Radio Silence

by Alyssa Cole

  I pushed them out of my mind. I could only hope that because they were good people, someone had taken care of them when everything went down and they hadn’t been left to the wiles of strangers.

  They wouldn’t have to depend on strangers if you were there. The thought was like a sharp, unexpected kick to the solar plexus, and it was entirely true.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad not to be eating peanuts anymore,” John said, pulling me back into the conversation and changing the topic in one fell swoop. He reached down and gave my hand a squeeze, and I returned it. I didn’t know if my face had betrayed my distress or if he only thought of his own need for comfort, but I was grateful. He didn’t let go of me; we just continued to eat, taking succor where we could find it.

  “Ugh, never say the P-word word in my presence again,” I said, shifting to ease the pull of John’s weight on my arm and shoulder. “It’s to be referred to as ‘The Legume That Shall Not Be Named’ from this point forward.”

  “What are you talking about?” Maggie asked, keeping her eyes studiously away from our entwined hands, as if our childlike behavior embarrassed her.

  Gabriel raised his brows but said nothing.

  John filled her in on the diet of necessity we had undertaken when we made our trek. I had known it was bad, but seeing Maggie’s horrified expression really hit it home. They had been relatively safe and secure in this place, with plenty of food. Thoughts of starvation hadn’t arrived here yet, although they would if this situation was never explained or resolved.

  “That’s seriously messed up,” she said, gazing at the plate of food she’d been picking at. She ran her fingers through her bangs, shifting the hair so that it hid her eyes. “You guys didn’t see anything when you were heading here? I mean, anything that could explain what’s going on?”

  “We tried to avoid contact with people on our way here,” I said. “One of the reasons we left Rochester is that people were starting to lose it. Like, Lord of the Flies meets The Hunger Games losing it. At first everyone pulled together.”

  “We had winter cookouts with our neighbors,” John added. “Lots of people shared their food that would’ve spoiled if it was left in the fridge. There were ice cream sundaes, and Arden’s old boss gave out cases of beer that were going to skunk anyway...It was kind of fun.”

  I nodded. The first couple of days had been fun, our fears hidden by too much beer and jokes about toilets that wouldn’t flush. I picked up where John had left off. “When FEMA never showed and supplies started to dwindle, so did the good vibes. A curfew was put in place after looters took to the streets, but the police were too busy trying to figure out what the hell was going on or protecting their own families to really bother enforcing it. A mosque a few blocks down was the first of the fires. Only a few people outside the congregation helped them, but there wasn’t much anyone could do since there was no water. When the Russian restaurant down the street went up in flames, I couldn’t tell whether the crowd was trying to snuff it out or adding fuel.”

  Mrs. Donskoy, a round and ruddy woman, had been one of my first customers when I’d decided to start freelancing as a bookkeeper. She’d give me cheese blintzes and, when it was blustery, a shot of vodka. I wondered where she was now.

  “Oh my God. That’s like something from a movie,” Maggie whispered. “Everyone here just bought more ammo and stopped going outside much. There was no looting, but Mrs. Coleman did get mad when Mom and Dad decided to close up shop. They gave her a few free bags of chewing tobacco, and she went on her merry way.”

  I realized Maggie probably hadn’t been exposed to anything truly violent, since they were in the middle of nowhere. One of the benefits of a sparsely populated area was there were fewer people to turn on you when the shit hit the fan, although Blue Hat and his friend had proven there was always an exception to the rule.

  “It was real, unfortunately, although we did run into a few people along the way who were safe to talk to,” John said, pointing a chopstick emphatically. “Not everyone has gone mad. None of them knew any more than we did though. Power outage, no TV signal, no radio transmissions, no explanation. In my informal poll, it was a toss-up between the Russians and space aliens.”

  “If it was the Russians, they must have developed a nuke that can go off without any mushroom cloud,” I said.

  “And no casualties,” Gabriel added. “At least none who came to my ER.”

  I tried to imagine Gabriel in the chaos of an emergency room flooded with victims of some large-scale attack and shuddered. I had seen him in action and knew he could handle difficult situations, but it was still strange to think of him having responsibility over anyone’s life. The stress of that was enough to make anyone an asshole, I imagined. Which came first, the asshole or the ER doc?

  “Maybe it was an EMP,” John said. When we all stared at him, he rolled his eyes and continued. “You know, an electromagnetic pulse? There’s been talk of weaponizing the technology for years, and maybe that’s what knocked out all the electricity. I mean, our atmosphere is littered with Russian satellites, so it wouldn’t be that hard.”

  I sometimes forgot that beneath his fashionista exterior, John was a huge nerd, and a tech nerd at that. Probably because I usually zoned out whenever he started rambling about microprocessors and other technical gobbledygook.

  “Or maybe it was the Canadians,” I said before he could chime in with any additional terrifying possibilities. “I’ve been saying for years that they were trying to lull us into complacency with their ‘friendly neighbors to the north’ shtick. They’re probably rolling in on their armored polar bears as we speak.”

  Gabriel looked at me as if I’d grown a second head, but John gave my hand another reassuring squeeze. Like I said, you lived with someone long enough and you started to learn her tells.

  “Did you see any police or military? Any checkpoints or anything?” Gabriel asked, ignoring my Canuck conspiracy theory.

  “No,” John said. “We tried to stay away from the roads and hid when we heard engines. We weren’t taking any chances. Or we thought we weren’t.”

  His hand went clammy in mine before he gently tugged it away and moved it to his head. It was still terrifying to think that a brain as unique and wonderful as his had nearly been smashed in. I hated that we couldn’t trundle him off to a hospital to see if he was really okay. Like with everything else, we’d just have to wait and see.

  “Damn,” Gabriel’s low voice bit out. “I was hoping you two knew something we didn’t. This just doesn’t make sense.”

  He shook his head, his face clouded by annoyance. Not knowing why the world had stopped working sucked for a regular person, but it was probably even worse for a control freak like him.

  “What about the aurora borealis?” Maggie asked. “I mean, we’re kind of far up, but that’s not normal at all, and it’s super freaky. Did you sleep outside under that? Do you think it’s radiation, like from a nuke?”

  I had no idea what the blazing aurora meant. It was beautiful, but a menacing beauty, like the flight of a thousand birds before a catastrophe strikes.

  “We had a tent,” I said. “Not that it would protect us from radiation any more than this house would. We ditched it at our last resting point since we thought we wouldn’t need it anymore.”

  I was wondering if we would come to regret that decision. We had put this place up on a pedestal while we traveled. At the cabin, we would be warm and safe and well fed. His parents would be annoying but lovable, his siblings ready to welcome us with open arms. Nothing bad would happen to us there, so we wouldn’t have to worry about leaving. Missing parents and dangerous mountain men hadn’t been in the realm of possibilities.

  We finished the meal in silence, each of us lost in thought. John and I hadn’t learned anything new. We had come all this way searching for safety, but we’d been in search of answers too. The fact that we were still at square one made the reality of the situation even scarier. My he
art started to beat little faster as panic welled up within me.

  “I’m going to do the dishes,” I said abruptly, pushing my chair away from the table. Cleaning helped clear my mind, especially dish duty. There was something soothing about the sudsy water and the scraping of ceramic that made me feel I was bringing order out of chaos.

  “Don’t be silly,” Maggie said. “You need to let Gabriel check you out. I’ll do them.”

  “You’ve already done so much today,” I said, exasperated. “I want to help.”

  “You’ll be able to help once we know you aren’t hurt,” Gabriel said, that air of command in his voice again. “You aren’t going to be very useful if you can’t carry anything, so let’s just deal with this. Come to the living room. It’s warmer there.”

  Gabriel left the room, and John stood and batted at the bun on my head. “I’ll help Maggie,” he said.

  “But you’re the one who’s really hurt!” I protested.

  “And I let Gabriel check me out and decide what I was capable of doing, because that’s what’s best for everyone.” The saccharine and STFU was directed my way now.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I thought he’d understand my reticence, but he seemed to think that his little come-to-Jesus talk with Gabriel meant everything was okay now. It really was annoying that he was always right, though—it would be much easier to submit to Gabriel’s exam than to make a scene and annoy everyone.

  “Okay,” I said. “But I get to do the dishes next time.”

  “Deal,” Maggie said.

  “Don’t look so put out,” John said as I walked past him. “You might even like it.”

  Chapter Five

  “All right, come sit over here,” Gabriel said when I stepped into the living room. He sat on a battered recliner. A fire burned low in the hearth, and flickering shadows highlighted the sharp angles of his face as he leaned forward to pat the ottoman in front of him. Now that we were alone and he wasn’t being an asshole for a minute, it was hard to focus on anything but the beauty of his features.

  “I’m fine. Really,” I said, suddenly shy. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been between a man’s legs before, and in more compromising positions than this, but I could already feel the flush rising to my cheeks at the thought of being so close to him.

  Gabriel leaned his head against the sofa back and heaved a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “I promise not to manhandle you.”

  Let’s not rule anything out just yet, the unhelpful part of my brain whispered as I settled onto the ottoman. His hands brushed against my shoulders, and I jumped at the contact even though I had expected it. He pulled away.

  “Did that hurt?” he asked, real concern in his voice.

  I shook my head. “You just caught me off guard.”

  “Sorry. Guess my bedside manner is getting rusty. I’m going to palpate the area around your back and shoulders to make sure you haven’t torn anything. Okay?”

  I gave a nod, and then his hands were on me, prodding and poking at my shoulders, all the while explaining what he was doing and asking me questions in that deep, reassuring tone of his.

  This guy is the Barry White of doctors, I thought as he rotated my shoulder while instructing me on the pain scale and asking what my injury rated. There was no earthly reason for him to both be totally hot and have a voice that made my panties start creeping down of their own accord. I wasn’t even wearing any, and they were already halfway to my ankles.

  Maybe it was because my back was to him and I couldn’t tell if he was glaring at me or had really meant his apology, but his hands felt good and the way he spoke to me, knowledgeable and professional, made me feel safer than I had since this whole ordeal had begun.

  Don’t go getting Stockholm syndrome now, I thought, but brushed it away to focus on the feeling of security, something I knew would be fleeting. Besides, Gabriel wasn’t holding me captive; he had saved me. And now he was tending to me. Jerkiness aside, he’d done more for me in two days than most of the men I’d ever dated. I didn’t know if that spoke more to his character, or mine.

  “Looks like you’ve just strained some muscles,” he said, interrupting the tumult of my thoughts. “I don’t think anything is torn, judging from the fact that you weren’t screaming in agony while I examined you.”

  “Well, that’s good,” I said. “I don’t like feeling useless.”

  “Same here. I’m going to get something to ease your pain,” he said. I felt him stand, and then the reassuring presence of his weight behind me was gone. I didn’t like the sudden coolness at my back, so I stood to snoop around the place I’d be calling home until everything went back to normal.

  If it ever went back to normal.

  I paced the room, with its shabby chic furniture and well-worn rug, glancing at the pictures of John’s family lining the mantelpiece. The smaller frames displayed the siblings at various stages of development: John, thin and fine-boned, as he still was, and Gabriel, surprisingly roly-poly given his currently chiseled body. One picture featured a toddling Maggie chasing after her brothers, who ran through a pile of leaves in the front yard. The largest picture, hung over the fireplace, showed their parents on their wedding day.

  Instead of a white dress, their mother wore what appeared to be a silk robe, but on closer inspection appeared to be a separate jacket and skirt. The fabric was a vibrant red, and both sleeves and skirt belled out. Her shiny black hair was pulled into a front knot adorned with flowers and golden hairpins, and her fine-featured face was porcelain pale except for her bright red lips. Mr. Seong was shorter than his wife. He wore a royal blue robe, similar in style to Mrs. Seong’s outfit. A rounded black hat sat atop his head, emphasizing the sweet boyishness of his face. They held hands in front of a flowering cherry blossom tree, smiling radiantly. Although they faced forward, their gazes were tilted toward each other.

  Gabriel’s footsteps sounded behind me and I whirled to face him, feeling as if I’d been caught doing something inappropriate.

  “Here. It’s just ibuprofen,” he said, his golden eyes avoiding the picture of his parents as he handed me two pills and a cup of water. “We have stronger stuff, but I think we should save it, just in case.”

  We’d already had one medical emergency, so his caution made sense

  “Thanks,” I said, downing the pills dry and then taking a sip. I pointed to the picture of him and John. “You were a cute kid.”

  “I was a chubby kid,” he grumbled, his hand darting out to lay the incriminating picture frame flat before continuing. “That picture was taken during what I like to call ‘the Nutella period.’ When your parents own a grocery store, you don’t always make the healthiest decisions. I once broke into a case of the stuff and took a spoonful from each jar, thinking no one would notice. John tried to stop me, but I didn’t listen because I was older and therefore smarter. Boy, was I wrong.”

  I cackled, imagining a small, round Gabriel methodically twisting open jars and spooning the delicious spread into his mouth, sure he’d come up with the perfect plan to avoid detection.

  “What happened when you got caught?”

  “My mom told me I could eat the whole case since I liked it so much. I think you can imagine how that played out.”

  “Is that in every mom’s playbook?” I asked, empathizing. “I had a similar experience with a giant jar of pickles. Let’s just say that after that day, relish was never a topping of choice for me.”

  We groaned out a laugh, and I wondered if we were both thinking the same thing: Will I ever see my mom again?

  “Anyway, I have this salve that should help with the pain.” He held out his hand to reveal a small container of Tiger Balm. “I don’t think you’ll be able to reach your shoulders and back without hurting yourself. I can apply it, if you want.”

  To my chagrin, the fantasy that had plagued me during my bath flashed in my head. Gabriel was offering to put his hands on my body, and given the way I suddenly tightened
everywhere, my traitorous body was totally down with this plan. I realized that my only reply had been to simply gawk at him when he added, “Or I can get John to do it, or Maggie.”

  “You can do it,” I blurted out, instantly regretting it as my body warmed. My nether regions were already stirring, suddenly interested in the events of the evening. “I mean, one of them can do it if you prefer, but you’re a professional, right? You’ve probably had to do worse things than this.”

  “I’m a new doctor, but applying salve to your back would rank pretty low on the list of worst things I’ve had to do. One day I’ll tell you about the woman who came into the ER with a bottle of soda lodged somewhere unfortunate.” He paused, then raised his eyebrows. “A two-liter bottle.”

  “As delightful as that anecdote sounds, I’ll pass, thanks.”

  We resumed our positions, him on the sofa and me on the ottoman. There was a silence and I realized he was trying to figure out how to go about applying the stuff.

  “Should I just lift my shirt from behind?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Let me do it so you don’t hurt yourself.” He grabbed the back of the long sweatshirt and lifted it up and over my head. My arms were still in the sleeves, so the material bunched in the front, providing the perfect headrest for me while leaving my back completely exposed. It felt strangely intimate, revealing myself to him in this way. It was no more than he would have seen if I’d asked him to slap sunscreen on for me at the beach, but there was more at play here. Knowing that his gaze was fixed on my bare skin made my back prickle in anticipation of the touch that was soon to come.

  He cleared his throat and shifted on the sofa. I wondered if I was radiating invisible perv waves that were making him uncomfortable.

  “I hope you don’t have cold hands,” I said like a dork, hoping to break the tension that was now palpable. Well, I was pretty certain any tension in the air was emanating solely from me, but I had to at least put up a front of calm indifference.