“Oh, my apologies, officer. Let me show you.”
The older guy reached for something from his back pocket. David’s hand flew to his concealed gun, but the man didn’t pull out a weapon. He handed over a yellow citizenship card.
Confused, David snatched the ID card and examined it. The man wasn’t illegal after all. His card had been issued a few months ago, making him a full citizen. How? He thought the Trenton’s were the only other legals around here. David wished he had brought his verifying machine, but he’d left that home along with every weapon he suddenly wanted at his side.
Richard O’Brien, he read.
63 years old.
Then he stared at the address. 1438 Denton Trail. That wasn’t Carrie’s address. In fact, if David’s memory served him right, that was the same address as CJ and May Trenton.
In a flash, he suddenly remembered how he knew that name.
“O’Brien!” he barked, his whole body tensing at the connection—and the memory. “You’re Pierce’s dad.”
The guy’s eyes widened in fear. “What?”
“Gregory Curtis Pierce,” David said, spitting out each syllable. “You married his mom to get your citizenship, didn’t you?”
He swallowed nervously.
Greg’s stepdad.
David nearly punched him right then and there. Greg Pierce had been nothing but trouble since the moment he moved in. His mom, too, who had accompanied him into town. She was this guy’s wife. Mrs. O’Brien.
Why was Greg’s stepdad at Carrie’s, playing watchdog?
“Sorry to hear about Greg’s death,” David said, unable to hide his sneer. “We heard it was pretty grizzly, too. Let me think, was it insubordination? Didn’t they shoot him for mouthing off or something? That must be rough for you and your wife.”
Richard O’Brien’s hand tightened into a white-knuckled fist on the door knob, but somehow he managed to answer calmly. “Yes. It has been a trying time for us. Very trying.”
Good, David thought. Let them suffer.
With all the niceties gone, he leaned forward. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? This time without the lies. Where is Carrie?”
“I told you, she’s not here. She’s…she’s with friends for the evening.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
Terror flashed across the man’s face. “She might be gone for days.”
Like hell she would. Carrie didn’t have a car, and she’d been illegal until a few days ago. She couldn’t have gone far.
David’s hand slid to his hip, lifting the corner of his shirt enough to expose his gun. Richard O’Brien didn’t miss the gesture. He backed up a step.
“Why are you keeping her from me?” David said. “I’m here as a friend of Oliver’s—a friend of Carrie’s. I’m sure she told you I’m going to help your clan now. Did she tell you about the upcoming sweep?”
O’Brien nodded quickly. “Yes. Friday night. We’ll be ready. Thank you, officer.”
He dared to thank him?
David nearly shoved him aside to storm the house. Carrie couldn’t be hiding far. Upstairs? The basement? A few real threats, maybe even some physical coercion, and this guy would probably spill it all. David could salvage his night after all. Except…he’d come to earn this clan’s trust. He couldn’t have them hiding again. Throwing his weight around would accomplish nothing.
Gritting his teeth, he straightened.
This guy wanted to play games.
He could play games.
“Too bad Carrie isn’t home,” he said. “Oliver phoned today from Virginia with a message for her—actually an urgent message for all of you. Unfortunately, he said that I can only give it to Carrie. But I won’t be in Shelton tomorrow. So I guess you’ll have to wait.”
He paused to see if the man would cave and grab Carrie from whichever dark corner he had hidden her. When he didn’t, David’s eyes bored into him.
“So I will be back Wednesday morning. I suggest you have Carrie home then. Do I make myself clear?”
Richard O’Brien paled. “Perfectly.”
thirteen
“ZACH, DON’T THE TEENS meet tonight?” Carrie asked.
Her brother’s gaze flickered from her to Greg and then back to the ground. “Don’t know.”
Greg rolled his eyes. The kid was a horrible liar. “Nice try. When do y’all meet?”
Zach kicked a clod of dirt. “After dinner.”
Greg looked up at the sun, guessing it was around seven o’clock. Carrie looked tired and overwhelmed by the prospect of a long night of walking.
“We can always try next week if you don’t feel up to it,” Greg offered.
“No,” Carrie said. “With this virus spreading and the rebellion, I don’t want to wait. Let’s go.” She turned to Terrell who laid horizontal on a tattered blanket. “I know you don’t feel well, Terrell, and I’m not trying to leave you out. You’re our trading guru after all, but I just…”
“Trading guru? More like Barry’s slave,” Terrell muttered. “It’s not like I volunteered for this assignment anyway, so I’ll happily say I’m too sick to wander around for miles on the off chance of meeting people who don’t want to trade with us anyway.” He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “Have fun.”
Carrie’s big, blue eyes lifted to Greg, suddenly dancing with anticipation. This had been her plan after all, trading seeds, chickens, goats, and anything else with other clans. She claimed to have just tweaked Greg’s flower shop idea, but even his idea had been sparked by something she’d said a long time ago. No, this farmers’ market idea was all her, and she was practically bouncing to get to it. He could have kissed her again. Instead, he slid his fingers into hers.
“You ready yet?” he teased.
She answered by tugging him forward.
A few steps into their trip, Greg noticed it was just the two of them—which was nice and all, but kind of beside the point. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a scrawny, freckled teen trying to sneak away.
“Zach,” Greg called, “just where do you think you’re goin’?”
Zach flinched. “Don’t make me go. They’re gonna kill me. Just pretend like you found them by accident.”
“Come on, Zach,” Carrie said. “We don’t know the way, and those teens need to know we’re not a threat. Besides…after all your lies and sneaking around, you owe us.”
Zach was skittish as they left the clearing, scanning the trees and jumping at the slightest sound. He limped heavier than usual, whining about his bad ankle even though he’d played baseball just fine. For the most part, Greg and Carrie ignored him. They filled the time talking plans, strategies, and other things—like what her parents had been like, if Greg still missed North Carolina, and funny stories from growing up. Thanks to his grandma, Carrie knew several of Greg’s not-so-flattering childhood moments, including his surfing disaster. He quickly set the record straight: no, he wasn’t an amazing surfer, and no, the shark hadn’t tried to eat him, but he’d face-planted anyway right in front of the girl he was trying to impress.
“Fortunately,” he said, “all my less-than-manly screaming scared the shark away. Unfortunately, it also scared away the girl. Didn’t know she could run so fast.”
Carrie laughed. “That’s a little different from the version your grandma tells. So what kind of shark was it?”
“No clue, but let’s call it a bull shark,” he said. “A huge one.”
She laughed again, a soft sound of delight that made his humiliation worth it. Their clasped hands swung softly between them as they followed Zach.
“So,” she said, “is the rotten apple story true?”
“Grandma,” he growled. “Just how many stories did she tell you? Why are you friends with her anyway? You two are nothing alike.”
Carrie smiled fondly. “She and CJ watched over us after my parents passed away. May always made me feel like I mattered. She listened to me and—”
“You mean,
she actually listens to somebody?”
“Sometimes,” Carrie said with another smile. “The rest of the time, she just talked and talked. She always knew how to fill the silence, even when things were hard and I didn’t know what to say. There were some days that…” Her free hand trailed over the long, wispy weeds. When she spoke again, her voice grew softer. “There were days I missed my parents so much I could hardly function. I was scared of raising Amber and Zach alone, but your grandma never gave me time to dwell on that. She kept telling crazy Greg and Kendra stories until I found a reason to smile again. That got me through some really hard years. I will always love her for that.”
If that was the case, he could forgive his grandma for the wild tales.
“It also helps that she adores me,” Carrie added.
“That she does. Drove me nuts when I moved in. You were all she could talk about.”
The light faded from her eyes.
“That was a compliment,” he said with a quick squeeze of her hand. “By the way,” he said, glancing around, “you can get us home from here, right?”
“No,” she said. “Can’t you?”
He stopped abruptly. Normally Greg paid strict attention to the direction of the sun, major land marks, and such. But Carrie and Zach had seemed so confident in where they were heading. Now he was lost.
“Sorry,” she said with a tired smile. “I shouldn’t tease you. I know where we are. That’s Bramman Highway up there.”
Zach limped across weed-filled railroad tracks and headed directly toward the huge highway. His head stayed down, barely looking more than two feet in front of him.
A soft purr in the distance made Greg’s heart jolt.
“Zach!”
Zach kept going without hearing.
Greg dropped Carrie’s hand and raced forward. He sprinted over the abandoned tracks as the sound of the engine grew. Fifteen feet from the highway. Greg couldn’t see the car coming, but he could hear it.
“Get down!” Greg yelled.
Zach turned to see why Greg was freaking out. Greg practically tackled him. They fell into the tall weeds just as a patrol car came racing down the highway. Weeds and dirt cut into them as they dropped, but Greg clapped a hand over the kid’s mouth as he waited.
The patrol car didn’t slow. It raced down the road, going an impossible speed.
As soon as it was out of sight, Greg released the kid.
“Do you have a death wish?” Greg brushed himself off. “You’ve gotta be smarter than that, Zach. Come on.”
“I would have heard it,” Zach said defensively.
“Not in time.”
Greg’s gaze swept the area back and forth, up and down, doing the thorough, paranoid sweep of the highway that the kid should have done in the first place. Did any other parents of these teens realize they were out wandering like this? These kids were so stupid.
Zach shook free of Greg’s grasp and started off again, climbing over the guard rails and crossing the five-lane highway.
By the time Carrie reached Greg, she looked frightened. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’m glad you’re gettin’ Zach and Amber legal,” Greg said. “A herd of elephants could sneak up on your brother right now. My sister was like that. Totally clueless. Used to stress me out like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’ll try to keep up,” Carrie said, speeding up.
They headed over double-yellow lines until they were clear on the other side and back in the tall weeds.
“Do I ever remind you of Kendra?” Carrie asked after a minute.
Greg glanced sideways. “You? Not really. Kendra was little-miss-social. Why?”
She didn’t answer, but color flooded her sun-kissed cheeks.
Curious, he pulled her to a stop. “Why?”
“Just…when you first came to Illinois, it seemed like you hated me before you even knew me—practically before we’d met.” Carrie shrugged. “I just wondered if I reminded you of her.”
As they started off again, he listened to the soft swish of their feet, remembering. Meeting Carrie for the first time. Seeing her in his grandma’s kitchen.
She deserved an explanation.
“It was like my mom and grandma were tryin’ to replace Kendra,” he said. “With you.”
He could see her trying to reconcile this. Why he’d refused to shake her hand. Why he’d treated her so abominably. Why he’d kept her away from his family.
“When I walked in that first day and saw you laughing in the kitchen with them…” He blew out his breath. “Y’all were havin’ a grand old time, and it’s like they didn’t even miss her. It hadn’t even been a year since she’d died. It killed me. It didn’t seem fair that you were there, and my baby sister wasn’t. Kendra loved Grandma’s house more than any other place in the world.”
“I’m sorry, Greg. I didn’t know.”
“Geez, don’t apologize!” he said. “If I haven’t said sorry enough for those days, I apologize again. I was a complete, moronic jerk. I will always be sorry for the way I treated you. It’s unforgivable.”
She squeezed his hand. “No, it’s not.”
He wanted to kiss her again, but they were already struggling to keep up with Zach, so Greg pulled her onward.
After a minute, an old red barn came into view. Zach had stopped, letting Carrie and Greg catch up to him.
“You found it comin’ from a different direction,” Greg said. “Impressive, Zach.”
Zach answered with a scowl that basically said, I hate you.
Chuckling, Greg clapped him on the back. “How do we get inside?”
Zach limped forward but not toward the huge red doors. Those were padlocked. Instead, he crept around the side, over a fallen fence to a small opening around back. The opening looked tiny, like a dog door. A small, Chihuahua-sized opening that Greg would never fit through.
“You’re kiddin’, right?” Greg said.
Zach dropped to his stomach and shimmied through the opening.
“I’m never gonna fit through that,” Greg said.
“You can wait outside if you’d like,” Carrie said.
Little chance of that.
Carrie wiggled and twisted through the small opening, unscathed. Grunting, Greg dropped to the dirt and tried sliding through head first. His shoulders didn’t fit, so he tried feet first. He squeezed, squirmed, and wiggled, scraping the skin from his arms and nearly tearing his sore shoulder from its socket. When he emerged on the other side, his arm stung with new scratches.
“How was that for graceful?” he whispered, brushing himself off.
Carrie chuckled softly, making the pain worth it.
The dark barn smelled of old hay and dirt. Only a few slivers of light shone inside, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Once they did, he spotted Zach heading toward an old rickety ladder in the corner. Soft voices drifted down from an upper hay loft. Somebody said something indistinguishable, and laughter broke out upstairs. A decent-sized group of teens.
Zach grabbed the first ladder rung and started up. Dust and dirt rained down on Carrie who went next. Greg climbed up last, feeling the wood creak with each step.
“Hey,” somebody called excitedly as Zach reached the loft. “Freckles came back. Where you been, Freckles? We thought…” The boy trailed off as Carrie and Greg came into view.
The teens froze, eyes wide. Eight of them sat in a circle in the dark corner of the hay loft. Their looks of shock quickly turned into glares of betrayal aimed at Zach. Zach didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at his shoes.
“Hi,” Carrie said with a nervous wave. “I’m Carrie, Zach’s sister. We’re wondering if we can talk to you for a minute.”
One of the girls folded her arms. “You don’t belong here. And after bringing you, neither does Freckles. He’s banned.”
“Yeah. Banned,” others agreed.
Zach’s chin lowered further.
“I know we weren’t invited,” Carrie s
aid quickly. “And normally we wouldn’t have come, but these are extenuating circumstances. There are things happening in this area, and we really need your help.”
The grumbles grew.
Greg climbed the rest of the way up, only unlike Zach and Carrie, he kept going, crossing the dusty loft to stand right in front of the teens. They looked up, startled by his bold approach. A few even backed up, frightened.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m Greg, a friend of Zach’s. And here’s the thing. We really need to talk to your parents.”
That went over as well as him trying to fit through a Chihuahua-sized opening.
“Like Carrie said,” he went on, “there’s some stuff happening in these parts that has us worried for clans in the area. This stuff could kill your family, and even you. But instead of bein’ all creepy and following y’all through the backwoods to your homes, we decided to go the friendly route and just ask you straight up. So, what do you say? Will you help us help you?”
Eight pairs of unblinking eyes stared up at him.
Greg rubbed his hands together. “Great! Who wants to go first?”
fourteen
IN THE END, ONLY TWO kids took Greg’s offer: a girl with black braids and a boy with long, scraggly hair. They came from the same clan, the Sprucewood Clan. If Greg and Carrie could prove themselves with these teens, maybe the others would introduce them to their clans next time—assuming the others actually returned to the barn.
“Traitor,” Greg heard the boy whisper as he passed Zach.
Zach’s head hung even lower.
“Hey,” Greg said, striding forward to catch up. “Thanks again for your help. What’s your name, kid?”
“Crowbar,” the teen said.
“Crowbar?” Greg repeated. It sounded like a Harley-driving motorcyclist, not a gangly teen. But at his challenging scowl, Greg amended, “Nice to meet you, Crowbar.”
“And I’m Delaney,” the girl with the black braids said as she brightly bounced along.
At least one of them wasn’t out for war. Delaney had been the first to volunteer and seemed excited by the prospect of taking strangers to her clan.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 97
