Find Me Series (Book 3): Finding Hope

by Trish Marie Dawson

  The two beds opposite Connor were both taken by men. One sat cross-legged with a crossword puzzle booklet on his lap and glasses that were the wrong size perched precariously on the tip of his nose. He was shirtless, with bandages wrapped around his upper torso and one arm.

  Another was burned from the elbow to the shoulder, and half his hair had been singed off. He glanced between Keel and me, then Connor and the woman, with interest, but said nothing. A third injured stranger was on his side, with his back to me, under a sheet. He also had a shaved head, but I couldn’t see his wounds. It was hard to ignore the odor of antiseptics and old bandages. The reek of the injured hung everywhere like invisible cobwebs.

  Connor waited for me to move closer, but I sat down on the empty bed beside him. “I thought more of your group were injured,” I said.

  The soft expression on his face hardened and he glanced around the room briefly before finding my gaze again. “There were more of us.”

  “Were?”

  “Becky died the day before yesterday,” the woman said.

  “Oh.” Even though I didn’t know who Becky had been, it was still sad to hear of her death.

  “Sorry,” Connor said to me. “This is Ashlyn. Ashlyn, this is Riley.”

  She stared hard at me and appeared to be thinking, as if she was sifting through memories. Her large eyes darted from Connor to me. “From San Diego,” she said. “And it’s Ash. Only Kevan calls me Ashlyn.”

  “Ah, so you weren’t totally forgotten, see?” Keel snickered from the doorway. Ashlyn frowned at him.

  Ignoring everyone else in the room, Connor leaned toward me. “How did you get here? What’s happened? Are the others with you?”

  I pivoted on the hard mattress until Keel was in view again. “Did you guys not tell him anything?”

  He put his hands up in the air, then let them fall back down to his thighs. “Not my job.”

  “Right,” I snapped. Then, facing Connor once more, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and tried to keep my eyes on him, not his new girlfriend. “We’re all here, mostly.” I left out the parts about Skip dying from cancer and Lily’s mom dying in child-birth. There’d be a time for that, eventually, but how we arrived at the Ark was all I could manage to talk about.

  “You look banged up,” he said, after a short pause. His accent tickled each word. Just slight enough to be noticed.

  “Haven’t I been banged up since you met me?” I laughed, then sucked the sound back in.

  He smiled. “So, you’re good?”

  No, I’m not fucking good. I’m fucking pissed. And right now I want to claw your eyes out and hug you at the same time, while your new screw buddy watches, you stupid fuck. It’s what I would have said if my heart had its way. But I had an eager audience and I was suddenly quite aware of that fact.

  “I’m fine.” Peachy. Just peachy, I said to myself.

  “Good, that’s really good,” he sighed, and let his head fall back on the pillow. My instinct was to go to him, and I rose to do just that, but Ashlyn was on nurse duty before I could take another step.

  It was more than slightly uncomfortable to watch her touch his face and whisper in his ear while adjusting his pillow. “I should go,” I said.

  “Wait, stay, please?” His eyes fluttered slightly before they closed.

  Ashlyn glanced at me, unsure of what to do. “You could stay. But he’s on meds. Like a lot of strong pain relievers. He sleeps half the day.”

  I glared in her direction, like I had since walking into the room. “He must need the rest then.”

  “Well, of course. I just meant, if you want to wait, he might be out a while.” She was inviting me to stay, but in her eyes, I knew she didn’t want me there.

  “Maybe some other time.”

  She nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm and reached behind her to pick up a nail file. She began to work away at the tip of her thumb rigorously.

  I hated Ashlyn. So much so, that for a moment I wondered if her flimsy nail file was strong enough to puncture the outside layers of her eyeball. She was in the medical unit, after all. Surely someone could tend to her injuries if I gouged out an eye. The other was large enough to keep her fully functioning.

  Before resorting to jealous violence, I shook my fantasies away. Ashlyn didn’t seem like an awful person. Luck had simply put her on my bad side. “I’m going to leave. Tell him…just tell him I said bye.” With a pat to my leg, Zoey reluctantly rose and followed me to the door, where Keel was still eavesdropping.

  “Are we leaving so soon?” he asked.

  Without looking back, I pushed him into the hall. “I’m already gone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “What are you looking at?” The door to my room had been left open, and when I pushed on it, I found Drake sitting on the floor, a laptop propped on his crossed legs. He was slowly clicking through a set of familiar images. My images.

  “Jesus, Riley. You scared the crap out of me,” Drake said, as he blanched while closing the computer.

  While he struggled to get up off the floor, I stared at the machine he’d been using. “You have no right,” I finally said, blinking at him. “You went through my stuff, my flash drive?”

  His brows furrowed, then released, and furrowed again. “I didn’t know where you were. I…I found the flash drive a while ago. Ryder let me take a computer from the library room. How come you never talk about them, Riley? About your kids? They were great-looking kids.”

  I crossed the room and slapped him hard across the cheek, then bent down and pulled the drive from the computer, tucking my old life safely into my pocket. Again, struggling to hold back tears, my voice quivered. “You had no right.”

  As I pushed around him to get back into the corridor, my eyes began to water. I didn’t trust my emotions to remain in check standing in the same room with Drake. So I left. Back upstairs and into the snow I ran, leaving Zoey confused and alone in the lobby. It was hours before I was brave enough to return and face Drake.

  * * *

  “Where the hell have you been?” Drake paced from one side of the small room to the door, then back again, and appeared to be completely oblivious to the wet shoes and clothes that were piled by the side of my bunk. I’d only been in our room for ten minutes before he stormed in with Winchester in tow. For support, I figured.

  “We’ve been searching everywhere for you. We thought…” Winchester let the words hang.

  “We thought some freak got their hands on you!” Drake nearly shouted the words. “Like those other women!”

  I scowled at him. “I’m fine. You can see that.” I didn’t have the energy to fight with Drake. Nor the desire to tell him where I’d been the previous hours, or before that, when I’d forced Keel to take me to the Tank. Drake had no idea I’d seen Connor. I planned on keeping it that way for the time being.

  “Look, about the pictures…I’m sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Zoey was huddled under a blanket, snoring. I rubbed her back, grateful someone had returned her to the room.

  “Doesn’t matter. I won’t let it happen again.” I brought my hand to rest on my hip, where the flash drive remained hiding. He noticed, but said nothing.

  Drake sighed and sat down hard on the edge of the bunk, sending a quiver of squeaky bounces through the mattress springs. Zoey growled softly, annoyed. “Look, Riley, something happened. With Keel.”

  “I know.”

  Both men stiffened into statues.

  The room felt cooler, more still, as if no one was breathing. With a quick sigh, I shrugged a shoulder and put on the best nonchalant expression I could muster. “He came down here to see me. We had words. Balls were kicked. Then…I took a walk.” I pulled a blanket over my legs. Partly because they were still numb from trudging through two feet of snow in just jeans, but also because I felt exposed in my lie.

  “You took a walk.” Drake’s face twisted in a grimace, as if he was struggling to swallow a b
ee without getting stung.

  “And I’m back now and perfectly fine, see?” Despite being asked to stay in my bunk, I’d been out twice in one night. Though I was a big girl, the two men in the room stared at me as if I was a five-year old, running off into the night with only slippers and a t-shirt on.

  The side of Drake’s neck flushed with pink splotches. His face was scruffy, his hair ruffled, and his dirt-streaked clothes were deeply pressed with wrinkles. He was a mess. More so than usual.

  “You need to stay away from that man, Riley. I don’t trust him,” Winchester said.

  “Who, Keel? Well, I suppose you shouldn’t. It’s a mistake to trust anyone these days. Has Drake been dragging you around this place all day? I’m sure you’re needed somewhere else. There’s nothing exciting going on with me, I assure you.” Roughly, I rubbed my legs to get some semblance of warmth back into my feet.

  Winchester shook his head sharply before crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I was looking for you, too. Thought you would want to know…the baby’s sick.”

  * * *

  Drake and I followed Winchester up a level to the first sub-floor, where we found Jacks and Lily in their suite with Fern. Surprised to see her there, I raised an eyebrow at Winchester, but he’d already pushed by me and found a seat next to Lily’s roll-out crib. Jacks was leaning against the frame with one hand dangling limply inside. The baby was still, swaddled tightly in a blanket. Lily was never motionless.

  “Has the Doctor been in to see her?” I asked from the doorway, afraid to go in. Drake was huddled behind me, also not eager to enter. The atmosphere was heavy and thick with worry.

  Without moving, Jacks spoke above the crib, “He’s been and gone. Says we should let this play out, but she’s been like this for two days.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked, still blocking the only way in and out with my body.

  Behind me, Drake sniffed the air. “And what’s that smell? Salad dressing?”

  Fern scoffed at him. “Nobody’s eating salad in here, young man. It’s apple cider vinegar. To bring out the fever.” I watched her lean over the crib with something in her hand.

  “You aren’t feeding that to her, are you?” I took a step forward, and released a nervous breath when I saw Fern place a wet cloth on Lily’s pink forehead.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Feeding a baby vinegar?” Fern scoffed. “Didn’t y’all have parents? Ain’t a one of you ever treat a fever naturally? My Momma never once gave us kids pills for something as simple as a mild fever. It was all about the tepid baths, the apple cider vinegar, the lemon and the honey. None of that stuff you’d buy with ingredients you damn well can’t pronounce. She’s got wet booties on, too. That’ll help cool her little feet.” She shooed Winchester out of the way to adjust Lily where she lay. She looked so tiny, tucked up in her bundle like a newborn. But it was obvious she had more than a fever. Her lips were so red they looked painted, her nose was leaking a thick yellow discharge on one side and seemed clogged on the other, despite the nasal aspirator that rested on its side on the crib pad. But it was the coloring of her skin that gave me chills. A very faint bloom had started just on the outside edges of her nostrils. Tiny purple streaks. It’s how it started with my kids. Those blooms.

  I sucked in a breath and backed up into Drake. “We should go,” I said quietly.

  With a jerk, Jacks sat up. “Please stay. I don’t know what else to do with her. I mean…you’re a mom, Riley. You know what to do, right? Can you stay with me, please?”

  “I was a mom,” I corrected.

  All eyes fell to the floor, except for Jacks’. He held my wary gaze with a pleading desperation. “Please…”

  Two small steps took me closer to the crib. Lily was wrapped in a thin blanket, the upper half of her head covered with the cloth Fern had placed there. I gave the aspirator a little nudge with one finger. “Do you have saline spray?”

  Jacks dug into the diaper bag beside the crib and pulled out a small white bottle of spray. “Yes,” he said.

  “Use that to help clean out her nose. It will make the breathing easier. But Jacks…”

  Winchester shook his head vigorously in the background, warning me not to continue with my train of thought. He knew, just as the rest of us did, what those tiny blooms on the baby’s nostrils meant. Death would be come for her, no matter what we did.

  I cleared my throat. “The spray should help. Then do what Fern suggested. A tepid bath. Maybe pour a little of that apple cider vinegar in the water? Something calming should help her too…lavender or something…” My voice trailed off, and I searched the room for someone to take up the conversation when I couldn’t continue.

  Fern nodded approvingly. “I’ll go get the water started, love. And after, we can use some of my essential oils…” She crossed the square-shaped room and vanished into the full bath. The squeak of the tub handles echoed through the suite, and was quickly followed by the rush of water.

  When I turned to leave, Jacks jumped up and grabbed at my arm. He smelled of baby formula and diaper cream. Just like any other new dad. “Riley, can’t you stay?”

  Slowly, but deliberately, my arms found their way around his midsection, and I hugged him tight to me. “It will be okay. Listen to Winchester and Fern, and she’ll be alright. Let them take care of you. Try not to worry too much, okay?” With a quick stretch, I pecked his cheek with a kiss and left the room, not looking back, for fear that he would see the lie on my face.

  Silently, Drake trailed behind and waited until we were on the elevator and out of earshot before speaking. “That sounded an awful lot like a goodbye.” When I didn’t answer, he reached out and stopped me. “Was it?”

  “I can’t stay here and watch her die. I won’t do that. Not again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The earthy smell of soil mixed unevenly with the sweet twang of citrus. Fern and the others had managed to save most of the fall crops, which was amazing in itself, but as my fingers brushed against the orange leaves, I realized how special the rooftop gardens were at the Ark. And why people like Fern worked so hard to keep them going. After plucking an almost ripe fruit off the tree, I dug my thumbnail into the top and began pulling the flesh away. The oils and sticky insides oozed onto my hands, but I ignored it. In that moment, all I wanted was to taste that perfect orange.

  “Those are my favorite,” a soft voice said behind me.

  I jumped and spun around, more than a little surprised that someone had made their way through the garden without me hearing them approach. A young boy, half my height, stood five feet away holding his hands awkwardly in front of him. His hair was cut short in a shaggy style, just above the ears, and matched the dark brown color of his round eyes. He was pale and thin. But that was something we all were. When he smiled, a giant grin-splitting motion lifted his cheeks and showed off the two missing teeth on his lower jaw.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “Are you lost?” It was the first thing that came to mind. He was dressed in jeans and a short sleeved shirt, not even wearing a coat. And there was snow on the ground outside. Ridiculous. He rubbed at one arm as I took in his appearance.

  “No. I live here.” He smiled, then sucked in his lower lip where his missing teeth had made a hole. The slurping sound made me smile back at him. My own children had done the same thing when they lost their baby teeth.

  “Do you live here with your parents?” Though I knew the answer to probably be a ‘no’, I asked anyway.

  His gaze fell to the floor and he began dragging his foot over a clod of dirt. “Not anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I really was. He was too young to go through what I’d seen in the last year. Way too young. “So, oranges are your favorite…would you like some?”

  He shook his head and picked his nose. Such a boy thing to do. “Nah, I’m not hungry.”

  “Okay.”

  I set the half-peeled orange down on the closest sur
face, which happened to be the wooden table the potted plants stood on. It rolled to the side and immediately fell into the only clump of soil within two feet. Great. With a quick dunk in a nearby watering bucket, I rinsed my hands, then dried them on my jeans.

  “I’ve seen you around,” he said shyly, watching me with interest. With a yank, he pulled on the front of his heather-grey shirt.

  “You have?”

  With a vigorous nod, he smiled again. “Uh-huh. You seem nice.”

  I laughed. Because he’d apparently not seen much of me. “Well, thanks. You seem nice, too. What’s your name?”

  For a brief moment, the boy’s face pinched in thought. “Mickey. Like the mouse. But I don’t like that show.”

  “Okay, Mickey, how about we go get you a coat. Aren’t you cold?”

  “Nope. I’m used to it now.” He looked over his shoulder, at the exit. “Can I show you something?”

  “Sure…but who takes care of you? Maybe we should find them first, let them know you’re okay?” The fact that he was wandering around alone, with two feet of snow on the ground, wearing a t-shirt, jeans and a pair of worn tennis shoes, bothered me. Surely someone was looking for him. I’d run away from Jacks and the baby, only to be cornered in the garden by another child. Luck wasn’t favoring me much.

  “This way,” he said, turning and passing two of the narrow aisles before stopping in front of a large compost bin the size of a bathtub. Light from above us shone down on some of the bins, lighting them up with an eerie glow. The early morning hours of dawn had streaked the sky above the garden canopy with a glorious kaleidoscope of burnt oranges, ripe plums and sunny yellows. With a sniff, I rubbed at my nose, then looked away from the approaching day.