“Such as?”
“Well, he’s Isabel’s uncle, for one thing.”
“Okay, great…and who’s Is—”
Grace put her fingers over his mouth. “Shh. Did you hear that?”
Christian was beyond the point of both looking and feeling extremely befuddled. On a normal day, keeping up with Grace was a chore for him. Today, maintaining her pace was becoming damn near insurmountable. “What noise?”
“I don’t know, it’s like a buzzing sound. I’ve been hearing it off and on the past few days. Sounds like it’s coming from the sky, like from an airplane or something. No one else has been able to hear it, though, so it’s probably just me. Anyway—back to what I was saying. Isabel is actually Angel, or rather, Angel is Isabel. Max is her uncle.” She paused. “Are you following? You look like you’re coming down with a headache.”
Christian rubbed his head, his eyes squinting. “That’s because I am. This is just…a lot to take in.” A pause. “So you kept one alive, but the rest of them are dead. And you’re certain none of them got away?”
Grace shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure we poisoned all of them. I thought keeping Max alive might help us in the future. If there’s others out there yet to show their ugly faces, maybe they’ll stay away or leave us alone if they know we’ve taken custody of their ringleader.”
“Or maybe it’ll really piss them off and they’ll come at us full force to get him back.”
Overlooking Christian’s counterpoint, Grace motioned to the convoy and to the soldiers of Dave Graham’s unit who had disembarked. “Looks like you brought along some company. A lot of company. Company with guns.”
“Yeah. Those are your sister’s friends. They were kind enough to give us a ride home. And it looks like they’ll be hanging around for a while.”
“More people and more guns. Just what the doctor ordered.” Grace poked Christian in the chest. “Okay, I filled in all the blanks for you—or most of them, anyway. Let’s make this an official tête-à-tête. Are you going to tell me where my sister is? Or do I have to get violent?”
Chapter 25
The cabin
Trout Run Valley
Saturday, December 4th. Late evening
Christian pushed the front door open with his foot and trudged inside with an armload of heavy boxes containing food and other supplies recently unloaded from the convoy.
Grace ran over from the kitchen to close the door behind him and seal off the frigid air outside. She jumped in to assist and slid the box stacked highest from the pile and muscled it over to the table, placing it haphazardly beside several others Christian had brought in on previous trips.
After Christian set his load down, he took a seat to take a breather while Grace unpacked. “I just had a chat with Kim Mason outside,” he said, propping one of his feet on the chair across from him. “I was afraid she was going to ask me details about what happened to Fred.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“She didn’t, though. It was kind of surprising. Didn’t ask or mention anything. She didn’t even seem mad. In fact, she was smiling a lot.”
“Maybe she’s happy her husband is home.”
“Yeah.” Christian nodded. “Maybe that was it.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Christian hesitated. “She told me about what happened to old man Brady and his wife.”
Grace heard him, but pretended not to. She kept her attention focused on the items she was arranging in the kitchen cabinets.
“That took me by surprise,” Christian continued. “I mean, I had a feeling something bad happened when we saw the stain on the road at the barricade. It’s just that I hardly knew the guy, never even met his wife. And after losing Bo, I imagine it’s going to be a lot harder to work together with the rest of them. I hope they don’t find some weird backwoods way of holding ill will against us.”
Grace held up a hand and shook her head back and forth a few times with her eyes closed, refusing to absorb what Christian was saying. “Okay—can we please just not talk about it right now?”
“I’m sorry. I just think that with all we stand to lose, it’s a pretty serious situation, that’s all. Worthy of a discussion.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s serious,” Grace shot back. “I think it’s sad, really sad. Really, really sad, and I don’t want to be sad, and I don’t feel like crying about it. And I’m going to cry about it if you keep talking about it, so please do me a favor and don’t talk about it anymore because I don’t want to cry, okay?”
Christian was blown away at her reaction. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Fine. I—”
“Sorry. I’ve been a little emotional lately,” said Grace. “Actually, that’s a dumb way of describing it. I’ve been more like on the verge of friggin’ idiocy. I get sad at the drop of a freakin’ dime, and I just don’t want to be sad. Not right now. Especially after everything you’ve told me. I mean, you almost died. I almost lost you.” Within ten seconds, she switched gears completely after uncovering a number ten can of steel-cut oats. “You guys really brought back a ton of loot. This is going to go a long way, Christian. It might even get us through winter.”
Christian nodded and wiped the sweat from his forehead on his sleeve. “And that’s not even a tenth of what we brought back. Everyone else is out there divvying up their share as we speak. They even packed extra, knowing we’d have a few more mouths to feed now that Lauren’s soldier friends are going to be staying with us.”
Grace smiled grimly. “I always knew my sister had friends in low places, I just never imagined the overall depth of the abyss.” She paused a moment. “Christian…do you really think she’s okay?”
“She’s okay.”
“You’d tell me, though, right? If she wasn’t? Or even if you had the slightest inkling she wasn’t?”
“If you’re asking me if I think she’ll find her way into trouble, I think you already know the answer to that,” Christian replied. “But if you’re asking me if I think those guys will watch out for her and treat her like she’s priceless, then the answer is an unequivocal yes. Hell, there were times when they wouldn’t even let me get within a foot of her.”
“Probably because they hadn’t yet had the chance to get to know you and see how truly debonair you can be,” Grace jested. “Fair enough. I won’t waste my time worrying about her. I’ll let Michelle do the worrying for both of us.”
Christian noticed John’s bedroom door was propped open. “Any idea where John went? How is he taking the news?”
Grace hesitated. “He hasn’t said anything, but that’s normal for John, always has been. I don’t know how he’s feeling, but I can’t imagine he’s enthused, especially with Christmas right around the corner. I think he had something planned for her.”
Christian looked intrigued. “Like what?”
Grace shook her head and held up a finger, rocking it back and forth like a metronome. “Sorry, lover. Privileged info. Certain matters must remain hush-hush.”
Christian nodded his acceptance and shrugged, deciding to switch topics. “I gotta know something, Grace. Exactly how the hell were you able to figure your way out of that mess you were in? I’ve been trying to piece the puzzle together in my head. You all were screwed…they had you by the balls, and I just can’t figure it out.”
“But I don’t have balls, Christian.”
“You know what I mean.”
Grace looked at him sheepishly. “You remember that time we were looking for Lauren in the woods, the day we found Alex, and you said that I was quite the actress?”
Christian cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Of course I do. Why?”
“Let’s just say you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Grace said as she rolled her eyes and giggled. “It was Kim who planted the idea, actually. After that, it kind of snowballed. I took it and went with it, and it worked out better than I ever imagined it would. I never would’ve thought men with such hostile intentions would
have such a soft spot for a depressed, emotional, pregnant girl who’d been deserted by her boo.”
Christian cleared his throat. “Come again?”
“It’s kinda strange, actually. Hell, it’s been downright bizarre. Because I’ve actually been feeling really sick. My stomach’s been twisting up, almost like contractions, and I’ve even thrown up a couple of times.” Grace chuckled. “Oddly enough, there’s even certain foods that gross me out now—ones I really used to love. It’s like the whole act somehow became…I don’t know…self-induced.”
The door opened, and Michelle stepped in with an armload of supplies, kicking the door shut behind her. As she trudged forward, Christian hopped up from his chair to offer help.
“I got the doctors settled in,” Michelle began. “Nice people, actually. A little eccentric, but nice. They seem very optimistic. And they’ve already started administering heavy antibiotics and antivirals. They want to start all of us on some supplemental multivitamins at some point to help our immune systems recharge from the lack of a proper diet. Of course, Jesseca argued with them…on that, as well as the use of pharmaceuticals. She insists the full-on natural approach is all we need.” She paused to catch her breath. “Suppose we’ll have to thank Lauren. That is, if she ever decides to come home.”
Christian raised his hand. “Who’s Jesseca?”
“Alex’s mom,” Michelle and Grace said in unison, then shared a laugh.
Christian turned away a moment after and continued his conversation with Grace. “Okay, let’s backtrack. You said Kim planted the idea…meaning she told them you were pregnant for some reason?”
Grace nodded, her brow elevated.
“Then you started going along with it—pretending you were. And then, you started to feel like you were?”
Grace wobbled her head. “No. I mean…I don’t know. I was feeling sick before.”
“You were feeling sick before what?”
“Before Kim said what she said.”
“Okay, what kind of sick?” posed Christian. “Expectant sick?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On what the freak ‘expectant sick’ means,” Grace quipped. “Is that some sort of code? Is it your intention to bamboozle me today?”
“It means pregnant sick.”
Grace laughed. “Oh, okay. Then, no. I was just feeling sick. Like sick sick. The throw-your-guts-up kind. Like a stomach bug or something. I thought I was sick like Lee was…like I got poisoned.”
“So you felt sick before, then Kim told them, and then—”
“Christian, chill. Enough of this.” Grace said, leering at him. “You’re making my head hurt. Besides, everything’s fine now. You’re home, we have food, and I’m not sick. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, dammit.”
Grace dropped the box she was holding to the table as a burst of tears flooded her eyes in an instant. “Oh, gosh. That is so sweet.” She sniffled and tried wiping them away. “I love you too, dammit.”
Christian passed Grace a peculiar look in witnessing her touching, yet highly uncharacteristic spurt of emotion. “Grace, are you sure that you’re not actually pregnant?”
The P word caught Michelle’s attention long before she could reach for the door handle and exit the cabin. Gradually, she turned her body around and inched her way back to where Christian and Grace were standing.
“What? What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure!” Grace exclaimed, looking appalled. She swiftly dried her eyes. “I mean, I’m pretty sure. How could I be? It’s not even possible.”
Christian lowered his head, his eyes fixed on Grace. His expression softened, as did his approach. “Grace, honey. Yes, it is.”
“No.” Grace shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I mean, it can’t be, right?” She fidgeted. “I mean…it happened. I know it happened. I was there, same as you. But it was just that one time.”
Christian nodded slowly, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. “Grace,” he said, reaching for her hand, “it only takes one time.”
Grace began to look worried, and her face turned pale. “Shit. I think I’m going to pass out. Again.”
Michelle strolled up, reaching out to grab hold of her. “Nope. No passing out. You’re coming with me. You too, Christian. No more crosstalk and no more guessing games. Let’s get this figured out right now.”
“Where are we going?” Grace asked.
“To the Masons’.”
“For what?”
“Hopefully, to find you a pregnancy test.”
An hour later, Christian and Michelle gathered around the table back at the cabin, staring down at the only remaining pregnancy test to be found in Trout Run Valley that had yet to reach its expiration date. Michelle waited patiently while Christian nervously tapped his foot on the floor and toyed with his beard.
Grace had chosen to pass the time a different way, using some of the newly acquired food items to whip up a batch of pancakes for dinner, something the family hadn’t had to eat in a while. She pranced around the kitchen, singing showtunes under her breath while she worked the batter with a steel whisk.
At one point, Michelle lifted the test from the table and researched it with squinted eyes, only to exhale a sigh and place it gently back where it was. A second later, she suddenly reached for it again, taking another glance. Her eyes went wide before carelessly dropping it and making a prompt exit out the front door.
“What’s her problem?” Grace asked, watching her leave.
Christian flipped the test over and stared down at it for a long, contemplative moment, then admired Grace with a notably humble gaze. He gradually pointed to it, his lower lip trembling.
Grace groaned. “What?” She set the bowl of pancake batter down, wiped her hands on a towel, then placidly skipped over.
Christian didn’t say anything. He took a few steps back, allowing Grace the room he felt she might need.
Grace shook her head indifferently, then turned away from him, making her approach to the table. She busily tapped her fingernails before reaching for the test. “This is dumb. I know my body. I told you, there’s no way I’m pr—” Grace stopped midsentence. She held the test at arm’s length from her eyes, then brought it in for a closer look as her jaw fell to the floor and her eyes unbolted to their farthest extents. “Oh, fuck.”
Chapter 26
Rocket Center (formerly Allegany Ballistics Laboratory)
Mineral County, West Virginia
Friday, December 10th. Present day
Lauren gazed in childlike wonder at each of the four walls of the room, barely able to believe her eyes. They were painted an eggshell color, practically spotless, and were adorned with framed photographs of buildings, some of which she recognized, others she had never seen before. An American flag was mounted inside a frame and hung on the wall over the bed, and there were portraits of Naval officers on either side, all high-ranking, all bearing solemn, chiseled expressions in their full-dress blues and white caps.
She looked up at the ceiling to the clear, glass globe of an electric light fixture, very much alight and burning brightly, casting its incandescent hue over everything in sight. She folded her arms and leaned against the wall behind her. “This is some dream,” she said, reaching over and feeling for the wall switch. She flipped the rocker, turning the light off and then on again, while shaking her head in utter amazement. “Unbelievable.”
Too exhausted upon arrival the previous night to do any exploring of the complex, Lauren had gone to bed only minutes after being assigned quarters and stepping foot inside. She’d utilized what little light had been available from the corridor, letting it leak into the room through the open door enough for her to locate the bed and dive into it.
She had fallen asleep only moments after, too tired to allow random thoughts any consideration. The likelihood of the power
being on in this facility hadn’t even occurred to her. But why would it have?
Lauren continued to manipulate the switch. She flipped it off and then on, off and on again, and after several cycles, left it powered off for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness while she searched for signs of light creeping through cracks or crevices. Then she remembered where she was, several stories belowground. At least, according to the buttons she had seen Dave Graham press in the elevator car that had transported her and the others here.
Lauren smiled in amusement at herself and powered the light back on. She shrugged. “The elevator works here. There’s lights in the hallway, and the light in my room works. So either we went back in time into another dimension, or there’s a backup power system around here somewhere.”
She dragged her bare feet over the soft wool Berber carpet from the entrance to the adjoining lavatory and reached in to feel for yet another set of light switches. She flipped the first one her fingers met, then felt for the second while glancing at the ceiling, assuming switch number two was meant for the exhaust fan mounted over the shower stall, but still tested it to make certain.
Lauren stepped into the bathroom and slid the shower curtain over. She reached for the faucet and turned it as far counterclockwise as it would travel toward the red H. The faucet jerked, and the pipes rattled, and for a moment, she didn’t expect anything else to happen. It had been ages since she’d seen water pour from a faucet, and had long ago gotten over having any faith in such amenities. But sure enough, a few seconds later, a steady stream of water emerged from the tap and began flooding the tub. It even gave off a chlorinated odor.
Lauren beamed in astonishment. “Unbelievable. Looks like I’ll be able to shed at least a couple of layers of filth after all.”
She extricated two towels from a shelf, which were fashioned into spa-style rolls, and dropped them on the tile floor near the tub, then arranged her personal items around the sink. Her shower would be a respectable one, complete with soap, shampoo and conditioner, body wash, and a loofah, of all things. “This is just too much. Dave said we were coming to a former government installation. He never said it was going to be decked out like a Marriott.” She chuckled. “Explain yourself, Lieutenant Graham.”
Divided We Stand Page 26
