by Ariel Bonin
Lindsey opened the door and raised her eyebrows. "Zoey Flynn, are you actually excited for school?"
The girl frowned as she picked up her bag by the doorway. "Hell no." Lindsey shot her a look. "Heck no. I just want to get this over with."
"Oh, come on. You gotta admit that you're a little excited." She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.
"Okay, fine…maybe a little. It beats riding in the car for hours and getting covered in turner guts."
Lindsey laughed. "I second that. Come on, let's go," she said as she picked up Jacob and opened the screen door for Zoey.
Once the infant was at daycare and showed no signs of separation anxiety, Lindsey entered her classroom. Four white walls, one with a line of open windows, surrounded her. Pictures of trees and houses, presumably painted by small children in the Beginner class, hung from the walls and fluttered in a warm breeze from the nearby windows. Five desks formed a semi-circle in the middle of the room, three of which were occupied by teenagers. Zoey dropped her bag on a fourth desk and went over to say hi to Tommy. Two girls sat on either side of the boy and offered smiles when Zoey drew near.
Not wanting to hover, Lindsey turned to the old-fashioned blackboard. She lifted the worn piece of white chalk and touched it to the dusty surface. For a moment, she was transported back to the tower at the library. Her hand outlined the shape of a daisy as she spoke carefully to the damaged girl beside her. Zoey's eyes were cast downward, avoiding her badly bruised face. Raising her eyes now, she tried to ignore the mixed feelings of hurt and hope that she associated with it.
Lindsey only got as far as the M before she realized that she was writing out Mrs. Scott. Who am I? Mrs. Scott…Mrs. Flynn…Ms. Richardson? She experienced a spark of inspiration and began to move the chalk again. Satisfied, she spun back around to face her class.
"Okay, seats everyone! Are we missing someone?" she asked in reference to the last empty seat.
At the exact same time, a boy, who had to be about the age of seventeen, strolled in and flopped down at the desk. He gave a cool nod to Tommy and winked at the girls. When he finally looked at Lindsey, his eyes widened like he'd suddenly honed in on a giant piece of cake.
"I don't believe we've met. I'm Zach," he said with a flirty smirk.
The blonde was far from impressed. His tardiness wasn't doing him any favors either. Giving him a steely expression, she said, "You can call me Miss Lindsey."
_____
After a lesson in creative writing, meant more to warm up the students than teach them anything, Lindsey was ready to send them down the hall to Elizabeth's new classroom for math.
"I'll see you for lunch?" she asked Zoey in a warm voice.
Zoey glanced at the other teenagers, embarrassment flickering in her eyes. "Maybe. We might go to the beach later."
Lindsey nodded in understanding at her desire for independence. "Okay, your dad and I will save some food for you."
Zoey half-smiled at her and slipped out into the hallway. Partway down, Zach nudged her in the shoulder.
"Hey, your mom is hot."
"She's not my mom. She's my dad's girlfriend." Zoey wasn't about to call Lindsey her dad's fiancé or wife—not yet.
"Even better for me, then. If something happens to him, I can take care of her," the boy said with a suggestive grin, followed by a wink.
"Come on, Zach, don't be a jerk," one of the girls said.
Zoey stopped in her tracks, her entire body tensing as red-hot anger burned in her veins. The grip she had on her backpack strap tightened until her knuckles became white. When Zach laughed, Zoey felt something inside her snap.
Swinging her backpack to the floor, she whirled around and punched Zach square in the mouth.
Chapter 5
Now rid of his godforsaken sling, thanks to Dr. Anderson the night before, Andrew left his bungalow just before dawn and felt ready to take on the world—or what was left of it. He met Charlie along the way, the two men hardly saying a word beyond "morning." It was early, but already the birds were singing from their perches among the thick vegetation. Fragrant undertones of flowers mixed with a salty sea breeze. The fresh smells awakened Andrew more than any cup of coffee could, though, he wouldn't have turned one down if someone had offered. As he walked, his gun belt added a familiar weight to his hips. Putting it on that morning had been bittersweet. While he was ready to hang it up, he had to admit that he felt safer with it on—and if he didn't have to use it, well, that would be perfect. It would be like the old days, carrying a gun but hoping it wouldn't be necessary. He could live with that.
Andrew and Charlie cut through a side path and wound up at the water's edge. Gentle waves lapped at the shore of the shaded inlet, the ocean water not yet showing its vivid color. The dock was up ahead and two men waited by a fishing vessel similar to the one that had picked them up from Vanderbilt Beach. When they got closer, Andrew recognized that one of the men was Brian.
As he and Charlie thudded up the boarded pathway, he called out, "Don't tell me you're a fisherman, too!"
Brian turned toward the voice and chuckled. "I'm a man with many hats. Actually, one of the guys hurt his knee last week so I'm filling in. Hope you don't get sick of me."
Andrew shook his head with a smile. "Not at all. It's nice to have a familiar face on our first day back to work. It's been a while, so take it easy on us."
"Can't make any promises, but I'll do my best," Brian countered. He introduced them to the other man on the dock, a previous lawman—state trooper in fact. The man appeared to be slightly older than Andrew, but not any worse for wear.
When they boarded the boat, Andrew was eager to ask a question that had come to him sometime during the night. "Have you ever seen any turners out here?"
Brian coiled rope as he answered, "Yes, a few times. We still have to be careful—even with the cure. Sometimes we find them floating in the water—had one get caught in our net a couple months ago. They're too bloated to move, but I wouldn't underestimate them. That's why we have our no swim policy for the beaches."
At Brian's mentioning, Andrew could recall not seeing people in the water at any time. It made sense that turners could stay animated in water as long as their brains were intact—maybe not swim—still proving a threat that needed to be taken seriously.
Charlie cleared his throat and pointed out at the ocean in no particular direction. "So, if they're out there, gettin' their shit all mixed in with the water, why is it okay to eat the fish?"
"There was a time at the beginning when we were desperate for food. Fishing was our only chance of survival. We caught what we could, cooked it up and, well, ate it. We didn't have any other choice. Lucky for us, it didn't seem to be contaminated. Now I wouldn't go eating sushi anytime soon, but cooked through seems to be just fine." Brian opened a compartment and obtained two long pairs of rubber gloves. He held one out to Andrew and the other to Charlie. "All right, enough chit-chattin'. Let's go catch some fish!"
_____
Lindsey had made it only just inside the doorway of her classroom when she heard a ruckus in the hallway. Loud teenage voices traveled down the aged corridor as she stuck her head out and caught a glimpse of what looked like Zoey hitting another kid. It was Zach, and he was cowering away from the blows. Lindsey rushed toward them, helping Tommy break apart the two fuming adolescents. Zach's nose was bloodied, as was his lip. They glared daggers at each other as Lindsey stood between them.
"What is going on?" she snapped, eyes wide, her head swiveling back and forth.
Zach was quiet, quite unlike his behavior earlier on. She looked at Zoey, hoping to get at least an answer from her. She wouldn't meet Lindsey's gaze, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.
Frowning deeply, Lindsey said, "I have no idea what just happened here, but I will be speaking with Elizabeth about how to handle this."
Before she could finish what she was saying, Zoey ducked out from under Lindsey's raised hand, snatched
her backpack from the floor, and stalked toward the double-doors at the end of the hall. She happened to be passing by the small children from the Beginner class and their guardians, making them acutely aware of the problematic situation, much to Lindsey's embarrassment.
"Zoey… Hey!" she hollered, but got no reaction. Now fuming herself, she clenched her jaw and prodded a finger into Zach's chest. "Clean yourself up and get to class. Don't get any ideas," she ordered, referring to him possibly following in Zoey's footsteps and playing hooky. She would have to talk to Andrew later. This went beyond her authority as a teacher and needed to be dealt with by a primary parent. It certainly wasn't how she wanted to greet him when he got home from his first day of work, but wasn't something she was going to keep from him. He needed to know and she wanted an explanation—she deserved that much.
_____
When Andrew got home late that afternoon, he found Lindsey sitting on the porch with Jacob. The young boy was on her lap, enthralled in a picture book about baby animals. Lindsey saw him approaching and smiled. Somehow her eyes didn't match the smile. Before he could ask her anything though, she beat him to it.
"How was your day?"
Andrew ascended the steps, leaned over to drop a kiss on her lips and one on Jacob's downy hair, and said, "It was good. Great people, fresh air—it doesn't get much better than that."
Lindsey winced as she said, "You may have gotten fresh air, but you didn't bring it back with you."
Andrew laughed. "What are you trying to say?"
"Um, you stink," she said with an apologetic shrug, as if the gesture would somehow break it to him easier.
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. We took in quite a haul. I need to go wash up. But first, how was your day?" he asked, giving her his full attention. He thought it was amazing to have such a routine conversation with her—he'd missed these. Although, this was the first time he and Lindsey had ever experienced anything "routine."
Her uneasy gaze returned. She tilted her head and sighed. "Well, it was…good, for the most part."
"That doesn't sound good."
Lindsey raised her brows for a moment, and then said flatly, "Yeah."
Andrew glanced around and peeked through the screen door into the bungalow. "Where's Zoey?"
"I think she's probably at the beach. She and I had similar days."
Uh oh. "What happened, Linds?" He propped an arm on the door frame and focused on her hesitant expression.
"Honestly, everything was great, right up until after our writing class together. I heard kids yelling in the hallway. Turns out, Zoey was fighting with another kid. She roughed him up a little bit, but I managed to break them apart. I started to explain my disciplinary actions and Zoey walked out. She didn't come back for any of her other classes."
Andrew pushed a heavy breath from his chest as he aimed to quell his anger. He hoped there would be a good explanation for this, but Zoey needed to know that randomly punching people was not the way to solve a problem. Yes, he'd also been guilty of it in the past year or so, but things were different now. They were living in a civilized society—as contained as it was—so they needed to act like civilized people. Nonetheless, the most frustrating thing was Zoey's blatant disrespect toward Lindsey in front of her other students and peers. That was simply unacceptable.
"I'm sorry that happened to you. I'm gonna have a serious talk with her. I'll go clean up and then see if I can find her." He gave her a consoling peck on the forehead and began to head inside.
"Oh, one more thing!"
Andrew stopped with the door open.
"Have you seen my knife? I can't find it anywhere." Her voice was a mixture of sadness and distress.
"I haven't… I'm sorry. But I'll keep an eye out for it, okay?"
Lindsey's shoulders dropped.
"We'll find it. Don't worry," he said with a hopeful smile, and then sought out the awaiting shower.
_____
Once Andrew was rid of his offensive odor, he told Lindsey he'd be back in time for dinner and took off for the beach on the east side of the island—the one Zoey frequented the most. However, he only made it to the start of their walkway. The girl stood directly in front of him, defeat etched into her always-aging features. Her eyes and nose were red, presumably from crying.
"I knew I had to come home eventually. We live on an island—there's nowhere to go and nowhere to hide." Zoey said this with a touch of attitude. She spun on her heel and plopped down on the steps next to Andrew, who was still standing.
As Andrew sat next to his daughter, he asked, "Zoey, what happened today?"
To his astonishment, she told him everything—or what he could only presume was everything. He came to the conclusion that he wasn't a fan of this Zach kid either, but that was not the point. Discipline needed to be upheld.
"You know you owe Lindsey a serious apology, right?"
"Yeah," Zoey mumbled.
"And you're grounded, too."
"What?" Zoey yelled, snapping out of her teenage indifference.
"I know! It's practically prehistoric, but your actions still have consequences. We live with these people now. Unless something happens, this is forever. We need to play nice," he said in simple terms. "So no visiting friends or going anywhere other than here or school for the remainder of the week. All right?"
"Fine," Zoey said with a stony expression now.
Andrew hated to do it—she had just gained some new friendships with other kids her age, but it was just the way things had to be. "Go on in and start working on that apology."
_____
Lindsey was exiting the tiny kitchen nook when she came face to face with Zoey.
"I'm sorry, Lindsey. I shouldn't have walked away from you." The teenager's words sounded sincere. "This is all kinda confusing for me. I know I shouldn't make up excuses…"
"I understand," Lindsey said. "This is, in a way, difficult for all of us. We've spent so much time running and fighting for our lives and those we love. Some guy presents a problem, first instinct is to act out with aggression."
"I shouldn't have punched him, though," Zoey said in defeat.
"You're right, you shouldn't have. I'm glad you know that now. As your teacher, I am going to put you and Zach in detention tomorrow afternoon. You can sweep and mop the floor, wash the windows, the blackboard and so on. Does that sound fair?" The girl shrugged in reluctant acceptance. Giving in to her curiosity, Lindsey asked, "What he'd say to you anyway?"
Zoey tucked her hands into her pockets as her eyes darted everywhere but on her. "Um, he just said…that you were hot."
Lindsey smirked but pulled her lips together to hide it. "That's it?"
"Pretty much," she answered quickly.
Lindsey slid an arm around Zoey's shoulders and gave her a squeeze, tilting their heads together. "Well, thanks for sticking up for me. But next time, use your words instead of your fists."
"I know, I know." Zoey returned the partial hug and proceeded on to her room with her bag.
"What are you doing? Dinner will be ready soon."
"I'm gonna start my homework. My English teacher is kind of a hard-ass."
Lindsey scoffed at the playful jab and yelled back, "Am not!" She unexpectedly felt Andrew's strong, lean arms around her waist. His chin rested on her shoulder, but he sneaked a quick kiss on the exposed column of skin on her neck. She sighed out her tension. "Hey, do you remember that conversation we had at the ranch about going back to our old lives?"
"And I pretty much said that we were too far gone?" His voice was low and deeply comforting.
"Yeah…do you think that's what's happening right now?"
"Things haven't gone back to the way they were before. Our country still lacks any kind of infrastructure. The same threats are still out there. Here, this is the new 'normal.' We need to continue to hold onto those survival skills that we've come to know so well, but we can also be a little bit of who we used to be. It's like, reinventing ourselves. We've done it o
nce, we can do it again."
Lindsey turned around to stare at Andrew in love-struck awe. He always knew the right things to say—it was one of his many positives that had made her fall for him. With a grin, she said, "And the first thing I'm going to do…is marry you."
Only four more days.
Chapter 6
Andrew Flynn stood at the altar, more specifically, one spot on the white, sandy beach, as they didn't actually have an altar. A few rows of metal folding chairs from an old storage room on the base stretched out before him, an aisle formed between them. The seats were filled with their closest friends and quite a few people from the island—they couldn't pass up a wedding. Andrew's hands trembled somewhat from the anticipation of seeing his bride-to-be. He busied them by glancing at the trusty watch on his wrist.
5:11 p.m.
His hands shook a little more and he stuffed them into his pockets. The ceremony was supposed to start at five o'clock. Lindsey knew that, but she wasn't here. He directed a worried look at Caren and she shrugged. Zoey sat patiently next to the woman as Jacob wiggled in her lap. They exchanged a glance, next with Robert, then Charlie. Andrew tugged out his hand, checking the time once again.
5:12 p.m.
Where are you, Lindsey?
_____
TEN HOURS EARLIER
On that picturesque Saturday morning, Lindsey awoke, not in her own bed, but Caren's. The other woman was still asleep next to her, breaths relaxed and steady. They'd stayed up late, talking and giggling. Due to Caren's pregnancy, it had probably wiped her out. Since Lindsey wouldn't allow a bachelorette party—one was enough with Luke, the stripper dressed as a cop—Caren had demanded that she stay with her the night before the wedding. According to the pregnant woman, traditions needn't be neglected, so Lindsey was forbidden to see Andrew until they met at the altar. She had to admit that it made the occasion a little more exciting. She couldn't wait to see Andrew all dressed up. The closest thing had been the party at the school. That fateful night seemed like a lifetime ago. And here they were today, swapping their own vows. Crazy.
