Aria jiggled the knob. It was at least worth a try.
Slipping her hand into her bag, against the warped laptop, she found the small zippered compartment. Inside was her wallet. She pulled out one card at a time, and while not able to see what each card was, she could feel for the telltale raised numbers and know whether it was a credit card or a loyalty card. She chose one of the grocery store loyalty cards—in case she ruined it, she didn’t want it to be important—and slipped it in the side of the door. She slid it downward while turning the doorknob with the right hand. It popped and released, swinging outward. She smiled. She was in, but David was still out front and in the open without a lookout.
Aria relocked the back door, accessed the flashlight feature on her phone and navigated around the living room furniture, through the dining room and around the hallway table until she reached the front door. She flicked the dead bolt and swung the door inside. David toppled over onto the wooden entryway.
She flung a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Sorry. Probably should’ve warned you.”
“How’d you get in?”
Her eyes drifted through the trees. Flickers of light. Her gut churned. “Get in,” she croaked.
He rolled in, and she closed the door, trying not to slam it. “I hope they didn’t see the light from my phone,” she whispered, her back against the door. Even though she knew logically they couldn’t hear her, fear tightened her throat.
Aria sank down to the floor, lest she get caught in the light’s beam through the decorative window shapes at eye level. David grabbed her hand. “Lord, thank You for this shelter tonight. Grant us protection and rest until help can arrive. Amen.” His voice was strong, not shaken or quiet as hers had been. Peace seemed to pour over her head and run down her spine like rain, and she marveled at how fast his prayer had calmed her.
She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. He squeezed her hand and released it, and she was bothered by how she didn’t want him to let go. David stood and pressed his form against the closest wall. He sidestepped and looked through the tall glass window. “They’re gone.”
Aria nodded but wasn’t ready to move. Sitting down and being still had allowed the cold to seep into her bones. Then the shaking began.
David reached for her. “You’re freezing,” he said, his teeth chattering.
She laughed, but her mouth was vibrating so much it sounded like a machine gun firing. “Well, you are, too. And I just tried to call the police again. The circuits are still busy. David, we’re going to freeze to death if we don’t find some dry clothes in one of these bedrooms that can fit us.”
“I’d settle for a blanket and a clothes dryer, but I doubt they have on electricity.”
“Most people do keep the electricity on in their second homes during the winter, with their heater on the lowest setting, otherwise they get mildew and mold. I doubt they left the gas and the water on, though.”
“Hate to break it to you, but after the tsunami, I doubt we have electricity. Any chance they’d have a generator?”
“Living here? Better than just a chance.” She grinned and told him the make and model.
He whistled. “That’s the Cadillac of generators. That puppy can even handle running the furnace.”
She beamed, so anxious to get warm and dry.
David reached up and flipped the dead bolt. “Let’s hope we’re safe here until help comes.”
ELEVEN
Fifteen minutes later, David walked out of the bathroom, strutting like a new man. He was glad he could use his phone to light the way without fear of being spotted. Although they had electricity thanks to the expertly installed generator, he didn’t want to risk drawing attention to the house.
Dressed now in jeans that were too big for him, a belt cinched to the last hole, a thick long-john shirt with a black Henley on top and wool socks for his feet, he found warmth was returning to his bones. He stepped softly down the wooden stairs, carrying his shoes in one hand in case they needed to leave on short notice. They needed to stay on alert in case of unexpected visitors. Aria didn’t seem to have the same hesitations, though, as he heard cabinet doors slam shut. He stopped at the programmable thermostat and increased the temperature, temporarily. He’d never wished so badly to be clean, but since they weren’t able to take showers due to the lack of water, the least they could do was get more heat running throughout the house.
He found Aria in the stainless-steel kitchen, her phone propped on the counter, the flashlight setting illuminating half of the room. She straightened at the sight of him and gave him a once-over. He grinned and puffed out his chest for her appraisal. She gave a cursory grin and turned back to the cabinets, effectively deflating his ego.
No matter how he may have looked, she appeared graceful despite her quick movements fluttering about the kitchen. The white sweater and brown corduroy pants were too big on her as well, but still suited her. She’d even replaced her soggy tennis shoes with brown loafers. It was the type of outfit he imagined she’d wear on a relaxing day by a fire. He wished they could sit on the couch and dream about their futures like the good ole days but the murderers on the hunt for them stole his desires.
David examined the living room behind the kitchen counter. The vaulted ceiling led to the wall of windows, framed vertically and horizontally by rustic wooden beams. One of the rectangles within the frame was the back door he assumed Aria had used, and in the center of the room was a white sectional couch. Without a television or fire, it seemed the purpose was to relax and enjoy the amazing view the windows no doubt framed on a normal day—a day without destruction. The moonlight spread through the top two rows of windows closest to the ceiling.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in here. These windows make you an easy target.”
“Then help me,” she said.
“Say the word.”
She stepped in a circle between the kitchen island and the oven, her hands open. “Where would you put an emergency kit in a house like this?”
He frowned. “Assuming they even have one, why do we need an emergency kit?”
“Bottled water, a radio, some food...all these would be very welcome right now.” She sighed. “If I go too long without eating, I get sick, and I’m so thirsty.”
“As in hypoglycemia?”
“I’m not sure. I just know it’s not good, and I’d prefer to be on top of my game instead of throwing up if we have to wait much longer for the police.”
“You should really get that checked out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said in a monotone, clearly annoyed he even suggested it.
“Have you tried the pantry?”
She nodded. “Already checked. Mostly pots and pans with some baking staples.”
“Anything in the freezer?”
“No, the refrigerator is unplugged.”
“Garage?”
She shook her head. “No, but that’s an idea.”
He turned on his heel then looked back at her. “Aria coming?”
She froze and let out a giant exaggerated sigh but looked as if she was fighting a smile. “Wow. I can’t believe you went there.”
“Why? Aria annoyed?” he asked again, wiggling his eyebrows.
She scoffed, but giggled and shoved him in the direction of the garage. “And here I thought I had left that old bit behind. Do you know that after junior high you were the only one that ever played that gag on me?”
He raised his chin. “Just doing my part to lighten the tension.”
They opened the heavy door to the garage, taking care to check that it was unlocked before letting it close behind them. He flipped on his own flashlight setting on his phone. “My battery isn’t going to last very long at this rate. We could turn the light on but there’d be a risk
of someone seeing. I don’t know how tightly sealed the garage door is.”
She sighed. “We need to find a flashlight or something then.”
“I agree, and I wanted to look over the garage anyway for possible weapons.”
“You still the best nail gun shooter in the West?”
He chuckled, half-pleased she remembered, half-embarrassed. “Well, I haven’t had any contest lately. Aside from my youngest brother, everyone’s moved away.”
David squinted and approached what he had prayed for...a workbench. Cables, wires and miscellaneous tools were spread out over the surface. There was a small red toolbox that seemed to also contain a jumble of tools within it, but no nail gun or staple gun in sight. What a disappointment.
Aria disappeared behind a stack of plastic containers labeled with black marker, things like Summer Fun and Fourth of July.
“Found it,” Aria hollered. She emerged, an errant lock of curls sticking straight up. She held a plastic box labeled Emergency Kit high in the air as if she had discovered buried treasure. She strutted toward him. “I knew they’d have one. You’d have to be nutty not to be prepared when living on the coast. You never know when the power is going to go out.”
She cocked her head. “Aren’t you curious what’s in here?”
He smiled and tentatively reached out a hand to smooth down her hair and winced.
Her smile dropped. “Your shoulder?”
He followed her phone’s beam of light. A small red circle was forming on his shirt. “I guess the wound reopened. Stupid rock.”
“That was no ordinary rock. It was big and jagged— but still better that than a bullet wound.” She set down the tub. “I should’ve checked it as soon as we got somewhere safe. Can you slide your arm out?” She leaned down onto one knee and popped off the lid of the kit. “If there aren’t any bandages in here, there’s got to be some in the house, the bathroom maybe.”
David slipped his arm out of the sleeve and pulled up the fabric just enough to see the wound. It was deeper than he thought.
She lifted out a black flashlight and an LED lantern. “Oh, I really hope it has decent batteries in it.”
David heard a click and was suddenly bathed in light. He checked his phone—still no network—then turned it fully off and shoved it into his pocket. “We should take turns keeping our phones on in case we get a signal. I just turned mine off. Hardly any battery left.”
“I’m still hoping we can find some chargers around the house. Water,” she exclaimed. She pitched David a bottle and before he could even open it, she’d half guzzled hers. With a big sigh, she said, “Much better.” Aria set down the bottle, then thrust two cans of soup into the air while sporting an infectious smile. “Yes! Dinner and a first-aid kit.”
She dropped the soup cans back in the tub and stood with the red canvas bag in her hands. “There’s bound to be some bandages and antiseptic in here.” She smirked. “Aria going to come closer?”
He chuckled. “Well played.” He turned his shoulder to her and watched her face fall.
“This looks like it needs stitches, David.”
He shrugged. “Not really an option now, is it? I’ve heard some of the crew talk about using duct tape instead.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that, too. My mom and dad used to argue about that all the time.” She cradled the bag with one hand and unzipped it with the other. “In third grade I had my first chance to use a straight-edge to help open boxes. Slit my finger right open. I thought my mom was going to have a coronary when Dad tried to use duct tape. In the end, she won. Emergency room and five stitches, thank you very much. Aha!” She grinned. “No duct tape for you today, I’m afraid.” She pointed at the sawhorse leaning against the side of the garage. “Sit there.”
He complied, so she set the bag down beside him. She held the lantern up to his arm and he turned away.
“Okay. Take a deep breath and when I count to three, blow.”
“You think it’s going to hurt that bad?”
“Do you want to bite your belt?”
His throat burned. Was she serious? He turned to her—ready to insist they use soap and water alone—when he saw her twinkling eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
She shrugged. “It says it’s no-sting antiseptic, but I’m not making any promises.”
David clenched his jaw and prepared for the worst.
TWELVE
Even though Aria tried to make light of it, David’s shoulder gash was quite large. She could see it had tried to scab over, but driving an ATV and running through the state park hadn’t done him any favors. She squirted a healthy amount of antiseptic onto a square of gauze and took a deep breath for herself then pressed.
“You doing okay?” she asked, purposefully trying to keep her voice chipper.
“They lied,” he grimaced.
“But you’re all right? Not feeling faint?”
“Okay, maybe they didn’t lie, technically speaking. It doesn’t sting, it burns,” he hissed.
She bit her lip and while keeping one hand on his shoulder, she prepped the largest butterfly bandage she could find. She hoped it would hold his skin together long enough to speed the healing, but there’d still be a risk of the wound reopening unless they got him to a doctor soon. “At least you weren’t shot,” she muttered.
“There’s that,” he answered.
“I’m afraid you might be left with quite the scar.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one,” he answered.
His words triggered the memory of the first time they’d met. Not being one to enjoy sunbathing—she could never tan—she’d wanted to try her hand at stunt kiting on the beach. After all, the small town hosted a kite festival twice a year because the winds were so ideal.
So she had bought her first, and last, dual-line stunt kite. It was a lovely teal-and-black, and the shop owner offered to give her a tutorial. Foolishly, she had assumed the man was trying to hit on her and passed on the lesson. Because anyone could fly a kite, right?
Out on the beach, it became evident the differences between a recreational kite and a stunt kite. The slightest pull on either of the handles sent the kite into a dive bomb. She had been so thankful to be on a stretch of coast alone so she wouldn’t embarrass herself while she tried to beat the spinning, diving kite into submission. Except the kite didn’t want to be manhandled, it wanted to be finessed, but she grew impatient and frustrated. Aria hadn’t heard a young man jogging, approaching from behind, until he had attempted to pass. Her kite dove straight for his temple. He crumpled to the ground, hollering. And that was how they had met.
Her fingers drifted to just above his ear. Underneath his hair she felt a long, jagged, raised bump. She cringed. “You still have it,” she whispered.
He lifted his chin, his eyes searching her face. “Meeting you left a permanent impression.” He glanced down at her hand. “Are you done?”
She inhaled sharply at the sudden heat growing in her chest. “Uh...yes, I’m done.”
He grabbed her wrists. “Aria, in that card...well, I spelled out my feelings for you. I should’ve made a greater effort to seek you out. I let my pride be in charge. My ego was so fragile. It essentially kept us apart and, not only that, it prevented me from being there for you when you most needed someone. For that, I can only apologize and ask you to forgive me.”
Her breath quickened and her throat became dry. She looked at his feet. “Only if you forgive me for withdrawing...for shutting you out without explanation.”
She dared a glance back up at his face, and he nodded. She tried to smile.
“I’d like to start over,” he said, his voice husky.
Her chest seized up, and she pulled her hands from his gentle hold, his fingers gliding past her palms and fingers.
“David, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She stared into the light the lantern offered, searching for something that would make her focus, make her feel brave. “You have a career now but I...I’m back in school again. It’ll be months before there’ll be any work here after the tsunami, and even then, not the type of work you’d want. So it’d be another long-distance relationship—which I never want to do again—and aside from that, I don’t think I can be with someone who works in construction. Not after—well, anyway, I could never ask you to leave your dream behind for me. So I think it’s for the best if we just leave things as they are. As friends.”
She chanced a glance at him. His lips were pressed firmly in a straight line. He nodded. “Friends?”
“I think it’s better that way,” she said so softly it came as a whisper.
He raised his eyebrows. “I make a pretty irresistible friend.”
She huffed a laugh, not sure what to make of how easily he took her proclamation. She should’ve been relieved but the lump in her throat wouldn’t leave. “I appreciate the warning,” she tried to quip back.
Aria walked away, back to the cans of soup, shaken. The only way to avoid more grief was to get out of this situation as fast as possible. Her heart couldn’t take any more for one day, so best not to let it feel anything.
“We need to keep a list,” she said, trying to ease the awkwardness.
“A list?”
“Of...of all the things we use. So we can reimburse the owners.”
David chuckled. “Even in the worst of times, you’re thinking of others.”
“Right now, the only thing I’m thinking about is food. I have to eat.” She rifled through the tub. “What else do we have here...? Candles, matches, pop...”
“Pop? Who puts a two liter of soda in an emergency kit?”
She chuckled. “Someone who’s afraid they might be without caffeine?”
Surviving the Storm Page 8
