Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  Oliver glanced behind him at Carrie’s little sister crashed and snoring softly on his desk.

  “Carrie’s my friend,” he said. “Just a friend.”

  “Well,” Ashlee said with a sad smile, “I hope this friend loves you as much as you love her.”

  Not a chance.

  Oliver took the card from Ashlee and slipped it into his pocket. Then he gathered up the last of the scraps and tossed them in the garbage, hoping the Monday morning crew wouldn’t notice anything amiss. His eyelids burned with exhaustion. Crossing the room, he nudged Amber awake.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  As they pulled out of the dark parking lot, Oliver glanced over at Ashlee Lyon in the front seat. “What if David’s awake when you get back?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll just tell him I went for a walk.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “He was so drunk when he came to bed, I’m not worried. But you, Oliver…” Ashlee looked over at him. “What happens when he finds out you’ve skipped out on another patrol? He hates you enough already.”

  “No idea.” Oliver would have to come up with some excuse about being sick in bed tomorrow—so sick he hadn’t even called in the absence.

  He sped toward Sugar Grove and Ashlee’s home. Amber was curled up in the back seat, already back in Dreamland.

  “Why does David hate you so much?” Ashlee said. “You’re such a sweet guy.” But before he could think up an answer, her eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh, it was you! You’re the one who ratted him and Nielsen out last spring. You’re the reason they went to prison.” She broke into a giggle. “And you’re going to do it again. I love it!”

  Right now, Oliver could only think about Carrie.

  “What do you know about this new illness?” he asked.

  “Just that it’s nasty. By the way, that federal task force who immunized us wasn’t the nicest. I still have a bruise.” She rubbed her arm. “Supposedly there’s a shipment of immunizations coming in for local citizens. Do you know that they trained me, and now I’ll be giving out the shots? Only I’ll be nicer than they were.”

  A shipment? “How soon will it come in?” he asked.

  “Late next week.”

  Too late for Carrie’s clan—and who knew how many others.

  Figured.

  When he pulled into the government housing, Ashlee grabbed his arm. “Just drop me off here,” she said.

  “But it’s still three houses away,” Oliver said.

  “I’ll walk. I don’t want David to hear your car.”

  “Can I walk you the rest of the way then?” Oliver asked. It was still pitch-black out with only a little moon to light the sidewalk.

  “No, I’m fine. Go take care of your friend.” Ashlee winked at him.

  “I’ll find some way to repay you,” he said quickly.

  Her hand rested on his. “Thank me by taking David down, okay?” Then she stretched up and, before he knew what hit him, kissed his cheek, a gentle, lingering kiss that sent a shiver through him. When she sat back, her eyes were large and soft in the darkness. “You’re a good man, Officer Simmons. Thank you for trusting me tonight.”

  Then she whisked open the door and was gone.

  Oliver’s cheek tingled. He wanted to rub it—needed to rub her kiss from his skin. Instead, his eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, hoping Amber was still asleep. She wasn’t. Carrie’s little sister was staring at him, mouth wide open. Thankfully the darkness hid his face since he could feel it burning.

  “Well,” Amber said, “that was interesting.”

  Not really. Ashlee Lyon was the biggest flirt Oliver knew. She thought nothing of gestures like that—of kisses like that. However, the temperature in the car doubled, and he felt he needed to explain so this didn’t get back to Carrie.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “You don’t know Ashlee like I do.”

  “Apparently not,” Amber said, breaking into a wide grin. “You know, I like her. She’s different, but I like her.”

  That grin, that blessing of sorts for him to pursue Ashlee Lyon, tore the last piece of his heart because it said what he’d feared: he’d already lost Carrie.

  Flipping his car around, he headed out the patrol neighborhood. Once he hit the main road, he pressed the accelerator to the floor.

  His mind was a garbled mess of worry and dread. What if Jamansky had been awake when Ashlee got home? What if he forced her to talk? The guy was already obsessed with Carrie, and Ashlee wasn’t exactly a locked-vault kind of woman. All it would take was one click of the computer to render Carrie’s card invalid. A thousand and one things could go wrong in the next hour, all of which left Carrie dead, Oliver arrested, and her clan on the same path of destruction.

  Yet Amber kept grinning in the back seat.

  * * * * *

  As the sun hit Carrie’s window, Greg watched the road like a hawk, waiting for Oliver’s car to appear. Every minute felt like a year.

  Carrie had woken once more in a delirious state that scared the daylights out of him and Zach. She kept asking Greg to slow down. He hadn’t been moving and neither had she—plus it was as dark as a cave in her room—but she kept begging him to slow down, hysterical.

  Greg and Zach had tried everything: rubbing her forehead, stroking her arms, speaking softly. Nothing reached her. Finally, she slipped into a deep sleep and hadn’t budged since. Now, with the first light of day, her skin was as gray as the sky, the muscles in her face sagged unnaturally, and her breathing came out in soft puffs. The longer Greg waited, the harder his heart pounded.

  Oliver should have returned by now.

  What had happened?

  Several agonizing minutes later, Greg spotted a patrol car pulling down Denton Trail.

  Finally!

  Oliver parked at Greg’s grandparents first. Richard and Greg’s grandpa came out, each on one side of Greg’s grandma who was wrapped in a blanket. Greg watched Oliver jump out to help. Every step seemed to hurt Greg’s grandma, and she was stooped lower than normal, but at least she was upright.

  The five of them drove to Carrie’s. Oliver was back in uniform and Amber rode in the front seat. Greg’s mind continued to spin with worry. Just because they were back didn’t mean it had worked.

  As soon as Oliver parked on Carrie’s driveway, Amber opened the front door and spotted Greg in the upper window. Grinning, she flashed him two thumbs up.

  Greg released his breath. First step accomplished.

  Carrie was official.

  Crossing the room, he shook Zach. “It’s time, Zach.”

  Zach rubbed his eyes and then jumped up, instantly awake. He moved aside so Greg could kneel next to Carrie.

  “Carrie?” Greg said, brushing some hair from her forehead.

  She didn’t move.

  “Mornin’, beautiful,” he tried louder, rubbing her hand. “C’mon. Time to take a little ride.”

  He felt her cheek and neck. Both were cool. Too cool. Desperate for a response, he bent down and kissed her lips. They were dry, cracked, and cold, a frightening combination, but that’s not why Zach pulled a face.

  “Ew,” Zach said. “I’m right here.”

  “So am I,” another voice growled.

  Oliver stood in Carrie’s doorway.

  Greg ignored them. Carrie hadn’t even twitched. He’d seen that waxy, gray skin too many times on too many people. Frantic, he felt the side of her neck for a pulse. Faint, but there.

  Though there was no logical reason, he felt like if he could just see a flicker of those blue eyes before she left, everything would be okay.

  “Carrie,” he said loudly. “It’s time. C’mon. You can do it.”

  “When was she last awake?” Oliver asked.

  “A few hours ago, but she was delirious,” Greg said.

  “It was scary,” Zach added.

  Amber pushed past Oliver and knelt next to Greg. “Carrie,” she said, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up.”<
br />
  Nothing.

  Sliding his arm under her neck, Greg pulled Carrie tight against his chest. “C’mon, Carrie girl,” he whispered in her ear. “Just let me see those baby blues.” His chest seized up. “One glimpse, and then you can go.” Then he could let her go. “Please.” His voice started to give. He might never see her again. “Please,” he begged.

  Her eyes remained closed, but she gave the tiniest moan.

  Close enough.

  Hugging her tight against him, he slipped his other hand under her knees and lifted.

  Oliver was instantly at his side. “Let me carry her. You have a bad leg.”

  “No. Get her blankets.”

  Greg stood. His thigh throbbed and the muscles in his bad shoulder pulled, but he leaned back to help Carrie’s head fall against his chest instead of flopping back. Then he carefully hobbled down the stairs and outside to Oliver’s patrol cruiser with her.

  As soon as Richard spotted them, he jumped out and opened the passenger door. Greg set Carrie gently inside Oliver’s front seat and then took the blankets from Oliver and piled them in around her even though the July morning was already hot.

  “Is she okay?” his grandma asked from the back seat. “Carrie? Carrie dear?”

  “Carrie’s not doin’ so hot right now, Grandma,” Greg said. Carrie’s whole body had slumped, chin on chest, like a newborn without any muscle strength. Greg leaned her seat back to help straighten her out. Then he looked up. “How about you? You hangin’ in there?”

  His grandma didn’t answer. She stared at Carrie, wrinkled skin looking whiter than a sheet. So did his grandpa.

  Greg swallowed back another wave of emotion. “Oliver’s gonna get y’all help now, alrighty?”

  When they nodded, Greg shut the door and faced Oliver and Richard. “Grandpa’s startin’ now, isn’t he?”

  Richard still hadn’t torn his eyes away from Carrie. “He started chills in the middle of the night. Wow. I didn’t think Carrie would look so…”

  “Yeah,” Oliver whispered.

  Greg’s eyes narrowed on them. “I’m trustin’ the two of you to make this work. Y’all have to do whatever it takes to save them. You understand? Whatever it takes.”

  They nodded soberly, both still watching Carrie’s hunched form. Distracted.

  Greg shook his head. There was no way they would do what he would. He sidestepped, bringing their gazes back to him. “That means that one of you,” he said pointedly, “is gonna have to steal medicine.”

  “Steal?” Oliver choked.

  But Richard nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  “Good,” Greg said. “Tell the doctor that Carrie’s eyes are bad, so maybe there’s pressure on the optic nerve or somethin’. And she was delirious last night, and the spot behind her right ear is the worst, so make sure they check—”

  “We’ve got this, Greg,” Oliver interrupted. “We have to go.” Running around his car, he got in.

  Richard put a hand on Greg’s arm. “We’ll get you word as soon as possible.”

  Word. As if that was comforting.

  Greg stared at Carrie’s lifeless body, wondering if he’d ever see her again, wondering if he’d ever see any of them again, or if they’d end up as three fresh mounds in some hospital cemetery.

  “You gotta save her, Richard,” he said, voice suddenly husky. “You’ve gotta save all of them. I can’t be there, so you’ve gotta do it for me.”

  “We’ll get you word soon,” his stepdad said again. Then Richard opened the door and squeezed into the backseat behind Carrie’s reclined seat.

  Greg backed up as the engine revved to life, feeling his world implode. Amber and Zach held each other on the front porch, both crying. Sasha Green and others stood in their yards, watching Oliver back out of Carrie’s driveway. But none of them could feel like Greg did. That car held every last person on earth he loved—the very last of his family. How was he supposed to let them go? To trust their fate to the hands of others? Again?

  Time rewound.

  He was standing on the outskirts of Shelton, watching Oliver drive away. His mom was injured in the township office, left in the hands of Ashlee, Jamansky, and Oliver Simmons.

  Greg never saw his mom again.

  His feet started running before he knew what he was doing. Picking up speed, he sprinted across Carrie’s front yard and ran right into the middle of the road. Right in front of Oliver’s car.

  Oliver slammed on the brakes. Greg jumped back to keep from being hit.

  “What are you doing?” Oliver yelled through the glass.

  “Pop the trunk,” Greg ordered.

  “What? Why?” But before Greg could answer, Oliver rolled down his window. “Oh, no. No way! You’re not coming with us, Greg. You’re dead, remember?”

  “Pop the trunk.”

  “Greg…”

  Greg pounded the car hood. “Pop it before I bust the lock!”

  Oliver did but jumped out of the patrol car and stormed around in time to meet Greg by the trunk. “I just spent ten hours making sure every person in that car is fully legal,” Oliver said. “You’re not going to ruin it with some stupid selfish stunt! We’re already treading on thin ice. So many things can still go wrong, I can’t even begin to—”

  “I’ll stay dead,” Greg interrupted. “I’ll even stay in the trunk the whole time if you want. I just…I can’t be left behind again.”

  Oliver’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “The whole time?”

  “Most the time,” Greg said honestly. “But nobody will see me. I won’t cause a single issue. You have my word.”

  Huffing, Oliver glanced over his shoulder at Richard. Richard shrugged as if he didn’t know what to do with Greg either.

  Greg pointed. “Listen. That’s my family in there. Every last one of them.”

  “Not all of them,” Oliver said darkly.

  Maybe not yet.

  Greg folded his arms. “Look, I’ll walk to Aurora if I have to. I’m goin’ to that hospital one way or another, so you might as well make it easy on me.”

  Muttering under his breath, Oliver slid some boxes in his trunk to the side. “It’s going to be cramped and hot.”

  “It’s fine.”

  But before Greg climbed in, he remembered Amber and Zach crying on the porch. “You’re in charge, Amber,” he called. “Stay here. You’re still quarantined. No mixing with anybody else. That’s an order.”

  “You want us to stay here alone? All night?” Amber squeaked.

  “How old was Carrie when your parents died?” Greg said.

  Amber wiped her eyes. “Seventeen.”

  Close enough to Amber’s age. “You’ve got this. If either of you get sick, lie down and drink lots of fluid. One of us will be back soon to check on you.”

  With that, Greg lifted his bad leg in first and then climbed inside. The trunk was smaller than it looked, but scrunching in, knees to chin, he somehow fit.

  “There’s an emergency latch in there somewhere,” Oliver said, peering in. “If you have any issues, pound on the lid and I’ll pull over—but don’t have issues because we don’t have time.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m trusting you, Greg. Don’t. Be. Stupid.”

  People said that to him an awful lot.

  He nodded. “Got it. Let’s go.”

  fifty-four

  OLIVER FLIPPED ON his flashing lights. Even with a seatbelt, Carrie slumped to the side with every turn, but he didn’t slow down. He hit the highway pushing 80 mph.

  “Can you turn up the heat?” CJ Trenton asked from the backseat.

  Heat? Oliver was already a sweaty mess and it was barely morning. But he did. May and CJ huddled under their blanket, looking carsick on top of everything else.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, Oliver’s barrage of questions came barreling out.

  “You all have your cards, right? Mr. O’Brien, can you take care of May and CJ, so I can take Carrie? What if they don’t know how to fix Carrie? What if it’s
too late? What do I say if they look too closely at her card or try to verify when it was processed?”

  Richard gripped the back of Carrie’s seat, looking a little green himself. “You’ll know what to do.”

  Horribly placed confidence. Oliver had been up all night running ragged, and now he worried what signature he’d missed, what hoop they’d forgotten to jump through.

  “What about the money?” he fretted. “I withdrew every dollar I own, but it’s not enough. I know it’s not enough.”

  “I brought all of CJ’s money,” Richard said. “It will have to be enough.”

  “But it’s not!”

  “I don’t need treatment,” CJ said. “I’m not that sick.”

  “Me neither,” May croaked. “We’ll stay in the car. You just get my Carrie what she needs.”

  “No one is staying in the car,” Richard said with a pointed look at Oliver in the mirror. “We’ll figure out finances later.”

  “You don’t understand,” Oliver said, unable to stop freaking out. “Hospitals require full payment first these days. We won’t even get through the front door if the staff doesn’t think we can cover the expenses.”

  A muffled voice shouted something from the trunk. Oliver grunted angrily, wondering for the thousandth time why he’d let Greg tag along. His nerves were frazzled enough without a headstrong, reckless, nut job hiding in his trunk.

  Richard turned and spoke through the seats. “What was that, Greg? I couldn’t understand.”

  “Be a patrolman!” Greg shouted, followed by a few choice words Oliver heard well enough.

  Oliver bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? I am a patrolman.”

  “I think Greg means that you can be forceful in your delivery,” Richard said. “Most people are frightened of patrolmen. Perhaps you can be a little…bossy?”

  “Yes! Yes!” came another shout. Followed by, “Threaten them!”

  Oliver’s eyes popped open. “Threaten them? How?”