The front door was still locked—of course, because Garrett had locked it when he last left. As if someone was going to be out in the middle of the desert and try to break into a door that looked like it led into little more than a small warehouse.
Still, when he’d left the silo he’d still been thinking like a functional human being, and locking the door had been second nature. He never would have dreamed of leaving without doing just that.
Unfortunately, he no longer had the key. It was probably sitting somewhere in a locker in the military base General Green had taken over, subject to a seizure by his men. Most of Garrett’s things had never been returned to him, and he’d taken from that base only what he’d been able to grab of the things the soldiers had stored in the room that held the cells.
He pressed his lips together and stared at the door, wondering what the hell he was going to do about this problem. He’d been far too excited to see the silo to really consider the workability of getting back into it. Now that he was here—and standing right above a fully stocked kitchen and a warm, dry space for them to recover—the lack of a key was like a knife straight to the gut.
“Dammit,” he breathed, searching his pockets—and coming up with nothing more than a gun. A gun that would do little against the bulletproof steel he’d used to build the door to the silo.
Because this silo had, of course, been designed to protect his client from people who might be coming to try to seize that fully stocked kitchen and dry, safe place to sleep.
“What is it?” Alice asked, practically dancing from foot to foot in excitement.
She’d been beside herself ever since he told her where they were, and he couldn’t blame her for that. This was the most unlikely of coincidences, and he could have laid down and kissed the very ground for the luck.
All of which made the lack of a key even more frustrating.
“The key,” he said simply, “is somewhere in Green’s base, most likely in the drawer of someone’s desk. I never got it back after his men took my stuff. And I never thought to even look for it when I had access. Never in a million years thought I’d be back here.”
Alice pressed her lips together in a grimace that indicated without words how ironic this was. “And of course you locked the door the last time you left here,” she observed.
Garrett breathed out in what would have been a laugh in a less serious situation. “Of course I did. What rational person leaves their house without locking the door behind them?”
Alice leaned forward and rested her forehead against the door. “And I’m betting there’s food and water down there. And a bed. Or at least cots. With blankets.”
This time Garrett did chuckle. He couldn’t help it. “Of course there are. I stocked the damn place. And I brought out enough food and water to keep my client and his wife safe and alive for years to come. Just in case the government crumbled. Or nuclear winter happened. Or the zombies attacked.”
She slid her gaze over to him, one eyebrow raised. “Zombies?”
Shrugging, he gave her a crooked grin. “He was a tech guy. So he watched a lot of movies. It was on his list of potential end-of-the-world scenarios, and I never contradicted him. It seemed as likely as anything else. And when it comes down to it, look at what actually happened. Death by nanorobot.
“That’s not that much different than death by zombie. But none of that is opening this door. It’s bulletproof, so we’re not going to be able to shoot it out, and there’s no other way in. I made sure of that when we started the project.”
At this, she gave him a full-fledged smile—one that almost made him stagger. He’d never seen so much joy in her face, and had certainly never seen her let down her guard like that. It made her… beautiful.
It was also distinctly out of place.
“What?” he asked, immediately suspicious.
With a shrug, she went to her knees in front of the door and started pulling things out of the pocket of the jacket she was wearing.
“Nothing. I find it amusing that you went to the effort of putting in a bulletproof door but didn’t bother with an electronic lock. You know, one with a keypad so you could just key in a code to open the door.”
“Too easy to break the code,” he replied quickly. “It’s one of the things I always avoid when I’m doing something like this. The whole point is to make it at least somewhat difficult for thieves—or whoever else might be coming—to get in.”
She shot him a quick look. “But the lack of electronic lock also means that you’ve got an old-fashioned lock here. One that operates on the same old system of tumblers. Not much in the way of security.”
“I made sure that the bolt wouldn’t move unless the lock was engaged,” he argued. “So there’s no chance of anyone doing that stupid slide-the-credit-card trick. And the chance of a thief knowing how to actually pick a lock is minimal in this day and age.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, turning back to the lock. “Fortunately for you, I’m no ordinary thief. And I do know how to pick a lock.”
Without explaining any further, she set the pack she’d taken out of her pocket on the ground and flipped it open to expose what looked to be a fully stocked lock picking set.
“Where on earth did you get that?” Garrett asked.
“Picked it up on a raid,” she said simply, sliding two of the more decorative pieces out of the set and inserting one into the lock with practiced ease.
“Okay… And how exactly do you know how to pick locks?”
She chewed at her lip in concentration, her hands still busy shuffling the metal rods in and out of the lock, in an up-and-down motion.
“My kid,” she said. “Jesse liked to lock himself into the house while I was outside taking out the trash or getting the mail. I wouldn’t have worried about it when he was older—or at least not as much—because he would have been able to take care of himself until I managed to get back in the house. But he started doing it when he was three years old, and at that point he could have gotten into anything and killed himself pretty easily. I couldn’t take the time to go around the house finding out whether any windows were unlocked, or calling a professional locksmith. So I learned how to do it myself.”
There was a sliding sort of crunch in the door, what Garrett could only describe as a snick, and a pop, and Alice withdrew the rods and looked up victoriously.
“Lucky for you,” she said, turning the doorknob and pushing the door inward, “I got pretty good at it. And I got fast.”
Garrett stared at the open door, half-surprised and half-jealous, and then shook his head. The woman, it seemed, would never stop surprising him.
“Brilliant,” he said.
He stepped forward into the entryway and glanced from the elevator—which would only work using the pulley system—to the trapdoor that led to the ladder. It would be a long, dark descent down the tunnel, especially with his wound, but he thought he could reach the bottom and find his collection of candles and lighters without any light to see by. The locked door indicated that no one else had been here, which meant that there should be plenty of food and water down there still.
He hoped.
“Now I get to show you my magic trick,” he said over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
They shared a dinner of canned corn and beans, cooked over a campfire that they built in the fire pit next to the driveway at ground level. They had agreed that they’d rather be under the open sky with a fire than eating cold beans in the bunker itself, by candlelight.
Garrett stared at Alice as they ate, considering everything that had happened. He was sitting across the fire from a woman he had met in a jail, and then escaped with. A woman he had seen kill men—and a woman he knew he would kill men to protect.
She wasn’t what he would have imagined, if he’d taken the time to imagine who he might have with him in a situation where the world had turned upside down, and the vast majority of the American population had died. In fact, he didn’t think h
e’d ever known a woman like her in his entire life—mostly because he had associated with people who did things like build and design fancy houses for rich people. She would never have run in his crowd.
Well, maybe the old version of her would have. He couldn’t know what she’d been like in her life before. But definitely not this version of her.
At the same time, he didn’t think he would have chosen anyone else to be with him right now. She’d charged into his life and made a place for herself, and then somehow burrowed into his heart as well, with her sharp eyes and even sharper words.
He smiled to himself, thinking of how angry she’d been at him back in that prison, when she thought he’d sold her and the other prisoners out for a shallow alliance with Green. How brilliant she’d been in their escape afterward—even when she hadn’t known for sure that she could trust him.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked softly.
He looked up to meet her eyes, his face growing hot at having been caught. And for a moment, he wondered. Was that something important that he heard in her voice? Something… softer?
But he shook his head, telling himself to put it away. He hadn’t forgotten how she reacted when he’d tried to kiss her. And the last thing he wanted to do right now was go through another rejection like that.
“I was laughing at how much has changed,” he said, being mostly honest. “The first time I was here, I was speccing the place out as a location for a bunker I was designing for a very rich guy and his wife. And then the nanovirus came along. By the time the bunker was nearly finished, it had become obvious that my client wasn’t going to make it here, so I started… well, I guess I started thinking of this place as my own.
“I had already brought some of my own stuff, and I started to wonder how long I could stay here. How long I could last. So that bunker down there, it holds a lot of my life from before, you know? A lot of the pieces of who I used to be. It just seems strange to be sitting up here now, a very different person in a very different situation, and with a very different future. It makes me wonder whether I’d even recognize who I was before—or those things that I brought here.”
Funny, he hadn’t even realized he was thinking all that. But now that he’d said it out loud, he knew it to be true. He was a different person, after the last several months. Maybe not at his foundation, but certainly at the surface. The person he was now would have laughed at the person he’d been back then.
“Let’s find out,” Alice said abruptly.
“Huh?” he asked.
She shrugged. “You wondered if you’d even recognize the things you had before. Let’s find out. It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do, unless you have some sort of EMP-proof TV down there. In which case I’ll be extremely angry that you’ve kept it from me during this entire dinner.”
For some reason, he paused at that. “I don’t think—”
“I’d like to see them,” Alice interrupted. “I’d like to know who you were before.”
And that was all he needed, really. His embarrassment melted away, and he started to think that maybe it would be fun to bring some of his stuff up to go through.
After all, she was right. They didn’t have anything better to do.
“My record collection,” he said proudly, opening the first box and starting to rifle through the faded, shabby covers. “My sister and I used to collect records when we were kids, and it’s just something I never outgrew, I guess. Of course the record player I have down there doesn’t work anymore. But these are some of my most treasured items.”
Alice put down the mug she’d been holding—they’d managed to warm enough water to make hot chocolate, and had even located a bag of marshmallows—and scooted around the fire to where he was sitting, leaning into him to get a look into the box.
“Records,” she said longingly, reaching out to caress them softly. “What a memory. Can you imagine, just sitting down to listen to music for fun?”
He shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “Before we had to spend every day fighting for our lives, right?”
“Exactly,” she murmured. She started flipping through the sleeves and laughed. “I see you were a fan of the classics.”
“Oh, absolutely. Tom Petty, Dylan, George Harrison. I loved that old rock and roll sound. The rebellion of it. The power. The lyrics.”
“How did you find these? They have to be collector’s editions, at this point.”
“They are,” he said wryly. “Though I suspect collectors would have a heart attack to know that I actually took the records out of their sleeves and listened to them. Exposed them to damage, the horror! I even ripped a few of these covers.”
“You rebel,” she joked. “What else do you have?”
He dug into the next box, shockingly pleased at her interest.
“Books,” he said. “My tablet is no good anymore, obviously, but I kept so many books in hard copy. It just makes them seem more… real, you know? And I love the smell. I’ve always been a paper-and-pencil sort of guy, I guess.”
She scooted closer to him again, leaning against his arm and diving right into the next box.
“Books! Oh God, I’ve missed books. I used to read maniacally. Even won reading contests when I was still in school.”
“Reading… contests?” he asked uncertainly.
“Well, not contests exactly, but awards in class for having read the most books, that sort of thing,” she said sheepishly. “What’s your poison?”
“True crime,” he said without hesitation. “Sometimes thrillers, but there’s something about real life that always got me.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “What was your favorite genre?”
She didn’t pause at all. “Fantasy. Other worlds. Dragons, sorcerers, elves, monsters… I didn’t care if it was for adults or teenagers, as long as it took me to an entirely different place. This life… Well, it wasn’t always enough for me. Or it was too much, and I needed a way to escape.”
He gazed at her for a long, intense moment, yearning for… something. He wasn’t sure what.
Then he shook his head and drew back a bit.
“And now we’re in a world where we don’t get to escape at all, no matter how badly we want it,” he observed.
Alice rocked back on her heels. “Well you sure know how to ruin a moment,” she muttered.
After a sigh, she looked up at him, stretching her neck and resetting her shoulders. He could practically see the veil of responsibility falling over her again—and replacing the vulnerability that had been there a moment before.
“Well, shall we find our way to bed, then?” she asked. “It’s been an awfully long day, and something tells me tomorrow is going to be even longer.”
“We should,” he agreed. “I have several sleeping bags and cots, so we’ll be comfortable. At least for the night. And there’s still enough viable air down in the bunker for a few days.”
“Guess that’s all we can expect,” she replied. Turning, she threw sand over the fire, dousing it, and then grabbed a box. “Let’s go.”
Garrett followed, his heart aching for everything he’d lost—and then rekindling hope that they might find those sorts of things again in the future. Somehow. Somewhere.
Chapter 17
The next morning Garrett woke to the absolute darkness that was really only possible in an underground bunker without lights. They’d gone to sleep like that, of course, unwilling to keep the candles burning when they weren’t there to supervise them, but there was something about waking up to the same utter stillness that made him feel distinctly off-balance.
“Alice?” he called softly. She’d been sleeping on a cot not far from his, and though he couldn’t hear her breathing anymore, he thought there was a chance she was laying there awake still.
Her lack of answer told him that he was wrong about that.
He quickly rose and reached for the candle he’d left sitting on the shelf next to his bed, along with the lighter he�
�d placed next to it. One quick flip of the thumb and he had light again. The wavering flame showed him only a piece of the room, the corners left in shadows, but he could see far enough to seek that Alice definitely wasn’t in the room anymore.
He placed the candle into the candle holder he’d found the night before and quickly went about getting dressed, his mind already moving up the ladder and to the outside world, where he hoped he’d find Alice. She hadn’t left, had she? Hadn’t decided to strike out on her own the way John and Cora had, back at Trinity Ranch?
The thought sent his stomach plummeting into his shoes, and he increased his pace. The wound in his thigh was still slowing him down, but sleep seemed to have helped—or maybe he was just growing more used to the spot on his thigh that went back and forth between burning and aching. Either way, he was able to move more freely, and within a few moments he had gone to the kitchen area, grabbed a bottle of water, and moved toward the ladder, ready to get up into the fresh air and sunshine and find his friend.
When he stepped through the front door, Garrett was surprised to see that the sun wasn’t even up all the way yet. Without the aid of his watch or a clock, it was nearly impossible to tell the time of day, and the darkness below ground in the bunker had made it even more difficult. It couldn’t have been much more than five in the morning, he thought, given the level of semi-darkness still clinging to the ground around them. But sunrise was fast approaching. And there, at the end of the driveway, he saw Alice, outlined against the coming sun like a shadow creature covered in fairy dust.
He walked quickly toward her, unscrewing the lid from the water bottle and taking a deep drink as he walked. She was standing incredibly still, and he wondered for a moment if she was meditating—and if he should perhaps leave her alone.
Then she turned and met his eye, giving him the ghost of a smile.
“Come stand next to me,” she said quietly. “The sunrise is my favorite time of day. It feels like rebirth, doesn’t it?”
He drew to a stop next to her and brushed her shoulder with his as he stared out across the distance. The first slice of sun was starting to rise above the horizon, now, and the sky was going from the middle grayish purple of pre-dawn to an explosion of roses, oranges, and brilliant fuchsia.
At Any Cost (Book 3): Bleak Horizons Page 11
