The Lucky Ones (Evergreen Book 3)

by Matthew S. Cox

  She caught him by the arms, shifted her hips the way Cliff taught her, and lightly tossed the old guy into the bar again. He knocked two more stools over and grabbed the countertop to keep from falling completely over, ending up hanging by his grip, his knees inches from the floor.

  “Mr. Halliday, you—”

  He shrieked in anger, finding his feet and whirling around with a right hook.

  Harper twisted under his arm, grabbed him by the wrist, and flipped him to the floor, before dropping on top of him with one knee on his back and his arm chicken-winged up behind him.

  “Gah! My damn arm,” howled the old man.

  “Look, Mr. Halliday. You’re drunk. You need to go home and sleep it off. I might be a kid to you, but I’m still on the militia. Swing at me again, and you can spend a couple days chilling out at the sheriff’s station.” Harper relaxed the tension on his arm a little. “C’mon, don’t be a dick. Just go home. Sleep it off.”

  Mr. Halliday muttered something incomprehensible, but nodded before emitting an onion-and-beer-scented belch.

  Harper stood and helped him up, keeping his arm pinned to his back while ushering him out the door. The old guy staggered off down the highway when she let go, swaying, but evidently not too drunk to walk. Once she felt sure he’d make it home on his own, she went back inside.

  Bryson Soto walked up to her. His face appeared red, but he didn’t bleed from anywhere. “Sorry about that. Just made a little crack about him being a bit old to carry a gun. Geriatric cowboys and whatnot. No idea he’d flip like that.”

  “Are you hurt? If you want to complain, we can treat it like an assault.”

  He waved her off. “Nah. No big deal. Graham just got a bit too much beer in him. I, uhh, could’ve handled that, but thanks.”

  The row of men sitting at the bar all looked at her with varying degrees of ‘what the heck did I just watch?’ or concern.

  “You’re welcome. Didn’t want that to turn into another fight. This place is starting to get a reputation for brawling.” She smiled and headed back to her table.

  Bryson picked up the stools, then sat where he’d been before, chatting with three other men.

  “Whoa.” Logan chuckled, then sat again. “Impressive. You threw that guy around like a rag doll.”

  She slid back into the booth seat, rested her elbows on the table, and exhaled. “Not that impressive. He’s like sixty-three and drunk.”

  “Still. Just because a guy’s old like that doesn’t mean he’s weak. Like three years ago, a couple younger guys tried to mug my grandfather and he beat the snot out of them.”

  “Wow.” Harper sipped her beer. “Was he former military?”

  “Nah. Just a semi-professional boxer back in the day. He still works—umm, worked out.”

  She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault. So, where’d you pick up moves like that? Let me guess, taekwondo classes since you were nine?”

  “No.” She laughed. “I was too lazy for that as a kid. Cliff’s been showing me some jiu-jitsu techniques he learned in the Rangers.”

  “Ranger?” Logan made some weird martial-artsy hand motions like from a bad movie. “Which color was he?”

  “Dork.” Harper stuck out her tongue, but grinned at the stupidity of it. “Not that kind of ranger.”

  “I love seeing you smile.”

  Harper stared into her beer, certain she blushed as red as her hair. “Your smile’s kinda cute, too.”

  “So you like this militia thing?”

  “It’s okay. I like helping people but I could really do without having to get into gunfights sometimes.”

  He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “So why do you do it?”

  “Didn’t want to give up Dad’s shotgun. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to Madison or the others if I didn’t do everything possible to protect them.”

  “You’re a fascinating girl, Harper Cody. Sometimes, when I look into your eyes, I see this fierce creature. Sometimes, I see innocence. Life.”

  “Yeah, well. I guess I’m complicated.” She nodded to the side to get her hair out of her face. “I kinda like that you’re uncomplicated.”

  He chuckled.

  “Do you enjoy working on the farm or is it just where they asked you to go?”

  “Yes to both. I didn’t have any real experience at anything except high school coursework and hockey, and I kinda like not starving to death, so I agreed to work on the farm. This town is starting to grow on me.”

  She stared at the table, mostly because if she looked up at him, the faint tickling sensation in her stomach would likely grow into a massive pack of butterflies. They spent a few minutes talking about life in Evergreen. He expected to work on the farm until he became too old for it. Not exactly the grandest plans for the future, but the world had changed. He didn’t mind busting his butt so people could eat. Their conversation about how long she planned to stay with the militia paused when Andie brought out the food. Except for there being an inch-thick disc of potato on two pieces of bread, it sorta resembled a hamburger with a side order of grilled cucumber, tomato, bell peppers, and onions. The notion that Harper might never again see a real hamburger bun in her life made her feel strange. Not quite sad, more unsettled and worried about the future.

  “Hope you like it.” Andie smiled. “And let me get you two some water.”

  Harper turned her head to look up at the woman, her skull feeling as though it floated on a neck made out of gummi bears. “Thanks. Yeah, water would be good.”

  Andie walked off.

  “Not like I have any issue with you being on the militia besides worrying about you, but you’re not really going to be able to do that when you’re sixty.”

  She nibbled on a bit of grilled tomato. “Yeah, I know. But sixty’s a long way off and I’m still kinda scared I won’t make it to that age. We had nukes go off only a few miles away. Every one of us might get all sorts of messed up cancer and there’s no real hospitals left.”

  “Oh, there’s a happy thought.” He slid his arm across the table to take her hand. “Elevated risk isn’t a guarantee. And besides, we’re on a new all-natural diet. We’re not eating all those dyes, preservatives, and other chemicals that caused cancer.”

  “Would you rather be a disappointed optimist or a surprised pessimist?” asked Harper.

  “I’d rather worry about things within my control and try to find happiness where I can.” He picked up the ‘burger.’ “Like this thing. Never had a potato sandwich before.”

  Harper picked hers up as well. “Maddie used to spread mashed potatoes on bread at Thanksgiving dinner. Mom always yelled at her not to do it. Something about ‘combining starches,’ but she still put bread on the table with mashed potatoes. My grandfather insisted on having bread at the dinner table all the time. All the food’s going to end up in our stomachs anyway. Does it matter if we put them together before we eat them?”

  He chuckled and took a bite.

  “How is it?”

  Logan gave a thumbs up while chewing.

  She took a bite… Mmf. Basically a baked potato sandwich with Cajun spices.

  “Do you ever wonder if fate is steered by desire?” asked Harper.

  “Huh?”

  She waved the potato-burger around while trying to think of how to explain what she meant. “Umm. Like if enough people want or believe something, the universe reacts to it. All those post-apoc movies and shows and stuff, what if everyone thinking about that all the time made it happen?”

  “Oh. Nah. I don’t think so.” Logan ate a whole hunk of green pepper in one bite. “If reality changed based on what people thought about most, there’d be zombies.”

  She laughed.

  They ate without speaking for a minute or two.

  “Pretty sure hate or greed caused it. Maybe even a glitch in a computer. Stuff like that has happened before, but didn’t go all the way to
war. Years ago, an error in an early warning system made it look like we’d been attacked. I think we came pretty close to launching weapons until someone figured out the whole thing had been a problem with the system. Something like that could’ve happened again. Maybe they upgraded the defense network to Windows and it crashed.”

  She chuckled.

  “Seriously, though. All military contracts are won by the company willing to work as cheaply as possible in the shortest amount of time. With that kinda policy, I’m surprised it took this long for something big to go wrong.”

  “Wow.” She stared at her food, not sure if she should laugh at that or break down. “That’s really sad to think about… a typo wiping out the world.”

  “Yeah. Assuming it was a glitch and we didn’t get legit attacked. But the news didn’t really have anything too scary in the couple of weeks leading up to it. So if someone attacked us, it would have had to be spontaneous and random.” He finished off the last quarter glass of his beer, then gasped. “Whoa. Maybe the guy at the console was drinking this stuff.”

  That got a weak chuckle out of her. “I’m seeing vapor trails and my head feels like it’s floating around away from my body.”

  “You finished the whole beer this time, and kinda drank it fast. Surprised you’re still sitting upright. This stuff is hectic.”

  “Me too.” She took a few fast bites of the potato-burger hoping it would soak up some alcohol. “Maybe the computer didn’t make an error. What if it did it on purpose? Like, calculated humans had gotten out of control and needed to be culled down to a manageable population.”

  “Heh. Could be, but that sounds more like science fiction. I’d like to think the government wasn’t dumb enough to connect an AI to the big red button.”

  “Seriously,” muttered Harper. “So I guess that brings us back to people being shitty human beings. If there is such a thing as karma, I hope whoever made the decision to fire the first nuke dies painfully.”

  Logan stared at her for a while. “When someone as sweet as Harper Cody wishes death on a person, it sends a ripple across space and time. If the guy who did it is still alive, he probably just stubbed his toe.”

  She chuckled. “Stop. I’m not that sweet…” Her smile died. “Not anymore.”

  “Sure you are. But you’ve had to grow an armored shell. We all have.”

  “Yeah.”

  He finished off his veggies. “I dunno. I kinda have trouble believing a person ordered the first strike. What kind of insane moron would do something like that? They’d have to understand what would happen. One gets fired, everyone blows their entire arsenal. Nukes weren’t supposed to ever be used, just exist as a deterrent.”

  “Deterrent?” She downed a few gulps of water. “To what?”

  “To using nukes.”

  Harper sighed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Exactly. Nuclear weapons are pointless when everyone has them. They basically become a shield and a threat at the same time. Countries only kept them around because other countries had them.”

  “So stupid,” muttered Harper. “The ultimate penis envy. Couldn’t world leaders just put giant tires and a lift on their trucks like normal guys with adequacy issues?”

  He laughed. “Hey, my father had one of those.”

  “Oops.” She cringed.

  Logan looked off to the side. “I can’t stop wondering if Ana and Luis are still alive. I hate not knowing.”

  “I’m sorry.” Harper reached over and held his hand.

  “At least my parents and Luisa went fast. Didn’t feel a thing.” A tear ran down his cheek. “She was only fifteen. If I wasn’t on the hockey team, I would’ve been vaporized with them. Who decided civilians needed to die? What kind of monster wages war with nukes? That’s not war, that’s just murdering everyone.”

  She bowed her head. A moment later, she got up and moved around the table to sit on the same bench with him, leaning into an embrace. He shook as if crying, but made no sound. Contagious grief stole her voice, so she merely held him until he collected himself a few minutes later.

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Harper. “So stupid of me. Shouldn’t have talked about that stuff. We’re supposed to be on a date.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve been holding that in too long. Needed to come out. Thanks.” He continued holding her. “I don’t have anyone else I can talk to about real stuff.”

  Harper studied her lap. She couldn’t deny the squirmy feeling building in her gut. Is this anxiety? Depression? Am I really starting to fall in love with him? She rested her head against his. Am I being pushed to seek out a mate by some primal species-conscious reaction to the near eradication of humanity? Okay, now I know I’m overthinking. A silent sigh escaped her nose. After what happened with Tyler… Sure, she’d thought him the last boy in the world around her age, and his odd quirkiness endeared him to her. But she’d kissed him so fast. Totally unlike her. She’d also been in a crazy headspace at the time. Part of her worried that as soon as she let herself attach to a boy, something horrible would happen to him. Another part only wanted to be sure her feelings were genuine, and not—as Cliff said—wanting to jump on the nearest boy because the airplane plummeted toward the ground.

  I’m going to be eighteen in a couple days. Not that anyone gives a crap. Beth and Jaden have been doing it almost every day for weeks. Everyone knows and no one seems to care. She’s still a sophomore. Or would be if school existed. Dating Logan doesn’t mean we instantly go to bed together. Am I being cautious or chicken?

  “Feels weird going out for food and not having to pay for it,” said Logan.

  She pushed aside thoughts of nuclear death and summoned a tiny smile. “I wonder how long that will last before someone ruins it by reinventing money.”

  “Probably not long. Humans have had money almost as long as we’ve had the ability to speak. They used to use salt like money. Anything rare or precious. Hell, maybe people will use food or water as money.”

  “I hope not. That’s just cruel. It’s much nicer like this. Everyone helping everyone. I like this way more.” She sighed. “But I’m not that naïve. I know it won’t last forever.”

  He tossed the last bite of his potato-burger in his mouth, mumbling agreement.

  “Wow.” Harper looked around at the room, noticeably dimmer than when they’d arrived. Nimbuses of light danced on the walls behind the lamps set up here and there around the room. She hadn’t consciously noticed the pervasive smell of burning oil until she looked at them. They didn’t give off too much light, creating a dark, cozy—and kinda romantic—ambiance. “This almost feels like a date.”

  “Is it a date?” He smiled at her.

  Harper turned her head toward him. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, she found herself almost close enough to kiss him. His eyes simultaneously radiated joy and sadness, hope and pain… pretty much a mirror for how she felt. Another pull, another moment of doubt. The instant she admitted to herself she might have feelings for him, he’d go crazy or decide not to like her, or something bad would happen.

  We’re all a little broken inside now. Do we give up and stop trying to live? The beer-soaked butterfly in her stomach decided to start tap-dancing. Screw it. She exhaled.

  His eyes widened.

  “Yeah. It’s a date.”

  A broad grin spread over his face. “Cool.”

  “Still not quite ready to do more than hold hands or cuddle. And no, it’s not you. I’m… I gotta know that what I think I’m feeling for you is real and not something else. Like reflexively clinging to the first boy who talks to me.”

  Logan put an arm around her. “Makes sense. I love spending time with you no matter what we’re doing.”

  “Do you mean that or are you just saying what you think I want to hear so you can get into my pants?” She grinned.

  “I’m being sincere. Otherwise, I’d be using the accent on you.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  “The accent?” She looked him
up and down. “You don’t have an accent.”

  “Joo have the most beautiful blue eyes,” said Logan with a thick Spanish accent and a slight deepening of his voice. “More beautiful than the ocean in Barcelona.”

  “Wow.” She blinked. “My jeans almost flew right off by themselves.”

  He laughed. “My brother didn’t have an accent either, but around his dates, he’d always talk like that constantly. Luis had a new girl almost every month. My family spoke some Spanish at home, mostly for the grandparents. But none of us have ever been to Spain—or even Mexico where my great grandparents came from. Most people can’t tell the difference between a Mexican Spanish accent and a Spaniard’s accent.”

  “I’m most people.” She held up a hand.

  “Let us find a nice quiet place and count the stars,” said Logan in the accent.

  “Hon, if you don’t go with him, I’m about to.” Andie paused on the way by to wink at them.

  Logan blushed.

  “That sounds sweet.” Harper took his hand and scooted out of the bench seat. “But I can’t stay out too late.”

  “Let’s go to your backyard then. It’ll give us the most time.”

  “Okay.” She followed him outside, still holding his hand.

  If he’d hoped something might happen off in a quiet little private spot by the creek, he’d clearly given up on that hope by suggesting they hang out in her yard. No way would they do anything there. Harper bit her lip, surprised by a boy not putting any pressure on her to go faster, even after the world fell to pieces. Most confusing of all, she found herself ever so slightly frustrated. Between that strong homebrew beer and her increasing urge to trust Logan, had they gone off somewhere alone…

  She just might have tried to kiss him.

  3

  Barista

  Harper drove Dad’s new SUV with all her friends in it, plus Madison, Jonathan, and Lorelei.

  She stared at the dashboard, watching the speedometer needle wobble around fifty. Driving felt unusually strange, and not merely because she hadn’t done it often. Anxiety built up, as though she’d stolen the truck without permission. Even though she’d gotten her license a few weeks ago, it felt somehow wrong to be driving without Mom or Dad in the passenger seat.