Tears spilled out her eyes. “Okay.”
Mannie sat with his hands in his lap as she stood up and made her way to the front door.
She paused with her hand on her coat. “But I think you’re being stupid. This is a new world, a scary world. Life won’t be easy, finding happiness won’t be easy. Don’t throw away too many good chances.” Then in a business-like voice with only a hint of the hurt, she said, “I’ll make an appointment with Nev.”
Mannie nodded. His eyes strayed to her jeans and her slender waist. She zipped into her coat, zipped it up and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Then she shut the door gently behind her.
“Well, that went well.” He felt like he’d killed one of her puppies, but it was better this way. She needed to find someone who wouldn’t look at her like she was sin.
He looked toward the door to the basement where he kept his stash. She needed someone who wasn’t a no good, washed out, old drunk. He reached in the fridge for another Coke and tipped it back, wishing it had more of a burn.
Chapter Seventeen
LIZZIE ZONED OUT AT THE television on the wall of her apartment. The screen showed a fake Salt Lake City skyline and the title. Provo News. Next on Channel 11. She absentmindedly ate Saj’s applesauce dessert as the weatherman came on.
Saj whined, “Uh uh.” His goopy hands reaching for the food.
She jerked the spoon from her lips. “Sorry, Sebastian. Use your words, please.”
“Mo’, p’ease?” Saj prodded, making the please sign on his chest.
Lizzie spooned a scoop into his mouth, cleaning off the half spoonful around his lips. “Thanks.”
The date with Duke had been a real comedy of errors. Pleasant chit chat in between flirting. Comedy, but not too painful.
He had left her at the door with a quick peck on the cheek, while she stood there bemused, only realizing after he had gone that she hadn’t said good night or thanked him.
The weather man said, “Good night.” The camera stayed focused on his smiling face as he awkwardly waited for it to fade to black and free him. He made a cut sign with his hand across his neck and a commercial about electrical consumption cut in. Then a cheesy Special Bulletin graphic flashed on the screen. NEW MAYOR ANNOUNCES TRAVEL PROCLAMATION. The camera switched to the council chambers and a view of the counselors huddled in a group with their backs to the camera. The screen flipped to an empty office and the camera panned across pleasant rose-brown furniture, bookcases and then focused in on the new mayor and Mr. DiSilvio. DiSilvio was speaking to Mr. Ray, but no sound came through.
A muffled voice said, “We’re live.”
DiSilvio’s face beamed at the television audience. Mr. Ray glanced at the camera, looking startled. A person in black clothes with a headset guided him toward a comfy chair in the center of the screen. He stared out at his people over the airwaves like a friendly grandfather, taking a drink from the glass of water on the table beside him. “Good evening, my friends.”
He appeared more weary than he had the last time she’d seen him.
“I had the idea of doing a fireside chat to address you, the people of our fair city. I had hoped my first message would be a comforting one, but our concern over the safety of our most delicate citizens has caused us to make a new proclamation.”
He pulled out his reading glasses and placed them on his nose. “Our Council has voted 21 to 4 in support of this new ruling. Proclamation. The Provisional Utah Government. These United States. In light of recent events, the incursion of cougars and the proximity of renegade bands calling themselves Independents. And with the intent of keeping our people safe, travel restrictions have been reinstated. No one under the age of 18 will be allowed to leave Provo.
“Fuck.” Had Lizzie hit the jackpot by passing her last birthday?
“In addition, no females of childbearing age will be allowed to leave. Newlyweds and approved pre-honeymoon trips to Salt Lake City will continue, but will require an escort under the protection of the Militia.” Mr. Ray removed his glasses and rubbed the spot where they rested. “Thank you and good night.”
Mr. Ray didn’t look any happier than she felt as the screen faded to the Provo skyline at sunset.
“Fuck you and good night.” She tossed the applesauce container at the screen. Saj howled.
“Shit. Sorry, Saj.” She hurried to the fridge and peeled the lid off another container and set it and the spoon in front of him.
She flipped her phone on and called Duke. “Can you come over here now?” Saj’s howl reduced to a sob.
“Yeah. Take me about 15 minutes.”
She sat back down by Saj, sighed and kissed his head. “Sorry, Saj. Sissie’s a little stressed.”
“Sissie mad,” Saj said, his face set in a serious look.
Lizzie’s pissy mood cracked at his baby face attempting to be an adult. “Sissie mad. But not at Saj.” Rachael did it so much better. She switched out of baby talk. “Honey, I’m not mad at you. Those men made me really mad.”
“Okay.” Saj slopped most of a spoonful of applesauce into his mouth. A similar amount fell onto the highchair tray.
Lizzie wiped it up with her finger. The description of the proclamation overlay the view of the Salt Lake City skyline. She stomped over to the TV and shut it off, then cleaned up the applesauce with a burp rag.
Saj was falling asleep in the high chair; she extricated him from the seat and lay him on her bed. Collapsing next to him, she watched his chest rise and fall.
By the time Duke’s knock came at the door, she felt less like murdering someone. Lucky for him.
“What’s up, Lizzie?” Duke said, as she let him in.
Lizzie felt her temper and heat climbing back up. “You haven’t heard?” Her voice sounded like Mama in a bitchy mood.
His brow creased. Then a light went on. “Oh. The proclamation.”
“First guess. Congratulations.” She took a deep breath and tried to speak more softly. “Next thing you know I won’t be able to walk outside without a male companion. Fucking Neanderthal society.”
“I’d be happy to be your escort, milady.” He offered her his arm.
“Fuck you, Sir Duke.” She strode to the kitchen. She wanted a smoke or a drink and instead settled for some mildly freezer-burned ice cream. “Sorry.” She dug a big soup spoon into the chunky chocolate. “Why are we here? Why don’t we just leave?”
Duke studied her. “Not exactly a good time for travel. Middle of winter? North we got the birthers, The Brotherhood of Light. Desert to the south. West? You ever heard of the Donner party?”
“The cannibals?” She offered him a bite.
He waved off the spoon. “After the desert, you’ve got Donner Pass. I know it sucks, but until spring, I think we stay put.” Duke opened his arms. “You want a hug?”
Lizzie set the ice cream down and moved toward him, letting his warmth envelope her. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I mean,” Duke continued, “how bad can it get?”
Lizzie didn’t want to answer that. She knew the ground could still open up beneath her feet. “Please, don’t say that,” she whispered and held him tight. His heart pounded in her ear. He wasn’t any calmer than she was, but he was faking it better. After a bit she pulled away from him.
“Thanks for coming.”
“No problem, Lizzie.”
He’d brushed his hair. Maybe it wasn’t the proclamation that made his heart pound. Damn. How come she always missed those cues? “I’m sorry I had you run over here for nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if you’re worried about it.” He hopped onto the soft couch. “Sit down. We can talk.”
“Okay.” They settled in, one at each end and their feet in the middle. Lizzie put her feet up against his and pushed gently. “You really think it’s nothing?”
“It’s not nothing. But it’s not like we have a lot of choices. I’ll take you north in the spring if you still want to leave.”
Lizzie ran her foot
across his leg and then jerked it back when she thought about how he would interpret it. She pulled herself to cross-legged, the sitting style her body preferred since the baby started pooching. Duke’s eyes fell to her stomach. She realized her hand was cradling her belly. She moved it aside self-consciously. “Still not used to it being there.”
“May I?” Duke leaned forward.
“If you want to.”
He reached tentatively.
“Go ahead already.” She relaxed her stomach muscles as his warm hand made contact. She let her eyes close. His second hand joined the first. “Not really kicking yet.”
“Got a name?” He poked gently with his finger.
Lizzie squirmed and giggled. “Hey, that tickled. I call her Carrie. Cause I’m carrying her. Or him. I guess Cary’s a boy’s name, too.”
“You think she’s a girl?”
“How should I know?” Her belly itched under his hand. She pulled her shirt up and his hands shot away as she scratched.
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault. They say it’ll itch like crazy sometimes, right now it just tickles.” She took his hand and placed it back.
Duke leaned forward. “Are you a boy or a girl? Hey, you in there? Whatcha got worth livin’ for?”
“Are you quoting Princess Bride?”
“I found a DVD when I was collecting. I’ll have to take you by the house. There’s like a million movies.” He slid to his knees and moved closer.
“I could use some escape.” Lizzie sat up. “Hey, you went and distracted me from what I was pissed off about.”
“And that’s bad?” Duke pulled her shirt back down over her belly, but left his warm hand there.
A knock on the door echoed. Lizzie bounced off the couch, rushed to the door, and stripped back the tape covering the peep hole. “It’s Rachael.” She opened the door.
“Thought you might want to talk,” Rachael said. “Or get out a bit. I figured after the proclamation—” She saw Duke. “Uh… I see you have someone to talk to.” Her eyes avoided looking at either Lizzie or Duke. “I’m here. You two want to go for a walk?”
Lizzie caught Duke’s suggestive raised eyebrow and she clamped down on her answering smile. “Are you sure, Rach? Saj is already down. But I didn’t get him ready for bed. He was falling asleep in the chair.” She was chattering. Feeling guilty.
“Sometimes they go till they poop out. Lizzie, go. I can tell you’re stressed.” Rachael took Lizzie’s coat off the easy chair and held it out for her. “Duke, take her away. I know she probably wants to scream or hit something.”
Lizzie let Rachael slide her arms into the sleeves. “I’m that transparent?” Rachael spun her around and zipped it up. “I can dress myself.”
Rachael nodded dutifully. “Yes, dear.”
Duke laughed. “Let’s go.” He held the door for her. “Thanks, Rach.”
Outside the night was cold, but not windy at least. “Maybe you can distract me again?” Lizzie said.
“I can try,” Duke said. “Been thinking about the list. Decided Vertigo isn’t my fave U2 song. It’s either Stay Faraway, So Close or All I Want Is You.” He sang the second song title.
“You can have more than one from an artist. I’m going to tell your secret to the world. Duke Madison is a schmaltzy lover boy! What else?”
“Nothin’ yet.”
“Oh.” She wracked her brain for her favorite U2 song, but it kept going back to the proclamation. “Dammit.”
“You wanna talk about-”
“No.”
Duke took the full frontal hint and they walked in silence for a time, except for the racket in Lizzie’s brain. Lizzie pulled her glove off, reaching for his hand.
Duke squeezed her fingers. “Your hands are this cold with gloves?”
She didn’t respond except to squeeze his hand back.
After walking a while he coughed gently.
“What?”
“This is where I live. Unmarried men’s barracks.”
Lizzie flicked a bit of rusty paint off the complex gate. “Looks like student housing.”
“It was.”
“And I can’t go in there?”
“Why would you want to?”
“To see where you live.”
“I’d have to sneak you in. It stinks in there. Nothing but sweaty young men. I don’t even have my own bathroom. Probably should walk you back home. My truck’s still there.”
“And then?”
“Up to you.”
Lizzie took his hand, kissing his palm—not really sure what she was doing or if she should be doing it.
“Just wanted to make sure,” he said, his breath catching.
She leaned toward him on her tip toes, pulling his face toward her and kissing him aggressively on the lips. What am I doing? She pulled back. “No.” Then she turned on her heel and headed for home.
“Wait,” Duke called. “You don’t trust me?”
Lizzie laughed and shook his head as she reached up and mussed his hair. “No, silly. I don’t trust me. These hormones…”
Duke stared at her blankly and then she saw a realization hit him. “Oh.” He glanced away. “Lizzie, you are different than every other girl I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Just pretend I’m a boy.”
“Not a chance.”
Duke ran after her and slipped her hand back in his.
This is how it’s supposed to be, Lizzie told herself.
But she walked through her front door to find a two-year-old bundle of tears trundling toward her. Saj wrapped his arms around her legs, whimpering.
Lizzie tousled his hair. “Sissie’s home, Saj.”
Rachael came up behind him, arms crossing her chest. “Sorry. He got scared when he woke up and you were gone. Won’t let me hold him.”
Duke knelt down. “Hey, Sajimon, what’s wrong?”
Saj inched around Lizzie’s legs, away from Duke.
“He just wants me,” Lizzie whispered, bending over and pulling the crying boy into her arms. “He remembers I was unhappy.” Sure enough when he was in her arms, he settled down.
“Well,” Duke said, “I, um. Think I’ll head back.”
Lizzie laughed out loud. “Not sure who’s pouting more. You or Saj.”
Zach flexed in the mirror, rolling his stomach. He pulled on his new uniform. It fit well.
He would need to run across the campus to be on time. The door swung shut behind him as he hit the dewy grass. His legs pumped solidly. He’d been in pretty good shape before the pandemic. Since he’d joined the militia he’d pushed himself into prime shape. He could outrun Nev now.
He skidded to a stop and pushed the glass door open. His breath came in small puffs, but he wasn’t winded. “What we got today, Lieutenant Simmons?”
His immediate supervisor glanced up from the video monitors at the clock.
Zach spun to look at it, too; he was on time, 8:00, exactly. “Sir!” He saluted. “Tomorrow, I’ll be early.”
Simmons picked up a clipboard. “Mr. Ray and Mr. DiSilvio are out inspecting the hydro plant out toward Sundance. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“Nobody called my phone, sir.” Zach said, biting down on his complaint.
“Here.” Simmons handed him a belt with holster and pistol inside—the standard police issue Glock 19.
Zach had trained on it, but didn’t like the weight. He wanted something that didn’t feel like a toy. He strapped it on anyway, pulled the pistol out and checked the clip.
“Go. Now.” Simmons tossed Zach some keys. “Take the jeep. Relieve Reynolds. We’ll sort this out later.”
“Yes, sir.” Zach saluted the Lieutenant, and shoved his way out the door. Simmons barely tolerated him. Zach had never given him a reason that he could think of, but it seemed personal.
Zach flipped on the spinning yellow caution light and set it on top of the jeep. He spun the wheel and gravel spewed as the
heavy tires bit into the parking area.
He let up on the accelerator as he slid onto the main highway, and by the time he spun into the parking lot hiding Canyon Hills Drive and the entrance to the Olmsted Power Station, he had talked himself down.
Reynolds waved him in. “DiSilvio and Mr. Ray are walking around the grounds.”
“And you’re standing in the parking lot? We’re supposed to be guarding them.”
“From what? If you ask me, DiSilvio is paranoid.”
“Because it’s our job.”
Reynolds snorted. “About as useless as half the jobs the Council’s got us doing,” he said, climbing into the Jeep.
Zach thought about warning Reynolds about Simmons being on a rampage today, but decided not to. Let him mess up his own assignment.
As the tires chirped the pavement, Zach jogged across the parking lot where Reynolds indicated Ray and DiSilvio were.
They were huddled close together in a grove of trees, talking animatedly. Their conversation got quieter and more tense as Zach approached.
This place was horrible for risk management. A cougar could come out of the woods here. There were plenty of places for Independents to hide if they wanted to kidnap Mr. Ray. Zach cleared his throat. “Don’t intend to oeverstep my bounds, but don’t you think you’re kind of in the open out here?”
Mr. Ray grinned. “I’m not worried.”
“Probably pretty safe.” DiSilvio chuckled. “Since we don’t have any idea what we’re doing from day to day. Hard to set up an ambush.”
“It’s my job, sir.,” Zach explained. DiSilvio was partly right, the left hand didn’t know what the right hand was doing. Crappy communication. That was why Simmons thought he was late. The whole provisional government ought to have more training and discipline. “I am supposed to keep you two safe. Can we at least go inside?”
Mr. Ray put his arm on Zach’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll only be out here for a few minutes.”
“Your job, Mr. Riley,” DiSilvio spoke, his voice clipped, “is to follow orders.”
“Yes, sir.” He snapped to attention. If DiSilvio was going to throw the shit he was taking from Mr. Ray at him, he’d take it. “Orders, sir?”
Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness Page 15
