by Alyssa Cole
“Got it,” I said to his retreating form. My throat nearly closed up and tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back and released a shaky breath.
I was glad we’d made it to this place, but I had no idea how to move forward without messing things up. Everything I did seemed to annoy Gabriel. Did he really dislike me enough to force me out into the unknown? Just the thought of having to go back outside, out where there were more people who would try to hurt me, filled me with dread. My chest felt heavy, as if Blue Hat was still sitting there leering down at me, as if he would always be there.
I heard a rustle of sheets before John jumped to his feet beside me.
“That’s enough,” he said, his voice going up an octave. His dark eyes were wide and his nostrils flared—it was the angriest I’d ever seen him. That was saying a lot, considering I’d been there when he’d discovered his ex, Peter, had been banging his way through the University of Rochester athletics department.
“No, he’s right,” I said, trying to grab a hold of him as he stormed past me. He would have been adorable, dressed in mismatched pajamas with his hair sticking out from the bandage at crazy angles, if he hadn’t been so gloriously pissed off.
“Gabriel!” John called out. I heard Gabriel’s jogging steps and a moment later he was back in the room, eyes wide with worry.
“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked, reaching toward John’s head.
John ducked under his arm, his injury not slowing down his reflexes. “You need to let this go right now.” His back was ramrod straight as he stared up at his brother. “I’m not going to let you make Arden feel like shit for no reason.”
“No reason? What are you talking about? I have blood on my hands because she had a tantrum,” he spat. For just a second, Gabriel’s authoritative asshole routine slipped away and I saw anguish and anger in his eyes. That look pierced me more than any of his words had. If it had been the other way around—if I thought Gabriel had nearly gotten John killed, and that he had forced my hand so I had to kill others—would I be able to forgive him at the drop of a hat? Not fucking likely.
John stepped close to Gabriel and stared up into his face, eyes flashing. “You have blood on your hands because of me,” he said. “I was leading us here, I knew we were close and I thought it would be fine to let her practice her navigating. To be honest, I was delaying because I was scared of what I’d find when we got here. I let Arden think she browbeat me, but I didn’t have to give in to her. So what happened was my fault. My concussion—my fault. All that bruising on Arden’s face—my fault. What you had to do to those men—my fault.”
John was nearly yelling into Gabriel’s face by this point, but the older brother didn’t flinch. He simply gazed at John and nodded, as though he was turning the words over in his mind.
“Okay,” Gabriel said. He clamped one hand on the door frame and gave a final sharp nod. “Okay. I’m sorry. I was taking out my frustrations on Arden. I overreacted and I was wrong.”
I was shocked that he gave in so easily, but then I remembered the adoration he had bestowed on John earlier. He would apologize to appease him, even if he didn’t mean it.
John sighed, his body sagging as the fight left him. “No, you aren’t wrong, just...” He shook his head, struggling for the right words. “You don’t always have to be so intense about everything. You saved my life yesterday, and it’s not like it’s the first time. You had to kill, when you’ve taken an oath to protect life. It’s normal to be angry. You would be a sociopath if you weren’t upset. But direct the anger at the right person.”
John clasped Gabriel’s shoulders and leaned forward, his face softening while they shared some kind of sibling bonding moment I couldn’t even begin to speculate on, as an only child.
John quirked a brow. “I’m all beat-up. I mean, I got hit in the head with a rock. A big one! You can’t stay mad at me for too long, can you?”
I couldn’t believe it when John’s supremely effective puppy dog face got Gabriel to crack a smile. He looked like a totally different person. Unfortunately for me, that person was even more attractive than the brooding version of the man. A deep dimple on his left cheek and straight white teeth that pressed into his lower lip, emphasizing its plumpness. He had a tractor beam smile, one that pulled you into his orbit whether you wanted to go or not; I wouldn’t have put up much resistance.
There really is something wrong with me. I tore my eyes away from Gabriel’s endearing grin before I pictured us holding hands and skipping through a meadow, or something equally mortifying.
“Let’s go downstairs,” Gabriel said. “And don’t try that face on Maggie to beg for more food. She’s just as immune to it as Mom is.”
“Try what?” John asked, poking out his bottom lip. He threaded his arm through Gabriel’s, leaning on him as they walked. His outburst had taken a lot out of him and he probably should have gone back to bed, but he still turned to me and winked, as if everything would be all right.
I followed, wishing I hadn’t seen Gabriel’s stricken expression earlier. If I hadn’t, I might have been able to wink back.
Chapter Four
Gabriel and John headed toward what I assumed was the kitchen, judging from the delicious smells coming from that direction. My stomach cramped painfully. Running out of food was one of the things that had driven us from our condo to this cabin. A giant bag of peanuts that we’d purchased from Costco on a whim had actually ended up being our saving grace. On our trek over, most of our meals had consisted of handfuls of nuts. It wasn’t the most filling thing, but it had provided us with plenty of protein on our long trek up here.
Maggie was setting candles around the long wooden table in the dining alcove when I walked in. The space was already lit by the flickering of two huge candles that sat on opposite sides of the room like waxy toadstools.
“I always wondered who bought these giant candles,” I said, nudging one with my sock-clad foot as I walked by. “Now I see they really can come in handy.”
“My mom went nuts at a candle outlet a few years back and filled the back of their van with these things. My dad said it was a waste of money. Little did he know...”
Her voice trailed off and she turned, her face hidden by her dark sheet of hair. My stomach dropped. Whatever they had to tell John about his parents, it wasn’t good. I hoped I was misreading something though. It was bad enough that I wouldn’t know what happened to my parents until this crisis passed and electricity was restored. That John and his siblings should suffer, too, was doubly unfair.
I heard a quiet sniffle before she turned back to me, eyes glossy with tears she’d blinked away. She seemed so young and defenseless in that moment that I wanted to hug her, but she shrugged and slid her disaffected teen mask back into place before setting a few tea candles around.
“We have the generator, but we don’t know how long whatever is happening is going to last,” she continued. “So it makes sense to conserve diesel. We don’t need too much light. Most nights we read or play board games in the living room, where the fireplace is. I practice guitar sometimes, but I think I’m dangerously close to pushing Gabriel over the edge.”
“He doesn’t like music?” I asked. I could totally imagine him being the kind of repressed weirdo who thought music was for slackers.
“No, it’s that I can’t really play,” she said with a shy smile. “I’d started taking lessons, but I didn’t have a chance to learn more than a few songs.”
“Well, I play guitar,” I said. “I’m no Eric Clapton, but I can teach you a song or two if you want to continue your lessons.”
Maggie nearly dropped the tray of candles in her rush to cross the room to me. “Really? That would be so great, Arden!” she said, grabbing my arms and jumping with excitement. I couldn’t hide my yelp of pain as her movements rocked my aching shoulders. “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
John walked into the room, carrying a pitcher of water. “What are you sque
aling about? Arden, I hope you’re not already corrupting my innocent sister with your wanton ways.”
Gabriel followed close at his heels carrying a large, steaming pot.
Maggie shook her head. “She just volunteered to teach me guitar, and I got all excited and ended up hurting her.”
“What’s wrong?” John and Gabriel asked in unison, and I shook my head, even though my shoulders and back were killing me. I was already imposing on this family enough. I didn’t need them going out of their way for me, especially seeing how Gabriel was the resident medic. The pain would go away eventually, and it was certainly easier to deal with than he was.
“I’m fine, just a little strain.” I rolled my shoulders to show them I was okay, gritting my teeth against the stabbing sensation that radiated through my back.
Gabriel studied me as he approached with the heavy pot. “Good. Can you carry this to the table then? I’m going to go get the rice.”
He met my eyes in challenge, holding the huge pot out to me. I reached forward to take it, staring back at him. My hands closed over his on the handles of the pot, and he let me bear its weight for just a second before raising his eyebrows at me.
“It’s pretty heavy,” he said, and I saw something like mirth flash in his amber eyes. He was enjoying fucking with me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself. I knew it was petty to hold a grudge against someone who was allowing me to shelter in his family’s home and giving me access to food and water and heat; regardless of what a bastard-coated bastard he’d been to me, I was indebted to him, and to John and Maggie. Gabriel had apologized, and now we were supposed to be playing at one-big-happy, so kicking him in the shin wouldn’t help the situation. Anyway, with my luck I’d end up accidentally breaking his leg and wouldn’t even be able to savor the moment.
“Okay, I may have pulled something when I was fighting with Tweedledee and Tweedledum yesterday,” I admitted, releasing my hold on the pot. “I’ll be fine but I can’t carry this right now, unless you want to lick your food up from the floor.”
“I’ll check you out after we eat,” Gabriel said, satisfied with my acquiescence. He set the pot in the middle of the table.
“Thanks, but that isn’t necessary.” I tried to keep the edge of annoyance out of my voice.
“Oh, I wasn’t making a suggestion.” He walked back toward the kitchen, as if that was the end of the discussion.
“Really, it’s okay,” I called out. Why was he pushing this? I just wanted to eat whatever was the source of the delicious smell, and then to be left alone.
Gabriel gave an annoyed sigh as he returned, placing a large bowl of rice on the table. “Look, we need to make sure that if any of us is injured, we take care of the problem right away. That’s better than having a minor injury turn into a big deal later, isn’t it? Besides, it’s my job. I’m not trying to cop a feel or anything.”
I gave a sharp nod to end the conversation and decided not to acknowledge that comment, or the sting of embarrassment that he didn’t want to cop a feel and was fine with announcing it to everyone. I sealed my lips and set out bowls and utensils at the place settings.
The meal, a simple but hearty stew of kimchi and vegetables served over a heaping helping of rice, was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. I focused on grabbing clumps of food with my chopsticks, on the textured tang of the kimchi and the perfectly tender grains of rice. After a diet of pantry leavings and peanuts, I’d forgotten the hedonistic pleasure that a good meal could provide.
“This is so good,” I breathed, resisting the urge to drop the fancy chopsticks we were using and shovel the food into my mouth with my hands.
“Thanks,” Gabriel said, surprising me. Despite my strident feminism, I’d assumed Maggie had made the tasty meal.
“Gabriel does everything around here,” Maggie said with the slightest trace of resentment in her tone. It was gone when she continued, and I wondered if I was simply searching for an ally to join me on Team Gabriel Sucks. “I’m glad you like kimchi though. Mom has jars and jars of it downstairs. And pickles. And jams. She and Dad have been really into canning lately, especially since they expanded the garden last summer.”
I thought of my parents’ lush backyard garden. They’d discovered the hard way that two green thumbs didn’t necessarily produce a natural-born gardener; I’d killed every plant they’d ever entrusted to me. They should have taken that as some kind of statement on my character, but they loved me enough to overlook it.
“We have plenty of other stuff,” Gabriel said. “There’s pretty much the entire inventory of a grocery store shoved down there in addition to the homemade stuff.”
“Their canned food is better,” Maggie said with unnecessary harshness. I sensed a hint of the wobble that had affected her voice earlier, and now that we were all seated, the cause of her distress became evident. The two empty chairs at each end of the table were hard to ignore, although Gabriel appeared to be trying mightily to do just that.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” John asked in a voice that aimed for casual but was laced with worry.
“Don’t eat too much, John and Arden,” Gabriel said as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Your stomachs might not be able to handle rich food right away.”
He shoveled some food into his mouth and chewed for a long time, so long that I wondered whether anything was left or he was faking it. It was then that I remembered how frightened he’d looked when he’d first bent over John, and the words he’d spoken aloud.
I can’t lose you too.
Fuck. I steeled myself against whatever bombshell he was about to drop.
Gabriel finally swallowed, spun his chopsticks between two long fingers and then slapped them onto the table. “Mom and Dad went missing about a week ago,” he said bluntly, talking over John’s stunned gasp. “I got back into town right before everyone started locking themselves away, when people were still being optimistic about what might be going on. After a couple of weeks of the store being closed, we decided to take all the stock that hadn’t gone bad and move it here. They gave the neighbors some food and supplies, too, but we moved the bulk of it in the van and decided this would be the safest place to wait things out.”
He picked up the chopsticks and took another bite of his dinner, chewing mechanically as if eating was the last thing he wanted to be doing. For a moment, I was annoyed on John’s behalf—he deserved to know more than that. Then I realized Gabriel probably wasn’t capable of saying more, not without losing his cool.
Maggie took over for him. “They decided to go check on Darlene, who lives out in the boonies,” she said. I wondered what could be boonier than our current location but kept my questions to myself. “She’s been working in the store for the last year or so. I told them not to go, but she’s pregnant and her husband is stationed in Iraq. They said it was the right thing to do.” Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time she couldn’t hide them and they rolled down her cheeks in fat droplets. “They didn’t come back, John. We don’t know where they are,” she whispered.
My heart ached for John, and for Gabriel and Maggie too. That hollow feeling inside me echoed with the knowledge that we were a house full of orphans now, possibly forever if this crisis didn’t end soon. An undefinable heaviness descended on me at the thought that I’d never get to show my mom that I’d mastered her vegetable lasagna, or play the latest songs I’d learned on guitar for my dad, who’d taught me the basics. That I’d never smell that combination of lemony pine cleaner and cologne that hit me every time I walked in the front door of the house I’d grown up in. The weight that I felt, that all of us felt, was the knowledge that we might never see our parents again. It was an idea so immense that it had become tangible. I bit my lip against the pressure behind my eyes.
I know John was upset that they’d waited to tell him, but I understood. Having their brother show up must have been like a miracle for them, despite his injury, and who would want
to spoil that with a dose of terrible reality?
“Do you think they decided to stay someplace else?” John asked in a voice that only trembled a bit. I could tell by the way he scratched at the side of his nose that he was trying to hide how incredibly upset he was. When you lived with someone long enough, you started to learn his tells. “They could just be holed up somewhere.”
“They would have tried to contact us,” Gabriel said. “They took a walkie-talkie with them.”
“Maybe they don’t work where they are,” John said calmly. “I don’t know about here, but we weren’t able to get anything on our radio but static. There’s definitely something, or someone, messing with radio waves. Maybe the interference is what’s making it impossible for them to get in touch.”
Maggie sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Maybe,” she said. She picked up her spoon and took a small bite of food.
I sat watching the whole thing silently, not knowing what I could say that wouldn’t make things worse. Hey, I have no idea if my parents are alive either! High five! I spooned more food into my bowl and stuffed my face. That was easier than thinking of John’s possibly dead parents, or worse, my own. Trying to ignore the fear was easier said than done—my food could barely eke past the lump in my throat as images of my parents fighting off home invaders or slowly starving to death flashed before my eyes.
No. They’re okay. They have to be okay.
“They’ll be back,” John said. “I mean, Dad taught me everything I know, and I made it here. And Mom would cut any fool who messes with Dad. Remember when that idiot tried to rob the store?”
Gabriel chuckled and nodded.
“He ended up with two black eyes and a broken arm,” Gabriel said with a look in my direction. Everyone else already knew the story. “Mom didn’t have a scratch on her.”
“She’s tough,” Maggie said with conviction. “Like you, Arden. She wouldn’t go down without a fight, either.”
I managed a smile, but it was hard thinking of my parents, who were the opposite of tough. They’d had me late in life. They were old and trusting and always trying to help someone, even though my mother had plenty of problems of her own.
