They weren’t just posing, either.
Shuddering, she closed the pages. If getting pregnant by a stupid jerk hadn’t already put her off sex for life, this would have done the job. While she was placing the magazine back in the drawer, the semi started shaking.
Letting out a cry of distress, she covered her head with her arms and stayed still, waiting for the tremor to pass. The latest aftershocks weren’t as bad as the first ones. Those had been almost as strong as the original quake.
Maybe her father was right; God punished sinners. Especially female ones.
When it was over, she lifted her head, listening. That annoying car alarm sounded again, but only for a few seconds. Penny rose to her feet and looked toward the RV. Cadence had rushed outside to hug Don, her face crumpled in fear.
Penny felt a tiny stab of envy at the sight of their embrace. She missed her aunt, who’d been her only remaining supporter. She missed her parents, even her father, who thought she’d sullied the family name. Before she left home, he’d issued a stern warning about her pregnancy. If anyone found out, he would disown her. She was supposed to deliver the baby and quietly give it up for adoption. Either that, or get married.
Those were her only options.
Although she feared her father’s wrath, she was more afraid of dying in childbirth. If she got through to someone on the radio, she’d tell them who she was. She’d be honest about her family name and her condition, no matter what the cost.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and climbed out of the truck. Maybe Cadence would enjoy learning the SOS signal and hanging out inside the semi. Distracting the traumatized girl was the least Penny could do.
Before she reached Cadence and Don, one of the convicts stepped out of the shadows. It was the youngest, Owen. He came forward hesitantly, looking up at the ceiling of the cavern as if worried about falling debris. He held a brown paper bag against his chest.
When he saw Penny standing by the semi, he froze.
She didn’t even think of brandishing the pruning shears. Lifting her chin, she stared back at him. He looked awful. There were shiny black crescents under both eyes. The tattooed script along his neck and arms reminded her of newspaper.
He was a walking advertisement for hate.
His demeanor didn’t quite match the outside. He was tall and scary, but he didn’t appear comfortable in his skin. There was no hint of derision or arrogance. If anything, he seemed uncertain. Or...fascinated.
With what—her hideously misshapen form?
Don picked up his baseball bat in a challenging manner.
Owen tore his gaze away from Penny, blinking a few times, as if he’d seen a bright light. “I found a bag of toys and stuff in one of the cars,” he said, setting the package down. “It’s nothing we can use.”
They were all silent for several beats.
“What kind of toys?” Cadence asked.
He looked from Don to her, the corner of his mouth quirking. “The Nintendo DS might interest you. It’s got ‘Mario Kart.’”
“I’ve never played that game,” she said shyly.
“You haven’t? It’s pretty fun.”
Penny couldn’t imagine why he’d brought the device to Cadence. Most young men enjoyed video games just as much as kids. Under these circumstances, anything that could be used to pass the time was invaluable.
“There’s some baby blankets, too,” he said, glancing at Penny again. “They look new.”
Don didn’t thank him or set aside his bat. He kept his hand on Cadence’s shoulder, preventing her from moving forward.
For some reason, the baby items sent Penny over the edge. She was terrified of going into labor before they were rescued. Owen’s “gift” reminded her of her worst nightmare. How dare he waltz into this side of the cavern and stir up her fears? How dare he flash his white-power tats in front of a proud Mexicana and a mixed-race girl?
“Get out of here,” she said, her fingers closing over the handle of the pruning shears. If he tried anything, she’d snip his face.
He flinched at the harsh words, a flush creeping up his neck. Either from shame or anger, she couldn’t tell. But he didn’t step closer or talk back to her. Nodding politely, he turned away, limping into the dark.
As soon as he was gone, Don retrieved the paper bag. He found the game player and a purple-haired doll with black button eyes for Cadence. “Go back inside now,” he said, passing her the items.
Cradling both in her arms, she returned to the RV.
Don rifled through the remaining contents, as if making sure they were safe, before he handed the bag to Penny.
Her throat tightened when she saw the soft blankets inside. Her aunt had taken her shopping for baby items last week. It seemed like a year ago. She’d purchased some unisex clothes and accessories, along with a big box of newborn diapers. Tyler hadn’t bought her anything, of course. He hadn’t sent a single gift.
She resented Owen for doing more than the baby’s father.
Not that she took his gesture at face value. He might be planning to steal the rest of their food. One of his buddies had tried to rape Lauren last night. She didn’t know why those men had been in jail, and she wasn’t going to let her guard down.
Garrett and Lauren returned from their supply run, arms filled with miscellaneous items. Nothing Penny was interested in. She would have killed for an orange. The only fruit they had left was a spotted banana.
“Is it okay if I take Cadence back to the semi with me?” she asked Don. “I can show her how to do Morse code.”
He agreed, perhaps intending to speak with the others about Owen. Penny was torn between staying and going. She wanted to be treated like an adult, but the responsibility was overwhelming. Being pregnant, in itself, was a chore.
Cadence brought her doll and game device with her. Penny, who had played “Super Mario Kart” once before, gave her some tips. To Penny’s surprise, the girl set the device aside after a few minutes.
“Why’d you tell that man to go away?” she asked.
“Because I’m afraid of him. You should be, too.”
She shrugged. “He seems nice.”
“Do you know what that tattoo on his hand means?”
Cadence’s face became troubled. “Yeah. My mom told me to stay away from people like him. They hate us.”
Penny was relieved that she didn’t need to explain, but she felt sad for Cadence. A girl her age shouldn’t have to deal with ignorance and hate.
“What if he made a mistake?” Cadence asked. “Some people get tattoos and feel sorry about it later. I saw a girl on MTV who had her name spelled wrong on the back of her neck. That was pretty dumb.”
“He’s got a lot of tattoos. They can’t all be mistakes.”
“I think he likes you,” she said.
Penny recoiled from the notion. Smoothing a hand over her watermelon-size stomach, she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. If Owen found her deformed figure attractive, he had really bad taste. But they’d already established that.
“One of the other men attacked Lauren,” Penny warned, frowning at herself.
“I know. My grandpa told me. He doesn’t want us to get hurt.”
Don had been kind to Penny, and for that, she was grateful. She hoped he didn’t consider her a bad influence on Cadence. Some people—like her parents—disapproved of pregnant teenagers. They ignored her or gave her dirty looks.
Since she’d start
ed showing, she’d felt like a pariah.
“Don’t worry,” Cadence said, putting her arms around Penny. “We won’t let anyone attack you. I’m pretty sure Owen wouldn’t do that, but the rest of us will be watching out. You’re safe here.”
She’d meant to comfort Cadence, not be comforted by her. But the girl’s embrace felt warm and sweet, and Penny didn’t have the heart to pull away.
CHAPTER SIX
GARRETT SPENT MOST of the morning searching the vehicles.
He found a blowtorch and some welding tools, along with a crateful of aerosol cans. The spray paint and lacquer could be used like mace.
There were no concealed firearms in the vehicles, as far as he could tell. That was unfortunate. He collected an arsenal of blunt objects and chemical irritants, but those weapons were useless at a distance. Jeb wasn’t going to put down his gun and engage in hand-to-hand combat. Not by choice, anyway.
He needed to climb the wall before sundown or he wouldn’t be able to see anything with the mirror. So they gave up the search and went back to the RV for a lunch of beef jerky and rice with baby carrots.
The carrots were the last of the fresh food. They still had some dry goods, a dozen cans of soup and a large jug of apple juice. Lauren found a jar of raspberry jam and a tub of peanut butter in one of the cars. Those items would go a long way. Supplies of everything else, especially water, were dwindling.
Garrett tried to limit his consumption of liquids, but he was doing thirsty work and he couldn’t afford to get dehydrated. They all needed water to stay alive. Penny was drinking for two. He didn’t even bother to warn Don about using water. It wasn’t as if anyone in their group was washing clothes or taking showers.
They couldn’t even wash their hands. Garrett had used Lauren’s hospital wipes once or twice when he’d gotten really filthy, but otherwise he ignored the grit. He assumed that he looked and smelled like a vagrant.
Don was in charge of rationing the food, and he took the job very seriously. He’d been giving them just enough to keep going. The water would run out first, so there was no reason to starve themselves.
As he studied the climbing gear, Garrett realized he’d been overly optimistic about his abilities. He had no experience with the sport. He’d done a few HALO jumps, and navigated some treacherous terrain, but he wasn’t a paratrooper or a rescue expert. His knowledge of rope systems and safety equipment was limited.
He winced, looking at the wall in front of him. It wasn’t just sheer; it sloped inward. There were no hand or footholds, just flat concrete. A hairline crack started about six feet up and zigzagged into a narrow crevice near the top corner. The distance between the crevice and the floor was at least thirty feet. If he fell, and his gear didn’t hold, he might not die, but a broken leg was a fate worse than death in here.
Garrett wavered for a moment, mulling over the consequences. Lauren and the others needed him to stay healthy. But if they failed to communicate with the outside world, they might not be rescued for weeks. Their water supply would last another day or two at the most. He had to try to hang that flag.
Decision made, he donned the safety harness, adjusting it to fit his larger frame. The owner of the equipment had a lean build, which was probably ideal for rock climbing. Garrett didn’t carry any excess weight, but he was heavier than Sam Rutherford. He hoped he wouldn’t snap the lines.
The bag was full of square-shaped metal pieces, wire loops and aluminum clips. There were also some round wedge-type things. He couldn’t use those until he got up higher, as the crack wasn’t wide enough for them at the bottom.
He’d thought about getting started up the wall by standing on the roof of a car, or stacking a few crates on top of each other, but he wanted to get the hang of climbing before he was too high up.
The kit included a small pickax, which he used to notch a space about three feet under the crack on the wall. He stuck one of the squares into it. When it felt secure, he did the same thing a few feet up, at the base of the crack.
“So far, so good,” he said under his breath, glancing back at Lauren. She and Don were working on a pop-up tent for the triage space. Her patients would be better protected inside the canvas shelter.
He turned back to his task. The metal squares had wire loops connected to them. He put his right foot in the lower loop and grabbed the higher one with his left hand, pulling himself up. He felt more like a gorilla than a monkey. His oversize boot scraped against the concrete as he fought for balance.
Christ, this wasn’t easy. And he was only three feet up.
When he felt confident that he wasn’t going to fall backward and crack his head open, he clipped his belt to the higher loop. He was reluctant to let go, but he needed both hands to make another notch. Using extreme caution, he released the loop and leaned back, testing the security of the harness.
The metal square snapped out of the concrete and he stumbled, putting his left foot down. His knee buckled and he tried to jerk his right leg out of the loop. He got tripped up and landed on his ass, one leg in the air.
Thankfully, his skull didn’t hit the concrete.
He unhooked his boot and glanced around, feeling sheepish. Lauren was striding toward him with a protective helmet under one arm. She looked upset. He scrambled to his feet, smiling to let her know he wasn’t hurt.
“Just like skydiving?” she said, shoving the helmet at him. It hit him in the stomach like a not-so-playful punch.
“Once I’m up there, it will be more like skydiving.”
She followed his gaze to the top. “Except, no parachute.”
“Right.”
When her eyes reconnected with his, he read the fear and anger in them. She was mad at him for scaring her. He hadn’t experienced female concern in so long, he almost couldn’t recognize it. This level of emotion was foreign to him. He marveled for a moment, soaking it in. “I’ll be okay,” he said.
She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at the ground where he’d just fallen.
“I think I’m doing it wrong.”
“Then why risk getting injured?”
“If I can’t get the hang of it this afternoon, I won’t keep going.”
She let out a ragged breath and walked away, her hands clenched into tight fists. He stared at her retreating form for a few seconds too long. She had a cute little butt. In another life, he might have tried to get lucky with her.
In this life, he wasn’t free to pursue female company, and the only person he got lucky with was himself.
Flushing, he turned his attention back to the wall. Taking a quick drink from his camel pack, he stuck the helmet on his head and reevaluated the gear. The lower square had stayed secure because it was lodged against a piece of rebar.
He glanced up at the crevice, where the crosshatch of rebar was more exposed. The structural component helped reinforce the concrete. Not enough to prevent it from buckling, in this case, but well enough to keep them trapped. Even if he could chisel his way through the concrete layer, the bands of rebar created an effective metal prison.
He repositioned the higher square against a piece of rebar, putting his weight on the loop to test its strength. This time, it held. Using the loops as footholds was awkward and unfeasible. He needed to attach clips to the loops, secure a lead rope to the wall and thread it through the clips as he progressed.
Frowning, he took a fifty-foot rope from his pack and attached it to his
harness. He’d have to ascend the wall, little by little. The only problem was that he couldn’t anchor the other end of the rope.
This was a two-man job.
Don had greater upper-body strength than Lauren. Garrett called him over. “Can you hold the line and give me slack when I need it?”
“Be glad to,” he said, picking it up.
Garrett realized that Don couldn’t handle his full weight for more than a few seconds. He’d have to use another line for climbing. He attached a clip to the upper loop and threaded a shorter rope through it, gripping one end in his hands and attaching the other to his belt. This way, Don’s line was just for safety.
Leaning back, he braced his boots against the wall. At the same time, he pulled on the shorter rope, climbing fist over fist. He made slow progress, walking up the wall carefully. It was a hell of an upper-body workout. He wished he wasn’t so goddamned heavy. Finally, his harness was even with the upper loop. Grasping the rope with his left hand, he used his right to clip the loop directly to his belt.
“Hold the line steady, but don’t pull on it unless this breaks,” he said to Don.
“Got it,” Don replied.
When he let go of the rope, his harness held tight, anchored to the wall by a well-placed metal square.
He exhaled a pent-up breath.
Don gave him a nod of encouragement. They both knew he had a long haul ahead of him. The safety line was no guarantee against injury. But, unlike Lauren, Don didn’t belabor those details. He understood what needed to be done.
Working quickly, Garrett placed another metal square higher in the crevice. He attached a clip, threaded the short rope through and pulled himself up.
His biceps were already burning, and he’d have to repeat this process about ten times, or every three feet. Instead of focusing on the pain and difficulty, he concentrated on the task and let his mind go blank.
It was just like running ten miles or humping ninety pounds of gear through the desert. You did it one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Unpleasant tasks were accomplished inch by inch, end over end.
Aftershock Page 7
