I glance back at him with huge eyes, and his silence gives me all the answer I need but not the answer I want. He agrees with me. I let out another heavy sigh and wrap my arms around myself as we go quiet once again, absorbing the ramifications of my statement.
“Could be that,” he says finally. “Or maybe they ran off together. Him and Melissa. Maybe they left on purpose. You ever think of that?”
I stare at him like he's just grown another head.
“What the hell, Whitman? I'm finally admitting what I know you're damn well thinking, and you throw that curve ball at me?”
“So you don't think that's the scenario?”
“No, I don't think that's what happened at all. Sam wouldn't do that. Not to me and especially not to Amy. He wouldn't put her through that. Plus, that theory does nothing to account for the rest of his missing crew.”
He nods. “Totally agree. Just checking to see how clearly you're thinking on this. Your first scenario is my belief too.”
“Fuck.” That one muttered word conveys all the unfairness of this totally messed up situation.
“You know what that also means,” he says, breaking the silence. “They're most likely infected—”
“No,” I interject fiercely. “You don't know that.”
“Bix—”
“No. They look nothing like the hybrids from St. Joseph’s. They don't look any different at all. They've been here for three weeks and have shown no signs of infection.”
“You're not thinking rationally because it's Sam.”
My snort is harsh. “Bullshit.”
“You know what the docs said. Anyone held in those pods are already infected and will evolve, just like the ones we found.”
“They don't know that. It's just a guess on their part. They all but admitted they encouraged the mutation at St. Joseph’s by interfering. Maybe Sam and Melissa and the others were infected, but the parasite somehow died? I mean, there has to be a reason why they managed to escape, right? Why they still aren't in those pods undergoing mutation? Maybe something in the process fucked up.”
I expect him to argue my point more, but he appears to be considering my words.
“Maybe. If that’s where they've been all this time, then yeah. Something had to have gone wrong for them to be out and unchanged.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair, messing it up even more. “Fuck. Why won't they tell us anything, though? Why the big secrecy?”
“Why do you think? If you've been exposed to what they've endured these past few months, would you want anyone to know you're possibly infected? Barring our personal interest in this, what is your gut instinct to do with them right now?”
His brown eyes stare into mine. “You know what I would do. Eliminate any threat.”
I meet his gaze. “Mine too.” Can't believe I'm even agreeing with him on this, but I am. “But the thing is we don't know if they are a threat. We can't be sure. We need to be sure, Luke. I need to be sure. I can't lose him again...”
My voice dies off as my careless admission transforms Luke's face and shuts him down. Crap. Foot in mouth syndrome hits once again. Why am I so prone to it? A curt nod is his only answer.
“So what do we do now?” he asks.
That's the question of the century. “I don't know,” I whisper.
“We should let the others know. Let Cooper know. They can help us decide.”
“No.” My objection is swift and shrill.
“Bix, they deserve to know.”
“Know what? We don't know anything. We can't prove anything. What we would be telling them is pure conjecture.”
“I disagree. There are too many what ifs. This could go so wrong.”
“No, Luke. Please, not yet. We need to know for sure. We need to give them the benefit of the doubt. Sam would do the same for you.”
“Well, I'm not Sam!” Luke's voice rises and falls in an instant. He glances around, checking to see if anyone noticed his outburst before taking a calming breath. “I'm not the fucking almighty golden Sam, okay?” Hurt colors his quiet voice.
My throat constricts with my own pain. “I'm sorry. I'm not comparing you. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” His gaze hardens, and I know the look. End of discussion. “I believe the right thing is to let everyone know. I don't like keeping secrets, and I think you are being totally fucking selfish in this. But I won’t say anything to the others. Not yet. I don’t want to upset them and jeopardize the mission. Not until we get back to the Grand. Then we come clean to Coop and let him and the council handle it. In the meantime, you think about what I said. Maybe you'll come to the realization that you're thinking with your heart instead of your head. You always did have fucking blinders on when it came to Sam. And admit it; even with all we've been to each other this past year, you still feel the same about him. Nothing has changed. You've already made your choice.”
My mouth snaps shut, caging any admission. But he doesn't need to hear it to know.
As if my silence angers him, he turns on his heel and leaves me standing alone under the pine. I watch him leave, my eyes following his broad back across the open field as a sharp pain burrows its way through my chest. I hate myself for hurting him. He doesn't deserve it. And he certainly as hell doesn't deserve to love someone as fucked up as me. These past few months, he has brought so much more to our time together than I ever could. His love has been absolute and completely laid bare for me to see. Without reservation or doubt, while I always held a part of me back. Watching him walk away kills me, but I know it has to be this way. Even though it feels like I've lost him forever, like I've lost my only chance for happiness, I need to let him go. It's not fair to any of us. We will never be the same now. I know it. Would it have been different if Sam hadn't come back into our lives? Would Luke and I finally have made it as a couple? I guess we'll never know. One thing is for certain. Whatever we had together is gone now. We will never be the same.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After a miserable twenty four hours of waiting, Badger is finally given the green light to travel. I’m not quite sure how he’s going to handle riding his bike one handed, but if anything, he’s a stubborn bastard. He’ll find a way. So I’m damn thankful to be getting back on the road and having something else to occupy my mind.
The hours of waiting have not been easy ones, however. Luke and Sam have both been avoiding me like I’m the last surviving carrier of smallpox. Not cool. I mean, it’s not like those two are both innocent bystanders in this whole fiasco. Then if Sam’s actions aren’t unpredictable enough, he suddenly informs us of his decision to go with us on our mission to Ottawa. I don’t get it. First he avoids me and practically all the crew, now he wants to finish our mission with us? And even more unpredictable? Luke agrees. But his agreeing doesn't really surprise me. I know what he’s thinking. The mission is a perfect opportunity to keep an eye on Sam, to make sure he isn't showing any sign of infection. I know that man’s thoughts better than my own at times.
I try to argue the decision since I know damn well what Luke will do if Sam shows the slightest sign of infection. I’m even more scared of what I will do. That’s a decision I don’t want to have to make. So I argue that he doesn't have a bike, and that he probably won't be able to keep up the pace. Anything to deny his request. But lo and behold, Kip has bicycles; all in tip top shape and ready to go. How convenient. I swear she’s like some magical genie in a lamp. Make a wish and it will come true. Sam argues back that he won't slow us down, and the rest of the crew are tickled fifty fucking shades of pink that he wants to join us. So like it or not, he’s coming with us.
Luke tries to take advantage of Kip’s generosity by asking to borrow one of her trucks. That would sure make the trip a hell of a lot faster and get us back to the Grand in record time, but she assures us the trucks are useless for any sort of long distance travel. The batteries don’t last any more than a day at the most. It will get us there, but it won't get us back and sh
e isn't about to lose one of her prized vehicles. She likes us but not that much, so bikes it is.
Even though Luke and Lewis had found Evie and Gordon's discarded bikes while gathering our supplies from Maple Haven, Evie doesn't need hers. As much as it upsets Gordon, she decides to stay at the farm. I don't blame her. After running into that horde, I guess she’s had enough of risking her neck with us on this mission. And much to my relief, Melissa also decides to stay. It’s bad enough I’m going to be watching Sam’s every move. I don’t need to add Melissa to the list.
Luke’s agreeing to my idea to not say anything about Sam until the mission is complete, has one exception. Kip. If there’s any chance that the group they brought into the farm carry infection and can possibly pose a threat, Kip has the right to know. She agrees to keep an eye on them and to do the right thing if the need arises, which I hope to God it doesn't.
So in the early morning on our second day at the farm, we head out. Kip won’t part with her truck, but she does agree to allow Lewis to take us as far as they can before dumping us out on the highway. It cuts a couple of days travel off of our ride for sure.
Despite the boost from the truck ride, it still takes us over a week to reach our destination. Days of intense riding and hours of being glued to our bikes. Luke rides us hard with barely time to sleep. I swear I'm so bowlegged by now, a subway train could pass through the gap between my thighs and I wouldn't even feel the breeze.
There's hardly been time to eat or sleep, or talk to Sam alone. Even though I've been watching him like a diabetic in a candy shop, there’s been no obvious change in his behavior or appearance. I'm not sure if it's good news or bad. Good, since Luke doesn't have to carry through on his threat. Bad, since Sam and I are still acting more like casual acquaintances than the couple we once were. It’s to be expected, I guess. Our reunion is not exactly the stuff fairy tales are made up of. And having Luke and the rest of the crew watch our every interaction like it's a circus sideshow is not helping our getting reacquainted period much either. The week on the road has left us all tired, ragged and on edge.
But on this morning, the tenth morning after leaving the farm, we come across a sign that buoys our mood. And it literally is a sign. The billboard is still pretty much intact but barely holding on to the concrete overpass above our heads. The slightest amount of weight traveling over that bridge would probably make it give way and fall. Most of the letters and numbers are weathered and worn away, but the word Ottawa is still legible along with half an arrow pointing east. We're getting close.
Luke calls a stop, and I'm glad for the break. The morning is unusually warm for the time of the year. What exactly is it now? End of September...early October? Somewhere about there. I’m not sure, but I am certain about one thing—I'm fucking hot. I'm sweating worse than a ten-dollar hooker.
I drop the stand on my bike and raise my arms above my head, stretching my back. Removing my hat, I let the slight breeze blow through my sweat soaked hair. It feels good. So damn good that I yank my coat and T-shirt over my head and strip down to just my tank top. The others follow my lead, letting the fresh breeze air us out.
Dom's disgusted voice reaches my ears. “Jesus, you Sasquatch, cover up those hairy pits will ya.”
“Sure...as soon as you shave that sweater on your back, King Kong,” I respond. To emphasize my ‘fuck you’ point, I hold my arms out from my sides even further, affording him a better view. Soon as he looks away I glance down, curious to see what has offended Dom so much and grin to myself. Yeah, there's more than a little fuzz growing there. Maybe I should have snipped those babies down before leaving the Grand. Oh well, if you don't like me au natural, then don't look. I don't even bother to check out Robyn. I'm sure her pits are as smooth as a baby's bottom and smell like fucking roses, no doubt.
While Luke and Kelly take a few minutes to pour over the map, the rest of us take advantage and do a walk about. Giving our ass cheeks a break. Scruff, unlike his mistress, has come with us and is doing the opposite. After running beside us for miles, he's now lying in the grass along the side of the pitted road, taking a well-deserved break. I go crouch beside him and run my fingers through his tangled fur. He looks up at me—at least I think he's looking since you can't see his eyes through the overgrown fur—his tongue lolling and lips stretched. It almost looks as if he's smiling at me. I guess he don't mind the pit hair. I can hear Sam's quiet chuckle over my shoulder.
“Damn if it doesn't look like that dog is grinning.”
I laugh and glance back over my shoulder. “Right? I was just thinking the same.”
“Most expressive dog I've ever seen.” Sam plops down beside Scruff in the dirt and joins me in scratching his ears. Scruff's tail starts flopping like a windshield wiper as he starts whining in pleasure, driving his head hard into our hands.
“He likes it,” Sam sounds amused.
“Yeah, most likely 'cause he has fleas, and you're scratching all of his itches.”
“Oh.” The look of disgust on Sam's face is almost priceless as he pulls his hand away and wipes it on his jeans. He ignores my snort of derision. Instead, he pulls his attention away from the dog and focuses on the highway on the horizon.
“We're getting close. Do we have to go through the city?”
I shake my head. “Don't know. Hope not. The docs said the facility is on the city outskirts. Hopefully on this side of it. Going through an unknown city? That's only asking for trouble.”
His nod is solemn. “I agree.” He then turns his gaze to Luke. “I guess he'll let us know. You trust his instincts? You trust him to get us there in one piece?”
My answer is simple and honest as I follow his look to the big, blonde guy. “I trust him with my life.”
I feel Sam's eyes on me before he speaks. “You used to say the same thing about me once.”
I meet his silvery-blue gaze head on. “I still do. I trust you. But trust is a two-way street...don't you agree?”
He gets the underlying suggestion in my voice. “Yes, but sometimes that street is icy and slippery and you have to watch your step. Doesn't mean you can't trust it. You just have to take your time traversing it.”
I stare at him hard. Is he trying to tell me something? Do I point blank ask or do I let him just tell me when he's ready? I decide to wait for a bit, but when nothing more is forthcoming, I get impatient.
“What the fuck does that mean, Daila Lama? If you're trying to tell me something, just spit it out.”
His snort breaks the seriousness of the moment. “You never were the most tactful of our crew. So what's the story with the dog, anyways?”
Knowing he's deliberately changing the subject, I stop the questioning. I know how stubborn he is. If he doesn't want to answer, then I can ask until I'm blue in the face and I'll get nada. I shrug. “Saved him and his sixteen-year-old girl from a bunch of cannibals. Well, actually, he saved us. So I guess he's kind of our mascot now?”
I plop down on the grass beside Scruff and stretch out my legs, leaning back on my elbows with my back slightly to Sam. The light touch of his finger grazing my shoulder blade sends a shiver down my spine, and I bolt back up into a sitting position.
“What the hell happened to your back?” I can hear the horror in his voice.
“You mean the scar or the tat?”
“Fuck, there's a tat? All I see is that massive scar.”
He pulls the tank top lower down below my shoulder blade as I glance back at him over my shoulder. I can see his face distort in empathy and horror.
“This is horrible. What happened?”
I shrug again, trying to act nonchalant while the finger he is running gently over the scar is causing every fine hair on my body to stand at attention.
“Had a run in with a hybrid. It's not as bad as it looks.”
“Yeah, the scar is bad, but I meant the tat. What the hell happened to make you think getting Avengers tattooed on your back was a good idea?”
The teasi
ng look on his face and the absurd question kills me. I start laughing as I swivel on my butt to face him and slap him gently in the gut.
“You idiot.”
He looks at me with complete innocence. “I'm the idiot? I'm not the one who's sitting here thinking I'm a cartoon superhero.”
“Okay, enough already with the jokes. The tat was Gordon's idea. We all have one.”
He raises a brow, and I wave a hand at him.
“It's a long story, okay? I'll tell you someday.”
“Hmmmm, not sure if I want to know,” he laughs at me.
The laughter tapers off as his eyes lower, his interest sparked by the metal chain hanging at my neck. He pulls the dragon necklace away from my chest and holds it in the palm of his hand.
“Isn't this the necklace we gave Amy for her sweet sixteenth?”
I mumble, “Uh-huh.”
He grins to himself. “I remember the day we found it. Boy was Cooper ever pissed at us for leaving the group that day. Not one of your smarter ideas.”
My mouth falls open. “Wha....my idea? Oh no. That was all on you. You were the one with the big idea to sneak off and get this. I just followed along like some stupid pup. I swear it took a year for the puckers and wrinkles to come out of my dish pan hands.”
“Nope. Not quite the way I remember the event, but if you say so.”
“I do say so. I can't believe you don't remember that. You talked me into doing soooo much shit over the years. Come to think of it, you were a bad influence. What is it Liv always warned me about you? Face of an angel, soul of a devil.”
He stares at me in pretend shock. “What? She said that about me? I thought Liv liked me. Way to crush my fond memories of her.”
Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Page 14
