by Jordan Rivet
The other men had finished washing, leaving them alone at the river.
“I’ve been thinking about the other bunkers,” Joanna said, mostly to break the dense quiet. “They’ll all have woken up by now. Maybe we should reach out to them, see if they need any help.”
“They have plenty of supplies,” Garrett said. “You know that better than anyone.”
“Why not send someone to—”
“They’ll want to follow the program.” Garrett splashed water over his face, and it ran through the lines in his chin and the furrows in his brow. “They got the same training we did.”
“So what? BRP is dead. Can’t we make our own rules now?”
“That’s exactly what we’ve been doing,” Garrett said. “You know how the program was supposed to turn out. They’ll make a go of it, and in a year the less successful communities will join the stronger ones. We’re better off staying out of it.”
“But what if some have better natural resources in their area?” Joanna said. “You all keep talking about how hard it is to live here.”
“We are not leaving.”
Joanna blinked. Garrett’s voice had sounded harsh, authoritarian even. He had never spoken to her like that before.
“Look, I don’t mind what the other bunker cohorts do,” Garrett said, moderating his tone. He sat back, and the water rose up to his chest, his shirt sticking to it like a second skin. “They can come here if they’ll pull their own weight, but we’re not relocating after we’ve worked so hard to build this place.”
Joanna didn’t want to ignite the argument that had divided Garrett and Blake, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to connect with the other bunkers. She would have more in common with their people than with the remnants of Blue Team Seven now.
“Shouldn’t we at least try to contact them?”
“We’re better off on our own, Joanna.” The light was fading rapidly, casting Garrett’s face into shadow. “That’s what BRP missed. Once we go to all the trouble of working together and building a community, we won’t blend well with another cohort, especially after all this time.”
“But if you talk to them—”
“I wish you’d let it go,” Garrett said. “You’re a guest here. Don’t question my decisions.”
Joanna raised an eyebrow. “A guest?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Oh yes, you did.” Joanna jumped off the rock to stand in the shallows. “You don’t think I’m one of you at all.”
Garrett sighed. “Like you said, it has been a long time. You don’t know what it’s like. You’re still just a kid.”
Joanna glared at him then waded a few steps closer to where he sat.
“Don’t do that,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Joanna—”
“Don’t talk down to me, Garrett. I went through the same apocalypse you did. I lost everyone I ever loved too.” She leaned down to seize his hand, holding it up so his battered wedding ring was right in front of his face. “Everyone.”
Garrett didn’t pull away, looking first at the ring and then at her face. They froze like that, him sitting in the river, her standing above him. His hand hung limp between them, clutched tight in hers.
The water rushed on, the chilly current curling around Joanna’s legs. The evening deepened, turning the world blue.
I could touch him.
Joanna stopped breathing at the thought. She could sink into the river with him, toss aside decency, abandon any sense of right and wrong. She could ease into his arms, lay her head on his chest. They were alive and together. They had survived the worst thing that ever happened to the world. Did it even matter if they did what was right now?
Joanna’s skin hummed with anticipation, and she felt every tap of Garrett’s pulse against her fingertips. She couldn’t read his face as she used to. It had closed up, gravened. So she couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he broke the stillness and twisted his hand to clasp hers.
He held her hand firmly, his eyes darting to her mouth. She sensed the tension in his arm, the tug as he drew her toward him. Panic and longing beat between them.
Then Joanna pulled her hand from his and turned away.
Golden leaves drifted down from the trees as she stepped out of the river, picked up her shoes, and returned to the village.
Chapter Thirty
“Chloe saw you,” Ruby said without preamble. They were picking snow peas for the Thanksgiving harvest feast. The whole village churned with preparations for the annual celebratory meal and their plans to begin unloading the bunker the following day.
Joanna tossed a handful of snow peas into a basket. “Saw me?”
“Holding hands with Garrett,” Ruby said. “Going for a swim, were you?”
“We were just talking,” Joanna said. “It got a little heated.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Not like that. I mean—not too much like that.”
“I warned you about this.” Ruby picked up a hand-woven basket and put it on her hip. “It’ll be easier on you if you let him go.”
“I have let him go.” Joanna hoisted her own basket and followed Ruby back toward her cabin. “We were just talking about the other bunkers. It was nothing.”
Perhaps the more times she said it, the easier it would be to pretend the moment had been entirely innocent. She could barely sleep at night, imagining what would have happened if she hadn’t walked away from Garrett at the river that day. It was harder than she thought to live in such close proximity when she couldn’t have him. But he was not the only member of Blue Team Seven who mattered to her.
“Do you think I should talk to Chloe?”
“If you say it was nothing, I’m sure Garrett told her the same thing,” Ruby said. “As long as it was nothing to him too.”
Joanna grimaced, wondering how he had interpreted the brief but surprisingly intense handholding episode—and how he had described it to his wife. Garrett could be honorable to a fault. Or at least the old Garrett could. She shouldn’t assume he was the same person she used to know, especially after what Ruby and Vincent had told her about his quarrel with Blake.
Ruby set her to shelling peas by the stone fireplace and deliberately changed the topic of conversation. Joanna still felt uneasy about Chloe. As much as she wanted to deny anything inappropriate had occurred, she felt guilty. She supposed it was up to Garrett and Chloe to tend their own marriage. She was just a kid, after all—at least according to them.
Why should they expect me to take responsibility? They think I can barely tie my shoes.
She tossed the shelled peas into a wooden bowl harder than was strictly necessary. Garrett didn’t think she was one of them anymore because she hadn’t endured the same hardships. As if that’s my fault. A pod snapped in Joanna’s fingers, and the peas scattered across the floor. Ruby raised an eyebrow.
Joanna knelt to clean up the spilled peas, her cheeks growing warm. Petulance wouldn’t help anything. The reality was that she still hadn’t found her place here. Maybe it would be better for everyone if she sought out another bunker community where all the people had been awake for the same amount of time. But she’d barely gotten her Blue Team Seven family back. They’d moved on without her in so many ways, but she couldn’t just walk away.
After shelling the peas, Ruby and Joanna cooked them in a clay pot and helped Vincent finish the dumplings he’d been assembling and steaming all morning. By the time they emerged from Ruby’s cabin, the preparations for the harvest feast had reached a fevered pitch. Everyone brought handmade furniture from their respective cabins and arranged them in rows. Winnie and Priya spread threadbare quilts over the mismatched tables, creating a series of long, colorful caterpillars.
A bonfire burned on the village green, supervised by a group of men including Garrett. He glanced up when Joanna, Ruby, and Vincent arrived with their steaming earthenware dishes, his face expressionless. Nearby, Chloe was marshaling a gr
oup of children to gather kindling. Joanna got the sense that Chloe knew she was there, but she didn’t look over. She winced, fearing she’d lost another friend.
More townspeople streamed from their cabins as the sun set, bringing dishes piled high with food. Handmade plates and intricately carved bowls overflowed with corn, green beans, eggplant, butternut squash, pumpkins, tortillas, potatoes, fruits, and berries. Meat was the only thing missing, though everyone would get a small share of fish from the river—currently roasting on sticks over the bonfire. Two men carried out a huge vat of moonshine and began portioning it out into clay jars, laughing raucously. They’d clearly spent most of the day testing their concoction.
“Hey, Joanna!”
Joanna turned from the exuberant brew masters to find Priya’s daughter, Vashti, waving her over. The sixteen-year-old had green eyes like her father’s and long black hair that she spread carefully over her shoulders in a sleek curtain.
“Do you want to sit with me at dinner?”
Joanna was surprised. Despite how close they were in age, she had mostly hung out with Vashti’s parents’ friends so far.
She smiled at the younger girl. “Sure. That would be great.”
“We’re over here.”
Joanna followed Vashti to a seat near the middle of the green, figuring she needed to bond with people outside Blue Team Seven sooner or later. Priya nodded approvingly as they joined her table—a full five rows away from the end table where Garrett and Chloe were assembling their children. That explains the invitation. Vashti’s mother acted more concerned than anyone else about Joanna’s history with Garrett after watching him at her bedside. But holding hands at her sickbed had felt different to Joanna than their moment in the river. It was a good thing Priya hadn’t seen that.
Joanna smothered the memory and turned to her companion. “The food looks amazing.”
“It’s okay.” Vashti swept her long hair back over her shoulder. “Last year was better. The harvest isn’t as good as it used to be.”
“Really?”
“My dad says we might have to leave the settlement. He thinks the ground isn’t fertile enough here.”
Joanna glanced at Aaron, who was helping his youngest daughter set clay mugs around their table. “Do many people agree with him?”
“Some do, some don’t. But Mr. Lewis doesn’t want to go.”
It took Joanna a second to remember that Mr. Lewis was Garrett himself. “Maybe next year’s harvest will be better.”
“I wouldn’t mind exploring other areas.” Vashti lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I wanted to go when that group left after all the drama, but my parents said I was too young.”
“I heard there was fighting,” Joanna said. “Did you see—?”
“Can I have your attention, please?” Garrett stood up from the table at the far end of the village green, closest to the woods, and called everyone to order. He waited as parents shushed their children and wives poked their husbands to get them to stop chatting. Little Robbie snuck a piece of bread from his father’s plate when he wasn’t looking.
“The speeches are always so boring,” Vashti said under her breath. “Can’t we eat already?”
“Dibs on that big piece of squash,” Joanna whispered back, shifting one of the dishes closer to her and her new friend.
When the murmur of conversation subsided, Garrett raised his mug and congratulated the village on the harvest, acknowledging specific individuals who’d worked especially hard that year or made notable innovations. It felt disloyal to say the speech was boring, but Joanna found herself tapping her foot while Garrett talked about a bunch of people she didn’t know. Her stomach grumbled as she studied the abundance on the table. The fruits and vegetables weren’t the airbrushed, overgrown produce of pre-apocalypse grocery stores. They looked small and tough, with deeper colors, but smelled strong and earthy. Her stomach growled louder.
Vashti caught her attention and rolled her eyes. Joanna grinned back.
Garrett finished his speech at last, saying, “And may we all have a warm, safe winter, and another good year together.”
“Hear, hear!”
“Cheers!”
Everyone knocked mugs and began helping themselves to the feast as Garrett pulled out his chair to sit.
“Just a minute, dear,” Chloe called, rising from her seat. “We have one more person to acknowledge before we dig in.” She turned and looked down the length of the table. “Joanna Murphy.”
Joanna froze, unsure whether to meet Chloe’s eyes or avoid them. But when Chloe raised a mug in her dainty hands, her smile was genuine.
“We thought you were lost,” she said. “We’re so thankful you returned to us. Even though this must be a difficult adjustment, please know that you will always be part of our family,” her voice broke a bit, and Joanna blinked rapidly to keep her eyes from welling up, “and we all love you. To Joanna!”
The villagers toasted, and cheers rippled along the table once more. Joanna raised her mug, gratitude spreading through her as she met Chloe’s eyes, which were full of compassion and understanding. Neither of them looked at Garrett.
Without further ado, everyone dug into the feast. Chloe’s toast had cut right through the gloom and guilt plaguing Joanna, leaving her to enjoy the food as she listened to Vashti’s chatter. The girl was younger than Joanna, but she seemed mature for her years. As the first child born at the settlement, she’d spent more time with adults than peers. Still, Joanna struggled to find things they had in common. She hoped it wouldn’t always be like this with new people—if she ever met any new people.
“As long as my books are still there, I’ll be happy,” said a wistful voice farther along her table. Joanna tuned in to the conversation.
“Should be plenty of books stored on the hard drives if we can get the computers running,” someone was saying.
“If anyone can do that, it’s Chloe.”
Joanna recognized two members of Blue Team Six who used to join their workout sessions chatting with Marco, Winnie, and Vashti’s parents. The topic was a common one: Joanna’s bunker. Salvaging the supplies would be a labor-intensive operation, but everyone was eager to get started now that the harvest was in and they’d caught up on their chores. They were especially excited to retrieve the personal items they’d saved in their lockers.
“I had a leather jacket in there,” Winnie said. “Found it in an abandoned shop on my way to BRP training and never got a chance to wear it.”
“I don’t think my old clothes will fit me anymore,” Aaron said, tapping his belly.
The others joked about how the ravages of age would render their youthful clothes useless, but Joanna suspected the hardscrabble diet and physical labor they’d endured would leave their old clothes hanging loose. She looked over at the end table where Ruby sat with the other Blue Team Seven members. Joanna still hadn’t mentioned that she’d raided their lockers. Most of the contents had burned up in the fire. With any luck, Ruby had forgotten about the fancy running shoes, whose melted remnants Priya had peeled away from Joanna’s burned feet.
“Are we still going to the bunker tomorrow?” Joanna asked her tablemates.
“We leave first thing in the morning,” Marco said.
“Maybe not first thing,” said Aaron, tossing back a hefty swig of moonshine. “I intend to have a proper harvest hangover.”
The atmosphere was becoming quite merry as they passed jugs of the homemade brew around the table, handing it over the heads of the children. When the moonshine reached Priya, she dumped a small dollop into her mug then made to pass it over both her daughter and Joanna.
“Thanks.” Joanna intercepted the jug before the man on her other side could take it and poured some of the moonshine into her mug. Priya snorted disapprovingly.
Joanna took a swig of the homebrewed liquor and choked. The stuff tasted like petroleum and smelled just as bad. Vashti snickered beside her.
“I’ve snuck a taste o
r two,” she whispered when her mother wasn’t listening. “It’s foul.”
“No wonder they’re worried about hangovers.” Joanna pushed the mug farther away.
Soon everyone’s bellies were filled with all the food and liquor they could stand. The conversations turned slow and expansive as the community settled in for what was sure to be a long, leisurely evening. Stars were beginning to blink to life above them. The bonfire cast a homey glow over the assembly, holding the darkness at bay. There was talk of bringing out drums for dancing. Vashti promised Joanna she didn’t need to know the steps—“Seriously, there’s no one to impress”. But before anyone could hoist themselves from their chairs, Chloe jumped up from her table.
“I almost forgot!” she cried. “I made sweet pears for dessert. They’re keeping warm in our kitchen. Nobody move.”
Chloe turned to hurry back to her cabin. She only made it a dozen paces before she froze, staring into the darkness beyond the bonfire’s light.
“I was going to say the same thing,” said a deep voice. A broad-shouldered figure stepped out of the shadows and leveled a rifle directly at Chloe’s face. “Nobody move.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Blake. Joanna almost didn’t recognize him at first. His once close-shaven hair was long and wild, and a scar ran down his face, disappearing into his bushy black beard. His clothes were torn and patched, and he clearly hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a while.
Blake trained his rifle on Chloe, too far from the tables to reach. No one moved. The villagers had no weapons, as far as Joanna knew. They wouldn’t have time to raise them before Blake pulled the trigger, anyway.
A soft whimper broke the silence. Little Robbie was sniffling, aware of his mother’s peril. Despite his tears, he put an arm around his younger brother. Garrett sat as still as stone, except for a muscle pulsing in his jaw.
“Not so quick to gang up on me now, are you?” Blake said.
“Blake,” Garrett said. “Let’s talk, after you put down the gun. We are unarmed.”
