by Kirby Howell
I stared at him. “Let me?” I repeated, stunned.
He sighed. “Sorry, poor choice of words.” Before I could argue further, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.
I pushed hard against him. “Grey, no!”
He only held me tighter, and I could feel how strong his arms were, like a metal cage around me. He whispered hard into my hair, “You don’t seem to understand. Things can happen in an instant that can’t be undone. I just found you. Please don’t make me take you into a situation that could rip you away from me forever. I couldn’t live with myself.” His voice shook slightly, and I stopped struggling against him.
“Please, Grey... please...” I whispered into his sweater.
He grasped my shoulders and pulled me away from him far enough to look hard into my eyes. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this?”
I was surprised I had to spell it out for him. “If you and Todd made the discovery about the Hoover Settlement two weeks ago, you’d be leaving without me. I wouldn’t know about it. Neither would Rissi or Ben. And we wouldn’t stand a chance against The Front by ourselves.”
He stared at me for a moment, then released my arms. “I would have come for you. There’s no way I would have left you here. But I see your point.”
I felt relief, then haste flood through me, and I flung myself into his arms. “Thank you! Now come on, we have to go now!” He put his arms around me, but nothing happened. I waited, but the pre-dawn mountain breeze continued to ruffle my hair around us. I looked up at him, worried he already changed his mind.
“Give me ten minutes of uninterrupted dead air. Then I will go, alone, to check the room. If it’s clear, I’ll come back to take you.”
“Two minutes,” I countered.
He grimaced. “That’s not how you barter.”
“Three minutes,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’ve already wasted five arguing about this.”
“Seven. I want to make sure he’s really gone.”
“Five. Any longer, and I’ll astral project myself there.” I glared at him. Grey’s grimace turned into chuckle. “Oh, shut up,” I muttered.
We leaned against the side of the car, listening to the buzz of dead air and the gushing of the blustery wind through the trees around us. The air felt crisp, rinsed clean by the rain. While we waited, Grey tangled his fingers in mine and traced patterns on the back of my hand, following the veins and weaving around my knuckles like a slalom skier.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Stand back.”
I nodded and took two steps away from him. “Remember what I told you about what the room looks like?”
“Yes.” He smiled at me, and then he was gone. It was an amazing thing to see. In a split second, he disappeared without a trace. A handy trick to have, I thought, and then, without warning, he was back. I jumped, startled by his abrupt appearance. He smiled at me and took my hand.
“The room and hallway are empty. We should still be quick, though, I saw guards outside the window.” He slid one arm around my waist, pressing me hard against him. With his other hand, he tucked my head under his chin and stroked my hair for a moment, and I squeezed my eyes shut. A breeze fluttered my hair, and, when I opened my eyes a moment later, fluorescent lights blinded me, and beige walls replaced the empty road and trees. Worn commercial carpet was under our feet, and the broadcasting room was empty, the desk with the panel of buttons, switches and sliding faders in front of us.
Grey released me and looked around quickly, ensuring we were alone. He went to the door and peeked into the hallway. He turned and nodded to me. I shot behind the desk and immediately found the mess Karl made. One of the yellow chairs was turned over against the wall, and the microphone lay across the switches.
“Looks like Karl threw the chair across the desk. Some of the switches are off, but the mic is still working. Doesn’t look like he actually broke anything,” I whispered to Grey, who was keeping an eye on the hallway. “I need you to go into the producer’s booth, there through that door.” I pointed to the adjacent room through a panel of glass. “Make sure the master volume is up.”
He disappeared through the doorway then appeared on the other side of the glass. He looked down at the panel I knew was on the desk in front of him. I quietly called through the open door, “It’s a button that you slide up and down. It should be labeled.”
He gave me a thumbs up through the glass.
I noticed a light fixture on the wall that confirmed my suspicion the mic was live—its brightly lit letters read, “ON AIR.” I tapped the microphone.
“Hello?” I tested. The needle on the control board barely moved. I slid the volume up to ten. “Hello?” I tried again. The needle jumped into the red.
I hadn’t thought about this part. About what I would say. I knew I needed to say it quickly, though, in case Karl was still nearby.
“My name is Autumn Winters, and this message is to the people of Los Angeles. If you’re listening to this radio station, you know The Reconstruction Front has been broadcasting from here, and they’ve been trying to get you to believe all kinds of things. They say they’re trying to rebuild society, but that’s a lie. They’re not here to help us. They want to use us. They don’t have as many people with them as they’d like you to think, not anymore anyway. But there are others who aren’t like them. I’m with a group leaving L.A. We’re on our way to a new settlement at the Hoover Dam. There are people there who are actually rebuilding a town, and they can provide food, medicine and protection. If you can find your way there, tell them you heard this broadcast.”
My eyes wandered across the board in front of me as I spoke, checking the other switches and gauges. My voice caught in my throat when my eyes landed on a light glowing with the word “INTERCOM.” The blood drained from my face, and I stopped talking. I looked up at Grey, panicked. My heart stopped. He wasn’t in the window.
I quickly punched the intercom button with my finger and the light went out. Grey appeared in the doorway, and I sighed in relief.
“Intercom,” he whispered, pointing to the hallways. I had forgotten radio stations usually broadcasted on intercoms throughout their buildings. I remembered listening to the current on-the-air jockey while walking through my station’s hallways, lugging boxes of new music, delivering clipboards with playlists to the various rooms. Grey peeked into the hallway once more, gave me the all clear and went back into the producer’s booth.
I leaned forward and spoke into the microphone again, watching the needle bounce healthily, “Come to the Hoover Dam. We can take care of you. Tell anyone that’s left in hiding. You don’t have to be afraid and alone anymore. Tell them Autumn and Grey sent you.”
I looked up at Grey to smile and locked eyes with him, but the moment was shattered by an ear splitting gunshot, and suddenly Grey was gone from the window.
I stumbled backward in shock and tripped over the chair, landing hard on the floor behind the desk. A figure moved into the producer’s booth with Grey, and I recognized Karl’s wavy brown hair. He held a pistol out in front of him. Had he just shot Grey? No, he couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t be. But he was gone from the window, and Karl was standing in his place, his back to me. I heard a groan of pain, and, with a stab of realization, I recognized it as Grey’s. My insides felt like they were being slowly ripped from my body, and the room went fuzzy as I stood up.
Without thinking, I picked up the heavy yellow chair from where it rested on the floor and rushed around the control board at the man who stood in the doorway between the two rooms. I had no idea what I was doing. All I could feel was the sudden adrenaline pumping through my body.
I lifted the chair over my head and saw him turn and raise the gun at me. Before he could fire, I brought the metal legs crashing down on his head, neck and shoulders. He collapsed to the floor, the gun thumping heavily onto the carpet. I kicked it as hard as I could. I heard it skid across the carpet then thump against the back wall.
I hast
ily climbed over the heap of Karl and the ugly yellow chair piled in the doorway, not caring if I stepped on Karl’s face in the process, and paused in the doorway, covering my mouth. Grey lay on his side, hunched into a ball, his face white, and his right shoulder a mess of glistening crimson. The blue wool of his sweater was damp with blood and torn apart from the bullet that passed through it. His eyes were open, though, and he clutched at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. When he saw me standing in the doorway, he tried to sit up but groaned angrily in pain at the effort.
I rushed to him, skidding onto the floor next to him. “Don’t move...” I said quietly. I moved his hand and pressed my own to the wound. He still struggled to sit up, and, when he moved, I noticed the large amount of blood pooling on the carpet underneath him.
I shuffled closer so I could reach my other hand to the back of his shoulder and pressed my palm to the exit wound. This position brought me face to face with him. His eyes were bright and focused, so I was surprised when he mumbled drowsily, “Mm fine... mm uhkay.”
He gasped suddenly and, with surprising force, wrenched me to the side, but not before I felt fingers close around my upper arm, and I was yanked away from Grey. Karl pulled me backwards, and I collided with something solid. My breath was knocked completely from my chest as books and jewel cases rained down around me. His iron grasp hadn’t released me, though, and he yanked me to my feet. There was a sickening pop from my shoulder, and part of my back exploded in a pain that was entirely new and horrible. I screamed, my stomach churned, and suddenly I was pulled against him.
Face to face with Karl, I was pleased to see his nose was swollen like the beak of a toucan and both eyes were black with bruises. A breath of whiskey blew across my face, and I heard Karl purr, “Hello again. I was willing to let you live before, but now I see you’re just like the others.”
I thought I might pass out from the pain, but I fought the urge, and, with my free hand, I groped behind me on the desk. My fingers closed around a long skinny object. I grasped it in my bloodied fist and, without pausing, drove the pencil into Karl’s arm, right above the elbow. He shrieked a concoction of expletives at me and flung me across the room.
I went headfirst into another set of shelves and collapsed on the floor. Stars erupted in front of me, and I reached out to steady myself, but the floor wasn’t where I thought it should be. I was on my back. I rolled over, sparing the arm that didn’t seem to be working and clutched my head. I looked at my palm. I wasn’t sure if the blood I found was from Grey or me.
I searched the room for Grey. He had dragged himself toward me, leaving a trail of blood staining the carpet behind him. I managed to get to my knees, but the floor tilted, and I crashed to the ground again, almost knocking over a floor lamp. Lying on my side, I saw Karl’s legs pass by on their way to Grey. I tried to reach out to trip him, but his legs brushed through my hands as easily as if they were strands of grass.
I screamed out in protest as Karl raised his foot and brought it down on Grey’s knee. I must have blocked out any scream of pain Grey made, because I didn’t hear anything. But I saw his face screw up terribly as he rolled over to his side and cradled his injured knee up to his bloody chest.
Then Karl turned to me. He took a few steps but suddenly pitched to the side. I saw that Grey had reached out with his good leg and hooked Karl’s ankle with his foot, tripping him. I used the brief respite to grab the nearest weapon to me. I wrapped my hands around the base of the floor lamp and tugged hard, tipping it over onto Karl’s skull.
I jerked out of the way as he collapsed, though he still fell partially on top of me. I wrestled out from under him, gasping at the pain in my shoulder and head. He was like a sack of sand and skin. Adrenaline began taking hold, making my senses sharp again. I leapt over Karl and wrapped an arm around Grey. I knew it would hurt him, but I pulled with all of my might until we were both back in the DJ booth, then closed and locked the door separating us from the producer’s booth.
I turned back to Grey, whose eyes were now shut, and his head lay against the carpet. I felt for his hand. “Grey?” I managed to mumble. I felt something warm trickle down the side of my face. I reached up to touch it, and my fingers came away with fresh blood on their tips. I took a deep breath to calm myself, but it made me dizzy.
Grey opened his eyes. His pupils were tiny pinpoints, black islands lost in the blue sea of his irises.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
He managed to nod his head.
I clutched my arm to my chest. It felt strangely loose and disconnected from the rest of my body. With my free hand, I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me. “You have to get us out of here, Grey. Focus. Picture Whiteman Field. Take us there.”
A clicking noise distracted me, and I looked up at the glass. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Karl was standing in the window, tapping a large knife against the glass. Blood matted the brown hair on one side of his head and trickled from his nose. His mouth split into a gorgeous smile that froze my blood.
I looked at Grey and whispered, “It’ll be almost dawn. A plane is waiting for us...” Then I heard a popping noise and the cracking of glass. I looked up and saw two men had joined Karl. One of them was taking shots at the thick, soundproof glass. It fractured in large web-shaped cracks. I knew it wouldn’t be long until the dense piece of glass shattered, leaving us completely defenseless.
I turned back to Grey and pressed even tighter to him, trying to forget about the sound of the bullets and shattering glass, and continued. “It’s a small plane. The kind that only seats a few people.” I closed my eyes and pressed my face into the crook of his neck as I whispered into his ear. I heard another, louder crack as the pane of glass began to give. “The runway is long, and there’s probably tall grass growing through the concrete.”
“Fòmhair...” I heard Grey whisper. Tears began spilling down my face.
“Picture it, Grey. Picture the airport. The plane will be waiting at the end of the runway to take us to our new home. Where we can be together.” I grabbed his unhurt arm and pulled it around me, then pressed my hand against his cheek. Grey closed his eyes, and I felt his arm tighten slightly around my waist as I heard the glass pane finally shatter above us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A rush of cool air brushed long strands of my loose hair, and my head suddenly felt light. I opened my eyes and exhaled in relief, fresh tears welling in my eyes. We were lying at the far end of the runway, pillowed by dense weeds, wet with rain. I lifted myself up onto my good elbow to look around us, wincing when the movement jarred my dislocated shoulder. The dawn sky was dark with heavy rain clouds, but there was a thin line of sherbet orange trimming the eastern horizon. Through the tall weeds that grew at the edge of the runway, I saw a small, white plane waiting like a bird in the darkness.
I held tightly to Grey, not yet willing to release my hold. His grasp on me was weaker than I’d ever felt it before. I could feel his ragged breathing under my hands on his chest.
“We’re here. You did it,” I whispered as I tried to choke back my tears. I was so proud of him, but fear twisted my stomach. He was so still. In my eyes, he was always strong and capable of anything. Now, he was fragile and hurting, and all I wanted was to make him better.
He reached up with his good arm and brushed a tear from my cheek. “We did it,” he said. His voice was soft and surprisingly strong. “You were amazing. I couldn’t have gotten us here without you.” The sincerity in his eyes was overwhelming, but so was the amount of blood that soaked his shirt. I tried not to look at it.
“You were pretty amazing yourself, mister,” I said with my eyes closed, trying to sound playful. I heard a weak laugh from him.
“Mm going to be okay. Promise.” His breath was labored again. I opened my eyes to stare into his, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or just being brave.
He turned my face away from him, and his fingers carefully parted my hair, revealing where
my head had come into contact with the bookcase.
“Do you feel lightheaded?” he asked.
I put a hand on his wrist. “Stop, Grey. I’m fine,” I assured him. “We need to get to the plane.” I looked toward the other end of the runway. The plane was a good quarter mile away. “Can you walk?” I asked.
“I’ll need... your help,” he said between breaths.
“Which side hurts the least?” I asked, getting to my knees. My shoulder throbbed, and I tried to mentally orchestrate how we could get to the plane without hurting each other even more.
“Left,” he said, and I carefully placed his left arm over my good shoulder. I gasped as I helped him up. It felt like an iron spike was being driven through my shoulder. Grey immediately took his weight off me, balancing unsteadily on one foot.
“No, come back. We can do this,” I said. “Hopefully, they’ll bring the plane closer when they see us.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” said Grey, exasperated as he looked at me, his clear blue eyes worried.
“You never will,” I replied, hoping he understand the additional meaning. I put his arm back over my shoulder and tried to rest the bulk of his weight around my neck.
“I love you,” he said as I started forward, parting the waist-high weeds with each foot before taking a careful step. “I’m proud of what you did. And I think you’re amazing.”
His words made me feel lighter, and my heart swelled. He thought I was amazing? I thought about what I’d done, and it suddenly didn’t seem like much. I knew it was all I could have done, but I wished I could help more before leaving the city. I looked up at Grey, whose eyes were trained on the white plane in the distance. I was completely and utterly in love with this perfect being. I didn’t care that he wasn’t from here, only that we were together and safe. This was a new age for our planet, and we would face it together.
“I love you, too,” I said, moving us forward another step. I felt another tear streak down my face. I wasn’t sure if this one was from the pain of his weight pulling on my shoulder or if it was from the perfect happiness I felt right now, despite our physical conditions.
