by VK Fox
Zack convulsed several times like he was going to vomit before spitting a set of wind-up false teeth into his palm. Placing the chattering dentures next to the locked door, he scrambled behind the couch, crouching and covering his head. Everest took the cue and managed to put some distance between him and the threshold before the teeth exploded, warping the metal and wrecking the lock. Megan tumbled past him, kicked open the shattered debris, and threw herself into Zack’s arms.
“Meggy Baby, Mwah, Mwah.” She got two exaggerated air kisses and was swung in a circle as Sister Mary touched the chopper down on the roof with a chunk.
“Zack, knock out the glass.” Dahl’s command cut the wump wump wump of the rotating blades outside, and Zack flicked a hand to the offending window. A section of six-inch-thick, impregnable security plex shimmered as Zack rummaged under the couch, retrieving a spring-loaded boxing glove arm. He slammed it forward, brittle sugar shards exploding away—stage glass buckling easily under pressure.
Everest took the lead, scrambling into the helicopter and beckoning Zack along behind him. Megan jumped in after and Dahl piled in last, crawling to their seats as the chopper lurched. Sister Mary lifted away, the lights of the prison rig fading behind them, and Everest closed his eyes and tried to breathe through stomach-knotting side effects. Dahl held his hand in the darkness while Everest shuddered.
Chapter Two
Jane shifted her substantial bulk to watch their exit zip by. “That’s our exit. Ian! Exit!” Ian had been all thumbs this morning. Neither of them had slept much—Jane was too anxious and not eating after midnight also sucked, but in a minute, when they got the car turned around, they’d check into Arlington Hospital, trade Jane’s maternity clothes for a gown, and before she knew it she’d be coochie-cooing tiny babies in her arms.
They’d done it. She had made it to thirty-six weeks, a frickin marathon of a miracle with twins, and everybody was healthy and awesome and they had names picked out and baby clothes packed and her mom was even going to visit in a day or two. Jane was prepped for a completely normal C-section, followed by chilling in recovery for a few days with her newly liberated offspring and hanging out with her husband and mom. The freaky twists and turns of her life over the last eighteen months could put that in their collective pipe and smoke it.
“Ian! Exit the highway and turn around! You’ve got to get back on going the other way, now!” Ian was darting big, deep looks between Jane, the road, and the exit signs. Not a lot of explanations were leaping from his mouth. He tugged at his Wild Thing T-shirt, attempting to straighten the fabric, but the soft cotton was already pulled so tight over his frame of 350lbs of solid manliness that it made no difference.
“Hey, sweet girl. Are you doing okay? Comfortable?” Concern really and truly solidified in Jane’s empty stomach.
“Ian. Spill it.”
“I don’t want you to worry…” Worry blossomed, “but there’s been a change in plans.”
“What?” Jane let the question fall with the gravity of Jupiter.
“You know how your dad and I have been working out steps to move our family beyond Sana Baba’s control?” Ian glanced at her for affirmation, and Jane narrowed her eyes so much that she couldn’t see, but it didn’t matter because she was going for effect, damn it. Ian cleared his throat. “So, anyway, it’s become clear we shouldn’t go to the hospital, so instead we are heading for the safe house.”
“WHAT?” Jane exploded, red haze framing her vision. She’d yelled so loudly Ian flinched and one of the babies jumped, making her huge abdomen go lumpy for a few seconds, like the guy’s stomach in Alien. “What do you mean? I am due in surgery, Ian, surgery to remove babies that are currently IN MY BODY. How are we supposed to take care of that at a safe house?”
“We have nine tenths of a plan together.” Ian beamed at her reassuringly. “Since we are on the way, there’s no need to keep it a secret anymore, right?” Ian was still casting furtive glances, knuckles white against his dark skin on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, let’s dispense with the secrecy thing post-fucking-haste. What is the plan and where are we going?”
“I want you to remember the secrecy was your idea.” Damn it, Jane knew he was going to bring that up.
“Yes, whatever, it worked. No beans were spilled. Sana Baba is completely sure I don’t know anything because that is the utter, un-airbrushed truth. Now where are we going?”
“And I want you to remember my role in this was more of a right-hand man. Your dad picked the spot and made it all come together. I have to give credit to him.”
“Ian! Where are we going?” The vein in Jane’s neck bulged.
“North Dakota.”
Jane burst into tears. She didn’t plan it or work for it; it just happened. Ian’s hand was on her shoulder and he was making soothing noises. After a minute, he dug out a box of tissues and passed them over while Jane tried to pull herself together around a case of hiccups. “Okay, okay. So we’re going to the airport and flying to the middle of nowhere North Dakota? And my family will be there and we’ll all be safe; we’ll finally be out from under Sana Baba’s thumb?”
“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve got it all figured out, except for the airport part. Everything’s going to be fine.”
The four brutalist fallout shelters and a brand-new storage shed plunked in the middle of a zero-elevation field were like something out of her dad’s wildest dreams. Ian pulled their Hummer off the dirt road and onto the dry, brown grass and walked around to the passenger door to help Jane. Everything in Jane’s body was either stiff or cramped. They’d had shockingly good luck with traffic, and Jane had slept a big chunk of the drive laying on the back seat, but it had still been twenty-three hours since they’d climbed into the car in Ian’s driveway in Virginia, and for some reason, only now was the idea that they might never go back sinking in. Jane’s throat was tight and froggy.
“Did you pack the Tupperware golem?”
“Of course.” Ian beamed at her. “I put fresh snack mix in him so he’d feel like he had a job during the ride. I’ll have him take it around once we get inside.”
“Oh, good. Thanks.” The list of things she couldn’t live without was short, but her golem was more of a person. “What about Kehaar?”
Ian was silent, his eyes going soft in the way he did when he looked at his crow friend. “He has his own life—it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to come. I wanted to say goodbye, but he wasn’t in the yard this morning.”
“Oh, Ian—”
“Jane!” Blue’s high-pitched, fluty voice pierced the moment as she rushed out from the security door in one of the concrete blocks. Jane threw her arms wide, and Blue was excessively squeezing her in no time.
“Blue! You got here ahead of us!”
“I’ve been setting up my workshop for a week, slackers! You guys must be wiped. Let me show you your space and we can do the whole meet-and-greet thing later. Sound good?”
Ian was already grabbing their bag out of the back. His fever, the side effect of using his god-man magic to make the grueling drive, would start any minute if it hadn’t already. Collapsing in a dark room with him and facing her family when they were rested was super tempting. Jane sighed. Avoiding her mom would start them on the wrong foot.
“Thanks, Blue, but I’d better say ‘Hi’ to my folks first.”
Blue wrinkled her button nose. “Are you sure? We’re bunking together. We could slip right past.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m psyched we’re together, though. Is Zee here?” The buildings were decent sized: single story and maybe eight hundred square feet. An insect buzz from the caged outdoor lights announced there was electricity. Jane’s dad had done good.
“No.” Blue’s lower lip trembled. “I miss the little stinker so much, but I was worried about bringing him. He’ll be safer, and I’ll be more help, since he’s staying with Nonna.”
“That’s got to suck. Thanks for being here when you don’t have to
be. I hope this wraps up for you quickly.” Jane rubbed her upper arms for friction heat. “How many roomies does everyone have?”
“Not sure.” Blue straightened her top-knotted kerchief over Betty-Paige black hair. “I got my assignment when I arrived, and your dad is leaning into the whole drill sergeant thing, so I just said ‘Yessir,’ and went to my bunk. He asked where my husband was, and I dodged the question.” Blue winked a mascara-laden eye. “So we might have an extra bed. That’s our crib—good old Block A.” Blue jerked her thumb at the adjacent windowless cement cube. “Cozy, right? But be careful, all the doors lock automatically when you close them except for the Grit Room, er, cafeteria-kitchen-bathroom combo over there.” Blue pointed to another identical building. “So don’t get stuck outside without a key, and if you do, go to the Grit Room instead of freezing to death.”
“Hello, Blue.” Ian’s triple-fudge voice washed over them as he stepped forward to pat Blue on the shoulder. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“Back at ya.” Blue grinned. “I’ll show you where to put the luggage while your lovely wife heroically greets her parents after a twenty-odd hour drive.”
“I’ll be right behind you, sweet girl. There’s only the one.” The surreal feeling stirred again as Jane watched Ian take their bug-out bag into the shelter. All of their material possessions in a brown canvas duffle. Jane’s life had been on the road for a while: her stuff fit into the trunk of her shitty hatchback. Then she’d married Ian and slotted into his established, chaotic, wonderful home. Now Ian had walked away from everything as well. Things weren’t what mattered, people were what mattered, but the loss of all of the familiar and comfortable bits stung. Jane shook off her gloominess and went towards a concrete block with a “Home Sweet Home” sign hung above the door.
“Welcome, welcome!” Jane’s dad met her at the door like a red flannel teddy bear. He’d been working on the mountain-man beard, probably at least since he realized Ian was serious about the whole off-the-grid move, and it had grown in a woolly swath across his strong jaw.
“Hey, Dad!” Jane gave him a squeeze and took in the comfy living area. Furniture had been clustered together to form open room-like spaces similar to a home goods store, but more lived in and inviting. Cozy blankets were draped in copious abundance, and the air was spiced with apple. Anna and Kristen waved from their game of rummy on a card table, and Jane’s mom looked up from an overstuffed couch where she was browsing through a stack of seed catalogs.
“Would you like a drink?” Her dad beamed.
“Sounds great!” Jane took in the pictures on the walls, mounted gun racks, and a full bookcase. “Wow, you guys really settled in. This looks amazing!”
“Yeah, I was happy with it.” Jane’s dad poured apple cider from a thermos and handed Jane the mug. “Got it for a song: a fellow prepper bet on the wrong horse. When Y2K didn’t cause the collapse of civilization, he decided not to move out here and offloaded this place on the cheap.” Jane’s dad started chuckling, and it built until he mopped his eyes with his sleeve. “If only he knew how close he was!” After a few more grins he collected himself. “Anyway, I’m sorry the other blocks are a little more spartan, but this and the Grit Room were the only ones the former owner kitted out. We had a bit of a scramble getting the other buildings ready.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks, Dad.” Jane took a seat on the couch and sipped her cooling cider. “Dare I ask why the kitchen was named the Grit Room?”
Jane’s dad chuckled, “That was Anna and Kristen. They said since we were going to use it for strategic planning and eating, we should name it for courage and the texture of most of the food we have.” Jane’s dad turned to her mom, but his eyes flicked to the door. “Do you want any more cider, Lizzie?”
“I’m fine.” She barely glanced up as her sisters wandered over, grabbing sodas on the way. They were older every time Jane saw them. Where Jane was wispy blonde with brunette roots, Anna and Kristen had unruly honey curls. Where Jane scowled, Anna laughed, and Kristen considered. Kristen was built like a pre-pregnancy Jane: slight and a little boyish, but Anna was getting curvy even though she was the youngest. Unfair.
Anna gave Jane a teasing grin. “Quite an interesting group of friends you have, Libby.”
“Don’t you prefer Jane now?” Kristen’s smile was shier but genuine.
“Either works.” Jane summoned all her remaining cheerfulness to beam at her sisters. “It’s cool to see you guys again; I can’t wait to catch up.”
“Totally!” Anna opened her can of Dr. Pepper and took a swig. “Dad’s been stalking the other arrivals.”
Jane’s mom pursed her lips, finally joining the conversation. “We’ve had to ban him from Blue’s workshop. I do not need them talking about living taxidermy. We have too many hunting trophies already without me worrying about which ones will now be able to chew the drapes.”
“Aw, sweetheart.” Jane’s dad kissed her mom’s gray-streaked hair. “Camp Nowhere has no drapes.”
That earned him a smack in the arm with a seed catalog. Jane stifled a giggle.
“And your sisters have been jumping every time a car pulls up. Apparently dreamy young King Arthur is bringing his magical sword, and the prospect has created a level of interest I have only seen previously over Matchbox Twenty concert tickets.”
Anna rolled her eyes but also smoothed a few curly strands into her scrunchie. Jane laughed hard enough to shake her belly. “Well, Dahl’s not linked to King Arthur anymore, and the sword isn’t Excalibur, it’s Joyeuse, and he’s kind of his own person.”
“Stop making this less magical for me, please.” Kristen pouted.
“Um, Joyeuse changes colors according to how he’s feeling.”
“Ohhhh, mood sword. Better.” Kristen straightened her fluffy sweater. “Blue said something about a golem arm?”
“Accurate. He’s also nice occasionally now, instead of being broody and dark all the time. I’d say he’s dropped to eighty percent angst at this point.”
“See? We are solidly back in not boring.” Anna gave her a hug. “Good to see you, Libby Jane. Don’t think you’re off the hook for getting Ian to help me have a conversation with animals. I have dreams and enough chickens to make them come true.”
“Maybe some cider would be nice, Billy.” Jane’s mom was back in her catalog. “And you can show Jane her room?”
“Sure thing, sweetie.” Jane’s dad rose. “You’re probably ready to call it a day after all that driving. Right this way.”
“Oh. Okay.” Jane tried not to let her mom’s dismissal smart as she jostled out the door.
Chapter Three
Before sunrise, Everest brushed the teeth of his three-thousand-year-old child. Sleep-clumsy and stupefied, Fitz was helped through the basics while Dahl packed. Today they were beginning a cross-country drive with a short detour. It was the middle of December, and the beach was a two-hour’s travel in the wrong direction, but Dahl was humming with excitement.
While Fitz ate Cinnamon Toast Crunch at the hotel room coffee table and watched a four a.m. rerun of The Pirates of Dark Water, Everest lay on the bed for a minute. Outside the panoramic window, Philadelphia twinkled and blurred below.
“Everest! I want to be on the road before six.” Hands on his shoulders gently shook him, and when he ignored it, Dahl nuzzled against his neck. Everest groaned: it started as inarticulate acknowledgment and spanned the gamut to mild arousal while kisses were pressed against his pulse point and jaw.
“Bribery.” Everest slurred.
“Promises.” Dahl breathed the word against his skin. “Did you get any sleep?”
They took turns soothing their fairytale son when he had nightmares, which meant they alternated nightly. After returning from the Sana Baba prison rig and driving to a hotel, Everest spent the remaining moonlit hours in Fitz’s bed, rocking the little boy while he trembled and sobbed. They’d fallen asleep, curled in a nest of blankets, around three. He
’d snuck back to his own bed after four.
Everest’s voice was exhaustion-bloated. “I was worried it would be worse since we left him with a babysitter, but all told, things were normal. How was the debrief with the Slaughters?”
“Interesting. Sister Mary ran the meeting and kept it short. Zack and Megan are driving to North Dakota starting today. They’re oddly enamored with one another’s company, given they tried to shoot and torture each other a couple months ago, but I don’t think they’re going to try anything that would spoil our plans.” The solid weight of Dahl’s body was reassuring and delicious.
Everest mumbled. “I still don’t like it. You’re putting a lot of trust in a deeply questionable asset.”
“Megan trusts him.” Dahl kissed him softly and Everest frowned. How much of their pillow talk in the last few months had been parenting, tactics, or apocalyptic musings?
“Megan is unproven.”
“Lies. She cleared herself in my eyes when she went out on a limb for you.” Dahl pulled back a few inches. Chilly air brought the room into sharper focus with Dahl’s thighs on either side of his hips, pinning him to the bed. Need spiked, Everest’s hands wrapping his waist, thumbs probing his strong stomach, pelvis lifting. Dahl’ eyes rolled back and he sighed. “God, you’re gorgeous. That jump was fucking phenomenal. Something about a man who can HALO into an enemy base and wreck every security point. I still can’t work the rush out of my system.”
“I have some suggestions.” Everest didn’t care about the lack of composure, the artless, direct urgency. Finding intimate time required a creative eye and swift decisiveness. Guerilla tactics. Right now they were alone and not in mortal peril—a good moment.
“Show me later? I want to be on the road before six.” When he talked that way, voice breathy and hormone rich, Everest could barely hear his words over his tone.
