Radio Silence

by Alyssa Cole

  I tried to get my panicked breathing under control, my gaze darting around the room as if Blue Hat had crossed over from my nightmares into the realm of the living. There was no one else in the room but John, who snored and clutched one of his pillows to his chest. That didn’t stop the panic from cresting again.

  I instinctively reached for my Louisville Slugger—I usually slept with it propped beside my bed—but grabbed a handful of darkness instead. It was then that I realized I had left it behind in the clearing after the attack. The bat had been a gift from my dad when I’d moved to New York. He’d joked that I might need to bust a few skulls in his stead, but it had served as my talisman to keep the boogeymen away, and I desperately needed that kind of magic just then. The dream had been so real...

  He’s dead. He can’t hurt you, I repeated to myself, the words eventually helping to calm me. I lay staring at the ceiling for a long time, but I couldn’t get back to sleep knowing what horrible possibilities awaited me in my dreams. Instead, a barrage of unwanted thoughts assailed me.

  What if someone else attacks us? What if we never find out what happened and this is where I’ll be stuck for the rest of my life? What if I never see my parents again? Could a nuclear bomb have gone off without me knowing? What if there’s something even more terrible than anything we can imagine awaiting us?

  When I got sick of driving myself crazy, I threw the covers off and hopped out of the bed. I grabbed the small battery-powered lantern from my nightstand and tiptoed across the room, waiting until I reached the hallway to turn on the light.

  Fear of being alone in an unfamiliar house in the dead of night nagged at me as I crept down the stairs, but I chided myself for being ridiculous. I had slept on roadsides and in the middle of the woods. I was safe now. I was sheltered and warm, and the bad guys couldn’t reach me inside this place. At least I hoped they couldn’t.

  I had gotten all the way to the kitchen when I heard the floorboard creak behind me.

  “Guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.” Gabriel spoke in a low voice that was gritty with fatigue.

  I whirled, catching him in the dim beam of my lantern. The light played across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the dark recesses beneath his eyes. The effect should have been ghoulish, but instead it gave me insight into why so many of my friends were into movies about sexy vampires.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. There was a certain caution, a distance, in his tone that reminded me that his last words to me had been spoken in anger. But right now I didn’t feel like fighting with him or thinking about my nightmares. I just wanted to drink something warm that would help lull me to sleep.

  “You didn’t scare me,” I said. He walked around me and lit one of the candles on the kitchen table, so I turned off my lantern. “I was just surprised to see anyone else up and about.”

  “I’ve always been a night owl, and I became an even bigger one once I started my shifts at the hospital,” he said with a shrug.

  “I thought doctors were able to fall asleep anytime, anywhere.” I placed the lantern down and looked around for a teakettle. “That’s what happens on the TV shows.”

  “Too much television will rot your brain, Arden,” he chided, moving past me and grabbing the kettle from a high shelf over the stove. “And I guess I’m not like most doctors.”

  “How did you know I was looking for the teakettle?” I asked, watching as he poured water from a bucket into the kettle and then placed it onto the low flame of a camping stove. “And what’s so different about you?”

  Since he was in control of the beverage situation, I curled up in one of the wide-bottomed kitchen chairs and pulled the long sweater over my knees. It was hard not to stare at the way his broad shoulders moved beneath his long-sleeved shirt, how his waist narrowed and his sweatpants hung from his slim hips.

  “I’m not some kind of special snowflake. It’s just really hard for me to let things go,” he said.

  “Oh, really? You could have fooled me,” I said with a teasing grin.

  He laughed and ruffled a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I walked into that. It’s hard to fall asleep on any available flat surface when I can’t get my thoughts to slow down. It was bad enough when I was in school, but when I started my residency I wasn’t always able to shake the things I’d seen during a shift. These days...a good night’s sleep is pretty much impossible.” He grabbed a couple of mugs from a cabinet and placed one in front of me, and then grabbed a box of sleep-aid tea and shook it in my direction. “And I knew you were looking for tea because I was too. I don’t really take you for a warm-glass-of-milk kind of woman.”

  “You have read me correctly.” I crossed my arms over my knees, tilting my head to observe him. It was hard to imagine Gabriel sitting up at night fretting, like I did. He seemed so competent and in control. It was reassuring to know that even he was tortured by neuroses, like us mere mortals.

  “Why’d you become a doctor?” I asked. I didn’t want to be nosy, but it was the kind of thing you should know about a person you were trapped with for the foreseeable future.

  “Because I have a God complex,” he responded with a stony expression, and then burst out laughing at my shocked reaction. “I don’t know. It just seemed like the thing to do. I’d get to help people, and one day I’d make enough money to provide for my parents so they wouldn’t have to work so hard all the time. Plus, people would have to call me Doctor.”

  “That’s the only reason you did it, isn’t it?” I teased. Why was it so easy for us to talk now? Maybe this was his doppelgänger, who was only allowed up from the cellar at night. Tomorrow, the real Gabriel would have no idea what I was talking about if I mentioned this conversation.

  “That and the nurses,” he replied with a wink. I wrinkled my nose in disdain, and he raised his hands. “Kidding. Just kidding. Ninety percent of the nurses would rather kick me than kiss me.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” I said. My cheeks warmed when he gave me a narrow look, as if trying to decide whether I’d be categorized as a ninety-percenter or with the remaining ten. I quickly changed the subject. “I know we talked about it earlier, but you really don’t have any idea what’s going on?”

  “No. I know stuff was going down with the Russians, but this seems way too crazy for a first strike, right? If this was war, I think we’d know it.” He glanced at the teakettle, and then reached out to turn up the flame on the camp stove. “I wish I could say that people started staggering into the hospital with a craving for brains, or that there was some pandemic, but things were fine before I left. Hell, things didn’t even get that bad until my parents didn’t come back. That’s when I realized how completely screwed we were.”

  “Way to be optimistic,” I said.

  He cut his glance at me and then saw the tight smile on my face and returned it.

  “It was starting to get really bad in Rochester,” I said abruptly. I had intended to leave it at that, but the words continued to flow of their own volition. “We stayed indoors once we realized that law and order had become a self-serve situation, but we could still hear stuff that was really scary. The night we decided to leave, we heard a woman scream for help. I’ve never heard anyone yell like that before.” I stopped and took a deep breath to quell my nerves. I didn’t know why, but it seemed important that someone else know what had happened. “The screaming stopped, but then we heard a group of men whooping and laughing and making lewd comments—and then nothing.”

  “Christ, Arden.” He didn’t say anything more, but his deep voice conveyed concern and disgust in those two words. The kettle began to sound then, and Gabriel removed it from the flame before the soft whistling could become a full-on shriek.

  “I tell myself that she got away, but the way those men laughed...That was when we decided to go. John said we had to leave before things got any worse, and I couldn’t argue with that. We packed up and left the next morning.”

&nb
sp; I didn’t mention how the woman’s voice had been familiar, even distorted by distress. Had it really been Kerry, the woman who lived in the next condo over with her two cats, making that guttural cry for help? She’d once given me a homemade cupcake, still warm from the oven, when she’d seen me reading in the laundry room. Horrible things shouldn’t happen to people who gave baked goods to near strangers, but I’d seen one of her calicoes scratching at her front door when John and I had set out. It had still been there, meowing anxiously, when we’d turned the corner and headed for the outskirts of town.

  Gabriel poured our tea in silence and sat down across from me. I cradled the teacup in my hands as it steeped, the ceramic warm against my cold fingers. It had a floral scent, designed to calm frayed nerves. I inhaled deeply.

  “That must have made the attack the other day even worse for you. You guys were so close, and what you were running from almost caught up to you anyway,” he said. His head jerked toward me, the candlelight flickering in his gaze as it locked on mine. “He didn’t...they didn’t hurt you anywhere else, did they?”

  I shook my head. A violent shudder passed through me at the thought of what had almost happened. I felt as if I had no right to wallow in fear over almost; what was a close call for me was a terrible reality for so many others. But the strangers who’d attacked us were haunting my thoughts as much as my parents and friends, and the farther I got from the event, the more frightening it became.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said. I was aiming for cavalier, but my tea sloshing over the side of my cup blew my cover. I hated how my hands shook when I thought of what could have happened to John and me; it felt too much like Blue Hat still had physical control over my body, even if he’d never touch me again. I placed the tea down and clasped my hands between my thighs, hiding them until I was able to get the tremors under control. It wasn’t as easy to control the sweat that pricked at my hairline and the brief certainty that I was going to puke.

  “What did you do in Rochester, before this happened? What kind of job did you have? What kind of boss?” Gabriel asked, changing the subject to something that didn’t distress me. Here, in the dim silence of the kitchen, Gabriel seemed able to read my reactions so easily. More than that, he seemed to be conscious of how what he said and did affected me. I chalked it up to his profession—maybe he’d decided to grease up that rusty bedside manner he’d mentioned.

  “I’m a bookkeeper,” I answered. “My boss is pretty freaking awesome, since I work for myself, although several other people think otherwise. I manage the accounts for a few restaurants and small businesses, make sure their books are in order and give them tips on how to better manage their money. Or I did before...this.”

  “Really?” he asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

  And here I’d thought he was so intuitive. “What do you mean, ‘really’?” I asked, not bothering to veil the annoyance in my voice. I’d met plenty of men who doubted my ability to do my job because I was a woman or because I was black or both; I didn’t need it from Gabriel.

  “What are you getting mad about? I mean, come on. That sounds like such a boring job,” he said, taking a sip of his tea, and then wincing because it hadn’t cooled down yet.

  “That’s what you get for making fun of my profession,” I said, slightly mollified by both his explanation and the way he ran his tongue over the bow of his lip to soothe the burn. I had never admired someone’s tongue before, but I was struck by his. It seemed rather...long. And flexible. I shifted in my seat, wondering if he was as good with his tongue as he was with his hands. Given what I knew of him, there was no reason to think his skills would be lacking.

  “I imagined you being, I don’t know, pre-law or something more fitting of your personality.” His voice pulled me away from my reverie, although judging from his smirk, he had caught me staring at his mouth. I wasn’t shy by any means, but I flushed and looked away as he continued. “Maybe things were different before, but the Arden I know wouldn’t be fulfilled by a job like that.”

  “Do you know another Arden? Because I’m pretty sure you don’t know me at all,” I said testily.

  “Fair enough,” he said, his eyes still on me. He smiled a bit and lowered his head, and I realized I had proven his point.

  I traced my finger around the tea-warmed rim of my mug. I had never felt like a bookkeeper, but that was the job I’d fallen into right after college. I’d started doing the books for the pub I waitressed at, and then the place across the street, and it paid the bills. It was dependable, and I didn’t even have to try very hard most of the time. What did Gabriel think he knew about me that he could imagine me as a lawyer instead?

  “Hey, I’m not trying to dis your job. It’s just that you’re, too...too, Arden to be a bookkeeper.” He raised his cup to his lips and blew across the surface before taking a sip.

  I rolled my eyes, but mostly to hide the fact that I was confused by his words. He’d said “too Arden” like it was a good thing, something I’d never considered before. “Anyway, that’s what I did. I play guitar and sing at pubs in town sometimes, which is fun, but I wasn’t going to be the next Joni Mitchell. I wasn’t passionate about anything,” I said with a sigh. “It’s kind of pathetic actually. Once all this craziness started to sink in, I was forced to realize that if the world were ending, I’d have accomplished nothing that I really cared about.”

  I finally took a sip of my tea, surprised by my confession. I felt exposed and wished the floral-scented steam rising from my mug could hide me from Gabriel’s inquisitive gaze. I was quickly coming to understand that apocalyptic situations had a way of lowering one’s inhibitions.

  “I get you,” he said. “After a few days of being stuck here, not knowing what’s going on, I started to have some thoughts that weren’t helpful, to say the least. I think I went a little crazy, boarding up the house and going out looking for trouble. I certainly found it.”

  Silence stretched taut between us.

  “Are you going out to search the bodies?” I finally asked. “Please don’t go alone.”

  “I thought we were supposed to be doing the getting-to-know-you thing,” he said, dodging my question.

  “Were we now?” I asked. “I thought we were doing the trick-Gabriel-into-making-me-tea thing.”

  He laughed, and the sound hit me low and vibrated through my body. All my inappropriate thoughts from throughout the night coalesced into a call to action. Wondering how his tongue felt wasn’t enough, I had to know. How could a simple sound wave start the chain reaction of want so easily? Maybe it was because it was such an easy, comfortable laugh, the kind you shared before climbing into bed next to someone or spending a quiet night on the couch. Unfortunately, Gabriel wasn’t the kind of person I should be doing either of those things with. I stayed in my seat.

  “So, are you going to go back to hating me anytime soon?” I asked. “This is nice, but I like to be prepared for disappointment.” John often had to point out when I was being abrupt or performing what he liked to call the self-sabotage shuffle, but even I could tell I’d just gone and ruined a perfectly nice moment.

  “I’m not going to keep apologizing,” Gabriel said bluntly, his smile fading. “Before, you were a mouthy stranger whose actions put my brother in danger, and possibly my sister too. I know you’re an only child, but you have to be able to understand that.”

  I may not have had siblings, but I knew what it was to fear for your family. Beyond that, I knew what it was to let them down. I thought of my dad’s salt-and-pepper mustache drooping as he frowned. My mom’s sallow skin beneath her silver curls. Tears heated my eyes, and I grimaced, trying to keep them at bay.

  “I understand,” I said. “You were right. I’m impulsive and I don’t think about the outcome of my actions until it’s too late.”

  I stared into my teacup, but I still saw his hand as it reached across the table. I focused on the way it was golden in the candlelight instead
of how good it felt when he laid it on my arm.

  “No, I wasn’t right. It’s good that you’re here,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked suspiciously.

  His gaze met mine and he laughed quietly, standing and gathering his mug. “I’ll add ‘can’t take a compliment’ to your patient profile.”

  At that, he bid me good-night and walked off into the darkness. I could still feel his touch on my arm when I finally picked up my cup with steady hands and drained the tea down to the dregs. I couldn’t tell if it was some potent mix of herbs and flowers or the conversation with Gabriel, but I felt slightly more at peace.

  It’s good that you’re here. I wanted to believe those words, but the last people who’d depended on me had probably realized by now that they’d expected too much. I hoped for John’s, Gabriel’s and Maggie’s sakes that I wouldn’t screw up this time around.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning I made a breakfast of instant oatmeal with raisins for everyone, but Gabriel had apparently already eaten and told John he was going for a walk. John was dispassionate as he delivered the news, and Maggie was slightly peeved that she wasn’t allowed to go. Neither of them seemed to have guessed the true reason for his excursion.

  I kept my face neutral even though my stomach flipped at the news. Had he really just left without telling anyone his plan? Why hadn’t he asked for my help? I’d thought we’d made a connection over our teacups, but in the end he’d ignored my plea that he not go alone. Despite my anger, I hoped he would be okay. I didn’t know if I should hope that his hunch was right—if it was, their parents were definitely in trouble.

  I spent the next few hours nervous and fidgety, wondering if I should mention that Gabriel might be looking for their parents to John and Maggie. I didn’t want to get their hopes up or have them go charging out of the house after him, so I kept my mouth shut. I felt as if I was making the right decision, but withholding information from my best friend—lying, essentially—felt awful. My resentment of Gabriel’s actions grew as the day crawled forward and I slunk around the house, hiding from John’s and Maggie’s growing concern.