s face registered frustration, but not confusion. She was so stubborn! She never liked him and, clearly, that hadn’t changed. East glanced subtly at her brother and then back at me. Jonah sat staring at a spot somewhere beyond Trent’s head, his face blank and emotionless. I wanted to talk to him, but I knew it was impossible. Trent had always been the jealous type. I doubted he had changed that much.
“What about you?” he asked, looking into my eyes and squeezing my hand. “I know you told my commander you were in North Carolina. How did you get there and how did you survive?”
I leaned back in the chair, my hand still in his. “We were about halfway to Florida when the light flashed. East and Jonah found us on the highway and took us to their parents’ house. It was a brutal winter and we wouldn’t have survived without them. When the weather started to warm we decided it was time to come back and look for Sara’s family.” I smiled up at him. I’d learned long ago that Trent didn’t want long explanations. He wanted to get the key points and move on.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he said, emotion filling his voice. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been with you, no matter what. I was being selfish. I wasn’t thinking of what was best for you, and I’m sorry. I won’t do that again. From now on I will be beside you, protecting you always.” Tears were forming in his eyes. He wiped them with his free hand.
A second later he stood, releasing my hand, and pushing his chair from the table. He looked at Jonah and held out his hand. Jonah looked unsure a moment, but then stood.
“Thank you for keeping her safe, for protecting her when I couldn’t,” Trent said, clasping Jonah’s hand and moving it up and down.
“It was the right thing to do,” Jonah said.
The words stung as I heard them. Was that all it was—the right thing to do?
“Yes, but many don’t do what’s right. Many would’ve taken advantage of the situation or not helped. She was lucky to find you two,” Trent said, still clasping Jonah’s hand.
“It’s not like she can’t take care of herself. She’s actually pretty handy to have around. They all are,” East said, arms folded, staring up at Trent.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he said, releasing Jonah’s hand and sitting down. “I’m looking forward to hearing all the details of the last four months.” Trent put an arm around me and pulled me to him.
Jonah sat and for the briefest of moments looked into my eyes. I wondered what he saw. I wondered if he could see the past pulling against the present.
Twenty-One
Warm water streamed down my body. The day had been surreal: seeing Trent, kissing him, being in a clean apartment with hot running water. I placed my hands against the cool tiles and leaned my head against them, allowing the hot water to massage my back. The light from the lantern cast an almost magical glow as it bounced off the mirror and back again.
Trent was right. The food was good, and salty. I hadn’t had salt since the light. There was even a brownie for dessert. When we were back home I used to dream of things like real wheat flour, chocolate, butter, and sugar, but doubted I’d ever taste even one of those things again. Today, though, I had all three mixed together in one decadent combination. The indulgence of it seemed almost wrong.
Trent always had the best of everything and his life now was no exception.
After dinner he showed us into the guest room, saying we should take showers now while the water was hot. He said the water in his building was heated from six to nine every night. I was happy he didn’t ask me to shower in the master bedroom—glad to have space to think. Though I knew it had nothing to do with me or us, and everything to do with the state of his room. He hadn’t spent the last four months alone; that was clear from the wine glasses. I was surprised at how little that bothered me. Perhaps I’d simply come to expect it.
Once alone in the guest bedroom, my friends told me to take the first shower. I knew it was so they could talk about me, but I didn’t care. They disapproved of Trent; they always had, they always would. I knew it wouldn’t matter how much time went by or how much Trent changed and grew. They’d always think he wasn’t right for me. I knew part of their rigid mindset was my fault. I shouldn’t have cried to them when he hit me or was unfaithful. I should have kept things between us like Trent told me to and not invited my friends into our relationship. But none of that mattered now. I was taking a shower, a luxury I thought I’d never know again, and I refused to think of anything other than the warm water pouring over my body.
I turned the water as hot as it would go. My skin burned, but I didn’t care. The smell of shea butter shampoo filled the air. It seemed impossible to have real shampoo to use instead of lye soap. The smell was like a mirage of the past. I shook my head to try and stay in the present. I applied conditioner, and allowed it to soak into my hair as I scrubbed my body with sweetly scented soap from a box. Placing it under my nose and inhaling deeply, the smell took me back to the last time I’d been near this place, in my father’s apartment.
***
I had spent a few weeks at his apartment over the summer. Sara was visiting her mom and sister and I agreed to drive her home. I didn’t want to come, but Sara and Blaise both said I should try and build some sort of relationship with my dad. I told them it was pointless, but they didn’t believe me. They didn’t know him like I did. Trent also was in favor of the trip since my father had arranged a prestigious internship at Congress for him, and he too would be in Washington for part of the summer.
I finally gave in and agreed to spend a few weeks with my dad. The trip made no difference, other than to confirm what I knew: my father didn’t care about me. He worked twelve to thirteen hours a day during the week. On the weekend he rode his bike, read, or worked. He did ask me to meet him for dinner a few nights at some of his preferred restaurants. I always took Sara or Trent along. When my dad and I were alone we sat in silence, neither one of us seeming to have any idea what to say to the other. At least with someone else there, I had someone to talk to.
After two weeks of being ignored, I started spending days at a time in Sara’s cramped apartment, in one
of the poorest, most crime-ridden parts of the outskirts of DC. I had to sleep on the floor and Trent refused to visit me. That was all right, though. It was there I felt love and support. Unlike my dad, Sara’s mom cared about what I did and who I did it with. Sara told her mom about Trent, and as soon as I arrived, her mom started telling me about the violence she had experienced when she was married to Sara’s dad. About how he started out worshiping her, but that soon turned to controlling, isolating, and then verbally and physically abusing. But that no one else ever saw it. She said when they were out he was charming and everyone they knew thought he was the perfect husband and father. At times she doubted herself and believed that maybe it really was her fault that he treated her so bad, that there was something wrong with her and she deserved to be punished. But when he started to shift his anger to Sara and Sage, she knew she had to leave. It was only after she was away from him that she began to see things clearly and understand the kind of power and control he had over her.
She warned me over and over again that Trent sounded just like her ex-husband before he started hitting her. Controlling, isolating, condescending, and charming. She begged me to leave while I could, that she was worried Trent would get worse. Her story was sad. I listened, hoping her telling it would help her feel better. But it didn’t apply to me. I didn’t tell her that, but the fact was she didn’t know me and she didn’t know Trent. Sara hated Trent and had undoubtedly told her mom all sorts of exaggerations. What happened to her would never happen to me.
***
Trent had a really good side and I could see that now, more clearly than ever. All signs of violence and anger were gone. All that remained was the man I fell in love with, only more mature and more loving.
I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around myself. The first truly clean towel I’d used in months. I opened a drawer and found a hairbrush. I wondered briefly about who lived here before, but realized it was better not to think about such things. I focused instead on pulling the knots from my hair. I used the towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. Looking at my reflection I realized how long my hair was. I would have Charlotte cut it when I got home.
Through the Ashes (The Light Book 2) Page 11
