by A. M. Geever
Doug gave Mario’s shoulder a squeeze, then turned away. He didn’t want to keep beating him over the head about Silas and Violet, and he wanted him to think about what he’d said. Mario was already in it, was already where he didn’t want to be: responsible and attached, despite how much it scared him that he would fail.
“They need more than I’ve got, Doug.”
Surprise stopped Doug in his tracks, and a cold shiver raced down his spine. He’d heard this before, almost word for word. He turned back.
“She said the same thing about you.” At Mario’s look of incomprehension, he added, “Miri. She said the same thing about you.”
“What?”
“She said you needed more than she had to give when she lost the baby.”
The effect of his words wasn’t what Doug had intended. He thought maybe it would nudge Mario to not want to do the same thing that Miranda had done to him. Instead, he looked like a stake had just been driven though his heart.
“I pushed too hard, didn’t I? You can’t push Miranda, but I did. I needed her and…the more she withdrew, the harder I pushed.”
“You were—you are—hurting,” Doug said. “I don’t know if it was true. I don’t know if you needed her too much. She was in so much pain, and she pushed you away because she felt like she was drowning in it. If she didn’t think she could stay afloat, maybe she was afraid she’d drag you under with her.”
Mario looked at Doug like he’d just thrown him some sort of lifeline, an answer to a question that he hadn’t even known he should be asking. But he also looked inconsolable, as if he’d gotten the answer he sought too late.
Softly, Doug said, “They’re little kids, Mario. Don’t do the same thing to Silas and Violet. They don’t deserve it… Neither did you.”
14
Kendall’s glowing face filled the airlock window. As they stepped through, he said, “You came back.”
“Good to see you, Kendall,” Rich answered.
“Hi, Kendall,” Miranda said, giving him a grin.
She hoped she’d kept the pang of pity swelling behind her sternum off her face and out of her voice. Kendall’s excitement had a palpable undercurrent of astonishment. He’d been afraid they weren’t coming back.
This time, Kendall gave her a hug that, while still awkward, lacked hesitation. He actually gave her shoulders a quick squeeze that held her snugly, rather than stiff back pats like before. Within minutes, they were gathered in the kitchen. Kendall pulled dish after dish of food out of the freezer.
“I wasn’t sure what time of day you might arrive, or if you’d be hungry when you got here,” he said, closing the freezer and moving to the fridge. He grabbed several containers of vegetables that he set haphazardly on the stainless-steel prep table behind him, then reached back inside for a head of lettuce. “There’s a lasagna Bolognese, and a vegetarian one, too. Or I can make you something else, if you want?”
“Lasagna sounds brilliant,” Alec said.
“And salad?” Kendall said, a note of hesitance creeping into his voice.
Miranda looked at the food with greedy eyes. Two frozen lasagnas, and another covered dish Kendall hadn’t identified, sat together, a fine sheen of condensation beginning to form on the silver wrapping. Carrots, lettuce, green onions, apples, red bell peppers… She hadn’t seen this much food in one place for so few people since before they discovered the first blighted vegetable patch.
“I’d love a salad,” Phineas said. “I’ll set the table.”
Kendall’s eyes narrowed a little when Phineas spoke. When she glanced at Alec, it was obvious he’d seen it, too.
“Salad sounds great,” Rich said. “I’ll help you chop.”
Kendall lingered over the meal with them longer this time, until halfway through doing the dishes. He even suggested perhaps watching a movie later, before announcing he needed to see to some things in his domed apartment. Miranda had been pretty sure those ‘things’ was time for him to process their return.
Freshly clean, her hair still wet from her shower, she shrugged into the charcoal-gray, long-sleeved cashmere cardigan sweater that had been neatly folded on the bed she’d used last time. A gift from Kendall. It swung loosely around her hips, since it was the kind designed without buttons, meant to drape softly rather than ensconce. The downy-soft fibers of the yarn caressed her bare arms beyond the cap sleeves of the black tee shirt she wore, and the soft black yoga pants were as comfy as she remembered. She idly wondered if there were any cashmere lounging trousers knocking around the storeroom Kendall had gotten the sweater from.
She looked at her bed with a mixture longing and dread. She wanted to crawl into it and sleep, especially after the heat of the shower and the fullness of her stomach after their meal. And she wanted to avoid it, because she might have another nightmare. Anymore, her sleep was fitful. Once every couple of days she’d get in a night or nap when she slept deep, without nightmares. Sometimes she could tell how it would go, but not right now.
Besides, the group needed to talk.
She joined the others, who were lolling on couches and chairs in their dome’s living room area, in varying degrees of food comas. Phineas had actually sacked out on the floor, a throw pillow under his head. Throw pillows… This place is like a freaking time capsule, she thought.
“Why is Phineas on the floor?” she asked, plucking a small blanket from the back of a chair to lay over him.
She sat on the couch opposite the one Rich lay on and put her feet on the coffee table. She could hear her mother’s admonishing voice in her head as she did so. She knew at a glance that the coffee table had cost as much as most people used to spend on a car.
“He said he was going to stretch, but conked out,” Rich said, not opening his eyes.
Alec had chosen the recliner chair near the foot of both couches. It bore no resemblance to the recliner chairs Miranda remembered from her grandparents’ house. It had sleek lines and rose to a sitting position in a smooth, unhurried movement. Alec fixed the gaze of his half-open eyes on her.
“Don’t you look a picture,” he said, a sly grin quirking a corner of his mouth.
An electric tingle tickled over her skin. She was suddenly aware of how the yoga pants hugged her hips, and the snug fit of the tee shirt. She had dispensed with a bra, since the underwire had been driving her crazy all day; because of the sweater, it wasn’t that obvious. She pulled the cardigan a little closer around herself, self-conscious. She glanced away, hoping the heat in her face didn’t mean she was blushing.
“I haven’t eaten that much in one sitting since the last time we were here,” she said, yawning.
“Tell me about it,” Rich agreed. His voice had a dreamy quality. “Lasagna, with meat in the sauce.”
“It was really good,” Alec agreed.
“It was the noodles,” said Miranda. “He made them yesterday or today.”
“How d’ya know that?” Alec asked.
“Fresh homemade noodles melt in your mouth.”
They lapsed into silence for a minute, the sleep vibe getting stronger by the second. If she didn’t do something, she was going to fall asleep whether she wanted to or not. “So what’s the game plan, guys?”
Rich sat up with a groan. “I feel kinda guilty, having eaten so well.”
“Me, too,” she answered. “It would be worse to waste it.”
“I know… So. You gonna do a little gardening tonight?”
She nodded. “Probably. Just check in, see how he’s doing.”
“We need to help him with being stuck in here,” Alec said, adjusting his chair to fully upright.
“Yeah,” Rich said. “Us being here before made it worse for him. He was so happy to see us… It was kind of pathetic.” He looked at Miranda. “You think we could maybe coax him outside?”
She shrugged. “We can try. Then he’d at least have some options about what to do with himself.”
“And his food,” Alec added. “D'ya think
he might be agoraphobic after all this time?”
Miranda’s brow furrowed. She’d never considered it. “Only one way to find out. I’ll talk to him about going outside.”
“Great,” Rich said, resuming his horizontal position on the couch. “Good talk, team. I’m taking a snooze. All those carbs are like quaaludes.”
Her ‘Okay’ devolved into a yawn. Alec got to his feet, the throw blanket over the back of his chair in hand. He walked to her and snapped it open, like a flag catching the breeze.
“Lie down and take a nap, lass,” he said.
She looked at him, wanting so badly to do it. Rich was right about the carbs; she was getting sleepier by the second.
Alec’s eyes twinkled, but softly. The flirtatious liveliness she was used to seeing in them was almost absent.
“You barely slept last night. I noticed,” he added, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to deny it. “You’ll not have bad dreams out here, with all of us snoozing together.”
She looked at him, surprised. How did he know that? He must have heard her crying out in her sleep through the connecting bathroom when they’d been here before, though he’d never mentioned it. As for last night… She’d been dragging her ass the whole way here; she was so tired. He’d put two and two together. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.
“Go on, Miranda. We’re all right here,” he said, gesturing to the others. “If you’re not well rested, you might not be able to fend off Kendall’s advances.”
The idea of Kendall making advances of any kind was too awkward to contemplate, and amusing, which tamped down her anxiety.
“Okay,” she said, stretching out on the cushions. “Don’t let me sleep all day.”
Alec grinned at her, but the slyness wasn’t there, just friendly solicitude. The blanket fluttered onto her, and he tucked it in at her shoulders.
“I’ll make no promise on that. I might sleep all day myself.” He straightened up, then added, “I’m not sure it matters. I think time’s a little different in this bunker.”
Kendall’s panicked brown eyes met hers.
“I don’t think I can do it,” he said.
The owl blink was in overdrive, like windshield wipers on high that sloshed a torrential downpour away, but only for a second before the glass sheeted over again.
Miranda took a deep breath. When Kendall had agreed to try going outside, she’d known it would take some time. Even so, the nervous wreck of a man she’d met in the kitchen shocked her. They stood in front of the hatch to the airlock. Sweat beaded on Kendall’s forehead, and his Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively. The owl blink never stopped, and if he shifted his weight much more, she was pretty sure he was going to bolt down the corridor. She had to readjust her approach.
“Okay,” she said. “If you can’t, you can’t.”
Kendall relaxed, but it was more like a slump. “You’re disappointed.”
“No,” she said, though she was. She paused, then said, “I am disappointed, but not with you. I’m asking you to do too much, too fast.”
Kendall looked at the floor to hide the pink of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. She had to salvage this before he felt too defeated to try.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “How about we just open the door and sit here?”
Kendall raised his head, the color draining from his face. What had she been thinking, suggesting they go outside? Until they’d arrived a few weeks ago, he hadn’t opened that airlock in years. Kendall took a deep breath, gathering his resolve, and nodded.
Miranda smiled, then reached out and squeezed his hand. “You can do this, Kendall. I know you can.” She turned to the airlock, then realized she didn’t know the code to the lock. “Want to unlock it?”
Kendall took the three steps to the keypad like an automaton. Stiffly, he raised a shaking hand. He took another deep breath, then shielded the keypad as he punched in the code. A moment later, the locking mechanism clicked.
“Good job,” she said, trying to keep her voice encouraging without becoming patronizing. “Sit down. I’ll get it.”
Kendall stared at her, his face blank, then leaned against the wall. Miranda pushed the door’s lever-handle ninety degrees, then pulled it open about a foot. She sat beside Kendall on the floor again.
“That’s not so bad,” she said.
Kendall muttered, his eyes downcast. His voice was so low she couldn’t hear him. She asked him to speak up, and he said, his voice just above a whisper, “This is embarrassing.”
“Why?” she asked.
“It’s just a door,” he said.
“That you haven’t set a foot through in ten years, with monsters outside.”
Kendall sniffed.
“No, I’m serious,” she said. “It’s dangerous out there. If you weren’t scared, there’d be something wrong with you. But you’re still trying, which is brave in my book.”
“You were probably brave from the start,” said Kendall.
Besides being untrue, she didn’t like the tone in his voice. It suggested not just that he was lacking now, but that he would always would be.
“All I wanted to do at the start was hide. If it wasn’t for my boyfriend, I’d have starved in my dorm. I was too afraid, even to save myself.”
Kendall digested this information, frowning. “You aren’t afraid now.”
“I do get scared,” she said truthfully. “Zombies are scary as fuck. I’ve just gotten better at hiding it. Getting angry helps.”
She turned her head when voices drifted down the corridor from the direction of their dome. Alec and Phineas appeared a moment later They stopped at the entrance to the lounge that opened to the center of the main dome.
“What are you up to?” Alec said.
“Just shooting the shit,” she said mildly.
Alec nodded. The polite interest in his hazel eyes and slight smile seemed to suggest that sitting on the floor across from an opened airlock hatch was a natural place to have a conversation.
“Not going—” Phineas began.
Miranda glared at him. Kendall was already embarrassed at his perceived weakness. The last thing they needed was a wisecrack that would embarrass him more.
Haltingly, Phineas finished with, “To get lunch?”
Kendall glanced at his watch, then muttered under his breath, “It’s only ten thirty.”
No one spoke for a moment, then Alec said, “I’m off to the library to find a book.” He nodded, then disappeared into the lounge.
“I’m gonna get something to eat,” Phineas said lamely. And then, because Phineas couldn’t help but be Phineas, he added, “Don’t be stealing my girl, Kendall.”
He winked and was gone. Fucking Phineas, she groaned to herself. Maybe bringing him back hadn’t been a good idea. She needed to have a talk with him later. Delilah appeared in Alec and Phineas’ wake, her nails clicking on the polished concrete. She said hello to Miranda, then snuggled between her and Kendall. The pit bull’s presence—waggly-tailed and solicitous—calmed him. She made a mental note to make sure Delilah was on hand for their outside sessions going forward.
Kendall said, “Phineas eats all the time.”
“He’s twenty. Of course he does.”
“I guess so,” he said.
His tone was so even that she wasn’t sure if it was just a comment, or a criticism. Phineas did eat a lot; they all had since getting here… There was so much food. A sudden thought occurred to her. What if the abundance of food in the bunker was an illusion?
“You have enough food here, right? Because if you don’t, we can…”
We can what—bring it from home? Scavenge more on the way here? Everything nearby was thoroughly picked over apart from the liquor store. Goddamn City Council, she thought bitterly. If they’d never attacked LO, they’d have enough food for everyone and more.
“There’s enough,” he said, sounding perplexed by her question. “More than enough.”
“Good,” she sa
id, feeling relieved—and guilty—because the relief held a hefty dose of self-interest. “We just didn’t think about it, with it being just you here. We lost mo—”
She snapped her mouth shut. She’d just been about to say they’d lost most of their harvest. She shrugged, unease making the movement feel false. “It just occurred to me that maybe some of your food spoiled or something,” she finished lamely.
Kendall looked at her—stared—and she wondered if he’d figured out what she hadn’t said. Kendall was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.
Casting about for a change of subject, she said, “Is the open door okay?”
“As long I’m not thinking about it.”
“Maybe we’ll open it the whole way tomorrow, and just hang out again.”
Kendall’s mouth formed a hard line. He looked at his knees, eyes screwed into a tight squint. Even Delilah noticed the change, for she raised her head and nudged Kendall’s hand with her snout, then began licking it.
“Or not,” she added, again worried she was still pushing him too hard, too fast.
“I feel like a coward,” he muttered.
She reached out and touched his knee. He looked up, a scowl twisting his narrow features.
“You aren’t a coward, Kendall. You’ve just been down here a long time. If I were in your shoes, I’d be freaked out too. There are zombies out there. Hell, there are tigers!” She chuckled, remembering running into the tiger. “You should have seen Phineas when we ran across that tiger. He almost peed his pants.”
Kendall frowned. “He’s sure of himself, though.”
“He doesn’t have the sense to know what he doesn’t know.”
Kendall’s frown deepened.
“What?” she said.
“It’s nothing,” he said, looking down at Delilah while he scratched her head.
She let it go, and they lapsed back into an excruciating silence…for Miranda, at least. Then Kendall said, “Are you?”
