by AJ Rose
“I don’t need this particular car, Elliot,” Ash said, as if reading his mind. “I’m perfectly capable of acquiring another one, so if you want to take your precious baby and go it alone, fine by me. But speak up now so I don’t waste any more time.”
Well, if that doesn’t tell me where I rate, nothing does. Elliot sank lower in his seat, glowering out the window. “You could at least show a little gratitude that I’m saving you from committing a felony.”
The tense silence stretched until Elliot could stand it no more. He dug out his iPod and flicked the wheel to a playlist of piano songs, thankful it powered up and not caring why it worked but his phone didn’t. Beth Crowley crooned through the speakers about how things end, and Elliot settled in, prepared to sulk the whole way.
“You’re right,” Ash said, just audible over the melody. Elliot turned it down and looked at Ash’s profile, barely visible in the obsidian deep of night. “If you weren’t being so generous, I’d have to do something I really didn’t want to do. The police are probably out in much greater numbers, and the last thing I want is to end up stuck in a cell when the shit really hits the fan. So thank you.”
“Wow,” Elliot breathed. “Did that hurt?”
“Did what hurt?”
“The tiny humility in your voice.”
To Elliot’s surprise, Ash laughed. “A little bit, yeah.”
“Good,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to hide an amused grin. “So where are we going?”
“Auburn.”
“Where’s that?” Elliot asked. “I’ve never gone upstate.”
“Are you from here?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve never been upstate?” Ash asked skeptically.
“When I traveled, it was usually with my parents.”
“What, they didn’t bother with mundane trips to the Adirondacks, is that it?” Ash asked sardonically. Elliot was aware Ash knew he was well off, but it had never seemed to matter before. It stung that he threw it in Elliot’s face now. Stress. He’s just freaked out, and so are you.
“Mostly, we went where my dad had business. Overseas,” Elliot answered, cutting Ash slack. “I didn’t really have a choice.” He refused to say anything about being groomed to take over Davenport Oil Company. He didn’t want to ruin Ash’s opinion of him. It was hard won enough as it was.
Thankfully, Ash let it drop. “Auburn is almost two hundred fifty miles, maybe a little more. It’s northeast of here, by the Finger Lakes.”
“Aside from your sister, what’s up there?”
“Well, a bunch of outdoor places for the lakes. And the prison.”
Elliot did a double take. “Wait, you were serious about the inmate comment?”
Ash smiled, the glow from the dashboard giving his expression a disturbing feral quality.
“Yeah, I need to get my sister and nephew out of Auburn before the inmates wreak havoc. The prison should have generators, but the one at the Poly Institute failed, which makes me nervous. Who knows what will happen if the prison goes without power.”
“I’m sure they have contingency plans for power outages.” Elliot tried for reassuring, but he wasn’t sure he pulled it off.
“I’m not inclined to stay long enough to find out,” Ash deadpanned.
Elliot settled in his seat and folded his long legs to put his feet, sans shoes, on the dash. He let the soothing strains of a piano lull him into a doze, trusting Ash to speak up if he needed anything. With his eyes closed, he let his mind wander for an indeterminate length of time.
His parents, out of the country on a Mediterranean cruise, bubbled to the surface. Were they aware of the outage? Was anybody? His dad was not one to be out of touch, no matter where he was, but Elliot had no way of knowing what the news was capable of reporting. Of course, there was Brian Harding, his father’s IT and Cyber Security VP, who was basically second in command of Davenport Oil since his department was responsible for running the technology that made the company capable of doing business at all. Brian lived in New York City, too, often traveling with Steven Davenport, but Elliot knew Brian wouldn’t have gone on what was supposed to be a genuine vacation. Brian would let his dad know what had happened.
How? Think he has a landline in his apartment? Doubtful. He’s got wireless everything.
Suddenly feeling the nakedness of being unable to reach people, he shifted uncomfortably, coming out of his daze. Not normally a slave to his cell the way many of his peers were—well, he was, but for emergencies, not social media, which he wasn’t terribly fond of—missing the security of being a google away from whatever he might need was foreign enough to make him anxious. He had no access to anything: his parents, money, his computer.
His doctor.
“Stop the car,” he ordered, seeing how isolated they’d become on the road while he’d drifted off. They passed a sign showing they traveled I-280, a usually busy artery between New Jersey and Pennsylvania. At the moment, it was sparsely populated, a fact that made Elliot unhappier.
“What?” Ash startled.
“Stop the car!” He raised his voice, reaching for the door handle, prepared to jump if necessary. Air. He needed air.
Ash pulled over quickly, putting the hazard lights on before they came to a complete stop. “What’s wrong?”
Elliot didn’t stick around long enough to answer, darting across the shoulder and into the small field beside the highway. Great gulps whipped through his lungs as he ran, and he began to concentrate on memorized symphonies to give his brain something to chew on besides fear. He had to get himself under control, or else….
He collapsed in the grass on his back, looking up at the night sky, the damp ground seeping cold fingers through his t-shirt. With no light pollution, the stars were bright, and Elliot quit the music and began to count pinpoints. He didn’t get far before Ash dropped beside him.
“Elliot?” he asked. Elliot hated the careful tone, but he deserved it for running in panic from a perfectly functioning car.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
Elliot looked over; Ash was more shadow in the moonlight than an actual person. Suddenly, Elliot felt very alone. He sat up, drawing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, pressing his forehead to his jeans-clad knees. When he spoke, his voice was muffled.
“Sometimes things get to be too much. Walls closing in. I just needed to breathe.”
“What do you mean, too much?” Ash plucked a blade of grass and began to shred it.
“I don’t expect you to get it,” Elliot said resentfully. “You don’t need anyone, and you always have a dickhead answer when someone comes at you. Some of us aren’t that quick on our feet.”
Ash was quiet for a long moment, but when he did speak, his voice was soft. “What makes you think I don’t need anyone?”
Because you’ve made it clear you don’t need me. “Because you don’t seem to need friends, and when someone tries to be one to you—me, for instance—you’re suspicious.”
Ash sighed. “Well, we all need our armor, don’t we?”
Elliot looked up, surprised. He didn’t know what to say to that.
“What did you mean, too much?” Ash repeated.
“My parents have money,” he started.
“I’m aware, Mr. Steven Davenport, Jr.,” Ash replied drolly.
Elliot looked at him with sharp surprise. “So you know who I am.”
Ash shrugged. “Have for a while. You don’t throw your name around, though, so I figured you don’t really want people figuring it out. Safer to keep my mouth shut.”
Elliot flushed with warmth at the implied attention with that single admittance.
“With money comes certain responsibilities. I’m expected to get my engineering degree, work for my father, and eventually take over his company. I’m to drive a nice car. Meet the perfect girl. Everything I do is scrutinized in order to keep me on the path, make sure I’m worthy. To keep me from screwing up.”
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“Oh,” was Ash’s only response.
“So when something spontaneous comes up, I usually either avoid it so I don’t have to explain why I did something I didn’t think through, or I think it to death, killing the spontaneity.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“But you were in such a big hurry, so convinced this is some kind of crisis, I didn’t have time to think until we got in the car, and now I realize I screwed up by coming along. What if something happens? Something I can’t explain my way out of? I can’t tell my dad I came with you because—” I’m in love with you. He cleared his throat. “Because I trust you, or particularly why I trust you. This is going to get me in so much trouble, and I don’t have… much of a safety net if that happens.” He hedged that last bit, not interested in flaying himself wide open for Ash to see his innards. His feelings for the guy already had him at a massive disadvantage in their relationship. “And you act like me asking questions is a burden, like you would rather I had stayed in chem lab, left you to steal a car and disappear. Because you don’t need anyone.”
“Why didn’t you?”
That stopped him. “What?”
“If you know I don’t need anyone, and you shouldn’t be spontaneous, why did you come?”
I want you so much my soul aches. “Because watching you walk away was worse.”
Ash searched his face for something. Either it was too dark to see, or he didn’t want to look too closely, because he was quick to look away. Elliot wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Well, your parents aren’t here, baby boy,” Ash all but whispered. Elliot closed his eyes against his bluntness. “You’ve made a decision. Man up and stand by your actions, even if they turn out to be mistakes. Maybe your dad will see that a decision, even the wrong one, is better than being one of the herd.”
Elliot stared, trying to decide if what Ash said was really profound or the musings of an impatient jerk. But Ash didn’t give him a chance to figure it out.
“If you’re done freaking out, we need to get moving.” With that, he sprang to his feet and left Elliot in the grass.
What an asshole. Elliot was torn between taking the time he needed to calm down—although he didn’t seem quite so ready to shatter as he had minutes ago—and stomping back to the car, grabbing his shit, and hitching a ride back to the city. Ash could have the fucking car.
Instead, he stomped back, flung himself into the passenger seat, and sulked out the window, seeing only the faintest reflection of himself in the glass. Ash was right. Again, dammit. Not that Elliot would tell him that.
Not that he’s waiting around for your approval, the way you fall all over yourself for his.
Whatever was going on with the power, no one was going to pause reality so he could acclimate. Worrying would only stress him, and if he got too stressed, he’d be in much more trouble.
Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Elliot changed his breathing pattern. Two short breaths in through his nose, one long exhale through his mouth. The cadence soothed his nerves and the knot of tension in his shoulders loosened.
“Are you doing Lamaze breathing?” Ash was clearly amused.
Elliot glared. “Well, I could always throw up on you. It would be fun, but then I’d have to smell you for the next—toll booth.”
“Huh?” Ash looked at him like he’d grown boobs, a mix of incomprehension and hilarity.
“Toll. Booth.” Elliot’s patience was gone. He pointed through the windshield as they neared a completely dark structure blocking their way to I-80.
“Aw, fuck,” Ash snapped.
They slowed as they approached the gate. Elliot squinted to see if anyone manned the booth, but it was too dark. With no one in front of them, they couldn’t tell if anyone was getting through.
Ash advanced cautiously, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning forward.
“What are you doing?” Elliot asked, vaguely alarmed.
“Just getting ready in case…. I need to check the booth for an emergency lift for the gate. Relax.”
He didn’t look relaxed to Elliot, especially since he kept flexing his right hand, though his posture screamed calculated nonchalance. Elliot didn’t bother to hide his confusion.
“Hello?” Ash called through his open window. No answer. “Anyone?” His hand flexed and clenched, flexed and clenched. Elliot held his breath. “Hey!” Ash hollered, and Elliot’s eyes widened when the twitchy hand eased backward and beneath the sweatshirt bunched at the small of Ash’s back. Elliot had seen enough cop shows to recognize the movement for what it was. Ash was armed.
The toll booth, and the entire plaza beyond, lit up as though the sun decided to randomly blink back on after its bedtime.
“Sorry ’bout that!” a portly man called in a friendly voice, stepping from behind the main building and into the booth in their lane with familiar ease. “Stupid battery backups are supposed to last up to seventy-two hours until the generator kicks on, but that genny ain’t been serviced in a couple years, so it’s on the fritz. Backups are never as good as they promise, or you’da never noticed a problem.”
Ash practically melted into his seat, smiling at the man and calmly draping his right wrist at the top of the wheel. Elliot remembered to breathe.
“So you got it working?”
The man smiled, his jowls rippling with his friendly nod. “I’ve been limping ’er along a while now, so I got it figured out. All you need to do is hit that button.” He pointed to the red knob on the ticket machine. “And you can be on your way. Thanks for your patience, boys.”
“Any idea what road conditions are like?” Ash asked, inching the car forward to reach the knob.
The guy shook his head. “We got two-way radios, but they don’t seem to be working right either. Not much traffic, I can tell you that. Slow night.”
“Thanks,” Ash said, punching the button with the side of his fist. He set the ticket on the dash and powered up the window, shifting in his seat to settle in for the long drive ahead, apparently comfortable enough despite a weapon digging into his back.
“You have a gun in your pants,” Elliot stated stupidly.
“We still don’t have time to fuck,” Ash said with a grin.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Of course I have a gun. People aren’t civil for long in a crisis. Words won’t save us when someone pulls out a firearm. And it’s going to happen whether you want to face it or not.”
“But that guy was fine!”
“Turned out to be, yeah,” Ash said. “What if the looting had already started? Those booths are full of money, and anyone could have been inside, waiting for some hapless shmoe to come along with a car so they could jack it and leave us bleeding on the road. I’m not taking chances. We don’t have much, but we need what we have, and I’m not risking losing it to someone who thinks a bottleneck like a toll station is a good place for an ambush. Not that that flimsy little gate will stop people from driving through at speed when money no longer matters.”
“You’re crazy,” Elliot said incredulously.
“We’ll see if you’re singing that same tune the first time someone comes at us,” Ash stated.
“Paranoid. Delusional.”
“What are you, a closet therapist?”
Elliot slumped, glowering. “I didn’t sign up for a cross-state crime spree.”
“Look, we don’t know when the situation will get desperate or what people will do once it does. I’m just prepared for it. If I’m wrong, the worst is I get a backache from having this gun poking me for a five-hour car ride. What does that matter to you? If you can’t deal, you should go back after I’m at Charlotte’s. Whatever you decide, dude.”
“The sooner this is over, the better,” Elliot grumbled noncommittally, though he knew he was too far in to get himself home on his own.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said tonight I agree with,” Ash said grimly.
3
C
HAPTER THREE
Day 2
Auburn, New York
* * *
Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.
—Carl Jung
* * *
THE TINY WHITE CLAPBOARD house stood ghostly in the moonlight when Ash pulled into the driveway. He was always shocked at how small the house he grew up in seemed from his adult perspective. His eyes burned from driving for so long with very little to break up the monotony. As soon as Elliot had drifted off to sleep—which truthfully surprised Ash, given how tightly wound the guy was—slumped against the window and emitting tiny, childlike snores, Ash had switched off the iPod to preserve the battery. It wasn’t lost on him how much the music had soothed his lab partner’s agitation after learning Ash had a gun.
The miles of dark road, encountering few cars, had left him nothing but time to think, and he’d come to the conclusion he needed to ease up on Elliot. Ash had grown up with preparedness as one of life’s lessons, thanks to a marine for a father, and after his father’s death, Uncle Marvin had stepped in. Ash wasn’t in entirely unfamiliar territory.
Elliot, however, had obviously grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth. Not that that wasn’t without its own stresses, as Elliot had explained, but he wasn’t used to moving on the fly. Careful and methodical probably served him well with the heavy expectations of his family, but careful and methodical in their current situation could get them killed.
Or he’s right, and you’re a deluded, paranoid idiot. Ash turned off the engine and shook his road trip buddy on the shoulder. Elliot snuffled and raised his head, his hair matted in the back and his glasses askew. He blinked owlishly as he righted the frames and smacked his lips. Ash had to fight a smile at how appealing Elliot was.
“We’re here?” he asked, still fighting sleep cobwebs.
“Yeah, and they left a light on for us.” He pointed to the flickering in the front window, the curtains drawn back just enough to not be a fire hazard, making the candle visible from the street. He’d have to yell at Charlotte for calling attention to herself for him, even as it warmed his heart to know she expected him despite her directive to stay put.
