Scorch Road (Scorch Series Romance Thriller Book 1)

by Toby Neal

  A blush stole up her neck and colored her cheeks, and JT smiled slowly.

  “Jacob! You’re looking at her like she’s a pork chop.” His mother’s voice broke the spell.

  “Mama!” JT exclaimed. “E looks pretty today, that’s all.”

  Lucy laughed and he was happy to hear the sound, even if it was at his expense. She put her arm around Elizabeth. “Don’t worry, we won’t let him get you.”

  “Maybe I want him to,” Elizabeth said.

  Lucy and Mama both laughed then. “Oh, I like her, JT.” Lucy pulled Elizabeth up the stairs behind her. “I’m gonna loan her some clothing for your trip. A girl’s got to dress appropriately to make it in this world.”

  “We’ve got to hit the road soon,” JT called after them.

  Elizabeth paused on the landing and looked back down at him, Lucy tugging at her arm. She blew him a kiss, then gave into Lucy’s pulling, and disappeared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth adjusted the straps of her pack, but that didn’t seem to help. It was still heavy, and hot, and the summer sun beat down on the top of her head even with the covering of an old Philly’s ball cap.

  The bulletproof Kevlar vests JT had traded a gun to Frankie for added further hot weight. JT, beside her, glanced down and smiled, hazel eyes worried. He caught her hand in his, and she squeezed it.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll pace ourselves. But we need to keep moving.”

  “I know.” The burden of the cryocase on her back felt like a ticking time bomb as its coolant continued to evaporate—and it counted down her time with her beloved.

  How cruel, to meet the man she’d fall in love with as the world crumbled, and to have her mission mark the end of their time together. Every step she took brought her closer to separation from him.

  The train tracks were crowded with refugees. There was little eye contact or acknowledgement—no one wanted to attract attention, and everyone was devastated by loss. People naturally sorted themselves into walking on the left or right as they flowed past each other, burdened by their few possessions, armed and exhibiting their weapons if they had them.

  Elizabeth was grateful for the weight of the shotgun, stuck through her backpack strap, and JT’s intimidating bulk beside her, armed to the eyebrows.

  Walking the tracks to DC had come as an unpleasant surprise, but a necessary one.

  As JT unlocked the Range Rover for their departure that morning, Frankie came out of the house across the street.

  “JT! You running off again?”

  “Got to get Elizabeth to DC.”

  Frankie shook his head, making his gold chain flash in the sun. “You’re not gonna make it in that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The roads are clogged. Wrecks, traffic. No way can you drive.” He shook his head again. “Only one way to move along the Eastern Seaboard right now.”

  “The train tracks?” JT guessed.

  “The trains are running?” Elizabeth had taken the train up from DC years ago. It was a smooth and pleasant journey, the Amtrak train gliding silently through a sea of urbanity as DC to Baltimore to Wilmington and Philadelphia almost blurred together, with only the occasional glimpses of nature between neighborhoods.

  Frankie smiled at her. “No, sweetheart. You’re gonna have to walk.”

  Elizabeth looked up at JT, feeling like an idiot. Of course, the trains weren’t running.

  As Dolf and JT repacked their supplies for walking, Ana had asked Elizabeth to sit in the back yard with her.

  A high wooden fence surrounded the rectangle of green, planted with crops along the side: corn, tomatoes, zucchini, a row of flowers. It was hot, and JT’s mother brought Elizabeth over to two camping chairs set up in the shade of a tree. The branches were thick, the leaves a canopy keeping the sun off of them as Ana gestured for Elizabeth to sit and handed her a glass of iced tea.

  Nando’s grave was in the opposite corner of the large yard, a stark reminder of the Scorch Flu’s high cost.

  “I grow the flowers because I like to keep fresh cut flowers on the table,” Ana told her. “Brightens the place up. Now I’ll be able to use them for Nando’s grave too.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “I know you are. Thank you, dear.” Ana reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She was so warm and kind. There was some elemental difference between Ana’s and her own mother’s personalities, but Elizabeth couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “JT told you we lost his father.”

  Elizabeth nodded and muttered more condolences. Ana tipped her chin, accepting them. “He was lucky to be old enough to know him. Lucy has no memories of her Dad because she was so little when he was taken. He was a very good man.”

  “I’m sure he was. JT is a good man too. You should be very proud of him.”

  Ana smiled, her face brightening. “The easiest way to a woman’s heart is to compliment her children.”

  Elizabeth laughed. A breeze blew through the yard, blowing some of the flower petals off Nando’s grave and twisting them up into the air. Both women watched the small velvety white and yellow petals settle into the grass.

  “I don’t want to leave this place,” Ana said.

  “I wish you didn’t have to.”

  “But you think we do?”

  Elizabeth looked over at Ana; was she asking for advice, from her? “Yes, Mrs. Luciano. I think you’ll have to leave.”

  “Call me Ana.”

  “Okay, Ana,” Elizabeth smiled. “I’ve seen the Haven. It’s lovely, it’s safe, and your family will thrive there. JT has worked so hard to build it for all of you.”

  Ana turned hazel eyes on Elizabeth, only a shade lighter than JT’s. Elizabeth could see where JT got his direct gaze and long lashes. “You liked the Haven?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “It’s wonderful. You’ll love it there.”

  “But you’re going to DC. And you’re staying there, in the city.”

  Elizabeth’s throat tightened and she turned away, coughing to clear it.

  “He told you about Mary, yes?” Ana said.

  Elizabeth’s head whipped back around. “Yes.”

  “And Zoe.”

  Tears burned Elizabeth’s eyes. “Yes.” Her voice broke.

  Ana raised an elegant black eyebrow. “He hasn’t cared about anyone in all that time, and he cares about you. And still you’re gonna stay in DC.”

  “My parents are there.” Her voice was as strong as her reason—a whisper.

  Ana turned back to look out at her garden. “Paulie and I always hoped our children would grow up and find their own lives and their own loves. Maybe your parents feel the same. Did you ever ask them?”

  Elizabeth gave a weak laugh. Her parents talked about duty and fighting the good fight, and they pulled strings and controlled everyone around them “for the good of the country.” They did not talk about true love—theirs or anyone else’s.

  Ana reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand again. “Maybe you should talk to them about being with someone you care about,” she said, giving it a squeeze.

  “JT hasn’t asked me to come to the Haven.”

  Ana smiled. “Sometimes we have to ask for what we want instead of waiting for someone else to offer it.”

  Elizabeth was jostled out of her memory by the sweet stench of decay as they passed another body, rolled off the tracks and bloating under the bushes. She let go of JT’s hand, feeling guilty for the comfort his touch gave her. It seemed wrong to feel anything good with so much horror surrounding them.

  Pinocchio, walking at her side, touched his nose to her knee as if to comfort her.

  “He obviously loves you.” JT looked down at the dog. He said ‘love’ so casually. She was suddenly desperate to have him tell her that he loved her, in spite of the circumstances, in spite of the end of the world, in spite of their
coming separation.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  She hunched her shoulders in their heavy pack and walked faster, stepping over the wooden slats. She had to keep her eyes on the track or it was easy to stumble.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything.”

  JT took her hand again. He gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you home safe.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I know you will.” But she couldn’t look at him with the tears stinging in her eyes. He couldn’t have been clearer about his agenda: get his family back to the Haven. And that didn’t include her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  JT

  Their second night on the tracks, JT tucked Elizabeth closer against him under the crude shelter of the tarp he’d erected against a boulder to protect their backs. Pinocchio, smelly but warm, sheltered her other side. Her breath was soft and even—Elizabeth was out cold, within minutes.

  Twelve hours of walking a day would do that to anybody. He’d been impressed by her stamina, and she’d never complained.

  He’d chosen their camping spot for the night from a raised area of the track, and had piled some cut branches over the tarp to disguise it while Elizabeth prepared a simple meal. It wouldn’t hide them, but it might make them less obvious, and there was no sense drawing attention.

  Wherever there were people in dire need, violence was not far away. He patted the twin Glocks, positioned nearby for easy access.

  Pinocchio would warn them if anyone came.

  Elizabeth wiggled deeper into his arms under the crude shelter, her curvy little butt wreaking havoc on his abraded nerves, and sighed in her sleep.

  Soon she’d be gone from beside him entirely.

  The thought chilled him. He tried to imagine saying goodbye and couldn’t.

  But he needed to focus on getting back to his family and his priority of returning with them to the Haven. He’d talked with Dolf as they’d unloaded the Rover, while Elizabeth was in the backyard with his mom. Both women had looked teary when they returned.

  “I’m going to be back in a week,” JT had told Dolf, who nodded curtly. “You need to help convince Mama to come to the Haven.”

  “I get it. We need to go. Avital too.”

  “Of course. But if Avital won’t come . . .”

  “I’m not leaving without her.” Dolf’s voice was hard and brooked no argument. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Dolf looked like a bronze warrior statue, dressed all in black, carrying a box of grenades from the Rover that JT had decided were too unwieldy, except for a couple he’d stowed in his cargo pants.

  Dolf didn’t need any weapons. He was arming the family home in case of raids, and planned to move Avital there too, so that all of them were under one roof and easier to defend.

  “What do you think Avital will say?” JT cocked his head.

  “No. She’ll want to keep working at the hospital, and Nando’s grave and their house is here.”

  “Mama and Lucy already told me no. But I’ll be back in a week, and you guys better be ready to go, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Dolf turned to face JT. “Hell to pay, brother?” Dolf’s eyes were shadowed. “Hell is already here.”

  “Whoa,” JT reached out to touch Dolf’s arm, but he stepped away. “Hey, Dolf, sorry man.” JT ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face and tucking it behind his ears. “I just . . .” He looked up the stoop at his mother’s house. The pansies in the window box fluttered in a hot breeze. “I’m worried. About Elizabeth.”

  “What about her?”

  “I’m afraid . . .”

  “That you’ve fallen in love with her?”

  JT looked at his brother. Dolf was not the kind of guy who talked about love or even noticed that kind of thing. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. You have a chance at happiness and you’re gonna throw it away?” Dolf’s shoulders bunched as he lifted the box of grenades. “You’re an idiot.” Dolf had turned and gone up the stoop, leaving JT staring after him.

  Under their little shelter, Elizabeth moaned and turned to him, scrunching her hands into his shirt, cuddling close like a kitten.

  “JT,” she whispered.

  He lowered his head, petting her hair. “Yeah, baby?”

  A small, contented sigh was her only response.

  She was murmuring his name in her sleep.

  Dolf was right—JT was an idiot. But he couldn’t find a way around the situation they were in—she had a mission and so did he. Unfortunately, their futures were on opposite sides of the country. Eventually he slept, his arms tight around Elizabeth.

  Pinocchio roused JT with a deep, rumbling growl. JT cracked his eyes, instantly alert, muscles preparing for action. His hand, resting on the Glock above his head, tightened—the other was wrapped around Elizabeth. He slid it back over her waist and curled it around the second Glock.

  “Shut your dog up or I’ll put one between his eyes.” The voice in front of JT was harsh and phlegmy with cough.

  “Hey now.” JT kept his voice soft, conciliatory. He shifted his weight, rising on an elbow to see out from under the tarp. He had to get Elizabeth out of harm’s way and assess the threat. “Great way to wake up a fellow traveler.”

  Behind a hulking silhouette, dawn grayed the sky with cloudy pearl. Make that silhouettes: there were more than one of the ‘wolves’ as he’d heard fellow refugees call the thieves that operated up and down the tracks, killing for weapons or food, the new currency of barter.

  “Give us the packs, and we’ll be on our way.” The leader coughed again, spraying them with the virus. JT’s abs tightened in a primal recoil.

  Elizabeth moved beside him, raising the shotgun. “Don’t think we will.” Her voice was steady and low, and she had both barrels pointing at the head ‘wolf.’

  “And I got a couple more reasons for you to move along.” JT brought up both hands, each holding a .40. “You’re sick and not long for this world. I can make your time shorter.”

  “We’ve got you covered,” a second silhouette said. “You can’t take us all out.”

  “I never doubted it. I just think you might find easier pickings at some other camp,” JT said.

  The leader raised a fist. “We’ll catch you later. Watch your back.”

  “Oh, we will,” Elizabeth replied.

  The wolves, snarling amongst themselves, withdrew.

  Morning, with its fleeting beauty, continued to brighten the grim surroundings of the urban sprawl they were trekking through between Philadelphia and Washington. This particular stretch had some pin oak and beech woods. The trees and brush of a small wilderness area now provided the kind of cover needed for the human predators’ activities.

  Elizabeth lowered the shotgun. Pinocchio whined, licking her face.

  “You did good, E.” JT sat up and pulled her into the V of his legs, scanning the area with his back against the boulder, weapons ready.

  They were alone as far as he could see. “Stay here. I’m going on a perimeter check.” He kissed her, brief and hard. “Pinocchio, stay.”

  The dog whined again, but sat beside Elizabeth as she pulled up against the rock, the shotgun ready on her knees.

  JT slipped out from under the tarp and, staying low, wound his way through the nearby trees.

  Clear.

  A line of morning light lay like mercury along the exposed tracks, extending as far as he could see in both directions. DC wasn’t far, sunk in a smoky mist.

  Along the tracks he could see the hunched bundles of people sleeping, and tents here and there—but no one nearby, which was likely why the wolves had targeted them in the first place—there was some help available from other refugees carrying arms. The travelers united as they could against common threats.

  JT trotted back to Elizabeth, ducking under the low tarp to join her. “All clear.”

  Elizabeth didn’t move, the shotgun still clutched in bone-wh
ite fingers, her eyes wide and stark.

  He knew what she needed.

  It was the same thing he needed, after this brush with violence. The adrenaline high was wearing off, transmuting into something else. He took the shotgun out of her hands and set it on the ground, pointed away from the boulder.

  “I wish I could get you naked in a field of flowers,” he said. “Out in my valley, with nothing but eagles for company. But I need you now, any way I can get you.”

  Her eyes flared and darkened to navy blue as he took her glasses off and set them aside. He crushed her close, kissing her deep and long, tasting the fear on her mouth as well as the road, knowing he was no sweeter, knowing it didn’t matter.

  They got the most essential bits of clothing off in a rustling hurry, and JT sent Pinocchio to keep watch outside as he rolled onto his back, sliding on a condom quickly, and bringing Elizabeth up onto his hips with a quick heave of his arms.

  She squeaked in that way he loved as he slid into her, her hair falling in a curtain around his face as he thrust up into her tight, hot perfection. A moan wrenched from his throat at the feel of this one good thing.

  Elizabeth rode him hard and desperate, her hands braced on his shoulders as he clung to her hips, and nothing had ever been as totally necessary as the pounding need they had for each other: immediate, all consuming, oxygen feeding a flame.

  She came first, and he loved watching her rise and arch with a cry, hitting her head on the tarp, tossing her hair, oblivious and gone in the moment, her shirt hiding her beautiful body from him but her steely thighs clamped around his hips.

  She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  JT came so hard it was like a blackout, a total swamping of his senses. Seconds later, when his brain booted up again, he wondered if he’d had a stroke.

  Elizabeth had fallen over him, and she was crying, little snuffling sobs into his neck, her fingers curled into his hair and shirt.

  He tightened his arms around her, stroking her, molding her against him.